This is a blog challenge class. So here we go with the first free write. Love me some free writing. Here it is, flaws and all, just like me.
I’m wondering if the presence I have been feeling lately is unfinished business– my own. There’s just this energy of expectation like a holiday, or a paycheck, or falling in love…hoping that some boy will call you. I’m way past all that, the boy stuff, that is. I’ve been ‘married’ for 29 years.
I’m a grandmother. The thing is the so called Golden Years can bring in “gifts” that nobody ever warns you about unless you pay attention to the signs. And I did… pay attention to the signs-or so I thought. When I used to listen to the old folks talking, I never really thought it would happen to me. But if you live long enough, it does happen.
I’m working on a memoir, Diary of an Irreverent Mystic ©. The subject is my life, but right now I am sidetracked by a weird blip in what I thought was a long-term friendship. Is it just me or are people and relationships the single most challenging part of being alive on the planet? Maybe most people would answer that making money is the biggest problem in life. I’ve been without it and without it, and no matter “what’s in your wallet,” true happiness is a relative thing.
Relatives? Don’t get me started. One-liners? That’s a rant for another time.
I don’t want to give away the plot or main events that happened in my life, and I don’t even know if anybody would benefit from reading my book, but writing is something I now have the time to do, and feel I must write the book before I get too much older.
Maybe my book will be an autobiography. No, I’m not famous, haven’t climbed mount Everest, did not suffer from childhood abuse-well there were some things. My sister clobbered me right from the start. She was two and I was a newborn when it started. I was in the crib and she was pissed off that there was a new dollie in the house, a real live baby. Don’t ask me why my father dawdled long enough to take a video of my sister punching me as an infant. Why did he take a grainy video capturing what he might have thought was interesting behavior? He studied behavior; that was his field-life a la B. F. Skinner. Back in those days, they spanked you when you were born. They spanked you when you were bad. Hitting was geared to teach good behavior. The neighbor’s mother washed your mouth out with soap if a child got sassy. You slept in a crib alone. You cried it out; most white Anglo Protestant types followed Dr. Benjamin Spock who believed babies should not be pampered. Mothers were warned not to pick up and cuddle their babies every time they fussed. They fed you on a schedule with a plastic nipple and some kind of mass produced formula and women smoked during pregnancy.
My childhood part is filled with long spaces where I have to fill in the details, or skip over the blank pages, because I just don’t remember what happened. I’ve decided to use a timeline on taped-together copy paper.