I like things because of stuff.

For a long time I've known that I have an attachment to things.

Now, I won't necessarily call this an unhealthy attachment, although sometimes it's borderline when I break something one of my best good friends has given me and I cry and mourn it like someone is hospitalized.  I curse myself, but I eventually heal.  Then I place the beautiful shattered remains of the candle shade in a freezer bag for a year and a half and tell myself I'm going to make a plastered stepping stone out of the pieces.

Yeah.  They're in my bathroom closet.

But things fill a void in my life so my brain doesn't have to work too hard to make connections.  I think I like being surrounded by them, these things and whatever they represent:  emotions; people; lessons; facets of myself or others.

How much comfort can one 29-year-old woman get from sleeping with a Made-In-China blue crocodile she won in a claw machine the first time she and her boyfriend took her son to Billy Bob's Wonderland.   I wake up enough to search for it after I've dropped it under the bed when Fisher's staying at his dad's.  When I think really hard about it, it also reminds me that I shouldn't have dropped over five dollars in that quarter machine trying to get it to push that roll over the edge for me.  I really thought I had it.  That's mostly my gambling record for the year though.

And he named him Croc-Go.  How cute is that?  Almost as cute as his name for a Frisbee. He calls it an air beef.  HA!  I cannot get over that.  Make a kid say air beef, and you'll see what I mean.

I have a dried rose above my kitchen sink and a shrinking bouquet of daisies on the table that remind me of how hard Nicholas works to show me he loves me.  Such grand efforts cloaked in simple tasks.  They stare back at me and remind me that I'll just have to find something else to bitch about.  Or, more often, that I should just shut the Hell up and appreciate him like mad because he's amazing.

When I water my patio plants with the glass pitcher which belonged to his ex-girlfriend's grandmother, I remember that my grandmother's useful things, such as her silver serving tray bowling trophy from the first year I was born, mean more to me than designer bullshit.  I cherish the pitcher; I cherish Nick.  Because and although she did not.

I wear jewelry that my family and friends give me and feel their love and strength.  If it's a hard day, I'm wearing jewelry probably.  Unless I'm going to the DHHR.  That's just tacky (oh, and I quit smoking a year and a half ago, but I must say it's tacky to smoke in front of the building where you go to ask people for money too; that's something I refused to do).

Ask me who I'm wearing and your answer won't be any famous fashion guru.  It'll be Fisher, Nick, Erin(s), Jessie, Emily, Mom, Dad & Susie, Cliff or one of my other awesome people I love.

I wear Nick's clothes when he's not around and I'm missing him.  If  you're reading this:  I'm really so sorry for the stains and appreciative of you pretending you never notice them, love. One day I'll be able to wear Fisher's clothes and I fear he won't be so forgiving.  But mom has much practice in the woman wizardry that is stealing male clothing for her own use.  I will prevail.  It makes me wonder what college shirts I'll be sporting...

These things surround me everyday, and there are many things and people that I love and appreciate that I haven't mentioned here.  I have these souvenirs of life lining shelves in my house and in my heart.
 
I know I can't take things with me when I die.  And I don't want to end up on Hoarders so it's evident that I learn to let go of certain things.  I have to learn everything they hold before I let them go, or have something to replace them.  

I don't know what will happen to the lessons when I'm gone, but I hope that I can pass them along in teaching, giving, and wisdom the best that I am able.

On the bright side :)

Here we go!  Ok, I've been super busy and that's why I'm not posting as often. 

Of course I'm not getting tired of it.  Hell naw.

I just got my internship at the radio station and I'm really excited!  So...job, internship, school, family...those are ascending order of importance, of course.  Internship and school are really the same thing, but they're not so much because I have some extra great opportunities for learning and networking there.  Plus, some of my hours will be paid $$$ yay!

So really I just wanted to say that I'm feeling a little better about my opportunities that my degree opens up for me.  I can still go to grad school and get my MFA so that I can teach.  If I teach writing part time, write some stuff I can get paid for (which I should produce some good shit while I'm obtaining that degree), get some hours doing awesome stuff with radio, etc...it will all come together to make enough money that I can live on.

And, for the most part, I can do these things and still get plenty of family time. 

So, the moral of the story is:  I may have to juggle many different things, but I can get what I want and love it. 

Oh shit.  This significantly increases the amount of time I am forced to wear a bra. 

There is a downside after all ;)

Writing is my therapy

This has been my mantra for over twenty years, probably from the time I learned to write or learned that I needed therapy (whichever came first, I'm not sure).

I actually wrote the last blog on the holiday weekend and didn't have time to finish it for some weird fucking reason.  Ohhh, that's right.  I got dressed (yes, I had showered, like today, and was blogging in my underwear--if this convinces you to keep reading, please know that I do this often) and went to the Barge to wait on my love (did I kill it?  good, you're a pervert.  But keep reading anyway...) and ended up heading home disappointed to watch YouTube videos with my neighbors. 

It's kind of funny how that day ended up actually.  Or that weekend.  Because I was about to start work, I felt better about myself (income is good, you know?) and was trying not to stress out over having even LESS time with the people I love.  It's sad because I hardly get to see my friends as it is.

