The Twilight Zone

Hey y'all! I hope you've been well, as have I. But I must admit than more than well I've been... different. In a good way.

See, of late I've felt wonderful and strong but I've cried loads as well. I've worried and not cared, I've been fed up and cinical and exploded and then been totally blissful and radiant and then angry and dissappointed. I don't remember being happier at times, and at others I can barely recognize myself. A few friends are actually worried!

I've allowed myself to be very pissed off and I've allowed myself to show it. And others to suffer it. But believe me, they had it coming.

And all this 'cuz I got too tired. And when I'm too tired, it can be an issue to others because they don't know what the heck to do with me. Deference, subtleness dry up in me and I become direct and even a tad bit heartless beyond this point of no return where there is just no freakin' stopping me and I don't give a damn how ruthless I am.

I passed that point recently. It felt great for me, very liberating. Others... not so much. I'm sorry if I hurt anyone, but I don't want to take back anything I said or did, or say and do. I can't anyway so whatever.

Overall, my tolerance for crap has diminished a great deal. I might be going over the edge a bit, and truth be told I lost it but there's only so much I can do. I am now deep within the twilight zone.

I just hope I don't over do it and am smart about it all.

Wish me the best!

Growing Up Stage by Stage

I've been thinking about the diferent stages of maturity and of the process as a whole. This is of course based on my own experience but I suppose it's the same for everyone. I'll tell you how it's been in my particularly case though. My starting point is college...

Growing up Stage by Stage

So I'm a freshman studying international relationships, and in less that a year I am also with child and married. Fast huh? Though I continued to go to the university while at the same time I tried to wrap my head around being a mom and a wife, my rationality was only slightly distrurbed, whereas I was in a stage I shall call Sheep Nature. I did what I thought best (which curiously enough was in line with most "authority figures" point of views) and kept going, kept walking, led docily. I was a young student/mom with an inherently sweet smile, a (usually) pacifying nature and high boiling point. Which invited help that allowed me to continue my education, and for which I am deeply grateful. Cooking recipes, house keeping tips, and how to be a "proper"wife included.

Sounds good huh? It's obvious that I was pretty passive, allowing what might be considered a certain amount of doting to come my way. The fact that I made very few decisions and had little to do with what happened around me didn't bother me, I just felt thankful and a little guilty.

However, this knowledge started to gnaw on me. I needed help, that's for sure, but did I really need it that badly? Did the fact that I was in my early twenties make me less apt to be a mother than older women? Or my nomadic past? Was I particularly sloppy in my housekeeping because of my upbringing? Did a appear to be meek and childish? Weak? Was I?

Some how, I felt like a little girl, not as capable as I'd felt before. I started to become more sensible to the condescention that was implied each time I received help. Frases like "she can't help it," "what can you expect if it's not what she's used to?" stung deep within me. Even the dumbest, littlest thing would silently aggravate me, and even though I knew they were meant with the best intentions, with no maliciousness at all, the mere amount of this kind of events started to piss me off.

And so began my Rebelious Stage. I began to be respondona, to talk back which apparently didn't add up to my "sweet"nature. True to my diplomatic calling, I don't believe I was ever rude though I was called cheeky on several occassions. I started to try and put emotional, even physical distance with what bothered me even if it made my workload bit heavier. And I started to let go, even reject, some of the guilt I'd felt up until then.

Before, there had been few times that I  had refused a suggestion. And when I did I would have this apolegetic smile, like a child humoring an adult as he got away with something he wanted. That's changed now, and though I still have that tendency with specific people, it's started to decrease as my guilt ebbs away. .

I'm not a lightbulb, but I have a brain and know how to use it. Perhaps my grades don't always reflect that, but they're not bad either. If you consider the relatively small amount of time I dedicate to studying, you can also imagine how well I'd do I organized my time better.

