UNDERTOW - The Scheherazade Project

For March's Scheherazade Project, "What Makes You Tick?" - Inspired by an old James Whitcomb Riley poem designed to get naughty children to behave - with which my ornery Grandmother used to entertain (and secretly scare the bejeebers out of) us before bedtime. Still a little rough, but I wanted to get it posted before the weekend. Comments and criticisms welcome.



UNDERTOW


* * * * *

I'm so sorry I was bad.

I don't even remember what it was I did, but I'm so sorry.

* * * * *

"Come on! I don't feel like playing your stupid games tonight!"

Ariel was tired of his pranks. Tonight a game of hide and seek was apparently in order, but she wasn't in the mood. If he'd jump out of some darkened room somewhere down the hall trying to scare her she was just in the right frame of mind to bust him in the face. But he hadn't yet. It seemed like he was home, but he rarely had the patience to wait it out this long. She kind of hoped he'd left the house altogether. Maybe out with the boys. Maybe even not come back.

She picked half-eaten sub up off the bed and marched it to the kitchen trash can with a disgusted grunt. He was such a pig. She returned to the bedroom, shooed the restless dog off the bed, plopped down, and absentmindedly surfed the blaring tv a few times. She then turned it off and opted for peace and quiet - something her life lacked since he'd invaded it.

It was so quiet. Just the gentle mumbling of the evening spring rain.

She wished she didn't love him.

She turned out the lights, hugged her pillow, stared at the droplets wandering down the windowpane and thought about that.

Maybe she didn't.

* * * * *

I don't know what happened.

I remember kicking those damn pink throw pillows on the floor and stretching out on the bed with my sandwich to catch a little tube. I stuck my feet under the comforter ...

FOOM! Something pulled me under like a black hole. So fast I didn't even see it happen. I was just under. Sucked under.

I've been trying to get out for hours. I can see the surface of the bed. I can see the dog digging her claws into the material trying to get underneath of them. I can see her mouth chomping at the air ... I know she's barking ... but I can't hear her.

I'm exhausted from fear and struggle. Big bolts of linen and satin and velvet and wool flutter angrily on every side of me. Hanging down like theater curtains. Flapping up like Marilyn Monroe's white dress. They shudder and tense as if in a huge wind tunnel, yet no air moves. I scream, but I sound as though a pillow is over my mouth.

And whatever had my ankles, still has them.

Something strong. And cold. That breathes very hard.

I grasp at the bolts around me but my arms go right through them like dry liquid. I thrust my hands through them, clawing, searching for walls, confines, projectiles. Nothing. And if I stop moving, I slowly inch further and further down.

I grunt in desperation in the roaring silence. I look down at my ankles, enveloped in, what, tree roots?

No. They're fingers. Long, mottled, wet looking fingers. And then I see the eyes. Illuminated bloody eyes the shape of caraway seeds. As I look at them, they narrow. And awful amber teeth glint in a wicked smile.

I panic, clutching and grasping for anything. I see Ariel above me, but she's not looking. I scream for her. She looks pissed, but she can't let me die. I scream and scream. She only turns out the lights. My heart explodes with terror.

Something below me rumbles. I know I'm freaked out right now but I swear it sounds like laughter.

* * * * *

A few days later he still hadn't come home. She still didn't miss him. In fact, she was kind of glad he was gone.

* * * * *

Wake up. WAKE UP!

Please God, I'm sorry... I'll never be bad again...


* * * * *

Where am I?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lyric of the Day:

Well you go through life
So sure of where you’re headed
And you wind up lost
But it’s the best thing
That could have happened
‘Cause sometimes when you lose your way
It’s really just as well
Because you find yourself
Yeah, that’s when you find yourself.

- Brad Paisley
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


I have this way of getting completely sidetracked in my life. Do you know what I mean?

