There are people in your life whom you unknowingly inspire simply by being you. ~author Unknown

I am forever mentally collecting sage words from a myriad of sources. Perhaps the best bit of advice I've ever received came recently from an Aunt who has been very influential in my life. She said, "Be you and love the way YOU love. People will adjust." She went on to remind me that others may not respond in the way I wish, but that's okay. That has nothing to do with me and everything to do with them and whatever journey they're on. While I know this to be true, it sure feels good to hear it especially from someone I respect tremendously.

It often trips me up when love and relationships are not reciprocated, which is even more potent if those people are already close to my heart. It shouldn't, but it does. From a logical standpoint, I know that everyone doesn't "love the same" and usually I'm good with that. In fact, I'm a big fan of diversity and celebration of our differences. Sometimes, however, I get caught on what my own ideas of love should look like and disappointed when those views aren't shared. In that regard, the pain I feel is of my own creation because I allow myself to focus on what I thought it should be instead of celebrating the truth of what it actually is. It is a flaw I am working on and perhaps someday will actually correct. I suppose being so totally aware of it is half the battle. I probably have a quote somewhere in my words of wisdom collection to support that.

I hated you yesterday. Your gaunt body, slowly being eaten by cancer from the inside offended me, made me want to scream until I had no voice left to utter. Scream that you are a bastard and life is sometimes so fucking unfair. Scream that your ambivalence makes me feel like a wasted bit of nothing that people can see right through like I was some near-invisible walking specter that only exists in my imagination. We shared exactly four words between us and I plastered on a fake smile because let's face it, you don't know me well enough to know the difference. The evidence that you're dying almost makes me hate you more...for all we never were, all we'll never be, a lifetime of fake and lies and not a damn thing to do about it but wear that fake smile, suck it up, and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I cloak these feelings most days, wrap them in a shroud of happy things...the gurgle of my grandson, the joy of my daughters, the love of my work, but it's always there, ever haunting me whispering dark things that no amount of truth can counter-balance. The truth is, this mess is mostly on you. The truth is YOU dropped the ball long ago when it was your responsibility to do otherwise and I paid for it in a thousand ways since then. Fuck you for making me feel this way and damn me for allowing it! Just when I tell myself I have made my peace with what is verses what I wish, days like yesterday happen and I know that for the fat, hairy lie it is. Peace, my ass. I will carry this pain with me till the end of my days, this pain YOU put at my feet, this damage you created and I will fight every single day not to let it drown me. Most days, I win. Some days, I seethe with hate and you win. Either way, we both lose.

A look inside my mind...Ready, set, GO

"Dang, it's cold today. Why does Jack sniff every leaf on the ground when it's cold outside? I can't even believe how much things can change in just twelve months. I have blood on my favorite boots from January and it's weird all that it has come to symbolize. I mean, it's just a pair of boots, FFS. And yet, every time I wear them I am reminded of taking risks, and loss, living life full-throttle and getting bumps and bruises from doing that sometimes, learning when to hold on tight and when to let go. Mostly, though, I am reminded of the "cost" of people, places and things. Why does this dog lay right next to me on the floor and lick himself for hours? Should I clean once I'm done writing for the day, or wait until tomorrow? A nap really sounds good, especially since I'm cold and I didn't make the bed today! And Oh my GOD the world is coming to an end because I didn't make the bed today. No kidding, if I have to listen to one more horrible news story, I'm going to completely lose my shit! Get it together, people! The thought of no alarm clock tomorrow? Delicious...."

The house is quiet now, except for Jack here at my feet and the sound of the "tick, tick, tick" coming from the clock on the mantle over the fireplace. I am mindful today that sometimes it's not a good thing to be left too long alone with my own thoughts. It's too easy for me to become lost inside my head as the world continues to spin and pass me by. I love being a writer, especially since the parameters allow me a freedom that doesn't exist in just about any other occupation that is not artistic. I need that freedom almost as much as I need oxygen. I also love being a teacher, with its very organized structure, time tables, and complete "orderlyness". It makes a good balance for me, and I swear I am nothing if not a woman who cherishes and looks for balance in my life all the time. Anyway, thanks for taking a trip with me down Random Road. I hope this Tuesday finds you well and happy.

Love,
A.

