Because I was mad

For the past few months my depression has been, I dunno, in remission or something. I've been feeling pretty good. Happy, even, some days. But the depression monster is creeping back in. I have days that are not good. The good days are not as good as they were a couple of months ago. Yesterday was a very not good day.

I don't know why. I can't think of anything that has or has not happened to tip me over. I'm overly sensitive, which smacks of hormones. On Saturday night C and N failed to include me in a project they were doing, one that I'd mentioned an interest in. I was incredibly hurt, more so than the situation warranted. I don't know, maybe that had something to do with why I felt a bit off yesterday. But it doesn't explain why I got so upset on Saturday. I just don't know.

So, about yesterday (Sunday). Self-loathing was the theme of the day. In related news, I needed a haircut. Why am I uncomfortable about getting my hair cut by professionals? My theory is that, to me, a haircut is an intimate encounter. Not as intimate as cuddling, but more intimate than sitting beside someone on a bus/train/airplane. I don't want just any stranger to cut my hair. Even the woman who cut my hair for 10 years was too much of a stranger. She moved out of town, and I'm not going to Erie or Cleveland or wherever she went just to get my hair cut. I was kind of used to her cutting my hair, but I wasn't comfortable.

But the hair was annoying me. It has that habit. Feeling unworthy to get a professional cut, I cut it myself. It's a mild, perhaps passive-aggressive, definitely less painful form of self-mutilation. No one was at home, Sproing and Superman having gone out to do something they told me they were going to do but I now forget. I think it involved washing the car, but no matter. I got my scissors and went into the bathroom. I emptied the garbage can and put in a fresh liner, then sat on the edge of the toilet, leaned over the garbage can, and began cutting my hair. And crying. Crying silently, which is how I usually cry. I'm good at it, except for the annoying sniffles that I can't stifle. It's a duct thing.

When Superman and Sproing got home, they came into my office where I was sitting doing my homework (or goofing off online, like I am now). Superman looked at me in surprise and asked what I'd done, why I'd done it, something like that. I forget exactly what he said. Sproing knew, though. He said that I got mad and cut my hair. The kid knows more than he lets on.

It looks pretty bad. I can't figure out if I'm upset about that or not. I'm staying home today, but I have school tomorrow. Maybe I can convince Superman to even up the back. I took the clippers to my neck with very uneven results. It looks bad and/or funny, depending on one's perspective. Oh well. I cut my hair and now I have to lie in it.

What's your opinion?

One of my courses this semester is an independent study research on a topic of my choice. Well, duh, the topic of my choice is homosexuality. The Gay. LGBT. Queer. But I obviously need to narrow that down to something more specific. I know a few things I don't want to study, mostly involving politics and activism. Oh, I heartily support efforts to improve the social-political climate for sexual minorities. (I learned that term recently, referring to lgbtq etc. as sexual minorities.) But I know I don't want for that to be the focus of my study.

I am interested in the process of "coming out." There are a lot of things I could focus on there, including coming out issues for adolescents or minors, coming out in college, after college but still young, coming out in mid-life, coming out while in a heterosexual marriage (or shortly thereafter).

Bullying of those perceived to be gay is another hot topic. This seems to happen mostly to young men and the transgender, I haven't seen anything about overt bullying of lesbians though I may be misinformed.

Whatever my focus, I will need to read a shit-load of academic articles on that topic. Therefore, the topic needs to be discussed in professional/academic journals. No, I haven't looked in the databases to see what's there. Articles should be fairly recent, I think within the past five years, though the time limit my be different. I'll need to ask my advising professor. The exception to that would be seminal articles, those from longer ago that have brought significant new ideas to the field. I'll find those by reading the more recent articles, because the recent stuff will refer to the older significant works.

The format of this course work is article review/annotated bibliography. I won't be giving my personal opinions or anything interesting like that. My professor will teach me how to read articles for the content I need and how she wants me to write the annotated bibliography for each article. I'm not entirely clear yet on what needs to be done, but it is past time for me to begin looking for articles. Which necessitates having some idea what my topic is.

