Month: March 2007

Yesterday I answered my door and was surprised to see a friend’s 17 year-old son standing there. He was desperately seeking a ride to downtown Provo (20 minutes away) to attend a class that he couldn’t miss. I could tell he was upset. He thanked me profusely when I told him I could give him the ride. So I collected Gleek and Patches and we all piled into the car.

This young man has a good heart, but he looks kind of scary. Patches was clearly unnerved at this strange person. Patches looked at me with wide eyes “Mom, he has earrings!” I elected to merely agree that he did indeed have earrings without adding any kind of sermon. Honestly, I hope my boys never pierce their ears, but I felt it was more important to teach about acceptance than about earrings. There will be other times to talk about what I feel is appropriate clothing. Gleek also commented on the earrings and we had a little discussion about male video game characters and movie characters that we’ve seen with earrings.

On the drive down I got to talk with this young man. I’ve known him since he was Link’s age. I always say hello when I see him, but we don’t actually talk much. I learned that the reason he was so desperate to get to class was that if he missed it, the police would put out a warrant for his arrest. He was caught in possession of some illegal substance and attending this class was a way to stay out of jail. He never did tell me what the substance was. He assured me that it wasn’t his, his friend must have slipped it into his bag when he wasn’t looking. He talked about how he’s thinking of pursuing a career as a bounty hunter. He was thinking about doing something in science, but had to change because he got kicked out of high school. We talked a little about bounty hunting and science and GEDs and community college.

As I listened to this young man, I was fascinated by what I could read between the lines of what he was actually saying. I could hear his longing for a science career and his regret that he’d been kicked out of school. I could hear his loyalty to his friends even though they’d landed him in trouble. I could hear his frustration with “The Man.” I could feel his pain that the system so often lashed out at him because he was on the wrong side of it. Most of all I could feel his desire to be a force for good in the world if only he could figure out how to go about it without allying himself with the system he perceives as an enemy.

I realized that for some reason he was offering me an open window into his head and heart. Perhaps it was because he was so grateful for the ride. Perhaps it was because of memories of associations that we had when he was younger. Whatever the reason, I had a window of opportunity. I had a chance to offer this young man information that would help him become who he wants to be. I knew I could not lecture or be heavy handed. If I did, then I’d be shoved out and the window slammed shut. I know that his mother has spent many years shouting and pounding on that closed window. I realized that, of all the messages I could possibly try to give this young man, the very best one would be to affirm his value as a person and make clear that not all adults are enemies. So I listened. I offered no advice, just occasional small pieces of information. I learned much more about bounty hunting than I’d known before.

When we arrived he again thanked me for being willing to drive him. I told him that’s what friends are for and I wished him well. I also told him that he’s a smart kid and he’ll be able to accomplish whatever he wants to do, he just has to decide what that is. I think he needed to hear it, because he thanked me for saying it. Then he sauntered his way into the building. I bet he walked in cool and calm, pretending that he’s only there because it was convenient to come. The teacher in that class may only see a hoodlum in the making. The teacher is on the outside, forever shut out by his association with The Man. I got a rare and wonderful glance at the paladin within, the soul that wants to protect the weak and destroy evil.

I share this story because there are many young men like the one who knocked at my door yesterday. They are hurt and confused. They push away those who could help them. They stand at a crossroads trying to decide which path to take. We all have a responsibility to be there at the crossroads to help those who are lost. I truly hope that my young friend finds away to achieve his dreams rather than just accepting what is left to him.

This Saturday I’ve got a photo shoot to get portraits of me for author’s bios and for my website. I’m really looking forward to going. It gives me an excuse to buy cut flowers and dress pretty on the same day. Then I get to exercise my creativity trying to help create photos of me that I’ll like. I really hope it works. I think the last time I really liked a picture taken of me was my high school graduation photos. I’ve had acceptable photos since then, but nothing I really liked. This is probably because I’ve always gone to places like Sears or Pennys. I’ll sit there trying to explain that I want to be creative and they stare at me blankly then take fairly standard boring shots. This time I’ve bartered a shoot with a real photographer. I’m trading a blog mention on Howard’s site for the pictures. I love being able to barter. Everyone wins.

