Discipline

I want to be disciplined, not because it's expected of me, but because things need to be done. When I look at all my responsibilities, I realize everything I do is expected by an outward source. I cook dinner because my children need to eat. I go to work because I'm expected to go to work. I study to learn when I have a teacher to assign me something. When there is no expectation, I do nothing. I know people who will not stop to rest until their house is tidy. They will not sit to watch TV until their self-assigned tasks are complete. I want to be like that! Yet instead, I sit here and type. I didn't drink alcohol until my late 20s not because it was poison for my body, but because abstaining was an outward expectation. Then I observe those claiming not to believe in any higher power also abstain from intoxicating substances. So what is the difference? Why can't I be that disciplined? Once any outward expectations are lifted, I slump like a rag-doll into a pile on the floor. I have no inner discipline. Well...I'll say I have no consistent inner discipline. How do I start?

Ranting

Here are some things that I am good at: I am a good mom. I am a good friend. I am a good person. I am not always these things.

Sometimes I promise a bedtime story and get sucked into the wonders of the intrawebs until it is too late and the children must get to bed. Sometimes I lose my temper. Either way, I apologize and vow to do better.

I am not good at calling friends to check up on them. I am better a being taken care of, than taking care of others. Sometimes I go too far with my joking and feelings get hurt. Whatever the case may be, I apologize and vow to do better.

Sometimes I gossip. Sometimes I allow bitterness to creep into my heart. Sometimes my tolerance is stretched, and I lash out in bitter sarcasm. Sometimes I make really big mistakes, too big to confess publicly. In all of that, I check myself and vow to do better.

I really try to allow others these same do-overs. It's really sad that some do not allow these of me.

Early Morning Memories

I was lying in bed not sleeping (as I tend to do at 4:30 a.m. these days) and this memory came to me:

Maybe it was two years ago? Maybe three? We were having tacos and Isabelle suggested having hot chocolate with our dinner. So that's what we had. The real struggle came when the little 6 or 7-year-old refused to eat her taco because there was lettuce on it (she doesn't like lettuce). I could feel this tension starting to build. For some reason I had the idea to cut the tension by thanking her for the good suggestion to have hot chocolate. She got this proud look on her face, picked up the taco, and took a bite.

Sometimes I'm a good mother. :)

Fight! Fight! Fight!

I promised this blog on my Facebook and now I feel like a dork for doing so, but a promise is a promise.

Remember back in junior high school when word got around the school there'd be a fight in the park and after class we all went running out there to see what was going on? I remember the two guys with intense rage and a hint of fear on their faces, all the kids around them yelling, egging them on. I was so intrigued and just wanted the fight to get on so I could see someone get punched. I think I eventually left because all they did was face each other and occasionally yell some sort of threat. I think I stopped attending those fights after that. I didn't really care. But there's something about a fight that makes people stop and watch.

Last night I had the pleasure of taking my children to the Spokane fair with some other friends and their children. We did the whole fair thing, rides, animals, food, booths, etc. My kids wanted to try some games and now that I'm a grown up, I understand why my parents hated letting me play those fair games. I did my best to convince them to try out the spin art booth instead, that way they're guaranteed a prize! (You know, you squirt some paint on a piece of paper for the guy to spin around and voila! Art!) We found three open spots right next to each other and I was digging in my wallet to pay the attendant when loud voices distracted me. To my right were two very angry, snarling people. It looked like a couple fighting; the shorter, Latina-looking lady and not-much-taller guy yelling at each other. It sounded as if someone intervened and the guy suggested in his angry way that they take it outside the fair. Well that satisfied me, so I relaxed a little until a split-second later, fists started flying. This was happening only a few feet away from us, so I calmly lead the children in the opposite direction to wait it out before we returned to our art project. I couldn't understand why the other customers just stood there captivated by this violence while the entire time I kept wondering when the weapons would surface. The mob had even bumped into a few working on their masterpiece and moved around behind the booth. I kept waiting for it to calm so we could return, but it continued! Up popped this white guy out of no where with blood running down his face who I later was told was on the ground getting kicked in the head by all these people. I steadily inched further away, but kept my eye out to make sure the fight didn't come toward us. Finally someone in uniform as well as the biggest black man I'd ever seen (or maybe he was just in hero status at that moment for me) arrived and the fight was ended, the not-much-taller guy yelling "Call me when you get your green card." We made our art pieces and our way out the fair gates. Note: While before this fight occurred, that game where you squirt water to fill the balloon until it pops was just a startling annoyance, but afterwards turned into a PTSD symptom. Also note: On our way out, we crossed paths with the same guy in uniform and biggest black man I'd ever seen and I wondered if the fighters had been escorted out the same gates we were now exiting. My nerves were on edge until we were safely in our van.

