My Big Dog

Okay like I said, I’m following up with the story of my big dog.  My boyfriend, during one of his manic phases, set his mind to a dog – but, inevitably, not any dog but a bullmastiff.  He wanted a “manly” dog.  I searched, but could not find one within my debt limit – so nearly gave up when one day I received an e-mail for bullmastiff puppies.  A bullmastiff, with papers, for 500 was irrisistable and would offer me relief from the constant “where is my dog” bullshit.  I saw the pictures that the family had taken of an unexpected litter, and looked only to recoup their expenses, so we made the trip to meet the new member of the family.

*See, I didn’t get the dog to eat the cat after all.

When we got there the “puppy” was up to my thigh, and the mommy and daddy dogs looked like the one in the Harry Potter movies, just different colored.  I was really taken aback but, the animal lover in me quickly got over it.  We watched the puppies cavort and I chose one and the boyfriend chose another.  His choice was more beige where mine was more red, and his choice was sporting marks from being the less dominant at play.  However, I was not so attached as he was to his so his was ours just like that.  *By the way, I mention the differences in our choices for those who seek to analyze things – analyze away. 

Looking at the dogs face, and his drooping jowls, I recalled my ex father in law and his face being much the same.  (Although the old dear was all bark and no bite).  So I asked that we name him Ralfh (the spelling is really that way – you know – dare to be different).  When we said that the parents’ owner tells us that is the puppies father’s name so – Ralfh it is.  I watched our puppy, well mentally a puppy, then his father who was the size of a medium horse.  The father, sensing I was watching him decided to walk over and jump up on me.  Now should this dog have done this in the usual clumsy beast way – I would have went flying but he did it with the grace of a ballerina.  Talk about your odd sights.

So the first few months with Ralfh were a challenge.  We learned many things – Ralfh hates walking outside and many a time I had to drag him with his limbs extended over the snow (but he learned); Ralfh loves the taste of leather so much that he ate half my sofa; however, he does not limit himself to sofas but will pepper his diet with such things as DVDs, IDs and entire wallets, anything in or near the garbage can, wood, fabric, hell – just about anything (be he learned better); Ralfh is insecure and hates competition, so much so, that he would devour it if given the chance (he hasn’t learned but we keep him away from temptation; that he costs a MINT to feed and if, God forbid, you don’t buy the “right” foods he will vomit and defecate anywhere he goes (but we learned).

But Ralfh, and we, have learned and thus he will be celebrating his second birthday this month (ironically the day before mine).  He is a gentle, needy, affectionate dog that somehow thinks he’s a cat.  But it’s okay, love him anyway.  And, that’s the story of Ralfh who appears below.

Ralfh Russ

 

Striking a Pose

At Long Last

At long last my little one has come home for leave.  She got in late last night so this might start rambling thanks to my two whole hours of sleep. 

By way of some small miracle she managed to get through both basic training and her AIT training.  She is officially a combat medic.  I admire and respect her determination and strength getting through the past 7 month’s hurdles.  And her 5′1, 105 pound frame really showed itself capable of handling more than its weight in activity.

So now both of my children are in the military.  The little one in the Army and my son in the Air Force.  People remark that my children are so patriotic (me, I think “Those DUMMIES” – we’re at war) but that’s just a mother who would like to see her children safe.  But my mind wanders to the fact that right now, somewhere in Brooklyn, there’s a tiny little soldier who is trying (kind of) to recruit. 

For now, she’s safe and I can breathe a little.  She managed to get through a near miss article fifteen, a two mile run that she thought she’d never crack, a seargant who was more than a little rough on her and the same things all of the enlistees must go through to be “all that they can be.”  And because of all that is really her, she made it.  For now, I breathe, until she is moved to her next base and gets her orders.  I was forewarned of an impending deployment – so for the next twenty days I want to see her live it up as much as she can – safely.  I hope to spend as much time as her small entourage of friends will allow, and get the chance to show her that all that she can be was all she has always been – and neither myself, her family, friend nor the army did that – they only benefited from it.

