Horse and Carriage

Lake Quinault, one of my favorite places

From the encouragement of a friend, I decided to finally start writing in my blog again. I took such a long sabbatical on account of school, and other pressing matters, but mostly school. I've been writing a theory paper for what seems like a year for a women's studies class. I picked the subject of the impact of Eurocentric capitalist patriarchy on the Native American woman. Interesting, yes. Theoretical, not so much. But I was too stubborn to pick another topic (a taurus thru and thru), and wanted to write on a topic close to my heart. I liked it because it is challenging, and a topic I doubted other students would write about. At least in my class. Even as I attempt to free-write now, I come to an impasse about what specifically my theory is, which was rather stupid of me to try to write a theory paper without knowing what my theory is; just a vague subject. My teacher tried to warn me more than once, but I obviously didn't heed them; determined to write about this matter - that I could do it.

Over these last months, I reflected on my conceptions of marriage and motherhood in relation to the patriarchal ideologies of these matters. I decided that I don't want to marry anyone (except maybe myself) or have children (of my own at least). Maybe I stated this in a previous post. I even want to sell my eggs if i can. That brings in quite a few bucks. Yes, I think the world is overpopulated as it is, but if there's a woman out there that really wants a baby and she's infertile, and I can help, it would make me happy to make that dream a reality for her. And also for the money. Marriage is only to support patriarchy. Or was I should say. I think many marriages enjoy an egalitarian relationship. However, it was instituted in the name of patriarchy, that women must be taken care of. It ensured her a future of domesticity while the man went out to earn the money and had other opportunities. He had a sense of the world. That made her totally dependent on him. I feel like I would be doing what I'm supposed to do, which the rebellious side of me pushes back against. I wouldn't be opposed to marriage if I fell in love with someone and wanted to commit myself to that person for the rest of my life. But again, I have my convictions of marriage. I'm more happy to hear about divorces than marriages. I know far more many that haven't worked out than had. However, I don't hold any contempt for people who do get married or want to get married. Right now, I don't feel that I need it to show, or prove, my love with a marriage to anyone. It just seems that not long ago I wanted what many young women want, a heterosexual marriage and children. Not anymore. When I said I didn't want children of my own, it's because I may want to be a foster parent, if I have the strength, conviction, and money (and energy). I wish I could start with children in my own family. Little Sarah, Stephen, Fransheila, and Frances - Allien's kids. My worthless cousin in Alaska whose own mother told my family that she's a drug addict, and I think she sells as well. She's been to jail a few times. Stephen's father has custody of him, but my uncle thinks that he hits him and neglects him, such as not feeding him enough, or at all. If I had the means, then I know those babies would get a good education, good healthcare, love, attention, support, and encouragement with me. Sarah (9) and Stephen (7 or 8) aren't exactly babies, but they still are. Fransheila is only 18 mos. and Frances is a little baby. From the brief time I spent with Sarah, she's shown much more maturity, sense of responsibility, compassion, and thoughtfulness that would never dawn on her mother. And she knows her mother, how she is. She's also smart as a whip. I don't know why a whip is smart, but that's how the saying goes. She's always excelled in school. I want her to realize her full potential and have opportunities. I also want her away from her mother, in fear that in a few years she will start down that path, as Allien went down her mother's path. I don't need to have my own children when so many out there need a compassionate loving guardian who's not afraid to show tough love. That's what scares me about being a foster parent. I want to work with teenagers; the ones who need the most help. The ones that have been shipped from home to home with no sense of security and trust. The jaded ones. I want to be that person they can learn to trust and have a permanent home with me. That I'll be there for them when they do stupid shit, which is almost inevitable, and not ship them away again. But then I can't trust them myself. At least not in the beginning. I'd be afraid of them stealing my grandmother's wedding ring to pawn for drugs. My older cousin, Stephen, was in numerous foster homes where he was abused until he was 12 and landed himself in juvie, and hadn't really been out since. He's about 30 now. I haven't seen him in years. I keep promising myself that I will find him, a promise so far I've failed to keep. I always have so much to do. That's an excuse, not a reason. I want him to know that not all of his family gave up on him. Fred, his step-father who adopted him, my mother's brother, died 5 yrs ago, and that's all Steve had. Fred had nothing to do with him being in foster homes, and horrors his mother put him through. Fred loved him.

