Let's try to catch up

Once I go for so long without posting it's hard to know how or where to begin again.

The sun continues to rise and set every day, indicating that the earth is still turning. I am still here.

There is no plan for this post. Looks like more stream-of-consciousness ahead, though hopefully a bit more coherent than the last stream-o'-consciousness mess I wrote.

Most recently I spent three days in training to be a Hospice volunteer. That was interesting and gave me something to do with my time. And I met some new people, though very superficially. I will go for a one-on-one interview with the volunteer coordinator next week to discuss in what capacity I will volunteer. For direct patient involvement I could work in our Hospice House or go to the homes of Hospice patients. For home visits, the volunteer mainly sits with the patient and is there for companionship, and/or respite for the (usually family member) regular caregiver for up to four hours. Those who do it say it's wonderful. I could also work in the thrift store or do miscellaneous clerical duties in the office. I prefer direct interaction with patients. I'm leaning toward working at the in-patient Hospice House facility. We shall see. Updates as the situation warrants or I get my ass in gear to tell you.

I'm sure you are eager to hear about Diva and Sproing. Things are limping merrily along. No, of course not "merry." There seem to be fewer outbursts between them. She's settling in fairly well. Complains of being bored. Looks bored. We suggest activities which she rejects. I am not her entertainment coordinator. Ya' know, I remember doing the same thing to my Mama. "I'm bored. There's nothing to do." and she'd say "why don't you vacuum the floors or clean up your room?" (She hates to vacuum. My room was almost always a mess.) I'd whine at her and not do anything she suggested. The very fact that she suggested it made me not want to do it. Though I continued to complain to her about being bored. Damn, adolescents are annoying.

The Sproing is troublesome. He got sent home from school twice this week. Or maybe it was once this week and once last week. For bad behavior, of course. Being disruptive, disrespectful, hitting another student ("but I didn't hit him very hard!"). And according to him it's never his fault. His version of events does not match the teacher's or principal's line. He claims they are lying. He's a pain in the ass. And oh, how he argues! "I'm not arguing!" It drains all my energy.

Went on a date with Superman Thursday evening. I drank beer. It was OK. There is an independent pizza place that recently opened downtown. They have a fire-heated stone/brick oven and a large selection of craft beers. That's the only place I get beer, because I generally don't like beer. I'm trying to develop a taste for it. I like parts of the beers. Some of the beers. It's complicated. Anyway, the pizza was delicious as always, and the one beer I had relaxed me ever so slightly. The company was fantastic.

Light is home now, supposedly looking for a job. She pounded the pavement for a couple of days, but isn't doing much now. Guess I should light a fire under her lazy ass. Twitch is over half way finished with his school term. He'll be home for a couple of weeks, then go back for his summer term. Not sure when that will happen.

Both Light and Twitch got cars last weekend. Superman took them to an auto auction not far from where Twitch lives. Light got a 2000 Ford Windstar. It's gray and dumpy, and the a/c doesn't work. It's not in good shape, but not too bad either. It's currently in the shop. We shall see. The one they got for Twitch was a very bad move. It's a 97 Malibu. It barely runs. When it does, it belches black smoke. They should not have gotten him a car in the first place. He doesn't even have his drivers license, and no job, so no income to pay for insurance, car repairs, or gas and such. Superman regrets the decision. Twitch is now trying to sell it, though I don't know how well that will work. I'm trying to stay out of it. I don't know anything.

I went to the public library and got On Death and Dying by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. It is a classic on the subject. She was a pioneer in modern treatment of terminal patients. I have wanted to read it for years. It was published a few years after I was born. Man oh man, is it ever dated! So much has improved since she did her initial research. She has written more recent books, but I haven't read those.

