Well, there are other dangerous possibilities - like sounding stupid, which is really always a possibility with me - but those two are the ones I’m most concerned about tonight.

That said, I stumbled upon a quote tonight that struck me considering my recent mood and some of the blog entries I’ve written in Novembers past:

That’s the difficulty of writing songs that are a bit depressing. People think you’re like that all the time, but I don’t think that. I just usually write when I’m depressed. Robert Smith of The Cure

You see, there’s a danger in only writing when you’re in a specific mood.  I imagine most people think of Trent Reznor as an especially angry person and Robert Smith is pegged as the Original Emo Kid, when in reality he claims to be quite a happy chap in his every day life.  I wonder, then, what mood do I convey?  How often do I misrepresent myself as being a certain way when in reality I am not?  Very often.

Live conversations (face to face, telephone, or even textual chatting) tend to dispel some of that, but even still, in certain situations I’m painted a certain flavor.  It’s really only one facet showing and generally it’s one I choose to show because it best suits whatever task I’m attempting to accomplish.  For example, the district BSA folks have this vision of this bubbly, vibrant, energetic Scout Freak.  This I am not.  No - really.  I am not.  Some part of me is, or I couldn’t sustain the portrayal, but just as often, I am a slothful, irreverent, wicked creature or else a quiet, shy, fretful little mouse. 

November is a rough month.  Anniversaries of deaths, the impending onslaught of holidays (most of which are spent alone with the kids since family has always been too far to visit), financial stress, shorter, darker days… you name it… November is full of gloom that other months manage to bypass or cover up with pretty events.  Yet, I find myself most drawn to writing in November.  Something about the gloom, something about the beauty of a sad song draws me in.  It isn’t that I am the queen of darkness (though in November I do like to romance that idea a bit) it’s more or less that writing about the things that make my heart ache in a strangely pleasant way is easy and something which inspires me.

And that brings me to my question… What inspires you?  What emotion brings about the most creativity and the most energy flow?  Are you the type who needs to “GET MAD” to draw from your inner energies when the well seems dry?  Does lust drive you to do things you ordinarily wouldn’t?  What about loyalty?  Protectiveness?  The rush of danger induced adrenaline? Fear?  Pain?  Surely all of these inspire us in some way, but what is your trademark “mood” - not the one you feel most of the time, necessarily, but the one that most often corrupts the overall perception of you to others because it’s the one that flows most freely and easily.

I’m curious.  Speak to me.

When trying to determine how best to replace my phone, the subject of whether or not the boys should have phones came up. We already had an extra phone/ line that we’d send along with either boy as the need arose, but if both boys were going to be away from home - but not together - it was often difficult to determine to whom the phone went.  The issue isn’t really a cost issue so much as concern OCR whether or not Sebastian could appropriately handle himself with a cell phone. I knew Devon would rarely use his, but it does leave me a little sad to know my boys are growing up and I am growing old. It is what it is and how life tends to roll.

Eventually, it was determined that the phones would be as much a convenience for us as the boys so that meant adding another line would mean a hugely discounted new phone for me (read: an upgrade) if I wanted it. The frugal part of me resisted the idea, but in the end the tech toy lover won out.

You see, the #1 complaint I had with my old phone was the inability to write blog entries of any length while on the go. Oh, I could text a line or two and most definitely add a photo entry, but we all know how loquacious I get. I needed to write - and post - long entries no
matter (mostly!) where I happened to be. OK not needed - but wanted!

So here I am posting from my Iphone and happy as a clam. I still have nothing especially interesting to say but at least I CAN say it. Who knows, maybe I will start posting regularly again. I’d like that.

Three times (that I recall off hand - there were probably more) this week I spilled my guts and was too-honest-to-do-anyone-any-good.  We all know my automatic censoring system is broken, but this was worse than usual.  None of it was at all meant to be harmful or offensive, but who knows what will come about.

Ripples.

While I don’t think any of the recipients of my “spitting the truth out like gum that’s lost its flavor” episodes read my blog, anyone can access it, so I’d rather not go into specific details.  In one case, I was simply asked if my feelings had been hurt.  I probably should have dodged the question or given a diplomatic response.  Instead I said yes.  Who knows what’ll come of that.  I don’t think she was asking out of innocent concern, I think she had other motivations for asking, but I tried taking it at face value and answering as honestly as I could while still owning my own emotions.  I’ve been told by a friend to just accept it was asked out of concern and that the fact that she didn’t respond was merely because the answer was so honest and she didn’t really know what to make of it.  Whatever.

