As you may or may not know, my husband’s dart buddy actually won the million dollars from the Tournament of Ten Millionaire show I posted about yesterday.  Of course, we are happy for him.  He is a good person. I don’t actually know him, but my husband does although he hasn’t seen him in a while.  One degree of separation, you might say.  It is so wonderful when good things happen to good people.  Honestly, everyone on that show seemed like good, hard working, helpful and honest people that you can’t help but feel happy about any of them winning a million dollars. The fact that it was someone I remotely know, well of course, that makes it more exciting and real.  It makes you want to cheer when good things happen to good people.

But today I open an email from my best friend to learn that her very very dear friend Matthew has died.  Suddenly.  Without warning.  Without any sense in the world whatsoever.

Again, I know him.  I haven’t seen him in over two decades, but I know him. I know he is a good person, a wonderful person.  And he is gone now. He would have been an amazing father to his yet unborn child.  He would have continued to be an amazing person in this crazy fucked up world.  And I have to scream because bad things happen to such good people.

I don’t get it. 

My friend wrote in her email that it is like “a world gone mad.”  And it feels exactly like that.  Especially when I read about a mother selling her child to a rapist/killer and other horror stories day after day only to then find out such a special and good hearted person has been removed from this world.  Why?

I don’t get it.

I am rambling.  I can’t help it.  When the people you love hurt, you hurt.  When people you know who work hard are awarded, you applaud.  When a stranger sells her innocent 5 year old dauther to a killer rapist, you… you… what do you do? 

Fuck. What do you do?

When I first read about that poor little girl, I just cried.  And then I hoped.  I hoped that there really are angels out there.  I hoped there were angels that swept down and wrapped that sweet girl up in their wings and took away any pain, hurt, sadness she felt forever.  I didn’t know her at all and yet I was so upset over this child’s needless death.  And now, Matthew.

How do you account for such an inbalance, such randomness in life?

Sam, I am happy for you.  I hope you can make the world a better place with the money you won.

Matthew.

All I can say is the world is one degree off its axis right now for losing you. 

And I hope even more so that there really are angels out there.  Because if there are, then I know you are one of them now, still helping and protecting and doing good.

Only one more person stands between him and a million bucks.  Tomorrow is the last show when we will find out. For the past week, we’ve been rushing home and watching the videos on YouTube to see if he was still in the top seat.  One more day to go (in fact, I think I might just find a way to watch it at work tomorrow).

Fingers crossed.

Go Singing Sam!!  We’re rooting for you!

I wrote the below post back in September but never hit that PUBLISH button.  It was a personal blog entry I just needed to write. Several weeks later I went to that motivational seminar and felt a new inspiration to put “out there” the stories and thoughts I have been working on for several years. 

The new section is something I need to do.  I need to put this part of me out there in order to feel that I am trying at the very least. I am trying to be the person I want and need to be after all these years.

Below is the post that sat dormant for almost two month, but now I am going to release it because it really does express what has led me to this point.  It expresses what I want to do, hope to do and need to do with the new section.

And my life, that is.

But I am also releasing it as challenge to all of you. A challenge to post one of YOUR unpublished entries.  You know what I mean. One of those entries you wrote but never let go of, never hit that PUBLISH button.

Because I know you have them! I just know I am not alone…

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(the following post was originally written on September 19, 2009 and was titled “The Forgotten Niche”):

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The Forgotten Niche:

I bought my first philosophy book when I was 13.  I bought it for a quarter at this local thrit shop.  It was a college text book from 1968. I remember reading it off and on that year, finding myself completely enthralled. A new world opened up for me with that book.

Then later, years later in college, one of my philosophy professors stopped me in the halls.  He told me he was teaching a Philosophy of Religion course that semester and noticed I hadn’t signed up for it.  He wanted to know why.  I told him I couldn’t take his course because I had already taken that course at the community college before I transferred to UNM.  So we went to his office, went over the curriculum of his course and compared it to the curriculum of my past course, then made some changes.  He changed two of the books, added another book to the list and then petitioned the dean to let me take his course as a 300 level class.  I got to take the class again for full credit!  Later, I asked him why he did that.  “Because you belonged in that class,” he told me.

