what do you call a church that isn't a church?

i've been slacking on my 200 words.

i've been thinking about them, i've been writing some stuff down, but i haven't *really* been getting it done.

instead, like the great slacker i am, i've been binging friday night lights again before netflix takes it off on sunday.

priorities, i have them (all five seasons on dvd, i will have them too as soon as amazon prime delivers).

watching friday night lights, starting to settle down into fall, too much time to think...it makes me think one thing: i wish i could go to church without going to church.

i mean, really, outside of church, where is there a group of like minded people that have the support network, sense of community, sense of do-goodness, sense of family?

i mean, if it weren't for all the religion, i would go back to church in a heartbeat.

i just really can't do the religion thing and it would be exceedingly tone-deaf and hypocritical to just play along or pretend. not my jam.

i miss the part of growing up in church, as fucked up as my experience was, of belonging somewhere. which is, specifically, how they get people in the doors.

how many lifetime movies have there been about someone feeling lost, looking for answers, and wandering into a church?

they're looking for something. they're looking for somewhere to belong, and try, really try to think of another place that has that, without the religion part.

it doesn't exist as far as i know.

sure, there's hobby groups. there's clubs. there's sports- but those all go away. religion has lasting power. i mean, kids sports- i belonged to a group for a while. we had shared interest, would talk, get to know each other, but then season ended, teams changed. people went about their way and it was all lost.

why can't there be a non-church?

a place where you can meet up every week and build that community. instead of sermons we'll talk about ways to budget better. instead of sunday school we'll have recipe exchanges and how to seal with family.

sure, we can talk about the ten commandments:

love thy neighbor: ways to build a community and peacefully resolve property disputes.

honor thy father and mother: what to do when your teenager teenages.

thou shalt not steal: building a neighborhood watch and building a network of trust and mutual protection.

sermon on the mount: the best kama sutra positions for every couple (too far?)

i just.

i miss having a place where i belong, but i know for sure religion isn't for me.

so who wants to start a non-church with me?

deep thoughts

braces are low key plastic surgery.

using a new conditioner is kinda like cheating on yourself- you keep smelling something new and different all day long and you wonder what hussy has been up in your own business.

alex trebek is really bad at small talk.

pat sajack is an absolute asshole.

i'd rather watch pat sajack or alex trebeck any day over drew carey.

these are the deep and profound and shockingly sober thoughts that have been taking up my brain space the last few days.

remember when i did that huge brain dump and was enjoying the empty space? THIS IS WHAT HAPPENES.

i shouldn't be allowed alone with empty brain space.

why are adult coloring books so stressful?

is a single hard boiled egg a sufficient dinner?

would it be weird to wear a shirt i wore on a date to an interview? is it too date-ish and not job-ish enough?

isn't an interview kinda like a first date anyway?

i'm rewatching friday night lights on netflix before they get pulled off on october 31 and i'm realizing i really miss just a solid feel good show. i binge watch heartland every time a new season drops. i could watch parenthood over and over. friday night lights had me crying, AGAIN, within the first 30 minutes. YES, i've seen it...well...many times before. AND I STILL CRY.

i've spent A LOT of time trying to figure out why. i know it's scripted. all of it. but part of me really, truly, with every fiber of my being hopes that there's really pockets of the world out there like these shows. i wish i could move to town and be a part of a place where families really take care of each other. they fight. they butt in. they are messy but they still make it work. where, at the end of the day, people stand up for what's right. they make the hard decisions. it just- it all works out. and i know it's not the first time i've ruminated on this thought. i know it won't be the last.

it's just that there's a network built into each of these shows. my network is a little sparse on it's best days. kinda more like a single dial up modem that can't get a connection on it's worst days.

DIAL UP. the thing before internet was just everywhere. remember those days?

where you listen to the actual dial, that horrible screech, and you pray with all that you have that you manage a 52k instead of a 26k connection?

BECAUSE...fuck...i don't even know what websites were around then. not google. what the hell did i even look at on internet explorer or the super fancy netscape navigator?

i honestly don't remember. weird how you block out parts of your life like that.

i still have no fucking clue where i bought books in my tiny town when i was a kid. mandy books were only available on the bottom of the back shelf in the christian bible store.

babysitters club books?? it's a mystery.

also, for a kid that LOVED books, i never knew how to look up anything in the library. i knew exactly WHERE my favorite books were. to this day i could direct you to the exact shelf and the exact space on the shelf for some of my go to books. could i tell you the author or publisher? no way in hell.

which actually makes me really sad because there were these BOSS books about different famous people- louie pastour, betsy ross, helen keller, the wright brothers, they were white books with almost school house rock type illustrations. i read those damn things over and over. could i find them again now if my life depended on it? only if the colville library hasn't rearranged or thinned their books in the last 30 years...which...may be a possibility.

well, crap. no sleep tonight. i'm going to be using the google machine to look up images of childrens historic literature all night to see if i can find those damn books again.

