I am reinventing my idea of this blog and what purpose I hope it might serve. I may occasionally still write here (since I am kind of bipolar like that), but here is to moving on, at long last. Ultimately, I write for myself, and it feels great to talk about nothing or talk about everything. If you care to journey with me, I hope you might find you relate to some of the emotions I experience along the way.
http://aswampsaga.blogspot.com/2011/02/chocolate-frosting.html
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Monday, February 07, 2011
Determined
I feel reckless. Restless and reckless. Aimlessly wandering through the weeks, unattached from anything. I feel like I need to be saved from myself. Decently content when it comes to training and companions with whom I do so. Speed workout is great and Friday Boys Run remains my favorite weekly workout. They talk about nothing serious and there is no drama; it is easy to just run and to just be. Oh, and they run fast.
Sunday brought another 5K. Marc was second overall without even trying. I want to be like that: brave enough to enter something that painful and talented enough to not even sweat. He doesn't even realize how fortunate he is after all this time. I look at the pictures of him and I think what an incredibly cute guy. I know all of my girlfriends wish they could sleep with him. ;)
Swim meet all weekend and my girl is no different than her father--cool and collected, without a care in the world. Junior Olympic meet the 18-19 for those who qualify. I guess we're going to Clearwater. I think I am excited but I just can't seem to access what I should be feeling.
I think about so many people from my former life who feel like a distant memory now. I don't want to go home for the summer, because it is just too hard to leave them again. My sister is getting married in April and we are all in the wedding. It hardly feels worth it to fly home to only stay a week, but looking forward to hanging with her. I often wonder what I would be like and where I would be if I weren't extracted from my roots. Maybe I wouldn't like the person I would have become. Maybe I would be aloof and self-serving. Maybe I wouldn't appreciate all life has to offer if I felt like I had everything already. My mom used to say that about all of the kids at my high school, that they had nothing to look forward to since they already drove Porsches and BMWs, but I never understood what she meant. I think I am still processing it, because I'm quite certain I would have been just fine driving a 500 series. Then again, I am so different from who I was back then, but who am I?
I think of the growing pains I have endured the last three and a half years and it causes me to consider isn't that what life really is? We are always growing and changing and adjusting, within ourselves and within our relationships. What appears to be something we want one day may not suit us at all in five years, unless we choose to rearrange and reconsider priorities. How much can we alter our likes and desires? Can I be talked into something I really don't want? How many times must we change our position to see it from a new perspective? Why, as humans, are we always searching for more, more, more?
My mother never pays me any compliments or offers accolades, but one word she always uses to describe me is "determined". I think that is all I need from her, or anyone, really. I don't care what else can be said of me, but "determined" implies everything I hope to be.
Sunday brought another 5K. Marc was second overall without even trying. I want to be like that: brave enough to enter something that painful and talented enough to not even sweat. He doesn't even realize how fortunate he is after all this time. I look at the pictures of him and I think what an incredibly cute guy. I know all of my girlfriends wish they could sleep with him. ;)
Swim meet all weekend and my girl is no different than her father--cool and collected, without a care in the world. Junior Olympic meet the 18-19 for those who qualify. I guess we're going to Clearwater. I think I am excited but I just can't seem to access what I should be feeling.
I think about so many people from my former life who feel like a distant memory now. I don't want to go home for the summer, because it is just too hard to leave them again. My sister is getting married in April and we are all in the wedding. It hardly feels worth it to fly home to only stay a week, but looking forward to hanging with her. I often wonder what I would be like and where I would be if I weren't extracted from my roots. Maybe I wouldn't like the person I would have become. Maybe I would be aloof and self-serving. Maybe I wouldn't appreciate all life has to offer if I felt like I had everything already. My mom used to say that about all of the kids at my high school, that they had nothing to look forward to since they already drove Porsches and BMWs, but I never understood what she meant. I think I am still processing it, because I'm quite certain I would have been just fine driving a 500 series. Then again, I am so different from who I was back then, but who am I?
