The Illusion of Love

I watched "Must Love Dogs" last night, a film essentially about finding 'the one' and then tonight as I was washing dishes I watched "One Tree Hill". I usually stop on it for at least a little while when surfing because of Chad Michael Murray. No! Not because I think he's dreeeeeamy but because I worked with him on "The Lone Ranger" when I still lived in L.A. - BE (Before Exile). It's that loyalty for no reason thing, and because he is genuinely a nice guy. OK, he's a little dreamy.

Annnnnyway, as I'm washing dishes I'm thinking this show is all about who's doing who, except it's more than that, it's about who's falling in love with whom. Clearly, it's aimed at teenage girls... But so many shows and movies come down to that one magical thing; love. Who doesn't want to be loved! I mean, come on, it's fundamental. But I realized that it is also an illusion. Love, more than anything else really can give you a sense of well being that goes beyond temporary. It's good to feel loved. It's good to love. But the message, when love is portrayed in movies and television (and I am generalizing here), seems to be the only work you need to do is to FIND it. Then you're done. Satisfaction for the rest of your life. (OK, I know one shouldn't really be philosphizing over a sink full of dishes and normally I don't do them at all, but my dishwasher is in Santa Barbara at the moment. S.O.'s working making money for the family, work that is non-existent here in the desert during the summertime, so I am playing single mom for three weeks. Washing dishes just takes way too long, too much time to think!)

But that is the illusion isn't it? That is the destructive force, that idea, that it's couldn't be that you stopped appreciating your loved one, or started acting disrespectful or taking them for granted (because when you treat someone poorly you subconsciously feel bad, and when you feel bad about the way you have behaved your psyche tends to try to find the path of least resistence which is find the person you have mistreated deplorable for some reason and therefore justify your mistreatment). No, it's that they are not 'the one'. You have 'stopped loving them' you don't know why you just did and can't anyone tell that is not your own fault! You know, I get that love fades and sometimes doesn't stand up to life. I mean, hell I've been divorced twice! I do get that.

It's just that I think there are destructive and distracting ideas about love that float around the world. It is great to be in love but it is not the only thing that can give one a sense of well being. And frankly, I think there is so much focus on 'love' and finding it, and the right 'one' that there is less energy left for all the other parts of life. There are lots of things that can give you that sense of well being; music, eating, laughing... There are also many things in this world that need our attention.

I guess, I just get annoyed that the real struggles don't seem to be portrayed. And maybe it's because we can't figure out how. Many of life's other struggles are internal and have more to do with fighting your own demons than embracing someone else. It has always been the same of course. Finding love is the most titilating part of the story and has been memorialized in every kind of human expression there is... the rest is... work.

Global Warming Training

We spent a lovely three days in Santa Barbara and arrived home to the desert to... 120 degrees... plus hot wind...

Hell. It actually is very hell like. Just as we were driving up some neighbors of ours were escaping to cooler climes for the night. And a no wonder. Our airconditioner is struggling to reach 90 on the thermostat temperture monitor (that's as high as it goes) and not quite there yet after three hours at home. Who knows what temp it really is in here. Sweaty. That is a few degrees beyond sticky right? I mean, I am sitting here, inside my home, with all the windows and door closed and I am sweating.

As we left Santa Barbara we stopped at Vons for water and cookies for the ride home. The checker said it was "awful" outside... oh if he only knew. What a wimpy!

The only upside that I can think of is that this just might come in handy if we can't manage to get out collective head out of our collective rear and insist that something be done about global warming. It's like astronauts. They train in a weightless enviornment to simulate what they will be dealing with while in space. We are getting our global warming simulator right here in the (sometimes beautiful) Coachella Valley! All the wealthy people move here to golf and relax but leave when the going gets hot. But us full time residents who have no extended relocation choice must suffer through the painful heat and the excrutiating electric bill. The wealthy are so dumb. If they were smart they'd actually STAY here for the summer. Come on, suck it up! But no, they won't. What they don't realize is, us po' fok is creating an uber-race that will be able to withstand temps like no one else.... maybe the meek shall inherit the earth... when it's ALL 120 degrees!

Summer sick

There is nothing worse than being sick in the summer time. But in the desert it's actually not so bad. When temps are pushing north of 110 and the wind is blowing hot and dry, like someone please close the oven door!, then it is a little bit of a blessing in disguise.

I dread the countdown to the end of summer - not as some of you who are NOT in exile in the desert might - but dread the length of it. So any few days that can eliviate some of the boredom and cabin fever are welcome. See, when you're sick of course you don't lament not being able to go outside so much.

But this summer we have had 2 weeks plus of illness. The little Significant Others have been cold and flu on and off and throw in a couple goopy eyes and allergic reactions and you have sick soup. Finally, this week S.O. and I caught it. For as many germs were flying around our house I think we did pretty well fending off the sick!

Finally it seems we are all on the mend and I am so grateful. There is nothing worse than watching your little ones suffer. Maybe now I might get some regular sleep.

And the countdown to coolness - only 2 1/2 months to go! Ummm... rah?... or maybe ugh...

Summer - Ugh!

This is what I thought as I ran around the desert this morning, taking S.O.v.1 to the doctor to have them check his TB shot and fill out the paperwork for his preschool, "ugh! Summer is here". At least it's the end of June I thought, meaning that there are really only 3 or maybe 3 1/2 ungodly months left of this heat. Only a few more months till I can feel normal again, go back to waking up only a couple times a night (aircon, smaircon! your body still registers the atmosphere even if you are in your cool little coop) and only a few more months till my head stops hurting.

It will get up to 110 today. But with the cloud cover it is downright muggy. It is true what they say about dry heat. But after 110 all bets are off. I don't care if it's muggy, not muggy, raining, raining locusts (which we do get here)... anything after that is just irritating. You walk to the car - you sweat. You start the car - sweat. Wait for aircon to kick in - swear. And the more in-out errand running you do the more you think to yourself "Now, I live here why again?" The locals used to say "Nine months of paradise" in the summer to me... yes, true, give or take, depending on the state of global warming.

