morning texts
August 31, 2009
From my lovely, lovely friend: Holy shit, I feel like me for the first time in months… it’s so good to be back… hope your day is radiant!
Just cuz she hopes so, it will be.
-CJ
first day
August 31, 2009
Unthinking, I rolled into Kiddo’s school parking lot loudly playing NOFX’s Drugs Are Good this morning.
It was mass chaos, just like last year, as parents and siblings offer well wishes until the classroom door is closed and the official new school year is started. Kiddo was sharp in her cuffed dark denim jeans and striped polo shirt, sparkling new Chucks and Jansport backpack. We met the new first grade teacher, a lovely lady that I’m sure Kiddo will adore as the year progresses. We made our way through the maze of bodies and kids, all perfect hair and bright colored new clothes, to the playground, where I knelt to hug and kiss on her and saw the first of many fat tears trailing her cheeks.
Several attempts at pep talking and squeezing and tear wiping didn’t seem too promising and I couldn’t bear to leave yet. We wandered over to the daycare classroom where she’s familiar with everyone and she gave me a sad goodbye. I watched her walk away, alone, and plop herself onto a bench, lower her head and cry.
Now I had a c-section so I’m just speculating here, but I think drug-free child birth couldn’t hurt as bad as that scene did. There was no fucking way I was leaving that school.
We sat on the bench together and she asked me to wait until the bell rang. I would have waited until her eighteenth birthday if she’d thought to ask.
The poor thing has never had to express nervousness. She’s been scared and overwhelmed and shit, she was even apprehensive once before. I think she could accurately express all of those feelings but this morning was simply nerves and all she could do to show it was try her mightiest to hold in her tears and tell me she’d miss me.
Kid has no idea.
She lined up on the playground at the appropriate room number when the bell rang, face crinkled and red and making a valiant effort to keep her head up. That may have hurt the most. These weren’t attention seeking tears. She tried to wear her brave face. A teacher’s assistant came between us and clucked, “Oh no, we’re not doing this, say goodbye to mama! You’re gonna be fine!”
Which is all well and true. I’m sure she’s seen this a grillion dozen times. But right then Kiddo was the only first grader in the world and she was upset and I think most other mothers will have my back when I say: that bitch almost got her face broke.
Kiddo blew me a snotty, teary kiss from her side of the chain link fence when I finally headed out. I watched until she disappeared into the classroom, called my co-worker to say I’d be running a little late due to some first grade trauma, and promptly, burst into tears.
-CJ
karenism
August 31, 2009
“Because I’m a lady, assface.”
- -Karen Walker
Like it matters what came before that.
on six-year-olds’ art
August 28, 2009
A must-share:
Look at Nora’s drawings in mimi smartypants’ latest post. I laughed until there were tears mixing with eyeliner and forming a distinct burn and STILL, I laughed.
It just struck a chord with me, I suppose.
I am shit. Kiddo drew me a brilliant portrait of Russell Martin, all done up in his blue and white, complete with Dodger logo and facial hair. It was perfect. I pressed it flat between the pages of a book I sold on half.com and promptly… mailed the book to Oakland. Motherfuck. The odds of a perfect recreation are… high. But I want the original, gawddammit.
-CJ
love note
August 28, 2009
Today’s note from the universe:
Last night, Jill, I was dreaming of you, again.
You were radiant, confident, and light beamed in every direction from the core of your being. Music followed you, angels serenaded you, and everyone was elevated by your presence. Wisdom shown from your eyes. Kindness emanated from your touch. And your power was simply awesome.
You looked, well… pretty much… exactly as you do right now.
Wow,
The Universe
Pssh… way to make a girl blush first thing in the morning.
A conscious effort to exude a more open and positive physical attitude in public has opened so many doors for me.
No, really. People are opening doors for me all over the place.
-CJ
and now my car is covered in orange dust
August 28, 2009
She thinks she’s a geedee riot.
