I haven't forgotten you

And here we have some of my art. This is a piece from out first assignment, which was to make fertility figures or something suggestive of fertility. This here is supposed to be a pregnant pig with really big teats. The swirls give her visual interest and maybe suggest the curly tail, except that this curly tail has gone wild all over her body. I don't know, people. Sometimes these things come to me like that.

Madame Pig from the other side. She's about the size of a small fist. Oh, and pay no attention to the time stamp on the photo. I accidently changed it and haven't fixed it yet.
This fertility figure is more a maternity figure, I suppose. The form is supposed to suggest a mama bear, and there are her two little cubs. The one lying down looks like a baby gerbil to me, but I meant for it to be a small bear cub.
Mama bear's back is all dressed up with a symbol signifying what she eats (salmon) and where she lives (Pacific Northwest)
Here they are snuggled all together in the protection of Mama's embrace.
There are more figures from this assignment, one pretty boring and the other amazing. I'm too tired to load them now. Remind me if I forget later. Tomorrow in class I will take more pictures of the latest completed assignment. I may also photograph my current work in progress. I'll try to get some pics posted here.

I'm quite busy this semester, as I've mentioned. And that's all I have to say about that. Today I am amazingly sleepy. Almost time for my next nap.

We had a lovely Samhain (Halloween) celebration over here last night. A core group of young people, C and N's closest friends, came over and we had a feast and celebration. I cooked a lot of food! I didn't realize that I was doing most of the cooking, but when the table was set, there was all this food that I made. Superman fixed some of those really skinny steaks, I can't remember what they're called. That was our emergency back-up meat. The guys bought a very nice pork loin, but for complicated reasons it did not start cooking as early as it should have. It was finally finished when everything was over around 1:00 this morning. I just had a piece of the pork loin for lunch. It's amazingly good! We may have to do that again, only plan it better next time.

Late last night I had an attack of the blues. That so doesn't describe it, though. An attack of the black? I was overcome by a painful sadness, a mourning of what I don't know. I felt closer to crazy than I have in a while. It was a familiar feeling. Maybe that's what I was sad about, that it was so familiar. I don't know.

One of the elements of our celebration was masks. We had been instructed to bring a mask to wear. Last weekend I drew out some sketches for a mask I had in mind, and yesterday afternoon I made it. Thing about my mask, though, in concept it was less of a mask and more of an unmask. C is the only one who understood the significance of it, simply because he knows me so well. I used a piece of black craft foam, the thin lightweight stuff that is easy to cut into shapes, but stays stiff enough to not fold up under its own weight, mostly. I dunno. Look it up. Anyway, I used this piece of black craft foam, cut into a shape similar to that of Robin's mask. Instead of being smooth across the bottom, I cut it so that there were extensions from the outside of the eye area that ran down the outsides of my cheeks, sort of. One on each side, sort of curling out around my cheeks. The top of the mask above the eyes went up, forming the apex of a semicircle that surrounded my forehead, from the temples, up over the forehead, then back to the other temple. Don't know if I've described it well.

But on to the concept of the mask. The two pieces that ran down around my cheeks I covered with a line of clear rhinestones, diamond-like in appearance. Those were my tears, tracking down my face to my chin. This was a sorrowful mask. Recently, I'd say over the last few months I've been pretty happy. There haven't been many of those sorrowful days. However, the sorrow and pain are always with me, usually not far from the surface. Deep enough these days that it isn't too obvious to most people. My mask unmasked those feelings, and though the celebration was going along very well and I was tired but happy, suddenly the sorrow rammed into me. I sat on the ground for a while, then moved to the lawn chair and sat for a long time after everyone else went inside. C and N came out to sit with me. C held my hand and asked me those questions that must be asked. Do you intend to hurt yourself? Are you planning to kill yourself? He's a good friend and I love him very deeply. And no, I had no intentions of doing myself in. We discussed taking a very small number of pills to calm my raging emotions/nerves, and that is what I decided to do.