I won't wring your neck if you change the TV show I was watching, or if you insist I use a certain dress instead of the one I'd already chosen for a wedding. Being at I odds with others is common, and I won't win every dispute I'm presented with. So I chose my battles. I don't fight those that I don't really care about. But don't think I'm instinctively acquiescent lest you wish to be unpleasantly suprised.

The rest of the process is all blended together because I'm still in the midst of it. I sometimes feel like a crab, taking one step forward and one step back... sometimes I feel like I've finally achieved Independence, but since I'm not totally used to it I start to Wobble and doubt and lean on others.

I feel vulnerable, telling y'all about this. But at the same time it's like a Confirmation of my progress, evidence of my goals and a refusal to go back. You're my witness, and this is the commitment that I've made with myself.

Thank you for reading, and I hope your own process is going well.

Love,
Nancy B.

Vacation Time!

Belle Fille, Husband and I have been on vacation at the beach for more than a week now! LOVE!

We're going back tomorrow, but my tan/shrimpy skin color accounts for the long days in the sun we've been through. There's only so much sunburn I can take though, so coming back to reality won't be that bad. At least at first.

Plus, procrastination is creeping up on me ready to bite my behind 'cuz of schoolwork!

Princess or no?

 

Belle Fille is in that phase where she starts to like princess stuff, be it dresses, tv shows and movies, dolls...etc. Princess Sofia  has the lead right now from Disney Channel (or Disney Jr? Dunno) She really likes The Little Mermaid as well, but I had nothing to do with that. See, though I call my child princess and all, I'm not completely sure whether I want her to become a part of the princess culture.

I've often thought that the "sit look pretty and wait for prince charming to come" is filtered from movies like Sleeping Beauty and Barbie dolls. Sure Mulan is the exception and in recent years stronger female characters have been produced but I'm still hesitant. I do not want my kid to grow with such misconceptions.

And yet, I did. I loved Belle from Beauty and the Beast and dressed up as one princess or another and I had loads of Barbies. I'm afraid I adopted a few concepts I'm not proud of but grew out of them in time (thank goodness for books!). I didn't turn out that bad in spite of everything though. And like I said, there are a couple good things that can be picked up from shows now a days. For example, I don't remember if it was Cinderella II or III, but the aforementioned did her own thing instead of being a "proper lady". That much at least can be rescued.

Our culture is flooded with wrong ideas on what girls should be: how to look, what to wear, what to say. Augh. And yet, I can't protect Belle Fille from all that, I'm not even sure I want to because she needs to know both good and bad to be able to form a criteria of her own. So what to do?

I've decided that in my house princesses and Barbies won't be encouraged nor banned. Avoided as much as possible though. If she reeeaaally wants to see a certain program or toy, I suppose she could twist my arm into it. But I'll do close to whatever it takes to distract her before that. You've got my word for it.

PS: Truth be told, I have mixed feelings regarding Tinkerbell. I like the curiosity and non comformist way to do things she shows in her movies and though her dress is way to short, I don't really mind.

On Angels and Devils

I was on the bus the other day reading a marvelous book when taken over by a thought that grew into the following text. I wanted to share it with you. It's not what I would call polished, but it's mine and I own myself blunt or polished or whatever.

A word of warning: sometimes I talk (or write) funny/weird when I feel philosophical or just plain silly, and this was one such time. I could edit my writting to make it more "normal," but then again why would I want to? Please bear with me.

On Devils and Angels

It is said that devils walk where angels fear to tread. Yet what distinguishes the two? For spiritual truth left aside, aren't we all devils and angels at the same time?

I for one wish no one harm but am far from being a saint. In my human state I sometimes hurt unknowingly and without malice out of carelessness or ingnorance, sometimes have the reaction of a wounded animal that bites back. Though motive and context may be understood, I'm afraid a hurt can't be justified by these, and by this judgement mankind and I as a whole are found at fault.

