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March 31, 2008
Bee Movie Hijinks
San Diego Momma, whom I have adored since way back when she was someone else and even if she does love Oprah (really, it's the only flaw in an otherwise flawless person so I think I can forgive her this one thing), was telling her bee story and I totally remembered an incident from the desert trip. I could just point you in the direction of SDM's post so you could find out what happened, but no. It's my story, dammit! and it shall be told here as well. And better, too. I use more descriptive-type word things.
On my little desert trip with the girls, we had the top down on the car, right? So, I’m sitting in the front seat, thinking I’m glad I’m not sitting in the back because we all know that’s where the bugs end up. Uh, yeah. I get a very overly-intimate bee who swooshes up past the windshield, flings itself downward, and lands right between my legs. I wasn’t 100% sure it was a bee, but what other flying insect was it really going to be? Not with my luck! So, I calmly don’t move, as in barely even breathing type stuff, and ask my friend Patty to pull over. I then CAREFULLY and slowly (ABC Sports don’t know nothin’ ’bout slo-mo compared to me) lift myself with my arms, which is totally funny in and of itself because I have the upper body strength of a preemie, and as I rise up, a big ass bee wanders across the seat, looks up at me, and yells, “WTF you doin’?” Then he flies off all non-chalant about his fresh behavior.
If I’d had my way, he’d'a been toast. With honey, of course.
It took another 45 minutes before my heart stopped its thunderous pounding and a good (bad) 20 minutes before I could breathe normally. I used to be deadly allergic to bees and it's been long enough since I've been stung that I don't know how I'd have done. Bees are beautiful to photograph and watch as they go about their pollen collecting duties, but I do NOT want one crawling on me, nor do I wish to become so intimate with one that one of its parts enter me in any way, shape, or form, thankyouverymuch.
Posted by Da Goddess at 05:16 PM | Comments (2)
Trippin' Down Memory Lane
The Fat Guy has a sweet collection of music videos for you. Go forth and enjoy.
And just so I get to throw in my own unique little twist, here's Foghat with (my crush) Honeyboy Edwards.
And then there's Foghat with Johnny Winter and Muddy Waters.
Did you really think I'd play along and not throw in the blues? Really?
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:33 PM | Comments (0)
March 30, 2008
Undeniably Mine
Posted by Da Goddess at 10:06 PM | Comments (6)
March 29, 2008
Now You Know Something, Too
Okay, I got the word that Little Dude officially knows about this, so I can spill the beans.
A group of 5th graders and some of their parents are going to D.C. on April 6. Part of the trip includes a visit to Arlington National Cemetery. While there, four children are chosen to place a wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Little Dude is one of those kids.
How cool is that?
As well, the kids from school will be placing a wreath in remembrance of a fallen Marine who was a penpal for the class a year or so ago. The class has stayed in contact with the family and LD has a special relationship with them now (read the quoted text a little more than halfway down the post).
LD was also asked to give a brief speech to the other students while they're at the cemetery.
The only bad part of all this is that I won't be there with him. His teacher has promised me many photos and I'm hoping another parent will capture the entire thing on video for me.
This next week is going to be very exciting for us as I help him with his speech. Given that he's an extremely patriotic kid (he's been declared the most patriotic boy in class), and that he takes his job of placing flags on graves at Ft. Rosecrans so seriously each year, he will be totally engaged in this event. In fact, I'd hazard a guess that he'll be one of the only kids to fully comprehend the meaning of what they're doing.
Pretty awesome stuff, eh?
Posted by Da Goddess at 11:23 PM | Comments (7)
March 28, 2008
I Know Something You Don't Know
I just got word about something fabulous and exciting. BIG TIME.
It involves Little Dude. And I can't tell anyone just yet. In a week, though. In a week.
LD is going to flip his lid. I'm flipping mine!
I. can't. wait.
I need someone to hold me in my seat.
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:04 PM | Comments (4)
March 27, 2008
Vote For Me
I'm not asking for much, just a quick vote. You can do that for me, right? Good. Well, here I am.
I chose the "Fresh" category for this one because it was a "fresh" point of view. Definitely different from the fruit and brightly colored girls in most of the photos I'd seen on JPG thus far. Who says fresh needs to be all bright and sunny anyway?
If you vote for me, I promise to leave you alone for at least a day. Honest. I would not lie to you about this. Not even a little.
Posted by Da Goddess at 07:33 AM | Comments (2)
March 26, 2008
Stupid Logic
Do you set your child in the middle of the freeway hoping he'll develop speed and that he'll toughen up? No.
Do you stick your kid's head in the oven so he gets used to desert heat? No.
So why is it that men, in particular, consider subjecting a child to continued bullying at school preferrable to putting the same child in a new learning environment?
There are bullies at every school. That's a simple fact. But if a kid has already spent the last couple years dealing with these little turds, should it be considered running away if his parents enroll him in a school different from the one the bullies attend? I don't think it's running away at all. I think it's giving the kid a chance to learn to like school again, learn to stand up for himself for the right reasons instead of the wrong ones, and find a new group of kids who aren't so sick of each other that they turn mean just because they're bored. The new school will undoubtedly have bullies, but the new kid will be just one of many new kids and not a predetermined target.
Kids who are bullied begin to falter in class. Kids who do the bullying often find other bullies to team up with if given the opportunity and then go pick on familiar victims. Parents who do nothing because they don't want their child to look like a "chicken" are messed up, if you ask me.
A fresh start at a new school can do a lot to boost a child's confidence, don't you think? Instead of being bogged down by an established pecking order, kids can actually find opportunities to develop better strategies to avoiding conflict or build a different persona.
Obviously I'm in the middle of a disagreement with the ex over how to best approach school next year. I have serious reservations about sending Little Dude to the same school with the same kids he's seen every day for the last six years. Why not break the "boreditism" cycle these kids have developed? I'm tired of the little brats who constantly target the nicer kids -- boys and girls -- who choose to behave and who choose to avoid cliques. Little Dude isn't a nerd or a goody-two-shoes. He's just a nice boy. He likes plenty of rough and tumble action, likes to get dirty, likes to run and yell and pretend to shoot guns. He's also a convenient target because he gives people too many chances at friendship.
Also a concern about middle schools next year is the fact that one school is right next to a high school. I'd really prefer not to have those two populations mixing for a variety of reasons.
As the ex and I hash out all the issues, I keep coming back to the single most important factor: LD. What's best for him? A slightly smaller school with more teachers we know, fewer racial problems (but with a more diverse group of kids), consistent test results, and a small group of kids who know him from our neighborhood (as opposed to his dad's) and who will look out for him...that all sounds like a really good start to 6th grade, doesn't it?
I feel as though my ex-husband will fight this to the bitter end, just to be contrary. I don't think he's thought this through beyond the "running away" line of thinking. LD wants to go to a different school. I actually asked if it was more because he doesn't want to face the bullies or if it was something else. He said he wanted to prove he can make it work at a school where he's not worried about "stupid kids" and where he knows other smart kids who like to study and succeed. Yeah, he said that!
Speaking of success, Little Dude has totally turned things around in school the last couple weeks. He's gone from struggling to get through the easiest tasks to getting 100% on tests of all kinds, completing homework in a normal amount of time, and keeping his attitude positive. I have no idea what that glitch was about, but the kid we've always had in the past is suddenly back. My son was actually doing extra credit homework tonight! I want to keep this trend going any way I possibly can.
