It’s my youngest daughter’s 21st birthday

and I just got home from my last final exam, which ends my junior year. I am now officially a senior. I am somewhat astounded at what these years have brought me. I’m surprised at how long it all took. I can’t believe that 21 years ago, I was in labor to give birth at home for my fourth and last child.

Jack’s the only one (peer) who ever understood me. He knows why it took me so long. He reminded me last night why I had to take so many years. But I get pissed at him for knowing sometimes. I get angry because I still feel tempted to just go to sleep, rest on my laurels, call it a day.

However, he did not let me lie down and die when Joy turned 18—which is what I wanted to do. I feel angry at him sometimes, as if he pushes me too hard but the truth is, each time I get to one of these momentous days, I am so grateful he kicked my ass.

No one can know how much I wanted to give up. And I think of her as I write this. I think of the many years she has ahead of her. I think of the way she gets tired. I understand being tired. But I also understand the joy of pushing.

I dreamt again about illustration

This one was pictures I drew that remind me of Beatrice Potter’s books. I also dreamt the question: WhyWhyWhy? And the answer was read it backwards: YhwYhwYhw, which sounded in the dream when I said it aloud, “You You You.”

I told Jake last night that I wasn’t going to get an MFA in visual arts but in creative writing because I’m sure about writing, because it’s always been in my life and visual arts hasn’t. But I think my dream told me otherwise.

I also used to draw. In the dream the drawings were a fine pen and ink and colored in with either a wash of water colors or color pencils. I felt good about my creation in my dream. It was something like some type of story book I read as a child where the words, and there were many, were surrounded by borders of whimsical drawings/paintings of animals like squirrels and rabbits.

I also dreamt about not being able to use my electronic devises, like the cell phone, because of a horrible storm far away that I could see a streaming video of—in the dream. In real life, before I went to bed I saw on the news the storms that have been raging in the northwest for more than a week, which has knocked out thousands of people’s power.

I had a funny dream last night

about a group of women about my age but who pretty much don’t seem like my sort. They were talking behind me. I was sitting at the back of some sort of row or maybe at a long cafeteria-style long rectangular table and the women were behind me on chairs in a circle. I wasn’t paying much attention to them and then as a few started to leave one woman said her crazy dream was to become a children’s book writer and illustrator. (She may have only said illustrator, I can‘t remember.) Barely turning around I mumbled something like, me too but I’m not going to do it. Then she said the things people always say about how it’s not too late and I have to follow my dreams and all that type of stuff but I said it’s not because I think it’s too late--or maybe I didn’t even say it out loud. I didn’t want to try to explain the reasons that it’s not my dream anymore because people just keep throwing out platitudes, tired expressions that they always say and I know why I’m not pursuing that dream, I know I’m doing what I’m doing and I’m not going to think about it anymore because I don’t want to. And I don’t want to explain myself to total strangers either.

In another element of the dream, my oldest son was doing a school project but in the dream he went from being my oldest son to my mother’s son. Anyway, he was tearing down part of the front of the house shingles and woodwork around the window so he could affix this large piece of I-don’t-know-what to the house. It was a conglomeration of would and steel and I’m sure it had some mechanical purpose but I told him it was not okay to tear part of the house off--even if it is a school project. I left it at that. But then he called later and was yelling at me, telling me what I had to do or what he was going to do--in other words, without getting into detail, he was clearly threatening my wellbeing. This is when he turns into one of my mother’s sons, my brother in the dream because I go to my mother and tell her she has to handle it. I’m not going to take it. He calls again and does the same thing to her but I do not get involved. I know I will not accept this type of maltreatment. However, it makes me very sad, is very disturbing to me but I do not budge.

There’s another part of the dream where Mom’s granddaughter who she raised, I’ll call her Caren for this blog, takes out one of my old sun dresses. It’s a cheap one I bought years ago but I like it. Then Caren takes out three more and a fourth, five altogether. She is ironing the fifth dress, a pink-flowered dress of polyester. Finally after watching and wondering for a while why she has all my dresses, I tell her she can’t have all my dresses. She tries to say something about how they’re hers and have been for a long time. She is young in the dream so I challenge her because years ago she would have been far too small for them, she’s the one who is growing, and they all still fit me. I have been an adult for a long time and have long since stopped growing. The adolescent ignores me for the most part. I don’t know remember much else but that I let it go, I think I just let go of a few favorite old dresses but I think I must leave the scene too. In the dream I feel that feeling I often get these days in real life--tired of disrespectful people who think I am an endless vat of giving away anything anyone wants to take from me, understanding and familial friendliness.

Then my older sister, who is Caren’s mother in real life, tells me it’s her birthday today, the 12th (it was the 12th when I went to sleep). I know her birthday is either the 12th, 13th or 15th because in real life there are three people in my immediate family who have their birthdays on these days but when I was younger I was always confused about which family member is on which day. Older, I figured out a way to remember in real life. In the dream I am giving her birthday greetings but also want clarification, ask her which day her real birthday is on. She will not answer me because she thinks I will not celebrate her birthday with her if she tells me the truth. I assure her I will still celebrate but I just want to know so I can be sure for future reference. She refuses to confirm what I already think I know even though I assure her I will celebrate today. In my mind in the dream I remember the way I found to recall whose birthday was on which day: it went from the oldest to the youngest, backwards so the oldest is on the first day, which is the 12th, the next older family member is on the next birthday date, the 13th, and the youngest is on the 15th. Thus, even though she tries to limit my recollection it doesn’t matter to me that she does not believe my motive for wanting assurance. I know that her birthday is the next day but she wants two celebrations. In the dream, I celebrate that day and don’t worry about the next.

