Ride It Like You Stole It

Life
It isn't something that is supposed to be docile and tame
Something dull and predictable
Life is something raw, wild and ever changing
It flows like the tides...
Waxing and waning like the moon
It's a Mustang on the prairie
Wind whipping through her mane
Sun glinting off her coat
The power of the ages in every curve of her muscle
The energy of the Earth in the pounding of her hooves
Life is something that we don't tame
Acknowledge the power that we've been blessed with
Take a deep breath
Climb aboard and give it the best ride we've got
You can't tame it
Learn to work in harmony with it
Listen to where you are supposed to be going, instead of trying to force it to bend to your will
Stop fighting it and enjoy the ride

That's just not write!

 

Writing is a lost art.

I don't mean that no one is filling shelf after shelf with books.

Or that there is a lack of people seeking to get their work published.

I mean that so few people WRITE anymore.

I have lately been struggling with, what I thought, was a particularly vexing patch of stagnant inspiration.

I have this desire...just under the surface...bubbling deep...ever building... and aching to break free, like the forces under the Earth's surface, but no matter how I try to shake it loose...nothing. 

It won't come to the top in that gloriously eloquent fountain of tumbling words.  That frantic, nearly painful chaos, that spills up out of your heart, into your mind, glowing brighter and hotter until it boils out the tips of your fingers, onto the keyboard in a rapid frenzy of keystrokes.

And THAT, my friends, is when it hit me! 

I'm not lacking the inspiration.

I'm not lacking the need, and certainly not the desire.

It's the  cold feel of the keyboard that is killing it.  The culprit is the empty clickety-clack of the keys as I try impotently to lay my thoughts  out.

That's not writing.

I need the feel of the paper.  The scratch of the pen as it flies across it, almost as if it's under its own power. I need the weight, the sound, the smell...the actual writing.

And not this block letter, stick figure printing they are teaching kids in school these days. 

NO!  That will never do!

I need true writing!  We were graded on it.  Most people under 25 today can't read it. 

CURSIVE folks.  True writing. 

The flow

The artistry

The poetry of it

The sheer beauty of it

The dance of the letters, working together to tell a story.

The ballet, tango, rhumba and twist of language. The waltz between parchment and ink.

Glorious harmony!

Wrapping a reader in a magical land and transporting you to places you've never dreamed could exist.

Cursive is like a woman. Full of curves and mystical beauty that you only truly appreciate as you get to know  her, and no two examples are exactly the same.  Each spectacular and unique in their own way.

You just can't replace something so beautiful and natural, with something artificial and cold.

Write, Wrong or Indifferent

Writing is more than just a string of words on paper.

Writing is an intimate act.

It’s a sharing of hopes

Dreams

Fears

Failures

Accomplishments

Milestones

Stripping away all pretense.

Exposing our soul.

Displaying our innermost self.

A glaring spotlight on our every fault

Shortcoming

Struggle

Strength

Ambition

Triumph

An uncensored expose of each and every aspect of our character.

It’s a yard stick by which we can measure our growth.

Emotional

Spiritual

Mental

Writing is more than just putting words to paper.

I Could If I Wanted To

I deal with things through sarcasm for many reasons, not the least of which, is that I have found it to be much cheaper than bail.  It also keeps my sanity, at least somewhat, intact.

What I have to watch is the tendency to say things that I mean.  I recognize that I have the unfailing ability to go for the jugular, and that I have no problems doing so.  When I've reached my tolerance level for stupidity or bullshit, or if I feel suddenly on the defensive, I am prone to pull all the stops and rip you to shreds, smiling all the while.  I will go straight for that one weak spot that I see in you and I will attack.  No regrets.

But, in the interest of not being a complete bitch, I try to temper it....at least a little. 

After growing with a narcissistic father, who had a myriad of crutches, I have a whole bunch of screwed up tendencies.  I waver from insecure to not giving a shit.  I bounce from wearing my heart on my sleeve and wanting to help everyone I meet, to shutting the emotional light switch off completely.

All through school, I was pretty shy and tried to please everyone.  I kept a low profile and tried to just float along quietly, because I thought that was easier.  As I reached my Junior and Senior year, I realized that no matter HOW I behaved, it wasn't going to be right, so I started waiting for the chance to be me.  I even lived in a foster home for a short time during my Junior year because I refused to go home.  I was starting to get just a hint of a backbone.  Dad gave me a big sob story (and I felt bad that Mom was stuck in the middle of all this) and I went home, but I think he started to see that I would only take so much.  Two days after graduation I moved out. I let my guard down and started to discover me, little by little.  Mostly, I was searching for acceptance because I'd never been good enough in my father's eyes, or so I thought.  And I knew, deep down (WAY deep down), that I was so much better than what he seemed to think I was.  My mind would tell me I wasn't, but somehow I knew better.

My shyness and refusal to rock the boat turned into a mix of "I'll play nice as long as you do".  I would try to keep the peace, but found myself only allowing people to push me so far.  I had finally learned to draw a line....and stand by it!  It was scary as hell and freeing at the same time! 

Sometimes that damned line is a little wavy, and sometimes I almost forget to protect it, but I work at it even now.

