i think i can stave off death if i don't sleep.
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
It is what it is
Acceptance for me, is a very difficult concept to . . . well, accept.
I watched my father rail against a world that didn't respond to him favorably, if at all. He argued, he screamed, he stood on his proverbial soapbox and wailed that life wasn't fair. He was left bereft with only his principals and list of injustices to console him. And he never got what he wanted.
As a parent, I've told my son repeatedly not to engage in certain behavior because it doesn't get him what he wants. That all he is left with are consequences for his behavior. . . and his tower of principals and list of injustices to console him.
As a woman in her mid-forties, I'm only now starting to learn that life spits out situations that we can't always control. As my friend once said, it's not what happens to you, it's how you respond to it that matters. I've spent many, many years fighting the fight and wanting to win. . . only to be broken like waves on rocks. My parents, my biggest behaviorial influencers, never showed me that you do your best and therein lies the victory, not in the favored results.
For if I could do that, I would be able to accept what comes my way, do the best I could and let go of the rest.
But I'm still learning.
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
I watched my father rail against a world that didn't respond to him favorably, if at all. He argued, he screamed, he stood on his proverbial soapbox and wailed that life wasn't fair. He was left bereft with only his principals and list of injustices to console him. And he never got what he wanted.
As a parent, I've told my son repeatedly not to engage in certain behavior because it doesn't get him what he wants. That all he is left with are consequences for his behavior. . . and his tower of principals and list of injustices to console him.
As a woman in her mid-forties, I'm only now starting to learn that life spits out situations that we can't always control. As my friend once said, it's not what happens to you, it's how you respond to it that matters. I've spent many, many years fighting the fight and wanting to win. . . only to be broken like waves on rocks. My parents, my biggest behaviorial influencers, never showed me that you do your best and therein lies the victory, not in the favored results.
For if I could do that, I would be able to accept what comes my way, do the best I could and let go of the rest.
But I'm still learning.
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Whatever the weather, we'll weather it together
I've lived my entire life in the Midwest and weather becomes a thread of our lives.
"Remember the winter of 1979?"
"How much water did you get during the rain of '05?"
"Geez! That was a bad one."
"Valentine's Day 1990-it took me four freakin' hours to get home!"
The weather shapes our experiences, our lives. We catalogue momentous occasions via the weather. I sit in my backyard at the end of August. The heat has dissipated. For this summer, at least. I can smell fall in the gentle breeze, feel the air turning cold. I hear the crickets much clearer now that the din of the neighborhood air conditioners have halted.
This is always a sad time to me. The hopes of the summer have been squashed by now. The reality of the few weeks of fall we now get...not a proper fall...rather a milder prelude to winter. Another summer gone. My garage is still unpainted; the outbreak of rust spreading like cancer on my railings. Cut-short expectations.
But what can I do? Luckily, I'll see another one next year. . .
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
"Remember the winter of 1979?"
"How much water did you get during the rain of '05?"
"Geez! That was a bad one."
"Valentine's Day 1990-it took me four freakin' hours to get home!"
The weather shapes our experiences, our lives. We catalogue momentous occasions via the weather. I sit in my backyard at the end of August. The heat has dissipated. For this summer, at least. I can smell fall in the gentle breeze, feel the air turning cold. I hear the crickets much clearer now that the din of the neighborhood air conditioners have halted.
This is always a sad time to me. The hopes of the summer have been squashed by now. The reality of the few weeks of fall we now get...not a proper fall...rather a milder prelude to winter. Another summer gone. My garage is still unpainted; the outbreak of rust spreading like cancer on my railings. Cut-short expectations.
But what can I do? Luckily, I'll see another one next year. . .
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
The latest toll: 33 DAYS, 31 DEATHS, 303 INJURED
City of Chicago Police Supt. Jody Weis said in a recent statement after a weekend of gang violence injured many and yet again killed a helpless bystander, that the CPD was going to communicate with gang leaders via the Web and make it clear that if they don't keep their gangs in check--the CPD will make their life a living hell.
The latest toll: 33 DAYS, 31 DEATHS, 303 INJURED
'Cuse me???? You are conversing with gang leaders in the most passive way possible and you are warning them they need to curb their thugs or you're going to crack the whip? Am I wrong in assuming the CPD was SUPPOSED to be doing that anyway? And you know how to reach them? Why not arrest them, then? And please don't give me that bullshit speech how police just hate arresting people because the judges and lawyers let the criminals back out on the street so, what's the point.
The latest toll: 33 DAYS, 31 DEATHS, 303 INJURED
I used to work at downtown Chicago hospital. I worked with every ethnic sector and came in contact with the extremely wealthy and the poorest of the poor. I learned so much about human nature how the world works during my time there.
A soft-spoken Hispanic man in his twenties worked with me. One day, he shared his upbringing in the gang-filled Logan Square neighborhood (before the gentrification began). He shared how his mom made it her mission to keep him from joining a gang and from romanticizing/fantasizing about gang life. She succeeded.
