While driving to work the other day I happened upon KQED's Forum radio talk show and the topic just happened to be titled "Are Women Becoming Unhappier?" I only caught a 7 minute segment, but later in the day my neighbor, Jordana, told me she too caught a piece of it on her way somewhere and suggested I find the entire podcast online. So I did.
Hopefully this link will take you right there.
http://www.kqed.org/epArchive/R909240900
If not try this. Go to: www.kqed.org/radio/programs/forum
Once you are there find the calendar titled Episodes by Date and click on September 24th, then click on the title: Are Women Becoming Unhappier
I'd love to dialogue about it with other soul sisters. I'll wait a day or two before I post my thoughts in hopes that you have a chance to listen. I downloaded it to my iPod and took a walk in Madrone Canyon with Cooper. It's about 30 minutes long or 1.25 miles long or roughly seventeen trail markers (piss stops) long, for your average dog. I was able to really concentrate because Cooper is not really your average dog, he is so handsome and such a gentleman. He never interupts and is always, always thrilled to walk anywhere with me no matter what time of day or year. In fact, it just might be that if most woman could take a walk each day with a dog like Cooper, they would probably be much happier. He's available to borrow, anytime.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Stumbling in the Dark & Bumping into Scary Things
One Soul Sister's journey through a black hole:
lolagmoriguchi said...
Extreme senselessness has knocked against my door in the past as well. But now I am able to recognize the sound of its footsteps and can deviate from its pathway, as fast and as clean as the roadrunner. But it takes skill and its takes compassion, both of which I needed to develop. It was after I adopted Reina and my in-laws became the biggest target of my rage. I could not control my reactions, I could not express my unhappiness or understand what was happening to my relationship with my husband and his lack of support. Around this time I started to descend and go into a downward spiral. I lost interest in my husband and started fantasizing about other men, I wanted to have an affair and thought about it constantly. I was also thinking about leaving and moving back to the states [from Japan]. It was around this time when I also discovered the "Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath. I was putting together a project for my ESL reading class on the comparison of her and Virgina Woolf. I had always heard of the Bell Jar, but had never taken a serious look. It was an absolute thrill to read something that felt as intense and of the same emotional magnitude that I was feeling. I was also horrified by her writing, but in such a tantalizing manner, I could not believe someone so young had experienced such a decent. I felt so drawn to her and realized that depression and its darkness affects us all, despite our age or background. For some reason I was also (simultaneously) reading Stephen Hawkins personal story and discovery of black holes (don't ask me why). It is one of the most interesting books if you ever have the chance to read. As I was reading about his discovery of these black holes in the universe that one can "fall into" I kept thinking of Sylvia and her fall, it was exactly what had happened to her. She had been swallowed up by one. As I was thinking of this I imagined myself on a very important talk show with Mr. Hawkins who was very very interested in my questions. I asked him if one could fall into a black hole, why is it impossible to get out, as he had written about in his book. I questioned, that if there was an entrance into black holes we certainly would be able to go back out, right? His piercing blue eyes twinkled and sparked off a light illuminated by the TV camera and said, That's right Mrs. Moriguchi, but you must find it. In my own fantasy, I created the answer for myself. There is a way out of depression like black holes, but we have to find it. Unfortunately for Sylvia and Virgina they could not and suffered deeply, as there was not enough help for them. But, as you have mentioned my dearest soul sister, finding it is the biggest challenge and there are so many routes. Mine was to help myself first and find the compassion I so needed to get back to myself and my life. Once I had done that, I also stayed close to my friends and shared laughter about dying in-laws and how they aren't getting any younger, anything to ease my pain. I kept a diary and encouraged myself along with the love of my growing daughter. Her tiny feet early in the morning racing to my bedside and whipering "Mama its time to get us" is about the sweetest way to begin any day. As we all now and again stumble in the dark and bump into scary things, remembering that there is always a way out, can be our greatest relief.
September 12, 2009 6:46 AM
lolagmoriguchi said...