So what do you think? Give me your opinions about what kind of glbt research I should look into.

The obligatory snow post

I like the word "obligatory." How do the British pronounce it? I pronounce it "o-blig-uh-tory" though I've heard it said with the emphasis on the first syllable, "ob-lig-uh-tory."

Moving right along...

Today was supposed to be the first day of spring semester. Didn't happen. We got snow instead. This little southern town closes down when it snows. We had 12+ hours of mostly steady snow beginning sometime in the middle of last night. Things slacked off in the early afternoon before changing to sleet, then freezing rain. That's what we've got now, freezing rain. Our high temp today was about 31F I think, though the weather widget on my desktop never got above -2C. I have my desktop widget set on Celsius just for fun.

Superman went to work for a few hours this morning. Driving wasn't too bad early this morning. I left home at 5:40 this morning to take C to the donut shop. He didn't want to drive in this nastiness. It wasn't bad, really. After I dropped C off I went to the grocery store to buy marshmallows and Hershey bars, thinking we had graham crackers. Got home and damn, no grahams! Before Superman went to work he took Sproing with him to pick up some grahams. Sproing and I have been snacking on s'mores throughout the day. I've had I think 3. Goodness knows how many the boy has eaten.

Anyway, Superman got to work sometime around 8:30 this morning and was home at noon. By then the streets were much worse. Snow had packed down and iced over. Actually, on my way home from the grocery at 6:00 I took an unexpectedly wide turn onto the road that leads to our house because I was going a bit too fast at 15 mph to make the turn without sliding. Thankfully traffic was extremely light. Now with all this freezing rain everything is coated with ice. I've heard a few cars crunching down the road in front of our house this evening. Damn fools out there hot-dogging it. I only say that because I'm not out there having slip-slidery fun in my little buggy. Our front stoop is iced over. I'm afraid to go out the door for fear of slipping on the ice and having my overly ample backside hit the ground hard. However, if I had good snow boots and some deicing salts and a big 4-wheel-drive F-250 with good tires, I'd be out there having a blast.

The snow in our front yard is about 6 inches deep. That's more snow than we've had in over a decade. Right now it's still fun, as long as I get to stay inside.

But I really need to get started on this school stuff. I have an extremely full schedule. I plan to read the first chapters in at least three of my textbooks either tonight or tomorrow. Our first assignment in Senior Seminar is due Wednesday. I've only got to answer a few questions about the first reading assignment, it's no big deal, but I do need to read the book. I'm glad we've got an online network at school where the profs post the syllabus, assignments, assessments, etc. I can get started on a few things. Can't do diddly for my two studio art classes, but oh well.

In other news, Superman, Light and I went to Atlanta for a conference this past weekend. I drove up to get Light on Thursday night, and we left home early Friday afternoon for Atlanta. It was a Filk convention. Any of you ever heard of Filk before? It's a geeky thing that both Light and Superman really like. It's sci-fi/fantasy, which isn't so much my cup o' tea, but the songs can be funny. I enjoyed the people most of all. Strange, I know. I don't like people much. It took until Sunday morning for me to warm up to most of the folks, but Superman helped me some. He had some lively conversations with a few guys and dragged me into the fray. Good people. Odd, but good.

On the bright side, I got to make a quilt square. One of the ladies in the group puts together a quilt every year at this annual conference. It gets raffled off at the end of the weekend. She brought a bunch of fabric, some of it pre-cut into squares of the proper size, and other tools and notions for constructing quilt squares. A few people took the opportunity to make squares for the quilt. When I asked on Sunday, she said she got a dozen squares (8") which is a nice size for a wall hanging or maybe a small lap quilt. She'll take all the squares home and put them together, then mail it to the raffle winner. I don't know who won the raffle. I didn't buy a ticket, not because I don't support the cause (money for the Filk group for further conferences and associated expenses, as I understand) but because I really didn't want the quilt. Filk isn't my thing so much. Also, I didn't have any cash.

