Published in The VCReporter issue January 29, 2009
In this corner, Pastor Rick Wood (PRW); and in this corner, wife and mother, jd smith (JDS). Two members of the same community with opposing views.
The Pastor voted for Prop 8; but due to a backlash against the church, he doesn't feel as if he has won anything. jd smith voted against Prop 8 and even though the proposition passed, she is confident that equality for all is the direction the evolutionary flow of life is headed in.
PRW defines marriage based on the Bible, as a covenant between a man and a woman, only.
JDS consulted as many dictionaries as possible for the definition of marriage. She discovered that the word "marriage" was surprisingly not once referenced as being created by the Bible but rather comes from the Anglo-French, from "marier" - to marry - dating back to The 14th century. JDS does not use the religious definition of a marriage to describe a state institution. Several different dictionaries actually define marriage in much the same way - the state of being united to a person, the same or opposite sex.
PRW asks, "Has the definition of marriage for the entire history of humanity been WRONG until now?"
JDS asks, Does the opening of the Declaration of Independence - written by Thomas Jefferson in 1776 which states, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness" - only intend to mean men? Or does it also include women? What about homosexuals?
If women are considered to be included in the statement, "all men are created equal" without changing the wording to the Declaration of Independence to include the word "women," then why shouldn't same sex couples be able to marry without amending the Christian church's definition of marriage to include same sex in addition to opposite sex?
PRW asks, "Who gets the right to define marriage?"
JDS responds, Not the church. The church has a right to its beliefs and values. Any church and or religion should have the right to say who they will and will not sanction in marriage. But they do not have the right to define marriage for the state, country or world at large.
Defining marriage for a state law based on a church definition is the beginning, middle and end of this entire debate, making the whole point moot, as we do still have a separation of church and state regardless of whether or not people choose to believe it.
The state governs marriage, our hearts govern who we love and in America, land of the free, religion only governs those who allow it to. With one God and many religions, God is not religion. The Bible is the law of the Christian church not of our glorious, melting pot country as a whole.
Not all married heterosexuals were married in a church. I myself, a woman, married my husband, a man, in 1990, in a park, by a justice of the peace. Does that mean we have a civil union, or a marriage, or both? Under PRW's definitions, does that mean that all heterosexuals who are not married in a church only have civil unions and not marriages?
My marriage was not sanctioned by the church; but it was sanctioned by God, in nature (our definition of church), and how my husband and I know and define God - as love. I had a civil union; but because I married someone of the opposite sex, my union is granted the privilege of being defined as a marriage. The gender of the person I choose to have a civil union with should not determine whether that union is deemed a marriage or not. The state law is responsible to protect the rights of all its people. Marriage and who we marry are two separate things.
PRW states "I believe that 'two flesh' becoming 'one' is only possible through the joining of 'parts' that were made to fit together."
JDS responds, Interesting. I know a lot of women who are married to men with parts that don't work and therefore no longer fit. In fact, I think men with broken parts is an epidemic for if it weren't, pharmaceuticals like Viagra and Cialis wouldn't be the billion dollar business that they are. I think a lot of heterosexuals would be offended by the notion that only men with working parts 'fit' their spouses and therefore earn the right to marry or be considered married.
For that matter, it seems to me that two men can fit their 'parts' together just as well as a man and a woman can. So if the right to be married is based on making 'parts' fit, I think that would include same sex couples as well as excluded some married couples of opposite sex with broken 'parts.'
PRW states, "Only the male/female bond brings forth physical and spiritual children."
JDS responds, Really? I've been exposed to many a gay family with both spiritual and physical children, including those they actually procreated themselves. Just ask Barbara Walters. She recently did a story on transgender couples who were able to procreate before and after various degrees of sex changes. Likewise, there are many heterosexual couples who are not able to procreate. Furthermore, when heterosexuals use assisted reproductive technology like in vitro fertilization and they are successful, Christians deem the results to be a "miracle." Yet, when homosexuals use the same resources to create a family, Christians claim that it's unnatural and against God's will. Under that philosophy, either it's as unnatural and against God's will for heterosexuals to use science to make babies as it is for homosexuals or it's a miracle of life for both groups. Scientific results are not based on sexual orientation therefore neither should our judgments of them be. Based on PRW's logic, are we to conclude that only men and women who can procreate naturally are truly married?
In conclusion, PRW sates, "I am not asking those who disagree with me to agree, only to allow me to believe what I believe and realize that my belief isn't arbitrary or held because of fear and/or hatred."
JDS replies, Dear Pastor, with all due respect, your belief is arbitrary as it's a religious belief regarding a matter of state concern. I will not ascribe a motive of fear and/or hatred to your belief; but I will state with confidence that it is a belief born of judgment, religious judgment. And religious judgment that leads to exclusion of certain people or groups from the rights of other people or groups is the very definition of intolerance.
Without a doubt, the Prop 8 ads were based on fear. As a mother, what disgusted me the most about the negative ads promoting prop 8, were the fear tactics behind educating children that men can marry men. I want my child to know about all the religions of the world, even if we don't practice any of them. Likewise, I want my child to know about all the ways people form relationships, including homosexuality.
Knowing that gay is an option doesn't make it a forgone conclusion and even if it did, it would not matter to me. I prefer my child be gay and stand for equality than to be a Christian who is against it. There are some Christians who are non-judgmental; but for the most part, Christianity - especially in relation to politics - has become synonymous with judgment, fear and intolerance, aspects I want to protect my child from, not encourage them toward.
I married my husband because he is my soul mate. I married him for what's between his ears, not for what's between his legs. If he had been a woman, I would have still fallen in love. If I fall in love with someone because of their heart instead of their genitalia, does that make me gay and unworthy of marriage? Am I just more lucky than those who are gay because the person I love just happens to be the opposite sex? It harkens back to days of slavery when a light skinned black person could pass for white and was therefore granted the same rights as those who were white.
I was raised knowing that some kids had two mommies, and I still married a man. But what that early exposure to homosexuality taught me was acceptance for myself and others and the differences we all have. For example, I do not share your beliefs; but I respect them, so much so, that I allow you to have them without creating a state proposition to take them away from you. I wish you did the same for those who differ from you.
Those who voted yes for Prop 8 who don't feel as if they have won are correct, because they didn't. This was a proposition intended not to save the institute or definition of marriage but to try to prevent the expansion of it.
If the main concern for Prop 8 supporters was truly about the sanctity of marriage between heterosexuals, Proposition 8 would have been about reforming divorce, not narrowly defining marriage.
Prop 8 was and is about discrimination plain and simple. To cloak it in any other garment of disguise is insulting the intelligence of everyone for or against it.
Homosexuality isn't something new, but equality for those who are gay is. Fighting to stop and thwart the natural growth of humanity with state propositions in the name of preserving a definition of a religious interpretation of a word, is like trying to stop an old oak tree from maturing by digging up the seeds that brought it into existence before it was even born.
A hundred years ago women couldn't vote, but they were as worthy of equality when they didn't have it as they are now that they mostly do. (While women have more equality today than ever before, they are still not completely equal as they do not receive equal pay for equal work.) 200 years ago, black people were slaves; but they were still worthy of equality even when it was stripped of them.
Trust me pastor, I'm psychic. Homosexuals will have equality. There is no point in trying to strip them of that. And when it's all said and done, I predict within our lifetime, which side of the fence do you want your legacy to have fallen on - the one that is grouped in with slavery of those who are black and discrimination of women or the side of history that supported and promoted equality for all?
I just saw the movie MILK. I don't think it's any coincidence that the film was made and released during the year of Prop 8. The movie does an excellent job at recreating the social scene of 30 years ago when a very similar proposition, Prop 6, came about. While the old axiom, the more things change, the more they stay the same is true, as we are seeing history repeat itself in some respects; an equal axiom of truth is that the only constant thing in life is change. It may be two steps forward, one step back but in the end, it is still a solid step forward when those who stand for something keep standing.
Shalom,
jd
Monday, March 16, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
2009 Nominated Film Reviews: Spoiler Alert
Late at night, after the baby and hubby are off to bed, I've been sneaking out for double features of Oscar nominees. I've only seen five films (MILK, SLUMDOG, REVOLUTONARY ROAD, THE WRESTLER and THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTONS-at three hours, no double feature that night) but here are my humble opinions thus far:
MILK. Close to perfect film making for me. Great acting. Relevant story. Passionate moments. Attention to detail. Had a message. I was in San Francisco in 1978, and I remember the vibe and look of Market and Castro, very well. This film captured it perfectly.
I hated SLUMDOG. I don't know if it was the hype or being a mom but the violence to children was relentless and I saw every child as my own and I just couldn't take it. During the blinding scene I nearly vomited.
The last film that had such a physical effect on me was CASINO, when the actor's head was in the vice I got so nauseous that I got up to leave and I fainted. Luckily I was at the Director's Guild in Los Angeles, and someone took care of me.
Sure I thought SLUMDOG was clever in the way each of the answers to his questions could be woven into his life but I also thought it was a one trick pony and did not compensate for the violence.
This movie made me frightened to go to India and deeply saddened that people saw it as a love story and were not outraged by the injustice portrayed in nearly every aspect of their every day lives. I think our society is too desensitized to violence. Yes, I know that I am a bleeding heart, empath, overly sensitive psychic and I take that into consideration, but still, I saw this movie as an out cry for the Mumbai experience of most, not a love story of hope for a few.
I did NOT appreciate the Bollywood dance at the end. By then my sense of humor had been raped from my spirit and I was nothing more than an empty cavern of sorrowful remorse for my fellow human being.
Also wasn't impressed with THE WRESTLER, but could appreciate the attention to detail and the significance of the story we all will live out on some level. I thought the acting was good but not great. I was more impressed with the story. What was up with his white fingernails? Every person I ask has no idea what I am talking about.
REVOLUTIONARY ROAD: while I adore Kate, her acting wasn't what impressed me, it was the subtle thread of the feminist struggle that won me over. I saw her character as a modern day Virgina Woolfe. I thought the affectation of vocal cadence was distracting from Leo and Kate's acting. I got the joke about the 1950s and one's inability to be authentic in the face of convention during that era but I thought the direction was ceaseless on that aspect and could have been more of a spice than a main dish component.
Thus far my favorite film is (reluctantly) THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. I get the Forest Gump comparison and I think most people have some part of their subconscious that isn't willing to fork over great acting accolades to a beautiful man who seems to have it all. But is was the only dog gone movie with hope, that took me away to a better place for three hours. And because of that, it was the first time I wasn't annoyed at a movie for being longer than 120 minutes, I was grateful. I say reluctantly because I don't consider myself a sucker for sap, I'm usually the one with the taste buds for edgier cinema. Perhaps it's the economy or the general state of fatigue in and around the world today but at this moment in my life, I feel too close to the edge to crave it. Right about now I like myself a bit of silly, happy fantasy WITHOUT violence against children, thank you very much!
Wait...I also saw THE VISITOR, early in the year. Loved it. Truly terrific acting. Deserves all its accolades.
MILK. Close to perfect film making for me. Great acting. Relevant story. Passionate moments. Attention to detail. Had a message. I was in San Francisco in 1978, and I remember the vibe and look of Market and Castro, very well. This film captured it perfectly.
I hated SLUMDOG. I don't know if it was the hype or being a mom but the violence to children was relentless and I saw every child as my own and I just couldn't take it. During the blinding scene I nearly vomited.
The last film that had such a physical effect on me was CASINO, when the actor's head was in the vice I got so nauseous that I got up to leave and I fainted. Luckily I was at the Director's Guild in Los Angeles, and someone took care of me.
Sure I thought SLUMDOG was clever in the way each of the answers to his questions could be woven into his life but I also thought it was a one trick pony and did not compensate for the violence.
This movie made me frightened to go to India and deeply saddened that people saw it as a love story and were not outraged by the injustice portrayed in nearly every aspect of their every day lives. I think our society is too desensitized to violence. Yes, I know that I am a bleeding heart, empath, overly sensitive psychic and I take that into consideration, but still, I saw this movie as an out cry for the Mumbai experience of most, not a love story of hope for a few.
I did NOT appreciate the Bollywood dance at the end. By then my sense of humor had been raped from my spirit and I was nothing more than an empty cavern of sorrowful remorse for my fellow human being.
Also wasn't impressed with THE WRESTLER, but could appreciate the attention to detail and the significance of the story we all will live out on some level. I thought the acting was good but not great. I was more impressed with the story. What was up with his white fingernails? Every person I ask has no idea what I am talking about.
REVOLUTIONARY ROAD: while I adore Kate, her acting wasn't what impressed me, it was the subtle thread of the feminist struggle that won me over. I saw her character as a modern day Virgina Woolfe. I thought the affectation of vocal cadence was distracting from Leo and Kate's acting. I got the joke about the 1950s and one's inability to be authentic in the face of convention during that era but I thought the direction was ceaseless on that aspect and could have been more of a spice than a main dish component.
Thus far my favorite film is (reluctantly) THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. I get the Forest Gump comparison and I think most people have some part of their subconscious that isn't willing to fork over great acting accolades to a beautiful man who seems to have it all. But is was the only dog gone movie with hope, that took me away to a better place for three hours. And because of that, it was the first time I wasn't annoyed at a movie for being longer than 120 minutes, I was grateful. I say reluctantly because I don't consider myself a sucker for sap, I'm usually the one with the taste buds for edgier cinema. Perhaps it's the economy or the general state of fatigue in and around the world today but at this moment in my life, I feel too close to the edge to crave it. Right about now I like myself a bit of silly, happy fantasy WITHOUT violence against children, thank you very much!
Wait...I also saw THE VISITOR, early in the year. Loved it. Truly terrific acting. Deserves all its accolades.
Release Party Update
I cannot do the dieting thing. I think it's dangerous on so very many levels: physically, mentally, spiritually, psychologically, and even psychically. It creates obsessive compulsive addiction behavior and I am just too old for that s@*t. I'm a grown woman, not a 15-year-old writing in my diary.
I don't want to "lose" anything. I'd like to lovingly release my excess weight so that I can dance again, in a ballet studio, in a leotard and tights, not baggy sweats. I'm too over heated by peri menopausal hot flashes to hide behind clothes. Summer will be here before I know it and it's time to make some serious changes to my body if for nothing else than my own physical comfort level.
The key to healthy change is routine, clean and simple. That comes from balance. I eat what I want (not always so balanced as much as indulgence) and I exercise as much as I can. As of yet, I have seen no change on the scale but I think scales are for weighing produce and despite what the construction workers say, I am not a muy caliente tomatilla.
I judge by the way my clothes feel and most importantly how my spirit feels. I LOVE to move and be physical, my challenge is having the energy to do so. I am sleep deprived. I haven't slept for more than 2 hours straight in nearly three years. One needs sleep to have the energy to move. When I do sleep I use whatever energy reserves I have for my highest priorities and my goal is to make myself one of those priorities.
Here's some notes from January/February on my process:
1-1-09
Tracy Anderson: trainer to Madonna, Gwyneth and now jd smith. I'm using "The Tracy Anderson Method" (Post-Pregnancy Workout DVD). This woman is Casper the friendly sadist. The day after struggling through the first 15 minutes of the routine I awoke with massive back spasms and was out of commission for a week. Note to self: MODIFICATION!
2-1-09
I am doing better. I just have to be really present when I exercise with how my body is feeling. I have way too many health issues to push myself the way others can. I do push myself more than I should with my energy because I always have so much I want to do. I keep thinking if I could just finish all the projects I have going and not start anymore, I will feel a sense of peace and accomplishment and can therefore make space for me to release my excess weight by exercising more and planning my meals better. I know that's probably never going to happen but I act as if it will nonetheless.