The Days After – 4/22/03

Heya Sweetie,

Perhaps you can help me out a little today if your not too busy.  I feel an attachk of the worst in me coming out and I’m worried that I’ll do or say the wrong thing.  For example, I thought I said the right things to Rich yesterday but today my insecurity is attacking me, has me thinking that just cuz I fixed them I screwed myself.  If there’s some way you can help me not think that way – would you mind?

Guess what!  I finally wrote you a poem my lil poet brother.  Thank you for waiting so long.  Hugz.

Everything

Everything at once
becomes too much for me
and I look for you
but you are gone.

Everything at once
became too much for you
but you did not look for me
and you are gone.

Images

Something I painted

This I saw on the Subway and it epitomizes how I was feeling

Pretty much what I picture going on inside

Where I lie, quietly, in the shadows

Today is my Lil One’s Birthday

Today is my lil one’s 21st Birthday.  She’s officially an adult (in the eyes of the law); however, she’s been an adult to me for far longer than that.

My daughter is the most beautiful person I know and the relationship we have, as both mother/daughter and as friends, is the healthiest relationship I have.  We both work hard at it, and we both recognize that neither of us are perfect, neither of us are easy to live with.  We both come with our share of baggage – but that’s alright.  That is what it is – it may guide us in the things we do, and contribute to the mistakes we make, but it will never define us as people.  Only we can define us as people.

We don’t live for the approval of others, and turn only to those who truly love us for advise on how we live, mostly, we turn to each other.  I admire, respect and stand in awe of my little girl for her strength, wisdom, abilities, and in general just for the person she is.  Maybe one day I can grow up to be just like her

I wish more than anything that I could be there with her as she celebrates tonight.  I will raise a glass at 8 (and then 9 since she’s likely to forget at 8 and start kicking herself) to toast my best friend – she will raise hers in turn.  In this way, across the distance, we share a moment with the most important person in our lives today. 

I wanted to send or give her something special today but finances will not allow it – and that hurts.  But, as she graduates AIT in September, and will get leave to visit then, I will celebrate her and my birthday in a big, and meaningful way.  (Hopefully she’s not dragging me to the tattoo parlor.)  Shea Stadium’s last year and some helluva seats, Dave & Buster’s (maybe we can get kicked out again), The Village where we’ve spent so many of mine.  I don’t know exactly but I can’t wait for that day.

But, I digress, what I really want to say is ….

HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOH – MAMITA LOVES YOU.

FYI – I’m not actually gone

although it may seem so. 

RIght now it’s all about struggling to keep afloat, in a lot of ways.

I look for reasons that life in itself is even worth all this effort.  I can’t find any.  I’m past tired of struggling.

I am bankrupted by the weight of the mistakes I’ve made, emotionally and financially.  The meds, the car, all those things that continually hit me have killed my finances so much so that I’ve had to sell things that had real meaning to me.  And yet, it isn’t enough.  I get really tired of being the one who just works and stumbles through life, through my days, with zero to show for it.  Nothing.  Nada.  Why friggin bother.  Whose fault, my fault, I made the decisions on what I’ve done and no amount of pressure in teh world can replace my own free will – so I will not buckle and blame since it does no good.   I have backed away from my work friends since I am weary of going to lunch and watching them eat while listening to “what I want to buy” and “where I want to go” and “what I want to do” when my choices in these departments don’t exist.  I don’t resent that they have these things, I just feel the fool as I sit quietly trying to pretend I am at the same level that they are.

Emotionally, I’m spent.  I am so tired of the rollercoaster my emotions go through – although again, I choose how I feel so I am doing this to myself.  Every day dealing with the b/f who plays way too rough with both myself and the dog, who is loud, demanding and needy.  Every day dealing with a work environment that sucks me dry – my coworkers, my trainees, my bosses – everyone knows it’s a given you go to the Guru.  I’m so angry that I am so helpless as the b/f ignores, doesn’t answer, hides from his father, mother and brother to the point where it breaks my heart that I’m contributing to this hurtful, needless bullshyt.

