Tonight is the type of night that feels like July, not May.
I gave baby brother's mom a ride home from work about an hour ago. After I dropped her off, I turned right at the light and headed over to the Meijer gas station for a pack of smokes. Something about the warm weather, my headlights pointing down a two lane road still relatively free of light pollution, and the playlist I had going on the van radio triggered sudden flashbacks of every other solo summer nighttime drive I've made over the years. Working in Pellston, and heading home - to wherever I was living at the time, since it changed up some over the course of six years - or driving back into Petoskey to grab a drink at the bar with Jeremy, or just out driving around when I was still young and somewhat immortal.
I gave the guy my money and my ID through the window, and he returned with my change, my ID, and a pack of Camel menthols. I got back in the van, lit one, and started back toward home. Turning off the highway onto one of the side streets that leads toward my place, I started thinking.
There's a lot of years and mileage between Megan-now and Megan-at-22. Yet somehow, the warm summer air, Hot Action Cop on the radio, and the taste of mentholated smoke being drawn into my lungs sends me flying back through time, past babies and tattoos, cuts and burns and fractured bones, addresses and phone numbers - it all gets sucked out the window into the slipstream of warm air rushing past my windshield. I feel lucky.
Megan at 22 didn't have to worry about feeding her kids, keeping up on the latest baby gear recalls, the price of diapers, or the ins and outs of potty training. She had another sort of quiet desperation that she had to work through, in order to get to where she - I - is/am now. There's fifteen pounds, two feet less hair, a jar of blue hair dye, a pair of glasses, and numerous small scars separating us. I don't really miss her or envy her. I'm good with who I am now.
My house is small compared to some of the others on my street. This town is wealthy, conservative, and predominantly white. Every time I go to the grocery store, I get at least one dirty look from a stuck-up rich man or woman. Usually their evil eye is aimed at the nose ring or the blue hair, although if I'm wearing a tanktop the tattoos get their share of glare as well. While I'd like to have their money, I don't envy them for where they are in life.
Here's the thing. What we have, we've worked for. I've earned every disfigurement to my body. I've paid for my deliberate body mods with sweat and blood and pain. I'm still relatively young, smart enough to be thankful for what I have, and ambitious enough to want to work toward a better life, for myself and for my children.
These people who stare at me and cluck in disapproval, what do they have? Six figure incomes, multiple homes and cars, and a bitter spirit to accompany. They get lipo'ed and botoxed, they have affairs with the secretary or the gardener, they feel their own private miseries just like everyone else. The difference is, most of them are so far out of touch with themselves and the simple things that can bring joy that they throw their money at what they perceive as the hindrances preventing their happiness.
Houses, cars, vacations, cruises, therapists and hobby classes and gardens fit for landscaping magazines, and yet they pay people to wash their windows and never sink their fingers into warm rich soil. They try to repurchase their youth and beauty with expensive cosmetics and surgical procedures and look down on me for being monetarily beneath them.
Here's the secret. I might be below them on the social-class scale. But all it takes to make me feel young and pretty is a warm dark night, some good music on the car radio, and the knowledge that everything tends to work out in the end.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Herb-Roasted Chicken
Ingredients:
1 4-lb whole chicken, neck and guts removed, pinfeathers (if any) pulled
1 stick butter, at room temperature
2/3 oz fresh basil
2/3 oz rosemary+sage+thyme (you can buy this as a "poultry herbs" kit with the produce at Meijer's)
1 clove garlic
paprika
Preheat oven to 350.
Remove stems from basil, sage, and rosemary; reserve stems and place leaves on cutting board. Use a sharp heavy knife to FINELY chop the herbs. Place chopped herbs in small bowl. Cut butter into chunks and add to bowl. Use a fork to combine well.
Cut garlic in half; reserve for later use. Mince other half of garlic and stir into herb butter. Set aside.
Pat chicken dry. Use fingers to gently loosen skin over breasts. Try not to tear the skin. Push a few lumps of herb butter in between skin and meat. Smear chicken skin with remaining herb butter. Place thyme and herb stems inside chicken cavity. Season outside of chicken with a little paprika (for color).
Place chicken in roaster pan, or in a 9x13" pan if you don't have a roaster. Bake at 350 for 75-90 minutes, or till juices run clear when the breast is pierced at the thickest part. If your chicken has been previously thawed, there may be a few red spots in the dark meat; this is okay. You won't get sick.
Remove chicken from oven and let rest 10 minutes before carving. (This will allow the juices to move back into the meat, instead of leaking out when you carve it.)