There are times in one’s life where things are just moving along swimmingly, and you are so content with the way things have been going that you can barely understand why everyone else in the world can’t find contentment as well. Then there are other times where events turn unexpectedly and compound and snowball so much in your mind that they block out the very daylight that bathes you. You begin to glare down at your feet as you trudge along and before you know it, you’ve lost track of where you are and where you're going.

I have kind of always been easily sidetracked when troubling things are on my mind. I have a way of thinking things to death and then my brain hunts desperately for diversions in order to preserve itself –

sometimes an actual activity,
but sometimes only in my mind -
always self-absorbing,
often non-constructive in nature -

and it plunges into them with both feet for extended periods of time. I forget or neglect other things and before I know it I’m miles away from being anywhere or anything I want to be. I drive the Hub crazy when I get like that. I know I do. I drive MYSELF crazy, for that matter. But for the most part I can’t help it – it’s just my way. I guess it’s something I have to do by my nature to work through certain things.

The one constant thing in life is change. Just as soon as you’re all settled just how you like, inevitably something will come along and pull the rug out from under you. And anymore, there’s always something. That’s not always a bad thing, though. It may absolutely suck at the time, but things have a way of working out the way they’re supposed to, and when you look back you realize you ended up on the journey you needed to take anyway.

Seems so simple. Yet I forget that things will eventually be all right every single time. I revert to getting bogged down in the doldrums.

As my veteran readers know, I don’t have too many friends in my day-to-day life. Lots of acquaintances, but very few friends that I see on a regular basis. I have a wonderful family of loving boys, but a woman needs the company of other women. I’m a social creature, a pack animal - and I get lonely after a while.

I had one of my bi-annual-ish weekends with 2 of my 3 blogarita girls over St. Patrick’s Day weekend. I woke up on the day I was leaving feeling a little weird, like I was coming down with something, but I left anyway. I needed this weekend more than any ol’ twinge could talk me out of. I was shaky the first day but then perked up, and the long weekend of scrapping, drinking, eating, rocking and laughing renewed my spirits.

These women help me remember who I am.

It did eventually catch up with me – After returning home I came down with an evil virus that had been skulking through my household, and it sucked the life out of me for a good 10 days. This was only the last in several bouts of plague this season. I’ve felt much more myself this week, but a sore throat has surfaced. I pray fervently that it’s just the end of this bug and not the beginning of another.

For those who have wondered and asked, my Dad has recovered from his surgery well. His cancer was classified as Stage 3 – advanced, but isolated. He’s had his port put in and has started chemotherapy. I spoke to him yesterday and so far he feels pretty good. I feel in my heart that his chances of a full recovery and many more years ahead of him are very good. The journey has brought us closer together, and even brought him closer to God. The latter being something I never thought I’d see.

If you’re still with me, thanks for listening. I just wanted to get out some random ramblings before getting back to the business of making things interesting around here. I started this blog as a self-therapy tool. I started by just typing mental diarrhea (such as this post) but then it evolved into more of a creative writing project. I’ll be focusing on that angle again as I restart things here, but as always, things will unfold as they will. I hope to see you around.

So much has happened lately to divert my eyes from simple joys. A long dark winter has been settled on my soul, and I’m ready for a thaw. I’m ready to welcome spring. Even now, I kind of don’t even feel like making the effort … I almost feel atrophied … but I’m tired of where I am in my heart. I’m ready to find myself again.

*dusting off the blog*

Thought you were rid of me, didn’t you?

No such luck – I’m still here.

I’m hoping to post a decent post by next week sometime … Things are settling down and I’ve been thinking about starting things up here again. I've started to miss blogging.

So if you’re still here too, God love ya, pull up a chair and fix yourself a cup of coffee - or a cocktail - whichever you fancy. I shouldn’t be gone so long this time.

Pause

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lyric of the Day:

And all this could be
Just a dream so it seems
I was never much good at goodbye

- Night Ranger

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Nothing creative or inspiring today, just a note to all my blog friends – whom I indeed do consider that: friends :).

