This and That ...

But really:

Desperately Avoiding Cleaning My Closet.

And ...

Apparently Being Incredibly Stupid...

Sitting in the plane yesterday - in first class I might add, I had a thought (this a bit later). First Class: Gary had been upgraded and I had actually to my surprise been downgraded: I had a window seat instead of an aisle - which I prefer so I can walk around and visit the ladies room without bothering anyone. We literally fought like cats and dogs over who was taking First Class. I was pissed that he had been upgraded, but didn't want to take it since I have seen his 6'3" frame try to squeeze into economy class seats .... and trapped by a window. Gary won out and I was in First Class.

As I was sitting there, I started thinking about something I had written about flying in a plane ... a very long time ago. I write, and I don't share. About a year ago I read something that I had written and was appalled - it seemed so self centered, senseless drivel. I deleted all my writings - to the shock and horror of my mother - who had read some of the things I had written. I can count on 3 fingers those that have read anything I have written.

So, sitting there I got a feeling that I really needed to share some of these things. Odd, they are gone, I thought. So today I started looking and found a folder I don't remember making that has carried over from computer to computer, never realizing that my 'senseless drivel' was stalking me!

As I tried to open the files, most will not open, now that I am on Windows Vista and Microsoft Office 2007. Maybe that was why the thought came, maybe not. Now I am in the process of trying to see if I can salvage anything - whether or not it is worth salvaging is I guess really not the point. The thought I had was this was my thoughts at the time (most are dated by at least the year I wrote them) and that it was a journal of sorts and needed to be preserved. Why I feel I need to post some I don't know - it's crap and I know it - so apologies in advance. I guess it is that I know that if I get my act together, I can preserve my blog and then my writings will be in here and preserved also - but maybe it is because someone needs to read it and realize that they are not alone in a struggle of some sort - since most of what I wrote about were things that were not pleasant, but therapeutic to get out and down on paper and out of my head. I could mentally fold the piece of paper up and lock it in a box and shove it on a shelf in my brain.

Why I need to unlock that vault is truly unknown to me, maybe it is the plane rides I have been on lately, or the dates that are coming up in the next few months which I will probably put my writing for that particular time (years ago) during that particular month, day whatever ...

This feels unpleasant, icky, I have no idea why I am doing this, so I apologize again. I will start with the easy one and maybe another I just read that I liked (because it was unusually upbeat) and see if I can survive 'sharing'.

Here goes nothing (and yes, for some very strong reason, I feel there is someone out there that needs this ... wh0? Don't know, so y'all have to suffer) ....

Note: All photos are just added for effect (and are my own photography) and will probably have nothing to do with the actual writing, just something I feel 'adds'.

The Plane (April 1998)

The plane takes off from Houston to Boston. I don’t like to fly - it makes me nervous from trips way back in another life. I don’t have my natural ‘valium’: my kids, to keep me occupied and not nervous. You know, the times when they are so bad and there is turbulence and the flight gets to be a really scary ride; for me it is pretty much a toss up in my mind on which would be more preferable – one more minute with the kids, or going down in flames (the flames have won more times than I care to admit).

A little rush of adrenaline hits me hard as we begin to lift off and I begin my ritualistic countdown: “one one-thousand, two one-thousand”. (Ever since the SLC crash of August 31, 1988 due to improperly set flaps and slats that went down at, I can’t remember now – about 30 seconds, I just make sure I get to 35 one-thousand – just something I do).

We bank sharply to the left and out my window all I can see are clouds. They are puffy, and gray on the bottom, not very impressive. If I lean forward, I can see land - looks a little foggy and hazy - depressing.

But the clouds - they are gray but puffy and prettier than the fog below. We get closer and closer to them and then we are in them - lots of bumps and jerks, ups and downs, disorientation and darkness. Then suddenly we are above them. Looking down - it looks like Jessie has been into the cotton balls again.

They are beautiful as the evening sun hits them, and I wonder: How could something that looks so depressing and gray from the ground and so frightening, disorienting and dark to get through be so beautiful up above and bring me such calmness and peace?

I think heaven is like this. I just somehow need to find my way through the cotton balls.

***********************************

Wednesday, February 2, 2000

Message to my Rachael:

You would almost be three soon. I don’t think I ever knew what fear, pain or sorrow were until I had you.

But now:
The joys are that much greater, the peace is that much sweeter and the happiness is beyond description. Too bad it takes knowing what it is like at the bottom to recognize how really good life can be on any given Wednesday.

Mom

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Photos:

1) Haleakala Sunrise, Maui

2) Rose Bush, La Grange, Texas