Grandmother's House

Last night I dreamed that I was riding in a car with an old friend who I haven't seen or spoken to in years. Some guy that wanted to be a love interest when I was much too young to be interested in anything like that.  We were driving through Correctionville & past my grandma's house.
She died about a year ago & her vacant house was one of the hardest things for me to wrap my head around.  It still seems so weird to me that I may never again be inside of that house.  A place that I can walk through in my memories and see every detail, even smell it inside my head.
In my dream we drove down her street & much to my dismay the lot was empty.  No house, no propane tank, no little shed, not even a sidewalk; just a grassy lot.  I craned my neck to keep my eyes on the place as we sped past and looked back to my friend only after it was gone completely from my sight.  I could see the look on my own face.  Hurt, confused, angry.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?!"
Whether he replied or not I can't remember but I insisted that we must go back.  I needed to see it again to believe it.  In the dream world, time is a little messed up, so when we drove past it again seemingly moments later, in it's place was a pool.  The ugliest pool, the bottom was painted a weird amoeba design in red and purple.  It disgusted me.
"Why would anyone do this!?...the city pool is less than a few blocks away!  Who could be so selfish!"
I was so angry now, but he still didn't stop.
"Go back! I need to see it for myself!"
This time as we drove past there was a river flowing through where the yard & propane tank should have been.  I made a decision to find out what was going on.  Some men were working down stream & I went to them.
"What is going on here?  How did this happen?"
"This is a man-made stream.  Whoever bought this place discovered water underneath the land and wanted to utilize it.  Figured it could do this town some good."
I feel like he might have tipped his construction hat to me, dismissing me back into my frustration.  Bewildered, my head spinning...
"You need to plant marigolds.  Thousands of marigolds.  In memory of her."
"I'm sorry ma'am.  You're going to have to talk to the city council.  This is their project."
The next thing I know I'm in front of twenty people, the stream is gone and the lot is back to being a grassy plot of land again.
"This was my grandmother's home.  My home.  She had a garden here for many years while I grew up.  I would like you to honor her memory by making this into a community garden.  We can plant vegetables and fruits & marigolds.  Everyone can come here and help take care of the plants.  She would have liked that."
The spectators nodded in approval.


I woke up with the images still fresh in my mind.  The house still torn down.  Gone forever.  I cried actual tears at the thought for a few heavy moments & then reality set in.  Her house is still there.  Even though I may never go inside, it is comforting to know the structure still stands.  Since last night I've considered that it might be repainted, remodeled or torn down someday and the thought still makes me cringe.  Something I'll have to come to terms with eventually, but not today.

-Thanks for reading.

Predator Heart

I guess the prologue should say that I am currently overrun with emotion.
I was denied the "crappy" job on base.
I'm still at a standstill with my education.
The sun is shining, but the quickest way to get my husband out of my hair is by asking him,
"Would you like to ___________ with me?" and off he goes.  He's not sleeping.  He's hiding.


I'm the predator & he is the prey.  I might eat him if this was the wild..............

Take a deep breath.  Keep wiping away the tears.  Here is this magnificent day to enjoy alone.  It burns like a warm shot of tequila.  Choking it past my throat and into my stomach.  I try to embrace the pain, the fear, the hot unexplained hate.  My mind runs back to the memory of home.  Family & friends.  Life is easy in a memory.  You're the only one here, but you're hardly here at all.  Tomorrow the clouds will be back, to remind me what a waste today has been.  Are we both pretending to want to win?  I'm sad.  I want to seek comfort.  Seek happiness, even seek revenge--but instead I find myself trapped in a life of smiling through.  I usually let the emotion subside & die hidden inside of me, buried beneath smiles & "fine", but today it cuts deeper than usual.  When my insides start to bleed, I find myself with a pad and a pen, blotting the anguish into feverish words.  I dress the wounds with editing.  Organizing my thoughts.  Stitching the worst thoughts with scribbles and revisions, until finally I can start to see my immune system taking over & I can start to heal.   Repeating. Repeating. Repeating.  Repeating.  Repeating.

Intewebz: the b!tch bologny sandwich

Firstly: 

Let's link to the LOST ART PROJECT so you can see some cool art if you'd like.  https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/112354604569262275604/albums/5672778608335187265 

It's on Google+ and it's a cool concept.  People write descriptions they'd like to see as art and then the descriptions are mailed to various "mail-artists" around the world and interpreted.  They are then sent back to the LOLART MUSEUM...

