So, lots going on in the life of Michelle, so much so that I just truly don' t know what to think, feel, believe or, mostly, say. And it is thus that I explain my silence.
The play is done, finished, oh not completed, just without inspiration and therefore now being relegated to the drawer once more, to be pulled out, dusted off, and revised, once again, in the hope of a complete project. Shit, I hate that!
The munchkins? Wonderful, amazing, awe inspiring, frustrating and just in general perfect.
The eldest qualified for the State wrestling competition! Yes, this is his first year wrestling, yes it was a fluke of the numbers, and HELL YES it was cool. I have video of his second bout, the kid almost made it the first two minutes. I was truly proud...because he is my son, because he is amazing but more so because of the pride that his accomplishment instilled in his little sister. The daughter was in charge of the video for the event, she did a wonderful job:
The eldest walks out onto the mat, doing that little jump to pump himself up, the competitor walks out, this kid is built, shorter than the eldest, but built. All of a sudden the video shakes and we are now looking at the top of a seat and hear "Come on, your bigger than he is." The daughter, giving her encouragement.
The match begins with much dancing, the entire area around us is screaming the boys name, because they too know what an honor it is to make it to this competition for a freshman. So, they dance, for what seems like forever, a slap here, a grab there, nothing too aggressive, nothing too physical, these gentlemen are sizing each other up. All of a sudden, like a lightning bolt this boy is on my son, bending, or trying to bend, his body in directions in which the body was not designed to bend. Then he flips the eldest, not into the air, just onto his back.......things are starting to look rough for the eldest, the video shows the beginnings of a pin, and then a miraculous recovery by the eldest, he is out of danger, if only for a minute, everyone is on their feet, chanting, screaming and yelling: "Look at that! Did you see that! Go!" Most of all you hear the eldest's name being belted out by this high pitched squeal of a sound. The camera is jumping up and down, around and over, as it it has a mind of its own. She is yelling so loudly that hardly a word is understood, but the sentiment, oh yes, we hear that and its meaning loud and clear.
It is just a moment, gone and done in a flash, focused once again on the match at hand ........... which only lasted a few more seconds. But in that amount of time....I was proud, proud of my children for, once again, showing me that hard work and determination does pay off in the long run.
I don't want to leave the wrong impression........had this been any type of competition between the two of these, eyes would have been scratched out and no dirty trick would be left untried. But, when it matters, when everything else is taken away........my children stand for each other and everything that we have taught them, sooner or later, all of those good things, well, they do shine through, if only for a few seconds.
They left the competition with almost matching t-shirts. The difference? The daughters was personalized with this statement on the back "___________'s Little Sister, be afraid!
Is that cool or what?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
From JJ, I wanted a story about the color blue.
He was looking at him trying to remember what it was that led him into this place. Nothing that he could remember. The big blank in his mind, although he was certain that he has seen such thing before, he could not organize any meaningful thought around it. Why every part of his body was aching like he has been through the toughest time of his life trying to fight alone against an army? Was he too old already? Was he getting sick against all odd? Yesterday still he was feeling in a good shape. But was it really yesterday? Try to catch a detail something significant enough to use it as a starting point to organize his thoughts, restart his mind. In front of his eyes was passing pieces of details, memories, like those little pieces of paper that the fire did not destroy completely; big enough to guess what they were before but not enough to be sure.
He felt like he was a painful piece of flesh. What was he suppose to do with it? Who was he? Human or something else? It may sound like a kind of stupid question but imagine having a virgin brain only able to feel, what for now seamed pain only.
Try again! Something must have stick somewhere in a remote corner of his memory. Give it a little bit of time, try to relax and not push himself into more stress. What was he looking for again? Oh yes a detail, to help him remember why this pieces of images kept coming in front of his eyes. How long has he been here? What was it looking like? Impossible to say it was dark like in an oven. Oven? Where does that was coming from? There! That has to be an important detail. That must mean something to him. So oven and dark goes well together then. Do they really? It is time to stop doubting all the time. He has to stick with some thought process. The noise! He can hear it again! Something was shaking this place, he could feel it clearly now. It was rocking now! Voices? Could it be voices? Light! A ray of light was now entering this box! Wake up! Someone was screaming wake up. Lets go! I am going to be late! Late? Late for what? It was the last of his preoccupation at the moment! he was more concern about escaping this place. One more effort he must be close now. JJ? Someone was calling like a name! We have to go! The light finally enter completely the place and what he saw was amazingly captivating.