Your chicken should look similar to this before you bake it:
And it should look something like this when you pull it out:
(I put a bunch of baby carrots in the pan to roast with the chicken for Jeremy)
1 4-lb whole chicken, neck and guts removed, pinfeathers (if any) pulled
1 stick butter, at room temperature
2/3 oz fresh basil
2/3 oz rosemary+sage+thyme (you can buy this as a "poultry herbs" kit with the produce at Meijer's)
1 clove garlic
paprika
Preheat oven to 350.
Remove stems from basil, sage, and rosemary; reserve stems and place leaves on cutting board. Use a sharp heavy knife to FINELY chop the herbs. Place chopped herbs in small bowl. Cut butter into chunks and add to bowl. Use a fork to combine well.
Cut garlic in half; reserve for later use. Mince other half of garlic and stir into herb butter. Set aside.
Pat chicken dry. Use fingers to gently loosen skin over breasts. Try not to tear the skin. Push a few lumps of herb butter in between skin and meat. Smear chicken skin with remaining herb butter. Place thyme and herb stems inside chicken cavity. Season outside of chicken with a little paprika (for color).
Place chicken in roaster pan, or in a 9x13" pan if you don't have a roaster. Bake at 350 for 75-90 minutes, or till juices run clear when the breast is pierced at the thickest part. If your chicken has been previously thawed, there may be a few red spots in the dark meat; this is okay. You won't get sick.
Remove chicken from oven and let rest 10 minutes before carving. (This will allow the juices to move back into the meat, instead of leaking out when you carve it.)
Your chicken should look similar to this before you bake it:
(I put a bunch of baby carrots in the pan to roast with the chicken for Jeremy)
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Something A Little Different
I found the following recipe here, on a blog I recently started reading (and greatly enjoying), called Waiter Rant. After the recipe, I'm going to re-write it with the tweaks I would add to make it my own. Try either version, but send me a pic and a review if you do, please! I love feedback.
"I throw some rice, water, pignoli nuts and a bay leaf into my roommate’s rice cooker and turn it on. Then I break out some pork chops, trim away the gristle and bone until only the medallions remain, season them with salt and pepper and put them to one side. Breaking out my cast iron skillet, I put it on high heat and add a liberal helping of olive oil. When the oil’s sizzling I brown the chops and throw in a whole glove of garlic. When the garlic’s softened I open a can of pineapple chunks and drain the heavy syrup into the pan and cover it.
After ten minutes I remove the cover and test the chops. They’re done so I put them on a plate and cover them with foil. I reduce down the pineapple syrup, mash up the garlic, toss in a handful of pineapple chunks and then slowly add heavy cream. When the sauce is at the appropriate thickness I add some mandarin orange slices, plate the rice and the chops and pour the sweet garlicky sauce all over it."
Megan's Version:
Place jasmine rice and water in a 1:2 ratio in a heavy pot with lid. Add a bay leaf, a clove of garlic, and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low-medium-low, cover, and simmer 10-20 minutes, or until rice is done. Remove bay leaf and garlic and discard; set rice aside, covered to retain heat.
In a dry small skillet, toast sesame seeds and chopped pecans.
Remove silverskin from two pork tenderloins, then slice diagonally into thick medallions. Pat dry, season LIGHTLY with kosher salt, and set aside.
Heat sesame oil in a heavy-bottomed skillet till it shimmers. Brown pork lightly; remove and set aside. Reduce heat to medium-low.
To the pork pan, add 1 clove garlic (slivered), 2 cup pineapple juice and 1/2 cup fresh lime juice. Bring to a boil, then immediately reduce to a simmer. Add 1 cup coconut milk and 1 dried chile (split, with seeds removed). Simmer 10 minutes, then remove chile (leave in longer if you like more heat to your dishes). Continue to simmer sauce until it has reduced to desired thickness. Add a dash of rice wine vinegar at this point if desired. Return pork medallions to skillet. Spoon sauce over pork just until pork is hot again. Plate the rice on a large platter. Place pork over rice, then drizzle sauce over all. Garnish with toasted sesame seeds and pecans. Eat immediately.
"I throw some rice, water, pignoli nuts and a bay leaf into my roommate’s rice cooker and turn it on. Then I break out some pork chops, trim away the gristle and bone until only the medallions remain, season them with salt and pepper and put them to one side. Breaking out my cast iron skillet, I put it on high heat and add a liberal helping of olive oil. When the oil’s sizzling I brown the chops and throw in a whole glove of garlic. When the garlic’s softened I open a can of pineapple chunks and drain the heavy syrup into the pan and cover it.