The other two incidents are related, though they involve two different people.  Again - me with my honesty about how I feel.

It’s the same story as always.,,

Boundaries.  Or my lack of comprehending them.

I never quite know how much of what to say.  I don’t know how much to reveal and how much to keep to myself.  It feels so much more comfortable for me to just plop it all out for the whole world and to let everyone else sort through it.  That’s unfair, I realize, but I don’t really know how else to be.

I never know if people really want to know how I am if they say, “How are you?” and they never quite know why I get frustrated when I ask after their well being and they say, “Fine,” when clearly they aren’t.  I’ve been lectured (ad nauseam) about the confines of courtesy and how one is supposed to ask “How are you?” and one is supposed to answer, “Fine, thanks,” not because either party cares or because either party wants to know - or reveal - truth, but because it is the courteous opening for a conversation.

But why?

Why can’t we mean it when we ask after other people?  And why can’t we say, “Walking on sunshine!” “Horny as all get out,” “Wretched,” or “Blissful,” when we respond?  Why do we have to tone things down or turn things up to make it sound so… I don’t know.  Level.  Drab.

Courteous.

I just can’t do that.  When I ask, “HOW ARE YOU?” it is because I want to know.  Deeply.  Truly.  And after that, you can share as many (or as few) of the details as you’d like.  Fair enough?

Meanwhile, if I’ve made anyone uncomfortable with my blunt honesty, I am sorry.  Sometimes, what’s in my head just needs to come out.  It’s like a bird fluttering madly about and my chest gets tight and my head feels dizzy and I just have to SAY, “You’re insensitive and arrogant,” or “You stepped on my toes,” or “You’re my hero.”  Sometimes, I just feel like other people need to know what’s in my head, and it isn’t meant to cause discomfort, it’s just a way to let you in.  If you didn’t want in, you probably shouldn’t have knocked on my door.

Though I will be sad if there are no more knocks on my door.

Some of why this day came about doesn’t apply to MY blog.  I don’t need feedback on what types of kinky stories to write (I’m not writing any) but I still like to know ya’ll are out there (if you are).  When I posted about contemplating whether or not to shut down CSTH I received some good feedback privately and on Facebook, so I thought I’d pull out any further lurkers using this.

After all, if I know who’s reading, I know what I should be writing about, yeah?

So here’s the gist (swiped from My Bottom Smarts):

While we may not see your face or read your words, we know you’re out there. Even in silence, your return visits provide a gentle affirmation.

I would like to invite you to leave a comment below. It can be as long or short as you choose. You can use a fake name or no name at all. What’s important is that you poke your head up just far enough that we might see you.

I enjoy having my own space.  It’s like “owning property” - I imagine, though I never have owned property.  You sort of want to keep it “just in case” you use it; just in case you visit there; just in case a friend stops by.  The reality is that even when I write here, people don’t read it here or comment here, they comment over on Facebook.  I can filter just as easily (maybe even more easily in some ways) over on Facebook, and people will actually read there because there’s a good chance they’ll see the update in their feed.  (Unless, like me, they have 200+ app friends and thus can’t even wade through the immense feed traffic without wasting hours on end.)

The problem is that the domain name is coming due soon.  (November, I think?)  At $10 (ish?) that’s not a big deal, but there’s also hosting costs, etc.  Right now I’m hosting several domains, but I could just shut it all down and call it good.  I had to pull my photo gallery due to stalker Scary.  I rarely write here anymore, both for lack of time and lack of comfort.  I’m rarely “see through” anymore, and it feels like never “colorful” so the very point of the site is gone.

I just don’t know.  It’ll be a hard choice to shut things down, but maybe it’s time. 

CSTH was born when etherealreflections.com was - Andrea and I jointly decided to start our own blogs and our own (new) domains, and Reflecting has long ago been abandoned.  Andrea still keeps it - probably for some of the same reasons I keep CSTH - but it hasn’t been updated since 2006.  The blogging world has changed - ever so much.  Most of the blogs I once loved are gone.  Some of the bloggers who still continue no longer write freely (or sometimes write TOO freely, thus being hurtful or lacking pith) so there isn’t the same appeal that the blogging world once held.

