Keeping it Real

How much information is too much? After I wrote the post about my struggle with depression, I had to ask myself that question again. Am I sharing too much, especially now that I'm a teacher? What if my boss or co-workers read my blog, or the parents of one of my students? How will they feel learning that I need to take medication just to get out of bed in the morning?

But after thinking about it for a while I decided to go ahead and click "publish." This is who I am. I'm not trying to get sympathy votes and I certainly don't want to sound whiney (whiney people bug the hell out of me, so I hope that's not how I sound!). I simply want to keep it real. Depression is a very real part of my life, as it is for thousands of others, especially parents of special needs kids. Just the every day stress and fatigue can make even the toughest person start to crack. There is only so much a human brain can handle before it decides to go on strike and stop absorbing serotonin. If my honestly about depression can help others, then my blog is doing its work.

I've always been forthcoming. Too forthcoming! I know it, and I've tried over the years to keep things quiet and close to the vest, but it's so against my nature it makes me feel like I'm trying to wear a wool sweater against my bare skin (I'm allergic to wool). So I gave up. I'm more selective as to where and when I speak my mind, but I still suffer from severe oversharing. My friends understand and seem to put up with me. People who think I'm weird stay away.

I'm just as eager to know about you, too. What do you think? Hope for? Need? What makes you mad, and what makes you so happy you almost piss your pants? What were you like in the 3rd grade and what do you think you'll be like when you're 80? I love hearing people tell their stories, which is one of the reasons I love blogs so much. Don't just post a recipe or a photo of a cute kid, and please don't try to sell me something by reviewing it. Tell me a story.

This is also why I love publishing memoir. Even though it is extremely hard work helping a writer tell her story in a way other people will want to read (no one wants to read about why you bought green pants at K-mart on Jan. 3rd), after three years of being a publisher I still love editing memoir. Human beings and the epic nature of their lives make fascinating reading.

So I'll keep writing what I think and how I feel, and I'll hold fast to keeping it real.

(cool, I made a rhyme)

Too busy for lounging

When school finished, I imagined that I would spend several weeks puttering around my garden, watching movies in the afternoon, finishing a cup of coffee before it got cold, and writing... lots of writing. But the reality is mighty far from my plans. Instead of basking in a little post-grad school lounging, I am almost as busy as I was in school; the only difference is that there are no tests to study for.

9 months of to-do's are now demanding my full and immediate attention, as in NOW. There is no time to read a book, you must sort the filing cabinet in preparation for taxes and Queen Teen's IEP and medical appointments. And while we're on the subject of appointments, you should make a few for yourself. Those teeth are mighty stained from all that cold coffee you've been chugging, and when was the last time you went to the gynecologist? If you can't remember your last PAP, then it's been too long. Plus, those clothes won't iron themselves and those weeds in the back yard are two feet tall. Oh, and your in-laws are coming.

Which was nice, actually. My in-laws live in Texas and fly out once a year to visit and help with Queen Teen, who was out of school on Spring Break. They stayed a week and during that time helped me clean and organize the pantry. Look, there's food in the pantry behind all that crap. Who knew we had so much Saki and oatmeal? It wasn't all chores: we went for walks in the morning and chatted on my deck with a bottle of wine before dinner, and took a day trip to Healdsburg for lunch. By the time they left, my house was cleaner and my daughter was smiling. I wish we lived closer, but California is too expensive for their liking, and since I refuse to live anywhere Summer lasts 9 months, Texas is out.

This week I'm preparing for the Anarchist Book Fair in San Francisco where Medusa's Muse will have a table. I hope to sell lots of books and network with other indy publishers. I'm amazed my poor publishing company is still alive after three years of neglect, but miraculously, we made a profit in 2010. Of course, I didn't spend very much because I didn't have time to do any promotions, but a profit is a profit. Plus, Uncle Sam will still give me permission to call my publishing company a business and not just a hobby.