After ten minutes I remove the cover and test the chops. They’re done so I put them on a plate and cover them with foil. I reduce down the pineapple syrup, mash up the garlic, toss in a handful of pineapple chunks and then slowly add heavy cream. When the sauce is at the appropriate thickness I add some mandarin orange slices, plate the rice and the chops and pour the sweet garlicky sauce all over it."
Megan's Version:
Place jasmine rice and water in a 1:2 ratio in a heavy pot with lid. Add a bay leaf, a clove of garlic, and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low-medium-low, cover, and simmer 10-20 minutes, or until rice is done. Remove bay leaf and garlic and discard; set rice aside, covered to retain heat.
In a dry small skillet, toast sesame seeds and chopped pecans.
Remove silverskin from two pork tenderloins, then slice diagonally into thick medallions. Pat dry, season LIGHTLY with kosher salt, and set aside.
Heat sesame oil in a heavy-bottomed skillet till it shimmers. Brown pork lightly; remove and set aside. Reduce heat to medium-low.
To the pork pan, add 1 clove garlic (slivered), 2 cup pineapple juice and 1/2 cup fresh lime juice. Bring to a boil, then immediately reduce to a simmer. Add 1 cup coconut milk and 1 dried chile (split, with seeds removed). Simmer 10 minutes, then remove chile (leave in longer if you like more heat to your dishes). Continue to simmer sauce until it has reduced to desired thickness. Add a dash of rice wine vinegar at this point if desired. Return pork medallions to skillet. Spoon sauce over pork just until pork is hot again. Plate the rice on a large platter. Place pork over rice, then drizzle sauce over all. Garnish with toasted sesame seeds and pecans. Eat immediately.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Just a general update
So I messed up my back again today. Hardcore. I can barely stand up straight.
I've had trouble with my back since I was 22. Back then, I was working two jobs - full time cooking at the Dam Site, and under the table doing housekeeping and helping provide in-home care to an elderly lady with Alzheimer's in exchange for rent on a sweet two-bedroom apartment. I worked six days a week, from 9 am-1 or 2 am. Apparently it was just too much on my back, it locked up severely, and I had to go on muscle relaxers for a couple months. I quit the housekeeping job after that, and a couple months later, I went on seasonal lay-off, which gave me time to heal up.
Two years later, I was working the double job thing again. Still cooking full-time at Dam Site, but also working on a ranch in exchange for room and board. This meant feeding, watering, pasturing, stabling, and riding horses (5 to be exact, 2 mustangs, 2 quarter horses, and a quarter-horse/mustang colt). I also had to rake their stalls, move numerous wheelbarrows full of dookie to a trailer, empty said trailer in the woods on the property, and, of course, haying when it came time to cut the hay. This meant riding around on a truck, flinging bales of it onto the trailer, and loading it into the hay loft in the barn. I also fed chickens and gathered their eggs. Once again, after about 3 months, my back went out and I had to go back on muscle relaxers.
Two pregnancies nearly back to back didn't help either, lol. I've gotten the steroids shots, taken muscle relaxers, did the physical therapy and the yoga, and had to go on Tylenol 3 while I was pregnant and afterwards while I still had insurance to pay for it. To this day, I still get horrible lower back aches while I'm PMS'ing and I have sciatica too.
Today was a doozy. I don't think my back's hurt this bad since I was five months pregnant, working at City Park, and a certain douchebag who shall remain nameless (his name rhymes with Shmaric Blawy) decided, in his infinite wisdom, that I should take 10 bags of water-softener salt (50 lbs each) down the basement stairs, load them onto a handcart, wheel them the length of the basement, and empty them into the water softener. (I cried myself to sleep that night and promptly got a note from my OB that exempted me from having to do that again for the duration of my pregnancy.)
What happened? Well, I was coming out of the kitchen, not paying much attention to where my feet were going, and tripped over Jonah, who was squatting and playing with Matthew's MegaBloks. I tripped, threw myself to the side so I wouldn't squash him, and landed on my belly on the carpet. Matthew thought that this meant play-time, and jumped on my lower back. Yeah. 40+ lbs of compact 3 year old, right on the problem area.
Thankfully Jeremy rubbed my back for a while this evening. He felt a few muscle knots. I took two hot showers too, which loosened it up a bit, but I may have set the world record for Tylenol consumption today. Heh. Hopefully it's better when I wake up tomorrow - I've got company coming and I need to vacuum the living room and run a bag of laundry downstairs.