I still love reading Savannah Lee.  I still enjoy Mistress Matisse (usually) and there are a few other personal bloggers I love reading, but ... meh.  Times have changed.  Maybe it’s time to sell the lake cabin and move on.

Let me just say…I’m. So. Tired. 

There was an incident with missing bamboo sporks.  It’d take me forever (even more forever than usual, even) to explain why the sporks are important, but they are and I was quite distraught when they went missing.  Devon teased me that since they’re biodegradable maybe they’d gone “back to the earth”.  NOT FUNNY.  Thankfully, the sporks have been returned - whole and ready to use.

I made cute little Fox charms to hang from our button pockets (Scouters will recognize what I’m talking about… the temporary patch side, yo) and they turned out so well.  They’re gifties for my fellow Foxes.  The blanket we’re donating to Project Linus (well, one of them…) is all snipped and ready to be knotted.  The copies of the handouts we are going to give out when we do our presentation are printed and (I hope?) set to go.  TDO has them, so I won’t feel comfortable that they’re truly ready until I see them.  Laundry’s done, the house is clean (as clean as it gets anyway) and so now I just have to worry about the “me” details.  Well, and grocery shopping but I’d have done that already if I weren’t waiting for TDO to wake up.

The “me” details are always the hardest for me.  Packing my stuff.  Getting myself. ready.  Making sure I have everything I need.  It’s much easier to think of the kids or TDO or Tilly or the house or the sitter.  At this point after sweating over a hot vacuum cleaner all morning, I’d be happy with a long bath and a nap, myself.  Alas, no rest for the wicked. (Or the procrastinators.)

Part of me is looking forward to this weekend.  I will be glad to be DONE with all of this.  That sounds so ungrateful and I don’t mean for it to be, it’s just that I’m tired and drained.  I want a break.  When I mentioned to Libby that I should just take a week off she asked, “So why can’t you?”  Oh.  Right.  I guess I can if I want to.  Not an entire week, but there is definitely some scheduled down time in store for me.  I need it.  I’m still sick, darn it.  Stupid colds.

So off I go to find my earbuds (I suspect my oldest son swiped them, the little booger) and to throw dinner in the oven and maybe, just maybe start working on some of the “me” things before my not-quite-seven-hours slips away.  Maybe when things calm down I’ll actually get a chance to discuss my ticket.  (I’m actually pretty excited about a couple of the items.) 

Or maybe I’ll just sleep for 100 years.

I’m inclined to be extremely melodramatic and say something akin to, “This has been the busiest month of my LIFE!”

Something tells me that’s not true, though it very well could have been.

Regardless, this has been a busy month and one that didn’t lend itself to quiet contemplation and reflective thought (which I require in order to write). 

So, yeah. No.  No writing.  I’m only writing this at 3:30am because I ended up staying up too late stressing out over bills I forgot to pay (done now!) and then texting with TDO and then Facebook called to me and, um, yeah.  No writing except this scrambled post full of excuses for why I haven’t been writing and why I haven’t been sleeping and why I can’t get a damn thing done.

In my defense, Wood Badge is taking up a lot more of my time and energy than I expected.  Seriously.  When I got my heart set on going, I honestly thought that Wood Badge would be a two weekend deal where I’d get to sit in on some seminars, talk to other leaders, learn some new lingo, do a little camping, and come home refreshed and fired up to be the best leader I can be.  Now, I’m not saying none of that happened, I’m saying it’s all that and about a thousand things more.

Really, without giving too much away (go for yourself… seriously… you need to experience it to really “get” it) Wood Badge is more like shoving a redwood into a soda bottle terrarium.  There’s so much knowledge to absorb.  There are so many lessons and so many details.  And yeah, I know, you’re not supposed to get every tiny detail and run with every single concept, but the way I look at it, if I’m there using up my time, I want to get as much out of it as possible.  Sponge Mode (tm) doesn’t much work if I don’t get to a) take time out to quietly contemplate and meditate on what I’ve absorbed or b) put to practice what I’ve learned immediately to see if I’m actually getting it.  Ah, yeah.  Quiet contemplation?  No.  Immediate application?  Yes and no.  Because, keep in mind, there’s not much wiggle room in this soda bottle for experimentation what with this huge redwood crammed in here.