With this progress, do I really want to throw him into the middle of a busy two-school environment where he could very well languish? Where the known bullies can gang up on him? Where he could get lost in the crowd and be overlooked by teachers? I can't wrap my mind around the thinking behind sending him there when we have other options. Why throw your child into the most challenging arena on multiple levels (not necessarily academically) and expect him to succeed? Why not give him the chance to start over with a will to achieve big things and a more positive outlook because he can focus on the important business of learning?
My son is not a wuss. He prefers not to fight. And I admire this. "I'm a lover, not a fighter, Mom." Wanna guess how long I laughed when I heard that? I didn't even know he knew that phrase.
Look, we spend all a child's early years telling them not to fight, to talk through their differences. Why would we intentionally place them in a situation that guarantees failure in that regard? We shouldn't.
When my daughter went through all the same things, we had a situation that necessitated a change in scenery. She didn't "run away". Is it a guy thing? Or is it a step-parent thing? Why didn't the ex care then? What I saw happen with my daughter was a renewed interest in school, new friendships, and improved grades. She bloomed in her new garden. Why can't that happen with LD?
I don't get the twisted logic I heard from my ex: "If we move him, it's just like running away." No. If we move him, it's saying we believe he can accomplish anything given a safer environment with more friends who think like he does. That's not quitting, that's STARTING down a better path.
I'm not trying to be an overprotective parent. Really. I just want to give my child every opportunity to succeed in an environment that's less chaotic and where he'll have the advantage of at least knowing a couple of kids a grade ahead who have the same mindset and who will also look out for him.
Grumble grumble. Somehow I think this is going to be a bloody battle. Blech.
Posted by Da Goddess at 12:32 AM | Comments (12)
March 25, 2008
Springtime Field Trip
Obviously most of these are self-explanatory, but I'll give you a quick run through anyway.
Many more photos from the trip are on Flickr, including the dead mouse I found on the side of the road. I almost stepped on it, but at the last minute looked down to see it. I'd already walked past it twice. Go figure. The first part of the trip, I'd resolved to shoot whatever I saw only once. Ha! Didn't last for long. What I did do, though, was shoot minimally. At least until I got into the desert. In the harsher light, I played with exposure settings (thanks to Audra and Patty's help) and made adjustments as necessary. If not for these two ladies, I don't think I'd have discovered the quickest way to adjust what I needed. They've made me much braver with the camera and I'm progressing faster than I anticipated.
Posted by Da Goddess at 12:11 AM | Comments (2)
March 24, 2008
Vaccines Not The Cause of Autism, Despite What Headline Says
Just read an article called "Vaccine Autism Case Gets US Government Compensation" wherein a family sued the government over the vaccines their daughter had, claiming she got autism from the vaccine.
If you were to read the headline and the first paragraph of the article, you'd probably come to the conclusion that the autism was caused by the vaccines.
The parents of 9 year-old Hannah Poling spoke to the media this week about the US government's landmark decision to pay compensation following their claim that childhood vaccines caused their daughter's autism. The government's sealed decision, made last November, was recently made public on an autism advocacy group website.
However, you have to read a little further to understand that vaccines were not the cause of the autism.
...The ruling effectively states that Hannah's pre-existing rare mitochondrial disorder had disposed her to autism and this was "significantly aggravated" by the vaccines she received as a toddler eight years ago.
Even further into the article, you'll find this amazing clarification:
While conceding that childhood vaccines contributed to Hannah's autism, government health officials maintain that there is no proof that they cause autism directly [emphasis mine]. The government decision does not support the parents' claim, they said.
Here's the thing. Autism Spectrum Disorders are all very complicated and have many genetic factors which contribute to the onset of the expression of the disorder. Vaccines, a normal part of childhood in the U.S., are not the cause of autism, but can trigger genes to interpret the vaccine components in a way that thereby trigger the expression of the autistic characteristics. If vaccines alone were the cause of autism, all of us would be in the same boat. Autism is genetic. Do we know all the genetic markers for autism yet? No. Are we actively involved in research to discover them? Yes. Should we stop immunizing our kids for fear of autism? Not on your life. We must protect our children from disease, especially in this day and age when we continue to be a great big melting pot, not just for people, but also the diseases they might unintentionally bring with them. Autism can be devastating, but death from a preventable disease is worse.
My guess is that without vaccines, we'd still see autistic diagnoses in a significant number of children. If one tiny component in a vaccine can set things off, no doubt there are many more environmental factors which can do the exact same thing.
I feel terrible for families with autistic children, but many of these kids go on to lead very productive lives. Early detection, early intervention, active therapies on a regular basis, and sometimes even medication can help a great number of families and children through very difficult times and improve their lives.
Will there ever be a cure for autism? Until we discover each genetic contributor, and the triggers of the expression of these genes, it seems unlikely. But in the meantime, can't we expect better reporting and fewer lawsuits that do nothing but take money away from research and improvement of current vaccines?
Personally, I'd like to see the lawsuits against drug companies and the government come to a complete halt regarding autism/vaccines. I'd like to see a huge statement in the press without misleading headlines. I'd like to see common sense prevail for once.
VACCINES DO NOT CAUSE AUTISM. Vaccines can trigger a cascade of reactions that cause the expression of the autistic genes, but they DO NOT cause autism. Even the parents of the child in this case are pro-vaccine. What they hope to accomplish, as does the Autism Society of America, is to make vaccines safer. I absolutely agree with this. But in order to do so, we need to make the monetary rewards of such cases go toward the research necessary to make safer vaccines, to improve genetic screening, to prevent wide-spread disease.
Please read the rest of the article. Send the author and the newspaper editor a note about how misleading the headline and first paragraph were.
And then go out and read the book Look Me In The Eye by John Elder Robison, a man with Asperger's -- an Autism Spectrum disorder.
Do your research, vaccinate your kids, support research, and demand better reporting from the media.
Posted by Da Goddess at 07:20 AM | Comments (2)
Easter, Greetings, and the Whole Kit 'n' Caboodle
What a week that was! Highs, lows, and in-betweens abounded. All worth it, though. From doctors' appointments to the desert and lots of stops in between, it's been an adventure.
I look like a raccoon. I'm covered in bug bites. The really itchy sort. And about 900+ photos. Yeah, I was busy with the camera this week. Got good stuff, got some clunkers, and have lots of editing.
Spent yesterday with the family. Went to my sister and brother-in-law's for supper and had a wonderful time. My folks, my daughter's best friend and her grandparents, my sister's best friend, and Little Dude were there.
My sister had a great meal all prepared. Ham, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, lots of crudites, the works. Cheesecake and brownies. And Easter baskets. More than a few peeps were beheaded, let me tell you.
Brother-in-law noticed the camera and actually was very kind and helpful with it. Can you say "wow!" with me? Much nicer reaction than expected. In the past, he's not been so keen on the idea of me out shooting and possibly making money with it. But yesterday? Different attitude. Probably because there was a glint of recognition that I'm not going after his "market". Regardless, it was nice to have his input and the positive feedback.
Took the kids out to photograph them in various combinations and got shots of them with my folks, too. Haven't done that in a while.