However, he told me there were unspoken "rules" to be followed. You had to show the gang bangers respect; remember to say "hi" as you pass them on the street, etc. He told me he did so, so that they wouldn't mess with his mom. He didn't have to join the gang, he just had to show them props.
And for the cops? They know exactly where the gang-bangers are, he said. The bangers wave to the cops if they seem them patrol by. Gangs gather on the street corners doing business. "The cops could erase the gangs any time they wanted to. Any. Time, " he said. They just won't because they're afraid of getting hurt. And even more chilling, is the fact that their families don't live in those neighborhoods--so it doesn't affect their quality of life.
Can you imagine, he asked. No more gangs. Then we wouldn't have to be afraid.
The latest toll: 33 DAYS, 31 DEATHS, 303 INJURED
The latest toll: 33 DAYS, 31 DEATHS, 303 INJURED
'Cuse me???? You are conversing with gang leaders in the most passive way possible and you are warning them they need to curb their thugs or you're going to crack the whip? Am I wrong in assuming the CPD was SUPPOSED to be doing that anyway? And you know how to reach them? Why not arrest them, then? And please don't give me that bullshit speech how police just hate arresting people because the judges and lawyers let the criminals back out on the street so, what's the point.
The latest toll: 33 DAYS, 31 DEATHS, 303 INJURED
I used to work at downtown Chicago hospital. I worked with every ethnic sector and came in contact with the extremely wealthy and the poorest of the poor. I learned so much about human nature how the world works during my time there.
A soft-spoken Hispanic man in his twenties worked with me. One day, he shared his upbringing in the gang-filled Logan Square neighborhood (before the gentrification began). He shared how his mom made it her mission to keep him from joining a gang and from romanticizing/fantasizing about gang life. She succeeded.
However, he told me there were unspoken "rules" to be followed. You had to show the gang bangers respect; remember to say "hi" as you pass them on the street, etc. He told me he did so, so that they wouldn't mess with his mom. He didn't have to join the gang, he just had to show them props.
And for the cops? They know exactly where the gang-bangers are, he said. The bangers wave to the cops if they seem them patrol by. Gangs gather on the street corners doing business. "The cops could erase the gangs any time they wanted to. Any. Time, " he said. They just won't because they're afraid of getting hurt. And even more chilling, is the fact that their families don't live in those neighborhoods--so it doesn't affect their quality of life.
Can you imagine, he asked. No more gangs. Then we wouldn't have to be afraid.
The latest toll: 33 DAYS, 31 DEATHS, 303 INJURED
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Send out the life preserver, please
Why is it that I spend so much of my time floundering? Barely treading water? My head has been down so many times I don't think I know how not to struggle.
Am I creating this? Choosing this? Hope not. Cause as Amy Mann sang, "It's not going to stop 'til you wise up."
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
Am I creating this? Choosing this? Hope not. Cause as Amy Mann sang, "It's not going to stop 'til you wise up."
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Swimming under the stars
My son and I have a tradition of buying a pool pass at the community pool. We have spent many lazy days hanging out at the pool and gorging ourselves on cheese dogs and electric-colored snow cones. One summer, we spent our evenings after dinner checking in an hour or two before it shut down for the night.
I love the sounds of the pool. Children's laughter sprinkled about. Different languages bouncing off the water like music. The blaring whistle of the teen aged lifeguards issuing their "stern" warnings. The thud of bodies jumping off the concrete. Splashes followed by squeals.
But nothing equals swimming at this time of year when fall begins creeping in and the nights get cool and the veil of darkness casts a longer shadow. We hit the pool and don't leave until they close at 8 p.m. Nothing equals the feeling of swimming outdoors when twilight hits and the sky switches from baby blue to pink and purple. The moon and her sisters, the stars, appear. While in the pool, the water warms like a cloak. And the night air hitting your body and senses as you leave the warmth exhilarates.
Walking to our car in the dark with our soaking towels slapping around in our bags and the evening air tickling our wet skin and hair, there's no feeling like it.
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
I love the sounds of the pool. Children's laughter sprinkled about. Different languages bouncing off the water like music. The blaring whistle of the teen aged lifeguards issuing their "stern" warnings. The thud of bodies jumping off the concrete. Splashes followed by squeals.
But nothing equals swimming at this time of year when fall begins creeping in and the nights get cool and the veil of darkness casts a longer shadow. We hit the pool and don't leave until they close at 8 p.m. Nothing equals the feeling of swimming outdoors when twilight hits and the sky switches from baby blue to pink and purple. The moon and her sisters, the stars, appear. While in the pool, the water warms like a cloak. And the night air hitting your body and senses as you leave the warmth exhilarates.
Walking to our car in the dark with our soaking towels slapping around in our bags and the evening air tickling our wet skin and hair, there's no feeling like it.
© It's All Wanderlust 2010
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