Before they came out to sit with me I had figured out what I needed to do. I had to burn the mask. I removed it, held it in my hands for a while watching as the light from our campfire illuminated the rhinestones. C followed me as I walked over to the fire to drop the damned mask in. Funny how different things burn. That mask curled up on itself, burst into flames, and quickly melted to nothing. I think I felt better. So I came inside, took some aleve for my headache and 1 mg of benzodiazapine. Then I washed my face and went to bed. I felt better immediately. I assume I did, having no recollection of what transpired from then until I woke up at 9 or so this morning.

Today is obviously a sleep day. I've had one nap already, and keep nodding off while typing this. I'm going to take another nap now.

Happy Halloween, Happy Samhain, and Happy New Year to all.

The further adventures of gays in my life

It's been pretty quiet, actually. We managed to get N enrolled in school, and that was more difficult than it needed to be. Things went swimmingly on this end, but people at the school he left were being a$$h0les. He had to officially withdraw from the old school before he could officially enroll here. The bitches at the old school said he had to come in person, fill out the withdrawal form and sign it, and either turn in his books or pay $150. N turned in his books the day before he left. He gave them to the classroom teachers, so the office didn't know about it. Did they investigate? Not until I mentioned the possibility that the teachers might know something. It was the secretary in the guidance office who was being the biggest roadblock, and she was downright ugly to me. I smiled and turned on the sticky-sweet. That works for me. It's heavy with sarcasm, but on the surface it looks so nice. It's a southern thing, like when we say "bless your heart" it really means "fuck you." Depends on the situation, of course. Sometimes I say "bless your heart" and genuinely mean it. I meant "fuck you" when talking to Ms. Secretary.

I happened to be driving in the general direction of that small NC town when I spoke with the secretary. I was taking Light back to school Monday afternoon, and her college town is between here and there. There was some urgency that he be enrolled here by Tuesday because this school was administering the test that all students must pass in order to graduate high school, beginning Tuesday and going through Thursday. Ms. Secretary was stalling for no good reason. I suggested they fax the paperwork here so N could do his magic to it in our guidance office and fax it back. But he still owes $150 for the books. If I take care of the obligation for the books, could you fax the paperwork? No. But why not? (Maybe I shouldn't have used the word 'obligation.' That big word might have confused her.) Well, we just don't do it that way. OMFingG! No, I didn't say that out loud. At that point I told her I was on my way to the school and would pay what he owed for the books, suggesting also that she check with the teachers as to what books he might still be missing. Ms. Secretary realized that I was going to show up in the flesh and beat her bitchy ass, so she let me talk to the lead guidance counselor after putting me on hold for half a fucking hour! On my cell phone, outside my local area. I dunno, do they still charge roaming fees? Superman pays the bills, I don't keep track of shit like that.

So I finally talked to the guidance counselor. She was pretty nice, actually. I told her I was coming in to pay for his books, and asked about the fax option. Well, if his guidance counselor calls me, I can fax the papers, then stay on the phone with him while he witnesses N signing the forms, and he can fax it back. That will work. What the fuck ever. Thankfully our guidance counselor here was super nice and willing to work with the bitches there. And I did all the leg work, so it worked out fine.

Once the bitch (Ms. Secretary) realized I was on my way for real, she backtracked a bit on the book fees. She agreed to talk to the teachers about his books, too. N assures me that he turned in all the books he had, and some of the classes only had a classroom set of textbooks so he wasn't issued a book in the first place. Yeah. Exactly. I had the foresight to ask if these people would take a check. They would take a local in-state check, but... obviously I'm from South Carolina. Can they make it more difficult for me? S-u-u-u-re. Once I got into NC I stopped at an ATM and withdrew $200, just to make sure I had enough to cover whatever bribe they asked for.