________________________________________________________________

That line up there ^^^ is where the informational portion of this blog ends.  The rest is just me being motivated to write by what I consider some ignorant dude who doesn't understand what the art project I just mentioned is about...

_________________________________________________________________

WHY AM I EVEN INVESTED IN THIS?! 

VERY EXCELLENT QUESTION...SEE THE END OF THE BLOG FOR DETAILS.

_________________________________________________________________

So I get tagged in all the pictures that get posted to the LOST ART PROJECT (assuming) because I have written a few descriptions and I avidly comment and provide general feedback on my thoughts on the completed works... 

In my opinion, the description writer takes a few moments to type what they'd like to see as art.

EX: "You'll be king when pigs fly!"

The artist, however, takes the time to be on the mailing list, check their mail, see the description and create a picture that they think is appropriate for the text.  

If you click the link you'll see that there is a ton of wiggle room as to what the standards for this art will be.

You can clearly see that anything from collage to crayon will fly.

__________________________________________________________________

The Scenario:  Dude who created the text description is the other commentor.  Let's call him "Arragontio" because frankly I am not a fan.  He has just, for the first time, seen the artists visual interpretation of his description.

1. Arragontio: Gotta say, very strange use of the material. Ever heard of Klansmen not in white? For a start. Could you pull this and I'll submit my own? 
2. (basically--please take this down...I don't approve.)
3. 
   SamanthAshli Pants - Hahaha isn't that the fun part? I've had some really vague interpretations of the things I've written, even one where the description was mostly blacked out and the artist did whatever they damn pleased. Just make your own and submit it. I'd love to see the comparison between this and yours but I think credit needs to go to the artist right now who put in the work to draw, paint, paste, & mail this art back for our viewing pleasure. Klansmen have faces and names once they take off their robes...
4. Arragontio : Yeah, but it's already been published in original form. So.... My theory's that if you take an idea of mine and improve and grow it into a bew improved variation or something else great. But realizing other people's visions has been a mainstay of the artworld for years and this, I hate to say it, just makes me cringe. And if you hurt the creative you've failed them.  They might not care, but that would explain the poor execution of someone trying too hard.
5. (ouchies...so the whole idea of this art project makes you cringe, the artwork is horrible and you've already got an awesome version that you made of this at your house?!)
6. Arragontio : Ps, the points been well missed.

   
   
7. 
   SamanthAshli Pants - Maybe not though. "Tolerance in society" could be like: Kurt and Donald are from a small town in middle America. They are Klansmen in love and must indulge their love over dinner. The restaurant they choose is known for its affiliation with the Klansmen, hence the burning crosses on all of the tables but yet here these two are, safely enjoying a romantic (homosexual?) dinner together without interruption. The towns people know that on Thursday nights they meet up at Barbs house in white and talk about the evils of race and yell "white power" but crime is
   Down in small-city and so on and so forth. Who knows what this person was thinking.
   