The next year I took my first Logic class. I fell in love. Logic and me went hand in hand.  The professor was a visting professor from the University of Chicago and everyone revered him, including me. That summer I ran into his assistant in our local cafe.  That’s when I learned that our professor went nuts when he found out I got a 100 on his final.  He told this assistant that “no one, no one gets a 100 on his finals”.  He insisted on looking over my final himself to find a flaw. In the end, he couldn’t find anything wrong with it even though he threw in a theorem that most of his grad students didn’t understand.  I got a perfect score. 

Finally, at my graduation, one of the professors stood up and announced that I was the only student in his class that received an “A”.  In fact, I was the only student who got an “A” in that class for the past three years he taught it, even at a graduate level.  He even said he looked forward to seeing what else I would do in the years to come.

So why am I telling you all this?  To impress you about my past accomplishments at some mediocre university at best?

Hardly.

I’m telling you in hopes that you might understand what it’s like. How it’s a beautiful thing when you finally find your niche in life, especially if you are like me and spent the first half of your life as a lost misfit.  When you finally realize and know what your are really good at, what you were made to do and what stirs your soul and propels you to want to make a difference, understand, improve and grow.

Maybe you might understand what it is like during these times, when fall arrives and that feeling of going back to school creeps into your skin, even twenty years after the fact. Or hell, maybe you even find yourself in the same place sometimes. Sitting alone, late at night during these first autumn nights wondering, “What the fuck am I doing with my life?”

Every moment was wrought with OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod, how do I care for this child!?

Finally, I was able to relax and have some confidence in my skills as a first time mother.  And when I say I was able to relax, what I really mean is that for all of three seconds, I had a moment of peace. Because it only took three seconds of peace before the flood gates opened and let loose the real anxiety:

Oh. My. God. I. Have. A. Child.

It was one of the most profound moments of my life.  And for every element of anxiety and panic that suddenly overwhelmed me, there was an equal if not greater element of elation and joy.  As I laid there with this new baby in arms, I asked myself what it truly meant that this child was mine. My daughter.  My daughter, as opposed to her daughter or her daughter or that woman’s daughter. What can I give her that will make it worthwhile to be my daughter?

That was over four year ago and lately that scene has been going through my head ever since I went to that eWomansNetwork event and heard that motivational speaker. Because four years ago, I made a promise to my daughter, a promised that I would do everything I could to pass on my love of philosophy to her and that would be the “something extra” (besides my endless mommy love) which I could give her. Something she would get from being my daughter and not her daughter or her daughter or that other woman’s daughter.

Four years ago.

So yeah, if they were handing out report cards right about now? Um, I’d be getting a big fat “F” for Failure to fulfill.  And it’s not because I haven’t done anything either.  I have done a lot, especially over the past two years, but I’ve been too chicken shit to do anything about all the stuff I’ve done.

I keep playing that scene in my head and keep hearing what Ms. Brody said in her speech about needing to take risks in order to grow. So, I am going to take a huge risk.  I am going to grow.  This blog is going to grow.  I am going to fulfill my promise to my daughter and put myself out there, on the line.

I’m adding another section to Momish that will be about philosophy for kids and it will include some of the stories I have written for Piper over the past two years.  Stories that I never sent to any publisher, never read to her, never showed others, all because I was too scared of rejection and criticism.  But I am motivated now and ready to take a risk.  This is why I haven’t been around lately because I have been working on the new section and it’s been keeping me real busy.

Stay tuned.

I’m excited about it. And nervous. But excited more than nervous.

I think.

{and now it will be too late to chicken out, because I am about to hit publish…eeeeekkkkkkkk}

After a minute of searching, I told her the black one would have to do because we were running late.

She pouted a little and then said, “You get what you get and you don’t get upset.”

My husband and I exchanged a look over her head.

“Who taught you that, Piper?”

“My teacher.”

