slave to the music

I had no intention of writing anything at all tonight, my back hurts way too much to be sitting in this hard ass chair, hunched over this laptop....I just was thinking that my life is something else. I had a week...I was a groupie and met David Gray. Coolest part was that I watched my adult sons shake his hand and thank him for the music. I told him my kids were raised on his songs, he was a lot of the background noise of our everyday existence. Very cool to be so old and still be meeting my musical idols like the groupie music freak I am. I am in possession of a lot of memorabilia - I have out my arms around a lot of them. My goal for this upcoming year is to make out with PINK!....But I digress like I so often do.....Music is the foundation my family has been built on - good music with good messages. I am proud of the love of music that I have passed on to my kids. I bet if I were to die tomorrow - my kids would talk about how they were both amused and frightened of my car dancing. I have ALWAYS been dancing, snapping my fingers and singing. I am real happy about what they have watched, watching their Mom rock out. I don't know many kids that went to their first Dave Matthews show when they were 2 and all in one night, went back stage and got drum sticks from Carter Beuford himself, pictures of a toddler in guitar pj's with Dave.... It has been a melodic ride and I am so pleased with this week and that October 28th I am going to the counting crows show, a milestone skimmed way back in the past..... I love that line I just wrote. And I think my back is done with you. Have a blessed night and listen to some music just because. Love you.

unintended extremes

I had no intention of getting on this blog site tonight...I had every intention to go straight into a coma and remain that way until 6am tomorrow morning. But....I was in the shower singing and thinking - I was thinking about my ability to read people....Like I have this uncanny ability to read people - I very quickly see who someone is and in addition what they need - or at least their terms.Then I thought, wow you think highly of yourself Miss Deb....then I thought of children and then I thought. well yeah I should be sure of myself. I know people, I know this because I know kids and although they are the most unassuming, they certainly lay themselves out in the same way that they assume nothing. They tell you who they are, if and I say if, you are paying attention. And kids are my favorite people, they are so new with themselves and untainted about anything and everything... I do kids well. I always get on their level and let them have my full attention and my capacity of patience. "oh you will love me, watch me win you over on your terms baby braticus, the decision is all yours" (Sydney) Or to Leona, "I hear you girlfriend leaves are powerful tools of persuasion and for us special girls, like you and me and your momma, they double nicely as tools of expression too" I see the human being. That is a kick ass gift.....You doubt me? Go ahead and as any of my friends with kids - I am overly interested in the baby person, more so than any other adult friend. I love that my friends kids are pieces of my friends in legacy, the torch pass, the future, the time. Today Leona was in the shop and I watched her while the new Dave played on the stereo. Rachel's eyes swollen and puffy from the nuances of the nights listen. I watched Leona go towards the music, physically, she put her self directly in front of it, she went so far as to push herself into the tightest corner by the speaker. I told her, if I were her, that is exactly what I would have done too. Then I looked at my beautiful friend Rachel who has gone from childless woman to woman with child and I thought, 'I was here before, during and would you look at that after - a baby girl self shoved in a corner by the artistry. I am lucky. I am so lucky to have so many friends with so many fantastic kids - so many co-parents in our greatest and most difficult journey. My friends kids are family - we are in for the long haul, the tears at graduations and the she's one of my Mom's dearest friends wedding invitations.... Today I saw my dear friend Gigi's daughter Taylor on the mall... She is living in Manhattan now, a model. Her mom died 7 years ago, one of the greatest losses of life I have ever witnessed.....Taylor came walking down the mall as I worked on a rack outside, I heard "Deborah" said only the way her voice would say it....I remembered her instantly a long lean dark, green eyed beauty who would say at ten "oh Deborah" with her too big for her mouth teeth making a lisp sound at very beginning of my name. We would have been disagreeing over something like the merits of a chocolate bar a half hour before her Mom would be serving her dinner.... Taylor stood before me a woman - I thought, I wish her Mom could see her now. Kids struggle and then they learn to endure - in Taylor the ability to endure has manifested in enduring beauty - she is breath taking and I miss her Mom. I paid attention and the pay off is sweet. My perspective over time is more refined than everyone else.... So sure of myself. Kids are where it is at. Watching them grow is where it will be. Being me is difficult in so many ways - my fierce perception makes the world equally painful and beautiful. I just feel both ends of the spectrum to the extreme. It is not an easy way to live. But, I don't think I would be able to function otherwise if a choice were presented and a viable option. I am me and me is all I will ever know. I will be the crazy old lady in the nursing home talking too loudly and in the middle of dinner about oral sex. I will make the quiet old ladies laugh under their breath, curt hand covering their smiles and the irritable bitty's will throw food at me in disgust and cry to the orderlies about my offensive mouth. I will also be the old lady that as you push her by in her wheel chair and she catches wind of a child, well, I will extend my old crow talon, a great wide smile will spread across my crooked dentures and my watery, cloudy eyes will see clearly for the first time since the last time I set eyes on a child.... I hope I grow old after making a lot of money because the old folks home I will be in, will have to be privately funded - I am going to make the insane amount of money they charge worth every damn penny. Kinda like my Papa did, only with a whole lot of Nana too.... I will also see Christmas trees that aren't there and accurately know all the birds business in that tree across the way from the sitting room window. I miss them. My Nana and Papa. And see, crying now. One joyful extreme to the painful other......... I live to live and die to die. I have a question?????? AND SOMEONE PLEASE ANSWER ME OR SEVERAL, OR EACH OF YOU THAT READ THIS --------- DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN WHEN I WRITE? THIS IS IMPORTANT. DO YOU GET ME? DO I COMMUNICATE IT?