I finally finished a book this week. The Five Children and It by Edith Nesbit. It is a cute old children's story about "it," a psammead (made up creature, I think) who grants wishes to the children. Things always go wrong with the wishes. It isn't a particularly good or well-written story, but I read it completely because I am frustrated about the number of books I've started and not finished. So I finished that one, dammit. I don't know if I'll finish On Death and Dying, but that will be a conscious choice rather than laziness or whatever. It's such dated material and I can get the gist of her whole theory from any number of websites. I already know a lot of it anyway.

Last day of school for the kidlets is next Thursday, June 2nd. It's also C's birthday. I'm looking forward to C's birthday. I dread the younguns being out of school. I have a list of community resources for keeping them busy. There's a day camp on the other end of town that meets for about 6 hours every weekday throughout most of the summer, and entertains kids from age 9 or 10 to age 15. A lot of the summer day camp activities around here are for kids up to age 12, and both of my kids are 13. There are some interesting week long activities here and there. Some of this stuff is kinda pricey, but not too bad. The all summer thing is very reasonably priced, I think $40 per kid per week.

My butt is getting numb sitting here, so I'm gonna post this and go on.

Conversations with myself

This is a sample of what's happening in my brain on this Sunday morning.

I didn't do any school work yesterday. There is so much to do!

I know. I'm so easily distracted.

That's a sorry excuse. I'm lazy and undisciplined.

And fat as a direct result.

Let's not go down that road. Think of something more positive.

[that's the influence of cognitive behavioral therapy]

When will people realize I'm a genius and not bother me with mundane things like laundry and housework?

There is value in the mundane. It helps balance you. That's what I've heard, anyway.

Yeah, I've also heard that exercise is fun, exhilarating even. I've never gotten that far even after sticking with an exercise program for months. Crock of shit in my experience. I believe it works for others.

Or perhaps I'm not doing it right. I certainly don't have a ...

I forgot what I was saying. Back to my genius. I want them to take care of the mundane so I can concentrate on ... whatever it is I do best. And they need to quit just quit making me feel guilty for being ... whatever it is that doesn't fit their design for me.

Who are "they" anyway?

They know who they are.

"They" are me. I accept guilt for things I don't do, ways I don't fit perfection. Ways I don't even come close to approaching perfection.

Eat the cookie crumbs from my shirt.

I need to find my ear plugs. Sproing is awake now, making noise, arguing with the players on his Xbox sports game. Distracting.

I'm easily distracted. I use it as an excuse.

Or maybe ... I forgot what I was going to say.

Get up, Java. Move your legs around, get the blood flowing, walk across the room and find the ear plugs in your desk drawer.

I hope they're in my desk drawer. I'm not sure where.. Wait, I know I have some in my toolbox.

Oh! I need to go to the hardware store today to get the supplies for the next art project.

I also need to elaborate on my sketches for that project.

[I'll tell you about the next sculpture project later. It involves sculpting cement. Mortar mix, actually]

I'm getting distracted even writing the side notes here.

And I still haven't gotten my ear plugs.

Hang on.

Back. Looked in 4, no 5, no 6 desk drawers (I have two desks) and got distracted by the stuff I found. Didn't find the earplugs. Smelled the incense (can't spell incense) in one of the drawers, had to light that.

Incense adds another dimension (can't spell dimension) to a space. Helps delineate (can spell delineate) one space from others.

Took 6 minutes to get my ear plugs. They weren't in any of the desk drawers, but I found them in my toolbox.

Also found other stuff in my toolbox. So that's where my other long-sleeved shirt is! I've been looking for it.

Still missing at least one long-sleeved shirt. The one with the most burn holes in it. Might be in my workspace at school.

The earplugs aren't working as well as I wish they would. Perhaps I'll find the noise-reducing ear muffs-that-look-like-headphones and wear those as well.

I can hear myself breathing when my ears are plugged. It's distracting.

Everything is distracting; get real.

Oh, Light has my Get Real DVD, and all my other gay movies. I need my gay movies back.

Perhaps I should wait util the end of the semester to get my gay movies back. I certainly don't have time to waste watching movies, dammit.