I haven’t been the best poster lately, and I feel bad about this – one because I love hearing from all of you (and visiting you!), and two because it has always been so enjoyable in a way that only writers and artists seem to understand. But the God’s honest truth is the current events of life seem to have sucked the fun out of this activity for me for the time being.

I just wanted to let you all know that I may be scarce here for a while - even scarcer than I have been. I still plan or at least hope to post the occasional inspired work if one hits me – hopefully you won’t all give up on me. So many of you have enriched my life, even if only though blogged words. Thank you.

Until next time ~
Clew

Characteristics

My brother was in town visiting after Dad had surgery and got settled at home. We went over for a little family reunion. It was the first time my brother would meet my son, and indeed was the first time we'd all been in the same place at the same time for well over a decade. While we all get along, busy lives and geography prevent frequent gatherings. I see my dentist more often than I see my kin.

Since the plague made its way through my home at Christmastime and then the observation was further postponed by Dad's surgery, we were still playing holiday catch-up - and Incrediboy received his gifts from Grandma and Gramps while we were there. One gift was a Spongebob Ants in the Pants, which we (my brother, Incrediboy and I) had a blast flipping around. As my brother and I chatted he absentmindedly gathered up the rogue ants and stacked them together by color over and over while we played. I was amused, being that this is one of my own disorders - color separation. I pointed this out and we discussed our eerily similar obsessive compulsions, despite spending little more than a month together in the past 20 years.

Since God only knows when we'll all be together again, Hub took a family portrait. I find it interesting to see how people react to it - some say I look just like Mom, others say just like Dad. But the funniest thing of all was the way I positioned my hands.

Just like Mom did.




It just goes to show, your family is always with you.

Remembering a Life

I first posted this last year. Just wanted to repost in honor.
Happy Birthday, Grandma.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She was born into a farming family – the 13th of 15 siblings. Three brothers had died – two in infancy and one, a half brother, at the age of 35 – before she was even born. The rest grew into modest lives and professions: Dressmakers, farmers, postal workers, homemakers.

The tiny, cute redheaded girl grew into a petite, lovely blazen haired woman.

She worked briefly in a sweets shop. She and her girlfriend at work would snitch chocolates when they could, and throw the wadded wrappers behind a display. They laughed about their boss one day moving the display and having a conniption over all the wrappers he’d find.

She fell in love with a younger man. He was tall and handsome and very personable. She was 20, he was 19. There was never anyone else after they met. They married and had a son. He made a good living as a civil servant mechanic at the local air force base.

She found complete fulfillment in caring for family and home. Their boy grew up, married, and had 2 children of his own. She lived for the time she could spend with them. They lived in another city but remained close. She pen palled with her granddaughter all through childhood, adolescence, and into adulthood.

When her husband died she moved to a retirement village. She missed her sweetheart each day as much as the first without him, but she stayed socially active and had many friends. She remained a sparkle on the water. She loved sharing - and pulling - a good joke, and enhanced any situation where she was present, though too humble to accept acknowledgment of it. She danced a jazzy number at her grandson’s wedding, and quite well, until the attention she drew embarrassed her and she sat down.

She had a physical therapy session one March morning. It went well, and she was in good spirits - sharing her sweet sense of humor with the therapists as they worked. She returned to her room and an hour later, passed away peacefully. The world has been a duller place ever since.

Today is my Grandmother’s 97th birthday – Happy Birthday, Grandma. I miss you.

FADED - The Scheherazade Project

The following is my latest contribution to The Scheherazade Project, 12/7 - 12/19 theme. Yes, I'm running behind - what's new? ;) Members of the Project, welcome - or welcome back as the case may be! Hope you enjoy the read. Comments/criticisms welcome!


FADED

I was practically done cleaning out the apartment now. It’s funny how an entire lifetime of treasures and memories can be reduced down to fit in a few boxes. And somehow I’d managed to evaluate her things – things she’d hung on to for reasons only known to her – and separate them into “keep” and “donate”.

I ignored the nagging feeling that it was wrong to dispose of things that had no sentimental value to me.