Extreme senselessness has knocked against my door in the past as well. But now I am able to recognize the sound of its footsteps and can deviate from its pathway, as fast and as clean as the roadrunner. But it takes skill and its takes compassion, both of which I needed to develop. It was after I adopted Reina and my in-laws became the biggest target of my rage. I could not control my reactions, I could not express my unhappiness or understand what was happening to my relationship with my husband and his lack of support. Around this time I started to descend and go into a downward spiral. I lost interest in my husband and started fantasizing about other men, I wanted to have an affair and thought about it constantly. I was also thinking about leaving and moving back to the states [from Japan]. It was around this time when I also discovered the "Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath. I was putting together a project for my ESL reading class on the comparison of her and Virgina Woolf. I had always heard of the Bell Jar, but had never taken a serious look. It was an absolute thrill to read something that felt as intense and of the same emotional magnitude that I was feeling. I was also horrified by her writing, but in such a tantalizing manner, I could not believe someone so young had experienced such a decent. I felt so drawn to her and realized that depression and its darkness affects us all, despite our age or background. For some reason I was also (simultaneously) reading Stephen Hawkins personal story and discovery of black holes (don't ask me why). It is one of the most interesting books if you ever have the chance to read. As I was reading about his discovery of these black holes in the universe that one can "fall into" I kept thinking of Sylvia and her fall, it was exactly what had happened to her. She had been swallowed up by one. As I was thinking of this I imagined myself on a very important talk show with Mr. Hawkins who was very very interested in my questions. I asked him if one could fall into a black hole, why is it impossible to get out, as he had written about in his book. I questioned, that if there was an entrance into black holes we certainly would be able to go back out, right? His piercing blue eyes twinkled and sparked off a light illuminated by the TV camera and said, That's right Mrs. Moriguchi, but you must find it. In my own fantasy, I created the answer for myself. There is a way out of depression like black holes, but we have to find it. Unfortunately for Sylvia and Virgina they could not and suffered deeply, as there was not enough help for them. But, as you have mentioned my dearest soul sister, finding it is the biggest challenge and there are so many routes. Mine was to help myself first and find the compassion I so needed to get back to myself and my life. Once I had done that, I also stayed close to my friends and shared laughter about dying in-laws and how they aren't getting any younger, anything to ease my pain. I kept a diary and encouraged myself along with the love of my growing daughter. Her tiny feet early in the morning racing to my bedside and whipering "Mama its time to get us" is about the sweetest way to begin any day. As we all now and again stumble in the dark and bump into scary things, remembering that there is always a way out, can be our greatest relief.
September 12, 2009 6:46 AM
Monday, September 21, 2009
Women Around the World Are in a Funk!
Dear Diana,
You have wondered for far too long while I waded around in the muck of my own inadequacy. Thankfully tonight I called my sister in Japan and our conversation snapped me out of my downward spiral. For the last few nights I have attempted to answer your thought provoking questions (A Soul Sister Wonders - Sept. 15). I have walked around for days thinking about half the house leaving, dogs dying, Prozac pending, role models missing etc.. I even categorized your topics as: feels / acts / thinks / wants / so my response would be comprehensive and thorough, yet, nothing I wrote was worth posting. This voice in my head kept saying..
"Who do you think you are Marilyn? You're walking around in a slump yourself, each day going through the motions and sinking down deeper. Who are you to give advice? Diana has laid it on the line and nothing you write comes close to that truth."
My sister, Gayle, shared that she too has been eager to offer words of comfort, struck by your descriptions of midlife angst and bewilderment. For fear of sounding too trite or superficial, she held back. Any attempt to be uplifting, she worried, might belittle the depth of your experience. The truth is, we're both as unsure as you Diana. Differences lie only in how we each deal with uncertainty. Gayle is a self proclaimed skimmer. She stays on the surface of things and keeps herself moving. You and I are divers. We go deep in our quest for understanding, no stones left unturned.
This blog is my attempt to sort it all out. From the sound of things, it may take awhile. For now, I feel strangely obligated to pass along the an article titled "Blue is the New Black" by Maureen Dowd. It was published today, 9/21/2009 in the New York Times. Just google those words to read it. My neighbor, Jordana, just delivered it to me, right in the middle of writing this post. I'm just going with the synergy. I think it offers general validation and maybe an historical backdrop for the thoughts you so bravely shared. Thank you for your voice and effort in building a community of soul sisters. Here is an excerpt from the article:
As Arianna Huffington points out in a blog post headlined "The Sad, Shocking Truth About How Women Are Feeling": "It doesn't matter what their marital status is, how much money they make, whether or not they have children, their ethnic background, or the country they live in. Women around the world are in a funk."