Some more devilish, some more angelic. The proportion may vary but these two aren't mutually exclusive. Not quite a devil. Not quite an angel. But a woman. A man. A being. While our humanness condemns us because of our nature, we are also blessed because of it. We are capable of friendship. Of goodness. Of love. And more.

Truth is hard to find and hard to give when a heart has been hurt, and yet the noblest most angelic actions always involve reaching towards another heart. To lend a hand, share an insight, give a kiss or share a mind while at the same time being vulnerable to hurt or be hurt... what is more human than this?

Thus, I embrace the angel in me in to the same degree as my devil as to avoid madness and tearing in myself and others. And really it would be worse for me if I didn't.

And that was that.

Remember Cracks on the Sidewalk? It's kinda the same, my bad side belongs to me as much as my good side. If I try and deny it and pretend I'm all sweets and flowers, it'll be like sweeping dust under the bed. At some time it'll come out and bite my behind you know? Like my sweet Edmund Pevensie once said, "If there's a wasp in the room, I'd like to be able to see it."

We all have our inner "demons," negative traits that we are prone to have. Some can be harmfull, others not so much, but even something as dumb as being lazy will hinder you in life, and there are more dangerous vices. There are also times when your particular "devil" can be a blessing in disguise for yourself or others. For example, a rebel that stands agains a cruel government would be mistakenly called a devil by some.

Be carefull with what is "acceptable" or not. Does society dictate what is good and what is bad? Make sure that your criteria is yours, and make sure to debug what feeds it as well.

The only person that can legitimately judge you is you. So weight your actions and your motives, keep a short leash on what need be, but be kind to yourself. Keep your angel close and your devils closer.

Know thyself.

Does this make me a bad mom?

I took Belle Fille to the park the other in hopes off getting her tired enough for a nap on our return (I might have been the one needing the nap if truth be told). She was full of energy and since there's a playground right behind the park we went there afterwards until a van pulled up and unloaded half a dozen elementary kids. We weren't exactly exiled, but left before my toddler got hurt with all the crazed kids running around.

Since my child was reluctant on going back to the house we returned to the park, but by now I was spent. So I put her on top of this little hill.

Now, this is a very advantageous little hill. It's long enough for a small child to walk along it, but a bit steep and strewn with pebbles and the like so if the kid isn't careful the odds of falling down are pretty high. Oh, and the hill's bordered with some painful looking lava rocks. And like I said, this is where I let my kid play. On purpose.

Where was I? At the bottom of the hill of course. Near enough to stop her from falling into the harsh rocks. Far enough for her to have to walk a bit to hand me these weeds that only grew on top of the hill which I asked for several times. Bluntly put, I had her coming to and fro up and down the hill to give me these weeds I supposedly needed.

Why you might ask? To teach her a wordless lesson. If she rushed and was careless, she would fall on the pebbles. And she did fall plenty of times. At first. But after seven or so stumbles (I caught her a couple times before she hit the big rocks and actually got hurt) she started to be more careful and skilled until it got to the point where she no longer fell down while going up and down the before mentioned hill.

This is how Belle Fille learns best. If I warn her about something, she'll probably ignore me. If I sit her down and explain to her why she has to be careful, she might actually listen to me. But if I explain why she has to be careful and I let her try it on her own I can rest assured she will learn the lesson.

Sure, she might fall down a couple times, that's why I stay close to break any dangerous stumble. But I won't always be there to help her go up and down a hill, nor will I always be able to hold her hand every time there's an obstacle during her life. So I prefer she learns to be careful and to trust her own abilities as a child now, and not later when the going get's rough.

That means watching her fall down a couple times while she gets the hang of things.

I know it's for the best (it has to be), but the occassional bystander (older moms, sheesh) will give me a self-righteous look and I can almost hear them thinking that they'll be better parents than me because I let my little girl fall down and pick herself up.

Does that make me a bad mom? Nah I don't think so.