And why did I not have any cash? Because I left my purse at home! My purse, which isn't big, but carries my wallet with all my credit and debit cards, my check book, my camera, all of my ID, and a nice full jar of lip balm for my poor chapped lips. I packed carefully, made sure I had everything I needed. I helped Superman and Light carry stuff out to the car. I set my purse down on the cabinet that's in our foyer, and walked right past it on my last trip out of the house. Oy. Superman has all the debit and credit cards that I have, and he had a bit of cash. It's a good thing I didn't need to show any ID. I got along quite well without the purse, and it was kind of nice to not have to worry about toting it around. But I was glad to have it back when I got home.

So, this Filk thing is a small-ish community of odd birds. Nice folks, like I said. There are quite a lot of pagans represented in the group, and not a small percentage of the glbt. I gotta tell you about this guy that Superman met. Really nice guy, kinda loud, and funny. He's 5 years older than Superman. He's a bit overweight, but not as big as I am. Anyhow, on Sunday morning he and Superman were both in the consuite. (What the heck is a consuite? Also spelled "con suite." I've never heard of it before. Obviously I don't hang around conventions much.) They were chatting, getting to know each other. At some point in the conversation this fella said to Superman "You're hot." Then he said he hoped he hadn't offended my dear patient husband. No, there was no offense taken. When Superman told me about it, I thought the whole thing was kinda hot. See, I'm not the only one who thinks my husband is sexy!

Stuff to do and getting stuff done

On today's agenda: go to school to get the rest of my schedule figured out. I need to add two classes, as if I didn't have enough already. Right now I have six, but two of them are itty bitty one or two credit things, basically hoops I need to jump through to graduate. I have one art class, advanced sculpture, and I want to add advanced ceramics to my schedule. The other class I have to add is another itty bitty one hour thing, fieldwork.

Fieldwork. Working in the field. Not the wheat field, either, thankfully. That sounds sweaty. I need to volunteer for a few hours (times two) in some agency or other in the "helping profession." (I dislike that term, but it's what they say.) I'm supposed to have two units of fieldwork to graduate, and the one time I registered for it last spring, I ended up dropping the class. So I need to work twice as much (notice I didn't say twice as hard!) for two credits. I can't remember how many hours are required for the semester, but if I start early and pack them in tight, I think I can be done well before the end of the semester. I think. There is fear involved; fear of calling to arrange the volunteer particulars. I'm such a wuss.

Having said that, I just called two places. Left a message at one, and found out from the other (shelter for abused women, or something like it) that I need four different background checks. The nice lady is going to email me the list and directions for accomplishing these. They need 3 years driving record, and background checks from the child sex offender registry, South Carolina Law Enforcement Division, and something she called the central registry. All fees payable by me, of course. Eh, school expenses don'tcha know.

There's nothing quite like telling you that I'm afraid to call (or do something) to motivate me to do it. Perhaps I should do this more often, eh?

Alrighty then, if I'm going to get stuff done, I need to get going.

Back for another trip around the sun

Happy New Year. I didn't make any resolutions. I know myself better than that.

I am reading a book that Light strongly recommended. It's Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking. It's a good book, but I'm not totally into it. Because I am too afraid. Honestly, fear is a huge problem for me in regards to making art. For instance, there are a few things currently in queue for my sewing machine. They require some creative attention. I have been avoiding the sewing machine ever since the end of last semester. I want(ed) to get some sewing done over the break. Maybe. OK, part of me wanted to sew. Another part is afraid to. And I get so angry at myself for being such a wuss. Let's move to another topic, this one is making me squirm.

Diva. Now here's an uncomfortable topic of conversation. For those of you just joining us, Diva is my 13 year old adopted daughter. She currently resides in a residential treatment facility (RTF) for the emotionally distressed. Or something like it. Colloquially speaking, she's in the loony bin.