The video is good and speaks to me because she was a dancer, as was I, so the way she uses her body ignites my own muscle memory. Having said that, I think these exercises were created ONLY for people at the fitness level of Madonna so I don't know if it's practical for people like me.
2-2-09
Here's my exercise update today, Monday. Thank you for indulging me as an audience it gives me another reason to exercise as I compose a review to you while doing so. I got back on the horse today. Proud of myself for that. But still did not make it through the entire workout. I had to do a lot of modifications and take breaks. I have to constantly remind myself that I am not at her level so I need to honor my level. I am not getting as discouraged as I have in the past. But I do feel a bit of anxiety at her expectations which is that I do the floor routine (still don't know how long it is, maybe 60-90 mins) in addition to the cardio dance routine SIX DAYS A WEEK. For now I am doing as much of the floor routine as I can every other day and "exercise-beach walks" versus "casual-beach walks" on the alternate days. When I get to the point when I can make it through the entire floor routine I will start adding days and once I can do that one six days a week I will start the cardio, may take a month...or so!
This work is not easy and when you have to put a lot of effort into something you don't want to sabotage that effort. When I do her DVD I eat better throughout the day, make better choices because I want to see the fruits of my labor, maybe that fruit is the kind we weigh at home.
2-6-09
I am still with the program but have yet to reach the point where exercise gives me more energy versus less. For now, the workouts are so hard that I am exhausted the next day. I skipped the past two days because of schedule conflicts and when I wanted to do it today and had the energy I had a toddler preventing me by hurling Leggos at my head. As if these killer moves aren't hard enough without friendly fire in my temporal lobes. I plan to get back to it tomorrow. Have yet to make it through the entire DVD, but will.
2-8-09
Made it through the whole video today! Hip hip hooray! It's the first time that I have hope that this will work for me and change my body back to the butterfly it once was...or at least get me less caterpillar looking. The arms and legs part is more manageable for me than the abs. That is killer and my weakest body part. But the other is great for a dancers muscle memory.
2-17-09
Regarding this "exercise thing.": I have barely made it through three times a week. At some point during every workout with Tracy I actually believe that I am going to die. Which is still a step above yoga which sent me to a coma before killing me (not a yoga fan).
I still have sweat dripping in my ears. Body maintenance is so UN attractive! But I love the way my muscles feel after doing her routine, it's just getting through it that I struggle with. ps her arm routine is the simplest and most effective I have ever done...but none of it is "easy."
2-23-09
Hubby said he is impressed with how defined my stomach is getting. I think he's just trying to seduce me (it's working). I am now at the point where I can get through the entire DVD (60 mins) each time, but I do need to go at a slower pace (so it takes me about 90mins with breaks). There are still about 2 or 3 moves that I skip or modify beyond recognition, but hey, a gals got to do what she can to stay in the game.
Good news is: I crave these workouts. I love the way I feel after one and for the rest of the day. I still need a day off to recover after a day of working out, but I know my recovery time is getting shorter. I am fully committed to this as I find myself skipping things I love in place of rest to prepare for exercise.
I am asking for the cardio workout Tracy suggests, as a birthday gift from hubby. I think I'll get it.
Took a tour of the nearest ballet academy today and am dreaming about taking classes again. May still be a few months from now. We'll see. I feel hopeful. It's a nice feeling.
I don't want to "lose" anything. I'd like to lovingly release my excess weight so that I can dance again, in a ballet studio, in a leotard and tights, not baggy sweats. I'm too over heated by peri menopausal hot flashes to hide behind clothes. Summer will be here before I know it and it's time to make some serious changes to my body if for nothing else than my own physical comfort level.
The key to healthy change is routine, clean and simple. That comes from balance. I eat what I want (not always so balanced as much as indulgence) and I exercise as much as I can. As of yet, I have seen no change on the scale but I think scales are for weighing produce and despite what the construction workers say, I am not a muy caliente tomatilla.
I judge by the way my clothes feel and most importantly how my spirit feels. I LOVE to move and be physical, my challenge is having the energy to do so. I am sleep deprived. I haven't slept for more than 2 hours straight in nearly three years. One needs sleep to have the energy to move. When I do sleep I use whatever energy reserves I have for my highest priorities and my goal is to make myself one of those priorities.
Here's some notes from January/February on my process:
1-1-09
Tracy Anderson: trainer to Madonna, Gwyneth and now jd smith. I'm using "The Tracy Anderson Method" (Post-Pregnancy Workout DVD). This woman is Casper the friendly sadist. The day after struggling through the first 15 minutes of the routine I awoke with massive back spasms and was out of commission for a week. Note to self: MODIFICATION!
2-1-09
I am doing better. I just have to be really present when I exercise with how my body is feeling. I have way too many health issues to push myself the way others can. I do push myself more than I should with my energy because I always have so much I want to do. I keep thinking if I could just finish all the projects I have going and not start anymore, I will feel a sense of peace and accomplishment and can therefore make space for me to release my excess weight by exercising more and planning my meals better. I know that's probably never going to happen but I act as if it will nonetheless.
The video is good and speaks to me because she was a dancer, as was I, so the way she uses her body ignites my own muscle memory. Having said that, I think these exercises were created ONLY for people at the fitness level of Madonna so I don't know if it's practical for people like me.
2-2-09
Here's my exercise update today, Monday. Thank you for indulging me as an audience it gives me another reason to exercise as I compose a review to you while doing so. I got back on the horse today. Proud of myself for that. But still did not make it through the entire workout. I had to do a lot of modifications and take breaks. I have to constantly remind myself that I am not at her level so I need to honor my level. I am not getting as discouraged as I have in the past. But I do feel a bit of anxiety at her expectations which is that I do the floor routine (still don't know how long it is, maybe 60-90 mins) in addition to the cardio dance routine SIX DAYS A WEEK. For now I am doing as much of the floor routine as I can every other day and "exercise-beach walks" versus "casual-beach walks" on the alternate days. When I get to the point when I can make it through the entire floor routine I will start adding days and once I can do that one six days a week I will start the cardio, may take a month...or so!
This work is not easy and when you have to put a lot of effort into something you don't want to sabotage that effort. When I do her DVD I eat better throughout the day, make better choices because I want to see the fruits of my labor, maybe that fruit is the kind we weigh at home.
2-6-09
I am still with the program but have yet to reach the point where exercise gives me more energy versus less. For now, the workouts are so hard that I am exhausted the next day. I skipped the past two days because of schedule conflicts and when I wanted to do it today and had the energy I had a toddler preventing me by hurling Leggos at my head. As if these killer moves aren't hard enough without friendly fire in my temporal lobes. I plan to get back to it tomorrow. Have yet to make it through the entire DVD, but will.
2-8-09
Made it through the whole video today! Hip hip hooray! It's the first time that I have hope that this will work for me and change my body back to the butterfly it once was...or at least get me less caterpillar looking. The arms and legs part is more manageable for me than the abs. That is killer and my weakest body part. But the other is great for a dancers muscle memory.
2-17-09
Regarding this "exercise thing.": I have barely made it through three times a week. At some point during every workout with Tracy I actually believe that I am going to die. Which is still a step above yoga which sent me to a coma before killing me (not a yoga fan).
I still have sweat dripping in my ears. Body maintenance is so UN attractive! But I love the way my muscles feel after doing her routine, it's just getting through it that I struggle with. ps her arm routine is the simplest and most effective I have ever done...but none of it is "easy."
2-23-09
Hubby said he is impressed with how defined my stomach is getting. I think he's just trying to seduce me (it's working). I am now at the point where I can get through the entire DVD (60 mins) each time, but I do need to go at a slower pace (so it takes me about 90mins with breaks). There are still about 2 or 3 moves that I skip or modify beyond recognition, but hey, a gals got to do what she can to stay in the game.
Good news is: I crave these workouts. I love the way I feel after one and for the rest of the day. I still need a day off to recover after a day of working out, but I know my recovery time is getting shorter. I am fully committed to this as I find myself skipping things I love in place of rest to prepare for exercise.
I am asking for the cardio workout Tracy suggests, as a birthday gift from hubby. I think I'll get it.
Took a tour of the nearest ballet academy today and am dreaming about taking classes again. May still be a few months from now. We'll see. I feel hopeful. It's a nice feeling.
2009 Academy Awards Review:
I think it was the best Oscars in 20 years!
What can we do to ensure this again? Who can we write to praise?
The past few years I have been devastatingly disappointed with various efforts to change up the Oscars. From having people accept their Oscars in the isles (hideously lame) to turning the event into an Ellen show (even though I adore her, she made the show about her instead of the Awards and it was tasteless and self-indulgent).
Last night was stupendous. It was so well done.
I don't recall anyone being played off the stage because their speech was too long (so tacky and cruel). I presume this was because there was less presenter banter and fewer televised awards. Let's keep it this way!
I loved the combining of the nominated songs even if Peter did not.
Hugh was a delight (I am a huge Billy fan, love me some Whoopie and Steve and even liked Dave but Hugh might just be perfect). He entertained and as he said, brought more show and less biz into the festivities. He stayed out of the way and we nearly forgot there was a host until he would pop up and entertain us again.
The musical number felt a bit disjointed but I give it an A for ambitious, valiant effort. I am NOT fan of Beyonce but was so glad to see someone with her body type next to all the anorexic twigs on the carpet. Angelina's arms are scary thin. Natalie Portman is the size of my daily afternoon snack, she's the fourth meal at Taco Bell. And most the dames were nothing much past silicone on bone. But I still love a parade.
I was very impressed with the entire look and feel of the show and ESPECIALLY the way each nominee was given a few minutes of spotlight by prior recipients to be recognized, honored and truly celebrated for being nominated. Class act all the way!
I cried more in this show than I did in all the others combined and that's saying something since the Oscars are my annual self-pity party for my lost dreams and personal deficits ranging from physical challenges and financial losses to career failures and familial abandonments. But I like to cry. I find it cathartic and now that I am a mom (role model) I can't break down and cry as a release as much as I used to without frightening my child and making her feel that her mother is emotionally unstable. I think the ones who cry are the most stable because there is no combustible components in them ready to explode as they always have a slow leak, letting it all drain out.
But I missed the acceptance speeches that make me have the "ugly cry" like Halle Berry's, Cuba Gooding Jr.'s and that Italian guy who jumped on the chairs. But just looking into the weepy eyes of thinner, richer, more successful people than myself was good enough. I was touched that they were touched...and a tiny bit pained at the loss four out of five of them knew they would experience.
For many actors this is a life long dream come true, a few minutes to bask in the glory isn't asking too much even if other deserving members of the industry in more technical areas of production have to sacrifice a public acceptance speech for it. If those people wanted to be in the spotlight they wouldn't be working behind the scenes. They get mentioned. They get an award. I think that's enough. Let the actors, writers and directors give the speeches, it's usually more inspirational and entertaining for all of us and isn't that what this self-absorbed, magical, circus is all about: being inspired and entertained (if not also inducing self-loathing)?
While I am not a fan of SLUMDOG mania, I get it and expected it would win. I was happy with all the awards and like usual, thought most everyone nominated deserved to be.
Hated the dresses with seat belt straps across them. I prefer the classic gowns.
But I always enjoy seeing people get all dolled up in uncomfortable boning and high pointed heel shoes while I sit in my sweats, cozy as can be feeling for a few simple hours that I have it better than them in one small but significant way no matter how impermanent. And sure, while I wish I had the abundance of Kate Winslet: she's authentic, talented, beautiful, young, wealthy, successful and has a husband and children….I bet she doesn't have time to make the memorable scrapbooks for her kids that I have which hopefully will mean something to them if they don't get destroyed in a fire, flood, Tsunami or earthquake.
Life is a trade off. I dreamt my entire life of living the dream I watch others live and my life isn't over so the dream lives on… but I also bask in the glory of my simple life in this moment of now. My life of having the priviledge of putting my child to bed each night and staying at home all through the night should she wake, reading to her, dancing with her, cooking and cleaning for her, being in a mom's group because she made me a mom, bloggling and Facebook-ing about her and me and life, going to ballet classes, home schooling, scrapbooking, care giving for family and friends, baking from scratch, walking on the beach without photogs taking unflattering pictures of me in my scraggly swimsuit and privacy wherever I go while wearing comfortable clothes and shoes.
My award is the string of simple pleasures I wear in lieu of diamonds and pearls…
…and someday It would be nice to hang it on an Oscar.
What can we do to ensure this again? Who can we write to praise?
The past few years I have been devastatingly disappointed with various efforts to change up the Oscars. From having people accept their Oscars in the isles (hideously lame) to turning the event into an Ellen show (even though I adore her, she made the show about her instead of the Awards and it was tasteless and self-indulgent).
Last night was stupendous. It was so well done.
I don't recall anyone being played off the stage because their speech was too long (so tacky and cruel). I presume this was because there was less presenter banter and fewer televised awards. Let's keep it this way!
I loved the combining of the nominated songs even if Peter did not.
Hugh was a delight (I am a huge Billy fan, love me some Whoopie and Steve and even liked Dave but Hugh might just be perfect). He entertained and as he said, brought more show and less biz into the festivities. He stayed out of the way and we nearly forgot there was a host until he would pop up and entertain us again.
The musical number felt a bit disjointed but I give it an A for ambitious, valiant effort. I am NOT fan of Beyonce but was so glad to see someone with her body type next to all the anorexic twigs on the carpet. Angelina's arms are scary thin. Natalie Portman is the size of my daily afternoon snack, she's the fourth meal at Taco Bell. And most the dames were nothing much past silicone on bone. But I still love a parade.
I was very impressed with the entire look and feel of the show and ESPECIALLY the way each nominee was given a few minutes of spotlight by prior recipients to be recognized, honored and truly celebrated for being nominated. Class act all the way!
I cried more in this show than I did in all the others combined and that's saying something since the Oscars are my annual self-pity party for my lost dreams and personal deficits ranging from physical challenges and financial losses to career failures and familial abandonments. But I like to cry. I find it cathartic and now that I am a mom (role model) I can't break down and cry as a release as much as I used to without frightening my child and making her feel that her mother is emotionally unstable. I think the ones who cry are the most stable because there is no combustible components in them ready to explode as they always have a slow leak, letting it all drain out.
But I missed the acceptance speeches that make me have the "ugly cry" like Halle Berry's, Cuba Gooding Jr.'s and that Italian guy who jumped on the chairs. But just looking into the weepy eyes of thinner, richer, more successful people than myself was good enough. I was touched that they were touched...and a tiny bit pained at the loss four out of five of them knew they would experience.
For many actors this is a life long dream come true, a few minutes to bask in the glory isn't asking too much even if other deserving members of the industry in more technical areas of production have to sacrifice a public acceptance speech for it. If those people wanted to be in the spotlight they wouldn't be working behind the scenes. They get mentioned. They get an award. I think that's enough. Let the actors, writers and directors give the speeches, it's usually more inspirational and entertaining for all of us and isn't that what this self-absorbed, magical, circus is all about: being inspired and entertained (if not also inducing self-loathing)?
While I am not a fan of SLUMDOG mania, I get it and expected it would win. I was happy with all the awards and like usual, thought most everyone nominated deserved to be.
Hated the dresses with seat belt straps across them. I prefer the classic gowns.
But I always enjoy seeing people get all dolled up in uncomfortable boning and high pointed heel shoes while I sit in my sweats, cozy as can be feeling for a few simple hours that I have it better than them in one small but significant way no matter how impermanent. And sure, while I wish I had the abundance of Kate Winslet: she's authentic, talented, beautiful, young, wealthy, successful and has a husband and children….I bet she doesn't have time to make the memorable scrapbooks for her kids that I have which hopefully will mean something to them if they don't get destroyed in a fire, flood, Tsunami or earthquake.