The Rats' Song

I sing. A lot. But this post isn't about me singing, it's about Belle Filles' new favorite song. Rememember when my little girl was teeny tiny and I sung her a lullaby? Well Muñequita linda isn't her favorite anymore (though we still sing it a lot). Now it's "Una Rata Vieja." This is an old, old song too, mexican lore, and though it doesn't strike as a tune for a child, it's sung to little children.

Una rata vieja
An old rat

Era planchadora
Would iron clothes

Por planchar su falda
For ironing her skirt

Se quemó la cola.
She burnt her tail.

Se puso pomada
She put some balm on

Se amarró un trapito
She tied a cloth on herself

Y a la pobre rata
And the poor rat

Le quedó un rabito.
Was left a little stump.

Will

Wake up the child in my head. Take her to the playroom. To the pool. To the park. Teach her to laugh. To imagine. To create. Teach her to fly.

Take her to the sky and sit her on the clouds. Tell her of the past. Talk about the mother. The king. The builder. Talk about their hopes and their fears. Their deeds.

Surround her with people and let her see. See them work, see them reep and laugh. And weep. See them around her, but also see herself reflected inside of them.

Stand back. She might cry and stomp her feet. She might sit and only think. Or she might search for what she needs. Take her hand, accept her peace and respect her thoughts.

Embrace the woman she is. The fighter. The lover. The dreamer. The thinker.

And one last thing Will. Never let her down.

I'maaa Back!

Hey y'all. I took some time off blogging because last semester was a bit heavy for me and I couldn't write leisurely without oh I don't know burning dinner or not doing papers for school or feeling guilty for not spending time with Belle Fille, my daughter. Or sleeping for that matter (we all know a girl needs her beauty sleep!)

But that was then, and I'm back into the rhythm of things now. This means I'll be regularly posting again, and I'm sure my mental health will thank me for it.

If you're a new reader of my blog, Welcome! If you're a regular Thank You Doubly!

So yeah, this is me Nancy B.

Cheers!   

Mommy will be home soon my love

 

Last night as I lay in bed with Belle Fille in my arms, I felt a slight tug at my heart thinking that since the start of this semester, I haven’t spent as much time with her like when I was on summer vacation. It’s a complex feeling: I don’t feel guilty about going to college instead of staying home with her all day, but I wish I’d organized my time better so that she didn’t resent the change.

I’m not exactly worried about her (she’s as independent as ever) but I start to hesitate as I return to an image from the afternoon of her hitting her head on a window pane and crying out one word huddled in my arms: mommy, mommy, mommy. That’s all she said for a few minutes until she calmed down. Mommy, mommy. It broke my heart especially because I spent most of yesterday doing homework and felt pangs of regret. Was she calling out to me in this manner because she missed me too much? Did she feel upset because I didn’t spend time with her like she’s used to?

In fact, Belle Fille just started sleeping cradled in my arms a few weeks back. Before, she would say “move” if I held on to her for too long when we were going to sleep. Now it’s become routine for her to lay by my side with one of my arms around her for a little while before she eases out and stretches and sleeps. Is it because she’s grown more attached to me? Or is it because she needs me more now that she’s older. I don’t know.

The past week was that of adjusting back into university mode, so it’s been more of touch and go rather than planning out my time. But I’ve definitely got to get my stuff together ‘cuz it’s not just me, or even Hubby that I’ve got to consider, but my child, my sweet baby girl that I cherish and that is in my care. I am aware that time is short as I’ve seen her grow so quickly. I don’t want to waste my time, rather, I’ll consciously make most of the time I’ve got so that while still getting things done at school and at home, my family knows And Feels that they are the most important to me, what I most enjoy.

My beautiful Belle Fille. Mommy will be home soon my love.

A moment of hesitation

There's been an outbreak of babies in my neighborhood. Just on my block are three newborns, beside two others that're slightly older. I've been visiting to check out the cuties and see how their mom's are doing, and up til now all is well. Only... well, holding these little bundles has opened this feeling in me that I'm not very familiar with. For a few seconds, holding this tiny little girl in my arms, smelling her sweet, clean baby scent, I had this longing of having another one of my own.