I’d spent countless hours here, and now the room looked foreign. The bare walls. The faded curtains. The bright square of carpet where the easy chair sat, framed in a border of slightly dingy crushed pile. I bent down and ran my finger around the dent left by one of the legs.

I picked up the last small box and scanned the apartment before leaving for the last time. I was leaving the oversized Degas reproduction for the landlord – I really don’t have any care for ballet dancers in my own décor … And then noticed I’d missed a few items on the mantle. A seashell bowl of pinecones and potpourri, and a mint green candle. I sat the box back down and walked over to them.

I studied them for a while and decided they were junk. The potpourri had no more fragrance and was covered in dust. The candle had been burned at some point but the small concave pool left by the melt was also layered in dust. It had blemishes and dents in its surface, and was slightly misshapen – like a pillar wedding cake that had no internal support. I picked it up and smelled it – if it ever had a fragrance it was long gone now.

I dumped the contents of the bowl in the trash bag, and as I did so I turned the candle over absentmindedly. The underside held weakly on to a piece of masking tape, brittle and browned by age – and on the tape was written a name.

My name.

Now why was that?

I mean, I knew she labeled things meticulously, it was her way. So I obviously gave it to her. Maybe for Christmas one year, or some sort of gift. I stood next to the trash and turned the candle around over and over in my hands, trying to remember. I couldn’t remember at all.

I held it over the trash, ready to release it. But I didn’t. I drew it back to me and looked at the label again. There was no date, which was odd for her … But the writing was crisp and smooth … Written before the days of arthritis and bad eyesight. I wondered when.

I wondered all the way home. Candle in the box with the other keepers on my passenger seat.

I burned the candle last night and tried to remember again. The candle still did not smell even with the release of heat. And I still can’t remember.

Oh well … does it matter? I figure it can’t hurt to keep something that doesn’t mean anything to me. It meant something to her.

Resolutions and Other Pointless Stuff

Last year I did a post on my new year’s resolutions, all of which pretty much fell flat along the course of the year. Big shock, right? I mean isn’t that the story for everyone? Whoever came up with the concept of new year’s resolutions needs their butt kicked.

Yet, being the obsessive-compulsive weirdo that I am, I can’t help myself – I have to make some. Yes, I know it’s January 10th and you’re supposed to make resolutions effective the 1st, but better late than never. Besides, as Big White Hat said in his NYR post (paraphrased), I’ve got all year to do this. Here’s what I’ve decided on this year.

The token resolution:
Get back in shape.

Other more fun resolutions:
Get back to my recreational writing.
Stay in better touch with friends.

And here’s a resolution pact I’m making with Incrediboy:
Get him potty-trained!

We’ll see how this year goes.

On to other things … Hub and I ventured into the city last night for dinner with some friends and then we all took in a hockey game. I’ve only been to one other – I don’t follow hockey very closely but I do love it. Especially in person! Last night my Blue Jackets met the St. Louis Blues. It was a pretty exciting game, ending in a 3-3 tie in overtime and being decided with a sudden death match. In the end, St. Louis won (pooh), but we had a great time all the same. I think I may have to start watching hockey on TV.

Last Saturday I had opportunity to take a last minute jaunt up to see Naïve for the day. Hub had some business to take care of in the area and so Incrediboy and I tagged along. We came up Friday night and stayed with Martie, and then we hung out with Naïve and family on Saturday. Martie was kind enough to watch the boys for us in the evening so we could have a nice adults only meal at a great restaurant there, and then we were home by midnight. It was a short but well-enjoyed visit! I miss them all so much again though. My husband adores Martie and we are discussing moving into her guest room on a permanent basis. LOL.

Does anyone know anything about MySpace? I have a group of friends who have been pestering me to sign up for it. I’ve been digging my heels in because I’m really not interested in trying to keep up on another online community when I’ve been so lame about this one as it is … but I finally caved and set up an account. I really haven’t done much with setting my page up and probably won’t – but at least I can now harass my MySpace using friends with annoying comments, which was all I wanted to do anyway. Hee hee.