“What do you think it means?”

“It means if you get a sticker and it’s not the one you wanted, you can’t complain.”

“Oh, I see. In other words, you should be happy with things you get because it’s nice that you’re getting anything at all, right?”

“YEAH!”

I look over at my husband who just shrugged.  “C’mon!” I said, “You gotta love this school! They’re giving them cute rhyming ways of coping. When we were kids, all we got was threatened.”

Would you rather a poke in the eye?

Talk about being nickeled and dimed to death.  It seemed like every time I hit the ATM, an envelope was in her school folder requiring twenty dollars here, ten dollars here, forty dollars there.  Lunch money, after care money, trip money, raffle money, pie sale, charity drive… 

Friday was the last straw.  I went to the ATM for the second time this week and sure enough, the minute I came home with my 60 bucks, there was another stupid envelope asking for $40.  Talk about losing it.  It was reminiscent of Diane Keaton’s neurotic freak out in Baby Boom.

“That’s just it! I’ve been nickeled and dimed by this school for the last time! I just went to the ATM and now I’m out of cash. AGAIN. I… I… I… I can’t take this. Another. Forty. Dollars! UGHHHHHHHHHH!

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After the dust settled, my husband made the wise suggestion that I take a larger chunk of money out next time and then just keep it stashed away in the cabinet (like my mom used to do in 1977).  Wow. Why didn’t I think of that? (Probably because I am completely unorganized?). So I made a mental note to withdraw more cash the next time.

Well, that night I had one of those anxiety dreams.  You know the ones I am talking about?  Where nothing goes right and it is just stress, stress, stress at every bizarre corner?  Yeah, one of those.  In this dream I went to my usual bank but it was closed, so I went to a different ATM and it was out of order, then another ATM but it stole my card because I kept punching my PIN in wrong.  Frantically, I took a bus across town to the last bank that was open and got there just in time. Total anxiety.

Then I went through this entire charade of explaining to them how the ATM stole my debit card and, of course I couldn’t find my ID… total anxiety bullshit. Finally they agreed to give me my money.

I told the teller, “Please, Please. Give me enough cash to get me through at least one month without going to the ATM over and over again.”  And she did.  She stuffed $300 in one of those long white envelopes and I left.  But when I finally get back home and open the envelope, I discovered the teller had given me three $20 bills and a $240 bill (apparently in my la la land of anxiety nightmare, they actually make bills of $240 denomination). 

“Oh no! What is this huge bill? I’ll have to break this huge bill. I only have $60 to use before I have to break this huge bill! I…I…I… can’t do it again. I… I… can’t… Another. Trip. To. The. Bank! UGHHHHHHHHHH!”

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Not deterred by my nightmare, yesterday I went to the ATM and withdrew $120 - my new petty cash stash (I checked and they were all twenty dollar bills).  So today, as I am getting ready for church, I pull out my weekly church envelopes.  Since it is a new month, the envelopes for today, Nov. 1, are right on the top.  I take the first two and notice yet another Nov. 1 envelope and then another one and another one.

I say to my husband, “Oh no! They misprinted the envelopes!  All the envelopes for this month say Nov. 1 on them.” But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  There was no misprint.  Turns out there are SEVEN envelopes for this week.  He tells me that is impossible.  So, I started reading them off to him:

“This one is for My Weekly offering, this one is My All Soul’s Day offering, this one is My Renovation offering, My Parish Improvement offering, My Seminary offering, My Beloved Departed offering. I…I…I… can’t. I can’t…I can’t possibly fill them all… Another. Seven. Envelopes! UGHHHHHHHHH”

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Just picture your beloved Momish in this clip instead of Diane Keaton and you’ve just witnessed my petty cash breakdown!

Hope it was magical!

The holidays will be upon us soon, bringing with them a whirlwind of shopping lists, cooking, entertaining, social gathering.  Then you will blink and it will be 2010.  Just like last year, when it became 2009 and you looked around in shock wondering where the hell did another year go?

WELL WAKE UP!  THIS IS YOUR LIFE!