Being one of those regular "clubbers" I've witnessed my fair share of brawls. They are never too bad, but it isn't fun being on the dance floor when all of a sudden you're getting pushed all the way to the other side of the room along with everyone else by two drunk guys until the bouncer jumps in, stomping all over your feet. I never really was afraid of those fights and eventually learned to look for the first clear escape to get out of the way and let it dissipate. Then there was Double Dribble.

I was working a remote at the Double Dribble for Live 104.5 two winters ago with my cohost DJ Manic who had been spinning that night. We shut down the club and I hung out there while they put all the equipment away (I would've helped, but I don't think they trusted me touching any of it). It's always a challenge to get everyone to leave because they usually are drunk and don't want to go home, so when I started to hear weird, drunken wailing, I just figured it was some girls whining about having to go out in the cold. Everything got packed up and we said our goodbyes. I headed toward the front of the club while they exited through the back. As I stepped outside, I heard more wailing and noticed some very drunk people, so drunk one of them was being held up while he walked, eventually collapsing not far from me. However, when the person next to me said on the phone that there had been a stabbing at the Double Dribble, the picture became much clearer to me. I started to panic. I couldn't get to my van because it was in the same area from where those people were coming. It was a wall of stab victims I would have had to walk through. Plus, I had heard that the actual stabbing took place only a few feet from my van. I walked back toward the club, but saw no one inside. I called Manic, but no answer. I called anyone else that had been there, no answer. Finally Manic called me back and I told him what had happened. He had no idea and had been trying to get the station vehicle unstuck from the snow in the back, so he told me to meet him back there. After they freed the car, he and I walked back to the front while I tried to warn him about the scene out front. By then the police were there and those panicky feelings started up again. There was the guy who earlier had been assisted by his friends, his blood soaked into the packed snow on the parking lot. Manic tried to calm me down, grabbed my hand, and commanded me to walk. Don't stop, just keep walking. A police officer tried to stop us and ask if we saw what happened and Manic told me to keep walking. We had to walk over this huge bloody spot in the snow and I started whining, but Manic said to keep walking. We made it to my van, said a very short and frightened goodbye and I drove away. It took a few days to get over that one.

I've been lucky enough to have missed out on the shooting that left one man dead outside a well-known Spokane bar last Halloween, and other violence that has happened downtown. Now that I think about it, I really don't know why I continue to stop in those places, and I'm sure I'll have family members and certainly my boyfriend questioning this as well. I was brought up in very sheltered and small towns where the most violence we witnessed were two guys or girls yelling angry threats at each other with the rest of us spurring them on. But take it from this girl who has never witnessed a drive-by, a club shooting, gang violence, never been mugged, never been raped, never been threatened by any violence whatsoever that if a fight breaks out in a public place, to walk as far away from it as possible because as the woman next to me at the spin art booth said, "Bullets don't have names."

(I think that means they aren't assigned to specific people, or...um, something.)

Abused

Something that's been on my mind for a while:

The abused react...as abused.

I watch a married couple, two people very close to me, two equally wounded individuals from very different backgrounds, go back and forth snapping at each other on a regular basis. From my perspective, neither of them hardly ever has ground to react in such a way, but the response is so knee-jerked, there hardly is time to really think whether they are justified.

I watched a young mom whose daughter throws violent tantrums and will hit her and throw things at her and instead of disciplining, the mother will react as if the daughter should instinctively know her feelings are hurt; as if the mother has taken all this personally, which to be fair, is probably very difficult not to do.

I myself sometimes react to my argumentative daughter defensively, even responding in sarcasm or condescension, immediately regretting my choice. The way I treat my mother sometimes takes me by surprise and I have to turn around to apologize.

Having apparently gotten into a heated political discussion with someone I care about on Facebook (I say apparently because I was not aware it was heated at all until I read her latest response), I had to take a step back and think. Why is she reacting this way? Why does she assume my tone is what she thinks it is? Perhaps she is a wounded person? My statements, completely neutral in my mind, were probably taken as angry and lashing out at her.

It's so very curious to me. I wonder if I stop reacting as if abused, how that would affect my day-to-day thinking and interactions with other people? But how do I stop?

