I have started three blog posts this last week which were quickly shoved aside due to lack of interest on my part. I found them boring and forced. I am in a bit of a writing slump and was trying to start anything that would break through it to become something actually readable. I looked back over the year and found a few other blog posts which were started, then discarded. I decided to actually take a look at each of these possible posts, revisit them and see if any of them are salvageable. I believe that at least one of them is. Maybe by going over my thoughts on why I started to write certain blogs it will remind me of what I wanted to say and help me find the words.
On January 8th of last year I wrote this:
I don't know if it was because I was an overly imaginative child or just a freak, but I can remember writing dialog in my head from an early age. I would be going through life as if I were in a book or a movie. Sometimes it drove me crazy and I would try to make it go away. That stupid voice inside my head would never shut up! Just my subconscious working overtime, not weird voices or anything sinister. I don't know if I ever learned to live in the "now" because I was always trying to be two steps ahead and plotting out the next scene. When I was in the fourth grade I had this wonderful young teacher named Mrs. Kiriu. She was a pretty Asian woman who made that year magical. It was 1976, so the Bicentennial was a big deal. We made homemade bread, root beer and butter. We also did a lot of writing in class. She was the first person to say that I had a talent for writing. It is funny how one kind word or positive comment can make a huge impact. I started keeping a journal, writing poetry and planning my novel. My novel would be about being adopted. I always felt that being adopted made me different and the last thing I wanted to be in grade school was different. If you were different people noticed and laughed at you. Elementary school kids can be cruel. I learned to blend in and be part of the pack, but always felt on the outside fringe. It never mattered if I was well liked, got good grades or did passably good in sports--I was the freak on the inside reporting life in my head as it went by. I wanted to believe that I was special and would do great things, but no matter how special I tried to be I felt overly ordinary and never quite good enough. Writing was something that I felt I just might be really good at. It was a way to express myself. I have always been better at putting my feelings on paper than trying to verbalize them.
Writing was a big thing for me in jr. high, high school and even the year of college that I did right after high school. I didn't get a whole lot of guidance from the counselor in high school. I am sure most of it was my fault for being a daydreamer who was overly boy crazy. I think he advised me to get married and be a housewife. My parents couldn't afford college and I knew absolutely nothing about scholarships or financial aid. I didn't have the focus and the drive that many of my friends had. I was content with the plan my parents gave me of going to Clark College in Vancouver. My creative writing teacher at Clark loved my work, I was also a reporter for the college newspaper and things were going well. I had started writing for the school newspaper in jr. high and thought maybe journalism would be a good avenue for me. I learned quickly that I didn't have the cut throat personality that it took to be a successful journalist.
And there it ended. I'm not sure why. This is an unedited draft, but it wasn't terrible. It might be the fact that the spring of 1985 while writing in college, I had one of the most painful times in my life. For whatever reason, this is as far as that blog entry made it. It has sat in cyberspace for a year with the word "draft" attached to it. It was never sent out into the world like other blog posts.
On the 21st of April there is a "draft" called Invisible. I must have really felt invisible because there is not one word written. If I wrote anything at all except for the title, I deleted it. Not sure what was going through my head. Invisible in itself says a lot. Curiously enough on the same exact day there is another title only post that says "Kitten". Unlike "Invisible", I do remember exactly what "Kitten" was going to be about. In April I found out that an ex-neighbor was going to be in White Salmon doing a public Psychic Reading event at the grange. My aunt showed me the article in the newspaper and was mildly curious. When I saw the name of the kid it brought back memories. We lived in a house on the main street that runs through White Salmon. It was a three story older house that was divided into two living spaces. My family rented the top two stories and the bottom story was an apartment that had a wooden porch. There were three kids who lived next to us. A girl who was a year older than me, a boy who was a year younger and then another boy who was three. That was pretty young compared to my advanced seven years. My cat had kittens and they lived in a bed on our covered porch. The porch wrapped around the side of the house and looked out over the side yard a story below. One day when we were gone the three year old neighbor boy took three of the the five kittens and dropped them over the side of the porch. The kittens were young and miraculously two survived. One did not. It hit the wooden porch below and died. I was devastated. That was my only memory of this three year old boy until he showed up in the paper forty years later as a psychic medium who sees ghosts. He says it began when he was a small child living in a haunted house. Was the house next to me haunted? What possessed him to throw my kittens off of a porch? I was tempted to buy the expensive ticket to see him speak just so that I could ask these questions. Of course then I rethought it and decided that I would sound like a raving lunatic and saved my money. I do wonder though.
On May 20th I decided that the half finished novel on my computer was boring and needed a complete revamp if it was ever going to be anything more than a file that takes up space on my hard drive. I thought of a new beginning for it and a way to make it seem more viable. I started writing it as a blog post and only got one paragraph done. This is fictional--I have never been tied up in the trunk of a car before!
They say that curiosity killed the cat. Like most people, I have heard that phrase my entire life. I was born curious and never really thought of it as a bad thing until now. I have learned a lot through curiosity, but have also uncovered a few things that probably would have been better left alone. My newest escapade has landed me in the trunk of a car with a knot on the back of my head. I should be freaking out, but I am unnaturally calm. I'm not sure if it is shock or acceptance. It better not be acceptance, I am not ready to die. I am only 42 years old, I have a family who needs me and too many things left to do in life. I can't believe how trusting I am--curiosity is one thing, but add naivety and empathy and that seems to make me a big target.
My so called novel is still taking up space on my hard drive and need more work than ever as part of it is rewritten in the first person but the majority of it isn't. It is still half finished and in serious need of some time and TLC. It is tough to say whether or not it will get the attention it needs in 2014. I started a project with my writing group that they felt was a more interesting start to a novel.
In August I started one called "Bad Dog Blues". Like others it didn't get far at all. It simply starts:
In this world of Reality TV,
Yes, that is really how far it got. I know what I wanted to write about. I just wanted to do some research and haven't found the time. I was upset because of the preconceived notions that people have about Pit Bulls. I happen to love my very sweet Pit Bull who has a big heart and loves everyone. The looks and comments that people aim towards him are completely unfair. They don't know him. It is discrimination and shows me a little more how certain people feel when they are judged by their outer appearance. People like to generalize groups of people due to their looks, their social status, education, sexual preference, religious beliefs or whatever box they want to put them into. Every dog, just like every person, has their own unique personality and worth. Generalizing, discriminating, having perceptions pertaining to appearances are hurtful. Those with narrow views are also hurting themselves because they are missing out on some pretty worthwhile dogs, people or whatever. Again, just a rant that sometimes goes through my head when I see my dog hated because of his breed, me dismissed because of my age and/or weight and other perfectly awesome people shut down because they don't fit a certain standard that is supposed to be acceptable. I'm not sure if any of that made sense. Maybe that is why the blog post didn't get very far!
September found me wanting to rant again with a post that was going to be titled "Missing the Simple Life". Not sure where it was going to go from it's first paragraph since that is as far as it got, but this is how it started:
I am a fan of social media when it is used in a positive manner such as keeping in touch with friends and family, sharing pictures and marketing for your business. Networking is imperative these days to making it in any business. Everyone is connected. What I'm not a fan of is cyber bullying, scam artists and hateful ranting on public sites. Hiding behind a computer should not automatically make you immune to being a decent human being. Anonymous or not, you should still have morals and boundaries. I am constantly amazed at the ignorance, arrogance and blatant poison that people unleash on the world through chat rooms, public forums and sometimes on your own personal pages.
I do get passionate when trying to defend others. Again, not sure why I was up in arms or what my message that day was going to be. Things did seem a lot less complicated before everyone was connected through the internet. Though it is a wonderful thing, it can be used for so much bad as well.
Those were my only unfinished drafts until yesterday when I started three and then found them all lacking. The first one was titled "Finding Balance in 2014".
It seems that the first thing I am really going to have to work on this year is balance. I know I've worked on it before, but life is constantly changing so staying balanced is often a challenge for me. I have not worked full time in over twenty years. It is crazy to realize that it has been that long. Now that I am working more and adding a steady paycheck I need to think about how to best use my time outside of work. It is difficult when you have so many interests and dozens of options. I hate giving anything up but may have to so that I don't fall flat on my face.
I started off the year belonging to two bunco groups, two book groups, a writing group, a meditation group and a paranormal group. I also am on the board for TOPSoccer, am the program manager for OCHS boys soccer and have a family and three dogs. I am attempting to head up the planning of my 30 year class reunion. If all goes as planned it will be a group effort and I will just be doing some delegating. Learning to delegate was one of the best lessons I've ever learned. My family is currently juggling cars since we have four drivers in the house and two somewhat economical cars and a gas guzzling truck. No wonder I get overwhelmed at times. I need to work on time management, reorganizing my priorities and being more organized when it comes to cooking, cleaning and the mundane things that have to stay as part of my life whether I find them interesting or not.
