Instant Karma

Want to know my philosophy on life? I believe that everything is cyclical - that what goes around truly does come around. This may not present it itself in the ways you think it will (e.g., you give someone a hundred dollars when they're down and someone does the same for you later). Goodness begats goodness and wickedness begats wickedness. Even as cynical as I am, I still believe this is true.

Instant karmas gonna get you
Gonna knock you right on the head
You better get yourself together
Pretty soon youre gonna be dead
What in the world you thinking of
Laughing in the face of love
What on earth you tryin to do
Its up to you, yeah you

Instant karmas gonna get you
Gonna look you right in the face
Better get yourself together darlin
Join the human race
How in the world you gonna see
Laughin at fools like me
Who in the hell dyou think you are
A super star
Well, right you are

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Evryone come on

Instant karmas gonna get you
Gonna knock you off your feet
Better recognize your brothers
Evryone you meet
Why in the world are we here
Surely not to live in pain and fear
Why on earth are you there
When youre evrywhere
Come and get your share

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on
Come on and on and on on on
Yeah yeah, alright, uh huh, ah

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on
On and on and on on and on

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun

- John Lennon

P.S. Although I believe in karma, life is also unfair. Need an example? John Lennon gets assassinated and Paul McCartney lives long enough for his face to droop and to become embroiled in a bitter divorce with his one-legged wife. Yeah, doesn't that figure? Wait. . . in a way that is karma. lol (And for the ultimate "fuck you" song, listen to my profile song, written by Lennon and guitar by Harrison, about Paul McCartney. Genious.)

Herff Jones Just Ate My Pocketbook

I was sitting at the computer yesterday afternoon when Caitlin came home from school. She opened the door, gave the dog an obligatory pat on the head and some baby talk before proceeding over to where I sat, excitedly thrusting some papers under my nose. "The class ring people were at school today!"

Ugh. Two things went through my mind: "Already?" and "How much is this going to cost me?" She has, of course, already picked out what she wants and eagerly shows it to me. She points to a silver ring with a "Vistavue" top (for those of you that don't remember, those were the rings with the "picture" in them). I start to quiz her.

"Is this silver-looking ring okay with you? Because I can't really afford gold. Or silver, for that matter. But if it's not, we'll work it out."

I get a shrug in response. "That's fine. I don't really care either way."

Whew. First hurdle went smoothly. Awesome . She's getting the one that isn't even a real metal. It's ultrium, or whatever. Which sounds a lot like "ultimatum": You either get the ring that you can't pawn for food and rent when you're fresh out of college and poor as a church mouse or you get nothing. But that's cool with me. I think to myself, "I bet I can swing a ring that probably has the same chemical components as gravel."

She starts to point to all the "pridesides" she wants (you know, the little pictures on the sides of the ring). I say, "Hold your panties on. Momma needs a price list." She shuffles some papers around and we locate the price list. I drag my finger across the page until I find the ring style she wants. $169.74. Oh, that's not so bad. Okay. I'm doing calculations in my head and I'm starting to breathe a little sigh of relief. I think I can handle that, especially with her sister's birthday coming up in October, her birthday in November and Christmas around the corner.

"What color stone do you want?"

"I think just a clear one. What is that, April?" We look, we locate it, yes, it's April. Done. I pull out the little check list of different options, mark the ultrium box and the April stone box.

I notice that we have to pick a cut of stone. I ask her what she wants. "Just whatever is in that picture." Hmmmm. We figure it out. And then I notice that the stone is EXTRA. Yep. You get the gravel ring only for $169.74. The stone is an extra $25. I'm sorry, that's wrong. You have to pay for the cut of the stone. But all the different stone cut options are extra. So, yeah, you're paying extra for the stone. This pisses me off, but what can you do, right? Grrrr.

She gets me all excited when she pulls out a coupon and says, "But I get something for free!" Oh, thank God, I think. I get all the options for free for ordering ahead of schedule. Or free shipping. Or a bottle of cognac to wash down the hopes and dreams of a wonderful Christmas. Nope. It's a coupon for free name engraving on the inside of the ring. Gee, thanks. That saves us a whopping $20 for something we wouldn't have done otherwise. "Tell Mr. Herff-Jones he's a hell of a guy."