I'm On A Boat! Boosh Cruise for Autism 2009

Boosh Cruise for Autism 2009: Let's go on a cruise, but make it for autism! It just doesn't sound right, but this is the second year for the benefit and it has met with great success allowing the younger, "clubber" generation to party on a boat for a good cause. Created by Jade and Charissa Cardwell whose son is diagnosed with autism, the Boosh Cruise for Autism has provided a great opportunity to educate young people about this condition whilst helping families affected by this disorder gain knowledge about what is available to them.

This benefit is not the sophistocated, grown up, cheese and wine tasting event you'd expect. Rather, it's a Derailer and glow-stick club atmosphere and put on by two DJs who decided to use their immense talent for this social cause. It's full of all different types of people with the common goal to have fun and enjoy headlining DJs MC Squared (Jade Cardwell) and DJ Fusion along with other known Spokane DJs. Proceeds from the cruise, raffle ticket sales, and even glow sticks all go toward Autism Society of Washington, Spokane chapter.

This is my second time attending, and I walked away with so many resources and the feeling of support for my own experience parenting a high-functioning autistic child. My thanks to the Cardwells and Spokane After Dark for putting on the second annual Boosh Cruise for Autism!

I have a son

I have a son who, when forced to wear his new glasses for 10 minutes, will tear down everything I hung on his bedroom walls and throw them in the garbage because he's so mad at me. I have a son who eventually came into my room to give me a hug and tell me a story about his nana's (my mother's) dog who was visiting for the day. He took a picture with me in the photo booth at Chuck E Cheese and even gave me some of his tickets for my birthday. I have a son who, when we got home, dug everything back out of his trash and let me help him hang it back up on his walls. Including our picture from tonight.

You guys!

Okay, so I just posted on Jason Mraz's blog. Now all I have to do is wait until he reads it, discovers my magnificent and engaging writings, and proposes.

It's gonna work, guys!

Summer Lovin

Some nights, like this one, I enjoy a walk with the sounds and sights of the outside and wish to be walking hand in hand with my love. We'd pause on the corner sidewalk, listening to the cars go by, looking at each other with only the street light to help us see, and he'd lean over to kiss me. A long, slow, soft kiss.

But First...

My son, Elijah is the first to wake every single morning. He makes his bed, gets dressed, brushes his teeth, applies his deodorant, and washes his face. Then he comes into my room to announce that he has completed his morning routine. His motivation for getting ready so quickly is so he can play his video game for the rest of the morning until it is time to leave. So after I question him to make sure he's completely ready (and, more recently, tell him to change out of his long sleeve shirt because of the weather), I permit him to play his game. "Ok," he replies, "But first..." and then he leans over to give me a big hug.

Prank the boss! Giggle.

Hi Scott,

I hope your vacation is going well. I just wanted to let you know that I’m having trouble with my transcription software. I’m waiting to hear back from Chad about this and hopefully things will get fixed soon. Also, you might have heard about the big hail storm we had yesterday! Thundering and lighteninging and everything! I certainly hope the weather is beautiful where you are. Today, though, we woke up to four feet of snow! The city is practically shut down! Well, we went in to work anyway because we knew how important it was to keep the office open. Also, there were some electrical issues/fires in the Spokesman Review building next door and I guess they had to evacuate, but don’t worry, we remained here working away while you golf on your much needed and deserved vacation! We even have had the maintenance people telling us to leave the building because of this earthquake…actually that might have something to do with my computer problems (lol). Really though, don’t worry. We’ll stay until 5:00 p.m. Have a great vacation and we’ll see you when you get back (maybe)!

Happy April 1st!

Jessica

People

I want to go back to school and learn. I want to learn about people. Why people do certain things, say certain things, act a certain way. I love to watch people. I stare and wonder.

Last night I went to Ceour d'alene to see an 80s cover band. Wow! Look at all those people running up to dance to some shitty version of Billy Idol's Rebel Yell! Look at that older version of me one day acting all cute and flirtatious! Look at that nerdy girl with the glasses singing along with the song, but has no idea what the words are! Why does she keep singing along? She's obviously not even close to mouthing any vowels and syllables that would form any type of word. Look at her, she's singing along to the next song...and she STILL doesn't know the words! Weird! She looks like she had braces at one time. Her teeth are perfect, but she holds her mouth as if she still has those metal brackets in her mouth. Maybe she has clear braces on. Oh! She's sitting across from that chick with huge knockers who walked in a while ago. How interesting. Here's this nerdy woman and her nerdy husband having a conversation with the epitome of what would have been the "popular" girl in high school and her "popular" boyfriend. I wonder if Nerdy Girl is just so elated to even be sitting across from her, or if she's wondering, as am I, if Popular Girl's boobs are real. You know I saw you glance down, Nerdy Girl. Oh no, she spotted me staring, shit! Now I'm going to have to find a new subject because she keeps making eye contact with me. Damn it. Ahhh, there's weird dancer girl still dancing with no one as if she's feeling the music all through her body. Yes, the music of the 80s. She looks thin on the bottom, but her boobs combined with the too-short sweater she's wearing gives her a muffin-top effect. She's dancing awfully close with Skinny Girl in a little white tank top and camo pants. Hmmm...I wonder...

