***Written for the draw:  belfry*** 

Taking Flight

She stood in the tallest tower looking out the smallest window

Envying the life in the birds nest on the ledge

Dizzy her head spins with thoughts of the past

Her heart aching from loss and longing

Fragments of a broken existence flash before her eyes and she is overcome with sadness

The tower had two windows

One much larger, and much more inviting

Pushing the window open the cool breeze comforts her

Almost stealing her breath and filling her

Looking down the tears roll off her nose into oblivion

Below life goes on

People busily rushing to meet their schedules and deadlines

Not even aware of this lovely girl in agony

Weeping uncontrollably

Completely oblivious to her existence

Until…

Her lifeless body lay before them on the cold pavement below the tower window.

~2

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I remember mine, like it was yesterday.  It was well thought and planned out… I think I even made a list.  I wanted everything to be perfect.  I knew it was going to special, and something I wanted to remember forever.

When the time came, I tried to relax, but it was still so uncomfortable, not like the “second nature” I was so sure it would be to me. I was awkward, I won’t lie.  I was nieve to think that it would be AWESOME the first time. 

It wasn’t until maybe the 5th or 6th when it started getting easier… and I liked it.  I couldn’t get enough of it.  All I could think about is who was next, and where it would be.  I was trying this and that, and hoping to get more of a response from friends.  Eventually my numbers climbed and I would like to say… maybe I am getting good at it.

Not quite the master I so long for… I guess that comes with more practice.  I have been practicing alot solo.  I think about it on the way to the store, driving down the road, talking on the phone, and even when I am in the act - I am planning my next go-round.  I can’t help it… I think I am addicted.

When was the first time YOU blogged?

~2

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I can only use this excuse for so long before people label me as a liar.  The truth is, I have been medicated since Thursday morning, and I am not sure how much longer I will continue taking these damn pain pills.  I made a decision to alter part of me, all in the name of vanity.

We all do things to try to better our appearance.  We buy clothes, we cut our hair, girls wear make-up, guys do whatever it is they do… all to appeal to the opposite sex (or sometimes the same sex… your call).  The media has implanted this idea of “beautiful” into our heads, and like starving pigs we eat that shit up.

My whole life I have hated something about myself, and I am sure you too are guilty of not liking something about you.  And when I sit down and think about it… it’s really not that big of a deal.  I mean there are many things I could change about myself… I could lose weight, would love to have bigger breasts.. lifted, tucked, and sucked away.  I have been super self conscious about this small gap between my top teeth.  It’s not even very large, it’s just something that has bothered me as long as I can remember.  So I decided I would like to go ahead and get braces to help close the gap.

My son has brakets on his front teeth and they came together so nicely; I was extremely jealous… so I talked to the dentist and decided that he could do that to mine as well.  The first step to this process required me to have a fernectomy… which is to remove the muscle that hold the lip to the gums

Thursday morning, bright and fucking early, I go to the dentist office and they hook me up to the gas… thank GAWD.  I was already a nervous wreck.  It’s funny, the whole time I was under the gas, I was thinking about blogging, but damn if I can remember any of the enlightening thoughts I had now.

I get a few shots to deaden my FACE and they get to work.  When finished, the doctor explains that I will probably be sore, because it they had to go a bit deeper, etc.  So they give me some antibiotic, 800 milligram ibuprofin, and a  script for something for pain.  They also decided to give me a shot of an antiflammatory before I left the office.  As soon as it hit me… the novacaine immediately wore off.  I decided I needed those pain pills so I drove to the store before going to retrieve the kids from my sisters.

Waiting for the pharmacy to fill my script my eyes start to water… it feels like someone has punched me in the nose… and my fucking lip is just dripping blood.  I have some tissue from the dentist office, and I keep blotting my lip… I look like a freakshow.

ANYway, to make a long story short… I am still sore.  Everytime I wake up my lips is swollen and throbbing.  I have like 8 to 10 stitches in my lip, but they can’t sew up my gums.  They removed the muscle all the way down from between my two front teeth.. so there is this gapping slit that looks so incredibly nasty.. bleah.

So yeah, I am still sore, and incredibly medicated.  It sucks that I am stuck in the house cause I am not suppose to drive, and I am not motivated to do anything but sit here and stare at my computer screen.  I am reading few blogs, and my comments are really sucking… so please try to overlook them, and just know I will try to reread these again… cause I am sure I don’t remember much of them.

