its been a while, days, since i have written. like a long lost friend i have came back to you, oh my blog. i am feeling goofy, inpatient, silent, tired, sad, happy, numb, lost, as the year turns another number...i await. i shipped my child off to my parents, he has been very needy of mama, all most to the point where he doesn't want to let go, for days, and as much as love him, the demands get taxing, like i have lost my breath, and all i have is child, but sadly i miss that clingy lap sitting smiley baby, because i know he wants me, and just me, and sometimes a girl just wants to be wanted...
maybe ill have fun this evening or maybe it be silent, i can't handle any more chill, i have a firecracker about to explode, like i am climbing the walls, like i need to travel, and stop being an adult for a day, when did i become an adult, when...oh yeah..
i got a promotion at work, will be making some money in February, maybe enough to put down on a piece of property so i don't have deal with other people putting post it notes on doors, because trash is in her can, fuck she doesn't even take it out herself
ugh i need to snap out of this...
Monday, December 31
Sunday, December 23
santa and other ramblings
Charles and I have been discussing how to present religion to our son. We want him to have a stable set of ideas, but we don't know how to go about it. both of us aren't into fundamental religion, both seriously ponder about the idea of 'god', and are far from the 'Christian' home. I believe in 'something' though labeling it is far from me. I have 'faith' but can't present it or communicate it well. there is 'something' more then this world, what it is, is another chapter, a running thought. my 'faith' has become stronger is becoming a mother, and having a mystical, religious, or 'drug induced' experience while giving birth. though what i saw, is far from what I can communicate in words, and can only present a glimmer in my art, and it is very 'abstract'. for words and thoughts are way to simple to even present the complexity of what i believe.
this is a on going conversation, but its been brought up because we have been trying to create Christmas traditions, in an untraditional home.
The concept of Santa, and how we should present this symbolism is a crossing thought? do we go along with Santa, or start off with he doesn't exist? if he doesn't exist does this threaten the imagination land that all children need?
personally i love pretend land, and still day dream. theres a little part of me that still loves the concept of Santa, someone pure of heart that grants children's wishes all over the world.
now in this pretend world all children are on it, and no child is 'naughty'...
I also love the tooth fairy, and remember fond memories of looking for the easter bunnies basket every easter. but i don't want to present the ideas because these ideas are tied to one religion. so do we show him all religions, when is he ready to accept these ideas?
i started hearing about saints about 3-4 years ago, and yes these concepts of saints are in the thread of things idea...................
this is a on going conversation, but its been brought up because we have been trying to create Christmas traditions, in an untraditional home.
The concept of Santa, and how we should present this symbolism is a crossing thought? do we go along with Santa, or start off with he doesn't exist? if he doesn't exist does this threaten the imagination land that all children need?
personally i love pretend land, and still day dream. theres a little part of me that still loves the concept of Santa, someone pure of heart that grants children's wishes all over the world.
now in this pretend world all children are on it, and no child is 'naughty'...
I also love the tooth fairy, and remember fond memories of looking for the easter bunnies basket every easter. but i don't want to present the ideas because these ideas are tied to one religion. so do we show him all religions, when is he ready to accept these ideas?
i started hearing about saints about 3-4 years ago, and yes these concepts of saints are in the thread of things idea...................
Thursday, December 20
Seeing
all the things i didnt want to post the first time, so i am posting...now
just because i have nothing really flowing through me, and the weather is to warm, and I am going to take a break for the holidays
so if your really bored, go look for my new blogs!
just because i have nothing really flowing through me, and the weather is to warm, and I am going to take a break for the holidays
so if your really bored, go look for my new blogs!
Wednesday, December 19
Yup
I am pretty boring, I was scanning some of my old blogs, and went wow, I write like I am six, and I am pretty boring.
Come shove me in an old person's home, ok?
Come shove me in an old person's home, ok?
Friday, December 14
papa's got a new bag
you got to hit up the greats like james brown, you got to dance, you got to get messy, and say shit dogs a couple of times to really live.
i am finally sitting down to write, to type, to think out words, oh words, oh words
the mama part of me..
i knew i was going to be a mother, before i went and peed on three sticks (one turn out negative, had to be sure) I was tired, and eating, and couldn't concentrate on anything that lasted more then a second. thats how i knew, i knew i was going to be a mama.
for a while i was fighting with this new identity, not that i didnt want to be a mother, i just didnt want that to be everything i was. i didnt want to lose my sense of self that i built, that young roamer, the self made woman, the college graduate.
before ezra i wasn't a mama or a wife, i was a partner in crime, still trying to make up my mind where i fit in this wacky old world.
well i am finding it, and being a mama isn't easy, especially when your child was a very unexpected surprise. i chose to have him, and he has granted me with more patience then ever found before, and i get to re-learn all these beautiful things.. like how great a cookie taste, how interesting a lid is, and i admire him.
