shiny

this is from past....

Scrub the tub using every latest cleaner advertised on tv. The sparkle is almost just as advertised. Clean the shower glass doors, clean all of the tiles.

One can go through their whole house and remove every imperfection. It would probably cost thousands of dollars, but I bet eventually the most perfectly clean and beautifully decorated house could be made of any home.

Does that perfection lead to happiness? If their is disorder on an emotional and personal level, can making the outside look perfect do any good? I say no. I grew up in that atmosphere, and maybe that is why I have difficulty in having such a pretty perfect home. I always had the better homes and gardens home growing up, but it was all fake to me, because although perfect, it was an illusion as to what really transpired in our home. I was taught to smile even when your world was falling a part. I was always taught that what others thought of you was more important than what was going on with you.

I came home today to find my husband scrubbing and cleaning with a frantic pace our bathroom. I could tell something was wrong, but I was told nothing was wrong. Yes, I know he has an issue with how I am ok with clutter and he is not. It is definitely a difference of ours. I am pretty much a slob (I think a lot due to what I mentioned earlier, and he is pretty anal...quite a combination). We usually work through it and deal with it. But today, I knew when I came home that it was more than just his frustrations with my half azzed attitude towards cleaning. You just sense things if you know someone.

I let him proceed. I had had a long Friday, and honestly as guilty as he was making me feel (or I should say I felt due to his cleaning) I had just worked a long work day, and I didn't feel like jumping in. I wanted to relax. It was a Friday after a long week. (Oh I must make it known that currently he is at home because he is subject to the whole economy crud and doesn't have a job - no fault of his own).

I put dinner in, sat and relaxed with the kids, figuring he would eventually slow down. I kept asking if something was wrong, and was always told no. I started feeling guilty because he was slaving and I was relaxing. I got torn on my feelings there, because part of me was angry that I was feeling guilty on a Friday at the end of day, and part of me felt guilty, because I thought he was mad at me for not doing enough.

He didn't slow down. He kept up. When he gets determined, he is single minded... much like myself.

He finally paused, and I asked him what was wrong. He again affirmed that nothing was wrong, but I knew something was. It frustrates me that he will not open up to me...that he keeps himself so protected from the one person that loves him more than anything. It may be due to actions I took the night before...I don't know...It may be due to something otherwise...I don't know. He won't tell me, so I don't know. That is true frustration, because without communication I can't even begin to know where to start. We both have our imperfections, and I am certain they contribute to all of this, but our lack of communication just makes it worse.

I told him I love him, not just saying it, but that I really love him, and wish he would open up to me. It really did nothing and that frustrates me more. When he told me nothing was wrong, and I pushed it saying I knew his facial expressions and all and knew something more was going on, he again insisted nothing was wrong. I know otherwise. So I told him now something was, because I knew something was wrong and he wasn't sharing and that in itself was an issue.

My bathroom is sparkly shiny...perfection! Better Homes and Gardens could take pics and love it.

Everything else? Not so.

the secret

Frustration and loser is all I felt. Most kids leave their middle school dance feeling excited and thrilled, all I felt was a further confirmation that I was a flower so melted into the wall that I didn't even exist.

I grew up moving, my father was in the military, so we moved every few years, I was used to that. Sometimes, I moved and was almost a celebrity new girl, other times I was the snubbed new freak. This time, I moved, not because of a military move, but because of a divorce. I was nothing and invisible. I often wondered if people even knew my name.

I moved into a small Idaho town where everyone knew each other since birth, sometimes I wondered if they somehow knew each other before in some psychic connection, since it was such an elitest club. Not only was I a new kid around, I experienced my first taste of being a minority. Idaho is Mormon land, and I wasn't Mormon. Some kids welcomed me when I came, but it was the outcast group.

I had a huge crush on a boy at school, and would do all I could to be around him like every girl with a crush does, but I was a no one, so that meant nothing. It was further clarified at that dance.

I arrived home to the empty home I was used to. Since the divorce, my mom was always at school working on her degree, and my brother was always at work or doing something which I was too ignorant to be included on. I sat in the living room all by myself, and swore that I would never be the person I was again. I swore that I would never be someone no one knew again.

Looking back, sometimes what you wish for as a kid isn't the best thing.