Company - yay! What's the celebration? Betina, one of my besties, is coming up for the day. I haven't seen her since shortly after Matthew was born. She's five months pregnant herself - I'm so happy for her. We're friends on so many different levels, so from a somewhat selfish standpoint, the fact that she's a mom-to-be makes me happy because it adds another level, you know? Anyway, I've been having fun packing up my unisex baby clothes for her (she's having a little girl) and figuring out what baby gear I can give her - she's getting Jonah's pack-n-play, the Johnny Jump-up, the bouncy seat, my copies of "What To Expect The First Year" and "She's Having a Baby, I'm Having a Breakdown." We're going to have a cookout tomorrow and possibly going shopping at Meijer's. It's been a long time since I had some girl-time, so I'm really geeked about it.
Anyone reading this, please send some positive healing energy my grandpa's way. He's a pretty sick guy right now, and even though he's tough (Irish), every little bit will help. Check my facebook or leave a comment if you don't already know what's going on.
That's about all I've got for tonight. I'll take plenty of pictures tomorrow and post them.
Much love,
Megan
I've had trouble with my back since I was 22. Back then, I was working two jobs - full time cooking at the Dam Site, and under the table doing housekeeping and helping provide in-home care to an elderly lady with Alzheimer's in exchange for rent on a sweet two-bedroom apartment. I worked six days a week, from 9 am-1 or 2 am. Apparently it was just too much on my back, it locked up severely, and I had to go on muscle relaxers for a couple months. I quit the housekeeping job after that, and a couple months later, I went on seasonal lay-off, which gave me time to heal up.
Two years later, I was working the double job thing again. Still cooking full-time at Dam Site, but also working on a ranch in exchange for room and board. This meant feeding, watering, pasturing, stabling, and riding horses (5 to be exact, 2 mustangs, 2 quarter horses, and a quarter-horse/mustang colt). I also had to rake their stalls, move numerous wheelbarrows full of dookie to a trailer, empty said trailer in the woods on the property, and, of course, haying when it came time to cut the hay. This meant riding around on a truck, flinging bales of it onto the trailer, and loading it into the hay loft in the barn. I also fed chickens and gathered their eggs. Once again, after about 3 months, my back went out and I had to go back on muscle relaxers.
Two pregnancies nearly back to back didn't help either, lol. I've gotten the steroids shots, taken muscle relaxers, did the physical therapy and the yoga, and had to go on Tylenol 3 while I was pregnant and afterwards while I still had insurance to pay for it. To this day, I still get horrible lower back aches while I'm PMS'ing and I have sciatica too.
Today was a doozy. I don't think my back's hurt this bad since I was five months pregnant, working at City Park, and a certain douchebag who shall remain nameless (his name rhymes with Shmaric Blawy) decided, in his infinite wisdom, that I should take 10 bags of water-softener salt (50 lbs each) down the basement stairs, load them onto a handcart, wheel them the length of the basement, and empty them into the water softener. (I cried myself to sleep that night and promptly got a note from my OB that exempted me from having to do that again for the duration of my pregnancy.)
What happened? Well, I was coming out of the kitchen, not paying much attention to where my feet were going, and tripped over Jonah, who was squatting and playing with Matthew's MegaBloks. I tripped, threw myself to the side so I wouldn't squash him, and landed on my belly on the carpet. Matthew thought that this meant play-time, and jumped on my lower back. Yeah. 40+ lbs of compact 3 year old, right on the problem area.
Thankfully Jeremy rubbed my back for a while this evening. He felt a few muscle knots. I took two hot showers too, which loosened it up a bit, but I may have set the world record for Tylenol consumption today. Heh. Hopefully it's better when I wake up tomorrow - I've got company coming and I need to vacuum the living room and run a bag of laundry downstairs.
Company - yay! What's the celebration? Betina, one of my besties, is coming up for the day. I haven't seen her since shortly after Matthew was born. She's five months pregnant herself - I'm so happy for her. We're friends on so many different levels, so from a somewhat selfish standpoint, the fact that she's a mom-to-be makes me happy because it adds another level, you know? Anyway, I've been having fun packing up my unisex baby clothes for her (she's having a little girl) and figuring out what baby gear I can give her - she's getting Jonah's pack-n-play, the Johnny Jump-up, the bouncy seat, my copies of "What To Expect The First Year" and "She's Having a Baby, I'm Having a Breakdown." We're going to have a cookout tomorrow and possibly going shopping at Meijer's. It's been a long time since I had some girl-time, so I'm really geeked about it.
Anyone reading this, please send some positive healing energy my grandpa's way. He's a pretty sick guy right now, and even though he's tough (Irish), every little bit will help. Check my facebook or leave a comment if you don't already know what's going on.
That's about all I've got for tonight. I'll take plenty of pictures tomorrow and post them.