Next topic, I said I'd marry myself. Of course I want my dream wedding. But it would be my wedding with my friends where I want to have it (Lake Quinault). No wonder women so much look forward to their wedding day. A big party for you (and the person you're marrying), with a new dress, new jewelry (not from the street fair), and a nice trip afterwards! One on hand, marrying myself is still marrying, even though it isn't the conventional marriage. On the other hand, I see it as committing to yourself what you commit to your partner - to always be there for yourself, through sickness and in health. As I said before, you are the only person you can really count on when it comes to it. You can't count on other people, no matter how much you love them and think they love you. Christina, my "best friend," married earlier this month. Her cousin married the month before. This past Sunday I visited my friend in the hospital who was preparing for the birth of her 2nd child. I, being the only non-mother, sat for a few hours in the room listening to her, her sister-in-law, mother-in-law, her aunt, and her mother talk about pregnancy, labor, delivery, and the first precious few years of motherhood. But of course, they were awaiting the arrival of the newest family member. One on hand, I wished I had something to share, but none were my experiences. I did briefly talk about my own birth, from what I've been told. At times like these I wonder if I'm missing out. Or is it upbringing and society that enforces this ideal of motherhood that women fall into? I think it's a choice to marry more than it ever has been, however I think it's still encouraged by media and society itself. I also think that it is natural - apart from societal influence - to want a baby. Instinct maybe? To want to procreate, when you get down to our animalistic attributes. The females in any species I know of share that same goal, for the survival of their species, whether this enters into a woman's mind or not. I've actually contemplated having a child with a full blood Native to do my part in raising the Native population. But that would be the only reason. S/he would at least be 3/4 Native. Did you know that in 2008, Natives represented 1.5% of the total population in the US? I'd like to help with that. I also think it's natural for people to not want children. Actually, that also happens in the wild kingdom, or the zoo kingdom - of mothers abandoning their young. So, obviously, we're not all different from them.

Whine, whine. Bitch, bitch.

It's midnight and I don't feel much like sleeping or much like studying. Two things I need to do. All these thoughts keep racing through my head. I have conversations in my head. I tried reading this article and kept reading the first two lines over and over, until I gave up and just let my mind wander. Sometimes I think I have ADD. I try to refrain from writing in my blog until I feel I don't have anything more important or pressing to do, but when you're in school, that never happens. I'm already behind in my reading for sociology and women studies, and it's only the second week. Maybe I'm just not cut out for school. I told my teacher that if I can't get enough money from scholarships to live on my own, I will probably quit school and get a job. I really don't want to, but I can't live here anymore. Carmen drives me batty. Why doesn't she get anything done? Probably the same reasons why I don't get some things done. I make it a bigger deal than it is, I don't want to do it, so I resort to doing nothing but obsess about it. Or I get so busy with other things that need to be taken care of now, that I don't get to it in a more timely manner. But I actually am pretty good about getting stuff done. She never seems to get anything done. It took her 4 or 5 days to do the bills; something that shouldn't take more than half an hour. Then she ended up having to spend 4 times the amount of time doing them because she had to call all the places she was sending bills to to tell them their check would be late, spending lord knows how much time on hold with each call. And then there's the den. WTF? It's been a fucking disaster area with the same shit for over a year since I moved in, and god knows how long before that. And the cats shit in the corners that we can't reach because there's too much shit in the way. I realized the other day that I would be so fucked if she were to get hit by a train tomorrow. I know I've talked about this before with all the shit in the house, but then there's all the stuff that comes with death. I don't know if she has a living will, which I highly doubt she does. I'd think she'd tell me about it. She doesn't have a will period. I know that. Her paperwork is in such a mess (despite the countless hours she spends on it), that I wouldn't know where to begin to call credit cards and whatnot. I don't know what will happen to the house when she dies since it's on a reverse mortgage. I don't think the lender automatically takes it like they used to, but I'm not sure if I can stay in it (if I were still living here), what my dad would do, what I will have to do. Do I have to sell right away? Assuming I can still sell? And what will happen to the money from the sale? I know these are questions I need to ask my mother or the loan officer, but I never feel like I can ask her because she's either doing paperwork, running errands, or she's sick. There are always other things that have to be taken care of right now. Like her goddamn cats. Again, WTF? She knew for months they needed to be fixed at the end of January. It's now the beginning of April, and do you think they're fixed yet? She retaliated that she wasn't able to do anything for a few weeks because of her mother's death, but Gramma died 3 weeks after they should've been fixed! Pearl is finally starting to settle down after being in heat for over a week. Good god! Have you ever been around a cat in heat? It's torture for her and you. I would tell mom to make a to do list, but she'd lose it (the list, not her temper; well maybe her temper too). It's like living with a little child. She and dad started drinking a lot, but I noticed the past couple days that I don't think they've had anything, which makes me feel better. I know it's only two days, but at least it's not constant now. For a while it seemed like every time I saw my mother, she had a glass of wine in her hand. Then she really acts like a child. Whines, throws temper tantrums, pouts, slams doors. And my dad was drinking a lot. I just hope they don't get back into that. Why have children when I have parents?

