Just DO IT! Thanks Nike...great tagline.

May 10...last time I tapped away on the keyboard in this little box.   I knew there was something missing in my life.  Other devices and options are jockeying for my attention, but writing, like the freckles on my nose will never fade.  Sad that I find it difficult to find room to share a sentence or two with the blogosphere.
So here it is...
Life is life.  It's hotter than hell here in Pennsylvania.  The air moving slower than a fat man on a tricycle.  I'm taking numerous classes to keep me more marketable and my mind sharp.  I have a personal trainer who is helping me get healthier and kick my butt.   And with each drop of sweat that streaks down my face I think, what the hell did I get myself into, and afterwards I think, not such a bad idea.
While I don't write daily, I do have numerous ideas for stories that I write down in my little notebook, and there they sit, like a dented can of string beans on the discount rack, waiting, hoping someone will pay them some mind.   Maybe one of these days, I will do what all the writers and writer's guides say... JUST WRITE!  It's not bad advice.  Stop overthinking it and just write it.

Feeling fruity

You know...  Strawberry season will soon be ripe here in the mid-atlantic region.  I can't wait for spring/summer fruits and veggies.  There's something so right about a large, luscious, red, ripe strawberry that just bursts with flavor. 
That's it...just wanted to express my excitement for one of the simpler things in life - I look forward to strawberry season every year!   And then...it's peach season.   Life doesn't get better than summer fruit.

Cause you gotta have faith?

Who are we and what are we intended to know anyway?   Why are we here?  Recently, I've been seeing signs, and bumper stickers, and people who completely cover their vehicles in these graphic wraps informing us that the end of the world is coming on May 21, 2011.  Is it the end of the world as we know it?  Or will the world actually end and we won't be around.  Perhaps I should hold off making those Memorial Day weekend reservations.

How are these people privy to such information.  If this was such a monumental event, I would expect that Homeland Security or some other government agency be warning us right now.   The people who hold dearly to these 'predictions', how can they have such faith in this information.   Perhaps I am just a skeptic at heart - with some things, anyway- I question the amount of water or oil I am supposed to use in a box cake mix, and always overcompensate for fear of lack of moistness, because nothing is as terrible as a dry cupcake. When someone says the check is in the mail - I don't fully trust them until it clears my account. So, if I don't have faith in what Betty Crocker has been perfecting for decades - how can people have such faith that the world will end on May 21 or other claims that require some sort of divine miracle or act of "God".   Is it really all about faith or does the saying, "ignorance is bliss" hold sway?  I'm not trying to disrespect anyone for their beliefs - I have numerous beliefs and habits that I conduct religiously, but do not prescribe to any one path.  Just trying to work this out in my head and in my heart.

And, for fun...I think Google is as close to the divine as we are getting these days.  Think about it -you can pretty much get an answer from Google on any topic: inspiration, answers to your deepest, darkest questions and desires, whatever ails you, scares you, and everything in between.   I have faith that when I turn to Google I am going to get a response that will help my current situation.   Amen, Google.

Now that I got some of the ridiculous out of my system, if the world is going to end on May 21, 2011 - I wish you all the best wherever we will be on May 22.

Is technology showing our real age?

It is me or...if you don't have a smart phone - you're phucked.  How will you face the world without Facebook?  How will you identify yourself without an iPhone or an iPad?  I must admit they are sexy, fun little toys, but we are all developing the "21st century stare."   Here's the picture:   electronic device in hand, head slightly askew, as to be in a reasonably comfortable position and navigate the hand held device of your choice.  Now walk or drive or stare at it while you're in a conversation with other people.  Maybe you will trip, fall into a fountain, walk into a parked car or piss off your friend, husband or wife as you ignore them and read the latest status update on Facebook that appears to be more interesting than the current conversation or company.   I swear...with all the keying we do on our phones, we are going to evolve our digits (fingers) into paddles for thumbs and our other fingers will be pointed tips like some sort of stylus!

Technology is allowing us to witness this incredible sociological experiment --the evolution or decline of our culture-- you decide which it is, and I will observe the specimens at play.

