Tag: blogging

Are we enablers?

Tonight on my way home from work I began wondering if I am an enabler for behavior I don’t agree with.  Do I, without realizing it, tell people that I am okay with them treating other people horribly and without any care whatsoever?  What gives me the right to ever let someone sit somewhere and bash another person without telling them to stop and think about this first?

I am a listener.  I have been since I can remember.  I want people to be happy and I figure that if I listen to them rant, rave, and complain that somewhere they will just automatically turn happy.  However, I’m not happy.  Through this whole process that I’m holding their hand for, I’m not happy.  I’m not happy listening to grown adults trash talk one another over which one took the last piece of college rule lined paper from the bigger desk.  I’m not happy as I sit there, in my chair at work, and listen to women, who happen to be older than me, call someone else an ugly whore with no morals.  I’m not happy when I listen to two women sit across from one another screaming obscenities over some of the dumbest reasons.

Now I wonder, if all of these times I sit there and allow them to rant to me about other people, am I enabling them to treat people like crap?  Am I telling them this behavior is okay and they should continue doing it?

The biggest thing I have been toying with is – would it stop if I were to tell them I refuse to enable a behavior i don’t agree with?   Just tell them no, I refuse to listen.  Would that make them realize that the way they are treating people is wrong and they should seriously rethink their strategy?

Writing. Novel. “Frost”….

Books

After two years of writing I finally finished the rough-ruff (yes, that’s exactly how I have decided to spell it) of my novel “Frost”.  I have been waiting patiently for the day I was able to say that, but now that I am & have, I’m a little on the scared side.  When you’re writing it it’s still a secret in your mind.  Planning out everything & then putting them to words.  The moment you’re able to tell people that you’re done and on to the editing process people get excited.

But now I go into the editing process I wonder to myself, “is this going to be any good?”  I’m trying so hard not to toss it into the trash and running away like a coward but it’s extremely hard.

After I finished the rough-ruff draft I decided to sit and scan the whole story – basically rereading what I had forgotten that I had wrote.  To me, yes, I still find a few clever things I had written and I got all excited.  But then I wonder, do I find it clever and good because I wrote it?  Or do I find it good because it’s actually good.  My wondering mind seems to go all over the place – crazily.  Maybe I should stop wondering.

Either way I have been working way too long just to throw it away, so that’s not an option.  I’m going to continue and I’m going to edit, etc, until I am completely satisfied with what I have written, even if it turns out to be complete crap.  Then one day – hopefully, get published.  Maybe.  I might just keep my first novel in a box in the back of my closet and let it collect dust.

New Things.

I realized the other night, while trying to make dinner, that I am in a rut.  A cooking rut.  I never thought that was actually a thing.  But apparently it is.  And I am in it.

Trying to find new things to make is actually more complicated than I thought.  Mostly because everything anymore had like cups beyond cups of red or white wine – I don’t keep any form of alcohol in the house.  Maybe I should start?  I don’t know.  I’m not even sure if I even know where to buy red or white wine.

The new recipe trend started a few weeks ago when I attempted to make chicken enchilada’s.  Turned out really well – the boyfriend really enjoyed it.  Or at least that’s what he said.  I’m still curious if he’d even tell me the truth if I made something that was horrible.

1chicken enciladas

I have a made a few other things.  One night I made alfredo sauce from scratch, & made a crock pot roast.  Both seemed to turn out good.  Sadly, I didn’t picture of the take either of those.  Just know one looked like alfredo sauce & the other looked like a roast.  I can find pictures randomly on the internet if it’ll make this post better.

Last night I decided to make a Rachel Ray recipe I came across through facebook, Lasagna Sloppy Joes.  

1sloppyjoes

The sauce itself was good other than I couldn’t get it to thicken.  I wonder if it’s because she used wine & I did not.  But everything else I substitute wine for something else seems to work.  But this, wouldn’t thicken.  Maybe I did something else incorrect, I was really tired and was thinking about sleep, but I feel like I did it right.  That, & my town grocery store does NOT sell cibata rolls, so I had to buy the frozen ones and it’s all I could taste was the bread itself.  Then of course that bread was hard.  So mental note: Do not use frozen cibata bread.  Go to a bigger store next time.

Tonight, since it’s bowling night for me, I’m thinking about making a slow cooker Chinese meal.  I found a recipe for General Tso’s, but I’m nervous as crap for that.  White person attempting Chinese food.  Mexican’s do it well – but I’m not that either.  That was funnier in my head than in print.

General Tso’s and sesame noodles seems to be a good way to start cooking Chinese food.  Don’t ya think?

Happy Mother’s Day!

I have spent 11 mother day’s without my mother. So today, instead of being sad, I figured I’d tell a story about her.

