We Have No Art John 13587 yawned and rolled out of his bunk. The alarm clock droned the morning news from the cubby hole by his bed. Apparently the skyways were clear and the president was on vacation for the day. John stood for a moment and stared at his quarters, his eyes glazed over. Everything was various shades of grey or black. When he squinted his eyes the room blurred together in a grand gray blob. Everything was all there to function, his coffee maker, the simple plank of black wood he used for a desk, even his clothes were simple white button down shirts and black slacks all neatly stacked on the black metal built in shelves opposite his bed with a row of black shoes on the shelf underneath. His whole quarters were filled with functional items, each placed to serve their designated purposes, each easy to clean, each designed to last. John 13587’s, or 87 as he was known to his friends, lived in the Thirty-second District. In 2153 humanity had done away with the old forms of dividing property such as countries, states and provinces. Now the world was simply divided into districts, each one perfectly square (except on coastlines) and each one numbered in order from north to south along longitude lines around the globe. Every male in 87’s district was named John with a number assigned to him. Every female was named Jane. One could therefore easily identify visitors from another district by their name. This rarely happened. Each district was designed for a purpose that helped the human race survive; there was rarely a need to venture outside of one’s designated district. 87 was in one of the ten districts that processed and shipped the world’s food supply. It was for this purpose that John showered, shaved, and dressed this morning, as he did every morning. The door to his quarters slid open and he made his way down the corridor to the train station, his work bag over his shoulder. The building seemed quiet, but John knew there were others like him making their way to the trains this early morning. The work shifts were staggered by one hour throughout the day as to not clog the mass transportation routes. At the end of his corridor was a door with the words “Please Wait” stenciled on them in big faded yellow letters. It looked like all the other doors in the hallway except for the wording. If he didn’t know any better he would think he could walk right through it. But in fact he was on the 71st floor of one of the housing buildings, and if the train was not there to step on to it would be a significant drop. Two other Johns and a Jane joined him in waiting for the train. “You hear the President is on vacation?”
“Humph,” scoffed another, “Vacation from what? This place runs itself.”
John had not had a vacation for over four years. What was there to do anyway? He worked ten hour shifts seven days a week, as most people did. The door finally slid open to reveal a crowded train. John stood near the door and leaned his forehead on the cool metal pole. The door slid shut and the train sped away. Building after building sped by the window, each one more or less the same as the last. They were the same color, made of the same materials, most with no windows. The only thing that varied was the height. Even though they were going along at 71 stories above the ground there were still buildings towering twenty stories over the train. there were still buildings towering twenty stories over the train The train jerked to a halt at the Food Plant building, and half of the train’s occupants exited. John stopped two steps outside the train. Something was different. There was a breeze flowing inside of the building, the halls were strongly illuminated. John knew at once what had happened. After all it happened at least once a week. He turned his head in the direction of the wind. A window was shattered. A priest in black kneeled by the open window on a small grey pillow. Maintenance workers were quickly cleaning up the glass and boarding up the window. This window would probably be bricked up like the others, as if the next desperate person would not follow through on this horrendous act just because the window he originally planned on using was no there. John stared at the scene in front of him, the workers in grey jumpsuits cleaning up the mess like a well organized hive, the old priest easing himself up off the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes. workers in grey jumpsuits cleaning up the mess like a well organized hive, the old priest easing himself up off the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes. well organized hive, the old priest easing himself up off the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes. the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes.“Hey! You alright there, 87?” John nodded. “Won’t be the last broken window. Don’t know what’s wrong with some folks. You in Room 70-21 today?” John nodded again and smiled slightly. “Let’s walk together then.” And 68 droned on about the production levels so far that day and the President being on vacation. With each step John’s muscles relaxed. He didn’t know what I was thinking. The more he thought about it the more ridiculous it seemed. He laughed out loud now thinking how silly his fear from only a few moments ago seemed now. 68 must have just said something meant to be funny, and nodded in agreement with John. “I know!” he said enthusiastically. John knew he didn’t know, and continued to smile at his secret.

