Thankful #1 and #2

For the month of November, I'm going to write an entry a day on something I'm thankful for in honor of Thanksgiving. I think we all get caught up in our everyday lives, in the wants, dwelling on the things we don't have...I'm a fairly sentimental person so please excuse the high level of sappy. Please feel free to share what you're thankful for. I think it will all do us some good to praise God for what we have as well as acknowledge the people in our lives that make our lives what they are...
So, since I'm behind already, here are my #1 and #2 (now, my 'thankfuls' are in no particular order. Just what comes to me in the moment)



Thankful #1: The return of my brother, Michael

About a year ago, we started seeing Mike began showing up, despite by adamant doubting. He's been consistently out of my life, finding his way. Then he was back and the hole in my heart (the one I didn't know I had) was filled. I felt complete, whole, like I had been searching for something I couldn't know until I found it. He has added such depth, meaning and fun into my life as well as glued our family even tighter together. He has added such a dynamic to our family that has altered us permanently, made us less uptight and ready for whatever life throws our way.

You can't help but love Michael. There is something about him that disarms you, that allows you to look through his burly, tattooed exterior into the heart of him. He has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen. He would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it, he'd give you the last dollar to his name and he'd protect you to the end.

Unlike when we were children, he feels bad if he hurts my feelings. He won't say it though, he'll just wrap an arm casually over my shoulder or lag behind to walk quietly beside me. When we were kids, he loved to get me riled up. Now, I'm better at turning it off when he antagonizes me and, being older, we have fun ragging on each other. It's the way siblings are supposed to be.

More than anything, Mike has given me an understanding into myself. Even though we grew up separately, it is so unreal to see our similarities. Sometimes he takes off his glasses or wears his hair in a certain way and it startles me, because it's like I'm staring in a mirror. I feel like we are connected in something so much stronger than friendship, more than being siblings or even blood. I get him and he gets me and it's a comfort I have longed for. Plus, there is nothing like knowing someone would die for you. I am the light of his life, his baby sister, and he is the light of mine, my big brother.

I stop, at least once a day, and thank God for this opportunity to get to know my brother. Time with him, this last year, has meant more to me than all the electronic equipment money could buy. Just knowing that I am not alone in this life, in a sibling kind of way, provides a kind of comfort I have sorely been lacking.

I love you, Michael. You mean everything to me.

Thankful #2: I am thankful for nothing going as planned

I had a plan. I formulated this plan when I was probably a freshman. I'd graduate high school, go to college and then become a counselor. Well, I graduated quickly and went straight into grad school.

I will remember this moment until the day I die (which is saying something as my memory leaves something to be desired). I was sitting in the car with Anthony. I was crying, listening to a sad song. Grad school was as easy as I thought it would be. I loved my classmates and teachers. It was a wonderful experience.

Yet.

Yet it wasn't right.

I knew it in my heart, this feeling that I wasn't heading in the direction I was supposed to. Although I liked my classes and classmates, I really hated the counseling aspect of it. I didn't want to spend my life doing it.

This revelation was earth-shattering. I was a girl with a plan, a plan I carefully formulated and counted on. It was then I realized that I was making the plan based on 'money' and 'safety' and not what I really desired in my heart to do.

It's funny, looking back. When I started grad school, I started writing again. It was the first time I had penned an entire book from start to finish. It was the first time I had ever gotten a high from doing something creative. I felt it in my soul that this unknown, unsure path was the one I was destined to take. I was a little girl, wanting to be a writer. But I gave up the dream because the future of writing was unstable. Little did I know this dream would find it's way out one way or another

I have to admit, it was scary to drop out. To tell my parents I was leaving grad school was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, to trust myself enough to know I was doing the right thing for me. I truly became an adult that night as I sat at the end of my driveway, my plan shattering to pieces.

Then we decided, since I wasn't in school and had no idea what I was going to do with my life, we'd start a family. Oliver came along a little over a year later.

I've started writing again. I am just beginning this process, still just writing and learning. I'm considering taking classes and trying to not beat myself up too much for silencing the inner dream long ago and for not majoring in creative writing.