   At first with the mail art I had a vision when i wrote and wanted to see if people could capture it, but after 20+ pictures to go with my writing, I can see the beauty of the time it took to create and not look so much for a direct interpretation. You're disappointed but everyones mind is different in art and to me: its cool to see that through this project.
8. Arragontio : Yeah, but intellectual meandering aside, it's fucked up a remit, has failed the ideas originator and it's awful.
   "a faceless pair of nondescript blankness with irrelevant personal coloring, who once would have represented coloured bias had they not been born of color enjoy a small lunch in an abstract diner in a large city that provides pretension for the mind rather than romance for the heartless.
   Underlying the failure of vision or respect of those offering but subverting a service to another. Artful art for the artless subverted."
   And don't expect respect for one artist if they can't extend to the remit they're presented with and volunteer for. "F"
9. Pretty glad I'm not the artist right now.  AN "F"!!!? Constructive.
10. Arragontio : I do have a sense of humour, but this artist failed to try to grasp the concept. If you can't take rejection don't start the dance.
11. Is this a personal attack now?...Is that where this is going?
12. 
    SamanthAshli Pants - I suppose being the writer is just so much easier with this project. Maybe we the writer should try harder to inspire a picture more likely to "extend to the remit they're presented with" You're entitled to your distaste. Let's see one where you recieved the caption and drew your interp. What's in that brain of yours
13. Arragontio : Or maybe some people should be clearer about not being able to interpret simple outlines and request clarification rather than being egotistical enough 'knock off' something they can't take feed back from the writer for.
    You over thought and badly executed someone else's idea. So please, pull it and I'll put in my own. As a published cartoonist and photographer I can speak as an artist who learnt how to follow a writers requests. Though in honesty I thought the idea of providing a terse description then allowing the viewer to fill in the "vacant space" with their own imagination was inspired.
    But to have missed the remit so utterly then complain about it? I'm requesting you have the integrity to remove any aspect that referred to my 'written' submission or do us both a favor and pull it.
    Thank you.
14. Is it just me or does this guy think I am the artist/project leader...and very defensive?
15. 
    I am just a bystander. Project Leader is who these requests go to as far as I know. I neither drew this picture nor run this art project. I am involved writing some descriptions, that's about it. 0.o
16. Project leader: 
    .:)
17. 
     Project leader: - "I do have a sense of humour, but this artist failed to try to grasp the concept."
    
    or perhaps your concept failed to grasp the artist.
18. Arragontio : - Fair enough. I try to remember that we "imagine" the tone of voice that we all hear when reading. Please, I'm not trying to be a shouty man or angry. But you can imagine it can be a very emotive subject.
    I apologise for any sense of antagonism of personal animosity. That wouldn't have been my intent even if you were the artist. I wish you well. And at the moment all free thinking people are on the same side (I hope) yours.
19. An apology! I'll take it...and by god he is friendly now!!! It just turns a bit brutal after this, but that's the fun of a faceless-say anything internet environment.
20. 
    SamanthAshli Pants - Kind of weird to me, but then sweet as sugar to Project Leader
    
    wanders away
21. Arragontio - Now that's what I call strange. Need to write your lack of concern? Like ramming someone to tell them you don't care about the shirt they're wearing?
22. 
    SamanthAshli Pants - I've never rammed anyone over a t-shirt, I can be sure about that. It's okay though, you might have me confused for someone else like earlier... (it's all good from where I'm standing so if you've got some sort of attitude...that's all you.
23. Arragontio  - Sorry you just wandered back? Lol
24. 
    SamanthAshli Pants - Yeah! That's how this works. I don't sit and stare at the page awaiting your comment. Instead, G+ will hit me up with a neat little "notification" so that I can wander right back...I know, I know: your mind is just completely blown. Take it all in. Technology, right?

So then; in a private setting I say to him:

Please cool your jets. Your nice pink panties will get all wadded up in your buttcrack & you'll have to spend the rest of your daybpicking it out of there. Very time consuming. Not right. 

It would be so easy to step away from your pissy start... If you would! 

Carry on.

Arragontio  -  So you've sought me out, again to tell me you don't care. God, have I got under your skin that much? I just questioned people's need on here to actively post people you don't care about them. Like, as I used as an example, ramming someone off the road just to say you don't care about their shirt. Pointless!  I'd muted that stream cos it was none of your business, you threw in your ten cents and it bounced back. Now I'm muting this stream too as your of no relevance to me. Just to be clear, ok? Bye. 

_________________________________________________________________________

SamanthAshli Pants  -  I am not saying I don't care. I do care!!! I think it's ridiculous.

________________________________________________________________________________________

But I've already been muted & we can't have that!

Once you've been muted, gotta go for the block. 

 

Needy for the final word I say (again in private...)

You seem to have the wrong impression that I don't care...but let me just explain: I do carrreeee! That's why I got involved. I care about the artist, and I could have cared to hear your thoughts on my interpretation of the picture, but instead you over-reacted and it became humorous and the troll came out in me.

I thought it was funny that you were so worked up when talking to me about how bad the artist was and how I should TAKE IT DOWN or TAKE YOU DOWN! But so polite when discovering (gasp!) you had the wrong person. I thought it was interesting how quickly you flipped the switch from angry self-righteous published person to humorous, casual, regular friendly guy and I didn't stop myself from saying so... 

