She done it.....GRADUATED!!!!!

A graduation ceremony is an event where the commencement speaker tells thousands of students dressed in identical caps and gowns that "individuality" is the key to success. ~Robert Orben

Graduation is only a concept. In real life every day you graduate. Graduation is a process that goes on until the last day of your life. If you can grasp that, you'll make a difference. ~Arie Pencovici

Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else. ~Judy Garland

 

 

There is just one life for each of us: our own. ~Euripides

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. ~e.e. cummings

So many quotes, with various points of view, road maps to life yet growing up into YOU is a personal decision.  Despite all what is given to you by family, friends and educaters, it is the individual that chooses their own direction. The individual must make the appropriate adjustments, to transform into themselves.  This is only the beginning, and the decisions made from this point will determine how long, hard or easy the journey will be.  Be all you can be everyday.

May 28, 2011 was a milestone for my daughter Tiauna JaNae' Arnett...whomsoever graduated in the circle of family and friends supporting and celebrating this great accomplishment.  This event will be forever memorable, Tiauna graduation brought a smile to everyone's face, and it also was a forum for the family to come together. Man what a weekend! It was great and needed. 

"It Just Hit Me, I graduatedddd ! I've had so many people doubt me this year & God gave me the strength to prove each&every one of them wrong. #Blessed" Tiauna

Congratulations to the Class of 2011

Wise are those who learn that the bottom line doesn't always have to be their top priority. ~William Arthur Ward

The man who will use his skill and constructive imagination to see how much he can give for a dollar, instead of how little he can give for a dollar, is bound to succeed. ~Henry Ford

Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. ~Edmund Hillary

The Card by James Ross

I am an avid reader of many things books, magazines, internet etc..... during one of my writing classes we covered short stories. Me being new to the whole writing scene did my research to get an idea of how to write a short story. Along the way I came across many amateur and experienced writers of short stories but one always stuck in mind and I saved for future reference. This story is relatable and relevant in so many ways. So for your reading pleasure....

The Card by James Ross

The only thing I ever got off my old man was a birthday card when I was ten. He'd gone off when I was three and left me and mam and my sister to fend for ourselves. Mam never talks about him but my sister remembers him.
     ‘What was dad like?' I ask.
     She looks at me through dark, sleepy eyes, pushes her hair back from her eyes. Her arms are scabbed like she's been shinning up a rusty drainpipe and accidentally slid back down and scraped herself. ‘Whu?'
     ‘I said, what was dad like?'
     She smiles at me, and I suss that she's still trippin' and I should ask her later when she's straight.
     Anyhow, the only thing I ever got from him was a birthday card when I was ten. It said Happy Birthday Mickey! And then there was a verse inside the card that went:
    

Now you're ten, and how you've grown
     It really won't be long
     ‘Til you're a man, and fully grown
     With arms both big and strong.

And on the front of the card was a picture, a cartoon, of a little boy wearing a hardhat and driving a tractor. But I mean, how would he know I'd grown? To be honest, I was surprised he knew where I was, we moved so often.
    
But the killer was, at the bottom of the card, below the rhyme, he'd added:
    

Remember, no one's got your back
     XX. Dad.

I'd studied this card on more than one occasion, trying to work out some depth to what he was telling me. ‘Laura, what was dad like?'
     Three hours later and she's washing up. The dutiful daughter. She looked up a little, thought about my question for a second or two. Then she said, ‘I love him. Still.'

     ‘Well I hate him. What was he like, though?'
     And she said, ‘Stern.'
     ‘Stern, huh?'
     ‘I don't mean strict; more like serious. Like you, a bit, but smarter, taller and better looking.' Then she laughed and slapped me across the arm, ‘Dry the dishes,' she said.
     It's funny, I learn a lot from my sister, mainly don't do drugs, which I should have written in capital letters instead of italics, but never mind, the thing is, when she's not high or shaking ‘cos she needs some stuff, she's really smart and, truth be told, she's the core of our family, the strength, believe it or not. Honest, she keeps us together. There's me, fifteen, bright, got a future, they tell me, though I haven't and I'll tell you about that later, and then there's my mam, as honest as, and working, and sensible (though not in her choice of boyfriends or anything) and all that stuff. And then there's Laura. Nineteen, and a junkie, but she holds the family together. Cos mam's a flake and useless, and I, basically, am at a loose end; financially, educationally, socially, morally… I won't go on.
    
Laura has one thing going for her; she's honest. And because she is honest she sees more than most, so she knows more than most, and she holds me and mam together.
     Mam.
     Hold on, I was told by my English teacher, Miss Wright, that I should show, not tell; ‘too much exposition,' she'll say to me (look it up). So maybe I should stop describing my life, start showing what happens instead, but I'll get to that bit in a bit, so to speak.
     Ok, so mam. My mother. She is thirty seven years old and she is a flake. A total dribble. Weak as. They should do a reality TV show on my mam – "How Not To …"
     "How Not To bring up your children."