UPDATE: google is magnificent. i give you, the value books:

30 years of wondering, 3 minutes of google

 

when it was good, it was very very good

the last two days have been the kind you wait for and wish for more and, if you're smart, learn to appreciate for every. single. moment.

the weather has been absolutely perfect. the sun is shining during the day without scorching the earth, the warmth is holding well into the evenings. the teenager's attitude is coming back around, my attitude is coming back around, in this moment, in this breath, everything is good. and i love that i've learned to recognize and appreciate these moments.

yesterday the teenager and i sat down together and planned out the week. today we followed through on those plans- we did the grocery shopping, made dinner, sat down and ate together while we talked about school then afterwards he helped pick up without being asked, and *gasp* took out the trash without being asked.

i know we've gone back and forth, and we'll keep going back and forth. there's a learning curve to being 14. good lord- when i look back at my freshman year...how did any of us survive?

but he's a good kid. he has a good heart and he's starting to figure things out. we were able to talk about the football protests last night. he wanted to know what the big deal was so i explained from as many sides as i could- how some military feel, how some players feel, how some politicians feel, why it matters to so many people, why it matters to fans, players.

it's a lot to think about and there is no one right answer. it's important to not only have your opinion but be able to hear and understand other opinions. more than the issues at hand, that's what i want him to learn. the ability to see and understand both sides is an invaluable asset. ambidexterity of thought. to know what you believe and stand for, you have to know what else is out there. snap judgements are east. informed decisions are where the work comes in.

but, circling back around, it's been a good few days.

and the best part? i don't feel like i'm waiting for a shoe to drop. i feel like i'm starting a trend for us. and that's a BIG difference.

when you're counting the winning streak instead of waiting for the loss, it's a nice shift in perspective.

things are good. in this moment, in this breath, things are good.

exciting saturday night

and, in another installment of my swinging single life, i find myself at home, settled snugly into my couch- into? onto? either way i'm camped out, watching rom-com movies from the 90's and pondering how the hell we all thought meg ryan's hair was cute.

also: i miss the big oversized sweaters from 90's movies. remember every saundra bullock movie? i've never stopped searching for the perfectly worn in oversized sweater that made me look adorable and not like the trash heap from the fraggle rock.

also: watching "you've got mail" really, REALLY makes me want to open a children's book store.

i feel a little empty for words tonight. this week has been a fairly intensive round of deep dives. it's time for something nonsensical and simple, but even that isn't coming to me. i know that i could pull out any one of the too many journals i have floating around, but right now i think i just want to enjoy having a little empty head space for once. i've done a whole lotta processing. time to enjoy the cleaned out brain space before it fills back up (which im sure will be tomorrow).

beach books and a snuggly blanket are the ticket right now.

dear big pharma: thank you

it's still before midnight, so today's 200 words still count.

today is perhaps my most emotional, intense, most emphatic post yet:

I LOVE YOU MIDOL.

i really mean it too.

almost as much as coffee.

i know people swear midol is just tylenol with a different name, and THOSE PEOPLE ARE ASSHOLES.

i don't come into your house and disparage your favorite things.

ok. i probably do, but i mean it in the best way.

but back to midol.

the only thing that could possibly make it better is if it came in a costco size.

and if they found a better option than that fucking impossible to open foil on the top.

you know what? just put mine in a pez dispenser, please and thank you.

the holy trifecta is all we mere mortals can hope for: whiskey, midol, netflix.

couch and fuzzy blanket optional but strongly recommended.

welcome to friday night.

toys r us kid

i was never a toys r us kid.

that was the FANCY store (aka: expensive) and they didn't sell books.

i remember walking through it a few times with my dad and he told me to pick something out but it was so overwhelming i never knew what to even look at.

then i would ask for another babysitters club book.

and he would look at me funny.

and we would go get a babysitters club book.

i don't know where we would get them...that was in the days before barnes and noble. that was before borders or amazon.

WHERE THE FUCK DID I GET ALL MY BOOKS AS A KID?

fuck. that's really going to bother me now.