Much love,
Megan
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Open Letter To the Person Who Got Me Upset
First off, let me say that I was driven to write this because 1) you are impossible to get hold of via Facebook, email, text message, or phone, and 2) on the rare occasions I can get you on the phone, you talk over top of me when I try to explain something, rather similar to the way elephants trample over the grass. On here, I can have my say without interruption.
Let me say that I understand money is tight. Money is tight for everyone, hence a big part of my frustration with you. You owe me a substantial amount of money. My sympathies that you're having trouble covering your bills and affording energy drinks, but honestly, not only am I having trouble covering my bills, there are a few that are going unpaid period. Broke is a little harder to deal with when you have two children depending on you for everything, especially two children who don't understand the concept of "Mommy will get it when she gets back to work."
I understand that business is not back to the level that it was this time last year. But honestly, slow business or not, your communication sucks. The past four weeks you've told me "we're putting it off another week," but for me to even find out that much, I've had to repeatedly call you or even go downtown looking for you. Telling me to wait another week is one thing. Ignoring messages on your Facebook from me until I get desperate and track you down is just rude.
I honestly don't see how you can't see that this hurts. You know how I feel about the business. The amount of hours I put in on the move, without expecting any extra pay, should have told you that. You sit there and say we're besties, we're homies, like family, etc. That's all well and good, but it's getting harder to believe when you leave me in limbo like this. I tried calling you four times today. I didn't like snapping at you on Facebook chat, but honestly, what else am I supposed to do? I would have all the patience in the world if you'd just fucking communicate. As in, don't leave me hanging, don't leave me guessing and waiting and watching my phone and my Facebook and my email. That's not good business practice.
More importantly, it's not what friends do.
Am I supposed to be interpreting this as a sign of things to come. Is it going to be "just one more week" all summer too? Am I going to have to start trying to catch you at your other job just to find out if I still have one?
Honestly, I feel like you're dodging me and blowing me off. It hurts. I don't like it. I don't know what the hell I did to deserve it, but I think you owe me an explanation. Busy or not, it doesn't take that long to send a text or email that says "not this week." And I understand you not wanting to have extra keys floating around, but it wouldn't be that hard to make an extra one and then take it back when the other one gets returned. Hell, I'd even pay for it.
I know you'll probably never read this. And at this point, I'm not sure I care. All I want are some straight answers, and if you're trying to passive-aggressively lay me off (again), I'd like the money you owe me from last year. Call it severance pay if you will.
/end rant
Let me say that I understand money is tight. Money is tight for everyone, hence a big part of my frustration with you. You owe me a substantial amount of money. My sympathies that you're having trouble covering your bills and affording energy drinks, but honestly, not only am I having trouble covering my bills, there are a few that are going unpaid period. Broke is a little harder to deal with when you have two children depending on you for everything, especially two children who don't understand the concept of "Mommy will get it when she gets back to work."
I understand that business is not back to the level that it was this time last year. But honestly, slow business or not, your communication sucks. The past four weeks you've told me "we're putting it off another week," but for me to even find out that much, I've had to repeatedly call you or even go downtown looking for you. Telling me to wait another week is one thing. Ignoring messages on your Facebook from me until I get desperate and track you down is just rude.
I honestly don't see how you can't see that this hurts. You know how I feel about the business. The amount of hours I put in on the move, without expecting any extra pay, should have told you that. You sit there and say we're besties, we're homies, like family, etc. That's all well and good, but it's getting harder to believe when you leave me in limbo like this. I tried calling you four times today. I didn't like snapping at you on Facebook chat, but honestly, what else am I supposed to do? I would have all the patience in the world if you'd just fucking communicate. As in, don't leave me hanging, don't leave me guessing and waiting and watching my phone and my Facebook and my email. That's not good business practice.
More importantly, it's not what friends do.
Am I supposed to be interpreting this as a sign of things to come. Is it going to be "just one more week" all summer too? Am I going to have to start trying to catch you at your other job just to find out if I still have one?
Honestly, I feel like you're dodging me and blowing me off. It hurts. I don't like it. I don't know what the hell I did to deserve it, but I think you owe me an explanation. Busy or not, it doesn't take that long to send a text or email that says "not this week." And I understand you not wanting to have extra keys floating around, but it wouldn't be that hard to make an extra one and then take it back when the other one gets returned. Hell, I'd even pay for it.
I know you'll probably never read this. And at this point, I'm not sure I care. All I want are some straight answers, and if you're trying to passive-aggressively lay me off (again), I'd like the money you owe me from last year. Call it severance pay if you will.
