Emulation

Today I was reading an article in preparation for a social work paper... and came across this quote:

"Moreover, children directly witnessed 85% of all assaults made aginst their mothers... These children were often seen emulating violent behaviours through actions such as punching and/or strangling the household pet." 

I should feel comforted by this... I should feel comforted to know that when I abused our pets as a child, and when I verbally abused my mother, that this was just a reaction to what was happening in our family.  My mother made a choice to expose me to that lifestyle, and to the violence in it. 

All of my life, until about the last 4 years, I had blamed myself entirely for my abuse of my mother.  I was a demon, and she was an angel. She was innocent, and I was voilent against her.  A few years ago a friend pointed out that my mother had a role in this too.  She allowed me to see the abuse. She allowed me to be abused. She allowed me to be in a situation that potentially could have caused my death. 
I still can't grasp it.  I still see myself as the evil child, the monster, who became the object of her fear. I remember myself kicking the puppies we had, because I was just wanted them to hurt. I told myself I was punishing them, teaching them not to walk under people's feet... I remember waiting until the children I babysat misbehaved, because I wanted to punish them. In retrospect, I probably just wanted for once to be in control, to have power over someone else for a change.  

I still keep a distance between myself and anything too small, too powerless, too abuseable... because I still see that monster when I look in the mirror.

I put up a wall

No one can get too close

I am an abuser

I will hurt you

I keep everyone at arms length

I push you away

Don't you see who I am?

Don't you know what I can do?

I curl up in a ball inside
I withdraw
It's safer for everyone

if I just stay alone

Stop!

On the way back from my apartment this week, I encountered a stop light.  I sat in my car, watching the car in front of me, and we waited... waited... waited.... waited... still red.  We waited... waited... I thought about honking and asking the person ahead of me to make a right turn just so we could move, even if it was in the wrong direction... but I waited.... waited.... Finally the car ahead of me moved up to just run the stoplight... and as soon as she moved up, past the white line, it turned green.

Right now my life feels like that intersection. It seems like so many parts of my life have a stop sign.  Healthy eating has been stopped by the heat - it's in the 80s in our apartment, with us not cooking. Cooking vegetables is just out of the question right now.  I'm so disappointed about that. We were doing SO. GOOD.  *sigh* 

My school project seems to have a stop sign.  I was so excited about the voter registration drive we were planning, but now it seems like others in the group aren't taking it seriously.  We have 8 days before our first drive, and I can't get the researchers to look up the laws about what we are and are not allowed to do.  I can't get the group members to read the e-mails from the professor with instructions to our group, to answer my texts, or to check the group facebook page. Our professor has been flipping out, thinking we are going to break the county's rules and cause a huge scandal. I finally sent an e-mail to the professor today, asking her what the consequences would be if I withdrew from the group. I poured my heart into this, I networked with the NAACP, I coordinated the group, I sent facebooks and texts... and now it was all for nothing, because of things out of my control.  There comes a time when you see the train heading for a collision, and you just gotta jump off and let it do what it will do.  So much for having the project done before school starts.

Counseling... wow.  Definately a stop sign.  Had a great session the week before last, about avoidance and detachment. Came in this week ready to conquer the world... No.  Epic counseling fail.  We talked about my blog post about silence, but I just couldn't connect to the emotions I felt when I wrote it.  I knew they were there, but it was like I was seperated from them by a river... I could see them but not touch them, you know?  So I couldn't make her understand why this was important to me.  It came out jumbled and detached and rambly.

I'm wondering if not taking the medicine was a mistake. I feel edgy, and critical of others.  I'm noticing I have started avoiding people more, because I am just not sure of my reactions now. In the end, I think I made the right choice.  I put up with wayyyyyyyy to much crap from people when I am medicated, and that's not okay. I need to get therapy for my issues while it's cheap, so that I'll be a better social worker when I graduate.  Yes, I know I could make it without the counseling, and still be awesome at my job... but I want to be MORE awesome.  Taking medication seems to make the therapy less effective, since my emotions are buried under so many layers of medication, self-protection, etc.

