Four cow carcasses. Gutted, damn mess.
I'd been sitting across the farmer, the stoic farmers wife, and their son, a thirteen year old with a white boy fro who could play bass like he'd come out of the womb with it and a mad obsession with the Beatles catalog. For awhile, the kid and mine shared a guitar teacher, and when my daughter, eleven at the time, decided she wanted to learn Stairway to Heaven, the teacher figured it would be good to teach it to that kid too.
We switched teachers, and I heard all about it when my angel would lament, "I have to go in the band room in the morning and there he is! Playing my song!"
She hasn't gotten it yet, but seriously, she's twelve, and that kid practices daily for hours. My child maybe practices two of three times a week. Practice makes perfect?
But I'm off the subject. The subject was cow carcasses? So we were sitting across at a Cross Country gathering held at Ryan's with parents of Cross Country kids, which of course was awkward for me because 1. I am not a fan of Ryans, and 2. I'm not so much a fan of being crammed elbow to elbow with people you don't know while eating at an all-you-can-eat country buffet. I'm just not that good with people. Craziness.
So the farmer is talking about the thunderstorms that weekend, and how lightning struck an old oak, killed the oak, and spewed four cows that stood seeking shelter beneath it. And I marveled, as that was a revelation and perhaps the most enlightening thing I'd heard that day.
And this was months and months ago. But this morning while driving I passed thousands of cow filled acres, and as that question I often asked prior to the meal I shared with the farmer popped into my head-
Why don't they plants some trees in the fields and give the cows some shade?
I remembered the four cow carcasses. Gutted, damn mess.
have a really cool day :)
Monday, April 25, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
So I've wanted to blog for some time, but the formatting is off, and when I write, then publish, it all runs together, and that aggravates me, and I save it for later. (Notice my tiny bird poem turned into a cruddy paragraph). Ack.
Last week a woman in my town, only a few months older than me, died from a brain anneurysm. She was home with her kids on spring break. One of our employees went to her church. I really had to glance back at the past three years and all the chaos there's been.
The symptoms that led to my brain surgery were unrelated to me having the brain anneurysm, but yet I found it and, well, cut it out. ("I cut it out my head, man!")
Yep, that's the dork in me reemerging...
My doctor was inexperienced, but friendly and empathetic, and nobody knew any better at the time; so it was one of those things. If you're coming to this thing this far into it, you may need to float back to may or june 2009.
And maybe there was just this divine tapping on my shoulder that made me ill so I would find something that could've killed me. Divine tapping.
Ah, yes. The divine tapping of my Bitch-Ass Thyroid later we find. And I still don't feel too good. Ill. But I'm on some thyroid stuff and I go back in a couple months for monitoring my levels and I'll try to keep chipper about it all. Happy and Carefree.
Not easy when you feel like your mind's been slurped out threw a straw. A monster with a big badass bendy straw. A Republican monster, perhaps. (HeeHee!)
Also, I now postponed my morning coffee by an hour because thyroid stuff makes it so, so I become a slightly crankier me. My stomach aches. And my soul is off somewhere doing something fun. It left me behind.
What is new, what is new...
We went to the Lauryn Hill concert. On a school night. With the kids. Probably not the best idea. But it was Lauryn Hill, and my mind said,"In thirty years, the kids will being able to say they saw this phenomenal legendary singer as their very first concert!" and I followed that thought. There was the moment when I said, "Guess what? I got us Lauryn Hill tickets!!!" where I maybe should've taken the response of "Who's that?" as a signal- but I didn't.
She had not one opening band, but two...and didn't hit the stage until after 11. At one point I looked around me and there was this surreal realization of it all. All around me, these incredible attractive, well dressed black men and women. The style and energy were palpable. The base was vibrating the room. She starting singing Peace of Mind (one of my all time favorites- though she didn't do the acoustic version) so I'm amazed that she's playing and I'm there, and I look over and the other three members of my family are sound asleep. Third row center, amidst the dancing, I'm sitting in the middle of three sleeping white folk.