I am behind on my subscriptions.  Everytime I sit down to read blogs my eyes glaze over.  I would love to have them read to me… but I can’t seem to get anyone to do so.  I promise to be back to my old self soon.  I have drawn from the jar, but I am still thinking about my post.  If you are interested message me and I will send it to you.

Just message me anyway… cause I am sitting here waiting for messages… that’s about all I am able to do.. I am kind of afraid to post this blog, may have to go and delete it later.  I don’t feel like rereading it or proofing it… so I apologize for any nonsense herein… and hope you will forgive me.

~2

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I know I posted a blog a while back about work being for SUKKAs… I totally lied.  I would be so willing to trade places with any of you SUKKAs, right now.

I have had a job since the day after my sixteenth birthday, against my mother’s wishes.  I have worked non-stop since then, only quitting a job when I had another lined up.  I wouldn’t even move out of state unless I already had a job waiting for me. 

SO.. making a long story short, I have misled you.  I only totally quit my job a couple of months ago to stay home with kiddo #2 and homeschool kiddo #1.  I had never had the option to stay home before.. I always worked, so I was kind of excited about it… sure.. who wouldn’t want to stay home all day.  OH GAWD!  What was I thinking?

After I had kiddo #1… I immediately went back to work.. he was nine days old, and a few months later I went back to school too… so I worked full time and went to school full time… yeah no big deal.  I maintained a 4.0 GPA and still had all my nerves in tact.  I am not sure what happened after kiddo #2.

SO.. why am I homeschooling you ask… good question.  I am one crazy FUCKO!  Serious though my kid is a genius, he’s just not willing to conform to a classroom setting.  I was getting calls everyday from the school telling me how “awful” my kid was.  He was dong just average kid stuff… I was even asked to come and sit with him a day to observe his behavior.  I think the teacher thought it was a punishment.  What she didn’t understand is he still thinks I’m cool… he hasn’t got to that stage where I can embarass him.  I got to sit next to him all day in class.. we went to lunch together… he was in heaven.

Aside his teacher had real concerns for him, and I liked her.. I really did.  She didn’t think we should medicate him due to the fact he wasn’t struggling with his work, and made exceptional marks.  The principal on the other hand was another story.  When I visited with her she immediately asked if I had talked to my doctor about medicating him… and I had.  I want to state up front that I don’t believe in medicating children… producing mindless drones is not my idea of education - to make it easier on the teacher.  I did speak with my doctor about it.. because I knew it was going to come up in school, and she didn’t think I should.  She told me he was bored, and he would grow out of it; that is the information I relayed to the principal.  She was floored that my doctor would say such a thing.  OK.. I was irritated, but that wasn’t why I took him out of public school.

It’s the Friday before Thanksgiving last year and I get a call about 2:50.  I had just gotten the baby to sleep and it’s the fucking principal.  She tells me that she had swatted him earlier for not following directions, and usually when she spanks a kid they are good for the rest of the day, but not my son.. .he was already giving the teacher problems.  Then here comes the question:

“Tomara, I know we talked about medication; is he currently taking any?” I informed her he definitely was not, and then she asked me in the most hateful of voices, “Is he SUPPOSE to be?”  I again explained that no he was not and agreed to come and get him.  So I woke up the little one and drove to the school… they get out at 20 after 3… so I get to get him out of school early.  The whole while I’m driving there I am thinking, yeah what a punishment… what can I do tomorrow to get mom to pick me up before lunch.

I sign him out, I am so angry I just feel my ears red hot and I can’t say a word.. just get my kid and go.  In the truck, I lay into him:

“Gabe, what did you do this morning?” I am trying to keep my cool

“I was working in my blue folder…” we’ve had this problem before so I ask the same questions: if this is a test, something that is timed, etc. He says, “No, this is something we do together as a class… and I didn’t want to do it together.  I wanted to do it by myself.”

FUCK!! You swat my kid for working independently… any other day he would be in trouble for disrupting the class… let him do the whole fucking book if he will stay quiet.

So, that, was the icing on the cake for me. I took him out the following Monday.  Wrote letters to the teacher, principal, counselor, and the head of the board.  Attached were a list of side effects for threre cure-all for my son’s “problem”.