I may have mentioned a few weeks ago that the RTF was going to get an MRI scan of her brain. They did an EEG back in November (I think it was) that showed abnormal results. Today Diva's therapist told me the results of the MRI. Diva's brain is abby-normal.

The official diagnosis is (let me see if I can remember it) Periventricular Leukomalacia. (Yes, I got it right.) A preliminary Google search gave me lots of information that has nothing to do with Diva's symptoms. Evidently most children with this condition develop neuromuscular problems, specifically cerebral palsy. Diva has excellent control of her motor functions. She's a good dancer, even. What happens with this leukomalicia is the white matter of the brain is deficient, damaged, or somehow abnormal. The white matter is what's beneath the gray matter. It's not what the brain uses for thinking, but contains neurons that relay information from the thinking parts of the brain to other parts of the body (where the muscular systems are affected) or to other parts of the brain. As I understand it (don't bet the farm on this explanation) Diva's white matter does not adequately relay information from one brain action to another, from one thought to another. She has a lot of trouble making cognitive connections. For example, cause and effect aren't always evident. I realized many years ago that there is a disconnect somewhere in her mental processing. Now I know why.

In one psychological test she took a few years ago the doctor found that she has problems with her short-term or working memory. This is the memory cache where you hold onto a phone number while looking for a pencil and a place to write it down. Stuff stays in the working memory for a few seconds while the brain determines whether to keep it, and if so, how and where to store it. When I was helping the child learn to read she'd see a new word in a sentence, I'd help her sound it out, then she would forget the word by the end of the sentence. Sometimes if it took a while to figure out the word, I'd have her restart the sentence so she could get the whole flavor of the meaning. But when she got to the same word the second time, she'd have no idea what the word was. Talk about frustrating! I used to think she was doing it on purpose to irritate me. I fussed at her. Now I know that at least some of that was genuine. Do I feel bad about fussing at her about it? Maybe a little bit. What with all the other polluted water under that bridge, I don't feel much guilt about this.

And let me tell you the latest foolishness she pulled. On Boxing Day evening around 9:30 she ran away from the RTF. She hooked up with a couple of 16 year old girls from her unit and they sneaked out and jumped the fence. One of the other girls called a friend of hers (a guy, young but over 18) who picked them up and took them to his house across town. Thankfully this idiot lives with his mother (that's what I understand from what they told me) who saw the fool sneaking in with three under-aged girls. The mother realized it was a very bad idea for these troubled run-away teens to stay with her son overnight. She called, or convinced one of the girls to call the RTF, and a couple of the staff drove out to retrieve the girls. They got back to the facility at 2:45 a.m. And boy, is Diva ever in trouble!

All of the work she's done, all the advancements she's made in their program levels since going to the facility in early April are gone. She has to start over as if she just arrived. This means that she won't qualify for outings and other rewards until she moves up the ranks again. Perhaps she can advance quicker than she originally did, having been through it before. I don't know. We saw her on the 27th, the day after she ran away. She was pretty upset, and didn't contribute much to the conversation on our visit.

We did not go see her on Christmas Day*. Frankly, I didn't want to. I wanted to have a nice Christmas, peaceful and laid-back, therefore going to visit the Diva was not on the program. We planned to go on Boxing Day, but the weather was sketchy. It snowed most of the morning, and we weren't sure about the roads. It's 70+ miles from here to the RTF, on old county back roads that don't receive much maintenance. The roads probably were OK, but my heart wasn't into a visit. If my motivation had been stronger I may have made the trip. So we planned to see her Monday. Then we got a call from the RTF informing us of her shenanigans. Superman talked to them a few times Monday morning, trying to get the whole story. Actually, they had called us around 11:00 the night before, but we missed the call because we were asleep. We didn't leave here as early as planned on Monday because we wanted to be sure we could see the fool child.