I got there just before 4:00. Oh, I forgot to mention that we were in a race with time, because the school offices close at 4:00. I made it with 10 minutes to spare. Arrrgh! I don't like rushing like that. Face to face, Ms. Secretary said that she found two of the teachers who said N had turned in his books. The other teachers had left for the day by the time she looked for them. Um-hm. She said the book fees were "about $40." About? Do we have any kind of invoice? I didn't ask, because I knew what was really going on. I did, however, try to pin her down on a specific price for "the books" because "about $40" means diddly squat. All I got was "$40 will cover it." So I peeled off two twenties and asked for a receipt. Ya know what I got for a receipt? A note on a pink post-it. Come on! I know they have a receipt book. We mustn't leave a paper trail, though, right?

We got it done. It cost $40 (plus gas) and took me 100 miles and three hours out of my way, but I accomplished the mission. The guidance counselor here took care of the rest of the details with N on Tuesday, and he is now enrolled in school again. If he passed the tests he took last week, and passes all his courses this semester, he will graduate in December.

N has received a couple of letters from the mother. She whines and cajoles in print now, but doesn't call and hasn't shown up. No, neither has his sister. I doubt she'd come here, anyway, if she did run away from home. Mother is using the cat as a tool to guilt him into returning. The cat meows at his bedroom door, misses him so much. What I know is the cat is well cared for, and N isn't worried about him.

The household has settled into the new normal. N is very easy-going, easy to get along with. He's not the drama queen S was, and has a much more cheerful attitude about helping around the house. I like that part particularly. All my flatware is still present and accounted for!

And that's pretty much the way things are. Less than a week of drama, and smooth sailing ever since. It's good, very good.

The saga continues: Part the second

I'm hoping part two is the end of everything, after what all happened yesterday.

We left of yesterday with the door bell ringing at 9:00 in the morning. I was expecting another visit from the police, since N hadn't called to tell anyone that he was OK. I would have preferred the police. It was Mother.

How in the hell did she find our address? I didn't ask her. It didn't seem like a good idea to ask, seeing as how I wanted to project an image of Power. She asked if her son was here, and I said yes, he is. Can I see him? No. He is my baby, and I just want to see my baby to make sure he is OK. He isn't ready to see you now. He will write a letter to you and send it to your home. I need for you to get off of my property now.

I only said that once. She continued to beg to see her baby. It was pretty pathetic. I told her to wait in the car, and came back inside to talk to C and N. The doorbell had awakened N from a dream about his mother coming to the house. Prophetic? Probably. I let the poor woman stew in the driveway for a few minutes, then wandered out to talk to her. She'd brought N's 15 year old sister with her, too. I told them again that N wasn't ready to see them yet. I sympathized with her position, and I honestly do. I'm a mother, too. In all honesty I told her this situation is not the best way for a child to leave home, but that N feels that it is necessary. It is his decision. We did not force him in any way to walk out on her like that. I didn't say that last sentence, but I probably should have. I just thought of it as I write. Of course C strongly encouraged the move, but no one forced him. I talked to him 2.5 weeks before Rescue Day, and again the day before Rescue Day, giving him an opportunity to back out. He admitted being scared, but really wanted to go through with it.

N's sister started crying when I said he wouldn't talk to them. I feel sorry for her, but I know that she's been influenced by this mother, too. She herself has run away a few times (I think I wrote about that a couple of months ago) and smokes pot and drinks as a way to cope with her mother's bullshit, according to N.

Mother said "How would you feel if I came and took your child away on his 18th birthday?" I told her that when my children were 18 I had helped them develop their own sense of independence, and if on their 18th birthday they wanted to leave, they would have talked to me about it, and I would have allowed them to do so. I kinda don't think that's the answer she was looking for, as if I care. I told her that my children and I communicate with each other, and genuinely listen to what each other says. I pointed out that N had talked to her about wanting to move out when he turned 18, and she countered "He talked about it, but I said I wanted him to stay with me, and he said 'OK'." Yeah, I did NOT say to her, he said it like "OK, sure, whatever" just to get you off his back because he knows you weren't listening to him and didn't want to argue about it anymore. N concurs. He tells me he brought up the subject a few times and she didn't take him seriously. Looks where he is now, honey!