I am entering depression not with the usual caution – where I get myself lined up to cope – but instead scrambling like a crab on the shore – but it won’t keep me from drowning will it?  Each new day reminds me that things will not be getting any better soon.  How will I wrangle us through another day, what will I sell, who will call blaming or pleading with me, how will I lie my way away from my friends, why the hell do I bother at all.

Really, I wish I were a bear.  I could go into a cave and hybernate – just sleep through this merry portion of my life.  Nobody could ask me for anything, nobody could accuse me of anything, nobody could need anything from me, I could think whatever the hell I want without something in the way and just be a real friggin person for once.

But that won’t be happening so for now – peace.

Today

I forced the b/f to Coney and went on the rides he wanted.  My choice, no real pressure.  I wanted a day, one single day, with fun minus pain. 

We had a good time.  Things changed when I got home.  My daughter called, she’s been given a Section 15 or something for drinking.  She’s been downgraded from leader, been taken away in cuffs lala, time for her to leave.

My b/f and my daughter go through the same self destructive, what I wanna do bullshit and me, I’m on cleanup detail.  I’m tired of being responsible.

He doesnt want her living here, She doesn’t want him living here – but what they dont see is I don’t want to live here either.  No here, no there, no anywhere. 

Peace, I’mma do some solitary kareoke.

Approaches of Frederick Douglass and Mark Twain in Presenting the Black Experience

Frederick Douglass’s autobiographical portrayal in The Narrative of a Slave and Mark Twain’s characterization of Jim in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn are demonstrative of the differences between the Enlightenment period and the Romantic period.  Douglass looks at events and uses reason to reach into our minds and eradicate our ignorance, while Twain allows the humanity of Jim to reach into our hearts and dissolve our indifference.  Both characters clearly teach their reader, primarily white Americans, that slaves are not inhuman chattel to be dominated but human beings capable of reaching great depths both intellectually and emotionally.  The different methods used to define the characters of Douglass and Jim accomplish a similar goal while taking different roads.

Douglass writes of himself in the first person narrative in the voice of an experienced and learned adult who is able to portray the horrors of slavery without depending upon sentimentality.  Reading Douglass’s account of life on the plantation, the rational person can envision the pain and despair without actually knowing the thoughts of the victim.  Douglass is able to step back from his anger and express opinions on the reasons men feel justified in placing the yoke around other men.  Douglass’s voice throughout Narrative could also be seen as a warning to the oppressors that the vile actions, once ignored, will no longer be tolerated.  The character in this book does not merely report, but demonstrates the growing insurgence occurring among slaves because of the brutal treatment of the slaveholder.  Douglass’s fervor to learn to read shows that the harder the slaveholder applied pressure the stronger the desire was to fight back.  I see this as a diplomatic declaration of war.  Douglass not only educates “white America” by telling his tale, but also shows consistently that the slaves will not merely succumb, but will invariably strike back.  By gently taking off the gloves, Douglass puts the reader on alert that this miserable state will no longer be tolerated.

Jim’s description is filtered through the eyes of Huckleberry Finn, via the pen of Mark Twain.  It is important to remember that Huck Finn is a young person who looks at life with the innocence of childhood and the ignorance of the unlearned.  Twain uses this method to allow readers to formulate their own conclusions without the tedium of a Sunday Mass.  Twain dispels the belief that African Americans lack humanity and moral conviction by giving Jim one of the central voices in the novel, and demonstrating Jim’s capacity to feel deep, human emotions.  

Both characters teach that slavery is an abomination, one intellectually and the other emotionally.  These two approaches are complements that used together are tantamount to a full-blown attack on prejudice.  The two lone voices of Douglass and Jim, although singing acappella, can easily fill a cathedral of the soul.