It seemed pretty boring to anyone but me. Yes, it would be helpful for me to go through what I do, what I don't do, what I need to change, what I want to keep and yada, yada, yada. It seems pretty boring to anyone who would have to listen. Maybe some things just need to be worked out in my own head.
After boring myself with that one I tried another one. I wanted to be funny again. I like it when I can write things that make people laugh. This one wasn't even given a title, so it was doomed from the start:
I think I lost my sense of humor recently. I have been looking everywhere for it, but it isn't in any of the usual places. I hate taking myself seriously. I guess I am supposed to--I just turned 48 which is just a number. I need to get over the fact that it is definitely middle aged. My early 40's didn't bug me; I felt a little more adultish but not ancient. I realize that 48 isn't ancient by any means, but it is alarmingly close to 50. I have high hopes for my 50's, but what about my 60's, 70's and 80's. I need to start getting a little more serious about those healthy changes I always daydream about making. My reading glasses have gone from helpful to necessary, I have occasional short hot flashes which are irritating and I'm starting to get a little more forgetful. It would be interesting to know how many times I actually put deodorant on in the morning. I can never remember if I did--I bet there are mornings when I put it on three times. I guess over doing it is better than not putting any on.
On New Year's Eve I befriended a very nice tribe of guys in their early 20's. They were amazingly sweet in their acceptance of my desire to try out their drinking game. It was a roleplaying game similar to Dungeons and Dragons, only it was made specifically for drinking. I wasn't wearing my glasses so I couldn't read the cards without help. I actually understood it more after a few drinks.
Again, the path of this one is a mystery.
I made one last feeble attempt yesterday when I became overwhelmed with the number of books that I have on reaching my goals. Again, no title:
My name is Lana Luke and I am addicted to Non-Fiction Self-Help books. I think I am going through some kind of mid-life crisis. I have some great books that I am sure would be very helpful in enlightening me on how to meet my many goals if I would just open them! Heck, if I would just take a stack of them and lift them twenty times per day with each arm I would probably get a decent work out. I love reading. I just happen to love reading really good Fictional books with colorful characters who sweep me away to a different world where I can traipse around for awhile to forget what is piling up in my own world. If I open one of the Non-Fiction books it is going to want me to actually do something that will make a change. I am great at making big changes for a day or two. I then fall back into my old, comfortable habits because I am too busy to actually have to think about implementing those changes daily.
This brings me to today. I woke up and decided to exorcise these unfinished drafts. I would put them all together and maybe, just maybe get an idea for my next blog post. So as random as it is--this is it. All I have for you today. Maybe tomorrow will be more productive.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Looking Back Before Moving Forward
As 2014 begins I am taking a look back on the roller coaster year that was 2013 and choosing to remember the highs as I let go of the lows. Low points were Kyle's soccer injury, the re-injuring of the knee and then the additional second and third surgeries needed to repair the damage. I had to work through the stages of grief along with Kyle as we were thankful that it was repairable, but sad because it was a senseless hit that caused it in the first place, the pain and the lost opportunities. I believe that in the end he will come out a stronger person and for that I am grateful. He has a new appreciation for things that he used to take for granted. Another low point was my failed attempt to help a friend by going on the Dr. Phil show. I learned a very important lesson about boundaries, imposing your beliefs on someone whether they are right or wrong and thinking that I could miraculously heal my friends' hurts. You can't save someone who doesn't believe that they need saving. It was painful to watch and even more painful to walk away.
Highlights of 2013 were the fun day spent in Hollywood with Angie, my dad's 80th birthday party, my trip to San Jose' with Linette so see Bon Jovi, having my last summer group be a big success, our multi-class reunion, Kyle getting his license, our grand-daughter, Piper being born, me getting a new job and our trip to Idaho over Christmas to meet Piper. I know I am probably forgetting a few other awesome things that happened during the year, but these are the ones, in order, that I can remember off of the top of my head.
I made a detailed list of the things I hoped to accomplish during 2013. As usual I was very ambitious and loaded it with more than was humanly possible. Of course the list itself is in the back of a notebook that I left at work, so I can't even pour over it to grade myself on my progress or lack of. I do know that I did accomplish some of the things and am happy for any successes. I know there are others that will carry over to 2014--not as resolutions, but as aspirations--things to strive for. If they happen, great, if they don't, I won't beat myself up. I have beat myself up way too much in the past. 2014 is a year to be gentle to myself, to try to be more health conscious, gain some energy, meditate more and maybe finally start being more serious about yoga and hiking which have embarrassingly enough have been on my list for at least four years. I will get to it. Just like I will get to writing. When the time is right, it will happen. All that I can do is de-clutter my life so that space opens up for things that would serve me better. I will have to drop a few things now that I am working full time. I haven't worked full time in over 20 years. Being a mom with a zillion little part-time jobs has been adventurous, but I'm ready to contribute more to decreasing the debt load in this house. Being a professional volunteer has been fun and I have met a lot of great people, learned a lot of awesome skills and have had some amazing experiences. I need to start thinking of the next chapter though.
I am hoping to write more in 2014. I started off writing at least one blog post per week in 2013. The content doesn't matter as much as the act itself. Getting me to sit down in front of a computer and write is the goal. Maybe one of these days I will take one of the several different novels that I have in varying stages and follow through with it. I was supposed to finish something in 2013. It didn't happen. I believe I put too much pressure on myself and that alone sucks any creativity out of me. I need to be able to relax and let whatever story wants to be told come automatically. I am starting to ramble. I am hoping that my over-thinking brain will calm down now that the holidays are over and start thinking of fun Blog topics for the new year. I miss the light funny ones--I hope I am able to create a few of those this year. Thanks for hanging in there and sharing the journey. I hope that 2014 holds some adventures for you as well. Let yourself imagine the possibilities then throw in a few aspirations.......
Highlights of 2013 were the fun day spent in Hollywood with Angie, my dad's 80th birthday party, my trip to San Jose' with Linette so see Bon Jovi, having my last summer group be a big success, our multi-class reunion, Kyle getting his license, our grand-daughter, Piper being born, me getting a new job and our trip to Idaho over Christmas to meet Piper. I know I am probably forgetting a few other awesome things that happened during the year, but these are the ones, in order, that I can remember off of the top of my head.
I made a detailed list of the things I hoped to accomplish during 2013. As usual I was very ambitious and loaded it with more than was humanly possible. Of course the list itself is in the back of a notebook that I left at work, so I can't even pour over it to grade myself on my progress or lack of. I do know that I did accomplish some of the things and am happy for any successes. I know there are others that will carry over to 2014--not as resolutions, but as aspirations--things to strive for. If they happen, great, if they don't, I won't beat myself up. I have beat myself up way too much in the past. 2014 is a year to be gentle to myself, to try to be more health conscious, gain some energy, meditate more and maybe finally start being more serious about yoga and hiking which have embarrassingly enough have been on my list for at least four years. I will get to it. Just like I will get to writing. When the time is right, it will happen. All that I can do is de-clutter my life so that space opens up for things that would serve me better. I will have to drop a few things now that I am working full time. I haven't worked full time in over 20 years. Being a mom with a zillion little part-time jobs has been adventurous, but I'm ready to contribute more to decreasing the debt load in this house. Being a professional volunteer has been fun and I have met a lot of great people, learned a lot of awesome skills and have had some amazing experiences. I need to start thinking of the next chapter though.
I am hoping to write more in 2014. I started off writing at least one blog post per week in 2013. The content doesn't matter as much as the act itself. Getting me to sit down in front of a computer and write is the goal. Maybe one of these days I will take one of the several different novels that I have in varying stages and follow through with it. I was supposed to finish something in 2013. It didn't happen. I believe I put too much pressure on myself and that alone sucks any creativity out of me. I need to be able to relax and let whatever story wants to be told come automatically. I am starting to ramble. I am hoping that my over-thinking brain will calm down now that the holidays are over and start thinking of fun Blog topics for the new year. I miss the light funny ones--I hope I am able to create a few of those this year. Thanks for hanging in there and sharing the journey. I hope that 2014 holds some adventures for you as well. Let yourself imagine the possibilities then throw in a few aspirations.......