belly full.

Good Evening. And yes, yes it is. I am in a way today. This new Dave Matthews CD is doing strange things to me. I am having bursts of creativity that are exhausting, but they just keep coming and coming. okay I admit it, this is the kind of worn out that I could get used to. My brain is on overdrive....The artist in me has awakened in a way that I have not experienced since I was a teenager and YET the perfect thing is, it's that girl - on the verge of 42. There is such a richness to my spark right now, It's like watching the leaves die and scatter on a perfect Autumn breeze, with the right music score, fluttering the changes melodically. I worked my ASS of today with Rachel after coming in the store in a flurried monologue. I explained to Rach in near hysteria, that as I drove into town, I choreographed an entire interpretive dance of the song Gaucho - it involves Emma and pleading, black leotards and blonde hairs flying. I haven't seen anything so creative so clearly, in so long. I then threw up texture and color artistry all over the boutique - a frenzied fashion statement. I was worn out from all the camaraderie, ease, laughter and good taste. By the time 7pm came I was dragging my over caffeinated ass about and my posture had gone from starlet to hag. I drove home listening to Dave and eagerly I might add, as I had been tortured all day long by Rachel who would not allow me to listen to the new Dave, because she was planning on going home tonight and really giving it a ear phone, trance like listen. I get it, so I conceded. FUCKING JACK JOHNSON won't give up by the way - no matter how many times we struck him thumbs down on Pandora, that motherfucker kept on coming. I got home rejuvenated somehow and decided first thing after kicking off my cowboy boots and throwing down my bag, to move all the living room furniture out of my way and dance. Yes dance, like I have not danced in years. Daveeeeee the things you keep making me do against my will. You know what I love????? The strength in my arms and legs. So strong and muscular, athletic and yet still so graceful. No matter how big my boobs are, no matter how strong those shoulders, I still can move like the air. I want to move like the air, don't you? The kind of air that you tilt your head up into, close your eyes and deep breathe. That kind of air. yessir. AT any rate, I danced until I was dripping sweat, my hips loosening like childbirth, my fingertips extending into infinity - I danced until I was soaked. And then, cause I am me, I took it to the porch and gave a show to the neighbors. And then I sat quiet and still and listened to the nuances and imagined Rachel listening to the nuances too. And then I got overwhelmed and had to write and say whatever it is that I just said. This album has me distracted and I can honestly say that I have NEVER connected to an album this profoundly, this immediately, this completely. Every track is significant, every track is a great conversation about something totally pertinent on my current state of mind. EVERY TRACK. I am not a normal music lover - go figure. I cannot wait until the next time I see Dave here in town. I am going to hold him and say thank you until I am physically removed from his person. Thank You Dave, thank you for contributing to my life so substantially, so sustainably. I wish I had more to say, but I gotta just listen again. You should do the same. So far tracks drunken soldier and gaucho and belly full are my favs. But then there is if only...and snow outside and mercy and..... Had to stop and go find my friend and then ended up at the bar getting my kid and mingling,then we took the long way home drove around cranking.....yes - the new DMB CD. I think my kids have grown up Dave too - wait I don't think - I know. If only I could have you just the way I want you...If only. great motherfucking song. My Bob song from this album... If only. ha. Goodnight lovers. I said I was going to bed early tonight. NEVER HAPPENS life has too much going on and I'll sleep when I'm dead. I ain't dead yet.

