This has been fun. I think. I am still not entirely convinced I "blog" right. Through this process I have had to edit myself, substantially. I started many a post, just to erase, delete. It's very hard to write what I am thinking without coming across jaded or judgmental, I and really have never viewed myself as either. That has been incredibly eye-opening, but therapeutic. For every time I erased a post because I deemed it inappropriate for this classroom experience, I felt better to have typed out my frustrations and thoughts, even though they never made the final cut. Be it the frustrating Wal-Mart parkers, AT&T customer service and the fact that I know your name is not John and you aren't local, or my transformation to "THAT" mom at the little league games, I typed away and felt better getting it out, just to take it all back.
I few moments have slipped, and made their way to published, so I can't really say if I am proud of my little blog or not. I go back through and read, see the errors, the babbling, the nonsense. I shake my head some, and sigh. I laugh, and hope and pray it makes sense to someone other that myself.
It has been a learning experience. I have learned to slow down my thoughts just enough to maybe make them look right on the screen. I wish there was more. More time, more words, more images. I wish I could have shared more, explained more, painted a grander, vivid picture. I cheated every reader. I hurried, and got it done. Checked it off. Sad. Because this is a beautiful thing, to share experiences, thoughts, ideas. To make someone else feel what you felt. Man, I want to write in a way that if I am bitter, they can taste it. If I am sad, they hear my tear drops. My little fingers ache because I know I could do better. I obviously avoided any deep emotions in any blog. I attempted humor, not sure I hit the mark.
Have I seen a change? I think so. My post go back and forth, some I am proud of, some post I want to yank back and destroy. The post I wish I could take back, I left where they are. Glaring back at me with all their ignorance and errors, as a reminder that I can do better and what not to do next. I learned how to spell words I have been apparently misspelling my whole life, so that's good.
Overall, I would love to keep my little blog life alive and well. Like I said, it is fun. I hope I can find the time. Life gets so busy. As I drive or listen to my kids play a thousand ideas come to mind. Ideas that I want to blog about, but the come and go so fast. All of this, what I have written, what I want to write, wanting to keep giving my blog life, is all for me. Sometimes I forget others can read this. Every blog comment is like Christmas morning. Am I going to be blissfully happy? Am I going to be ridiculously disappointed? I read them all, and want to write back, start up a conversation, just not sure on the proper blog etiquette. I blame these feelings on the fact most of my conversations are with a five year old, so any chance of adult interaction gets me excited. In public when I see someone I know, I have a huge smile plastered across my face and my eyes glaze over at the thought of an impending adult conversation.
What happens now? Is this it? I am done? No more opinions or words, because there is no more driving force demanding I blog? Who knows. Let's just see if I survive a research paper and a couple finals. Then, maybe.
Friday, July 17, 2015
Thursday, July 16, 2015
One Superpower
My five year old sons new blog prompt, "If you could have one superpower, what would it be?" This is really hard. So many options. My first instinct would be to go with flying. Not sure what good that would do me, other than avoiding traffic and seeing cool stuff. Right now, as I stare down finals week, I would like a photographic memory. Honestly, I could puke. All these words, FINALS, RESEARCH, PROCTOR. I am so nervous.
I am needing a superpower that will make this college stuff easier. Everyday I think, "why didn't I do this when I was 18?". At 18 I needed a lot less sleep, was probably more confident in my writing, and less distracted. All those things would have made this easier, but no way would I go back in time. As I sit here listening to my children argue over the last muffin, I can't say I would have done it differently. I can't imagine a world where they might not exist. Meeting my husband and leaving everything behind to hit the road and fall in love was not the most responsible decision, but it led me to here, and here is good.
So going back in time is off the table. The superpower to see germs would be great, to avoid them, but pretty sure I don't want to see that. I would never leave the house. Who am I kidding? I wouldn't want to be in my house. Read minds, maybe. That would be interesting, but I am afraid of what I would hear. Super speed, super strength? Nah, sounds exhausting. Being able to stop time would be fun. I am not convinced I would use it for good though, probably just practical jokes.
Healing. That would be it. I would want the power to heal. I hate cancer, so being able to kick cancers butt would be fabulous. Even when my kids get the sniffles, it is heartbreaking. So the power to heal it is. I could then, in turn, heal those with other superpowers. Wait, now I am thinking. What if there is someone who needs healing, but I don't want to. What if they are a horrible person? That would be like me murdering them. So now I am a killer. Yeah, I'm out. No healing powers please.