I think of the growing pains I have endured the last three and a half years and it causes me to consider isn't that what life really is? We are always growing and changing and adjusting, within ourselves and within our relationships. What appears to be something we want one day may not suit us at all in five years, unless we choose to rearrange and reconsider priorities. How much can we alter our likes and desires? Can I be talked into something I really don't want? How many times must we change our position to see it from a new perspective? Why, as humans, are we always searching for more, more, more?
My mother never pays me any compliments or offers accolades, but one word she always uses to describe me is "determined". I think that is all I need from her, or anyone, really. I don't care what else can be said of me, but "determined" implies everything I hope to be.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
I Don't Want To
Post holidays and so much work to be done....not just with writing, but with packing up Christmas and then packing up the entire house for Saturday's move. The puppy is so much work, too. An infant in the house would have been an easier than a super sloppy spazy lab. John has come and gone, and with him, so much of the Christmas excitement and joy. While he returns to the Promised Land, we go back to our lives as we were before. Post holiday blues are even more blue without family around. There is SO MUCH to be done and I don't want to do any of it. I don't want to clean or pack or lift or load or haul or clear or organize. Moving is fun but so overwhelming, too.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Love
Love that it's almost Christmas. Love that we got our tree tonight and decorated it by the fire. LOVE that is it going to be in the 20's here tonight. Love our new puppy---gorgeous boy! Love that my brother-in-law is coming here next week (counting the days). Love that it's almost my birthday. Love that Marc and I will celebrate our anniversary next week. Love that we are moving to another house and I can get rid of more furniture and "stuff" (is that why people always ask if we just moved in here, though we have been in this house for two years???). Love that my sister and I talk all the time because I love her to pieces. Love that my girl cleaned up at the meet in Gainesville last weekend and is SO close to JOs....kills me. Love all of my running friends and all the fun we had at the Shaf's house and the scandalous party. Love this whole season and everything is means. Love that I can't stop listening to Christmas music and thinking about love....
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Contagious Discontentment
Today was a scary roller coaster of a day. What started out with me promising myself I would have an open mind and a good attitude, came full circle back to "Not a chance in this lifetime."
Marc and I have decided to look for a house to pur...to pur....to purchase. There. I said it (wrote it) in black and white. We are thinking about considering the possibility of purchasing a house on the island. Here. In Florida. On the opposite coast I desire to live on. I went out with a realtor today, and it is really interesting to think about the people I encountered along the way in the span of a few hours, and how they influenced my emotions.
The morning began with a women's group and me "haphazardly" paired up with a woman with whom I have never had a conversation before. I poured my heart out (and shamelessly cried to this perfect stranger) about how sad and lonely my life feels since it has been "off track" and bizarre post Exodus out of The Golden State. I blubbered on and on about how we have just returned from a fabulous trip to Peach Tree City to see my old friend and ex-roommate. Roberta, too, was very disgruntled to have to leave California for her husband's job seven years ago. Upon their departure at that time, I remember thinking, "Wow, poor little soul. How dreadfully awful to have to move out of Paradise....". Little did I know how the chips were going to fall and that I would be in the same predicament only a handful of years behind her. I digress.
I shared with Emily, my partner, that our trip to Peach Tree City was amazing. Halloween was excessively fun with a surplus of kids crammed onto golf carts so full, they were dropping off in the streets as if they were turnips falling off of truck in transport. The weather was mild and the houses were decorated to the hilt, to my delight. We had a week of old friends and new ones, we rode bikes and explored, we tooled around on the golf cart and dined in civilization.
The only minor setback really, was my daughter's run-in with a scorpion. Apparently we missed the memo that states these disgusting arachnids are in abundance, and one would be wise to shake out her shoes before stuffing her foot into them, especially without socks. No matter. A quick (and expensive) trip to the emergency room imparted the knowledge that scorpions this side of the Mississippi are not poisonous, unless one happens to be allergic. Experience a scorpion in Arizona, California, or Texas and you may not be as fortunate. We'll chalk that up to one advantage this coast has over the other: scorpion stings far less apt to cause bodily harm or prove fatal. Again, I digress...
I continued my story to Emily about how getting back to The Sticks and reality really stinks. We came home to bugs in the pantry, an ant farm in the kitchen (I really need to break down and allow Kelly the Bug Man to treat the inside of the house), a $480 electric bill (and that is without a week of AC, a letter informing me of an accumulation of monthly maintenance charges on a savings account I was not aware was in existence, a dead goldfish, a mountain of mail to sift and sort through, and zero Internet access. The schedule resumes and school is in front of us again.