BUT. despite never being a toys r us kid, i very, completely, wholeheartedly bought into their tag line: I DON'T WANNA GROW UP.

i even remember one of my MANY counselors growing up laughing at me for saying that.

counselor: *smirk* so you're just not going to grow up?

me: if growing up means becoming an adult like you that tears other people down all the time, NO, i WON'T grow up. 

counselor: *no more smirk*

for what it was worth, it was actually my youth pastor, and he quit being a youth pastor a few months after that and became a computer tech.

probably not totally related, but i'd like to think i played a small roll in him not destroying another teenager's life like he tried his damndest to do to mine.

he's the same asshole that made me "confess my sins" in front of the "select group" (rich kids) in the youth group about my pregnancy because THEY deserved better than to hear the rumors in the hallways.

aces.

gee, why am i not involved in organized religion anymore? it's a mystery...

but. back to the not growing up.

*spoiler alert*

i did it anyway.

as soon as the first crib midget popped out of my "birthing hips" (thanks random guy in the hallway in high school) i grew up pretty damn quickly. taking care of my kiddo became the top priority and since he was 9 months old we had our own place, i had steady work, and shit was dialed in.

in 2011 when i quit my job i wasn't exactly smart. i bought the house, blew through all my money trying to fix up the house, and ended up having to go back to work to keep shit together.

this time *knock on wood* i've been slightly smarter and am able to carefully consider what work i want to do from here on out.

and...i kinda don't wanna grow up.

more to the point, i don't know what i want to be when i do grow up.

what did i talk about when i was a kid?

i remember wanting to be a kindergarten teacher for a while. then i had my own kids. a classroom full of 5 year olds? 

i mean...weed is legal now...so...maybe?

my dad wanted me to be a nurse. that dream abruptly died the day he knocked down the broomstick that help up the double pane on a window which then shattered all over his back. i cried, he got stitches, my brother ended up marrying a nurse and it worked out better for everyone in the end.

i wanted to be a writer for...well...as long as i can remember. but making a living at that? while i still have a kid under my roof?

let's be honest, i'm chicken shit when it comes to giving that a try.

i had ZERO plan in high school for post graduation. getting pregnant was probably the best thing to ever happen to me, i suddenly HAD to have a plan.

so now, now i have a moment to breathe, i made sure to have a bit of a safety net, and i get to figure out what i really want to be when i grow up.

do i want to go back to office work? i'm damn good at it. i should be after 20 years.

do i want to get a part time job and write part time and try to chase my oldest dream?

do i want to go back to work full time at some unknown job?

remember the time i had a whole business plan drawn up for a coffee shop that was geared towards parents with kids? i had it all figured out: a computer bar (no internet) with old school games like carmen sandiego, oregon trail, that incredible machine. a small tv in the corner with kids movies playing all the time (lord knows i have that part nailed). an open floor plan to make it a safe place for parents that need to do visitations with their kids to come to- they can play on the car-pet with old school micro machines. they could read books in the take a book leave a book corner, their supervisor could enjoy a nice cup of coffee in a comfortable chair with full visual at all times (and the one thing i've discovered in the last few months is that theres NO PLACE like that anywhere in the valley).

so. now that i'm closer to grown up than not, what do i want to be?

toys r us is going under. so. i guess i won't be a toys r us kid.

one option off the list.

it's a start.

bite your tongue

**TRIGGER WARNING: THIS POST WILL COVER RAPE AND ABUSE. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION**

it's scary starting something you don't know how to finish. i don't have any answers in this post, just a whole lot of questions and mess. 

there have been...well, in my opinions, way too many women in the news lately talking about sexual assault. 

not way too many because they shouldn't be talking about it, way too many because it's HAPPENED to way too many.

i'm one of those women, and now i'm talking about it.

a few years ago i was raped. in my own home. by someone i know. by someone i thought was a friend. someone i've known since high school.

the rape was, well, a rape. details don't matter. they physical part of it i've dealt with. i'm fortunate enough to have a great counselor that helped me work through the trauma part of everything. i'm not scared of sex, i'm not scared of men, i'm not scared of going places alone. i AM slightly wary of drunk aggressive men, but that's just good sense in general.

the part i haven't been able to deal with is all the stuff that comes from being raped by someone you know.

the basic stuff is basic: you remove them from facebook, delete their contact information, cut off all communication and interaction.

when he text messages you at thanksgiving saying he misses hanging out with you, you delete the message and pour a shot of whiskey. when he messages you at new year asking for a fresh start you again, delete the message and yeah, probably another shot of whiskey.

then you just stuff it deep down inside and go about life.

but what do you do when it's not just someone YOU know but someone people all around you know? when he have a company whose logo you see all over town? when he's best friends with people you can't separate yourself from?