I want this semester to be over, except I don't. I want to have some time to waste. If I didn't have schoolwork to do I'd watch some movies, start another knitting project. I want to make that new hat pattern I bought. Have the yarn for it, too. I've never knitted a hat, and I like the style of that pattern.

Or I could quit typing here and get on with my school work.

What do I need to do today? Let's see, get stuff from the hardware store. Don't want to do that yet. Will go this afternoon, but before the sun gets low enough that it's in my eyes as I drive over there. Hate that.

Want more coffee. Where's Superman?

Also need to write that position paper for Dr. B's class. Dammit, I should have worked on that during spring break. Didn't do squat that whole week. What a waste of time. Lazy ass. Fat lazy ass.

That's where this discussion started. Done that already. Back to what I need to accomplish today.

OK, the position paper for Dr. B, Oh, and study for the test Tuesday in Dr. W's class! Shit. What an idiot

[Dr. W is an idiot, not me. Not that I'm not sometimes an idiot, too, but I'm referring to Dr. W this time. He's the same fool who taught the sexuality class last semester. This is the third class I've had with him. This time it's substance abuse. This is his specialty, what he does as a clinician. He should have more of a clue about this. He doesn't. He's an idiot. I need to have a discussion... oh, never mind.]

Once again, my asides get as rambling as my stream of consciousness bullshit.

Concentrate Java! I need to write the damned paper, study for the idiot's test, and pleasepleasepleaseplease read all the way through at least one of the articles for the research class.

Yeah, the research class. Was going to read a bunch of those articles over spring break.

Don't go there again. We've had that discussion.

Moving right along, have approximately 26 articles to read, and write a thingie (she called it an annotated bibliography) for every one of them. How many articles have I read? Zero. When is the semester over? Damn, about 5 or 6 weeks.

Don't want to take the time to count the weeks right now. Don't want to actually know how many. Can stay in denial better if I don't look at the calendar.

Damn, I have so much to do. Projects in two art classes. Want to play in the mud more, have the rest of one, then two more pieces to do in ceramics. Should have been completely finished with these vessels two weeks ago.

This isn't helping. I'm just making myself more stressed thinking about all the shit I have to do for school, much less for the rest of my life.

When will they realize ("they" know who they are) that I'm a genius, a mad genius maybe probably and let me concentrate on the important stuff?

[Have you ever seen a picture of Einstein's desk? Google it. Thomas Edison's too. Geniuses. That's what my whole fucking life looks like. Pain in the ass.]

But is that a good thing? Not necessarily. Can't find shit half the time. I want my life to be a bit more organized.

Is my brain capable of that? Am I so ADD that it's impossible for me to get my shit together?

[Did I mention that I actually do have ADD? My psychiatrist finally told me so. Then he moved away. Good enough. He was largely useless except for giving me drugs. But he didn't medicate me for the ADD. What's up with that?]

Yum. Coffee good. Fresh hot coffee good. The combination of bananas and pecans taste better than bananas with walnuts, IMHO. I'm not a huge fan of walnuts. Breakfast.

Where were we? Ah yes, back to the whole "spend the day studying" idea.

Writing this stream of consciousness bullshit has been a lovely way to distract myself from the real purpose of my day. Studying. Writing that damned paper. Reading the articles. Oh, and studying for that idiot's test. What a waste of time, that last one. I'll do it because I love getting good grades. But damn, what an idiot.

I said that already.

Shut up already! Can't I find a way to end this post?

Java, walk away from the blog. Hit "publish post" then close the browser.

Now, Java!

...

Kidlets and clothes, told in rambling stream of consciousness

Did I tell you that Light and I took Diva out to get some clothes? I actually had a good time. We went to the mall, did JCPenny. We got 2 pairs of shorts and two tops to match, and I think we got one pair of long pants. I forget exactly. Then we went to The Fashion Shack, the discount place that sells name brand irregulars. She got a pair of jeans there. She was giddy. Light seemed to enjoy it, and was extremely helpful. I was happy being out with my two girls. Then I got tired and we went home. I think everyone had a good time. Although Diva still needs more clothes, at least she's got something to wear now.