Then elsewhere, there’s a very fat blonde women who ends up pulling me onto her lap while she is sitting on the floor. I know she is a lesbian and I love her but I do not love her as a lover and am angry that she feels she can just pull me onto her lap. On the other hand, I’m glad that she is somehow my friend but I know I have to find a way to make it perfectly clear to her that I do not want to sit on her lap. She otherwise makes me happy in the dream but I do not want this type of physical contact. This is all I can remember right now about the dream but I surely see that this dream is about different levels of giving and refusing to give or concede in different types of relationships. I have learned to do this with great cost in real life and worry too that I may end up a very lonely woman but I am certainly not the Cinderella of my childhood--ever forgiving, ever tolerant, ever acquiescent, ever displaced from my other values like making my own decisions, not having to answer to everyone, removing myself from threatening situations, confronting someone but yet having the choice to sometimes let things go, sometimes giving others their way and sometimes not--as needed and according to my own sensibilities and new dreams.

I think I'll take up knitting again

It’s not as though I haven’t knitted or crocheted in a long while, when I really think about it, but I think I should focus on it a little bit more as my meditation. It used to work for me. It served several purposes in the past. When the kids were young, I could stay busy as they buzzed around me. I could have meditative moments relaxing where my ex-husband would not get on my case for my contemplative nature--as I was sitting there doing something productive. And I used to keep small projects in my bag when I went out so that people’s natural tendency to talk a lot to me would seem sometimes more productive to myself because I could just listen to a house full of relatives for hours on end and still be productive. Also, a few years I started needlework projects in January to ease the stress of holiday giving the next year. Needlework used to make me happy so it's a good thing to try to refocus on again.

Dec. 13, 2006 UPDATE: I think I hate knitting now.

Spotlight on the Focal Point

I feel better again today; can’t say exactly why but I’m going to guess. I think it’s about my career and I feel secure that even though I don’t know how to direct the next few phases of my life and career, I am certain again about staying focused even though I can’t see the path yet.

I’m going to stay focused on continuing to search again, start over again in a field that I’ve started over in so many times. Sometimes I think I’m just being delusional by continuing in a field that I’ve only had relative success. Yes, it has served to support my children and I but there were obstacles that I wasn’t able to scale at those times.

But still, here I am attempting to either quit or keep going. Making the decision--again--to keep going is relieving a good deal of the stress I’ve felt. Also I came to see this morning that this is just like all the other times, when we reevaluate, realign, prune a few dead branches off the tree I’m trying to grow, and then refocus.

Even if the searching doesn’t feel like focus, I must keep reminding myself what it is: focus.

'Ode to Joy'

I read my daughter’s Dec. 3 email from Italy. It is true that I feel so good because of who she is. Sometimes I feel guilty for letting her life make me feel good. But that’s the way it is. In the email she writes about her own ennui but her passion and hope and quality of character make me feel good because she reminds me of so many things I’ve known. She wants things and she goes after them and though things go wrong and she gets the blues, she remains constant even when she’s complaining that she feels lazy.

I imagine all the friends and family reading it, which she sends copies to. I know they’re very impressed (probably some of them a bit jealous) for all she is doing. She’s a whipper snapper but she feels lazy, she said. I have to laugh. This is not a lazy young woman. This is a woman who is doing things none of us have done. She is seeing things and people none of us will probably ever see. She’s awesome to me and I can’t help but feel proud. Her spirit is so strong.

I'm Killin' Myself These Days

I didn’t think it would happen to me, but it has. I am afflicted with the legendary ENS. The Empty Nest Syndrome was supposed to be easier for me, or so I thought--for some very odd reason that I can not yet discern. How do I know I’m experiencing it? I had a dream the other night. In the dream, I was wailing and weeping because the engine from my little car was stolen. In the dream, my partner who I call Jake for this blog, was trying hard to open the hood of my car because it wouldn’t start.

The hood of the car was stuck and the truth of the matter is, the car wasn’t exactly the little red fireplug I zip around in but something a bit older. It looked more like a picture of a 1971 Nova I saw today. Anyway, the engine was gone. No engine:::no driving:::no going anywhere::: But I’m going to keep this entry short today because I have another paper to write for school, one of many somewhat boring estimations of my collective thought. But before I go I’ll say my daughter just called me and I kept her on the phone for too long, feeling that old feeling but different and realizing I’m not to her either what I once was.

There’s a change going on, yet I felt enlivened after I kept her on the phone too long and was motivated (for the first time in two days) to put the crusty and stinky dishes in the dishwasher and get dressed (without a shower but with vanilla body spray) and get to writing this last boring paper for a public policy course that I fear is not going to make a bit of difference in the changing life of mine. I felt guilty for getting that boost of old-days energy from our talk; I know I was of no assistance to her except to ring up her phone bill. (What was that energy and how/where do I find it now that mothering is no longer my purpose in life?)

So many questions, so few answers these days… If only there came a time that we just come to know all. Hahahah…