Life is a trade off. I dreamt my entire life of living the dream I watch others live and my life isn't over so the dream lives on… but I also bask in the glory of my simple life in this moment of now. My life of having the priviledge of putting my child to bed each night and staying at home all through the night should she wake, reading to her, dancing with her, cooking and cleaning for her, being in a mom's group because she made me a mom, bloggling and Facebook-ing about her and me and life, going to ballet classes, home schooling, scrapbooking, care giving for family and friends, baking from scratch, walking on the beach without photogs taking unflattering pictures of me in my scraggly swimsuit and privacy wherever I go while wearing comfortable clothes and shoes.
My award is the string of simple pleasures I wear in lieu of diamonds and pearls…
…and someday It would be nice to hang it on an Oscar.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Making Memories with Our Kids
How We Can Turn the Mundane with Our Children into Special Memories For All.
Sunday mornings are cherished time with my two year old daughter, Bailey. She wakes me between 6:00AM and 7:00AM with a sweet sounding, "Good Morning, Mommy" which actually sounds more like "Goo Moaning, Mommy." I pick her up, closing the door so that Daddy can sleep in and we walk down the stairs together counting each step which we punctuate with a kiss and a "Muah!".
As I change her diaper, I ask her if she remembers her dreams and she tells me elaborate stories, rich with colorful details of adventure. Once clean and dry we head to the kitchen and each fill a glass of water and toast - clinking our glasses with a "Cheers!" to start off our day as a celebration of life.
We share an apple and act out silly faces in-between bites to make each other laugh. When our mini breakfast is over we change into our "play clothes" and put on our favorite Latin dance DVD to do our morning exercises with. After our workout we drink more water and then like the elephants in The Jungle Book, we march 2, 3, 4, back to the kitchen to make pancakes from scratch. My daughter has anaphylactic food allergies so just about everything we eat is made from scratch.
Even though there are a thousand things I'd rather do than cook, baking with my daughter is a great joy for both of us. We especially like the part when we put powdered cosmetics on each other's nose and cheeks with our dry mixture of mostly flour and sugar. After our edible makeovers we add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir to the rhythm of our favorite song, currently Nala The Chihuahua by The Squeeges. This is also the most requested song in the car. Bailey vehemently calls for "Jlo, a wa, wa" which we know to be Nala The Chihuahua.
Once the batter is ready, I move the chair she was standing on to mix ingredients, over near (but not close enough to touch) the stove to cook them. Bailey climbs up carefully to watch me put the batter into the pan. I don't make cute faces or mouse ears, just traditional circles which Bailey simply calls, cakes. Once the cakes are done and cooling off, Bailey sets her table with her own dishes and utensils (in just the right size for her-Thanks to Ikea) which she takes from her very own cupboard that is low enough for her to reach. I pull a grown up chair to her kiddie table and eat with her there.
We like to dress up for meals so we put on our boas, hats and sunglasses before sitting at our table. We enjoy our cakes with our pinkies out and say, "Umm delicious!" and "Oh, so scrumptious!" after each bite. Sometimes we watch VH1's Top 20 Countdown because apparently MTV is no longer music television. If a particular song comes on that Bailey really loves we will spontaneously abandon our food to take a dance break in the middle of eating. After our fancy feet breakfast we rinse off our dishes and unload and reload the dishwasher together.
Now it's story time. Currently we alternate between reading a Fancy Nancy book or The Adventures of Pippi Longstalkings (It should be no surprise that these are the books that hold my daughter's interest most). However, it is nearly impossible to read unless we are in the comfort of a fairy fort. How to make a fairy fort: Take one blanket and drape it over either the dinning room table, two chairs about six to ten feet apart or simply over your head and the head of your child. Once inside our cozy cavern we begin to read. Every once in awhile a fairy will fly by. How to invite fairies into your home: one of mommy's hands will become a fairy shadow puppet on the outside of the blanket.
After reading a chapter, Daddy usually comes down and joins us for a family snuggle fest and Mommy and Bailey's special time evolves into special family time.
Through routine acts, treasured memories are being formed and self-reliance is also being taught: how to cook, clean, exercise, read, dress up and have fun. It all starts with a conscious choice to allow our children to set the stage upon which we can also play.
Sunday mornings are cherished time with my two year old daughter, Bailey. She wakes me between 6:00AM and 7:00AM with a sweet sounding, "Good Morning, Mommy" which actually sounds more like "Goo Moaning, Mommy." I pick her up, closing the door so that Daddy can sleep in and we walk down the stairs together counting each step which we punctuate with a kiss and a "Muah!".
As I change her diaper, I ask her if she remembers her dreams and she tells me elaborate stories, rich with colorful details of adventure. Once clean and dry we head to the kitchen and each fill a glass of water and toast - clinking our glasses with a "Cheers!" to start off our day as a celebration of life.
We share an apple and act out silly faces in-between bites to make each other laugh. When our mini breakfast is over we change into our "play clothes" and put on our favorite Latin dance DVD to do our morning exercises with. After our workout we drink more water and then like the elephants in The Jungle Book, we march 2, 3, 4, back to the kitchen to make pancakes from scratch. My daughter has anaphylactic food allergies so just about everything we eat is made from scratch.
Even though there are a thousand things I'd rather do than cook, baking with my daughter is a great joy for both of us. We especially like the part when we put powdered cosmetics on each other's nose and cheeks with our dry mixture of mostly flour and sugar. After our edible makeovers we add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir to the rhythm of our favorite song, currently Nala The Chihuahua by The Squeeges. This is also the most requested song in the car. Bailey vehemently calls for "Jlo, a wa, wa" which we know to be Nala The Chihuahua.
Once the batter is ready, I move the chair she was standing on to mix ingredients, over near (but not close enough to touch) the stove to cook them. Bailey climbs up carefully to watch me put the batter into the pan. I don't make cute faces or mouse ears, just traditional circles which Bailey simply calls, cakes. Once the cakes are done and cooling off, Bailey sets her table with her own dishes and utensils (in just the right size for her-Thanks to Ikea) which she takes from her very own cupboard that is low enough for her to reach. I pull a grown up chair to her kiddie table and eat with her there.
We like to dress up for meals so we put on our boas, hats and sunglasses before sitting at our table. We enjoy our cakes with our pinkies out and say, "Umm delicious!" and "Oh, so scrumptious!" after each bite. Sometimes we watch VH1's Top 20 Countdown because apparently MTV is no longer music television. If a particular song comes on that Bailey really loves we will spontaneously abandon our food to take a dance break in the middle of eating. After our fancy feet breakfast we rinse off our dishes and unload and reload the dishwasher together.
Now it's story time. Currently we alternate between reading a Fancy Nancy book or The Adventures of Pippi Longstalkings (It should be no surprise that these are the books that hold my daughter's interest most). However, it is nearly impossible to read unless we are in the comfort of a fairy fort. How to make a fairy fort: Take one blanket and drape it over either the dinning room table, two chairs about six to ten feet apart or simply over your head and the head of your child. Once inside our cozy cavern we begin to read. Every once in awhile a fairy will fly by. How to invite fairies into your home: one of mommy's hands will become a fairy shadow puppet on the outside of the blanket.
After reading a chapter, Daddy usually comes down and joins us for a family snuggle fest and Mommy and Bailey's special time evolves into special family time.
Through routine acts, treasured memories are being formed and self-reliance is also being taught: how to cook, clean, exercise, read, dress up and have fun. It all starts with a conscious choice to allow our children to set the stage upon which we can also play.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
So Long Sensa, My Sense, Ahh!
I used Sensa for exactly one week.
After I wrote my first post for Sensa, which was exceedingly positive, I went to bed that night and had one of the most frightening, disturbing dreams of my life.
In my dream I was walking with the Reiki Master I recently began studying with. She turned to me and said, "I think you have breast cancer, let's go see a doctor."
In my dream, we walked into a doctor's office and I saw not one but two different doctors for the standard "second opinion." Both doctors in my nightmare informed me that I did in fact have breast cancer in my right breast and that it was terminal. I was told that I only had a few weeks to live. When I asked how it was possible that I could have such an advanced stage of cancer in such a short amount of time, I was told that it was due to a vanity product I had been consuming.
I awoke abruptly in a stark, cold alertness. The only product that I was currently consuming that could be considered a "vanity product' was the Sensa.
As a descendent from a long line of matriarchs with prophetic visions, dreams are not something I take lightly or write off as mere symbolic metaphors. I heed them for the warnings they are and have been in my personal experience. So while I believe that Sensa was working for me, I have chosen to stop taking it.
Even though I only consumed Sensa for about seven days, I did gain positive results that have far exceeded that time period. In just one week, with the assistance of Sensa, I was able to stop the momentum of eating more than I should at any given sitting. I also broke the break neck eating pace that busy mothers often inherit after giving birth. That food shoveling routine for energy sake that comes from never knowing when one will have a chance to separate from child in order to eat. Sensa has given me the gift of experiencing food in a healthy manner, thus a renewed, "Sense…ahhh". For that, I am grateful.
And while I must say, So Long Sensa, I am still committed to this personal release party. I have created my own diet which someone before me probably already created, which I am calling The Never Starve, Never Stuff Diet. On the good Ol' NSNS Diet I am eating the same total daily amount of food as I did on Sensa but just smaller servings, more often. I am finding that as long as I never wait until I'm hungry to eat or eat to the point of being stuffed, I am still losing weight.
In addition to my new eating routine, I am also going to begin a new exercise program. I have always been an active person, taking daily or nightly walks on the beach. Each year I also trade in my old exercise DVDs for new ones. I am particularly fond of BeachBody.com DVDs. This year I have chosen the Core Rhythms, Latin dance inspired series.
I'll get back to you on January 15 with an update. Let's keep inspiring each other to stay on track and be accountable for treating ourselves with the respect, kindness, love and fun factor we deserve.
Happy Healthy Holidays!
After I wrote my first post for Sensa, which was exceedingly positive, I went to bed that night and had one of the most frightening, disturbing dreams of my life.
In my dream I was walking with the Reiki Master I recently began studying with. She turned to me and said, "I think you have breast cancer, let's go see a doctor."
In my dream, we walked into a doctor's office and I saw not one but two different doctors for the standard "second opinion." Both doctors in my nightmare informed me that I did in fact have breast cancer in my right breast and that it was terminal. I was told that I only had a few weeks to live. When I asked how it was possible that I could have such an advanced stage of cancer in such a short amount of time, I was told that it was due to a vanity product I had been consuming.
I awoke abruptly in a stark, cold alertness. The only product that I was currently consuming that could be considered a "vanity product' was the Sensa.
As a descendent from a long line of matriarchs with prophetic visions, dreams are not something I take lightly or write off as mere symbolic metaphors. I heed them for the warnings they are and have been in my personal experience. So while I believe that Sensa was working for me, I have chosen to stop taking it.
Even though I only consumed Sensa for about seven days, I did gain positive results that have far exceeded that time period. In just one week, with the assistance of Sensa, I was able to stop the momentum of eating more than I should at any given sitting. I also broke the break neck eating pace that busy mothers often inherit after giving birth. That food shoveling routine for energy sake that comes from never knowing when one will have a chance to separate from child in order to eat. Sensa has given me the gift of experiencing food in a healthy manner, thus a renewed, "Sense…ahhh". For that, I am grateful.
And while I must say, So Long Sensa, I am still committed to this personal release party. I have created my own diet which someone before me probably already created, which I am calling The Never Starve, Never Stuff Diet. On the good Ol' NSNS Diet I am eating the same total daily amount of food as I did on Sensa but just smaller servings, more often. I am finding that as long as I never wait until I'm hungry to eat or eat to the point of being stuffed, I am still losing weight.
In addition to my new eating routine, I am also going to begin a new exercise program. I have always been an active person, taking daily or nightly walks on the beach. Each year I also trade in my old exercise DVDs for new ones. I am particularly fond of BeachBody.com DVDs. This year I have chosen the Core Rhythms, Latin dance inspired series.
I'll get back to you on January 15 with an update. Let's keep inspiring each other to stay on track and be accountable for treating ourselves with the respect, kindness, love and fun factor we deserve.
Happy Healthy Holidays!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
This Ms. Don't Miss The Mrs.
I come from a long line of feminists, they just don't know it. My grandmother says to her friends when referring to me, "She's a women's libber," as if she were saying, "I smell a poopy diaper." Yet, if she thought for an instant she was being paid less than a man for the same work, there would be hell to be paid. The problem is that she doesn't believe women are paid less than men. She also doesn't believe that O.J. Simpson is anyone other than a charming, innocent retired athlete/actor. Therefore, what Grandma believes and what actually is, might just be two different things.
I have been happily married for nearly 20 years and I love my husband dearly. But I am not a wife before I am a woman, an individual. It's terribly distressing to me that so few people seem to understand the weight and significance of using "Ms." over "Miss" or "Mrs." Only "Ms." is equal to "Mr." If men are not addressed differently based on their marital status, why should women be?
My husband is my best friend, my soul mate, he is also a feminist, which is to say a person who believes in equality for all. The rest of my family and his have been respectful of our choices. However, on our wedding day, my teenage sisters painted our car "Mr. & Mrs." not out of defiance to our beliefs but out of ignorance of their importance to us, while also motivated by the perpetuation of engaging in a tradition. Moments before walking down the aisle, I spotted the car, licked my hand and wiped away the "r" in Mrs. so the car read Mr. & Ms. , albeit a bit smeared. I lovingly explained it to my accepting sisters during our wedding reception which was all caught on tape by the befuddled videographer.
My husband and I each have our own last names and our daughter has his last name as her first name and my last name as her last name (There is a way of preserving the lineage of both parents in families based on the book by Sharon Lebell, Naming Ourselves, Naming Our Children ). We have a meaningful family name of convenience for others to address us as a unit when it comes to holiday cards, restaurant reservations, etc.
When people address me by "Mrs. " or my husband's name, I politely yet emphatically correct them. I ask them how they prefer to be addressed; and if it is by "Mrs. " and their husband's last name, I address them as such. Even though I am against the tradition, I am for individual choice and respecting others and honoring their wishes.
In response to the question, "How do I deal with people who disagree with me?" I would have to say, "I don't." I do my best to be thoughtful, considerate and sensitive to others; but I include myself in the group of "others" and place more importance on what I think about what I am doing in my life than I do on what others think about what I am doing in my life.
I just keep walking my path and they just keep walking theirs. I do believe that we inform people how to respect us by the actions we take to respect ourselves and the world around us. When we pay attention to the light within each individual we become enlightened as a collective. I don't have to try to teach or educate anyone about anything. That is done naturally when I revere my authentic self without apology or justification.
Everything can be argued; wisdom asks us, should it? I'm not interested in arguing over personal choice. I am interested in living with equality. Being addressed by "Miss" or "Mrs." may be a tradition, but it's also an example of inequality. It may be a minor detail, but minor details can change the very meaning of a thing.
The following two sentences have the exact same wording but depending on where I put the comas, (the small, seemingly insignificant details like a woman's last name or doing away with the titles of "Miss" and "Mrs." altogether) the meaning of the sentence changes completely:
"A woman without her man is lost."
(meaning that women need men)
Or
"A woman, without her, man is lost."
(meaning men need women)
Small details make big changes. Perhaps if all married women kept their own name and used "Ms." instead of "Miss" or "Mrs." society would see them more as equals; and they would receive equal pay, and who knows…maybe, just maybe, someday a woman could be president.