My best friend had made plans. She too wanted to escape the mediocrity we had somehow been locked into. What is the best way for teenagers to escape that scenario? Do what the movies do, and have a party which makes you popular. Her parents were away, and she knew many more people than I did, she was actually a known flower unlike invisible me. She invited many people over to her house for a graduating 9th grade party.

I had never even had alcohol prior to that party beyond having special hot chocolates as a kid. My dad used to let us have hot chocolate with creme de menthe on special occasions. Everyone at the party acted like they were used to drinking. I didn't want to act like I wasn't used to it, so I drank. It tasted awful. I kept pouring the beer into any plant I could find so no one would know any better. As the night went on, the taste didn't seem so bad, but everything seemed so fuzzy.

Finally at one point, I went into a bedroom to lay down, my world seemed upside down and I just wanted it to stop spinning. Two guys came in. Mind you, these are two guys that I always thought the world of in my invisible world, they were up many notches. The guys that all dork girls have crushes on. My world was still spinning, and it all felt like a dream, and since they were there, it still felt like a dream. Joe, we will call him Joe, began stroking my face, and reached down to kiss me. In a dreamlike state, I kissed him back...was this real? I hadn't ever kissed a boy in my life! It was exciting. Was this a dream? Did I just have my first kiss with one of the popular guys?They kept talking and laughing suddenly both feeling me and reaching their hands under my clothes. Suddenly my excitement changed to fear and confusion. I kept my eyes closed telling myself this was all a dream. I couldn't even speak I didn't know what to do. I felt fingers touching me where no one had ever touched. I had never had a first kiss until that night and suddenly I was being probed, and terrified to say anything. I was frozen. I didn't want to scream out, because I didn't want to seem like a freak if it was normal. I couldn't think, I couldn't accept anything. I kept hearing the words "Just relax." My world was spinning. It was all a blur. Fingers, touches, pain... I just kept telling myself it was all a dream...this was all a dream. If I had closed my eyes any tighter they would have melted together. I did nothing.I did nothing.......

My life was never the same again. I guess I got what I wished for.

exercise 2 - daughter's version

"I hate my life. I'm a spoon. All I do is get food on me and then go into a human's mouth. It's disgusting!"

Then they just give me a bath in the dishwasher. I hate the dishwasher.

Suddenly the diswasher responded, "Well then, I hate you too."

Spoon was startled, "Hey you weren't on, how could you hear me?"

"I may not be on, but I can still hear." dishwasher responded

"You were eavesdropping weren't you?" spoon accused

"Was not"

"Were so"

"Whatever" dishwasher said

"Eavesdropper...Eavesdropper" spoon taunted

"Stop It!" dishwasher commanded

"Why don't you make me?" spoon challenged.

"All you do is just give me bath so I go into a dark room" spoon said.

"I would rather go into a dark room than sit here all day washing you guys. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!"

Spoon responded, "But in that room all you do is sit in one spot nothing else."

Dishwasher said" But that is all I do. I have no choice. Whatever, I am done talking with you."

"Bye"
"Bye"

Exercise 2

Exercise 2: write from the point of view of a spoon in a dishwasher

The pleasure is over. Spoony realized as he was suddenly dropped into the penalty box.

"Get your coffee, cream self away from me" snapped the lasagna encrusted fork, as if Spoony had any control of where he was placed.

In the rankings of the silverware community, forks held supremacy, and always felt disdain for any "lower class" silverware being in their proximity. Forks were worshiped, because they were always praised by the users. It was a revered position, for it was a hazardous position. Although many disappeared from the community, forks were the most likely to vanish. They would leave from the commune happy only to disappear to the mystery land. Knives were also part of the silverware upperclass. They had their own rankings. Steak knives held superiority. They weren't used by the users often, but when they were, they didn't have to go through the splasher like everyone else. They received a spa treatment which set them apart. The users pampered them. The butter knives and the simple knives were all comrades with the spoons, they held the same community rankings, being picked upon by the forks and the steak knives.

Spoony scanned the splash box. He realized he was lucky, he reached the splash box when reservations were full. The upper level was filled with glasses and his lower level was filled with plates and pots. He knew the wait for the splash wouldn't be long since the splash was full.

