Always an Outsider...

...Never part of the crowd.


I did something today I shouldn't have done. I looked at old photos from, well I probably shouldn't say, but its was an organization that I was heavily involved in for many many years, and that I thought I was a major part of. Nope. I realize I was only there out of their obligation to permit me, and I was rarely if ever invited to the behind the scene fun.

I always knew I was kind of the pariah in high school. I was a little too goody-goody, and know-it-all too really be accepted. People were nice to me, but I was never invited to do things outside of those halls. In college, I was told by a male high school classmate, that he had been interested in me back then, but his friends strongly discouraged it. That kind of broke me; before I could pretend I was paranoid, but that statement crushed my spirit.


I have gotten to the point where I don't really have many friends. Oh, I have plenty of acquaintances and others I hang out with, but no one to call and pour my heart out to when I feel defeated. I guess that is why I blog, haha.


PS: Upon rereading this I feel like even more of a loser.

To the best of my recollection, how I did it:

I crushed my little toe on my left foot yesterday. It's probably broken, but they don't generally xray the smaller toes unless bones are popping out.

Two main factors contributed to this accident: my own stubbornness, and the construction of my front door.

I never wear shoes unless I have to; I prefer being barefoot. Stores, work and public restrooms are the main places that I need them; I like being barefoot but I am no Brittany Spears. I even got married barefoot! So yesterday when I ran out to the car to grab something, I didn't bother throwing any shoes on.

My front door has no clearance between the bottom and the ground. I have to put my welcome mat way down the walk, because the door can't clear it and it jams the door shut. I don't know who designed it this way, but it really is screwy!

The next part of the story becomes a little fuzzy. Punky was already at my parents' house for a sleepover, so I was gathering her overnight bag. I ran to the car, got my things, opened the front door and BAM! I don't remember if I swung to door onto my foot, or if it swung back as I was trying to shuffle things. It doesn't really matter, because either way, my little toe was wedged between the door and the concrete, in a space too narrow for a doormat!

I am pretty sure I went into shock; the pain was so great that I started dry heaving and I was so dizzy I couldn't see straight. I hobbled to the kitchen to get ice, crawled upstairs to dip my foot in the tub, and proceeded to lie on the floor writhing in pain while making a completely incoherent phone call to my dad about my daughter needing to wear my sister's pajamas because I couldn't drive. If a video was taken of it, I am sure I would be an instant internet phenomenon!

Scout was wonderful during this craziness. She started to freak out until I gave her an ice cube to play with. Later, she took care of me and brought me a blanket and fed me crackers and stuffing. (Her choice, not mine.) It tells me that I have done a good job nurturing her, if she wants to care for me!

My foot still hurts like crazy. I tried to put an adhesive bandage on where all the skin was peeled off, and just about doubled over in pain. I have the start of a pretty nasty bruise. I can walk, so long as I don't bear weight on it yet. I haven't tried buddy taping it yet, but will when I go to pick Punky up from her sleepover at my parents. Guess I will be taking it easy this weekend...

What my class has taught me about my life

I am taking a course on language and culture in foreign film; it was supposed to be a linguistics course, but is really far from it. However, the more I am involved in this class, the more I learn about myself.

I really enjoy foreign films, but until recently have avoided them, because no one will watch them with me. I also can watch movies on my own, haha.

I dream of being an ex patriot, but am terrified to move across the state. I get wrapped up in these idealized worlds that I know don't exist. I am facing a possible move that is opening great possibilities, but the idea of leaving my comfortable little world scares me.

I also am a little unnerved by travel that is not in an automobile. I have been in car accidents, way too many. I have been under a semi-truck. I have gotten motion sick more times than I could ever count. My butt has gone numb from sitting. Yet, when it comes time to travel, I don't fly, or take the train. How will I ever travel abroad if I insist on driving? I guess I am just a little crazy!


"Unlike fish that see sideways, and flies that see all around them, people can only see what is in front of them." -Catarina in the Big City

So Hard to Admit

Something that has been stewing in me for sometime is a horrible fear that I will grow up and become a hoarder.