I know there have been many others before me who have pontificated on this point and talked it to death, but as technology offerings become more affordable, they become more widespread - will we see a breakdown in real human interactions?  Or am I just being nostalgic for meeting a friend in a cafe over drinks or lunch to talk about their latest status updates or seeing their pictures from a trip, which they could show me via their Facebook or Shutterfly photo album.   It just makes me wonder if this explosion of social networking will implode and we will actually see a decline in human interactions - will we evolve or devolve back to grunting and drawing etchings of early mammals on cave walls?    Perhaps it is my love of conversation and for the written word that causes me concern, as acronyms and emoticons replace verse and prose.

I guess it was this way with every cultural revolution.  You had the resilience and brilliance of youth bring about the needed change -- the early adapters.  Then there are those who wait around for a later version - so the bugs could be worked out or there was enough empirical evidence to believe in the cultural changes, and then you had those who wouldn't budge.  I believe that the only thing that changes is change.  And if you aren't willing to be resilient, and at least humor life, you'll get old--- real quick!   Because if you don't update statuses or text or find some other technologically driven device to connect with others - you'll be left in an analog, clam-shell phone world. And the likes of big business will price you out of the market and give you no other choice than to upgrade or  return to the likes of a TV with an antenna.   How bad could it be to return to antenna TV?  That's what many of us grew up with.  Toy with the notion for awhile - it creates an inner conflict - an almost longing to say, "screw this, I could totally give up technology and revert to the ways of ancient man living in the 1970's <sarcasm implied>." or does one just drink from the chalice, and join the religious ranks, who can be found bowing and curtseying to the almighty Apple gods.

Is it okay just to accept bad behavior?

Warning: Emotional Rant is about to ensue.

Is it me or does it seem that these days to be perceived as a person of substance you need to be rude, a drug addict, an idiot, or say you are warlock teaming with Tiger's Blood?  

Each day we are exposed to some or all of the above mentioned - at work, TV (TMZ is not allowed in my house), radio, print, Facebook, wherever, and it feels like we have to honor these people with our attention because it is what dominates our culture.  Possible solution - shut yourself off from the free world.  Hide away in a cabin, in the woods of a remote part of Maine, Canada, perhaps a cozy jungle bungalow.  While lovely for a stretch of time, I don't think I could handle that much solitude.

While they may not be representative of a larger portion of the population - these, for the lack of a better term, emotional vampires require so much attention that they suck up precious time with their antics. It's like that snot-nosed, annoying kid who ran around in your kindergarten class spitting and punching girls, who took up most of the teacher's time to get under control, and by the time she/he did - bamm...it was snack time, then nap time, and then time to get on the bus. In 1977 it was half day kindergarten.  So, not much real learning was acquired.

I can think of a few people, from kindergarten and throughout my life - including present time, that are "rewarded" for their bad behavior with attention or whatever else they require, it perpetuates a cycle of selfishness and the rest must suffer the slings and arrows of their outrageous behavior.   What to do?  Ignore it.  It's hard when you must work with or are related to or required to socialize at some levels.  Chalk it up as...well, we all have egos and some rear their heads differently than others.  Call them on it.  If someone is behaving like a jack ass or a school yard bully...call them out on the carpet, as I would expect the same if I were behaving poorly.

Are you capable of being honest with yourself?

So I had this epiphany today - how honest are you with people?  how honest are you with yourself?  come on now...it's me you're talking to.  I realized that while I feel I give full disclosure there are just some things we embellish  - I perpetrate and have been perpetrated upon.  I'll disclose some of the light and airy ones....

1. I'm not as smart as I would like to be or think I am- Sometimes it's about faking it until you make it. I'm logical/practical and can be downright creative.  People tell me I'm nice and I have a great smile - or is this all a lie?  Or am I so smart I am just lying to myself and I believe it.  Who knows.  I'm no Descartes, but there could be some kind of Evil Genius at work here - not implying I am either evil or genius. 
2. People say I write very well or are they just saying that to be nice, or is it some game.  Do they mean my creative writing, or my public school penmanship?   Would someone just tell the truth?!
3.  At one clothing store I wear a size 14 at another a 12.  Why are they messing with me?  Just tell it to me straight so I can consistently purchase the proper attire.  To hell with it...I'll just buy a stretchy velour jump suit.
4. I'm not happy all the time - really I"m not - not every waking moment of the day.  People say  I'm perky (i like to laugh alot even if it is uncalled for and inappropriate at times) and that I am emotionally mature - I say splat to that.  I'm complex in here, but I was raised by one hell of a poker face- my Mom.  She's fabulous, but she will put on a smile as to not rock any boat.  I wanna rock the boat sometimes. 
5. Finally, I don't like Facebook.  There I said it.  I have maintained an account to keep up appearances only.  Honestly, I am just not that interesting and frankly, i don't care that you just took a picture of the hamburger you ordered at Ruby Tuesday's.  Really....read my previous posts and you will see that I am just some random woman who is trying to keep it real until I win the lottery.