So as I head out for the weekend

it occurs to me that I no longer get excited about Friday – who the hell wants to go to my house.  But, go I will – and with his father expected to visit for the first time, clean and do laundry I will.  Since, after all, he can’t be expected to in his condition of self-importance. 

But, if some magical way I get to have some time this weekend, I’ll try to go on with the personal life past section.  But for now, I’ll just post something I’ve written.

Thank you for the support you guys have given me, and it really does help. 

Peace

I haven’t been updating lately

Just running around too much with all the activity since Monday’s institutionalizing fiasco. I plan to update this evening or during the weekend – but have added some writing for the moment.

Peace

My Heart is Broken

He lost it – he’s been put away – it has broken my heart.

I know he and I were on our way out – I accepted that – but what’s occurred in the last three days have devastated me beyond words.

Friday he called me so upset and wanted me to come home – he had a terrible dream that three dark figures blamed him for everything and took his life.  He stayed upset all day as I tried to work and get out of there early.  By 3:30 I called and said it would be soon, hang in there, but he said it was too late – he talked to his Mom and decided to go there.  I understood thinking that it was what he needed – but in the end it was done to punish me.

Friday I left early so his mom and I could go pick him up.  He said, from the park, he didn’t need to talk to me since I let him down and just send his mom to pick him up.  I did.

Saturday, while doing weeks of wash, I get a call – all hell broke loose.  His mother said he flipped out for no reason and busted her home up.  She didn’t get it.  I was used to that since he does that here all the time but understood how upset she was.  She said he was likely on his way here.  Inevitably he wound up here where he had a different story.  He said his brother had been bitching him around, took his money without asking, wouldn’t answer him, threw his phone – did shyt to piss him off.  He said that his abuser had no right to continue doing that shyt to him so I understood his rage and spent the rest of the weekend trying to calm him down.  But, and this is a big but, he said he wanted to kill his family and I couldn’t just soothe that idea with him.  He needed help because there were lives in danger.  All three of their lives. 

Today he went to get his car, and he was set up.  I know this must have killed him inside and no matter how crazy he is, nobody deserves that kind of pain.  His mother phoned to ask me not to talk to him any more – and I didn’t agree.  I will talk to him – I wont be his girl but I wont just shut the door and leave him friendless and alone while he’s suffering.  He’s hurt me, broke my home, cheated, lied, and all things bad but he’s a wounded child. 

I KNOW, and although people might not believe me, I will not be his girl any more but I will ALWAYS be his friend.  I am going to hold onto his shyt until his shrink says it’s okay for me to give it to his family – he needs to be at peace with that.  I won’t kick him while he’s down because human beings with a conscience would never do that.  I will always love him – always - but never again be his girl. 

Do I sound confused to you?  I’m not, I’m determined – determined to make sure he comes out of this world of bipolar whole dammit.  I learned from my sister and my brother’s pain, I’ve learned from my own pain, and I know, as broken as I may be, I will  never completely fall apart because the pain in my life WILL have served at least one purpose – to save a beautiful but very lost soul.

Peace

What’s New on other pages

Stratification and Social Class

 A sociological view of stratification and its relation to social classes.  To read this essay click on the title/link. 

 

Canterbury Tales – A literary review

Title:                             Canterbury Tales

Author:                         Geoffrey Chaucer

Date of Writing:           1380s (left unfinished and published posthumously)

 

“The Canterbury Tales” shovels opinions and morals down the throats of its readers through its coarse, yet entertaining, style.  Written in a language which could be appreciated by the common folk, The Canterbury Tales are truly the tales of the people.  Chaucer looks at his characters in the harsh light of reality insinuating their character through their physical descriptions and likes and dislikes.  He does not sermonize on their characters, yet manages to expose some as the hypocrites they are.  The prioress, although portrayed as a compassionate woman, is also portrayed as a hypocrite in her position by her love of the courtly virtues.  Through the Prioress tale we see her as an anti-Semite, which is in contrast with the portrayal of her as a woman of compassion.  Perhaps her only feelings of compassion are toward animals and small children.  To understand Chaucer’s time is made much easier through the reading of these tales.