I mean, you know I have Belle Fille and I love her and have so much fun with her now that she's a toddler and she's so funny and spontaneous my heart swells up with pride constantly. But she was also born very big, and grew so fast so I had a very short period of time with her as a "newborn". And so, for a few seconds I want to blurt out "can I keep her?", especially to my neighbor that had twins so she should have one to spare right?

Then I remember zombiesh days when the moon and the sun blended into one seemingly eternal and slightly timeless night where you get up to feed the baby every three hours regardless of how sleep deprived you were. And I think I can handle that.

Then I worry a little about taking care of Belle Fille and the newborn simultaneously, and wonder if my eldest might get jealous of her sibling (though if I could judge from past experiences, I don't think she'll be the jealous type). And I think I can figure it out somehow.

I don't really mind a messy home, so that doesn't affect my decision. Hubby would love to have another child soon, and I always wanted my kids to be close in age so they could share the same experiences and grow up together. One by one any inquiry and query become fuzzy and disappear in such a way that I almost consider getting pregnant again. Almost.

And then the rational college student in me kicks in and freaks out. "What about school? Will you take another break? How long will it take for you to catch up with all the subjects? Will you take zoloft to manage all the stress? When the heck are you going to finish college!? "

Nope. I do not want to have another child anytime soon. From personal experience I know that things don't always happen the way you had them planned. And if another baby came we'd manage somehow. I'm not hard headed for nothing. I'm a machetito! But I will do what can be done to plan having another baby somewhere into the future when I've finished school.

Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the neighboring newborns with the plus of not having to wake up periodically in the night to feed then.

To Stand Whilst Sitting Down

Yo! How’ve you been? I’ve been, you know been. Vacations have been on for a while now, and I’ve been lazing my head off, if I’m allowed to invent a word or two. Really, after a difficult semester it’s only fair. Also, I don’t have internet at my home right now, so when I do get internet access I do as most mortals do on such occasions… and head straight to Facebook to catch up on what my friends have been up to. Don’t you just love how FB has legitimized being nosy?

Anyhoo… as to my person, like absolutely everything else that exists in this world, changes these past few weeks have made their appearance. You too, but you know me I like to document consciousness. Does that sound weird? Sure hope not, I'm just a strong supporter of knowing oneself as I’ve mentioned several times before in my posts, and I try to live and write according to what I think. Whatevs…

These changes haven’t been physical, or personality, or behavior wise. They’ve been paradigm wise. Some of the more mentally and physically exhausting I’ve been through. Why? Because we all think we’re so clever and have everything figured out and have excuses for everything except for the mistakes or faults of others. But as for ourselves, we minimize  our errors, and justify like we majored in law. To voluntarily humble yourself, accept that you’re wrong and care enough to do something about it. That’s a tad hard. And that’s what I’ve been up to.

I dunno if you ‘ve noticed, but I like myself. With my good and bad qualities, my good and bad moments. I know I’m not a genious, nor a model, nor a saint but find contentment in knowing that I try hard each day to be better. Except when I become too comfortable and allow more… mediocreness (Hmmm, I sure hope that word's in the dictionary) that I usually would.
 
I knew I wasn't doing my best, but I didn’t care as much as I should’ve. It led to conflicts with Hubby, and reflecting upon this situation, I uprooted a few things about my character that I had to work on. Like thinking I’m so clever I don’t need advice on x or y. I take my own parameters and think they’re precise, and stop taking into account The Parameters that supposedly guide me, as well as Hubbys’ parameters, which can be very different from my own.

To compromise is not something I’m very good at, because I tend to give away or commit to more that I actually feel comfortable with, and I’m kinda stubborn. To illustrate this trait, I lean on the example of a child who is told to sit, and eventually forced to sit, but says “in my insides I’m actually standing up!” You get the idea.

