Sunday Morning Ramblings turned into Thursday Afternoon Thoughts

   Not sure when I typed this exactly. I edited it and the change date set to today, but I believe it was in August of 2016. The Pearl Jam concert Danielle went to was Aug. 22, 2016, a Monday, it was titled "Sunday Morning Ramblings" so it was probably pecked on Aug. 28, 2016. I haven't really blogged since social media consumed me and lately, the DJT "presidency" has sucked the rest of my brains out. Damn it the years do fly by! Sometimes you just want to clutch everything around you and hold tight enough that it never changes. Especially Danielle and I's youth, the kid's youth....our parent's youth....I'm rambling a bit, but I just wanted to publish this one and get it "off my desk/chest". Maybe this inspires me to type or write more...lawd knows I think enough. It's been since September 23, 2013! So...here it is:

   "So all of a sudden I'm "writing", well, I've always had the hardest time calling typing writing. It isn't the same and here I am hammering away on our mini iPad, not sure how long I can do this , but I felt inspired enough to start a new blog section and start typing. I considered naming it the kids ages again like I had before, they were ONE and FOUR. They are six and nine, so...couldn't think of anything clever to call it and make it "kid friendly", not that anything I type is kid friendly. I considered a play on the Hendrix tune, or perhaps the grades they are in, which are FIRST and FOURTH. It's hard for me to type, let alone repeat my head or out loud. They are this big now. No, there isn't any turning back now.
   Danielle just returned from her first trip ever to Chicago to go see Pearl Jam with her friend Christie, Christie's brother, Matt and Christie's nephew, Chase. It was the first of two nights at Wrigley Field and an opportunity of a lifetime for her. I'm so glad she had the chance to go, as this was her first time. She loved the Windy City and has insisted we will be returning, I certainly hope so, to see a game or Pearl Jam at Wrigley would be an amazing experience I'm sure. I've been listening to more of them than I have in years - it feels good to get back to your roots. All of the old favs from the...90s...haha...Mother Love Bone, Temple of the Dog, EVERY PJ album...
   This morning Pierce is intrigued by the instruments in my music closet. I've held on to Mark's old trumpet, the electric guitar my parents got me 20 years ago for Christmas and the acoustic guitar that Mike bought for me when Pierce was born. Pierce is strumming, tapping and drumming on it, as I type, on the couch next to me. It's keeping him occupied and he's not playing Minecraft or Lego Star Wars: The Force Awakens, I can hear the gears in his head turning and the see the gleam in his eye. He's explaining to me all the different sounds it has and now is carrying it through the house to show Danielle. All I can hope for is that he sticks with it. 
   Boy, just three paragraphs in and I'm spent, this is the result of two separate sittings, the first two paragraphs on the tablet and one more on the desktop."

   That was it! Nothing to see here but my life, in all it's wondrous glory. In the first paragraph I mentioned starting a new blog with a new name. I've used the Tadpole one sparingly since the offspring came along and I think I'm going to keep it. I'm thinking faster than I am typing, which is a good sign. I'll type soon. I have some other drafts that have been sitting on the desk and may craft those too. 

Why can't you forget?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXyrCRd1ikw

   I heard "Creep" in the clubs in Okinawa, namingly NEO Manhattan, The Tunnel and The Apple House. It was tradition that on Fridays, paydays, the boys would drive up to Naha City and go to Tower Records. I'll tell you that from a young age, I was obsessed with records. Tapes. CDs. MP3s...is there something after that?

   Going to a record store was a hobby for me. Not outside honing my skills on the basketball court, soccer field, on a skateboard or playing a horn. It was digging for audial gold. Finding that one song that would take me away, take me to another place. Not here. Where the band wanted me to be. In their happiness or misery, I would connect with the songs, then the bands. In some cases these relationships have lasted decades, many more intimate than others.

   I went to Tower Records and my kinship with Radiohead began with the purchase of Pablo Honey. 20 years ago. Mind you we were into Pantera, Rage Against The Machine, Ministry, Metallica, Clutch...if it was heavy we were cranking it and LOUD. Yet, on weekend nights (and weekdays) we'd be weaving our way through every back alley and dive bar on the Rock. We found a home at NEO Manhattan and spent our evenings dancing to Depeche Mode, The Smiths, The Cure, Sisters of Mercy, with flavors of punk in Fugazi, NOFX, Green Day...and thankfully Radiohead.

   I distinctly remember a round table discussion that year in our room in the barracks on MCAS Futenma about the distinguished "CD of the Year". Clutch was mentioned. Pantera. Me, I said Radiohead and the boys erupted. What?? They said. Who??! I think back now, as The Bends came out, which I'm enjoying now for the first time in a long while right now, and their popularity grew and grew. By the time OK Computer came out they were rock gods.