     "How Not To save for the future."
     "How Not To get a good job."
     "How Not To attract a nice boyfriend."
     She did once. Attract a nice boyfriend, that is. And I've read all the women's magazines she buys and I knew from the off it wasn't going to last. From the moment she said to me, ‘He's kind, thoughtful, good looking. He's got a good job, Pete, and a lovely car' (a bloody good car, since you ask. You didn't? But you would have. A Kompressor. Which means Supercharger. Which also means money. Cool. German. Cool. And much more). But anyway, as she's telling me all this I'm thinking, Yeah, but mam, you're going to fall for a skinheaded nightclub doorman or a carpet salesman called Wayne and you're going to jack Pete in and tell me ‘there was no spark' which translates as, you think that love equals pain, and affection means distress and you think that being nice is the equivalent of being invisible. Which it kind of is. So just be honest. Please. So, as predicted, Pete went the journey. Kompressor and all. And in moved Marc. Fifteen years younger than mam. What a tosspot.
     What a racket.
     It was embarrassing. It was the crime that no parent should inflict upon their children! Making those noises. I was twelve, which made Laura sixteen; she'd just failed her exams and was working in Safeway. Very content. Regular money, dreaming about her own flat. Boyfriend. And the last thing that Laura wanted was mam and Marc doing that upstairs halfway through a Sunday afternoon. Go on mam; be a mam, not a flake. Don't be desperate, please. But no. And when Marc made a play for Laura one afternoon, just a suggestion you understand, she screamed the place down and mam came dashing downstairs half-dressed and slapped Laura to shut her up and then slapped her again when she heard what she was accusing Marc of doing.
    
I'm not tough, really, I'm not. And I'm not pretending to be not tough so you'll think that really I secretly am tough either. I'm just not. So when mam took his side against Laura I couldn't drop Marc with a right hook to the jaw or a knee in the family jewels, though I really, really wanted to, so I just went and sat on the front step and listened to them row.

     It was one of those afternoons with dark and light grey clouds flying across the sky on the wind (scudding, as they say in really old novels). I sat on the step of our front door watching the seagulls wheel and fly and sail on the wind. I wished I could do that.
    
I have this theory that, to us the world is a flat thing we stand on, but to birds it is a cliff they cling to, a huge ball and they cling to the side and then fall off and fly and glide. I'm digressing here, but I can't remember what else happened, except I know how it ended. The next morning I waited until Marc went out and then I used mam's phone to call the police and grass Marc for the twenty grams of cocaine he had stashed in a haversack under the stairs.
     Bingo.
     Job done.
     Like I say, I'm not tough. But I don't need to be when there's five polis and a German Shepherd dog breaking down the door and dragging Marc screaming down the path and into a van.
    
Anyhow, this card I got from my dad. It said, remember, no one's got your back, like this was some piece of information I'd known but had forgotten, or like I already had asked someone to get my back and then discovered they hadn't got it, or something. I mean, come on dad, I don't know who you are, or where you are or what you do or anything, but come on, be a dad for a minute. For as long as it takes not to write that sentence.
     I was ten years old for Chrissake.
     Write I miss you or We'll meet up when you're older or Stick in at school. In fact, here's an idea. Don't send me a card.
     Go on.

     Unsend it.
     But the funny thing is, daft, one-off card with a stupid picture and a deranged verse it might have been.
     But he was right.
     No one's got your back.

Thursday Night Thoughts

Today was a good day.
Work was a challenge....a good thing
Work was fun..an excellent thing
Work ended at 4:30...PERFECT thing.
Headed to Crabby Daddy's with my favorite sister in law, and a couple co workers.
Crawfish and Margarita's ....LOVING it!

Moment for life: I remember, I dont remember

My short term memory is not what it use to be. Also, my short term memory is not what it use to be.~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I remember

I remember

I remember

I remember when I was 14 years old sitting in the back room of my grandma’s house with the door locked so I could have some privacy. My boyfriend at the time, the love of my life RJ, was on his way to bid me farewell as the summer came to an end and it was time to return to reality “School”. Sitting there in the darkness I cried to myself thinking about the distant friendship for the next 7 months. I listened to New Edition “Lost in Love” over and over until I heard a noise. The sound was faint but clearly it was a tap on the window. Without thinking I immediately pulled the curtains back more like heavy ugly drapery to peep into the darkness and not to my surprise there was my friend, my first love sitting outside my grandma’s house waiting for me to open/crack the window. I put my finger up to my lips to shush him so that I could check to make sure the coast was clear. Ever so quietly I opened the door and I approached the kitchen cautiously.  To play it off I walked directly to the sink as if I was getting some water.  Carefully I tip toed to  peep into the den to see what grandma and grand daddy were doing. They both were sitting in their recliner while the baseball game was watching grand daddy and a book was holding up grandma eye glasses. Yes! I crept back to the kitchen ditched the water and tip toed back to my room to partake in farewell kisses with my first love.  The windows were old, the type that had a handle that you twisted and the window pane moved outward at an angle. Just as I hit play on the cassette player to restart our song I heard footsteps….Dang it!!!!  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I don’t remember

