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Archive for the ‘Where I'm Going’ Category


In Mouthy Broad, Where I'm Going on February 1, 2012 at 11:21 am

Son of a bitch, I’m never on time anymore!

January 26 was the third anniversary of TSOC.


Let’s see. January 26, 2012 was a Thursday. So I worked… and if I’m not mistaken, that was the day three of my jobs in progress came to a screeching halt because of an issue with state permitting. That was the day I called an emergency contractor meeting for this Monday. That was also the day I fired one of my contractors, started seriously training my new guy, and started trying to get my schedule fixed now that I actually have a full staff again. I think that was also the day that Sharkman and Rhett were working on his Citizenship badge, I was overseeing the installation of carpet in the house I grew up in (now our rent house), and deciding whether or not I was going to have a fight with my sister.

So of course I missed it and am posting late. *sigh*

TSOC is three years old. It’s amazing.

It’s also kind of sad and pathetic. There are so many cobwebs and so much dust piled up in my little corner of the internet from this past year of mostly-absence. I miss writing. I miss being a writer. But life and survival and crazy seem to have taken over all my spare time. I don’t think that’s going to improve a whole lot in the immediate future, either.

See, I’m still working full time. Rhett and I are still working on Baby #2. Sharkman’s still in athletics and Cub Scouts. And now I’m studying for the GMAT so that I can apply to schools for my MBA this fall.

This all feels a long way away from my very first day of blogging on WordPress. It’s more than a little surreal to look back at the Januarys I’ve covered in these pages:

January, 2009 – WaterBaby’s cancer diagnosis. Hitting pause on our breakup. Struggling to reconcile femme with lesbian with my attraction to masculine-oriented/identified other. Brought to you, live, from northern New Mexico. Where I was freezing to death.

January, 2010 – WaterBaby’s remission (informal, undiagnosed) and the aftermath of her choice to turn away from medical intervention and feedback. The unpause and finalization of our breakup. Being femme in a small semi-Southern town. Reconciling work with life. Rhett’s reappearance (informal, unannounced). Brought to you, live, from the panhandle of Florida. Where I was freezing to death.

January, 2011 – Dealing with the unceremonious return to my home state, the crumbling of my career, the revival of my career, and learning to celebrate my birthday again. My marriage and its effect on my work/life balance. The most beautiful birthday cake ever. Brought to you, live, from the windy wilds of eastern New Mexico. Where I was freezing to death and Rhett was learning to live with wind chill he hadn’t seen since Alaska.

I didn’t do justice to 2011, and I didn’t do justice to the first month of 2012. In these past months, I’ve been struggling with a nasty funk of depression, interspersed with wild and wooly highs verging on mania that made me irritable, irritating, and downright unpleasant to deal with. I’ve started coming to terms with the cycling of my moods and the fact that the cycling may actually be clinically diagnosable. I’ve started a supplement that seems to be helping with that cycling, and as a result am feeling more human right now than I have since approximately September.

I bought a GMAT study guide and picked a testing date. I settled on the business schools I want to apply to, and a couple of backups.

We put Sharkman in counseling and had our suspicions confirmed; he’s a perfectly normal nine year old boy with a ridiculously advanced vocabulary and emotional intellect.

I got a new job, got promoted, had 100% turnover in my department, and survived the fourth quarter of one hell of an inherited mess. That I’m almost done cleaning up.

I’ve dealt with seventeen cycles of Janus-crazy.

Hell, it seems like I’ve lived an entire lifetime in the last year, much less the last three.

All I know is that it isn’t over, and I’m not done with blogging. I’m moving slow, and I’m not good about getting back here on a regular basis, and in a lot of ways, I’ve stalled out on my personal/emotional development in the midst of the ups and downs and crazy. But TSOC is still mine, and it’s still important to me. I never forget that I have a blog. I never stop making mental notes of things that would make a good story. I never wish I hadn’t started, or feel the need to close it down.

If you’re reading, thanks. Thanks for showing up today, for showing up yesterday, for coming back tomorrow. Thanks for emailing me, texting me, getting to know me, tweeting me, and making room in your head for my thoughts.



In Q & A, Where I'm Going on June 20, 2011 at 7:57 am

Since I kicked my little feet and held my breath until someone, anyone, gave me a writing prompt, I guess I better start with the answers to my newest reader questions!