The great door opened three more times and lasagna fork had to be disturbed by more spoons and one of the great commander wiskers, so he kept his attituded to himself. No one ever spoke evil around one of the utility wares. They held supremacy to all, because they didn't disappear. They had been around from the beginning of the silverware commune, and were the wisest of all. Wisker was used only on occasion, but he never disappeared and wasn't kept in the commune but had his own personal hook. That alone set him apart from everyone else.

Then the crackling sound happened. It was always the sign the splash was about to start.

Whisker tried to calm Spoony, " Son, I know you have only been through this a few times, but instead of fearing it each time, reach out to it. Then you will enjoy it."

Spoony questioned the thought. Every time the splash happened, he closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else. He was always happy afterwards, being shiny and bright, but the process scared him.

The box began to rumble. The spoons and crusted fork all quivered. Spoony looked at Wisker and saw him smile and look forward.

The splasher started. Water sprouted everywhere. Spoony again looked at Wisker and saw him smile and appreciate every splash. Crusted shook in fear and the other spoons and knives leaned against him. Spoony tried to stand strong and decided to feel the splash this time. He stood fearless.

The splash hit him in waves, each one as strong as the other. Some felt harsh, but also wonderful, because with each splash he realized he was shed of the cream he was covered in. The bubbles were tender and tasted odd, they even tickled.

Eventually the splash stopped. Crusted and the knives opened their eyes and relaxed. Spoony sat in the box feeling rejuvenated. Wisker winked at him.

Cruster again began to complain, "OK splasher is over how long will they make me sit here with you low lives? I need to be put back with my fork brothers where I belong rather than with YOU"

Spoony smiled, realizing that Cruster would never really understand. Spoony realized regardless of Cruster's beliefs, he was no better than Spoony.

He looked to Whisker.

Whisker again winked acknowledging the shared knowledge.

san diego

Most people consider the moment they lost their innocence the day they lost their virginity, the moment they witnessed a horrific crime, or the moment they learned deception. I consider my moment of losing my innocence to be when I saw my parents as people, and was told to keep deep dark secrets (a pattern I was later told to continue). I consider it to be the moment when I experienced something I could not understand and was told I had to pretend it never happened.

I do not believe that the walls of our home had ever felt the tension within it's walls like it had that day.

Our family was, as far as I knew, the family of a typical Military officer. My brother was in sports, and I was in many activities, and the whole family supported everyone at those events. My parents had dinner parties, we children had birthday parties, and we always went on family vacations. I was in ballet and girl scouts, did home plays in the neighborhood, and even had lemonade stands on occasion.

My parents had called my brother and I to the dining room table for a discussion. Such a moment was foreign to my brother and I. Our family was not one to have family meetings, in fact, even dinners with our whole family at the dining room table was an unfamiliar phenomenon. Typically my brother, mother and I all ate dinner before my father ever returned home due to his demanding work hours. This was a definite exception.

It was an awkward moment. Suddenly our dining room felt more like a museum than a place of family comfort. I sat in a chair swinging my legs underneath the chair, uncertain of how I should even behave in such a moment. I had been having a good day hiding in my room playing records of musicals of the past, fantasizing the character lives and living in my own world of imagination. But now, I felt something was different. Being a Navy brat, I had the feeling that I was about to be told of a new move, since they were pretty consistent in my life.

I looked to my mother, that was when I noticed the redness in her eyes. She had been crying. I looked to my father. He had a stern face, but not like when he was mad and his bottom lip came out, this was one of seriousness but mixed with a dread and sadness. My brother kicked me in annoyance. We could barely sit this close without one of us antagonizing the other. I glared back at him showing my disdain.

My mother snapped her fingers to capture our attention. She then spoke softly in the same soft tone she did when she wanted us to hear her after we just received a punishment and wanted us to understand why, "We have something to share with you."

Again, unable to grasp the complexity or seriousness of the situation, my brother and I exchanged kicks under the table with me getting a prime dig to his calf. I saw him wince and felt a moment of glory. Our under the table wrestling was met with silence. We sensed the tension, and neither really wished to admit the dread we suddenly felt.

My father's lip started to come out, and we both composed ourselves fearing words of reprimand.