EJC my blanket

I woke up this morning with thoughts of my step father. This happens a lot, but not quite like this morning. Today it was though he were a blanket, I felt him lift off of me as I became more conscious, aware of my surroundings. I got colder as the space where he was, became noticeably empty. I miss my Da. For those of you who don't know me, My step dad was my only Dad. We are Irish and so I affectionately referred to him as Da which is commonly used over seas, short for Dad. He called me Dot. Short for daughter. I call my own daughter Dottie sometimes, I always say it with a heart full of love and grief. I have lost a lot of people I love to death. It seems natural enough because we all die and yet, it is the most unnatural feeling to live without someone you love, someone who has always been there. I am almost forty two years old and I am still reeling over a death that happened when I was eighteen. The sadness never goes away, like the emptiness they leave behind can never be filled. I miss my Da. He was a good man. When I think of him, I wish most of all that I could hear his laugh. His smart short one, the one that would shoot out of his smile when someone said something sarcastic, unexpected, truthfully inappropriate. I miss that laugh most of all. He has been on my mind a lot lately as I try to define in my own mind why it is that I continually choose men who are bad for me and lock out all the good ones as though they are the problematic peeps. I thought of him especially the other day while driving up route 53 on my way home. The radio was on which is rare, I usually have a CD in. I was singing along with Pinks new song blow me one last kiss and suddenly as I rounded a corner, the station gave way to another and there was Elton John singing Levon. I could see me and my Da in his black Ford Taurus, driving by Boston College on our way to Chestnut Hill, it was Autumn and I was at the wheel, colors all around us as we passed the campus. We sang together at the top of our lungs "and Levon blows up balloons all day, sits on the porch swing watching them fly and Jesus he wants to go to Venus, leaving Levon far behind" I cried while I smiled, remembering that moment and longing to feel it again, if only for a split second of reality. When he died suddenly, the shock made the reality hard to comprehend. I feel like the shock is beginning to wear off - my Da is a blanket of dreams that I rouse from, not here for real anymore. He was the best man I ever knew. He is part of the reason that I write and part of the reason that I am not dead. Sometimes I think about the people who intervened in my life and gave me love when I felt none. I think that if it were not for them, instead of the artist angst I live with, instead of picking bad men who hurt me....I probably would be dead - gone to a bad drug addiction or a murder in an alley somewhere, a victim to some man that I couldn't identify through the haze of my own anesthetization. I would have surely been a statistic of a different kind had I not been intervened upon by a man like my step Father. I hope he knew that. I hope he knew that singing Elton John with him, kept me out of a dark alley. I miss his face. I miss his voice, I miss the way he crossed his legs, the way he smiled. The way that I ALWAYS FELT that I was getting his BEST. I wish he were more than a blanket I wake up with on lucky days. I wish that February 7th had come with warning so that I could have told him he was a blanket in my life back then, he preserved the garden in frost. I always think of him more in Autumn, his turtle necks and cowboy boots. He was so unexpected like that - a suit and tie guy with the most badass cowboy boots. I have them in my closet. When you are cold a blanket makes the difference. Thanks Da, I love you.