   It's been very rewarding being on their journey with them. Hearing each album hundreds of times. Seeing them live just once, on a night I really can't remember but pieces of. I have Thom's solo stuff, I like Atoms for Peace, but it's in Radiohead that I've confided in for decades now. They have cured me of my ailments and been there with me when noone else was. Only a reach into the R's in the closet away from escaping.

Freedom

"Freedom is nothing else but a chance to get better" ~ Albert Camus

   That quote really stood out to me on my Facebook feed. Are we all truly free? I've touched base on this before a bit, but I always feel as though I'm chained to my "smart" phone. How many experiences have I missed? How many projects go left undone?? How many books could I have read??? I blame them for my blog posts and journal entries coming to dead halt. Not as though I was consistent before in writing or typing them, but now they are non-existent. Over a year it's been since I've blogged and all I see are my kids that much older. I feel I'm not seeing them grow enough.

  

   Beautiful day outside on this July 4th and here I am searching for just the right album to inspire me through this entry and hopefully push me into the world outside. My compost is calling for me, as are the half-dead plants gasping for water on the back porch. David Gilmore's guitar has me yearning for the sea. The sand in my toes and the rhythmic tides in my ears. Hard to believe that an album nearly as old as me (Wish You Were Here, 1975) has this much affect on my emotions, but oh, does it. Memories of rebellion, dissidence and brotherhood.

   I was watching Live at Pompeii last week after the kids were down. After a few minutes, out sauntered Pierce along with the whisper/whine "I can't sleep." Usually I'm watching a DVRed basketball or football game, but this my offseason as a fanatic. I catch up on any series I'm watching or begin watching a new one, but in this case it was Pink Floyd playing in the ruins of Vesuvius' aftermath. He was mesmorized by the lava and I by the beautiful riffs and pulsating bass of the band.

  

   He's 6 and a 1/2 now, with his two front teeth missing and his face more and more becoming that of 1st grader. His baby and toddler-hood are gone. He is the inside type, such a struggle to get him outside to do anything. It's all about Star Wars, Legos, Wii and his DS. He takes on feeding Odie in the morning and gives him plenty of hugs, but will not walk him around the block with me. Is it worth it to get whipped up into a frenzy just to walk the dog? To go the park?? Or even the beach??? He flat-out refuses. Beyond that, he's reading very well, not sure about the writing part, and his swimming has vastly improved since his weeks in Merritt Island High pool.

   Harper is 3 and almost a 1/2. She is living life in the median of being a princess and a popstar. She changes her clothes as often as possible, usually from dress to dress. Most of the time it's the pink one with the polka dots which is constantly being retrieved from the laundry basket, unclean, so that she can wear it again and again. She's caring for her dolls intently now, putting them down for naps and carrying them around. There is a mound of them on the floor a few feet away from me. Looks like a sleepover in the family room, with a dozen of them, of all walks of life, sleeping off last night.

  

   So, my 4th of July day off is a third over and I haven't made it farther then the confines of my property line. The sun is loud and proud, while the flag dances in it's glory. Everytime I mention taking a walk with Odie, Pierce screeches like a dying owl and my blood pressure doubles. Looking for some relief with all this freedom I have. Bothers me that this is what I'm doing with it to be honest, that I haven't been doing enough with it. Perhaps it's because I'm not as independent as I believe I am.

   As "Wish You Were Here" strums in to the space, it always reminds me of my brother and I sitting in a car behind a gas station in New Orleans. My best friend, James, had just been accosted for drinking & driving and we were ordered by the cop to "stay right where we are". Instead, as soon as he was out of sight, I hopped in the driver's seat and drove away. The cassette flipped over and over through the night, until the wee hours of the morning prompted me to find our way back to the base we were staying on. The next day the Gators would pummel the Noles for their first national championship.

What Happened?

I believe the fleeting of time is a recurring theme in most of my posts. Too much has happened to write or type it all down, and I feel that I'm somehow failing the future that I don't record more. If I'm blessed enough to have lineage that would actually love to read and experience what I have, I need to have more for them to read. Who knows if the information superhighway will be existent in the decades to come or if the journals I have written get tossed away or burned up??? Then nothing will be left but my actual legacy, the memories I've given my children, family and friends. You are given just the perfect amount of time here to accomplish what God wants you to. I always am left lacking. That there is MORE I should be doing, EVEN when I'm doing alot!

Perhaps the most stressful thing of the last month in my life has been Mark's struggles with walking. Initially he was "diagnosed", and I use this term loosely, because in this case diagnosed meaning an absentee neurologist and my dad reading MRI results, sighting a blurb about MS. From that, and the outward signs pointing to it, Mark had been inadvertenly determined to have it. Since, he has been spewing with optimism over 2 consecutive visits with neurologists, whom happen to be consumate professionals, that have told him it is not MS or a neurological disorder at all. One told him to drop the cane and walk!