Oh, back to resolutions – if anyone knows of any cool blogger writing groups, I’d be obliged if you’d pass it on. I am a member of The Scheherazade Project but am interested in looking for other sources of inspiration. Hopefully I’ll be posting some creative writing within the week. Aren't you EXCITED!?!?

Hope you are all well. As always, thanks for sticking with me.

Missing Man

How many opportunities does an average joe or josephine have in a lifetime to be a part of an actual honest-to-goodness historical moment?

I kind of had one today.

President Gerald Ford was laid to rest in his hometown of Grand Rapids today after a good week of memorializing the man with various stately honors. Gerald Ford served when I was just a kid, and admittedly my knowledge of that time in American history is not the best. I do know that his place in civil service way outreached his initial goals, and that he served at a time so shaky and disenchanted that I wouldn't take it on myself for anything. I know he was a man of unwaivering faith in a world of uncertainty, and that in and of itself I respect.

My bestest friend Naive just happened to be in GR today on an errand, and she thought enough to call me just as Ford's funeral was drawing to a close, because she wanted me to hear the jets fly over "in person", on the phone with her, as I watched the ceremony on television.

We chatted idly as we waited, I on my couch, and she standing in a parking lot hundreds of miles away from me. We discussed the health of our children and various things going on in our harried lives, and then she interrupted herself, squealing "Here they come!"

I could hear the distant roar of jet engines growing on the phone line, and my friend's voice grew in excitement with them. She described the first four F15s flying over her head, followed by the next and the next. Her awe was palpable, and I felt it as if I were there with her. As the screaming planes faded on the line, I watched them approach on my tv screen. They raced over the Gerald R. Ford Museum and burst apart in the Missing Man Formation. As I watched, I could hear Naive choking out, "OMG, I have chills!"

And I felt them too.

She told me she took a picture, and if it came out decent she'd send it to me. Later this afternoon this arrived in my email:

With the following note:

Hey sis,

Here is the picture of one set of the F15's flying overhead. It was so nice talking with you and sharing that little snippet of history together. Miss you even more though.

It seems strange to find a ray of happiness in a solemn occasion such as this, but the fact that my dear friend thought to share this with me really turned my day around. I have been struggling with many burdens lately ... It's wonderful to be reminded that you matter to someone just because. My best friend brought me to where she was and gave me a cognitive historical souvenir all my own today. That's pretty cool.

Thank you, sis. And Rest in Peace, Mr. President.

Post Holiday Post

While 2006 wasn't a total disaster, it wasn't my favorite year either. And while the turning of December 31 to January 1 is really only another new day, just as on a birthday you're merely one day older than the day before ... Somehow the changing of the calendar year lends new hope in its magical way.

I was anxious for the new year to begin.

And just as New Year's Day is just another day when you get down to it, so continue all the stresses and concerns of life that were there during that last year of only a few hours ago.

My Dad and I haven't always been on good terms. There have been points in time where we have gotten along well enough, but more often than not we've been at various points between walking on eggshells and not speaking to each other at all. I can't say as to why it's always been this way. Many people have told me it's because we're so much alike, but that doesn't quite make sense to me. But he had little tolerance nor patience with the racket of youth, and I never felt that I was good enough to please him. And for whatever the reasons, we never quite attained that sweet bond shared by most fathers and daughters.

A strange thing happens when you grow up, though - and especially when you have kids of your own. You develop an understanding for your parents that is simply impossible to attain in youth. You also learn to look past a lot of things, and truly believe your parents did the best they could in raising you. And you find that you need them in brand new ways.

My Dad has been diagnosed with cancer. It is malignant, and they won't really know how advanced things are until further scans and surgery can be performed. All this is coming up in the next few weeks, so I will be preoccupied.

It's funny how some things can make you forget what it was that built walls between you in the first place.

I may or may not blog further on this. But I just wanted to ask for prayers. Thanks in advance.