DIRECT QUOTE

Using the blog for this pisses me off more than my own skirting..... But, if you are a friend of Bob's or his 'girlfriend' - please don't read me anymore. This blog existed before Bob and is not a way to monitor my behavior in context to him. Read me because I make you laugh or cry, but not because of drama. Truth is, it's like I said - he and I know what we are and we will continue to and no one else matters. The temptation to skirt is there if I know you are reading. I have self control issues, so....And you have to wait to know what is really going on until the book comes out too, and by then well... If you are connected to Bob, please stop reading - it is Deb Does Life, not Deb Does Bob. Bob is a huge part of my journey and is going nowhere from my blog, but only read about it if it's MY journey you are interested. I will tell you that I am right, and so are you Jenny. Now stop reading me please.

growing up Dave.

Good Evening Blog readers, It is a lovely Virginia Autumn evening and I hate to say this if it's rubbing someones face in it, but....there is no more beautiful smell than the air in Virginia - pick a season it, it applies year round. But man do I love it crisp, the kind of air that begs to be stayed out in, constantly. I see that I have been monitored today by the present "girlfriend" - I should probably apologize to Bob via her, for insulting his alter ego, the Rooster. Although I will say that Roosters primary concern is not his "chickies," but rather his choice and numbers of hen vagina and his big mouth that he likes to run while the world is still in quiet. But Bob doesn't associate with him for that reason at all, and I truly know this, deep down - it's not his over possessiveness, or the fact that his stump must be above all the females, or that he is also called a cock....none of those reasons either. I know there is a reason though.....Have I mentioned how much I make myself laugh out loud? Love that..... I am sorry Bob for all inaccuracies. You know better than anyone that when you are good and pissed off, well venting helps. Especially when it is all you have...I know baby and I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I made a few cracks that were pissy - can't imagine why... I digress and laugh AGAIN. Thing about Bob and Deb is that we are the only two who know - well and Becca and Ben. But really just me and Bob and REALLY those are the only two people who matter here. I write about my life openly, but lately I have blogged in codes and hidden meanings - I have not just told you the whole truth and nothing but the truth - I have skirted. Maybe skirting is pissy, but telling the story is the book PROOF. You are all going to shit your pants..... Cause I write the activities that take place in door frames for real, for real and that my friends may be too much real for most. You will love every character and hate them too. You just wait. And with that heartfelt apology to my one and only Rooster - I now write the details of this moment, the one we are entering.... The air reminds me of kissing David Arend when I was sixteen. DAMN. one word only - DAMN.....I love you David, since I was sweet. Sea glass eyes and a perfect mouth to crawl in. Thank you. But my first David is a path to my always David. Dave Matthews.... I can't form a word, I just deep breathe - that is all and everything I got. I have been obsessively listening to this new CD AWAY FROM THE WORLD. Are they for real with that title right now? LOVE THEM. For those of you who know me,know that this is out of the ordinary fan/musician relationship. You know he is something to me for which there is no word. The CD is playing now as I type. I am thinking that we have grown up together. We are always in the same place at the same time. I never feel alone or misunderstood in his company, their company. They are integral parts of my coming of age. They each play a part, a significant role. I said "Carter does unexpected shit - like blue note back beat jazz shit, but even so, it's the reverse of what you anticipate - what you think makes sense - but then you find that he fills empty space you didn't realize was empty until he filled it." The obvious. Because it's Carter Beuford on the drums. Heard that line a few thousand times in my life - and I am crying and smiling. Literally crying. This music and these men have filled the unknown empty spaces more than the men that dug the holes could have ever dreamed. Real Workers. They are the music of my mind - if I could have, I would have, but then I wouldn't be me and me them, and than it wouldn't be - we need each other to be who we are for it work. But if I could have it would have. But it is. I watched Dave deliver Leroi's eulogy, hands wringing behind his back. The grief was overwhelming and when the church filled with his sax sounds even though his casket was in front of me, I though I might faint for the pain of it all. I say it to Mary, "it's like Dave said about Leroi....watching him struggle, one of the greatest gifts of my life" That is love. Watching your friend struggle into themselves, being a part of that is a great joy. Only you who understand that will get it. I miss Leroi in these songs. I can hear the lack of him and his spirit, nowwwww I am really crying. I loved Leroi Moore with all my heart. His saxophone solo in #41 is the oil in my hips, the sex in my shoulders, the drop of my neck in surrender, my soul's most honest singing voice. I miss Leroi Moore. I will always miss him. BUT........the they endure for me and we grieve about our lost ones together even though there is a sax and Jeff Coffin is just evolution because this never dies it just changes, adapts. JEEESUSSS I am in rare form. Dave Matthews and Stefan Lessard, Carter Beuford, Tim Reynolds, Boyd Tinsley, Rashawn Ross and Jeff Coffin, Leroi Moore - well they do that to me. This album is brilliant, I am in that space. Right the fuck dead smack in it. My birthday is coming....October 11th. I leave the 41st year soon. I am dead smack in it and reborn. Yikes. But anyways, I cannot concentrate because I am hearing lyrics I missed previously, picks on a string, a triangle jingle.... I love you guys. Little steel guitar just now. 'Come the winter I will build you a fire from the bones of what I used to be.' I get it Dave. Gotcha. I have to go dance with myself now, my body says so.

