I Think the Universe is Trying to Tell Me Something...

....but I don't speak that language. Lately, it seems as if people from my past have been crossing my path much more frequently than they have prior, and they seem to be doing so in greater numbers. Some if it I can equate directly to the fact that my 30 year high school reunion was this past summer, but just this evening, I ran into a friend from graduate school that I had not seen since my son was born over 11 years ago. We ran into each other at Trader Joe's, and she mentioned that she had seen me at my parish several months ago but didn't get a chance to talk to me.

Weird.

Are the planets aligning in strange new formations? Are there pigs flying outside my window? Oh geez.......does this mean the Apocalypse is imminent? If so, does that mean that the ghosts of boyfriends past will come knocking me on the head late at night was I slumber. Criminey......I hope not. Not that they're bad guys; in fact, I'm still friendly with most of them, including my ex-husband. Still, I'm not sure I want to have a reunion with them in the wee hours. Imagine the shock that would give my heart.

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On a completely unrelated note, I came across this photo from our vacation to Washington, DC this summer. I took it because it made me chuckle; see, this sign is located on a back road located between Frederick, MD and Dulles International Airport, and is surrounded by..........farmland. The building in question doesn't appear to exist any longer, but they felt the incident in question still needed a marker. It's a take off of the proverbial, "George Washington slept here" gag.

That's all I got. I know, it's rather lame, but it's all I got. The coming weeks are jammed full of band rehearsals, choir auditions, and band competitions, not to mention lots and lots of martial arts classes. Little Man Warrior has been "promoted" to a higher level of training, and now it really gets intense with more classes, more weapons, and practices with the extreme martial arts team. Wish me luck with maintaining my sanity.

Later daze............

It's a Rock and Roll Kinda Life Here in the Suburbs/Five on Friday

Did I ever mention that I think in colors? I don't mean that I dream in color. Lemme 'splain: whenever I'm in a certain mood or am having a deep emotion, I live that emotion as a color. For example, when I went into labor with my firstborn, I was panicked. My pregnancy had been a difficult one from about the fourth month, and I had to take medication to prevent pre-term labor from developing into full-blown, take-this-baby-now-or-she'll-die syndrome. As I lay in my hospital room getting prepped for delivery, I felt and saw everything as dark blue. When I was told that I needed to have a cesarean section, everything felt and looked black. When my daughter emerged healthy and screaming, the room around me became bright yellow.

Does that make sense now? So, as my colors run the spectrum, my taste in music varies. For the most part, I'm a rock girl; I grew up listening to it, and that's how I roll. There are times, though, when the type of music shifts to classical, jazz, blues, rockabilly, inspirational, instrumental, etc. given what's happening in my life.

When I'm in a clean-up-this-crap mood, I play either dance "stuff" or even metal-type rock because it gets me motivated.

Lately, because I've been immersed in my manuscript, reliving the late 70s and early 80s, I've been feeling the music of the times. So, in homage to my high school and early college years, I give you the colors of my music of late:

What's Beyond Exhaustion?

Is it death?

School is only one month old, and I am tired beyond belief. I'm talking TO. THE. BONE.

And marching band season is just starting to hit its stride. October will be a frakin' nuthouse.

And did I mention that I'm working on a novel, too? With a collaborator who works insane hours and lives 3,000 miles away?

Um...yeah.

My mind is fried. And it's only mid-September.

Geez, I need a beach vacation already.

Later daze (and confusion).................

Just a Quickie....

....to elicit a giggle or chuckle from you:

Little Man Warrior: Sissy, you have a big head.

Bonnie Lass: I WHAT?!

LMW: Well, you do, because it's so full of smarticles.

The Popcorn is Popping, Take off Your Masks

It has been several years since I even felt like writing anything of substance. Seriously - ANYTHING. As a self-proclaimed writer who actually has been published, that is NOT procrastination, that is akin to languishing, which in writing terms means The Dead Sea. That's a hella writer's block with rebar twenty feet down and reinforced with bunker-type protection.

When I had a regular gig with a magazine, I had to write nearly every day to produce 50-100 word daily reflection pieces. Then when I was writing a feature article, I could whip out a 5,000 word article in nothing flat, but that was after many, many weeks of pondering and formulating.

My kids were younger then, and life came at me in snippets. I had a writing professor in college who produced her first volume of award-winning short stories by writing during cycles of laundry and when her children were napping. I could relate; I was so much more productive when I had only 30 minutes here or 15 minutes there.

But now, I have a high school freshman and a sixth grader, so my days are more my own, and other than chauffeur duties, more of my late afternoons and evenings are mine, too. Well, when I'm not attending this or that meeting or dealing with other nonsense like flooded laundry rooms and broken water softeners. After pressure from several of my peers (who KNEW that I would succumb to peer pressure at age 48?!), several months ago, I joined a popular social networking site.

Of course, friends tried to tell me how wonderful it was because there I could reconnect with friends from high school, share photos with family members, and generally stay plugged in with others. The first was NOT a selling point for me, given that I possessed no romantic, gilded memories of how high school was for me. I met some good people, stayed in touch with those I wanted to keep, and moved on.

Initially, I started out with less than a dozen contacts on said site, flying low under the radar so as not to draw fire. I made my profile private, and only my contacts could see my info and posts. Then, as is known to happen, fate intervened. I should say, she bit me on the ass. HARD. I was discovered by someone in my past, someone with whom I didn't mind reconnecting. One thing lead to anther, and then the floodgates burst. More people from my past, some with whom I did NOT share a personal history other than being high school classmates, connected to me. Suddenly, I was interconnected with the popular/cool kids, the beautiful/rich folks, and my clan, the geek artistic types. We were one big, internet-talking circle of fools.

I had no idea that one contact would shake me from my dearth of writing creativity. This person was definitely NOT a person with whom I was friends in school, my not being part of the cool/rich/beautiful crowd. And yet.....here we were as middle-aged adults sharing laughs and discovering that we really weren't that different from each other. In fact, if either of us had bothered to drop our masks back then, we wouldn't have wasted the past 34 years NOT being friends.

Why did I never bother to know that this person, who was popular, from a wealthy family, was in a steady relationship with another popular person, was shy like me? Was a lover of art and music and theater like me? Was just trying to fit in and finding it difficult to break out of a pre-shaped mold made up of expectations handed down from family.....JUST. LIKE. ME?

We can't expect that 14/15-year-olds are going to be as inwardly astute or keen to the complexities of interpersonal relationships and communication, but.......if we could have been just a bit less self-centered, we might have noticed that we weren't alone in our angst and awkwardness.

So, this person, this ONE person has personally and single-handedly brought the popcorn of my writing imagination to full pop mode. In just two days, I have written more words than I have in the past two years. Thanks, my friend, for taking off your mask. And for making me feel comfortable enough to take off mine, at least for just a little bit. I'm enjoying the feel of this new ocean, and I'm glad you're going to tread it with me.

Later daze...................