Only sometimes you’re wrong, and you should be humble and sit down on the outside as well as on the inside where only you know what you’re thinking. And this is the lesson I recently learned. Or at least, I’m in the process of learning, because old habits, particularly mental habits, where everything we do or don’t do starts, die hard. I’ve tried to not draw it out nor blow it out of proportion, so I’m taking more preventive actions rather than damage control. But I’m glad I’m learning this now and not later when it’s harder to change.

Humbleness, I welcome you. Please stay!

Don't Grow Up... It's a Trap! - part I

I recently saw a very funny pic that caught my attention. It said " Don't grow up.. It's a trap!" (See pic). And I couldn't agree more. Don't get me wrong, I'm not referring to youthful irresponsability nor anything like it. There's just a huge difference between growing up, growing old and ripening.

From my view point, growing up is something like conforming or adapting to the "adult" world: go to school, or get a job,to work, to become boring, get married, have kids, pay your taxes...etc. To a certain extent we can't escape from this, it's natural that life goes on and our circumstances and responsibilities have to change, but not necesarily us you know. I'm sure a regular individual is capable of retaining the essentials of their character as the years pass by even though their personality adapts and morphs depending on the circumstances.

Remember that our character depends on the inner traits that distinguish us from others, while personality is the mask we show the world, the way we face it. Maybe you have a playful nature, but when you're in a bussiness meeting you won't display that trait very often will you? Though there is a time and a place for everything, one is genuine in proportion to how the personality reflects the character. Growing up does mean being more "responsable", but the process doesn't have to change you, much less force you to conform to the likings of others or become "boring."

Growing old... is a sad, sad thing. Physically aging is not sad: what's sad is when as a person grows older and their mind is too lazy or just doesn't want to mature at the same rate. And so, we have thirty year olds, forty year olds that behave like teenagers and have tantrums like little kids. They don't understand the value of responsability, of a relationship... worse still, if they got married or have kids. It's one thing to be feckless, and another thing completely to drag others into it, specially children. The poor little things have paid way too many times for their parents mistakes.

And last of all, my favorite: Ripening. Just like a delicious fruit that you savor when it's ripe... that's what we should all aim at. It's knowing oneself, and respecting and appreciating oneself with the passing of time. We're all so wonderful and full of life and energy as children... wouldn't it be great if we could somehow keep and project all of that as adults? Sure, it's not the same things that worry us as children and as adults, and the latter are also much more tired as the norm, but isn't it worth the effort?

To accept oneself, to love oneself... to be proud of who you are. To allow our minds to be suprised by the big and little things... to smile as a butterfly passes by, to wonder where the leaves in the wind have been, to ask questions... to be like children in our hearts. What an incredible gift not only to ourselves, but to those that will follow in our footsteps, those around us. It's so easy to go with the flow and allow ourselves to give in to that frown more often, to wear a scowl, to answer bitingly instead of looking for a positive solution. But let's not give in: it is well worth it.

 Let's all ripen shall we? We'll enjoy life so much more.

The Internal Sea

How deep the ocean is, and the sea with its many colors and eternal waves. With the life inside it, and its currents, and its stillness.

It's bliss to imagine all the wonders, the mysteries, the stories it holds but just like the ocean inside us most prefer to wade near the shore and just touch the surface.

They're content when their reflection shows them what they want, upset when it doesn't, but only truly happy when it shows them who they really are.

However, they'll end up returning to the beach.

Why restrict the ocean to its limit when there is so much strength and beauty trying to burst from its within? Take a dip in your sea, in your emotions, dreams, desires and more.

Don't be afraid of getting lost because only then will you find yourself. Don't be afraid to drown because you were meant to swim and not just that.

For only sailors that know the sea can sail to far away places.

And here I have...