Okay, now we're on the pridesides. She picks softball and culinary arts. Fine. And for her Vistavue she wants an artist's palette. Okay. Whatever. I'm now numb to all of the extras. Just pile it on. I start to peruse the different pridesides you can get. I chuckle and say, "You should get the sign language 'I Love You' and open wheel racing. No wait! The dream catcher and the hunting!" She humors me.

Okay, I start adding it up: the ring alone is $169.74. Each prideside is, I believe, $25 and the Vistavue top is $30. The stone is $30. So, the total is now at $279.74 without shipping and handling and tax. Shit. When did that happen? This gravel ring is going to cost me $300?

After popping a few pills for my blood pressure and thinking that I really should talk to my doctor about Xanax, I start doing more calculations in my head. The coming months bring her 16th birthday and expectations of driving school, which costs about $275. For those of you who don't know (and then why in the hell are you reading this?), I'm still in school, living on student loans and what I can eek out as a medical transcriptionist at home.

"Okay, maybe if I don't pay the cell phone bill. No, that won't work. Okay. Let's see. I could get a part-time job. No. When do I have time? Hmmmm. I could sell something. Like my blood."

I decide to talk to her about it, just mention it. As a parent, I want to be able to provide her with everything, but I am also confident that, as she's nearing adulthood, she will understand my predicament.

"Caitlin, with your ring costing $300 and driver's ed another $300, not counting insurance, I'll be spending over $600 on you in the next few months. I'm thinking that should be your birthday present, especially with Christmas right around the corner. And that's a pretty hefty birthday present."

Nothing but a blank stare from her and a suppressed sigh. I guess her stare wasn't exactly blank. I could read what she was thinking: "Damnit."

I try to explain, and then get angry that I have to explain. Damnit, I'm doing the best I can, the most I can do right now. I decide to shelve further discussion for later. Like when she starts pestering me about a nose ring again, or what we're going to do for her birthday party. Or a car. And a homecoming dress.

So, if you're one of the teenagers reading this, take this one thing away from my musings: be kind to your parents. Nine times out of ten they probably get angry and frustrated with you because they really do want to give you the best of everything and they can't. And if you're a parent reading this, take heart - you're not alone. And if you're reading this as a single person with no children - celebrate with lots of prophylaxes. You deserve it!

Guido Calling

*WARNING* I use quotes a lot in the following tirade. If that bugs you, don't read it.

Do you know what I love first thing in the morning? Or anytime throughout the day? To be treated like a damn idiot. I get a letter in the mail from Northern Kentucky University a week ago that says I have to complete their student loan "exit interview and counseling" and my records will be placed on hold until I do. Okay, whatever.

I sit down to do the "exit interview and counseling" this morning. Not only do I have to fill out my name, current address, phone number, but the same information for "personal references". (For those of you playing along at home, that means: "Give us the names of people who will help us track you down when you skip out on these student loan payments because they are ridiculously high and we don't really expect you to be able to make a decent living and pay this crap back and we'll never be able to track you down in that homeless shelter.") They then asked for the name and address of my "expected employer". I vacillated between McDonald's and the CIA, and finally just clicked "non-applicable". Bitches.

So, I finally get all of my "personal info" out of the way. I am then prompted to either "study" or "take the exam". What?! What exam? I am a GRADUATE. I refuse to study for any exam. So I click on the "take the exam" prompt. Here I am lead to the lower echelon of Idiocy. The very first thing I read is this (my comments are in red):

"It is important to know exactly how much money you owe. After graduation, the typical undergraduate student at Northern Kentucky State University owes $19,000 while the typical graduate student owes $27,000. Depending upon how much you borrowed, your loan debt may be higher or lower than this figure. No shit? I wasn't a math major, so I'm really glad they cleared this up for me.

In addition to knowing how much you owe, it is even more important to understand your debt burden, or the impact that debt payments have on your lifestyle. Don't you mean it's more important to understand the impact that my lifestyle will have on my debt payments? They make it sound like I should choose my debt payment over that brand new pair of Jimmy Choo shoes. Those silly people!

During repayment, you must pay back the total amount you borrowed, plus interest. Typically, this involves making monthly loan payments for 10 years. Regardless of the amount, your monthly loan payment reduces the money left to pay for needs such as rent and food. There they go again - blowing my mind! I had no idea that I would need to pay for things like housing and food. And do you see where they put the priority? On the loan payment! *rolls in laughter and wipes tears from eyes* See what they did there? My loan payment may affect what money is LEFT OVER for rent and food. "Man, I haven't eaten in weeks! Darn loan payment!"

