No Need to Fret

This is just me playing Stephen's fretless jazz bass at a recent band practice. Much fun was had by all, especially me, and no animals were harmed in the process. :)

A Model Youth

These are a few snapshots I took to send in in hopes of Tori getting to be on a cover of a local author's book. I love the first one - innocent and mischeivious at the same time, neh? For the others I was trying for a more in-character look, though I know very little about the character. Wish her luck. :)

starts well = ends well

I can't say that the day began perfectly. I woke up late (not surprising, since I ate restaurant food yesterday and got to sleep a bit late). But, I was very productive today at work. I followed up on every one of my backplants, some several times (if you aren't in the company, then let's just say I followed up on a whole huge slew of file problems and kept on them like mad). I felt good about this, and got home in a working groove. So, I sorted through 4 1/2 baskets worth of clean laundry and got it all sorted into drawers (a miracle for me) when I got home. Productive at work, productive at home. I love the feeling of accomplishment that follows a productive day.
-interjection... you'd likely be amazed how hard it is to type on a normal keyboard after a being accustomed to an ergonomic keyboard at work. Half of my keystrokes must be the backspace key.
anyway... a good day. Now, I get to reward myself. I've been drinking beer while cleaning. Now, I'm posting because I am in the computer room - the only room in the house where smoking is allowed - while having my reward cigarette with some reward beer. Next, I'll curl up on the couch with my amazing and wonderful boyfriend for some TV, grilled hot wings, and the rest of this beer. A++ day. :)
My thanks go out to Richo's, for letting Stephen come home, and to Brandi, for getting us caught up enough at work that I could spend the day catching up on Backplants. That girl, no matter what stresses she meets in life, works like a dog. What a gal, what a worker, what a friend... you have no freakin idea. I wish I could reward her somehow.
Wow. It is really hard to type on a normal keyboard when used to the ergonomic kind. That "half backspacing" thing is not even an hyperbole(sp?).
whew. so... that's enough posting tonight. Too much work on this keyboard.

Anyway... do you have your Davefest shirt yet? check in on my buddy Dave, on barenada.com, and get your shirt. All the coolest of the antisocial cool are doing it. :P I know I'll be buying mine.

Best of my affections to my loyal readers, and especially to Stephen (he's always first, whether he reads or not), and Dave, Rahx, and daddy-Josh. :) Love and hugs, fellas.

Oh, and PS... because family "rocks", to Daddy, his girlfriend Mary Jo, and my awesome nieces (with whome I had the most amazing and grueling hike yesterday). And also to my sister, because I love her, she also rocks, she is the mother of "my children", and because she is simply a wonderful person that I would love, family or not.

Now listening to: Solomon Burke (look him up, folks)
Shout out to: all the folks above, and all other family (especially my wonderful Aunt Connie), the southend guys, the Empire guys (and gals), and my fellow title-slaves at Firstam. :)

When I see a stranger in pain, it pains me that my words or hugs or gestures would only be intrusion, no comfort. But when you hear of news that must strike someone to the center of them, and that person is loved by someone you love... what is there to do or say?

A good friend of the man I love is going through something horrible, perhaps a tragic cliff at the end of the most painful and exhausting journey, but I am powerless to help her. For a moment, holding him while he felt the pain of it, I felt only guilt... there I was... clinging to the man I love, who loves me beautifully, while a good person is experiencing something so terrible. Why should I have such happiness while a good person suffers? I know she is a good person. I can see it in his eyes.

I came to the answer that we should be grateful for our blessings while we have them, for we all could lose what we have at any time. A trite and cliched truth.

I pray she reads my site, although she has no reason to. Though it may be of no comfort to you, this stranger loves you. I love you because I know pain, though I have never known anything like what you have been going through. I care because I know you must be a beautiful person who deserves better. I cry and pray for you because love and empathy make one feel what someone they love feels. When he cries for you, paining at your pain, I feel it too. If there is ever anything either of us can do, you know the number. Your calls are more than welcome in my home. If it would help to talk to me, I'll be there. If you need me to leave while you talk to him, I'll drive to Marengo and back. Whatever you need, please know that you are not alone.

