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And now for an update:

“Grey Street” by Dave Matthews Band has long been my theme song because it reflects me so well.

And here’s a video for the canned version.  I wanted to use the official video, but DMB only has the live version posted to their YouTube account:

Grey Street

And here are the lyrics:

“Oh look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Staring out onto Grey Street
But she thinks hey
How did I come to this
I dreamed myself a thousand times around the world
But I can’t get out of this place

There’s an emptiness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
But all the colors mix together
To grey, and it breaks her heart

Oh how she wishes it was different
She prays to God most every night
And though she swears He doesn’t listen
There’s still a hope in her He might
She says I pray
But oh that they fall on deaf ears
Am I supposed to take it on myself
To get out of this place

Oh there’s a loneliness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now,
It feels like cold blue ice in her heart
When all the colors mix together
To grey, and it breaks her heart

There’s a stranger speaks outside her door
Says take what you can from your dreams
Make them as real as anything
Oh it’d take the work out of courage
But she says please
There’s a crazy man that’s creeping outside my door
I live on the corner of Grey Street
And the end of the world

Oh there’s an emptiness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now,
It’s more like cold blue ice in her heart
She feels like kicking out all the windows
And setting fire to this life
She could change everything about her
Using colors bold and bright
But all the colors mix together
To grey, and it breaks her heart
Oh it breaks her heart
To grey”

While it may not be kicking out the windows and setting fire to this life, things are changing…for the better, I hope.

No, not really.  I haven’t had any in years.

And by any, I mean Cheez Whiz.  I make much better melty cheese on my own, especially with Hy-Vee’s version of Chipotle Ro-Tel.  Yes, it comes from a can–I am the epitome of good taste.  I am also too poor to be able to smoke my own jalapenos.  (And I’ve never really gotten the hang of smoking them.  Do I use a filter?  Do I light the stem end?)

Anyway, the title is a reference to what passes for a lyric in Beck’s “Loser.”  I’m not 100% clear on the history, but Beck apparently had some sort of bet about writing a song about nothing.  Given the success of Seinfeld, whoever made the bet with Beck should have known that he or she was getting into a sucker bet.

Also, “Beck” is one of my nicknames, but I’m not a successful musician.  I played the trombone anemically for a few years, and I like to pretend I know a little bit more than “Chopsticks” on the piano or “Au Clare De La Luna” on the recorder, but a wealthy musician I am not.

And Beck is a guy.  While I’ve been accused of being mannish (fortunately not by Austin Powers),  I am 100% female and have the offspring to prove it.

And my “Beck” is usually spelled “Bec.”  Why?  Because I believe in conserving letters.  Someone might need that k to use in another word.

Always thinking of others–that’s me!

Also, please don’t ever call me Becky unless you’re a blood relative.  That nickname reminds me of stuff I’d rather forget, and if you’re a blood relative, you know which stuff I’m talking about.

And does this rambling have a point?

And can I start a new paragraph with a letter other than “A?”

Yes and yes.  The point is that I’m running down the rabbit hole because I’m anxious.

Ah! Another a-word!

Affirmative!  A recent doctor visit uncovered some labs out of whack.  A more recent doctor visit uncovered a goiter. (Basically, my thyroid’s attempting to remodel my neck. It hasn’t gotten far, though.)  My most recent relationship failed because our priorities didn’t  fit together as a couple’s should.  I need to find a new home by August, or I’ll have to move back in with family, tail tucked firmly between my legs.  I need to find a new home for my senior cat because he’s decided that he doesn’t like small children and thinks that my daughter needs a few new piercings.  I need a job that actually pays me a living wage. (I’ve enjoyed following my heart and everything, but I would also enjoy being able to buy printer cartridges when I need them instead of trying to earn enough amazon gift cards to buy them online.)

I am also coated head to foot in a lotion designed by Satan himself to treat a rash on my forearms.  I’m not fully convinced that my new IM doc likes me, but if it works, it works.  Why head to foot?  Because it makes sure that the rash is treated and can’t migrate somewhere else for funsies.  It also forces me to do yoga to ensure my entire body gets covered.  I’ve almost mastered the Pretzel pose, and I’ve been able to do the Oh Dear G_d I Don’t Think It’s Supposed to Move Like That pose for some time now…and I invariably miss parts of my back.  One of the pitfalls of being single again, I suppose.

My daughter turned five and will be heading to Kindergarten in August, complete with her own paraprofessional.  (I would send her to school with her own parachute, paramedic, and paratrooper, too, but she already likes to fill her backpack with random stuff.)