Managing your debt burden and still meeting your needs is the key to paying back your loans while maintaining a decent lifestyle." I have a feeling the real key to paying back my loans while maintaining a decent lifestyle involves a hotplate, some beakers and a case of Sudafed.

Okay. Ready for some sample questions? I thought I was too.

"If I cannot get a job, I do not have to pay back my loan." This was one of my favorite true or false questions. You know I answered false.If I default on my student loan payments:
-My tax refunds may be held and/or my wages garnished
-In certain states, my professional license may be revoked
-I will owe collection costs and attorney's fees
-All of the above Is the name of the guy who wrote this exam "Guido"? *knock*knock* Who's there? *Goons. Hired goons.* Yeah, I get it. If I don't pay the loan, I get in trouble. But if I don't have the money to pay the loan payment, genius, how am I going to pay attorney's fees and collection costs?

I'll spare you the rest. But you get the idea. It's the electronic equivalent of a 7 foot, 400 lb. man standing over top of you, punching a fist into his palm and begging you to get an answer wrong.

So. Here is what I have for you, Federal Government Student Loan Program. Thanks for keeping me bobbing above poverty level for almost three years now. *raises glass* And here's to 10 more years of the same!!



P.S. Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I went back to school this fall. Haha!! Take that, Federal Student Loan Program!!

Loneliness

I feel incredibly lonely this evening. The kind of lonely you feel in a crowded room, that is somehow amplified by 1000 when you're later alone. I feel like I'm not being heard, that I could be screaming at the top of my lungs and yet I'm still muffled and invisible. It's like a weird dream, where you can't move your feet and you can't stop moving at the same time. I guess I mostly feel out of control, drained. My stress couldn't get much worse, barring serious injury or illness (*crosses self*). I'm just really confused about so many things in my life right now and I feel so alienated because I know that ultimately these decisions I'm pondering are for me alone to make, yet I'm not the only one who will be affected by their consequences.

Damnit. Someone save me.

It was raining the other day, here on the river, where there is mist rising up It makes me feel as if I'm in the river, drifting in the current, waiting for it to take me one place, or another. I can't swim, and so I will just float, not wanting to choose one shore, but to just stay in the middle until I'm too tired of drifting and must make my way. I want no lifeline, no rescue. I require the water, the clouds, the mist.

Brain Eating Zombies

Meredith and I were playing tug of war tonight with her blanket (her "kibby" - long story about the origins of that one. Just take it at face value.). She is so animated and creative, she just cracks me up.

Anyway, we're playing tug of war, saying, "My kibby." "No, MY kibby." "No, MY kibby!!" Finally, I took the kibby away from her and laid down on the couch, throwing it over my body and pretending to snore, which then started the I'll-pretend-to-sleep-with-the-kibby-while-you-try-to-steal-it game. On about round 6 of that game, I'm pretending to be asleep and Meredith takes the kibby, wraps it around her shoulders, puts both of her hands up in a claw-like formation, bulges out her eyes, and says, "Brains!! Brains!! Brains!!" I don't know whether to play along with a little scream or laugh, so I do both. I put my hands up over my face and she says, "Oh no! The sun is out! Now I'm melting into a pile of green goo!" Then she proceeds to do this whole melting sequence, reminescent of The Wizard of Oz. Very convincing. She does this for a few rounds, then decides to play "mommy" to my "daughter" and says, "Honey, the reason why the monster keeps coming back is because you're not sweeping up the goo. I'll get the broom." She then proceeds to sweep it all up, put the kibby over my shoulders, pat me on the back and tell me everything is going to be okay.

And sometimes at the end of the day, that's what we're all looking for. When the monsters attack us, the brain eating creditors, the hair raising demands of work, school, and family, the scream-inducing terror of feeling like a captain whose ship is lost at sea, whose crew is looking to you for guidance, every so often we need that reassurance that only a warm blanket and a kind hand can give us, a gentle kiss from small lips telling you that it will be alright. For some that reassurance comes from God, for others it's friends or family. We all need it. Our little acts of kindness for family, friends, and strangers may provide them the reassurance they need. So - bring on those brain eating green gooey zombie monsters - my kibby and my daughters will protect me!!

