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.

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!

Is There a DENDROLOGIST in the House? Day 3 of NaBloPoMo.

“That tree whose leaves are trembling: it is yearning for something. That tree so lovely to see acts as if it wants to flower: it is yearning for something.” ~Diego Hurtado De Mendoza

<-------This tree!****This tree I found as I walked my morning walk yesterday, pretending to be a jogger, with my daughter talking away in the stroller. <-----This tree****what is it? Name, please, anyone? I’ve wanted to know for the last 30 years. Googled it to no avail….anyway, the story of this beautiful tree begins when I was the same age as my son is now. <-------This tree holds special significance to me because it was THE TREE I was going to build my first tree house in. When I was 6-years old, my parents bought a home in the village of Ordot back in Guam, my home island. I was excited to have my own room and not be renting (at that age, I felt the power and excitement of owning something). My mom was eager to start gardening. My dad was happy to start building. In our front yard, my dad and mom planted this short plant, and I didn’t know if it was just a flowering bush or a tree. My dad said it would grow big and become a tree. I was fascinated by its butterfly looking leaves and beautiful pink orchid like flowers. I remember the perfume of the pink and white petals. I remember sitting on the poky Chinese grass, which was vibrant green and carpet-like. The thin blades of grass poked through the thin material of my shorts, but I didn’t mind. I was trying my hardest to enjoy the “shade”, sparse as it was of MY tree.

My childhood home, Ordot, Guam. Wish I had a picture of the tree, but it's to the left of the shot.>>>>>>>>>>. ************I wondered every year if my tree would get big and strong enough to actually hold a house. My father would watch me from our front door as I insisted on sitting in the grass to read a book. I must have been eight or nine, and the tree was now slightly taller than me, guessing about four feet tall. “When is this tree going to grow, dad?” He would say, “soon”. So, instead of watching this tree grow, that afternoon I perfected my cartwheel. My dad was proud and proceeded to cheer me on to do more. I must have done a hundred, at least that’s what my child memory logged in, sure felt like it. I was happy to make my dad laugh.

***********When I moved out of my childhood home to a home of my own in another village, that tree was grown, but not strong enough for a tree house. By that time, I had given up on that dream. And, the beautiful grass was replaced with concrete for a basketball court, which doubled as a parking spot. ***********In 2009, I visited Guam again. I had just sold my Mangilao home and did a drive by to see the first home I purchased. Then, without question, my mom and I drove to Ordot. We visited the tenant who had made this her residence for almost ten years. She raised her children in my old home and was now a grandmother. My tree was now taller than the house. It was still not ready for a tree house, and would never be. The nature, structure and delicate branches could never hold my dream. But, now, I’m okay with that. It is a reminder of a time when my dad was healthy, young and attentive. This tree that I see every morning on my walk will still be special to me. It will still be a place I can hang my hopes for something big.

I ♥ Music. I searched "Screaming Trees" & "Treehouse Song" for music...Ane Brun won. 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!