I assured mother that N will be enrolled in the local high school and will be strongly encouraged to finish and get his diploma. She cried "I won't get to see my baby graduate!" Not necessarily, he might invite you to his graduation. My further thoughts, not voiced: it depends on you, how much you whine and bitch and make his life miserable, whether or not you accept him as the burgeoning gay man he is becoming. 'Cause, yeah, the gay thing is part of her problem.

You'd have been proud of me. I conducted myself in a calm and direct manner. I did not get emotional nor did I insult her intentionally. She may have interpreted some if it as insult, but I tried really hard not to be insulting. I was, possibly, a bit condescending, but I tried not to be. She is obviously upset, and she has every right to be. She does not, however, have a right to run her son's life anymore. She hasn't figured that part out yet.

After talking to her there in the driveway for maybe 10 minutes, she drove away. Oh, one of the things she said was that she drove this whole way, 2 hours!, to see him and I wasn't going to let her see her baby. I said "I know. I drove that yesterday to see him." That shut down that line of attack pretty quick.

So she left. I came back inside. We locked all the doors and opened the curtains so we could see if she approached again. And that's pretty much part two. But that's not all.

And because so much has happened and I'm not too good at this cliffhanger thing, I'll tell you what all else happened.

Around 11:30 yesterday morning we got another visit from the police. This time the three of us were here; me, C, and N. This nice police officer was a bit confused as to why he had been sent to see us, since the person in question was an adult. Yeah, mother had called. The officer needed to see N, and needed to ask if N was here of his own free will. Indeed, N said, he is. I was quite glad to see the police officer, actually. I'd considered calling the police just to let them in on our side of this little drama.

I invited him in. We were just about to watch a video, and C and N were snuggled up together on the sofa. We explained that N had moved here to be with his boyfriend, was 18, made the decision of his own free will, etc. N told the officer that his mother was manipulative and smothered him, and did not accept his homosexuality. The officer was quite nice. He advised N to not cut his mother off completely, saying this as a friend and a son and a father. We told the officer about N's plan to write to his mother. The officer said it would be a good idea if his mother got some counseling or something, maybe look into PFLAG, to help her come to terms with her son's homosexuality. Yeah, that would be a good idea, but I don't see mother making that step anytime soon. Perhaps we should mail her some PFLAG brochures. It's good information that she should know.

The officer said he needed to call N's mother to let her know that N was fine, and C asked him to tell mother to stop calling and texting his cell phone. So the officer asked if it was one or two calls. No, it was more like 20+ in the past 18 hours. That, he told us, is harassing, and if it continues C should file a police report, which would get mother a summons, and "they would go to court and fight it out like on Judge Judy." Oy. C didn't get any more calls or texts from mother. HOWEVER...

Part the third: Somehow mother got someone to hack into N's Facebook account. Mother, I'm told, isn't savvy enough to know how to do it herself. N's Facebook profile was changed, his relationship status changed to "single" and a message posted that said he had been kidnapped by this guy C, and gave C's phone number, asking his friends to call and demand that C allow N to return home. What kind of childish foolishness is this??? This is NOT a good way to improve the relationship with your son. This is a good way to push him even further away. Amusingly, not one of N's Facebook friends called. They know N is gay, they know he has a boyfriend and that he wanted to move in with C. They're cool.

In addition to hacking the Facebook (which has now been restored to accurately reflect the circumstances), she or one of her agents (sounds all James Bond-ish now, huh?) went through Facebook to C's page and found C's father, who lives out in Arizona. They contacted C's father and told him some cock and bull story to advance their means, the details of which I'm unaware. C called his dad last night to explain the situation, and his dad said that when he got the message it sounded pretty flaky to him. C said "I love my dad!"

I think that's about the extent of things so far. It's all I can remember, anyway. Yesterday was a busy day! I'm very glad I was home. I have a 2 day break from school, so the timing couldn't be better.

