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19 November 2012 @ 08:30 pm
Two years since I posted.
I moved to California. Was happier.
Now I'm feeling blue.
Hoping it's just a phase.
04 July 2010 @ 10:47 pm
We noticed that most of the kids were turned around and oooing and ahhing at the thousands of fireflies making the trees behind us twinkle.
04 July 2010 @ 10:13 pm
What are you reading and is it any good?
04 July 2010 @ 08:29 pm
The last year in brief:

Nick went to basic, infantry school, missed airborne school by 10 seconds on his last physical training test, he got to go to Hawaii instead, he become really good at the soldiering thing, he deployed to Iraq yesterday for the next year.

Alex finally learned so much philosophy that when we are discussing a movie we've all just watched none of know what he's talking about any more. He got to go to Rome again, he's in Montana doing an internship for Foundation for Research in Economics and the Environment. (FREE, a think tank) He can't believe they are paying him to get to interact with such intelligent people, learn so much and enjoy Montana.

Max is getting his GED. High school was a nightmare for him. He made another two movies, he had a girlfriend, he drives. He feels almost human.

My little guys are doin' great.

Bedfellow lost his job. We are broke.

Myself, I got better from Lyme Disease, am on a productive journey to fix several physical quirks I have, I do the mother thing. Started talking to my brother once a week, which has been great because my siblings are precious people. About the only writing I have done in the last year has been entertaining the attendance secretary with my long, dramatic (and comical to me) emails with descriptions of why my child is absent. I try to make it something I might read again in a Reader's Digest bit about ridiculous things parents have submitted. It's a sad sort of hobby.

Hello Friends!
04 July 2010 @ 06:27 am
A whole stinkin' year since I've been here.
04 March 2009 @ 03:45 pm
Bedfellow is gone. A lot.

Nick is practically gone.

So it's just been me and Max and the little people makin' our way here.
Bedfellow is home this week. Home with a sense of security that I don't have to do the big battles on my own. Home with his humor and love. Home with his whirlwind of Peter Pan live by the seat of your pants no structure is routine. He's very good at what he does and he works hard but Arghh. So when he's here I'm happy and perpetually pissed.

Yesterday Max asked him to take him to play racquetball. They returned feeling excretion good and laughing. I was so inflamed jealous! My emotional base screamed I WANT MAX TO LOVE ME THE BEST!!!

Ashamed. Selfish.
Confused as to why do I hate him so much.
I never had a truer friend.
23 February 2009 @ 04:20 am
I discovered a nifty trick.

When I am looking at something aesthetically to study it's shape and pattern if I out stretch my hand fingers wide and focus on it's shape then back to the object then to my hand again, then remove my hand I see the what I am looking for much clearer.

Javier Bardem is sex.

What is the movie Vicky Christina Barcelona trying to communicate to us? Christina leaves much more solid about love and Vicky seems pretty not happy about discovering her way of love is solid and the Barcelona love was insane. Auntie seems pretty damn miserable too. So why did I take this journey with these characters?

I want to film Nick while his hair is still long.

I considering recreating a film that I saw at The Guggenheim. One, to better learn editing and two because the message was so poignant and profound I want to see it with my own family. I think it would capture for me what it was like to raise Nickolas and seems appropriate since he is near leaving us.

Also discovered, I really like the shape of my hand.
22 February 2009 @ 12:04 pm
Didn't off myself or anything. I just needed to write those things some neverwhere to get the rattle dissipated. But not so neverwhere that I can't go summon up their hindsight wisdom.

Wasted approximately $175 in the last 8 days. Money stratagem is laborious mentally and arduous emotionally.

Don't want to spend the waking hour and a half or the emotional energy to watch the Oscars tonight.Yet... The art of film making is so damn compelling to me; deep in my mind structural bones compelling. I can just as easily read about why these films are stand outs but part of me wants to see the moment, the face of the person whose work is judged superior. Capture their drive for it.

There are only a few regrets in my life. I am lucky. My jumbo is that I did not pursue film making and story telling when opportunity was a turning and open elevation to me.

Three of my children are story tellers. I will push them.
One is a warrior. I'm going to just step out of that one's way.
One is strange. Strange, curious and still tender young. I will just watch for his star sparks.
10 February 2009 @ 05:55 pm
The words that weight you down the road suicidal are not low, mean or label words.

They are wonderful, desirable words.
Charismatic. Triumph. Apt. Preferred. Reprieve. Satisfy. Haven.

The liquid your brain swims in is what fuels them, what is the lie.
Yet those, those words, well they are the solid rock that jerks your arm down like an anchor where drowning seems a small discretion you perform to relieve the ones you love.
10 February 2009 @ 03:18 am
The worst part of not having my meds is the floating. Floating seems like a pleasant thing but it's not. I feel myself on the bed while I'm floating, every imperfect part of the comfort of it saturates my awareness but still I am not part of it. Thinking too hard about this makes the floating worse. My teeth feel like they are floating free, in place but on their own. I don't understand this. Or why I hate myself for the tingling and ugly feel of my mouth closed and aware of my teeth ... floating.

The inside of my head without meds feels like a metal trash can. I sit inside it, smaller than I am supposed to be. No sound is right. And the dreams that come if I hold very still seem more real than the real life warm and moving right outside the can. Makes the sitting still more important and then comes the stall. The stall I can't even beg myself out of.

When I am well it never occurs to me any part of that is me. I live the meds cause I don't want to remember that part of me. Oh yes, when I don't have the meds my feelings are deep and beautiful but they are bigger than me. That's the part worth escaping.

And my head without meds is only ever a night or two away.