Friday, March 6, 2015
I hope that the image above is true, unfortunately I tend to run into the type that inspired the title of this blog.
It's sad because I am extremely loyal, I used to see it as a badge of honor but lately it feels more like a character flaw. I try to surround myself with others that are like me: Flawed, authentic, trustworthy and loyal. I don't want my friends to be perfect, just real. It's an ongoing theme of each chapter in the story of my life. Like any story we must say goodbye to certain people. Some chapters you don't even see it coming, like a George R. R. Martin novel without all the blood.
When I first started writing this I had friends that I thought were true blue. Sure there were some odd traits but that never bothered me. Of course looking back I can see they weren't quirks, they were huge red flags waving with such velocity they were causing tornadoes (which I failed to see as well.) OK, lesson learned and I came out of it a little wiser with a few less names on my holiday card list.
I proceeded with life, moved on, made new friends and forgot the betrayal that somehow didn't sting anymore. Time buries all wounds right? I chose wisely, carefully distinguished between quirky faults and psychotic clues. It's hard when you really just want to trust someone but you know that one day, that other shoe might just drop. Luckily nothing really terrible happened. No huge betrayal, some friends came in and out of our lives which is normal, especially when you live in an urban sprawl.
I fell into a pattern, happy with those around me, always available with a shoulder to cry on, an ear to hear complaints and a hand to hold when hand holding was necessary. I always seemed to be the one people called when they needed to vent, that was fine with me, it's a role I am used to and actually good at it. Then I started noticing a different pattern. With some friends, and if this blog was a podcast the friends would sounds like f r i e n d s , the relationship became very one sided. I only heard from them when they needed something. Still, it was better than before so I accepted it. Rookie mistake. I regrouped again and tightened my circle.
My MO has always been to listen, pay careful attention, don't say much but hear everything. Sometimes that can be taken for naivete when it is in fact the complete opposite. I am acutely aware of everything, sometimes to a fault. It's my superpower. I often predict situations that seem to come out of nowhere to the unsuspecting victim. Obvious to anyone who listens of course.
Recently I was put in a situation where I felt it necessary to stick up for a friend who had become a f r i e n d. That sort of loyalty was appreciated and for a while we were back to being friends. Then I noticed that we were only friends when I was steering the friendship (see what I did there?) When this person had the chance to show their loyalty they didn't even try. I think when a person tries to show their true color, let them. Will I continue to be loyal? Of course. I don't want to stop being who I am because it sometimes leads to frustration.
When loyalty and trust are returned it feels wonderful, like you're the queen of the castle.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Wow, it's been so long since I wrote anything on here. I think social media, Facebook to be exact, took the place of this blog. For years I would come here and write what I was feeling, anonymously, freely and without the fear of anyone really confronting me. I guess I got brave, putting out what I was feeling on Facebook was like instant gratification for the soul. Plus I decided years ago to stop internalizing things, so when I'm happy, sad, pissed, angry, depressed and freaked out I let it be known.
I do miss writing. Sometimes I write blog entries in my head but then I'm the only audience. I'm a great audience though, I find myself brilliant at times.
It's been so long since I wrote I forgot how to access my blog. I had to email myself an entry from Timehop and then go in that way.
I was inspired to write today because of my cell phone, or my "hand computer" as D likes to say. Last year my mother traded her ancient flip phone for a "smart" phone and discovered texting. It was a lesson in patience as she navigated through the learning process. If I didn't answer her text immediately she would send it again (and again and again.) Then she would call my cell and ask if I got her text. If I didn't answer she would call me at home. I'm all for being available but I do not recall offering On Demand service.
Since when did having a cell phone become synonymous with being on call? I know it's hard to go two feet without seeing a human attached at the hand to their device but not everyone enjoys the tethering.
Sure, I use my phone every day but not every waking minute. OK, I actually do use it at my waking minute but only because I don't trust alarm clocks. I keep my phone in my purse on the floor of my car while driving, I keep it in the car when I pick up K and I keep it in my bedroom at night. If I get a text or call after 7:00PM it's usually not returned until the next morning, unless of course it's an emergency.
