Dear self:

Get over it already. All this moaning and carrying on about getting through one more day. Please, you are not trying to raise kids in a refugee camp, fighting for your very existence, battling a dreaded disease, or any other horrible scenario.

However, the current state of your desk is something that would cause anyone to recoil in horror. Do something about that.

I torture myself with the thought of you. Of the thought of what I imagine you to be. A glimpse of you here, a whisper of your voice there, and it is just enough to hold on to the idea of you for just one more day. 

I have to turn away from you. Or just keep tending the small, fragile flame that is you.  Either way, I will break my own heart.

I am spending a lot of brain cells lately thinking about why my situation is well, my situation.  What gets me out of bed in the morning. Just getting through one more day.

Is it fear? Fear of what people may think or say. I like to think I am above all that. My mantra has developed into “people are gonna say what they say and think what they are gonna think and I have no control over that-however right or wrong their perception is.”    

Fear of the unknown, maybe?  I mean when you get down to it,  this afternoon is unknown. So, nope, that is not it.

I am not convinced that it is fear. I am leaning more towards guilt.

I know I am blessed beyond measure but am full of discontent.  This is so not what I have envisioned for my life.  So why do I torture myself so?

I feel guilty for wanting more than I have. For wanting to getting out of things I should have never done. Guilty, guilty, guilty. So do I think that I am serving a sentence and paying for disobedience in so many things?  I do. I really, really do.  If I get out of bed one more day and try so hard to do the right thing one more day then maybe, just maybe, I will have served enough time and receive God’s pardon.

I know that this is not a mature way of thinking. Knowing is one thing. Convincing the heart is another.

I have written in the past about my father’s twin. He was in town this weekend and I can hardly type as the tears start to fall once again today. It has been almost 30 years since my father passed away and the pain my sister and I are in today is just as acute.

No one is aware except her and I. No one has noticed that we are once again in mourning. It just comes out of somewhere far beyond left field. It can go by for years with hardly a twinge. But for some reason this year, this time, this visit, is just making us both sobbing wrecks. My emotions and nerves are laid wide open and every encounter with another human being today is actually physically painful.

We both feel incredibly alone together. How can it be that no one notices that we are not quite ourselves-that something is amiss? Because we are the daughters of an earth mother, caring and taking care of everyone around us with no thought for our own mental and emotional state. You just keep doing and going and doing and serving and taking it and for the love of God people can you not just let us mourn for one day? Can you notice for one minute that we are in pain? Can you handle your crap for today?

My father died. I miss my daddy.

I have shamefully neglected my blog due to that ho’ named Twitter.  I apologize profusely to my legion of followers-all 5 of you.  

Sincerely,

Hootie Mac the Shameful Blog Owner

I used to play 20 questions with a group of online people in a chat room that is now defunct and I miss it dearly. So I am going to play it  now-mini version. Follow along and comment at will:

1. Do chicken breasts have nipples?

2. What would you do for a Klondike bar?

3. I am thinking about getting bangs. Pros? Cons?

4. Does anyone really look good in neon yellow?

5. Ketchup-in the condiment cup or all over the food?

6. How DOES Dwayne THE ROCK Johnson get his teeth so frikkin white? This has troubled me for some time.

7. Does anyone know where my second set of keys are?

8. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?

9. I like the movie “300″ for some unexplicable reason. Maybe it is Gerard Butler in his underwear. How about you?

10. I would give up one of my ovaries for the LG washer and dryer. How about you?

Ok.  There it is. Put those minds to work and let’s get these burning questions answered.

My eldest daughter has turned 18. She is my firstborn, my beloved one. The one I practiced being a mom with and will pay for all my mis-steps as a parent. I have been saving for her therapy.

The other night we sat on the couch together watching something on the TV and felt compelled to have the following conversation:

Me:     Okay, we have to have a talk-I have to tell you something.

Firstborn:      OMG, what now?

Me:    Well now that you are out of high school and so on I have to tell you this…

Firstborn:    What???????

Me:   Don’t be stupid. Just please don’t be stupid.

That sums up my advice for the road ahead-don’t be stupid. It is the catch all phrase for all that is to come.  Don’t settle, he is so not the one, don’t be afraid, learn to handle your money, don’t quit because it is too hard, etc. Go places, meet people, never stop reading, you can never go wrong with a plan of some sort, and lists will always be your friend.

And I will always, always be on your side. Even if you are wrong. That is my number one priority-I am always for you. Because no one should ever be alone, especially when they have done something stupid.

Live well, my beloved one.

I dreamed about you nite before last. Why is it I always remember vividly the dreams about you? It was not a comforting dream either.  I chased your from house to house and you were always one step away from me. It is much like the dream I have about my father. Only you are still here and he is not.

When I finally caught up with you and you turned to look at my face all I could say was “please-please, don’t leave me.” And I was sad. So very sad and full of tears.  

The irony is the dream is light years behind real life. You left-I left-we both chose different paths that separated us from where we should have gone. Together.

I begged God to show me who my soulmate was and He did.  But in His mercy I am not broken, just sad, so very sad. Because you are still my best friend. The one I could whisper to in the dark.  We are just not quite what we could have been.

I am now a twitterer. Whatever. MacHoot is my name-a new way to lurk is my game!

If you have had your head stuck in the sand the last week or so, wander over to You Tube and check out the video of Susan Boyle singing on Britain’s Got Talent. She will knock your socks off.

But what I find so inmature is all the comments about how she reminds us “not to judge a book by its cover” and all the other nonsense.

Granted, she has to some blessed talent and I was in tears and chills hearing her sing.

But, what if, she had sucked?  Would the world still be defending her or would she be the object of even more ridicule?

I liked her before she sang a note cause she was sassy and just adorable.  Everyone’s comments just reinforce bad behavior. She is deemed “eccentric” and “darling.”

I just don’t have the words to explain how frustrating and infuriating I find the whole thing.