This is actually a lot harder than I thought. I guess I will stick with flying. I have about a million things I need to be doing, so the whole superpower thing can't take up anymore room in my head or time in my day. Sad.
I am needing a superpower that will make this college stuff easier. Everyday I think, "why didn't I do this when I was 18?". At 18 I needed a lot less sleep, was probably more confident in my writing, and less distracted. All those things would have made this easier, but no way would I go back in time. As I sit here listening to my children argue over the last muffin, I can't say I would have done it differently. I can't imagine a world where they might not exist. Meeting my husband and leaving everything behind to hit the road and fall in love was not the most responsible decision, but it led me to here, and here is good.
So going back in time is off the table. The superpower to see germs would be great, to avoid them, but pretty sure I don't want to see that. I would never leave the house. Who am I kidding? I wouldn't want to be in my house. Read minds, maybe. That would be interesting, but I am afraid of what I would hear. Super speed, super strength? Nah, sounds exhausting. Being able to stop time would be fun. I am not convinced I would use it for good though, probably just practical jokes.
Healing. That would be it. I would want the power to heal. I hate cancer, so being able to kick cancers butt would be fabulous. Even when my kids get the sniffles, it is heartbreaking. So the power to heal it is. I could then, in turn, heal those with other superpowers. Wait, now I am thinking. What if there is someone who needs healing, but I don't want to. What if they are a horrible person? That would be like me murdering them. So now I am a killer. Yeah, I'm out. No healing powers please.
This is actually a lot harder than I thought. I guess I will stick with flying. I have about a million things I need to be doing, so the whole superpower thing can't take up anymore room in my head or time in my day. Sad.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Research
I am finding these research databases both helpful and intimidating. Somehow, in my little world, I had no idea the scope of information out there. I am convinced you can find an article on absolutely everything. I assume this new information should make the process of finding a research question and a thesis statement easier, but my mind is a big puddle of mush now.
How did people research before the internet? I should be one of those people who had to, but it must have been such an unpleasant experience that I have totally blocked it out. Libraries were involved I am sure. I do remember having to make a presentation on Greece. Mostly used books for that, so I am sure there was a library involved. Poor Librarians. I bet there isn't quite the job market there once was.
So these endless databases are mind blowing in scope. I wonder if people submit to the databases, or do the databases constantly search out this information. Humor, is what I was searching, I typed humerus instead. Let say it was a typo and not my horrific spelling capabilities. The vast amount of essays, journals, reports, opinions, and other written and video information on this bone was insane. Is there really THAT much information pertaining to that one little bone? I decided my life would not be the same if I didn't find out. And YES! There is that much information. I was really expecting some repetitive cycle of facts, I was wrong. That bone and the people who write about it are intense. So, if that bone can be written about in such abundance, then about anything could. The world of research just began to get very big, and very intimidating. What if all original ideas have been used up? Seriously, what if there is nothing left to say that hasn't been said somewhere, at sometime. Maybe I should throw in towel.
How did people research before the internet? I should be one of those people who had to, but it must have been such an unpleasant experience that I have totally blocked it out. Libraries were involved I am sure. I do remember having to make a presentation on Greece. Mostly used books for that, so I am sure there was a library involved. Poor Librarians. I bet there isn't quite the job market there once was.
So these endless databases are mind blowing in scope. I wonder if people submit to the databases, or do the databases constantly search out this information. Humor, is what I was searching, I typed humerus instead. Let say it was a typo and not my horrific spelling capabilities. The vast amount of essays, journals, reports, opinions, and other written and video information on this bone was insane. Is there really THAT much information pertaining to that one little bone? I decided my life would not be the same if I didn't find out. And YES! There is that much information. I was really expecting some repetitive cycle of facts, I was wrong. That bone and the people who write about it are intense. So, if that bone can be written about in such abundance, then about anything could. The world of research just began to get very big, and very intimidating. What if all original ideas have been used up? Seriously, what if there is nothing left to say that hasn't been said somewhere, at sometime. Maybe I should throw in towel.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Sad Day, America
A day spent at a crowded public pool, is a day spent observing the downfall of society. Now, how I ever decided that a season pass to the public pool was a good idea, is beyond me. I can only assume I made the decision during a time of extreme mental stress or exhaustion. Not only are we season pass owners this year, but the kids know it. And they never let me forget it. Ever. Everyday, the children bargain and scheme. I am convinced that they set up elaborate plans to drive me to the brink of madness until I finally cave and wave the white flag of surrender. Off to the pool we go.