How were we to know? The village is larger than we think.
You have wondered for far too long while I waded around in the muck of my own inadequacy. Thankfully tonight I called my sister in Japan and our conversation snapped me out of my downward spiral. For the last few nights I have attempted to answer your thought provoking questions (A Soul Sister Wonders - Sept. 15). I have walked around for days thinking about half the house leaving, dogs dying, Prozac pending, role models missing etc.. I even categorized your topics as: feels / acts / thinks / wants / so my response would be comprehensive and thorough, yet, nothing I wrote was worth posting. This voice in my head kept saying..
"Who do you think you are Marilyn? You're walking around in a slump yourself, each day going through the motions and sinking down deeper. Who are you to give advice? Diana has laid it on the line and nothing you write comes close to that truth."
My sister, Gayle, shared that she too has been eager to offer words of comfort, struck by your descriptions of midlife angst and bewilderment. For fear of sounding too trite or superficial, she held back. Any attempt to be uplifting, she worried, might belittle the depth of your experience. The truth is, we're both as unsure as you Diana. Differences lie only in how we each deal with uncertainty. Gayle is a self proclaimed skimmer. She stays on the surface of things and keeps herself moving. You and I are divers. We go deep in our quest for understanding, no stones left unturned.
This blog is my attempt to sort it all out. From the sound of things, it may take awhile. For now, I feel strangely obligated to pass along the an article titled "Blue is the New Black" by Maureen Dowd. It was published today, 9/21/2009 in the New York Times. Just google those words to read it. My neighbor, Jordana, just delivered it to me, right in the middle of writing this post. I'm just going with the synergy. I think it offers general validation and maybe an historical backdrop for the thoughts you so bravely shared. Thank you for your voice and effort in building a community of soul sisters. Here is an excerpt from the article:
As Arianna Huffington points out in a blog post headlined "The Sad, Shocking Truth About How Women Are Feeling": "It doesn't matter what their marital status is, how much money they make, whether or not they have children, their ethnic background, or the country they live in. Women around the world are in a funk."
How were we to know? The village is larger than we think.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A Soul Sister Wonders...
diana crossman said...
Occasionally it happens that I care less what the world thinks (especially when it comes to what I say) but appearance wise it doesn't happen enough.I've been on this subject of the future for days now...actually much longer, but I mean intensely on it. This morning in the shower I did feel depressed over the time ahead, and what meaning there would be when half the population of the house leaves....and then the dogs are very old and likely gone too in ten years. I had the thought "maybe I'll just have to take prozac" not a great prospect! Nature is cruel in this way. I began adulthood very independent, then gave in to marriage and kids, eventually learned to focus my life on others and be more selfless, but kids will leave, and by then I'm pretty old to begin something new! But maybe it doesn't have to be a career thing. My next thought is how I wish I had close friends--even one--that is several years older and closer to this experience than I am. But as of right now I am not so lucky! Love to have at least one role model here!Maybe the idea of "retirement" is to learn to be and not do. That would be a whole new paradigm for me, what about you? What would it look like?? I'm just not sure but love hearing what others think.
September 15, 2009 10:17 PM
Occasionally it happens that I care less what the world thinks (especially when it comes to what I say) but appearance wise it doesn't happen enough.I've been on this subject of the future for days now...actually much longer, but I mean intensely on it. This morning in the shower I did feel depressed over the time ahead, and what meaning there would be when half the population of the house leaves....and then the dogs are very old and likely gone too in ten years. I had the thought "maybe I'll just have to take prozac" not a great prospect! Nature is cruel in this way. I began adulthood very independent, then gave in to marriage and kids, eventually learned to focus my life on others and be more selfless, but kids will leave, and by then I'm pretty old to begin something new! But maybe it doesn't have to be a career thing. My next thought is how I wish I had close friends--even one--that is several years older and closer to this experience than I am. But as of right now I am not so lucky! Love to have at least one role model here!Maybe the idea of "retirement" is to learn to be and not do. That would be a whole new paradigm for me, what about you? What would it look like?? I'm just not sure but love hearing what others think.