I also got a kick out of the idea that you tried to make it seem like you knew why I reacted the way I did (Even funnier because I don't care? was your reasoning) I don't think that even begins to make sense...if I didn't care, I wouldn't have reacted at all. I would have completely dismissed you, but I think the artist deserves credit and attempted to stretch your brain around the concept that they must have had some reason to draw what they did... but instead I ran head-first into your ego.

Let me put it this way. YOUR T-SHIRT SUCKS. IT DOES NOT INSPIRE CREATIVITY AND I AM GLAD THAT I HAVE NOT, OR WILL NOT BE INVOLVED WITH YOUR WRITING IN THE LOST ART PROJECT. I CAN NOT UNDERSTAND WHY SOMEONE SO SELF-WORSHIPING WOULD WANT TO GET INVOLVED IN AN ART PROJECT THAT REQUIRES INTERPRETATION AND AN OPEN MIND IF THE MERE THOUGHT "MADE THEM SHUDDER"...THAT IS WHY I HAVE RAMMED YOU OFF THE ROAD... since you like these little metaphors.

You can go ahead and mute this one too...since you don't care, but I just thought I would clear it up that I was emotionally involved because I think everyone deserves the chance to be creative without criticism that has little to no constructive value and then later because you were rude to me...and why? because I "put my two cents in"...I realize that you made some sort of "apology" in that feed, but then continued to make little comments with your winning personality and it all seems fantastically arrogant to me...

The reason I continued this conversation is because I was hoping that some shred of decency might escape from your keyboard, but alas... I give up. 

Where you could have made a connection, you lost one.

________________________________________________________________________________________

All he can manage is an: "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT" comment...that's all it said.

________________________________________________________________________________________

FINALE:  What do you think?  Am I provoking an argument, because I find it interesting and pleasurable to heat the waters underneath a butt to create butt-hurt... or do you--like me; find him responsible for this bystander repercussion and his own let-down?  In my opinion, he either did absolutely zero research to see what the Project was about or was feeling superior to the artist and couldn't hold his tongue.  I would be intrigued to hear otherwise.

Furthermore, it is against my nature to watch someone stomp all over creativity while they parade around in their flamboyant arrogance suit, and I am a wordy mother effer...

.END.

A taste Of My teenage backstory.

Let's start here:

My mom got remarried as I hit puberty and it didn't make for the most fundamental living environment for anyone.  My two younger brothers were my family before the move and I had spent a good deal of my life raising them, so we were close.  When she remarried our family grew by a step-dad, a step-sister and eventually a new baby sister, not to mention a parenting overload.  Slowly we all integrated together and I now love everyone of my new family dearly, but it took five or six years for all that to fall into place.  

In the mean-time I was constantly seeming to get in trouble with my mother despite my decent grades.  She is was a little old fashioned and very strict.  I remember cellphones were just starting to become an 'item' for teenagers when I started to feel the rebellion-urge.  She refused to get me one, not even a prepaid until I was sixteen.  Everyone in school had one, but I still had to use the payphone to call home for a ride.  I must not have even been fifteen yet!  I was involved with school and just barely getting interested in boys, but for some reason I could not keep up with her standards.  I was constantly grounded for going up the street to the neighbors house, hanging up posters on the walls of my room or for refusing to turn my music down when it was blasting The Marshall Mathers LP in all of it's glorious profanity.  I started to really change my mentality to; "If I am going to be in trouble anyway, why not make it worth the while?" I wanted to try alcohol so badly when I was thirteen or fourteen, but was one of those people who thought my life would go spiraling out of control if I did...(or something, who knows?)  Like I said, it was puberty. 

After a couple decent dances with trouble; including a small-time robbery of our tiny towns concession stand where my brothers and I ripped open the garage-like doors and made off with at least $60 worth of chips, drinks, candy; my parents sent me to live with a very religious family for the summer in hopes that God would save me...or that a new perspective would have something to get through to me...so off I went to the magnificently small and dull town of Climbing Hill.

The people who took me in:

I don't honestly even want to think about what the conversation my mother had with this lady was like to end with me living in her home, but I'm sure she volunteered her time.  

She seemed the type.