If I am busy during the day I do not answer my phone. That is sometimes followed by a text, which is sometimes followed by a flurry of other calls. I am not a doctor, I am not saving the world, nothing I have to say warrants such urgency.
I miss the days of the one line phone, I haven't heard a busy signal in decades. I remember going to school and being excited to see friends and catch up on what happened the night before. Now we are all up in each others shit 24/7. Back then no one ever asked "Are you mad at me?" because their call wasn't instantaneously returned. Whatever we had to say waited.
So if I don't immediately return your call, text, email, tweet or Facebook post, please don't worry. I could be shooting, editing, driving, mothering, enjoying a latte or maybe I'm just stopping to smell a few roses.
I'm happy to be in demand but I refuse to be On Demand.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
I know, I know. Liar, liar, pants on fire. I have made many promises to stop neglecting my blog. I've written down posts always meaning to finish but never do. I write pages and pages in my head vowing to put it all to paper and at the end of the day it becomes yet another thing left unchecked on my to-do list (which is also written down in my head.)
Yesterday in the mail I received a letter from K's school. I was actually pretty nervous since is was handwritten and came after the first week. Did she get in trouble? Were her test scores bad? Did I fill out the 50 pages required by LAUSD incorrectly? She just grinned as I opened up the mail.
Her first assignment as a fifth grader was to write and send a letter to someone who had a profound influence on her over the summer break. Shocked that she chose me, mean mommy, over D, fun daddy or N, her best friend who recently moved close to us. Even more shocking was the way this letter was written. It was the kind of gorgeous to-the-point message that I strive for in all my writing. We always spend the summer together, I don't like putting her in camp since our time together is always so fleeting. I always assumed she was sick of me always being there, her rolly eyes are usually an indication that she has reach her "sick of mom" point. I received this look quite often this summer.
She's a smart cookie my little one but likes to take the easy way out of her work and tends to play dumb so no one notices her smarts. She on the other hand notices everything, which can be good and bad. She once asked me why I go out of my way and give up everything for her. That was an easy question with a very hard answer.
I told her I know what it was like to grow up without a voice . She didn't get it. I didn't either for a very long time but I made a vow as a young kid to make sure if I ever had a child, that child would be heard. Quite loudly.
I grew up with no voice, literally and figuratively. Knowing at a young age that you have no one watching your back really does something to a small ego. While I don't believe that you should always offer the high praise (that creates another kind of problem called Sun Shining Out Of Your Ass Syndrome) offering none leaves you deflated and defeated. As a child it makes you feel sad, confused and left with a feeling that you are worthless. As an adult that feeling takes root and you become sad and worthless. I wasn't about to let another child ever feel like that.
The problem with this: as an adult that feeling is often misunderstood. Thankfully I am surrounded by wonderful people who know me and my reasons for doing some unconventional things. In a perfect world I would only have to interact with such people, in a flawed and real world I have to deal with everyone.
I do whatever I can to help my child pursue her dreams, whatever they may be. When she wanted to do karate I found the perfect dojo and made the commitment to her that I would her her stick with until she gets her black belt. She tests in December. She wanted to try gymnastics so after trying out a few gyms we found one that was perfect for her, one that was not a money machine (even though it is off the charts expensive) but the interest of my kid and her goals are always put first. When she ends up in a class where she feels like she isn't being trained right we find a teacher better suited for her needs.
At school we try to make sure she is in the best possible class to suit her needs. She isn't a traditional student and needs a teacher that understands that. In fact I am in the thick of a middle school dilemma that might end up with her being homeschooled. Does this make my life difficult? Yes. Do I care? Uh, no.
In her modeling and acting I do the same. When we had an issue back in the spring I wrote a letter to address the situation fully expecting to be dropped (the letter wasn't very nice) surprisingly I was met with kindness and understanding. We sat down face to face and they let me address my issues. They formulated a plan and stuck with it. We were all greatly rewarded.