Emily was very kind and encouraging. She had some uplifting words of wisdom and actually made me feel better about my current life chapter. She mostly reinforced that what we are doing here in not in vain, and that if the kids are healthy, happy, and thriving, what else really matters? Does that mean I am to sacrifice my happiness indefinitely? I am not sure, but for now, I guess at the very least, I am to try to continue my journey with seeking gratitude and worry less about the issues that plague my consciousness daily. I left the group determined to keep an open mind about the properties we were off to look at.
I was not impressed. I can't help it. The truth is, I cannot picture myself living for an unspecified amount of time in anything the realtor showed us today. Can't do it. Can't stomach it. Can't imagine it. Don't want to even try.
How did we even reach house hunting status? I am not really sure. I think it all came to a climax when we had to deal with our ridiculous landlords one too many times, and we felt we should at least consider our other options. Certainly we could pay less on a mortgage than we do in rent every month, but that would be the ultimate betrayal to the Land that I love. How can I possible go against every grain in my body and commit to purchasing land here when everything in me wants to get on a plane and fly away and never come back?
After feeling positive and hopeful for the future upon pouring out my guts to Emily this morning, I went on to meet a man working in the bank (who helped me with said monthly maintenance fees) who commiserated with me about the "lameness" of the town we share in common. Ethan is a transplant, too, as it turns out, and though we started as strangers sitting opposite from each other, only an oak desk apart discussing Custodial Accounts, we became fast friends and pledged our loyalty to each other to get out of Dodge, so help us hurricanes. We even shook on it.
Fast forward then to swim team this afternoon, and another conversation with the kids' swim coach brought more clarity on the subject. Scott, too, is dismayed with the older-than-dirt country club population here and wants to start over somewhere else. Disappointed with the lack of team growth in the last five years, he and his partner would like to make a fast exit to Anywhere But Here. We share the same thing in common, and it is called Discontent. I wonder if it is contagious? Does this town just breed it? Does it grow like cells in a Petri dish more rapidly than bacteria itself?
So, this all leads me back to square one and that is this: I really cannot bring myself to seriously considering home ownership here. Yes, the kids are desperate for a dog, and true, we despise our landlords, and of course, ultimately we could save money and build some equity in a house, but I fear the risk far outweighs any potential benefit. So, I suppose I continue to live here with one foot in and one foot out, the foot out fidgety and forlorn, wild and wanting to run away.
I hate to think I am spreading the Discontent further around me. I wish I could say the buck stops here, but sadly, the longer we live here, the more apparent it becomes to me that we are just a bunch of broken people, living gypsy lives, waiting for the next best thing that is not just going to happen along one of these days. What are we waiting for? We are no better than the old people who retire here and wait to die.
I want to live.
Marc and I have decided to look for a house to pur...to pur....to purchase. There. I said it (wrote it) in black and white. We are thinking about considering the possibility of purchasing a house on the island. Here. In Florida. On the opposite coast I desire to live on. I went out with a realtor today, and it is really interesting to think about the people I encountered along the way in the span of a few hours, and how they influenced my emotions.
The morning began with a women's group and me "haphazardly" paired up with a woman with whom I have never had a conversation before. I poured my heart out (and shamelessly cried to this perfect stranger) about how sad and lonely my life feels since it has been "off track" and bizarre post Exodus out of The Golden State. I blubbered on and on about how we have just returned from a fabulous trip to Peach Tree City to see my old friend and ex-roommate. Roberta, too, was very disgruntled to have to leave California for her husband's job seven years ago. Upon their departure at that time, I remember thinking, "Wow, poor little soul. How dreadfully awful to have to move out of Paradise....". Little did I know how the chips were going to fall and that I would be in the same predicament only a handful of years behind her. I digress.
I shared with Emily, my partner, that our trip to Peach Tree City was amazing. Halloween was excessively fun with a surplus of kids crammed onto golf carts so full, they were dropping off in the streets as if they were turnips falling off of truck in transport. The weather was mild and the houses were decorated to the hilt, to my delight. We had a week of old friends and new ones, we rode bikes and explored, we tooled around on the golf cart and dined in civilization.