The girlfriend of the friend of the guy I came with seems like she's getting a bit drunk, but she's only had two glasses of wine. Maybe she's just a little more personable now that her own girlfriend has arrived. She has this funny obnoxious laugh, and seems to laugh at anything. Like, even if my friend quietly said something across the table that she couldn't have heard, she still guffaws as if he's the life of the party. Huh. I have to go to the bathroom.

There's no paper in my stall! "Excuse me, would you mind terribly helping me out?" I ask my neighbor who's been peeing since I walked in. She drunkenly replies and a handful of paper appears under the stall partition. I give her my thanks and finish my duties (heh, doodies). Oh, and here she appears, Weird Dancer Girl! The girl I've been curiously watching on the dance floor since the band started! Wow, I got my toilet paper from her! I almost feel as if I've encountered a celebrity! Up close and personal!

Ahhh, Nerdy Husband is singing along with Judas Priest and he actually knows the words. Nerdy Husband, you've redeemed yourself, but your wife needs to Google some songs.

I'm noticing a weird trend with these Ceour d'alane-80s-cover-band goers: Not-so-hot guys with playboy-bunny-material girls. WEIRD!

This cute blond walks by and spots her friend, rushes up to him, and they do their little fist bump and jazz hand-ish greeting. And they're so excited to do it! They have such happy expressions on their faces during and afterward! She sits across from him and I wonder; coworker? Old school buddy? I don't have that great of view of her because my friend's friend's head is in the way.

Ohhhh there's the MySpace table! You know they're all taking pictures together for the sole purpose of uploading them to MySpace, or facebook, pick your poison. I'm not judging. I do it too.

Heyooo, looky at Weird Dancer girl and Skinny Camo Pants girl. Looks like they've "found" each other, if you know what I mean. Hee hee! Lesbian PDA in effect! I often see this happen in the clubs (the hardcore PDA, not the lesbianish hardcore PDA), but in a bar? To a cover band? Funny. Awww, Weird Dancer is dipping Skinny Camo Pants girl. How sweet, but it looks like SCP girl is leaning back just a little bit too much for Wasted Weird Dancer g....OHHH she dropped her!! Girls, I'm sorry, but everyone saw that coming.

So now this inebriated old lady has to be escorted out of the bar by our waitress and a police officer, the entire time telling our poor waitress her whole life circumstances. Oh, but the waitress is so sweet, nodding her head and adding her, "M-hmm" and "Ohhh" when appropriate. We want to leave but because we've all had a couple beers, no one wants to risk driving away with cops around, so we wait. Finally, after they tow the old lady's car away and the police drive away, we are free to go and take the long journey back to Spokane.

This, my friends, was a fantastic night.

CREEPY!

jerome says:
happy friday the 13th http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FONt47Z0KZg

My Isabelle

My children continue to astound me.

On a birthday outing for my mom at Red Robin, Isabelle, while holding her balloon, witnessed the accidental popping of a toddler's balloon a couple tables down from us. So, of course she turned to me, described what she had just seen, and stated she'd like to give her balloon to the little girl. Everyone around was touched when we walked over and explained her mission. So, of course she was certain to be rewarded with a new balloon with the color of her choosing before we left the restaurant.

Tee hee! [IM]

Jessica says:
I'm so out of it, I didn't know where the super bowl is taking place, nor do I know who is playing.
Justin says:
THE STEELERS
Justin says:
and tehe cardinals
Justin says:
damnit, I giggled

A typo personality? [IM]

Jessica says:
Don't you know by now that I always overlook whatever typo you make?
Richard says:
I almost dare you to call me out so you can witness my magnificent indifference

YES WE CAN [IM]

Jessica says:
I'm being oppressed.
Jessica says:
I want to change the station to NPR which is covering the inauguration live, but I can't because "Scott (the owner) hates political shows."
Jessica says:
So I have to remember to go watch it in the break room in a half hour.
Jessica says:
I've been listening to the radio since I got up and the wayinto work. I feel so anxious listening to "easy listening" instead of how many people are in DC.
Richard says:
well you're oppression will not stand once Obama swears in
Richard says:
he'll change things

FYI

Sometimes when referring to Selsun Blue, I call it Desitin. So if I ever say, "I wash my hair with Desitin," please know in advance I mean Selsun Blue. Not diaper rash cream.

