Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
End of a Cycle or falling off the bike gracefully
This time of year is rather melancholy for many people including myself because it ends a cycle of some such. School is ending-children are another year older, teachers wrap up everything for the school year, grades are due. Shows are ending-the stage lays quiet for a while. Testing periods are done and results are in from the performance.
We as humans live in cycles. It matters not what you do, you are probably in a cycle of some sort. In business, one follows the fiscal calendar. In education, one follows a school year calendar. In theatre, one follows a rehearsal to premiere to end of run schedule. In broadcast, one follows the yearly "sweeps" calendar. All of the above demand a heightened seige of energy at the last few days. Then the fall....that is perhaps the hardest.
We look to the quiet of the cycle being done and whisper the count down to ourselves as we face the daily stress the cycle causes. But there is the "doneness" that rings silent in our ears. The shadow of the energy spent and the "what do we do now" question once our days are not longer completely booked.
These thoughts echoed through my head as I watched my daughter ride a big girl's bike for the first time. The joy of seeing her grow more independent daily brought tears to my eyes. The passing of her toddler ship did as well. The cycle of her being just a tricycle riding baby is done. She is growing and becoming the child and then the adult that I wish her to be.
My son starts kindergarten. The tears well up again for the doneness of one cycle and the beginning of another. Where did my little boy go? Those moments of just rocking, holding, and singing in a chair all night are past.
Yes, for both, there will still need to be comfort moments. Heck, I still want to be hugged, rocked, and sung to many times. The celebration of growing and the sadness at growing are a thin line indeed.
There are moments looking at cycles that I am no longer a participate still makes melancholy come on hard. Dear friends just wrapped up their season of mirth and merriment. A season that I no longer participate in due to choices made. Anger is not the emotion but rather an empathy feeling with them that that cycle has finished once again for this year. I was privileged to watch their fun from the glass wall of my monitor and share their laughter-a voyeur from the outside looking in. Miss it? Yes, but pleased at their success and glow.
The school building will soon sit quiet as the last energizing youth springs from its doors. The building itself seems to weep a bit and try to fill the noise gap. The air conditioner kicks on a little louder, the structure creaks a bit more resounding, and the hum of the computers forcefully emits to try and gain any attention. They too know that a cycle has ended and it is time to lay dormant until the next.
Friends and family members have just had their babies. They too are beginning a new cycle that will be splintered into many different cycles in many different ways. Daily to weekly to monthly to yearly. Each with the momentary recognition of time passing.
My husband stated that this is why he takes so many pictures. As human, we are trying to capture time-to stop it for a brief moment so that we can relish in it, celebrate its being, recognize its passing, and mourn its loss.
So for now, I shall be melancholy, embrace the sadness, celebrate the joy, and know that as soon on one cycle ends, the next is beginning. And pray that I too can stop time just briefly....just briefly.....
We as humans live in cycles. It matters not what you do, you are probably in a cycle of some sort. In business, one follows the fiscal calendar. In education, one follows a school year calendar. In theatre, one follows a rehearsal to premiere to end of run schedule. In broadcast, one follows the yearly "sweeps" calendar. All of the above demand a heightened seige of energy at the last few days. Then the fall....that is perhaps the hardest.
We look to the quiet of the cycle being done and whisper the count down to ourselves as we face the daily stress the cycle causes. But there is the "doneness" that rings silent in our ears. The shadow of the energy spent and the "what do we do now" question once our days are not longer completely booked.
These thoughts echoed through my head as I watched my daughter ride a big girl's bike for the first time. The joy of seeing her grow more independent daily brought tears to my eyes. The passing of her toddler ship did as well. The cycle of her being just a tricycle riding baby is done. She is growing and becoming the child and then the adult that I wish her to be.
My son starts kindergarten. The tears well up again for the doneness of one cycle and the beginning of another. Where did my little boy go? Those moments of just rocking, holding, and singing in a chair all night are past.
Yes, for both, there will still need to be comfort moments. Heck, I still want to be hugged, rocked, and sung to many times. The celebration of growing and the sadness at growing are a thin line indeed.
There are moments looking at cycles that I am no longer a participate still makes melancholy come on hard. Dear friends just wrapped up their season of mirth and merriment. A season that I no longer participate in due to choices made. Anger is not the emotion but rather an empathy feeling with them that that cycle has finished once again for this year. I was privileged to watch their fun from the glass wall of my monitor and share their laughter-a voyeur from the outside looking in. Miss it? Yes, but pleased at their success and glow.
The school building will soon sit quiet as the last energizing youth springs from its doors. The building itself seems to weep a bit and try to fill the noise gap. The air conditioner kicks on a little louder, the structure creaks a bit more resounding, and the hum of the computers forcefully emits to try and gain any attention. They too know that a cycle has ended and it is time to lay dormant until the next.
Friends and family members have just had their babies. They too are beginning a new cycle that will be splintered into many different cycles in many different ways. Daily to weekly to monthly to yearly. Each with the momentary recognition of time passing.
My husband stated that this is why he takes so many pictures. As human, we are trying to capture time-to stop it for a brief moment so that we can relish in it, celebrate its being, recognize its passing, and mourn its loss.
So for now, I shall be melancholy, embrace the sadness, celebrate the joy, and know that as soon on one cycle ends, the next is beginning. And pray that I too can stop time just briefly....just briefly.....
