Jet To No Where

Help me find out if I am on a Jet To No where…or just on stand by.

Archive for the category “Dreams & Aspirations”

She

There were no words ever created by man to describe the hole

Not sadness, nor sorrow, Not heartache, nor hopelessness

Not anguish, Not bleakness, Not grief, nor even woe

Surrounded by people, yet no one heard, no one listened

No One Noticed how desolate it had become, so scorched that

there was no sensation of pain, no consciousness of ache

And even all attempts to speak went right through all thoughtlessness

that the world had become.

A deep empty well with a shredded rope just beyond grasp

Sitting mindlessly watching moving pictures in tubes and thinking of

All that was wanted, just for a moment to be considered

And each night grew longer without the sweet comfort of sleep or rest

which inside grew weary and indifferent.

No pill, nor drink would bring it closer, but only sheer exhaustion

Then collapsing into a blank solitude, longing for a fantasy to escape.

Screaming inside a deserted body, which had grown almost narcoleptic

and neglected to the degree of the simplest of tasks which made a stoic,

Sometimes callous exterior.

Saved so many times before, but no understanding of why and a single night

turned into years in which the acceptance of fate took root.

Inside a blackened room with no doors, no windows, Only 

the sound of hanging lights creaking above and the trace of rust in the air

All while walking over shards of broken bulbs that used to illuminate

Her.

Twas’ the Night Before Christmas….

It happened last night. It was inevitable. I knew it was coming, like murky grey clouds hanging over my house….the electric smell of a storm brewing. I had avoided it for almost a year. I kept thinking to myself….just one more year, a little more time, I am just not ready yet. We were sitting outside on the balcony. I inhaled a long drag off of my P-Funk and blew it away from him, as always when he would come out with me. The smoke just hung in the air like those cartoon bubbles above characters heads….just waiting for the silence to break. Then he asked….

“Mom….is Santa Claus real?”

I stopped breathing for a second or five…all possible answers flew through my head like a swarm of locusts on a crop.

“What do your friends say about it?”, I questioned back quicker than I thought.

“They said he isn’t real…that your parents do everything…so do all the kids in my class.”, he responded. He was matter of fact. Just as if he were telling me what time it was.

“What do you believe?”, I quietly said.

“I think he’s real.”…..And there it was. The answer I didn’t want to hear. He is going to be nine years old in exactly one month. I found out when I was about seven or so. Now what? I was so happy I squeaked by last year with answers like, “Do you think I want to stay up all night and put presents together?”….”Why would you think I would do all of that…I’m tired.” I refer to myself in the singular only because in the past eight years there had not been one Christmas Eve where Ted had been awake long enough to do it all. I was Santa all these years.

Jake is extremely mature for an eight year old. People don’t give him enough credit for how smart he is or for how much of the real world he does understand. He’s in third grade, reading at a fifth grade level….and a math genius. How do you lie to a genius?

So I did the dirty deed.

I explained it all. Santa…St. Nicholas…why people created the fantasy of such a person. A person with incredible influence and power over children. How does a child get over the fact that it is all a lie?

A lie is something you tell someone to hurt them. A lie is meant to be cruel….the fantasy of Santa is not a lie….it is a way of making children understand the concept of giving. It helps them to understand how to treat one another….how lucky we are and how unfortunate others may be. It is the reason we feed the hungry, house the homeless and drop our change and dollars into those red buckets every year outside of Wal-Mart.

He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t sad. He asked one question. “Well, if Santa and Mrs. Claus aren’t real, then who I was talking to on the phone last year wasn’t real?”

Ummm…yea….here we go…..

“Well, they were real people, just not Santa and Mrs. Claus.”, I answered.

“Then who were they?”, he asked.

“Your aunt and uncle.”, I said timidly.

“So, they lied to me.”, he responded…so quickly and with a shred of anger.

I proceeded to explain how it wasn’t really considered a lie, as it was not meant to hurt him in any way. It was merely meant to keep up with the illusion of the Santa myth. (I didn’t say that part ver batim….I skirted around that one as much as possible). At this moment,  Ted came in from walking the dog. I proceeded to tell him the entire story. He didn’t react as I expected. He was extremely angry that I didn’t “consult” him before telling Jake the truth about Santa. Really?

I mean fucking REALLY?

Three months ago Jake asked the sex question. I “consulted” him on that one and he proceeded to simply say….”Oh no, you got this one.” and threw his hands in the air. So I took it and with the maturity that Jake has, he handled it just fine, matter of fact, not really even surprised at all. He just said, “Oh, ok”, and shrugged his shoulders.

Ted was so enraged about this life altering decision I had made that he went on and on for over an hour. I defended myself, Jake told him to knock it off…that he was just fine and to “get over it”, which I found completely hysterical.