I admire the fact that he doesn't understand the concept of rules or authority, it's might be odd. but my child is totally free, and that's beautiful!
as time goes on i realize that my other me is not compromised but has grown stronger from all the new things that i face each day. from the moment where i thought i lost him, to his first step with out him holding my hand, to the smile he gives me each day, the random hug with out a reason, its just neat..
i am finally sitting down to write, to type, to think out words, oh words, oh words
the mama part of me..
i knew i was going to be a mother, before i went and peed on three sticks (one turn out negative, had to be sure) I was tired, and eating, and couldn't concentrate on anything that lasted more then a second. thats how i knew, i knew i was going to be a mama.
for a while i was fighting with this new identity, not that i didnt want to be a mother, i just didnt want that to be everything i was. i didnt want to lose my sense of self that i built, that young roamer, the self made woman, the college graduate.
before ezra i wasn't a mama or a wife, i was a partner in crime, still trying to make up my mind where i fit in this wacky old world.
well i am finding it, and being a mama isn't easy, especially when your child was a very unexpected surprise. i chose to have him, and he has granted me with more patience then ever found before, and i get to re-learn all these beautiful things.. like how great a cookie taste, how interesting a lid is, and i admire him.
I admire the fact that he doesn't understand the concept of rules or authority, it's might be odd. but my child is totally free, and that's beautiful!
as time goes on i realize that my other me is not compromised but has grown stronger from all the new things that i face each day. from the moment where i thought i lost him, to his first step with out him holding my hand, to the smile he gives me each day, the random hug with out a reason, its just neat..
Tuesday, December 4
alone my warm numb shell
the last few days have been a blur. I feel as I am here, but my mind is in ten other directions. trying to understand things that I have no answers too.
I will try to recall the last week, as well as I can.
Thursday or Friday night I got a call that my grandmother was on her last life. she was like a cat, always strong and thriving, even as her body was failing, and her mind lingering away. Saturday morning it was a gray day. I packed Ezra in the car, and drove the route to my parents house. I remember the gray I felt. Gray has a taste to me, sometimes sweet, sometimes sour. It's like a clam middle ground, where black and white has left off. I remember tiny snowflakes hitting the car window as a heather nova song played on the radio. When I got there, my parents house was like a locked fortress. I jumble with the key to the back door. No luck, I knocked, No answer. I went to start the car again so Ezra wouldn't awake from his nap, or get to cold. Then an answer to the door. The house was messy, not a strange sight to see, but a bit odd because every time I come over now they clean, put away all the harmful non baby items away, but not today.
My father lead us out to my Hamlet's grave. He passed away on Monday of this week. I shed a tear looked at the the scrawler of the back-ground, noticed the chicken wire for the tomato's to be grown next year, and watch one single hawk fly by. A cold wind went through me. I carried Ezra back in, and smelled the heat.
A drive through Hamilton would come next. I saw my families' old store front, with our last name in stone at the very top. the building was ugly, re-painted, broken in, poor, beaten, like many of the homes on that side of town. the only thing that was beautiful was our name, etched in sand. like a proud mark of an immigrants dream. Wagner 1912, almost 100 years of history. I took a note to come back with my digital camera. My father said to visit the church next store, st. joseph. I have a mental note, that when things are a bit more settled to take a date with myself to take pictures.
off to breakfast, my father spoke a bit about his hidden life, we saw his cousin Hilda working at the Perkins, he couldn't place her face. but I could place the name in the stories my grandmother would tell me. My muffin was half-baked, and Ezra scattered tiny pieces of food all over the floor.
Because we were there, and I didn't want to make the commute back from his house to her, I said can we see her now?
so we went, she was moved back into her 'room' 127
I walked in unprepared to what I might face, even though I thought previously what the interaction would be like. I enter into the room, there she laid. a shell of a body of a woman i once knew so well. her skin was like leather, and was a strange color of plum gray. she was speaking in tongues, half religious speak, half a language of it's own, a few words here and there.
I took her hand, stood and looked at her, and said what I had to say. What was spoken is between she and I, and it is not for anyone else in the world.
I stared at her eyes maybe for a few minutes but it felt like years. they were the most beautiful color blue that I have ever seen. I can't quite describe what I saw in them, but her eyes, her eyes, her eyes.