I don’t remember

I don’t remember

I don’t remember

I don’t remember

What don’t I remember

There are a lot of things I don’t remember. It is disturbing trying to recall events in my life that I know occurred but I can not quite grasp the detail of what happened. There are some things I just flat out can not conjure up back into existence no matter how hard I try.  I really don’t remember much of my 6^th grade year. I have floating memories of 7^th and 8^th but nothing really concrete. Maybe if I try hard enough and just jot down what I do remember it is a possibility the gaps will come back to me. Sigh*****  I really don’t remember. Well that just goes to show how important journaling is because if I had been encouraged  to write I could have a written a book “Diary of a Kid to Remember…..”

Writing Exercise

The Traffic Cop in the Hotel with a Wedding Ring

We don’t get many visitors here at the Shady Hill Hotel this time a day.  Needless to say I was quite perturbed that my game show done gone and got interrupted by the loud bell when the door opened.  “Humph, it’s a cop”, I said under my breath, thinking did Ida Mae pay dem darn parking tickets today. Something about this fella got me mighty curious and a bit apprehensive about approaching him to rent a room. He was a real peculiar fella and drunk if I do say so myself. He just stood at the counter with that lil black velvet like box in his hand mumbling words beyond my comprehension.  I didn’t want to disturb his conversation with himself so I approach cautiously and said “Hey there fella, what can I do fer ya”. He gazed up at me with the reddest blood shot eyes I ever witness in all my years of livin, spittle was on his lower lip and some snot lingering between his nose and lip, and he slurred “you want this wedding ring?” I treaded carefully not sure of this fellas angle, so I said “um no sir, but thank ya kindly my wife of 45 years wouldn’t like it much if I just showed up with a ring and not her lottery tickets”. If looks could kill I’d be road kill simmering in the hot desert on the 95 freeway. He just stared, did not say a word, and just stared intensely with sorrow and pain in them beady red eyes. I cleared my throat as best I could, opened my mouth to say something when he turned and walked out, got in his squad car and left. “Yep, yep, mighty strange fella” I mumbled. As I turned around to head back to my TV show, I noticed the lil black velvet box on the counter. Curiosity tickling my neck, I opened the box and the most amazing thing stared back at me, it was Ida Mae’s wedding ring. I didn’t even notice the new flash interrupting my TV show, local hotel owner wife run down by a cop on the 95 freeway.

Stress Cycle

Twist, turns, up and downs--life is a roller coaster.

I never know how the course ahead will make me feel

And when it slows down

There is always that unexpected jolt

Just when you think its over it takes off again

Full speed ahead...



I am sure you saying to yourself, another poem? Yep friends, family, ladies and gentlemen another poem. A poem created by a tree diagram I created when I was lost, trying to find balance. This is a rarity that I allow folks into my truth, up and personal all up in my space. To visit a place no one has ever been. It is uncomfortable because it leaves me open and vulnerable. But ya know...I am ME, so deal with it! Some people say its bipolar but I call it life. Not that play play fairy tale farce of make believe but the real deal. Walk a mile in my shoes before you judge.

This stress tree was hard and it actually brings a tear to my eyes when I read it. Looking back now on all that I was going through, I am shocked! People do not realize the impact that stress has on the mind, body and spirit.  During that period in time I was severely homesick; my children were beating me up mentally because I up rooted them from their home, family and friends. Nothing I did was right; it was constant complaining, behavior issues and myself to deal with. Life was hard.  All that stress manifested itself in many ways, HIVES…I survived on benedryl oral and topical, but imagine hives in your eye lids, on your tongue on the bottom of your feet even in the crack of your ass.  I resorted to steroid shots so I could work, it was bad yawl. Bad. Then to make matters worse, I started having attacks which in my mind were heart attacks. It all started with pains in my chest, shortness of breath, dizziness (I even passed out a few times) and stomach issues that caused diarrhea. Bad. Then the big one hit (after a major child incident) and I thought I was going to join Red Fox and Elizabeth in heaven. My then boyfriend Larry rushed me to the hospital thinking I was having a heart attack…..nope no heart attack; it was the almighty Acid Reflux. That was the day I realized that my body was turning against me.  After all I did for my body eating right, excising, it betrayed me when I needed the most. Stress took away my freedom to live normally, my quality of life; I literally thought I was dying…hence at this point I am depressed.