I know, in my heart, I am where I am supposed to be. I have never been happier with my life. So, even if I was saying farewell to a life making more money than my future holds now, I am at peace knowing that even though nothing went as planned, the best future for me is right around the corner. I may not know what it is, but I have faith that something will come of my writing. I feel it in my bones and I've learned there is nothing safer than trusting your own instincts.

Halloween

I thought it was going to be a terrible night.
Well, I should say, I thought, a few days ago, that Halloween was going to be amazing.
Then last week, V announced she had to help her mother move.
Robert had to work.
Mike didn't want to pay the high price for tickets.
That was OK, because Chris, Michelle, Amanda and Anth were coming.
Morning of, Michelle gets a stomach bug. Her and Chris are out.
It' s just me, Amanda and Anth.
Then RC feels bad so O needs another place to spend the night. I felt so bad for RC who felt bad and then guilty.
So Anth was going to drop off Amanda and I and then come pick us up.
Then the weather turned on us. Rainy and cold.
All in all, it was looking like the night was doomed.
Then RC felt better so Anthony could come.
We danced and danced, every song we knew and loved.
I felt so sexy in my new push up bra, in my thinning body. I felt out of my head, bumping to the music, the only link to reality the tiny hand of my best friend as we pushed our way through the crowd.
We danced some more. We laughed. It was good for us, her and I. We needed a night to reconnect, to remember why we are best friends after all.
All three of us dance, sang, swayed, laughed.
Leaving funny messages on Mike's voicemail on the way home, laughing, silly girls.
Jimmy met us at Waffle House around 4. Well, 3 after "falling back"
I woke up exhausted but happy. It was a night to remember. A night to feel young, carefree, alive, stupid.
I needed a break away from the routine. As my body is bouncing back, I see the life I'm missing.
Then I got to go home to my sweet, baby boy. My spirited Oliver.
And I know my wildness runs in him.

"Don't Be a Sissy"

Those were the words of my brother yesterday as she tried to talk me into meeting him at the tattoo shop on Tuesday. I've always wanted this (I never known how to describe it) bird on my foot. It's a necklace I paid $10 for at a yard sale. It was a bit pricier than what I would usually pay but it called to me. I knew it would be one of those finds that I would love the rest of my life. My children will finger it when I'm gone, knowing that my essence is still in it.
$10 is a steal of a deal for essence.

Anyway, I've always wanted it on my foot; the top of my foot to be exact.
It's going to hurt like hell but pain has a whole different meaning to me now. I compare everything to labor and immediately feel better. If I can handle labor, I can handle a tattoo on my foot. At least I'll know when the tattoo will end, unlike labor which stretches on and on and on...

Oliver is starting his "Ga Ga Ga" 's . It is utterly precious. Every time he does it (usually to the dogs or his toy) Anthony and I look at each other with astonished faces. Our baby will be talking soon. We've got to stop cussing.

We want to send Oliver to Landmark which means he can't curse the damn toys when they break or even use my watered down version of cussing by just saying F. As in, I hate this F'ing song. As funny as I may think it is, I have a feeling Landmark teachers will be phoning me with concerned, slightly (overly) judgmental tones. And then all my authority issues will flare up again, sprouting from my Landmark days...except it will be intensified (You may have been able to control my behavior when I was a teenager but you CANNOT tell me how to raise my kid..) and Anthony will have to take the phone out of my hand and apologize profusely.

Why would I want to send my kid there you may wonder? Well, I may have been controlled a little too much for my liking. I may have graduated a completely pompous, righteous a-hole but damn, I was smart. I was overly prepared for college. My freshman year, at West Georgia, I had a history class taught by a teacher that used to teach at an Ivy league school (can't remember it now). He said our final paper was going to be like 5 pages, double spaced. I looked around to see if he was joking. Students groan with shock, "5 whole pages, double spaces? That is so much!"
I was writing 10 paged research papers my freshman year. I could write 5 pages in my sleep. And then, after the first test, he read my test answer out loud so that other's could know what he was looking for in an answer to an essay question. I made a 100 on that test.
And it was all because of Landmark. I skipped like 90% of my college classes and only made 2 C's in college taking 18 hours a semester. Landmark taught me how to learn, how to study, how to test and how to apply myself. High school kicked my ass but I was over-prepared when College was concerned. It was awesome!
Also, going to a safe, private school allowed me some freedom other public schools in our area wouldn't allow. There were no fights or bullying. We could carry our book bags every where. We could leave campus to go to Dairy Queen in yearbook and on Senior Lunch Days on some Fridays. Landmark felt very much like a throw back to the 50's (concerning safety) and I very much want Oliver to have that.

