Reflecting on 30 Days of My NaBloPoMo Commitment.

“I do not wish women to have power over men; but over themselves.”—Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (Mary Shelley)

I guess I feel a sense of accomplishment at completing 30 days of daily posting. Thank you to those who have followed along and new readers who stumbled upon…and hooray that my husband is officially “following” my blog now.

I am quite relieved that this is my last obligated post of the month, since the HOLIDAYS have descended across the land—times are hectic. Manic Christmas music pushing me forward to choose suitable, meaningful, memorable gifts for my loved ones. Today alone, I’ve filled my arms with gifts, only to put them back on the shelves (not always the right shelves, YES! I’m one of those people, except I draw the line at perishables).

Moving on…this daily posting of National Blog Posting Month forced (not the best word), maybe encouraged me to dig deep and write on topics I normally wouldn’t share. I enjoyed when topics came easy, dreaded when I couldn’t share something more entertaining. But, I need to remember that I write for myself first, then the other Gods and Goddesses in training. It was nice to read comments from new people and reaffirming comments from family and friends.

All month, I’ve been wanting to post a picture of this dark gray bird (I’m not an expert on birds, so I don’t know her make and model)…I say she, because as a woman (and speaking for other women), we tend to get too critical of ourselves. So, this bird visits almost everyday and attacks its reflection in the shiny hubcap of my husband’s classic car. We call the car Angel--a 1946 Chevy Fleetmaster.

I’ve tried snapping pictures of this bird from my kitchen window. I creep around Angel when I get home from picking up my son from school, the clinking of this bird’s beak on the hubcap tells me she’s at it again. I was unsuccessful at catching her “on film” figuratively speaking, but I have witnessed her many times with this ritual of pecking at her reflection. My daughter thinks it’s funny, I think it is too, but there’s a bit of sadness there. I feel like I sometimes peck at my own reflection. I’m not satisfied with something. This happens daily, sometimes more magnified and depressing than other times, but it’s there.

So, as this year comes to a close, I’m trying to get a head start on adjusting my attitude, my self-perception and elevate my feelings of self worth. Don’t worry, I won’t be joining the little bird in banging my head into my husband’s shiny hubcaps, but I continue to be a GODDESS in TRAINING and I think it’s fine to not be satisfied, to yearn for more. Because one who is 100% “there” is bluffing. And, if I ever get to be 100% “there”, then maybe I’ll be at my peak and not need a BLOG, I’ll finally have the Bruce Lee glow. (Next year is the Year of the Dragon—his year, my mom’s too). Anyway, so easy to be sidetracked by Master Lee. I hope for a nice close to 2011 and a fiery, evolutionary, memorable 2012. I’m sure I’ll write again, even though I need a bit of a break thanks to NaBloPoMo.

I have learned more about myself this past month and hope you folks have picked through my ramblings to find your own nuggets of truth (thanks, denise for the “nugget” term)….until then, don’t peck too often or too hard at your own reflections. And if you have to, use a helmet.

ESTA LATER! Thank you NABLOPOMO and BLOGher!
I love Wonder Woman and Lynda Carter, classic! I'm going to run around everywhere with this theme song in my head, don't laugh.

Don't Read This One....Day 10 of NaBloPoMo.

Well, here you are anyway. Welcome.

Ahh, the chiropractor. It’s been seven years since I’ve had anything more than a self-adjustment, so this was my third visit in six weeks. Something calming about having a person take your head in their hands and crank your neck to the side, like you see in many scenes where the killer snaps someone’s neck.



But, oh how we trust our chiropractor.

Anyway, I digress again. Before I got my adjustment from my able-handed chiropractor, I read this quote on the door. I never noticed these boards before, but I guess I was meant to read this yesterday.
------------------------------> Pictorial digression.

It fits with the current, yet cyclical struggle I have of NOT being satisfied in my life. Yes, I’m happy with my domestic life, my baby start of a writing career and such, but I guess one should never be entirely satisfied with one’s station in life. If we stop reaching, dreaming, stretching, growing, then don’t we stop living?

I’m a Goddess in training because I still want improvement in my life. I don’t typically like to discuss (in cyberspace) if I’m dieting or exercising because I feel it can set you up for failure. There are certain aspects of my life that I don’t want under a lens. But, I guess by discussing this now, it’s kind of out of the shadows.