I know eventually the light will turn green, I'll be flying down the road of life and forget this stop light ever happened... so maybe I should just take this opportunity to focus on other things, learn, grow, and prepare myself for the green lights ahead.

Yes!

I was reading a wonderful book this week, I Wore the Ocean in the Shape of a Girl, when I came upon an interesting passage. 

The author, Kelle, was offered a job.  She didn't know what she would be doing. She didn't know if she was qualified to do the job.

She said yes. 

I wish I had the book with me (I had to take it back to the library) to read it to you word for word. It is a really amazing book.  Regardless, I was so inspired as I read this.  I am the queen of self-doubt. I do not take a job until I have double or triple-checked that I can do the job.  I probably pass up jobs and opportunities that I would excel at, just because I am afraid to risk failure. 

What would my life be like if I just said "yes"? Where could my journey go if I just stepped out by faith, and worried about the consequences when they came? How much more could I grow? Who could I become? 

What would YOUR life be like if you just said "yes"?

Silence

I remember the days of silence

locked deep inside myself

terrified of rejection

humiliation

betrayal

I donned a mask of strength

and hid all of me behind it

locked it away

I began to become the mask

gradually forgetting who I was

losing myself entirely

until I forgot who I had ever been

an identity crisis

who was I

what was me and what was the mask

I had no answers

how could I be myself

when I no longer knew who I was

slowly I began to reach inside myself

discovering pieces of the person

I had once been

I learned to embrace the pieces I found

putting together the puzzle of my soul

I met the person I had locked inside

gave her permission to emerge

exploring the world around her

this stranger found her voice

first in a quavering whisper

later in a powerful shout!

encouraging, arguing, sharing

she expressed every part of her being 

with the reckless joy of a child

she shared her hopes, her dreams

she spoke anger

she spoke love

she spoke in words

she spoke in poems

she spoke for herself

and for those still without a voice

she spoke from morning until night

and even spoke in her sleep

fearing that if she stopped for even a moment

she would again be locked away

in silence

Jana the Gamer?

To lighten the mood here on my lovely blog, I decided to share a new adventure with you all! I have played video games all of my life, and still play them now.  Our most recent video game obsession haa been World of Warcraft.  Here you get to create a character in a way that more or less fits your personality, take him or her on quests, explore dungeons, learn new skills, etc.  

 This is JanaLee! She is the character that most closely matches my personality.  She is a gnome, which means she's about 3 feet all, she has the adorable pink ponytails I love and those big gorgeous eyes (which I do not have, but I have a cute wittle nose, so I think it's all equal.) and right now she is sporting a Muslim-esque niqab as part of her gear.  Oh, and did I mention she giggles?  Yes, she has the world's cutest giggle.  Often when I play her, I am completely overwhelmed by her cuteness!  She can jump up and down... her little ponytails jiggling as she jumps... omw. You just can't imagine the cuteness.

Another fun aspect of gaming is the group dynamic. Here is a group of us, rejoicing after a successful battle!  Sapphirerose is the leader of my guild (a group of people who chat together and help each other out), and had come to help Rogueself (aka my husband James), me, and some random strangers battle a mighty foe.  When we got done? DANCE PARTY!!!!! LOL

~*~*~*~*~

Now James and I are starting a new adventure... gaming off the computer.  We started a few weeks ago by joining a Dungeons and Dragons game with his family.  It was fun, but not at all what I expected. Now a group from our school has started doing new game called Geist, and in a moment of insanity, I decided to join the fun. 

It took me 2 and a half hours to make a character. TWO AND A HALF. Dang. This better be a great freakin game, that's all I've got to say.

The basic premise of the game is easy.  Each character died, and was not able to leave the earth because of something.  Each character has a geist, kind of like a mentor, who was attracted to the chacter because of some kind of similarity.  The fun part for me, in all games of this nature, is making the character... giving her a story, a personality... a soul, more or less. The character I am finishing for our game tonight will look very much like the picture of Janaria Lynn, pictured below.  Her story:

Janira rushed down the darkened streets, willing her body to run faster. What if she was too late?  She pushed the thought out of her mind. The men had just bought the little girl, and would need time to properly "enjoy" her.  She willed herself to run faster, the small blue house only 2 blocks away. 