She ask me to take her away, she used my first correct name, and didn't confuse me with anyone else. this time she didn't say take me home, or take me away from there. she asked me to take her away, and let her go. I had one of those out of body experiences, where I wasn't really myself, but I was. Like the words were coming out, but I wasn't really speaking. I said "I am not the person who can do that or decided that, you ask to ask him/it that" She clutch my hand and then let go, giving me permission to leave. which at this time (and i am trying to describe this as best as possible, but i really don't have the words) tears were spilling from my eyes.
on my way out of the door to my car, someone asked me if i was alright. but i went to my car to grab my rosary. a rosary to me has a lot of religious significance and not just the traditional. and this entry could get a lot rambling if i even tough on my thoughts on religion/and my grandmothers role in my development. some of the shit is pretty freaky.
but i grab the rosary (black), went back in the room where she was upright coughing and gagging and struggling to breath. which i just couldn't watch, it was horrible, and placed it in her hands, kissed her head and said i love you.
knowing full and well that would be the last time i would ever see her alive.
the next day she died. what words that were exchanged just her and I, the fact that she was asking to leave this earth, and I had this strange out of body experience..confirms that there is something more but i just don't know what.
i been struggling with the concept of death, how painful but at the sometimes beautiful (like a release for someones who is so much pain) and wondering a lot about it, and the conversation we had, and that she happened to die the very next day, and...
before i got the call i broke a coffee pot, and a baking dish, both made out of glass, both broke in a 100 peices and weridly i had shoes on, right after i broke the baking dish the phone rang, and i knew she was dead, even though i already knew at 2pm she was close to it...strange...
i shared a lot with her, she was strong, stubborn, odd, strangely religous, and i had the upmost respect for her, i feel like another peice of me has gone missing...
sorry to folks that had to see me saturday night i was not much fun, and every thing was making me feel uncomftorable, because i just wanst there...
the next day around 2pm i found my self hysterically crying. at 2:30 she was dead.
I will try to recall the last week, as well as I can.
Thursday or Friday night I got a call that my grandmother was on her last life. she was like a cat, always strong and thriving, even as her body was failing, and her mind lingering away. Saturday morning it was a gray day. I packed Ezra in the car, and drove the route to my parents house. I remember the gray I felt. Gray has a taste to me, sometimes sweet, sometimes sour. It's like a clam middle ground, where black and white has left off. I remember tiny snowflakes hitting the car window as a heather nova song played on the radio. When I got there, my parents house was like a locked fortress. I jumble with the key to the back door. No luck, I knocked, No answer. I went to start the car again so Ezra wouldn't awake from his nap, or get to cold. Then an answer to the door. The house was messy, not a strange sight to see, but a bit odd because every time I come over now they clean, put away all the harmful non baby items away, but not today.
My father lead us out to my Hamlet's grave. He passed away on Monday of this week. I shed a tear looked at the the scrawler of the back-ground, noticed the chicken wire for the tomato's to be grown next year, and watch one single hawk fly by. A cold wind went through me. I carried Ezra back in, and smelled the heat.
A drive through Hamilton would come next. I saw my families' old store front, with our last name in stone at the very top. the building was ugly, re-painted, broken in, poor, beaten, like many of the homes on that side of town. the only thing that was beautiful was our name, etched in sand. like a proud mark of an immigrants dream. Wagner 1912, almost 100 years of history. I took a note to come back with my digital camera. My father said to visit the church next store, st. joseph. I have a mental note, that when things are a bit more settled to take a date with myself to take pictures.
off to breakfast, my father spoke a bit about his hidden life, we saw his cousin Hilda working at the Perkins, he couldn't place her face. but I could place the name in the stories my grandmother would tell me. My muffin was half-baked, and Ezra scattered tiny pieces of food all over the floor.
Because we were there, and I didn't want to make the commute back from his house to her, I said can we see her now?
so we went, she was moved back into her 'room' 127
I walked in unprepared to what I might face, even though I thought previously what the interaction would be like. I enter into the room, there she laid. a shell of a body of a woman i once knew so well. her skin was like leather, and was a strange color of plum gray. she was speaking in tongues, half religious speak, half a language of it's own, a few words here and there.
I took her hand, stood and looked at her, and said what I had to say. What was spoken is between she and I, and it is not for anyone else in the world.
I stared at her eyes maybe for a few minutes but it felt like years. they were the most beautiful color blue that I have ever seen. I can't quite describe what I saw in them, but her eyes, her eyes, her eyes.