Superman and I went to see Diva. Her therapist, who was officially on vacation, had come in to check on things and happened to be there when we arrived, which was good. The four of us had a visit/meeting: Diva, the Therapist, Superman, and me. Diva didn't say much. Mostly she slouched with her arms crossed and her head hung low. It wasn't the most pleasant visit we've had.

Diva called tonight. She was pleasant but vague when talking to me. When she talked to her daddy she told him that she'd had a visit with the lady from one of the state mental health agencies. This is the agency that wants to help bring her home. I talked about this in a recent post. Anyhoo, Diva told Superman that the agency lady told her that if she has very good behavior from here on out, she may be able to come home in three months. Oh HELL No!! Especially not after that bullshit she pulled last week. Shit.

In related news, I talked to Twitch on the phone today. (I took him back to Charlotte yesterday (Monday).) The topic got around to Diva coming home. His opinion: Oh HELL No!! He said he doesn't want her to be near us, meaning his dad and me. There's something about the cavalier way she threatened to kill us in our sleep (it happened last March) that has all of us pretty creeped out.

This has gotten long. I'll quit now so you can get back to your life.

*I visited her the Wednesday before Christmas, and took a big bag of presents to her. She had gifts from us, and there were also gifts for the residents from other do-goody organizations. It's not like I ignored her entirely. We talked to her on the phone on Christmas Eve and, if I recall, on Christmas Day as well.

Final post of 2010

2011, 2011, 2011, 2011... I'm practicing. My fingers have learned how to hit the two, then zero, then back to the one, then the zero again. It's a nice dance back and forth across the top of the keyboard. 2011 is heavily laden on the port side.

Avast, Mateys!

I haven't posted much recently. Why I can not fathom. I enjoy writing for this blog. Sometimes my thoughts run toward blog posts, sometimes they wander aimlessly.

I went on a date last night... with a girl! OK, it's not that spectacular. Last night I met a friend of mine from school, a young lady the same age as Light, at the restaurant where she works. She got off work at 9:00. I got there early to have a baked potato. That restaurant makes the best potatoes! Neither of us knows how they manage to make an ordinary Idaho spud taste so special. Anyhoo, after work we dropped in on a mutual friend who didn't happen to be at home at the time, but his den was full of iniquity in the form of half a dozen late-teen-early-20s ruffians playing a video game. They seem to be nice enough young people, though from the 45 minutes we were there it's hard to judge their collective character. There may or may not have been

some prophylactic glaucoma treatment involved. I was merely a witness to what may or may not have happened. The video game was intriguing. It involved a motorcycle driving up impossibly steep ramps made of various materials including but not limited to diamond plate, wood planking, and concrete.

Then she and I went to the movies. I finally saw "Tangled". Me likey. She and I have been talking about going together to see this movie since it first came out, before the end of last semester. It was good to finally get together with her, and to see the movie.

In other news, I ordered my textbooks online. Big news, I know. But that's not the point of the story. One of the books is for the Senior Seminar course required of all potential graduates in the psychology program. It's title is Finding Jobs with a Psychology Bachelor's Degree. I received email notice today that my order has shipped. In the order description this book is shown as "Finding Jobs With a Psycho."

I haven't posted since before Christmas. Here's the update: Christmas happened. There's not much more to say. My mother gave me a picture frame made with elephant poop. That got a good laugh from the assembly. Looking at the elephant poop website linked above, I see that they also make social stationery. Be the first on your block to write your holiday thank-you notes on elephant poop stationery.

Light made beef stew for Christmas dinner. It was good. I made yeast rolls. They were good too. There was some other stuff, but I can't remember what. Other stuff happened on Christmas day, too, I'm sure, but I can't remember what.

Superman has been on vacation from work since before Christmas. The 19th was the last day he worked. He'll be back at work next Wednesday, the 5th of January, 2011. (more practice) I get so spoiled having him at home with me like this. After all these years, we are still eager to spend time with each other. Warm fuzzies abound.