Some days it is not an awful experience. The days it is less crowded and calm, I could see how this could be enjoyable. Today was not that day. I turned towards the parking lot and my stomach sunk. People everywhere. You could barely see water. Just hot sweaty flesh, packed up against more flesh. I resisted the urge to google how communicable disease could spread in such an environment. But the kids were smiling and enthusiastic, I made the decision to give it my best shot, to try to muster up some enthusiasm of my very own.
After finding nowhere to sit, we sat our stuff down on some grass and claimed a little territory of our own. It was within 30 seconds that two wild, parent-less children trampled our stuff, with their soaking wet feet. Just breathe. Just breathe. We make our way to the pool, where I instantly lose sight of my precious angels in the melee of small children and a mix of tattoos and sunburns. Panic ensues, and after fighting my way through the crowd, cringing as my arms bump into others, praying the flesh I bumped into was simply wet from the water and not sweat, I find my angels swimming and giggling.
I am that parent at the pool who will turn full momma bear if your thoughtless, rude children get too close to mine. I went full momma bear several times today. What is wrong with these kids? Where are their parents? When did it become okay to raise little monsters who have no respect for others and no manners what so ever? It is easy to observe the blatant rudeness of these kids and glare with unmasked disdain, but if you would just ever so slightly glance over to the pool lounges, it is easy to see where to place the blame. These parents obviously think of the pool as a gigantic day care center, and the lifeguards as babysitters. It isn't. They aren't. In my opinion the lifeguards have to be grossly underpaid. They can only blow their whistle so many times to correct the uncontrollable children, bless their hearts, they are mostly kids themselves.
The only parent I actually witnessed doing any parenting was a burly tattooed fellow who actually disciplined his children. Bravo, Sir. The award for parenting at the pool goes to you. The other end of the bad parenting spectrum was there too. Overbearing Mothers everywhere, YOU are creating victims, and pansies. Find a happy medium people. There are bullies, so teach your kids how to stand up to bullies. News Flash, adults get bullied too.
So after this afternoon, I am convinced that my kids aren't angels, and boy, I am far from a perfect parent, but we have a lot going for us. Common sense and common manners are missing in a large portion of my generation, and they are breeding!
Some days it is not an awful experience. The days it is less crowded and calm, I could see how this could be enjoyable. Today was not that day. I turned towards the parking lot and my stomach sunk. People everywhere. You could barely see water. Just hot sweaty flesh, packed up against more flesh. I resisted the urge to google how communicable disease could spread in such an environment. But the kids were smiling and enthusiastic, I made the decision to give it my best shot, to try to muster up some enthusiasm of my very own.
After finding nowhere to sit, we sat our stuff down on some grass and claimed a little territory of our own. It was within 30 seconds that two wild, parent-less children trampled our stuff, with their soaking wet feet. Just breathe. Just breathe. We make our way to the pool, where I instantly lose sight of my precious angels in the melee of small children and a mix of tattoos and sunburns. Panic ensues, and after fighting my way through the crowd, cringing as my arms bump into others, praying the flesh I bumped into was simply wet from the water and not sweat, I find my angels swimming and giggling.
I am that parent at the pool who will turn full momma bear if your thoughtless, rude children get too close to mine. I went full momma bear several times today. What is wrong with these kids? Where are their parents? When did it become okay to raise little monsters who have no respect for others and no manners what so ever? It is easy to observe the blatant rudeness of these kids and glare with unmasked disdain, but if you would just ever so slightly glance over to the pool lounges, it is easy to see where to place the blame. These parents obviously think of the pool as a gigantic day care center, and the lifeguards as babysitters. It isn't. They aren't. In my opinion the lifeguards have to be grossly underpaid. They can only blow their whistle so many times to correct the uncontrollable children, bless their hearts, they are mostly kids themselves.
