Edited Picture

I thought I'd also post the edited version (courtesy of my nice friend Steve). I think the picture looks cool in black and white, plus he cropped it and removed the glaring sign from behind my head.

Nostalgia

I have recently been in contact with a gal who knew my husband before I did. Apparently we met briefly back in 1991, at a cafe in Las Vegas, when Ben introduced us to each other. She snapped a cute picture of myself and Ben, which shows me busily trying to pack a package of cigarettes to avoid feeling uneasy (I always feel uneasy when meeting new people), and Ben looking like a happy buddha boy, eyes closed in apparent bliss. It was so nice to see the picture, I feel like uploading perhaps the only picture I have digitized of myself and Ben, taken back in the winter of 1993/94, in downtown Eugene. Here it is: That's me, my brother Dennis in the middle, and Ben on the right with his hand in front of his mouth, smoking a cigarette. I need to import more of my old pictures onto my computer some day. Until then, this will have to do.

Cheers-
~H

Teenagers

Oi.

Being a mother to a willful and adventerous teen is a lot of agony, along with the genuinely good and amazing stuff, of course.

This last week I've just been served the agony slice of parenting a strong-willed teen, and it has taxed me greatly.

Raven ran away Tuesday.

He said being around me made him "feel like shit".

I said I was not going to stop getting on him for skipping school every day and treating me with disrespect, and I was pleased that his conscience was healthy enough to feel guilty for such foolish and irresponsible choices.

I also pointed out that I love him and think he's an awesome and amazing boy, with skills in every area he attempts, and with great potential. I let him know I don't think he's worthless, I love him greatly, I want him to be happy and succeed, and I will work to help him do so. He didn't like that response, and I am unwilling to stop parenting him just because he doesn't like to be parented.

Tomorrow is Easter, and my family, as well as Raven and myself alone, have several enjoyable traditions that Raven has always really loved- more than I do- which is why I keep them up.

He decided that going without them was too much, and that he needs to come home so he doesn't miss them. But there is a concert he wants to attend tonight, so he wants to come home afterwards. Okay, I can understand that.

I let him know that if he comes home this soon- before I think he's really learned the lesson of how hard it can be to live without parental support- he had better be commited to remaining here until he moves out in a congenial way- no more running away when he doesn't get his way or feels frustrated with my rules. I also let him know that I am not bothering with the usual Easter stuff if he's not home tonight- after the show is fine- but tomorrow is too late to kiss butt effectively. I have been wronged and I will not let that go.

I am not convinced of his having learned the lesson yet. I think he's going to bolt again, as soon as things get hard. I can't in my right mind though, forbid him from returning just because I don't trust his sincerity, can I?

I don't know. I tend to give three chances before giving up entirely, and perhaps that is two chances too many, but then again, I don't want to feel unreasonable or unforgiving. He's only 14.

The funniest thing is- he asked if he could stop by BEFORE the show, to get some food. That takes some serious cojones. And it also makes me think he's not yet learned the lesson. Or he's just really hungry.

I denied him. I told him he can't just stop in for ten minutes to eat and then take off again- I need more commitment than that. He took it well and did not complain, which is nice. But he did stop in and give me an awkward and strained hug. He did apologize for being a jerk. These are good things. I still did not give him food- I sent him on his way and said he could eat when he comes home.

Oi- I hate feeling like a total sucker. I also want the boy to be at home. And in school- at least until he's old enough to take his GED.

What say ye? Am I allowing too much? Am I giving in too easily? Am I a horrible bitch for insisting he go to school, etc? (I won't bend on that one even if I am called names)

This parenting stuff is so hard sometimes.

On a lighter note, one of my students screamed at me yesterday (before storming out the door and screaming "FUCK YOU!!" to the school at large), that I am a "Fucking Bitch", so I must be doing something right, no?

I do still love my job. A lot. I hope to keep it for a really long time. It is so rewarding and the kids are awesome, even though they behave badly sometimes. I just love them. I can't help it.

I have lots of room for improvement and lots of plans for next year and how it will be better- for students and for me. I should know by June if I am going to be there next year. I'll keep y'all posted.

Slainte Mhath!

BLAHS

I flossed my teeth twice today. That's a lifetime record for me- for one day. I'm not all that fond of flossing, which is why my gums are messed up. I have resolved to floss regularly and to work out at the gym several times a week.

I am on a mission to take control of my body and get back into shape. After five years of laziness and school I have a real need to get more active. I have come to the conclusion that I am not actually going to go out on my bike and ride around town, unless it's perfectly wonderful outside, even though I want to and I feel like an ass for not doing so. I also had to finally admit that I am not really into going out and hiking alone, or riding my bike alone, or walking down by the river alone, except under certain special conditions. Thus I and a few friends have pledged to meet each other at the gym, therefor making it more likely that we will go- if others are counting on it. So far I have gone several times and feel a lot better already, except for the cold I have acquired from my students. Which makes me lazy today.