I remember my first summer when I met a very lovely older lady who'd moved here in the 60's. Imagine the state of airconditioning then! S.O.v.1 and I were getting some ice cream at the Rite Aid (what was wrong with the name Thrifty, by the way? Not that it is that cheap anymore, maybe they felt bad because their prices really weren't 'thrifty' anymore. It was much easier to say anyway) and I asked her how long it would take to get used to the summer heat. "Three years," she says "but if (she) is really being honest (she) ought to say six". Grand. She was about right though and now that I am at the start of Summer Number Four my threshold for pain has risen. It used to top out at 104 - anything after that and I was miserable. Now, at least I am at a hummin' 110. After that, I am downright cranky till the temperature comes down...

And don't ask me to nip out to the Rite Aid for a pint of ice cream either!

Facade

I did not sleep well last night. Probably because I slept intermittantly throughout the day, that sleep of fending off a sore throat that makes the nighttime a toil. So, as I was wandering around the empty bed, S.O. is working in Santa Barbara this week, I thought it silly to toss and turn so I checked my email... of course. Hasn't the computer replaced the TV as the insomniacs drug of choice? So, there was a link to a speech given by Barack Obama at the recent Take Back America conference. I was struck by his sincerity and 'realness' for lack of a better word. He strikes me as someone who is entirely comfortable in his skin, comfortable with who he is and confident in his ability to do his own life.

And so, tonight, I am watching Oprah as I am washing the dishes and it is all about women who have lived secret lives. And it struck me that there are a lot less Barack Obama's in this world than there are people living secret lives. Even if the secret is something small and not devastating, it is still a secret and it still prevents you from being completely who you are.

But then that is the way our society is set up. We are particularly allergic to peculiarities in human beings and by and large prefer neat little packages, even if they are false. And isn't credit card use chasing that dream? Of being a neat little package? Don't we all think we are SUPPOSED to be neat little packages - logical, attractive, sensibly put together personalities - and I don't necessarily mean just the 'preppy/conservative' types, but also the 'artistic' types and the 'deep' and the 'wild' and the 'bad boy' and the 'quirky'... isn't any type really at its core a facade? Isn't hypocracy really a facade in denial?

We seem to have a problem with sincere truth in this country at the same time that 'reality' is a commodity - on television certainly. If we all felt that we were truly being seen, for who we are, if we all felt that we were acceptable just the way were are in the world; if we all felt that it was OK to be incongruent as a person and have pieces that just didn't seem to fit; would we really be so susceptible to marketing? Would we have elected a man whom, as the media kept telling us we liked, we wanted to have a beer with?

I propose we, America, as a society, are in the middle of an identity crisis. We are, afterall, about, oh... in our 20s as a country. As cultures go we are youthful. And didn't you all hit 25 and look about you and think, "What the hell am I doing with my life!? What have I accomplished yet?"

The problem now is that any accomplishment short of multimillionaire-hood or creativegenius-hood at 25 anymore is considered 'not worthy'. Gone are the days when a woman at 25 with 2 children could think, "I'm contributing to society". Gone are the days when a college graduate at 25 can look back and think, "I did what only, some 30% of Americans accomplish. I've learned so much". Gone are the days when a body can look back at 6 or 7 years of hard work and say, "I've gotten three raises and two promotions".

And forget asking the question at 30! We dare not! At 35, 40... "OH MY GOD! I'M A LOSER!" jumps immediately to mind if you aren't overseeing a vast, wealthy foundation ala Bill Gates or some such. I blame the 'champagne wishes and caviar dreams' dude. Remember him? "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous", Robin Leach. In the 80's? The ME generation, led by, who else, a Republican. It all looked so romantic. Add to that MTV, a randy and budding generation of teens - not that I mean to dis my own generation but... really guys, we did buy it - and you have recipe for overeating, overspending, overdrinking/drugging/smoking. We have tremendous debt in this country. We have a huge meth problem. We have a huge prescription drug problem - and I don't just mean Rush Limbaugh, there are others too. We have a HUGE greed problem. If this is not a "grab all I can get for me" time in our history, I don't know what is!

Its symptoms are all over the place. The national debt. The personal debt in this country and severe lack of savings. The HOUSING BOOM, can I just say... The war! What about this country right now is NOT a facade? Honesty is at a premium in this administration and competance and sincerity are at a premium in the world at large in our country. When was the last time someone did something, they were being paid to do, right and DIDN'T give you attitude doing it? We are so 20-something floundering for direction and meaning right now.

Living anything less than honest with oneself is less than living. It is time we wake up and stop just smelling the coffee! Damnit, drink some and get with it! We have a country to save. We have our own lives to save... otherwise, let's just try to imagine the mental health crises that will arises in this country when people finally are so maxed out on credit cards they need to declare bankruptcy but can't. All the Iraq and Afganistan vets return home from wars unwon and perhaps unwinable. The houses we live in crush us under the weight of thier cost. The latest scandal is pushed under the Rove, I mean rug. The health crisis when our weight crushes us and we have no insurance to cover it. The underemployment crisis.

It's coming. It is inevitable. It's frightening.

From The Mama File

I have discovered, in my four years of parenting, that it saves a Mama a lot of time and hassle if you tell your kids what is going on. For instance, when you awake in the morning if you say "Junior, this morning Mama is going to go to work and Daddy will take care of you all day and then when Mama gets home after your sleepy nap we can make dinner together" then you have just alleviated potential melt downs. Sure, you may be stuck with the whining, there may be no parenting skill to get around that. But isn't it better than throw-self-on-floor-scream?

I had been very good about doing this with S.O.v.1 but have been more lax with S.O.v.2 and am feeling the effects. I am not talking enough about what is going on in the day. I used to do this all the time, make a running commentary on the day, i.e. "As soon as Mama gets done cleaning the toilet I think we should go have a snack. What do you think?" It worked wonders and we went through terrible 2s with little fuss... not just terrible 2s but terrible 2s with new baby in the house. Now that new baby is 2 we are seeing real fuss I have been wondering what the hell is going on. It occured to me that I have let down my commentary guard. It is so easy to let the complication of a second child divert one onto the short road. But the short road often has road blocks to progress. Like, trying to get out the door and child is clinging leach-like so that you can't actually get out the door. It made me realize that had I just taken the time to talk to the leach I'd be there by now!

So, the moral is, always tell the kids what is going on in their world. "We're gonna have some breakfast and then Mama is going to leave for work" It's the same working principle for leaving the park. I think all Mamas know about the 10 minute warning. If you think about it, too, it is only fair. Imagine you had not kind of control on your day and how it played out - I mean, really no control - you'd be fussy too. It is somewhat akin to being in prison, but the guards love you... wait, that may not be the best analogy... but you see what I mean. And frankly, the more I talk the easier and more enjoyable my Mama life is. It's worth a few extra breaths to avoid the naughty corner!

