Campfyre Stories

Ok, I get it, I really do.  I get it enough to have become a "productive" member of the time sink known as Facebook.  I don’t garden in real life at all, in fact, I kill plants just by looking at them, but I do the virtual garden thing.  I have more friends who are members than I expected and I know a lot of the people from the "People you know" thing, even if I don’t particularly know them very well.

But there are a few things I just don’t get.

I mean, as long as I know the person who’s requesting the "add" from me, I’ll add them, but somewhere along the line I think that the whole business of "friendship" got lost.  Not that these people aren’t my friends, in fact, a lot of the people on my friends list are really more like family and extended family, but I wonder about old high school acquaintances…  I have several on my list right now and if any more invite me, I’ll surely add them, but a couple of them I can’t really recall.  I know we went to school together, or at least together-ish, but I don’t think we ran in the same crowds or went to the same social events.  There are only one or two that I would actively seek out to spend time with as adults, and they’re the ones I tended to seek out back then.

I guess I just don’t know what the rules are.  I noticed a bunch of people from high school who I liked or respected way back then, but I had to really search to remember who they were.  Should I add these people I could barely remember, in the hopes that they’ll actually remember me?  I think not, only because I wouldn’t want to think of myself as that unmemorable.  Again, it’s not like we were really *friends*.  Of my actual friends from high school, the vast majority of them have pretty much disappeared on the face of the planet as far as I’m concerned.  The few who haven’t are already on my friends roster.  I guess I expected Facebook to be more about renewing old friendships than creating new ones, or the semblance of new ones.

To further complicate matters, I can’t even really place most of the women.  I mean, those who married and changed their names I may not ever figure out who they were way back when.  Even more bothersome is how many more of the women have protected or hidden profiles, so I can’t even look at see if it’s someone from high school or old pictures or something that will jar that memory in.

Again, if they friend me, I accept, provided I can figure out that I do, in fact, know them.  But it all just seems rather odd to me.

I don’t feel like I’ve bolstered very many of my friendships through here, although I do feel like I have some fine delicate thread that connects us, one that is both easier and harder to sever than the ties with the people I see or speak with on a regular basis.  I suppose it will make it  harder to actually LOSE touch with most of these people, but it’s just as easy to fail to communicate with someone on Facebook as it is to not call, not email, not contact by any other means.

I don’t know.  Conceptually, I like it.  I like the idea of what it’s supposed to be, but the reality of it seems lacking. 

Eh.  At least it’s still less ear/eye-bleedingly painful than MySpace…

Yeah, I know, with a title like that I’m gearing myself up to be misunderstood, but bear with me here.

The idea is that we should treat people the way we want to be treated, but I’ve been getting a lot of that lately and it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.  I think that it’s a PROBLEM that we do so much of treating people the way we want to be treated because what we get in return is not what we need or want, but what the other person wants, or thinks they need.

I mean, clearly the intention here is to not treat people badly, but when you treat them how you want to be treated, it can amount to about the same thing.  We’re all different people and we all want different things and we all function in different ways.

Me, for example.  I’m a multi-tasker.  I work best in the middle of the night and would rather work odd hours if I can.  I don’t do well with micro-management and I’m best being left alone for the most part.  So when my management decides to pull me off all my projects so that I can focus on a single task, tells me I can’t work extra or different hours to meet the deadline and explains in painful detail exactly *how* they want me to accomplish this, I function poorly.  In fact, I do so much worse that I physically suffer from the way they’re going about it.

Now I know that one person doesn’t like feeling burdened by needing to work on the weekends, but I’m volunteering.  Clearly, I’m ok with it.  This other person has a hard time multi-tasking and needs the focus of only working on a single thing at a time, but that’s the opposite of what makes me tick.  The Golden Rule rears its ugly head and becomes something of a Midas touch.  Turning to gold things that need to be pliable in order to function properly.

But even this is a relatively bad example.  Grief, for example, is something that everyone needs to handle in their own way.  Too many people assume that their method of grieving is the only proper way to respond, so those who need cajoling and joking get only serious concern.  Those who need to be alone have well-meaning, caring people forcing their shoulders on them.  People who need to cry are faced with friends who don’t know how to react to that situation.

