Mothers!

The other night a friend came over for a sanity check. It concerned the trials and tribulations of caring for an elderly mother, with the added burden of having to deal with siblings who have more than the usual amount of dysfunctional idiosyncrasies.

I wonder if I've been lucky, if you can call it that, as my mother died three weeks before my 20th birthday. We fought and argued, pushed each others buttons, and generally had a stormy relationship for the last couple of years of her life. On one occasion I remember her saying, "You began adolescence three years early, I expect you'll finish three years early!" No such luck. It continued beyond, what I suppose was the normal duration.

There were several incidents in my teen-aged years when if I hadn't needed psychotherapy before she died, I certainly needed it after.

I remember one afternoon when I was helping her do some clean-up in the garage when she turned to me and said, "Everyone thinks that your brother is my favorite. That's not true. You sister is my favorite." ARGH!!

Earlier, when I was about 10 or so, I helped her prepare her notes for a lecture she was giving on answering children's questions about sex. A year or so later I asked her what the word "menstruation" meant and instead of answering me, she handed me 5 books and said, "Here - Read!" ARGH and ARGH again.

She was a piece of work.

On one hand, her death did enabled me to develop a sense of independence, and removed the masking of relationship issues I needed to resolve with my father, yet I did not have either a guiding hand in my twenties and beyond. I didn't really get that from my step-mother or sisters. I often wonder what my life would have been like had she not died. (Cancer, by the way, in case you were wondering) I'll never know.

I wished she could have been more like June Cleaver, than the world famous teacher, lecturer, pscyhologist, inspiration to many. Perhaps as an adult we could have had a friendship, characterized by mutual respect and a healthy interest in each other. I'm sure there are some things in my life of which she'd approve, and many she would not. It would have been interesting to have had those discussions.

So if you're fortuante to have your mother in your life or a suitable stand-in, be sure to have those conversations with her. Mothers, and fathers too, do tend to get smarter as we get older.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What do you want to be when you grow up? That's a question we're asked as children. And the answer is usually a child's answer - a ballerina (not really, although I had a hot-pink satin ballerina costume I'd wear during play)[ a teacher (well, I did become a teacher - of English and Math, 7th and 8th grade. Hated it!); a nuclear physicist (so I could wear a white lab coat and walk around with a clipboard); never wanted to be an astronaut - I hated roller coasters. Except for Space Mountain in Disneyland and Disneyworld; I did want to be a philosopher, so I could sit under a palm tree and think deep thoughts. Like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.

So all these years later, now a corporate IT professional who doesn't code, who avoided Unix(r) - a job I certainly didn't envision for myself - even if it does pay the rent and feed me, my dog and my cat.

So over a Grande decaf non-fat latte (isn't that called a why bother?) I realized that what I do want to be when I grow up (whenever that is) I find I'm telling my good friend, that I want to be a writer. What's particularly funny about that is that I don't really like to write!

I remember when I was in school and had to write an essay. I asked my mother for help. She told me it's just like talking. Write down whatever I'd say. I suppose it helped. A few grades later I told her I needed to write a speech for school. Her advice: Say what you'd write. Did it hep? I suppose so.

Flash to college. What should I major in? In true methodical fashion, I sat myself down in the library with the catalog and looked at every major and the requirements. It was a toss-up between two: Mathmatics and Oral Communications/Mass Communications. What did I pick? Math. Why? No term papers! And I'd much rather sit for an exam rather than write. I did take some courses in the Communications Department, including the disastrous Acting course. At least as an exercise in concentration I learned to juggle three balls, 10 tosses, without having to catch the last toss.

Even that experience was typical of how I approach assignments and problem solving. I went to the library, took out all the books I could find on juggling, and started immediately to practice, over the bed so I wouldn't have far to bend to pick up the dropped oranges. Lacrosse balls are the best, but to date I only have two, not three. Well, I could do three tosses and three catches but was stuck on the fourth toss. Couldn't break the inertia of catching and holding the third toss. Finally I got it - just keep throwing.

Segue a bunch of years to last month. I've been listening to motivational/self improvement/empowerment CDs. And one expert or coach made oneof those profound statements - a blinding flash of the obvious: If you want to change your life, change your life! Well, duh!

So - here I am. I get to call myself a writer, because I'm writing. I want to be a writer, so I'm writing. I may not be tearing up my journal, that's so hard to do when they're really just ons and offs, 0's and 1's, so maybe this time, for sure! (to quote Bullwinkle)

I do invite you, Dear Reader, to watch me, really read me, on this journey. For sure it should be entertaining.

Tangent time, to demonstrate the point:

For a number of reasons I found myself in consultation with some kind of psychologist, pouring out the story of my life. He looked at me and asked, "Have you ever considered going into show-business?" Stunned, I asked him why he would ask me that. He replied, "Because you're so funny!" It was a good thing that I wasn't paying for the session, because I didn't appreciate, at the time, that he could be entertained when I was so vulnerable. Well, isn't that truly the source of comedy? Our frailties that make us so relate-able to others?

No longer in my twenties, I don't take myself so seriously any more. So laugh along with me...

Say "no" to the good things...

For those of you who don't know this, the Landmark Forum (see www.landmarkeducation.com) is the latest version of Werner Ehrhard's "est" (Erhard Seminar Training) program. It was pretty popular in the 1970's, but had a lot of bad press. Like - you would sit there all day and couldn't leave to go to the bathroom. It's truly not like that anymore. It's transformed into several new programs that start with the Forum. They also offer Communications training and Leadership training.

I'm mentioning this because a friend of mine is involved in the program and had invited me to attend a free introductory event last November. Now it's February and with the next FOrum offered in my area in March, he asked me if I intended to go.

I tried really hard to consider it. I watched the videos, read the syllabus, but no matter how hard I tried to keep an open mind, I just couldn't bring myself to enroll.

If seems that I have different understandings about life and relationships, and that although I could attempt to suspend my attitudes for the two days and one evening so that I might gain some insight, it would be two days and one evening of suffering. Oh, not like physical torture, starvation or pain but emotional and mental suffering.

So when he called me back two days later and asked if I would enroll, I said no. And that was something!

I've been listening to "motivational" CDs lately, and one guideline I've taken to heart is: Say "no" to the good things and "yes" to the great things.

Well, this opportunity may be good but I'm still saying no.

I think putting this guideline to use in my life will be a good thing, as I tend to say "yes" to so many things, that I tend to get little done with the things that are priorities.

I've heard that we all have 168 hours per week, so how we choose to spend them is an indication of our character and core values. So why do I spend so much time in front of my HD TV?? I'll save the answer to that for another post...

Hello World!

In case you didn't know this, but back in the day the first program that people would write would be to display that text - as a paper print-out or as a screen display. So it's only fitting that I would start this blog with those famous words.

However, I'm not a programmer. In fact, I've made an IT career out of not knowing how to code, not knowing UNIX(r), or ever having to do anything that required touching a computer. Well, the keyboard of a PC doesn't count, not really.

So why is this not my journal, you may ask? Well, I'll tell you.

Over the years I'd buy beautiful journals - each a promise that I would chronicle my life, release the inner-writer, confess my darkest secrets, have adventures in fantasy, and unleash the creative flow. I'd write a few pages, break for a few days, write another page then stop for a few months. I'd make sporadic attempts, realize it was either trash or embarrassing. So out the window went my good intentions and into the trash went the pages!

But this is NOT my journal! It's my blog. So let's see where this leads us...

My promise to you, kind reader, is not to delete my posts.