After we finished eating, Little Dude and I had been invited to a friend of some friends' house. There was a band jamming, kids running around (little boys for LD to play with; he was thrilled), dogs, a cat, pigs. I had a nice long laugh when my friend introduced me to the singer, "she's our photographer." His eyes were fixed on my cleavage, his arm snaked around my shoulders, and in a silky smooth voice, he asked, "Have I seen any of your work?" He looked up briefly and then back down, "great boobs!" Now that's what I call a greeting! A girl needs validation like that every now and again. Especially after feeling like a Sasquatch much of the week.
Met many new people and discovered the hostess of the party is also a low back injury gal. And loves photography. The universe speaks again.
Backing up to Saturday, spent the day at the harp fest. Shot so many talented artists, I lost count. Had two very amazing conversations. One was with a harmonica legend. What a gracious man! Then there was a gentleman whose music you've all heard, whether you know it or not. Chances are if you've ever watched TV, especially Nick @ Nite, you've heard him. He was also gracious and more than a little flirty. You can't beat that! Was given a nice stack of CDs to listen to, some to send to the troops, and experienced eight hours of kick ass music. Little Dude was supposed to come with me, but his uncle (on his dad's side) wanted to take him hiking so I said he should go for it. He was a little mad to be missing out on a day of music, but he doesn't see his uncle that often and I thought it was important. This is how I got LD for Easter. I missed having him with me for the fest, but I know he had a great time hiking and we still got to share music yesterday. It worked out just fine in the end.
Earlier in the week, I shot a duo at a dark, little venue. Got to play around with my flash settings and became rather brave about it. One of my new photographer friends was shooting with me and she makes me brave. Her encouragement has done a lot for my confidence and willingness to try shooting more in situations that normally make me quite nervous. Found a new artist that night, which was a wonderful little bonus.
Even earlier in the week, I went with the friend mentioned above and another photographer to the desert for a shoot. I think that was the day that really pushed me, both physically and photographically. The physical side -- let's just say I did a lot of walking and it was a good thing. While the ladies went out further on a trail, I wisely decided I'd reached my limit and remained behind. Regrettably, I missed that part of the shoot, but I was able to find other things to photograph and felt good about the amount of walking/hiking I did. It was more than I thought I was capable of doing, probably more than I should have done, but it felt good while I was doing it and that was a major accomplishment in my book. Photographically, my other friend had shown me how to adjust the most important setting on the camera and once I had that, I was a happy camper.
In a short period of time, I've come to embrace the huge learning curve on the camera, learned a million things, and have found a confidence with it that I thought would take much longer. I don't feel like such a fumble-fingers anymore. Yes, there are more features to Charlie that I will eventually get to understand, but I really feel like I have a good handle on things and am happy. Tired, sore, itchy, and happy.
And now I have to go finish two articles and a calendar.
Photos will be posted at some point this week.
Posted by Da Goddess at 06:10 AM | Comments (0)
March 23, 2008
Happy Peepster
Posted by Da Goddess at 01:56 AM | Comments (3)
March 21, 2008
Thank You For Your Support
What? Did you honestly think I'd throw out a Bartles & Jaymes reference and not include some sort of visual? I thought you knew me better than that by now.
For shame.
Posted by Da Goddess at 11:40 PM | Comments (0)
March 20, 2008
Sorry, Pardon Me, Excuse Me, Sorry
I had to turn Blacklist back on because the spammers went hog wild. I promise to turn it off again soon. I'm going to figure this damn thing out if it's the last second to last thing I do. (I want the last thing to be FUN! Can you blame me?)
In the meantime, try to avoid ellipses (...) in your comments, as well as emoticons, and if at first you don't succeed, gimme a fake email address and leave the URL blank. Oh, and when you submit the comment for the second time, go all the way back out to the post and hit "comments" again. For some reason, when I try hitting "back" and then re-enter the comment, it won't take it if I haven't been all the way back out.
Blacklist has its benefits, even though it sucks mightily.
My apologies for this temporary inconvenience and for any comments I may have accidentally deleted along the way.
Thank you for your support.
Signed,
Bartles and Jaymes
Posted by Da Goddess at 06:32 PM | Comments (7)
March 19, 2008
But Will I Be Able To Play The Piano After?
I have very rudimentary skills on the keyboard. The musical kind. I'm a damn whiz on the computer sort, sometimes.
I'm hoping like hell that somehow, some way, I'll be granted musical gifts of all types when I have my surgery.
YES! My surgery.
But let's stop and review the entire visit, shall we?
The doctor reviewed my MRI results with me.
The very cute surgeon asks me how I'm doing when he walks in the room. He looks at the dark circles under my eyes and that weary, nervous look on my face and says, "um, scratch that, I think I know."
He pulls up the MRI and says there's obvious narrowing around the nerves and, by the way, he asks, what side is worse? I tell him it depends on the day, but mostly the left side is worse than the right.
"Do you have numbness and tingling?" he asks.
"Numbness, tingling, weakness, twitching, pain, and this intense itchy sensation from my hip down to my toes." I reply.
"Hmmm."
Hmmm? WTF is hmmm?
...
I wait for him to say more.
...
"That's what I'd expect from looking at all your films."
And then I start pretending I'm not about to lose it. I fight the tears. I try so hard to avoid crying like a baby. Really, I can do this. I. Can. I. Will. I. Must.
Ri-i-i-ight.
I don't bawl, just tear up a little and shakily say, "thank you. You have no idea what a relief it is to have everything confirmed."
He says he's not sure how I was still walking at this point.
...
...
"Really?"
"Really."
"Wow."
Then he gives me the surgical options. The first involves going in through the abdomen with what's called the Anterior Lumbar Interbody Fusion. Fancy schmancy. There's a great article describing what they do for an ALIF surgery on Spine Health. There's even a super groovy animation that takes you through the operation. The University of Maryland Medical Center has some good illustrations of the spine before and after the surgery.
Pretty cool, eh?
The other option is a Posterior Lumbar Fusion. According to the doc, this procedure would require a longer recovery and is not recommended. The difference, besides the obvious, is that cutting through the muscles on the back is worse than pulling aside the muscles in the abdomen (and moving my guts all around). Cutting muscle means it has to heal. Muscle, especially in the lower back, doesn't heal very fast. Plus there's a higher risk of epidural injury with the posterior method. And a greater risk of nerve root damage.
I've been reading about this way too much, but I was told to do my homework. So I am. The only problem is that I now have a list of questions a mile long for my surgeon. Some sites advocate one method more than the other, and one has given info on all. My guess is I won't fight the recommendation made by the doc -- the anterior method. He's the one who has to cut, he's the one with the experience, he's the one who has to find a way to move my flab around. I've asked him to remove some of it while he's in there, but orthos don't do that. (Couldn't he sneak a plastics guy in and call it a training mission?)
Surgery isn't likely to happen for a while. The insurance company is going to try to find a way out of this. I'd be willing to bet my kids on it. They're currently pouring over my medical records, from age eight on up, looking for every time I winced or sneezed or fell down. That's what they do. But I'll fight. And so will my attorneys. I've never hurt this bad in my entire life. I've never been so incapacitated. This is something they need to fix. So we will fight.
Of course, once they finally approve the operation, we'll have to schedule it and that could take a while.
A smart blogger would start a pool, wouldn't she? Too bad I'm not one.
No matter what, I'm looking forward to a life without the falls, without the pain, without all the crap I've had to deal with for the last three years. I'll likely spend my summer recovering from surgery, but that's a small price to pay when it means I get to be a real girl again.