when you end up still seeing pictures on facebook of him out drinking, something he swore he would never do again because of what happened, because friends of friends tagged them or commented or because facebook likes to recommend people you really want nothing to do with (gee, thanks facebook, keep your recommendations to yourself why doncha).

and you don't want to say anything. you don't want to blow up a family. you don't want to cause a rift between lifelong friends. you certainly don't want to cause a rift with people you still have to work with. in my case, the guy who raped me just so happens to be friends with my son's dad. my relationship with the baby daddy is solid most of the time, tenuous or strained for legit reasons on occasion, but rarely has it been hostile. the relationship with my son is just now starting to come around, letting something like this out of the bag would be...well...a few steps back is about as polite as i can phrase it. through no ones fault. it's news no one wants to hear. news even fewer people believe.

i know.

because it's not the first time i've held onto information like this.

my mother's husband is...he's not a great guy. i grew up, from a very young age, being told how i needed to learn to please men. i was being groomed for abuse. i was told plenty of things a 12 year old girl does NOT need to know. when i was 18, in my very first apartment, with my brand new baby, he decided it was appropriate to not only stash his (extensive) porn collection at my house but also...partake in said porn. in my living room. in front of me.

i held onto that for years. i finally told my husband when i was married. he then turned it against me and forced me to tell my mom during one of our particularly bad fights.

i finally told my mom about it and her exact words were "...well, it already happened. what do you want me to do about it?"

then years later, when she asked me to go to therapy with her, she told her counselor "...well it's natural for him to want to have relationships with teenagers. he never had friends when he was that age, he's just trying to make up for something he missed."  shortly after that is when she decided to tell me that i'm a liar and nothing i say is or ever will be true.

and that's why i haven't talked to my mom in several years.

sometimes it's just better to keep the information to yourself. the fallout cost is extremely high.

the point of all this.

fuck. i don't know what the point of all this is.

at the start of this school year we started giving one of the kiddos friends a ride to school. every day i see his dad's rig parked in the driveway with the bumper sticker logo of the company of the man that raped me. seeing the logo prompted my kiddo to ask again why i quit talking to my rapist. it made him ask, again, when we would be able to buy a sweatshirt or a hat that he's been asking about for a long time. a few days later a post popped up on facebook tagging my rapist in a lovely three day weekend out on the lake with a mutual acquaintance. wife, kids, friends, sunshine, out on the lake having a great summer. and it popped back up to the top of my feed every time someone liked it or commented on it.

HOW DO YOU DEAL WITH THAT? how do you deal with seeing the logo all over town? how do you deal with seeing the posts on facebook? how do you answer people who asked why ya'll don't hang out anymore? i don't live in a small town, but it's small enough. eventually we're going to cross paths. then what do i do?

and my experience is really trivial.

think of all the women at fox news- their career, their goals, their ambition is controlled by tolerating the actions of asshole men. keeping the secret because it's what they need to do to keep going. when they DO speak out they're shredded by the media because it's easier to believe a woman is a liar and seeking attention than to believe a guy everyone looks up to is not what he seems. think of the women that tried to speak out against trump. think of all the women who tried to speak out against sports stars, frat boys, community leaders, ANYONE.

my mother's husband is, of course, an upstanding citizen. he's a leader at their church, a hard worker, they take in exchange students (good lord don't get me started on the risk posed to exchange students who have no idea what is acceptable or normal in a totally foreign culture).

of course she believes him over her own rebellious, promiscuous teenage daughter.

and, like i said, i don't know what the answer is. i just know it sucks. it really, really sucks to have to keep ripping that band aid off while still trying to hide the wound.

and i know i'm not alone and that sucks even more.

thirtyseven words

well, now that the ball is rolling, i may as well dump some of the *actual* stuff that's been rattling around my head lately.

i turned 37 a few days ago. my brother would have turned 35 yesterday. it's a weird time of year anyway- anniversaries i'm not keen to remember. getting older. weather changing.

this year it's particularly brutal.

i realized a while ago that i'm smack dab in the middle of possibly the most classic mid life crisis of all time:

the oldest child is out of high school and attempting to make his way in the adult world. he's 2 years older than i was when i had him.

the youngest child has started high school and is, almost frantically, searching for ways to be more grown up (not a bad thing- his list includes taking better care of himself/his clothes, maintaining grades for college, and a girlfriend). 

i sold my house, i quit my job, i bought a car because it's pretty, i've added to the tattoos, even took a trip to vegas. i have a pool, all i need is the pool boy and the mid life bingo boxes will all be checked.

i've been spending my days watching all the movies in my disney collection and spending money that i probably shouldn't be. BUT IN MY DEFENSE, I REALLY NEEDED THOSE TATTOO BOOKS.

not so long ago my oldest brother made a comment about my tattoos, hair color, being "one of those letters," i can't remember which. he usually is able to hit on all of them at some point in his notoriously short conversations. i remember this time thought that he referred to me as being rebellious.