I’m also excited to unveil my website. It is all done except for the bio picture. It doesn’t have very many stories or essays on it yet, but there are enough to get started. I’ll be using the site as an online portfolio. It will be a place to point people when they want to see what I do. There will also be stories and essays that I’ll withhold because they are destined for print. Now I just have to print up business cards and I’ll be set for upcoming convention appearances. Of course I don’t really have a true convention appearance until next year at Ad Astra, but I’ll be stopping by both Emerald City Comic Con at the end of this month and Conduit in May. And when I do stop by, I’ll be able to hand out my cards like a real writing professional.

Today is also the first 60 degree day of the spring. I got outside in the sunshine and began to clear away the detritus in my flower beds. My bulbs are all starting to come up and I have to pull all the dead grass off of them so that they have a chance to thrive. The crocus plants are already beginning to bloom which makes me happy. I also found some hyacinths and daffodils which are getting ready to put on a show. I love flowers. I really want to pay more attention to my yard this year so that I can have more flowers and fewer weeds. This is a familiar spring desire. Usually by July I get tired and busy with other things and so I end up clearing out piles of dead weeds the following spring.

So I’m anticipating pictures, flowers, and my website. Yay!

The city of Orem hosts an annual Storytelling Festival each August. It is packed with professional oral storytellers who mesmerize everyone who attends. This festival is a long running feature of our community. As a result, all the schools in the area hold springtime storytelling competitions. All the kids tell stories to their classes. The best storytellers then tell their stories for the whole school. The best from each school then compete at a district level and the winners get to tell their stories at the Storytelling Festival the following August.

Today is the day that Kiki’s class is telling each other stories. Kiki informed both me and her teacher that she doesn’t want to do it. Her teacher informed her that telling a story is graded and she would get a zero for the assignment if she did not tell one. I told her that if she doesn’t want to tell in front of the school she doesn’t have to, but that she should fulfill her assignment. All weekend I tried to get Kiki to practice telling a story. She dodged it all weekend. This morning before school I sat her down to make her tell me a story. She started, then balked and threw a fit declaring that she doesn’t want to do it and she just wants to get a zero because she never gets picked to go the the school competition anyway.

Kiki is a naturally gifted oral storyteller. My mother is a professional storyteller and Kiki has been absorbing that since before she could talk. At the age of four Kiki could repeat stories complete with gestures and inflections. She could do that after only hearing the story once. Kiki has a head full of these amazing and unusual stories all of which she can tell. Despite her repertoire and natural gift, she has never once made it past the class competition. This is because she has never practiced in advance. I feel guilty over this because during her early grade school years it was my job to keep track and help her remember to practice. Now remembering assignments is her job not mine, but she has already given up. She has decided not to try because it hurts too much to care and not win. And yet on this very same weekend she has been avidly practicing to try out for the part of Beatrice in her class play Much Ado About Nothing.

I am angry. I am angry at myself for not supporting her more fully when she was younger. I am angry at her for refusing to try. I am angry because she has the ability to totally blow all the other kids out of the water at this. She could have a glorious success which would build her self esteem and make her feel good about herself. Instead all she has is her mother insisting that she’s good at storytelling while she consistently loses to kids who have actually practiced. I am angry that my credibility is so undermined. I am angry that she’s been trying to pick fights with me and her siblings all weekend. I am angry that the argument over storytelling made both Kiki and Gleek late for school. I am angry that because I was late dropping Gleek off for school, I was also late taking Link to the dentist. I am angry at the city of Orem for deciding to tear up every major road surrounding my house all at the same time.

Whew.

Breathe.

