Thursday, August 30, 2007

if there were words that were not so loud and clear


today i got hit by a traffic stoper for the trains. i was on my scooter, music in my ears was loud (i have big, amazing headphones) and i didn't hear all the beeps and sirens and those things usually produce... i was imberassed, scared, my head hurt. i think only two people know about this post, otherwise i would hide this event with due shame. also today while registering dagny for school at the welcome back bbq, we ran into another parent who i went to high school with. we were friends, we are friends, although mostly have been bound together by the teenage pregnancy. as we were making small talk through the sounds of overly excited seventh grad girls hugging each other and under develoloped seventh grade boys still playing some version of hit and run game, this mother told us how she can't stay in wendover overnight. she can go there, but she refuses to stay in the hotels there. why? because its gross. because all kinds of gross people sleap, stay there. i go through out my days and the distance between me and others grow. at times unintentionally, other times intentionally... what the fuck makes someone think they are so much better that somehow them sleaping on a certain bed is ok and when others do it, its gross? is it becaue that other is poor, black, hispanic, uneducated, strange, because they gamble, because their social interactions are not according to the standard? or is it only because they are the other? how does my high school friend breathes the air that we all share? is it truly possible that she has never thought of the possibility that for so many others in this country and around the world there is so much more, ohhh so much more they worry about every morning they get up? i slept in wendover's 3 star hotel couple of nights ago. i felt guilty that after we left they had to wash the sheets as part of protocol. when we were both in high school and got pregnant right out of high school and had to figure out everything, a hotel room would have been a luxury even for her. i don't know if it is the age, money or what changes us so much.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

don't stop breathing


8 years
2 months
17 days
there is one thing that i know and it goes like this:

when john and i are together, it doesn't matter if life has no guarantees

it doesn't matter if other things may never be

i never knew this was possible,
before

Monday, August 13, 2007

back into the routine


how does one make someone else's dream?
when i get old the only regrets i want to have:
1. i wish i wrote more
2. i wish i visited my friends in other parts of the world more.
what will become of me?

i said

Saturday, August 4, 2007

almost 13


she gets in the car and slams the door. i feel like i should say something, because it would really suck if the door fell off of my mom's car, the car that is the only car she has ever owned and takes a lot of pride in, but i don't say anything. i don't want to sound like a grandma concerned about the door and telling the girls to always be gentle, soft, careful, less rough, more girl like... plus she knows what she is doing, in fact did she not slam the door to get my attention? she never makes an eye contact at those times, times when she is mad at her mom, because it is all her mom's fault, whose else would it be? not surprising that 20 minutes later dagny is just fine. she is acting like nothing has happened and her mood magically, miraculously is happy after-all. while she is laughing and doing all of those things that happy people do, i decide this might be an opportunity to talk about one of the things she does not want to talk about: MAKEUP. she can't wear makeup, until she is older, it is a pretty simple, straight forward policy. this of course is made difficult by the fact that her best friend who is sitting next to her has her eyes painted with thick creamy black eye-shadow and penciled around the contour just like the pictures of egyptian queen, the difference of course it that those girls are 12-14 and live in salt lake. as soon as i mention no make up, the mood changes again and within minutes i get a text from dagny telling me how i am not supportive of her and don't understand her struggles with her identity and how i just make life and everything in general very very difficult. oh yes, and how all the other parents are so much better because... well they just are. of course life goes on and i try to talk and explain that she is just a little too young, that she is beautiful without it, that her talents and thoughts and ideas are what makes her beautiful. i try to do my best to cheer them up again, pretending that i am in a great mood, but of course the reality is that i am actually having a day when i feel totally alone and lost, etc.... in fact my feelings are probably very similar to the ones dagny is experiencing and i wish i could tell her how similar we are, that nothing really changes as you get older, we continue to try to figure ourselves out and her feeling insecure or lost has nothing really to do with me, i am just an easy target right now to be angry at, because i am the mom. i don't say much, instead we go to simpson movie and beach and drive along california coast, eating strawberries we bought on the side of the road, hoping that nothing else sets her off. toward the end of the day i feel like a champion, we are laughing together, making jokes, sharing clothes, i feel like a great success, like i've overcome my almost 13 year old daughter's natural "need" to not quite get along with me, life is great, it will be all o.k.... until she says: "so, mom i have figured everything out, i know what i am going to do when school starts." "oh yeah? great, what is it?" " well, you know how i finish school at 3:30 everyday, between 3:30 and 4:30 everyday i have decided that i am going to play guitar on the streets to make money and express myself..." as imagined, due to my reaction to this plan, i got another few hours of angry, door slamming almost 13 year old. oh well, i did enjoy the shared moments of laughter...

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