He had a dream last night about the two of us going to IHOP for breakfast. We're about to make his dream come true. He said it was a nice dream, though I haven't heard any details. Speaking of IHOP, did I tell you about the location in Gastonia, NC? One of the major thoroughfares in Gastonia is Cox Road. At the Cox Road exit from I-85 there is an IHOP. I've heard they answer their phone "IHOP on Cox." Say that out loud, a couple of times if necessary.

Alright, enough of this foolishness. I'm going out to breakfast now. Ya'll have a good day and a happy New Year.

P.S. Remind me to tell you the latest on Diva.

Update:

I took a picture of my pancakes at IHOP.

They have a new menu item. It's the love child of a cinnamon roll and a pancake. There's cinnamon filling goop between each layer and the whole thing is dribbled with a cream cheese frosting, then of course topped with whipped cream. As soon as the waitress walked away I said to Superman that it looks like the pancakes have been covered with jizz. He laughed and suggested they'd been given a facial. The whipped cream is, what, a celebration of the affair? It tasted good.

Ramblings

• I love having a whole day in which to do whatever I see fit. No homework! I had a lovely long nap this afternoon. I do miss working in the clay, though.
• Superman and the kids got home from his parents' home last evening. I often forget just how loud and lively Sproing is until he comes back after a few days away. Things were peaceful here with just C and N and me. I'm glad Superman is home again.

Saw Diva yesterday. We had a meeting with her therapist and reps from two state mental health agencies (not agencies, exactly, I think, but something like it). The meeting was to plan for her leaving the Residential Treatment Facility (RTF). Ugh. I like her being there. She's safe, everyone else is safe, and I don't have to do much besides make some decisions and visit every couple of weeks. These agencies are here to help her transition back into the home. She isn't currently ready to leave the RTF, but she is making a lot of significant improvements (it seems).

Here's the thing: She's good at making improvements, or at least following the course for a while. Then when I'm feeling comfortable and beginning to trust her again she attacks. It has happened so very often that trusting her is extremely difficult. I need to see long-term evidence of genuine change. "Long-term" means that I don't want her in my home again until I can be sure. I'm thinking a couple of years. The state agencies are thinking within the first quarter of 2011. Don't know what we're going to do about this. I won't let worry consume me over this issue right now, but it's something that will work along in the back of my mind for a while.

• N and I made gingerbread men yesterday. We're supposed to decorate them today, but he slept late then stayed in his room most of the afternoon until C got home. I took a late nap and didn't wake up until 8:00 this evening. Now he and C are in their room watching a movie and I'm in my office doing this. It may still happen tonight, or it might get pushed to tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow.
• I got most of my Christmas gifts wrapped earlier this week when the family was away. Yesterday when I was in Columbia to see Diva I had the opportunity to do some more shopping. That's a good thing, as I hadn't found anything appropriate to give to C and N. Greenwood has a piss-poor selection of fabulous stores in which to buy fabulous gifts for fabulous gay young men. Yesterday I discovered World Market. Wow! I found so many fabulous gifts. I found something for Superman that he has wanted for a while, but I can't tell you what it is now because he reads this blog. :) I also won't tell you how much I spent there, because he reads this blog. :-p I even got a few things for myself, and found a plethora of great gifts for my gay guys. Most of their gifts smell good. I have a lot more wrapping to do now.
• I went to the dentist today to get my teeth cleaned. I love the feel of freshly professionally cleaned teeth, and I love getting a new toothbrush. Oh sure, I could buy myself a new toothbrush (and often do), but the toothbrushes I buy for myself aren't as thrilling as the one the dentist gives me. The ones from the dentist come engraved with the name of their practice. How fancy is that?
• Superman et al. were on their way home from points west in our little Aveo (Eva) yesterday when I went to Columbia. Manny is in very poor shape and I won't drive him out of town. So I rented a little Ford thingie... I forget. Hang on, let me look it up... Yeah, a Ford Focus. Nice little car I guess, but hardly memorable. Did have Sirius radio, though, which is cool. First time I've had a chance to try that out. Anyway, what I came to tell you about...

