A Wonderful Monday Morning…Pre-Coffee Even

So, it’s Monday morning again, either the first day of the week or the second (depending on how you categorize that crazy anomaly Sunday), and I’ve spent the morning since six AM sitting on my parent’s veranda watching my two sisters and my mother gather around the coffee maker, each watching each drip of the black liquid drop into the pot, gripping empty coffee mugs with white fingers, greeting my yell, “Is the coffee ready yet?” with menacing stares and mutterings (the ability of humans to verbalize pre-coffee evidently stunted).  All I can think about is how I have nowhere to go.  And I’m in such a great mood, pre-coffee, this morning, this Monday morning, this wonderful Monday morning.

Now, I’m not going to disparage the only ladies in my life.  Truth be told I found their pre-coffee ritual analogous to three dope fiends waiting in the hallway for their dealer the OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!!!!  But, I can remember the days where an extra large Dunkin Donuts coffee (cream and sugar), and maybe a Red Bull, was not enough to enamor my body to a Monday Work Day.  I remember the days when I’d spend Sunday’s half-comatose on the couch in front of the TV eying the clock progress, dreading the point when I knew I had to go to sleep, and the next second my alarm would roust me for my Monday morning.  Monday’s would seem to last for a month, Tuesday’s were a little better, Wednesday’s I was halfway home, Thursday’s were spent tamping anticipation, and Friday’s (if I didn’t have to work Saturday mornings) were an eight hour build up to a five o’clock orgasm.  The air on Saturday morning tasted as good as a fine aged cheese.

I know my mother and my sisters love their jobs.  I know that when I worked full-time for someone else, I did not.  I remember hating ever single second of my first three careers.  And for those of you who know me, and as an indoctrination to the world of me for those who do not, I am unable to hide my emotions.  What you see is what you get.  So, I can’t help but take solace in that I’m awake at six AM on Monday morning and as I am typing this blog I feel happy to be alive.  I’m sitting on my veranda: watching a garbage truck tipping over a dumpster across the street, a school bus zoom passed with kids hanging out the windows, ladies file by the house on morning walks of dogs and selves, listening to NPR, smelling the crisp, damp morning air; and I’ve realized that finally, after years and years of wandering the desert of the uncertain, I have found a watering hole that suits me.

Now, is my bank account suffering, oh hell yeah.  But, I’ve found discovering what I love to do is more important than money.  In these tough economic times, when you hear about people losing their jobs and unable to find new ones, you can be bogged down with the plentiful amount of sad stories: of families losing houses, losing hope in marriages, declaring bankruptcy, people forced onto the streets, etc.  This morning I read a story in The New York Times, which may have prompted my mood, about a family who has lost a lot but discovered a lot about themselves, and this article inspired me to appreciate things in my life I do have, and people in my life I do love, which includes the three ladies huddled around the coffee maker.

In this moment, I’m happy.  Out of life, I think that’s really all we can ask.

But of course, happiness is fleeting.

So, check back with me on Tuesday…

Twitter-This

I’m a dumb-a**.  Those of you who know me, know this, and still love me (may love me due to this–heck, I keep things interesting).  And those of you who don’t…well, I am.  It might be ironic to say this in a blog post, but I really don’t comprehend the share-tech craze.  Maybe, I’m slow to adapt.  No, I am, for sure, slow to adapt, but I don’t understand the draw of Twitter, Myspace, and Facebook status messages.  I mean, a) do people think other people CARE what you are doing every second of everyday, and b) do people want other people to KNOW what they are doing every second of everyday?

Twit: I’m writing a blog in my boxers which have hearts and balloons on them that my mother bought for me for Valentine’s Day three years ago.

I guess I should Twitter that.  But a), I don’t think people CARE that I’m sitting here typing in only my special Valentine Day boxers, and b) I DON’T WANT PEOPLE TO KNOW THAT.

Is anything sacred anymore?  Does everything have to be shared?

As some of you know (it’s not a secret, because I can’t keep my mouth shut), my dad has been struggling with bi-polar disorder for the past seven years.  To watch a man you love, the man who made you, the man you admired before anyone else, fight and fight and ultimately lose his daily battle with this disease, makes me want to lock myself in my house and spend my days surfing the Internet, reading, and only emerge to take my dog on his walks or sit alone in a park somewhere and watch the clouds go by overhead.  

In living in “the times” should I feel the necessity to “twit”: I’m laying on my back in the grass staring at the sky because I can’t handle the stress of my life anymore.

I’m writing this blog, so I guess I do have a need to share.

Through some self-reflection, I realizes part of my depressive reaction lies in the fact that it kills me to watch my father suffer so much.  The other part of this depression, though, lies in a personal belief that I have a front-row seat to my future.  Bi-polar disorder is genetic.  I realize that fact alone doesn’t guarantee the children of a bi-polar sufferer will fall prey to the same illness, many factors must come together.  But to know that I have this defect inside me, waiting, waiting, waiting for it’s chance to spring, is tough to deal with.  To reflect on my daily moods and attitudes and recognize symptoms that are glaringly obvious in my father’s behavior, frankly scares the sh*t out of me.

Twit: I am frightened of the future. I  fear myself.

Whenever I’ve been in a relationship with someone, I’ve always wondered why someone would want to be with me knowing that the possibility of me going nuts and making both our lives and the lives of our children (God forbid) living hell.  I’ve tried to eradicate such thinking.  But it’s always in the back of my mind.  One of my lines in my novels, or in one of my short stories, I can’t remember, my character says, in reference to his wife leaving him and taking his child:

he understood when Mary left, he did, if he could have left himself he would have.

Twit: if I could have left myself I would have.

I always wonder if my mother had known what she was getting herself into, would she have married my father.  And I guess I could answer for her: yes.  Because my father is a beautiful person.  He’s kind, giving, loving, caring.  He’s sacrificed his dreams and desires for four children and a woman he loves.  He loves and supports his mother.  He’s been there for people in our sphere of the world when they’ve needed him.  He’s always given up himself for others.  I know I wouldn’t be where I am without him, I’ll tell you that.  I’m a mess.  I’ll admit it.  Without him, I doubt I’d have a roof over my head, or food in my stomach or, heck, this computer I’m typing on right now.  

Twit: I owe everything to my dad.

Which is why witnessing him suffering so much is so very hard.  He doesn’t deserve this pain, no one does (well, some people do).  I’ve tried to live my life in a similar fashion and at times I’ve been successful and other times I’ve failed, but I’ll keep trying.  I’ll keep trying to fight off the demons that I know are in my brain somewhere ,waiting, waiting, waiting to come out and feast.

Twit: Bite me, Demons, I’ll bite back.

So, I guess I’ve come to a conclusion about this share-tech craze, too.  I don’t feel entirely comfortable saying this, but:

Twit: I haven’t written a blog or anything else in the past two weeks because I’ve felt too depressed to motivate myself to do almost anything.  I’m drowning in a bog of self-pity and fear and my swimming skills suck.

Twit: One thing I’ve learned from this blog is I guess I’ve realized I have the urge to open myself up and let the world look in.

–MJ

My Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=565105522&ref=name

My Myspace page: myspace.com/jonah14646

To view the Supernews video about Twittering that inspired this post, go to:

http://current.com/items/89891774/twouble_with_twitters.htm