I have NO idea where she gets that from.
-CJ
forward motions
August 27, 2009
Approximately 1,000 good things added up at the same time today and churned out a fucking FABULOUS mood in me.
On track & money are rarely seen in the same context when it comes to my life. I am built of financial woes and have found myself buried up to my neck in debt, with no one to blame except myself, since roughly age nineteen. And I am still very, very much there, struggling for air beneath oppressive APRs and late fees, etc. But with today came surely a temporary boost, not in the form of any unexpected cashflow, just timing and patience and hoping and limb crossing. Little things are paying off, which makes me think I’ve done something right. To keep this in forward motion, I’ve re-subscribed to my monthly donation sites – a couple bucks toward two things I’m very, very passionate about. I entertain the notion that my little bit is a big contribution because that makes my stomach warm and my skin glow.
If you don’t, I encourage you to send off five or ten bucks to a worthy organization… really, it takes all of two or three minutes and the good karma is like a multi-vitamin for the soul.
Suggestions: Human Rights Campaign (five dollar monthly minimum), Bitch Magazine (support kickass non-profit publication and get a subscription with your monthly contribution!), ASPCA (consistent income helps contribute to life saving programs – plus PUPPIEEES!), or Women’s Funding Network (one of the largest collaborative philanthropic networks in the world.. supporting women’s foundations that span public charities, private foundations and funds within community foundations).
I’m off to bask in myself.
-CJ
sweet abode
August 27, 2009
I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself. – Maya Angelou
Ree can attest I was definitely feeling queer about moving to Orange County. (And not the good kind of queer.) It wasn’t specifically about the county (so much) because I’ve lived spittin’ distance from it my whole life. It was moving twenty whole minutes away from my parents and ensuring that I would be using freeways everywhere I went as there are 17.5 entrances in a one mile raduis of the abode. I presumed the traffic was worse and I would be far from all of my favorites (Mexican restaurant & take out, eyebrow lady, dive bar, etc). I could list a whole hell of a lot of reasons I was scared and nervous and anxious about moving into 2B with my best friend.
I think the scariest part was that I thought it might work.
I had never lived outside of my family’s home for more than five months and I’d never done so without Kiddo’s dad. My independence quests (all two of them) were failed almost as soon as I was done unpacking and back home I went. Living at home was crowded and chaotic, but I didn’t know any other way. There was at least four or six sets of eyes on Kiddo at all times. There was always milk in the fridge. There was never an inch and a half of dust on anything because there was other people someone else taking care of so many things around me.
Yeah, spoiled rotten, dude.
At 2B, that whole single parent thing that I’d been doing for a year already really happened. No one else was going to make dinner or be home if I wanted to run a quick errand alone or pick up food at the store when the shelves were running low. I had no idea how good I had it. (Sorry, Mom.)
I flailed a little bit for a while. Well, I flailed a lot last summer. But I’ve learned to swim in our old little bottom floor abode. And Ree is a natural mama, complete with instinct and just the right amount of push to help get the job done and pull to cut back when it’s time to figure something out on my/Kiddo’s own.
Absolutely, positively, my head would have fallen out the window on the 405 freeway if I lived with anyone else for the last fifteen months.
Awesome roommate/best friend/ninja aside, our little old place with the super crappy backyard and missing window screen in my room and frequent spiders in the corners and ugly carpet and weird wine bottle painting on the pantry and exposed tackstrip in just about every threshold…
…is the place I love being the most.
-CJ
Enough to kick your ass with Chun-Li’s lightning kick
August 26, 2009
A co-worker approaches me gravely. I prepare to take him very seriously.
“How much do you know about Street Fighter?”
Calamity Betty just doesn’t have the same ring…
August 26, 2009
“Has anyone ever told you that… your laugh… it sounds like…”
“Betty Rubble?”
“Yes!”
“Yep.”
I will be withdrawing into myself to avoid laughing for the remainder of the day.
-CJ