With a little time, and a little more insight, we begin to see both ourselves and our enemies in humbler profiles. We are not really as innocent as we felt when we were first hurt. And we do not usually have a gigantic monster to forgive; we have a weak, needy, and somewhat stupid human being. When you see your enemy and yourself in the weakness and silliness of the humanity you share, you will make the miracle of forgiving a little easier.-- Lewis B. Smedes. I’ve recently had the opportunity to practice seeking forgiveness for myself and forgiving others. I’ve learned that it sucks no matter which side of the forgiving you’re on. I don’t like asking for forgiveness. I don’t like the feeling of being humbled and for the person I’ve wronged to have so much power over me. I don’t like forgiving. I don’t like letting go of the wrong and the hurt and basically declaring a truce and promising no retaliation. I’ve learned also that sometimes it is hardest to forgive myself. I forget sometimes that I’m human and flawed. I think I shouldn’t mess up as bad as I do. I forget to laugh at my humanness. I think that is the real key to forgiving others. If you can forgive yourself, and not take yourself too seriously, you can see that we are all the same in our humanness and all equally needing forgiveness. I’ve had unrealistic expectations of myself at times, and therefore unrealistic expectations of others. God forgive me. Help me to forgive others. Help me to forgive myself.

So, is it ok to say that my kids are driving me crazy? I have a four day weekend that started off nice enough, but now I'm just bored and lonely, and going a little stir crazy. Tonight is Christmas Eve for us, because I have to work on CHRISTMAS! DeAngelo's gift from Santa hasn't arrived in the mail yet. I stepped on my straighener and broke it. My Christmas cards haven't come in the mail either. My house is a mess. ::: sigh ::: Sorry just needed to vent. Christmas can be a lot of pressure can't it? Every year I tell myself "Let's keep it simple this year." And every year it seems to snowball out of control. So here I am on the internet, one of the loneliest places on earth. There are so many people out there, and very few connections. But that's our society isn't it? What ever happened to "Silent night. Holy night."?

It gets repetative don't it? Seems like we just did this last year!

Well I last updated this thing was around my birthday. I've been in the mood to write lately so maybe I'll be putting up updates more than every three months for a while. Thank you to Kevan for pointing out I've been slacking on my writing and encouraging me to post again.

So, I had to actually take a look at my blog to see what you've missed. And you really haven't missed too much. Mom left but she's coming back on Saturday. I hope she updates her blog when she gets here. Its hard for me to get an idea of what's going on with her over there through short email and shorter phone conversations.

DeAngelo is still going to school. (He doesn't really have a choice, and trust me sometimes I have to drag him kicking and screaming.) He's doing a lot better with his reading and math, but I think his teachers are idiots.

Braden is talking more but still refuses to go potty. He turned THREE in October. We went to Chuck e Cheese. He had a blast.

Alice is working a DAYSHIFT and is no longer a vampire!!! And I stopped taking my anti-depressant although I probably shouldn't have. But my idiot doctor thought it may have been because of my shift. So we will see now that I'm a daywalker.

I promise to write more later!

I had a really great birthday today. I am excited to turn 26. Josh took me out to sushi, my first time ever. I was getting pretty good at using chopsticks toward the end if I do say so myself. Other than that I really didn't do much of anything. But I think the reason it was such a good day was because for the first time in a while I did not expect anything. Like my mom keeps trying to tell me, if you lower your expectations you won't be disappointed. I was able to just go with the flow for once and enjoy whatever came instead of expecting things to come that didn't and being disappointed. That makes sense don't it?

Mom's out of here again! She is on her way to South Korea. I miss her already. She was such a big help to me this summer. This summer was probably the worst summer of my whole life. Divorce. Bankruptsy. Babysitting. Surgery. Depression. I would not be alive right now if it weren't for my mom, and I don't just mean the whole giving birth to me thing. Love you, Mom! Have a safe trip, and I'll hug you next year!

 

Today was DeAngelo's first day of school, like ALL day school, not half-day kindergarten. That means I can get something like 7 hours of sleep while he's in school. The first day was hard for him. He woke up early this morning, obviously excited about starting school. I packed his first ever lunch for school. After school he disappeared into his room and was too quiet when I went to go check on him. He was passed out. A full day of school is going to take a little getting used to. Here's a picture of DeAngelo and his new teacher Mr. White.

