Thursday, April 29, 2010

Napkin Scrawl #5 - Taming the Savageness

Blood pressure rises, head throbs in pain, and eyes are seeing red as I make way up the stairs crossing the threshold of my bedroom. I slam the door and throw myself to my bed, angry at the words just spoken between son and self. As I stare at the spinning ceiling fan, I feel heated, angry. Why must we argue incessantly? I’ve come to my room to throw a teenager sized tantrum. God, why did my mother wish this on me?

I lay here remembering when I was 13 going on 30. Oh how unpleasant the memories of my mom and I butting heads routinely. I was always the one to relent. Why can’t I be the one that is right for a change? Oh yeah, I was the teen then and I respected my mom … or maybe feared is a better word. I remember Mom doing the same thing as I’ve done here, except she made sure to let me hear her cries. I remember how bad I felt back then, when she would emerge from her room with swollen, red eyes. My heart would always melt. Mom would always say how much she hoped that I would have children like my brother and me, rebellious and uncaring.

At that time, I swore to myself that I would never do that to my children. I would never make them feel guilty for voicing their opinions. Little did I know at that time, that there is much more at stake then just an opinion, respect must be in the equation.

My son has learned a trick. He grumbles lowly with needling remarks that hurt and belittle. I’m consumed with anger and hatred toward my son, as he needles me with his snide, rebellious, belittlements.

Again, I am reminded that Mom would slap me whenever I did that to her. Perhaps this is why I fear her. I learned not to speak my mind to her. To this day, I still cannot speak my mind to her without first finding the courage to do so. God, these memories are frightful and confusing. I want so much to be a better mother, but now I’m consumed with all these emotions as my son goes on with life as if nothing ever happened. All I want to do is slap the shit out of him… but I am the adult… right?

My eyeballs still burn with anger because of him. I shall not speak to him the rest of the day. He has summoned this beast within me and I must work hard to contain it. Therefore, I must remain quiet, gritting my teeth when I see him. I shall speak only if addressed.

Of course, there is always the alternative. Instead of turning this anger inward, I could just allow this beast to rear its ugly head again with expletives and words of anger. Sometimes I hate being the parent. Guess what Mom; I have a child just like yours. Thanks for the well wishes.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Napkin Scrawl #4 - Blink

Today is just a blur as I sit her contemplating sleep. Yesterday’s panic created such a numb, blurry day today. Strange really. I’m not used to that. Usually there is someone there to pull me from my shell and coerce me back to life, but not today. Perhaps that’s best…it’s been quiet. Children play their video games in the background, yet I don’t hear. I sit here hoping, waiting for someone to reach through my screen to wake me, but no one does.

I remember once today my husband stopped by to greet me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and brushed his lips on mine before he continued his journey down the stairs. From my corner of the loft, I can hear that he too has buried himself in his game of tanks. I might as well pull down this shroud of loneliness and isolation around me.

I blink and half the day disappears. No one wakes me from my daydream. No one checks my pulse or breathing… I’m overlooked. I must look normal. But I’m not… I’m all inside my head today. Perhaps if I really sleep, I can escape myself, and rest. No, I’m not tired, just numb.

An hour passes and I begin to wonder where my day has gone. I feel no less numb after napping, just aggravated with myself for doing it. I blink again and lose more of my day. Like sand sifting through my fingers are the seconds and minutes of my day. Twitter tweets as fast as my clock ticks it’s seconds, but no one speaks to me.

Through the numbness I reach out to those, I call my friends. Soon I feel the loneliness and isolation lift as people begin to wonder where I’ve been. I feel myself digging out from under the veil that hides me. Nevertheless, as quickly as the flurry of attention comes, it fleets out again. I blink…

In my attempts to do something with my day, I pretend as if I have a family to care for and I pull together a meal. First one, then another, comes to feed themselves… all of which return from whence they came with food in hand. No thank yous, no kisses, no “You’re the best mommy in the whole wide world…” More like cows to their feed troughs…

I blink again. It is 2 a.m. I know I should go to bed and snuggle next to my husband, but I don’t. I’ve been searching for models to tear apart and recreate, but I’ve lost my way with material that I would be difficult explain if caught on my screen. I’m on autopilot.