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Seeking the Lady in Red
As Halloween approaches I thought it would be fun to change up the blog a bit and write about something spooky. I am currently doing some research that just might fit the bill. I have always had a fascination with ghosts, cemeteries and history. What are ghosts if not the impression of souls who have passed on to become a part of history?. History is a collection of stories marking events that occurred before this moment. Our knowledge of these incidents stem from the recollections and perceptions of the historian's account of that particular event. I am sure that the Indians at Wounded Knee have a different version of the horrific events of that day than the one that we hear from those leading the massacre. What I've recently learned about Christopher Columbus is in stark contrast to what I was taught about the explorer as a child. It is all a matter of an individuals observation. Are there really ghosts haunting particular sites? Are we surrounded by the spirit energy of those who have gone before us? There are so many opinions on this matter. Everyone is entitled to their own personal beliefs. I respect the beliefs of most everyone. I have to draw the line on hate groups and religious fanatics who use religion to perpetuate even more hate. I can't respect hate and openly admit it. I do believe in ghosts. I believe in a lot of things that aren't readily visible to everyone. As a believer I do enjoy good ghost stories whether they have merit or not. It is fun to delve into a story though and see if there are any actual facts that could explain how a haunting came about. Sifting through records and piecing together clues is my own way of reliving those Nancy Drew books that I devoured as a kid.
I love learning the stories of others. I am truly interested in where people have come from and where their paths are leading. Our journeys are as different as the paths we choose to get there. I believe many stories and legends came about to teach lessons or to warn wayward children away from dangerous paths. Is this the case of the Lady in Red who was mentioned to me in passing last week? If the Lady in Red really haunts the Underwood Cemetery why am I just hearing about her now as a middle aged woman? I have visited that cemetery for years and had never heard mention of her. I have put the word out to people who live in that area, historians and paranormal groups asking for more information. One Facebook Friend on my alumni account cautioned that the Lady in Red should not be trifled with. I answered that I don't want to trifle with her, I want to know her story. If she is haunting a cemetery there must be a reason. It would seem to me that the whole objective of the haunting would be to get someones attention so that they would know the reason. Is the Lady in Red the product of a story perpetuated by children living near the cemetery to scare their friends? Who didn't like to tell spooky stories when they were young? Okay, maybe not everyone but I know that I did. We would tell all kinds of dark tales as we walked down Slaughterhouse Road to peer at the old Dot house. I think Dot is what they called it? Maybe it was Dock. Someone said that it had something to do with Dock Grade. It could be that my young ears heard Dot so that is what it became to me. The house was an abandoned farmhouse that was falling into total ruin. We would dare one another to go in. Of course by the time we got there we had ourselves so completely freaked out that no one was brave enough to cross the threshold. We did get up the nerve to enter the old Slaughterhouse though. It was a bit more open and not as rundown. I swear it still held the smell of blood though. Even though that was the blood of animals it still sent chills down my spine. I have always been empathetic to suffering and those animals had to have suffered something even if they were slaughtered in what was considered a humane way. The slaughterhouse made me more sad than scared. Of course I try not to really think too hard about where my food comes from. I definitely should be a Vegetarian by now.
Back to The Lady in Red. Chris-Zada Cemetery in Underwood has always been a favorite place. I love cemeteries. I feel oddly serene when walking among the gravestones and reading the names of those past. I wonder about their lives and find it sad when they died young. The cemetery is named after two little girls who died in 1901. Christina Dark and Zada Larsen were lost to illness in a flu epidemic. They were 5 and 7. I was taken there in 2009 as part of my first ever ghost hunt. I was working on a novel and wanted to do some research. Local paranormal investigators felt that it was an active spot and chose it as one of the locations we visited that night. I was able to hear my first EVP there and lost some of my previous skepticism. Earlier this year I learned of a publication that was put out by a local resident about the cemetery. It is a copulation of all of the known obituaries of the occupants of the graves in the Underwood Cemetery. There is an early plot map and the names of those known to be interred there whose markers have been lost.
In the days that have passed since the Lady in Red was mentioned to me I have gone through the cemetery publication. It is very interesting. I tried to decide who I thought the Lady in Red might be if she is indeed one of those who has taken up permanent residence there. Granted, I have not read each and every obituary in the book yet. I also have not heard any explanation from anyone about this Lady in Red Story. The closest I have come is a classmate who says that she remembers her high school boyfriend telling her about the lady years ago. He was an Underwood resident so he very well may be one of those few who know the origins of the story. Believe me there will be a second blog written as soon as I have more information. With nothing to go on though I made up my own theory along with my friend Sarah who is as intrigued as I am. She is encouraging me to make the Lady in Red a character in a future novel. I might.
In the publication mentioned that was written by a resident named Ralph Brown and published this past April I found a woman named Gwenllian Price Jones Quin. To imagine this woman in life is a fete on its own. I would love to see pictures of her and hear more about her amazing life. It seems she was born in Waleson February 5,1863. In the publication Brown has included a small article and obituary that appeared in the Mt. Adams Sun newspaper on November 23, 1952 shortly after her death. I will share it with you now. I am typing it exactly as it appeared so any run on sentences and such are those of the unnamed newspaper writer:
GWENLLIAN "HARRIET" PRICE JONES QUIN
Gwenllian Price married Mordecai Jones (1865-1913) in Ireland in 1893. Mordecai, a multi-millionaire had been in the Pacific NW beginning in 1883 on multiple hunting trips; they immigrated 1896, establishing a large estate near Husum and planted a successful orchard, which began the apple orchard boom in the White Salmon area. Mordecai also built Hunter Hill Lodge and hosted many hunting parties for gentlemen from England. He inherited a significant amount of land and mines in Wales and Ireland and returned many times to manage his inheritance; however he died in Ireland from Malaria in 1913. Gwenllian remained to settle the estate and had a significant amount of furnishings sent to the Hunter's Hill Lodge and returned in 1921 with her new husband Noel Quin.
Gwenllian Quin
Harriet Gwenllian Quin, 89, was born in Wales Feb, 5 1963, and was one of 19 children, five of whom survive. She was educated at Christ College and London University. in 1896, she and her husband and three sons came to America. Four four years prior to moving to the present ranch known as Hunter's Hill in 1900, the family lived at the old "Brown Place" between Husum and BZ Corners. In 1907 she took her sons to England to be educated. While there she purchased the beautiful estate of the Earl of Darnley. She did a great deal of travelling through Europe at this time. In 1911 she went on a big game safari to Kenya, East Africa with her husband. During the nine months she was gone she killed many lions, leopards, buffalo and rhinoceros. The hides and heads of these were taken to England. During the First World War when her sons were overseas Mrs. Quin was made a lifetime member of the British Red Cross for her great services. In 1922 she jointed her son at Hunters Hill where she lived until a few months ago. She was taken ill in November of 1951, and after a prolonged illness passed away October 1 at Medical Lake. She is survived by her three sons; Ion, Felix and Guy Jones, five grandchildren, one great grandchild and five sisters. Funeral services were held Saturday, Oct. 4 at the Gardener Funeral Home, with Rev. George officiating. Interment was in the Chris-Zada cemetery at Underwood.
What an accomplished woman for the day and age! It is hard to believe she was part of our little community. I have so many questions about her. I also want to know where Hunter's Hill is--what about the old "Brown Place". Did her sons stay in the area? Luckily for me and any other history buff the answer to many of these questions might be found at the West Klickitat County Historical Society Museum in Bingen. I know that I've been wanting to go there. My problem is that once I enter the museum and see the archives they have stored in their basement I may not come up for air for several days. I haven't had time to carve several days into my schedule yet. It will be on my "to do" list in 2014.
Why would I come to the conclusion that Gwenllian Quin could be the mysterious Lady in Red? Because despite her wealth and standing in the community, her grave is unmarked. I don't see how this is possible. Her grave sits next to that of her second husband, Noel Quin. He preceded her in death by almost twenty years, dying in October of 1933. Gwellian provided a very nice headstone for him which appears in the picture to be a pedestal with a stone cross coming out of the top. It is probably two or three feet tall (I am going by the picture). The educated world traveler has nothing at all marking her grave. Could she be hanging out waiting for one of her descendants to fork over some of that inheritance money for a decent grave stone? Shouldn't one of her sons have commissioned something fitting for the matriarch of their estates? If by any chance Gwenllian told the boys not to go to the expense or fuss over her, she didn't really mean it.
This matter will need further research. Who knows when time will allow for me to frivolously while away the hours scrutinizing the details left behind by a family of immigrants who happened upon the area well over 100 years ago. Maybe my friends at the historical society will have a few answers for me. Tonight at their meeting they will raise the question regarding the Lady in Red. Did Gwenllian ever wear red? If not Gwenllian then who is she supposed to be? I will have to read more of the obituaries to see if there are other candidates. Chances are she is probably the figment of an overactive imagination. If you are visiting the Chris-Zada cemetery in Underwood and happen to see her, please let me know.