Boy, I don't know how I went from tattoo's to Landmark, but with this blog I let it flow.

I Like My Life

I know a lot of us out there are going through this 'quarter-life' crisis. We've been told we can do anything, be anyone and have it all. The reality is, life doesn't turn out the way you thought it would. Sometimes it's better.

I have two versions of myself. One is a big city living publishing giant. That may come one day. I've realized that life is too big to fit into one chapter. Everything changes. So I'm going to enjoy my life the way it is now knowing that one day it will be completely different. I used to have this faith and things always worked out. I lost that faith for a while. Now I know, I know, things will work out. It's nice to feel that way again.

The other half is the small town girl. I used to be embarressed that I work for the City that I grew up in. Now, with half the country out of a job, I'm happy. It may not be what I saw for my life, but then again, my life's not over. Who knows what tomorrow may bring. That thought makes me smile.

I like my life. I like that when I pull into the driveway, Anthony is usually waiting for me on the back porch swing. I like that he knows I like that.
I like that I live a mile from work and can do a load of laundry on my lunchbreak.
I like that Oliver is never in daycare and because of that, being a working mom doesn't make me feel guilty. I like knowing (and being ok with) that being a stay at home Mom would make me a worse mother.

I like that my house is small but sturdy and in our back yard hangs a pink mimosa tree.
I like that I can't pick my nose driving around Fairburn because someone I know will see me. Yes, it's that small of a town.
I like that half of those people can picture me as alittle girl.
I like that I have history with Fairburn. That Amanda and Vanessa can stumble across a picture of me ten years ago in an old newspaper and laugh.
I like that my parents are still so heavily involved in my life yet I am on my own. I never thought I could make a decision without them and it's powerful to know how very capable I am.

I like that I know my brother, Michael, loves me (almost) more than anything in this world. My cup runneth over for him.

I like that my cup runneth over.

I like that my son is 9 months old and has never been sick (knock on wood)
I like that Oliver can play the drums on Boo Radley's belly.
I like that my husband is a well respected member of my hometown. I like that it's now his hometown.
I like that he does good in this world and that everyonce in a while he get's a thank you card from a stranger he's helped.
I like that he's my husband.

So all you out there, take heed. Life is not going to be this way forever. I encourage you to think hard about the things you like about the life you're living now. You never know when things will change. And you don't want to spend all your time dwelling on the things you don't like. That doesn't help you at all.

Peace and 'Like'
Have a good weekend.

The Dream Man

Anthony worked the landfill job last night from 5:30 pm to 5:30 am. I didn't sleep well, knowing that I was the only line of protection for Oliver.

It didn't help that the dogs kept barking at the back door.

It also didn't help that I was having creepy dreams. Dreams where a man (I don't know who it was, probably a character from the story I'm writing) who was sitting on the edge of my bed and staring. Then he said, "Wake up!". I sat up in bed with a start.

Then Boo hacked, choking on his food, and I thought someone kicked in the back door.

Then Boo walked over the grate in the hallway and I thought it was a person standing outside Oliver's door.

I am not normally so fearful. I'm not afraid of someone breaking in per se. I feel pretty powerful with my shotgun by the bed. I have an emergency plan...hear someone break in, grab the baby, put the armour in front of my bedroom door, lock myself in our bathroom with the shotgun pointed at the door. Pretty thorough, I know. But at 1am when the dream man (literally...he wasn't that good looking...) commanded me awake, I couldn't go back to sleep. I read a little, wrote a little and finally laid in the darkness.