Oh yeah, the recovery time is 3-6 months, with 8 months not being unheard of. The first three months are the crucial time when bone growth takes place, ensuring the success of the stability of the spine. After, it's all about rehabbing.
My mom has said I can stay with her the first week I'm out of the hospital. She has a great bed that's a bit higher up off the ground and won't require me to work so hard to get in and out. I'm going to ask about possibly staying at a skilled nursing facility if I need too much help, but I do have my mom's house if I need it.
Cue the choir singing "Oh Happy Day".
Posted by Da Goddess at 12:55 AM | Comments (13)
March 18, 2008
Doctor Day
Wish me luck! Pray the doc says surgery is the answer.
Posted by Da Goddess at 07:05 AM | Comments (2)
March 17, 2008
Varifrank
Anyone got a current email address for Frank? Anyone? Bueller?
Posted by Da Goddess at 09:52 PM | Comments (0)
Comments Welcome and the Cleanup Crew
Look, I know y'all are busy and stuff, but really, comments are kinda nice.
And for those of you who are gonna say, "but Goddess, my comments are always denied for questionable content", guess what? I think I fixed the damn thing. Really! I just tried it and included the dreaded ellipses, emoticons, and every swear word I could think of, as well as invoking the mighty medicinal names of Cialis and phentermine. If those can get through, you can get through.
If, perchance, your comment is flagged for some reason, you'll at least have a new message to read.
But really, seriously, if you loved me, you'd write more often. I spent hours in labor with you actual time writing - not for me - for you. Yes, you. YOU!
Now, about that blogroll. I had about a million links that led absolutely nowhere. I've fixed them. Or most of them. Or something like that. I tried to get everything. I even added a couple who'd been missing for some odd reason. Anyhow, if you're not on there and think you should be, please leave a comment (cuz now you can) and tell me where to find you.
Posted by Da Goddess at 07:18 PM | Comments (6)
Out And About
This is a shot of me Friday night. As you can see, I'm holding Charlie close and we're having a good time. In order for me to get myself into that position, I had to stick my left leg way out and perch precariously on my bent right knee. I couldn't maintain the stance for long, but I did what I could. I also had the lunge position down pat while leaning on the stage. Oh, the things you do to not hurt yourself. My friend took this in between shots of the action onstage.
Thanks to two of my favorite photographers (both accomplished professionals), I was able to get better settings on the camera for a low-light setting such as a concert. Every time I pick this thing up, I'm learning something new. And it's usually because there are some VERY nice people helping me.
While the images aren't perfect, here's a smattering of my efforts from Friday. And proof that I did, indeed, wear myself out doing something I love to do.
In case there's any question as to who this is, it's Tommy Castro and his amazing band. There's Keith Crossan on sax, Tom Poole on trumpet, Chris Sandoval on drums, and Scot Sutherland on bass. I'd never seen Scot or Tom with the band before, so it was a great surprise (I knew there was a new bassist, I just didn't know who) and these two added a wonderful new dimension and vibe to the group.
Tommy's latest album is called Painkiller, how apt is that for me? I like the album, but it's not my fave. My favorite? Oh, that would have to be Live At The Fillmore, because it has so many of the tunes I like best. I also really love the new CD of Tommy, Ronnie Baker Brooks, Deanna Bogart, and Magic Dick, as the Legendary Rhythm and Blues Revue Command Performance, with special guests Elvin Bishop, Marcia Ball, and Curtis Salgado. Partially recorded on the Legendary Rhythm and Blues Cruise, most tracks were performed in clubs around the country and it's a rockin' disc. Not a bad track on the whole thing.
Anyhow, here's a look at what I shot on Friday.
Posted by Da Goddess at 06:09 PM | Comments (4)
Re:Miss
I've been remiss. I should have blogged this weekend but I was too busy recovering from Friday night. I had a blues society event that lasted way longer than anyone had planned.
I got there at about 8pm and didn't walk back in the house until after 2am. I was beat. Saturday, I was sore. I anticipated that from doing so much standing. What I didn't anticipate was how awful I felt yesterday.
Much of my Sunday was spent sleeping or lounging around, trying to pretend I didn't hurt as much as I did. That's pretty typical of what happens when I'm too active anymore. I know this and try to plan around it.
Still, I was bummed that I didn't get to do some of the other things I wanted to over the weekend, but it was worth it. I think I secured another interview with a bluesman for Little Dude. It's an artist he likes and wanted to see, but couldn't since he's so young. If all the groveling I did pays off, he'll have another interview under his belt and he'll be a happy boy.
By the way, in case you missed it, there's a big Soldiers' Angels logo atop my sidebar for a reason. I'm officially a volunteer. Let me just say this: you don't have to wait for a fundraiser to get involved with SA. Go adopt a troop, send a care package, send a letter, donate a couple bucks, ANYTHING...do it now. Your whole week will be so much better if you do.
Posted by Da Goddess at 06:14 AM | Comments (0)
Too Soon?
Is it too soon for me to have a birthday wish list?
I already have one great event lined up for my b-day. May 3 at Anthology with Smokin' Joe Kubek. Mrs. Mikey and I want to celebrate big this year (our birthdays are on the same day). But, guess what I just discovered?
Looks like Joe Bonamassa will be playing Doheny on my birthday this year.
I want to go for both days, too. Bobby Rush (acoustic), Jonny Lang, Trombone Shorty, and a bunch of others on the 17th. The next day has Joe, natch, plus Little Feat, more Bobby Rush (full on show with dancers and such), Watermelon Slim, and, and, and...
I ask for a lot. I know this. But I'm going to start planning early. With any luck, I'll be back on full disability by that time and might actually be able to afford it.
Is it too soon to get excited about this?
Posted by Da Goddess at 06:08 AM | Comments (0)
March 13, 2008
Angering the BTs
I think the MRI pissed off the old BTs yesterday. They've been screaming and fighting for control of my body ever since. In fact, THEY are responsible for my foul mood and any outward displays of surliness.
This would be such a great excuse if I believed in body thetans, wouldn't it?
Scientology absolves one of all personal responsibility blame. I totally understand why some celebs love it so much.
I'm not being religiously intolerant. Not in the least. I don't consider scientology anything more than a very successful marketing ploy, now with more brainwashing!
If I had fewer body aches and nothing more important to do, I might actually have fun joining Anonymous on Saturday. Not that I don't consider this important, but I have other things I MUST do if I'm up and walking. Still, the idea of capturing all activity (check out the pics from San Diego in Feb.) is tempting...
I'm all for religious freedom, but Co$ ain't it. I won't try to speak for all the harm done by those in power at Co$, I leave that to one of my very capable friends. The thing is, this organization is nothing more than a sham, created by a man who wrote sci-fi books and saw the chance to make some serious money. He made plenty. Then he died. But his scams live on. And the crazy mob mentality amongst the leaders has led to some horrifying consequences for too many people. Lives ruined, lives lost. All for what? Money? Power?
It's not just gullible adults seeking belonging who are drawn to this idiocy. Their children are dragged along for the ride. Some escape, some don't.
It's one thing to have FAITH, it's another thing to have to pay for it, to have it ruin lives, to kill.
What started off as a silly throwaway post has morphed into something else. Take away what you will from it. Learn the truth and don't take any wooden nickels.