There were many years, fifteen worth, of stories to tell about her. All different but alike in the same. My mother was my best friend. The only person on the planet who I could tell anything to && not be afraid of their reaction. I always found myself going with her to work, mostly because I couldn’t find many reasons not to. On day, early morning hours where dew was still on the grass and fog hovered over the trees, I was with her. At this particular job she was a morning cook &&& opened the cafe. Every morning was the same thing, I’d fall asleep on the top of the freezer while she made homemade biscuits. This day started out no different than any others except I didn’t go to sleep. That morning I decided that I would keep my mother company, pulled up a seat, and sat there talking.

In the middle of a conversation I heard banging on the back door. My mom told me to open it, it was more than likely the lady that comes in after my mom to help finish prepping breakfast. As I made my way to the back door I stopped and thought about this for a moment. I was there every morning, even when the co-worker showed up, and never did her knocking sound like this. I turned &&& told my mom I was a little afraid of opening it. My mom pulled me back && decided I was correct, instead, she called the police.

That particular day a man was banging on the back door trying to get in because someone was literally beating the snot out of him. If I had opened that door they would have been on top of me.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mothers out there. I hope you get a chance to spend it with your children and enjoy your day. For y’all of you out there who no longer has their mother – share a story. Put their life out there so everyone can enjoy just how wonderful your mother was or is.

♥♥♥

Admit & Correct.

This post was originally wrote November 05, 2013.

I sat here tonight and cleared out my computer.

For almost five years I have not had internet and rarely ever used my computer.  Only doing small things: playing games or using it to write.  A few months after I moved into the house I live in now, I hooked up my computer and it wouldn’t turn on.  That’s always a sad moment for someone who used to live on their computer.  Then I think about how much music and writing I have saved on this and the moment becomes even sadder.  So, I unhooked my desktop and put it away – hoping one day I might figure out how to fix it.  Last week my brother came and got my desktop and fixed it – sending me a picture message while at work proving that it was on.

I am not sure if I have been that excited in a while.

I finally hooked it up and turned it on.  Then sat here and deleted everything that I no longer have the use for.  I removed quite a bit from my computer.  Three different messengers (MSN, AIM, & Windows), games that I have played & won many times (leaving only three games left: Supermarket Mania, Farm Frenzy 1 & 2, & Hotel Mogul.

It was so many years and days I spent on the internet when I lived with my dad that I feel like I have completely erased that side of me.  I think about it, every now and then, of how many years I spent in front of a computer.  That when my Dell went out a few years ago I freaked!  Not honestly because I lost all my music – I could get that again – or the writing I had – none of it was finished – but because I couldn’t spend my life sitting in front of it eating as much as I could put in my mouth.  I have wondered how I allowed myself to do that.  Even though the internet obsession began when I was 13 and ended when I no longer had the internet (19 years old) it seems like a part of me that I need to put to rest.  Finally be done with it.

I had made a whole new me.  A better me.  I went by a fake name, fake looks, and fake hobbies.  I made things up so much that, for the longest time, I honestly believed it.  Until I looked into a mirror and realized that it was nothing but lies.  It was so nice to be able to sit around and have conversations with people about everything, from politics to music.  I enjoyed the people so much that they became all I ever thought about.  (I have often wondered what ever happened to those people.  The friends I made all of those years hiding out.)

I have sense been in contact with friends I had before that happened & they all ask me the same thing “where have you been? “  Truth is, I was here.  I was living in my hometown until I was sixteen & then only moved twenty minutes away.  I was not able to be found on MySpace (when it was popular) or FaceBook because I used my ”fake” name.  Fact: my FaceBook is still under my fake name.  That’s why no one can find me unless we’re mutual friends with people.

I wonder a lot, sitting here today, if it was a down spiral after losing my mother.  I was fifteen when that happened and after that never came out.  I never surfaced again until I was 23 when my dad passed away.  Why then?  I am not sure.  But I do know that I got back in contact with friends from high school, and I leave my house.  I have a job (didn’t back then and when I did only lasted about six months before I quit, leaving myself back into the internet) that I enjoy more than anyone could imagine.  I began writing again – almost finished with the rough draft of my novel.  I have a cell phone & that might seem strange to admit, but I didn’t have a phone when everyone else did.  Because I didn’t want to be found.  I wanted to be left alone with my food and computer.

I found it a big step when I made my twitter account & used my name @HightowerBarb. (Follow me. *winks*) 

Will I delete my FaceBook & make a new one finally, making it public, and letting people know how and what I’m up to?  That’s the biggest question for me right now & I’m not sure yet.  Finally getting under my name on everything will be something I didn’t think I would do when I was younger.

Will I go back to those ways once I get the internet back (will have it about three weeks after I wrote this), or will I continue with the life I’ve made in the last two years?