Brought on by the new work life of the 21st Century

torpid \TOR-pid\, adjective:

1. Having lost motion or the power of exertion and feeling; numb; benumbed.
2. Dormant; hibernating or estivating.
3. Dull; sluggish; apathetic.

The Problem With Being An Assistant

The problem with being an assistant, I suspect, lies in the title and it's rung on the ladder, not the job description. Your employer, if all you are is their 'assistant', understands you to be vaguely necessary but an entirely replaceable commodity. You are not a real human being. You are not a person. You are only the work. If your work gets done, you are worthy. If your work does not get done, you are annoying. But worse, if you create your own work, then you are a thorn in some uncomfortable, inconvenient location.

To assist someone is to assume that they are the creator and you yourself merely a helper and, as such, do not have any inherent value in and of yourself. This goes, having been an assistant now for many years to several employers, along for both your personal self and your work self. To expect that an employer care about you personally is to expect too much. To expect that they care about what you create at work is to be dillusional. No, only what you create on their behalf to their glory is of value.

I have always had, in these positions, the sneaking suspicion that I was not really 'there'. Not me personally. I mean, certainly the presence of 'someone', some body has always been acknowledged as being there, and to my credit and to my employers' (whom I don't mean to dis here, by the way) acknowledgment of work well done was always forthcoming. However, as a very wise woman once told me, you can't have someone that close and that important to the daily workings of your life and your family and not eventually get on each others' nerves.

It is true I now find. And I know this because it has been replicated in my work experience a number of times. The first year is always bliss. You are learning, they are feeling confident in your work and in their smart choice of you. The second year is hunker down and get some work done. But as the third and fourth years wear on, something else happens. Just as they are relying on you more, to do more and varied tasks they begin to resent you. It's not conscious or by any means intentional. It just happens. So just as they are giving you more responsiblilities and more freedom to control your own work they are resenting you more and more.

I have heard it likened to parent child relationship. But it is not so much so as it is teacher student, where the student is being held back for yet another year and neither he nor the teacher quite know why. Maybe there are some that can stomach it, fake it, but no soul can thrive as an assistant forever. At some point you need to move on and accomplish your own work, of your own accord without having to attribute it to someone else.

How exactly to accomplish this leap out into the open world is yet another story. I think we miss something very fundamental to human existence without the paradigm of apprenticeship. Within it is the understanding that, in the end, the daily relationship will be severed and the apprentice will be sent out on his own. Whether there is material aid given to help the apprentice in this process is not of much consequence in the long run. But the idea that there is a necessary end to a working relationship where the apprentice will have made a step forward into his own work, I think, is primary to what work stands for to the human being. We love the learning process, we love the helping process, but one cannot remain in it forever. To be an assistant is to constantly be in a position to help someone else with their work. At some point one's own knowledge must be put into practice.

For the employer, this is a necessary renewal, that can invigorate his business and himself. Who wants to be in the position of 'teaching' the same items over and over to the same class? That must be the teacher's idea of purgatory. And to be in a position of suspicion, of resentment towards your employee is not good. "Do they know too much about my family life?", "Could this come back to haunt me one day?", "Are they taking advantage of me?", "Will they leave me in the middle of all these projects that I don't know much about because they have taken the lead?" That can't be a fun dialogue to have in one's head.

I suppose the equivilant in the corporate world is promotion. But of course when that does not happen for some people, as surely statistically, it must not, then resentments can run both ways. Relying on someone else is always a precarious situation to put oneself in. But the ways and areas in life where this is necessary are numerous. This may be a large part of anxiety for us all. We all depend on the government for myriad tasks to be accomplished. We all rely on them to protect and serve us. We all want to work well and be compensated well. When this is not in balance, as I propose it currently is not in our country, then unrest in inevitable. And as we know, unrest leads to miscreant behaviour.

Logical progressions are a must to human societies and relationships. There seem to be several areas in our society anymore where these are lost. Labor is underpaid at this moment in time in numerous areas - this had led to (albeit an Administration orchestration of one) unrest and unease with immigrant labor, though it has always easily surrounded us since the beginning of time! There is an unease in the way we live caused by the methed-out youth and celebrity culture and the way it is exhibited at the moment. Who would be using credit if they didn't "just have to have" that Kate Spade bag or that bitchin' Harley? There is unease in the way our Administration is conducting our country but we have been cast as the "assistant" to it. We can only praise and encourage, if we question we are fired as insubordinate.

Gone are the logical progressions of entry level for low pay, moving on to more responsibility and more pay. Promotion and supervision in middle age with enough pay to acquire those things one might have hankered for in their youth. Experience leading to position. These things are skewed as we send the message to youth that they should be living a million dollar lifestyle on a $20,000 a year job - or less. The requirements of life are more yet the resources available are less. Open dialogue leading to considered decision making. Leaps are being made all over the place. We are expecting to go from A to P in a short time. Kids are sexual younger. Kids are in debt younger. Kids are unhappy about the future younger. And workers are stuck in roles where they are now and will remain forever assistants to someone else's life's work. Service industries are just that and that is what this country is becoming. In the service industry you are not allowed to partner alongside the company to create, you are to do what is expected and no more.

It is an uncomfortable, disheartening, anxiety producing position to be in, being an assistant over staying their apprenticeship. I suspect many more Americans than me are in this same fix.

This Is New

So, I just turned down a job that I would really have loved to have done... because the pay was so little. Now, for me, under normal past circumstances I would have taken the job, suffered and made excuses for THEM! But in talking to my family about the offer last evening my mom said something that struck home "That offer is insulting! You have more self worth than that, and if you take the position you are saying to yourself that you don't". Good point mom.

After I had mulled all night about what to say and how to say it I sent out my decline email (everything is done by email these days!) and when I hit send a little voice inside me said "Bravo, Daniela" I haven't heard that voice in a long time. It was really good to hear from it again.

Cleaning!

I realize why cleaning seems like such a chore. I mean, of course it is, literally a chore that one must do. But it feels like a chhhhhooooore. I just cannot embrace the domestic goddess within. Why? I blame women's lib. See, the gals who picketed, burned their bras and entered the workforce in force were brought up to believe that they would, with certainty, be housewives. Certainly then there was a certain level of acceptance about the tasks that would have to be undertaken and so they might have even been able to find a level of peace about it.