Just as I wake from my stare, twitter picks up once again… “Good night” they all say. “Don’t work too long or too hard,” “Make sure you rest!” All is silent once again.

The time is now 3 a.m. I should be sleeping but all I can do is write. What is this new thing I do? Why is my mind filled with words? Is there nothing more to be done? This is so unlike me to spill my thoughts on paper. It is as if there is another inside my head. Perhaps one who feels that others may wish to know the deep secrets within my mind?

What a bore.

It has been raining today. The clouds as black as night have burst and watered the desert I live in. The smell is rich and clean, the sound helps my contemplation. However, it is quiet now. There is no more rain, for now.

Sleep, real sleep invades my thoughts now. Perhaps it is time to rest. I wish I could hear rainfall on the roof as I lie in bed and sleep. It would add to the melancholy that I feel.

I blink…

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Napkin Scrawl #3 - Hackers

Minutes, hours, days have passed…the clock ticks on… Life continues, good or bad, happy or sad, we carry on with our life’s numbered days.

I spend multiple hours behind a screen, hacking my way, creating multiple windows to numerous beautiful homes for all to look in. Creating something of beauty is where you will find my heart’s desire. Code, images -- images, codes… all day, everyday, non-stop.

Imagine how I feel when I find that someone has found an open door or open window into one of my newly made creations. They have illegally entered one of my homes and bedded for more than a night. Instead of them breaking in and leaving, elated by the fact that they have gained access, they proceed by building their own home inside my home. Each day they squat, they gain more and more rights to the greater home. They grow like an amoeba, slowly digesting my home.

Enraged by the fact that I have become a fool, angered to the point of explosive verbal behavior, I search all folders, files, and scripts… High and low, in every crevice, nook, and doorway, to find HOW my home invasion occurred, HOW my creation was defiled. I find a small hatch, hidden beneath a rug, deep inside my home. This room, primarily used for storage, overlooked in its importance for many years, was my culprit’s port of entry. My home invader knew what he was doing, entering through the equivalent of a basement in this home, my creation.

As I remain oblivious to the determination of my home invader, he hacks away, finding weaknesses in code I use but never wrote. He chips away at the pre-manufactured framework of my creation. Once he has chipped away enough, he inserts his own code, a self-building house of his own. He’s a squatter, poaching on the resources of another, sucking my time and livelihood away.

Upon further analysis I find that the code I use yet never wrote, the pre-manufactured framework used to help build this home had upgrades made available that fortified its structure and closed off poorly made code. Had I known earlier that these upgrades were available; I might have thwarted the hacker’s attempt at access into this beautiful home, my creation.

Today, I sit here feeling violated, remorseful and defeated, beating myself again, knowing now what more I could have done to protect my creation. All I can do now is clean house, clean up the mess left by his amoebic code that once resided in my creation. I’ve changed the locks and closed all doors and windows as best I know how. Squatters, hackers, all are vermin and must be eradicated before too much is swallowed away by their greediness. Therefore, I’ve engaged the services of my tech support to exterminate any residual effects of these vermin.

Perhaps now I can rest assured that he no longer lives in THIS house, my creation. Only time will tell. However, now I have learned my lesson. I have been reminded once again of the importance of making upgrades whenever possible, and changing locks regularly.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Napkin Scrawl #2 - Mom Time

"Hisssssss," a sound erupts from my very own mouth as I walk outside my front door. The sun seems brighter then I remember.

"Ugh…" I groan as I drag my feet out the door to drive my boys to their physical education class.

I was rudely awakened this morning to the deep gravely voice of my oldest son. "Mom, mom! It's me, Matthew… Mom, we only have 20 minutes… We have to leave." As he argues the point with me that today is Wednesday, I bury myself deeper in my comfy, cozy bed. I hate Wednesdays.

Last night wasn't a quick to bed night as it should have been. There were many distractions to keep me from my goal of early sleep… A new friend needed a shoulder to cry on just as I began to log off from my portal into my obsessed world and a very lonely husband realized he missed the attention only I could give. I should complain, but I can't all these things are important too.

