Ode to school picture day

Yesterday was school picture day for the kiddos. Back in my day (gawd I feel old saying that) you brushed your hair, wore a clean shirt and mom gave you a check to order prints. Then you went to school where you sat in front of a generic background while the photographer barely gives you enough time to smile and say cheese. Now, they have, not only different colored backgrounds to choose from, but four, not one or two or three, but FOUR poses to choose from. Relaxed, traditional, close-up and standing. It took her a while but the princess finally chose the relaxed pose. And by relaxed, they mean hand under chin. Yeah, cause I pose like that when I'm relaxed. Oh, with the violet background...because she thinks it'll make her eyes look pretty. The genius could care less. He didn't even want me to order prints. I told him I had to buy some so I'd have blackmail for when he's older. There really are some good benefits to having a child.

Since I'm going to be embarassing the kiddos when they're older, I might as well practice what I preach. So here's my high school yearbook photo. I'm pretty sure its my junior year. Too much weed makes those years kind of hazy. One thing's for sure, I may have gotten older, wiser and fatter, but I don't think I've "changed" much, so to speak. After all, redheads have more fun.

Oh, those were the days.

The vicious cycle

I can't sleep at night. I sleep all day. I'm sick. I can't sleep at night. I sleep all day. Boy is it going to suck when I start school again and actually HAVE to be awake during the day. Ok, I guess I'm exaggerating a little when I say I sleep all day. Its hard to sleep all day when you've already been up for 2 hours making breakfast, getting kids ready and driving them to school. I guess I should say I vapidly lay in bed and blindly stare at the t.v. all day. I try real hard to sleep at night. That usually just turns into me tossing and turning. Peeing. Drinking water. Tossing and turning. Peeing. Are you seeing a pattern here, because I am.

Though sometimes while I'm trying real hard to sleep, I get things done. Kind of like a crack head. While normal people are sleeping, I'm...not. A couple of nights ago, I completely cleaned my room, closet included. I ACTUALLY got rid of half the clothes in my closet. That shit never happens. Usually I'll get rid of a pair of pants and maybe a couple of shirts. Not this time. I succeded in getting what I'd put my mind to done...without procrastination. Even better, I took the four huge, overflowing bags of clothes and one bag full of shoes and purses to the donation drop off bin. Trust me, if I had waited, those bags would have stayed in my room for days, weeks, maybe even months, thus negating the cleaning. I feel good about it. There were clothes in there I hadn't worn for years. Pants I'd kept because, well, "I might magically lose 3 pants sizes". Shirts I didn't even like, but kept just in case I decided to start wearing color.

I guess there is one good thing to not sleeping. I can already tell I'm not going to be falling asleep anytime soon. It's been a while, so I think maybe I'll paint. I bought a bunch of art supplies about a month ago and they are STILL unopened. Painting, cleaning and no sex...that's mi vida loca.

::sigh:: I think I need something new and exciting in my life right now. What? I don't know. I'm sure that when I find it, I'll know. Because my life as of late (read: sick in bed) has been boring, to say the least.

Its like magic

This is my favorite Post Secret for the week. I've always wanted to send in a secret, but I figure that usually there's one a week that is something eerily close to one of my own "secrets", so being the lazy ass that I am, I just wait every week instead of taking the time to make my own. I guess a lot of people have the same secrets.

What's a mother to do

She's 6 going on 20...I better lock her up.

Muse to my ears

I think I'm suffering through another case of 'writers block'. It's frustrating. I couldn't even think of a witty subject line. Merely a cheesy one. I've decided its time to clean house though. That might help. My room has been the recent area to a war devastation, so to speak. The war of my clothes, hair products and shoes. I have a really bad habit of, while deciding what to wear for that day or night, throwing unappealing outfits onto the floor, instead of back in the closet. Oy, and the closet, well that's a small nation on its own. I have clothes that I haven't even worn in years. I tend to hold onto things in the hopes of using it again. It never actually happens though. As for the hair products, since the termination I've been doing hair out of my house, but I have absolutely no where to keep my growing collection of hair colors and combs and shears, oh my.

Take some deep breaths. Meditate. Clean room, clean mind, clean soul.

You are SO not African

Is pretty much the reaction I got from the ex when he saw my newly, inch cut ears. The ex tends to get a little preachy with certain all things, so he went into some form of a tirade where he went onto explain to me (sometimes I swear he thinks I'm a 4 year old retarded kid) how some tribes in Africa stretch their lips and use big, wooden plates...and how some Aztec and Mayan tribes do the same, but that's ok, because Aztec and Mayan is part of my ancestry and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. I usually tend to zone out and think about other things when he talks. For instance, I was thinking about what color I wanted to paint my finger nails and how I did such a good job on my toes. Its not that I don't think he has anything valid to say, its just that he manages to bore the socks off of me. One reason we are now divorced.