Posted by Da Goddess at 07:44 AM | Comments (1)
March 12, 2008
Miserable Raggy and Irritable
Apparently the valium and I didn't get along well enough after the MRI. I'm cranky. I think the fact I couldn't sleep well before or after the scan had a lot to do with it.
Needless to say, everyone would have done well to give me wide berth the rest of the day. Some didn't.
Nothing made me feel better. Except the brief inhalation of someone's cologne that smelled heavenly. Top Chef helped a bit, but not enough. I'm still bitchy and achy (from the fall yesterday). Blech.
I'm sorry. Really.
I'm going to bed now to finish sleeping this off. Tomorrow should be better. We hope.
Posted by Da Goddess at 11:09 PM | Comments (1)
Snapshot of "Snapshot"
Can't sleep. Nervous about the MRI. Fell yesterday. Suckage.
I was digging through my borked archives when I came across a story I wrote. While I remember writing it, I don't remember writing some parts of it at all.
Guess I better try to go back to sleep now.
For you, the story -- from January 2004.
SnapshotShe watched him moving the boxes for a moment. She couldn't stand it for long. It was too painful. Marly felt as though little pieces of her heart were now shrouded in newsprint and foam peanuts - and she felt as though she were suffocating as the tape was applied, sealing those seams and all their dreams in a cardboard casket.
With tears in her eyes, she turned away.
It wasn't fair! Dammit! It took two people to make the decision to start their life together. Shouldn't it also take two people to make the decision to end it? It was a partnership, for God's sake! They may not have a piece of paper with some legal declaration of their union, but they sure as hell had been together. And, there was the child to consider.
"What makes this family so easily forgotten and unimportant?" she asked. She knew Tom wasn't going to answer, but Marly wanted to ask the question anyway.
Since he'd told her the news, about his heading back to New Mexico and his family, she hadn't said much. Supportive and understanding, that was what was expected of her. She'd told him that she'd cry and get angry at some point and he said he knew she would. But, it made no sense that he was now angry that the moment had come and that she'd told him how she felt. Marly was hurting and she wanted comfort. Surely he could manage that, right? After all, hadn't he said that he still loved her?
She'd been right. He didn't answer her. She'd known he wouldn't and that made her even angrier. No. What really made her mad was that he was mad. And that no one in his family had tried to dissuade him from leaving them. That made her see red. She'd thought his family would at least do that. Nobody had and nobody seemed to care that two hearts were being broken by his decision. Except Marly.
Last night, she'd told one of her pals that she just wanted to cry and rant and wallow in her sadness and pain. For a day, perhaps. A chance to let it all out and be comforted by the man who was her friend, her partner, her love. The man she'd waited for all her life. Her pal had asked why didn't she do that? Because nobody wants to see or hear it. There was no time. She didn't want to become even more vulnerable than she was already feeling. And she didn't want to look like a bloated pufferfish like she always did when she cried hard. The list of excuses went on and on. In the end, it overwhelmed her and it happened anyway. Without her permission. She guessed that meant she was weaker than she thought.
None of it made sense. Yet, it did. She knew he missed his family. Tom came from a clan that was tight. She envied that for so long. They accepted and cared and comforted. She hadn't had that from her own family in a while and had longed for that kind of family for quite some time. When Tom came into her life, he'd promised to be there. To be the one to stand up beside her and for her. To put the little family she did have in place when they forgot. Anyway, she understood why Tom missed everyone. She missed them, too. Their recent visit had left her heart full and proud to be accepted in their embrace. Still, what she didn't get was how no one bothered to consider how Tom's decision would impact Marly and her son.
Back when Marly first met Tom, she was very clear that she'd not let anyone meet her boy. She didn't want her son getting the wrong impression, the way so many kids of divorced parents did. Her home had no revolving door of "uncles" and "friends" or anyone else to confuse her child. Nobody came close to meeting Buddy until Tom. They'd hit it off immediately. They fell just as hard for each other as Marly and Tom had. Some people have a natural way with kids and Tom was one of them. He got Buddy and Buddy got that Tom got him. It was beautiful to watch.
Now, she'd be watching as her son's heart broke. It. Wasn't. Fair. It was bad enough that she hurt...she was an adult and she could deal with it better (she hoped.) Her son shouldn't have to go through this. Not this way.
Marly thought about all the things that she wished had happened. She wished Tom had come to her, sat down, and discussed options with her. Hadn't she offered him, at least a dozen times, the chance to go see his family? For the holidays when she had to work? He kept telling her no - that they were a family now and they were creating their own special traditions. Maybe that's why this caught her so unaware. Up until recently, he'd still been talking about the future.
The future. It looked bleak from where she stood. She was, oddly, standing at the door to the garage. A door. Opened, she would have to see Tom sorting through things. What to take? Was this thing given to them both something he should take? Was that thing something he should leave? With the door open, she'd have to face the unpleasant reality that this was really happening. Closed, she would miss looking at his face, absorbing every detail so that she could capture each nuance in her mind's eye. Memories for after he was gone.
Torn, she wandered back and forth. Not really pacing but neither was she moving purposefully. Her brain and her heart were fighting.
"Why'd you say that?" The brain would ask. "Don't you know that makes you look pathetic? Or what about the other thing? Don't you think that was antagonistic? What are you trying to do? Are you intent on driving a wedge between you?"
"Shut up," the heart would reply. "I'm breaking and things are leaking out all over the place. Oozing and weeping and raw wounds tend to leak. Deal with it. Stuff is just there, okay? Wasn't I the one who argued against letting him see how we felt in the first place? Yeah. I was. Did you listen then? No. So shut up."
Marly felt like screaming at the both of them to just be quiet for a change. Her head was pounding almost as fast and as loud as her heart (not the emotional one...the anatomical one.) Her body was already aching from the tension that had built up. Her sinuses were rebelling - congested and throbbing.
The morning had started off well enough. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? After her son had gone off to school, she returned home to Tom asking if she wanted to crawl back into bed with him. Fresh from the shower, he had steam rising from his body as he brushed teeth. She was tired. She said as much. He said he'd run to the bank and let her rest. Did he now sense that her emotion meter was nearing the red zone and a little sleep would do her some good? He left her snuggled under the comforter. She drifted off.
Marly dreamed of a river she knew and loved. The river was now slightly obscured by a tall bank. Actually, the bank hadn't started off so tall...but it began to grow. Wanting to see the water again, she scaled the rocks that had appeared. At the top, she saw the river. Instead of the suburban homes she expected to see on the other side, mountains appeared. They multiplied over and over again, some practically shooting up into the sky. Marly heard a noise behind her. In the brush stood Tom.
Startled and semi-awake, she felt Tom caressing her. He'd returned home and had crawled into bed beside her. Stroking her waist and back, nuzzling her neck and breathing softly - but with growing intensity. She could feel the stirrings deep inside, the warmth spreading across her belly and chest. In the midst of that, though, came an upsurge of emotion. The tears sprang forth and overtook her. The sobs shook her violently. Tom pulled her close and held her. Release. Not the release either had hoped for. Visceral and anguished, Marly cried for all that was lost. She cried for all that was supposed to be and now never would. She cried because the ending should never come so close to the beginning and because they had shared so much. For all that she had ever wanted, he was. He had said that she was all he had wanted as well. They'd been a family. The two of them. The three of them. Family.
When the words finally came, she told him this, first through the sobbing and then in her gravelly post-cry way. Anger and heartbreak punctuated the words between the occasional burst of fresh pain. Heart squeezed too tight. No breath to be caught. Face burning. Mind racing.