I have been happily married for nearly 20 years and I love my husband dearly. But I am not a wife before I am a woman, an individual. It's terribly distressing to me that so few people seem to understand the weight and significance of using "Ms." over "Miss" or "Mrs." Only "Ms." is equal to "Mr." If men are not addressed differently based on their marital status, why should women be?
My husband is my best friend, my soul mate, he is also a feminist, which is to say a person who believes in equality for all. The rest of my family and his have been respectful of our choices. However, on our wedding day, my teenage sisters painted our car "Mr. & Mrs." not out of defiance to our beliefs but out of ignorance of their importance to us, while also motivated by the perpetuation of engaging in a tradition. Moments before walking down the aisle, I spotted the car, licked my hand and wiped away the "r" in Mrs. so the car read Mr. & Ms. , albeit a bit smeared. I lovingly explained it to my accepting sisters during our wedding reception which was all caught on tape by the befuddled videographer.
My husband and I each have our own last names and our daughter has his last name as her first name and my last name as her last name (There is a way of preserving the lineage of both parents in families based on the book by Sharon Lebell, Naming Ourselves, Naming Our Children ). We have a meaningful family name of convenience for others to address us as a unit when it comes to holiday cards, restaurant reservations, etc.
When people address me by "Mrs. " or my husband's name, I politely yet emphatically correct them. I ask them how they prefer to be addressed; and if it is by "Mrs. " and their husband's last name, I address them as such. Even though I am against the tradition, I am for individual choice and respecting others and honoring their wishes.
In response to the question, "How do I deal with people who disagree with me?" I would have to say, "I don't." I do my best to be thoughtful, considerate and sensitive to others; but I include myself in the group of "others" and place more importance on what I think about what I am doing in my life than I do on what others think about what I am doing in my life.
I just keep walking my path and they just keep walking theirs. I do believe that we inform people how to respect us by the actions we take to respect ourselves and the world around us. When we pay attention to the light within each individual we become enlightened as a collective. I don't have to try to teach or educate anyone about anything. That is done naturally when I revere my authentic self without apology or justification.
Everything can be argued; wisdom asks us, should it? I'm not interested in arguing over personal choice. I am interested in living with equality. Being addressed by "Miss" or "Mrs." may be a tradition, but it's also an example of inequality. It may be a minor detail, but minor details can change the very meaning of a thing.
The following two sentences have the exact same wording but depending on where I put the comas, (the small, seemingly insignificant details like a woman's last name or doing away with the titles of "Miss" and "Mrs." altogether) the meaning of the sentence changes completely:
"A woman without her man is lost."
(meaning that women need men)
Or
"A woman, without her, man is lost."
(meaning men need women)
Small details make big changes. Perhaps if all married women kept their own name and used "Ms." instead of "Miss" or "Mrs." society would see them more as equals; and they would receive equal pay, and who knows…maybe, just maybe, someday a woman could be president.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Heroic Intuition: A Day In The Life Of A Psychic
My husband George often consults my intuition from the seemingly insignificant to the potentially important. Before I left for the day, he announced that he was expecting deliveries from 9am to 5pm that he might have to sign for but he wanted to take a shower. I replied, "I think the delivery will arrive at 11:40am. Plan your shower around that."
At 11:41am George phoned my mobile and simply said, "You're amazing. The package just arrived." I said, well, it's not me, it's just my intuitive awareness and I could've been wrong. Maybe I'm just lucky." Then I smiled to myself thinking, "Some women impress their partners with food. I impress mine with psychic prowess."
I received the call while I was with my toddler on her weekly play date at the mall. I was standing with my mini mom's group in Target as we were saying our good-byes. Kimi was very pregnant with baby number two. I blurted out, "I think this boy is going to born on Thanksgiving." She looked at me a bit askance saying, "I'm not due until December 6 and I haven't even dropped yet." That voice inside of me was still strong and I stuck to my prediction for the birth of her second child despite that her belly hadn't dropped yet and her due date wasn't for a few more weeks.
I left my gal pals and as my daughter and I were exiting the mall, we passed the escalators and something inside of me said, "Turn around, now." Just as I did I saw a boy, maybe five years of age, sitting on his feet while going down the escalator. I noticed that his shoe lace was untied and dancing with the grips of the escalator teeth.
My daughter was secure in her stroller, thank God, because I didn't even think about her safety in leaving her and rushing to the child who appeared to be in danger. I ran to him and was able to grab him as the escalator began to eat his shoe. I pulled him up with such ferocious velocity his foot came right out of his shoe. He was gripping me tightly with a mixture of fear and gratitude.
Suddenly, his mother appeared from the second floor screaming for her child. All she saw was another woman, one she didn't know, who was grabbing her son. Security arrived and shut down the escalator. I tried to yell up to the woman to explain what had happened but she didn't speak English. The boy hugged me and then ran toward his mother. I looked over to check on my daughter and she was safe.
There were two men at the end of the escalator giving chair massages who just sat and watched. It amazed me that they didn't come to help. In giving them the benefit of the doubt, perhaps they just didn't realize what was going on.
Later that evening while taking my nightly walk on the beach, I once again heard a voice say, "Turn around, now!" When I did, I noticed a small fire on the beach blowing in the direction of the waterfront homes. I live south east of the recent Montecito fires and north west of the recent Northridge fires and the smoke and fear those fires incited was still pulsating inside of me.
I ran toward it to survey if it was just a bonfire or the act of an arsonist. It was an intentional fire going strong that someone had left. Surrounding it were environmentally protected dry patches of brush. Each slight gust of wind was picking up sparks from the flames and carrying them into the brush. I felt a sense of panic and immediacy to put this fire out.
I ran to the nearest house on the beach with its lights on, no one answered the door. I ran to the next and saw a couple making dinner trough their large oceanic view of glass. I'm an asthmatic who does not a run but I had never run so fast in my life. My extended family lives at the end of the street that led to the fire on the beach and my own home is just a few blocks from theirs. If I couldn't get help soon, everyone's home in the neighborhood was in jeopardy of being destroyed.
I was so worried about frightening the people in the house who I had never met as I came running, panting up their back porch to tap on their kitchen window. "Hi, I'm your neighbor. There's a fire on the beach. Can you help me put it out?" I said exasperated with a glistening face that inspired the woman to fetch me a glass of water.
She was British and calm as she introduced herself, "I'm Claire. This is my husband Jim." She said as if we were all about to play a game of tennis. "Still mired by dread and alarm I repeated myself. "There is a fire in the sand dune near your home. I think we can put it out but we should really go now." "Let's just call 911…" She quietly quipped. "I'm afraid that by the time they get here it may be too late. If we go now we can bury it." I interrupted. She nodded with her eyes. "Alright Jim, are you coming? Turn off the BBQ and cover the meat so that the cats don't get into it. I'll bring some lanterns." And off we went looking like a trio of Elmer Fudds hunting wabbits.
I hadn't realized how far the fire seemed when walking to it versus how close it felt when running from it. We finally found the flames and with two shovels were able to bury each one. When complete, we were all grateful to each other.
I called George to tell him what had happened and he said, "Kryptonite beware. Superwoman is here!" When I reached my home he had drawn a large red "S" on a piece of paper and taped it to the front door. As I walked through the threshold my family gave me a heroes welcome and I once again gave thanks to my intuition, for all our sakes.
One week and one day later, Kimi had her second baby, a boy, on Thanksgiving.
While I appreciate my intuitive abilities, I can't allow myself to be this aware all the time. I just don't have a cape to match a telephone booth. Motherhood is too demanding to add superhero as a hyphen. Besides that, it's pseudo redundant, don't you think?
At 11:41am George phoned my mobile and simply said, "You're amazing. The package just arrived." I said, well, it's not me, it's just my intuitive awareness and I could've been wrong. Maybe I'm just lucky." Then I smiled to myself thinking, "Some women impress their partners with food. I impress mine with psychic prowess."
I received the call while I was with my toddler on her weekly play date at the mall. I was standing with my mini mom's group in Target as we were saying our good-byes. Kimi was very pregnant with baby number two. I blurted out, "I think this boy is going to born on Thanksgiving." She looked at me a bit askance saying, "I'm not due until December 6 and I haven't even dropped yet." That voice inside of me was still strong and I stuck to my prediction for the birth of her second child despite that her belly hadn't dropped yet and her due date wasn't for a few more weeks.
I left my gal pals and as my daughter and I were exiting the mall, we passed the escalators and something inside of me said, "Turn around, now." Just as I did I saw a boy, maybe five years of age, sitting on his feet while going down the escalator. I noticed that his shoe lace was untied and dancing with the grips of the escalator teeth.
My daughter was secure in her stroller, thank God, because I didn't even think about her safety in leaving her and rushing to the child who appeared to be in danger. I ran to him and was able to grab him as the escalator began to eat his shoe. I pulled him up with such ferocious velocity his foot came right out of his shoe. He was gripping me tightly with a mixture of fear and gratitude.
Suddenly, his mother appeared from the second floor screaming for her child. All she saw was another woman, one she didn't know, who was grabbing her son. Security arrived and shut down the escalator. I tried to yell up to the woman to explain what had happened but she didn't speak English. The boy hugged me and then ran toward his mother. I looked over to check on my daughter and she was safe.
There were two men at the end of the escalator giving chair massages who just sat and watched. It amazed me that they didn't come to help. In giving them the benefit of the doubt, perhaps they just didn't realize what was going on.
Later that evening while taking my nightly walk on the beach, I once again heard a voice say, "Turn around, now!" When I did, I noticed a small fire on the beach blowing in the direction of the waterfront homes. I live south east of the recent Montecito fires and north west of the recent Northridge fires and the smoke and fear those fires incited was still pulsating inside of me.
I ran toward it to survey if it was just a bonfire or the act of an arsonist. It was an intentional fire going strong that someone had left. Surrounding it were environmentally protected dry patches of brush. Each slight gust of wind was picking up sparks from the flames and carrying them into the brush. I felt a sense of panic and immediacy to put this fire out.
I ran to the nearest house on the beach with its lights on, no one answered the door. I ran to the next and saw a couple making dinner trough their large oceanic view of glass. I'm an asthmatic who does not a run but I had never run so fast in my life. My extended family lives at the end of the street that led to the fire on the beach and my own home is just a few blocks from theirs. If I couldn't get help soon, everyone's home in the neighborhood was in jeopardy of being destroyed.
I was so worried about frightening the people in the house who I had never met as I came running, panting up their back porch to tap on their kitchen window. "Hi, I'm your neighbor. There's a fire on the beach. Can you help me put it out?" I said exasperated with a glistening face that inspired the woman to fetch me a glass of water.
She was British and calm as she introduced herself, "I'm Claire. This is my husband Jim." She said as if we were all about to play a game of tennis. "Still mired by dread and alarm I repeated myself. "There is a fire in the sand dune near your home. I think we can put it out but we should really go now." "Let's just call 911…" She quietly quipped. "I'm afraid that by the time they get here it may be too late. If we go now we can bury it." I interrupted. She nodded with her eyes. "Alright Jim, are you coming? Turn off the BBQ and cover the meat so that the cats don't get into it. I'll bring some lanterns." And off we went looking like a trio of Elmer Fudds hunting wabbits.
I hadn't realized how far the fire seemed when walking to it versus how close it felt when running from it. We finally found the flames and with two shovels were able to bury each one. When complete, we were all grateful to each other.
I called George to tell him what had happened and he said, "Kryptonite beware. Superwoman is here!" When I reached my home he had drawn a large red "S" on a piece of paper and taped it to the front door. As I walked through the threshold my family gave me a heroes welcome and I once again gave thanks to my intuition, for all our sakes.
One week and one day later, Kimi had her second baby, a boy, on Thanksgiving.
While I appreciate my intuitive abilities, I can't allow myself to be this aware all the time. I just don't have a cape to match a telephone booth. Motherhood is too demanding to add superhero as a hyphen. Besides that, it's pseudo redundant, don't you think?
Friday, November 21, 2008
True Identity Theft: How We Lose Our Individuality In The Face of Familial Resemblance
When listening to others speak about their personal challenges in life, I've noticed a common pattern. It seems that in most everyone's life there is one influential person they feel intrinsically connected to and yet struggle to not be like. Usually it is a parent or sibling, someone for whom they share enough common history or genetic resemblance with that separating their identity from the other is a chronic tug of war.
Kamie Norrn is a therapist and yet her education and job experience has not been able to save her from joining her clients in the human pitfalls that can affect us all. Kamie has two sides: who she is when she's trying to not be like her sister and who she is when she is like her sister. This constant search for individual identity has created a pattern in her of being inauthentic. She makes claims, promises or agreements under one mindset and breaks them under the other.
A friend confided in Kamie that she had abandonment issues. When they had their first conflict Kamie sent her an email stating, "I will not abandon you," and yet she never answered another phone call or email from that friend again, thus abandoning her.
Kamie told her husband that he did not have to walk on eggshells around her; and yet the moment that he didn't, she accused him of blindsiding her. In less than two years they were divorced.
Every person in Kamie's life who forces her to live up to the claims about herself that she makes, she ends up cutting off and shutting out, permanently. There is no resolution, no working things through. Her way of moving on is to deny reality, which only sets her up for a successful self fulfilled prophesy of being "blindsided" again.
Being blindsided was her main self-proclaimed issue. What exactly does being blindsided mean? For Kamie, it means dealing with the reality of facts that she isn't expecting because she has created an alternate reality of illusion that she is comfortably living in.
Whenever she would speak to me about her fears, she would bring up her sister and her best friend and all the things about them she didn't like, especially her perception of them as narcissistic. I always found this fascinating. She then went on to explain that when she was with her sister she would lose herself, and yet without her sister she did not know where she ended and her sister began.
How can Kamie know herself as separate from her sister? Through honest introspection of who she really is as an individual. Unfortunately, she is trapped between who she wants to be and who she really is; and until she integrates the two, her integrity will be elusive. By accepting what she has in common with her sister and acknowledging what she doesn't, she can reclaim her true self. This will require a tremendous amount of self-acceptance that she is not yet emotionally mature enough to embrace, but through time I have faith that she will.
Of course, if she chooses not to evolve within, it will be reflected in her life without. The world she now inhabits, a rented studio apartment with only her cat to serve as friend or family will become her infinite fate. There's nothing wrong with that, if it's what you want. But if she wants more — and most people do — she will have to find the courage to face herself.
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. -Anais Nin
When not playing blues harmonica, jd smith might be found changing a diaper (her toddler's not her own), skipping barefoot on a beach, compassionately listening to the struggles of others as a psychic mentor, or metaphorically scribbling at bettyconfidential.com
Kamie Norrn is a therapist and yet her education and job experience has not been able to save her from joining her clients in the human pitfalls that can affect us all. Kamie has two sides: who she is when she's trying to not be like her sister and who she is when she is like her sister. This constant search for individual identity has created a pattern in her of being inauthentic. She makes claims, promises or agreements under one mindset and breaks them under the other.
A friend confided in Kamie that she had abandonment issues. When they had their first conflict Kamie sent her an email stating, "I will not abandon you," and yet she never answered another phone call or email from that friend again, thus abandoning her.
Kamie told her husband that he did not have to walk on eggshells around her; and yet the moment that he didn't, she accused him of blindsiding her. In less than two years they were divorced.
Every person in Kamie's life who forces her to live up to the claims about herself that she makes, she ends up cutting off and shutting out, permanently. There is no resolution, no working things through. Her way of moving on is to deny reality, which only sets her up for a successful self fulfilled prophesy of being "blindsided" again.
Being blindsided was her main self-proclaimed issue. What exactly does being blindsided mean? For Kamie, it means dealing with the reality of facts that she isn't expecting because she has created an alternate reality of illusion that she is comfortably living in.