Thanksgiving is such an odd holiday. Don't get me wrong, any holiday that includes sweet potato pie (...which I totally prefer over pumpkin) is fine by me, but what, exactly are we celebrating? The beginning of the near annihilation of the Native Americans? Gluttony brought to the brink of being catatonic? The opening of the most greedy, shamelessly exploited examples of capitalization in the modern era, as "Black Friday" (...which has apparently been moved to Thursday this year) is launched in industrialized nations around the world? None of these things put me in a festive mood. In order to do that, I have to give myself a serious mental shake, turn off the TV, and shift my focus towards what my father would call more pagan rituals for this time of year.

Harvest festivals have been held in many cultures around the world for thousands of years. One common theme is the celebration of the end of the growing season, a thankfulness for the bounty of the harvest, and a time to enjoy a meal (often accompanied by dancing) with close friends and family. This, to me, sounds like a GREAT idea...in theory. It doesn't, however, always work out that way. I don't know about any of you, but for me the Thanksgivings I remember from my past weren't always cause for celebration. And try as I might, I don't recall a single one ever fitting the ideal shown in Mr. Rockwell's picture above.

As a child, this time of year was extremely stressful, especially being shuffled around between sides of the family after my parents divorce. Later, when I added my significant other, Thanksgiving became a day I dreaded with a passion. The traffic was a nightmare and after going to visit family all over, by the end of the night I was exhausted and wanted to puke from over-eating. When we started our own family, I put the kibash on "traditions" that made me want to hide in a closet until New Years. We began to shape our holidays after happy things we remembered and new things we added as our girls got older. One lesson I've learned from all of those non-Rockwell-like holidays of the past is to take that beast in hand and make it your own...do only the things that make you happy, go only the places where you know you're truly welcome, and don't let anything trample on a time of year that is supposed to be about fellowship and love. Oh, and have a slice of sweet potato pie!

Here's a link with some great information on Harvest Festivals....

http://www.onegreenplanet.org/uncategorized/ten-amazing-harvest-festivals-from-around-the-world/

There are days, like today, that I feel as if I have utterly failed nearly a decade worth of students because I didn't fight harder to bring to light so many things that are horribly wrong in our public schools. I tried, dug under every rock, looked in every nook and cranny, spoke with lawyers, activists, other teachers from around the country, etc. to no avail. Finally, after beating my head against what felt like a giant brick wall, I gave up. Peace of mind and personal healing became more of a priority than being right. And while absolutely no one else seems to blame me for this, I blame me. I don't like it. At my core, giving up is NOT who I am, not what I stand for. How many times did I tell a classroom full of short humans, "When you are passionate about something, stand up for it, even if you're the only one standing." I bet I said it at least a hundred times, and yet after facing so many road blocks, what did I do? I sat down, bowed out, or as my husband would say, I took my box of crayons and went home.

Educators in the state of North Carolina have absolutely zero recourse in the fight to "fix" what is wrong with a system that is horribly wrong, i.e. our public school system. The power wielded in regards to education, especially here in a "right to work" state, lie solely with those who play the "politics game" well. They are the ones who create the climate and hold control over who or what is "in" or "out". In my time here as an educator and parent with two children going through the various school systems, I have seen many people of a political nature say one thing out loud that is a complete lie, while doing something else "behind closed doors".  One principal even cautioned me when I first started teaching here, "Be careful who you piss off. This is a 'good ol' boys' club and it will only bend so much before you are black-balled and shut completely out." He had been in education in some form or another for nearly forty years, so I trusted him at his word. Meanwhile, educator working conditions continue to deteriorate, student learning is in a complete free fall, and at nearly every level, those responsible for this big mess are not held accountable. As our children, the couriers of our future, struggle to keep up with whatever new set of standardized testing is the flavor of the month (...which, by the way, has zero credibility in regards to measuring student growth, a fact backed up by years of credible evidence), we continue to plunge down a steep, mud-crusted crevasse into pit of intellectual obscurity. What can be done to fix such a monster of a mess?

It is possible that I could devote the entire rest of my life towards answering that question and possibly helping attain the goal of making "it" right. From the research I have done up to now about the various problems with public education, of which I could fill an entire room, it is clear to me that there are so many moving parts and pieces, it's nearly impossible to decide where to start. And since I wield almost zero political "clout", the options become even more limited. Education of our youth is a subject that I'm extremely passionate about, but do I want to give it the rest of my life, make it my mission in life to change? I have read about many who have taken up the mantel of doing just that and it makes me happy to see these warriors for our youth do their thing and do it well. I have no intention of going into politics, my voice is small (although it's getting bigger all the time). This space, i.e. my writing, and the classrooms I still go into, the students I gain as I take on a lesser role...that is what "I" can do. That is what I am willing to do. Some days it does not feel like enough. It feels like an epic fail on the worst of those days. Then I watch a video like the one below and remember one of my favorite Shakespearean quotes, "Though she be little, she is fierce (--A Midsummer Night's Dream)!" Hopefully, the little bit I can do will grow into "enough". And if not, I want to say to all of my small people, many of whom are no longer small, I'm so sorry that I let you down. When YOU grow up, do better, be better. I'm cheering for you and love you to the Moon and back.

