Monthly Archives: December 2014

What did Horton hear?

What did Horton hear?

I would guess it is the call of the road…

One of my dearest friends and I were recently having some pretty deep conversations during a sleepover (yes, grown-ups can have sleepovers!) and I have been pondering some of the themes a bit the last few days. She is probably one of my soul mates, as she is pretty much the female equivalent of my prince charming ideal growing up. Jim Woods is/was my first encounter with a teacher/archaeologist when I was a 4th grade GT student taking Mayan Archaeology at CSI in Twin Falls, Idaho; he was the bearded version of my first love, Indiana Jones. He set the stage for my obsession with Giorgio Tsoukalos and Tomb Raider. At one point in my life, I was completely sure that I was going to grow up to be an underwater archaeologist…fear of drowning and the ocean kind of dampened that dream (ha-ha). So of course, I settled on Social Work. It’s a natural evolution….Right?

Meh, I digressed from my point.

My friend is a previously archaeologically driven social worker who has the amazing power to make me plop down in front of her spellbound, like I am watching “Ancient Aliens.” During previously mentioned conversation, we were speaking about my (and people in general…) need to collect things and then the subsequent panic attached to it because WHAT IF YOU HAVE TO MOVE!!!

I have always attributed my hot feet to a chaotic childhood and a genetic predisposition (epigenetics methinks?) to overall wanderlust. My friend proposed that as we humanoids moved from a nomadic people and started collecting things to trade once we became agrarian that we still retained that need to move, to explore, to leave.

I think that perhaps it is stronger in some than others.

I know that I have gotten more comfortable with having the same surroundings, things, people, jobs, etc. but I never have lost the need to change, explore, and move. I constantly fight this in every aspect of my life. I used to be so proud of my ability to pack up and move in a ridiculous short amount of time. Today, I find myself to be a hoarder in a nonclinical diagnosis sense; I once had a conversation with an old friend in which I described it as “hoarding tangible thought..” Ha. I just have a need to keep papers.  Perhaps in another life I was a historian or something. A cleric. A monk. Who knows. I am working toward decluttering my life again. I want to have a more simple existence, a less busy mind.

I fight the urge daily to just walk away and figure it out later. I know, I know, it’s Christmas Eve and all I can think about is running away. From everything. C’est la vie. Why fight the inevitable?

I anticipate the return to my older ways.

Once my kids are fully grown, I’ll imagine I’ll get a dog and wander. Stay in a spot for a year or a month and move on. I wish I lived in the 30s. Bonnie and Clyde romanticized stuff. Or just hop on a train and go somewhere else.

People secretly envy it…That is why movies like “Into the wild” and “wild” are popular. Edward Abbey and Thoreau were onto something.

Maybe I’ll buy an Airstream.

Or maybe I will just be a gypsy.

Or a trailer.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder.

Happy 50th Birthday, Eddie!

From one Pisces fish to you....

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for being my main boy/man archetype since I was 12.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for giving me hope. Hope that angry young men who hate their mothers and miss their fathers could grow up to be sensibly deep and poetic souls.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for narrating my youth and adolescence.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for giving me a voice and a growl to match my self-imposed angst.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for making me think that all angry young surfer/skater/artist boys would grow up to be passionate and well-adjusted adults.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for making me obsess over Matt Miller for years.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for having your lovingly familiar brow furrow.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for being my jokingly “8th ex husband” as I inch closer and closer to number 8.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for cutting your hair. It made Chris Cornell cut his! You…

View original post 196 more words

Winter Solstice ponderings

Winter Solstice ponderings

Today is the Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. It has always held mixed meanings for me. My first wedding was held near the Autumnal Equinox and my last wedding was on the Winter Solstice. I came full circle through the seasons and while that final wedding boded no better than the first, it was and will be, my last.

This year, I want to focus on the actually perceivable aspects of it; the eternal pendulum of dark versus light finally swings toward the light again. The darkness has been building up to this point, and now the light finally wins for while. I am going to make sure that I hold that thought within myself… KEEP YOUR LIGHT.

The darkest days are over for this cycle.

From here out, I will stay mindful of this with the intent that it will guide my choices and my attitude in the coming months. Just as Winter signifies an end, it also indicates the impending Spring. A time of rebirth. A time of renewal. A time of creation.

And that is the miracle.

Reflections, regrets, realizations, and flinching awareness.

Reflections, regrets, realizations, and flinching awareness.

I usually do some sort of wrap up at the end of the year/season, Christmas for some reason makes me nostalgic and introspective. I have such mixed feelings about it, it holds many good memories for me and yet, so many more traumas are associated with it for me and their connected grief…. Anyway, my wrap ups and year in reviews…Historically, they have usually been a somewhat vague and tongue in cheek collection of my “about mes.” This year may still be vague, but perhaps more palatable.