Is it my mother's fault?

I wonder how much our genes determines our character and behavior and how much our environment does. How do I know how much of my habits and beliefs are genetically inherited from my parents and how much because I learned from them? Would I be who I am if I were raised by someone else? There are so many characteristics I see of theirs that I possess, and many I hope I never do. I have a tendency to be lazy, irresponsible, and procrastinate. That sounds like both of them. My mother received a notice from her home insurance that they will no longer insure the house because of some rather minor faults. Faults I don't think is reasonable to cease insurance, but they are an insurance company. She submitted a claim to replace part of an outside wall thats frame was rotted because of an old leak. Of course they denied it because it was "pre-existing" before she bought the house from my grandmother (sound familiar?). The inspector felt that he needed to relay that the paint was peeling on the outside, the gutters needed cleaning and probably replacing, and there was moss on the roof, thus they stopped coverage. I think to stop coverage over those small issues is unwarranted. My parents are trying to take care of those problems now, and have finished 1 1/2.

That's a picture Gramma and me. One of my favorite pictures. I really used to be thin! I was probably about a size 4. Now I can't fit into a 14. Getting old sucks.

However, I also blame my mother for all of the decay the house fell into. My grandfather died 19 years ago, this month actually...in the middle of my Halloween party...I regress. My grandmother didn't have a clue as to how to take care of a house or finances. She could clean a house, and cook in it, and read in it (always was a big reader), but knew nothing of making claims to the insurance companies, knowing when things needed to be replaced, how dangerous some faulty wiring can be. I wouldn't say the wiring is faulty, but it is over 50 years old. According to Carmen, she didn't even know how to pay bills. My mother never owned a house before, but she was really the only one around to help Gramma. There had to be things that she knew needed fixing, but she was always too busy (I admit I probably had a lot to do with that) and didn't want to deal with it and never got around to it until it became her house. Not wanting to deal with things is another fault of mine that I also find in both of my parents. My grandmother needs to be held accountable too: she could have taken initiative and made some calls, but she was already over 70 when Grampa died and I don't think was ever one to really take care of herself. Even with the rotted framing, Carmen swears she didn't think it was that bad, but it didn't surprise me at all. The paint inside the room, my room, my grandmother's former room, was bubbling out and created a large crack. I knew that something was very wrong and told my (at the time) fiance's mother about it, who's quite savvy when it comes to these things. The first words out of her mouth were, "Call the insurance company." My grandparents used Safeco (who's my mother's insurance until 11/26) for years and never filed a claim. I told Carmen the next day, and do you think she did a damn thing about it? That's a rhetorical question. That was five years ago! Maybe six. There's a good possibility that Safeco would've paid since Gramma owned the house for 35 years! The gutters were originally made of wood, so of course over the years they completely rotted. My dad replaced some of them, but there's still a lot that needs to be done. The oven is probably as old as the house. I'm afraid to turn that thing on. We have no dishwasher. There's not even a hook-up for the dishwasher because the house was built in the mid-fifties. These are all things that should be obvious to anyone, even Sarah Palin, that need to be taken care of. Perhaps not to a 70+ (who's now 90) year old, old-school grandma that never had to deal wtih anything like that and didn't know any better, but Carmen should've been a little wiser.

That damn crap coconut rum she bought gave me a headache, and I only had one drink. But maybe it's not that. It feels like someone took a dowel, poked it in my forehead, a little right of center, and it's going out the back of my skull.

I took a Vicodin and hope that will help. My back also gave me grief all day, so hopefully the Vicodin will help that as well. Enough complaining. It's not good for anything, except to vent some steam once in a while.

Maybe I'm being too harsh on her. Of course she was very upset when she read the letter and called her insurance agent, who can't find another company to cover her because of course they all know that Safeco cut her off. At first I said nothing and kept my eyes glued to Chris Matthews, solely and silently blaming her for her own misfortune. I eventually felt a little bad and told her that I was sorry Safeco did that to her. And I am. But she still shares some of the responsibilities in my eyes. I vowed to myself a while ago that I will always take care of my property, whether it's real estate, or a car, or a pet (tho I don't really consider pets as property, but you get the gist), and to not have it if I can't afford it. A mistake I made myself that cost me dearly, and a mistake both of my parents, and my grandmother made. Now we have an old house almost in disrepair (from my pov), three people who don't have jobs (although my seizures required me to quit my job and I go to school full time now), way too much stuff, and seven cats. Aye, aye, aye.

As closing comments, I want to express my congratulations to Obama, happy birthday to Bo, and my cat, Ligeia.

"Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced." ~James Baldwin