We went to church today and dressed up fancy (skirt and pink shoes). I used for the first time a new bag that my mother in law gave me that more than a bag is destined to be a diaper bag. As I transfered Belle Filles' stuff from the old diaper bag to the new stylish bag/diaper bag I thought of the different things I have in there:

1.- Six to seven diapers
2.- Two outfits for Belle Fille
3.- Melox for her bottom (better than any rash cream I've ever tried on her)
4.- A bottle of water
5.- Baby milk powder (vanilla, mind you. It's the only flavor Belle Fille accepts)
6.- Baby wipes
7.- My cellphone
8.- My camara

No matter how hard I try to pass my bag as a fashionable handbag, with that content, I will always have an undercover diaper bag.

The art of digressing

I feel like this is a confession of some sort.

As you know, I am very fond of digressing. Allowing my thought to wander, becoming seemingly more random as I get more and more ambiguous... It would seem as if my thoughts start to become disjointed, unrelated... but do they? Truth is, I (usually) say what I say and do what I do following a path of some sort that only I know. Sometimes my object as I seem to  verbally wander aimlessly is to amuse myself, sometimes to amuse and confuse others, sometimes to create a distraction and cloak something else.

The mode may vary, depending on my audience, my purpose, the theme, and of course my mood.

Sometimes the people that sample my digressions are close friends and can more or less understand depending on how well they know me. In these cases, depending on how much I want them to understand I also tend to give less sutil hints with my gestures and my eyes. With strangers I don't digress very often, and in the rare case I do I'm just amusing them or myself but not letting them in on any substance like I do with friends.

I have two main purposes when I digress. One is for amusement, another is for expressing myself. But I mix them very often, one leading to another. For example, I might start with something trivial and play with the subject, displaying an exagerated version of my scatterbrainyness. My friends are amused, and I'm having a good time. But if I have the need to express myself without needing others to understand I will do so in a veiled manner, keeping in tune with my lighthearted joking and messing around. But if you actually make sense of what I say, and you know me, you might understand what I mean. What I want to say, but don't necessarily want you to understand.

The theme... well you can imagine. The more personal, the more dim and in breadcrumbs I am. The less, the more literal. Then again, I can be very literal but say things in such a manner that I seem to be speaking in metaphors. I love to play with different elements of ambiguity.

My mood... well I have to feel good to digress because for me it's another way of being playful. When I'm angry or frustrated or sad I become very blunt and to the point. So the opposite feelings like being carefree, lead me to beat around the bush, to digress.

I recently talked to a friend about this matter, and laughed myself silly. See, back in high school when I felt more like digressing (just in case you haven't realized it yet, this sentence has a hint: refer to last paragraph), some of my friends actually thought there was something wrong with me! Like I had an attention deficit disorder or something! I thought they knew I was fooling around! I mean sure, I never explained this to them, but still! Oh the funnies...!

Though I now hug myself with glee at their being so naive, this makes me value my friends more. Even though they thought there was something wrong with me, they never made fun of me, nor made me feel less. They were always sweet, always genuine. I was very lucky to meet such people, and am luckier for still having them as friends.

I don't know if any of you are reading this, but thank you friends. Thanks for putting up with me even if you didn't understand me. I love y'all! :)

Scottish Garden

"If I ever do grow up," said she, "I want to be like that."
"Oh yes Odette, those flowers are very beautiful."
"Flowers? Yes, they're nice. But I'm not cut out to be a wall flower ma'am, I want to be as strong and as sturdy as that wall."

Listography: Top 5 things I love about kids

The end of semester marathon has really taken a toll on my brain, I can't string two words together just for the fun of it. So I'm particularly grateful to Kate over at Kate takes 5 for having decided to have Listography this time of the month. (Thanks Kate!)

Listography: Top 5 things I love about kids

1.- I love all the wacky, crazy things the young'uns think up. They think out of the box so to speak, because they haven't grown old and "proper" yet and built themselves one like most adults! You want to find a critical thinker, ask a kid that is completely unbiased, has no prejudice and is honestly curious about something. You'd be suprised.