Reaching her goal, she heard the sound of men laughing. She heard the lust in their voices, the excitement as they decided who would get her first.  Silently, Janira crept around the other rooms of the house. She looked in the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl.  Finally, she found what she was looking for.  She pushed open the window, praying it would not creek and reveal her actions.  Carefully she climbed through the window, her eyes glued to the small girl bound and gagged in the corner. The girls were wide with terror as Janira crept closer, finally holding the little girl in her arms.  Turning toward the window to make their escape, Janira heard the door open.  Shocked curses followed her as she tried to run back to the window.  Hands reached out, grabbing her, while another man ripped the girl out of her arms.  Escaping the hands holding on to her, Janira desperately lunged toward the girl! A flash of a pistol, her body an explosion of pain, and Janira faded from this world.

From miles away, Silas felt her desperation as he clutched the necklace and remembered...

Silent around him, the night seemed dark in spite of the full moon. He hurried along the side of the road, watching for headlights and praying with all his heart.  His goal was the run-down shack just a small ways down the road. When he had come home earlier and found his wife gone, he had feared the worst.  The idea of asking the police for help had been a horrible joke, since some of the officers were probably responsible for her disappearance. He had heard though that the Klan did their horrific deeds in the woods around Tommy Duncan's place, and decided to make his way there when night fell.  If he was lucky, maybe he could find his Rose before it was too late.

Branches clawing at his face, he turned into the woods, listening and watching for any signs of life.  He circled the house, looking for a path where they had taken her, when he saw something shining in the moonlight. He reached for it, terror in his heart.  Years earlier he had seen his wife longing for that necklace in a store window, and determined to make it hers. He worked all day at the mill, and odd jobs in the evenings and weekends, scraping and saving every penny.  Finally he bought that necklace, and determined to make his Rose the happiest woman on earth, he asked her that night to be his wife.

Silas knew his wife must be deeper in the woods in this direction.  He hurried, as quietly as he could, in the direction they must have taken her.  In the far distance, he could now see a cross, brightly burning in the dark woods. His heart hammered in his chest, afraid of what he would find.  If he could just get to her, maybe he could distract the men for long enough for her to escape! He hurried toward the group of men near the cross.

Close enough to see the men clearly now, he watched them torment his wife.  They said something, laughed. He could see the tears running down her cheeks as he looked for a way to get to his wife.  As he crept closer to the group, a man reached out, ripping his wife's dress off of her shoulders. Silas forgot everything else, and desperately ran toward his wife.  The last thing he felt was his ankle tearing as he fell over the root, the explosion of pain in his head as it hit the rock, and the metal in his fingers as he clutched the necklace.



   

RAID!!!!!

The anonymity of my blog has been breached! A raid is impending! RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My dad's favorite Atari game, and thus mine, was called River Raid. We would play that for hours, and I can still remember how proud my dad was when I, a 5 year old girl, beat my 4 cousins, all males over the age of at least 12.

Now my life feels like that piece of land... a plane soaring overhed, guns loaded, and a feeling of total vulnerability.

Today during my first counseling appointment in more than 6 months, I talked to my counselor about my blog.  I mentioned that I had blogged about the dream I had about my dad.  She asked me to find some things to share from the blog. I should probably just give her the address, but that's too open, to wierd.  She mentioned that I am uncomfortable sharing...

Me? Uncomfortable sharing????? No. Girl, I can tell an entire room of people that I need to pee! How can she say I'm uncomfortable sharing?!

But thinking about that, I realized that I AM uncomfortable about sharing anything that matters.  I can touch on something painful in therapy, but then I flit off into something safe. Drama with the neighbors, with the classmates... something safe, something that doesn't show too much about me, something that doesn't hurt too much. 

I feel a shift in my life, a way for me to open myself and let the broken places be seen, and later be healed.  I am so tightly wound around these subjects, I don't even allow God into them. I don't allow the husband there either. They are dark, scary places that I don't let anyone touch, EVER. The minute I feel something in these areas, I bury it so deep it can't emerge again.  Even if I blog about it, it is only a temporary openness... and then my feelings are buried again. 