The only minor setback really, was my daughter's run-in with a scorpion. Apparently we missed the memo that states these disgusting arachnids are in abundance, and one would be wise to shake out her shoes before stuffing her foot into them, especially without socks. No matter. A quick (and expensive) trip to the emergency room imparted the knowledge that scorpions this side of the Mississippi are not poisonous, unless one happens to be allergic. Experience a scorpion in Arizona, California, or Texas and you may not be as fortunate. We'll chalk that up to one advantage this coast has over the other: scorpion stings far less apt to cause bodily harm or prove fatal. Again, I digress...
I continued my story to Emily about how getting back to The Sticks and reality really stinks. We came home to bugs in the pantry, an ant farm in the kitchen (I really need to break down and allow Kelly the Bug Man to treat the inside of the house), a $480 electric bill (and that is without a week of AC, a letter informing me of an accumulation of monthly maintenance charges on a savings account I was not aware was in existence, a dead goldfish, a mountain of mail to sift and sort through, and zero Internet access. The schedule resumes and school is in front of us again.
Emily was very kind and encouraging. She had some uplifting words of wisdom and actually made me feel better about my current life chapter. She mostly reinforced that what we are doing here in not in vain, and that if the kids are healthy, happy, and thriving, what else really matters? Does that mean I am to sacrifice my happiness indefinitely? I am not sure, but for now, I guess at the very least, I am to try to continue my journey with seeking gratitude and worry less about the issues that plague my consciousness daily. I left the group determined to keep an open mind about the properties we were off to look at.
I was not impressed. I can't help it. The truth is, I cannot picture myself living for an unspecified amount of time in anything the realtor showed us today. Can't do it. Can't stomach it. Can't imagine it. Don't want to even try.
How did we even reach house hunting status? I am not really sure. I think it all came to a climax when we had to deal with our ridiculous landlords one too many times, and we felt we should at least consider our other options. Certainly we could pay less on a mortgage than we do in rent every month, but that would be the ultimate betrayal to the Land that I love. How can I possible go against every grain in my body and commit to purchasing land here when everything in me wants to get on a plane and fly away and never come back?
After feeling positive and hopeful for the future upon pouring out my guts to Emily this morning, I went on to meet a man working in the bank (who helped me with said monthly maintenance fees) who commiserated with me about the "lameness" of the town we share in common. Ethan is a transplant, too, as it turns out, and though we started as strangers sitting opposite from each other, only an oak desk apart discussing Custodial Accounts, we became fast friends and pledged our loyalty to each other to get out of Dodge, so help us hurricanes. We even shook on it.
Fast forward then to swim team this afternoon, and another conversation with the kids' swim coach brought more clarity on the subject. Scott, too, is dismayed with the older-than-dirt country club population here and wants to start over somewhere else. Disappointed with the lack of team growth in the last five years, he and his partner would like to make a fast exit to Anywhere But Here. We share the same thing in common, and it is called Discontent. I wonder if it is contagious? Does this town just breed it? Does it grow like cells in a Petri dish more rapidly than bacteria itself?
So, this all leads me back to square one and that is this: I really cannot bring myself to seriously considering home ownership here. Yes, the kids are desperate for a dog, and true, we despise our landlords, and of course, ultimately we could save money and build some equity in a house, but I fear the risk far outweighs any potential benefit. So, I suppose I continue to live here with one foot in and one foot out, the foot out fidgety and forlorn, wild and wanting to run away.
I hate to think I am spreading the Discontent further around me. I wish I could say the buck stops here, but sadly, the longer we live here, the more apparent it becomes to me that we are just a bunch of broken people, living gypsy lives, waiting for the next best thing that is not just going to happen along one of these days. What are we waiting for? We are no better than the old people who retire here and wait to die.