I love my ears. I think it adds to my eccentricity, as weird as that sounds. Most people, my family and friends included, just think I'm crazy. Maybe. But what's my life worth if I don't do what I want. I can't just pick up and move out of town becaue I'm basically shackled to my so called life here in Hellzona, but I CAN modify my body any way I choose. My kids don't mind it. Although the princess did express her distaste at the thought of me getting MORE tattoos, she doesn't mind my stretched ears. And that's fine. My kids don't have to adorn their bodies like I do when they grow up, that's their perogative. Often lately, I've been asked why I do "this" to my body. And when I explain my reasoning I'm asked what I would do when my kids want to get tattoos and piercings when they grow up. Pshaw. They ask in a tone of voice which suggests I would encourage such a thing. As if I'm going to take them to one of my artist friends and have him permanently ink my child. As if.

People are so retarded when it comes to things that aren't "socially acceptable". This topic was also brought up in Rock star mommy's blahg when asked why she would choose to give her son a mohawk and *gasp* temporarily color it blue when he is so young he can't choose for himself. Why? Why, I ask, must people be so naive? If it's not something they would do themselves, well then, its just wrong. Stupid is NOT as stupid does.

While Rock star mommy is dealing with creepy readers on a less extreme topic, I'm dealing with my mom on a "she can't look at me when we speak to each other" situation. I'd been hiding my ears from her by covering them with my hair. Not because I think its wrong, but because I knew she'd freak and I didn't want to hear it. When mi herana came by the other morning, she, of course, noticed within seconds of seeing me that something was different. "Your ears look bigger. Did you stretch them again?!" I showed her my ears and she expressed her shock and amazement. Mi madre mosied on by and overheard Nila saying that I was crazy. She immediately looked at me, then looked back at my sister, "What'd she do now?! Did she do something? What'd she do to herself now?!" I sighed, tucked my hair behind my ears and showed her. Needless to say, she was not happy about it. My mother is the queen of off-handed comments. Yesterday morning as I left to take the kiddos to school, she told me I was destroying my body. "Well mom, I believe that the beer I drink, cigs I smoke and pills I take are what's essentially destroying my body and NOT the stretching of my ears." If only I was quick witted enough at 7:30 in the morning to have actually said that. If only. Another dramatic comment made was for me to cover my ears while I was talking to her. That's new. She took my face tattoo in stride and thought it looked cute. But holes in my ears bigger...well now, that's just crazy. I think SHE needs to take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'

I'm not one to call myself a feminist in any way, shape or form, but sometimes there are some issues which I feel need attention. In some past and recent events, there has been argument over whether breast feeding is "obscene" or not. OBSCENE. In the recent past MySpace itself has deleted a users pictures of her breastfeeding claiming obscenity. Most recently, this has been an issue with Facebook.

I normally am not one to want to sit and watch a mom sit with a baby stuck to her tit. But I wouldn't call it obscene. It's a natural part of life. No, I'm not saying everyone has to enjoy it, in fact, a lot of women choose NOT to breast feed their babies, in large part, due to ickiness. My best friend, for example, chose not to nurse for that reason exactly. I, on the other hand, took the other road for the reason that I believed that would be the best nutrition for the princess in her first nine months of life. That's not to say I did it in public because I also alternated with a bottle, but I am not opposed to other women making that choice.

I just think its ridiculous that on an almost tri-weekly basis I get accosted by men whose Myspace profiles hold the "requisite" penis picture asking me to do naughty things to them, yet a woman can't have a picture on her personal "space" of her doing something natural. Literally. Icky or not, women HAD to breast feed their offspring in the beginning. They didn't have the luxuries we women now have today...breast pumps, formula, bottles, wet nurses...how do we think we were actually nourished 100 years ago.

The ironic thing about all this is that Facebook is host to approximately 350 pro-ana groups. For those of you that don't know, pro-ana is a community in support of anorexia nervosa. How can we conciously house the idea that females and males (yes, there are male anorexics), young and old alike should purposely destroy their bodies in the name of "skeletalism" while we are calling the nourishment of a baby "obscene"?

In this young mothers' humble opinion, society needs to take some time and let the ridiculousness of some issues marinate in its collective minds. Step one to a societal utopia (so to speak): grow up.

**Edit** One thing I forgot to mention about the whole "obscene breast feeding" debacle...We use women in obectifying ways to sell products for the sake of consumerism. Tits are for selling, not for feeding babies. Go figure.

I can't even think of a witty subject line

I'm going to keep this short and sweet. Saturday I went into the shop for some jewelry for Ambular. I came out with very sore ears. Why sore, you ask?

Well, for a while, I'd been thinking of stretching my ears from 7/16 to a full inch. There's a way to do it quick, but painful. Being that I'm all about instant gratification, I chose to go the painful route.