I'm sitting on my couch listening to KWVA and wondering why my eyes are sore, my throat is sore, my brain hurts, and why Peter always plays music that sounds the same (He's such a charming fellow though, with good taste in garage-rock from the sixties). I would rather hear from another DJ today, but I am too lazy to choose my own music from the plethora of choices in vinyl, cd, and mp3s that I have available to me. The thought of choosing anything makes my brain hurt more.

And I have to go to a friend's party tonight. I hope I feel better by then. Last night, I came home at 9PM with a huge fever and a horrible feeling. I shuddered into bed after gulping down a veritable cornucopia of vitamins and herbal cold remedies and discovering I had a real, bona fide fever. I lay there shivering for a while, with about 15 pounds of blankets and a handkerchief at the ready, feeling like a small child and wondering where my "mommy" was to tend to my ails. Finally, after an hour of shivers, I fell off to sleep, pleased that the fever had broken and I could sleep uninterrupted for 12 hours before I had to get up for a dress fitting appointment.

Then, this morning after I got to the appointment, feeling much more human than last night and RIGHT on time, the fitter answered the door with a very confused look on her face, only to tell me that the appointment is NEXT week. Apparently my sister and she had cancelled the appointment without telling me. Rude. So I drove another twenty minutes home and puzzled about how to spend the remainder of my day.

Here it is- chilling on the computer. And it's so darn loverly outside with the sun up and the clouds making scarce, and the moon full and bloated and the lunal eclipse working itself into a fervor. But I have a headache and a swollen brain issue, and I don't feel like doing anything but drinking tea and letting my computer keep my lap warm.

Although I did take myself out to lunch/breakfast at Studio One in Eugene. That was a nice diversion. But I felt like a jerk for not riding my bike like all the other coolios.

Sigh.

March 5th marks the day that two different fellows who I once had the screaming hots for (back almost 20 years ago) were born. Both on the same day- and they were not related to each other. Both cutie boys with eyes that burn into me still. Both with first names that began with A. Both a month (almost) younger than I am. Both egotistical Pisces, with charming and pretentious selves. Oi how I dug them.

On the 9th is my little brother Chrissy's birthday number 31. Oi! I remember reading to him while he was in diapers, and teaching him how to write his name and count and stuff.

And then, on the 10th is the birthday of the ex-boyfriend who ditched me alone and with no home or friends in Boulder, Colorado so he could travel around the western United States with my best friend X. That one hurt. But I survived, and stayed for seven months and learned how to be alone and depressed without dying. And how to bus tables in roller skates. And how to survive on nothing and sell toothpicks on the mall to tourists, and how to forgive my best friend for being a jerk.

See how mushy my brain is today?

Ugh- I'd better sign off and do something like grade papers.

Cheers-
Holly

The Drivel From Tonight's Fun Time (my apology)

Once upon a time, there was a girl. This girl was around the age of eighteen, and she had decided to survive in the land of Las Vegas, otherwise known as Sodom, for the duration of the year, after much effort to exist happily elsewhere.

Having lived in the city of devils for a while, she met a fellow who she felt a real connection with, and decided to align herself with him. This guy was a nice person who was also a drummer, who knew the secret songs that moved the hearts of some, and who had a similar history to the gal. The gal consequently connected with the fellow...

....Birth of Boy....

Eugene, Or:

Ben finds a band, a piece of belonging. He practices, creates a name for the band (Soda Jerk), schools his young minions about music and tries to impress his wife that his band is really going somewhere. His band has a few shows at which his wife (and son) is in attendance.

Holly:

I am at a show where my husband is playing the drums. It is quite amusing because the other band members are quite young- in their teens/early twenties and have never really lived. Ben has lived and is thus a kind of parental and iconic figure to these fellows. I have no patience for them. They are young, over-privileged boys in college. They have lives I could not fathom. They have hooked up a few concerts and we have to transport their gear and bodies, and when we get there I wander around carrying Raven (the infant) while they play. I walk into the basement/garage/oddly huge coffee shop/ carrying my baby while my husband plays the drums and tries in vain to find rock star acceptance and admiration. People swarm around the band and give them support, patting me on the back while they let me know that they dig the music, dig that I am letting the man make it.

Now it is much later and the drummer has died, the infant is fourteen, and the mother (myself) is 35. I go to concerts, dance, get into the music and feel connected, not unlike those youth so long ago. But I can also see the other side. The side from which the dirt is- where the audience can be seen as an odd and freakish entity, but a necessary one, and where the band is a bunch of oddly connected friends with some extra females attached and perhaps some other humans- small ones- also connected. It is always so strange for me to go to shows, but I cannot stop going.

I watch the main character, or the drummer. They are both the most important parts of the band.

Ben wanted me to be his band’s singer. He encouraged me to sing like Billie Holiday, and to be like Kim Deal. I had no desire to be a front person for a band. But I was flattered indeed that he tried to encourage me to sing, when I knew (felt strongly) that I had no real ability.