...is the rental experience. So I go to the En+erpr!$e place in town to pick up the car which I wisely reserved in advance. The young man doing the paperwork asks me where I am going in the car. I understand the need for that question. It's their car, they should know my plans for it. But he kept asking questions. It's a Southern thing, I guess, trying to be friendly. Or nosy. Or both. He asked why I was going to Columbia. I really don't think the company needs to know that, but whatevs. Told him vaguely that I was going to a meeting. Here's the thing: it's uncomfortable under those circumstances to discuss my mentally ill, institutionalized daughter. I was going to say "to discuss with strangers" but that's pretty much exactly what I do by writing about it on the blog! Hee hee. But this, for reasons I don't thoroughly understand, is different.

My 13 year old daughter is mentally ill. She has severe emotional problems. Does the guy at the rental car counter want to know that I'm going to a meeting with/for/about my 13 year old institutionalized daughter in which I try to convince state officials (of a sort) that she should not be placed back in our home for a while longer? I don't think so. I suspect such a discussion would have made him uncomfortable. It would have made me uncomfortable, which is why I didn't tell him anything.

My two youngest children have special needs. Yeah, they are eligible for the short bus. Thing is, they don't look like it. To see them, to talk to them, most of the time you wouldn't suspect anything amiss. Even when the boy is acting out his oppositional defiance in public, people usually see that as disobedience and a result of poor parenting. As for the girl, she's a sneaky freaky little bitch. (I say that as a loving parent, mind you.) She presents herself well in public until the demon takes over in a mad uncontrolled rage. That demon rarely shows, but the few times it has are frighteningly memorable. That shit leaves emotional scars on its victims, let me tell you. That shit is the reason I don't want her to live here.

Taking a thread from the previous paragraph: poor parenting. I've been accused, and have accused myself. I know I've made mistakes, chosen unwise actions at times. All parents do, to some degree. But I try not to. My intentions are generally good. Sometimes I use tactics that worked well with child 1 or 2 but fail miserably with child 3 or 4. That's a learning curve thing. The parenting of these special-needs children is especially challenging, of course. Their behavior, reactions, modes of interaction tend to inhibit good parenting. Really. I learned about that in my adolescent development class. Well, I learned it in the field, as it were, but my experience and understanding was validated in the course.

But difficult children aren't an excuse for poor parenting. I must continue to do the best I know how. I must continue to learn, to adapt to each child's individual needs. It's enough to drive a mother crazy, as has been demonstrated here many times. Just read the archives. Gawd-almighty, I'm tired.

Am I complaining too much? I don't mean this as a complaint. This is my forum to work this stuff out in my head. Writing it all out helps me process it in my mind. If you write a blog, you probably know what I mean.

It's late, I'm tired, and it's time for me to go to bed.

Platypus in Art

This is the platypus I worked on for so long. I finished him before I started on the narrative about which I posted Sunday night. I took these pictures the same day I took the others, so the time stamp is screwy. I've sense turned off the time stamp feature on my camera. It's annoying!

Looking head-on at the platypus

Platypus, port side, with seaweed under his tail

Seaweed and platypus with log and rocks and more seaweed

Detail of seaweed, back side of platypus, the other end of the log, and some rocks. And turtles.

More detail: seaweed, turtles, rocks

Fish in the seaweed and the back of the platypus

This piece looks better in person. Most of my stuff is difficult to photograph. The fact that I'm a poor photographer doesn't help. And I think the lighting on this backdrop is messed up. We're supposed to take photos of everything we do, using a backdrop for some official art reason of which I'm unaware. The professor insists, and I haven't asked too many questions about that. (I'm too busy asking questions about lots of other stuff.)