It’s also getting harder to play Wurm, and they’ve upped the premium price, so that kind of sucks all of the joy out of it.  Wurm’s a MMORPG–the only time I run around roaring would be when I’m playing Tyrannosaurus Mom with my daughter…though I think that the spelling in that case would be Wyrm…maybe.

Sooo, I sit here, rambling, taking you with me as a fall down the rabbit hole and unravel everything that’s going on, preparing to like Penelope to weave it again until true love comes home.

Ah, who am I kidding?  Even if I find true love, I would have a better shot at learning to play guitar with my left foot than I would at stopping myself from writing.  Sure, I may not post it all here (and if it’s all like this post, that’s probably a good thing), but I write.  I’ve got something like 60000 words in a file that tell a cohesive story, but I’m afraid to shop it around.  Afraid it isn’t good enough.

Afraid I’m not good enough.

But it’s in my blood, and it’s in my heart.  And there are people who love me and believe in my stories.  They believe that this is what I was born to do.  They have seen what I write, the stories I tell, and how I tell them, and they think it worthy.

Sadly, there’s been a lot of damage to me.  Someone I loved and trusted stripped me to the bone before he tried to remake me in his own image, and I lost myself for a long time.  I know my name, I know my face, and I know every feature of my body, from the roots of my calico hair to the soles of my flat feet.

I know my family stories, the histories spread from mouth to ear down the the generations of children sitting in their parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and great aunts and great uncles and cousins’ laps.

I know the stories my mother and father read me, be they from the holy texts that shaped the faith I carry even now, or the mythologies and folk tales that made my eyes light up and  fostered my curiosity about what makes people who and what they are, whether single or in groups.

And as I write this, I draw back a little, startled at the passion that “moves sun and moon” stirring in my heart as I talk about the old stories.  It’s a spark that burns just as bright as when I’m researching something that has ignited my interest.  There’s no thrill quite like running down the rabbit hole of knowledge, seeking, finding, reading, digesting…and understanding at last.

Run from it all we will, but our stories, our histories, our roots…they shape who we are, how we react, and who we become.  The stories of others shape our understanding.

Before there was science, there were stories.

Before there were history books, there was the oral tradition.

And much was lost, since the oral tradition is like the longest game of “Telephone” in the world…but much remains, and it has worth, if only to understand what was.

Is there a point to all of this?

Eh, I imagine so.  There’s a point to everything I write, even if it’s just to point me in the right direction.

And yes, this is a small sliver of how my mind works, when I slow down enough to write things down instead of just sliding down the rabbit hole of thought.

And I also wanted to see how far this thread of thought sparked by a goofy song lyric would take me.  So far, it’s given me 1242 words of utter silliness.

I suppose I could say that I was deliberately shooting for a 1500 word blog entry, but that would be a lie, and I detest lying.

Besides, I think I’ve successfully achieved what I was aiming to do…which was to write a blog entry to finish on Monday.  The semi-stream-of-consciousness wasn’t a deliberate effort on my part, but it was just too much fun to stop.

And really, if you start out with a title like, “Gettin’ Crazy With the Cheez Whiz,” where else can you go but insane?

 

I’m just the quiet woman in the back, taking notes and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Every time something inspires me to write, I am nowhere near a pen and paper, a phone, or any other device that would allow me to record my scrap of a thought for future expansion.

And then when I sit at my computer or notepad or recording device, determined to be inspired, nothing happens.

GAH!

In other words, trying to force myself to be inspired isn’t working out so well. 😉

This is the one and only time I will address you, and I will give you a piece of advice:

Stop.  Just…stop.

You aren’t doing anything but making yourself look like a bully.  Saying cruel things is not being constructively critical, and putting a smiley face after it doesn’t make it any less mean.  If you think you can do a better job than I have, then by all means, do it. If not, look up the definition of “constructive criticism,” and and learn the difference between “constructive” and “destructive”

Worse yet, with every comment you have posted in the past (which I have screen captured for my records before deleting), you have made yourself look like an unstable fangirl.  Is that really an impression of yourself that you want people to see? Do you really think that creating new accounts to “constructively criticize” me and get around my blocking of your accounts is going to accomplish anything but getting you flagged for harassment if you persist in doing it?

While I do welcome constructive criticism, what you’ve said is anything but.  The artist I have done videos for as contacted me personally to THANK ME for making them.  If he had a problem with my work, he would have said so.  He has a manager and a personal assistant, and we have mutual friends.  If he had a problem with the imagery I used to create those videos, he would have said so himself.