"Your father and I are getting a divorce." Mother said in hesitant words.

My feet suddenly felt like dead weights instead of missiles aimed for my brother's legs. Without even looking to him, I could sense he had the same sudden comprehension of our new reality.

The words just flowed out of both of my parent's mouth at that point. I couldn't even tell you who said what or what was said. Once that initial word divorce came out, I was suddenly a student in Charlie Brown's class hearing his teacher saying a mix of "mwha mwha mwha mwha mwha...pack your things...mwha mwha mwha...stay with Gonnie..." The words seemed to go on, but I didn't absorb anything as I sat their numb. I never heard my parent's fight. We were a happy family. This was what happened to other family's not ours. They were talking, but I didn't hear them. I only heard my own thoughts of confusion and disbelief.

I was suddenly jolted by another kick from my brother. For once it wasn't out of annoyance but to jolt me to reality. My mother was looking at me and repeating her last statement. "Now go pack up a few things."

My brother and I slowly headed down the hallway to our bedrooms, not even exchanging the nasty looks we typically did. The wind had been taken out of each of us, and neither dared to look at the other to show we didn't know how to handle the news we had been given. My brother and I never really got along, but at this moment I kept looking at his back hoping he would turn around and give me a look of encouragement. He kept walking forward.

I went into my room and started putting a few outfits and a few toys into my bag. I looked around my room and didn't know how I could pack up my life in the one suitcase I was given. How could I possibly choose what belongings meant most when they all were a part of me. I had my doll collection, and horse collection perfectly poised on the shelf each placed in such a manner which none showed greater glory over the other. I always wanted to make sure no toy felt less loved than another. I even rotated the stuffed animals I slept with at night. Suddenly I had to pick. In a moment I had to fit my life within a suitcase.

My mother came into my room and assured me that the rest of my belongings would join me eventually that I would have all of my belongings again. As comforting as her voice was, that didn't comfort me. It wouldn't be here. It wouldn't be in my room with daisy's on the wall, with the pretend stage that I performed in front of. I looked at her and asked her why.

She returned my look with a teary eyed face, and told me people just change.

I wanted to tell my friends I was leaving, but was told I couldn't. I was leaving...and just leaving. I couldn't tell my friends, couldn't say goodbye to anyone. I was not permitted to call any friend or exchange addresses like I had always done when we moved before. I was denied the friendship departing hug I always shared when I had moved anytime before. I felt like I was suddenly one of those kids in a movie that has to be in the witness protection program, but without anyone in my family committing a crime other than divorce.

My brother and I packed up and my mother gathered her bags and we headed to the airport.

Usually the airport is an exciting place for a child. However I felt none of that excitement. The constant flow of people around me felt like a blur. A whole world of people traveling from one place to another escaped me completely. My brother who typically tormented me in one way or another ignored me so much he too was a blur.

We found three seats we could sit in. They were like all airport chairs at the time, hard, white, and reminding me of cut out eggs. We sat there. All silent. I began to dream that I was one of the characters in the books I read. This made more sense with one of my book characters than me. Playing in my room I always pretended my bed was my stage and would pretend like I was other people, but this time I wasn't on my bed, and a simple knock on my door wouldn't return me to my reality.

Suddenly my father appeared. He got on his knees before my mother begging her to return home with him.I had never seen my father cry before this moment. Tears were falling down his cheeks. I saw a vulnerable dad which I had never seen. My dad was a strong military officer and always showed that face. My mother sat there turning her head aside several times stiffining up with determination. I saw an emotional exchange I had never seen before between my parents, and one I knew should be theirs and theirs alone. I moved away a feeling invasive and feeling I was witnessing something I shouldn't. My dad cried, and then my mom cried. I saw a collection of emotions...anger, sadness, love, regret, and hopefulness.

My parents then called my brother and I together. They embraced us and told us we were going back home. They told us all was okay again.

We were then told we were not to tell anyone this happened. This did not happen. I looked at them with a face of question, and my mother confirmed that we were not to ever tell anyone this happened.

I was happy with the resolution, so I agreed.

We went home and pretended like it never happened.

Forget the first most traumatic event in your life and never tell a soul and never discuss it again. It never happened. I think that was the day innocence truly left my life. I was 10, and it never happened.