Coming-of-age stories and moments are supposed to be for teenagers and boys whose testicles have barely dropped. Not for formerlies like myself. But, I keep having these coming of age moments since my Mom passed and I meet hard moments head on. Maybe they should be called coming-of-old-age stories.

Last week, I finally went to clear some of my Mom's stuff. Three floors and a cellar full of memories, moments and enough papers to fill at least four Got Junk trucks. Only managed to get to two rooms--kitchen and a bathroom. Made a minor dent in another room. Collected pictures. Found my daughter's artwork, her Big Foot award from when she learned to tie her shoes, and even my own paintings. A portrait of a lady done when I was six. Pretty detailed for a child. Can even remember when I did it, in Paris, while my mother typed her first novel.

Wondered down Memory Lane. Rolled through Nostalgia Alley. Ate the food that made me feel comfortable and remember moments with my Mom. Felt at peace, even comfortable in that house and its mound of students' papers, and copious notes for those next novels buried deep in the soul of an incredible spirit. And as I dug through and tossed my Mom's things away, it hit me-- I realized what it is I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life. Guess it's my calling to unearth hidden talent found in the souls of the creatives that darken my doorstep. Maybe that's always been my talent to be that fairy that waves a wand and poof--your dreams come true. Hell, I was the fairy in the first-grade play. Maybe that's the pit in my stomach I've been feeling since I got back from clearing my Mom's house. My house. My daughter's house. The house I left but never left me.

Fall's here. Time to get the wand and get to wavin'.

High Anxiety

I'm having some moments--work, life and the cousins. My life for the most part is simple and beautiful. Nice home. Nice dog. Wonderful daughter. Great step-father. Cool extended family, friends and awesome siblings. What more could there be? Work is work--a crazy and chaotic group of misfits with the intellectual capacity to perform less menial tasks, but hey, it's a job! Life--again, the friends, the dog, the daughter, the father, the family. Enough said. So why am I feeling anxious and uptight? Am I sleepy? Yes. Am I hungry? No. Am I so pissed off at the bathroom contractors who've left me shower less mirror less and in 2 inches of white dust everywhere complaining about the work they know they were to do and the extras they've created by their own doing who have been no shows for the past three days and sent me a jacked up email at 1am which I am still fuming over? Yes--that's it. And the fact that I went out on a limb to help my own and they fucked me. Now I have to hire a new crew to finish what they should have done, the extra they could have been paid to do and wonder why it's so hard to get folks to give you the same respect you give them. Oy. Just wanted to spruce up my bathroom so I can chill in it as I enjoy my somple life. Not much to ask. I guess some folks just need to make things difficult. I'll be happy when classes start.

Not much of a deep rant this week. Just a rant.

Spring Has Sprung

It was a Sunday morning, in March. First day of Spring and my daughter was born. It was very early and I remember going into my mother's room and telling her it was time. "Time for what?" she mumbled. "Time for the baby to come". Time for my life to forever change is what I should have replied. Time for good things to always come to me in March. Time for laughter and lessons and growth. Never would have imagined that the time would come when my Mom would not be there or calling on "our" girl's birthday. But yesterday that time came to pass. The day was just as beautiful as that day in Spring 27 years ago, though. My Mom would have liked that we spent it in the park and that my daughter looked resplendent and happy.
There are many more first days of Spring to come. Many more happy moments to be had. Many more walks in the park and many more great things to happen in March.
It's time to spring forward.

Write Something

Gosh, been forever and a day since I've written anything worth sharing. Have a ton to share but not in the mood to. Lost my Mom. That loss made me lose it and lose my love of writing for a minute. But I promise to write again. And write that book. And write this and other blogs. And give voice to others who must and can write. My Mom would have loved that. She always said I could write and I believe her.

Back in the Saddle

OMG! Fall already and before you know it--2010!

This summer pretty much sucked wenis. Cold and long. No real fun to speak of and loads of unsolicited drama. Folks came without warning and took without asking. Left a ring in my tub and DNA on my toilet (where's Clarence Thomas when you need him?). I'm done. Folks moved in without warning with pancake mix in tow. Had to fight some battles and feed the greedy. Stayed clear of stores and missed visiting the shore, and the bond between mother and daughter grew even deeper.

Going to be doing some big things this fall with folks I've been searching for for a lifetime. Like-types. Going to have a new perspective and and a new sanctuary. New platforms from which to spring and revamping some old ones. Promise to care about how I dress even if I am stuck to the chair and computer all day (never know whom you might meet!) Not going to let folks and their hidden agendas derail me (again). I trusted my gut and it feels good. I had faith and all worked out for the best. And I think I may have found the vest. Bananas.

Summer of Love

This has been one funky summer. No heat to speak of. June was all wet. Michael Jackson crossed over to the other side, and I've yet to wear all my cool sandals and outfits meant for a trip to Cali.

Back to the grind and back to being my old amped up self. Gotta get that fire in the belly back or risk being one step short of those dreams and goals I set for myself years ago. Been a cool little journey thus far, with some bumps and turns, with the road always seeming to get smoother before it gets longer. Been lucky that way, or maybe smarter than I give myself credit for. Gotta make some changes and manage expectations. Get folks to get on the good foot or get to steppin'. I have to high-tail it back to the front of the pack-- where I belong.

Second half is going to be awesome, I will it to be so.

Back to life. Back to reality.

I've been thinking about the entertainment industry and the music I've grown up on, and how I've made my living. Not what it used to be. And never again will it be like it was. Had been thinking about where my love of music and this biz came from, and when and where I somewhat lost my passion for it. I'm disgusted by the wannabes and the trifling and the talentless. There is no effort and no respect for music lovers and fans, and that saddens me. Michael's gone and never will anyone come close to replacing him. I've got mad love for Prince. Seal rocks my soul. I still love House. And my own weird playlist of sounds and tunes. That's it. It's over. I'm done.
This biz has been good to me and I've made of it what I wanted it to be for me. Beyond that, it sucks. Look what it does to people, what folks become and that is so not the intent of making music and film. Folks get power hungry, become addicted to the fame and fortune, often lose their way and all sense of reality. Poor Michael, with his self-loathing and pain. Fragile creature, too frail to take the ugliness of the world. Never that. I am sad for you Michael and I cry for me and my loss of the love of music. Back to my new life and reality.