I also realized that the narcissism, drug & alcohol use was not an acceptable excuse for being a prick.  I tried for 34 years to figure out what it was that he wanted from me. 

Here's the thing.....it's not that I wasn't good enough.  Much of the problem was that HIS demons (from being raised with an abusive narcissist) kept telling him HE wasn't good enough.  His own narcissism, mixed with being a child in a long line of narcissists, made our lives a living hell at times.  The whole reason Dad volunteered to join the Army and headed off to Vietnam was because he wanted to die.  No joke.  The man ran from demons the entire time I knew him.  He wanted to be a gunner because he knew they had a very short life expectancy.  Instead, he worked as an X-ray Tech in a MASH unit, where he dealt with horrors that he only talked to me about once.  I can't begin to imagine what it would've been like.  The sounds, the smells, the carnage.  And after serving your country, for two tours, only to come home and be labeled a Baby Killer?  Again, he couldn't do anything right, just like when he was growing up. 

Sometimes I feel myself almost wanting to release narcissistic tendencies.  Then I realize, that I'm not a true narcissist because I empathize with those around me.  I truly feel other peoples pain and wish I could fix it.

But, there IS a part of me that whispers how much easier it would be to just admit that no one else does it right, or that I should be the center of their world, or some other inane bullshit.  In the next breath, that same voice whispers that I'm not worthy to be the center of anyone's world, or that I'm the one who is wrong.

Both of those voices can kiss my ass!  I'm not perfect, but I am pretty damned amazing.  I'm loyal to a fault.  I'm honest (also to a fault usually).  I'm smart, funny and a whole lot of fun to be with.  What I'm not is a pushover or a doormat.  At least, not as much as I used to be. 

I'm still working on all of it, and am slowly making new discoveries about myself. 

I'm not perfect, but I could do anything if I wanted to.

Atta boy!

There have been many times that I've been proud of each of my kids.  Last night, The Linebacker outdid himself and I'm so very proud of the person he's becoming.

He played two football games last night, and even though he was hot, tired and sore, he gave his all.  For every minute, of every game, he played with everything he had.  Not only did he demonstrate good sportsmanship, he demonstrated a helluva lot of heart!

He played for the 7th grade team, which is short a couple players now due to injuries.  He started out playing defense for them, but about halfway into the game an offensive player got hurt so he took that position too.  By the time that game was over, The Linebacker had already racked up a lot of field time, but he headed off to meet his team mates on the 8th grade team. 

The 8th graders were on fire and shut the other team out, 28-0.  They played HARD through all  four quarters.

By the end of the night, Wyatt had racked up 3 really nice tackles and some assists. For no bigger than he is, that kid can hit like a freight train. 

Am I proud of his performance last night?  Of course, I am!  I'm crazy proud of how he played.  But what I'm most proud of is the attitude he showed.  He gave everything he had for both teams.  He didn't look at playing for the younger team as an inconvenience or act as if  it wasn't "his" team so it didn't matter.  He put the good of the teams ahead of himself, and I couldn't be more proud of that. 

He's not the star of the team, he's not the least talented player, but he's a good solid player that tries hard and is dependable.  That's a good place to be, if you ask me.

If he hadn't made one single play, I wouldn't be any less proud of him than I am right now.  He was a true team player, and put a large number of others ahead of himself.  I'm so thankful for that.

It's nice to know that in this world of instant gratification and downright selfishness, there's at least one young person who understands what it is to gain by giving.  That person is my kid.

Yeah, that's my boy!

The Linebacker Dance?

I was finally importing the pictures I took of The Linebacker's first football game of the season, and this video made me laugh.  I forgot about even catching it, but it's makes my heart smile because it's just so....him!  The kid just cracks me up every time I'm around him. 

And yes, that's me wondering why I was taking a video in the first place! Apparently, I fumbled around and hit the wrong button...hey, it happens. A lot.  But, I'm glad it did, because it makes me laugh every time I see it.

I also learned a couple of days ago that the coaches asked him to help fill in on the offense for the 7th grade team, as well as playing his defense position on his 8th grade team.  Apparently, the 7th graders had just enough boys to form a team, but not enough for any of them to get a break during the game, so he and a couple other boys were asked to help out.

When I asked one of the coaches about it, he said that The Linebacker demonstrated good sportsmanship and a good attitude, so they felt like not only would he play hard for the younger team, but he would set a good example for them too.

I was beyond proud of him, and so touched by the compliments. 

That same day, one of the teachers asked The Linebacker and another boy if they would volunteer to help the Kindergarten kids.  They will basically help them get used to the school, assist them with homework, and generally just be their "Big Brother" for whatever help they need.

It makes me feel so good that they are acknowledging what a kind, giving soul he is.  To me, it's a good testament to his good nature and loving attitude, and I'm very proud of him.

I hope that no matter what he does in life, where he goes, or who he becomes, that he always remains such a good person.   I hope he always remembers that family is important and being true to yourself is a must.  I pray he continues to stand up for what he believes in and protects the underdog.

I hope he learns valuable lessons from the mistakes he's seen others make, and doesn't repeat the folly. 

I hope he's always him.