/end rant
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Another Couple of Older Poems
**This was written to baby brother, eight years ago, so please forgive the awkwardness of its structure and composition - I was 20 years old, going to adult ed to get my high school diploma, and working full time as a cook too.
Andrew
originally written 8-4-02
Sunshine dances circles in deep brown eyes
thin shoulders quiver with little-boy glee
but too much practice at saying goodbyes
especially in one so young as he.
Joy shines around him with no effort made
his happiness he shares with open hands
his intentions honest, and they don't fade
leaps off the couch, and in my arms he lands.
I always try to catch him when he falls
he always says, "I love you lots, May-may"
my heart bursts with love and pride when he calls
he hugs me tight at the end of each stay.
My little man, I'd give ten years away
of my life, if it meant you'd always stay.
me and Andrew, summer of 2002
*** I used to try to write song lyrics, despite the fact that I have no musical composition ability whatsoever. This one was written back when I still had the luxury of being pissed off and had time to write about it.
never dreaming you could fall
and thinking you're all grown-up
didn't work out after all
such a pity when you find out
things won't always go your way
and the dreams that you've been keeping
only lead you far astray.
chorus:
Daddy's little princess better grow up quick
all your vanity, self-flattery has only made us sick
twisted webs of self-deceit, and no defeat could hold you back
when reason and a conscience are the only things you lack.
So you flirted with the guys
tossed your hair and drove them mad
led them on till they all grew bored
and then you thought, "Hey, this ain't bad"
empty vows laying discarded
on your filthy bedroom floor
while your parents gave you all they could
but you thought you deserved more.
chorus
You scorned the love of Mom and Dad
the gifts they tried to give
rejected them, embarrassed them
and the life they'd hoped you'd live
free of stains like lies and cowardice
and theft from those who care
they kept saying that they love you
you pretended they weren't there.
chorus
You spout your tired rhetoric
of "no one loves me, I'm alone,"
systematically destroying
the only true home that you've known
you treat us all like servants
worse than that, indentured slaves
while we tell ourselves, "Get used to it,
it's just how she behaves."
chorus
And you think you're independent
all grown up, a child no more
and if the chance arises
you'll be running for the door
because your family is awful
home life "shitty" at the best
you tell yourself that often
think you're better than the rest.
chorus
There's a warning I should give you
though I doubt you'll even hear
you're a petty, shallow person
not the child I once held dear
you'll be out there in that big, cruel world
with no friends to call your own
and that's when you'll start to hate yourself
for burning the bridge to your old home.
chorus
Daddy's little girl better wake up pretty quick
yeah, your vanity, self-flattery has made us all quite sick
spin your webs of self-deceit, 'cuz no defeat could hold you back
since logic and a conscience are the only things you lack.
originally written 10-30-03
Andrew
originally written 8-4-02
Sunshine dances circles in deep brown eyes
thin shoulders quiver with little-boy glee
but too much practice at saying goodbyes
especially in one so young as he.
Joy shines around him with no effort made
his happiness he shares with open hands
his intentions honest, and they don't fade
leaps off the couch, and in my arms he lands.
I always try to catch him when he falls
he always says, "I love you lots, May-may"
my heart bursts with love and pride when he calls
he hugs me tight at the end of each stay.
My little man, I'd give ten years away
of my life, if it meant you'd always stay.
me and Andrew, summer of 2002
*** I used to try to write song lyrics, despite the fact that I have no musical composition ability whatsoever. This one was written back when I still had the luxury of being pissed off and had time to write about it.
So you took a couple steps
never dreaming you could fall
and thinking you're all grown-up
didn't work out after all
such a pity when you find out
things won't always go your way
and the dreams that you've been keeping
only lead you far astray.
chorus:
Daddy's little princess better grow up quick
all your vanity, self-flattery has only made us sick
twisted webs of self-deceit, and no defeat could hold you back
when reason and a conscience are the only things you lack.
So you flirted with the guys
tossed your hair and drove them mad
led them on till they all grew bored
and then you thought, "Hey, this ain't bad"
empty vows laying discarded
on your filthy bedroom floor
while your parents gave you all they could
but you thought you deserved more.
chorus
You scorned the love of Mom and Dad
the gifts they tried to give
rejected them, embarrassed them
and the life they'd hoped you'd live
free of stains like lies and cowardice
and theft from those who care
they kept saying that they love you
you pretended they weren't there.
chorus
You spout your tired rhetoric
of "no one loves me, I'm alone,"
systematically destroying
the only true home that you've known
you treat us all like servants
worse than that, indentured slaves
while we tell ourselves, "Get used to it,
it's just how she behaves."