So, I started thinking about all of the things I wanted to do with myself  and my life and I'm sure that got my tummy so nervous that I had to shit.  So I used the time to finish reading Tina Fey's book Bossypants (yes, it was an excellent read, even if I read it in its entirety while I was on the toilet).  One of the last chapters in the book is called "Juggle This," and it's about being a working mom.  It's pretty much about the balance (so difficult to achieve) and the guilt (so damned simple--it's natural). 

It made me realize I'm certainly not alone in my feelings.  And I hope I can only be so lucky as to love my job as much as Tina does.  I started to realize that "A Little Unfocused" is really about finding that balance in my life (and it has been even before the blog).  The good news for the blog is that it's a task that will never end. 

Finding and keeping balance is a constant endeavor.

I like parentheses, do they help you hear me talking to you??  Also part of the unfocusedness that is me (yes, I made up a word for that)--considering that I often interrupt myself and derail my own thought trains.  Here, at least I can go back and read what I was saying instead of having my wonderful friends remind me ;)

This all does have a point.  Swear.  And it's this:  I'm damned scared.

I see people all over the place with degrees that are being wasted.  Many of my friends with degrees could have gotten their jobs without them.  I'm not saying that degrees are bad, but the job market isn't good.  No matter that we are making the same amount of money (or less if you count time we could have been building our experience and getting raises) after going tens-of-thousands of dollars into the debt-holes that Americans can dig in their sleep.  Can we dig our way out on minimum wage or a few dollars more?  If one day out of week's worth of work goes to taxes (is that enough?) and another day or two goes to paying for a "useless" degree...what are we living on and working for? 

But here's the deal.  I've lived on next to nothing.  And even nothing a couple of times.  I like things and places and even people (sometimes, although I don't buy them or pay for them so that really doesn't fit here), but I don't consider myself truly greedy or materialistic.  Not even high-maintenance.  I know that I can make it.  And I know that the other part(s) of my team will never let me down. 

I talked to Nick about it.  "I'm scared I'll be stuck...stuck I say!!!  I'll be pissed if I end up working these jobs forever when I could have done them without spending six years and $40,000!  But what if it's the best thing I can get??!!"

And this is one of the many reasons I love him. 

He asked me if that's what I wanted.  "NO!" I replied.  He told me that I wouldn't settle for that.  That if I wanted more I'd have more because I'd make it happen.

Oh.  Okay.  I guess sometimes I forget.

I may not know much about the future or my career path that will sustain myself and my family, but I do know that I will do something that matters to me and something I love that permits me to spend time with the people who remind me who I am and what my life is about.

Independence Day was last weekend

And I was feeling entirely too independent.  I missed my family :(

Last year, I left the home where I had lived for four years with my son and his father.  Our relationship wasn't really working out and I felt an extreme need to move on despite the hardships I knew I would face.  And it sure has been difficult.  Getting together with one of the best men I've ever known the following month has made it worlds easier, but it's hard to miss him too since his job requires he works most evenings, weekends, and holidays. 

Before last year, I was a student and a stay-at-home mom.  I got to be with Fisher all day and then his dad came home from work and I went to school.  So sending Fisher to daycare last year while I worked was difficult.  Even when I didn't have school because I withdrew to help him adjust to having two homes.  But I told myself that I would have to get used to it anyway because he was soon to start required school and he would have to be there everyday. 

A voice inside me whined, "Yeah, but isn't that why you should be spending more time with him now?"  My inner mommy cried when I had to wait tables on Mother's Day and I saw all these people celebrating with their moms and their little boys that reminded me of my angel.  Actually, I'm pretty sure my outer mommy cried too.  I made decent money that day I think. 

Turns out people don't mind crying waitresses on holidays.

I had Fisher last July 4th, so he was at his dad's all last weekend.  Monday was supposed to be Nick's day off, but we found out three days prior that he was on the schedule for an 8-hour shift.  This year the fireworks were on Sunday July 3rd.  I don't know why...  He works open to close (8pm) every Sunday and they were still seating people after 8:30, so I grabbed my shit and went home.  I had been waiting for him in hopes that we could make it down to hear the symphony play while we watched the fireworks.  Nobody told me they were closing late.  Turns out nobody told the kitchen, either...

I started work this past Tuesday and we don't get a day off together for almost a month.  Hoping we can take Fisher to the lake for the first time when we do get that day later...

But for now, I sit here on holidays and weekends and see these boats go up and down the river from my back door.  They're celebrating, laughing, being with their families.  I see my friends on facebook post wonderful things about being with their families. I do get days with my family; it's just not really the normal life I wanted.  But what's a normal life?

These lonely times have gotten somewhat easier than they were at first.  I try to find things to do or people to talk to.  There is always plenty to do.  I clean the house, work out, write (I should be writing more), read, catch up on personal business or the Netflix queue.  But it still feels lonely.  When I shut the curtains and blinds I can still hear the boats.  I can't call many of my friends because they are doing what I want to be doing--spending time with their families. 

And this is why I'm in college.  To try to get a job with a family schedule that will pay the bills and build my personal American dream.  