Did I tell you I'm taking sculpture in the spring? I know I didn't tell you I'm also taking another ceramics class, because I just found out about that a few days ago. Only problem is that I'm majoring in psychology, and I have a handful of psych classes to take in order to graduate at the end of spring semester. Adding the ceramics class will knock me into overtime, i.e. I'll be taking more credit hours than are officially allowed. I can get an override to do this, and I plan to. Ceramics is that important to me. I'm not sure how important psychology is. It is, really, I just don't know how much. Because I'm good at it. And I'm good at art. So what's a girl to do?

Also, happy winter solstice. And Yule.

Pictures of my ceramic art

Good evening. I am ready to show you some of my ceramic art from this semester. First I present my raku glazed vessel. It's approximately 12 inches in diameter and 11 inches high. It was glazed and fired with the raku method. It looks shiny. And a bit ugly, but in a pretty way

It looks better in person. And the time stamp on these two pictures is correct. The following pictures were taken a week after these, but the time stamp says New Years Day 1007.
Yeah, so ignore the time stamp. This is 3/4th of a set of tableware. The assignment was to make a large plate, a small plate, a tumbler, and a small cup of some kind. I made the 4th piece, but I didn't get it finished in time to get it into the kiln for the bisque fire. The 4th piece is a goblet that I'm particularly pleased with. It won't get cooked until January. Until then, enjoy the other pieces.
I've been meaning to try out that tumbler to see how well it works as a drinking vessel. The thing is sitting on my desk now, stacked up with all the other ceramic work I brought home.

Next is the narrative piece that goes with the personal story I posted a month ago. I worked on this sucker for a good three weeks, maybe more.

top view

"The Church" on the left, my house on the right, a gay couple walking together toward my house. A crumbling archway between the church and my house.

church side view

And a bit of the crumbling archway.

detail of my house side view, with me as the crazy lady in the window

angled view with church on the right, archway behind, and "man of the cloth" being all judgmental and shit

That's supposed to be an altar there on the front right corner along the wall of the church. Behind the preacher-guy you can see a wonky pew, and if you look carefully you can see the gay couple heading down the road.

angled view showing gay couple walking toward my house, with mini-me in an apron welcoming them to my home

The bit on the left is supposed to portray a homey scene of the hearth. Maybe you can see it better if you embiggen it.

Detail of the front of my house with me welcoming the gay couple

That shadow in front is the back of the pew. I made the pew with distorted angles and such, symbolizing the distortions of the church and the altered perspective of the scene.

And that's about all I'm going to say now. I should be posting more often for the next three weeks until school starts again. I have some other pictures of artwork to share, too. Stay tuned.

It's the end of the semester as I know it

I am so tired. Slept a long time last night/this morning. Didn't get up until almost noon, went to bed around 9 last night, I think.

Had some unpleasant interaction with Sproing last evening. He had a bad day at school, and was grumpy when he got home. I asked him if anything was wrong, did he have a bad day, is everything alright? He grunted some non-answer at me but wouldn't say anything more. Then he got more grumpy. He was taunting me and I was trying not to be drawn into his web. Things escalated. I got my feelings hurt, and cried. I don't like doing that with him. Mama tears are like hitting below the belt. If I'm going to fight, I want to fight fair. But the tears were an honest response to his behavior. It was a mess. We apologized after a cool-down period. Then they boy had a good talk with Superman about what was bothering him, and felt much better afterwards. I was still a nervous wreck, so I took a chill-pill (Ativan, I think it is) and went to bed early.

Had my last final exam yesterday morning. It wasn't an exam, as such, but a presentation of a project we'd been working on in teams. Adolescent development and things that parents should know about their adolescents. Then, amusingly, I came home and had a conflict with my 12 year old adolescent. Irony is a bitch.

Did some good art this semester. Was challenged, had fun. Really like my art prof. Cool short bald man.

Am so tired I'm having trouble writing this. Can't make the words do what I want them to do. Spend as much time correcting misspelled/typo words as writing the post itself. Time to go lie down. Will return.