Shadow Casting

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crownI stare at a blank page in front of me, looking for a place to start… seems like that would come easy with the blankness staring back at me. But it isn’t. My soul is reaching. Like a flower, I can feel it pulling me toward light, through the concrete, I’ve always grown, anyway. God is cool like that. He gives, and takes away. Casting Crowns lyrics, “I will praise you in this storm,” come over me like a blanket.

There is so much heaviness in my life right now. I have so much to say. So much honesty to dump out. To free from my guts. I feel like I am running from a serial killer of time, and begging for my life from a ghost I can’t identify. Each day is a battle from beginning to end. Losing people. You’re never ready. You’re never prepared.

imagesI’m not even sure where it started. I just know that it did. As it consumed me, I started just filling the empty with pure anger. Hatred. Annoyance. Frustration. Aggravation. Nothing positive lives here anymore. Well that can’t be  true, because something inside me is fighting to break through the concrete. It’s pure soul. It’s that mustard seed that was planted so very long ago. Planted as a child. Watered as a teenager, standing between two of my dearest friends in a small church in Gulf Breeze. When I was too scared to go forward, both Mellow and Amy held my hands and walked with me. I wanted to be like them. Two of the brightest Christian lights I’ve ever met.

I think back to the light that radiated from them. I think about the other Christians I’ve come in contact with since then. Many lights burned out. Many torches, never made it up the hill. I think about my own light. I know it doesn’t radiate. But I know that like a star a billion miles away, my light is only dull because of how far away I am. But it’s still there. The ember needs fanned.

I’m tired of living angry and frustrated. I’m tired of feeling I am on the verge of collapse. I’m tired of doing what everyone else wants or needs me to do. It’s time for me to do what I was called to do. It’s time to bring this star back. The darkest of nights needs more stars. And I am fucking done feeling dull and dusty.

 

Magnolia Day Dreams

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Magnolia and Jameson
Green glass
Scent of a Marlboro and Chrome
Daylight fading
Rearview mirrors
Wet feet
Just a dream
A lullabye
Taste of Tennessee Whiskey
Take a left
Hit the gas
Can’t look back
No not this time
Day lights fading
Jukebox blazing
Saddles waiting
Shhhhh…. it’s our lullabye
Tonight.

Your Conscience Conscious State

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cf0d83b104b40ba17f4b6bdff281bd54Recently I used one of the above words wrong. But… once I had done said crime… I began really diving into the difference between my conscience and being conscious and the gray state of my brain where they run smack the fuck into each other in a kaleidoscope of WTF and red blood spatter.

I was kindly provided the definition of conscious when I misused the word, and the definition has been plaguing  the crap out of me for days.

Conscious: Aware of and responding to one’s surroundings. Awake. Having knowledge of something, aware. Mindful. Sensitive to.

Conscience: The part of the mind that makes you aware of your actions as being either morally right or wrong.

tumblr_o2tqgzDKUO1v7thq1o1_1280Funny… these words can and should be used together often. If you’re consciously making a decision then you are showing awareness… which means regardless of if what you are doing is right or wrong, you’re fucking doing it anyway. You consciously did that.

Anyway after my in depth correction (from a major pain in the ass whose own intelligence levels I am really starting to question) anyway, after being corrected, my brain could not drop the subject matter. I began debating with myself the context of what one consciously does and where the conscience falls into the mix.

What I came up with was:  I don’t care at all. I don’t care if your conscience is conscious currently.  Because it’s obviously not. Your intervention into all things related to me, is unwarranted, and  I’m done patty caking over it. Take your sweet, smothering, one sided opinions and consciously shove them back up your ass. Or swallow them. Or choke on them. My conscience does not care. My conscience is not concerned, or any longer conscious of your existence at all. Wow. I’m pretty sure I just used both words, right. A LOT.

 

The Way Only a Daughter Can

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IMG_9890Last night I was out of the house for a few hours at my weekly pool league match. Things were going ok. Meaning they were not too bad compared to the last few Tuesdays I’ve had. As luck would have it, or karma, or whatever bitch is stalking my life this week…. my daughters refused to let it just be an ok night. The text messages start rolling:

Hailey: MOM… Can I stay the night at Abby’s house tonight so that we can get ready for the first day of school together tomorrow?

Me: NO.

Hailey: WHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY

Me: It’s the first day of school. It’s a MOM day.

Hailey: Ohhhh mmmyyyyyy gaaawwwdddddd mom. I ONLY HAVE THREE YEARS OF SCHOOL LEFT.

Me: And I’ve take a picture of you every single first day of school, every year… I have 3 left to take.

At this point the SHEER FUCKING PANIC HITS ME.  3 MORE???? I ONLY HAVE 3 MORE PICTURES TO TAKE???? I have already taken 10 first day of school pictures of her? Tears are welling up. My heart is racing.

Me: NOOOOOOOOO!!! You will be home! I have to take a picture.

Hailey: Sigh…. can’t you take it on the second day?

(I’m screaming internally now… in expletives and curly letters that I can’t even understand).