The only parent I actually witnessed doing any parenting was a burly tattooed fellow who actually disciplined his children. Bravo, Sir. The award for parenting at the pool goes to you. The other end of the bad parenting spectrum was there too. Overbearing Mothers everywhere, YOU are creating victims, and pansies. Find a happy medium people. There are bullies, so teach your kids how to stand up to bullies. News Flash, adults get bullied too.
So after this afternoon, I am convinced that my kids aren't angels, and boy, I am far from a perfect parent, but we have a lot going for us. Common sense and common manners are missing in a large portion of my generation, and they are breeding!
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Serious Stats
My husband won't go to Vegas. I am sad. Every year for the last few we have received an invitation to the PBR ( Professional Bull Riders ) Legends Reunion in Las Vegas during the World Finals. And every year, he says "No". I love Las Vegas. We have gone seven times. Six times because he was a world finals contestant. One time, just passing through. During the World Finals, we would be there for about two weeks. The hotel suites, at whatever casino was hosting us ( Usually Mandalay Bay ), were home sweet home for that time. I loved everything about it. The views of the strip or the mountains, the soft bed that someone else made, the room service, true love! I want to go back. Maybe not with all the press conferences, signings, meetings, drafts, and bull riding, but with all the other stuff.
This Legends Reunions thing is neat, I guess. Getting to see old friends would be nice. My husband has two very strong opinions about it. One, to be a legend you have to be old. Two, it isn't a very exclusive club. It is open to any former bull rider who has participated in a World Finals, or any elite tour event, ever. The first year, a lot of people went that had never actually made a World Finals, just a couple qualifications for a tour stop or two. And these individuals made quite a big deal out of themselves. I am all sorts of proud of my guy. I would love to list his winnings, event titles, qualifications, and his all time rank of money earners. It is some pretty impressive stuff. At the same time I see nothing wrong with those who are proud of their own accomplishments in the PBR, no matter the size. Let us all gather in Vegas a celebrate what use to be. But no. Hubs don't want to.
In my heart I know none of it matters. Most fans and young guns of today don't even remember the great and prolific bull riders from ten years ago. There is something to take away from that. The whole sport makes the young guys feel like rock stars. When in fact, no amount of titles or stats will ever really make you anything. They too, no matter how successful they become, will be forgotten. Replaced by the next big thing. What might matter is the legacy they might leave. Will they fall into the fold, disappear into the flashing lights, pretty girls, and booze? Or will they make a mark. Be an individual. Start building something that does matter. I do hope they love what they are doing. I hope most of all that although it is the dream of many young bull riders to see the bright lights of Vegas, and be called out into that arena under the fireworks and screaming fans, that they have other dreams too. That they build a life outside of the arena that means more than anything that happens inside it.
This Legends Reunions thing is neat, I guess. Getting to see old friends would be nice. My husband has two very strong opinions about it. One, to be a legend you have to be old. Two, it isn't a very exclusive club. It is open to any former bull rider who has participated in a World Finals, or any elite tour event, ever. The first year, a lot of people went that had never actually made a World Finals, just a couple qualifications for a tour stop or two. And these individuals made quite a big deal out of themselves. I am all sorts of proud of my guy. I would love to list his winnings, event titles, qualifications, and his all time rank of money earners. It is some pretty impressive stuff. At the same time I see nothing wrong with those who are proud of their own accomplishments in the PBR, no matter the size. Let us all gather in Vegas a celebrate what use to be. But no. Hubs don't want to.
In my heart I know none of it matters. Most fans and young guns of today don't even remember the great and prolific bull riders from ten years ago. There is something to take away from that. The whole sport makes the young guys feel like rock stars. When in fact, no amount of titles or stats will ever really make you anything. They too, no matter how successful they become, will be forgotten. Replaced by the next big thing. What might matter is the legacy they might leave. Will they fall into the fold, disappear into the flashing lights, pretty girls, and booze? Or will they make a mark. Be an individual. Start building something that does matter. I do hope they love what they are doing. I hope most of all that although it is the dream of many young bull riders to see the bright lights of Vegas, and be called out into that arena under the fireworks and screaming fans, that they have other dreams too. That they build a life outside of the arena that means more than anything that happens inside it.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Poor Baby Draft
In a previous post I mentioned how I was pretty sure I couldn't edit. That my drafts could never reach maturity and would be forced stay baby drafts forever. I was wrong. I killed my baby draft. Butchered it. This whole revision stuff is isn't as hard as I thought. In fact I am a revising son of a gun. My baby draft has been marked through, scratched out, and the one line I might actually keep is underlined.
