Love, Life, and Loss

I am awake tonight, exhausted, but sleep evades me. My family is going through tough times, my immediate, and my extended. This is a contemplative and reflective time in my life.

Last Thursday afternoon, the world lost. The world is still the world, minus one of the sweetest souls I have ever had the privilege to meet, and for that soul, I grieve. My cousin, my grandmother's niece, Judy, passed away today after having a long and grueling surgery Wednesday. The surgery lasted fourteen hours, and her body simply did not recover. She lost a battle, and we lost what Heaven gained.

Judy was my mother's first cousin, so my second. We have not spent extenuated time together, but I love Judy so very much. I am so deeply saddened for her sister, for her children, grandchildren, cousins, and aunts. My grandma was her aunt, but only four years her senior, so they were more like sisters or close cousins.

I am sad for Judy's closer relatives, but I am also sad for myself. I am sad that I will never hear her laugh again. Her laugh was beautiful and contagious. I am sad that I can never make her laugh again. When I'd crack a good joke, how I loved to see her face light up, and her eyes squint in delight until tears shimmered at the corners. She was a light-hearted soul who did not take herself too seriously. Everyone loved her, and she will be forever missed.

Once again, death makes me rethink my life. Once again, I vow to myself that I will do better. I will cherish my Gram so that when the day comes, I won't have regrets. I will foster good relationships between my kids and their elders, because I know I am better for having known so many who are no longer with me. I will relish the moments I spend with my family. I'll soak in their laughter, let it permeate to my very core. I'll take pictures, whether they want me to or not, and I'll be in pictures, whether I feel fat or ugly or not, because someday, I hope someone looks at my pudgy, smiling face and says, "I just want to feel her squeeze me tight again. I just want to hear her laugh again."

I guess that is all for now. I just want her to squeeze me tight again. I just want to hear her laugh again. Farewell, sweet, sweet Judy.

That Is Your Box. I Have My Own, Thank You.

I was inspired today by a friend, and inspired by a couple of friends and family members during this past week. They all, in a sense, said the same thing to me. I was in an eerie zone in my mind, a tunnel, hearing these words in different phrases and voices, echoing, saying the same thing, reading them like floating graffiti. "Just be you. No one should have to subdue or hide who they are for someone else's comfort." "Maybe that is what you're supposed to do. Awareness starts with one." "I love you for you." These people lifted me up, and they had no idea how much I needed it. I am grateful.

Sometimes, we, at least I think I speak for many here, hesitate to call ourselves artists. That's what I am, but I still hesitate to say that sometimes, afraid that people will look at me and be skeptical of my level of talent and skill, afraid people will look at me and roll their eyes, thinking that "being an artist" is an excuse for my shortcomings or eccentricities. We, and I speak for artists who feel the same as me, are expressionists. There were many impressionists, painting their impression of the world around them. I am an expressionist. I do not just paint, so painter is not a good classification, nor is photographer, writer, or poet. Maybe that word has been coined before, but I have never heard or read it. We express the feelings we have within ourselves, and the feelings we feel for others and broader worldly situations. Expression. Expressionist.

I express myself, on impulse. I am impulsive. Is this a gift or a curse? Both, I suppose. The fact is that people with strengths in some areas have weaknesses in others. It's a balance. For every thing at which I excel, there are many things at which I am deficient, inadequate, or struggle. While my creations of written, photographic, or artistic nature may be beautiful, inspiring, thought provoking, or wonderful in any number of ways, my impulsiveness carries over into every part of my life. I impulsively clean like a mad woman...but cannot manage to keep anything in order consistently. I have to keep myself in check not to spend money impulsively, especially when I do not have it. I write with ease when I am inspired to do so. I photograph and process pictures quickly when I am inspired. However, writing consistently, or getting photography jobs done that I am not excited about are as difficult for me as keeping my dishes and laundry done.

I seem to feel things with more intensity than many people do. I feel joy. I feel pain. I get overwhelmed. Not only my own pain and joy, but also the pain and joy of others. I feel. I ask myself, "Do 'normal' people struggle like this?" Well, I am normal, and I am not. Many things I have read say that I am typical of an artist. I am normal in that realm, I suppose. The same aspect of my being that allows me to write, photograph, and create in an effective manner, allow me to be inspired, also make me compassionate, excitable, quirky, eccentric, susceptible to depression and getting extremely overwhelmed, susceptible to be affected by the anguish of others, and ultimately be consistently inconsistent.