I was talking with a friend on the phone yesterday evening, and in the course of our conversation I told him "my house is full of things, nice things, that don't really matter...they're just stuff." My statement, while very true, does not tell the entire story...as is often the case in my world. You see, as long as those close to me, those in my Tribe are safe and happy, that is the real value in my life, but my home is filled with bits and pieces of memories of those who've come and gone. The little blue blanket is a perfect example...

As I got up this morning and put myself together for the day, I walked past the little blue blanket still draped over the back of my sofa. I touched the soft material and lifted it, bringing it to my nose for a long sniff...it smells like the tiny human I wrap it around when he comes to visit. It never fails...when my grandson comes to see me, I get the blanket of his that stays at Nana's house, wrap him in it and snuggle for as long as he will allow. Then, once his Mama has taken him home, I leave it for days where I can see it frequently. Every time I look at it, I think of the boy who will outgrow it soon enough and the boy who'll never see it, the son I lost who won't get a chance to be a man. This "thing" that lives in my house, this little blue blanket...I wouldn't take a million dollars for it. Hell, I wouldn't take ten million dollars for it. It has become a deep-rooted symbol of people I've lost and people I've gained, and how does one put a price tag on that? Before the weekend, I'll stash that blanket back up in the bedroom I've come to think of as Colin's room, out of sight but never far from my thoughts. And then when he returns for a visit, out it will come and go back to its resting place on the back of my sofa for however many days I decide to soak up the euphoria it exudes from those soft, blue fibers of cloth. I'll think to myself, "stuff doesn't matter" and almost hear my unborn son whisper, "Uh huh...sure, mommy. Then what's with the blanket?"

It doesn't matter what relationship you're dealing with, sooner or later there are gonna be bumps in the road. My whole day has been "off" because my morning started with a flash-fire fight between my husband and I. You know the ones that light quickly, burn wicked hot, then fizzle out almost as fast? And even though near the end I told him to just "get out, go to work or whatever", bless him for staying instead, holding me tight, and making it right in the few minutes it took to diffuse the situation.

The truth is, sometimes the damage I carry around is not easy to live with when it is rubbed up against. The more I deal with things and help them to heal, the less of a problem it is but it has not gone away completely and maybe it never will. After many years with me, my husband has learned pretty well how to navigate around these things. But he will tell you that sometimes when he's dodging the "landmines of Amy", he gets his legs blown off. This morning I apologized for the part my "broken" played in our fight. His response was this: "My heart beats for you. And when you hurt, I hurt. There is nothing and I mean nothing in this world that I cherish more than you. All I ever want to do is protect you and that includes from me when I mess up. I try really hard not to. I love you my sweet Angel. You may think that you are broken or damaged but to me you are beautiful and next to perfect. We wear warrior rings (our wedding rings) because every day is a fight. A fight that I am happy we do together against all forces that we're faced with. And we always make it through." My response..."You brighten my day. This morning, instead of just leaving, you stayed as long as possible and held me, loved me. I'm still hurt, but that little thing makes it so much better. You stayed."

I share this with you now as an exclamation point on the fact that life is messy, people are messy and no matter how "perfect" something looks, it's not. There's no such thing as a perfect relationship. We are all flawed. We all cause others pain at times. It took me a very long time to be okay with the fact that I can be a bit of a self-destructive screw-up. It doesn't matter so much to me anymore why that happens. The most important part is how I can fix it when it happens. As per those who hurt me, what matters in my mind is that they care enough about me, about the relationship to stay and work it out, whatever it is. Those who will stay and fight to be a part of your life...those people are your Tribe. Those who don't were meant to be elsewhere, and that's okay too. My day is "off" but soon that will be vanquished by an evening that repairs the sore spots and for that I am so very grateful!