I haven’t been able to blog lately, mostly due to simply not having the time, but partially due to me not making the time and choosing to retreat within myself for the sake of not thinking about the world, my reality, my life, my relationships, etc.

Ah, but the subconscious has a way of poo pooing that sort of defense mechanism, doesn’t it? Little by little, mini passive-aggressive comments worm their way out of my mouth and cosmic 2x4s work their way into my dreams. #Teamnosleep, my most constant bedtime companion for the better of the last two years has given me a sort of push lately to lie in silent, darkened rumination; accompanied by only my most forbidden thoughts.

Two of my exes are deceased. The first, I grieved for his family and his son, but it didn’t affect me for too long, as I really did not know him very long or very well, in hindsight. The most recent, died by his own hand in a scenario I was all too familiar with. With his death, I was confronted with the very real fact that the imagined future interaction between us could never happen. I had always anticipated that some time in the future, we would run into each other in a gas station or a bar, back in our hometown, have a drink and simple interaction wherein we forgave each other and spoke about how we had both come to understand the faults of the relationship as well as our own responsibility in them. It would end with a smile and a hug then we would move on, waving or even speaking briefly if ever we came across each other in the future. But as numerous stories, songs, and movies depict, “someday” often does not happen and you must live with the regret that tomorrow never came. Make sure people know how you feel before it is too late, right? Ah, regret. Regret is a bitch.

I’ve tried very diligently to not live with regret and to make peace with my actions and find the silver lining in them that are typically easier to find in review, right? Through a looking glass, darkly…Had one not made this choice, this would not have happened. If one had not left this person, you would not have met this person. Life really is a “Choose your own Adventure” book, only you can’t skip ahead and try it out before you choose, right? No, you can only walk back through the choices and woolgather about the possible ways things could have gone, given that one, that fifteen choice(s) again. I digress.

Back to the point. Regret.

The word itself means “A feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done.” as a noun, “Feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over (something that has happened or been done, especially a loss or missed opportunity)” as a verb.

I have come find myself a sad representation of all I champion when it comes to regret. I encourage people to regret nothing and yet I myself, regret so much. So many choices I have made in order to not disappoint other people, choices I have made to make things easier for myself, for others, choices I have NOT made due to my own fear.

I miss friends that I have lost contact with out of my own pride and stubbornness.

I regret giving up on things and people to seemingly save myself.

I personally can hold a grudge longer than anyone I know. It gives me a protective coating to avoid dealing with feelings. It is how I have come to be able to dissociate from relationships which have ended and protect my stupid heart. By the time I have lost the passion of the grudge and come full circle to face my emotions behind the grudge, it is no longer an appropriate time confront and deal with those feelings as a party to it, it is then a one sided process that is not as cathartic as it could have been. Take my relationship with my mother, for example.

It has been years since I had any kind of positive relationship with her. If she was to die tomorrow, would I regret not forgiving her? What would it be like to not have to carry the negativity of hating her, resenting her, PITYING HER? I know it would be good for myself, maybe for her. But I can’t do it.

Other relationships I have had, I want to call them up and just be like, “I miss my friend. Here is a rundown of everything I know I did that hurt you. Can we just be pals again?”

But you can’t. You have no right to insert yourself back into their script once you have taken yourself out of it.

Just like in a choose your own adventure book, you can’t go back without the knowledge of how it went before. It guides your actions and makes you question if had the second choice been the first choice, would the end result have been the same? We can never know.

The “What ifs” are a dangerous cycle of questioning oneself. You have to be selfless and know that no matter what you feel, your actions affect other people.

Today I make the choice to accept the repercussions of my previous actions.

Today I decide to make more conscientious decisions about my world, so that in the future, I have less “what ifs” to ponder. No more regrets.

Today I choose their happiness over my guilt.

To be continued.

Cozy’s dad is on TV again.

Cozy’s dad is on TV again.

Watching the Wheels

December 18, 2014

I’m getting good at doing things with a baby on my man-hip. I’m not sure if peeing should be one of them. I am definitely not an expert in child rearing. I have Facebook for that.

When Andrea was pregnant, I felt like I was the first person to ever have this idea, reproducing. Having a kid. Apparently, women have been having babies for decades. Nearly 6000 years, according to some Christians. That’s a long time! The point is that, as it turns out, I have a bunch of friends in Portland and on-line that are experts.

I do hold some expertise on some topics. As a criminologist and sociologist with a PhD, there is a whole range of topics I can offer perspective on. I was live on KATU this morning talking about the Kim Jong Un/Seth Rogan Sony international crisis. I talked to KGW on…

View original post 662 more words