As much as I love my newly stretched ears, it hurts like a motherf***er. I am currently laying in bed, not able to sleep due to excruciating pain, with a frozen Go-gurt behind each ear. I know that in a few days (read:weeks, but I'm sometimes an optimist) this will all be well worth it. As for right now, I'm hating life. I would like nothing more that to be able to sleep rith now. Here is the result of my pain though:

Take A LOT of drinks. A ton of pills. Repeat.

Boredom town; Population: Me

This has been the longest week in the longest of weeks in history. I actually thought it has been two weeks since the termination, but in fact, it has been exactly 1 week and 2 days. That's right, not even a whole week and a half. This realization just hit me about an hour ago.

I mean, I knew that my days seemed longer and more drawn out, but this is ricockulous. I feel as though I'm stuck in the twilight zone or the outer limits and I'm just going to be stuck in this week with the never ending days for eternity. Not to mention the boredom. I am bored beyond belief. I have DirecTv with, like, 400 channels, and...nothing. A new computer and...nothing. I can't even think of what to write in this blahg today. My mind has gone vapid.

Shot by Mal Vicious at 2007-09-15

See? Vapid. Take A LOT of drinks. A ton of pills. Repeat.

Clarity is underrated

*DAD WARNING* Sex talk contained in todays blog. You have been warned.

Lately I've been really preoccupied. Not even able to write more than two sentences in one week. I just figured out what it is that has been plagueing my mind as of late. I have turned into a man.

Not physically, of course, but mentally. It's been two months since I last had sex. My days have been filled with sexually frustrated thoughts. The first two weeks, I was bitchy. Frustrated. Irritable. But after that, I thought, "Well fuck it! I can handle not having sex for a while. After all, it's not the most important thing. And people deal with no sex all the time." That school of thought lasted for about a week and a half. Why. Why. Why. I am literally accosted by these thoughts on an almost minute by minute basis. I don't know how men do it. It has often been said that men think about sex every 7 seconds, though this has been sited as an urban legend. Urban legend or not, I most definitely HAVE been thinking about sex every 7 seconds. At least it seems that way.

My retainers have been unavailable lately and, for once, I'm not desperate (read: morally inept) enough to just go pick up some random stranger to use meerly for sex.

Well, maybe the longer this proverbial dry spell goes on, the less I'll even think about how my hymen has essentially grown back and, with two kids, am a unintentional born-again virgin. Take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

The times...they are a-changing

One of the things that has come up often in conversation and has been marinating in my mind lately is how fast kids are growing up these days. When my class first started color, nay had a 12 year old client. She talked about oral sex like it was eating candy and I'm pretty sure she thought she was real cool talking about it with me. When I told her I did NOT think that was cool and that I hadn't done any of that until I had a boyfriend at the age of 17, she was shocked. She revealed (read: bragged) about how she had recently gotten kicked out of school for giving a classmate a blowjob on a school bus. I absolutely could not believe what I was hearing! I know, I know, this kind of shock coming from someone who got knocked up at the tender age of 17 while still in high school. The difference, however, is that I didn't lose my virginity UNTIL I was 17 with my first real boyfriend after we'd been dating about eight months.

When I was 12, my mom dropped the p-bomb. If by p-bomb, I mean she told me she was taking me to see a psychiatrist. She told me she was concerned that I was not a normal child. I spent the majority of my days reading, writing and watching scary movies. I hung out with my friends a lot, but I didn't really like them that much. I hadn't lived here in Arizona that long, and while I was still interested in doing "kid" things like swimming and riding bikes, most of the other girls were interested in having sex with their 18 year old boyfriends and drinking. While I did dabble with pot from time to time, sex and alcohol just didn't interest me. Not like it does now. With a C-cup bra size at 12 I got offers to date, but I didn't want to deal with the pressures of sex. So I stayed home and read. I much rather enjoyed delving into a good book, vicariously living through someone elses adventures in life. And often times writing my own stories. So I went to see the psychiatrist. I was a precocious pre-teen and in just two sessions told him that he and my mom were crazy if they thought I needed to be more like a "normal" kid. I told them both that I could really go out and get a boyfriend, start having sex and drink alcohol f they really wanted me to be "normal". What IS normal anyway?

What worries me the most though is that the genius is 10. He'll be 12 in two very short years. While I have an inkling that the princess is going to be more to worry about, the genius is closer to the woes and qualms of adolecsence. What's a mother to do.

On one hand, I want to keep them both kids for as long as I can. Though more knowledgeable than most kids where certain things are concerned, they are sheltered and I am strict. On the other hand, I know they have to grow up and learn the ways of the world on their own. It's just a lot harder than I ever imagined. I guess its true what they say, "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life. The facts of life."

At a loss

For words, that is. I don't know why, but I'm sitting here in front of my laptop and can't really think of anything to talk about. A lot had happened lately, but I just can't seem to find the words to descibe anything. Nothing witty, sardonic or clever to say. Writers block isn't a disease, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Materialism at its best

Student loan money came in. Yay for school. Yay for all the new toys I just bought, including my new Mac. Blog world beware, I have the internet at my disposal.