September 15, 2009 10:17 PM
Monday, September 14, 2009
Mid-life Crisis or Creative Catharsis?
diana crossman said...
You've nailed the years that alot of us feel minor to moderate turmoil! We are at year 17 [of marriage]. Being 6 years older (than Mark) is not always the way I'd prefer it, but it's what is. I feel there are a few things I've passed through--tho humbly and not with raging success--that he is now looking at. Anyway, I have a topic for you Mare. It's the one on my mind now. Where will I be in 10 years? What will occupy my time and thought? Do I have a vision for where I'd like to grow to? My girls will be gone. My job will be after me to retire...so what will I be doing? Let me know what you think...
September 13, 2009 10:33 PM
Dear Diana,
I had to repeat your question as a new post because you ask a BIG ONE. It brings up so much of what we are all wondering, on some level, what will be our value in the second act of our lives. I think it's a large question, floating in our subconscious minds and one that our culture responds to with endless anti-aging tonics. This is ignoring the question, at best. Of course there is money to be made by promoting an all out fear of aging. No wonder. It's much harder to determine what, if anything, to sell someone who is comfortable in their own skin. So, once again, the things of the world hold no wisdom for us and we are left to answer our own questions in the second act. I hope other soul sisters will weigh in on this one, since I'm convinced we hold all the answers in community with each other. Here are my thoughts on the matter.
While weathering hotflashes, fitful sleep, moodiness / rage / depression and foggy headed / memory loss, something absolutely marvelous has also been taking place within me these last few years. It wasn't altogether obvious. In fact, my first awareness of it came when I found myself out on an errand in my house sweats, hair in an upheaval and slippers on my feet. I was walking around town, well into my errands, before I even noticed my shabby attire. Then I realized that I didn't care; I didn't care who I might bump into, whose opinion really, honestly mattered that much to me. It felt, strangely, giddy. I even dared the universe to put someone in my path so I could test this newfound sense of liberation. But, the universe chose not to respond, at least that day. Over time, however, I noticed other shifts in my focus, shifts away from the external. I felt less and less constrained by past expections, real or imagined, from myself and especially from others.
Has this happend to you?
I'm not actively rejecting things of the world, but I do notice a natural decrease in my concern with them. Is this a universal experience? If so, what does it mean?
Our culture says, "cling to your past, youthful self." But mid-life takes us on a somewhat painful journey that seems to deliver us to ourselves, far beyond who we were. Our own voice is louder, even when we are quiet. I often find myself listening to the most interesting conversation in my head. I think the second act is a rich and fertile time for cultivating our unique gifts and talents and pursuing our passions. It is a second chance for those, who like myself, chose practical
careers in exchange for a comfortable life, postponed creative endeavors to raise children, kept quiet because we doubted our intelligence or undervalued our intuition.
This must be the crisis of midlife. The part of youself that demands to be expressed, to bring forth your creative piece of the puzzle. Until you do this, it festers inside and breeds discontentment. Why else would we naturally begin to disengage from external stimuli?
So, soul sister, my vision of you in the next 10 years, is nothing less than a creative catharsis. What shape that takes, what piece of the cosmic puzzle is yours to bring forth, that is a topic for another day.
You've nailed the years that alot of us feel minor to moderate turmoil! We are at year 17 [of marriage]. Being 6 years older (than Mark) is not always the way I'd prefer it, but it's what is. I feel there are a few things I've passed through--tho humbly and not with raging success--that he is now looking at. Anyway, I have a topic for you Mare. It's the one on my mind now. Where will I be in 10 years? What will occupy my time and thought? Do I have a vision for where I'd like to grow to? My girls will be gone. My job will be after me to retire...so what will I be doing? Let me know what you think...
September 13, 2009 10:33 PM
Dear Diana,
I had to repeat your question as a new post because you ask a BIG ONE. It brings up so much of what we are all wondering, on some level, what will be our value in the second act of our lives. I think it's a large question, floating in our subconscious minds and one that our culture responds to with endless anti-aging tonics. This is ignoring the question, at best. Of course there is money to be made by promoting an all out fear of aging. No wonder. It's much harder to determine what, if anything, to sell someone who is comfortable in their own skin. So, once again, the things of the world hold no wisdom for us and we are left to answer our own questions in the second act. I hope other soul sisters will weigh in on this one, since I'm convinced we hold all the answers in community with each other. Here are my thoughts on the matter.