The assignment to workshop the writing group was not helpful. My writing group is AWOL, and I only have one other member. It was hard to get much out of her response because she totally didn't follow directions. Nine questions ( I think ), with a response to each regarding the other person essay. I got a small paragraph, that was just saying that my essay was crap. I couldn't get passed her disregard for the instructions. It made all her critique and criticism void. I agree wholeheartedly, my essay is crap. A big part of me wants to change my creed and everything, start from scratch. That would be easier.
I had the words last night. I got up to pee ( well, it is true ) and I had what I wanted to say in my essay right there in my head. But I went back to bed, and the words are gone now. Somewhere I remember reading that it is a normal thing to kill your first draft. Literally, there will be no resemblance to the baby draft I once had, but it was crap after all.
The assignment to workshop the writing group was not helpful. My writing group is AWOL, and I only have one other member. It was hard to get much out of her response because she totally didn't follow directions. Nine questions ( I think ), with a response to each regarding the other person essay. I got a small paragraph, that was just saying that my essay was crap. I couldn't get passed her disregard for the instructions. It made all her critique and criticism void. I agree wholeheartedly, my essay is crap. A big part of me wants to change my creed and everything, start from scratch. That would be easier.
I had the words last night. I got up to pee ( well, it is true ) and I had what I wanted to say in my essay right there in my head. But I went back to bed, and the words are gone now. Somewhere I remember reading that it is a normal thing to kill your first draft. Literally, there will be no resemblance to the baby draft I once had, but it was crap after all.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Super Hero's and Their Lady Friends
This is an original blog prompt from my five year old son. It actually carries a lot of weight. I really had to think about it. Which Super Hero would make the best relationship material? Okay, that was paraphrased from the original five year old blog prompt Super Hero's Girlfriends and Which One is the Best Ever. But for the sake of actually making this into an attempt at something serious, I took liberties.
So we have Batman. He is a hot mess. I would say the guy can't keep a girl, and he is somewhat selfish. Always sulking it seems. He would be a bummer to be around. Then there is Ironman, and lets face it ladies, Tony Stark is exactly the kind of playboy, bad boy we go running too. We must thrive of broken hearts. Spiderman. Adorable. He is fantastic, but even I can't continue to write about him without feeling like a cougar. Other than the age thing, I would expect Peter Parker to grown into fine marriage material someday. Thor, yeah, no. Arrogance is so unattractive. We are thinking with our hearts, not our bodies here ladies. Captain America would be top of this class of man meat. I am all about old fashion ways. I am probably the exact opposite of a feminist. I should have been a wife in the fifties. Captain is a safe place for a ladies heart, I my opinion.
There are dozens more, I know. Does Jack from the 24 T.V. show count as a super hero? He should, just saying. My son has strong opinions. He wants to be just like Ironman, Lord help us. The poor little guy is surrounded by girls. Two sisters, and all their friends. Girls at all the neighbors, and all my friends have girls. Surely he will be raised to know how to deal with girls. He better make an excellent husband one day.
So we have Batman. He is a hot mess. I would say the guy can't keep a girl, and he is somewhat selfish. Always sulking it seems. He would be a bummer to be around. Then there is Ironman, and lets face it ladies, Tony Stark is exactly the kind of playboy, bad boy we go running too. We must thrive of broken hearts. Spiderman. Adorable. He is fantastic, but even I can't continue to write about him without feeling like a cougar. Other than the age thing, I would expect Peter Parker to grown into fine marriage material someday. Thor, yeah, no. Arrogance is so unattractive. We are thinking with our hearts, not our bodies here ladies. Captain America would be top of this class of man meat. I am all about old fashion ways. I am probably the exact opposite of a feminist. I should have been a wife in the fifties. Captain is a safe place for a ladies heart, I my opinion.
There are dozens more, I know. Does Jack from the 24 T.V. show count as a super hero? He should, just saying. My son has strong opinions. He wants to be just like Ironman, Lord help us. The poor little guy is surrounded by girls. Two sisters, and all their friends. Girls at all the neighbors, and all my friends have girls. Surely he will be raised to know how to deal with girls. He better make an excellent husband one day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)