To heal past the point I've reached, I have to face the things I locked away.  I have to face the monster I see myself as, the scared little girl I once was, and everything else locked away in the deep dark corners of my soul.

I really hope the result is worth all this drama!

Father's Day

Today is Father's Day. I've spent my entire day trying to avoid the subject... but grieving inside, for reasons I can't put into words yet.

I'm still reeling from the dream I had earlier in the week, about my dad.  I've had no other dreams since then, but that one is still dancing at the edge of my conscousness. Darting close enough to sting me now and then, and then flitting out of reach before I can identify why I'm hurting.  I just know that I AM hurting.

I am torn today over the silliest of things: Should I honor my dad on Facebook?  It seems wrong not to honor him... I grew from the intensity of him.  Through the love, the anger, the self-loathing, the laughter... I lived. These were the bed in which I was born, the soil in which I grew.  They impacted me in ways I am still discovering. 

He taught me to give
A broken life
Sharing the pieces he had left
To watch others smile

He taught me to hide
A broken spirit
Transforming as a chameleon
Disguising the unique attributes
the vulnerabilities
That defined him

He taught me to abuse
A broken heart
SCREAMING, begging for help
Clutching power as if it was a lifeline
Hurting others, breaking them
So they couldn't hurt me

He made me the person that I am, and through the good and through the bad, the handprints of my father are imprinted on every part of who I am. 

I see his fingerprints when I work in the garden... when I take joy in watching the new life peek through the ground, nurturing it, rejoicing with each inch it grows.
And I see his fingerprints when the pregnancy test is negative, and along with the sadness and exhaustion that every infertile woman feels, I feel a sigh of relief.  As a child, I learned from my father's example.  I watched abuse, and I became an abuser. I know what it is to be small and terrified, and I know what it is to be big, and to make others terrified. I know what it is to feel words break your spirit, and I know what it is to feel words leaving my mouth, breaking the spirit of another... to feel the guilt intertwine with the safety that comes from power.  I know that inside me rests the capacity to abuse, to hurt, to destroy another person so deeply that there is nothing left of them.

With each passing month, I am heartbroken and I am relieved.  I grieve over the emptiness of my arms, but relax knowing I am safe from hurting something so tiny and vulnerable.

I wonder if I will ever trust myself to control the part of him living inside me.

Living Nightmare

Exhausted, I laid down to sleep
I was transported into another world
One long forgotten

I was a child again
Smal, vulnerable
Terrified

I searched and searched for my mom
Terrified of what I would find
My father said only
That she was in a restaurant
He wouldn't tell me where, or why

I was trapped in a van with him
Powerless
Terrified
Trying to stand up for my mom
But afraid of the consequences
Trying to tell someone, anyone
who would listen and help

I woke up from this nightmare, completely shaken. This was one of the first times since I married my husband that I had to wake him up from a nightmare... and the first time I had to just have him hold me as I cried.  The scene wasn't real... I never wondered if my dad HAD killed my mom.

As an adult, I had pushed the experiences with my dad into the background of my mind... forgetting the terror, the powerlessness I felt knowing I lived with a man who had the potential to kill.   Waking up from that, I feel so shaken.  I have sat and cried... how could I forget the little girl I once was, and the things she had survived to get here?

The feelings from the nightmare were like a tidal wave that I was completely unprepared for.  A tsunami in the middle of a beautiful sunny day at the beach.

How much of the life I have made is just running from the pain of the past, pretending it isn't there?  What else have I forgotten?

Changing the World

I'm currently (finally) a senior in the social work department.  After 3 years of learning about things I really could care less about, this year my study word will change. For the first time, I am expected to actually change my world!

Two big assignments this semester will challenge us.  For the first assignment, each student has to do an individual research study.  We have to do the research, compile the data, write out a formal research report, and present our findings to the public.  I am thinking of either studying family reunification (helping families to change so that they can regain and keep their children successfully.) or the connection between domestic violence and child abuse.