I feel that everyone is gifted in at least one area, and everyone struggles. While my natural state of being is like that of an unstable molecule, at risk of coming apart, constantly bouncing around, it is not an excuse for me to bound fecklessly through life. People can tell me that I am good, and they can tell me that I am going to be okay, that I am going to make it, but at the end of the day, I see what I have not accomplished. I see where I struggle. I see those shortcomings, and I let them be a road block to my success. It is a struggle for me to be consistent, but I must struggle to overcome this in order to be successful.

When you see someone who does not do as well as you, do not look down upon this person. You do not know their journey. You do not know their struggles. You do not know where they have been nor where they are going. There is something at which they excel more than you. Do not try to fit yourself in their box, and do not try to cram them into yours. That causes nothing but pain. Love people. See the good. Lift people up. Your words matter. "Variety is the spice of life." "It takes all kinds." Seeing the good in others does not shade the good in yourself. It illuminates it.

Several people this week have inspired me, to do what I do, inspired to be what and who I am, and they have inspired me to drive on. I have to clean house. I have to get my children to school on time. I have to complete my homework. I have to get my oil changed. And, I have to be me. I have to struggle, and I have to conquer. We all do.

Sometimes I write what I call "blurbs." Diana Gabaldon, my favorite author, calls them nuggets. They are little things that pop into my head that may not have a place at the moment, but I feel they are valuable. Eventually, they will work their way into some work I create in the future. Here is one.

"She danced in the rain. It rinsed away her burning tears, chilled her skin, hardened her nipples, set her soul ablaze - anew, and painted a smile upon her face. She was alive."

Words...May They Never Hurt

Tonight, my heart is heavy laden. This time last year, my cousin lost a battle. It was a battle within himself that no one really knew he was fighting. This evening, a young man, only a year older than my daughter, lost a battle. I did not know him, and I do not know the circumstances. I only know his name, that he was from my community, the high school my daughter will attend next year, and I know the means of his demise.

Our community is shaken. I am shaken. I ask myself, "What am I teaching my children? Is it enough?"

Am I teaching my children the potential power of their language? Words are powerful. "Common Sense," Thomas Paine, 1775-76, those were powerful words. "I Have a Dream," Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., 1963, those were powerful words. These words have inspired millions, in a very positive manner. Hitler's words inspired. They inspired millions of people to march with the Nazi army and exterminate their fellow human beings, their fellow countrymen. It is rumored this evening, that the words of fellow students pushed a young man to his breaking point, and I, in my heart, feel a sadness with unbearable weight, that that child could easily be mine one day. I feel a responsibility, because the aggressors, as well, could easily be my children one day. My hope and heart's prayer tonight is that neither of those is ever my child.

We, as parents, have a responsibility. We have a responsibility to teach our children that words are powerful, more powerful than a sword or single rifle, in Thomas Paine's case, more powerful than six million Jewish people, in Hitler's case. In the coming days, weeks, months, and years, I have a responsibility to use my power, my words, to teach, encourage, enrich, instill, and inspire my children. I must teach them that an utterance can cut deeper than knife, can bruise more painfully than a punch. I must teach them that they have to own their words. If they do not wish to own it, do not say it, and that is a lesson that I, too, must remember. If their words wound someone, they must mend it, and like a cut from a single swipe of one blade is mended with several additional, meticulous punctures of needle and thread, and exponentially more time, mending hurt requires more care and time and remark than the damage required. I must teach my children to resist group think and mob mentality. I must teach them to stand alone in the line of persecution and ridicule, if need be, in protection of another, that their words may ward off an aggressor, or encourage a downtrodden mate. Maybe the most important, and most daunting task of all, I must instill in my children a love for themselves. I have to, with my verbal might, convince each of my children, each day, that they are unique and beautiful and full of worth. With the power of my words and influence over them, while they are still young enough and impressionable enough, I must enrich their young minds, encourage them, inspire them to do good in this life, teach them to trust me and come to me, and I cannot just love them, but make them know that they are loveable.

Word.

Man or Monster?

I sit here tonight, thinking about my past. I am thinking about someone who hurt me and hurt my family. This person is not in my life any longer, but he is still counted amongst the living. A month and some days from now, he will emerge from prison, a free man. He will walk the streets. He may go to the mall. He will shop at Wal-Mart. He will fuel his automobile. He will have to make a living. I may end up seeing him on any one of such tasks. This has caused me stress and worry, not only because I do not want to see him, but also because I do not want him to hurt anyone in the future. Knowing what I know, I feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the general population. As far as the state of West Virginia is concerned, he has paid his price. Not much, if anything can be done to change the events of the upcoming month.