Just thinking and rambling

I was thinking about my niece, how unstable life must seem to her. And I was thinking about my poem, about life being a shifting mess and being my own security, my own Tara and about wanting to be a Tara to others. I try to be that for her. But my years are numbered. The number may be 80, it may be 32.

As unsteady as things must seem to her right now, she basically has 3 parents that will always love her. That got me thinking about her home. A home that will be there all her life, no matter where she lives. Dad has land that he has already put partly in my sisters name and mine. Some day it will be in hers and her sisters names. I never thought about that till just now, that someday they will share that land like my sister and I will. I hope they respect each other’s wishes and respect that land as much as we do.

I guess it’s lucky that I probably wont have kids. Sharing that land between two could already be complicated enough. But, I was glad to know that she will have her own little Tara, even after we are all dead and gone. My love for her will always be there, because there is no place more me than that land, despite the fact that I rarely make time to go there. Both of her great-grandmother’s ashes are a part of the trees there now, reborn from human to nature… feeding the trees that grow there. Her grandmother (my mother) is a part of the dogwoods and sassafras alike. When I die, I will be food for this warm earth myself. Our remnants of our lives, once we have spent the bulk of them on living, will be passed on to the very land that grows and produces for us now.

I need to teach her about land and caring for it, and what it means and about never carving it up to sell to developers and the like. But then, she is made of us, and she sprouts up among a forest of people, this family, who respect the land. She is also a bright young thing who never wastes a bit of light that shines on her. She will no doubt learn the lessons we have to teach on that subject simply by growing among us.

I still worry about what her attitude on love will be, since the examples she has seen have been unsteady and full of pain. But the love she has gotten from us is unwavering. Hopefully that will give her the strength to live her life, and not hide from love. Hopefully she will also have better experiences that ours.

Then, somewhere past hope is faith… I am not a person full of faith in people, even those I love. But I have faith that Stephen, whom has been slow to enter her life, will be even slower to leave it. His appearance in her forest has been like a slow growing tree. The trees that grow the slowest are generally the strongest. When he loves me, he gives me strength. That love is an example. Even if for no other reason that the fact that the strength he gives me is visible.

I thank God that she has me, her parents, and that land. Her life may seem utter chaos to her right now, but no matter how fierce a storm her tiny branches weather right now, the soil at her feet will nurture her. We give all we have at her roots, despite tumultuous skies. She will grow strong, I believe.
She will be an amazing person. I know that because she already is.

Does it make me a sick individual? In some ways, I really LIKE working two jobs. Sure, I’m worn out, I hate that I have no time for anything or anyone, and I’m not making much money as a waitress. But, I get a rush of confidence and pride knowing I’m doing it, and I’m doing it pretty well. I am not a sickly wimp. Ha ha! Take that, world! I am still She-ra!

I think the boost of confidence has helped my performance at my first job. I’ve been working like a dog and not getting distracted at all. Plus, I’ve been getting commercial files more, which makes the job enjoyable. I love commercial real estate because it’s just something different, and a bit more complicated. Makes me feel special and challenged, as cheesy as those things may be.

The Effexor I’m taking now is also helping. I don’t know if it’s enough, but it is helping. It causes some drowsiness, but I’m hoping that side effect will wear off as my system adjusts to it. One down side of the Effexor, though… I think it has decreased my alcohol tolerance. I got totally hammered Saturday night off of 4 very weak beers (bottles, not even pints). I was a bit embarrassed a) that I got drunk and b) that I was such a lightweight. Oopsie! Well, I didn’t know that my tolerance had changed. Guess I will have to be more careful in the future.

This post is dedicated to Dave, whom has loyally been checking my site regularly, despite my failure to post. Thanks Dave. J If you all get bored and are disappointed that I don’t post regularly, check out his site at barenada.com. You might even read about me there, on rare occasion. I am doo-rag girl. J

Well, I need to get out of here so I can see my honey. I don’t get to see him enough these days.
Live long and prosper,
England prevails,
Mutant power,
And all that jazz,
Noggin