Sustaining Innocence

(Listen to the song "The End of the Innocence" to get a feel for how it set the mood for this entry.)

In Don Henley's song "The End of the Innocence" he talks about how as young children we're poisoned by fairytales. My interpretation is that he's not talking about Little Red Riding Hood or Cat in the Hat but, instead, he's talking about what we're told is the truth by those whom we place our trust in during our most innocent years - childhood.
As I get older, the fairytales that are told to me get more vivid and it's hard to differentiate the truth from the bitterness. I guess because I'm way past my innocent years (31), the elders in my family think it okay to tell me odds and ends about what was going on or continues to go on behind closed doors - I wish they wouldn't.
I try as hard as I can to wash away these sad stories that mean nothing to me and, as far as I know, never effected me directly.
But, it's hard when you know.

That being said, I'm sustaining innocence within. It's not about being naive, it's about allowing myself the memory of any person in the way I want it to be, as I remember them.

Inspiration

(Listen to the song "Growin' Up" from the songlist to get a feel for how it inspired this entry.)

I was watching my much loved Palladia music channel this morning and one of my favorite musicians was on - Bruce Springsteen.
Now, I have heard and listened to many of his songs but never put much thought behind what they meant to him as an artist because, let's face it, I don't have his number on my speed dial to ask him.
Knowing what a song means to its artist is a rare privilege, but especially when the artist him/herself is the one explaining the significance. The show on Palladia this morning was Bruce playing his song for an intimate audience and explaining the song's significance to him.
At one point he played and defined his song "Jesus was an only Son." He made an astounding point that just opened my eyes and inspired a new wave of thinking, immediately. He simply stated that "Life is a path of consequences and that we all follow one."
As simple as it sounds, it had a profound impact on me. Life is filled with decisions based on choices. And, depending on what we decide there is a consequence - positive or negative. Or, going even deeper here, maybe there is always a positive and negative consequence with each decision. How can one truly know the impact of his/her decision except for how it effects him/herself?
I've been dissatisfied with the title of my blog for a few months now because my entries aren't always cozy (due to my path) and I needed a way to express that to you all. I mean truly, it's life. And life ain't cozy all of the time.
With this new title I'll be more apt to blog because it's just about life with no expectations. I felt obliged to provide you with a cozy atmosphere at all times before but now it's time to get real!
I will continue using my pen name, Butternose, because it is a consequence of my path. It holds sentimental value for me because it is the nickname my maternal grandpop gave me in my youth.

In addition, here's the beginning of a new story that these words inspired in me today:

A Path of Consequence

A path of consequence is a road that we’re all certain to follow. It’s inevitable that everyone has one.

My grandfather, for example, until the day he died vowed that he was born of Irish blood although his family heritage proved otherwise. He would study Gaelic at the dining room table for endless hours with his Irish cap on, a pipe in his mouth and a glass of Irish whiskey at the tips of his fingers. He traveled with my grandmother to the Emerald Isle each year, immersed himself in the Irish culture and made many friends along the way. In his life, he wrote vivid poems, stories and painted life-like visions of his numerous journeys to the island. I often think that my grandfather, in his death, is living his dream across the Atlantic on his beloved Emerald Isle. Being Irish is the path that my grandfather chose for himself. The consequence of this is that he truly believed he was an Irishman.

You Don't Know How It Feels...

Or do you?
You know, I wonder what Tom Petty was thinking about when he wrote that song. Maybe he was thinking that his listeners would never know what it felt like to be a rock star whose life is made on the stage, one tour after another.
I shouldn't speculate but I am curious about the lives of other people. Sometimes I find myself wondering what it would feel like to live life in another person's shoes. How would I want other people to react to my situation? There is so much hidden emotion behind the obvious body signals in the people I encounter each day.
The other day I happened to be in a hospital where I happened to catch a person in scrubs, donned in a surgical cover, hair net and surgical mask attempting to control a complete meltdown of tears. This person, whether it was a surgeon, nurse or parent, was a concerned person at a minimum. They tried to conceal and control their obviously strong emotional state but couldn't help letting go the tears.
It was only a matter of 5-10 seconds from the time I turned and saw this person trying to hide the explosion of grief ensuing him/her to the time he/she composed him/herself but it was just enough time to make me wonder what it must be like to be them at that moment. I felt so bad for that person I just wanted to go up to him/her and give them a hug and maybe that wouldn't have made a difference but it would have made me feel like I was letting them know they weren't alone and that it was okay to let go.
Although I can't know for sure how it feels to be "you," you are not alone and what I hope to do is to be there for you, listen attentively and gain an understanding.