She ask me to take her away, she used my first correct name, and didn't confuse me with anyone else. this time she didn't say take me home, or take me away from there. she asked me to take her away, and let her go. I had one of those out of body experiences, where I wasn't really myself, but I was. Like the words were coming out, but I wasn't really speaking. I said "I am not the person who can do that or decided that, you ask to ask him/it that" She clutch my hand and then let go, giving me permission to leave. which at this time (and i am trying to describe this as best as possible, but i really don't have the words) tears were spilling from my eyes.
on my way out of the door to my car, someone asked me if i was alright. but i went to my car to grab my rosary. a rosary to me has a lot of religious significance and not just the traditional. and this entry could get a lot rambling if i even tough on my thoughts on religion/and my grandmothers role in my development. some of the shit is pretty freaky.
but i grab the rosary (black), went back in the room where she was upright coughing and gagging and struggling to breath. which i just couldn't watch, it was horrible, and placed it in her hands, kissed her head and said i love you.
knowing full and well that would be the last time i would ever see her alive.
the next day she died. what words that were exchanged just her and I, the fact that she was asking to leave this earth, and I had this strange out of body experience..confirms that there is something more but i just don't know what.
i been struggling with the concept of death, how painful but at the sometimes beautiful (like a release for someones who is so much pain) and wondering a lot about it, and the conversation we had, and that she happened to die the very next day, and...
before i got the call i broke a coffee pot, and a baking dish, both made out of glass, both broke in a 100 peices and weridly i had shoes on, right after i broke the baking dish the phone rang, and i knew she was dead, even though i already knew at 2pm she was close to it...strange...
i shared a lot with her, she was strong, stubborn, odd, strangely religous, and i had the upmost respect for her, i feel like another peice of me has gone missing...
sorry to folks that had to see me saturday night i was not much fun, and every thing was making me feel uncomftorable, because i just wanst there...
the next day around 2pm i found my self hysterically crying. at 2:30 she was dead.
My grandma
WAGNER, Ruth M. Age 85 of Fairfield, passed away Sunday, December 2, 2007. Ruth was born on January 1,1922, the daughter of Archibald and Helena (Reichert) Harmon. Cpl. Harmon, U.S. Army , served with honor during WWII. She was united in marriage to Jerome Otto "Toby" Wagner and to this union nine children were born. Survivors include her children, Mary Louise Seegers, Virginia Mae (Charles) Scott, Jerome Otto (Esther) Wagner, Catherine (John) Duckworth, Joseph Edward (Patty) Wagner, Robert John Wagner, Judith Ann (Champ) Halcomb, James Arthur (Tal) Wagner and Thomas Matthew (Susie) Wagner; numerous grandchildren and great grandchildren; two sisters, Thelma (Richard) Schutte and Joannie Gosmeyer; many nieces and nephews. She was preceded in death by her parents, her husband, Toby and brothers and sisters. Prayer services will be 9:45 A.M. Thursday, December 6, 2007 at the Colligan Funeral Home. Mass of the Christian Burial 10:30 A.M. at Sacred Heart Church of Fairfield. Burial with military services at St. Mary Cemetery. Visitation will be Wednesday from 5-8 P.M. at the funeral home.
Published in the Hamilton Journal-News on 12/4/2007.
Monday, December 3
and so it was-
and so it was, it was, it was.
my mind has finally settled to this place where it's numb and silent. the voices who wouldn't stop speaking have finally stopped echoing in my mind.
friday I got the call that my grandmother was leaving this earth and going somewhere. I say somewhere because I am far from really knowing what happens to the concept of soul after you die.
Saturday I bundled ezra in the car, and started the drive out to my parents, this is what i remember
the sky tasted like Grey, silent morning, eyes trying to awake. claps and smiles all around, another day of growing for him, another day of barely breathing for her. my muffin was not baked another, tiny peices of everything on the floor, and my father has another life, one that I don't know of, and want to be far removed from. we saw a family member, my family like a twisted spiders web, so many members of it, so unknown.
my mind has finally settled to this place where it's numb and silent. the voices who wouldn't stop speaking have finally stopped echoing in my mind.
friday I got the call that my grandmother was leaving this earth and going somewhere. I say somewhere because I am far from really knowing what happens to the concept of soul after you die.
Saturday I bundled ezra in the car, and started the drive out to my parents, this is what i remember
the sky tasted like Grey, silent morning, eyes trying to awake. claps and smiles all around, another day of growing for him, another day of barely breathing for her. my muffin was not baked another, tiny peices of everything on the floor, and my father has another life, one that I don't know of, and want to be far removed from. we saw a family member, my family like a twisted spiders web, so many members of it, so unknown.
Sunday, December 2
be back....
when i can handle the construct of every day society, will be repelling back into self.
her eyes have burn a hole though my soul.
I know I'll never see her alive again, her eyes, her eyes, her eyes.
her eyes have burn a hole though my soul.
I know I'll never see her alive again, her eyes, her eyes, her eyes.
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