After Jake fell asleep and Owen was bathed and finally in la-la land too, I proceeded to give Ted the silent treatment. For someone who says that I talk too much and to leave him alone during an argument, he cannot stand the silent treatment. It kills him. He tries any and everything to get me to give him some sort of response…none of it worked.

About 11:00 PM, Ted got up to go to bed. I simply said, “Ted, if it will make you feel better, I’ll give you the Easter Bunny and the fucking Tooth Fairy…..ok?”

 

 

How Do You Measure A Person’s Success?

How does one measure a person’s success?

I have known many wealthy individuals who have worked themselves almost to death and for what? A bigger house. A nicer car, designer clothes, more vacations and hair by Fredric Fekkai….why are all these things so important? Do they really measure a person’s worth? Do they calculate their success or value as a human being?

I knew a woman once that would give you the shirt off of her back…knowing it was her last shirt and never bring it up in a conversation again. She had ruined her credit, had no vehicle or home and was virtually broke. I also know a man who has earned a lot of money, helped his family members when he could, but was quick to use it against them in the future. Yes, this man worked long, hard hours. He was rarely home and saw little of his children. He had everything he ever wanted, but there was always something lacking…. something more…something better to buy…something more expensive or trendier to obtain. So he kept working way beyond what should have been his retirement age.

Now, this woman died penniless, but with all of her friends and family surrounding her.

This man is still alive. He has a strained relationship with one of his children. He lives under constant stress and is still striving to obtain “the American Dream.” Most people would agree that he has already achieved it, but not in his mind. He has to have more…has to keep up with the lifestyle he has made for he and his wife. I don’t discount for one second all the hard work he has done to have this level of success…but is it really success?

I have shitty credit. It’s my own fault. I made huge mistakes and now I am paying for them. I don’t own a home right now. I rent a really great two bedroom, two bathroom apartment. This is where I am right now in my life and I am taking steps to change my life. Not only monetarily, but spiritually as well. I am truly happy with my life right now. It has improved greatly from over a year ago and my husband and I are doing more to insure that our family will always be comfortable.

Now….am I successful? In one respect, no, as my credit is shot and some months are harder than others with the bills. On the other hand, yes. I am in a much better place than last year. I am healthier, my kids are happy and my husband is much more relaxed. We have improved our lives 100% in the last year, but we are by no means wealthy. Does this mean I am not successful? Do I have to be Donald Trump to be a success? Is the measure of ones success based solely on their economic status?

Is it so horrible to die broke? I really don’t plan on that happening, but if I do, does it mean I died with nothing to show for it? My children are always well cared for. They have everything they want and need and more. We do things as a family all the time. No…we don’t go on elaborate vacations to exotic destinations, but we go to Disney-world or Universal Studios for the day every few months. We go to the park and the beach. I spend almost every day at the pool with my kids and their friends. My oldest has sleep-overs constantly and my house has become the Kool-Aid House. I write every day, which is what I love doing. I have friends that I talk to every day. But most importantly, my husband loves me and I love him. We have had some of the hardest times one can imagine, but we got through them.  We have both made mistakes, but we worked them out. We will be married 11 years on August 31st. He is the only man in my entire life that has never disappointed me.

Some would define our life as average….some below average.

Why is it so important to be wealthy and powerful to be considered successful? Does it not count to have a loving family and friends living a less than middle class life? The middle class has been totally screwed lately, but they continue to pick themselves up, brush off and start over.

I was middle class once. I screwed it all up. I am below middle class right now. I don’t plan to live paycheck to paycheck for the rest of my life….who does? But life happens and people screw up. What else are we supposed to do? I could drop into a deep depression, make my kids miserable, ruin my marriage and really make my life a royal fuck up. But I am choosing to pick myself up, brush off and start all over again….with the help of my husband. We did it before…we will do it again.

 I would say that sounds pretty successful.

Quote of The Day

Education is…

One of the few things a person is willing to pay for and not get.      William Lowe Bryan

Hanging around until you’ve caught on.        Robert Frost

We are shut up in schools and college recitation rooms for ten or fifteen years, and come out at last with a bellyful of words and do not know a thing.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-82) U.S. essayist and poet.

http://images.google.com/images?gbv=2&hl=en&q=education&sa=N&start=18&ndsp=18

http://www.lhup.edu/~dsimanek/eduquote.htm

A Little Advice….

One must be careful when speaking with a writer….your life may become their sublect material. But only if you are interesting enough, so don’t flatter yourself.

 

 

“I suppose that writers should, in a way, feel flattered by the censorship laws. They show a primitive fear and dread at the fearful magic of print.”
John Mortimer

http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/flattered.html

Quote of The Day

“Some give up their designs when they have almost reached the goal; while others, on the contrary, obtain a victory by exerting, at the last moment, more vigorous efforts than ever before.”

Herodotus:

http://www.wisdomquotes.com/cat_goals.html

 

Post Navigation