But blast it if I cannot even find a way to get good with this damned endless job. And I think I have it figured out. See, we were brought up to believe (us Gen Xers and after) that we would be career women! We have a sense of entitlement that we would not be lowered to 'that'. Kind of the same way that, oh MEN feel about housecleaning. Now I happen to be super lucky because my S.O. loves to wash dishes. In fact, I think he finds it soothing, he's almost offended sometimes if I have washed them first. But that's a whole 'nother story.

We look down on cleaning. We looked down on it when our mother's did it. Isn't "women's work" a disparaging remark? How can one feel good about doing something that almost everyone looks down on and thinks of as menial, unskilled and uneducated labor? And because everyone looks down on it, no one appreciates it. Because we don't look at it as a valuable task it never lasts! I can clean the floor and two hours later it's a mess again. I mean, that alone makes me want to throw up hands and give up. But housecleaning is the battle that is never won. Who is it that said "Housecleaning will expand to the time alloted to it"?

So, what is the solution? Martha Stewart hasn't helped much. Gone, mostly, are the commercials with women cleaning. Now we have cartoon characters and slender actresses in chinos and well pressed blouses in complexion accenting colors cleaning without sweating. There are too many products but not enough validation. The only collective goal is to get it done with the least amount of work possible. Time was when the woman jumped for joy because her floor cleaner worked exceptionally well, now we have the woman jumping for joy because the MAID did it for her! This does nothing to help those of us come to grips with it that have to do it every day.

UGH.

I Wish That They Knew

It's hard to keep the waves of grief at bay. I wondered why I seemed more sad when my uncle died in October last year than when my grandfather died just last month. But it's not really true. It just comes in different ways.

The last time I lost someone I loved to death I was in college. He was my best friend and he was murdered. Grief then was orderly and by the book. A wale of tears, an hilarious wake full of friends and love and gratefulness just to have known him, a funeral that honored what he was in his life; and then the sadness faded like red fades to pink in the sunshine over time. I still have, amongst my own, a t-shirt he loved and wore so often that by the time I got it it was already threadbare. His mother gave it to me and it was as if she had given me his most valuable thing in the world. I wear it sometimes when I think of him.

But somehow with my own family members it has been a more sporatic and surprising process. I never know what thought will make me laugh or make me cry. I think of my grandparents as people in a place as much as people I love. Somehow I mourn to them not being in 'thier place' any longer, though there was no particular love for the place itself. It only holds power because they inhabit it.

And I have more regrets. My love for my friend was whole hearted and in the moment. It felt GOOD. We could hug and kiss and fight and laugh at and with each other. There were no complications. And so there were no regrets.

There are 'things' that I regret with my grandfather and my uncle. I regret I never sent my uncle dates from Shields as he asked and I promised I would. Even after he sent me an email telling me he was ready to eat again, I still did not send them. That is the ugly part of me. The part that is scared and stingy and only looking out for myself.

I regret I never wrote my grandfather a letter. Just to him. I wrote many letters, addressed to them both or to my grandma and I sent many emails to my grandpa. But to send a letter, handwritten, is to say in a way "you are worthy of my time" that no other modern gesture can duplicate.

I spent a moment feeling it unfair that death should have come to them and so close together. But it is not the unfairness of their death that stings, but the unfairness of what I did not get from their lives. It is what I did not take from them, did not impose on them comfortable for them or not that I regret. It is the unbridled enthusiasm that I felt for my love for my friend that I wish I would have imposed on them both. I wish I were the little girl and could hurl myself at them each, bodily hugging and holding them and telling them with every inch of myself how glad I am they are in the world. I will have to do it now only in spirit... as long as they know.

Transition

Ever get that odd oogooey feeling, like you don't belong in your skin, your town, your house, your job? I got that.

Well, I dunno what it is, grief, change in the family. Easter maybe. But things seem to be swirling around in the universe and I seem unable to embrace them. Means always, these weird uncomfortable in your skin times, that you are changing, growing.

I'm always able to enjoy when say, things are rough or difficult... and of course when things are going smoothly. I have never been able however to enjoy and being in the moment, go with the flow, in these awkward times. And I realize that is perfectly normal - for me. I am not good with awkward. When I feel awkward I become the worst of myself. Cranky, disgruntled, onery and worse, whiny. Ah, whiny. I hate doing it, I hate hearing it... but sometimes, I know, one just has to whine.

I whine. Waaaaaaaaaaa! See ya when I am feeling more my 'good' self.

They May Rue The Day

I keep thinking about generational forces. My Grandmother was just this past weekend moved to an Assisted Living facility (they need to find a better name for it, this one doesn't exactly trip off the tongue) and as my Mom or sister would explain some particularity of my Grandma's the staff would just nod and say "We've seen that before".

And then I read an article recently in the latest issue of Details Magazine about Generation X, the forgotten, passed over, overlooked, underappreciated generation. The author laments our fate as if lamenting is going to do anything to change our situation. I can't say as I disagree with anything he says, I just don't feel like lamenting it.

But I do look forward to the day, perhaps when my own mother is old enough to need some help living out her days, when the Baby Boom generation has to be taken care of by their own (mostly, and some of my generation's as well actually) spawn, the thirteeners, or Generation Y, who are generally self-centered, money and thing-oriented. You can call it technology or fashion or information technology or entertainment or whatever you want but it is all still stuff! The Baby Boom generation may rue the day they screamed to the Greatest Generation (Tom Brokaw's nomiker, not mine) that no one over 30 should be trusted. Well, funnily enough, guess they never thought they would experience it, but they are now all weeeeellllll over 30 and getting ready to retire.

Now the Baby Boomers are busily criticizing the children they raised as materialistic and impatient. I wonder why that is? The Baby Boomers changed the world, there is no doubt about that - they changed it for the better when they protested the Vietnam War and segregation and for women's rights - but then they changed it for the worse as they bought in to corporate culture to make a living and became 'the man' of the corporate world. The Boomers innovations in the corporate world include mass marketing - of stuff - and mass layoffs. What happened to their idealism once they themselves hit the workforce? Maybe they were right, you can't trust anyone over 30 to have a vision for the country. Isn't the current Administration largely made up of Boomers? And look how they have changed the world!