Today

Today
by Butternose

Today I want to be anyone but me.
Today I don't feel like being
A Woman
A Wife
A Mother
A Daughter
A Sister
A Friend
A Writer
Today is just one of those days.

Prettiest Girl in the Room

by Butternose

The prettiest girl in the room,

I am certainly not.

Five-feet, seven inches,

Weighing more than a lot.

Though my boobs are big,

And they get all the stares,

They're nothing but fat,

And I'd lose em' if I just took the stairs.

My butt is silky smooth and pleasantly plump,

Just like J-Lo's,

As long as it's squeezed into queen-sized, control top pantyhose.

My arms are too manly for any sleeveless shirt,

And my thighs are too lumpy,

So forget the mini-skirt.

My feet are so dry,

And my toes are too long.

Only sneakers for me please,

No open-toed stilettos or cutsie summer thongs.

My hands are not feminine,

Not one insie bit.

My nails are all brittle,

And my fingers are short, knuckly and thick.

To top it all off, my hair is somewhere in between,

What it was fifty dollars ago,

And the two-inch dark roots that are easily seen.

I never wear make-up,

All natural gal here.

Besides,

My rosacea would shine through any foundation I smeared.

The prettiest girl in the room,

I am certainly not.

But I have personality for miles,

Which, I've been told, counts for more than a lot.

January

It's amazing what creativity comes from a concoction of little sleep and too much stress. Although I'm way off this morning I am grateful for the result - enjoy!

January

by Butternose

A storm is brewing

It's alive.

With every breath,

It feeds and thrives.

A storm is brewing

Out of control.

Beyond my body,

Poisoning my soul.

A storm is brewing

I'm caving in.

Nor strength or faith,

Can conquer this sin.

A storm is brewing

And once it has passed,

The skies will open,

But that will fade fast.

A storm is brewing.

In Love

by Butternose
(Click on the song "Life Ain't Always Beautiful" and get a feel for how it set the mood on this entry)

Though a mountain's peak soars beyond the clouds,

And can be seen for miles around,
It is a mountain's valley,
The lowest point,
Where true strength is often found.
Such as life,
At our lowest points,
We are quick to look above.
But above it all,
Where true strength is found,
Is in two hearts that are one,
In love.

Back to Basics

by Butternose
(Click on the song "Riddle" and get a feel for how it set the mood on this entry)

I know the phrase "Everything happens for a reason" is said a lot, but I am a true believer in this on good and bad occasions.
A little less than a month ago I packed up everybody and we headed south to visit family. I would have loved to leave the laptop at home but the reality was, I pay most of our bills through the darned thing so it was a must have on this trip as bills would be due during our 2-week long visit.
I packed it along with pure intentions on only using it for the bills but then my mind went into blog, email and instant search withdraw. I knew the laptop was easily accessible so it was hard to resist. I was up early one morning before anyone else so I decided I would take advantage of that quiet time and get online.
Well, the darn laptop wouldn't start-up. Time after time, I opened it and closed it and pressed the power button. As the minutes passed I began to feel the frustration deep inside me grow stronger. Finally, I closed the laptop lid, set the laptop aside and I selfishly prayed to God and asked him to make it work. After all, all I wanted to do was get on my blog, check out the latest on other blogs, check email, search for who sang that song my mother-in-law & I heard on the radio the day before, and who knows where else that would have lead me in the internet world.
Luckily, I had packed my latest Writer's Digest Magazine. So I began to read an article and halfway through reading I reached over and punched the power button on the laptop .
Ah, the sweet sound of a computer powering up. Fans blowing, screen flashing words and shapes and making forward progress towards endless possibilities.
The funny thing was, once it started I was so involved in the magazine that I no longer cared to get online. I was more interested in finishing the magazine. I think my eyes and brain enjoyed looking at the magazine more than looking at the laptop, too.
Once we got home, this incident occurred 2 more times. Each time I calmly set the laptop aside and began reading something that I have been putting off for too long. And, each time I reached over to start the laptop it booted right up. This freak occurrence put something into perspective for me.
I decided that it's time for me to get back to basics - for the most part.
I began to think about all of those things that the convenience of technology provides for us. Although technology is great progress, sometimes I feel that the convenience of technology can numb raw knowledge.
Here are a few instances where I believe technology has numbed our minds:

1. Spelling: The little red line that flows under a misspelled word when typing and all we have to do is right-click on it and allow the computer to spell it for us. Solution: Attempt to correct it on your own before right-clicking.
2. Research: Several words come to mind: Google, Wikipedia, Yahoo, Dogpile and any of the other hundreds of search engines. Solution: Take the long road and support your local library. Look in a library and physically hold research in your hands.
   