I’m depressed. I’ve only just now realized it. I can be dense sometimes.

I was diagnosed with depression for the first time in high school although it had probably been there all my life. I remember how it slowly built until it was a force greater than I could control.

My mom had suffered from depression and was a great help and resource. Since then it has resurfaced several times. You’d think I’d recognize the warning signs by now. But with everything going on in my life right now no one could blame me for not noticing. Except me. I blame me. I know better.

Anyway, Mom gave me a booklet this guy wrote about his experiences with depression. It inspired me to write my own. What its like for me. Maybe you’ve been through depression and can relate. Maybe you live with someone suffering from depression and it will help you understand. I don’t know.

You know those commercials “Depression hurts”? I say “Depression Sucks!”

It’s like its dark and it will never be light again.

It’s like a migraine and I want to be left alone in the dark, in the quiet.

But why won’t the phone ring?

Something is terribly wrong and it’s gotten so bad I know I can’t hide it. Then why has no one noticed and come to my rescue?

It’s like sleep. It’s like a dream. None of the monsters are as real or as scary as they seem.

And I do sleep, to get away. But sleep doesn’t come easily. Thoughts chase me. Voices mock me. Imaginary conversations with real people carve into me and now I know what they really feel about me.

The longer it lasts the more real it becomes. This is me. The old me? The happy one? She was the illusion.

I don’t want to get on pills again. Why is there no cure? Maybe it will go away on its own. I know it won’t. It never did before. Before. There was never a time before the darkness. The dark cloud before my eyes obscures all things past and future and all I can see is this present darkness. This is what I am. I’ve never been anything better. This is what I am. I’ll never be anything more.

No one understands. “It’s not that bad.” “It will get better.” “When it rains it pours.” They don’t see things as I do. And I know they are trying to help, to comfort. But making me feel like I’m overreacting and my problems are surmountable doesn’t help and only makes me feel more helpless against the darkness.

Tears only bring more pain and guilt. Kind words only bring anger and frustration.

It’s like its dark and it will never be light again.

I can’t eat. Don’t want to. I’ve lost all energy. I want a nap. I can’t sleep. I want to. I’m tired. I trip over my feet. I smile. It’s exhausting. I try to keep up the front. Why should my bad mood affect them? I’m snappy and irritated. I hold my tongue here but I’ll have another imaginary conversation with you later and tell you what I really think of you. But I don’t think that. Not really. I want you to stay and hold me. I don’t know you that well but I need a hug. My eyes burn, but I’m tired of crying. My chest is tight with anger but I’m too drained to fight. I want your company, but I’m too exhausted to plead with you to stay. I’ll beat myself up about it later when I’m alone.

“Why are you depressed?” well meaning people ask. How do I answer that question? “Why is the moon full? Why are the leaves changing color and falling off the trees? It’s just the season.” Maybe I should give them the medical reason. “It’s an imbalance of chemicals in my body.” But I can imagine the look and the questions that would follow. It’s easy when it’s “My father died.” “My dog ran away.” But that’s not the same sort is it? If I had an answer for “Why are you depressed?” Maybe it would go away when answered. But its not one thing or ten things it’s an unknown thing. It doesn’t go away with the circumstances. “Why does a dog bark or a duck quack? Why does Alice get depressed?” It’s just the way I was made.

So I know Father's Day wasn't the best day to do this, but I told Ron he can't watch the kids anymore until he has his own place. I woke up early afternoon today and Ron was gone and so were my car keys.

"Mom, when does Father's Day start?"

"It already started, DeAngelo."

"But, then where's Daddy?"

I hated that I was in that position. And I know its not entirely Ron's fault. I call myself trying to help him but I'm really just keeping him from growing up. He'll be 30 in a few days. I really wish he'd get it together.