Life wasn’t supposed to be this hard, right? A lot of people do a combination of the following work, pay bills, take care of kids, go to school, cook, clean, entertain, etc and things are fine. Folk’s men and woman balance multiple tasks depending on their role and place in life. Not me, life took a bite out of my ass and almost took me down during that time. The emotional turmoil impacted me physically and my quality of life diminished over night. Life as I new it, this new life I wanted for my family was a train wreck waiting to happen.

Me? I have always been a fighter. In my journey, I have made some stoooopid mistakes with men, money and otherwise but I have proven I am not no punk!  Every step I took was a lesson and within these lessons the challenges were hard. Leaving a dysfunctional marriage, moving to a new state, and moving into my new single parent role. I felt I was in the boxing ring of life…I had a few hits that knocked me down but before the ref got to 10 I was up bouncing again ready to face the next blow or duck and weave.  It was a point where I felt there was no hope, my future was uncertain and I was afraid to tell my family I had failed. I was afraid to ask for help AGAIN after they had joined forces with my friends to help me move to a fresh start. I had no one. At least that is how I felt at the time. Helpless, homeless and weak.  

In the same moment that I almost excepted defeat I evaluated my life. I took step outside of myself to see what the hell was going on. 1.) I allowed my kids to hold me hostage with their inability to accept change.  And they used my guilt to move me around like puppet. They basically took advantage of my weak state and got buck wild. ‘Play your position’ 2.) I refused to except change when it came to my job.  The new job was not the old job. The culture was different, these folks were not my friends and did not care whether I lived or died. Once I accepted my place it became easier to sustain my sanity. ‘Know your place’ 3.) I had to learn to trust myself. Trust my decisions, trust my judgment, and trust that I made the right decision for my family sake. Trust my heart. ‘Accept who you are and trust it’

After a come to Jesus with myself and a few moments of clarity I finally started to move in the right direction.  Looking back on this stress tree makes me sad because it was a very low point in my life, but it also makes me happy because I am a SURVIVOR and I survived and will continue to survive!

Destiny Child said it best:

I'm a survivor (What?)
I'm not gon give up (What?)
I'm not gon stop (What?)
I'm gon work harder (What?)
I'm a survivor (What?)
I'm gonna make it (What?)
I will survive (What?)
Keep on survivin' (What?)

Open Diary Moment

Lately I haven't had much time for blogging for various reasons all of them good (so far). There is so much I want to share but I don't know where to start. Lets see...

Darkness moved in for awhile and took control of me yet the darkness did not prevail because as always I fought a good fight and I have seen the light.  There is nothing worse than being stuck and refusing to make a change.  Besides why worry and stress about the things I can not control. Time is flying and there is so many things that I have allowed to fall aside ...my writing which includes but not limited to journaling, my novel, this blog and daily writing exercises.  Looking at these words will probably not mean a lot to you but know, my love for writing is a big piece (PEACE) of me and at the moment I am incomplete. Yet I continuously make excuses....I am tired, a good TV show, a basketball game, dinner, cleaning, shopping, work, phone, a movie, and the list goes on and on. No doubt all these things are important to me as well however we make time for what is important to us.

My youngest son has had some medical issues
My daughter is graduating
My oldest son is.....well I honestly don't know.
My husband works and tries and works some more
My job well lets just say it is not a happy place
My house has not progressed
My mother is my rock but she not made of steel is surviving her own turmoil
I was sick and given a buffet of medication that turned out to be FALSE

TA is graduating, and has been accepted into Blinn Community College ...there are obstacles of course and I reserve the right to blog about this another day.  Planning is still in the works more to come on this as well.

Easter was perfect! We spent the day at Ian and Michele's new home for their first Easter dinner. Great family day!!!!

Prom was perfect. Thanks to the best sister in law ever Michele L Simon who helped me with the diva.

Mother's Day was A-W-E-S-O-M-E! The kids gave me the perfect Mothers Day cards, My hubby the bestest ever took me to see Thor, put some change in my pocket and we had a nice dinner. I treated myself to a cute pair of out of budget shoes from ALDO.

Decided to make some amends at work for the better that way PEACE be still.

So far so good ....
Of course I jumped around no need to drudge up the darkness
I can honestly say I am happy and mean it!

Oh oh oh...forgot to mention. I am in the process of writing a business plan for a consignment store.  Not sure if I plan on actually opening the store although it has been my life long dream yet ....fear has me paralyzed. Baby steps.......1st business plan 2nd make a decision.

Where was I? Oh yeah, I am happy and I mean it!!!!