Poemfish

MJ

  Photo by: unknown

If you asked me a week ago if I was a
Michael Jackson fan, I probably would have
said, "No," without giving it much thought.
But since his death and the resurgence of
all the music that made him such an icon,
it's like I've been transported back to
a part of my childhood, the part filled
with music and dreams and dancing.

I grew up loving Michael Jackson's music,
playing the Thriller album over & over again.
My brother & I used to make up dances to his
songs and perform our routines for my parents
in our living room on Stanley Street. 

We even had a glove my brother covered with glue
and several jars of silver glitter.
We wanted the glove to be a surprise when we performed,
so we'd practice our routines in the basement &
then hide it in one of the ceiling tiles so no one would know. 
Of course when we finally broke it out
for our big performance, there was glitter
everywhere and we were banned from bringing it
out again.  But We kept it hidden in that ceiling tile
and took it out when no one was around because it
was just so cool.  We felt like we were superstars ~
like Michael Jackson.

I remember when my brother taught me how to do the
moonwalk while we wore our footed pajamas and
how cool it was watching the "We Are the World" video,
knowing the importance of what the song was about. 
And "Man in the Mirror" came out at a time in my life
when I was realizing the importance of trying to
have a positive impact on the world around me. 

As I got older, I began listening to other
types of music, and Michael Jackson seemed over shadowed
by all the stories in the media ~ accusations and
plastic surgery, strange behavior and appearances.

But today's Memorial Service was a touching reminder
of the creative genius he was.  We will probably never
know the truth from the fiction, but I, like many others,
will always remember the impact his music had on my life,
the excitement of singing along to Billy Jean, and
practicing those slick dance moves in the mirror
as we watched the Thriller video hundreds of times.
Great memories and stories that will stay with me
for the rest of my life.

Rest in peace.

Lessons Learned

 

Last summer we bought a new bed and, in preparation
for its arrival, began the process of stripping away
layers of wallpaper so we could prep the walls and
then paint them.  We finished about half the room -
basically just the walls directly around where the bed
would go, and then of course, never finished.  Well,
this week we've decided to finish the process once & for all. 

 

The only housework I might like less than removing wallpaper
is probably raking leaves.  Something we learned after
burning through about 6 bottles of DIF wallpaper stripper
(at about $6 a bottle), then moving on to detergent mixed with water,
(read about that online) & even using a steamer, is that plain water
in a spray bottle works the best and it's the cheapest! 
The key is to get the paper really wet and let the water soak in
for a minute or so.  By the last wall, we had actually
perfected the technique so the paper came off in strips with
a scraper once we got it wet enough.  I can't even tell you
how horrible it was before we realized just how wet we needed to get
that paper to get it off.  Lesson WAY learned.

 

So this morning, we finished removing all the layers of old wallpaper, and
I am feeling pretty great about our accomplishment.  Next comes sanding and
puttying the walls and hopefully we can paint next week!  I might take the
weekend off.  Yay!

Seeing Red

 

A Bit of Hope

 

"I'm a new soul, I came to this strange world
hoping I could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take.
But since I came here, felt the joy and the fear,
finding myself making every possible mistake . . ."
- From song "New Soul" by Yael Naim

We all make mistakes.  There are moments, days,
months when we find ourselves lost and filled
with regret and dread.  But those moments alone
don't define us.  They are simply part of our
journey on this messy, confusing, undefined road.

We are defined by who we are when we finally emerge
from that dark place and what we do with the lessons
we have learned. 

We can't be afraid to change direction when things
aren't working, when our heart has grown heavy
from something we thought we once loved.  There
is love all around us, in quiet, unexpected places,
waiting to tap our heart on the shoulder and show
us all the beauty we still have yet to see.

Gratitude

  

Some days it's enough
to just follow your heart
to the beauty of the
quiet places it leads you ~
walking through a garden
as tiny raindrops whisper
against your skin, sitting
next to a pool of water
that smells like summer,
eating a bagel at the dining
room table and sitting across
from the person you love most
in this world.  Today was about
absorbing those moments as they
happened and being so grateful
for all the simple things that
bring me such contentment and
joy.  Wishing you the same . . .

Run. Pee.

I discovered a cool website today that
recommends good times to get up for
a restroom break during a movie. 
I tried it out tonight when we went
to see Transformers 2 and it worked
pretty well.  It's a simple concept,
but for someone like me, who has a
pretty small bladder and usually struggles
at the theatre between needing to get up
and not wanting to miss anything, it's
a pretty handy site.

I'll never forget sitting in the
theater during The Last Samurai and
feeling like my bladder might literally explode.
But I was adamant about not missing a thing,
convinced the movie would end at any moment,
but it seemed to go on and on. 

Of course, in retrospect, I should have
just gotten up, but I chose to sit in that
little seat and suffer.  Well, not any more.
Check it out:  www.runpee.com
See for yourself.

