A Stone Girl Blog first

It was fun and interesting for me to read many introductory blogs from my fellow Holidailies participants on (and around) December 1. One thing that struck me was a common theme that seemed to be running through our first-of-the-month blogs. Many of us are bloggers who aren’t blogging. We started our blogs 10 or more years ago, maintained them for a good while, and then let them lapse. There are varied reasons for this for different people. I think the factors that resulted in my blog’s neglect included moving back to California, having kids, and changing blogging platforms. Many old sites that used to host blogs and blogging communities are defunct, and with them went a sense of community that many of us had, visiting each other’s blogs regularly. I’m glad I was able to transport a lot of my content to WordPress, but it’s not the same around here. Having kids affected a whole host of habits I used to have, for what should be obvious reasons. There are just not enough hours in the day and days in the week to work, maintain a house, and take care of two kiddos. If I’m not out of time by the end of the night, I’m out of coherent brain cells. I suppose I should also blame short-attention span social media distractions for taking up my time (because they don’t really engage my brain cells).

Another theme I saw in a blog I read that I feel I share is somewhat related to the desire to remain under the world’s radar. Maybe not completely anonymous, but at least innocuous enough to not draw negative attention from anyone who would do more than start a flame war. Which, by itself, is something I can barely survive anymore. My flameproof suit shows much wear, enough in spots that I get singed and stung more easily than I like. Sure, I’d love to share stories, ideas, and opinions and learn about what other people think and why. Is it worth it to debate back and forth, either in a civil manner or not? Sure. I can withstand a few flames still. Is it worth it to receive menacing messages or personal insults, or anything more severe? Not right now, it’s not. Not during a time when I’m focused on my work and family. Maybe if I decide to dedicate my life to writing, researching, reaching out to people, or actually trying to influence other people. Possibly then. But not when blogging is supposed to be a good outlet, a good funnel for my scattered thoughts, and a good way to keep in touch with others. So, I think I’m happy to stay under the radar, for now. Which doesn’t mean I won’t continue to post opinions and political thoughts and rants about how hypocrisy sucks. I’ll still do that. But you know what else I’m going to do? Something I’ve never done before. I’m going to post a picture of myself. Most people who read this blog would recognize me. It’s not a big deal if a few “strangers” could someday do so also. I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish by trying to stay out of sight for years. I think it’s a fallacy for any of us with any significant online presence to think we can stay anonymous to everyone. And you know, I’m ok with that. For now. I may delete this blog tomorrow. Ha! But I’ll bust out this little pic my hubby took of me earlier this year when we were hiking around Jack London State Park. Which, by the way, is an awesome little spot in itself to walk and hike and take in some nature. But, if you are a fan of the author, it’s a fantastic place to visit. Learn his history. See his home, the ruins of his dream home, and the beautiful home his widow built after he died. The Park just re-opened The House of Happy Walls home, and I’m looking forward to going back to see it again in its new design. Great little State Historic Park in northern California. Relatively easy for little kids to walk around, and they host some fun events throughout the year.

And with that, I bid you goodnight. Here’s looking at you, kids.

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Making Friends with Our Ghosts

When I was very young, I believed in ghosts. I don’t remember what I thought they were or why they were scary, but I was scared of them. When I would have a bad dream in the middle of the night, I wanted to run to my parents’ bed for comfort. I made it only a little past my bedroom door. Then I stopped. Because between me and the door of my parents’ room was the hallway. I had to pass across the hallway to get to their room. And down that hallway was a ghost. I just knew it. There was a ghost hiding in the dark just a little past my view, and if I ran across and exposed myself for even the short second it would take to get to mom and dad’s bedroom door, it would get me. I don’t remember what I thought it would do to me if it got me, but it would get me and that was a frightening prospect. Many a night, I teetered at the edge of the hallway wall, trying to force myself to run across. Many a night I sadly turned around and went back to bed alone. I was not brave enough to go anywhere near a ghost.

There were other places in the house a ghost would hide. My parents’ bathroom, with the only shower in the house, was at the end of their long closet in their bedroom. Guess what was on the other side of the closet? A wall. Guess what that created? A very very short hallway. Ghosts like hallways.

The door to the bathroom was a sliding wood door. I would close the door to take my shower at night. I would open the small window in the bathroom to vent the steam. When I got into the shower, the ghost would rattle the door. I was terrified. I was completely vulnerable, alone in the shower.  There was nothing I could do. The next time I took a shower, I tried locking the door. The ghost rattled the door. The next time I took a shower, I pushed that sliding door as hard as I could, pushed with all my might to close it tight, and I locked the door. The ghost still rattled the door. The door rattled at some point in the middle of my shower when I was just starting to get comfortable and feeling a little bit brave, scaring me out of the shower, with or without shampoo in my hair, to grab my towel and yell at it that I was there and I knew it was there and I was leaving now so it could get across the bathroom and out the window. Because that is what I figured out it wanted to do. Go out the window.