I love learning the stories of others. I am truly interested in where people have come from and where their paths are leading. Our journeys are as different as the paths we choose to get there. I believe many stories and legends came about to teach lessons or to warn wayward children away from dangerous paths. Is this the case of the Lady in Red who was mentioned to me in passing last week? If the Lady in Red really haunts the Underwood Cemetery why am I just hearing about her now as a middle aged woman? I have visited that cemetery for years and had never heard mention of her. I have put the word out to people who live in that area, historians and paranormal groups asking for more information. One Facebook Friend on my alumni account cautioned that the Lady in Red should not be trifled with. I answered that I don't want to trifle with her, I want to know her story. If she is haunting a cemetery there must be a reason. It would seem to me that the whole objective of the haunting would be to get someones attention so that they would know the reason. Is the Lady in Red the product of a story perpetuated by children living near the cemetery to scare their friends? Who didn't like to tell spooky stories when they were young? Okay, maybe not everyone but I know that I did. We would tell all kinds of dark tales as we walked down Slaughterhouse Road to peer at the old Dot house. I think Dot is what they called it? Maybe it was Dock. Someone said that it had something to do with Dock Grade. It could be that my young ears heard Dot so that is what it became to me. The house was an abandoned farmhouse that was falling into total ruin. We would dare one another to go in. Of course by the time we got there we had ourselves so completely freaked out that no one was brave enough to cross the threshold. We did get up the nerve to enter the old Slaughterhouse though. It was a bit more open and not as rundown. I swear it still held the smell of blood though. Even though that was the blood of animals it still sent chills down my spine. I have always been empathetic to suffering and those animals had to have suffered something even if they were slaughtered in what was considered a humane way. The slaughterhouse made me more sad than scared. Of course I try not to really think too hard about where my food comes from. I definitely should be a Vegetarian by now.
Back to The Lady in Red. Chris-Zada Cemetery in Underwood has always been a favorite place. I love cemeteries. I feel oddly serene when walking among the gravestones and reading the names of those past. I wonder about their lives and find it sad when they died young. The cemetery is named after two little girls who died in 1901. Christina Dark and Zada Larsen were lost to illness in a flu epidemic. They were 5 and 7. I was taken there in 2009 as part of my first ever ghost hunt. I was working on a novel and wanted to do some research. Local paranormal investigators felt that it was an active spot and chose it as one of the locations we visited that night. I was able to hear my first EVP there and lost some of my previous skepticism. Earlier this year I learned of a publication that was put out by a local resident about the cemetery. It is a copulation of all of the known obituaries of the occupants of the graves in the Underwood Cemetery. There is an early plot map and the names of those known to be interred there whose markers have been lost.
In the days that have passed since the Lady in Red was mentioned to me I have gone through the cemetery publication. It is very interesting. I tried to decide who I thought the Lady in Red might be if she is indeed one of those who has taken up permanent residence there. Granted, I have not read each and every obituary in the book yet. I also have not heard any explanation from anyone about this Lady in Red Story. The closest I have come is a classmate who says that she remembers her high school boyfriend telling her about the lady years ago. He was an Underwood resident so he very well may be one of those few who know the origins of the story. Believe me there will be a second blog written as soon as I have more information. With nothing to go on though I made up my own theory along with my friend Sarah who is as intrigued as I am. She is encouraging me to make the Lady in Red a character in a future novel. I might.
In the publication mentioned that was written by a resident named Ralph Brown and published this past April I found a woman named Gwenllian Price Jones Quin. To imagine this woman in life is a fete on its own. I would love to see pictures of her and hear more about her amazing life. It seems she was born in Waleson February 5,1863. In the publication Brown has included a small article and obituary that appeared in the Mt. Adams Sun newspaper on November 23, 1952 shortly after her death. I will share it with you now. I am typing it exactly as it appeared so any run on sentences and such are those of the unnamed newspaper writer:
GWENLLIAN "HARRIET" PRICE JONES QUIN
Gwenllian Price married Mordecai Jones (1865-1913) in Ireland in 1893. Mordecai, a multi-millionaire had been in the Pacific NW beginning in 1883 on multiple hunting trips; they immigrated 1896, establishing a large estate near Husum and planted a successful orchard, which began the apple orchard boom in the White Salmon area. Mordecai also built Hunter Hill Lodge and hosted many hunting parties for gentlemen from England. He inherited a significant amount of land and mines in Wales and Ireland and returned many times to manage his inheritance; however he died in Ireland from Malaria in 1913. Gwenllian remained to settle the estate and had a significant amount of furnishings sent to the Hunter's Hill Lodge and returned in 1921 with her new husband Noel Quin.
Gwenllian Quin
Harriet Gwenllian Quin, 89, was born in Wales Feb, 5 1963, and was one of 19 children, five of whom survive. She was educated at Christ College and London University. in 1896, she and her husband and three sons came to America. Four four years prior to moving to the present ranch known as Hunter's Hill in 1900, the family lived at the old "Brown Place" between Husum and BZ Corners. In 1907 she took her sons to England to be educated. While there she purchased the beautiful estate of the Earl of Darnley. She did a great deal of travelling through Europe at this time. In 1911 she went on a big game safari to Kenya, East Africa with her husband. During the nine months she was gone she killed many lions, leopards, buffalo and rhinoceros. The hides and heads of these were taken to England. During the First World War when her sons were overseas Mrs. Quin was made a lifetime member of the British Red Cross for her great services. In 1922 she jointed her son at Hunters Hill where she lived until a few months ago. She was taken ill in November of 1951, and after a prolonged illness passed away October 1 at Medical Lake. She is survived by her three sons; Ion, Felix and Guy Jones, five grandchildren, one great grandchild and five sisters. Funeral services were held Saturday, Oct. 4 at the Gardener Funeral Home, with Rev. George officiating. Interment was in the Chris-Zada cemetery at Underwood.
What an accomplished woman for the day and age! It is hard to believe she was part of our little community. I have so many questions about her. I also want to know where Hunter's Hill is--what about the old "Brown Place". Did her sons stay in the area? Luckily for me and any other history buff the answer to many of these questions might be found at the West Klickitat County Historical Society Museum in Bingen. I know that I've been wanting to go there. My problem is that once I enter the museum and see the archives they have stored in their basement I may not come up for air for several days. I haven't had time to carve several days into my schedule yet. It will be on my "to do" list in 2014.
Why would I come to the conclusion that Gwenllian Quin could be the mysterious Lady in Red? Because despite her wealth and standing in the community, her grave is unmarked. I don't see how this is possible. Her grave sits next to that of her second husband, Noel Quin. He preceded her in death by almost twenty years, dying in October of 1933. Gwellian provided a very nice headstone for him which appears in the picture to be a pedestal with a stone cross coming out of the top. It is probably two or three feet tall (I am going by the picture). The educated world traveler has nothing at all marking her grave. Could she be hanging out waiting for one of her descendants to fork over some of that inheritance money for a decent grave stone? Shouldn't one of her sons have commissioned something fitting for the matriarch of their estates? If by any chance Gwenllian told the boys not to go to the expense or fuss over her, she didn't really mean it.
This matter will need further research. Who knows when time will allow for me to frivolously while away the hours scrutinizing the details left behind by a family of immigrants who happened upon the area well over 100 years ago. Maybe my friends at the historical society will have a few answers for me. Tonight at their meeting they will raise the question regarding the Lady in Red. Did Gwenllian ever wear red? If not Gwenllian then who is she supposed to be? I will have to read more of the obituaries to see if there are other candidates. Chances are she is probably the figment of an overactive imagination. If you are visiting the Chris-Zada cemetery in Underwood and happen to see her, please let me know.
Monday, September 30, 2013
My Own Personal Hell
When it comes to Hell everyone has their own version of what it is. Some believe that we are actually in Hell right now as we speak living out our feeble existence while we attempt to work our way back into the good graces of the powers that be. Most of us were taught that Hell is a fiery inferno where we spend eternity burning along with millions of other dammed souls who deigned to unworthy. That means that our Loving God has filled the pit with tiny unbaptized souls mixed in with shoplifters, tax evaders, liars and mass murderers. The truly evil rubbing burning elbows with those whose only crime may have been ignorance. I have a hard time with the concept of Hell. I believe each individual has their own private Hell which looks completely different from the private Hell of most everyone around them. My husbands Hell would be filled with snakes, my daughters would have spiders--there are no video games in the Hell's of my sons. Blasphemous as I am, Hell to me is a Shopping Mall.
As a teen I'm sure that I flocked to shopping malls like they were Mecca--the land of milk and honey. The smell of fried food mixed in with perfume samples and sweaty bodies. The loud, boisterous energy of avid shoppers seeking nirvana in a pair of shoes or a purse. A place where the right pair of jeans could make me feel like I could conquer the world. Plastic cards could get me anything my heart desired and I had until the next billing cycle before I felt like crap and wondered what I was thinking. As I grew older the mall slowly became less of a fairy tale castle and more like the Nine Circles of Hell. Yesterday when I wanted to be home in my sweats I was forced to go to the Mall. It wasn't for anything I needed. My bank balance doesn't allow for me to need anything this week. To amuse myself as we tromped through the weekend shoppers I imagined the Nine Circles of Hell in my head and found them all around me.