'How did I get here?' I thought. And then the realization came over me. I'm not one of those cool stylish black women. I'm actually a geeky mom, so far from style that I have a little Arby sauce on my green jacket, and I was only a wee self conscious of that before, but moreso now. And the beautiful people looked liked they all dressed from the Anthropologie catalog. When you go to Walmart and you're surrounded by idiots and you think, Where are all the cool people? The answer would be that they are at some Lauryn Hill concert somewhere. But don't take your children on a school night. We slept in and had a sick day the following day. And we got some cool tee shirts.
My plants are about to burst. I'd better go, but I'll be back. :) much love!
Last week a woman in my town, only a few months older than me, died from a brain anneurysm. She was home with her kids on spring break. One of our employees went to her church. I really had to glance back at the past three years and all the chaos there's been.
The symptoms that led to my brain surgery were unrelated to me having the brain anneurysm, but yet I found it and, well, cut it out. ("I cut it out my head, man!")
Yep, that's the dork in me reemerging...
My doctor was inexperienced, but friendly and empathetic, and nobody knew any better at the time; so it was one of those things. If you're coming to this thing this far into it, you may need to float back to may or june 2009.
And maybe there was just this divine tapping on my shoulder that made me ill so I would find something that could've killed me. Divine tapping.
Ah, yes. The divine tapping of my Bitch-Ass Thyroid later we find. And I still don't feel too good. Ill. But I'm on some thyroid stuff and I go back in a couple months for monitoring my levels and I'll try to keep chipper about it all. Happy and Carefree.
Not easy when you feel like your mind's been slurped out threw a straw. A monster with a big badass bendy straw. A Republican monster, perhaps. (HeeHee!)
Also, I now postponed my morning coffee by an hour because thyroid stuff makes it so, so I become a slightly crankier me. My stomach aches. And my soul is off somewhere doing something fun. It left me behind.
What is new, what is new...
We went to the Lauryn Hill concert. On a school night. With the kids. Probably not the best idea. But it was Lauryn Hill, and my mind said,"In thirty years, the kids will being able to say they saw this phenomenal legendary singer as their very first concert!" and I followed that thought. There was the moment when I said, "Guess what? I got us Lauryn Hill tickets!!!" where I maybe should've taken the response of "Who's that?" as a signal- but I didn't.
She had not one opening band, but two...and didn't hit the stage until after 11. At one point I looked around me and there was this surreal realization of it all. All around me, these incredible attractive, well dressed black men and women. The style and energy were palpable. The base was vibrating the room. She starting singing Peace of Mind (one of my all time favorites- though she didn't do the acoustic version) so I'm amazed that she's playing and I'm there, and I look over and the other three members of my family are sound asleep. Third row center, amidst the dancing, I'm sitting in the middle of three sleeping white folk.
'How did I get here?' I thought. And then the realization came over me. I'm not one of those cool stylish black women. I'm actually a geeky mom, so far from style that I have a little Arby sauce on my green jacket, and I was only a wee self conscious of that before, but moreso now. And the beautiful people looked liked they all dressed from the Anthropologie catalog. When you go to Walmart and you're surrounded by idiots and you think, Where are all the cool people? The answer would be that they are at some Lauryn Hill concert somewhere. But don't take your children on a school night. We slept in and had a sick day the following day. And we got some cool tee shirts.
My plants are about to burst. I'd better go, but I'll be back. :) much love!
Monday, April 4, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
hello spring :)
I'm sorry I've been away. It's no excuse but I forgot my password.
But I'm maybe approaching a breakthrough? Amidst my medical journey, I stumbled across something that may be my fix. This month, a new doctor, a new approach, and it may possibly be that the entire time I've been sick (yes, even the symptoms that led to my having brain surgery) it may have just been a thyroid problem.