While weathering hotflashes, fitful sleep, moodiness / rage / depression and foggy headed / memory loss, something absolutely marvelous has also been taking place within me these last few years. It wasn't altogether obvious. In fact, my first awareness of it came when I found myself out on an errand in my house sweats, hair in an upheaval and slippers on my feet. I was walking around town, well into my errands, before I even noticed my shabby attire. Then I realized that I didn't care; I didn't care who I might bump into, whose opinion really, honestly mattered that much to me. It felt, strangely, giddy. I even dared the universe to put someone in my path so I could test this newfound sense of liberation. But, the universe chose not to respond, at least that day. Over time, however, I noticed other shifts in my focus, shifts away from the external. I felt less and less constrained by past expections, real or imagined, from myself and especially from others.
Has this happend to you?
I'm not actively rejecting things of the world, but I do notice a natural decrease in my concern with them. Is this a universal experience? If so, what does it mean?
Our culture says, "cling to your past, youthful self." But mid-life takes us on a somewhat painful journey that seems to deliver us to ourselves, far beyond who we were. Our own voice is louder, even when we are quiet. I often find myself listening to the most interesting conversation in my head. I think the second act is a rich and fertile time for cultivating our unique gifts and talents and pursuing our passions. It is a second chance for those, who like myself, chose practical
careers in exchange for a comfortable life, postponed creative endeavors to raise children, kept quiet because we doubted our intelligence or undervalued our intuition.
This must be the crisis of midlife. The part of youself that demands to be expressed, to bring forth your creative piece of the puzzle. Until you do this, it festers inside and breeds discontentment. Why else would we naturally begin to disengage from external stimuli?
So, soul sister, my vision of you in the next 10 years, is nothing less than a creative catharsis. What shape that takes, what piece of the cosmic puzzle is yours to bring forth, that is a topic for another day.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Bliss
Well, that's not quite accurate. I have experienced phases of marital bliss in my sixteen years of marriage to Chris, but we all know that bliss is not a sustainable state when talking about any human relationship, especially one as complex as marriage. We celebrated our anniversary last night by walking to a neighborhood restaurant after attending Back-to-School night at Kate's middle school. It almost felt like a little comedy show before dinner since most of Kate's six teachers (all men) were an engaging, versatile and oddly humorous lot. They obviously loved to perform and I enjoyed the show, but then, I don't get out much.
It wasn't romance by candle lights, no cards or flowers or State of the Union speeches from either of us. Other than a simple toast to sixteen years, I don't recall even discussing our marriage. Instead we talked about work, kids and what a delicious hamburger we were sharing. But after sixteen years, if I'm really honest about it all, I can say that I still like my husband.
I don't want to jinx anything, but I think we might be headed for calmer waters after a long bout on rough seas. Our boat took in a lot of water over the past four or five years. It hasn't been easy, either, to watch a few good marriages go down around us. I think ages 47ish to 52ish are the equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle for marriage. Timing differs, I'm sure, depending on age differences between spouses, but we all pass through a mid-life point, if we make it that far. It's tough to survive your own AND another's. I was so consumed by internal strife at times that I didn't notice that it wasn't just my boat. When you're in it, it's hard to take an anthropological point of view.
This was not the aniversary of renewed vows or the profession of undying love. But, it was a nice dinner with a good friend and I'm grateful for that.
It wasn't romance by candle lights, no cards or flowers or State of the Union speeches from either of us. Other than a simple toast to sixteen years, I don't recall even discussing our marriage. Instead we talked about work, kids and what a delicious hamburger we were sharing. But after sixteen years, if I'm really honest about it all, I can say that I still like my husband.
I don't want to jinx anything, but I think we might be headed for calmer waters after a long bout on rough seas. Our boat took in a lot of water over the past four or five years. It hasn't been easy, either, to watch a few good marriages go down around us. I think ages 47ish to 52ish are the equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle for marriage. Timing differs, I'm sure, depending on age differences between spouses, but we all pass through a mid-life point, if we make it that far. It's tough to survive your own AND another's. I was so consumed by internal strife at times that I didn't notice that it wasn't just my boat. When you're in it, it's hard to take an anthropological point of view.