Whenever she would speak to me about her fears, she would bring up her sister and her best friend and all the things about them she didn't like, especially her perception of them as narcissistic. I always found this fascinating. She then went on to explain that when she was with her sister she would lose herself, and yet without her sister she did not know where she ended and her sister began.
How can Kamie know herself as separate from her sister? Through honest introspection of who she really is as an individual. Unfortunately, she is trapped between who she wants to be and who she really is; and until she integrates the two, her integrity will be elusive. By accepting what she has in common with her sister and acknowledging what she doesn't, she can reclaim her true self. This will require a tremendous amount of self-acceptance that she is not yet emotionally mature enough to embrace, but through time I have faith that she will.
Of course, if she chooses not to evolve within, it will be reflected in her life without. The world she now inhabits, a rented studio apartment with only her cat to serve as friend or family will become her infinite fate. There's nothing wrong with that, if it's what you want. But if she wants more — and most people do — she will have to find the courage to face herself.
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. -Anais Nin
When not playing blues harmonica, jd smith might be found changing a diaper (her toddler's not her own), skipping barefoot on a beach, compassionately listening to the struggles of others as a psychic mentor, or metaphorically scribbling at bettyconfidential.com
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Movie Review: Rachel Getting Married
For those of us who consider ourselves unfortunate to either come from highly dysfunctional families or to have survived the tragic loss of a family member who was only a child, Rachel Getting Married offers an access button into the glorious highs we may have forgotten as we buried the devastating lows in our emotional past.
This film does not glamorize the life of an addict like, say, Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, a reality show on VH1. Yet, Rachel Getting Married does succeed in revealing the poetry of angst. Among the extra sensitive and extremely gifted, addiction or mental illness — often at the core of addiction — can seem like an inherited gene.
I had a sister who struggled with addiction for most of her young life, which ended at the age of 26. Anne Hathaway so brilliantly captured the moments I remember of my sister when she would be in a gathering, yet feel as if she were in a world all her own. She'd stand on the outside looking in with this pang of longing to come closer, yet it was as if she felt her insecurities were a swarm of bees around her that she was afraid would sting others if she got too close, so she always took life in from an aching distance.
Even though while watching the film I went through my entire mini pack of candy crumb infested Kleenex, the emotional release was cathartic. It reminded me of all the tiny, enchanted moments that filled my family's lives, which were scattered amongst the big, painful scenes that changed us. My sister was incredibly intelligent, deeply compassionate and somewhat of a natural, comic genius. During the long seasons when her mental illness and addiction seemed to take the air out of every room like one humid, hard to breathe day after the next, that unique life force of hers would suddenly breeze through, cool us off, invigorate our fatigue, and make us laugh so hard I needed my inhaler to catch my breath. It would bring a deep magical feeling of hope back into our hearts.
I related to every character in this film — the "normal" sister whose accomplishments were dwarfed by the drama that her troubled sister's illness consumed, the mother who detached from everyone she was biologically connected to so as not to hurt so deeply, and the over-protective, emotional father who was portrayed exquisitely by Bill Irwin, as were all the roles including Rosemarie Dewitt as the normal sister and Debra Winger as the mother. Even the cameos were gems of artistic perfection (Anna Deavere Smith and newcomer Tunde Adebimpe, to name a few). Anne Hathaway as Kym, reached a new personal mountain of truth and has earned her privilege to be considered a genuine talent. The acting was phenomenal, the likes of which I haven't seen since the 1980s in Kramer vs. Kramer.
Jonathan Demme, as director, is at his most raw, vulnerable and accessible. He has accomplished truly fine filmmaking with his latest love letter to living. This is a slice of life film captured in a quasi-documentary, voyeuristic, home movie style — one of my favorites. I feel that it's what Woody Allen wishes his films could be if he were capable of being fully present with the true multi-faceted nature of life and move beyond his two favorite subjects: infidelity and Crime and Punishment rehashing.
Rachel Getting Married has an incredibly natural unscripted feel. Like the perfect vacation, the film flows and lingers where desired. The long shots of atmosphere viewing void of dialogue made me feel like a part of the scene. The film was filled with actors and non-actors alike and an eclectic group of interesting artists — particularly musicians. I came from such roots.
Now, most of my musician friends have gone on to such success that their music is primarily sequenced into a computer whereas it used to be played live in my living room. This is one of the primary beauties of this film. It captures elegantly the luxury of exploration on the road to success or recovery or just, life — the collection of meaningful moments that paves the path of our often anxiety filled journeys and those experiences we miss having once we reach our desired destination. I don't miss lugging equipment from one gig to the next, but I do miss having my home filled with live music on a regular basis. I don't miss the treacherous pain my sister endured; but I do passionately miss those moments of bliss when she made us all feel like such a connected, cohesive family unit.
As we make our transition from collegic freedoms to adult responsibilities, we tend to strive for balance. For most of us, the dramas of our youth die down as routine sets in; and one day we realize we have reached that plateau of normality that we were striving for. Our emotional state becomes fairly even keel and we feel a sense of pride in that. Then a film like Rachel Getting Married comes along and reminds us of the adrenaline that unexpected peaks and valleys create. Memories are created with high surges of adrenaline. They create the splash of color that illuminates most people's safe beige décor. The unexpected is not where I want to live, but I'm sure glad I have a scrapbook from my travels to and from those adrenaline drenched places of exhilaration.
Of course, not everyone is going to come away from this film with the same impressions I have. I can imagine many people in my life quipping, "It's too depressing. Too slow. Too filled with drama." If you are a person who goes to the movies to escape and you prefer romantic comedies or action adventures, then Rachel Getting Married, may not be your cup of tea. If however, you escape to go on expeditions of the spirit which can take you deep within your life or at the very least the lives of others and you miss the filmmaking pace that was more prevalent between 1960-1980, then you might very well appreciate this film as much as I have.
This film does not glamorize the life of an addict like, say, Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, a reality show on VH1. Yet, Rachel Getting Married does succeed in revealing the poetry of angst. Among the extra sensitive and extremely gifted, addiction or mental illness — often at the core of addiction — can seem like an inherited gene.
I had a sister who struggled with addiction for most of her young life, which ended at the age of 26. Anne Hathaway so brilliantly captured the moments I remember of my sister when she would be in a gathering, yet feel as if she were in a world all her own. She'd stand on the outside looking in with this pang of longing to come closer, yet it was as if she felt her insecurities were a swarm of bees around her that she was afraid would sting others if she got too close, so she always took life in from an aching distance.
Even though while watching the film I went through my entire mini pack of candy crumb infested Kleenex, the emotional release was cathartic. It reminded me of all the tiny, enchanted moments that filled my family's lives, which were scattered amongst the big, painful scenes that changed us. My sister was incredibly intelligent, deeply compassionate and somewhat of a natural, comic genius. During the long seasons when her mental illness and addiction seemed to take the air out of every room like one humid, hard to breathe day after the next, that unique life force of hers would suddenly breeze through, cool us off, invigorate our fatigue, and make us laugh so hard I needed my inhaler to catch my breath. It would bring a deep magical feeling of hope back into our hearts.
I related to every character in this film — the "normal" sister whose accomplishments were dwarfed by the drama that her troubled sister's illness consumed, the mother who detached from everyone she was biologically connected to so as not to hurt so deeply, and the over-protective, emotional father who was portrayed exquisitely by Bill Irwin, as were all the roles including Rosemarie Dewitt as the normal sister and Debra Winger as the mother. Even the cameos were gems of artistic perfection (Anna Deavere Smith and newcomer Tunde Adebimpe, to name a few). Anne Hathaway as Kym, reached a new personal mountain of truth and has earned her privilege to be considered a genuine talent. The acting was phenomenal, the likes of which I haven't seen since the 1980s in Kramer vs. Kramer.
Jonathan Demme, as director, is at his most raw, vulnerable and accessible. He has accomplished truly fine filmmaking with his latest love letter to living. This is a slice of life film captured in a quasi-documentary, voyeuristic, home movie style — one of my favorites. I feel that it's what Woody Allen wishes his films could be if he were capable of being fully present with the true multi-faceted nature of life and move beyond his two favorite subjects: infidelity and Crime and Punishment rehashing.
Rachel Getting Married has an incredibly natural unscripted feel. Like the perfect vacation, the film flows and lingers where desired. The long shots of atmosphere viewing void of dialogue made me feel like a part of the scene. The film was filled with actors and non-actors alike and an eclectic group of interesting artists — particularly musicians. I came from such roots.
Now, most of my musician friends have gone on to such success that their music is primarily sequenced into a computer whereas it used to be played live in my living room. This is one of the primary beauties of this film. It captures elegantly the luxury of exploration on the road to success or recovery or just, life — the collection of meaningful moments that paves the path of our often anxiety filled journeys and those experiences we miss having once we reach our desired destination. I don't miss lugging equipment from one gig to the next, but I do miss having my home filled with live music on a regular basis. I don't miss the treacherous pain my sister endured; but I do passionately miss those moments of bliss when she made us all feel like such a connected, cohesive family unit.
As we make our transition from collegic freedoms to adult responsibilities, we tend to strive for balance. For most of us, the dramas of our youth die down as routine sets in; and one day we realize we have reached that plateau of normality that we were striving for. Our emotional state becomes fairly even keel and we feel a sense of pride in that. Then a film like Rachel Getting Married comes along and reminds us of the adrenaline that unexpected peaks and valleys create. Memories are created with high surges of adrenaline. They create the splash of color that illuminates most people's safe beige décor. The unexpected is not where I want to live, but I'm sure glad I have a scrapbook from my travels to and from those adrenaline drenched places of exhilaration.
Of course, not everyone is going to come away from this film with the same impressions I have. I can imagine many people in my life quipping, "It's too depressing. Too slow. Too filled with drama." If you are a person who goes to the movies to escape and you prefer romantic comedies or action adventures, then Rachel Getting Married, may not be your cup of tea. If however, you escape to go on expeditions of the spirit which can take you deep within your life or at the very least the lives of others and you miss the filmmaking pace that was more prevalent between 1960-1980, then you might very well appreciate this film as much as I have.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Sensa Release Party Update
I began taking it on November 15 and today, Wednesday, November 19, five days later, I dropped an entire pant size. My weight is still in its normal range of fluctuation but I find I have more energy and less cravings. I am still eating anything I want, all the foods I'd have to give up on other weight loss programs, and that has been an incredible psychological gift. When I feel I have permission to have "bad foods" my inner child doesn't overindulge just to rebel, it actually chooses to eat in moderation. I am also finding that I am eating about a third less food than I used to and I'm comfortably going longer between each meal.
It took a few days to get in the mindset of habitually putting the tastants on every single thing I eat, but now it's second nature. It's a fun conversational piece which I'm sure will gain more merit if my success continues. I feel hopeful and grateful. I do find myself saying quiet mantras as companion to the system: I lovingly release my excess weight while I move toward the healthiest version of me.
It took a few days to get in the mindset of habitually putting the tastants on every single thing I eat, but now it's second nature. It's a fun conversational piece which I'm sure will gain more merit if my success continues. I feel hopeful and grateful. I do find myself saying quiet mantras as companion to the system: I lovingly release my excess weight while I move toward the healthiest version of me.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Dude! and Other Language Pet Peeves
I do not want to hear anyone, especially a woman, using the word dude, in their vernacular. It's past its expiration date of hip, new slang. As far as I'm concerned it's unimaginative and a sign of evolutionary regression. It's not cute, chic, creative or fun. It's Spicoli at Fast Times at Rigemont High. Period.
I'm also fatigued by one or two word answers as a general response to everything being said — "Cool," "Sweet," "Awesome," "Nice," or "You Rock," "Right on." Really? Why? How is it sweet, awesome, nice or cool? Why do I rock? Please elaborate, articulate and use your words, plural, to describe and explain why you think what you feel or why you feel what you think. Language is beautiful. Why be so economical with speech? It's not always effective, and it's rarely engaging. Why should I be interested in you if you are making no effort to be of interest?
What happened to expressive articulation and the colorful, imaginative use of language? I enjoy slang and creative updates of classic words. I'm a huge fan of Ebonics. I love language and its evolutionary transformations. Therefore, I want to hear the fullness of it, not just sound bites.
In our impatient society, most names are butchered to one syllable and responses to queries are often minimized to a solitary word. Texting has replaced speaking and text messages go as far as to use one letter to replace an entire word or an abundance of acronyms for shallow, single aspect expressions. I have more reactions in my being than "OMG!" and "LMAO!"
Where are our adjectives and verbs and sentence structures? Could it be that people are simply no longer in touch with their feelings or thoughts enough to elaborate on them? Have we become a one-dimensional nation of expressionless automatons? Are we really too busy to speak? Or is it fear of not seeming culturally relevant if we actually use language as a form of communication? These annoyances used to be reserved for teenagers, now I find them in women and men of all ages. Is evolution itself becoming extinct?
I miss the poetry of language, the original, loquacious verbiage of my intellectual, artistic friends who are now too busy living life to take the time to write or speak about it.
The words of Gwendolyn Fairfax, from The Importance of Being Earnest, ring now in my head, "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on a train." I do not want to be the most interesting person I know.
Please be introspective and share those reflections with others. Think, ponder, muse and then express, articulate and communicate, please. My brain is drying up from lack of outward verbal stimulation from others. I need for people to come alive and use their wit, cleverness and imagination to generate stimulating and entertaining conversations and leave the robotics of language to ghastly sci-fi and reality TV. May the Internet bequeath its thesaurus to us all.
I could keep using more words; but I, along with the rest of Americans, have a word limit.
Word Count 522
I'm also fatigued by one or two word answers as a general response to everything being said — "Cool," "Sweet," "Awesome," "Nice," or "You Rock," "Right on." Really? Why? How is it sweet, awesome, nice or cool? Why do I rock? Please elaborate, articulate and use your words, plural, to describe and explain why you think what you feel or why you feel what you think. Language is beautiful. Why be so economical with speech? It's not always effective, and it's rarely engaging. Why should I be interested in you if you are making no effort to be of interest?
What happened to expressive articulation and the colorful, imaginative use of language? I enjoy slang and creative updates of classic words. I'm a huge fan of Ebonics. I love language and its evolutionary transformations. Therefore, I want to hear the fullness of it, not just sound bites.
In our impatient society, most names are butchered to one syllable and responses to queries are often minimized to a solitary word. Texting has replaced speaking and text messages go as far as to use one letter to replace an entire word or an abundance of acronyms for shallow, single aspect expressions. I have more reactions in my being than "OMG!" and "LMAO!"
Where are our adjectives and verbs and sentence structures? Could it be that people are simply no longer in touch with their feelings or thoughts enough to elaborate on them? Have we become a one-dimensional nation of expressionless automatons? Are we really too busy to speak? Or is it fear of not seeming culturally relevant if we actually use language as a form of communication? These annoyances used to be reserved for teenagers, now I find them in women and men of all ages. Is evolution itself becoming extinct?
I miss the poetry of language, the original, loquacious verbiage of my intellectual, artistic friends who are now too busy living life to take the time to write or speak about it.
The words of Gwendolyn Fairfax, from The Importance of Being Earnest, ring now in my head, "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on a train." I do not want to be the most interesting person I know.
Please be introspective and share those reflections with others. Think, ponder, muse and then express, articulate and communicate, please. My brain is drying up from lack of outward verbal stimulation from others. I need for people to come alive and use their wit, cleverness and imagination to generate stimulating and entertaining conversations and leave the robotics of language to ghastly sci-fi and reality TV. May the Internet bequeath its thesaurus to us all.
I could keep using more words; but I, along with the rest of Americans, have a word limit.
Word Count 522
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Join My Release Party!