waste not want not.

Good Morning, Okay so....I spoke to Bob the other day and he said with condemnation and pity in his best fake, forced voice - "your blogs make you look crazy - you say one thing one day and something contradictory the next." I responded that I write what I feel, and that changes like people who wear them, change their panties. If one day I say I won't smoke and the next day I admit I do, or one day I say fuck him and the next day I admit that I miss him - well this makes me a lunatic and all of you reading feel pity for the woman who just cannot keep it consistent. Well....I said two days ago I was not going to blog....I was going to keep my voice quiet for a while and leave my key tapping to the tell all novel I am writing about this past year. BUT.....Yes Bob, here she goes again sober from having dropped her kids off at school (throat clear) here I am blogging......Mary said - write....I don't care what you write, I don't care what you say, I don't care what you do with it - JUST WRITE, right now in this brain space you are in, at war with yourself and the outside world - WRITE. So Bob, yes...Have your informant in Texas let you know I am at it again, looking consistently inconsistent in TRUTH. Truth is, my not so stable or truthful friend, I am consistent and wide the fuck open. You threaten police on facebook and people laugh at you behind your back while I blog and people email me, please don't go - "you say all the things I don't have the balls to say, you make me laugh and make me cry and make me laugh again." So fuck you and your whiskey induced haze of unreality and bullshit, FUCK YOU and your finger pointing. TURN THAT FINGER ROUND CAUSE YOU'RE THE ONE BRINGING YOU DOWN. Truth is.....You don't care and really, neither does anyone else. You look good, but that is about it and when your liver fails and you turn yellow, you better hope the latest conquest is half in the bag herself so that you still appear somewhat appealing. WOW - that felt good. I do love you underneath, really I do. You MAKE IT SO HARD. And so, I cannot let THIS DAY go by without laying my words down. It is, yet again, September 11th. If you are a reader of mine you probably read last years entry - what was that you said Bob "she's my ambassador of courage?" HAHAHAHAHAHA - to those of you who give a shit about something outside yourself and complimented that blog post - well, that means something....That blog took it's toll to write in the five parts it took for me to get it all out - I read it sometimes myself to remind me of who I am when stupid people tell me that I suck and I almost believe them. Ha, not so much. This morning I began my day screaming at my kids who would not get out of bed. Truth is, I didn't want them too either.....they were both (the wee ones) in my bed and it was hilarity to just sit and watch them with my steaming cup of coffee in hand. I could have done it all day. Emma with her thousand little braids sticking up, all about the pillow like a cute Medusa and Matt at the other end, head by her feet which continually kicked him in the face and he swung at the air asleep, cursing her and whoever else he imagined might be assaulting him. The crisp Autumn morning air streamed in through the open windows pushing the steam from my mug about my face giving off the effect of a facial, my pores opening up so that all the details of the moments saturated into my skin. I had to scream eventually, the gentle rousing did little to wake the Prince and Princess from their slumber. When I finally turned on the light in the kitchen, the first thing I saw was a copy of the new DMB album in Kevin's handwriting on the table. AWAY FROM THE WORLD. I smiled knowing that at midnight, my two eldest were crowded together by Papa's desk in the glow of my laptop light, salivating like hungry animals circling their prey. I ask you Bob, what have your kids learned from you???? Oh wait - you're the Rooster who does runs his mouth in the peace and quiet and fuck a lot of hens.....HAHAHAHAHA. My kids have learned to be artists, and to appreciate music and words,and the pursuit of peace and the joy that comes in overcoming adversity. So go drink that back.... And yes, Kevin did hit me Bob - wait til your three get good and pissed off for your failures - oh wait, you won't admit them because you learned from the best, I forgot. But I digress in negativity that won't evolve so..... I loved imaging my two grown men buying the CD on itunes. I