Hold tight

 

Driving home from dinner tonight,
I watched a little girl, preoccupied with
the pattern on the pavement outside a store,
bump into someone and almost dart out into the
street.  Luckily the person she bumped into
made the little girl look up and run towards
her mother, who was several feet away engrossed
in a cell phone conversation.  I wanted to gather
up that little girl and keep her safe.  I wanted
to shake some sense into her mother. 

It made me think of when I was young, whenever
my dad took us out (me, my 3 older brothers & my
older sister) he would always say, "Grab a pocket,"
and we would instinctively know to grab one of his
jeans pockets if his hands were already taken.  I'm
sure it looked funny, this mob of an adult and 5 kids
all attached like one giant octopus.  But I loved it.
The safety, the fun, tucking my little fingers into his
back pocket, the smell of those Wrangler jeans
synonymous with my father. 

It's easy to forget about those tiny moments that
add up to so much.  Walking safely into Bamberger's
or the Pathmark with my dad, knowing if I was with him
I was safe and loved.  Teaching me lessons I never realized
would dictate how I care and love for my own children
someday.  And then one night, driving home from dinner,
you see someone lose sight of their child, and it reminds you
how important those moments were. And how grateful it feels
to be reminded of them now.

A new beginning . . . 30 blogs . . . 30 days

  

Like most things, the longer I stay away
from my blog, the harder it is for me to
think about writing one.  Not sure why
I've been in such a funk, but I've decided
to return to the good old "30 blogs in 30
days" challenge to get myself back in the
routine.  Be gentle.  Be patient.  I am on
my way back, unsure of what's ahead, but
as I've done in the past, I hope to find my
way through words . . .

Ride on

 

For someone who is usually a joyful, creative soul,
I can be extremely uptight.  There is a part of me
that is totally structured and scared to death
of being spontaneous or breaking "rules." 

My husband and I took our bikes to the local
bike shop for a tune up this week ~ we haven't ridden
them in years ~ and my husband decided he wanted to
ride one of the bikes home.  He was like a little kid ~
happy and excited to ride his bike again. 
But as soon as he suggested this I tensed up. 
I mean, this wasn't part of the plan.  And I
was immediately upset by the idea.

So, I would have to drive home alone?  What if I got lost?
I wasn't really paying attention when we drove there.
Wasn't it too far for him to ride home?  I was sure he
would fall or get hit by a car and end up hurt, maybe
lying on the side of the road with some horrible
injury.  When I tried to reason that we should just drive
home with the bike, the guys in the bike shop laughed. 
They sarcastically said, "Yeah, you don't want to be one
of those people that rides your bike everywhere."

I tried to explain to them that Jerred has a
tendency to overdo it.  He'd push too hard or want
to do some trick with the bike and end up hurt.
But they laughed off my concerns and just shook their heads.

Of course I made it home fine in the car and so did Jerred
on his bike.  And thinking about it later that night,
I was disappointed that I hadn't been more supportive,
that I didn't share in his excitement of wanting to get back
on that bike and feel the world spinning past him.

So this is my reminder to loosen up a bit and not get
so lost in what I think I should be doing that I forget
how to live a joyfully messy life.

Observations

  

I've been having trouble getting my footing lately ~
like I've lost my normally happy, juicy center
and can't find it anywhere or in anything
I do.  My face often feels hard and expressionless
and I haven't been sleeping well. 
I have been watching way too much TV
and avoiding any creative outlets ~ art,
photos, and writing.  I have a desperate urge to
remove myself from MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter.
I feel like I am holding things close to the bone
and those cyber places make me feel vulnerable,
detached, and guilty for not keeping up. 
I want to step back.
I want to simplify.

So I am trying to go deeper and figure things out.

This morning I realized, to the excitement of my
husband, I am not doing any art shows this year
except my holiday show in November.  We made this
decision last year after a less than satisfying show
that left us feeling worn out and depressed.  Our tent
was destroyed, several pieces of art ruined, and
another seasoned outdoor artist bruised our weak
egos, telling us we weren't cut out for outdoor shows
with our flimsy tent and set-up. 

Although art shows are hard work ~
physically and emotionally, and very unpredictable,
there's also nothing like the experience of selling
something I spent hours creating directly to someone
who loves the work and wants to add it to the sacred space
that is their home.  And even though it's just as hard to
accept compliments as it is to feel defeated as people walk
right by your work, I enjoy the interaction with people about
art, life, and all things creative.  Filling orders for
galleries is not the same.  It's nice to get the income,
but it's hard to just produce and produce and then become
detached from the work, never seeing it through to a buyer ~
an actual person with a story that falls in love with a certain
piece.

I don't know what the answer is right now.  But the best
I can do is to be here, seeking . . .