Well . . . I was supposed to get my tubes tied today, but it didn't work. I was awake during the procedure and it was fairly painful let me tell you. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. On the bright side I got to see what my insides look like, pink cotton candy. Please mark OBGYN off the list of things I'd like to be when I grow up. No thank you. Now afterwards, I feel like someone stuck a metal rod inside me and swhished it around for a bit, and bruised up my insides. Which I guess they did. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. The best news of all is that I get to try again in a few weeks at no additional cost to me. Breathe in, breathe out. Percoset is a wonderful drug though.

 

That's Mom in Gabon. Aint it pretty?

Mom is back from Gabon. That's a country in Africa. Africa is not a
country. She is a world traveller as you may know already. Her blog
would be a lot more interesting than mine if she would create one. But she hasn't so you're stuck with me. She says she's electronically
challenged, but I don't buy it.

Callie had to work their first night up here. That's why she's not in the pictures.

Henry and Callie also arrived with a uhaul trailer to Colorado
Springs. So my whole family is now within a 100 mile radius or so. Its all very exciting. Its so nice to have family around. The family I
grew up with. The original gang. Who else but my brother can I have long extensive conversations about Star Wars with? And who can fervently agree that 80's movies are crap?

Summer. My favorite season. I love stepping out of my house to be
greeted by warm fragrant air from the flowers on the trees. I love the
warm thunderstorms that leave the air moist and humid, fresh and
clean. I love the lightening that brings no rain. The sun warms my
face and lulls me to sleep with it. The kids forget about video games
and the cartoon network and remember bicycle races and games of tag.
The sand is hot but the water is inviting. The pants are short; the
days are long. I wait for summer all year. Its sad its so short, and
then its gone. There are only two seasons: summer and waiting for
summer.

DeAngelo graduated from Kindergarten today. It was so cute. They made me cry. But its not entirely my fault I don't think. The whole thing is designed to make you sob like a baby. They did a slide show for cryin out loud! And the songs they chose?! I'm telling you they were trying to make me cry. At the end the kids are all singing the goodbye song and the curtain opens and says "1st grade here we come" waterworks again! It was really cute.

This seems like its been a really long school year, and summer seems so short. He learned so much this year. We have homework over the summer to work on his sight words. Somehow he's gotten it into his head that he won't be able to read until he turns 6. We'll have to get over that. I asked his teacher how she can do this, letting go of her students, year after year, and she didn't think it was that big a deal. But maybe its because I remember what he looked like as a baby. I remember when he was learning to walk and talk. And now he's learning to read and going to first grade! Its just amazing to me.

He's only mine for such a short amount of time. People tell me that my kids are really good kids. I shrug it off and say I didn't have much to do with it. Mostly because if I think about the awesome responsibilty I've been entrusted with the weight on my shoulders would be unbearable.

So, now its "school's out for the summer," and in the fall its "first grade here we come."

"Hi My name is DeAngelo. My favorite memory of kindergarten was when we went to the zoo. When I grow up I want to be a doctor. Thank you for listening."

I had a really good Mother's Day today. I don't know why I'm always so surprised when good things happen to me. I got enough sleep. I got to chat with my mom online (she's still in Gabon). Ron bought me Die Hard 4. Its not exactly a chick flick, but I like that movie, and he stole my first copy of it which I think is funny, because I didn't even notice. Then he took me and the kids to eat at Old Chicago. Sometimes I think he's a little bi-polar because he can be a real jerk sometimes, but today was a "good day" for him. Oh, and he even cleaned my house! When we were actually together darn near every holiday I would tell him don't BUY me anything, just clean the house and I'll be happy. He never listened then, but it was a nice surprise to wake up to a clean house today. All in all it was a perfect day if such things exsist. Even the weather was awesome. I still had to go to work which is always a bummer, but some of my favorite people work on Sundays so we got to hang out all night. It was one of the best Mother's Days I can remember for a while. Thanks, Ron.

My friend Leona had her baby today. Vivianna was born at 930pm 8 pounds 10 ounces.