I tossed and turned until 5:45 am. The second Anthony got into bed I felt my whole body relax. I suppose I have gotten used to having another warm body in the bed. I remember when we first started dating, Anthony didn't sleep well. He said it was the rhythm of my breathing that helped him sleep better than he ever had. Maybe I'm having the same effect.

Unfortunately, I had to get up at 6 but I snoozed until 6:30, making me late to Sabrina's to drop off the baby. I pulled out his winter clothes and he looks absolutely adorable. I got stuck behind every school bus on the way to work but I didn't care. The brisk fall air, clear sky's and bright sun started my day in a very happy way.

A good weekend to look forward too. I can't believe its almost Old Campbell County day. PWC Photography will be having a booth. I've already picked out Oliver's outfit as he's wheeled around in this 50's stroller...a car.

As soon as Amanda gets to work, we are heading to Target and Walmart to get supplies for the parade. Hopefully this day will fly but my nights be slow and comforting.

Writing

I've been writing again. A sad tale I can't really go into yet. I can't divulge the meat of my story or I will loss all motivation. The only person I can talk about it to is Anthony. It's interesting, discussing things with him. He and I, we are so different. Everything is shades of gray to me. So much that it makes it hard to disagree with most people. I can always see where others are coming from.
Anthony, on the other hand, is everything in b/w. At least he can debate and concede if he sees my point.
When I feel restless, I write. I need to get out of my head, out of my life, even for a moment. I do this a lot. Sometimes I get obsessed with televisions show and that is my nightly escape. Recently, I've found comfort in the world of Twilight. Once that fever started to wain, I've taken to writing, obsessively.
I've always said I'm at artist without any art. Writing has always been my art and the only thing that turns me into an eccentric artist. By that I mean, the only thing that will keep me up late, typing furiously with a crazed look in my eye. I get so intense I start scribbling on receipts as I drive down the word when I mentally come up with the perfect sentence.
My writing comes in phases. Like I said, only when I'm restless or sad or incredibly busy doing other things. Most of the time, my life is ho-hum and happy, which makes writing incredibly difficult. I can feel that even attempting it will be futile.
I have a million ideas for stories. All sad and morbid. But those are the times that really make you human, which is why I think I'm obsessed with the topic. The problem is, I can never come up with endings. On the off chance that I do, so starts the obsession.
I start doubting myself and kicking myself for not getting myself educated in creative writing. I need to break down and take a creative writing class. I know I had talent. I have to remind myself that not everyone can pen a story start to finish or have the gift of written gab.
I know there must be tons of uneducated writers. I don't know of any though.
I doubt myself and then look back at past journal entries or blog entries and I surprise myself at how profound my writing can be sometimes. I need to hold on to that feeling.

Tangents.

Last sunday, my brother's father died. I have a weird fascination with funerals. They don't bother me, I don't dread them like most. Maybe thats the southerner in me. Funerals mean you get to see all the people you haven't seen since the last funeral.

Keep in mind, I've never lost anyone close to me. That will probably alter my opinion of funerals.

It's been hard being away. I bought both Twilight and New Moon (I only had the last two, borrowing the first from Kat). I have let every free moment, nose in book. It helps make the time pass in a blur.

I have a sick obsession with Twilight. The writing is horrible and probably pretty sexist at times, but I love to escape into a character that is the damsel in distress. I am always the hero, always in charge, always the one doing the saving. It's nice to be, if only for a moment, completely helpless. It's also nice escaping into a world where money is no problem.

Plus, she is a girl who has two completely gorgeous,sexy, rich (Edward) and strong (Edward and Jacob) men competing for her constantly. Who couldn't get lost in that, if only for a moment?

And she's in high school. Enough said.

On the other hand, New moon is the next book I am going to start (I finished Twilight already) and I sort of dread it even though I know the importance of reading it (New Moon comes out 11/20/2009...can't WAIT!)

But it hits too close to home, being left unexpectedly, that numbing, excruciating pain of a broken heart. Some things you never get over completely, I guess.

Anyway, I miss Oliver but Twilight has made it bearable.

My brothers are so sad but being so strong. Even if we've only been a slight distraction, I hope that Mom and I have helped in some way.