The second one is what I'm really excited about though.  We have to do a big project to somehow impact our community... and my group is doing voter registration drives.  Now, how does this change the world?  Well, our group is specifically targeting people who are either poor, from a minority group, or both.  These are the people in our society who are both least likely to vote, and least likely to be deemed important by politicians.  Because these groups don't vote, politicians have no reason to care about what these people want.  As people begin to vote more, politicians will have to pay more attention to them... and that could possibly change the world, one vote at a time :)

Back to Blogging

So my lovely friend Alison told me this week that she missed my blog... and combined with some other things that happened, I realized that I really miss blogging.  So, let me tell you what's been happening around here. Or rather, let me show you... (Yep, irony.  The blind friend asks me to blog, and I do a pic blog LOL)

I have been trying to cook whole grains!


 

 This lovely pic of a oatmeal-ish substance is what happened when I cooked quinoa. Does anyone know if it is SUPPOSED to be squishy like this? Or did I cook it wrong?

And here we have a picture of the whole meal! Lettuce from my neighbor's garden, which I cut up and made into a salad. Chicken which I made using a dry rub of cajun seasoning, soul seasoning, garlic, and umm... I forget what else. Quinoa, which I cooked in chicken broth... and all served on my fine china, aka paper plates!

I have been taking summer classes!  My inner child celebrated her learning from my Mythology class by drawing the picture below.

This is an example of one of the Furies. The Furies were fierce little creatures, used to punish evildoers. For this, I drew a pitchfork, which looks like a trident but isn't.  They had snakes in their hair, which I drew including creepy little eyes and a tongue sticking out of one, for no apparent reason. They have red tears running down their faces, because they cry blood, again for no reason that I have learned. The pinkish dress and blue sash are my own creation, so they have no symbolism.

I celebrated the birthdays of my neice and nephew!

My husband decided to take a picture of my nephew as he laid on the floor.. I have no idea why. The Boy (I decided to give him a catchy name for my blog) had his head shaved by daddy this summer, which actually looks cute on him now that I'm used to it.  He just turned 2!

The Poopers also got to participate in the birthday fun, because we were all broke when her birthday came in the winter.  She's 3 and a half now!!! 

I have been crocheting.

But I currently have no pics of that. I have been making fun baby mitts to keep babies from scratching their little faces, in cool designs... but I am not posting pics or descriptions until I have them done and for sale.  Right now I have 6 pairs done (not including the 7 or so pairs I gave to a friend), and 12 pairs needing embellishment.

I have been cleaning.

But everything is messy agian.  How does this happen? LOL

I have been gardening.

I bought a plot in our apartment's garden, and I have already planted cilantro, parsley, basil, chives, green beans, onions, 2 kinds of peppers, and rosemary.  I'm excited! Tomorrow I will plant more cilantro, swiss chard, serano peppers, squash, brussel sprouts, and delphiniums - my favorite flowers!

Something seems wrong...

So I am wondering what is going on with my body.  I got 7 hours of sleep Thursday night, and then slept through my alarm clock in the morning.  Woke up just in time to throw on clothes and get to my internship only a few minutes late.   I was exhausted by the time I got home from the internship though.  I slept from 1:30 to 5:30, and woke up still tired.  I stayed up til 10:30 PM... and then went back to sleep.

I slept until 12:30 PM.

Altogether, I got 18 hours of sleep... and I have been fighting the need to go to sleep again until 9 tonight. 

Don't know what's wrong... but i hope it goes away soon! I have a full week this week! Giving English lessons, babysitting, internship, field trip Wednesday, classes, 3 exams... dang.

The Pin that Changed Me

So lately I have been completely and utterly obsessed with Pinterest.  I mean COMPLETELY obsessed.

Pinterest is my new happy place.

Some of the things I read on Pinterest really make me think.  Some of them resonate deep down inside. Some of them make me laugh... some make me cry... and some make me look deep inside myself and see things I never noticed before. 

Earlier this week, this pin resonated deeply within me:

Source: dearinspirationblog.blogspot.com via Janet on Pinterest

At the time, I was feeling really down on myself. I had tried to do something really good... and failed in epic fashion.  I had tried to bring unity to a group, and instead people fought, feelings were hurt... and I felt responsible. 

Today, that pin no longer resonates within me.  After emotionally beating myself black and blue, I saw another pin... a pin that made me think about how I was looking at myself. It made me CHANGE how I was looking at myself.