Friday, April 20, 2012
My cups runneth over the place
I have a problem with
cups. Mind you, not the type of being "in
my cups." No, those days are long
past due to age, motherhood, exhaustion and low tolerance. Let's just say one adult beverage and I am in
the bed soundly asleep rather quickly.
This has to do with the problem of cups being left around
the house. And not the kind filled with
water awaiting for aliens to visit and be repelled by a splash of water thrown
their way.
This affliction is the constant collection of used cups that seem
to gather in every room.
The other morning I
counted four tea cups sitting on my desk, having been used in the past week to
wake me up while I caught up on the world on my computer. A little quiet reading and delightfully tasty
moment before the harried day begins. As
I walked through the house, I noticed
that I am no the only one in my family with this problem.
Apparently, I married into the problem. A parade of large plastic mugs awaits me as I
stroll. Various placements catch my eye:
next to the bed, on the upstairs shelf, by the man-cave desk, and so
forth.
This is where it gets interesting. This seems to be a problem that can be passed
through DNA apparently. My children also
suffer from this problem. When doing a sweep
through the house with an empty laundry basket in hand, collecting things that
are scattered to put them back in their respective places, I see this cup
issue has run rampant in my house.
By the way, I highly recommend the laundry basket gathering technique if you have not tried it. One empty laundry basket perched on the hip
as you stroll though the house is the perfect gathering tool. I identify with my cave-person-sister and my
ancient-cousin-ancestor with their woven baskets . I now understand the evolution of the basket
and its appearance in every culture
They too had to walk around their cave or huts gathering up all the
mislaid items left by their family clan.
Alas, I digress. My
children have evolved an even better cup habit than the spouse and me. At least we leave ours our in the open where
they are seen and easily snatched up in the basket for cleaning and re-shelving. My little ones, however, have perfected the
talent of secreting the cups away. Cups
appear under sofas, under tables, amid toy piles, and even sandwiched in the
Thomas Train village or Barbie's' dream vacation home. The problem with this is that they go undiscovered
and usually filled with just enough juice to develop a science fair project
well deserving a winning ribbon. The
lovely smell that accompanies the juice that has been left to its own after a
week does not resemble vintage aged wine in any form or fashion. No, it has an aroma and color that would
repulse even the worse vintners.
I know that I have a problem and I am seeking a 12 step
program somewhere that can help me, and hopefully, my family. But for now, I guess that I must continue the
hunting and gathering phase of cup-dom in my life.
Please excuse me while I take another sip of my morning beverage from a cup that I know I will
be gathering soon enough into the laundry basket of the hunt.
Hello and welcome or what is this chick planning to do....
Hello world. Okay, so I am a little on the slow side to start this whole blogger thingy but I felt the need to start writing again.
I have a degree in English and Theatre thereby spending most of my academic years writing. Somehow though between life, travels, adulthood, parenthood, and various other distractions, I stopped writing.
Now as a late in life parent, as a halfway through my life person, teacher, costumer, and generally over-committed and stressed person (by my own choices, mind you), I feel that I just might have something to share.
Follow me if you want or not, I will use this space to make observations on my life and the surrounding world. I may list tips that I have learned and wish to share. I may rant and I may joke. Oddly, those two things seem to walk hand and hand often. I will brag about my children and bemoan my disappointments. I will count my blessings and possible curse my daily frustrations.
My blog title comes from a period in my life that I had a male boss who had difficulty having a female manager under him. He chose to call me Rocky as opposed to my actual name or other monikers. I was not insulted but rather felt empowered. I like the nickname and all the references that it makes. I can hear the movie theme often when someone uses it still. However, I do not think that I will be running up the steps in Philadelphia any time soon though.
The peek comes from the feeling of being on a mountain looking down and all around at my life. I have been quite blessed to have varied opportunities in my life. I have made my living performing, traveled all over the United States, a little in Europe and Mexico, gotten married, given birth twice, befriended many wonderful people, have good DNA and health, and so many other moments that I cannot remember.....which is why I feel the need to journal lest I forget.
Come along with me on my journey if you would like. And welcome....let's see what happens.
I have a degree in English and Theatre thereby spending most of my academic years writing. Somehow though between life, travels, adulthood, parenthood, and various other distractions, I stopped writing.
Now as a late in life parent, as a halfway through my life person, teacher, costumer, and generally over-committed and stressed person (by my own choices, mind you), I feel that I just might have something to share.
Follow me if you want or not, I will use this space to make observations on my life and the surrounding world. I may list tips that I have learned and wish to share. I may rant and I may joke. Oddly, those two things seem to walk hand and hand often. I will brag about my children and bemoan my disappointments. I will count my blessings and possible curse my daily frustrations.
My blog title comes from a period in my life that I had a male boss who had difficulty having a female manager under him. He chose to call me Rocky as opposed to my actual name or other monikers. I was not insulted but rather felt empowered. I like the nickname and all the references that it makes. I can hear the movie theme often when someone uses it still. However, I do not think that I will be running up the steps in Philadelphia any time soon though.
The peek comes from the feeling of being on a mountain looking down and all around at my life. I have been quite blessed to have varied opportunities in my life. I have made my living performing, traveled all over the United States, a little in Europe and Mexico, gotten married, given birth twice, befriended many wonderful people, have good DNA and health, and so many other moments that I cannot remember.....which is why I feel the need to journal lest I forget.
Come along with me on my journey if you would like. And welcome....let's see what happens.
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