Sunspots, resulting from intense magnetic activity on the sun are often seen as a dark spot because the temperature is cooler than the surrounding area. Solar flares, or sudden outbursts of energy, are usually seen around or as a result of sunspot activity and often disrupt satellite and communication systems. These phenomenon all too well offer the perfect metaphor for my psyche these days. I am a sunspot, feeling drawn to and repelled by so many things that I seem to incite small explosions of energy all around me, resulting in a whole lot of breakdowns in communication. To akin my psyche as a black dot on a bright surface is more literal than metaphorical at present. Being surrounded by a cloak of testosterone all day long, the craziness of the weather, the fragile economy and political climate not only offend my propensity for common sense but, like the magnetic activity on the sun, compel revulsion and devotion all at the same time. Like many of the unusual weather patterns we’re experiencing, my psyche feels the onslaught of new emotional weather patterns as well. Things seem to be changing faster in my world than my ability to adapt reasonably to them. The struggle to run a business and manage a home and family are challenges on the best of days, add to it the present climate (both figuratively and literally) and it is a wonder I keep my delicate sanity in tact. I know that sunspot activity is cyclical too,and am comforted that the craziness will pass…and it is my hope that my own personal sunspot activity will calm down in like fashion. Faith is my stronghold, and the knowledge that God will always have a better imagination than I do, so I better find a way to enjoy the ride.
Month: May 2011
Boys are Stupid
Please note: if I had multiple personality disorder, this post would belong to an emotional primordial element of myself that I blacked out into after walking downstairs into the man-cave and stepping on cat vomit on the carpet that has been there for months because it has literally petrified. I try to never go into the basement…for that very reason. Once in a while, though, I succumb to my optimist self, and believe the men in my house when they tell me the basement is clean and venture down into the pit. Well, like Charlie Brown keeps falling for Lucy’s football schtick I was blinded by my own optimism. The bastards lied. I didn’t lose emotional consciousness right away…I have dealt with all sorts of clashes with bodily fluids and wastes that are not my own, it was the array of filth, the biodegradable kind mingled with the non-recyclable kind and the ensuing stench rising up from the metamorphosis that pushed me over into blind rage….you know the kind that produces spittle from screeching unintelligible sounds like a she devil that has been caged way too long. I saw all too literally the remnants of all things tasteful and beautiful about our basement decor crumbling away and remember screaming something about acting like they were from the backwoods of Appalachia only to realize that I was insulting those poor backwoods people in Appalachia for using them in comparison to these animals. I know, by the look on their faces that I needed to put myself in a time out, so I opened a good bottle of white wine brought up some olives, salmon and almonds on a beautiful dish and locked myself in my room. After watching a mini Gilmore Girls marathon I felt my sentient self returning a bit…although I felt dizzy every time I heard them call me from the recesses of our house. I used to laugh at the antics of living in a household of boys. Now that they’re huge burgeoning men…I just think they’re stupid. The fact that their frontal lobes are non-functioning and they’re bombarded with hormones is of no comfort when their father mirrors the very things that are leaching away at my psyche. Pray for me.
American Idol
I admit it…I’m an American Idol fan. I’m not a fanatic…I don’t call in to vote, or obsess about my favorites, but I do watch it religiously every week. It is always exciting for me to see young, undiscovered talent, who would never otherwise have this kind of opportunity, break into the music business. I love music, and while my ears have near perfect pitch (due to the efforts of a tyrannical piano teacher) my vocal quality is best used in a huge choir where I can blend in and never be singled out. What a wonderful gift it is to sing , in fact the best fantasies I have are being able to belt out one of those high, strong notes. Anyway, last night’s program involved the final four, and I wept like a baby during many of the songs performed. Perhaps it’s been a long week, but it felt so good to be moved by something beautiful. I was relaxed, and felt the same kind of calm that I do after a massage. Of course it helped that I was the only one home…the men in my house snort and choke on their laughter that I am lame enough to cry over something beautiful. In the quiet solitary of my room, I could weep and blow and do that ugly cry that Oprah talks about with reckless abandon. The world seemed less bleak afterwards, though. The music literally tamed and soothed my soul.
License to Drive
Monday, I started this post after my eldest son successfully passed his driver’s exam but finished it a day later, and what a difference a day makes. After he finished his road test, his first words were “I feel giddy, mom.” You could see the new-found freedom on his face…He was already planning his cross-country trip to Comicon in LA this summer to which I replied…”Over my dead body…just because you can drive by yourself in a car legally doesn’t mean you’re going to drive BY YOURSELF IN A CAR ACROSS THE COUNTRY!” I felt compelled to drill into him the rules that he will abide by, that amazingly enough I’ve been repeating like a mantra since he was thirteen and was devastated because he believed literally that when you became a teenager then you could drive… I found myself repeating those same axioms most parents repeat when they realize the very same person who can’t remember to eat the sandwich he made for himself because he got distracted by something shiny, is on the road directing motor and metal at speeds up to…well I don’t even want to think about that. I was glad he faced this rite of passage successfully, yet had that sick feeling in my stomach when I called our insurance agent to add him to our insurance. Before the agent could even get back to me on how much our rates would go up…he had an “incident” which I won’t elaborate on, because it isn’t fair to him…and yes there is a huge but….BUT the universe was giving him a big in your face about not listening well enough to your mother’s wisdom. So the parking permit he got for the highschool will sit safely in my purse, and he will exist in indentured servitude this summer paying off his deductible. I watched his face collapse as I told him that half of any paycheck he got from working would go to his college fund, and another fourth would pay us back…this is after the government takes a third for their share. Life is tough sometimes. Truthfully? while I’m glad the incident was relatively minor, and he is learning a major life lesson, I do wish he could have had more that 24 hours to celebrate that sense of independence a driver’s license brings.
Vengeance is Mine, Sayeth the Lord
I’m of a split mind today. While the rest of the world is celebrating the death of Osama bin Laden, I can’t in all honesty say that I feel all that celebratory. What I do feel is relief, a bit justified and a quiet unrest that somehow when we put vengeance in our hands and out of God’s that we have made a great cosmic error that there will be a reckoning for . I’m reminded of a theological argument with a friend of mine on whether or not, had we the opportunity, we would have assassinated Hitler. I said I would not. I think the fact that Hitler died in shame by his own hand prevented him being lauded throughout history as a martyr for his cause. I can’t help but think it is a lack of faith in our God that we put his death in our own hands. I think of how Saddam Hussein was put to death, and what a coward he turned out to be. I kind of wish it were the same for bin Laden. If we could have forced him to stand trial for his crimes, or at least had him take his own life to prove his cowardice, it might have had a greater impact for change. That fact that his own wife was used as a shield to save him is such sad proof of his black nature. He is dead and there will most likely be pay back from other terrorist groups. I’ve been focusing on the sin of Eden, the arrogance of standing on an equal with God, we should know better than to make that mistake again. While I’m moved by the patriotism, I certainly don’t want to revisit the arrogance that an extreme patriotism can bring. Might doesn’t bring right. We are not invincible. God is not exclusive to America. I hope we can remember that as we move forward.