The First Circle is limbo. A place between worlds where the unbaptized and virtuous pagans waste countless hours between paychecks wondering if that coveted pair of shoes will still be on sale next week. Between paychecks is a Hell unto itself when you live from one to the next in limbo. You dread the gas light, pray the milk will hold out and cringe when a necessity breaks, rips or dies making it impossible to keep from dipping into the bill money. Limbo is a place I know well and can usually be found since the coveted pair of shoes is not a necessity and wishing for them takes me into the Second Circle which is lust. Lusting for a pair of Converse. What kind of mother does that? Especially a mother of my age. I should have outgrown my lust for Converse twenty years ago. But no, Converse, Toms and cute flats all call my name from different stores as I try to keep my head down and eyes averted. Lusting for shoes drives me to the Third Circle which is Gluttony. I am a glutton for shoes it is true, but at the mall I am also be a glutton for Cinnabon, Jamba Juice and Sbarros and would gladly partake of all of them if my checkbook would allow it. Drinking a Peach Perfection Smoothie while dipping a hot slice of Sbarro cheese and mushroom pizza into ranch sauce and smelling the Cinnabon Mini which would be the scrumptious. For now it is a Hellish, Lustful, Gluttonous daydream because I am in the between paycheck limbo that takes up most of my life.
After Limbo, Lust and Gluttony comes Greed. Would I really be greedy enough to buy shoes and pig out at the mall when there are bills to pay? If I was greedy, yes. My greed for extra money to buy frivolous things when we have real needs makes me angry. Anger is fitting since it is the Fifth Circle of Hell. I spend a lot of time being angry at myself for not bringing in more extra money for wants instead of needs. The anger is not productive. It makes me lose all hope and all motivation. When I am not motivated I write blasphemous blogs in my head that take me in the sixth circle of heresy. My beliefs deviate too far from the norm to make me anything less than a heretic. As a heretic I will enter the sixth circle of Hell even though I haven't even left the mall. I am still here wishing for shoes, hungry for things that I can't have and angry that I didn't have the foresight to get a better paying job sooner. My violent thoughts of the Mall being Hell and all of the shoppers being burning zombies skirt me around the outside of the seventh circle which is violence. I am not really a violent person, so can't actually traipse through the center of this circle but I can see the violent nature of the Mall. The Mall is full of masses of unfriendly looking packs of rabid shoppers who just might tear one another limb for limb for the last pair of sparkly black Toms in a size 9 or that perfect pair of Chucks. Not me of course. I have patience and am used to just lustfully ogling them with greedy eyes.
The eighth circle is Fraud. Fraud runs rampant in the mall. I am a fraud for being a chunky middle aged woman wanting Chucks. I am a teenager trapped in this body that I would never have chosen for myself. If the real me was out in the open instead of this chunky imposter--she would be youngish, athletic and wearing Levi's, a t-shirt and Chucks. This chunky gal is a fraud. Probably most of the people here would rather be different so we are all frauds. Of course there are actual criminals at the mall as well. People more fraudulent than me and the other wishers. There are identity thieves, shoplifters, scammers and liars who actually reside in the Eighth Circle. Treachery is the Ninth and Final Circle of Hell. The mall is full of traitors. I am a traitor for even thinking about spending any extra money on myself. The other traitors can pig out at the food court, charge extravagant luxuries and pretend to be whoever they want. I walk out of the mall in a myriad of emotions that are all negative and unflattering. For a person trying to have a positive outlook on life I decide the Mall is definitely an unhealthy place for me. It reminds me of every flaw and personality trait that I loathe. Unfortunately I caught my reflection in a full length mirror as we were walking by and that is NEVER a good thing. Just being in the mall makes me grumpy and impatient. I survived the trip this time around. I am hoping that it will be several months before I am forced to forge my way through the Nine Circles of Hell again. There is only so much Hell I can take.
As a teen I'm sure that I flocked to shopping malls like they were Mecca--the land of milk and honey. The smell of fried food mixed in with perfume samples and sweaty bodies. The loud, boisterous energy of avid shoppers seeking nirvana in a pair of shoes or a purse. A place where the right pair of jeans could make me feel like I could conquer the world. Plastic cards could get me anything my heart desired and I had until the next billing cycle before I felt like crap and wondered what I was thinking. As I grew older the mall slowly became less of a fairy tale castle and more like the Nine Circles of Hell. Yesterday when I wanted to be home in my sweats I was forced to go to the Mall. It wasn't for anything I needed. My bank balance doesn't allow for me to need anything this week. To amuse myself as we tromped through the weekend shoppers I imagined the Nine Circles of Hell in my head and found them all around me.
The First Circle is limbo. A place between worlds where the unbaptized and virtuous pagans waste countless hours between paychecks wondering if that coveted pair of shoes will still be on sale next week. Between paychecks is a Hell unto itself when you live from one to the next in limbo. You dread the gas light, pray the milk will hold out and cringe when a necessity breaks, rips or dies making it impossible to keep from dipping into the bill money. Limbo is a place I know well and can usually be found since the coveted pair of shoes is not a necessity and wishing for them takes me into the Second Circle which is lust. Lusting for a pair of Converse. What kind of mother does that? Especially a mother of my age. I should have outgrown my lust for Converse twenty years ago. But no, Converse, Toms and cute flats all call my name from different stores as I try to keep my head down and eyes averted. Lusting for shoes drives me to the Third Circle which is Gluttony. I am a glutton for shoes it is true, but at the mall I am also be a glutton for Cinnabon, Jamba Juice and Sbarros and would gladly partake of all of them if my checkbook would allow it. Drinking a Peach Perfection Smoothie while dipping a hot slice of Sbarro cheese and mushroom pizza into ranch sauce and smelling the Cinnabon Mini which would be the scrumptious. For now it is a Hellish, Lustful, Gluttonous daydream because I am in the between paycheck limbo that takes up most of my life.
After Limbo, Lust and Gluttony comes Greed. Would I really be greedy enough to buy shoes and pig out at the mall when there are bills to pay? If I was greedy, yes. My greed for extra money to buy frivolous things when we have real needs makes me angry. Anger is fitting since it is the Fifth Circle of Hell. I spend a lot of time being angry at myself for not bringing in more extra money for wants instead of needs. The anger is not productive. It makes me lose all hope and all motivation. When I am not motivated I write blasphemous blogs in my head that take me in the sixth circle of heresy. My beliefs deviate too far from the norm to make me anything less than a heretic. As a heretic I will enter the sixth circle of Hell even though I haven't even left the mall. I am still here wishing for shoes, hungry for things that I can't have and angry that I didn't have the foresight to get a better paying job sooner. My violent thoughts of the Mall being Hell and all of the shoppers being burning zombies skirt me around the outside of the seventh circle which is violence. I am not really a violent person, so can't actually traipse through the center of this circle but I can see the violent nature of the Mall. The Mall is full of masses of unfriendly looking packs of rabid shoppers who just might tear one another limb for limb for the last pair of sparkly black Toms in a size 9 or that perfect pair of Chucks. Not me of course. I have patience and am used to just lustfully ogling them with greedy eyes.
The eighth circle is Fraud. Fraud runs rampant in the mall. I am a fraud for being a chunky middle aged woman wanting Chucks. I am a teenager trapped in this body that I would never have chosen for myself. If the real me was out in the open instead of this chunky imposter--she would be youngish, athletic and wearing Levi's, a t-shirt and Chucks. This chunky gal is a fraud. Probably most of the people here would rather be different so we are all frauds. Of course there are actual criminals at the mall as well. People more fraudulent than me and the other wishers. There are identity thieves, shoplifters, scammers and liars who actually reside in the Eighth Circle. Treachery is the Ninth and Final Circle of Hell. The mall is full of traitors. I am a traitor for even thinking about spending any extra money on myself. The other traitors can pig out at the food court, charge extravagant luxuries and pretend to be whoever they want. I walk out of the mall in a myriad of emotions that are all negative and unflattering. For a person trying to have a positive outlook on life I decide the Mall is definitely an unhealthy place for me. It reminds me of every flaw and personality trait that I loathe. Unfortunately I caught my reflection in a full length mirror as we were walking by and that is NEVER a good thing. Just being in the mall makes me grumpy and impatient. I survived the trip this time around. I am hoping that it will be several months before I am forced to forge my way through the Nine Circles of Hell again. There is only so much Hell I can take.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Frustration, Degradation and Growing Pains.........