She wondered if this would have been it. If this would have been the last time they made love before he left. That's what had finally done her in and caused the tears to flow so freely. Wasn't it practically yesterday that it had been three weeks before he left? How did it end up that it was now only two? Where was the time going? Why couldn't they just love their way through the remaining days?
That had been this morning. Only a couple of hours ago. The clock was ticking. Each second seemed to speed the hands around the dial. Racing the final day toward her. She wanted time to stop and allow her the opportunity to fight. She wanted to bite and hit and kick and scream until she could have her man change his mind. She kept thinking that he should have considered all the other options. If he'd told her how he was feeling sooner, she would have suggested them. That's probably why he never brought it up. He didn't want to consider anything else. Even if it did make more sense.
It was weird the way her thoughts jumped from point to point. The things she wanted to say still. How she wanted to hold him and whisper her love for him in his ear. How she wanted to scream and demand his cooperation. The way she worried about her son and how he'd react once Tom was gone and how she'd have to work harder to maintain a brave face for him.
That made her think back on the moment they'd told Buddy. Sitting in his favorite restaurant. Was that a bad move, she wondered? Would he always associate that place in the future with bad news? She had asked the boy if he remembered how much Tom missed his family. Buddy said he did. Marly told him that Tom was really missing them something awful these days and that he was going back to them. Buddy's eyes grew wide, his face paled, and his ears flushed a deep, hot red. "To stay for good? He's not going to see us anymore?" The panic in her son's voice grabbed her heart and wrenched it nine ways to Sunday. "No, sweetie. We'll still talk to him and..." "We're going to visit each other, Bud," Tom chimed in.
The fright left his face, but the ears still burned. Buddy believed Tom's words. For a moment, Marly did, too. But doubt crept in. She thought about how there were no guarantees anymore. Everything she had been promised and believed was pulled out from under her. For her son's sake, though, she fought to believe again.
These were the things that were jumbled around in her brain - flitting in and out of view. One minute she'd feel calm and capable. The next, she'd feel abandoned and frightened. Everything was in focus at once - then nothing was. She couldn't keep up. Feeling dizzy, she went to sit down. As soon as her body touched the chair she was up again and across the room. Opening the door, she asked Tom to come back and talk to her. "You can pack while I'm at work, you know."
He balked. He had stuff he wanted to do.
"Buddy's still at school for another hour or so. We need to talk."
Tom relented. Grudgingly.
Both of them knew that the conversation wouldn't be pleasant. Marly needed to hear him say he was sorry he was hurting her. She needed his arms around her to help her through. She wanted him to reconsider. Two out of three ain't bad...that's what Meatloaf had said. Still, she wanted it all.
They struggled with the moments as they came and with emotions that were now even more raw than before. Their words were loving and harsh and supportive and angry and sad. They had to find a way to manage the time they had left together. Days would become hours and hours would become minutes. Could they do it?
Tom crossed the room and knelt before Marly. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. He whispered and kissed her forehead. And she cried. She cried for herself, for her son, for Tom and Marly - the couple, and for Tom, Marly, and Buddy - the family. She cried for their time together being reduced to little more than a snapshot in a frame on the mantle.
The snapshot that - still - sits on the mantle.
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:32 AM | Comments (0)
March 11, 2008
More Research, Indeed
Tomorrow is my lumbar spine MRI. Despite never having a problem with the scans in the past, the doctor is insisting I down a valium prior to this one. Fine, fine. I'll do it. With any luck, I won't need to be transported out of there in a cart, but will be able to exit on my own.
Please say a prayer that the scan shows the nerve compression necessary for the insurance company to finally agree to fix my back. They've fought it for three years. Proof on the scan will force them to do the right thing. You don't want me looking all frazzled forever, do you?
I want my life back. I want my back sexy and my sexy back*. I want to be free to move about the cabin as I did before.
* Justin has nothing to do with it. It was stolen by a confused little old man and held for ransom by a huge corporation concerned only with saving themselves a few grand here and there.
Posted by Da Goddess at 02:13 AM | Comments (4)
March 10, 2008
Babalu To The Rescue
When I blogged about my frustration with the "education" my daughter was receiving regarding Che, Cuba, and "blame America" at school, I also sent out an email to the always wonderful Val. Who else would I possibly ask for some facts to counter the fiction Mojo's been fed?
Well, he and his friends over at Babalu Blog are helping me assemble some good references to share with my daughter to further her education. She should know about the real Che and they explain what Cuba is truly like for the people who live there.
Gracias, mi amigo. Usted es un caballero verdadero.
Posted by Da Goddess at 07:08 AM | Comments (2)
March 09, 2008
Elephants and Hippos Were Not Meant To Be Hurdlers
Last night, for approximately 3 1/2 hours, the upstairs neighbors were training hippos and elephants how to become Olympians. In the middle of the flippin' night. Elephants! And Hippos! AT NIGHT!
Then they came outside and were loud, boisterous beings. The people, not the animals. The animals were too tired.
So was I. Now I'm just cranky.
Just another reason I tend to like animals more than I like my neighbors.
Posted by Da Goddess at 02:17 PM | Comments (0)
New Bravo Show I'll Definitely Watch
I'm a Project Runway addict and since the season is over, I'll glom onto anything PR-related.
Yes, I watched SNL last night. Wanna make something of it?
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:18 AM | Comments (0)
March 08, 2008
The Outing
The learning curve is definitely steeper than I thought. Especially regarding exposure settings and a few other functions. Still, the first official outing is under my belt and I can move forward.
Met a lot of very nice people today on our photography meetup excursion. It was just up the street from the apartment, which was a huge plus. And Little Dude had the other camera in hand the entire time, shooting away. He impressed a few people with his interest and dedication to getting good shots. Plus, he was very into "lighting". It was wonderful to watch him go after various shots.
All in all, a great day. I wish I had felt up to going to the second meetup function tonight. Spencer Davis was supposed to be there. Unfortunately, I hit my limit early on in the day. I know better than to push myself. I will be spending part of the day tomorrow with one of my new photography friends, helping her with a little project.
I can't stress enough how much I enjoyed myself and the people I met. Big bonus: two live very close to me, two more live not much further away. Sounds like trouble, if you ask me.
Posted by Da Goddess at 06:58 PM | Comments (5)
March 06, 2008
Liberalism Leftism As A Disease
Mad Mikey posted the link to the article about a shrink who claims the left has a mental disorder and it intrigued me. Regardless of whether anything serious was meant by the article or not, there's some merit to the argument.
First, let me start off by saying there's a difference between liberal* and left wing, in my mind at least. Those who call themselves liberals generally aren't.
With that in mind, here are a few things that Dr. Rossiter pointed out and with which I absolutely agree (except his use of the word "liberal"; I believe he means "left wing"):
...the liberal agenda preys on weakness and feelings of inferiority in the population by:
- creating and reinforcing perceptions of victimization; satisfying infantile claims to entitlement, indulgence and compensation;
- augmenting primitive feelings of envy;
- rejecting the sovereignty of the individual, subordinating him to the will of the government.
I've said those very things often enough myself. My complaint about the left wing has been that they are very quick to categorize people, thus separating them from others, which is hardly the broad-minded, unifying image the left (or Dems) want us to believe they're all about. The fact of the matter is, a victim is a plus for the left as it gives them someone to champion. But who creates those victims? Why, the left does.