There, I've been honest- with you, with myself. I can go on with life.  And here are some more thoughts on reality...

Awakening
By Stephanie
 

A silence that is spoken with gentle eyes 

Cries for days

Then gather animals by two’s to shuffle aboard your personal Ark

Built with toothpicks and stained popsicle sticks

Prepare for the journey, leather bound book and rosary in hand

Refill the pool believing your spiritual life boat offers the strength to glide upon the water

Removing the inflatable rings, you put on your life preserver and dive in full force

Choking on years of forced religion and parental philosophies that weigh you down

The life preserver floats to the top

You stay to  fight for your inner truth

The senses have become one

You stop struggling and realize your mortality and 

Float instantaneously to the surface where you are greeted by the pool guy.

Like Sheryl Crow says, "If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad!"

It's been a month since I've last been here.   I've been running on the hamster wheel - work, sleep, work, sleep, and in between, there are bouts of smiles, temporary insanity, promises to myself to indulge more in the things that truly make me happy - writing (why I'm back here- even though this seems more like venting), nature, and.... uh, and.... uh.  What the hell is it that makes me happy?   I thought about this today after reading an article in Yoga Journal Magazine - commercial, yet stimulating at a certain level - I like the mind expansion and the practice that is Yoga - I digress, more on that subject for another post.

I'm not really sure what makes me happy.  Damn it, and just when life was on cruise control and I felt like Jack Nicholson in "...Cuckoo's Nest"  Nurse Ratchet, one lobotomy, please.   I was letting the job numb the brain and just running, running on that little plastic wheel in this cage, all that is missing are the wood chips-- oddly enough, I just wrote down today to buy mulch for the front flower bed - and even more ridiculously ironic - I just bought a new water bottle.  What's next?  Hamster food pellets?  I won't go that far.    I'm really rambling here, but it's liberating.

So...I had an 80's flashback -- a bit of a childhood regression and a reminder from the evening news that this week is opening season for baseball.  It made me think of the days when I felt free- running around barefoot, playing sports, walking through creeks and finding cool things like old bottles, crawfish, and frogs that I would bring back to live in my kiddie pool.   Those were times of happiness even though there was occassional hardships - a financially struggling family - I was a pretty happy kid and lived to play baseball and stickball with my friends and my brothers - especially my brother John.   My brother John and I were very close when we were kids- we did everything together and I believe he is the one who gave me the resolve I have today - to constantly challenge myself even when I think I can't go another step - I am reminded of catching flyballs at 9 oclock at night with nothing but the street lamp and fireflies to light their trajectory - I developed excellent hand-eye coordination and night vision!

I miss those nights, but life evolves and sometimes you have to jump off the hamster wheel - even if it is doing 80MPH to regain your perspective and discover what truly makes you happy - even if it is only for 10 minutes, a day, a week, or a lifetime.

A reflection on how life changes effect even the closest of relationships.

Past Times

By Stephanie

Even though we’re related

People would never guess it.

Maybe it’s because you look like Grandpop and

I look like Grandmom.

Your brown eyes and blonde hair to my green eyes and brown hair

But that didn’t matter. We are blood.

Since I could crawl to your walk

I was your shadow

And you taught me how to throw, catch and hit a baseball.

I was the only girl who could hit the ball over the fence.

My brother, perhaps you beamed with pride in your  mind

“That’s my little sister.”

Which makes these play-by-plays that much harder

Because now that we are older and no longer run home together,

I can’t quite remember when we drifted apart

Perhaps it was after that last over-the-fence homerun 

The summer before you went into 9^th grade

The last time we would walk to 7-11 for Slurpees

After the big game.