"DUDE, i'm in my 30's. i'm a mom. WHO AM I REBELLING AGAINST?"

at a certain point, maybe, doubtfully, he'll realize that i'm just me. 

which made me think: how many "rebellious" teenagers are just people that managed to discover their true self early on in life and learned to BE THAT PERSON, even if it required struggle and labeling and misunderstanding?

when my oldest son was born the doctors and nurses laughed at my black nail polish- "...it's making the baby go crosseyed."

they laughed at the "phase" i was going through.

my son is now almost 20 and my nails are still black. 

that's a helluva phase.

i just wish i was as bold and sure in life as i have been about my nail polish.

i wasn't a rebellious teenager. i literally sat in my closet reading books as a kid (it sounds weird, but if they can't find you, they can't bother you). i went to church every sunday and wednesday without arguing. i did dishes and kept my room clean. i did my homework and maintained a decent GPA.

now, that's not to say i didn't have a rebellious streak- i quit piano lessons because the assholes kept shoving me in competitions playing classical music when all i wanted to do was learn honkey tonk and rag time and just PLAY.

i got suspended from high school my freshman year but it was because i was being bullied and had my life threatened numerous times and no one would listen until i tried to come up with (the wrong) solutions myself.

i spent my senior year pregnant because FINALLY, FOR ONCE a boy liked me and "friends" told me the only way to keep a boyfriend was to have sex with him...they just forgot the condom part of that discussion.

i didn't seek trouble, i wasn't trying to make any points, i wasn't trying to BE anything special. trouble still found me though. that is one thing i've always been exceptional at. you need anything beta tested? want to test the durability on something? have an idea you're not sure if it's good or not? hit me up. no one is ever completely worthless. you can always be held up as the bad example. goofus always looked like he was having a better time than gallant anyway. suck and egg.

looking back, i'm honestly jealous of those "rebellious" teenagers- imagine being that bold and confident in who you are as a young person that you're willing to go against the crowd. yeah, maybe at times some of them were just being shitheads. but probably the majority were just trying to be themselves. and yes, as they've grown they may have left certain parts of that behind- stopped shopping at hot topic, taken a piercing or two out, taken a corporate job "for the man," but maybe some chased their dreams with confidence. maybe some became confident leaders. maybe some became the game changers and the perspective shifters we've all come to look to when things get shitty.

circling back, i want to be that bold.

i wrote myself a stoner note the other day:

figure out how to be stoner you all the time. the one that yells at wheel of fortune and says the things you think. be the person that writes about being so old you pee a little when you take a particularly good hit. be the person that is open and honest and not over analyzing every. single. thought. be the person that says things. start the awkward conversations. talk about the embarrassing topics.

stoner me is wise.

stoner me also really likes to dance, much to the dismay of anyone within viewing range.

circling back again, thirty seven is starting off weird. my mid life crisis is bumming me out. unemployment isn't all it's cracked up to be. i'm not a rebel, but i wish i knew how to be. i also wish i knew what i wanted to be when i was growing up. that information would be useful right about now. but that's a whole other topic that's been rattling around.

200 words

so, i said i would get some writing done on sunday.

it's tueday.

close enough when you're unemployed and time blends together. 

it isn't because i haven't known what to write; it's because i have ALL THE THINGS that want to get out of my head at the same time and they end up tripping over each other and getting all mixed up and i get frustrated and just sit and stare at crappy shows on amazon (seriously, what the fuck happened to season 8 of roseanne??) and getting NOTHING done at all, all. damn. day.

but. here i am today, writing at least 200 words. just something to get words out of my head. maybe not the ones i planned on. maybe not the important ones right now, but words, getting out. SOMETHING happening.

my amazing friend is out doing things in life, like, oh, you know, giving ted talks. like it's no big. and i'm struggling to shower every day.

she's been gently nudging the last few days...JUST 200 WORDS. on an anon site. in your own journal. for people to read, for people not to read. just 200 words. that's manageable. 

and so, here i am. like a true, unemployed hipster, sitting in a coffee shop with a latte, a cookie, and my laptop, tapping away.

and i kinda love it.

it's the thing i promised myself i would try a few months ago when i actually quit. it's the thing i've been wanting to try my whole adult life.

i know, my bucket list needs work.

but i'm doing it.

a writer, in a cafe, WRITING.

it's even a moody, rainy day out. 

well played universe.

well. played.