And yes, I have dandruff issues. Kindly shut it.

Ok, Ok, Goodnight

I fall into ruts all the time. I thrive on routine. I don't have to think in routines. Saying goodnight to the kids is a routine. Pray, say goodnight rhyme, hug, kiss, done. Except Elijah has to explain to me for the 134th time that he's having a hard time in a certain spot in his game. "You'll figure it out," I drone. "Yeah, I'll figure it out." Ok, so I turn to leave...

Elijah: Oh, and mom...?
Me: (Ugh) Yes?
Elijah: Thanks for putting new batteries in the Wii remote.
Me: You're welcome (turning to leave)
Elijah: Oh, and mom...?
Me: (behind the semi-closed door) Yes?
Elijah: I love you and I think you're great.
Me: Sigh (returning for a great big hug)
Elijah: I think you're great.

So Sad

Leaving WalMart just a bit ago, I noticed what seemed to be a young man walking to his car. It's just that he was toothless and looked about a rough 60 years old. I assess he is/was on the meth. Some months ago, I noticed this tiny woman with black stringy hair pulled up into a ponytail shopping in Safeway. A little girl walked up to her calling her mom. She turned, and I swear she looked old enough to be this girl's grandmother. My heart broke. I don't like addicts being referred to as 'tweekers' or 'meth heads.' One of my best friends from high school was addicted to meth. I never knew this until her funeral. She had been clean for one month before she hit a tree driving in the fog and was ejected through the windshield of her truck. There were stories of how she struggled to climb out of her addiction. I hadn't spoken to her for probably close to 10 years. I had always meant to call, but I never did. Now she's gone. Who knows if we would have gotten along had I reconnected with her. I still wish I had, though. She is what has made this horrible drug a personal issue for me. She is what personifies those 'tweekers' and makes them human to me. They're stuck in this hell and they either don't know how, or don't want to get out. It's just so very, very sad to me.

Holy Pete [IM]

Justin says:
would you rather be a guinea pig or chinchilla
Jessica says:
whatever doesn't get eaten.
Jessica says:
What's a chinchilla?
Justin says:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinchilla
Jessica says:
Ohhhh
Jessica says:
I thought it was a Taco Bell menu item.
Justin says:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Justin says:
holy pete
Justin says:
I just had an "old lady smoker" laugh

OMG I have a follower!!!11!!four

Thanks, Jenn! I'm on my way to blogging stardom!

Members only [IM]

Dave says:
I have a gigantic penis.
Jessica says:
Comparitively?
Dave says:
On an absolute scale.
Dave says:
I try to share the wealth and poke as many as possible.
Dave says:
The problem is, few women can handle my enormous schlong.
Dave says:
I'm currently fending off several lawsuits for domestic violence, all because of my huge noodle.
Dave says:
Yeah, so I've decided it would be inhumanly cruel to continue porking women with my violently large mancicle...
Jessica says:
There are no sex toys adequate for your manhood?
Dave says:
A man such as myself has to content himself with inadequacy out of necessity.
Dave says:
It's a real problem when I go to the zoo...
Dave says:
people keep trying to feed it peanuts.
Dave says:
And I have to say, Ma'am, please...
Dave says:
don't let your children do that.
Dave says:
Sorry, I must be bored or something.
Jessica says:
It's quite alright.
Jessica says:
I"m going to be copying this into a blog when I get the chance.
Dave says:
I've been trying to work on a blog, lately... mostly thinking about it, though.
Dave says:
Not so much actually working on it.
Dave says:
But I'm thinking of taking it up again.
Dave says:
My brother steve is a professional blogger these days.
Dave says:
He's been studying how to make them pay.
Dave says:
And then of course, if you get enough readers, you can very easily get a book deal.
Jessica says:
I would LOVE something like that!
Dave says:
Well it takes about a year of consistently posting interesting reading material, which obviously is a challenge...
Dave says:
but if you're doing a good job, you should be able to make at least a grand a month from advertising after that time.
Jessica says:
Nice.
Dave says:
Yeah, it's worth doing, I think.
Dave says:
I need to stop overthinking my next post and just write it.
Jessica says:
You do.
Dave says:
I would, but it's hard to do with a three-foot-high pile of coiled up penis in your lap.
Jessica says:
Nicely done, sir.