I have now ranted. It is time for me to do as Gleek does and take all these “mads” that I have identified and just let them go. See there they go flying out into space. Hopefully when I pick Kiki up from school we can make the rest of today better than the morning was.

I am a closet celebrity watcher. I do not buy gossip magazines, but I do read the front pages as I stand in the grocery store check out line. I do not browse celeb websites, but I do click on celebrity stories on CNN. I am fascinated by the psychology of celebrity. I am fascinated that there are people for whom living in front of cameras is a dream come true. I am fascinated when those same people complain about the omnipresence of cameras and paparazzi. I am fascinated that so many of us are so fascinated by celebrities.

One thing that all of the celebrity coverage does provide for me is a close look at some psychologies. I get to see lives gone right and lives gone wrong. I can watch vicariously as Lindsey Lohan realizes that she’s out of control and firmly puts her feet back onto a path which will lead to a successful career. I can watch as Brittany Spears fails to realize that she’s out of control and spirals even further down despite the best efforts of those around her to help. I can watch as the various legal tangles, left in the wake of Anna Nicole Smith’s death, gradually unravel in ways that make no one happy. I can watch as former wild-child Angelina Jolie reaches out to adopt yet another child and give him a chance for a future.

Some celebrities are the antithesis of everything I desire to be. They live large, spend money like water, and make no one’s lives better. Other celebrities I admire greatly. People such as Geena Davis and Angelina Jolie and Julianne Moore for whom the purpose of wealth and celebrity is to make the world a better place.

Celebrity watching is something of a guilty pleasure. I know that every time I click on a link I am contributing to the media frenzy which surrounds these people. This means that every time I read a story about Paris Hilton I am contributing to her self importance. My click is an added incentive for photographers and reporters to chase her more to see what she’ll do. Honestly I don’t mind sending paparazzi to torment Paris Hilton, she seems to thrive on the attention. But other times, like last May for the birth of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s daughter, our interest chases the celebrities across the globe until they can find an entire country willing to help them hide from us. When I saw that happen I made a private choice. For the celebrities that I respect, I only click on a link if it is an official appearance or interview. I don’t click links to see how they take their kids to the park or shopping. Does my click matter? Not much, but it is the only way I have to show respect.

One benefit from the phenomenon of celebrity is that it provides us all with some common examples of the problems that people have. Talking about Michael J Fox and his battle with Parkinson’s Disease can lead us into a discussion of debilitating diseases. Facing the problem helps us come to terms with it. Then when we are faced with a friend or neighbor who suffers from such a disease, we are better prepared to understand and to help. I think that is the major reason that I am a celebrity watcher. Because all those celebrities are people and people are interesting. Celebrities are just larger than life which changes the examination somewhat.

Today the church Relief Society Meeting (the women’s auxiliary) covered the topic of charity. They meant “charity” as in the pure love of Christ and love for all people rather than “charity” as in people who ask for donations. It was a very good meeting where the teacher guided the discussion, but most of the input was provided by people sitting in the class. It hit close to home because three different times this past week I happened to be in a position where I could do a small, simple thing that made a huge difference to someone else. Those experiences and the lesson today have me thinking about how often simple things make the biggest difference. I need to be doing more of those simple things. Things like taking time to tell someone when I admire their clothing or hairstyle. Or calling a friend when I think of them. Or sending digital photos of my kids to my parents via email. Or being pleasant to the clerk at the grocery store.

All these small things cost me only a little bit of effort, but they can be huge to a person whose day needs brightening. I’ve spent the past year very busy. I’ve been very absorbed with family and business things. As we approach the end of the school year, things are slowing down a little. I need to take some of that newfound mental space and use it to benefit others. My life is still fairly busy and it will get even busier as the launch of the next schlock book approaches. But the small effort put into lifting someone else’s spirits, lifts my spirits as well. I need to remember that.