3. Lost time: Did you ever mean to just get online "real quick?" Yeah, me too and before I know it 2 hours have gone by and all I have done is nothing. I missed out on a sunrise or a sunset or playing with my 2-year-old or having a decent conversation with my husband. Solution: Set a time limit. Look at that little clock in the bottom right-hand corner of your computer screen and call it quits no matter what.

Speaking of which, I have to go. But before I go, I'd like to say that I appreciate technology and what it has done for the world. I'm only suggesting that we take time to get back to the basics of life, stop to smell the roses, all that jazz.
Something else that is said too much but that I believe strongly in, "Life's too short."

Staying at Home

Staying at Home

(Click on the song "Danny's Song" and get a feel for how it set the mood on this entry)

by Butternose

Stay-at-home Mommy days,

Diaper,

Milk,

Breakfast,

Clean-up,

Diaper,

Baby gets dressed,

Play-time,

Snack,

Diaper – get the wipes,

Juice time,

Nap time,

Mommy’s time to,

Wash the dishes,

Clean the house,

Do the laundry,

Get a shower – scratch that the baby woke up,

Diaper,

Juice,

Lunch,

More play-time,

Diaper,

Snack,

Start dinner,

Clean-up,

Bath-time,

Get baby in cozy PJs,

Warm milk,

Story-time,

Family hugs and say our prayers,

Goodnight baby,

Anything but lazy days.

The End of a Generation

(Click on the song "Into the Mystic" to get a feel on how the mood was set for this entry.)
Recently, there have been a few events in my life that have made me think back on things I miss, took advantage of, and wish I had a second chance to experience.
We (my family) buried my paternal grandpop two weeks ago yesterday and my maternal grandmom's health is on a downhill slope, too. I was fortunate enough to have been very close to both sets of my grandparents and I have many memories, great memories, with them. And, though I know we (humans) can't live forever, my grandparents are a chapter in my life that I wish I could share with my husband, my daughter and myself all over again.
It goes back to that age old saying, "I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger." Instead, I wish I could do now what I did when I was younger.
Growing up sometimes sucks - responsibility, failed traditions, and the end of a generation known as "Grandparents."
According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of a Grandparent is: a parent of one's father or mother.
According to those of us who've been fortunate enough to have grandparents we grew up with or were close to, the definition of a Grandparent is:

• true adventurer - one who is not afraid to explore the nasty bugs under the rocks in the garden and smoosh them or scoop them into a plastic cup with a make-shift garden contained in it so we could keep the bug as a pet (who cares, the bug was going home with the kid);

• expert tickler - one who knows the perfect spot on the ribs to tickle effortlessly for hours, even after the grandkid has turned blue and is begging for mercy, but comes back for more;

• candy king/queen - one who knows that I will still eat my dinner even if you feed me desert first; in fact, I might even eat my brussel sprouts in that case (Oh, and mom & dad never have to know about this tradition);

• pesky sibling protector - one who knows it's never the fault of the kid who is crying, especially if his/her sibling is laughing mischievously;

• sensational storytellers - one who has endless accounts of life experiences that range anywhere from walking uphill in the snow both directions to the eleven brothers and sisters they shared a one-room house with to the time they joined the circus and became a trapeze artist;

• total traveler - one who doesn't mind taking the grandkids on long road trips to the aunt's house who lives out in the boondocks or a weekend camping trip or even three blocks down the street to the candy store (reference "candy king/queen" bullet);

• coziest cuddle corner- last but certainly not in the least, one whose arms, legs and over sized belly served perfectly as a corner to cuddle into and fall asleep for hours.

This is a very short list of some things I will miss terribly about the end of my grandparent's generation. Albeit heartbreaking, theirs is a generation I will not soon forget.