It may sound like I am a pushy and overbearing mom but it's quite the opposite. I am not pushing my kid because I wanted to do karate, gymnastics, model or act. I am making sure she gets the chance to do the things she wants. I am making sure she knows how to fight for and earn the things she wants.
I know what it's like to dream about the future knowing that it was only destined to be a dream. I want my child to dream about something and understand that with hard work and support those dreams are possible.
To turn the possible into a reality you need a voice. To have a voice you need support. While I fully support my daughter, it's mandatory that she knows this. Her perfect rolly eyes are a sign that maybe she doesn't. I used to worry that she thought I was just an overbearing, overprotective, pushy mom who had an agenda (which is probably what most people think).
When I opened my mail yesterday I received my answer. After my tears dried, the warmth of her hugs turned to the warming of my heart. She got it. She understood. She knew. I don't care if the whole world thinks I'm crazy. She knows the truth. She knows.
When she told me in her soft little voice that she loved me I know she was screaming because her voice, when it comes from her heart is loud.
VERY VERY LOUD.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Then you're just like me. I hate it. Absolutely hate it. I'd rather be freezing my ass off somewhere than having to endure the furnace that is LA right now. I've run out of sarcastic ways to complain about it. I even let K wear shorts and a tank top to school yesterday, a usual no-no for me. The thought of her sweating and uncomfortable overcame my hatred of sloppy dressing for school.
We have a full day today: Volleyball, piano lesson, casting and a fitting. Thankfully D is taking care of the first two right now as I prepare for the later ones. The crappy thing is the later ones are both in Hollywood where it's even hotter than it is here. Just checked the weather, it's 93 degrees BY THE BEACH!!
All I have to say is "Fuck you" to anyone that thinks that global warming is a joke.
That's my rant for the day. I'm sure I'll feel better when I'm driving to Hollywood and my car is a cool 50 degrees.
Stay cool my friends, literally.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
After school yesterday I went to talk to K's teacher about the incident that happened on Monday. K begged me not to and insisted that she was "OK with it." While I knew this wasn't the case I had no choice but to go against my daughter's wishes. I try not to do this, I want K to know that her voice matters. Precisely the reason I went through with my discussion.
I want her to know her voice matters.
Her little tiny voice was screaming "I'm scared" and I heard it loud and clear. After a brief meeting I reunited with K on the playground and we walked to my car. After a few minutes she asked me how it went. I told her that we discussed the incident, I told her I felt it was necessary to let her teacher know that no matter the circumstances K was left feeling afraid and anxious. We didn't talk about it much after that. We came home, did homework and then shuffled off to K's first volleyball practice.
Typical chaos followed after dinner (shower, arguing about something, she lost another tooth, the usual.) I went in to say goodnight and she pulled me to stay. She then gave me a giant hug and thanked me for sticking up for her at school. "Weren't you scared?" she asked. "Of what?" I replied. I told her that she should never feel scared or afraid, especially when sticking up for herself. What was the worst thing that could happen? More yelling? I told her that I was pretty sure no one ever died from that. I told her there would be many times in her life where she will be faced with people who react differently to situations. Some cry, some clam up and some yell. In any of these situations you remain calm and move on. End of story.
When I wrote about this on Facebook my wonderful friends filled my wall with praise telling me that I did an amazing thing. I didn't do anything amazing, special or outstanding. I stuck up for my kid.
I'm a mom, that's my job.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Not that kind of drained. It's been way too serious around here. Today I have a simple yet thought provoking rant:
Can someone tell me why plumbing issues ONLY happen at night or on the weekend? Is it just in my house? I can say with complete certainty that every singe time one occurs around here it's either a weekend (usually a holiday weekend) or 11:00PM at night.
I understand this place isn't brand new and the plumbing isn't the best but please, why can't my sink ever get backed up on a Tuesday at say, 2:00PM?
Is there an answer for this or is this one of those unanswered mysteries of the world.
Excuse me while I wait all morning for my plumber.