Will the internet seem as great as it did, not even, six years ago?

This was an issue I had for many years and I decided last year that the only way I could fix my problems and live the life I want – achieve the things I want in life – is to admit & correct.  I guess that’s what I feel like I’m doing right now.  Admitting it so I can correct it.

I have admitted to having a lot of problems in the last few years and I haven’t had as many issues.  Life seems better and the sun seems brighter.  (Even as corny as that sounds.)

I guess only time will tell just how much I have changed and how many things I won’t let affect the way I live and act.  I’m just hoping for the best – and hopefully I will finally be able to be the person – completely – that I have always dreamed about being.  Intelligent.  Happy.

For now, though, I’m happy with being content.

Heroic : My 5 Year Old Self.

Daily Prompt:

When you were five years old, who was your hero? What do you think of that person today?

When I think back on being younger most of it is a blur.  Whether I it’s because I slept away the years or because it just simply faded, I rarely remember a lot of memories.  But there is one thing I’ll never forget, even when I think back on my five year old self, my hero.  There was always that one person in my life that made everything make sense.  When I needed a shoulder to cry on they were always there and held my hand when I needed it.  

My mother.

Over the course of my life my five year old self hero just became stronger.  Everything she did I wanted to be there.  I can remember, (this wasn’t at five more like fifteen) that she’d go to work and I’d literally go with her.  Many days sitting around her place of employment just to spend time with her.  The days I decided to stay home we’d call each other throughout the day.  

At fifteen I lost my hero.  We buried the only person in my life, at the time, that meant more to me than anything else.  I placed her in the ground, exactly like she wanted to be.  We left her in the ground nearly six hours away from where I live today and I let go of my hero & best friend.  

Today I have often wondered if we would have had the normal “mother/daughter” fights that people go through.  If her and I would have stayed close or I would have decided that we were too close and begin backing off.  I have often wondered if her and I would still be talking, like we did then, and spend as much time together.  Would I still think so high of her and her thoughts on how I should live my life, or would I think she butts in too much and start backing away?  

I try and live my life the way she always wanted.  Yes, I have had my stray moments.  (Dropping out of high school.  Not going to college until I was 23 years old & then flunking out of my fourth semester because I was overwhelmed.  An emotional breakdown before I was 30.)  I am pretty sure that I am nowhere near what she always wanted for me by the age of twenty-six.  I’m working on that.    

But there are small things.  Tiny things she always put in my head that I have chosen to live life by.  Mostly, treat people the way I want to be treated, (yes, my mother was more religious than me).  But that is by far one of the best things to ever teach your child while raising them.  Never settle in life for the smaller things.  Always touch stars rather than a light bulb just because it’s easier. (I think she is half the reason I’m still single.  I don’t want to ‘settle’.  I want love & everything, or nothing at all.)

My hero wanted the best for me.  Wanted to give me everything the world would let me have.  But I wonder sometimes if some of the choices I’ve made in my life if she’d be disappointed.  Is she looking down on me thinking how off track I’ve gotten.  The day I got my first tattoo – did she shake her head?  The day I got my second tattoo – did she sigh?  The day I declared a life of loneliness, rather than settling for just anything – did she mutter cuss words?  When I flunked out of college – was she disappointed? 

I guess sometimes you just have to live life without knowing everything.  For me, this is the one thing that I’ll never know.  But I will live my life the way she wanted even with the days I decide to trip up a little and have to regain my footing.  I know that I will have her on my side, even if she isn’t here with me physically.  For me, that’s enough to keep going.

Image
My mom & me in Florida; 2003.

I don’t have writer’s block.

I don't have writer's block.

At least I wish I could say that – but sadly, I can’t. My block is so bad this round I can’t write, read, or even jot down a shopping list. I sit around day in and down out thinking about my novel that I didn’t finish when I wanted, but cannot seem to write a word.

Honestly, how hard is it to jot down a shopping list? Eggs. Butter. Milk. Bread. Same thing every time I get groceries. But now, nothing. It’s like my brain has shut down and unable to be restarted.

I have been staring at a letter I have wanted to write for nearly a month now and all I do is write down the date & time, then nothing. A book I have been waiting a year to read, “Gabriel’s Redemption” by Sylvian Reynard, – I have read one chapter.

I really need to fix the issue I have.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

Normally people write their year in review. However, I didn’t do anything this year that is worth talking about. So we’ll, instead, go this route. I’m going to give myself two things I’d like to accomplish this year.

1. Finish the first draft – if not more – of my novel.
2. Lose another 50 to 80 pounds.

Maybe, just maybe, I will actually do one or both. We’ll see. I will let y’all know December 31, 2014. Until then…