Even though my daughter is about to turn two, I still look like I'm about four months pregnant. So, when the opportunity presented itself to try a new weight loss product, Sensa, that did not require dieting as the holidays approached, I thought to myself, what do I have to lose other than a few pounds?
I'm addicted to positive outcomes, especially the likes of dramatic testimonials, and really noticed myself starting to believe that the caliber of success I was watching in the Sensa promo, could also be my own. But before I could imagine my own dramatic before and after picture, I was given a steadfast reality barometer as the words "Results not typical" appeared on the screen. Of course, those words appear on all the commercials for weight loss programs, from Jenny Craig, Nutri-System, Weight Watchers to numerous exercise programs. The trick I told myself to move past this amygdala kill joy is that I am not typical!
I have set a start date of November 15, and will report back on January 15, with my results. I'd love to have some companions on this release party, if you will. "Weight loss" seems like I'm losing something. "Release party" feel like I'm about to regain some of the freedoms I once had: More energy, smaller clothes and a return to my own personal homeostasis.
To join me, you and your loved ones can use the promo code offered through BettyConfidential.Com
I'm addicted to positive outcomes, especially the likes of dramatic testimonials, and really noticed myself starting to believe that the caliber of success I was watching in the Sensa promo, could also be my own. But before I could imagine my own dramatic before and after picture, I was given a steadfast reality barometer as the words "Results not typical" appeared on the screen. Of course, those words appear on all the commercials for weight loss programs, from Jenny Craig, Nutri-System, Weight Watchers to numerous exercise programs. The trick I told myself to move past this amygdala kill joy is that I am not typical!
I have set a start date of November 15, and will report back on January 15, with my results. I'd love to have some companions on this release party, if you will. "Weight loss" seems like I'm losing something. "Release party" feel like I'm about to regain some of the freedoms I once had: More energy, smaller clothes and a return to my own personal homeostasis.
To join me, you and your loved ones can use the promo code offered through BettyConfidential.Com
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Racism: How Politics Can Bring Out Our True Colors
I am a liberal who lives in a conservative community. Don't ask. I'm here for the beach, not the people. Right now, our neighborhood is less sand and more of a sea of McCain/Palin yard signs.
Our home is barren of political banners not for fear of standing out but due to a lack of willingness to invest time in decorating anything. We don't decorate for Halloween, Chanukah or Christmas, why should we decorate for election season?
A neighbor I had already pegged as a racist from generalizations he has made about various ethnicities in passing, stopped me on my walk to inquire about our lack of patriotic décor and the conversation went something like this:
Racist neighbor: Did you forget to put up the Mccain/Palin sign that was left for you?
Me: No.
RN:: What are you a nigger lover?
Until now I had been walking while he was talking. Now I am stopped. I take a breath and ask my higher self for guidance in how to answer this assault. This is my first time outside in over a week as I'm recovering from Pneumonia. I am short on patience but want to deal with this effectively. So I turn to him and say…
Me: Define Nigger.
RN: You know what a nigger is. A blacky. That Muslim lovin' Osama Obama.
Me: You mean Senator Barack Obama who is half white and half black?
RN: His skin is black.
Me. Did you know that I am also ethnically mixed with black and white?
RN: No way! Really? I knew you weren't white but I thought maybe you were just Mexican, Greek or Armenian. I didn't think you had black in ya.
Me. Yup, I do.
RN: But you don't look it so it don't matter.
Me: What if I feel it?
RN: What? That don't make no sense. Anyway, how come your kid looks so white?
(My daughter looks nothing like me in coloring. People have gone so far as to ask if she is my biological child.)
ME: Have you ever taken a biology class? Do you know anything about recessive genes?
RN: So you gonna vote for him 'cause he's black?
ME: No. I am voting for him because he is a Democrat and he shares more of my values than the Republican candidate, his skin color like everyone else's, is irrelevant.
RN: I can't get over you having black in ya. I feel like I don't even know you at all.
ME: Funny. I feel like I know you perfectly.
I began to walk again. I knew if I continued to stand there I would burst into tears out of the frustration, sadness and embarrassment of this reflection of ignorance in the world I live in.
Life has taught me over and over again that I cannot change anyone or anything but myself; and I can only change my thoughts and actions, everything else is a result of collective evolution. I was not going to allow myself to retaliate with hateful thoughts. I had to elevate myself in thought quickly - find some immediate mental distraction.
I started visualizing myself as one of the dancers in the Zumba exercise commercials. Somehow seeing myself as lean, strong and glistening with sweat while shaking my body to repetitive music made me feel free from the constraints of racism I felt had just been shackled unto me. This was my new non partisan happy place.
Our home is barren of political banners not for fear of standing out but due to a lack of willingness to invest time in decorating anything. We don't decorate for Halloween, Chanukah or Christmas, why should we decorate for election season?
A neighbor I had already pegged as a racist from generalizations he has made about various ethnicities in passing, stopped me on my walk to inquire about our lack of patriotic décor and the conversation went something like this:
Racist neighbor: Did you forget to put up the Mccain/Palin sign that was left for you?
Me: No.
RN:: What are you a nigger lover?
Until now I had been walking while he was talking. Now I am stopped. I take a breath and ask my higher self for guidance in how to answer this assault. This is my first time outside in over a week as I'm recovering from Pneumonia. I am short on patience but want to deal with this effectively. So I turn to him and say…
Me: Define Nigger.
RN: You know what a nigger is. A blacky. That Muslim lovin' Osama Obama.
Me: You mean Senator Barack Obama who is half white and half black?
RN: His skin is black.
Me. Did you know that I am also ethnically mixed with black and white?
RN: No way! Really? I knew you weren't white but I thought maybe you were just Mexican, Greek or Armenian. I didn't think you had black in ya.
Me. Yup, I do.
RN: But you don't look it so it don't matter.
Me: What if I feel it?
RN: What? That don't make no sense. Anyway, how come your kid looks so white?
(My daughter looks nothing like me in coloring. People have gone so far as to ask if she is my biological child.)
ME: Have you ever taken a biology class? Do you know anything about recessive genes?
RN: So you gonna vote for him 'cause he's black?
ME: No. I am voting for him because he is a Democrat and he shares more of my values than the Republican candidate, his skin color like everyone else's, is irrelevant.
RN: I can't get over you having black in ya. I feel like I don't even know you at all.
ME: Funny. I feel like I know you perfectly.
I began to walk again. I knew if I continued to stand there I would burst into tears out of the frustration, sadness and embarrassment of this reflection of ignorance in the world I live in.
Life has taught me over and over again that I cannot change anyone or anything but myself; and I can only change my thoughts and actions, everything else is a result of collective evolution. I was not going to allow myself to retaliate with hateful thoughts. I had to elevate myself in thought quickly - find some immediate mental distraction.
I started visualizing myself as one of the dancers in the Zumba exercise commercials. Somehow seeing myself as lean, strong and glistening with sweat while shaking my body to repetitive music made me feel free from the constraints of racism I felt had just been shackled unto me. This was my new non partisan happy place.
Friday, October 3, 2008
My Reaction To The Vice Presidential Debate, 10-2-08.
If Obama agrees to sit down with enemies, it's apparently "beyond naiveté;" but if McCain agrees to, it's diplomatic.
Double Standards, your table is ready.
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, may I call you Sarah? I have to admit that the more time I spend with you, the harder it is to criticize you — not because I find that you have redeeming qualities that outweigh my judgments, but because I find myself feeling so sorry for how in over your head you really are.
It's as if the Republicans had a character development meeting, the kind a group of writers working on a TV show might have. One piped up, "America loves an underdog and right now Obama is the underdog. We have to find a running mate for John that is more of an underdog than Barack." And boy did they!
Who knew that all it took to run for V.P. was some political Cliffs Notes and a whole lot of "common folk" talk — gumption? I can't deny that you have a gift for connecting with the public, especially with the average person who may not know much about politics. Since people tend to agree with what they can relate to emotionally rather than what may be factual, it doesn't seem to matter that your facts are off, your rhetoric comes off as Democratic in concern and yet Republican in solution. You're crafty, and that frightens me.
Around, around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel. That's the way the story goes: POP goes the weasel. But at the center of it all there's still a Bush, the rest is just a swirl of words. If anyone thinks the McCain/Palin ticket is going to be any different than the past Bush/Cheney tickets, I am here to inform you that you are mistaken. Trust me, I'm psychic.
P.S. Palin, it's really a pet peeve for me to hear a V.P. hopeful butcher language, especially with your "unique" vocal cadence, so here's a few unsolicited tips that might make you appear more worthy of your position:
When you pronounce the word nuclear, it's new-clee-er not new-cue-ler. (The berry doesn't fall far from the Bush.)
Iran is ear-ron not eye-ran.
Iraq is ear-rock not eye-rack.
And in case you visit Italy, it's eh-talian not eye-talian.
Double Standards, your table is ready.
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, may I call you Sarah? I have to admit that the more time I spend with you, the harder it is to criticize you — not because I find that you have redeeming qualities that outweigh my judgments, but because I find myself feeling so sorry for how in over your head you really are.
It's as if the Republicans had a character development meeting, the kind a group of writers working on a TV show might have. One piped up, "America loves an underdog and right now Obama is the underdog. We have to find a running mate for John that is more of an underdog than Barack." And boy did they!
Who knew that all it took to run for V.P. was some political Cliffs Notes and a whole lot of "common folk" talk — gumption? I can't deny that you have a gift for connecting with the public, especially with the average person who may not know much about politics. Since people tend to agree with what they can relate to emotionally rather than what may be factual, it doesn't seem to matter that your facts are off, your rhetoric comes off as Democratic in concern and yet Republican in solution. You're crafty, and that frightens me.
Around, around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel. That's the way the story goes: POP goes the weasel. But at the center of it all there's still a Bush, the rest is just a swirl of words. If anyone thinks the McCain/Palin ticket is going to be any different than the past Bush/Cheney tickets, I am here to inform you that you are mistaken. Trust me, I'm psychic.
P.S. Palin, it's really a pet peeve for me to hear a V.P. hopeful butcher language, especially with your "unique" vocal cadence, so here's a few unsolicited tips that might make you appear more worthy of your position:
When you pronounce the word nuclear, it's new-clee-er not new-cue-ler. (The berry doesn't fall far from the Bush.)
Iran is ear-ron not eye-ran.
Iraq is ear-rock not eye-rack.
And in case you visit Italy, it's eh-talian not eye-talian.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Politics 101: Abortion
I support a woman's right to choose, but I do not endorse abortion as a form of birth control. I believe that sex education should be taught in schools and that the curriculum should include both a promotion of abstinence and an education of contraception.
Most Democrats believe in a woman's right to choose. Most Republicans do not. In fact, Sarah Palin, wants to take away abortion as an option under any circumstance including rape and incest. Some Republicans have also made attempts to take away birth control proclaiming contraception to be abortion.* Imagine life without birth control.
Republicans claim that they believe in less government when it comes to public assistance like welfare and yet they believe in more government when it comes to personal freedoms like a woman's right to choose. Very few Republicans want to support the fetus that they fought so hard for once it's actually born.
Therefore, an unwanted fetus that is not permitted to be aborted often becomes an unwanted child, who typically ends up being raised in foster care. While the common perception is that there are long waiting lists to adopt a child, this isn’t the case for ethnic minorities who land in foster care, the vast majority of whom are statistically, unfortunately, far less likely to be adopted than Caucasian babies and children. I have personal experience with the foster care system in America, both as a volunteer who has cared for the children and as a child in that system. I feel that I can say with authority that no child wants to be born unwanted.
When these children go unadopted they often end up on the streets or in prison. The book, Freak Economics, found evidence that crime drops when abortions are legal. In 1990, the number of unwanted children in America was a little over 190,000. By 2007, after too many years of Republican reign, that number rose over half a million to roughly, 700,000.
I once did a study in which I asked 500 women the same question: "Should abortion be legal?" 50% said, "Yes." And 50% said, "No." I then asked them "Have you ever had an abortion?" 80% said, "Yes." So you see, it's just as important to keep abortion legal for those who believe in it as it is for those who don't.
word count: 389
• reuters.com/article/topNews/idUSN2152279720080821
• davethomasfoundation.org
• adoptioninstitute.org
• adoptuskids.org
Most Democrats believe in a woman's right to choose. Most Republicans do not. In fact, Sarah Palin, wants to take away abortion as an option under any circumstance including rape and incest. Some Republicans have also made attempts to take away birth control proclaiming contraception to be abortion.* Imagine life without birth control.
Republicans claim that they believe in less government when it comes to public assistance like welfare and yet they believe in more government when it comes to personal freedoms like a woman's right to choose. Very few Republicans want to support the fetus that they fought so hard for once it's actually born.
Therefore, an unwanted fetus that is not permitted to be aborted often becomes an unwanted child, who typically ends up being raised in foster care. While the common perception is that there are long waiting lists to adopt a child, this isn’t the case for ethnic minorities who land in foster care, the vast majority of whom are statistically, unfortunately, far less likely to be adopted than Caucasian babies and children. I have personal experience with the foster care system in America, both as a volunteer who has cared for the children and as a child in that system. I feel that I can say with authority that no child wants to be born unwanted.
When these children go unadopted they often end up on the streets or in prison. The book, Freak Economics, found evidence that crime drops when abortions are legal. In 1990, the number of unwanted children in America was a little over 190,000. By 2007, after too many years of Republican reign, that number rose over half a million to roughly, 700,000.
I once did a study in which I asked 500 women the same question: "Should abortion be legal?" 50% said, "Yes." And 50% said, "No." I then asked them "Have you ever had an abortion?" 80% said, "Yes." So you see, it's just as important to keep abortion legal for those who believe in it as it is for those who don't.
word count: 389
• reuters.com/article/topNews/idUSN2152279720080821
• davethomasfoundation.org
• adoptioninstitute.org
• adoptuskids.org
Politics 101: Sarah Palin
Politics is not a popularity contest. As long as the lowest common denominator of people are voting with the candidate that emotionally resonates with them, the lowest common denominator will be emotionally running this country.
I want a woman in the White House, but I don't think Sarah Palin should be that woman. My choice has nothing to do with Palin's personal life. My choice is based on her politics.
I support any woman with a desire for both family and career. I am one of those women. But a Vice Presidential election is not about supporting one woman's personal freedoms, it's about choosing the best person to represent the greatest number of people and all our personal freedoms.
Sure, I saw the likeability factor in Sarah Palin with her "The only difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull is lipstick" comment. Most women can relate to that kind of mama bear mentality. But when I take that into consideration with her support of killing wolves for sport* it gives me an uneasy feeling. Pair that with the pit-bull/lipstick remark and it gives a whole new meaning to a wolf in sheep's clothes. This is not the particular feminine influence I was hoping for with a woman in the White House.
When I contemplate McCain's anger issues and Palin's raw readiness to fight I see red flag danger, more war, and bad cop — bad cop. Who is the peace keeper in this duo?
I implore all women who plan to vote to make sure they are standing up for the greatest good and not just a politician they can finally emotionally relate to.
You can like Sarah Palin as a person and support her as a woman without voting her into office and jeopardizing your and others' reproductive and personal freedoms, environmental protections, health care, children's education, foreign affairs, economy, and world peace**.
Source
*http://www.alternet.org/environment/97207/sarah_palin's_big,_sleazy_safari/?page=1
** http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/sunday/commentary/la-oe-steinem42008sep04,0,2288253.story
Originally Published by BettyConfidential.com October, 2007
I want a woman in the White House, but I don't think Sarah Palin should be that woman. My choice has nothing to do with Palin's personal life. My choice is based on her politics.