It may sound very much like I'm anti-Democrat. I'm not. I was a card carrying Dem for many years. In fact, most of my voting life I was a Democrat. But I stopped believing in the "what's in it for me me me me me me?" line I kept hearing. Can you imagine how shocked I was the day I woke up and realized I wasn't a Democrat? I was frightened. I fought it. Like a mad woman.
But the clincher for me was a guy named Steve whom I'd met for a drink ONCE and who spent the entire time telling me what a committed Democrat should do, how the world was going to hell in a hand basket because Bush was just like Hitler, and on and on. Long after that meeting, he continued to send me emails. Emails that rambled and raged over everything. I fisked him on my site (warning: borked archives) and vowed that I never wanted to be associated with anyone who obviously hated the democratic process, hated America's independence, hated anything remotely resembling personal responsibility. It turned out that I was about to encounter people like this more and more frequently. And the sad part was they all called themselves Democrats.
Granted, not all Democrats fall into that pit of vipers. Enough do, though, that it makes it hard to want to be a part of such a group.
While I don't agree with any party's line completely, I have found I'm much more conservative than I once was. Still, I'm also very liberal -- as in open-minded -- in many ways. Do I see a Democratic candidate who embraces what I feel and doesn't resort to catering to victimology? No. And this distresses me. It's for this reason that I straddle the very fine line between the Dems and the Republicans. I could claim I'm a Libertarian, but I don't agree with much of their party line if you dig beneath the surface (and most people don't).
While I was involved with countering protesters (what? Two years ago now?), I was constantly confronted by folks shilling for whatever Democratic candidate there was. These were the same people who were thoroughly irrational in behavior and who often blamed everyone but themselves for the state of the world, their lives, or what have you. I'd ask them who was ultimately responsible for their lives. They would never declare themselves captains of their own ships. No, it was always the government's fault. Or some social organization. Or some "something". I had a problem with that. They were also all about separating people into subgroups, or factions. I couldn't see that as anything other than divisive. They liked to blame America for everything. I felt that was ignorant at best.
And that's why I agree with Dr. Lyle Rossiter when he says, "A political leader who understands human nature will not ignore individual differences in talent, drive, personal appeal and work ethic, and then try to impose economic and social equality on the population – as liberals do. And a legislator who understands human nature will not create an environment of rules which over-regulates and over-taxes the nation's citizens, corrupts their character and reduces them to wards of the state – as liberals do." Except for the use of the word liberal, I'm all over this like white on rice**. Or brown on rice, if you're into the more organic stuff.
It's time to stop calling left wingers and Democrats-at-large liberals. Too many of them are NOT liberal in any sense of the word. For those of us who do have broader minds, it's an insult to have that word used so imprecisely.
I don't know about you, but I'll call myself a Democrat again when the Dems stop treating each other "Like spoiled, angry children,... rebel(ing) against the normal responsibilities of adulthood and demand(ing) that a parental government meet their needs from cradle to grave."
That ain't liberalism, that's infantilism. And from adults, that's victimization in the making. Mental disorder or social disorder -- either way, it has to stop.
Smart Democrats would weed out the divisive people and find unity in their diversity of thought, varied heritages/ethnicity, and take a firm stand in helping citizens make more of their lives through PERSONAL responsibility and achievement than by paying for programs that keep them impoverished and "entitled".
As long as ANYONE continues such group thought, there will never be any progress in furthering the human condition.
It's time, as Bob Marley once sang, to "emancipate ourselves from mental slavery", which is exactly what the current trend of leftism calls for.
Wake up, folks! Time to free yourselves.
* Liberal: broad-minded; Not limited to or by established, traditional, orthodox, or authoritarian attitudes, views, or dogmas; free from bigotry; favoring proposals for reform, open to new ideas for progress, and tolerant of the ideas and behavior of others.
** Shoot, even there I fell into the political correctness trap that has come to represent all that is wrong with the left. Political correctness is nothing more than a means of separating people by using hyphens and special terms. Seriously, what does it really do other than to give us permission to stop being polite or using common sense? White on rice. That's not ethnically improper nor socially unaware. Most people eat white rice. So freakin' what? Sure, I personally love brown rice, but the saying is "white on rice" and that's what I should have stuck with.
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:29 PM | Comments (4)
Don't Lose The Loose Ends
For the last time, would everyone please take note of the proper use of these terms:
LOOSE:
- Not fastened, restrained, or contained: loose bricks.
- Not taut, fixed, or rigid: a loose anchor line; a loose chair leg.
- Free from confinement or imprisonment; unfettered: criminals loose in the neighborhood; dogs that are loose on the streets.
- Not tight-fitting or tightly fitted: loose shoes.
- Not bound, bundled, stapled, or gathered together: loose papers.
- Not compact or dense in arrangement or structure: loose gravel.
- Lacking a sense of restraint or responsibility; idle: loose talk.
- Not formal; relaxed: a loose atmosphere at the club.
- Lacking conventional moral restraint in sexual behavior.
- Not literal or exact: a loose translation.
- Characterized by a free movement of fluids in the body: a loose cough; loose bowels.
LOSE:
- a: to bring to destruction — used chiefly in passive construction: the ship was lost on the reef, b: damn if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul — Matthew 16:26(Authorized Version)
- to miss from one's possession or from a customary or supposed place
- to suffer deprivation of : part with especially in an unforeseen or accidental manner
- a: to suffer loss through the death or removal of or final separation from (a person) b: to fail to keep control of or allegiance of; lose votes, lost his temper
- a: to fail to use, let slip by, waste; no time to lose, b (1): to fail to win, gain, or obtain; lose a prize, lose a contest (2): to undergo defeat in; lost every battle, c: to fail to catch with the senses or the mind; lost what she said
- to cause the loss of
- to fail to keep, sustain, or maintain
- a: to cause to miss one's way or bearings; lost himself in the maze of streets b: to make (oneself) withdrawn from immediate reality; lost herself in daydreaming
You LOSE a competition if your dog is let LOOSE of his leash or if your bladder lets LOOSE on stage.
You do not loose a competition. Unless you are letting loose the competition on the public, you do not use those words together. Ever. End of discussion.
Next lesson: the proper use of "then" and "than". Stayed tuned.
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:12 PM | Comments (0)
March 05, 2008
Wednesday's Child is Full of "Whoa!"
Today's horoscope for Taurus:
Don't hesitate to take full advantage of the various opportunities surrounding you at this time. People should believe in you and will want to help you and see you succeed. And you're not likely to want to let them down. You should realize that many of your goals and ambitions could soon be well within your reach.You just have to make sure that you’re willing to work harder and more diligently than ever before. Just remember to look at every obstacle as one more chance to prove just how capable you really are right now.
And so it stands to reason that today my dad told me he believes in my talents as a photographer.
We spent a couple hours today talking over my plans with photography. He said he and my mom both feel I'm on the right path with this, especially since nursing is, for the time being, out of the question.
He laughed at the birthday card (only two months late) that I gave him. It was one of my photos of Clyde. He loved it.
He asked why I hadn't gone to my brother-in-law for photo advice and I explained how he wasn't thrilled with the idea that non-professionals were out there competing for the same jobs he was. To be really honest, I'm not competing with him for any clients. I'm a niche unto myself. However, there are a myriad of reasons why I won't ask for his help, other than occasional input on gear. I won't go into it, but suffice it to say, there's only so much battering one can take before one learns that lesson. My lesson was learned long ago.