I want to live.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Hold With Hands
My chest is heavy
My heart is grieved
My soul is empty
I cannot breathe
Though I want to run
I've forgotten to walk
Though I want to sing
I cannot talk
The sky has lost its vibrancy
The wind whispers emptiness
The sea no longer soothes me
The oaks speak grievances
I used to think potential
So many dreams to come
But now I just feel useless
To bleak I have succumb
All around me lives unravel
Brittle shells of delicate glass
To myself, I am a stranger
Can't see tomorrow for the past
The questions left unanswered
I know I'll never understand
Why in life we cross paths with some
And others we long to hold with hands
My heart is grieved
My soul is empty
I cannot breathe
Though I want to run
I've forgotten to walk
Though I want to sing
I cannot talk
The sky has lost its vibrancy
The wind whispers emptiness
The sea no longer soothes me
The oaks speak grievances
I used to think potential
So many dreams to come
But now I just feel useless
To bleak I have succumb
All around me lives unravel
Brittle shells of delicate glass
To myself, I am a stranger
Can't see tomorrow for the past
The questions left unanswered
I know I'll never understand
Why in life we cross paths with some
And others we long to hold with hands
Monday, July 05, 2010
Summer Time and the Living is Fine
When the girl is in mild climate, it's fine. My run on the horse trails was peaceful and fragrant. The cool morning air carried with it the smell of chaparral and sweet jasmine. My only company were the thoughts running through my head, elated to be back to something familiar.
I traced the rusty red trails with my feet for several miles, lost in thought. With hardly any light to begin the day, I felt rebellious to be out on my own, as though lost in the wild somewhere. For a moment, I had myself convinced of this adventure, until I reached the street and was brought back to reality by wild honking. The lunatic was only Tracy, on her way to catch a crazy run up some mountain.
I told myself I would turn back after only 20 minutes, knowing I had a race the following day, but of course, I didn't. I promised myself I wouldn't punish my legs with hill repeats up and down the street, but I couldn't resist. Perhaps that is why my legs just wouldn't go any faster than they did for the 15K. I really don't care. I had a great time running and I can live with 1:08. I beat my brother-in-law by three minutes, which is great, considering all the smack he talked on the drive down. Hanging out with John allows me to feel closer to Marc while he is not here. While I couldn't let him trump me, I feel I have lost most of my competitive edge, and it feels fabulous.
I chased some guy in an American flag Speedo for the second half of the race, and it made me emotional. Proud to be an American, elated to be living free, excited to be back in civilization where people actually do wear silly, attention-getting get ups. I wasn't arrogant enough to think any of Speedoman's cat calls were for me, running on his heels. I came in fourth in my age group, which never feels great. I think I would rather be 20th than be that close to a podium finish.
As we tried to high tail it out of there, I found Speedoman at the finish and asked him to pose with me in a picture. He must have thought I was a freak, but he put his arm around me and smiled for the camera anyway. I sent it to all of my Florida friends.
God bless America.
I traced the rusty red trails with my feet for several miles, lost in thought. With hardly any light to begin the day, I felt rebellious to be out on my own, as though lost in the wild somewhere. For a moment, I had myself convinced of this adventure, until I reached the street and was brought back to reality by wild honking. The lunatic was only Tracy, on her way to catch a crazy run up some mountain.
I told myself I would turn back after only 20 minutes, knowing I had a race the following day, but of course, I didn't. I promised myself I wouldn't punish my legs with hill repeats up and down the street, but I couldn't resist. Perhaps that is why my legs just wouldn't go any faster than they did for the 15K. I really don't care. I had a great time running and I can live with 1:08. I beat my brother-in-law by three minutes, which is great, considering all the smack he talked on the drive down. Hanging out with John allows me to feel closer to Marc while he is not here. While I couldn't let him trump me, I feel I have lost most of my competitive edge, and it feels fabulous.
I chased some guy in an American flag Speedo for the second half of the race, and it made me emotional. Proud to be an American, elated to be living free, excited to be back in civilization where people actually do wear silly, attention-getting get ups. I wasn't arrogant enough to think any of Speedoman's cat calls were for me, running on his heels. I came in fourth in my age group, which never feels great. I think I would rather be 20th than be that close to a podium finish.
As we tried to high tail it out of there, I found Speedoman at the finish and asked him to pose with me in a picture. He must have thought I was a freak, but he put his arm around me and smiled for the camera anyway. I sent it to all of my Florida friends.
God bless America.
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