chorus
And you think you're independent
all grown up, a child no more
and if the chance arises
you'll be running for the door
because your family is awful
home life "shitty" at the best
you tell yourself that often
think you're better than the rest.
chorus
There's a warning I should give you
though I doubt you'll even hear
you're a petty, shallow person
not the child I once held dear
you'll be out there in that big, cruel world
with no friends to call your own
and that's when you'll start to hate yourself
for burning the bridge to your old home.
chorus
Daddy's little girl better wake up pretty quick
yeah, your vanity, self-flattery has made us all quite sick
spin your webs of self-deceit, 'cuz no defeat could hold you back
since logic and a conscience are the only things you lack.
originally written 10-30-03
Friday, May 14, 2010
Growing Up and the Difference Between Happiness and Contentment
Have you ever been asked a question that, at the time, merited a simple yes or no answer, and yet it stuck in your head for a while?
My friend J. was up for a visit a few months ago. We were standing out in my driveway, having a smoke, and I was talking rapidly, attempting to catch him up on the past thirteen years of my life. He'd had more than a few drinks though, and he interrupted my verbal torrent to ask, "Yeah, but are you happy?" Trying not to lose my place in my narrative, I quickly answered "Yep!" and continued with whatever story I was telling him at the time (I forget what exactly it was).
The question stuck in my head though. I've been turning it over and over in my mind since February, and I finally decided it would make a good blog entry.
When I was a kid, I had these wild dreams, technicolor visions of grandeur. I was going to be a famous author and poet. I was going to be a rock star (despite having a mediocre singing voice and negligible skills on the guitar). After spending some time with my cousin Robbie, who was afflicted with severe cerebral palsy that aided in ending his too-short life at the age of 19, I was going to invent a system that would allow him to communicate his thoughts in college-level language through facial expressions. After my mom was diagnosed with degenerative disc disease and had disc surgery that was only partially successful, I was going to invent the perfect painkiller that worked like a charm without the potential for abuse. I was going to leave northern Michigan and everyone would know my name.
Times change and people grow up. I fell into cooking, moved out of my parents' house, and found myself occasionally working two full-time jobs just to pay the bills. I settled into a routine of cooking for hours, coming home, taking a shower, heading down to the bar, drinking myself stupid, coming home, passing out, and getting up in the morning to do it all over again. I still wrote on occasion, but my dreams were fading under the gray glare of everyday life and its necessities, the responsibilities of adult life, the things like grocery shopping, cutting coupons, renewing my car insurance, paying my rent, etc. I made friends. I lost two that were very dear to me, one a victim of drunk driving, the other a casualty of a heart too big for his body and a replacement heart that wore out before he did. I got pierced and tattooed and spent so much time living in the moment that I forgot to give much thought to the future. And then I got pregnant.
Once again, my life and all I knew shifted. Now I was thinking about the future, but only about what it would mean to my unborn child. My focus concentrated and narrowed. I educated myself on pregnancy and newborns. I still worked full-time, went to the doctor, took my prenatal vitamins, and gave all my thought and remaining energy to becoming the best mother I could possibly be.
Matthew was born, small but healthy. I kept my kitchen job, and worked a couple odd jobs to help make extra money for diapers and books and toys. Jeremy kept his kitchen job too, but also started experimenting with different ways to make money online. We discovered the unsuitability of our duplex apartment, and moved to a small house with a great big yard. We started settling in and making it a home for our small family. Jonah came along nine months after the move. I decided two kids was enough and took the necessary measures to ensure that there would be no more children. Jeremy found his online niche in graphic web design and started making money from it a little more regularly. I took a second job at Ill-Lusions, and ended up leaving City Park in favor of the retail job right around Jonah's first birthday.
I regret none of this. This is the life I've created for myself, my boyfriend, my children, my part time job at a store I love. Sure, I'd still love to go to college, and someday I will. I'd love to figure out what my dream career is, make a buttload of money, buy a brand new car, a new house for my parents, all of that. But for now, my dreams are on hold while I take care of my family.
I don't view this as a negative thing. I view it as realistic. To me, my children come first. I'd rather use my money to buy them clothes, diapers and pull-ups, the occasional toy or book. Matthew will be going to Head Start in September, and Jonah the following year. There's time enough for other things. Life is short, but I'm doing what I feel is most important, in the order I deem proper. The day will soon come when my boys will be at school all day, where I won't be spending 16 hours a day saying "don't climb," "spit that out," "time to change your diaper," etc., when I'll have time on my hands and need ways to fill it.