I don't need a lot of money.  I just want to work a schedule that compares to my husband's work and my kids' school schedule.  I want a weekend for what it's supposed to be.  Even if I don't get to be with both of my loves, at least one of them would be nice.  

This semester is going to be the hardest yet.  I have to work 20+ hours at my new job to keep it.  I have to work 13+ hours at my internship to earn credit by the end of the semester.  I have three classes also.  Luckily, they are awesome:  Fitness for Living, Creative Non-fiction Workshop, and Digital Video Production.

Stay-at-home moms are way under-rated. 

A little old. RE: this title thingy

Before I decided to begin baring parts of myself to the wide and unknown public (hey, it's a possibility, people), I had to decide on one very important thing:  my persona. 

This is not an easy task because I love my family, I hate offending people, and my favorite word is "fuck."

Seriously, I have a great argument defending its appearance in my everyday language.  I now proudly own a Minor in English and I can use it to say that I endorse "fuck" and all of its affiliates.

And, words are words.  I don't poke you with sticks or throw rocks at you.  You'll recover from hearing them.  You know what you won't recover from?  A busted ass sense of humor.  We should all be able to laugh at ourselves because who deserves a hearty, ridiculing guffaw more than contradictory, self-serving humans!?

And I am currently writing this because I learned the other day that my Granny said she is not going to read this.  (Attention, Granny!  In case you are reading this, see?  It's not that bad.  I'm still funny, and I still love you as much as I did when I began saying "fuck" when I was about 8 years old.)

(I also like that putting "fuck" in quotation marks makes it even more noticeable, isn't that cute?)

So Granny told my mom she wasn't going to read this because of my warnings, which is the reason I put those warnings there.  Those warnings were covering my ass, or telling people they have no right to bitch at me if they're offended because they shouldn't be admitting they read it in the first place ;)  Just go do a few Hail Marys and come back next week.

Sidebar:  I have no idea where I get all of my Catholic references.  I've never even been to mass.  Or, is it Mass?  That's a weird word.  Say it a few times.  You sound like an evil scientist.

Now, I don't mind if my Granny reads this.  I'm sure she's seen her share of dirty words and jokes about masturbation in her day.  But if she doesn't want to see it from me, that's up to her and I'm fine with her choice to avoid it.  No matter what my art is, I always know she will be one of my biggest fans.

So, Stephanie, what about the children?  That's an easy one.  See:  Robin Williams, Steve Martin, Bob Saget (?). 

So anyway, after many thoughts, I had decided to go ahead and start this thing.  The blog and the videos.  It's a slow start, but it's a start.  I figured I should just be myself.  Say what I think and feel and not worry about it.  I think I've still been holding back, but it will get easier.  I mean, who else would I be?  I'm still the same person when I'm with my conservative family, but I just hold a lot of myself in.  It's like an invisible "fuck" girdle. 

The things I want to say aren't supposed to be arrested.  You're welcome to detest them, or simply disagree.  I love that people are different than me; that's how I learn.  I already learn from myself (I swear!) so others just like me are useless until I plot my small, smart revolution and I need warm bodies to support.

Earlier a friend of mine, Harold, posted the following:  "I have no problem with gay people, I have a problem with ones who hide it and lie so they don't piss off family and friends. True family and friends don't care if you're gay or not."

Of course everyone proceeded to Bible discussion.  I cut to the chase and replied:  

"Harold, to your actual point...I think it's sad that anyone should hide anything about themselves. I know people who have hidden their sexuality, their tattoos, their religious choices, their piercings, their pregnancies, their relations with other races. Hate and fear cause this to happen. I would rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not. I heard a story the other day of a man who shot and killed his own son because he found out he was gay. He probably called himself a Christian, wtf."

Then I couldn't figure out what to blog about until I started watching Bo Burnham and I can say what I want if he can.  I'm older than him, after all, and this kid also realized that Shakespeare was overrated.
   
As I was watching, I also realized that all these things are connected and I needed to put out there that it's something I've been thinking about.  We all are plenty self-aware, although I'm a fan personally of the unaware sociopath because they can not give a shit what others think and feel*.  I like that I'm learning to balance my give-a-shit.  But if I'm going to make a difference in anything I do, it has to be purely me.   I've been saying forever that I can't wait until people want to burn my books.  Well, I guess it's time for them to start burning their computer screens.  

Turns out, so far, fire doesn't hurt the internet.  Pwned.  And since last week I had Nick look up the history of that word, I can say with confidence, NO WONDER I ALWAYS HATED IT!  I hate typos.  When I have money or I start making cool shit, I will give it to people who find my typos so I can fix them.  (Then I will deny anything was ever wrong so I don't have to give you a damned thing!  Refer to Nelson, above.)

I just needed to write this to remind myself.  And it's sort of another of my many disclaimers and warnings.

Don't forget to enjoy the roast if you're so inclined not to heed them:   http://www.youtube.com/user/StephanieAnn1982?feature=mhee

I'm waiting for someone to tell me how awesome it is before I post part II...

*I believe this is the basis for an upcoming blog