loved knowing that all the years of music and concerts and dancing has made an impression on their souls and they crave it just like their Momma. I made lunches and bitched about aggressively brushing teeth, not just gently exfoliating the plaque and tartar while eyes rolled and kids tuned out. We walked outside to Autumn. A cool morning that made my nipples stand up, which at this age is a feat that is noteworthy. I thought, Oh yeah - bring on the death Season, let me see the colors and of every leafs life, yes please. Then I looked up to the blue sky and thought, this is what that day looked like..... I said it to the kids as we got in the car. "this is exactly what that day felt like, exactly - the sky was just this blue, the sun just this bright" I put in Dave, on his release date morning, September 11th, eleven years later and I thought to myself - I see what others miss, because I am always looking at the fine details of my fabric. I don't want to miss a thing - even the hard shit. The hard shit after all is what makes the good shit so good. Then I adjusted my mirrors and took a good look at the hard shit turned the really good shit in the eyes of my son, the one they told me would die - But I knew that even if he did it should be in my arms where he belonged, so fuck sea weed sticks and giving up..... I could smell his morning dragon breath in the trucks close quarters and smiled to myself, knowing the alternative would have killed me. Of course my inquisitive cookie cutter from the back seat began to ask questions about that day as any girl of mine would. She was upset last night because she heard in a political commercial that under Mitt Romneys presidency, cancer patients would not receive their treatments and this sent her into a tail spin of worry for Aunt Pammy who she loves with all her heart. My daughter makes me PROUD in her need to understand everything...... She asked "why Mommy, why would terrorists do that?" Oh baby......why? Humph. Why do people terrorize each other, those they claim to love? Terrorize themselves, is the more pertinent question I am currently plagued with....But not what she was asking.... I explained it all to her the best I could. I think I told her that extreme views, equal extreme measures and unfortunately we live in a world where middle ground has been destroyed, humanity has become desperate. I explained in a way she could understand. She was broken hearted that thousands of people died, I told her that all she could do to remedy that broken feeling was to be the best person she could be - to make the most of her life and to do her best to contribute and give, leave behind her legacy of a life which met it's potential. Eat that Rooster who protects his chickies. And Dave sings BELLY BELLY NICE and my dancer hips groove. She asked, "Momma what were you doing that day?" I told her, I was wanting to hold the world in my arms with the same confidence that I held Matthew in my swollen womb. She looked at me like I was too special for the world. She gets me and that is my greatest joy. I dropped her at school first, we stood in the hallway, a big and a little, and made out like we may never see each other again, the way lovers kiss at the airport gate..... I told her, "work hard my love - remember meet your potential for all those who were lost" she smiled at me with my own smile as she walked her sassy self down the hallway, her wavy hair lifting off her shoulder as she whipped her head round to see my smile, her smile, chasing her down the space that separated us, with all the obsession and adoration that should always be on the forefront of my mind - not whiskey bottles and wanna be farms. Hahahahahahaha Momma is begging for Mercy - will we over come this, have we come to far to turn it around? No Baby, never too far to overcome this. NEVER. Legacy. The bonus track on Dave's new CD is from the show that I took the kids to this summer....I love that as I listen to it right now, I can see us, see me and my kids dancing barefoot in the grass, Emma on Brian's shoulders her arms up to the stars of the night sky, Matthew in front of me, my arms around his chest and Kevin smiling to my left as though the music was his magic carpet and he was driving us up and out of it all into where we ought to be. Legacy. Oh God life is so hard. It is so FUCKING HARD and so PAINFUL, so MYSTERIOUS and horses always pull the cart - there is no other way. People like me want to make sense of it, understand