A big circle that was looking like it was moving and changing size, right there in front of his eyes! Besides the spooky shape the color was, no were, because it was such a beautiful mix of grays and blues that it would have been a life work to try to describe it. the voice again was screaming. But what was it saying? JJ we have to go! Why I heard myself saying? I am going to be late for my soccer game! Soccer game? The light was there and the image was focused now. So close in front of me, was this boy staring at me. Soccer game, The Youngest, the name of Michelle's boy. Then suddenly everything went back in place. What a night! I thought to myself looking at the room around me. But it was more than time to go, a boy wanted to play soccer. Life is all about priorities.
He felt like he was a painful piece of flesh. What was he suppose to do with it? Who was he? Human or something else? It may sound like a kind of stupid question but imagine having a virgin brain only able to feel, what for now seamed pain only.
Try again! Something must have stick somewhere in a remote corner of his memory. Give it a little bit of time, try to relax and not push himself into more stress. What was he looking for again? Oh yes a detail, to help him remember why this pieces of images kept coming in front of his eyes. How long has he been here? What was it looking like? Impossible to say it was dark like in an oven. Oven? Where does that was coming from? There! That has to be an important detail. That must mean something to him. So oven and dark goes well together then. Do they really? It is time to stop doubting all the time. He has to stick with some thought process. The noise! He can hear it again! Something was shaking this place, he could feel it clearly now. It was rocking now! Voices? Could it be voices? Light! A ray of light was now entering this box! Wake up! Someone was screaming wake up. Lets go! I am going to be late! Late? Late for what? It was the last of his preoccupation at the moment! he was more concern about escaping this place. One more effort he must be close now. JJ? Someone was calling like a name! We have to go! The light finally enter completely the place and what he saw was amazingly captivating.
A big circle that was looking like it was moving and changing size, right there in front of his eyes! Besides the spooky shape the color was, no were, because it was such a beautiful mix of grays and blues that it would have been a life work to try to describe it. the voice again was screaming. But what was it saying? JJ we have to go! Why I heard myself saying? I am going to be late for my soccer game! Soccer game? The light was there and the image was focused now. So close in front of me, was this boy staring at me. Soccer game, The Youngest, the name of Michelle's boy. Then suddenly everything went back in place. What a night! I thought to myself looking at the room around me. But it was more than time to go, a boy wanted to play soccer. Life is all about priorities.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Isalakys Perfoulion. . . .
“Tell me your thoughts maman.” says the child as he continues to stir.
The bowl is of a material new to the child. It is not glass, you can not see through it, nor is it some type of metal, it is not as smooth as either metal or glass. How could an object be fragile and strong, beautiful and substantial, dense and heavy while at the same time exquisite and ethereal?
“Why, child, would the thoughts of one change the being of the other?” A playful lilt to her tone tells the child that he is being tested.
“Must you always answer a question with another?”
Looking up from the task at hand, eyes sparkling with mischief or intent, the child can not tell, Me‘re replies emotionless. “No, but with you it is more fun.”
“As compared to with who?”, the child asks with a sudden ferocity that startles Me’re to the core. “You are all that I know, I am all that you know, how could you say with me it is more fun? There is no one BUT me.” In a large sweeping motion the child grabs the bowl intent on slamming it to the floor, where he will pound and stomp on it with his feet until every piece is shattered to oblivion.
In a single wave, almost unseen by the child, that is brutal and precise Maman replaces the bowl to the table without it touching the floor and grabs the child, bringing him into her strong, and yet frail, embrace. Maman cradles the child with a tenderness and strength that is at once comforting and disturbing. Here the child knows he will remain until his fury passes. That is how it always is.
The bowl is of a material new to the child. It is not glass, you can not see through it, nor is it some type of metal, it is not as smooth as either metal or glass. How could an object be fragile and strong, beautiful and substantial, dense and heavy while at the same time exquisite and ethereal?
“Why, child, would the thoughts of one change the being of the other?” A playful lilt to her tone tells the child that he is being tested.
“Must you always answer a question with another?”
Looking up from the task at hand, eyes sparkling with mischief or intent, the child can not tell, Me‘re replies emotionless. “No, but with you it is more fun.”
“As compared to with who?”, the child asks with a sudden ferocity that startles Me’re to the core. “You are all that I know, I am all that you know, how could you say with me it is more fun? There is no one BUT me.” In a large sweeping motion the child grabs the bowl intent on slamming it to the floor, where he will pound and stomp on it with his feet until every piece is shattered to oblivion.
In a single wave, almost unseen by the child, that is brutal and precise Maman replaces the bowl to the table without it touching the floor and grabs the child, bringing him into her strong, and yet frail, embrace. Maman cradles the child with a tenderness and strength that is at once comforting and disturbing. Here the child knows he will remain until his fury passes. That is how it always is.
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