All that self-righteous, self-satisfied assurance that they were right from their protest days filed neatly into their work lives. But what world have they created? It is a consummer culture now. What good does a consummer culture do for a person who can no longer consume? How much fun is it to be sitting in the nursing home alone while your spawn are off shopping? If Generation Y were, in effect, taught to love only youth and beauty then how will they feel about their wrinkly old parents? And by that time their rapidly wrinkling selves will require quite a lot of plastic surgery and treatments to keep that youthful, pouty look. Where will they find time for that quaint old-timey pastime, human interaction? And will they look good doing it? Will any of the nursing staff notice their new Prada handbag, cause if they don't, really, what's the point.

I guess fighting the man makes one forget that eventually you will yourself become the man and then the old man who needs the new man to take care of you. Creating a fighting, 'I'm right, I deserve' kind of culture is not really very self-serving in the long run, is it? I wonder if Boomers are wondering where the time went and what cause they will fight now. Perhaps a little more understanding and respect from the get-go might have served them in the long term. We are now in a place where we don't see or hear 'old folks', just the way when Boomers were children they were not meant to be seen or heard. Funny how you end up more like your parents than you ever thought you would.

Wonder if the Boomer will have the energy to now fight the youth culture they created so that as oldsters they can be seen and heard.

Another Loss

On March 31st my grandfather passed away. It is a very sad loss but at 90 no real shock. Less than 6 months back my uncle, his youngest son, died. Ironically, March 31 was my uncle's birthday. What no doubt was already going to be a heartwrenching day for my grandmother, mother and other uncle was made all the worse by the loss of my grandfather.

He was a towering man, my grandpa, at a little over 6 feet tall I remember always having to crane my neck to look up to him... but look up I did. He was often stern and was elusive; at work most of the time during our visits to my grandparents as a child. But he could be spectacularly funny. One of his favorite games was attempting to make my sister and I laugh so hard at the dinner table milk would spit out our little noses. He succeeded several times. I have very vivid memories of he, my uncles and my mom, getting together and cracking jokes over the old slides at Christmas time. We'd laugh until we had to hold our sides.

But what was also a part of my grandfather's life was his enormous disappointment. He was constantly trying to find a way not to do it. Not that he turned to God or prayer or positive thinking or anything like that. It was almost as if his disappointment in his life was involuntary, an inherited family trait there was no shaking off. And it may have been. His own mother was stern and no fan of critical thinking. My grandpa spent his life as a professor of international relations, at San Francisco State, U.C. Berkeley and retiring finally from U.S.C. Many were, but his mother was not amoung them, impressed by his accomplishments.

My grandmother recalls too a time when he was being considered as Secretary of State for Robert Kennedy. His specialty was the Middle East and it was nothing but a huge regret that I was unable to pick his brain in the past few years about what he knew. He made several trips to Saudi Arabia to meet with shieks in his research at U.S.C. His work was mysterious and I believe he liked it that way. But my sister and I would attempt to put the pieces together to what he was working on during our summer visits when we were old enough to help. Helping consisted of cutting out articles he had circled in various newspapers from around the world and pasting them with rubber cement on 3x5 cards that my grandma would then organize. British papers, I remember, were like crepe paper and you darn't put too much rubber cement on them or you'd smear the print on the other side.

In these past 4 or 5 years he struggled with dementia. For a man who spent his life making his living with his mind it was a critical, nasty blow to lose it. It was to him almost like the world was saying "you're work is nothing". I know he already felt that way having not garnered the kind of respect and notariety for his work at U.S.C. that he thought, and very likely did, deserve. He was a first user of the Internet when computers were still gigantic noisy machines spinning away in cool rooms in basements. I remember a trip to see them as a kid, years before field trips to Berkeley's computer lab and 'pictures' of bunny images programmed into giant computers and spit out by dot matrix printers. He was probably 20 years before his time.

I'd like to think that I learned alot from my grandpa. But that would be sentimentalizing and not true. I did learn something about the enormous, destructive power of disappointment. His alone stunted the growth of our entire family in so many ways and it was not until becoming a mother myself did I finally sorted it all out. But it was a heavy armor to wear for him and I think he felt, until very, very late, unable to shake it and appreciate people just for who they were.

He was disappointed in his career. And he was disappointed in his children. I see in each of them how they dealt with it. My Uncle Tom just checked out. My Uncle Ty alternated between checking out and fighting. My mother, herself, decided to not be disappointed in anything and for the most part she has been successful. I too as a teen and a young woman adopted a stance of 'no regrets' which is very satisfying in a way but eventually you find that if there is not a shred of regret then learning is sacrificed too. I have now begun to come to term with regrets and disappointments of my own career. It is not easy certainly but my goal is primarily not to inflict it upon my children.

It can't have been easy to bear children after a catastrophic World War, nor to raise them in an inevitably changing world, nor for that matter to have grown up in the midst of the Depression. My grandfather's life spanned almost all the major changes of the 20th century. I can't imagine how you go from being an adolescent living on a farm to being a university professor and being one of the first on the Internet. It is almost too much to fathom, the changes that he and my grandmother have experienced. Considering how little the world changed for so long before he hit the earth and how much it changed whilst he was here, he did pretty darned well.

I will always remember rolling on his belly and him laughing me off. He strived so hard to make something of himself and at times it seemed as if the right people didn't notice. His life though is proof to me that I was loved, that learning is important and that disappointment is not. I hope that now he can remember the joy of laughing a little adoring girl off his belly too.

You Know You're Gonna Do It

When you go out of town you know you need to load your pockets with cash. Either that or have a big fat ATM or Credit Card handy because leaving the house it just expensive. Gas, food, snacks... toys.

We spent the weekend in Los Angeles - our home before exile in the desert - for a friend's birthday party and to see people we love and miss. Significant Other version 1 (4 year old son) is such a homebody that almost from the time we got in the car was asking to back go home. Not that he doesn't like to go. In fact, when we are home he asks everyday where we will go that day. And he is game for a long car ride provided he has an adequate supply of snacks, juice, toys, books and music he can "rock it dude" to (hey, don't blame me the "rock it" comment is all S.O.'s doing). And provided the final destination sounds promising.