Long Night's Journey Into Day

I watched a documentary last night on apartheid in South Africa and The Truth and Reconciliation Commission's work, granting amnesty for some of the perpetrators of violence. This commission only granted amnesty hearings to people whose crimes were politically motivated, and the hearings were much like "trials", to determine if those asking for amnesty would receive it. It was a powerful thing. The documentary follows four different stories, four out of 22,000. If only we had had the foresight for this sort of commission after WWII. I was truly amazed. The chair of the commission is Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

I know this post is disjointed and seemingly rambling, but these stories have been on my mind, especially Thapelo Mbelo. It's a long story, but he struck me as a Judas figure, one who will truly be cursed for selling his own blood, his own "brothers". I'm puzzled by his actions, and yet I'm not. In a way he's another victim, a victim of the white empirical fist that has been plundering, raping, imprisoning Africa since time forgotten. Watching the Boers in action was like watching an old soldier reliving his "glory days", a sad symbol of a bygone (hopefully!!!) era - much like Faulkner's Emily Grierson rotting away in her old Southern home.

Just my thoughts. . . I'm still working on what I'm trying to say, to formulate my feelings and it's hard. I need to look up my friend Lovingson, who promised I could visit his home in Zimbabwe when he returns. Perhaps that would clear my head. . .

http://www.doj.gov.za/trc/trccom.htm
http://www.irisfilms.org/longnight/ln_gugu.htm

My Secret Shame. . .

I have something I want to say, no matter how hard it is. It's a problem of mine, a problem shared by millions of Americans. It all started so innocently about a month ago or so. It's a trend that has become popular within the last few years. Even as long as five years ago, I dabbled a little, but it never got to be an addiction. I could always quit whenever I wanted, no problem. And when I did partake, I kept it a secret - no one knew. Or I did it when other people were doing it, engaging socially, if you will. But a mere month ago all that changed. I started slow, saying I would stop and no one would be the wiser. I laughed it off. Now, it's a full fledged addiction. I lost two hours on Tuesday. I lost another two hours this evening. And I feel like I have to reach out to someone, see if I can get some help. I know I'll be back at it tomorrow though.

That's right, I watch American Idol. I'm so ashamed. I have jumped on the band wagon with total and utter abandon. I know the contestant's names. I root for a few of my favorites. I bash Paula Abdul and cheer Simon. I'm hoping that now it's out in the open, I can move on, quit being ashamed. Everyone else is watching it, right? It's just good to know I'm not alone. *sniff*sniff*

More musings

I have been blogging somewhere else, but I've decided to do some "cross-posting", especially since I may be freer and a little more anonymous here and keep this particular blog from those closest to me just so I can maintain my honesty. Anyway. . . here's one from February:
___________________________________________________________________________________

Tonight I watched a documentary on the Aryan National Front, which I thought an interesting programming choice for Black History Month. So many of these skinheads looked like disenchanted boys looking for a home. It reminded me of a gang sort of membership - kids who don't necessarily ascribe to all of the views of their local affiliation, but they get taken in and treated kindly and so they end up swallowing whatever is fed to them.

I'm not trying to say these kids are innocent and are not responsible for their actions - they very much are. I guess I'm just trying to understand that kind of hate - well, any kind of hate. Where does it come from and why? What can we do to eradicate it? Why must we continue to keep open old wounds? There is so much good in the world, and I'm afraid that one day the hate may take over, the evil, and cancel out the goodness, the love that is left.

As Gandhi said, we need to be the change we want to see in the world. A new call to action: Love, love, love. Drown out the shouts of hate and violence. Maybe I'm just a born-too-late hippie, or maybe I'm just a mother and a sister and a daughter and a friend who is hoping for the best in this world for those I love and those who will come after me.

Birthday Musings

Well, another birthday has come and gone for my youngest. It was a celebration of princess proportions, complete with a pink castle cake of my own creation, even pink forks. There were little witches and Tiggers and even Harry Potter joined us at the party (a Halloween-themed party, if you will). Cinderella graced us with her presence as well.

Sitting among the after-effects of the latest birthday celebrations, the pink paper, the Strawberry Shortcake gift bags, princess plates, and bright pink icing around the lips of all the toddlers, I began to ponder the pomp and circumstance of these birthday parties. Why? Call me next Wednesday and I'll be complaining that I can't get my daughter out from under my feet, that I can't even study for a full five minutes without her needing help dressing Barbie or hearing her cries of, "Oh, no! Not another bug!" (She's a little dramatic.) When they are this young it's easier to find the moments of awe and wonder, the babe from your womb who makes you laugh, cry, and pull your hair out, yet birthdays are still important days to help us stop and think, to remember the pain of childbirth and the joys of motherhood.

