Finished painting with frame
Friday, May 25, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
For My Niece
I know you think you have the whole world figured out; you believe that you know better than anyone else what's right and what's not right for you, personally. But let me tell you, young lady, you have no idea. You really don't. You've led a life of privilege; sheltered against the roughest storms of life by a mother & step-father that tried to save you from life's worst. Your father, although not present for most of your life, would probably agree that you had been spoiled and it shows in each and every one of your actions. I know you think you've known heartache when your little boyfriend left, or you threw him out, or it fell apart, but that is nothing compared to the heartache you will experience in this life. You've tried to create a persona, a personality, to protect you from pain; a foul-mouthed, swearing, cursing, hard-as-nails person...and if that is you, if that is really who you are, then I am sad for you, but I believe, in my heart, that this is just your attempt to protect yourself from the pain you've known; both as a child and a young adult.
Your little Facebook status update last night; once again laced with obscenities, had this at the end: "and if anyone comments on this it better not be for me to watch my mouth. thanks!", which, obviously was for me, the only person in your field of friends on that social networking site, that is constantly trying to tell you that you do not need to use obscenity to get your point across. It makes you seem like just another piece of white trash with no intelligence or grace. You talk about how you are a lady, and that is not being a lady. Using profanity does not make you an adult, it makes you seem desperate and unintelligent.
I've tried to tell you that you can do anything you want, you can be anything you want to be and you tell me that you know this, and you will. However, watching you the last few years, I'm fairly certain you will do nothing with you life. You are obsessed with getting a boyfriend (or reclaiming the lost one). Anyone that weighs their own self-worth against what others think of them has no self-worth. You talk about getting a tattoo, and understanding the ramifications. Just another white trash move, in my opinion. Yes, I know your mother has them, and your real father, and even I, your uncle, does, but those were all stupid, childish mistakes made by adults. You, despite what you may think, are still a child. You think like a child, you act like a child. If you don't get your way, you throw a fit. If your Mother tells you "no", then you want to move in with your Dad. If Dad tells you "no", then you want to move back in with your Mom. The sad part is, they keep letting you do it, none of them have the ability to tell you "no" and stick to their guns, because those two are always battling. You play them off each other, a Machiavellian move that would impress some former world dictators, but hardly worth noting in a world of white trash debutantes; where each of them do the same thing in their same pathetic lives.
You have a choice in life, and although I fear you've already made the choice I am going to present it to you, and that choice is for you to clean up your act. "If people don't like me...", is probably your first thought. My question is "do you like you"? Do you think it's cute to be a foul-mouthed piece of white trash? Do you think it's appropriate to use the kind of language you use on Facebook? You talk about your future, but you know that the things you put on websites like Facebook (or Twitter, MySpace, or any of the others) are forever? Your future husband will see them. Your future children will see them. The colleges you may wish to attend see them, as do potential employers. Do you think a company wants to hire a foul-mouthed piece of white trash? I guess that depends on the employer; I'm sure a few strip bars on the East Side won't care about some profanity, but if you want to be successful in life any company is not going to want to hire someone that is starring in the hillbilly version of The Jersey Shore. You've talked about how you know that you can have a bright future and you will be going places in life; I just hope it is not down the same road as your mother & father...prison.
I doubt you will ever read this, and it doesn't matter. I love you, niece, I really do and when I do criticize your language on Facebook it is not because I am being a jerk. It is because I love you and want you to respect yourself a bit more than you have been. It is easy to be lazy and use profanity. Look around you, it is everywhere, that's why you do it. I doubt any adult in your life went one day without using profanity, and those are your role models, the people you will emulate. I am no better, although I try each and every day to live to a higher standard than that, for my own children. I had been cut out of your life, when your father first went away to prison and your mother remarried, I was unable to be a light in your life to show you a better way. Instead, years later now, you want to call and tell me you miss us, love us, but yet you don't want to heed any of my advice; stay in school, don't use profanity, be a real lady, and respect and love yourself, because until you do no one else ever will be able to. I wish you all the best, and just know I will be there, always, like a life-sized version of Pinocchio's Jimminy Cricket, your conscience, telling you to watch your mouth. Say want you want in private or in person, but remember Facebook is forever.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Spring Time - Text version
for those that would like to be able to actually read this without the fancy dogwood picture blocking it:
Spring Time in Missouri
As I sit at my desk, surrounded by blinking lights flashing green & blue amidst the sound of the whir of the computer fan, I also hear the sounds of the birds, singing outside my window. It's the beginning of May in the state of Missouri, outside the grass is wet from early morning rain, the temperature is a pleasant 70° and the birds, well, the birds are singing and if I could sing the song of spring, so we I. I've spent many seasons at different locations; winter in Germany, summer in Georgia, autumn in the Carolinas, and Spring in England, but for my money, if I could choose any place on Earth to spend the springtime, its right here in Missouri.
A long time ago, when I first purchased my home work station, I indulged the inner artist, and hoarder, and purchased a chiffarobe-style computer desk, complete with area for monitor and cubby holes to stuff my enveloped correspondence (yes, I still know people who actually take the time to physically write and mail letters), broken coffee cups filled with dried up ink pens, expired membership cards, compact discs, and clay pots made by my children in school art classes filled with paperclips, spare change, and random knickknacks. Now, as I take a break from working on scouting projects, paintings, and writing, I sit looking at my computer screen and seeing only the dark, black of my work hutch. I chose black as the color, because it has always fitted me better than white. At my junior & senior prom in high school, I wore a white tuxedo because it was different, but since my own youthful rebellious nature has been replaced by a mature understanding of societal roles, I much preferred, artistically, to the black nature of humanity. The darkness within each of us controls such a huge portion of our lives; the selfishness that forces us to use others in order to achieve our own, self-satisfying goals, the uncaring ability to look upon the suffering of others close to us and not help them because it would distract from our purpose, our dreams. The darkness is all around us.
But if I gaze just slightly to the left, I can see the bluish-white skies, the clouds blending with the sky and if I breathe deeply I can smell the rain and grass, and if I listen, I can hear the birds chirping, singing their songs of spring. I force myself up from my desk, through the kitchen (where my usually sullen, strangely happy teenaged daughter, dressed in her pink CHS Women's Choir t-shirt, is foraging in the cabinets for an after school snack) and past my wife's computer work desk (where she is diligently working on her college master's degree application and accompanying paperwork) to the front door and open it. I stand there, in the door frame with the outside storm door propped open by my hand, and gaze out. The wind gently blows the too-tall blades of grass and the leaves on the trees on the edge of our yard. I focus, momentarily, on the dusty, pollen-covered storm door screen and it takes me back to my childhood. We would visit my grandparents here in Missouri and I would often look through the dusty, pollen-covered storm door screens at her house, and the house of my other relatives we would visit during the Easter holiday. Springtime in Missouri reminds me of that time, the time before my preference in color changed from white to black, that simple time when the only things I had to worry about was making it back to grandma's yard by dark and not straying away from the limits; not crossing the street or going to the park without an older sibling. When I think of spring, I think of springtime in Missouri and I smile.
Friday, May 4, 2012
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