2.- I love how I am with kids. See, I'm afraid I haven't totally grown up yet, I'm at the stage where you start to go from "playful" to "childish". Buuuuut when it's with kids I'm playing around, I'm more legit! x)

3.- Children don't mind making a mess and don't bother if you don't clean up. Need I say more?

4.- Since they believe pretty much anything you say, they inspire you to believe too. Who doesn't gloat when their child says to his friend: "My mom is the best mommy in the world!"?

5.- They avoid the complications and bureaucracy that adults for some bizarre reason like. They don't see that the house chores aren't done yet, your clothes don't match and you didn't "schedule" a visit to the zoo. Their logic is car + idea of visiting the zoo= visit to the zoo, and they're out the door! Spontaneous it is!

Forks

You know, my reading has been very ecclectic of late: with common ground, but contradictory. With repeated themes but viewed with different paradymes. Some well known, some totally unknown. Subjects ranging as far as psychology, phylosophy, religion, politics... (I've been using my bus time well! x) If I allowed these new thoughts true entry into my brain and heart they would pivot me in new ways and new paths.

No matter what I read I'm usually very good at filtering the new information into
a) The brain. Archived as information or culture, but not really letting it seep into me or
b) My heart. Where I allow thoughts the liberty to materialize in my behavior or worldview.

But now my own logic has been trying to make me adjust my judgement. So I would come back with my head full of new information and my heart filled with confusion.

Thankfully, the wave has passed and reflecting on all this I've come to see this process in a different light.

Of course I'll find different viewpoints than I'm used to if I don't discriminate my readings. If I wanted to avoid the clash of ideas I would discriminate what I read and shut myself up in my comfort zone. But I don't want to do that, I refuse.

On the other hand, it's perfectly normal to encounter new things, it's healthy. It's part of the thesis + antithesis = sinthesis that flows in this dialectic world. It's necessary.

Hmmm...

Wisps of smoke

I confess myself a complex and contradictory being, with halfhearted whims, powerful outbreaks and irrational inconsistencies. A romantic and realistic heart and soul. I thrive in my silent contemplations, as I close my eyes and free my soul forgetting reason and reality and I am a queen and a pauper, a danser, a damsel, and a poet.

As a queen I am haughty and arch my neck and my head bows to no one. And my choice is backed by power and I relish in it and in the power of my decisions. And I choose to be cruel or forgiving and the realization of each caprice and desire of mine depends on my wish of making them true or not.

And then I am a pauper and I thirst water and hunger bread. And I am thankful for each drop of rain that quenches my thirst and for each morsel that no matter the taste I find delicious because I managed to eat. And I thank the warm wind for being my coat and the world for being my home.

Then a noise arouses me from my slumber and my eyes open once more and I am who I used to be. And I stroke my babys hair and I caress her cheek as she sleeps and then so do I.

When again I see I am a passionate dancer and my skirt swirls like a river and my steps have the beat of fire. My hands and my eyes speak with each move, each stop, each curve I make soundlessly. And I am an object of awe and admiration, completely out of reach and slightly out of mind.

Then there is silence and my dress is bleached and the wild in my eye disappears and I am a sweet and fragile damsel. And I clutch at my throat and I shut my eyes and hug my knees and hide. I am scared and shut my heart and my mind and lie still in the pureness of my soul.

When I stand I am poet and my lips tingle and my eyelids bat and my stomach quivers from feelings that aren't there. And my love and my woes, my hopes and my fears pour out of my heart and my soul until I feel empty but find this emptiness oddly filling and satisfaction is mine. 

I am a somewhat ashamed and somewhat proud that I allowed these wisps of smoke escape from my mind while the thoughts and desires that mothered them have never yet seen the sun and the window of their materializing is incredibly small. 

And I pretend I am not all these things and I pretend that I am too.

And they exist. And they do not.