So a 'party' sounded just swell to him and after a 4 1/2 hour car ride we were there. My girlfriend whose party it was announced games with prizes, so needless to say, he was intrigued. But this was already well after 9 o'clock and he was tired. The adults played 'adult' games (now, stop it! That is not what I meant, get that mind out of the gutter!) for a while and he tried to feel like it was fun but he just couldn't manage it. And after he dozed in his chair and did a stupendous stuntman-like prat fall off of it, sending him to the ground and the chair upended, and a collective "Oh!" from the crowd of game playing adults we figured it was time to go back to where we were staying the night. So we made our way out of the party, which always takes a long time because you have to say goodbye to everyone and you get involved in another conversation, "Oh did I tell you so and so is...", and frankly, you just don't want to leave yet. It always takes forever to get out of a party doesn't it? And especially when you haven't seen people in (*gulp*) a year and a half. You always seem to be leaving places before you are ready to when you are a parent of toddlers...

We were walking out to our car and Significant Other version 2 (2 year old girl) was more than happy to be making the trajectory towards bed but S.O.v.1 had heard that word 'prize'. It took me a few repeats to understand, through all the tears, "Me no want to go. Me didn't get a prize". Quick thinking I say, "Oh, I know honey. But you'll get your prize tomorrow for good behavior in the museum". He buys it and I feel pret-ty darned clever. See, we had planned on going to Angels and Shadows or Snowflakes and Leopards or Ashes and Snow, I think, in Santa Monica; the nomadic museum exhibiting the work of one artist's take on the relationship between human and animal... over and over and over and over and over and over... sorry, I am exaggerating. I was a stunning collection and beautiful exhibit, very absorbing... over and over and over and over... stop it! Sorry.

Next morning, on the way to the museum I kept reiterating that this 'prize' would be given after good behavior was exhibited over and over inside the museum - knowing full well that photographs are not the toddler's best friend. I thought the bribe would work given S.O.v.1's great love of animals and elephants, in particular, of which many were on display. But the ambience scared him. You know, it's the typical mysterious/spooky music along with dimly lit hallways with spotlights directing you specifically to the experience the curators hope you will have. But S.O.v.1 was not having that experience, he was having the "scary, me wanna go home" experience. And a scared toddler does not, under any circumstances, want to hear that home is 200 miles away and would take many hours in the car to get there even if we planned on getting there today. Which we did not. I am thinking, however, that there will be the inevitable "museum-to-squeeze-more-money-than-even-the-price-of-admission-out-of-you-store" at the end. And at this museum store surely there would be elephant and leopard figures to purchase. A new elephant for S.O.v.1 and a tiger figurine for S.O.v.2 would fit the bill perfectly! Boom, prize taken care of. Let's eat lunch!

Nope. Only really pricey postcards of elephants with little meditating boys next to them in robes. Not the 'prize' he would be looking for I know so I don't even try to convince him. I just try to put it off a little so that we can at least eat lunch first. Plus, 3rd Street Promenade is mere blocks away and we will find a toy store or something he likes there!

Except that we couldn't actually find lunch speedily. We went around and around and checked a few places and there were just no tables. It was Saturday at lunch time, what did we expect!? Finally we find mediocre and loud sports bar and get mediocre and not quite so warm sandwiches and burgers into our bellies. I must say our friend, and her boyfriend whom we just met that morning, did a fine job helping to keep our hungry and prize hungry toddlers entertained.

But still there was no prize and with a belly full of French fries, S.O.v.1 remembers this. S.O. and I then circle 3rd Street several times in search of the Toys R Us we remembered being right there! with no luck. Finally, we find a toy store and by this time S.O.v.1 is well asleep in the stroller he is now too big for (but thank goodness for it because who can weave in 3rd Street foot traffic carrying a 45lb little guy!) but S.O.v.2 is well awake. Within minutes we find the perfect 'prize' for S.O.v.1 and send our little girl on the loose telling her to look around, that she can pick one thing, not too big.

Now this is how you know they are always listening and understand more than even they know let alone you. S.O.v.2 plays around with several things with some midling interest. But then I, without having looked at the price, see a rack of push toys and pull one down. She immediately lomps on to it and doesn't let go. By the time I look at the price tag she is in love. She is pushing this little dragon all over the store. I try to direct her to a Zoey (from Sesame Street fame) doll. She has shoes with Zoey and she loves them. Elmo doll is likewise a no go. Puzzles, books and noisemaking toys - all no go. The more domestic toys; cooking, sewing, dollys - no go. See, she had been listening to us the whole time trying to placate S.O.v.1 for nearly a whole 24 hours, promising that he'd get a really nice prize if he behaved well (even though technically in our house fussing is not such good behavior and he had been fussing about the prize). She behaved beautifully the entire time. Not one annoying peep out of her, only the absurdly cute ones where you think "Can one child be so adorable? Where will all the other kids get cute if she has it all?"

And I kept asking her, "What about a new doll? You wanted a new doll?" and in the store I just got a shake of the head and an "un uh". All this time S.O.v.1, who had been so concerned with this 'prize' is sound asleep. The one we had been focusing on... And when it came time to actually get the 'prize' she had her plan in place and she stuck to it. And frankly, it worked like a charm. She never had bad behavior, she never fussed about it. She just refused any other toy and she wouldn't let the push-dragon go. She just wouldn't.

It was supposed to be a little thing, you know, a trinket. A little monkey doll or something to say "Remember we got that on our visit to LA to the birthday party"... So, S.O.v.1 got his little $9 tube of dinosaurs and S.O.v.2 got herself a handcrafted, heirloom quality push-dragon for $33.00... just a little something.

You know you're gonna get it for them when they give you that look... I don't know why we even bother to fight it.

Stagnant Pond

Though not what you would call a "frequent blogger" I feel like it has been eons since I have felt like I have had something to say... call it over active brain. I mean, it's not like I have nothing to say, it's just that the 'things' come to me in short bursts of brilliance instead of cohesive blogworthy discourse. And I dunno, but I am not into the little short burst blog... though I do like to read them... I am more of a beginning, middle and end gal (though I am sure that could be arguable from reading some of my entries).

But I realize that I get caught up. Caught up in lots of things. The search for a big boy bed for S.O.v.1 for instance. Then add to that the need to make S.O.v.2 also feel special (she is getting the crib hand me down to sleep in and is well aware that is used to be big brother's) about her move to a new bed. It is tax time and my mind had been, on a semi-subconscious level, tallying up what write offs we might have and figure out where all the W-2s are, etc. The computer that I am editing the documentary I am working on for work is having 'challanges' and that fix is always on my mind... so it is not that I haven't the actual time to blog or more importantly, write. (Oh, add to the preoccupying occupants the Nicholls and how to polish the script I want to submit...) I realize that there is space but it is like a big project where you need alot of table space but there are several other little projects cluttering it up.