Source: notsalmon.com via Janet on Pinterest

I was not looking at myself in the right way. In the situation I was upset about, there were other participants who were just as deeply responsible for the situation. Grown adults, with the ability to avoid conflict... who could want or not want unity. I am not responsible for the outcome... if I did my best, if my intentions were pure... it's enough.  That's what I learned... from my situation, and from a cute purple pin on Pinterest.

Have YOU learned anything about yourself from joining Pinterest?

Why God Won't Let Me Have Kids

Yes... that is me and my husband rolling in laughter as my nephew bursts into tears. 

My Computer!!!!!!

Dear computer, how I have missed thee.

Before my computer broke down, I didn't realize just how much THIS computer meant to me.  We have been together for a year and a half now, and I dearly love her.  I have given her a name. I decorated her with a background that relaxes me. I put stickers on her. I gave her a screensaver filled with pictures of people I love.

But after the computer broke down,  I realized there was so much more I loved about this computer.  She has all the programs I love and use, and shortcuts to them in just the right place on my desktop.  She has all of my assignments neatly organized into cute little folders. She has all my favorite sites in her favorites bar.  She has everything customized to EXACTLY the picture-perfect specs that make me feel warm and comfy while I use her.

But you know what I missed most of all? I missed the connections she bings to me.  I missed my World of Warcraft buddies that I chatted with on her, when the new computer didn't have it installed.  I missed my feeds, telling me who was posting a new blog and when. I missed being able to see your hopes, your dreams, your fears...

Dear Bakbouka, my faithful and loving computer, please don't ever leave me again.

Connecting?

When I came back to blogging, I noticed what seems like a shift in the connections happening across the web.  Where before I had shared deep discussions with friends via blogs, I have noticed many people focusing instead on the much less personal Facebook or Twitter for their communications. 

While I'm sitting here, on a loaner computer which does not have my precious feeds saved, I'm pondering what connecting means since Facebook and Twitter have conquered the web?  Can people still connect, sharing their hopes, fears, and dreams, on such impersonal sites? 

What have your experiences been?

The Accident

This December my life was changed in a way I still cannot completely comprehend.

I was driving to pick my husband up for work one day, and noticed a lot of police cars going ahead of me. I didn't really think much about that... just wondered where they were going, and then thought about other things.  Eventually I noticed traffic slowing in front of me, and noticed the cars in front of me needing to turn onto side streets.  The police weren't directing traffic well, and so some cars were turning to the right and others were turning to the left.  I turned to the right. Apparently, I should have turned to the left.  I drove a block after turning right... then made a left after a block.  I followed a string of cars up maybe three blocks on a side street, and then followed them as they turned to the left to get back to the highway.  Once we got to the highway, we found it blocked and turned around.  I went back a block, and then had to decide if I wanted to try and backtrack and get back onto the highway, which would most likely be slow and possibly even impossible, or try to follow the side street and make my own detour.  I chose the side street.  I went farther, and then turned to get back onto the highway.  I figured I MUST have avoided the accident by that point, since I was probably a mile past the first police cars... so I drove back to the highway.

And found myself less than 6 feet from a burned out shell of a car.  I was marveling at this amazing sight (Moment of confession: I really like fire.) when I looked up and saw a sheet placed over the window.

A white sheet.  Covering the burned up remains... of a person. 

I was sick inside.  I drove onto the highway (what the heck else does one do? I was in shock!) and then cried all the way to pick up my husband. 

We watched the news that night... apparently a 25 year-old-man was driving his car, when he was rear-ended by another car. His car instantly burst into flame, shooting fireballs into the air.  One moment he was alive... the next he was dead.  Just that quick. I couldn't even process the events.  I couldn't comprehend what I had seen, let alone make sense of it. 

The next day I drove to take my husband to and from work... passing the same spot on the road.  I cried again... I couldn't stop thinking of him.  I grew depressed.

We found out that my husband worked with his mom.  He was a federal prison officer.  He was a fire department volunteer. He was just. so. young.

Later we noticed the burn marks on the highway where his car had burnt the highway.  Again... I wanted to be sick. 