This morning I got up and helped the kids get ready for school. I didn't set my alarm because Superman had his set. I don't hear his, even though it is on the headboard shelf very near my head. I hear mine, but he doesn't. How strange is that? Anyway, he turned his alarm off and went back to sleep. Didn't wake up until 7:00. He needed a shower and the kids need to be out of the house before 7:30. Twitch was ready to go when I got up, and was almost awake. I ran a bath for Diva and bathed her myself. Soap on the washcloth, she's in the tub. I wash her back, neck, front, arms, legs, then she turns over onto her belly in the bathtub. I washed her fanny as she rinsed off her front. She rolled over to rinse the rest, then stood up. I handed her the washcloth to wash her face and proceeded to let the water out. I got her a towel and she took over from there. The whole ordeal took less than 5 minutes. That's what I call a business bath. No playing; we mean business here.

They took meds, but no breakfast because we were late. They can get breakfast at school if they get there early enough. I'm afraid they may have missed it, unfortunately. No good mommy points for that slip-up.

I took everyone to school so Superman could get his breakfast and hie himself off to work. This is one of the reasons I'm home now. I'm satisfied, pleased to be doing this. Right now. It will wear thin, I'm sure, especially when Sproing has one of his uber-cranky mornings. But this is what I do and it gives purpose to my day. (See Patrick? Purpose, productivity!)

Back to my original thought. Clothing for my kidlets. Diva has some new clothes. However, Sproing doesn't. I don't know what has happened to his pants exactly. I know his favorite green pants got ripped the other day and have been declared "totalled" by the arbiter of all things fabric. (me) He's a picky boy with strong opinions. He wears what he decides he likes, and nothing else. The green pair was one of his two "acceptable" pants. Now he's down to one pair of jeans, which he got wet yesterday afternoon.

[aside story] He wanted to wash his hair yesterday afternoon. I suggested he take a bath or shower for an easier, less messy shampooing experience. I'm just Mom, what do I know? He took off his shirt, I think, but left his jeans on. I'm not sure if he washed his hair in the sink or leaned over the edge of the tub. I was afraid to look. He bounced into the kitchen about 5 minutes later with nary a stitch of clothing covering his beautiful ebony skin. He was looking for some pants. I asked where the jeans were. They were all wet, down the front and the back of the pants, he said. Why? How? I asked, as if I wanted to know. He forgot to take them off when he bathed. I didn't want to know. [end of aside]

This pants dance has been going on for a while. I was peripheral to it before now. Now that it is my headache, too, I'm not going to put up with it. Superman has been washing Sproing's 2 pairs of pants every other day. Not me. After I took the kids to school I went to my favorite big box store and found some more pants for the small boy. He will probably like them.

Here's the thing about boys and girls. (No, not that thing. I mean another thing.) At this age (10 yrs old) buying clothes for Sproing is much easier than buying clothes for Diva. That is a general truth, and applies for a wide range of ages. Diva is there now. Light was like this at this age, too. They have their own tastes in style and color, etc. They differ from mine. I cannot see, do not notice things they like. If I pick out something for them, they most likely will not approve. Girls this age also change shape much more than boys do. And the shape-shifting occurs erratically, disproportionally. Diva fits better into women's size pants but is still comfortable in girls tops. I cannot buy clothing for her without her being present.

Boys, on the other hand, are much easier. Twitch was, Sproing is. I know what colors they like. There aren't as many color options for boys. This simplifies things considerably. Today I got 4 pairs of pants, a belt, and some new underwear for Sproing. Although he is picky about what he likes to wear, I am confident enough to make the purchases. And I think he'll like them.

Another aside: Light reads and comprehends stream of consciousness writings very well. Her teachers have been impressed. She scores well because this is how I have talked to her all her life. I can't help it. She's had to learn. Voila! Instant college prep! Good mommy points? Or simply the result of my brain function?