If he doesn’t have a problem with it, and he, in fact, LIKES (gasp!) what I have done, why is it such a problem for you?  Think about it.

The bottom line is that the things you have said about me are a reflection of you, rather than a reflection of me.  They are a reflection of your negativity and prejudices.  What I did, I did out of love and support for the artist…and if you can’t see that, you can’t see me.

I am happy to report that Samantha’s morning teacher and I are communicating more often now (and I didn’t even have to contact the social worker).  Sam came home without her mittens, and she happened to still be at the school (and the mittens were still in Sam’s cubby), and we were able to get a nice chat in about everything (or as nice as could be, given how socially awkward I am when it comes to talking on the phone). She has a new communication notebook, and it’s helped a lot.

In other news, Samantha is wearing panties almost all of the time, so potty training may be close to complete.  We had a goal of her fifth birthday, so even with the autism, we are making progress.  On the bad side, she isn’t good about telling me when she needs to go, but I’ve given her free access to the potty, and she’s been really good about using it and staying dry.

Unfortunately, Samantha has used her newfound free access to all of the house to figure out how to open the exterior doors and open interior doors that she shouldn’t open, so we’ve had to retrieve the cats from the basement more than once and retrieve her from the great outdoors.  I thought doorknob covers were past us, but since she doesn’t seem to get the danger in messing with those doors, I’ve ordered some more.

Fortunately, thanks to Swagbucks giving me Amazon gift cards in exchange for the bucks  I’ve earned from using their search engine, I was able to get the covers I wanted for free.  If you would like to join Swagbucks, you can go to http://www.swagbucks.com/refer/LadyCygnet and it will tell them that I sent you.  🙂

I’m really proud of the progress that Samantha has made so far.  I don’t know if parents of neurotypical children Samantha’s age get this proud over simple things like writing things that resemble letters, staying dry, or even hearing their child say, “Mama,” but I’m not ashamed of my enthusiasm over the little things.

It’s been a ridiculously long time since my last blog.

So, what have I been doing?

I’ve had to adjust to a move back to Kirksville from Columbia. Interestingly enough, the landlord who manages this property also manages the first property I called home when I moved up to Kirksville back in 2002.  We haven’t got much in the way of furniture or shelving, so that makes keeping things tidy and organized a challenge, but we make do.

Unfortunately, we had a bad situation with our housemate, and the landlord had to intervene and move him to another property.  He evidently lied to my boyfriend about me and my daughter being welcome here, and when we arrived, he went out of his way to make us feel unwelcome.  He lives elsewhere now.

We also got a puppy for Samantha.  He was an adorable black lab mix named Buddha, and he was a very sweet, mellow pup.  Unfortunately, that pup had Parvo, and I had the horror of witnessing it taking his life, helpless to do anything to ease his suffering, other than soothing him as best I could.  We only had him for five days, but we loved him as much as we could in that short time.  I still love dogs, but every time I see a black dog, regardless of the age, I feel a little pang in my heart.  It’s going to take me a while to get past that.

Two days after Buddha died, a dear friend of mine, Hunter, lost his battle with end-stage lung cancer.  He left behind his children, who had lost their mother a few years prior to a different cancer.  His picture pops up on Facebook every once in a while, and when it does, I cry all over again.  He was only 46, and he had quit smoking, but it was too little, too late by the time he got his diagnosis.  He fought bravely and aggressively, but in the end, the cancer was just too strong.

On February 22, shortly after midnight, my Uncle Bill, who had overcome stage four throat cancer, died of organ failure.  Unfortunately, prior to that, my sister and I had a falling out with Aunt Pam, my mother’s sister and Bill’s wife, because of someone my sister and I had previously disowned over something pretty close to unforgivable.  She had forgiven him and still considered him family; we had forgiven him and forgotten him, disowning him and denying his existence as a blood relative–forgiveness is one thing, but being family is another.  (If you knew what he had done, you would understand why my sister and I disowned him.)  We’re both here for her, though, regardless of whether we’ll ever see eye-to-eye about things.

And yes, my computer is up and running again.  The problem was my hard drive.  Fortunately, we were able to back up the bulk of the files I wanted to keep before the hard drive decided to move on to its next life as a too-light paperweight.  For my next trick, I need to scrape together enough money to get a replacement keyboard for my laptop.  I’m relegated to using a USB keyboard at the moment, and it really cuts down on my ability to be mobile with full use of my laptop.  Alas, money is stupidly tight, so I may have to wait yet another month to get that done.