This was not the aniversary of renewed vows or the profession of undying love. But, it was a nice dinner with a good friend and I'm grateful for that.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
High School, Church Hymns and Presidential Pep
Did you happen to catch President Obama's speech on Education yesterday? Since it was the first day of school for a majority of American students, many schools held morning assemblies and ran it live. Since I work at Tamalpais High School on Tuesdays, I was able to watch it with a second period Social Studies Class. No matter what your political persuasion, the message was inspiring and well delivered. In brief, he spoke of each student's responsibility to stay in school, work hard and overcome challenges, not only to insure their own success, but also to become contributing members of society.
I love this kind of stuff. I get all choked up thinking about everyone joining together to do the right thing, just like each Saturday at 5 O'clock mass during simple songs of praise. I hold back tears each time I hear that odd mix of piano music and parishioner voices that run the gamut, rising up together for a few climatic moments each week as we belt out hearts' longings. Sappy? Yes? But that brings me to the topic of today's blog:
Although most of the nation's schools started yesterday, our county schools have already been in session for two weeks. And although I braced myself for some transitional upheaval, with two daughters starting two new schools, I'm not sure what I could have done to prepare myself for daughter #1's first week of high school. Allow me to explain in the format of a Dear Abby Letter:
Dear Abby,
My oldest daughter started public high school this week. I teach at a competing high school in the same district and both schools are considered top performing schools in the affluent county where we live, north of San Francisco. They are also two of the top schools in our state. Still, I found myself ill prepared, as a mother, for the following events that my daughter willingly and daily shared with me during week one. Please review the list below and advise. I would appreciate any strategies you might have for how I can remain sane and whether or not you think I am at risk for death by worry. Keep in mind that I have seven years to go in order to get both daughters through high school and that I am currently 50 years old. Please be candid if you think I am just to old to remember it's always been about sex, drugs and rock n roll.
Day One: Daughter walks into girls' bathroom with friend and finds two girls with their shirts off aggressively making out (groans and smacking of flesh)
Day Two: Boys ask daughter and friend "Would you like a Cookie?" Daughter's friend grabs daughter's arm, pulls her onward and replies back "We only like the kind with chocolate chips."
Friend explains that "Cookies" is code for smoking pot.
Day Three: Daughter gets paired up with student sitting next to her in science for a lab experiment. Student/lab partner is sobbing. Daughter asks with concern, "Are you Okay?"
Lab partner responds through choking sobs..."My boyfriend just broke up with me." Daughter replies..."That sucks." Lab partner responds, "I slept with him." Daughter replies "Oh." Lab partner continues, "I slept with his best friend too." Daughter looks down, uncomfortable. Lab partner reveals names of both boys she has slept with (at age 14) before she remembers to introduce herself. Not sure how the lab assignment proceeded as I forgot to ask.
Day Four: Two older boys ask daughter and friend if they would like to hop in their car and go to California Pizza Kitchen for lunch. Daughter and friend decline because they don't think they will make it back to school in time.
Day Four: Two freshmen boys ask daughter and friend to walk to nearby burrito joint off campus for lunch. Both boys ask both girls out over lunch. Daughter pauses because she is not sure what to say. Boy fills in awkward silence by saying, "Oh, maybe we should get to know each other better first." Daughter is relieved but wonders what to say next time in like situation. Mother advises: "Just tell him your parents won't allow you to date until you are 16." Daughter rolls eyes and replies, "That won't work mom, he'll just say, don't tell them." Mom feels disoriented, out of control, hears sirens going off inside head while stuttering, "Well, does um, does um friend's parents let her date (weak attempt to not feel all alone in foreign territory). Daughter replies with impatient-mom-is-so-slow-and-needs-me-to-spell-everything-out-tone: "Mom, she doesn't tell them." Mom suddenly realizes that next time daughter is going anywhere, it may be a date (or hook-up ~ modern lingo).