This routine went on for a little bit. It made me scared and sad. But you know what? You can only be scared and super sad for so long. It’s exhausting. It makes you want to change your behavior to avoid the thing that is making you scared and sad. But what could I do? Whether or not I explained the ghost, my parents were still going to insist I take a shower at night. And, except for the part about being so scared my flight instinct kicked in, I wanted to take a shower. But really, I didn’t want to take a shower. I was too scared. I was in a quandary. I had to shower. The ghost was not going away. But there had to be another solution besides long-term angst. So, I thought of one.

I took my towel into the bathroom. I opened the window. I went to the sliding door. I closed it most of way. I left a small space between the door and the door jamb. And I tried to make friends with my ghost.

I told the ghost we could make a deal. Instead of trying to keep the door shut tight to close it out completely, I would leave the door open a little to let the ghost in. But if I did this, then the ghost must just race across the bathroom, leave me alone, and go straight out the window. The ghost could go about its business. I could finish my shower. It would stop rattling the door. I would be able to relax and rinse shampoo out of my hair. And it worked. The ghost was still a ghost and it was still there, but we had a tenuous friendship. The door stopped rattling. I showered in relative peace.

There are some ghosts that will not go away. There are some scars that will not heal. There are things that cannot be avoided, things that cannot be forgotten, things that cannot be done, and things that cannot be undone. These are our ghosts. If we are to continue to live with them and still live our own lives to the fullest, it would serve us best to make friends with our ghosts. Or, at the very least, make a deal with them to allow them to coexist with us and pass by us, but not rattle us. Not scare us. Not hurt us, not cause us to alter our own course of life to avoid them. There are ways to do this. Sometimes, ghosts are more accommodating than we give them credit for. Sometimes, if we stop trying to close the door on them and shut them out completely, thereby causing them to rattle more loudly than we ever imagined, we can learn to acknowledge them and give them what they really want. Not us. They don’t want us. They want to go along their own path. They want their own freedom. And none of us can help it that our paths just happen to cross. We don’t have to best friends. But we can learn to be peaceful friends.

What are your ghosts? Can you find a path of peaceful coexistence?

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NaNoWriMo Update

Is up over at Stone Girl’s New Home at Multiply. Come over and watch me try and figure out how the @*&#^@*&#@ I can customize my new blog page. FUN!

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Let the Madness Begin

I’ll blog about it again once we get closer to the start date.

But for now –

I’m there! I’m ready! May insanity ensue!

Whatwhatwhat?

Check it out HERE.

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Entry for September 28, 2007

Foolish men.

Foolish women.

You have so much.

Why do you ask for more?

.

Foolish man

Fallible woman.

Why seek the moon,

when you have the shore?

.

Each grain of sand

is yours to hold.

The waves thunder

for your ears alone.

.

Yet you would walk

the desert heat.

For one more grain,

your greed would roam.

.

When will you learn

your own true value?

When will you revel

on your own ground?

.

Stop looking away.

Stop thinking of tomorrow.

Stop searching outside

and you will be found.

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Writers’ Block Challenge #18

You Know Me

You know me

I’m the high school football star without a scholarship who finished college.

I’m the daughter of the soldier-son of a soldier.

I’m the father who went back to the battlefield,

with my two sons.

I’m the doctor,

The mechanic,

The pilot,

Who sought to serve more than just an employer.

.

 

 

I was right outside your door.

I sold you Girl Scout cookies.

I dated your daughter.

I pushed my stroller past your window with leash in hand,

loved ones in sight.

I shopped,

I walked,

I mowed,

I said goodbye to routine and safe slumber.

 

 

.

You remember me.

But do you know where I am today?

  

I am not outside your door.

The traces of my voice are too far away for you to hear.

The pain I see is too much for you to imagine.

The reasons and whys don’t matter as much

as the whos and wheres.

I am dirty.

I am hot.

I am loyal and strong.

 

And I want the same thing you yearn for:

To share your door once again.

 

.

Writers’ Block Challenge is HERE. This is my first try.

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Entry for September 02, 2007

There are no answers to fruitless questions.

Who is the fool who asks?

Why do we not know how to change?
Why can’t pride be swallowed for the sake of another?

Don’t cry because monoliths cannot move.

Don’t scream because the stars follow the same pattern.

Did you throw a pebble in your pool and expect a ripple to form?

Do you not know that deep waters will swallow you whole.

Did you drop a crumb and think to find your way home?

Did you not learn to think for yourself.

Did you look for yourself in the heart of another?

Do you not see that you are whole.

When do we lose ourselves?

When do I regain me?

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