Because I tested positive for anti-thyroid antibodies (meaning my body is attacking my thyroid) & I've had a weird neck thing going on for awhile, I went for a thyroid ultrasound this week. And it turns out that all the brain mess that has been plaguing me may not be due to having brain surgery, and will probably be corrected. Really.
I'm a wee bit thrilled. & I'm looking up plants again because I have this mad hope that I'll be able to dig and play and read and write again. And remember and be a social butterfly. Well, not so much a social butterfly, I've never been that. But maybe I'll make a friend or something.
I don't really have much news aside from that, which is my big news.
Oh- here's something.
My daughter was talking on the way home in the car,
"Today's Pie Day!"
"Pie Day?"
"Yeah, it's a math thing. They probably didn't have it when you were in school."
But I'm maybe approaching a breakthrough? Amidst my medical journey, I stumbled across something that may be my fix. This month, a new doctor, a new approach, and it may possibly be that the entire time I've been sick (yes, even the symptoms that led to my having brain surgery) it may have just been a thyroid problem.
Because I tested positive for anti-thyroid antibodies (meaning my body is attacking my thyroid) & I've had a weird neck thing going on for awhile, I went for a thyroid ultrasound this week. And it turns out that all the brain mess that has been plaguing me may not be due to having brain surgery, and will probably be corrected. Really.
I'm a wee bit thrilled. & I'm looking up plants again because I have this mad hope that I'll be able to dig and play and read and write again. And remember and be a social butterfly. Well, not so much a social butterfly, I've never been that. But maybe I'll make a friend or something.
I don't really have much news aside from that, which is my big news.
Oh- here's something.
My daughter was talking on the way home in the car,
"Today's Pie Day!"
"Pie Day?"
"Yeah, it's a math thing. They probably didn't have it when you were in school."
Pi Day. :P
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Confessional
It's been too long!
I've long known my blog has made a change; and as much as I want to keep up appearances,
some days I feel as though I need to sit with my peeps and have my Confessional moment. I am not always what I was. My mind is different. My brain is different. And some days it makes me sad because I feel the need to appear as though I am completely connected or completely as I was. There is a pressure to be exactly what I was for the comfort of those around me.
And I'm trying :). But I am not connecting with people the way I once could. There's a part of me that needs to say that perhaps the brain that left the building in 09 did not come back completely normal, and when you try to tell me some long story, I may only mentally follow for three minutes, and maybe only about 45 seconds, and then really when I'm lost and it seems your not speaking the same language anymore, I don't really want to even try to maintain eye contact to pretend I understand what you're talking about. I just want to look at a magazine with pictures of tiles or something odd but non verbal.
And when people tell me the same stories over and over it makes me tired, because while I cannot remember everything, I remember that you told me the ages of so and so's new girlfriends kids and I now just want to see some nice tile.
This is completely wrong, I know, but since this space holds my name, no place to vent like this one. My secret room. And I know you won't mind just for today.
My mother has commented of the mental change since the surgery, and how she was discussing it with my brother but was afraid to talk about it with me. This presented itself as a moment of relief. I know. Feel free to mention it,beause I'm trying so hard to make you think I'm the same, if you know, let me not work so hard. Let me be that person and not try to make you think I'm the other one.
And I remember breezing through books, reading several over a weekend, and I know that now a few pages are a challenge. Things that I should do or have done seem confusing to me and I just want to be able to be grateful for a simpler person that holds this space. I don't want to feel like the placeholder for someone who was smarter than me. I guess I just don't want to feel the pressure to be someone that I may not always be. I want to eat thai food and search through junk stores, and if I write a thing to tackle, I want to tackle that thing (2 loads of laundry washed/folded/put away & a shower for today) and then I want to revel in the fact that I accomplished my goals, rather that feeling like I'm not amounting to anything. I want to feel empathy again and I don't always. And there are days I just can't express myself.