 

Babies are so awesome. They are the only good reason to go to the hospital. I went to go visit her while she was in labor just hanging out waiting for the baby. She is one tough cookie. No drugs. Let me just say, I was tramatized. I love babies, but I don't want to have anymore babies coming out of this body. I teasingly blame Leona, "Leona's the reason I'm getting my tubes tied." I tell people. But really just seeing her go through everything she has gone through in the last few months brought back not so wonderful memories. I remember being so uncomfortable you can't get a good nights sleep. I remember all the weight. I remember the stretch marks, although they are hard to forget. I remember being a monster to live with, hormones raging. (Not that you were that way at ALL Leona.) So, I'm getting my tubes tied next month. Not only do I not want to have any more kids physically, I do not want to have any kids with anyone other than Ron. He's a handful to deal with all on his own. I don't need another one in my life. And anyway there's always adoption. I know it seems like I'm still strying to rationalize it in my mind, and maybe I'll have that glint of doubt and later regret forever. But I really do feel like this is the best decision for me. I love my boys, and they love each other. But yeah, contractions? Pushing? Nope, don't want to do that again.

So I made a resolution 5 months ago to take care of myself. It sounds simple enough don't it? Let me confess I'm failing miserably. I'm smoking still which is screwing with my immune system. I don't remember the last time I went to the gym. I'm still not cooking, so I eat crap. And you are what you eat. As much as I talk about my divorce on my blog I'm really not dealing with it. I'm still surrounded by people who use me and take advantage of me for their own pleasure, because in my sickness I think being needed is the same as being wanted. I still let people's opinions of me effectively alter my mood. My life is a disorganized disastrous mess, as my living room floor often reflects. I obsess about things and people and situations that don't matter. I can't remember the last time I went to church. And it is quite possibly the birth control hormones but I've been thinking a lot about the play Death of a Salesman lately. And I know I'm too hard on myself. I'm human you say. I'm doing better than some you say. But I say I'm not doing as well as I know I could.

Remember that movie I Am Legend? That guy didn't have it so bad in my opinion. Ok so those zombie things ran around trying to eat him, but he if hadn't been trying to save them, to fix everything, he could have just chilled with his dog watching Shrek until he died peacefully in his bed of old age. Not a bad life, and no one would have faulted him for it.

PS (No not "I love you" what are you trying to do get me crying again?) I seriously think those birth control hormones have me ALL screwed up, so don't pay too much mind to anything said here. Except to say that human injected hormones are a creation of the devil (or men maybe, I mean there's not much difference) to make women crazy. Remember Fried Green Tomatoes? "How many them hormones you takin, Honey?"

Last night I watched P.S. I love you. It was the saddest freakin movie I've seen in my life. I cried more than Hillary Swank. I literally sobbed. I realized I am alone.

I've tried lately to explain to my friends that I've been lonely. "How can you be lonely?" they ask. "You have your kids." Did I hear you scoff? Then you understand. Having my kids around is NOT the same thing. Kids are not the cure for this kind of loneliness. I have been spending much of my free time since the split covering up the loneliness, ignoring it, hoping it would go away. Last night I realized I need to embrace it, to learn from it, to never forget it. Because

Heaven forbid you end up alone and don't know why
Hold on tight wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright

Some of the best scenes in the movie in my opinion are the ones with Hilary Swank and Kathy Bates. Daughter is learning about mother, and vice versa. There's the one where Hilary says that it doesn't matter what she does, what job she has, who her friends are she's alone. "I mean, you're alone no matter what." and Bates answers simply "That's right."

"... so all alone or not you gotta walk ahead. Thing to remember is if we're all alone then we're all together in that too. It helps me sometimes."

"I know what it is not to feel like you're in the room until he looks at you or touches your hand, or even makes a joke at your expense just to let everyone know you're with him. You're his."

I'm not anybody's somebody. I've never not been someone's somebody. And that's a blessing and a curse. I want to belong to someone, but at the same time I don't want to belong to just anybody. I want somebody special. This guy I was completely in love with at the time told me, "You'll find someone. There are plenty of guys out there." Obviously. But a man I like? Can put up with? Can put up with me? Has his life, head, heart, and soul together? Those are few and far between I think. And in this in between I'm alone. Probably for good reason. I need to get my life, head, heart, and soul together. In between I'm alone.