Should you feel the need to get some artwork and/or contribute to my ability to pay my bills, I have a CafePress store at http://www.cafepress.com/rivsaikmanstudio

In other news, Samantha is going to school full-time Monday-Thursday and a half-day on Friday.  Her afternoon teacher has been good about staying in touch with me, but her morning teacher hasn’t been, and that bothers me.  Talking to the school social worker is on my to-do list, because I need everybody to be on the same page regarding Sam’s education and progress.

Speaking of school, I’ve been taking some free courses through https://www.coursera.org/

I’ve also been spending some of my time playing Wurm.  I fell in with a great community called the Serendipity Alliance, and I’ve really enjoyed being able to help shape the world.  If only real life was so easy!

I have several ideas that I would love to share, but putting them into words is just evading me.  Give me time, though, and I’ll show you what I’ve been dreaming up!

 

I’m not sure how long this is going to be, and I may tweak it later, but I wanted to write this down to give some encouragement to folks who may be looking at positive thinking, the law of attraction, and all of those other concepts that try to get people to use faith and belief and optimism to move toward their goals.

None of the genuine programs want you to stop with just thinking.  Wishing really hard isn’t going to get you what you want.  Positive thinking isn’t going to make whatever you want land in your lap.

What it will do, however, is open your mind up to possibilities you may have never seriously considered, if you considered them at all.  When you think positively and expect good things to come into your life (and it’s not enough to say it–you have to genuinely believe that good things are coming), your subconscious will start keeping a lookout for those good things or paths to those good things.

And what happens when those ideas start to appear and those pathways start to open up?  You have to take action, of course.  It’s not enough to want and wish.  You have to seize the opportunities as they come, not wait for them to fall in your lap.  Sometimes they will, because life is full of surprises and sometimes you start out in a good position full of opportunities, but 99.9% of the time, you have to take action.

This has been a rough holiday break for some friends of friends of mine.  While we were packing up for the big move and unwrapping Christmas presents, one of my boyfriend’s friends/coworkers lost his father on Christmas.  One of my sister Rachel’s coworkers lost her father on Christmas Eve.

And if that wasn’t enough, a friend of a friend lost her husband suddenly right after the new year started.  He lost his job on December 10, and they were struggling mightily financially.  They were both very, very worried about how to make ends meet and depressed as heck about their situation.

Here’s the link to the Go Fund Me for the lady who lost her husband, Rundes Nettes:  http://www.gofundme.com/1svxes

Please help if you can.  If you can donate, great!  If not, please share this with your friends.  If we can raise over $1 million for a bullied bus aide, surely we can raise $6k for a widow who can’t keep her home.

I haven’t written in a while, but there have been some big things happening in our lives.

1. I won NaNoWri Mo.  “Gray Street” is by no means finished, but I passed the 50000 word goal with a day to spare, and I find the story interesting enough to want to try and sell it.

2. My laptop died.  It will not start beyond the first screen.  I can access the bios and all, but I can’t get into Windows.  We are working on repairing it, and I am hoping and praying that we can access the data on its hard drive.  I have tons of work on there that I DO NOT want to lose and I’m not sure if I’ve backed up anywhere.

3. We moved.  We moved from Columbia, Missouri, to Kirksville, Missouri.  I miss Sam’s teachers and bus driver, and I miss my family, but I don’t miss being isolated, lacking space to work or play, or a lack of safe sidewalks between here and the grocery store or here and the town square.  There are lots of stores within walking distance, and there’s even a gym nearby!  I’m paying a bit more in rent and utilities overall, but it’s worth it for Sam to have the space to play, for us to have room for our books and other things without having a huge amount of clutter, and to be able to watch TV and play games without having to crawl over the bed to make it happen.

Best of all, my boyfriend is right here, and he is taking great delight in having Samantha and me close by.

I’m borrowing my boyfriend’s old laptop right now, but we should have my laptop back up and running soon (I hope!).  When that is done, I’m hoping to write more and show you more of the artwork I have been working on.  I haven’t done much, but I did send Martin Page a watercolor pencil doodle of a rose as a thank you for sending me an autographed picture, an autographed copy of “A Temper of Peace,” and a copy of the explanation of the symbolism in his Celtic Man icon.  (And yes, he liked it, per the kind note he sent me through Vanessa, his assistant.)

I have plans that are starting to come together, one moment at a time, but I have to be patient.

That being said, domestic duties await.  Onward!