OH there is more why I wish so badly to go back to work.. .but I will post it later.  I don’t want this to be too long and bore you tears.

~2

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***written for the draw: “Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you”-C.G Jung (1875-1961)*** 

Preferred Insanity

We have become seperated by double panes; you seem to see only your reflection while I see a blurry image of what I thought I knew.  Lately it seems as though your touch has become distracted… I guess it doesn’t matter… I am so numb.  Plagued with visions of the past and promises of tomorrow, my brain is shutting down… or shutting me out.  A thick haze drapes over me and an intolerable weight rests heavily on my shoulders and the back of my neck. What was once the smallest effort has become the largest chore, and I sink back into my hole and cower.  Waiting for the right hand to pull me out of this chasm I have hidden myself away in… waiting for the right words to trigger the emotion I so long for… Waiting for the right time to enter society again with an optimistic view and to live a life of preferred insanity.

~2

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I watch a lot of HBO, my favorite just happens to be Entourage.  It really gets me to thinking. Really the people we surround ourselves with help define us.  Albeit Vince is the hottest one… the rest of the guys have a little something that makes them loveable, likeable… good TV.

The entourage I roll with is not anywhere as cool as HBO’s.  We don’t go to fancy parties or shopping in extravagant places like the guys on the show… usually it’s a trip to the grocery store or Wal-Mart…. that’s about the most excitement we get in “White Trash America”.  Just me, the eight year old hyperactive “sugar-rock” addict, and the wailing 14 month old.  I’m like the coolest of the bunch, but I don’t get laid almost every episode by some tight-ass hotTEE that I meet out and about. OK… Vince doesn’t get laid in almost every episode, but I had to throw that in.. cause it cracked me up… sorry.

It is definitely more fun if I try to relate my pathetic life to something of some significance when I am on my lameASS routine.  I seriously hate taking kids to the store.  One wants everything he sees, and the other is just PISSED off.

I think Gabe will touch everything because he knows it drives me crazy… the whole time I am threatening him.  “If you don’t stop touching stuff, you can forget me getting those ______________” fill in the blank.  It’s something every time we go.  He gets quiet for a minute and then he’s back at it.  He can’t seem to walk next to me either.. he’s always way out in the middle of the isle… trying to stand on the side of the basket.. he bumps into everyone.  It really stresses me out.

Our Wal-mart isn’t a super Wal-mart, but it is open 24 hours and it has some extra stuff like milk and frozen pizzas.  I get some of these things here so I don’t have to make a trip to the grocery store too… because the heat and kids wear me out quick.

SO… I go to the store; I try to have a list so I can get in and out as fast as I can.  The last isle I go down is the one that has milk, bread, and cereal.  I grab milk and tell Gabe he can pick out ONE kind of cereal.

OH GEEZ… that is a mistake in itself.  He takes 20 minutes looking at what the box of cereal has to offer him.  He doesn’t care what it tastes like… it’s all about the “surprise inside”

I shouldn’t complain too much, because I remember doing the same thing.  My mom would take us to the store… bless her heart (and I think MY kids are a handful).  My sister and I were like some bizarre sugar fiends ricocheting off the walls and ceiling… we did whatever we could to embarrass my mother in public, yet she seemed to keep her cool…. maybe I will get some “cool” in the next few years, or I’ll reach my limit and explode.

ANYway, we had two step-brothers, and could go through some cereal.  One of the step brothers is the same age as me… so we were at each other constantly.  Cereal was sacred.  The first person to open the box and get the prize was like the master.  We couldn’t open them when we got home… we would have to wait until the morning to stake our claim.  We would even go as far as to write our name on the top of the box to call “dibs”.

I was vengeful… watch out for me.  If my step-brother called “dibs” on something I wanted… I would unleash my wrath.  I remember once opening a box of lucky charms in the middle of the night and leaving the prize, because it was claimed, but I ate every single marshmallow in the box.  I distinctly remember being ill for a couple of days after that… but it was well worth it… just seeing his face as he poured himself a bowl of marshmallow less goodness… aahhhhhhh.

I guess I shouldn’t be so tough on him and his breakfast of choice… as long as he eats it, I really shouldn’t care.  I like surprises, and I guess if I can only get them in cereal I would be pretty damn particular too, but those surprises don’t do much for me anymore.  I guess I have moved on to wanting bigger, better surprises.  I would like to be content with a box of cereal, but I have gone past that…. kinda sad really, and I as much as I envy Vince and his Entourage; I better stick with what I know and roll with my own.