I absolutely know that I am nowhere near as bad as those people you see on tv. We have no pets, so no worries about becoming the crazy cat lady, nor am I stockpiling rancid food. However, I do know I have way too much clutter, and some of the statements that come out of those people's mouths when I watch them on tv resonate within me.

"When I think about cleaning it up, it just becomes too overwhelming."

"I just don't like stuff being thrown away behind my back. I feel very violated and very serious break of trust if someone does that. That's like doing something to me and I don't like that at all"

" Part of my problem is I did start collecting stuff but I didn't want get rid of it. It's gotten to the point that it's overwhelming just thinking about it."

from Hoarders

I have trouble getting rid of "useful" items. The girls have way to many toys and clothes. I have way too many clothes. I never know what to wear. We have more books than a library! I have a storage unit, and probably only know of a dozen things in there that I want and need. I have boxes in the garage at my late father-in-law's house; I know what is in most of them, but honestly this many months later, do I really need it? When I look at everything, I just don't know where to begin! When I see and touch things it brings back memories. I feel guilty getting rid of nice things that people have given me. The last two times we moved, things were not packed well, so I know there are things I want, but just can't find them!

I need someone like the specialists on tv to come in and help me objectively. Someone who isn't going to judge me or act like I am crazy. I can't afford to pay for someone like that, I looked into it, so I just kind of ignore it. My tendencies have put a strain on my marriage in the past; that is why my storage unit exists. My junk lives there so that Marvin can ignore it. I have a private blog that I used to affirm myself on how much I got rid of, but the stuff just seems to multiply! I try to avoid shopping now. I am doing better now, and actually let people come over to my house (because I hide all of my clutter).

I am not trying to make excuses for myself, but my disorganization is where my ADHD manifests itself.
Trying to go through it all alone gives me an anxiety attack.
Just writing this embarrasses me greatly.
I just wish someone would come in and just keep me company and keep me focused so I could help myself.
Books motivate me, but only briefly.
I want to cry.
I am ashamed.
I feel like a failure.
I am crying.

Won't you be, won't you please....

My parents have not been blessed by good next-door neighbors, and though the rest of the neighborhood is lovely, they are sandwiched between some real prizes.

On the one side, they have the chiropractor and the attorney-at-law. They went through a phase where they put notes on our car if it was parked in the street which claimed brought down their property value. I'm sure the weed-ridden, grass-free yard, and paint-thirsty trim has nothing to do with it? They have calmed down in recent years, and other than the security camera they have pointing in my parents' bedroom window, they keep to themselves.

On the other side, is the most vile woman I have encountered. Her voice is boisterous and grating; her cackle makes Fran Dresser's laugh sound like a lullaby. I could go on and on with stories about her, and her grandchildren who live on the other side of her, but I think our most recent encounter best personifies how lovely this woman is.

Yesterday, the kids were playing out front in the yard. When I say kids, please be aware this is a large crowd: my daughters, four of my siblings, and the three kids across the street. I was out front speaking with the lovely woman who lives across the street, my dad was on the porch, and my mom was inside with the kids' speech therapist and had all the doors and windows open. The kids were nowhere near the next-door neighbors' yard; in fact over the years, my parents have planted a wall of foliage, to block her view of our front yard. (our being belonging to my parents') My brother, and his friend from across the street were in our yard hitting the tree with a stick, and pulling the bark off.

"Don't do that!" The ear-piercing shriek came from the next driveway. The other mother and I looked questioningly at each other. "I think he needs to go use the restroom!" She thought the boys were peeing on our tree; they weren't. Even if they were, how does that bother her any?

The nice neighbor called over to the boys and asked what they were doing; her son yelled back, "Nothing! She's just a nasty old MAN!" As his mom tried to explain that it was rude to say that, he kept yelling it out!


Anyone want to go pee in her yard?

Weird.