Day Five: Social Studies teacher passes out essays from last year freshmen offering advice to current freshmen. Each student gets two papers to read. Daughter shares that she knows both students whose papers she received. The most interesting one, she explained, mapped out places to avoid on walk to school if you want to avoid being pressured to smoke pot. Or, mother realizes while simultaneously having a hot flash, daughter now possess a treasure map should she want to experiment.
Yours Truly,
Propped up by the President
P.S. Names have been withheld to protect the sanctity of the mother-daughter communication portal.
I love this kind of stuff. I get all choked up thinking about everyone joining together to do the right thing, just like each Saturday at 5 O'clock mass during simple songs of praise. I hold back tears each time I hear that odd mix of piano music and parishioner voices that run the gamut, rising up together for a few climatic moments each week as we belt out hearts' longings. Sappy? Yes? But that brings me to the topic of today's blog:
Although most of the nation's schools started yesterday, our county schools have already been in session for two weeks. And although I braced myself for some transitional upheaval, with two daughters starting two new schools, I'm not sure what I could have done to prepare myself for daughter #1's first week of high school. Allow me to explain in the format of a Dear Abby Letter:
Dear Abby,
My oldest daughter started public high school this week. I teach at a competing high school in the same district and both schools are considered top performing schools in the affluent county where we live, north of San Francisco. They are also two of the top schools in our state. Still, I found myself ill prepared, as a mother, for the following events that my daughter willingly and daily shared with me during week one. Please review the list below and advise. I would appreciate any strategies you might have for how I can remain sane and whether or not you think I am at risk for death by worry. Keep in mind that I have seven years to go in order to get both daughters through high school and that I am currently 50 years old. Please be candid if you think I am just to old to remember it's always been about sex, drugs and rock n roll.
Day One: Daughter walks into girls' bathroom with friend and finds two girls with their shirts off aggressively making out (groans and smacking of flesh)
Day Two: Boys ask daughter and friend "Would you like a Cookie?" Daughter's friend grabs daughter's arm, pulls her onward and replies back "We only like the kind with chocolate chips."
Friend explains that "Cookies" is code for smoking pot.
Day Three: Daughter gets paired up with student sitting next to her in science for a lab experiment. Student/lab partner is sobbing. Daughter asks with concern, "Are you Okay?"
Lab partner responds through choking sobs..."My boyfriend just broke up with me." Daughter replies..."That sucks." Lab partner responds, "I slept with him." Daughter replies "Oh." Lab partner continues, "I slept with his best friend too." Daughter looks down, uncomfortable. Lab partner reveals names of both boys she has slept with (at age 14) before she remembers to introduce herself. Not sure how the lab assignment proceeded as I forgot to ask.
Day Four: Two older boys ask daughter and friend if they would like to hop in their car and go to California Pizza Kitchen for lunch. Daughter and friend decline because they don't think they will make it back to school in time.
Day Four: Two freshmen boys ask daughter and friend to walk to nearby burrito joint off campus for lunch. Both boys ask both girls out over lunch. Daughter pauses because she is not sure what to say. Boy fills in awkward silence by saying, "Oh, maybe we should get to know each other better first." Daughter is relieved but wonders what to say next time in like situation. Mother advises: "Just tell him your parents won't allow you to date until you are 16." Daughter rolls eyes and replies, "That won't work mom, he'll just say, don't tell them." Mom feels disoriented, out of control, hears sirens going off inside head while stuttering, "Well, does um, does um friend's parents let her date (weak attempt to not feel all alone in foreign territory). Daughter replies with impatient-mom-is-so-slow-and-needs-me-to-spell-everything-out-tone: "Mom, she doesn't tell them." Mom suddenly realizes that next time daughter is going anywhere, it may be a date (or hook-up ~ modern lingo).
Day Five: Social Studies teacher passes out essays from last year freshmen offering advice to current freshmen. Each student gets two papers to read. Daughter shares that she knows both students whose papers she received. The most interesting one, she explained, mapped out places to avoid on walk to school if you want to avoid being pressured to smoke pot. Or, mother realizes while simultaneously having a hot flash, daughter now possess a treasure map should she want to experiment.
Yours Truly,
Propped up by the President
P.S. Names have been withheld to protect the sanctity of the mother-daughter communication portal.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Where did I place those chalk pastels?
I'm always running to catch up. How about you? I mean really, do you know anyone who sits at their desk, or kitchen table and thinks....