Patches fourth birthday party was today. We had a jungle safari theme because sometime last year I picked up a How to Host a Kid’s Party kit at a thrift store for a dollar. This kit was great. It came with all the activities and prizes for the whole party. We adventured through the house looking for clues and playing jungle games. Then raisinfish made balloon swords for everyone and there was joyful chaos.

This evening Patches was climbing into bed and hugging his new stuffed Charmander. He found one of the pawprints we’d used as part of the activites. He instructed me to stick it to his dresser so that he would always have it. Then he told me that he’d liked the game and he wants to play it again for his next birthday. He also wants to have another Charmander and a Cookie Monster cake just like this time. In short, he thought this birthday was so perfect he wants to do it all again.

Then he snuggled up and fell asleep cuddling Charmander.

Yesterday, as I was gearing up all the kids to go to the cub scout Blue and Gold Dinner, I ordered Gleek to get her shoes on. She smugly stuck out her foot to show me that her shoes were already on. I reacted with delight and surprise. Patches witnessed this event and he wanted to surprise me too. He ordered me “Don’t Look!” and ran from the room.

A minute later he was back in the room with one shoe half on one foot. “Mom, I need your leg.” He said. This is how we usually put shoes on, he steps them onto my leg and I help wiggle the foot into place. I knelt down to help. But then Patches remembered he was trying to surprise me so he shouted “Don’t look! Just look over there!” He pointed at the wall. So I helped him wiggle his foot into the shoe while I stared at the wall. He ran to retrieve the other shoe and we repeated the process complete with the order not to look.

Then I stood up and said “Patches, go get your shoes on.”

“Ta da!” he announced while dancing his feet to show off his shoes. I acted completely surprised at his amazing feet.

Tuesday I was holed up in my office clicking on things because I was bored. I happened across a report on CNN that was talking about chinese rehab camps for internet addiction. They interviewed a net addict and discussed the phenomenon of internet addiction as a whole. Specifically they talked about how addicts develop an emotional need for the internet and it interferes with other aspects of their lives. I sat in my office, ignoring laundry, and children, and dishes, and a hundred other things that need doing. I thought about how often I run down just to check my email and end up whiling away an hour or more clicking on links. I realized that while I do have to use the computer for necessary business and writing tasks, I was wasting more time than I was using wisely. It was not a new train of thought. I’ve thought it through before. I’ve even already got the solution. I just have to implement it.

So yesterday morning I decided that I was not allowed to check my email until I’d gotten all the kids off to school and had vacuumed the family room. Since the family room was a mass of toys, this required significant picking up as well. It was highly motivating to me because I want to know what is in my email. All morning I worked hard and fast because I had this nagging feeling that there might be something important in my email box waiting for me. When I finished my work and went downstairs there were several messages waiting. None of them had suffered for waiting an extra hour or two. In fact it was far more enjoyable to have 6 messages to read than it was to check 3 times and only have one or two or none each time.

Today I picked a different household task and did the same thing. It is working. My house is cleaner, everyone is happier. And for both of the last two days the TV and video games have been off. The kids had so much clean space to play in, that they didn’t even want to turn it on. I loved it.

In addition to the morning “no computer” time, I’ve also defined a space in the evening where I’m not allowed to be on my computer. At 5 pm I need to be starting dinner, but frequently I’m in my office clicking just one more thing. So now I’m not allowed to look at my computer from 5pm until 9pm. For those four hours I need to be focused on dinner and homework and getting my kids to bed. If I really need to multitask, I can do housework while doing those things. The evening span of time is harder because I’m more tired and I want to retreat. But if I really want to retreat, I can read a book. At least that way I’m still upstairs with the kids.

I looked at it and realized that this leaves the hours between 9:30 am and 5 pm where I can be on the computer. That is 7 hours of computer time per day. If I can’t finish all my computer things in 7 hours I must be doing something wrong. So far it has been good for everyone. I hope I can keep it up.

And it’s almost five. Time for me to walk away from the computer for awhile.