Last night as I was trying to fall asleep I wrote the most awesome blog. I was able to pinpoint exactly what I needed to say this week and I found the perfect words to portray exactly how I felt. I wrote it in my head and as I drifted off to sleep I hit the save button in my brain so that I could wake up this morning and type it all up on my computer. Unfortunately the save button in my brain has been malfunctioning more and more lately. It loses little words, names and thoughts now and then. It seems that my brain needs to be rebooted and could use a few upgrades as well. Now I will let my brain loose and let it ramble. Sorry that I am in such a self-depreciating mood. This one may not be pretty. I need to purge the negative so that I can start next week on a better note and accomplish the things I need to accomplish. We are all constantly growing and changing. Unfortunately growth and change can be painful. Letting go has always been hard for me.
Lately I feel more and more like I am stuck on a giant hamster wheel. I run hard each day but never get anywhere. The list of things that I want to implement into my life has not changed in three years. Those activities are still there waiting for me to find the time and space to fit them in. The number on the scale isn't changing, we are still living paycheck to paycheck and my energy level is still low because I am here in this rut and haven't tried hard enough to climb out. I am so frustrated with myself that I beat myself up each night instead of building myself up. The beat down really doesn't help the situation. Self confidence is not one of my strong points. Of course I said this all more eloquently in my head last night. In the light of day it isn't eloquent, it is stark reality and pretty words won't change what it is. I hold myself back from my own potential because it is easier to tread water here than to swim over to the unknown and possibly drown. A bit dramatic but true all the same. I know deep down that I am capable of so much more. I just let the perceptions of others drag me down. I look in the mirror and see the pale, puffy, middle aged woman that everyone else sees and forget that the outer package does not match what is inside. Those who know what is in there get frustrated when I get tripped up by the opinions of people who have no clue who I really am.
I have a tendency to overbook my life. I bury myself in busy work so that I don't have time to really think about where I am and where I should be. When I am juggling a dozen or so activities at once I don't have time to look to closely at the big picture. Like everyone I had big dreams when I was young. I wanted to go out into the world, see and experience everything and make a difference. I wanted to succeed. It didn't really matter what I succeeded at as long as I felt that I had accomplished something. The problem with me is that I never have a solid plan. I get these ideas and then dive in head first without thinking of the consequences. It is easy to look back and see where I should have planned better financially, where I should have made a better decision--should haves are huge traps that really help anything. They are just another way of making us feel like total losers. There are no do overs. And in retrospect I have made many good decisions and have accomplished small things along the way. Small things that have made a difference so I need to own them and remember that I am not a complete failure--I'm just having a bad week.
This past week I was given an assignment at one of my new jobs. The assignment had to do with adding a component to the website. It seemed straight forward enough. I put so much time and effort into trying to do this task and ended up crying with frustration, I read all types of instructions that were so far over my head, I tried to get help and in the end had to accept that only a web developer who actually builds websites could do this task. Telling my boss was difficult. She is an understanding person, but it was hard to have to admit that I had failed. At least in my own eyes I had failed. It was a task that I wasn't equipped to do from the beginning but I didn't know that. I beat myself up, sprouted stress zits and a cold sore and made my family miserable for several days while trying to make sense of the issue. My boss now wants me to work with the web developer to explain what it is we need. My brain is so fried that I don't know if I can explain it. This one thing has scared me into thinking that maybe I am not up to the job. There are many things I have done to help out but I am letting this perceived failure kick my ass. The job is doable and I am capable--it was one thing and that thing can't define me. I am not a gifted computer programmer who has awesome web building capabilities. I am a woman who knows a bit about social media and am willing to use that knowledge to help market a business. I can teach myself the basics, but some things aren't so basic.
Lately I find myself overwhelmed by the different directions that I am supposed to travel each day. I have stacked too much on my plate and have to work harder than ever to balance it all. The problem is that I feel that I am supposed to be doing something else but if I do who is going to take on all of this busy work that I have been managing for so long? I love volunteering, but my family needs me to actually bring in a check now. If I could be a professional volunteer forever I would, but I can't fill my life with it. I am in transition and for me transition has always been a scary place. The torch is slowly being passed on a couple of the activities that eat my time. I am training others to take my place and making sure that I leave things in better condition than when I found them. I am not indispensable but I do need to make sure that others are trained and there is a firm plan before I disappear into the sunset without looking back. Responsibility is one of my strong points. I am responsible for smooth transitions for others since my personal ones are rocky.
I would love to curl up and lose myself in a good book. I wish I could ignore the pile of bills that taunt me and the list of needs that have to wait until I have a steady paycheck. I can't escape through my usual means and self-destruction isn't an option. I have to grow a pair and remind myself of all of the hidden potential that I keep under lock and key. I need to McGyver a rope, a ladder or whatever it takes to get myself out of this rut and back onto a more positive path. The transitions are happening, change is coming, I need to be more patient and loving with myself and welcome change. Letting go of thoughts, habits and behaviors that hold me back are imperative to growth. I will endure the growing pains and become who it is that I am meant to be at this time in my life. I will even block out a few hours here and there on my calendar to think about it.
Lately I feel more and more like I am stuck on a giant hamster wheel. I run hard each day but never get anywhere. The list of things that I want to implement into my life has not changed in three years. Those activities are still there waiting for me to find the time and space to fit them in. The number on the scale isn't changing, we are still living paycheck to paycheck and my energy level is still low because I am here in this rut and haven't tried hard enough to climb out. I am so frustrated with myself that I beat myself up each night instead of building myself up. The beat down really doesn't help the situation. Self confidence is not one of my strong points. Of course I said this all more eloquently in my head last night. In the light of day it isn't eloquent, it is stark reality and pretty words won't change what it is. I hold myself back from my own potential because it is easier to tread water here than to swim over to the unknown and possibly drown. A bit dramatic but true all the same. I know deep down that I am capable of so much more. I just let the perceptions of others drag me down. I look in the mirror and see the pale, puffy, middle aged woman that everyone else sees and forget that the outer package does not match what is inside. Those who know what is in there get frustrated when I get tripped up by the opinions of people who have no clue who I really am.
I have a tendency to overbook my life. I bury myself in busy work so that I don't have time to really think about where I am and where I should be. When I am juggling a dozen or so activities at once I don't have time to look to closely at the big picture. Like everyone I had big dreams when I was young. I wanted to go out into the world, see and experience everything and make a difference. I wanted to succeed. It didn't really matter what I succeeded at as long as I felt that I had accomplished something. The problem with me is that I never have a solid plan. I get these ideas and then dive in head first without thinking of the consequences. It is easy to look back and see where I should have planned better financially, where I should have made a better decision--should haves are huge traps that really help anything. They are just another way of making us feel like total losers. There are no do overs. And in retrospect I have made many good decisions and have accomplished small things along the way. Small things that have made a difference so I need to own them and remember that I am not a complete failure--I'm just having a bad week.
This past week I was given an assignment at one of my new jobs. The assignment had to do with adding a component to the website. It seemed straight forward enough. I put so much time and effort into trying to do this task and ended up crying with frustration, I read all types of instructions that were so far over my head, I tried to get help and in the end had to accept that only a web developer who actually builds websites could do this task. Telling my boss was difficult. She is an understanding person, but it was hard to have to admit that I had failed. At least in my own eyes I had failed. It was a task that I wasn't equipped to do from the beginning but I didn't know that. I beat myself up, sprouted stress zits and a cold sore and made my family miserable for several days while trying to make sense of the issue. My boss now wants me to work with the web developer to explain what it is we need. My brain is so fried that I don't know if I can explain it. This one thing has scared me into thinking that maybe I am not up to the job. There are many things I have done to help out but I am letting this perceived failure kick my ass. The job is doable and I am capable--it was one thing and that thing can't define me. I am not a gifted computer programmer who has awesome web building capabilities. I am a woman who knows a bit about social media and am willing to use that knowledge to help market a business. I can teach myself the basics, but some things aren't so basic.
Lately I find myself overwhelmed by the different directions that I am supposed to travel each day. I have stacked too much on my plate and have to work harder than ever to balance it all. The problem is that I feel that I am supposed to be doing something else but if I do who is going to take on all of this busy work that I have been managing for so long? I love volunteering, but my family needs me to actually bring in a check now. If I could be a professional volunteer forever I would, but I can't fill my life with it. I am in transition and for me transition has always been a scary place. The torch is slowly being passed on a couple of the activities that eat my time. I am training others to take my place and making sure that I leave things in better condition than when I found them. I am not indispensable but I do need to make sure that others are trained and there is a firm plan before I disappear into the sunset without looking back. Responsibility is one of my strong points. I am responsible for smooth transitions for others since my personal ones are rocky.