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Let’s just say, this quote, written by George Bernard Shaw (I love Google...had to know where this quote originated)--hit me and was fitting. In four months, I’ll be 38. I want change and you can say right now, I’m Under Construction. (not plastic surgery….don't get it twisted). I will symbolically twist the neck of the old, tired me....

I’ve always felt an urgency to get things accomplished…moreso after my father died at 55. So, each day is a battle with myself, and for some time, I’ve been doing something real about it. No pain, no gain?

These folks have the prettiest hair in Country...and their song is cool.


Esta Later…and keep that chocolate away from me…..

Written Words for My Children. Day 4 of NaBloPoMo.

My beautiful children are still so young, but may one day read this blog, or be embarrassed by it….but, aside from “penning” in cyberworld, I have been JOURNALING the old-fashioned way (pen and paper) for my two children since 2008.

I invested in some matching, fancy schmancy leather bound journals. As I chose them, I worried about the possibility of a third child…should I buy a third now even if he or she wasn’t born yet? What to do?! My level-headed husband told me that I could contact the journal company when the time came and not to stress. So, two journals and about $60.00 later I was set to start writing to my son and daughter. I’ve journaled very infrequently, but continue to fill their pages when time, inspiration and life permits. They’ve seen me with them and of course ask, I merely say it’s a journal and they accept that. They have many journals of their own (composition notebooks) dreams and invention journal for my 6-year old son and an art journal for my 3-year old. I envision handing the journals to my children when they graduate from high school, or college. Or, when they get married or have their first child…. My husband is invited to write to them too, and again when time and inspiration permits, he will. Every entry is dated, including the day and time. I end every entry with “Love, Mama.” I fill it with milestones in their lives or big events about life or the world in general, funny things they say or quirky behaviors that may be fleeting. I recall a point in my son’s life when certain words he said sounded BRITISH. We would laugh, but those moments were so short-lived and I can’t even remember the words he used to say… (I’ll have to check with my husband).

“Ideas can come from anywhere and at any time. The problem with making mental notes is that the ink fades very rapidly.”-Rolf Smith

Pictures, video of my lovelies in their childhood are wonderful, but documentation with my words, in my script and with my take on their life will hopefully be something they appreciate.

ESTA LATER!

These Gents Cubed! Ivan³, John³ and Henry³…..Day 2 NaBloPoMo!

"Wookin Pa Nub in all da wong paces!" --Eddie Murphy as Buckwheat

Patterns, love them. I’m not mathematical at all, needing a calculator at yard sales to keep my addition and subtraction in check. But, I’m into patterns, symbols and over-analyzing connection when my husband might just say it’s COINCIDENCE. Now, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but when over-analyzing my life, past and present, certain symbols rise up like cream. I’ve wanted to detail this before and I’ve notice this pattern of boys/men in my life many years ago, but with NaBloPoMo, I’m digging deep for good blog posts. So, I’ve had two boyfriends in my past. The first at 21 (John) and the last (Henry) at 28 years of age. I married my second boyfriend. I’ve been attracted to dudes name “John” (and its various forms) and “Henry”. Ivans, not so much as you will read.

*************The Ivans***************** In third grade, Ivan T. stalked me. He was a tan, rotund, robust Guam boy with curls. I guess, he wasn’t my cup of Tang at that age and it didn’t last more than a month—him following me, that is. But, when a third grader says he’s going to marry you someday, with as much conviction that an 8-year-old boy could muster, a girl could freak out—at least I did. In high school, I was acquainted with an Ivan M., green eyes, nice Chamorro boy, not a great conversationalist, but again I wasn’t feeling his flow—his stalker tendencies came into full bloom when I was in college. He was a bag boy at one of the only major grocery chains on island. I worked at a clothing retailer (Sparkle—yes, that was the name—don’t ask) in a strip mall outside of the grocery store. He loved collecting shopping carts and slowly, creep by our store front—I would be the girl hiding behind mannequins. A few months later, the second Ivan’s buddy, who worked in the same store as a butcher, came a courtin’ too. Tall, dark and hella scary with his white apron stained with blood. His name? Ivan. (cue eerie X-Files music).