the extremes, take the fine grain sand paper and smooth the sharp edge off the hurt, cry the tears to bleed the well dry, blood run out sacrificially - I appear crazy Bob? Okay WHAT the FUCK EVER from your anesthetic misery laying in the road after a fifth rambling on about crazy bitches and cunts. I AM NOT NUMB and WILL NEVER BE. The people who lost their lives on SEPTEMBER 11th would not want that for me and I know that I was given a vacant space for my son to fill because there is a GIVE and take. My Nana told me so and I know she has a direct line cause she always did. That is precisely why she found her way out from the bottom of the bottle. Humph again. So on this day I let it all pour out because I CAN. Because I SHOULD. Hilarity, Bob just called to tell me how much I suck and that I should go back to writing my psycho blogs that nobody cares about.... In nobody, he means himself and his world, he is filling the boots that I couldn't drag an inch in forward motion. I SAY NO TRUER WORDS WERE EVER SPOKEN, print that and put it in your box little boy. Deep breath, my point is this. I am here on September 11th to say that I will never forget. Not only the acts of terrorism that shocked our Nation, but also the daily acts of terrorism that we unleash on each other and ourselves. I would never say that the lives lost on that day were minor details - God no. I will say that the major details start with us as individuals, in our personal willingness to accept responsibility for our lives - what we take selfishly and what we contribute selflessly. September 11th should be in the consciousness of our everyday minds not just once a year. As I got out of the truck to drop Matt at school, the outside loud speaker was the principal addressing the students. He was speaking about Patriotism. We stopped and stood silent as we listened collectively - a body of children and adults in one place. He asked us to join him in a moment of silence. I stood next to my miracle and cried gently from behind my sunglasses which I should have taken off out of respect, but couldn't find the courage to face the light for fear I would give myself over to it and collapse in Matthew's arms with gratefulness. He doesn't yet understand he is my God proof in the flesh, does not yet know that he was a not going to be, that WAS, IS.... He knows he has a special head, but does not yet know what that has meant to/for my special head..... It was right about now that I realized our Nation was under attack. Eleven long years ago. Sigh, I wish I didn't feel that we are the biggest part of a problem that still exists. The day is a beautiful day. Every day is met with the potentiality of beauty. I am fighting to see that, fighting to teach that to my children, even though some days are unbearable for me to get through myself. A minute to minute basis with just the end of the day as the only goal I think I can attain - that and the ability to begin again. I want the cart to go first so that I know, but Dave just told me it won't ever work that way.... I believe everything you say Dave and yes we are too damn old to want to be young again..... If we were, we wouldn't have all this growth under out belts. Brian wants french toast, he is twenty two whining at his Mommy like he is four. I hope that never ever stops. No matter what, I hope I am always Mommy the master of french toast. Legacy. I pray for us as humans that we stop hurting ourselves and each other. That some way we can stop pointing partisan fingers, rulers against rulers, God's against God's, Fathers against Mothers. Mothers against Fathers. Friends against friends. I am a complex recipe of comfort food. I know exactly what I am. I know what this day is. Who my children are. My daughter has blue nails today like this same exact September 11th sky. I did not know her then, she was not even a thought - merely a dream. I dream big and I dream that she will see humanity turn around - and if not, the legacy of her Mother's heart will be enough to sustain her identical heartbreak. Me and the soundtrack of my dreams, thanks to Dave and her memories of my laugh and dancing hips under the starry nights of her every day childhood. I am nostalgic as fuck today - like everyday. Brian made me laugh just now and for that, I feel celebratory. My kids are insane just like me, it's fucking awesome. AWESOME. Never Forget......Anything. I love you all, even you Bob who thinks my words are a waste of letters. SO NOT A WASTE.