I would love to curl up and lose myself in a good book. I wish I could ignore the pile of bills that taunt me and the list of needs that have to wait until I have a steady paycheck. I can't escape through my usual means and self-destruction isn't an option. I have to grow a pair and remind myself of all of the hidden potential that I keep under lock and key. I need to McGyver a rope, a ladder or whatever it takes to get myself out of this rut and back onto a more positive path. The transitions are happening, change is coming, I need to be more patient and loving with myself and welcome change. Letting go of thoughts, habits and behaviors that hold me back are imperative to growth. I will endure the growing pains and become who it is that I am meant to be at this time in my life. I will even block out a few hours here and there on my calendar to think about it.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Balancing, Blending and Becoming
It has been a very rough week at our house. Forgive me for unpacking the baggage in my brain so that I can continue forward. I haven't blogged a lot in the past few months and my brain is clogged with all kinds of crap that is not conducive to staying positive. My daughter is so sick of hearing me lecture her like a "motivational speaker" but something has to motivate us. When you are stuck for months you find whatever it is that can get you out of the rut. My rut has become a huge gaping canyon and I need to claw my way out before I totally suffocate. Yes--dramatic. A little exaggeration helps me to laugh at myself which in turn makes things not seem so scary and overwhelming. I am not a drama queen by nature, but use it when I need to to defuse the ticking bomb in my head that starts up when I over think absolutely everything.
My quest for balance continues as I continually forget my own new Golden Rule of taking on less and enjoying life more. I do enjoy life, don't get me wrong. I choose things that interest me, I just choose too many at a time! Balance has been an issue all of my life in every sense of the word!! Balance challenge started young with physical balance when I tried to do gymnastics and ballet with my graceful little friends. I really did try but eventually accepted that I would never be graceful and moved on to other things. My over abundance of empathy and my need to be valued led me to the very stressful job of trying to please everyone. It takes a lot of juggling and a ton of patience to attempt the impossible task of bending over backwards. I spent so much time worrying about what other people thought that I lost track of what I think. It has been an interesting year spending time getting to know what it is that I like and what I want. Some times people get mad because I don't do what they expect of me. I have let those closest to me come to depend on me too much. I don't want to all of the sudden become unavailable, but I do need to step back and let them learn to make it without me there directing every step. This has not been a popular change, but it is a necessary one.
I feel like I have been on the hamster wheel for the past few years. I go in circles. I have hopes and dreams but I don't follow through because following through is scary. Following through could lead to a catastrophic fail. Failing is bad and landing on your ass hurts. The more I procrastinate the harder it gets to move forward. I believe that I have taught this behavior to my children and that kills me. Watching them struggle makes me feel that I have failed them somehow. I realize that they are now all old enough to choose their own paths, but did I give them any of the right tools? I tried to. Parenting is a huge responsibility and a hard job. You want your children, your marriage and your sanity to survive the journey without too much damage but some collateral damage is inevitable. We all come out with a few battle scars.
My desire to avoid conflict has not helped the situation. I can disappear for hours into a good book when the path gets too rocky for me. Avoiding unpleasant situations and blending in as to not stand out have been my coping mechanisms. I try so hard to sit quietly in the corner and not draw attention to myself. Unfortunately there is the other part of me that likes to entertain people with stories. I will be sitting there being good when all of the sudden I open my mouth and it won't shut up. Stuff spills out at 1000 miles per hour. I want the ground to swallow me up but it doesn't and I am left feeling awkward because all eyes are on me. I honestly meant to keep quiet. My kid used to think I was fun and cool. Now all of the sudden I shouldn't be taken in public. I hate the fact that my teenagers find me embarrassing. I know that they would rather me be quiet and act normal, but I'm not normal. I am damaged, self-conscious and stuck in a rut. I deal with things with humor. Yeah, I know sometimes that I am the only one who finds myself funny. My kids point it out often. I am supposed to nurture them and be gentle with their fragile self-esteem, but they aren't very gentle with mine.
I'm not sure what I want to do with the rest of my life. Who and what am I supposed to become? I have been a housewife/soccer mom for so long. My life was given freely to my children. Maybe too freely. The recent conflicts with my children are the natural pains of separation that come when it is almost time to leave the nest. Growing up is harder on them in some respects. Remember that I am exaggerating so they aren't as terrible to me as I say--most of the time. I am also not the worst mother in the world though I see plenty of flaws. How come hindsight has to be so clear? I could have used a crystal ball or some sort of map. Of course my children are all completely different from one another and do not follow any typical teen scenario. We wrote our own map and my intuition was the crystal ball. We have gotten us this far. I just hope that some day they will see that my motivational speeches were done in their best interest and that my quirky sense of humor kept them entertained on more than one occasion. I will continue the quest for balance, I will keep attempting to blend in and will let myself relax and become whatever it is I am meant to become. I am not ancient yet even though I feel like I am on some days. Getting old doesn't have to be a bad thing. I need to embrace it. I am hoping to some day be the "cool grandma" if my battle scarred children will allow me anywhere near my future grandchildren.
My quest for balance continues as I continually forget my own new Golden Rule of taking on less and enjoying life more. I do enjoy life, don't get me wrong. I choose things that interest me, I just choose too many at a time! Balance has been an issue all of my life in every sense of the word!! Balance challenge started young with physical balance when I tried to do gymnastics and ballet with my graceful little friends. I really did try but eventually accepted that I would never be graceful and moved on to other things. My over abundance of empathy and my need to be valued led me to the very stressful job of trying to please everyone. It takes a lot of juggling and a ton of patience to attempt the impossible task of bending over backwards. I spent so much time worrying about what other people thought that I lost track of what I think. It has been an interesting year spending time getting to know what it is that I like and what I want. Some times people get mad because I don't do what they expect of me. I have let those closest to me come to depend on me too much. I don't want to all of the sudden become unavailable, but I do need to step back and let them learn to make it without me there directing every step. This has not been a popular change, but it is a necessary one.
I feel like I have been on the hamster wheel for the past few years. I go in circles. I have hopes and dreams but I don't follow through because following through is scary. Following through could lead to a catastrophic fail. Failing is bad and landing on your ass hurts. The more I procrastinate the harder it gets to move forward. I believe that I have taught this behavior to my children and that kills me. Watching them struggle makes me feel that I have failed them somehow. I realize that they are now all old enough to choose their own paths, but did I give them any of the right tools? I tried to. Parenting is a huge responsibility and a hard job. You want your children, your marriage and your sanity to survive the journey without too much damage but some collateral damage is inevitable. We all come out with a few battle scars.
My desire to avoid conflict has not helped the situation. I can disappear for hours into a good book when the path gets too rocky for me. Avoiding unpleasant situations and blending in as to not stand out have been my coping mechanisms. I try so hard to sit quietly in the corner and not draw attention to myself. Unfortunately there is the other part of me that likes to entertain people with stories. I will be sitting there being good when all of the sudden I open my mouth and it won't shut up. Stuff spills out at 1000 miles per hour. I want the ground to swallow me up but it doesn't and I am left feeling awkward because all eyes are on me. I honestly meant to keep quiet. My kid used to think I was fun and cool. Now all of the sudden I shouldn't be taken in public. I hate the fact that my teenagers find me embarrassing. I know that they would rather me be quiet and act normal, but I'm not normal. I am damaged, self-conscious and stuck in a rut. I deal with things with humor. Yeah, I know sometimes that I am the only one who finds myself funny. My kids point it out often. I am supposed to nurture them and be gentle with their fragile self-esteem, but they aren't very gentle with mine.
I'm not sure what I want to do with the rest of my life. Who and what am I supposed to become? I have been a housewife/soccer mom for so long. My life was given freely to my children. Maybe too freely. The recent conflicts with my children are the natural pains of separation that come when it is almost time to leave the nest. Growing up is harder on them in some respects. Remember that I am exaggerating so they aren't as terrible to me as I say--most of the time. I am also not the worst mother in the world though I see plenty of flaws. How come hindsight has to be so clear? I could have used a crystal ball or some sort of map. Of course my children are all completely different from one another and do not follow any typical teen scenario. We wrote our own map and my intuition was the crystal ball. We have gotten us this far. I just hope that some day they will see that my motivational speeches were done in their best interest and that my quirky sense of humor kept them entertained on more than one occasion. I will continue the quest for balance, I will keep attempting to blend in and will let myself relax and become whatever it is I am meant to become. I am not ancient yet even though I feel like I am on some days. Getting old doesn't have to be a bad thing. I need to embrace it. I am hoping to some day be the "cool grandma" if my battle scarred children will allow me anywhere near my future grandchildren.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Ranting and Remembering....