********The Johns ******* I’ll be more coy here. First boyfriend at 21 (I was a late, late bloomer with a very intimidating to all men of a father), a few dates with another John back when teased bangs were cool and rock bands like Firehouse, Stryper and Slaughter were on the airwaves, and then the final John who “thought” he liked me, when I knew he really liked MEN, but he himself was still not aware of this. (Later verified). ****************************The Henrys**************** Back when Guam still had the wonderful department store, Gibsons, I loved me a comic book sales clerk named, Henry. My parents would drop me off to “stroll” with my other 13 -year-old friends, and we would walk by the comics to see the cutie. Never spoke to him….. Then down the street in the village I grew up in, was a much older Henry. Handsome for sure, great hair, mestizo, macho and mysterious. Never spoke to him either, but gagged and stuttered a lot if he was near. There could be a fourth Henry, which only solidifies that Henry would be a man I married--again, my over-critical brain at work....but, this little Henry was a teenager and I was ten years his senior in our Tae Kwon Do class...already engaged to my one and only Henry....I set young Henry straight, right quick, roundhouse and ax kick included. Kidding.....

But, the most important man to me, is my husband, Henry. The one who matters in the end of this equation. So, there, the dudes I remember most in my girl meets boy world. ************************Day 2, National Blog Posting Month! Accomplished!******************

Esta Later!

I am The Sun and The Moon...Day 1 of NaBloPoMo

"If the SUN and MOON should doubt, they'd immediately go out."--William Blake

*****This morning, the SUN, veiled behind the haze of moisture and clouds made me think it was the MOON instead. I was able to stare directly at the perfect circle in the sky, gray with a white border, which is why I thought the moon was having a late start to its bedtime. If we removed the filter that the earth provides and zoom up close to the sun, minus the reality that we would be burned to cinder, the sun is actually this volatile fire ball of energy--crazy, whipping flames to and fro. Then, my mind, which tries to find symbolism in everything, thought of PEOPLE and how we create filters around ourselves. We filter how the outside world views us, this persona we want people to believe about us. When in reality, we’re like the sun viewed from up close, fiery, crazy, unpredictable.

*****I find this true when I first meet someone. If I have seen them around, I start formulating a judgment about who they might be. They may be intriguing because of their gait, their choice in clothes, the large cup of coffee they drink, the tinkle of their laugh. I may be watching how they interact with their child or spouse. This is the filter or lens I view them and they may be unconsciously casting this net or aura around them, but it’s there. I love being mistaken when I finally get to know someone, or having my initial judgment verified. Most times, I am pleased with what lies beneath and other times, I am repulsed. I know the same is true of those who have met me. I’ve heard many times about myself, “Wow, I never knew you were so funny!” or “You are so on top of things and organized.” *****Anyone who has taken the time to know me might find this true, to an extent. I’m a straight A student when it comes to certain things, but I am flawed in other areas. I have cast an aura around me and this has perhaps misled some and attracted others. *****One particular incident in my past reminds me of how my reputation and the way I was viewed by my girlfriends were in stark contrast to the weakness I shared with them. After a very big break-up with my boyfriend of over five years, I suffered some sort of mental breakdown. To family and friends, I was strong, moving on, kicking butt and taking names. But, for myself, I was shattered. So, sitting in a TGIF’s, noshing on high calorie desserts, I declared my anxiety issues with three great friends, the best at the time. They all became silent and then laughed awkwardly. They thought I was joking, then made jokes about my feelings. I smiled and sucked it up, but a piece of the link between us weakened. For them, they couldn’t accept that I was anything but a tough chick who didn’t take crap from anyone. So, for their sake, I joked with them and promised myself silently not to be so vulnerable with them again. Part of me was flattered that the aura I set forth of being the female Bruce Lee worked, but another part—the one who wears a pink tutu, cried in a field of daisies.

So, nowadays, I’m all things, strong, vulnerable, neurotic, organized, a leader and a follower. And, with the sun shining now, really doing its true thing--I take on writing today, the first day of NaBloPoMo month (National Blog Posting Month). I will focus on entries for the next 30 days, some short and sweet, some long and deep, but I’m predicting, mostly short and deep….I’m a busy wife and mother.

One constant in my life is my writing. I’ve returned to it for solace. Thank you for joining me, the real me. Esta Later!