Birthdays, in my opinion, are that boost of self-esteem we need later in life, when we look back through the pages of our photo albums to help us remember that there were so many people who loved us, who gathered together once a year just to celebrate US, no one else. Those people who love us best shopped for things they'd never even heard of ("Fairytopia? What's that?" "So this head of a pegasus that you can brush the mane of, that's a good thing, right? You want that?") and it has nothing to do with Christmas, with feeling a need to do it.

I remember what my childhood birthdays were like, when I felt special and I knew it was my day to call the shots. I could pick what we were all having for dinner and my relatives seemed to love me best on that day. And I never held a grudge against my siblings for their special places on their birthdays - in a way I knew it was good karma. I'm 31 and I can still elicit good vibes or even a free sundae if I tell someone it's my birthday. The day I was brought into the world. The day I started "living", started breathing the air, tore out of my mother's body, blood and flesh and air and mucus all mingled to mark my beginning, and every year we celebrate it. I've heard the Chinese celebrate their calculated conception as their true birthday, which I find interesting (and ironic in a way, for the Chinese at least).

So, it was another fairy tale day, if there is such a thing as fairy tales. The princess was celebrated, received everything she ever wanted, was resplendant in gown and manner, said please and thank you, and lived happily ever after (or at least until the first toy breaks). Here's to another year, another glorious 365 days. I have been blessed and privileged to be the conduit to bring that wonderful creature into the world despite the teething and chocolate smeared on the white carpet and just generally making me crazy. Her sister's birthday is next month and I'll be going through this musing all over again. Bear with me.

Peace, love, and all that hippie junk

". . . be cheerful, sir:
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirts and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."

- Prospero from Shakespeare's The Tempest

We hear it every day. Life is short. Carpe Diem. Don't blink. Words of admonishment from those who are older and wiser, and a little closer to the end of their journeys. I look at the devastation wrecked by Hurricane Katrina, 20,000 people living a makeshift existence inside the Superdome alone, little food and water, no air conditioning, and no way out, surrounded by 3 feet of water. And even if they could get out, where are they going to go? Home?

I look at these sorts of natural disasters and a few things always come to my mind. We would never make it if we were suddenly thrust back in time 200 years, living like the Native Americans did. We have become soft with all of our advances. I'm the first one to admit it - I don't even like to go camping. Secondly, I'm always in awe of Nature, rearing her head to show us she's still the boss when she chooses to be. Seeing this sort of widespread destruction also makes me think of God. Are these the birth pangs of an Earth which is about to be destroyed? Are we being punished for sins both imagined and real? Is there a God at all? If God does exist, has He forgotten us, does He even care anymore? Were the Greeks right, with Zeus and Apollo and Venus and Hera? Are the Buddhists right? The Muslims, Hindus? Branch Davidians? I have so many questions and just not enough answers that make sense anymore. I feel as if our whole world has undergone this sort of dismantling and we're finding out that no one is in control, no one is watching the helm while we sleep, and we're pissed off that we've been fooling ourselves for so long. Maybe it's the cynic in me, still deep down inside, or maybe it's just part of growing older and questioning the world around you. Time will tell.

Hey - life is short. Seize the day. Don't waste it on petty differences and hatred. Compliment everyone you meet. Don't gossip on Fridays. Do something. This is one sweet world and we should appreciate the time we have. I know, I know. It's almost cliche to say those things anymore, isn't it? We can all move forward, even with the smallest steps, to make our own little worlds a better place. We are such stuff as dreams are made of and just like a cloud that passes behind the sun, we could be gone. Don't go out with a bang - go out with love.

Inspiration

Inspiration comes in many different forms. Children, loved ones, dreams, animals, a favorite song, the weather. Anything can be inspirational. For instance, I have been thinking about creating my own blog for a while, more as a way to record my own thoughts, an online diary or journal if you will, not necessarily a record for posterity's sake, and I was inspired by a friend of mine to finally do it. I think it will help me to have my thoughts organized in some semi-coherent way. Perhaps it will seep into other parts of my life, this new-found neatness, and my house will finally be clean. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.