I sit here on September 11th with so much on my mind. I am not sure where this blog is going. I guess as usual I will just start typing and see where my rant takes me. I am melancholy today and should be doing a thousand other things. Instead I will sit and type to clear my head. I don't expect people to like my views or applaud my infinite wisdom. I am just a soccer mom who doesn't even like politics--sometimes I just see so much injustice that I have to vent so that I can be done with it and move on.
Twelve years ago today I sat in stunned silence in my living room and watched in horror with thousands of others as a second plane hit the twin towers on live television. Life as we knew it suddenly ceased. Our great nation was under attack and we were helpless to stop the senseless destruction as hundreds of lives perished right before our eyes. Tears rolled down my face as I continued to watch through out the day as events unfolded. We were all glued to the television regardless of who we were. At that moment in time we were all Americans and our differences were forgotten. Unlikely heroes emerged through the hours, days and weeks following the attack. People wanted to do something to feel that they were making a difference. It was one of our darkest hours but also a time when we were more united than ever as a nation. What we witnessed made us better friends and neighbors for awhile, but as the years have gone by, the horror has faded. It is not in our backyard anymore so we can go back to being self absorbed. We can bitch about the security at the airport and how inconvenient it is. I bet the passengers on the 9-11 planes wish that security measures would have been tighter on that day.
Every day acts of terrorism are meted out in varying degrees across the globe. Much of it done in the name of religion. This is nothing new. Religious persecution has been an ongoing theme throughout history. People are slaughtered in the name of God by those who believe it is His will. So many of the world religions believe that theirs is the one true religion. Not all are radicals who believe that killing the unholy makes them martyrs. Unfortunately many religions preach intolerance and hate. Sadly the horror that we felt during the attack on our nation is something that other nations see on a daily basis. We thought we were immune, but as the world becomes smaller and smaller, we are all at risk. Terrorism is not something that only happens in the Middle East by people with dark skin and strange religious beliefs. Terrorism is done by individuals of all colors, nationalities and religions. It is acted out by radical individuals who are fueled by hatred. Religion isn't always the motivator. Who knows what motivates that much hate and anger.
I may be a naive sinner who is headed straight for Hell, but I believe in a loving benevolent God. A God who would rather see the world work together to feed the hungry, cure diseases and share resources. I don't believe that God worries about who has the biggest weapons, who makes the most money and who can claw their way to the top to achieve world domination. I'm not sure how He feels about churches like the Westboro Baptist Church who preach hate to their followers and continuously defy common decency by flaunting their narrow views. What happened to love? Does anyone ever really stop to think about the Golden Rule? Do our children even know what the Golden Rule is? The Golden Rule has been around since the 1600's and was used by most religions as an ethical rule of life. Wikipedia cites Leviticus 19:18 which says "You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your kinfolk. Love your neighbor as yourself. I AM Lord.". Vengeance? What is terrorism if not an act of vengeance? I know many people who hate their neighbors and do rude things just to piss their neighbors off. I'm not really sure what satisfaction that can bring, but these people are proud of their pranks and antics. It isn't so funny when the neighbors do it back though.
I guess I have just had a rough week. I see stories of human kindness and genuine caring buried in the back pages of newspapers while death, destruction and the completely inappropriate behaviors of celebrities steal the headlines. Reporters want the hard edge stories that shock and terrify the nation. No one wants to be put on the stories of little kids saving their allowance to help sick classmates or endangered species. Where is the blood and guts? The blood and guts is in the horror stories, the terrorists, the radicals and those who commit senseless acts of brutality against the innocent. Damn I'm the leader of the justice league or something today. I just hate injustice at all levels. It is hard to teach your children honesty and good values when everyone is trying to cheat the system, scammers are lying in wait around every corner and people randomly walk into schools and shopping malls and open fire with assault weapons. See why I can't watch the news.
What can I do to make the world a better place? Love my children. Be kind to everyone. Listen. Help when able. Try to set a good example. Admit when I am wrong. Take responsibility for my mistakes. Rant on my blog when I feel like things are hopeless and look to the positive. There are always positives. There are children saving their allowance to help people in need. There are good an honest people running non-profits that actually do help people. Not everyone is power hungry and filled with ulterior motives. Most of us are simple people who want to make small differences daily. When I say most I mean most--it doesn't matter what color, nation, religion or sexual orientation--most people are good. Most people don't make the news. Most people hate injustice as much as I do. As you remember the lives lost on 9-11-01, remember the unlikely heroes, the love and the compassion. Remember the Golden Rule and try to live it no matter what the people around you are doing. The biggest differences are made by the smallest of acts.
Twelve years ago today I sat in stunned silence in my living room and watched in horror with thousands of others as a second plane hit the twin towers on live television. Life as we knew it suddenly ceased. Our great nation was under attack and we were helpless to stop the senseless destruction as hundreds of lives perished right before our eyes. Tears rolled down my face as I continued to watch through out the day as events unfolded. We were all glued to the television regardless of who we were. At that moment in time we were all Americans and our differences were forgotten. Unlikely heroes emerged through the hours, days and weeks following the attack. People wanted to do something to feel that they were making a difference. It was one of our darkest hours but also a time when we were more united than ever as a nation. What we witnessed made us better friends and neighbors for awhile, but as the years have gone by, the horror has faded. It is not in our backyard anymore so we can go back to being self absorbed. We can bitch about the security at the airport and how inconvenient it is. I bet the passengers on the 9-11 planes wish that security measures would have been tighter on that day.
Every day acts of terrorism are meted out in varying degrees across the globe. Much of it done in the name of religion. This is nothing new. Religious persecution has been an ongoing theme throughout history. People are slaughtered in the name of God by those who believe it is His will. So many of the world religions believe that theirs is the one true religion. Not all are radicals who believe that killing the unholy makes them martyrs. Unfortunately many religions preach intolerance and hate. Sadly the horror that we felt during the attack on our nation is something that other nations see on a daily basis. We thought we were immune, but as the world becomes smaller and smaller, we are all at risk. Terrorism is not something that only happens in the Middle East by people with dark skin and strange religious beliefs. Terrorism is done by individuals of all colors, nationalities and religions. It is acted out by radical individuals who are fueled by hatred. Religion isn't always the motivator. Who knows what motivates that much hate and anger.
I may be a naive sinner who is headed straight for Hell, but I believe in a loving benevolent God. A God who would rather see the world work together to feed the hungry, cure diseases and share resources. I don't believe that God worries about who has the biggest weapons, who makes the most money and who can claw their way to the top to achieve world domination. I'm not sure how He feels about churches like the Westboro Baptist Church who preach hate to their followers and continuously defy common decency by flaunting their narrow views. What happened to love? Does anyone ever really stop to think about the Golden Rule? Do our children even know what the Golden Rule is? The Golden Rule has been around since the 1600's and was used by most religions as an ethical rule of life. Wikipedia cites Leviticus 19:18 which says "You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your kinfolk. Love your neighbor as yourself. I AM Lord.". Vengeance? What is terrorism if not an act of vengeance? I know many people who hate their neighbors and do rude things just to piss their neighbors off. I'm not really sure what satisfaction that can bring, but these people are proud of their pranks and antics. It isn't so funny when the neighbors do it back though.
I guess I have just had a rough week. I see stories of human kindness and genuine caring buried in the back pages of newspapers while death, destruction and the completely inappropriate behaviors of celebrities steal the headlines. Reporters want the hard edge stories that shock and terrify the nation. No one wants to be put on the stories of little kids saving their allowance to help sick classmates or endangered species. Where is the blood and guts? The blood and guts is in the horror stories, the terrorists, the radicals and those who commit senseless acts of brutality against the innocent. Damn I'm the leader of the justice league or something today. I just hate injustice at all levels. It is hard to teach your children honesty and good values when everyone is trying to cheat the system, scammers are lying in wait around every corner and people randomly walk into schools and shopping malls and open fire with assault weapons. See why I can't watch the news.
What can I do to make the world a better place? Love my children. Be kind to everyone. Listen. Help when able. Try to set a good example. Admit when I am wrong. Take responsibility for my mistakes. Rant on my blog when I feel like things are hopeless and look to the positive. There are always positives. There are children saving their allowance to help people in need. There are good an honest people running non-profits that actually do help people. Not everyone is power hungry and filled with ulterior motives. Most of us are simple people who want to make small differences daily. When I say most I mean most--it doesn't matter what color, nation, religion or sexual orientation--most people are good. Most people don't make the news. Most people hate injustice as much as I do. As you remember the lives lost on 9-11-01, remember the unlikely heroes, the love and the compassion. Remember the Golden Rule and try to live it no matter what the people around you are doing. The biggest differences are made by the smallest of acts.
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