How come no one ever tells anyone Its okay to be tired? It's okay to be tired. & If you are here by way of Googling brain surgery, it's okay to not be the same. I give you permission. If doesn't make you an infant...
and don't worry, the spirit of 'you' is still in there somewhere, and whoever needs it will see it in your eyes. Speaking is overrated anyhow. Kindness trumps any of the unnessecary knowledge that sloughed away when you were 'honed and perfected'. Write stuff on your hands if you need too and just grow into your new self.
My dad is dying again.
And I had another birthday this week.
And the cat has been moving folded clothes around the house several floors and I find things out of place and she's scootched them to make me think I'm crazy. A folded shirt and folded pair of socks are the latest items, placed in the center of the living room. Steven says its not possible for her to do that, with two items that were side by side, to be moved and again be placed side by side- by a cat. But it makes me feel better than imagining the old dead owners of the house are moving my clothes. I'm going with the cat. But a little sage couldn't hurt.
Much love to you all. Really :)
I've long known my blog has made a change; and as much as I want to keep up appearances,
some days I feel as though I need to sit with my peeps and have my Confessional moment. I am not always what I was. My mind is different. My brain is different. And some days it makes me sad because I feel the need to appear as though I am completely connected or completely as I was. There is a pressure to be exactly what I was for the comfort of those around me.
And I'm trying :). But I am not connecting with people the way I once could. There's a part of me that needs to say that perhaps the brain that left the building in 09 did not come back completely normal, and when you try to tell me some long story, I may only mentally follow for three minutes, and maybe only about 45 seconds, and then really when I'm lost and it seems your not speaking the same language anymore, I don't really want to even try to maintain eye contact to pretend I understand what you're talking about. I just want to look at a magazine with pictures of tiles or something odd but non verbal.
And when people tell me the same stories over and over it makes me tired, because while I cannot remember everything, I remember that you told me the ages of so and so's new girlfriends kids and I now just want to see some nice tile.
This is completely wrong, I know, but since this space holds my name, no place to vent like this one. My secret room. And I know you won't mind just for today.
My mother has commented of the mental change since the surgery, and how she was discussing it with my brother but was afraid to talk about it with me. This presented itself as a moment of relief. I know. Feel free to mention it,beause I'm trying so hard to make you think I'm the same, if you know, let me not work so hard. Let me be that person and not try to make you think I'm the other one.
And I remember breezing through books, reading several over a weekend, and I know that now a few pages are a challenge. Things that I should do or have done seem confusing to me and I just want to be able to be grateful for a simpler person that holds this space. I don't want to feel like the placeholder for someone who was smarter than me. I guess I just don't want to feel the pressure to be someone that I may not always be. I want to eat thai food and search through junk stores, and if I write a thing to tackle, I want to tackle that thing (2 loads of laundry washed/folded/put away & a shower for today) and then I want to revel in the fact that I accomplished my goals, rather that feeling like I'm not amounting to anything. I want to feel empathy again and I don't always. And there are days I just can't express myself.
How come no one ever tells anyone Its okay to be tired? It's okay to be tired. & If you are here by way of Googling brain surgery, it's okay to not be the same. I give you permission. If doesn't make you an infant...
and don't worry, the spirit of 'you' is still in there somewhere, and whoever needs it will see it in your eyes. Speaking is overrated anyhow. Kindness trumps any of the unnessecary knowledge that sloughed away when you were 'honed and perfected'. Write stuff on your hands if you need too and just grow into your new self.
My dad is dying again.
And I had another birthday this week.
And the cat has been moving folded clothes around the house several floors and I find things out of place and she's scootched them to make me think I'm crazy. A folded shirt and folded pair of socks are the latest items, placed in the center of the living room. Steven says its not possible for her to do that, with two items that were side by side, to be moved and again be placed side by side- by a cat. But it makes me feel better than imagining the old dead owners of the house are moving my clothes. I'm going with the cat. But a little sage couldn't hurt.
Much love to you all. Really :)
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