Tag … You’re It…..

 just got tagged by St. Fallen…
And now I must mention 10 random things that make me happy
This is going to be fun

1. Hanging out with my kids – we’re more than just family but best friends
2. Taking classes where I am into the subject matter
3. Saturday nights chillin at the crib with some drinks, music and good company
4. Having an open, clean space to do something creative (paint, write, etc….)
5. A day on the Boardwalk, in the sun, spending money
6. Rearranging, or creating in my yard, to make a whole new environment
7. Shopping for stupid little shyt like doo dads for the house or pharmacy kinda of stuff
8. Marathons of my favorite, whacked out shows like Cheaters
9. Watching a comedy with someone who is almost a comedy themself – like the b/f when he’s feeling good
10. Sleeping late, without a care in the world, while dreaming out life’s little hassles, kinda like Garfield after eating his lasagna

Okay, I’m sure in about an hour I’m going to be hitting myself on the forehead saying, how the hell did I forget that … but that’s just a me thing.

Now, to go forth as did my friends, I shall now tag 4 fellow bloggers (:

I tag:
The Godfather of the The Slow Bleed
Mossavi of MOSSAVI MODEL ….. expression of thoughts
Claysol13 of Art in Motion
Inspiration is MY Goal, with Poetry for the Soul of Inspiration is MY Goal, with Poetry for the Soul’s Blog

Hope you enjoyed sharing your happy thoughts

Back at the Grind

It’s Monday morning and I’m back at the desk doing the whol admin thing.  My mother’s day was okay I guess, but it was kind of lonely being so far from my children.  Sigh. 

My daughter is feeling a little better about the Army, but, has begun the process of receiving help for those demons that haunt her.  My son is happily being a husband in Louisianna. 

As for me, I’m still in limbo in my personal, professional and financial life just waiting to see what happens next. 

Music on my Site

I keep music that is relevant on my site  – here it is

:http://bkladyired.wordpress.com/song-of-the-moment

Kinda Sad

I hear my b/f snoring beside me.  He stayed up late chillin with his brother the other night.  He was chillin, drinking and smoking with his friends today (and the fact he cleaned, where he wouldn’t before, make me suspect) but on the one night a week I get to chill – he’s not even trying.  He made sure to buy a bottle but had no intention of drinking tonight with me.  He had me shopping alone at the market, carrying mad bags, while he chilled on the low with his boy.  He only admitted to it when his boy wanted his money back so he had to meet up with me.

I’ll get loaded alone, singing sad songs and thinking about what I want and can’t have.  He’ll sleep well. I hope my self analysis helps me get why I do this to myself.

FYI

If you use the links on the sidebar, and choose: My personal life past, you get my story which is interestingly about abuse, foster care, and those things that weren’t discussed in the seventies, my personal life present is venting day to day.

So how did last night go?

It went really well. 

I got off work yesterday and found that the b/f’s brother was coming over for the night.  This was a good thing.

First of all, it gives the b/f someone to hang with that is not detrimental to his mental state.  Second, I like the brother so it’s nice having someone there who does not critisize, tease, lecture or intentially annoy the shyt out of me. 

The brother and I are more similar in taste and temperment than I and my b/f.  Where I’m merely an audience for the b/f, a facilitator, an ATM and maid, I feel as though the brother is genuinely interested in people when they speak and wants interaction rather than just a prop.  If the b/f were more like his brother so many of our issues would have worked out – but, it just ain’t so.  I do think he was more like that when we met – and over time just gave up caring about other people (well at least the people who love him).

So anywayz, point was, it was a nice night for once and today, at least, I am not going to have to blog some stupid drama.

Peace

Last night was …

relatively calm.  We “kind of” discussed what happened, I did NOT back down, we co-existed.

I get the impression that he was up to something yesterday but that could be paranoia since he didn’t wreck the place, spend a fortune and was happily singing away in the tub when I got there. 

But, bottom line, things are calm for the time being.