I support any woman with a desire for both family and career. I am one of those women. But a Vice Presidential election is not about supporting one woman's personal freedoms, it's about choosing the best person to represent the greatest number of people and all our personal freedoms.
Sure, I saw the likeability factor in Sarah Palin with her "The only difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull is lipstick" comment. Most women can relate to that kind of mama bear mentality. But when I take that into consideration with her support of killing wolves for sport* it gives me an uneasy feeling. Pair that with the pit-bull/lipstick remark and it gives a whole new meaning to a wolf in sheep's clothes. This is not the particular feminine influence I was hoping for with a woman in the White House.
When I contemplate McCain's anger issues and Palin's raw readiness to fight I see red flag danger, more war, and bad cop — bad cop. Who is the peace keeper in this duo?
I implore all women who plan to vote to make sure they are standing up for the greatest good and not just a politician they can finally emotionally relate to.
You can like Sarah Palin as a person and support her as a woman without voting her into office and jeopardizing your and others' reproductive and personal freedoms, environmental protections, health care, children's education, foreign affairs, economy, and world peace**.
Source
*http://www.alternet.org/environment/97207/sarah_palin's_big,_sleazy_safari/?page=1
** http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/sunday/commentary/la-oe-steinem42008sep04,0,2288253.story
Originally Published by BettyConfidential.com October, 2007
Politics 101: Where Democrats and Republicans stand on the core issues of this election.
For sake of brevity, this is an oversimplified, nutshell:
The War
Democrats support our troops — they want to bring them home and end the war.
Republicans don't. It's debatable what exactly they are fighting for in this current war but it's factual that they are not fighting for our freedom and they have no plans for ending the war, other than winning it. If they want to win something, maybe they should try bingo instead; senior citizens seem to like it and John McCain is after all, a senior citizen.
Abortion
Democrats, of this election, believe in a woman's right to choose.
Republicans, of this election, do not.
Environment
Democrats believe in protecting the future for our children and children's children by preserving the environment. Democrats want to become independent not just of foreign oil but of all oil and have been encouraging alternative resources for fuel and energy for decades.
For Republicans, getting rid of oil is synonymous with getting rid of many of the fat wallets lined with oil held by republican tycoons. Rather than lose their personal, temporary riches, they'd prefer the entire planet lose their natural riches. Republicans chose to chant at the RNC like children under the blissful spell of ignorance, "Drill, Baby, Drill," which is not an act of environmental protection.
Health Care/ Taxes
Democrats want every person regardless of their socioeconomic status to have health care, which like any important investment in one's country, may require a raise in taxes.
Republicans fear that taking care of others will take away from them. Republicans are dyslexic Robin Hoods. They'd rather steal from the poor to give to the rich by keeping taxes low for the wealthy, thereby jeopardizing government assisted programs for the poor.
Celebrity supporters
Republicans: Hillary Duff, Jessica Simpson, Kidd Rock, Tony Danza.
Democrats: Stephen Spielberg, Leonardo DiCaprio, Oprah Winfrey, Jennifer Aniston
Which celebrities do you most relate to politically?
word count: 319
The War
Democrats support our troops — they want to bring them home and end the war.
Republicans don't. It's debatable what exactly they are fighting for in this current war but it's factual that they are not fighting for our freedom and they have no plans for ending the war, other than winning it. If they want to win something, maybe they should try bingo instead; senior citizens seem to like it and John McCain is after all, a senior citizen.
Abortion
Democrats, of this election, believe in a woman's right to choose.
Republicans, of this election, do not.
Environment
Democrats believe in protecting the future for our children and children's children by preserving the environment. Democrats want to become independent not just of foreign oil but of all oil and have been encouraging alternative resources for fuel and energy for decades.
For Republicans, getting rid of oil is synonymous with getting rid of many of the fat wallets lined with oil held by republican tycoons. Rather than lose their personal, temporary riches, they'd prefer the entire planet lose their natural riches. Republicans chose to chant at the RNC like children under the blissful spell of ignorance, "Drill, Baby, Drill," which is not an act of environmental protection.
Health Care/ Taxes
Democrats want every person regardless of their socioeconomic status to have health care, which like any important investment in one's country, may require a raise in taxes.
Republicans fear that taking care of others will take away from them. Republicans are dyslexic Robin Hoods. They'd rather steal from the poor to give to the rich by keeping taxes low for the wealthy, thereby jeopardizing government assisted programs for the poor.
Celebrity supporters
Republicans: Hillary Duff, Jessica Simpson, Kidd Rock, Tony Danza.
Democrats: Stephen Spielberg, Leonardo DiCaprio, Oprah Winfrey, Jennifer Aniston
Which celebrities do you most relate to politically?
word count: 319
How To Be A Psychic Mama
I was born with psychic abilities, just as my mother and her mother were and going as far back as I know. It seems that some families are genetically predisposed to inherit psychic ability. However, just because you weren't necessarily born with it, doesn't mean you can't develop it. If you ever had an intuition, a "gut feeling" about something, you were using your own inherent psychic ability. Here are three tips to tap into your psychic mama.
1. TRUST your intuition when you have it. If you think your child is getting into something they shouldn't, or is in danger, or even having a moment of bliss that you'd like to share in, trust it. Intuition is like a muscle — the more you use it the stronger it becomes.
Each time you listen to it and you are right, you will feel validated; and that validation will increase your confidence, and your confidence will open you up energetically to receive more intuitive hits that will decrease your likelihood of being wrong. The key to trusting the unknown is a willingness to be wrong. If you have a fear of being wrong, remember that the only way to conquer fear is with faith; and faith comes from trust.
2. LISTEN more than you speak, especially to your children. Each person vibrates at a different frequency, like radio and TV stations. Your children have their own frequencies, and when you tune your receptors to them and listen to them speak about anything they have an interest or passion in, it can awaken their heart centers and create a way for you to link up to them psychically.
When I do readings for people on subjects that I know nothing about, I simply listen to them speak about something they have a great deal of emotional investment in. I let their words wash over me like a gentle breeze, and in doing so I begin to receive psychic hits on other aspects of their life and answers to their specific questions.
Some people create so much chatter and noise in their lives that they can't hear their own intuition even if it's yelling at them. Be quiet and become centered. Pay attention to what is going on around you. Find a healthy balance between engaging with life and simply observing. It's the difference between doing and being. Psychic abilities awaken when doingness goes to sleep.
3. CREATE a practice of energy work. This can be anything from breathing meditations, certain types of yoga, or my personal favorite — daily chakra aligning and cleansing while surrounding myself with white light and asking for guidance from my antecedents. This provides you with a conscious awareness of what types of energy you’re projecting and attracting.
Everything is energy, and usually either positive or negative. If you allow yourself or your children to be surrounded by negative energy while opening yourself up to psychic abilities, you run the dangerous risk of inviting the wrong types of energies into your lives.
Bring forth positive energy by being in your joy. For me it is music, writing, walking on the beach, etc. Try to do at least one of your joy triggers each day. This will attract positive energy and help awaken psychic ability.
Lastly, live your life with integrity, love, and gratitude, and it will be easier to reach an intuitive place and experience the psychic mama within.
word count 572
Originally published by BettyConfidential.com July, 2007
1. TRUST your intuition when you have it. If you think your child is getting into something they shouldn't, or is in danger, or even having a moment of bliss that you'd like to share in, trust it. Intuition is like a muscle — the more you use it the stronger it becomes.
Each time you listen to it and you are right, you will feel validated; and that validation will increase your confidence, and your confidence will open you up energetically to receive more intuitive hits that will decrease your likelihood of being wrong. The key to trusting the unknown is a willingness to be wrong. If you have a fear of being wrong, remember that the only way to conquer fear is with faith; and faith comes from trust.
2. LISTEN more than you speak, especially to your children. Each person vibrates at a different frequency, like radio and TV stations. Your children have their own frequencies, and when you tune your receptors to them and listen to them speak about anything they have an interest or passion in, it can awaken their heart centers and create a way for you to link up to them psychically.
When I do readings for people on subjects that I know nothing about, I simply listen to them speak about something they have a great deal of emotional investment in. I let their words wash over me like a gentle breeze, and in doing so I begin to receive psychic hits on other aspects of their life and answers to their specific questions.
Some people create so much chatter and noise in their lives that they can't hear their own intuition even if it's yelling at them. Be quiet and become centered. Pay attention to what is going on around you. Find a healthy balance between engaging with life and simply observing. It's the difference between doing and being. Psychic abilities awaken when doingness goes to sleep.
3. CREATE a practice of energy work. This can be anything from breathing meditations, certain types of yoga, or my personal favorite — daily chakra aligning and cleansing while surrounding myself with white light and asking for guidance from my antecedents. This provides you with a conscious awareness of what types of energy you’re projecting and attracting.
Everything is energy, and usually either positive or negative. If you allow yourself or your children to be surrounded by negative energy while opening yourself up to psychic abilities, you run the dangerous risk of inviting the wrong types of energies into your lives.
Bring forth positive energy by being in your joy. For me it is music, writing, walking on the beach, etc. Try to do at least one of your joy triggers each day. This will attract positive energy and help awaken psychic ability.
Lastly, live your life with integrity, love, and gratitude, and it will be easier to reach an intuitive place and experience the psychic mama within.
word count 572
Originally published by BettyConfidential.com July, 2007
Psychic Mama
From as early as I can remember people have always asked me, "How did you know that?" To which I would honestly respond, "I'm psychic."
It's been said that all mediums are psychic, but not all psychics are mediums. Mediums are the psychics who can see and talk to dead people, empaths can feel what others feel, clairvoyants see the future, and telepaths can hear the thoughts of others. I was born into a family of psychics going all the way back to my Native American ancestors, and each person had a specialty. My specialty is that I am primarily an empath with medium abilities.
I tend to converse with people as if I've known them my entire life and know most things about them through years of shared experiences, even if we've only just met. Many times I cannot decipher what I know based on actual knowledge and what I know from simple intuition. My daily life feels like what the majority of people describe as déjà vu. Most everything in the world feels familiar to me.
Sometimes I use my other five senses to perceive information psychically, like hearing a voice or seeing a picture in addition to smelling, tasting and feeling the information but none of it comes through that literally. The best way for me to describe how I receive information is to use the word sense. I simply get a knowing sense about something, and names, words, colors, numbers, faces, pictures and impressions fill that space between my ears with what I like to call validation markers.
These are bits and pieces of what many would deem useless information that only the client would know. When I am able to tap into that information, it validates for both the client and myself that I am tuned into them. It's a way of letting me know that I am on the right energetic track or that I am indeed talking about the same person my guides are.
The real significance comes after that, when the person receives valuable information confirming their own instincts and intuition about which path in life to go down next. I'm not the one with all the answers. I just seem to be the one who is able to translate for the client the wisdom of their own higher self to the practical applications of their own worldly self.
I'm often asked if I'm not just a mind reader, to which I say it's possible. And if it's so, then it means that we all know the answers; but perhaps only some of us know how to read, interpret and transfer the information.
When I'm working with people hands-on I often feel what they feel. If they have a backache, I will have a backache, without them even telling me. I often know when my child is going to have a fever because I start to feel feverish first. This type of empathy used to make leaving the house problematic and sometimes it still does, which is largely why I never wanted to pursue being a psychic as a job. As my Papa used to say, "Not every hobby has to be a career. Some abilities may be meant to be kept private." He was also a psychic.
Growing up in a family of psychics was like living with a bunch of paranoid loonies on truth serum who are addicted to vices of escapism to drown out the thunderous volume of information overload. Some were addicted to the obvious and typical: alcohol and drugs, others to more creative and less destructive remedies: fantasy and humor. The number one addiction in my family was gambling, because, let's face it, when you're psychic, you tend to win.
Everything in my grandparents’ house was something they had won, from the furniture and electronics, to the appliances and Encyclopedia Britannica. They won trips and cars, backyard accessories and new wardrobes — consolation prizes for carrying the gift and burden of knowing the future. One parent won a quarter of a million dollars on an Indian Reservation Casino, then blew it all on Lottery tickets. Even still, my family collectively has won more times playing the California Lotto than probably most people in one entire state do collectively.
Personally, I don't gamble, take drugs, drink excessively or indulge in the escapism of fantasy. I'm an overly responsible mother in the 21st century — I don't have time for an addiction. I've done my best to cope with my psychic abilities in the way my psychic Native American antecedents would have, by accepting them and integrating them into normalcy as best as I can. I feel drawn to use them for goodness and shy away from frivol. I would feel naked without them, unrecognizable, as if all my extremities were suddenly amputated. Yet, I was never in a hurry to embrace and promote them for profit.
Conversely, when one has a child it's not as easy to make personal sacrifices for the sake of our integrity if it means going hungry because of it. I have never been one to believe in consequentialism, but I am a believer in personal responsibility and creative resourcefulness. When the situation demands it, we have to do what we can to put food on the table.
My child was born with some moderate, but persistent, health challenges that led to some major fulltime care. Both my husband and I had to take time off from work to take turns caring for the baby around the clock. Then the industry that we both work in underwent a major strike that limited our work potential even more severely. We found ourselves out of work with a sick baby and no future income in sight.
Even though I was accomplished in my chosen career and had devoted over half of my life to it, I was willing to wait tables if necessary just to earn an income. I put feelers out into the workforce for every conceivable employment opportunity that was possible. Unimaginable road blocks arose to each potential prospect. In spite of this, the thing I resisted the most kept coming to me readily, inviting and enticing me with illusions of ease: working as a psychic.
Mary, an old roommate from 20 years ago, who knew of my psychic abilities and also of the financial distress we were experiencing, called me with a proposition. "I have a friend who needs your help,” she said. “She's willing to donate money to a college fund for your child in exchange for your services."
Being a psychic was never a goal or a real interest for me. I had been offered many times to work for hire and had declined most offers. It can be very draining work and the name "psychic" itself has a negative connotation. I did not want to be put into the same category of the late night $3.99 per minute Jamaican psychic Cleo. Integrity has always been a key proponent in my life. I didn't want to be associated with a profession that was surrounded with labels of con artist, scam or trickery.
As Mary was speaking to me about her friend, I was already receiving specific information on her behalf: she has a brain tumor and needs to make dramatic changes in her life or else she will be dead within six years, etc. Mary confirmed the details. I figured, well, if I'm getting the information and I can help her, I might as well accept the money on my child's behalf.
Within a month, more referrals came my way and more people were asking to make donations to my child's college fund in exchange for a psychic reading. The problem was that we needed the money more for daily survival than we did for a future college fund and we needed to pay for our child's doctor visits too.
Mary set up a barter system between my child's doctors and myself. She also came up with a price list of what I should charge and helped me write text for a website. Within two months I had a new business and was working part time as a stay at home mom.
In our American society of gender inequality, my husband still had the greater earning potential of the family so we decided that he deserved more work time than I did, which meant that I only had a few hours a day to work. At first, my only time to work was during my child's naptime. I'd give a psychic reading while holding my cell phone with one hand and pushing the stroller with the other.
Now that business has picked up for me and slowed down for my husband we split all the work, caregiver work and career work, evenly. The upside is that our lives are more equal and I get to work which I have missed deeply and which I thoroughly enjoy. The downside is that I rarely see my husband anymore. Either he's working while I am taking care of the baby or he's taking care of the baby while I'm working. We're doing our best to find balance while knowing that it doesn't always come from standing in the middle of the seesaw but sometimes it comes from taking turns. One baby step at a time.
Eventually we hope to both work during the same hours with a child care provider who comes to our home who we can monitor throughout the day. We are blessed to both be able to work out of the house. We save on gas and only need one car for the entire household. We enjoy taking family breaks from work to share meals together and having the distraction of taking time out for playtime, hugs, kisses, learning something new, singing a song, reading a story or going on an outing with our child. We need to work but we also want to be with our child, and working from home provides us with the luxury of both. Sometimes we suffer from cabin fever, but having a toddler who enjoys the outdoors helps to break up the days.