Morning approached so much faster than I remember. But, like a good mom, I stave my grumblings and roll from my bed. As I stand by the side of my bed, my husband embraces and whispers his apologies for not waking me sooner. He kisses me gently and leaves me to my shower.

I climb into that one place I know that I have complete solitude. Standing in the hot spray of water, I watch as the steam rises to surround me. This…. this is my time… This is most enjoyable. As my eyes open to the scent of shampoo, my mind fills with a jumble of things to do. My thoughts begin to erupt more clearly, "P.E., writing, coding, writing, email, writing, coffee, writing…" What the hell? You’d think I there was something important on my mind.

As I climb out of my fortress of solitude, I wrap my towel around me and stroll to my bedroom door. I order up coffee only to hear there is none. I sigh a painful sigh. How am I to perform without nectar from the gods? I’ll manage…

Cleaned, dressed, and out the door in ten minutes, a record I think, we’re off. Why is it so bright? The trees and cacti seem greener than I remember. The sky bluer than I’m used to….not a cloud in the sky. It actually looks picturesque.

We arrive at the park where P.E. class is just beginning. It is warm for 9 am in the morning… just a reminder that I now live in the desert. Today is different. Today the park is full of little people. Their clothing so vividly bright… their voices so high pitched, screaming as the run to the playground. I wonder if school is out… again?

As I sit here in my truck, I sense eyes staring at me. There's a knock on my window. I look up to see my neighbor friend smiling down at me. She greets me as she sees I’m deep in thought. She giggles and says, "I was heading to Starbucks for coffee and thought you might like me to grab you something." I must have, "Need coffee" tattooed to my forehead. I feel my smile reach my eyes as I blurt out thanks and gratitude for her offer. "I would LOVE a Suicide!" I tell her. She takes my order and what little cash I have to give her to get that sought after nectar of the gods.

As I sit here watching the children play, I realize that I am not in pain, albeit I am stiff and need a good stretching, but the pain I once had is no longer here. I also realize that springtime is the most amazing time of year. All that was dead or sleeping awakens once again.

I feel like a sleepy, grumpy bear, awakening from a long hibernation. I emerge from my cave into the brightness of a new season. The air is fresh, the greens greener, blues bluer. There is an excitement in the air, a buzz if you will of busy-ness. If you sit long enough, you can almost hear nature waking up.

The children approach as I realize my quiet time has come to an end.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Napkin Scrawl #1 - The Monster

My night burns quickly toward its end as my vision blurs and my head begins its almost nightly pulsating routine. My heart beats in my ears, thump, thump, thump as my eye begins its retreat to the back of my head. Yes, a migraine ensues. Down goes the pain pill, backed with a wash of Diet Pepsi. Only time will tell if this to shall pass.

I sit here at my laptop only briefly reading code and tweets, lounging in my upright office chair… hoping. I am hoping that I may once again complete my task instead of putting off for yet another day, the drudgery of this job. Perhaps by putting pen to paper, or in this case, fingers to keyboard, I can eloquently describe my feelings, both physical and mental. Perhaps by setting my mind on things not routinely thought upon, I might beat this monster beating on my head. I stand to face the wall, remembering once before when a slight concussion helped to remove the monster that ravages my head. As memories arise, I realize that though this cures the ache I now feel, it also brings beautiful hues of purple, green, and blue to the surface of my skin.

Oh for some lovely eye candy, to kindly draw my eyeballs back into their sockets. Perhaps, if said eye candy was enough sweetness, it might raise my heart rate just enough to send my blood pulsating back to the blood vessels in my head instead of residing in my ass.

Another thought arises… perhaps a nice endorphin rush would surely help with blood moving from its sedentary zones. Yes, this too might work, but for this to work you most certainly need a partner. For tonight, I do not hold this thought for long. It is only but a thin wisp of thought that blows back and forth like the wind.

I shall think on these things, as the monster on my head begins to exhaust and tire of his beating pain.

Back to work I say, back to work again.