Since his early recognition of something wrong, and hobbling around with a cane, he swam over 18 miles in my parents pool NIGHT and DAY! He is my Tebow. He has always inspired me to do better, especially when I couldn't figure out a way to. He has always strived to better himself and overcome odds. Go against the grain. Be different. Rise above. His attitude has helped everyone cope with this shocking turn of events in his (and our) lives. He has a follow up with the local doctor on Monday to move forward towards an accurate diagnosis.

MEANWHILE, my babies, who aren't babies much anymore, continue to sprout up, outgrow shoes and burst the seams on their pants. Although Harper is still attached to her "suckie" and Pierce still whines like he did from Day 1, they are becoming less and less dependent on us 24-7. Which at times is a relief and others, makes you actually whimper and hold on to them tighter to stop them from growing and leaving their infant years behind. We were actually reviewing Pierce and Harper's pictures from their births until now in search of Pierce's VPK Graduation picture.

We went to the Audobon Elementary orientation last week and he is excited about his new school, as he reminds me everytime we pass it on the way to VPK and work. I can't wait for him to experience the new challenge of being a student and curious how he will handle the new world of knowledge being presented to him. Very exciting times in his life. Recently he has begun to pedal bikes! Something he hadn't even considered to do his first 5 years! I was seriously worried as I remember biking to be one of my first real escapades beyond the confines of my home and out into the wild adventure of paths through the fields and other kids' blocks. One day to the bike racks at school or even to his part time job down the road, but that is still a bit down the road.

Harper is 2 and my spoiled little princess, she scuttles around making muffled demands behind her pacifier. She throws tantrums ala Pierce and eats us out of house and home, one bite out of a full apple or banana at time, while the rest of it wilts on the table the rest of the day. She loves Team Umizoomi after My Little Pony just dominated the TV for months. She gets into EVERYTHING and is much more physically capable at this age then Pierce was. Climbing, pedaling, coloring, dismantling and meddling, hah hah. She even had an early interest in sitting on the potty which has kind of subsided lately and still has that ridiculous sucky. I tell her she is so beautiful and that I can understand her without it, but I don't think she knows what I'm saying to her yet.

Wow, look at my babies. They grow older and older no matter how tight you hold them. No matter how many times you say you love them. I'm only five years into parenthood! Oh my! Can I please take this moment to beg my parents for forgiveness? For taking all that time from them because of whining, fighting, rebelling and running??

My beloved Harper and Pierce, I can't type a single word or even utter one that could equal the feeling I feel for you. From the moments you entered in my life and made me more than I am. From the beginnings of life as early on as the womb, the hospital room, the beach, the walks, the late nights and diaper fiascos. You will never know the love I have for you until you have your own. I hope that you do and you learn to love like I have.

Above you in this very picture is a giant ficus tree with a canopy of 40' wide. It is majestic and has grown that way from a house plant in a pot. I invite you to grow as big and as strong as that tree. Against everyones wishes, growing whichever way you choose, in search of more light, more life and more branches. I love you so much my babies.

Thoughts on Turkey Day '11

Pierce has been 'whirring' 'crunching' 'growling' for near an hour now. He also beatboxes songs with his mouth, including the Transformers theme, Iron Man and Back in Black. Meanwhile, I look over a few past entires and come again to the conclusion of how fast it all goes by. No matter how hard you hold on to them or how long.

I put Harper to bed the night before last and she snuggled up to me, where her head was nestled in my neck and her arms were wrapped around me, mine around her. Her torso still fits between my shoulder and my elbow! She is the sweetest thing and starting to sprout up so quickly now. Babbling words behind her "suckie" then taking out and she is talking wildly. Repeating everything Pierce says. Singing "I Wanna Rock" in the car.

Memories Can't Wait

I haven't been writing or typing in quite a while. Maybe since the beginning of summer. It's so hard to realize time and life slipping away like that. It's why I write, to revisit those memories of days (daze) gone by. Found some interesting tidbits in a small journal that I've jotted some things down in. The torrential downpour from the tropical "event" that happened last weekend, flooded my garage floor. I had my journals, memorabilia, posters and whatnot in a couple of 12-pack boxes, including the Sweetwater 420 box that survived our T-bone/Rollover crash in Kennesaw 7 years ago. One of the entries happened to be from the night we left to Atlanta to see the Spree and how it could have been the last entry I ever made. I have things that I'm ashamed to speak of from my past and that would be one of them. Horrible night, horrible decisions based on horrible perception. I salvaged a postcard from Mark with a night view of the NYC skyline dated 9/12/00. A year from the 9/11 attacks. I also found my ticket from Funky Tekno Tribe in LA, the night I was in my dark blue, neon diagonally-striped dress with cut-off sleeves and Doc Martins. These mementos will degrade in time but my memories never will until God takes them from me. I cherish them so much. I also read my DD-214 over tonight and put it in the meat drawer with my passport and birth certificate.