So between the forming and storming and norming and performing and between the explaining and demonstrating and guiding and enabling… um.  Mostly, there was (for me) just a chance to feel very overwhelmed and lost in the shuffle.  Instead of feeling empowered, I felt like I had even less of a clue than when I went in.  I guess it is true, the more you learn, the more you realize how little you actually know.  There have been some very amazing “Ah-Ha!” moments, and more than a few opportunities for me to really push my own personal boundaries and try new things including, but not limited to writing a time sensitive agenda, using a sewing machine, watching and then participating in a PLC meeting, taking on a project management position, and last but not least, finding ways to merge working styles within a very diverse group.

Sounds so lovely, doesn’t it?  Dreamy.

Mmnyeah, it has been in some regards, but no one told me about The Project.  No one told me of how many hours (on top of all of my regular responsibilities) I’d be investing in the interim between Wood Badge weekends.  No one mentioned the 15 hour days.  These things were sort of overlooked in the brochure, I guess.  And like the idiot I am, I also decided to take on even more scouting tasks (minor, but still) because I just can not curb the “I’ll do it!” habit.  I LIKE getting involved.  I love being a part of things.  But wow.  Sometimes I really wish my lips came with a zipper so I’d have to think before those words popped out of my mouth.  (Heh, the “I’ll Do It” comes from Sabrina, Day Camp Director and Scouter Extraordinaire, incidentally.  That was the title of my Day Camp award for helping out this past June.)

So yeah. That’s what happened to the 30 Day Challenge. I really had meant to write every day for 30 days.  I really had meant to (at least) post my entry I wrote while camping in July. (If you want to read it and are a registered BSA volunteer, it’s on my blog over there. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait for another day when I can C&P it over to here.)

Maybe next month? 

Lately, there’s been no rest for the wicked around here.  Even if I go without sleep, I still don’t get to see TDO because of his 12 hour shifts and crazy amounts of overtime.  It’s been frustrating on the best of days and absolutely soul exhausting on most days.  Sunday and last night, he finally had some days off where we could get a little time in together.  The problem is, I’ve been working so hard at switching to a day schedule so I could keep up with the kids and he’s still on a night schedule.  That doesn’t leave much time together even with him in the same house at the same time.

Sunday night, we just goofed around doing our own separate things.  It’s hard to explain, but when you’re so used to being away from each other that no matter how much you’ve missed one another it’s really hard to actually spend time together.  At some point it just stops being natural and when you force it, well, things just get fussy and frustrating.  Monday was a VERY busy day full of a lot of projects and getting stuff done, but the day just felt out of focus and even though we each got a lot accomplished, it was still separately other than a long nap we had in the afternoon together. 

Now, I should explain that by nap, what I really mean is, he’d just about fall asleep and I’d be watching him and suddenly burst into tired giggles because of some sleep face he made or some snoring noise he’d burp out.  Then I’d almost fall asleep and he’d reach over and grope me inappropriately and wake me up.  Then I’d get revenge by waiting until he was just about to fall asleep and then I’d tickle him.  We’d volley back and forth like this until eventually, yes, we did briefly get to sleep.  It didn’t do much for restfulness, but it was fun being silly with him.

Last night was no better.  He convinced me to watch some silly TV show he’d picked up from Itunes (I want to say Big Bang Theory or something similar?) and it was amusing so I was a sucker and stayed up waaay past when I should have.  Eventually when we wandered off, we started the volley again, only this time I had grumbled something about how annoying it was that he always was trying to grab my boobs.  “How would you like it if I did it to you?” I complained.  “Oh, I’d like it just fine,” he retorted.

So I reached out lightning fast (well, no, but I like to imagine it went down that way) and pinched one of his pecks (pecs? pectoral muscles.  man boobs… you get the idea.)  “OW!” he whined.  “That wasn’t fair, I wasn’t ready!”  So he’d try to snuggle up to me all loving like, only to flick my nose just as I was about to doze off, but then I’d man-boob grab his chest right when he let his own guard down, but then he’d lick my eye right when my eyes drooped closed… and on we went.  Finally, he was resigned to “sleeping” with one eye open to watch my every move so I couldn’t “moob” grab him and I was stuck propped up on an elbow so I wouldn’t doze off.  Finally, TDO rolled over and mumbled, “I love you.  I really do.  But THIS is why we don’t ever get any sleep!”