Today:

I went to John Henry’s and enjoyed the Sid & Fancy CD Release (EP Really) party and listened to the bands. I tried not to look too much at the lead singer, Aaron, because I know he has a female. She goes to all of his shows, like I did for Benny, and boogies in the front of the dance area. She’s a cutie. She take pictures and makes me afraid to say howdy to the band, particularly Aaron. So I tried to enjoy the band without stepping on her toes. I think I did okay.

Aaron dedicated “You” (Bad Religion) to me, which made me feel like a rock star. I am very honored and grateful.
I still didn’t thank them. How rude. Guess I should now. Thanks!

Some day I’ll do a really good job of telling my story. But not tonight.

I do want to say though- that my husband was a decent fellow, with an unfortunate love for heroin and the rock star dream. He wanted to be a rock star, and died like one. He forgot to become one first.

Good night.

Another night of stuff...

Well, the first post- I had a friend of mine peruse it and she declared that I sounded like I was lonely. Perhaps I am, sometimes. In fact- YES, I am- SOMETIMES. Other times, I am not. I am content to be free of gropers and space-inhibiters.

Tonight has been another one of those nights that reminds me of how lonely I can feel at times. And also of how glad I am to be alone.

Partly because I escaped my shell of safety and stress-free no-body-ness.

Yes, I went out - - - alone.

I ventured over to Luckey's- one of my very favorite bars- to see Sid and Fancy, I good local Irish-punk-bluegrass-band. I got there after ten, when the first band started, and thought I was safe to sit at the bar and drink alone. But no- apparently I haven't gained enough weight to scare off all males, so a fellow crept up and asked if he could fill the seat beside me- of course, being polite, I said he could. Poor lad was drunken and probably couldn't see well, but he stuck near me for another hour or so- until I tired of him and his inebriation. Thankfully, I had a fairly easy escape.

I was idly flirting with the idea of flirting with the singer of Sid and Fancy; because he's a charming and friendly guy, and I think that he's adorable and fairly approachable. Then it occurred to me that he was probably attached to this one female who was at the last two shows, right in front and dancing and cute as a button. So I decided to avoid that quagmire. I don't want to interfere with a coupling. I don't want to interfere with anything, for that matter. It was tempting though, since he made it clear that he remembered me from the myspace comment I left on the band's profile page; referring to the last show at the WOW Hall. Yes. I am a sucker for being noticed. Notice me, and I go and take it personally. So watch out.

But I did have a great time dancing and getting silly and talking to a bunch of people and buying a CD from the band (Their name is Williston, from Seattle- not bad attall) that opened for S&F (S&F don't have a CD out yet), and I even had fun imagining that I was attractive and that there were people in the bar who were watching me and thinking I was looking impressive. Then, I noticed how the lady who I thought was attached to Aaron (the Sid & Fancy lead singer) was beginning to act possessive. I also got the paranoid impression that the people who I was dancing near were starting to take my dancing near them personally, and were wondering if I was hitting on them. Especially when they started moving away from me. Then I started feeling less impressive and more dorky and awkward. Then I thanked the handsome lead singer fellow for singing the uncensored version of one of Bad Religion's best songs (You), in my humble opinion- largely because it was dedicated to me about fifteen years ago by an admirer- and found my coat.

I finally decided I had better go home and see how my boy was faring.

He was cursing the darn computer for not letting him on myspace. Poor lad.

It's funny- I don't know what I'm going to do in four months. I have this dream job, and I love it and want to keep it, but it ends in June. I know I need to look for a different job, but I keep hoping I can keep the one I have, so I avoid the hunt. Also, the hunt is horrible and I want to avoid it at any cost. Maybe I should just skip country and try to find a new world and life. And deal with my son hating me for dragging him away from his homeys. Yep.

And it would be so cool if there were an adult male who had the hots for me; who was impressed by me, interesting, honorable, and available; who was interested in me, attractive, smart, capable, and trustworthy; who was not afraid of me; didn't think I was a lesbian because I don't feel like shaving my legs or pandering to any male who flirts with me.

I know- too much to ask for in US of America.

Or to much for ME to ask for. Then, it would also be nice if there were such a male, and he actually communicated with me about it. There's the rub. Or whatever.

Ugh- it hurts to act like such a vulnerable female person- even every once in a while. I hate it. I don't want to be vulnerable- to be needy, but I am sometimes- in some ways. Dang it.

Blah.

Good evening/morning world.

I'm going to try to go to sleep, or something.

I Remembered My Password!

Sheesh!

For the past two weeks I've been trying to post a blog on this page, to no avail, because I forgot my username and password. I have too many and lost track, it seems. Then, by accident, I successfully logged in just now. What a relief, because the google password recovery system is a total failure- anyone listening?- I requested that my passwrod be emailed to me about a dozen times, and didn't receive one note.

Well, now I can get into writing more interesting (hopefully less mundane, at any rate) posts.

Well, later actually. I've spent far too much time online today. It snowed enough for school to be cancelled, for the first time in my history as a teacher, and it was a relaxing and peaceful (not entirely) day, most of which was spent online catching up on the world's news (and making dental appointments for me and the boy- finally!).

Cheers-
~H