In a few hours, this little guy is coming to visit his Nana. With all that's going on in the world, my Ferocious Mama Lion instincts kick into high gear just thinking about him. I want the world he grows up in to be devoid of hate (...I know this is an impossible wish). I want the people of the world to be kind to him (...again, completely unrealistic). A part of me understands that if he never faces challenges, he will never grow strong. If he doesn't experience things in life that give him some rough edges, he will never learn how to tap into the real power that as of now merely lies dormant inside of him. He cannot know love without some heartbreak. There are so many things I wish I could protect him from. I know that even if I could do that, however, I shouldn't. *sigh*

Mostly, he just embodies the word "Hope" for me and every time I see him, he teaches me new ways to define the word "Love" in my heart. His story has barely started and I can't wait to see what he will write onto this world. When the dark of the world threatens to choke the life out of me, I look for those who shine...like this tiny human who holds my heart in the palm of his little hand. May all of you find your own places of light.

Love,
A.

I paced the deck for a long time today trying to collect my thoughts and figure out what I wanted to say in this article. When I posted the one on Friday, the acts of terrorism hadn't happened yet in Paris or Lebanon. The eerie prophetic nature of my blog's content hung like a dark cloud over me all weekend. I spent Friday night, Saturday and Sunday holding my immediate family close, praying, and searching for "answers" in a head full of too many questions that I have no idea what to do with. I want the world to make sense. I want the world to be kind, and fair, safe and inviting. Are these so unrealistic? 

The truth is, the recent terrorist attacks are not "new". Worse, they're happening in places all over the world all the time, but mostly those acts do not garner as much attention. Why? What place is the "right" place for horrible things to happen before we stand up, united, and say, "This shit is not going to happen anymore?" What people are the "right" people to be murdered before we are all, collectively, outraged?

I am a firm believer in the concept of life having very few absolutes. I think, in many cases, issues, ideology, etc. fall under varying shades of grey. That being said, there are crystal clear areas of black and white/right and wrong. It is wrong that people are still starving in the world in this day and age. It is wrong that we have yet to find a way to live in peace. It is wrong that some parts of the world are still living in the dark ages, while others prosper light years beyond them. It is wrong that people are not held accountable for their actions and even worse that greed has allowed for the rape of our Nations and our planet! It is wrong that we are still, STILL fighting over various religions, especially in light of that fact that ALL of the major religions in the world have cornerstone foundations of love and peace! I could go on and list more things I think are flat out wrong, but it is enough if YOU are now creating your own list in your mind.

Did you know that if you do a google search for "Images of Poverty in the World", the images that come up are legion? I looked through them slowly at first and thought to myself, "This isn't the world I live in. Surely these must be from a long time ago." But it didn't take long to realize how current many of them are and be horrified at the world outside of my little "bubble". My perusal got faster and faster...I didn't even make it to the end, unable to look anymore. How did it get like this? Why is this okay? Because it's not happening in our neighborhood, or on our doorstep? Perhaps the biggest question I asked myself is....what can I do? I don't know the answer to that yet, but I'm damn sure going to find out.

To the people in France I say, you are not alone. Stand strong!
To the people fleeing war, intolerance, and terrorists I say, be safe and God speed (or whomever you pray to).
And to everyone else I say, help me make this right.

My head is so full of news feed articles and photos that make me angry! It's difficult to sort them all out and even more so to tune them out. This is why I didn't write an article yesterday, because what I would have had to say would have made absolutely no sense. From my personal life and things going on around me, to a much larger stage, I see a whole boatload of injustice and I'm sick of it! SICK OF IT! Even people of marginal intelligence know the difference between right and wrong. I see so much that is "wrong", read about it, watch it on the news, hear about it while listening to the radio and little or no "justice" in regards to combating it. I think, "What am I supposed to do about it? Just suck it up as one of those 'not my problem' things? Pretend it isn't happening? Ignore it completely and bury my head in the sand?" Those are things many people do, and maybe, just maybe they do them because they feel the way I do...helpless! It is not a good feeling!

I don't know how to shut down the strong reactions I have to certain things. I don't know what to do with all of the feelings they drag from me and I certainly don't know how to make whatever "it" is that's bothering me...better. I am not a "just look away and let it go" kind of girl! It's Friday and I should be happy. I have more blessings than I can count and a life I am in love with. Instead of that being at the forefront of my mind, I am caught in this quagmire of twisted, tangled global politics, our own politics here in the United States, and a justice system that is an epic failure (which pretty much applies to any Nation around the world, not just the ones right here at home). How I will dig myself out from under this is beyond me, but I do fervently wish all of you a stellar weekend! 

Sincerely,
A.