Who says women are not problem solvers? I mean, I realize that men get the 'problem solver' label because when you say to them "I have cramps" they always want you to take an asprin and stop complaining, women are far more obliged to solve the everyday problems of a life that arise... like dinner, checkbook balancing, attention between children balancing, taxes, redecorating... whereas men are really good at managing the DVR list and balancing the TV viewing, we women are about all the other many, many tasks that need to be accomplished in a life in order to keep it moving.

It is no wonder that men can and do devote more time to work. It is a no wonder that they are promoted in larger numbers. They just haven't as many responsibilities. See link below and (if you are a woman, that is) weep. But really, unless you are a gay man or devoutedly single, weep. Because when women suffer we all suffer. "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy" is how the saying goes and it may be more prescient than the first utterer supposed.

http://www.alternet.org/workplace/33581/

I would love to have more time to create and be generally more organized and be able to actually complete projects rather than shove them to one side of my stagnating pond/brain but the very volume sometimes prohibits this. It takes an awful lot of time and effort to run a life. Just as you look at your income and think "that must be enough" but it isn't, you think you can run a life and actually have one at the same time. But I am questioning whether that is really so. If I could actually get a life then I might make enough money to pay someone else to run mine. But then I would have an employee to keep up with... And of course I would have to pay someone else to raise my kids. Right now I am only paying someone 75% of my wages to look after them part time. There is just about enough left to buy gas to get to work and to the babysitter's and back.

Sort of reminds me of the guys who used to get really big muscle cars in high school and then you suddenly never saw them around anymore because they had to go to their job after school. You'd ask them why they had a car and they'd reply, "To get to work" and then you'd ask them why they had to work and they'd say "To pay for my car". Sometimes I feel like I am stuck in this sort of circular logic. But really, just like the 16 year old male's desperate need for muscle car was really a disguise for an expression of self worth (OK, yes, and to get laid, they wanted to get laid too, I remember) so is my need to have a job that is worthy of me and/or to do work that I am worthy of a need to express my self worth. I don't think you can actually have a sense of self worth without an outward expression of it. Does anyone have just a nice little selfcontained nugget of self worth that doesn't need to prove itself? Is that even possible. Sounds alien to me and distinctly un-human.

Add to this the fact that 'blogels' are now being published in book form and given prizes (I wonder if there is one for best wandering rant?) and you have one mamma who is feelin' like a loser... but I am busy all the time! I get it, but I still don't get it.

In Light of the Oscars...

You know every year I watch/don't watch the Oscars with a mixture of interest, excitement, bitterness and dread.

You know, maybe it's just me, but I find it difficult to be entirely gracious about other people's success... Not because I necessarily begrudge them success. I mean I would love it if it were possible if everyone could somehow be successful, or at least work in their chosen profession and love their job. But face it folks, it's not. Don't let the new agey thing fool you, win-win is not always possible.

I have thought a lot about this of late because of my new found status as a loser. That's right, I have decided to embrace reality and see what it's like. Oh, I spent plenty of years with a cheery positive outlook, a never give up sensibility. But frankly that didn't get me anywhere. "But you never know when success will come," you say, "You can't give up," you say. Well true and true. But the reality is that up until this point I have been a loser. By my definition that means that I have had no tangible success in my career or personal life. (Children are barred from said discussion so I don't want to hear about the most successful thing I've ever done, blah blah blah.)

When you think about it, I am in vast company. Most people, by my definition, are losers. Most people don't succeed on some level. If we did we'd all be movie stars, lawyers doing commentary on CNN or feted surgeons with their own article in the New Yorker, or the like. Face it, the winners need us losers! Without the perspective of us, their lives are really just a lot of hard work! If we were all winners, winning would be so difuse as to be meaningless.

So, will I stop writing, no. Will I stop trying to be creative and do something with it, no. Will I stop hoping that someday I can find an affordable babysitter so that I can do some acting again, no. Will I give up on my personal relationships, no. Of course not. That is entirely not the point. The point is there is only room for a certain number of successes and if your ticket doesn't get called then you are, by default, a loser. If there are so many of us then certainly we cannot all be shiftless and unfocused. I know plenty of people with stark focus and a Protestant work ethic and they are not "successful". I know lots of people like that who are. No one group is any more worthy than the other.

You see, my aim is not to beat up on myself. My aim is to try to find the worth in the reality of my life. I am a loser. I am just as worthy of success and happiness and wealth as anyone else and the fact that I don't get those things does not make me a bad person, lazy or worthless. But doesn't something in you feel suspicious about that statement? Doesn't something just jibe wrong when you think "I'm worthy". Isn't your next question to yourself, now come on admit it, "Well if I am so worthy then why haven't I got ---- yet?!" It's not a natural or by any means comfortable thought or feeling but I suspect a lot more of us experience it than are willing to admit. Why do we feel this way? There is so much focus on 'success' as story, in media of all kinds, that failure fails to regularly make the front page. It's as if the only interesting stories are success stories. But I doubt if that is by any stretch true. All my friends are interesting, no matter their bank account, promotion possibilities or FICO score! Some of them are very successful and some are not. But haven't we been brainwashed to believe, just a little bit, that if you are just a 'good' person and going about life in a 'normal' way or only 'striving' and not yet 'there' then you are somehow less than?

I bring this all up because each year, as the Oscar/Awards season rolls around I am plagued by confusion and irritation. I want to watch, I don't want to watch. As I do watch the Oscars and part of me screams "I should be there!" because that is my chosen profession. But you know what? The reality is, I am in Palm Desert, not even near, both literally and figuratively, to being there. Why? No, not because I didn't work hard enough, not because I am not talented enough, maybe because I am not young enough but that's a whole other rant, but because I am just not. Think how many thousands, nay millions of actors, writers, editors, cinematographers, directors, etc. feel that same feeling each year. "I did good work this year" they scream silently or "I was so close" or even "I am so far from there but I want to be there". And you know what? They are not there. Just because they aren't.