To "force" myself to write, I signed up for Script Frenzy. I will attempt to write a 100 page, full length play in April. It started April 1st and I've written 4 pages. Queen Teen goes back to school tomorrow, so I'll be spending the morning working on my play. Far more fun than pulling weeds or ironing shirts.

Hello blog world. I'm back. What did I miss?

The feel of hummingbirds zooming past my head

Queen Teen and Rick flew to Austin, Texas to visit family for 10 days and since I had my last internship meeting this past Saturday, I couldn't go. Okay, I admit it, there's a part of me that was happy not to go. I would love to see everyone and I miss my girl and hubby, but the peace and quiet has been amazing! After a few days, the constant ache in my jaw and shoulders dissipated, the knot in my stomach faded, and my thoughts stopped hopping around like a drunk frog on a hot plate. I could take a deep breath and feel calm for the first time in... how long? Years?

I went to the coast with my dear friend, Jody, and stayed at The Howard Creek Ranch B n B, an eclectic, beautiful property tucked between the ocean and a thick grove of redwoods. Built in 1879, the rooms are in the old farm house and the redwood coach house, both crammed with antiques and odd treasures. Hummingbirds battle for the garden, which overflows with flame-red, yellow, ice-blue, and white flowers, nasturtium, berry vines, and roses. Fat, friendly cats curl up in your lap when you sit to read in the sunshine. The inn is run by an older couple who serve you a hearty breakfast every morning. There's a narrow swinging bridge across a creek choked with blackberries, and at night you can hear the ocean crashing back and forth on the beach. It is my favorite place on the Mendocino Coast.

Jody and I spent three days there, lounging, going for hikes, talking, eating, and writing of course. I finished an essay that had been haunting me for months, and started working on my play again. By the time I got home after all that relaxing, I felt as if I'd been smoking dope on a hot beach. My head was fuzzy and the world seemed strangely distant. Walking into my house, the silence felt as loud as a rock concert. There was no Queen Teen shouting "Mom!" as I walked through the door, no husband cussing in the bedroom while he works on another computer, no dog bounding at me in greeting (she was at the kennel), no roar of a dishwasher or radio. Everything was still. I went to bed early with a book and breathed deeply the solitude.

Is it possible to have stress withdrawals? I'm so used to the pace of the last 2 years of grad school, of being mom and wife and keeping a roof over our head and food on the table and running a publishing company... feeling calm was bizarre. I soaked up relaxation like a starving person and now felt fat and lazy on it. But God I wanted more! Give me more calm and peaceful days, more silence. Let me get sick on it until I turn into a lump in the hammock with a book stuck on my nose. I've done constant stress, I'd like to try constant calm.

Saturday was my last internship meeting and during class our teacher explained the certification test and the master's exam. After listening for half an hour, the fog lumbering through my mind cleared and I felt the tension return to my jaw and shoulders. Ah, there it is... the churning knot in my gut. The fear lapping at my ankles. Then when she told us how much the fees for those exams are, I felt a rush of adrenaline flow through my body, chasing out the last bit of lazy still wrapped around my bones.

Back to normal once again.

But now that I know what calm feels like, I wonder if I can duplicate that feeling during my normal days? Can I learn to hold on to the feeling of sitting quietly in the garden at Howard Creek with a fat, black and white farm cat curled up in my lap and the hummingbirds dashing around, fighting for the best blossom just inches from my head. Even though I could feel them flying past me so close their momentum created a breeze on my cheek, I wasn't startled. I watched them and smiled. They are so like me, like all of us I suppose, zooming around and fighting for a crumb of pollen from the best blossom, not able to see the beauty of the flower they're fighting for.

Bourre the dog is back, worn out from playing with the dogs at the kennel for four days, and Queen Teen and Rick will be home on Tuesday.  I have several tasks to get done before then, and an awful lot of studying to do in preparation for my master's exam. But the bigger goal is to remember to stop and enjoy the flower I'm fighting for, rather than being a humming bird all the time.

I knew I was going to be busy with school!