I wasn’t ready for the change up that took place.

It was more like a fast ball right down the middle

The hormones stole you over night.

You traded your baseball card collecting

For an obsession of washing your face and combing your hair.

You devoted your time to other girls and

You didn’t have time to teach me anything,

Not even how to bat left handed

Like you promised. 

You picked up your date for the dance

I stayed home to braid Barbie’s hair.

We lived in the same house, played on different teams.

 While I was fast asleep and dreaming of

My Little Ponies prancing by a clear blue stream.

You would be getting home from your dates,

Filled with fantastic stories of drag racing Mustangs,

Your lips flushed cherry red with kisses from big haired girls.

You in high school, me in elementary school, we were leagues apart. 

My stories about Mrs Hanson teaching long division,

Brad Smith teasing me about the gap between my front teeth

They couldn’t hold a flame to your struggles with

Finding the square root of anything and keeping a clear complexion.

And now, all I have are memories…

One more at bat before dinner,

The final game of catch under the dim lamp-post at 403 Willard

All fading…

Like the leather of the baseball gloves that live in solitude

In the musty corner of Mom and Dad’s basement

They, too, long for us to play the game once again.

Conformity, is it comforting?

I was looking at the little "key" card I use to grant entrance to the office.  It tracks my moves, allows entry and exit - without it, I am not recognized as a citizen of my employer's world.  This little plastic card that clips to my pants pocket holds such power - it is entrusted to keep out the unwanted or unauthorized.   Miraculous little device yet quietly devilish forcing us to conform to standards and track our moves.  

There once was a time when I threw that card to the ground (really the top drawer of my desk), stepped over it and said - "no way, man!  I'll just buzz the receptionist when I want entry."   But that gets old, and after awhile the receptionist grows tired of the interruptions - there is leaving to go to other parts of the building for meetings, to meet with co-workers, go out to lunch, come back from lunch, numerous bathroom trips - even more numerous if  you drink as much water and tea as I do.   Eventually, I became tired of the dirty looks and the snail's pace in which she lifted her hand from the mouse that is navigating the game of solitaire, to move it 6" to buzz me in.  Exhausting, I know.   So, I gave in.  I conformed.  Here's my ode to that little white menace of a card.  

 

Keyless Entry

By Stephanie

I have denounced you and all that you stand for, yet I am a slave to your power.

Without you, I am alone, on the other side of the glass with only fingerprints to mark my existence, mindlessly gazing upon myself and buzzing the receptionist to grant my entrance.  

You came into my life and appeared harmless, ghostly and as thin as a credit card. Soon I would learn you are more dangerous than fluctuating APR’s and hidden fees, because you know my every move.  When I enter, when I leave, I can’t ever be alone in the building without your menacing swagger, you hang around my neck or are shackled to my hip like a deranged chastity belt intended to keep me from giving birth to new ideas.   

Your intention was never limited to simply allowing access to the building. I knew you couldn’t be trusted from the first day I clipped you to my three piece pant suit and waved you over the sensor to activate my ID.  Even when not in use you revel in your authority, threatening a revolt against the residents of my handbag - eyeglasses, makeup, checkbook, perfumed body spray; nothing is safe from your silent chiding, your presence is as chilling as the shrill tone you exclaim when stimulated.

To come to this level of dominance you must have disclosed corporate espionage or used your electromagnetic charisma to wipe their minds.  For when I predicted your plastic conquests, they all laughed at me from behind their piles of spreadsheets, glued to their 9-5 destinies.

Now gone are the days of 10:30 arrivals, shoe shopping at lunch, discussing boys with the girls around the water cooler, and forget about getting a jump on the weekend, you have re-programmed my mode with your cold little heart that stands guard and rules the passage between occupation and reality. 

It's just a number, right?

I'm 37.  I know!  Dear reader, you couldn't guess by looking at my profile pic; then again, if you went by my profile pic you would think that I am an egg, dressed as a man, sitting along  a riverstone wall, along side a clear blue stream.   I digress...