I have been back at work for three weeks, and during that time, my coworker and I have worn similar or nearly identical outfits on 5 separate occasions. The first day I probably shouldn't count because everyone wore the same outfit, so let's make it 4 times in the past 2 weeks we have accidentally coordinated.

Yesterday, we wore the exact same thing: identical shirts and the same shade of blue jeans. Today, I thought, "I will wear this year's spirit polo, because everyone generally wears that shirt on Friday. Then we won't match again." Guess who thought the same thing.....

But seriously, if I have to be on the same subconscious-wavelength mental frequency as someone, she is pretty doggone awesome. She is a fiber artist- which does not mean she glues beans to paper (my husband's goofy joke, not mine). She weaves and sculpts. She grows her own brown and green cotton- I never new it grew in colors other than white! She has a spinning wheel and a loom, and has chickens in her suburban backyard. Her weavings are beautiful: soft and delicate; they smell faintly of incense, and have hidden colors and details that a photo could never truly do justice. Just look at some of her work!

My husband's father passed away today. We know he is now with his wife and Jesus and is no longer in pain, but it is still hard for us left here on Earth.

Carnage Smells Like Oranges

As I have previously mentioned, my house has one major problem: when it rains, fire ants find their way inside! These ants are not content with infesting the normal places like the kitchen bathroom, or even dining room. They actually prefer the upstairs bedrooms (and the downstairs hall closet)!


For a period of time, they enjoyed my room, and sought out my clean laundry in order to build nests inside my clothes. There they waited for an unsuspecting victim to get dressed in the dark before they made a feast out of her pasty flesh! So, after we washed all the clean laundry for the umpteenth time, I purchased some highly toxic chemicals, sprayed them all over the carpet, and banned my children from the room for several weeks. It worked, for I have had no ants in my pants since.

However, a few nights ago, I discovered something horrific to a tender-hearted mommy like myself. Scout was having a particularly fussy night, so I crawled into bed with her(she is in a twin that is only inches off the floor). I immediately knew what was wrong- the ants had infested her bed!!! I quickly scooped her up, and deposited her in my bed. Thankfully her pajamas protected most of her skin, so only her arm has about eight bites; I think I may have fared worse! What was I to do? I couldn't use that potent chemical around her, and definately not where she sleeps.

My mom mentioned, "some orange stuff" that she used to be able to get at the mega-center. Being that few people would be able to direct me to such a product, I looked it up online and discovered "Orange Guard." It is water based, made from orange peels, said it can be used near food, children, and even in pet beds. I was skeptical, but desperate, so I went out and bought some.

I didn't fully believe that orange peels could kill insects, though I suspected it might act as a repellant (hehe- repel ant). I decided to test the downstairs closet first. I sprayed them, and they started running all over the living room. Great, the little problem I could have solved with a vacuum and some borax, was scattering all over the place! So I began spraying them like a mad woman on a mission. I think I may have gone overboard, but my house smelled fantastic! I left for a bit to strip the sheets off of Scout's bed. I came back downstairs, and then inspected the carnage.

There dozens of little ant carcasses curled into tight little balls. The others that were still struggling were clawing at their heads, trying to pull off their own antenae. It was vicous chemical warfare on a minute level, and it smelled blissfully cheery. It reminded me of being outside in the late summer, pulling a tangerine off the tree in the backyard, yet at the same time my victims writhed as they prayed to their little ant god for their misery to end and for the carnage to stop. It made me morbidly cheery to watch them waste away, for I knew they would no longer be able to torture my innocent daughter.

I treated the girls' room, and put plain white sheets on Scout's bed so I could easily see if they were there. As of a few minutes ago, I have only seen a lone ant, perhaps searching for other suvivors, but she never found them before she met her orange-scented demise.

Scout has a new tooth- a canine- up top. Actually she may have two by this morning....

Because I am so cool......

I have been so busy these past few weeks it seems, and this coming week will be even crazier! Training has been going okay, but I still don't sing loud enough through the whole class. I think maybe if I wasn't basically having to shout for over two hours, I would project better during one class (just re-read that sentence, I know it makes no sense, but I don't feel like changing it).