~2

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***written for the draw:  One Way Ticket*** 

Destination: Home

My destination gateway

Closer now

Rolling in slowly from the taxiway

I can’t believe I made it

Alone in my row of bucket seats

Shaking hands

Trembling knees

I gather my things and stand to my feet

Racing heart

A sigh of relief

My longest journey to date

I am just a gate away

Running off the plane

Down the long hall

I collapse in your warm embrace

I am home

~2

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I have been homeschooling my son since right before Thanksgiving of this last year.  It is a very long and drawn out story… that really gets me angry, and I want to spare you the vent.  Unless there is a real interest and then of course I will blog about it.. but right now I will spare you the details.  During this time, we have done some really cool stuff, and he has advanced past his peers in such little time - it’s ridiculous.

ANYway, we read this book called Pets in a Jar.  It’s about caring for small animals in gallon jars (like the one I use for my weekly draw), and our favorite in the book was the praying mantis.  It is also the scariest of the animals in that book.

Around this time, a friend of mine had an adult mantis in her classroom.  It had laid two egg sacs (oothecas) and started to die… such is its life cycle.  She gave us an ootheca in exchange for one of my gallon jars. We placed our jar on the dresser in Gabe’s room and waited.  I think it was weeks later.  I just happend to go into his room while he was sleeping (one of the many times) to check on him.  I glanced over and noticed something strange… CRAP!! Mantises!!

I got sooo excited.  I grabbed the jar and took it in the living room with me and sat it down on the table and watched for a couple of hours before turning in.  There wasn’t as many as I thought there would be.  I was disappointed, but excited none-the-less.

The next morning I tried to wake Gabe with the excellent news… he didn’t budge.  I started counting and there were only a few.  I was afraid they had started eating each other.  So I hop online to look and see if maybe they hatch in phases or something.  I had read that each ootheca can old up to as many as 300 mantises… then I see somewhere between 10 and 100.  I just happen to glance over and more are starting to hatch out.  It’s incredibly “oogie”… they are hanging from the sac by a tiny thread… and they are completely gross, but I can’t make myself look away.  My skin is crawling and I am covered in goosebumps, and I itch… stomach turns.  It was totally bizarre…. amazing even.

SO, we had decided earlier to just name our whole jar of mantises something that is rather unisexual.  Gabe came up with Alex, since we know both boys and girls with that name… On a non related note, Gabe’s naming skills aren’t the best.  This was alright, but when I was pregnant, he wanted to name the baby… if a boy… Chaos Destructo.  Yeah…hmm…

After these last mantises hatched that put  my jar up to about 18.  I gave some of them away, and eventually within the last few weeks it has dwindled to one.  Man is he/she ever impressive.  It started out the size of an ant, and now it’s close to 2 inches long.

I have been feeding them.  After I first noticed they had hatched, I immediately hopped online and ordered some flightless fruitflies.  They lasted for quite a while.  This last shipment however has been rather disappointing.  So to make a long story short… Today I let Alex go.  I opened the front door, took the cheesecloth off his jar, tipped it to it’s side, grabbed the stick in the jar… was real careful cause he still “ooges” me out… and sat it on the porch.  He looked at me… turned his head and looked at me.  I like to believe he said thanks.  Maybe even smiled. 

I’m not going to say he is better off, and I am going to try to imagine he lives the rest of his life out in my flower bed.  I am just going to think about the moment on the porch and letting him go… I still wish I would have touched him.  I wish I wasn’t so damn scared.  He brought me such happiness by doing absolutely nothing.

It’s weird but Alex is like a metaphor for my life… I am not going to go into here, but I will miss him.

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***Written for the draw:  Denial*** 

Who Stole the Cookie From the Cookie Jar?

She came in ranting and raving

So what… it was the last one of its kind

So what… she worships them like some pagan god

So what…

I won’t deny it

I ate it

And I’ll do it again

Just to piss her off

~2

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***written for the draw:  Speech*** 

 The Playwright

In my head I plan the words I want to say
Neverending script… yet never beginning 
I know I haven’t the nerve today
To tell you how I really feel

Striving for perfection
I wish to mouth the words to make you love me
Endless plot for your attention
Dreaming to learn you feel the same

~2

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