Am I happy? Yes, relatively. As I told J., I'm 75% happy, and I think that that's good - you always need to have room to improve, to grow, so that you have something to dream about. I think for anyone with ambition, or for a dreamer, 100% happiness is nearly unattainable. You need goals, plans, dreams, something to work for. What is more important, to me, is that I'm content. Sure, I'm not in the "honeymoon" stage anymore. And you know what? It's nice to have my head out of the clouds and my feet grounded in reality. It makes those few moments a day I get to myself to daydream that much more precious.
My friend J. was up for a visit a few months ago. We were standing out in my driveway, having a smoke, and I was talking rapidly, attempting to catch him up on the past thirteen years of my life. He'd had more than a few drinks though, and he interrupted my verbal torrent to ask, "Yeah, but are you happy?" Trying not to lose my place in my narrative, I quickly answered "Yep!" and continued with whatever story I was telling him at the time (I forget what exactly it was).
The question stuck in my head though. I've been turning it over and over in my mind since February, and I finally decided it would make a good blog entry.
When I was a kid, I had these wild dreams, technicolor visions of grandeur. I was going to be a famous author and poet. I was going to be a rock star (despite having a mediocre singing voice and negligible skills on the guitar). After spending some time with my cousin Robbie, who was afflicted with severe cerebral palsy that aided in ending his too-short life at the age of 19, I was going to invent a system that would allow him to communicate his thoughts in college-level language through facial expressions. After my mom was diagnosed with degenerative disc disease and had disc surgery that was only partially successful, I was going to invent the perfect painkiller that worked like a charm without the potential for abuse. I was going to leave northern Michigan and everyone would know my name.
Times change and people grow up. I fell into cooking, moved out of my parents' house, and found myself occasionally working two full-time jobs just to pay the bills. I settled into a routine of cooking for hours, coming home, taking a shower, heading down to the bar, drinking myself stupid, coming home, passing out, and getting up in the morning to do it all over again. I still wrote on occasion, but my dreams were fading under the gray glare of everyday life and its necessities, the responsibilities of adult life, the things like grocery shopping, cutting coupons, renewing my car insurance, paying my rent, etc. I made friends. I lost two that were very dear to me, one a victim of drunk driving, the other a casualty of a heart too big for his body and a replacement heart that wore out before he did. I got pierced and tattooed and spent so much time living in the moment that I forgot to give much thought to the future. And then I got pregnant.
Once again, my life and all I knew shifted. Now I was thinking about the future, but only about what it would mean to my unborn child. My focus concentrated and narrowed. I educated myself on pregnancy and newborns. I still worked full-time, went to the doctor, took my prenatal vitamins, and gave all my thought and remaining energy to becoming the best mother I could possibly be.
Matthew was born, small but healthy. I kept my kitchen job, and worked a couple odd jobs to help make extra money for diapers and books and toys. Jeremy kept his kitchen job too, but also started experimenting with different ways to make money online. We discovered the unsuitability of our duplex apartment, and moved to a small house with a great big yard. We started settling in and making it a home for our small family. Jonah came along nine months after the move. I decided two kids was enough and took the necessary measures to ensure that there would be no more children. Jeremy found his online niche in graphic web design and started making money from it a little more regularly. I took a second job at Ill-Lusions, and ended up leaving City Park in favor of the retail job right around Jonah's first birthday.
I regret none of this. This is the life I've created for myself, my boyfriend, my children, my part time job at a store I love. Sure, I'd still love to go to college, and someday I will. I'd love to figure out what my dream career is, make a buttload of money, buy a brand new car, a new house for my parents, all of that. But for now, my dreams are on hold while I take care of my family.
I don't view this as a negative thing. I view it as realistic. To me, my children come first. I'd rather use my money to buy them clothes, diapers and pull-ups, the occasional toy or book. Matthew will be going to Head Start in September, and Jonah the following year. There's time enough for other things. Life is short, but I'm doing what I feel is most important, in the order I deem proper. The day will soon come when my boys will be at school all day, where I won't be spending 16 hours a day saying "don't climb," "spit that out," "time to change your diaper," etc., when I'll have time on my hands and need ways to fill it.
Am I happy? Yes, relatively. As I told J., I'm 75% happy, and I think that that's good - you always need to have room to improve, to grow, so that you have something to dream about. I think for anyone with ambition, or for a dreamer, 100% happiness is nearly unattainable. You need goals, plans, dreams, something to work for. What is more important, to me, is that I'm content. Sure, I'm not in the "honeymoon" stage anymore. And you know what? It's nice to have my head out of the clouds and my feet grounded in reality. It makes those few moments a day I get to myself to daydream that much more precious.
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