Well, I was riding in the car (did I mention my A/C is still broken?) with Scout and Little C (my 2-year old sister) and we decided to sing work songs. I was belting them out at the top of my lungs, trying to be loud enough for work. Well, during a particularly boisterous rendition of "Come Under my Umbrella," we came to a very busy intersection. As I finished the song, I looked out the window and saw the three cars nearest me; they all had their windows down. All the passengers and drivers were slack-jawed staring at me in disbelief. I guess I am probably loud enough for work now!

I should have followed a different career path

Our students are watching High School Musical, the Concert. I know at least one of the actors is 24, only a few years younger than me. I look young enough; I should have been a Disney "teen" superstar!

Vegetables for breakfast

Over the past 6 months or so (maybe even a year) I have felt like I have not been as effective of a wife and a mother as I used to be. My house is always in some stage disarray; some times are just more presentable than others. Meals are not as nutritious (or as tasty) as they once were. I often cook quick meals, and frozen vegetables thrown in the microwave to steam are a staple in my house. I don't bake anymore. I don't do as many outings with the girls, and story time has become relegated to one book many days. I still feel guilty for returning to work so soon after having Scout, and still have not adjusted to my husband's terrible schedule. I hope that this coming year will allow me to get into a better routine, and be more attentive to my family.

Scrambled Eggs

It seems like for weeks now, I have been having the urge to pour out my soul at the keyboard, bare every inch of vulnerability that has been consuming me lately, and open the book that exposes all my feelings of inadequacy, yet as soon as I sit down, I am unable to. It seems like, if I let the words swirling in my head drip out of my fingertips, everything will become true. At this moment I can pretend all my fears are simply bloated delusions of the Bogey Man or the Monster under my bed.

I was hired to work at Gymboree, and will begin training this afternoon. I am quite curious to see who "made it." Thankfully, this will mean that I will not have a lapse of pay between jobs, though it does add yet another commitment to an already full plate.

I think I need to begin looking for a new church to call home. There is nothing wrong with where I attend, and the girls love it. I attended all through middle and high school, and have been back for about two-and-a-half years (except for when we were living across the bay), yet I still feel like an outsider. I have yet to find my niche, and frankly, when I miss a week, no one seems to care or notice.

Failure

I have been comfort eating way too much. I guess I will put the healthy diet on hold for now, for I am just to overwhelmed to keep it up.

The Group Interview

As some of you know, I was told a few months ago that I may not have a job in the fall. However, they would not be able to tell me if I did until a few weeks before the school years started. This prompted me to apply to return to the University in order to complete my degree. Though I have enough financial aid to cover my expenses for the year, the prospect of existing on student loans is nerve-wracking to me. Therefore I have begun seeking out a part time job.

Today, I went to my first-ever group interview at Gymboree Play and Music (which after the interview I am even more hopeful, for it sounds like so much fun!) The environment of the group interview really gave me insight into American society. The entire group consisted of fifteen-twenty women, which did not surprise me. About half were dressed appropriately for an interview, of these half were dressed appropriately for an interactive interview. Only three of us brought socks (which were required) the rest had to wear "loaner socks." A quarter of the women were dressed slightly inappropriately for an interview (by my standards); for example one wore a tank top with a pretty skirt, and another wore khakis and a low-cut blouse. The remaining few were completely inappropriate!

A prime example of what I mean by completely inappropriate, was the girl who looked as if she was headed to Ybor City. She wore a hot pink halter shirt (I guess that's what it would be called, but it was not a traditional halter) with metal straps. Her bra was black; I know this because parts of the shirt were see through. She wore a tight, white skirt, that she ended up splitting down the back during the interview. Her eyeshadow matched her shirt perfectly, and her thick snow white eyliner went with her skirt and the large, glittery flower in her hair. Her lime green tongue ring did not match so well!