My mom worked with Marie.  Both her and her husband Benny were super sweet, but then again...so was I.  They fell in love with me, and I used it to my advantage.  They were also older than my real parents and it was summer-time, so I had free time.  They were a laid back, easy-to-get-along-with older couple with (no kids or grown kids) of their own.  They were the sweet spot between parent and grandparent, and I was the only guest in their home.  After a few Sundays of church volunteering, following rules, and enjoying the quiet change from my hectic big family lifestyle, I met a couple of kids my age.  I was the youngest of the batch but we were all early teens.  Jeff was older.  I don't know how old but not older than seventeen or barely eighteen, but he had a car.  It was such a small-town that he would park his car in the driveway and we would just roam town on foot.

Jeff was already a volunteer EMT and firefighter for another small-town nearby, and Marie  and Benny had seen him grow up in church and through the town.  They knew he was a good boy, so they would let me go out with him as long as it wasn't just the two of us.  I was allowed to ride in his car, but we weren't allowed to go outside of town.  In the evening, just as darkness started to take over the dusty town he would come to the porch of the house and talk with Benny and then we would work up to asking if I could stay out juuuust a bit later.  Benny was a sucker for making me smile, and it worked every time that I can think of.  They would tell me to be back around ten or eleven.  (I could decide either to stay out til 10 or 11!?...I was in heaven.)

At first, I came back at curfew, but after a couple times of them being asleep when I arrived back home, I started to linger.  Jeff would drive on the outskirts of town.  A girl from my school Brittany was always with us and Jenna.  We became a constant group.  Anytime we weren't engaged in parental control; we were together.  Midwestern summers are festive! We went to a car-show, a street-dance, a christian concert, and church camp together (which we got kicked out the very first night.)  When we stayed out past curfew we played german spotlight (you might not know, but its like hide and go seek had sex with tag in the dark with flashlights in a cornfield or in our case we canvased the town.)  There were probably ten or fifteen of us playing, and we played teams.  It was exhilarating to be whispering in the dark with my closest friends.  We went wild running through the lawns trying to avoid the motion lights, shushing barking dogs, hiding underneath farm equipment.  We even successfully overtook the church roof with a victorious animal call into the night.  I even got a kiss from an older boy who I had a crush on!

Summer eventually ended and I had to return home to my screaming, half-psychotic family and juggle a million school activities, but I had already spent all the time in the world that summer.  It was a beautiful and fantastic experience.  Life was clear and vivid, even if only for a blink in the timeline.  Those short months seemed to have lasted longer than the last five years of my life.  Everyday was a long, brilliant adventure.  I got the opportunity to laugh until I cried while a million emotions whipped through me like wildfire.  I danced and sang to my hearts content and it's still a sacred place in my mind that I can go when the world spins against me and I'm fighting with everything I have left.  I remember that if I enjoy each tragedy speckled moment now, maybe someday I can look back at these days and feel safe.  

Thanks for reading.  <3

You're Welcome. Why Thank youuu!

When I disagree with someone online I'll usually go to their page or profile to check them out and see what they are about.  If we can agree on some things and they seem like a generally decent person I can dismiss our disagreeing and move on with my life, but when I find a vagrant, tacky, material person with little understanding of our political system I get in the mood to write.

Today I am struck with:

her: "thank you!"
him: "you're welcome."


Thank you originates from "thought" descends from Old English and means simply: a favorable thought


Now let's break down the second part.  You're welcome.  You are welcome.

Welcome is used to express pleasure for a person's coming.

So wouldn't it make most sense if:

him: "you're welcome."
her: "Thank you!"


You're welcome to this gift, my home, whatever...but shouldn't the welcome come first and the thanks after?

Where did we get it switched up?

That is all.

worki-worx

One of the kids was on a rampage at work today.  He was in a fighting mood, and at first I thought he was joking around...but it was lasting a little too long and getting more intense throughout the day.  Just little comments here and there
"say somethin!" and "bring it"
"was I talkin' to you?"
or "don't you give me that attiTUDE"

Eventually the attitude became a yelling craze from the sidelines while staff faced the teens for a Thanksgiving soccer game.  The kids won...it was intense.  I was sweating.  My feet hurt.  My pants were too tight.  I couldn't stop grinning.  I also am quite bad at soccer.  No one wants to tell me, but I can feel it.  hahaha.  Oh well.  :)

We ate a huuuuge Thanksgiving dinner for the kids and their families today, so we had alot of people in and out of the club and I wasn't keeping track of all the squabbles between the kids but about a half hour before we start sending people home I am at the front desk and can see a strange stand-off going on outside the club, riiiight in front of the club so I go to stand at the door to see what is up and don't hear anything.  It stops or had already stopped before I can find out what is going on...but there is that tense, heavy air so I ask,

"What's up?"