(Image by Randy Glasbergen )

Wow. The last time I updated my blog was Feb. 17th, and now it's March. What happened? School work, house work, child care, and publishing have dominated every ounce of time I have, leaving absolutely zero for anything remotely creative, including writing. Yes, publishing is creative, but I'm in the marketing/networking phase, which is focused on finding your target audience and making sure they know about the book; not the time for imagining scenes and inventing characters. Sometimes I look at my journal and my almost completed play, my novel longing to be written and my memoir in need of revision, and I ache for just one hour to lose myself in a story of my own devising.

Not today. Today I have to finish my intersection analysis, read 100 pages for my classes and start working on my exit report. Writing will have to wait until Summer.

And now Queen Teen is sick, so even homework is tricky to get to. She's had a cold for over a week, was finally getting better, and now it looks like she caught the flu. Poor thing. A double whammy of sickness. She lying in her bed trying to rest with a 100 degree temp and a nose so stuffed up she can't even blow it properly; just wipe and whimper because it's so sore. There is a mountain of used tissues and books around her right her now.

School is tricky, but I love it. I never did make it across the street under blindfold. Instead I'm wearing a low vision simulator (old glasses frames wrapped in cheesecloth to obscure my vision) at street crossings because there isn't enough time in the class for me to train my hearing to differentiate sounds. Good thing I'm not graded on being the cane traveler because I would flunk the class. Instead, I'm graded on my ability to teach and so far I'm getting an A. Yes!

What am I doing on this blog!? I need to get back to my homework while Queen Teen is distracted by books for a bit. I just wanted to say hello, check in with my blog community and pals, and stretch my writing muscles for a few minutes. If you don't use them, they get weak, just like any part of your brain.

Sorry I haven't had time to stop by your own blogs. I miss hearing the news. School won't last forever and I know I'm investing my time into my future right now. My hubby and I have been discussing what we'll do when I have a job, and it feels amazing to plan for the future instead of dreading it.  Time well spent, I say.

Well, back to work. Take care everyone.

An Ode to my Mac Book Air

My mac book was making weird, grinding noises from the hard drive, so I sent it to the shop. It sat there for over a week and I went through major withdrawals. I love my Mac Book air. So light, so clean, so fast and portable. I couldn't get any serious writing done while it was in the shop, so I worked on collages and waited. And waited. And pined.

At last, my mac book was returned to me on Monday and I did a joyous dance in its honor. Then I sat down and wrote her this poem. Am I twisted to be in love with a lap top?

Ode to my Mac Book Air

Oh lovely machine that you are,
returned to me from afar,
humming strong and gleaming bright,
too long kept beyond my sight.

Who can resist your metallic gleam,
you light as air, fast, thin machine?
I write my worst (as you can see)
but your long battery life sets me free.

Am I insane to love you so?
You are such a joy to know,
but you are just my writing tool
and adoring you makes me a fool.

I don't care! I love you, Mac Air.
No other lap top can compare.
I let the words come pouring out.
Although my Muse has begun to shout

STOP IT!

(yes, it's true. I am not a poet)

Root and Sprout

Last week, I posted about the odd mix of guilt and joy I feel every time the first day of school arrives. While pondering that fact, I stumbled upon Root and Sprout, an on-line parenting magazine and saw that their deadline for the September issue was the end of the week. So I decided to go for it. I frantically wrote a 500 word essay, sent it in the following day, and it was accepted! Called "It's Back to School Time. Why am I so Happy?" it is about the glee and guilt we parents feel when we toss our children out of the car on their butts in the school parking lot lovingly send our little darlings to school. Look for it in the Grow Through Laughter section of the zine.

You'll also find articles about marriage (Dating Your Spouse: How to Reclaim Your Marriage, by Teresa Hirst), volunteering at your child's school (No Time to Volunteer? by John Boynton) and being a special needs student (Dear Mom and Dad: What It’s Like to Be A Child with Special Needs, by Kirk Martin).