hope springs subjectively.

I am going to make this as quick as I can. maybe you should get a drink....I am not going to reread this or edit it. It is a steady stumble and best not to question. I posted on facebook just now that I am taking a leave from that social arena and I will also not be blogging for a bit - I am sad to say. The thing is, I need a break from the stage. This old girl is just plain tired of the lights and all the staging that I am hopelessly missing at every mark. I am feeling dirty from the filth that I have submerged myself in and I need a long hot bath and a few months to write and attempt to survive. I am not sure that I can ever accurately explain what it is that has occurred in the last nine months of my life - other than to say that I have had to learn to let go of hope. I have to watch a life choose to divert away from the right path - speed away, kicking up dirt and rocks, peeling out sideways in a panic. I am no good with refusal to do the right thing. I suck at wasted potential. I am miserable in holding patterns that are just mazes with a trick or treat up their sleeve. I suffer miserably in the raw of my emotional awareness, the acute ability to feel every minor detail. I am unparalleled in walking the tight rope on my pretty toes. I am stale in disgust presently with myself and almost everyone else. It is an improper place to stay, hoping - the place I am in. I hope that I don't run out of stamina, it surely feels fume like at this juncture. I do not want any of you regular readers to worry about me - if you understand me at all through these two hundred or so looks into me - you know that I am okay.... I am just needing to, as I said on facebook, devote all my concentration to fighting the Devil that hounds me. I said....Angels and Devils are only different because one fell from grace - At this point, I am a pin up girl in her hey day, laying scantily on the silver platter. The devil is an invited guest at the table, My wings are on the menu. I have to go away and fight for my survival. I have no time to blog about what I am up to - I need to be in full on, gotta live again mode. I can give up on love, I have done it a thousand in one times in my life - I am well aware that love sometimes, has to be laid to rest an expendable casualty which saves the platoon. Giving up on hope is altogether different. I have been taught to always have hope - it manifested in the microscope slide, an incurable virus. One which attacks my genetics, I am isolated in hope. I gotta give up and take antibiotics, try to cure this disease. Hope is always good, right? NOPE. It is sometimes, in the face of the unchangeable, the worst possible thing to cling to. I have to give up my hope. It feels like I may die - I won't, it just feels like it. I am merely a child, naive that darkness is subjective and so is my beloved hope. I am an innocent mind in a world of obvious. And so - I bid you adieu. Not forever so don't panic. I plan to, in all the moments I am not blogging to be writing this story. You will miss me, but I will come back with a book you can curl up on the couch with. I promise it will be worth the longing. It has to be. Cause I have to give up on hope. Be well and make good choices. I love you.