Me: No. Just no.

Hailey: Ugh. Fine.

Pictures of her this morning turn out…. as they always do on Hailey’s first day of school.

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Then…. there’s Faith. SOOOOOOOOO…… Our texting starts last night. She’s in a great mood. Chelsi is twisting her hair in knots for her to sleep on so she has gorgeous curls this morning. She’s elated. Until:

Faith: Mom… can I ride to school with Madi tomorrow? Her mom has time to drive her to school.

(I’m instantly annoyed at all moms that have the ability to drive their kids to school, go to work, feed them, and get to sports practices on time… WTF am I doing wrong… I huff)

Me: No.

IMG_9905Faith: WHHHHYYYYYYYY???? They live in our neighborhood mom.

Me: Fine. But if Madi is sick and you miss the bus cause she isn’t going to school, then you’re walking.

Faith: God, Mom; Madi’s mom  would totally still take me to school.

I’ve lost the battle. Of courrrrssseeee she would.  My energy to keep arguing with the WHHHHYYYYY Monsters is gone.

Faith: By the way, your clothes are in the dryer, and it’s not drying them. I think it’s broken. Goodnight! I love you!

(kjgkhjahkljghkl REALLY???? Sigh. HEAVY SIGH. FUCKING UGGHHHH)

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This morning I wake up and realize I didn’t check the dryer when I got home. Sooooo my clothes for work are still wet. Yay. I make sure the girls are up. They are, Faith is mid panic because her hair is curled tooooooo tightly and I must fix it immediately. Hailey is growling in  the bathroom we now share, and I am scared to enter.

Ahhhh, my sweet little dog, she looks like a safe someone to say good morning to first. I chance it. She doesn’t bite me. Small victory.

IMG_9893Time to try to get a few pictures of both girls together. This should go swimmingly.  Faith is immediately standing too close to Hailey, there’s hair being pulled. Anger. Death. Blood, blood, blood. Ugh. I might have taken one that didn’t suck before Hailey’s bus came, luckily. I was just about to use my moves learned from Kung Fu Panda.

Sometimes there just aren’t words for what is going on around you. You just gotta go, get in the car, turn on some Rage Against the Machines, or Jewel… whatever… you don’t know me. And let their day, be whatever it FullSizeRenderunfolds into today.

Somehow after all the expletives and crazy thoughts I had this morning, sitting at my desk, my brain is still wrapped around how their days are going, how their friends liked seeing them again, if anything crazy has changed… and I can’t wait to see them over dinner tonight. As they roll their eyes and look at me as if I am from another planet.

Cause I’m old. And… ugh… so… just…. blah MOM.

Through the Looking Glass

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0c0d6f2c61665f048d2affdd011aa68bSeems a long damn time since I picked up a pen… or a keyboard… mostly because when there’s one in my hand lately, I want to throw it through a mirror. A wall. A building. Doesn’t matter. There’s a monkey on my back, and the withdrawals are a bitch. Guess that’s the way that writing has always worked in my life. I have once again found myself in the middle of a divorce. In the middle of financial meltdown. In the middle of searching for myself.

alice-in-wonderland_00040086Waves keep on pounding the sand though, and my feet keep me moving. Every time I start to think I made a crazy decision and that my life was simple, beautiful and … enough… that I should just suck it up, I get punched with another uppercut to the jaw, and it sets my feet back in motion. You know why? Because at the end of the day, I fucking matter. Took a dear sweet friend saying that to me yesterday about his own life, for me to hear the words. I matter. 89657977-alice-alice-in-wonderland-impossible-mad-hatter-quote-Favim_com-303207

Not the same way black lives matter. Or white lives matter. Or labs matter. Something else entirely. This is about me, dammit. Birthdays keep on coming. People around me keep doing whatever the fuck they want and waiting for me to clean up their messes, or telling me about them, or just making them and leaving them… but regardless… I digress. The point is… I’m 35 mfers. It’s my time. Me time. Jeanna-thirty. Ok, that was a little far.

0d2a3b1d153df76a521459218f93037cI named this post through the looking glass, for two reasons. When I was a kid, I HATED ALICE IN WONDERLAND. HATED. LOATHED. It made no damn sense at all. However, since I fell through the rabbit hole of life, passing books, pictures, maps, touches, tastes; moving too quickly to grab on to anything…. only to hit the floor and need to be small, then becoming small to realize I left something way out of my reach…. ohhhh the irony is not fucking lost on me at all.

But my Alice, she’s a little twisted. She’s tatted, and edgy, and sassy.

imagesWhen I stop and glance around my life, I see the things I have succeeded at, but I see my flaws too. They’re there. NICE… They’re there…. anyway. They are. And instead of standing here crying about them, I am changing them. Changing the things that broke me down. Changing the things that keep me from shining. Bringing things back into my life that make me sparkle. If I am going to keep on this journey through the looking glass, I’m taking my cat, the rabbit, and the hatter with me. Bringing some fucking friends for the ride. And I am taking the queen of hearts, cause she is after all, just in my imagination.

 

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