As I soul searched, attempting to put to rest my fears and anger, I found, within the recesses of my mind, good memories. For the first time in a long time, I have thought of this person as a mere mortal, a man, not the monster of nightmares past, present, and future. I have found in my heart, forgiveness, compassion, and even pity. I have smiled at memories I had forgotten. I pondered and pondered, and I believe I have come to a reasonable level of peace for the time being. I shared with a friend of mine, that this person, whom I regard as terrible, taught me to love painting and expressing myself artistically. This person, whose name is grit in my mouth, challenged my wit at a young age, and bragged of my brilliance. I believe, in his way, this person cared for my family and me. I believe, during his formative years, this person was harmed by someone who should have loved him. After serving ten years in prison, and having his ancient wrongdoings thrust into the forefront of his life, after having to endure testimony of unimaginable, shameful, and humiliating hurt he caused to people he once professed and promised to love, and knowing that the hurt he caused is hurt he once knew himself and still carries, I believe, in his heart, he feels unfathomable pain and guilt. My own heart is pity laden this evening.

One man has walked the earth that never hurt another. I measure nowhere close to His sanctity. No one does.

My prayer is for this man from my past to find healing and peace and never hurt another soul. I hope, if ever he and I have a chance meeting, I hope I have the courage to say to him, "Your actions are inexcusable, but all wrongdoing is. The hurt and effects of what you did last a lifetime, but you know that, don't you? I am sorry know one knew, and if they did, no one helped you. I hope you have never heaped that hurt onto another person since your release, and I hope you never do. I am sorry someone hurt you, and I forgive you."

I Am Woman

I am woman...I am woman, and I am quite capable of taking care of things on my own. Yesterday, after the sun went down, I wanted to mow grass. The mower was out of gas, and trying to start it caused the battery to die. I put gas in the mower, called the husband who is away for the summer for training, and hooked up the charger to the mower battery. This morning, the battery was still too dead to start the mower. You remember "phone a friend" from the millionaire show? Well, I phoned a father-in-law. He told me to hook the charger up on 50 amps, let it sit a few minutes, try to start it a few times for a few seconds to get the gas running through the engine. Guess what. It worked!

Armed with a ridiculous hat and sunblock, I set out to mow the grass, but it was not without complication. It seems when the grass is mid-calf length, very large rocks and sticks are well hidden. I avoided the ones I knew were there and the ones I could see, but there were several I hit. Hearing me mow today was like hearing a really bad drummer. Maverick stood in the yard screaming, which I could not hear because I was on a riding lawn mower, to tell me that the grass is too high. Really? The hose that I had asked him to move was stuck up under the grass. The whole creek probably did actually hear what he said, but I didn't even know he was talking until I saw him jumping up and down with his face all puckered up. I asked Pat to come and deal with the hose, and he stood at the corner of the house, motioning to me. I read his lips, “MOM, come here, SNAKE!!!” I stalked the wee snakey, and killed it with a shovel. I killed a snake! With a shovel! I can do anything! I looked at Jazmine and Patrick and said, “Your mom just did that. She so totally rocks.” My neighbors probably think I'm nuts, and I am not inclined to give a damn.

It's not one of those golf-course striped lawns, but the grass is a decent height, and there is one less snake in the grass. A place for my wee bairnies to play.

Doing things that women don’t typically do makes me feel like I can conquer the world. Look out, y’all. Who knows what I’ll do next. The possibilities are endless. Maybe I’ll change my own oil! I believe I may be growing testicles. It is a man’s world, after all. I may need them.

Smaller, Happier, Wrinklier

I turned th-th-th-thirrrty in January. Ewww, yuck! So, since then, I have lost around 26 pounds. That's good, right? Well, yeah, except that the more I lose, the more apparent the effects of thirty years of gravity and oxidation become. I am getting pretty serious about this whole aging thing. My gray hairs have doubled or tripled, maybe even quadrupled since I've been in college. Stress? Age? Who knows. I decided to kick up my beauty regimen a little, and being the weirdo-artist-photographer that I am, I found this a golden opportunity for some funny self portraits.







Kiss?

Sucks

Today, I wish I had never started school. My life is so chaotic and crazy right now, and my grades are suffering. I don't think I've ever been under as much stress as I am right now. Tonight, I'd just like to be in a clean well-lighted place, sitting at a table by myself, sipping brandy.