My future is in MY hands.
So is my camera. Yep. Shhh. It's a secret. At least until I finish reading the manual and feel like I know what I'm doing without having to look something up all the time.
Ended up throwing caution to the wind and put the last $100 in myself. I couldn't wait to raise the balance, nor could I wait for my benefactors to return from Europe (where they just extended their trip by 10 days...something about a festival -- it must be nice to be retired and have that kind of money).
I'll post about the rest later. For now, I must take that most deserved nap after I take my Vicodin. I walked too much this morning and carried too many groceries at once.
Whoa! I'm. on. my. way. Really and truly.
Posted by Da Goddess at 12:18 PM | Comments (0)
March 03, 2008
Some People
Once again, I will blame Jodi for bringing this post into being.
She posted about her brother not having any contact with her when he lives relatively nearby. I can fully relate. My comment to her post was this:
My sister lives about 2 miles from me, has one of my precious offspring, and despite being the foremost authority on everything, can't even bother to call and tell me how to live my life anymore.Some people!
Indeed.
Speaking of precious offspring, there are a couple of situations which required my time and attention.
1) My daughter has come under the influence of a particularly heinous influence at school. No, this isn't about peer pressure. It's a teacher. To be more specific, this teacher has convinced her that Che Guevera is a revolutionary angel and that the U.S. is somehow wrong in promoting democracy as a way of life.
I'd sent her an email with info to help her distinguish between the romanticized version of Che and the reality of him and his actions. The response I got didn't sound like it was written by a 15-year old, even with the carefully placed, infrequent misspelled words. I know my daughter's writing and that wasn't it. Rather, it sounded exactly like something you'd read on indymedia as written by one of those oh-so-carefree spirited activist professors.
What bothers me most is not that Mojo's ideals are skewed to the left at the moment, but that she's not thinking for herself. As I told her, critical thinking, as defined on Wikipedia and by mom, "consists of mental processes of discernment, analysis and evaluation. It includes possible processes of reflecting upon a tangible or intangible item in order to form a solid judgment that reconciles scientific evidence with common sense. It has its basis in intellectual criteria that go beyond subject-matter divisions and which include: clarity, credibility, accuracy, precision, relevance, depth, breadth, logic, significance and fairness." It is also an individual process. Critical thought originates from within. It is not a group activity.
I want my daughter to think for herself, to reason for herself, to come to a conclusion or opinion formed after considering many sources, as well as her own values and ethics. To allow anyone else to put words in your mouth is the same as letting them speak for you, the same as not having your own opinion.
Personally, I often ask trusted friends for their opinions and thoughts on politics, children, cooking, whatever. I listen to them. I take in what they say. I process what I've heard. If I agree, awesome! If not, I examine the reasons why I don't agree and ruminate on that for a bit. Surely, if I trust my friends enough to discuss personal issues or subjects I take personally/seriously, I must also respect their views and consider them carefully before I take my final stance on something, cast a vote, or issue punishment to a child. I asked because there was a question or thought in my mind that wasn't necessarily fully answered or formed. Critical thinking means the ultimate decision or final thought is mine, but I have considered other possibilities, other views; I haven't merely parroted what I've hear someone else say. Mo needs to learn this.
Eventually I will need to sit down with my girl and ask her who wrote the response.
2) Little Dude, who loves analyzing and figgerin', had a major spin out at school. Not sure why it took everyone so long to bring it to our attention ("our" meaning his father and me), but we had the last week of the school trimester to help him catch up.
Doesn't matter that we're all caught up now. He's failed math for the first time. He was missing writing assignments. He took his laid back attitude and applied it in the most extreme way possible.
It took a week of intense scrutiny and assistance to get the boy back on track. This week is the start of the new term, so we have to maintain the pace and intensity.
The math was easy enough to handle once I figured out why he was having such a hard time. We're talking fractions here. I showed him a way to align his numbers so he can see the process and then work the numbers properly. When he lines everything up, he can easily do the work. And we can also see what steps he might have missed. His problem is that he often rushes the last step and then ends up with the wrong answer. Slowing down, writing things out in a linear fashion, he gets it right.
The writing assignments proved to be more of a struggle in that he prefers vague responses to actual well-reasoned and constructed ones. The irony is that he has great writing skills...when he wants to show them.
Case in point, the class was asked to write to the parents of Marine who died in Iraq. Of all the letters, LD's was singled out as the one that most moved the father. From an email to the teacher:
I've been wanting to write to you of late since I completed reading each of the letters written by your students. I enjoyed reading each and every one. Some of the letters stood out as exceptional. However, one in particular stood out as the one that caused an emotional impact upon me. That letter was written by (Little Dude's real name). You might want to single him out either in public or private and let him know that his letter had a profound effect upon me. Thank him for me. If you will. Thank you.
And then there was the week he had off from school (they had a full week for President's Day) that he spent working on his photo essay on Honeyboy Edwards. In addition to the photos, the essay portion required real thought and cohesion. Not only did this child spend a lot of time on the writing, but he was very thoughtful about the acknowledgments/dedication part and he had an interview to include. The interview itself contained some great questions, which impressed more than a few friends of mine from the San Diego Union-Trib. Sure, I nudged him to expand things a bit, but mostly he was interested in the subject and motivated to do a good job. I did need to encourage him to go the extra mile and include a glossary (it was optional), but when I explained to him that many of terms he used required explanation, he did his research and added the glossary. I also told him that one of his new BFFs (a guitarist who performed with Honeyboy at the concert) didn't get that place on stage next to a legend by doing the bare minimum; he got there because he always did his best and then some. By the end of the week, the project was done and it was actually turned in early. Whew. Wish I could say all his other writing homework went so well, but that's simply not true.
I understand why writing isn't LD's favorite thing. It requires effort and thought and care if you're going to do it well. It's also very rewarding. He had great success with the letter to the Marine's family. He had success with his photo essay. Now, we have to convince him to find something exciting and motivating about the daily writing he has.
After last week, I collapsed into an heap of mental exhaustion. This week? According to his dad, after just one day's homework, it's going to be another rough one, but possibly less so. I hope this is the case.
It may sound like I'm whinging a little over the school work. I guess I am, to an extent. More than anything, I'm concerned by how far my son got behind and how his dad and I didn't know. And get this, his dad is actually in class with him one day a week. How could this have escaped us? On one hand, LD has always had our help, but ultimately, this was his responsibility. It was a system that used to work quite well. Unfortunately, something changed and we discovered we needed to be more vigilant.
Our new routine means that we now have to actually witness LD copying his assignments from the board, checking for each book or paper he needs to bring home to complete the assignments, and then check off each item from his list as it's done. We had previously done a version of this, but now it feels more like we're Big Brother-ing him. He doesn't like it. I'm not particularly fond of it. The thing is, though, we have to do it because the old system stopped working.
Until the grades and work habits improve, this is our life. In many ways, it's up to him to earn back our trust and his free time. We're all missing out on some fun, but that's how it goes. For me, it's worth it. Same with his dad. Soon, I hope Little Dude comes around to seeing it our way. Then, and only then, will he get his act together and move back into a less restrictive space.
If I'm not blogging a lot, that's what's going on around here.
Posted by Da Goddess at 11:48 PM | Comments (0)