A few days later, after getting my husband from work, we tried to get onto the highway... and we saw a funeral procession.  The funeral procession of the young man.  Again, I cried.  How could a life end so fast!? So out of the blue?  With no warning?! 

Last week, as I drove, I saw a cross by the side of the road, beside the burn marks on the highway.  I plan to get an artificial red rose, and place it by the cross. 

I'm still sickened by what I saw.  I took more time to pray... to really think.  I still can't understand what happened... I still don't know why I made that wrong turn.  I don't know why I was a witness to the scene in the car. I know that I am changed... every day I pray when I get in my car.  I pray for myself, for my husband... and I pray for the others driving that day.  I am more careful when I'm driving... I posted lectures on my Facebook warning people about the dangers of tailgating, reminding them that 2 seconds of speed are not worth the life of another person... but it feels like an inadequate response to the depth of what happened to me. I feel like my life should reflect the change that has happened inside of me... but how?

Almost free!!!

So here I am, at the end of my first semester as a social work student.  I am, in all honesty, exhausted and frustrated.  My grades this semester are okay, with the exception of one class... we started out with one professor, she broke her shoulder and had to resign, and the new professor didn't work out so well.  And she's the chair of my department... so I can't exactly complain to anyone about it lol  And another professor... well... don't even get me started on her. *frustrated*

But I have two more exams tomorrow, and then this semester is DONE and I will be so glad.  How do I plan to spend my holiday, you may wonder? 

I want to hug the snot out of my neice and nephew, who I have not seen in about 3 weeks. 

I want to clean out my bedroom and craft room and get them organized.

I want to learn to make wire jewely and beaded jewelry, because they are pretty and sparkly.

And last but not least, I want to make this, just because I can:

Cute little kiddo in a crocheted hat with a crocheted beard.

Media Drama...

You know what I like about having a blog?  I like being able to toss things around in my mind on here, and analyze them with feedback from others that may help me see issues from another light.  So what am I thinking about today?  The media. 

We are learning about the workings of the American media in relation to American politics, and I have learned a lot.  For example, did you know that just 10 major corporations own almost all of the major newspapers, magazines, national TV networks, cable stations, etc. within the US??? How crazy is that... corporations (which exist purely for profit) are responsible for giving information that can change the course of a nation.  That makes me really wonder how much of the news we receive is manufactured for someone else's greed.  When we hear about reasons to go to war, how much of that is made by companies that also own weapons factories and other companies that benefit from war? 

And what about what we DON'T see??? How much news coverage do we see about tobacco issues? Is it because the news isn't what we are interested in, or because the companies that control the media also own tobacco interests?  How many things that are vital for the public to learn of are buried just because of this media situation?

I need to ponder this more in my head, make my thoughts more eloquent and well-rounded on this topic, but for the moment just let me say:

This scares me to the core.

Growth from the Ashes

Temporary Motherhood

My life took a dramatic turn on Friday night, when I looked on facebook and saw that my sister-in-law was at the ER.  She has a broken foot, and no way to take care of her two babies, Lillyan (age 2 and 1/2) and Steven (age 13 months).  Now, for an undetermined amount of time, I have two babies in my house. 

Crap, aunt Janet has a LOTTTTTTTTT of work to do on herself before she has her own kids.

I've found myself repeatedly snapping at the kids, and later regretting it.  I need to learn to love the babies and enjoy them, instead of trying to make my house a perfectly organized boot camp.

I also have to learn to get the 1 year old out of the tub ASAP, preferably BEFORE he poops in the tub... and to ask my husband to duct tape the lid of the strawberry milk mix down BEFORE it spills all over the diaper bag and all its contents. 

So, for right now, I'm going to be trying to balance my sewing and alteration business, my new English tutoring business, my normal life/wife/friendship duties, and the needs of two small children living with me for the next day/week/month. 

Crap.  Any advice? 

For now, I will be helping my family by learning from others about how they have improved their lives.  I'm doing to participate in Biblical Womanhood Friday, which can be found here:



And I'm going to have to be very, very, very organized!!!! My friend will watch the babies during my English lessons, and my husband can probably watch them while I sew... and one way or another, we'll figure this whole thing out!!!