I curled up behind him and held him close a long while before I murmured, “You’re the only person I don’t want to sleep with.”  There was a long pause before I sleepily managed to explain, “Er.  What I meant to say was… I like not sleeping with you.”  Then we both fell fast asleep before I could try to explain further.

I think he understood what I meant. 

Sleeping together would have been (and eventually was) blissful, but being awake together is such a precious thing that I have to steal as many moments as I can.  It was worth missing out on the sleep to be awake together.

——

Look! I’m using my website! I’m blogging!

I know.  Terribly exciting. (Not.)

As our sleep schedule has been completely a mess lately, we had a family meeting and decided to get back on track.  By WE, of course, I mean the kids and I.  I don’t recall the last time the kids got to see their dad.  Such is life. 

Anyway, after much discussion, we came to some conclusions.  One, we all absolutely love that there are no hard pressing schedules at the moment and we all want to bask in that freedom for a bit longer.  Sebastian also pointed out that there really isn’t any reason to sleep at night and get up during the day without the hard pressing schedules we usually have to maintain.  The key, then, was finding a happy medium.  Rather than having a rigid schedule of things we have to get done and places we have to go, we simply needed to shift some of our important tasks that do need to be done into the morning so there’s a reason to get up and about.  We’ll see how it goes but I’m relatively happy with how things have been today.

We all got up around 8 and we cleaned the kitchen and dining area together.  Team work at its finest.  Whether because the kids were too tired or were actually on board with our plan, no one argued or fought and we were done in just a matter of minutes.  From there we made monkey bread (one of our favorite treats) and again, teamwork was the theme.  Devon cut up the biscuits while I melted butter and mixed in the brown sugar.  Sebastian rolled the pieces in the cinnamon and sugar and Jenica took the pieces and lined our baking pan.  We ate breakfast together, did a tad more cleaning up, then took Tilly for a walk.  Now it’s 11 and everyone’s uber sugar high has worn off.  Sebastian asked if he could take an hour nap (understandably, I suspect he was up reading even later than I was) and so I agreed so long as he kept it to an hour.

Ha… remember the days when getting kiddos to take naps was a huge pain?  Definitely add this to the “You know you’re a teenager when…” list.

There are other tentative plans in the works for today, but I’m leaving everything open so we can maintain that “free for all” summer feeling to some extent.  I do think we’re going to hit Subway later, though.  I need me a sammich!

(And yes… I realize this update is boring as heck, but I’m trying to get back into the habit ... I AM determined to do the 30 day challenge in September!)

Oops.

The problem is that the FMS has been kickin my butt and I’ve been wallowing in a very unhealthy self pity.  Not unusual for me, right? Ha.  Still, it’s hard when I’m in that place to write anything useful for me much less for general consumption.  Sometimes, I admit, I like chewing over whatever issue it is - and over and over - until it has lost its flavor and no longer seems interesting.  Sometimes, that’s the only way I can cope with things.  FMS isn’t one of those things I like chewing over.  Honestly, I hate it.  And I hate that something that doesn’t show any actual signs of existing can control my life so very thoroughly. 

Sometimes, I wish FMS were a degenerative fatal disease.  Yes, you read that right.  Sometimes I wish it would get worse, and sometimes I wish I could die from it.  Selfishly, because then maybe people would take it seriously and medical teams would get to work curing it, but even more selfishly because I get. so. tired.  I just want to know there is an END.  Even if that end is final.

And so, yah, now you know why I haven’t been writing.  Crap like that isn’t fun to write and it sure as hell isn’t fun to read.  I hate myself for not being more positive right now.  I hate myself for not being brighter and cheerier.  I want to believe that part of me still exists.  I want to believe I’m stronger than this, that I can beat it, that I can face another day with a smile because - why not?  Every day is precious and we should enjoy them all as much as possible.

I want that.

I don’t do that.  Right now it’s too hard.  And I hate that I have given in.

So I will write more.  I promise.  I have had lots and lots of great stuff floating in my head.  But right now, the fog of Fibromyalgia is both clouding my brain and making it hard to pick the words out, and the frustration and disappointment of being in constant pain and constantly exhausted has me in a really negative head space which would likely taint my writing, anyway.

Maybe in September I’ll do a 30 day challenge.