I work on referral only and usually through email communication. I prefer if I don't see the clients or know anything about them. They send me questions and I send the answers and sometimes we talk on the phone. Most of the time I don't even know their names; and I never give them any information about me, including my name. Psychics can have problems with people who become attached to them and are unable to adhere to personal boundaries, which is why I am referring to my offspring only as child and not sharing unnecessary personal information with more digestible reading aids provided by pronouns.
In addition to personal clients I also work with doctors, private investigators, lawyers, business people and other professionals, and I go to their offices. Sometimes doctors know a patient is sick, but they don't know what it is or how to help. They enlist me to work with the patient and put my hands on them to sense what I feel.
I have private investigators that have contacted me about missing children and I do my best to help, but I find the tragic horrors of that work too emotionally taxing. I can't be a good mom to my own child if I am overwhelmed by that sort of pain, but of course I help when I can.
I spend most of my time working with business people who have a lot of money. They invite me to sit in on interviews for employees and help them choose the most honest person for the job. I help them decide where to invest their money, what advertising would be best, etc. They use me to run ideas by, and I use my intuition "gut feeling" to give them the best advice I can.
I charge $125 per hour, but I never spend the money until I have the information. Sometimes I am wrong — about 10-20% of the time — and I tell people that up front. They tend to focus on the fact that I'm usually right more than 80% of the time. It's a good hourly rate but I can only handle one client per day for what it takes out of me physically. My hourly rate does not take into account the work I must do to prepare for the reading and the work I must do afterward to protect myself from the reading. All in all, it's not that profitable to be a psychic unless you're in it for the fame and book deals and can take on the energy drain more than I ever could.
Being psychic is part of who I am, but it's not something that I choose as a career — it is not my passion. To me it is a job, something I am doing because I can. Even so, I derive tremendous pleasure when I am able to truly help someone through a challenge. Much of my psychic mentoring is centered on basic principles of simple wisdom, like holding joy in your life, expressing oneself creatively, good self-care, and encompassing integrity and love into every personal exchange.
Having a job centered on values of goodness helps me stay in my core of truth and practice what I preach. But the downside is dealing with energy vampires who can suck me dry if I let them as they keep asking the same question over and over again hoping to hear a different answer. People with negative energy from having non-human entities attached to them can also be terribly toxic. Being drained by empathy work can overtax my adrenals and compromise my personal health. This is all saying nothing of near daily and nightly visits from deceased loved ones who want me to connect to their live counterparts on this side, many of whom I have yet to even meet.
Not being able to connect with someone enough to give them a reading always deeply disappoints me. Especially when I actually am connecting with them but they are too obtuse to realize it — like my most recent client, a hairdresser willing to do a trade of services with me.
Psychic: Do you have an aunt named Lynn?
Hairstylist: No.
Psychic: Are you sure? It could be someone like an aunt, she's around your mom's age and she has the energy of an aunt.
Hairstylist: No, I do not have an aunt named Lynn. I'm sure.
20 minutes later I am still getting this strong message for her aunt named Lynn; and my guides were telling me that I was right, so I asked the hairstylist to think really hard.
Psychic: Maybe it was a great aunt, but I definitely feel that you have an aunt named Lynn and that I have a message for her.
Hairstylist: The only Lynn I know is my dad's brother's wife.
Psychic: (Dismayed shock covers me like the black cape collecting my hair clippings.) That would make her your aunt.
Hairstylist: Well, she's not a blood relative.
Psychic: That doesn't matter, she's an aunt; and I asked if you had an aunt named Lynn and you said no. You do have an aunt named Lynn. Correct?
Hairstylist: I guess if you call the woman my dad's brother is married to my aunt, then yes.
The humor colored the experience lighter but it did not lift the heaviness of fatigue that it created. I spent three hours with this woman and every question turned into a rerun of the one before. I wished I had just gone to Supercuts instead.
Being a psychic is an honest way to make a living if you really have the ability and always use it for the highest and best of all concerned. Nevertheless, as I make more of a living doing the things I really love, I will spend less time doing the psychic work. For now, it's a way for me to have an income by helping others, which affords me the cherished opportunity of also being a stay-at-home mom.
As a writer, I turn every client exchange into a story; and while I may not always have clients as fodder for my stories, I will always be a psychic mama — and to a psychic child no less — and there will forever be a plethora of stories to come from those unique circumstances.
jd smith is a writer/performer and an advocate for equality who just happens to also be a psychic medium. She teaches chess to children and in her spare time enjoys creative methods of archiving.
Word Count 2,794
It's been said that all mediums are psychic, but not all psychics are mediums. Mediums are the psychics who can see and talk to dead people, empaths can feel what others feel, clairvoyants see the future, and telepaths can hear the thoughts of others. I was born into a family of psychics going all the way back to my Native American ancestors, and each person had a specialty. My specialty is that I am primarily an empath with medium abilities.
I tend to converse with people as if I've known them my entire life and know most things about them through years of shared experiences, even if we've only just met. Many times I cannot decipher what I know based on actual knowledge and what I know from simple intuition. My daily life feels like what the majority of people describe as déjà vu. Most everything in the world feels familiar to me.
Sometimes I use my other five senses to perceive information psychically, like hearing a voice or seeing a picture in addition to smelling, tasting and feeling the information but none of it comes through that literally. The best way for me to describe how I receive information is to use the word sense. I simply get a knowing sense about something, and names, words, colors, numbers, faces, pictures and impressions fill that space between my ears with what I like to call validation markers.
These are bits and pieces of what many would deem useless information that only the client would know. When I am able to tap into that information, it validates for both the client and myself that I am tuned into them. It's a way of letting me know that I am on the right energetic track or that I am indeed talking about the same person my guides are.
The real significance comes after that, when the person receives valuable information confirming their own instincts and intuition about which path in life to go down next. I'm not the one with all the answers. I just seem to be the one who is able to translate for the client the wisdom of their own higher self to the practical applications of their own worldly self.
I'm often asked if I'm not just a mind reader, to which I say it's possible. And if it's so, then it means that we all know the answers; but perhaps only some of us know how to read, interpret and transfer the information.
When I'm working with people hands-on I often feel what they feel. If they have a backache, I will have a backache, without them even telling me. I often know when my child is going to have a fever because I start to feel feverish first. This type of empathy used to make leaving the house problematic and sometimes it still does, which is largely why I never wanted to pursue being a psychic as a job. As my Papa used to say, "Not every hobby has to be a career. Some abilities may be meant to be kept private." He was also a psychic.
Growing up in a family of psychics was like living with a bunch of paranoid loonies on truth serum who are addicted to vices of escapism to drown out the thunderous volume of information overload. Some were addicted to the obvious and typical: alcohol and drugs, others to more creative and less destructive remedies: fantasy and humor. The number one addiction in my family was gambling, because, let's face it, when you're psychic, you tend to win.
Everything in my grandparents’ house was something they had won, from the furniture and electronics, to the appliances and Encyclopedia Britannica. They won trips and cars, backyard accessories and new wardrobes — consolation prizes for carrying the gift and burden of knowing the future. One parent won a quarter of a million dollars on an Indian Reservation Casino, then blew it all on Lottery tickets. Even still, my family collectively has won more times playing the California Lotto than probably most people in one entire state do collectively.
Personally, I don't gamble, take drugs, drink excessively or indulge in the escapism of fantasy. I'm an overly responsible mother in the 21st century — I don't have time for an addiction. I've done my best to cope with my psychic abilities in the way my psychic Native American antecedents would have, by accepting them and integrating them into normalcy as best as I can. I feel drawn to use them for goodness and shy away from frivol. I would feel naked without them, unrecognizable, as if all my extremities were suddenly amputated. Yet, I was never in a hurry to embrace and promote them for profit.
Conversely, when one has a child it's not as easy to make personal sacrifices for the sake of our integrity if it means going hungry because of it. I have never been one to believe in consequentialism, but I am a believer in personal responsibility and creative resourcefulness. When the situation demands it, we have to do what we can to put food on the table.
My child was born with some moderate, but persistent, health challenges that led to some major fulltime care. Both my husband and I had to take time off from work to take turns caring for the baby around the clock. Then the industry that we both work in underwent a major strike that limited our work potential even more severely. We found ourselves out of work with a sick baby and no future income in sight.
Even though I was accomplished in my chosen career and had devoted over half of my life to it, I was willing to wait tables if necessary just to earn an income. I put feelers out into the workforce for every conceivable employment opportunity that was possible. Unimaginable road blocks arose to each potential prospect. In spite of this, the thing I resisted the most kept coming to me readily, inviting and enticing me with illusions of ease: working as a psychic.
Mary, an old roommate from 20 years ago, who knew of my psychic abilities and also of the financial distress we were experiencing, called me with a proposition. "I have a friend who needs your help,” she said. “She's willing to donate money to a college fund for your child in exchange for your services."
Being a psychic was never a goal or a real interest for me. I had been offered many times to work for hire and had declined most offers. It can be very draining work and the name "psychic" itself has a negative connotation. I did not want to be put into the same category of the late night $3.99 per minute Jamaican psychic Cleo. Integrity has always been a key proponent in my life. I didn't want to be associated with a profession that was surrounded with labels of con artist, scam or trickery.
As Mary was speaking to me about her friend, I was already receiving specific information on her behalf: she has a brain tumor and needs to make dramatic changes in her life or else she will be dead within six years, etc. Mary confirmed the details. I figured, well, if I'm getting the information and I can help her, I might as well accept the money on my child's behalf.
Within a month, more referrals came my way and more people were asking to make donations to my child's college fund in exchange for a psychic reading. The problem was that we needed the money more for daily survival than we did for a future college fund and we needed to pay for our child's doctor visits too.
Mary set up a barter system between my child's doctors and myself. She also came up with a price list of what I should charge and helped me write text for a website. Within two months I had a new business and was working part time as a stay at home mom.
In our American society of gender inequality, my husband still had the greater earning potential of the family so we decided that he deserved more work time than I did, which meant that I only had a few hours a day to work. At first, my only time to work was during my child's naptime. I'd give a psychic reading while holding my cell phone with one hand and pushing the stroller with the other.
Now that business has picked up for me and slowed down for my husband we split all the work, caregiver work and career work, evenly. The upside is that our lives are more equal and I get to work which I have missed deeply and which I thoroughly enjoy. The downside is that I rarely see my husband anymore. Either he's working while I am taking care of the baby or he's taking care of the baby while I'm working. We're doing our best to find balance while knowing that it doesn't always come from standing in the middle of the seesaw but sometimes it comes from taking turns. One baby step at a time.
Eventually we hope to both work during the same hours with a child care provider who comes to our home who we can monitor throughout the day. We are blessed to both be able to work out of the house. We save on gas and only need one car for the entire household. We enjoy taking family breaks from work to share meals together and having the distraction of taking time out for playtime, hugs, kisses, learning something new, singing a song, reading a story or going on an outing with our child. We need to work but we also want to be with our child, and working from home provides us with the luxury of both. Sometimes we suffer from cabin fever, but having a toddler who enjoys the outdoors helps to break up the days.
I work on referral only and usually through email communication. I prefer if I don't see the clients or know anything about them. They send me questions and I send the answers and sometimes we talk on the phone. Most of the time I don't even know their names; and I never give them any information about me, including my name. Psychics can have problems with people who become attached to them and are unable to adhere to personal boundaries, which is why I am referring to my offspring only as child and not sharing unnecessary personal information with more digestible reading aids provided by pronouns.
In addition to personal clients I also work with doctors, private investigators, lawyers, business people and other professionals, and I go to their offices. Sometimes doctors know a patient is sick, but they don't know what it is or how to help. They enlist me to work with the patient and put my hands on them to sense what I feel.
I have private investigators that have contacted me about missing children and I do my best to help, but I find the tragic horrors of that work too emotionally taxing. I can't be a good mom to my own child if I am overwhelmed by that sort of pain, but of course I help when I can.
I spend most of my time working with business people who have a lot of money. They invite me to sit in on interviews for employees and help them choose the most honest person for the job. I help them decide where to invest their money, what advertising would be best, etc. They use me to run ideas by, and I use my intuition "gut feeling" to give them the best advice I can.
I charge $125 per hour, but I never spend the money until I have the information. Sometimes I am wrong — about 10-20% of the time — and I tell people that up front. They tend to focus on the fact that I'm usually right more than 80% of the time. It's a good hourly rate but I can only handle one client per day for what it takes out of me physically. My hourly rate does not take into account the work I must do to prepare for the reading and the work I must do afterward to protect myself from the reading. All in all, it's not that profitable to be a psychic unless you're in it for the fame and book deals and can take on the energy drain more than I ever could.
Being psychic is part of who I am, but it's not something that I choose as a career — it is not my passion. To me it is a job, something I am doing because I can. Even so, I derive tremendous pleasure when I am able to truly help someone through a challenge. Much of my psychic mentoring is centered on basic principles of simple wisdom, like holding joy in your life, expressing oneself creatively, good self-care, and encompassing integrity and love into every personal exchange.
Having a job centered on values of goodness helps me stay in my core of truth and practice what I preach. But the downside is dealing with energy vampires who can suck me dry if I let them as they keep asking the same question over and over again hoping to hear a different answer. People with negative energy from having non-human entities attached to them can also be terribly toxic. Being drained by empathy work can overtax my adrenals and compromise my personal health. This is all saying nothing of near daily and nightly visits from deceased loved ones who want me to connect to their live counterparts on this side, many of whom I have yet to even meet.
Not being able to connect with someone enough to give them a reading always deeply disappoints me. Especially when I actually am connecting with them but they are too obtuse to realize it — like my most recent client, a hairdresser willing to do a trade of services with me.
Psychic: Do you have an aunt named Lynn?
Hairstylist: No.
Psychic: Are you sure? It could be someone like an aunt, she's around your mom's age and she has the energy of an aunt.
Hairstylist: No, I do not have an aunt named Lynn. I'm sure.
20 minutes later I am still getting this strong message for her aunt named Lynn; and my guides were telling me that I was right, so I asked the hairstylist to think really hard.
Psychic: Maybe it was a great aunt, but I definitely feel that you have an aunt named Lynn and that I have a message for her.
Hairstylist: The only Lynn I know is my dad's brother's wife.
Psychic: (Dismayed shock covers me like the black cape collecting my hair clippings.) That would make her your aunt.
Hairstylist: Well, she's not a blood relative.
Psychic: That doesn't matter, she's an aunt; and I asked if you had an aunt named Lynn and you said no. You do have an aunt named Lynn. Correct?
Hairstylist: I guess if you call the woman my dad's brother is married to my aunt, then yes.
The humor colored the experience lighter but it did not lift the heaviness of fatigue that it created. I spent three hours with this woman and every question turned into a rerun of the one before. I wished I had just gone to Supercuts instead.
Being a psychic is an honest way to make a living if you really have the ability and always use it for the highest and best of all concerned. Nevertheless, as I make more of a living doing the things I really love, I will spend less time doing the psychic work. For now, it's a way for me to have an income by helping others, which affords me the cherished opportunity of also being a stay-at-home mom.
As a writer, I turn every client exchange into a story; and while I may not always have clients as fodder for my stories, I will always be a psychic mama — and to a psychic child no less — and there will forever be a plethora of stories to come from those unique circumstances.
jd smith is a writer/performer and an advocate for equality who just happens to also be a psychic medium. She teaches chess to children and in her spare time enjoys creative methods of archiving.
Word Count 2,794
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