Both [sides] reactions are immediate and similar.  Nothing, don't worry about it...The boy standing at the doorway sighs loudly and rolls his eyes dramatically and walks away.  He is visibly annoyed.

"Better watch your back!" the other boy taunts.  The other kids are watching intensely.  Their eyes shifting from the opposing boy to me.

"What's going on here?" I inquire again, more commanding but I'm still totally at a loss.  Looking at each person.  "What was that about?"

"Nothing." and the crowd starts to break away.

I go inside and start asking the other kids what is going on (Maybe I'M out of the loop or something...) Apparently no one wants to tell me, so I leave it alone.  Then it's getting closer to closing time and the two haven't figured it out, now they are yelling from the parking lot into the building that "...better watch your BACK!"...and we decide it's not an option for the kid in the building to walk home, alone, in the black of a west coast evening, with a pack of fight-worthy peers of this dude's {our CLUBS} neighborhood...so we get everyone else out of the building, rides arrive, and the club officially closes...there are still about 12 kids on the very edge of the property standing around talking a little too loud, offering a little too friendly to walk home the other kid.  We politely help refuse the offers and the kid gets in a staff vehicle and starts to leave the parking lot.  One of the kids from the group stand in the middle of the exit while the other kids yell,

"Maybe we should all go down to his house!" the leading boy is yelling and the other kids are talking loudly in some sort of not total agreeing or allowance but blind following of initiative wasted on some ridiculous argument.  So what do you do?  Five of us stand at the doorway of the club looking out.

"Go home!" We say,  "Stop it."...but of course they don't and it's fifteen minutes later...so a co-worker and I go out into the parking lot and start herding them away but it was so crazy.  What do you say in a moment like that?  I said, "We don't need that here.  We can't have people feeling threatened when they're trying to leave the club...you have enough of that in your real lives."  but none of the kids are leaving and one kid says [in spanish] I imagine he is saying something about "...like she would know.." or something.  Downsizing my tiny piece of respect after a couple short months.

"Whatever, we're not in the club..." All of them with I-do-what-I-want attitudes and mouths to match...

"You guys need to make a decision, go.  or face the consequences.  You could be suspended."--a few kids start to shuffle, making the circle wider and less menacing in the dark.  Eye level with all of them as I announce I don't want to, but I will if they won't leave.  "We're waiting on you."

It's over enough to let it be and go on for the night.  What else can we do?  The most of it has passed and the threatened is safely behind locked doors...we've stalled at least.

I come home letting off the weight.  Thinking and re-thinking the looks in their eye.  Their assumed total knowledge.  How far would they go?  I see these kids on a human level every single day.  It's insane to see them claws exposed...for what?  Over something unknown to me even now.  But it defines their worlds.  The only control they have.  Constantly exposed to raw emotion, something that is supposed to be a release, but just a pin-prick and the tower comes tumbling down.  We're complex.  So many levels and layers...stories, experiences, causes and reactions...and there I stand.  Throbbing heart and temple, burning in their fire from a completely different level.

Tomorrow is a new day.  Again and again...and thinking of how God brings people hope.  The ripple of my actions brings me hope.  I hope someday I can truly say I've inspired...above and beyond the air I breathe each day.  Making my life worth the complexities it takes to keep me alive.

What would you say?  What is there to be learned from your life?  Tell me.  I seek the good word tonight.

are you effing kidding me?!

Who does that!?!?!?!  You don't remember?!  Are you EFFING kidding me!?  You can't say "hey, btw: liked your tattoo now gonna copy and steal it".  Talk about a huge rip-off.  I can only imagine how THAT conversation is gonna go if we were to ever hang out together.
"Oh wow.  You guys have the same tattoo."

"Yeah, this chick decided she liked mine and got the same one in a different spot."

Can I use my little bubbles to brighten MINE up now?  Hell no.  Because you already did.  That's okay.  I have a different idea...and the placement of mine is perfect.  I need need NEED to talk to my brother right now, because I'm about to scream!!!