Sorry.  I apologize for that outburst.

That’s actually not the real me talking.  You see I just went to this seminar where I heard Marjorie Brody give a motivational and empowering speech and I guess I got a little carried away.  Let me try that again:

WAKE UP! THIS IS YOUR LIFE!

Sorry. I guess she got to me more than I want to admit.  She got to me so much, that I want to pass along some of the ways I have been inspired.  But keep in mind that I’m learning here, so if my motivational skills are rough around the edges, I do apologize. 

So, let’s see.  First you need to WAKE UP!  And then you need to LIVE YOUR LIFE!

Are you with me so far?  Good.  Wow, I really can do this.

Oh, by the way.  WAKE UP! LIVE YOUR LIFE! is actually my own little pep talk.  It really has no bearing whatsoever on what Ms. Brody spoke about.  In fact, it doesn’t even come close to the motivational speech she gave, which was about self promition.

It is however, the important message I took away from it all.  

The seminar was put together by eWomenNetwork.  My friend asked me if I wanted to go because the topic (Market your Magic) seemed interesting.  Once we were there however, we quickly realized that we had made a huge mistake.

The luncheon was basically an “accelerated networking” luncheon, sort of like speed dating only for business women.  A place where all these amazing woman gather to promote or grow their businesses.  I am telling you, it is really something to be a in a room full of such bright, ambitious, successful and super nice women.  (I’ve never been to BlogHer, so this was sorta new to me)

But like I said, we quickly realized that we were probably in the wrong place.  We really had nothing to offer.  We weren’t promoting our company, we had no marketable products or skills that we wanted to sell.  We were just there to hear the speaker.  So as you can imagine, there were some awkward moments to say the least.  Basically, every time a woman said, “Hello, my name is…” We had to explain that we didn’t have a business or product to sell.  Yet, somehow we muddled through until then they made us go around the table and inform everyone what we had came to this luncheon to offer and what we were also hoping to find. 

Um. Gee. Well. Er. Let me see… 

So I chucked caution to the wind and pushed all prudence aside.  Instead of telling them about my job or my company, I told these woman that I was a blogger.  I had a blog to offer.  And what I was looking for was more involvement with my community so I would have more interesting and meaningful things to write about, more helpful services to promote and recommend, etc.

WOW!

First off, let me tell you how awesome that felt to talk about something which has nothing to do with my job, my employer, my spouse, my child, my family or my kitchen sink. Second, let me tell you just how many of these woman were actually interested and wanted to know more about setting up a blog, writing for a blog, just breaking into the social networking world in general. 

Turns out I did have something to offer!  Turns out I got A LOT of what I was looking for!

WOW!

Honestly, I had do idea just how much I needed to put the roles I play aside and tap into my core self.  Venture out there and tread new ground, talking about blogging and social networking as a business tool, talent and skill that I have knowledge about. Mind you, I am not going to quit my job and start a new business.  But I did find that the whole experience inspired me to kick start myself.  Ms. Brody talked about three things which hit me hard:

• Increase your knowledge
• Learn new skills
• Take risks

Three things needed to grow your own business and market yourself.  But also three things needed to grow your own person and take care of yourself. 

The night before this seminar, I went to the Ballet.  It was wonderful! And I came back home after two hours of pure blissful entertainment so happy.  Ballet is my thing, you see.  Not my daughter’s, not my husband’s, not my employer’s. It’s 100% my thing and I reveled in it for two hours.  But in the end, it was only two hours and then it was over.  A great escape, sure.  But I don’t want to escape my life, I want to expand it.

• I need to increase my knowledge.  What ignites me? What do I want to learn more about? - and not something that has to do with identifying mold, understanding javascript or managing a family budget.
• I need to acquire more skills.  What interest me?  What do I want to learn how to do?  - and not perfecting my parenting skills or learning a new coding language or mastering a new recipe.
• I need to take risks!  What have I been holding back from?  What would put me out there in unfamiliar, yet exciting territory? - and not changing jobs in IT or changing elementary schools or changing my 401 investment.

