random bits of meaninglessness
So Michael Jackson's kids aren't biologically his? Big surprise. I hope people don't make too much out of that story though, because they are still his kids. They were still raised by him, he was still their father, and they will forever remember him as their dad, and it is a disservice to them to say otherwise.
As far as my Summer of Me goes, I am meeting some of my goals but not others. I got a DVR, started running, and started a diet. So that's 3. Although I have not been faithful to said diet, and I only started running today. But still it's a start.
I started reading Pygmy by Chuck Paluhniuk, and it is surprisingly graphic with the ultra violence. I'm only on chapter 3, so I have no idea where it's going, but damn.
The boy and his dad were playing a board game tonight and it was so wonderfully beautiful to watch. I actually sat down with them for a moment and almost opened my big mouth before telling myself (inside my own head) "Don't do it, get up, leave them alone, let them have their moment, their boy time." So I got up and found lots of random lame things to do like laundry and the dishes.
Sometimes I think of the movie Pleasantville, Joan Allan the mother doing all the household stuff, making all the meals, catering to the family, all with a big smile on her face. Sometimes I feel like I am becoming her, but not in a good way, and sometimes I feel like I am rebelling against being her even though I am nothing like her, if that makes any sense to anyone but me. It's like I have this false image of who I am as a person and I have been letting it affect how I behave. I need to let go of that.
Oh and back to the board game, is it unusual for a just turned 3 year old to be able to sit and play a board game for 30 minutes?
He can also do the game Memory. You know where you have all the little cards turned over and can only pick two at a time and try to match them. Yeah he beat me. I'm not even kidding about that. I could justify it by saying that I wasn't trying to win, wasn't memorizing the cards or anything, I was just trying to teach him how to play. But I also wasn't throwing the game. So yeah, my 3 year old beat me at Memory.
Today I found a slip of paper mixed in with the bills on which I had written, "Putting on make up for the purpose of making myself not cry, is not a great idea."
Very fortune cookie-esque, no?
Along with it was another slip of paper on which I had written this exchange:
Indy: "I want to be the wind"
Me: "Oh yeah?"
I: "Have you ever dreamed of being wind, mommy?"
M: "I don't think so"
I: "Can I have a dream about being the wind?"
M: "You can have a dream about anything you want baby"
Sometimes when I think about those moments, when i feel them in my heart, nothing else matters. There is no war, no economy, no death, no news. There is just us, just this, and those moments are everything. They are just everything. And i can't think of any other words to describe it.
As far as my Summer of Me goes, I am meeting some of my goals but not others. I got a DVR, started running, and started a diet. So that's 3. Although I have not been faithful to said diet, and I only started running today. But still it's a start.
I started reading Pygmy by Chuck Paluhniuk, and it is surprisingly graphic with the ultra violence. I'm only on chapter 3, so I have no idea where it's going, but damn.
The boy and his dad were playing a board game tonight and it was so wonderfully beautiful to watch. I actually sat down with them for a moment and almost opened my big mouth before telling myself (inside my own head) "Don't do it, get up, leave them alone, let them have their moment, their boy time." So I got up and found lots of random lame things to do like laundry and the dishes.
Sometimes I think of the movie Pleasantville, Joan Allan the mother doing all the household stuff, making all the meals, catering to the family, all with a big smile on her face. Sometimes I feel like I am becoming her, but not in a good way, and sometimes I feel like I am rebelling against being her even though I am nothing like her, if that makes any sense to anyone but me. It's like I have this false image of who I am as a person and I have been letting it affect how I behave. I need to let go of that.
Oh and back to the board game, is it unusual for a just turned 3 year old to be able to sit and play a board game for 30 minutes?
He can also do the game Memory. You know where you have all the little cards turned over and can only pick two at a time and try to match them. Yeah he beat me. I'm not even kidding about that. I could justify it by saying that I wasn't trying to win, wasn't memorizing the cards or anything, I was just trying to teach him how to play. But I also wasn't throwing the game. So yeah, my 3 year old beat me at Memory.
Today I found a slip of paper mixed in with the bills on which I had written, "Putting on make up for the purpose of making myself not cry, is not a great idea."
Very fortune cookie-esque, no?
Along with it was another slip of paper on which I had written this exchange:
Indy: "I want to be the wind"
Me: "Oh yeah?"
I: "Have you ever dreamed of being wind, mommy?"
M: "I don't think so"
I: "Can I have a dream about being the wind?"
M: "You can have a dream about anything you want baby"
Sometimes when I think about those moments, when i feel them in my heart, nothing else matters. There is no war, no economy, no death, no news. There is just us, just this, and those moments are everything. They are just everything. And i can't think of any other words to describe it.