FYI: I’m only going to answer one at a time, but I’ll get to them all. And, like always, I’ll link the questions and the responses in Q & A.

Today’s question brought to you directly from the keyboard of the beautiful Femme Fairy Godmother, long one of my very favorite bloggers and now, because I’m so lucky, an awesome friend, too.

So, let’s see … tell us …. what you wanna be when you grow up.

When I grow up, I wanna be a grownup. I want to feel like it’s completely unremarkable that I have an eight year old, a nine year old, a ten year old kid. I want it to stop feeling strange that I make house payments and car payments and have a telephone that rings in the kitchen. I want to know that I’m right (because grownups are always right, aren’t they?) and be sure of what I should do next.

When I grow up, I want to be a professor at a real college. One of the old ones, where there’s stone buildings that get covered in ivy, and walking paths, and beautiful libraries where knowledge is stored lovingly, not just warehoused. I want to get paid for my words: speaking and written both. I want to interact with people who are on their own way to being grownups, and give them what I have to offer, with whatever wisdom I have managed to piece together by then.

When I grow up, I want my voice to be heard and to matter. I want to write not just what I know but what I imagine, and I want it to be good. I want to be the female version of Michael Tillman in Robert Waller’s Slow Waltz at Cedar Bend – only without the ridiculous romantic drama, of course.

When I grow up, I want my children to tell their children that I’m a hard worker, that I took care of them, that they can learn a lot from me.

When I grow up, I want to be a mom, a wife, a teacher, a writer… and if I’m lucky, and try really hard, a good person, too.


In Mouthy Broad, Q & A, Where I'm Going on June 17, 2011 at 8:39 am

I’m on the downhill slide toward post 500, and I’m almost to the second half of my third year of blogging.


It’s always so weird to start categorizing life by numbers. I graduated from high school 15 years ago. I married Janus 12 years ago. I moved back from San Diego to New Mexico eight years ago. My grandmother died 13 years ago; my grandfather died 15 years ago. There are people in my life that I have known for 20 years or more.


I remember, as a kid, hearing my dad talk about people he had known for 20 years and thinking, “Wow. I can’t imagine knowing someone that long.” Well, here I am! It’s even weirder to think that I’m the same age now that he was when he was saying things like that.

Ohohoh which totally reminds me – I looked at some old family photos the other day and realized that I am older now than my parents were in those pictures! I’ll take surreal moments for a thousand, please, Alex.

As a completely unrelated and random aside, I’m going to strangle Sharkman’s dog. He’s huge, and he’s dumb, and he’s afraid of everything, which means he is uber-barkish. And he hasn’t shut up since I got out of bed this morning. Insanity is imminent.

Jeezus. That was an epic digression, even for me. What was I saying?

Oh, yeah.

Post 500, and 2.45 years of blogging later.


Post 500 is going to be one more “50 random pseudo-facts you never needed to know about Jolie and so of course you wouldn’t ask.” After that, I’m looking for ideas on what my new milemarker posts are going to be. Do you want me to keep on doing the 50 randoms? Do you have an idea for a new 50 list? Or even better, Top Tens? (Please, if you love me, do not ask me to do lists of 100. I tried. Once. It sucked. The end. 50 is plenty.)

I’ve tried umpteen different pleas for interaction and involvement – my Q & A page is testament to how often any of you use it. (How’s that guilt trip working?) I can see my stats and know that there are more than three of you out there, reading. I know you exist, dammit! So give me something to work with here!

Especially, particularly, if you are a regular reader but not a commenter – tell me something! Ask me something! I only bite in the nicest possible way (popular opinion notwithstanding)!

I’m up for most anything, and will volunteer the most random and inane facts about myself that you can possibly imagine, but (dare I say it?) I’m running out of ideas. I blog in three other places and may be adding a fourth, so I’m afraid the fount of inspiration is running a bit low.

So there you have it. My Friday confession – I do actually just run out of words occasionally. There are people in my life that will tell you that this is physically impossible; to them, I say pfft.

Help a sister out, won’t y’all?

In the interim, enjoy your Friday! I’m going to stay in the air conditioning and avoid this ridiculous 104* forecasted weather.

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