I'm going to post this now, take a shower, buy some stamps and mail N's letter to his mother, then take N to the high school to get him enrolled and stuff. Oh, I will take a printed copy of the FERPA regulations/policy/act/law thingie to remind the school officials that as a legal adult, N must receive the educational information and all mailings from the school, and that none of it should go to his parents.

It was a very wise thing that we waited until N's 18th birthday to do all this. Don't you agree? Because now we are golden, and all this shit that his mother is stirring up only reflects badly on her, and could get her into legal trouble. Oh yes, I feel good. :)

The Deliciously Juicy Details, Part the First

Yesterday, October 13th 2010, was N's 18th birthday. Yesterday morning C and I took my beloved truck Manny to the small town in North Carolina where N's mother lives. We arrived at 6:30, before sunrise. We drove to the back of the cemetery that's down the street from N's mother's house and waited for N. His mom took him to school (he's a senior in high school), and he left school to meet us in the cemetery, which also happens to be behind the church behind the school. It wasn't a far walk. N met us at 7-ish. We waited for a few minutes, then drove back down the street to the house. No one was at home, as we expected. C and N took boxes inside and packed up the stuff that N wanted to bring, then hauled the boxes to the truck. We got everything loaded in less than an hour.

I took the license plate off the truck when we were in the cemetery just in case. After we packed up I drove five miles down the road and stopped at a convenience store to replace the license plate. Then we toodled on home to South Carolina. Both of the guys were quite calm, amazingly. When I talked to N the night before he was anxious. C has been a basket case for days, both excited and worried. They both worry a lot. By the time N met up with us he was calm and ready to do this. The whole thing went amazingly well. Manny performed excellently, what with his age and his decrepit condition.

We got home, the guys unpacked the truck, and I took a nap. Later in the afternoon I went to school to work on my pottery. (Pictures soon, really.) Some time after 8:00 Superman called me to say that the police had visited us. Hmmmm. My heart skipped a beat. He said all was cool, that N's step father had called them, asked them to check on N's welfare. N and C were out on a walk at the time, so the officer asked Superman to have N call his home or to call them and they'd relay the message that he was fine.

I got home from school around 10:00, and they guys hadn't called anyone. I joined them in the back yard to help them finish off a bottle of wine. We laughed, talked, drank, and generally had a wonderful time and didn't call anybody. We all went to bed and slept well.

C got up first. When I heard him puttering around I got up too. I tell you, he looks so happy! So happy, relaxed, at ease, etc. You know, the look you get when it's been a long time and you finally have really good sex with the one person you want to have sex with. The attitude you have the first time you get to wake up next to the person you love.

The peace was dashed when the doorbell rang at 9:00 this morning.

We are literally HOURS away!

As I type this my event time clock reads just over 3 hours*!!! The truck is gassed up, C has put a bunch of empty boxes in the truck bed, and Superman will dig out our tarp and tie-downs when he gets home from work.

C and I plan to leave here between 3 and 3:30 in the morning so we can be in N's town between 6:30 and 7:00. That's when N's mother will drop him off at school, and he'll come around to the cemetery behind the school to meet us. Yes, he's sneaking out. I know, I know. He's 18 tomorrow. We've waited like good girls and boys.

I've been so terribly negligent about my blog! School is extremely time consuming this semester. I have so much more to say, and pictures to share, too. Yeah, I've promised pictures before and not delivered. I hate loading pics onto Blogger. Maybe I should link to a flickr account, except that I don't have one of those either. Anyway, I have an appointment with my therapist in twenty minutes, so I'm going to let this do for now. I'm out of school for the rest of the week, it being "fall break" or whatever. I've got art projects to do, a paper to write, and various other projects to work on during my break.

TTFN!

*I don't know what time zone that thing references, but according to that The Big Day begins at 8:00 p.m. tonight. Whatever. We'll be home and have him settled in by then.