The interview was fun; we did the hokey-pokey, played charades, and role played different job scenarios. Towards the end, we were all asked to sing a kids song. We got to pick our song, and volunteered when to go (I went second- Yay, Me!) The job posting stated we must feel comfortable singing. Now, I know I will never, ever get a major recording contract, yet I can totally rock "Mr. Sun." There were people who refusd to sing a song! Seriously, why bother coming to an interview, where you KNOW you must sing and then not sing? They were asking for opera; they wanted "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" or the "ABCs." They didn't care if everyone sang the same song even!

There was one girl there, who I am hesitant to bring up, for the more I think about it, the more I suspect she was like one of "my students." Her clothes were shabby and very casual, her hair was messy, and her lipstick was a garish vermilion. She repeatedly put her shoes on, after they told us to wear "socks only, " and her cell phone rang repeatedly. In the group discussion, she suggested bribing the kids with candy! When they asked us to not sing along, she did, and then chastised a woman for singing the song with a different ending than she was used to. However, "my students" all learn employability skills before they graduate, and I would hope that they would at least groom a little better before hand.

Hopefully I made a good impression and will be called back for an individual interview!

“A fat stomach never breeds fine thoughts.”- St. Jerome

After numerous people asking me whether I was expecting over the past few weeks, I have come to a realization that I must do one of two things: get in shape, or buy new clothes. Thought the later will come inevitably, I figure now is as good of time to get in shape as any. I know I am not fat, but I have no tone, especially through my core. The following things will be my goals for the month:

• Drink more, preferably water. I know I never drink enough; I get terrible dehydration headaches, and my skin is frequently dry. I just don't think to drink anything most days. Lately, I have noticed that unless I grab a watter bottle before I leave the house, I won't have anything until I get home from summer school at one. Therefore, I just need to push more liquids, be it water, juice, or caffiene-free soda (caffiene is a diuretic).
• Add flax seed meal to my food. Flax seed is amazing stuff; it is high in fiber and omega-3 fatty acids, has a very mild taste, and can be added to just about everything. I had already started adding it to the girls' food, so why don't I add it to my diet as well? I only need a tablespoon or two a day.
  
• Move more! I know it is freakishly hot out, so I haven't been walking. I think if I dance to every Hannah Montana/ Jonas Brothers/ Demi Levato song I hear through out the day, I will lose my baby belly in no time!

So that is my plan for this month. I know it is nothing drastic. However, until school starts, I can not begin some elaborate workout routine. Who knows, maybe by August, I will have just given up, and bought a new wardrobe that does not contain loose, flowing sundresses!

Awesome [FREE] Album!

I know I may be a little biased, for I know the artist, and I am a sucker for a guy with an acoustic guitar. However, this album is FANTASTIC!!!! (Yes, it warrants the use of multiple exclamation points.)


Go to: www.MikeyPD.com and download "...from the proverbial basement" for free!

It's, Oh, So Quiet...

I am glad that I live in a country where most individuals are not morning people. I [usually] love waking up to quiet that envelopes my whole city, resting upon my house like a cozy quilt before a lit fireplace. I get my few moments of serenity before chaos sets in. For these few hours of peace are worth my inability to rest.

When I Die, Put Me in Silk Pajamas

I have a lot to write about, but very little time to do so. The words are dancing in my head itching to pour out of my fingertips. I have been finding zen in acoustic guitars and loudly singing along. I feel the urge to hear the hum of a needle and to pull out paints. A holiday will bid me well.

A little dirt never hurt anybody, right?

Today was our student's end of the year picnic. It was nice; the weather cooperated, the kids had a great time, and my girls were able to come.

At lunch, Punky wanted to sit with my coworker's daughter, and I sat at a nearby picnic table. A little while later, Punky brought over her hot dog, and said, "I don't want anymore." She had eaten all of the ketchup off of the bun and taken maybe two bites of meat. This is not uncommon, for she doesn't have the best appetite and had been gorging on junk all morning. Being a good mommy, and not wanting to waste food, I ate her hot dog.


At dinner, she informed me that she had dropped her hot dog on the ground! Thank you, Punky, for letting me know, several hours after the fact.