I remember hearing from adults when I was a kid "Because, that's why" and I always thought it so unfair, that response. There must be a reason! But I find myself saying the same thing to my toddler. There still isn't a reason. It is all just because. And of course it is not fair. Success never has and never will be doled out based on merit or on fairness. And yes, it sucks. But wishful thinking and/or bitterness (I can actually have both at the same time) neither make a difference. Should we all throw up our hands and give up? I don't really think so, though I have, on numerous occasions, wanted to... The only thing you can do maybe is just do what you like and try your damndest not to worry about the outcome... but then, really, who can do that? Someone without an imagination maybe... or the Dahli Lama... though he's pretty successful so he's one to talk.

Things I Said I'd Never Do

I have been thinking lately about all the things I thought I'd do/accomplish in my life. Very few have come to pass...

But it got me thinking about all the things I said I'd NEVER do/be and many of them have. Hmmm...

1. I said I would NEVER move to Palm Springs - Thinking that I had finally found the place that I could call my home and felt was my territory in LA (I know it sounds weird but what are ya gonna do...) and not only could I not imagine ever living anywhere else I just plain didn't want to. And yet here I am. Going on year 4...

2. I thought a woman with long hair after the age of 40 was RIDICULOUS - Here I am, at 40, and I looked in the mirror this morning and my hair has grown past my shoulders. I guess that could be considered 'long'. I don't feel, though I very well may be, ridiculous.

3. Get married before I was 30 - With two marriages under my belt BEFORE even turning 30 and the 3rd when I was 31 I guess that theory got all shot to hell. Like 'born again virgins' though, I figured my first 2 were just practice and my only 'real' marriage was the one I have now, after 30... does that work?

4. Have children BEFORE my career took off - Thinking that one would have to slow down their career once children were in the picture (Let me just clarify here, the career of the WOMAN, not the man, practically nothing changes for them career wise) I was sure that I would wait until I had some 'success' before I had children. Since there was no success in the offing for me I figured I might as well go ahead and have children while I still could. Now I wonder why I waited! Hey if I wasn't going to be successful anyway in my career what the hell was I waiting for?

5. NOT lose the baby weight right away - Well that theory was shit canned as here I am nearly 2 years post last baby and still with the bulk (and I do mean BULK) of the weight still on. Jogging stroller and all it is still hard to figure out the time and the spare energy to actually do it. Yes, of course you get more energy when you exercise and eat less sugar. But those people that say that aren't still waking up several times a night to comfort a scared child because the cat made a noise or the little one kicked you in the head.

6. After my last job (well the one right before the last) I said I'd NEVER work in an office alone again - Being a very social person, 4 years in an office with just me and the boss, and his two kids (home office) and occasionally his accountant/wife to talk to, I promised myself that I would never torture myself again with that kind of scenario. Here I am how many years later, working in an office alone. Except this time it's not a home office so I don't even have the wife and kids to talk to. I do have a building full of tenants to talk to but it is cordial and slightly awkward at best. I still, after living here for three years, do not have what I could call 'a friend'. Maybe only I think I am a social person and really everyone else doesn't think so. Of course the upside is that I was able to bring S.O.v.2 to work with me her first 7 months (and am able, in a pinch, to bring the kids to work without causing anyone but myself any consternation), saving a large amount of money on babysitters and me an enormous amount of abandonment guilt.

7. Give up acting - I may not have made that statement but I do have a de facto situation where, in point of fact, I have by necessity given up acting. Who knows what will come to pass in the future... but it has been 3 years, the longest period of time where I have gone without my true love and it utterly sucks. Oh sure, in theory I COULD go out and audition for the one, maybe two, local theatre companies but with very little margin for budgeting error what would I do with the kids? In my last production the other actors were generous enough to put up with me bringing S.O.v.1 along to rehearsals without too much complaint. But he was a little tyke. Now with a 2 year old and a 4 year old that just wouldn't, under any circumstances, fly. With no money for a baby sitter, a husband who works who ever knows what hours, no friend to lomp them on, I have, de facto, given up.

Which is just all to say, you never ever know, so maybe you just shouldn't say.

Now, if you have read this entire post to this point - TAG - you're it. You must now tell me what the 7 things you said you'd never do that you ended up doing anyway.

A Week of Disappointments

It started off well enough. We put an offer in on a house that was exactly what we were looking for and exactly in our price range. But as the days and hours went on after the offer was put in it was clear that we were not going to be able to get financing. Not because of us necessarily, though we do have a year old bankruptcy and a low income in CA which makes it difficult, but because the house is a manufactured house. Lenders translate that into 'mobile home' no matter what the reality on the ground is. No matter that it was built to be a permanent home. No matter that it never had wheels, was never meant to have wheels and was considered real property (not personal property like a mobile home or your car) ever, ever, ever. It was called a manufactured home by the realtor and try as I might to get him to call it prefab, so that we could get the lender to lend us the bloody money!, he wouldn't. Apparently this is such a new phenomena that no one is really clear on what they are.

So, our offer died on the vine.

Then I was really excited by being able to edit and transfer to tape my audition tape for KCET's new digital channel they are starting out here in the desert and looking for hosts. I got it out by Wednesday in FedEx which means they got it by midday Thursday. A short, snappy 3 minutes along with my considerable resume. But by Friday there was no response, which means, they were not enthused.

My attempts to find some sort of full-time employment or additional parttime employment making more than $12.00 an hour have so far come to naught. Despite my considerable experience and education I am apparently not worth more than $12.00 to anyone out here. My talents are either not apparent or not necessary and I feel like I am being wasted. Needless to say fulltime employment at $12.00 is not enough to pay for the babysitting it would require to look after my children while I am at work. I asked my boss for a raise this year which would have somewhat ameliorated the financial squeeze we constantly feel but he said 'no'. He said no. What a way to make an employee feel valuable.

And after two poo poo poos in the pants and one pee pee pee accident by S.O.v.1 yesterday, we had another today. As I was changing his pants and underwear I just began to sob. The fact that he would rather pee in his pants than tell me he needs to go just tells me that I have failed somewhere. Its not like he doesn't know what to do and he does tell his babysitter, but he won't tell me or S.O. and of course everytime I ask him he says 'no'. And to get him to go anyway is always a fight. I feel like I have just screwed something up and I feel like such a failure.

It has been a week of disappointments.

Very Proud

Very proud of S.O. who yesterday was playing cook and chief baby-washer. Kids were happy and clean when I got home and for that I am thankful. Was at work late working on my piece for audition... Gosh, it is nice to have a wife. I think everyone should have one. At least sometimes!