tryingtoprofileinlessthan600characters
Your Interests:
It depends on the day. Some days I'm not interested in anything...just going through the motions...coffee, shower, work, work-out, eat, sit on the couch and watch tv until I'm sufficiently tired to fall asleep and stay that way for at least a few hours... other days I love my life.
If I'm inside my beautiful house, it might be the way the sun shines through the red vase. If I'm outside it might be the way the stars look in a winter sky or the way the wind is blowing the clouds into long thin ribbons, it might be the carving on the eaves of an old house, or an old Asian woman who smiles at me sweetly. Sometimes it's algebra, working feverishly to remember the irrefutably logical steps so that I don't lose my comprehension, or pausing in a book to look up "lugubrious". Sometimes it's whether I look sexier in my high-heel boots or my pointy-toed kittens.
Sometimes it’s my beautiful adults who were once my children: Monkey, Notdog and Trueman, Bigboy and Bella and their new baby girls. When I’m with any of them I’m fascinated, when I’m with all of them I feel awed. It’s only when I’m away from them that I allow myself to ponder on the fact that I produced them, nursed them and tried to teach them what they would need to know to survive…and they have and now they are producing and nurturing the most beautiful new generation. What a gift. How could I have known while I was hitchhiking around San Francisco with the fat little Bigboy on my hip that I would know this kind of joy when at last my job was done…and it is. Even though they all want me to continue to mother them, I don’t. I feel like I have no more to teach them. Now I let them teach me.
About Me:
I was a child of the sixties...a victim of the Summer of Love, a welfare mother living in the Haight-Ashbury. I believed in the Johns (Kennedy and Lennon). I believed Jimmy Carter when he said the reason we had to line up for gasoline was that we were running out of fossil fuel... It had never occurred to me...but I believed.
So I took my three babies and left California; drove with my husband to a 70-acre farm in Kentucky and learned how to drive a mule and wash diapers in a bucket of cold water. I learned that cows really do have to be milked and outhouses really do fill up and fucking really does result in more babies. I gave birth two more times in the same bed I'd conceived them in. I learned that work is infinite and later, much later I learned that play is precious.
Later, after the children had all wandered off to find their own lives and the husband had wandered off to find his, I learned that there was still so much to learn...I was amazed at how much information was accumulated at the university. I felt like I was living my young fantasy, walking across a sunny fall campus on my way to the library to find out what made Aung San Suu Kyi a heroine. I learned how to run. I learned that it was all a matter of believing in yourself...and I do. But sometimes it's others I can't believe in.
I cannot stop the war. I cannot stop horrible violence perpetrated on the most innocent beings imaginable. I wonder if I will ever meet my "soul mate". I meet souls all the time who I share a connection with: Jasmine who taught me to run and helped me understand why the peregrine was flirting with me...although she finally came to admit she also had no idea, my friend Pixie at the Museum who is a ball of fire and takes me out on a Wednesday night to see the Mosquitoes at the Dame, or the young man I met in the woods who helped me find my way back to the parking lot and shared his water-tube and told me he too loved eagles. Sometimes life feels ripe with promise and sometimes it feels old and worn.
It depends on the day. Some days I'm not interested in anything...just going through the motions...coffee, shower, work, work-out, eat, sit on the couch and watch tv until I'm sufficiently tired to fall asleep and stay that way for at least a few hours... other days I love my life.
If I'm inside my beautiful house, it might be the way the sun shines through the red vase. If I'm outside it might be the way the stars look in a winter sky or the way the wind is blowing the clouds into long thin ribbons, it might be the carving on the eaves of an old house, or an old Asian woman who smiles at me sweetly. Sometimes it's algebra, working feverishly to remember the irrefutably logical steps so that I don't lose my comprehension, or pausing in a book to look up "lugubrious". Sometimes it's whether I look sexier in my high-heel boots or my pointy-toed kittens.
Sometimes it’s my beautiful adults who were once my children: Monkey, Notdog and Trueman, Bigboy and Bella and their new baby girls. When I’m with any of them I’m fascinated, when I’m with all of them I feel awed. It’s only when I’m away from them that I allow myself to ponder on the fact that I produced them, nursed them and tried to teach them what they would need to know to survive…and they have and now they are producing and nurturing the most beautiful new generation. What a gift. How could I have known while I was hitchhiking around San Francisco with the fat little Bigboy on my hip that I would know this kind of joy when at last my job was done…and it is. Even though they all want me to continue to mother them, I don’t. I feel like I have no more to teach them. Now I let them teach me.
About Me:
I was a child of the sixties...a victim of the Summer of Love, a welfare mother living in the Haight-Ashbury. I believed in the Johns (Kennedy and Lennon). I believed Jimmy Carter when he said the reason we had to line up for gasoline was that we were running out of fossil fuel... It had never occurred to me...but I believed.
So I took my three babies and left California; drove with my husband to a 70-acre farm in Kentucky and learned how to drive a mule and wash diapers in a bucket of cold water. I learned that cows really do have to be milked and outhouses really do fill up and fucking really does result in more babies. I gave birth two more times in the same bed I'd conceived them in. I learned that work is infinite and later, much later I learned that play is precious.
Later, after the children had all wandered off to find their own lives and the husband had wandered off to find his, I learned that there was still so much to learn...I was amazed at how much information was accumulated at the university. I felt like I was living my young fantasy, walking across a sunny fall campus on my way to the library to find out what made Aung San Suu Kyi a heroine. I learned how to run. I learned that it was all a matter of believing in yourself...and I do. But sometimes it's others I can't believe in.
I cannot stop the war. I cannot stop horrible violence perpetrated on the most innocent beings imaginable. I wonder if I will ever meet my "soul mate". I meet souls all the time who I share a connection with: Jasmine who taught me to run and helped me understand why the peregrine was flirting with me...although she finally came to admit she also had no idea, my friend Pixie at the Museum who is a ball of fire and takes me out on a Wednesday night to see the Mosquitoes at the Dame, or the young man I met in the woods who helped me find my way back to the parking lot and shared his water-tube and told me he too loved eagles. Sometimes life feels ripe with promise and sometimes it feels old and worn.
posted by Saint DesRosier at 8:07 AM
1 Comments:
Welcome, welcome to the highly addictive world of blogging.
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