I am fast approaching the, <gulp> 40.   I'm thinking...I'm analyzing, I'm living.  It's like throwing a bunch of stuff up against the wall and seeing what sticks.   I'll do yoga, work hard at my job and see where it takes me, sign up for the crochet class, take spinning classes 3x/week, learn how to make croissants (my most favorite of all things that are being throw against the wall), be a better partner, friend, daughter, sister, neighbor, citizen of the world.  When it comes down to it...I do 1, well, maybe 2 each week.  Everything else, falls to the side and here I am.  I  feel unfulfilled.  F*CK!  (I'll cuss every now and then..don't worry) Why do we have a conscience or this inner urging that says, "hey, wake the hell up..."  Life is calling.   

In astrology, when you are approaching 30 you experience something called a Saturn Return - it' s when Saturn returns to the position it was in when you were born. Saturn is the reality check, a cosmic kick in the pants that says, grow up or shut up.  I thought 30 was wicked...40 is 2.5 years away and I am feeling the burn like a large person after an advanced level step class. Damn, my glutes are sore, but I keep going because I know the pay off is there. 

Shut up or grow up?  I think I can live with that and choose both options - dependent upon the day. 

One thing I have come to learn, you can't fight city hall nor can you stop the ticking hands of time.  So, what to do?   What a life we live.  I think I am going to throw away my watch.

86,400 Seconds

By Stephanie

Time

Disrupts the art of living

Basing our days on 86,400 seconds as

The dark veil of the night’s sky

Has drawn herself tightly

Amongst the crocheted sweater

That houses in its pocket

The tissues of tears you have wept

Because of the lack of time

Patience is illogical

It is another word that exits your lips

Amongst other words that have meaning

But lack the sensitivity they so lovingly deserve

All because you didn’t have time to

Fit them with their own delicious adjectives

And you failed to provide the action verb

That causes a series of syllables to jump off the page

And catch the reader’s eye

All because you didn’t have time.

Thoughts on Motherhood...

When a woman reaches a certain age and has made the decision not to have children, people often question.  She often questions her own thinking.  What kind of woman am I?  I know I would be a great Mom. I have a great Mom and know plenty of great Mom's. Child rearing is just not where my head or uterus are at this moment in time.  I contemplate the decision every now and again, and reconcile in the best manner I know how- in a strange poetic way. 

A bouncing baby…

These words are property of this blogger.  If you reprint, you must recognize their rightful owner.

Today, I put a basketball under my shirt. I wanted to see what it felt like to have a belly that wasn’t the result of overdosing on Oreo Cookies, but I’m still not sure what it would feel like because the child, I lovingly named Voit, didn’t shit itself or cry for a nipple to suckle upon. 

How could I make an accurate assessment of what it would feel like to be a Mama if my round, orange off-spring didn't emit needs for feeding, bathing, nurturing, rides to school, go-kart racing, guitar lessons?  Voit has simple requests: fill to the proper inflation weight, dribble with a nimble hand, and then lay up or dunk into a net.

What about the quality time? I can barely give Voit the time he deserves now!  Rarely, a game of Horse on a Saturday afternoon, and occasionally some free throw shooting on a Thursday night.  I couldn’t make it to the Sweet Sixteen or Championship Games.  And, it wouldn’t be for my lack of trying. I believe that some people are cut out for this type of full court play. Me? I’m a traveler, and it’s hard to find luggage that matches Voit’s orange, dimpled skin.

Liberation!

I often wonder why Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall... was it his egg shaped physique that threw him?  Perhaps he was contemplating the great mysteries of life.   And, why couldn't all the king's horses and men put humpty together again? 
Well, like Humpty, I like to sit on walls and contemplate life.  Some days I fall and it seems like nothing can put me together again, but then there are other times I fall, cracked open, exposed and vulnerable, interestingly enough, I rise.  I am amazed at our resiliency.

This is my first post, and I guess like most people who create a blog site they are either bored, contemplating, looking for their voice or an audience to listen to them.  I think I am all of the above.  I feel like I need a little reflection... who I am and where I am going next.  Life is good, but is there more?  I don't mean that in a selfish manner - grateful for what I got, but something is eluding me and perhaps a little free form verse on a public blog, instead of hiding away in my composition books of short stories or verse will be a bit more liberating. 
Here goes... oh yeah, and be patient...centuries later, even the greatest of minds haven't figured out what constitutes existence other than that - I type, therefore I am.  And, I am not interested in arguing about wax.