"Let's see, I've done everything required of me. I'm completely caught up. Guess I have a free day to take what comes my way in stride. I think I'll spend this day working on my art because nothing else needs my time or attention. Okay now, where did I place those chalk pastels?"
Well, that is never going to happen, NEVER, not in my universe, and yet, that is exactly why I found myself slipping into insanity last March. I don't use the word insanity lightly. When you SLAM into an invisible wall of depression you only need black chalk to outline the scene and color in the faces ~ Extreme senselessness.
The practicie of homeopathic medicine works on the following theory: By giving the body very small doses of drugs, that in large doses would produce symptoms like those of the disease you are trying to fight off, you aid the body's own natural immune system to combat that disease. In much the same way, I happened upon the book "The Bell Jar" this summer in a second-hand store in Southern California. I was mesmerized by it instantly. The author, Sylvia Plath, vividly describes her slip from mental normalcy (via the main character, Ester) in an all too real narrative and, it seems to me now, just the right dosage of insanity to snap me back to my senses.
Extreme senselessness ~ This is the most accurate definition of insanity, though it is the last one listed in my dictionary. The next time you feel like dancing to a beautiful song, walking in a colorful forest, singing at the top of your lungs, Please, Please, Please act on it!!! Fill your senses up daily to ensure you never suffer from extreme senselessness.
"Let's see, I've done everything required of me. I'm completely caught up. Guess I have a free day to take what comes my way in stride. I think I'll spend this day working on my art because nothing else needs my time or attention. Okay now, where did I place those chalk pastels?"
Well, that is never going to happen, NEVER, not in my universe, and yet, that is exactly why I found myself slipping into insanity last March. I don't use the word insanity lightly. When you SLAM into an invisible wall of depression you only need black chalk to outline the scene and color in the faces ~ Extreme senselessness.
The practicie of homeopathic medicine works on the following theory: By giving the body very small doses of drugs, that in large doses would produce symptoms like those of the disease you are trying to fight off, you aid the body's own natural immune system to combat that disease. In much the same way, I happened upon the book "The Bell Jar" this summer in a second-hand store in Southern California. I was mesmerized by it instantly. The author, Sylvia Plath, vividly describes her slip from mental normalcy (via the main character, Ester) in an all too real narrative and, it seems to me now, just the right dosage of insanity to snap me back to my senses.
Extreme senselessness ~ This is the most accurate definition of insanity, though it is the last one listed in my dictionary. The next time you feel like dancing to a beautiful song, walking in a colorful forest, singing at the top of your lungs, Please, Please, Please act on it!!! Fill your senses up daily to ensure you never suffer from extreme senselessness.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
To Blog or Not to Blog
Answer or ignore the nagging impulse to write down fleeting thoughts...that is the question.
Once quick to dismiss an insistant nag, I find her oddly attractive in the second act. In fact, I'm downright enamored by her veiled optimism. Because of this, I believe she lingers longer on the side lines of daily life, waiting for me to dance with her, to paint her portrait, to sing her praises. For years I wrote her off as an imposter, a silly nuisance. She almost turned to dust on me, her ghost white cape to the wind, she almost blew away in pieces.
It's the second act now, that brings me in earshot of her whispering wisdom. "Take your tangled words and weave them into stories. Untie your knotted heart and smooth the way for another. Hold me up on center stage for I am creativity, born to perform and proliferate. Deliver me, therefore, upon a starch white page."
This then is my answer to my inner nag. Welcome to The Second Act Blog.
Once quick to dismiss an insistant nag, I find her oddly attractive in the second act. In fact, I'm downright enamored by her veiled optimism. Because of this, I believe she lingers longer on the side lines of daily life, waiting for me to dance with her, to paint her portrait, to sing her praises. For years I wrote her off as an imposter, a silly nuisance. She almost turned to dust on me, her ghost white cape to the wind, she almost blew away in pieces.
It's the second act now, that brings me in earshot of her whispering wisdom. "Take your tangled words and weave them into stories. Untie your knotted heart and smooth the way for another. Hold me up on center stage for I am creativity, born to perform and proliferate. Deliver me, therefore, upon a starch white page."
This then is my answer to my inner nag. Welcome to The Second Act Blog.
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