In other words, let’s take care of me for a change. 

Going to that seminar was great.  The best money I have spent in a long time.  It was like paying a group of smart women therapists to talk about me.  Recognize me.  Value me.  But not me as a mother, wife, employee, sister, daughter, worker, maid, cook, caretaker.  Just me. 

Indeed, it motivated me. It made me WAKE UP! It made me want to LIVE MY LIFE!

I already know one of the risks I plan to take (maybe I will have the guts to tell you about it later).  But for the skills and knowledge, I am still searching.  When was the last time you were inspired or motivated?  What came out of that? 

Like yesterday when I came home from work.  In her normal fashion, Piper immediately started in on me, begging me for a treat. 

“Mommy! Can I have a treat! I was good at school today!”

“Give me a minute,” I told her, as I started to unload my computer bag, my hand bag, my coat, my coffee mug.

This is the same routine every day.  One would think she was stuck in the house all alone, with no other adults or humans around because the minute she sees me, all her needs and wants must be fulfilled at that exact instant.  And my response to her every day is to wait, to give me a minute.

Yesterday was no exception, I gave her the usual response, “Give me a minute.”  But apparently, this was not EXACTLY the right response she expected.  Because she looked at me all puzzled and said, “Mommy, don’t you mean I have to wait a minute because you just walked through the door?”

That stopped me in my tracks.  I suppose I do always say “Give me a minute. I just walked through the door!”.  I just never realized before how often I say that.  Or even why, for that matter.  Just one of those typical sayings that come out of my mouth that Piper of course expected to hear, and was thrown off balance for a second when I left that part out.

So later that night, I called my mother to tell her this latest adorable cutism from Piper.

{Bring, bring…}

“Hello?”

“Mom,” I said, “wait’ll you hear what your granddaughter said to me today…”

But then she cut me off before I could say anymore-

“Hold on, give me a minute. I just walked through the door.”

Oh my God, that old cliche is true. I sound just like my mother.

Shortly after, I overheard my oldest daughter warning Piper not to sit in the stroller or it would break.  To which Piper responded, “That’s OK.  Mommy will just buy me a new one. In blue.”

Ugh!

That was when I realized she was indeed now three years old and in danger of becoming a spoiled brat if I continued to buy things on a whim.  Before, she was too young to notice or care whenever I suddenly showed up with a new toy or a new outfit.  But then somehow she grew up while I wasn’t looking.

When I heard her say that to her sister, I didn’t correct her or do anything.  Instead, I vowed not to buy things for her unless there was an occasion, like her birthday or the first day of school, etc.  And for the most part, I have kept to this vow.  At times I have bought her DVD’s or books, but I figure she could never know to ask for them. 

So last spring, when her play Tinkerbell phone broke, I more or less shrugged my shoulder and said, “Oh well.”  Not wanting to throw it out in front of her, I told her we would try to get it fixed.  I stashed the broken phone away in a drawer and I totally forgot about it.

Piper didn’t.

Yesterday, she asked me when could she could start her Christmas list (she must have noticed all the holiday stuff cropping up in stores).  I said we could start it right now and got out a piece of paper. 

“What do you want to ask Santa for this year?”

“A new Tinkerbell phone!”  Then she ran to the drawer, rooted around until she found the old one.  “This is all I want! A new one of these, or maybe Santa can fix this one for me!”

Ugh!

Now don’t I just feel like a total and complete shit!

All this time, this poor kid has been aching for this stupid phone that costs all of five dollars if that. As if five dollars would have killed me. Honestly, I was completely heart broken.  I could have easily picked up a new one ages ago.  She use to play with that thing all the time, so I should have realized it was a treasured favorite toy and worth replacing.  It’s not as it she actually broke either, the batteries just died. 

Five freaking dollars.

I tell you, I don’t know what the hell I am doing sometimes.  I thought I was avoiding turning her into a spoiled brat, but now I just feel like some big mean bully that fucked over a helpless four year old for nothing. 

Ugh!