And on and on and on and on and on…

It happens when we’re sick, it happens when we’re angry, it happens in every circumstance of life.  We turn to others needing some kind of care and what we get is what they need.  And what we give is what WE need.  In the end, no one is satisfied and everyone is left wanting the one thing they need, whatever that thing may be.

I propose that instead of using our gut reactions to treat people the way we want to be treated, that we pay attention to what THEY need and want.  If I’m sick, ASK ME if I want to be comforted.  I, personally, will tell you that I don’t.  Others probably need the immediate "poor baby" sympathy.  If I volunteer for something that sounds awful to you, ask me if I’ve thought it through and let me explain why I’m making that particular offer. 

We could all benefit greatly by stepping away from the cop out of giving everyone in the world what we want for ourselves.

I am single.  Well, to be accurate, divorced, but unmarried nonetheless.

I am a mother.

Therefore, according to most people, I am a single mother.  I suppose it’s accurate to some degree, but I reject the label.  To me, single motherhood is tied up with someone who is doing it mostly on her own.  My son not only has a father, but he has an involved father, he has a real dad who is there for him and spend time with him on a regular basis.

I’m really a part-time mother, not a full-time one.  Since I only have Spawn literally half the time, I can’t embrace the idea of motherhood being a full-time job for me.

In some situations I am given special privileges for being a "single mom".  To some extent I resent this, since I know that I’m worth the same treatment without it being special.  On a completely different level, I accept it, since it allows the people giving that treatment to feel like they’re doing some greater good in the world, even if the recipient tends to not have to face the problems that many single mothers in the US actually face.

Someone told me that my rejection of this label was some kind of middle-class guilt mentality.  I took offense to this, since it came from someone who is struggling at near-poverty levels to try to achieve the semblance of a middle-class "normality", where I probably qualify for middle class in terms of income, but not mentality in every other situation.

The reality of the situation is that I always find pity in the "single mother" discussions.  I suppose in polite company we could call it empathy and compassion, but it’s really pity.  There’s this concept that any mother who doesn’t have a husband or boyfriend or some kind of partner is at a disadvantage.  In my situation, my son is rarely pitied, but I am.  People know that Spawn has a father who is part of his life, Equitably part of his life, but since I don’t have that other half, I’m somehow missing out, or less fortunate than others.

I disagree.

The time I spend with my son is unhindered by a need to share that time with others.  In these teenage years, he has a mother who is, not only devoted to him, but also willing to give him space.  He can learn from me that women are capable on their own, and depending on what his father and step-mother show him, that sometimes they can even do better without a man to care for them or support them.

I’m not alone in raising my son.  I’m not even a sole parent in raising my son.  If he doesn’t suffer from the situation he grows in, then why is it assumed that I’m somehow in need of special treatment?

It’s unfortunate how many aspects of life this permeates.  Men who are potential partners are scared off by the "single mother" stigma, assuming that I’m looking for a father for my son.  Not only is he a teenager, but, again, he has a father.  I’m not looking for someone to replace the Dragonmaker in Spawn’s life, but the conversation rarely gets that far.  I’ve come to a point where I rarely mention my son to potential romances, at least at first.  I want everyone to know that those stigmas that are haphazardly applied to me don’t fit this strangely-shaped peg.

I don’t think I’m being noble.  I don’t think that I’m trying to avoid an accurate representation of my situation, but I think that beyond the etymological meanings of words, there are societal meanings that cause stigma and taboo to be applied to words and phrases that, by rights, should be neutral.

I don’t know how to reconcile it. 

I accept the special treatment.  I poo poo the pity when it’s offered.  I try to talk people out of putting me into a category where I do not belong and prefer to not find myself, but it simply doesn’t help.

I am a single mother who doesn’t fit the societal meaning of the word, even if the etymological definition is convenient for the rest of the world.

When I was younger, I tried to keep diaries periodically.  Generally, it would be when something ongoing and eventful was happening, but after a short time, I would just stop writing.  It might have been because of a lack of time or a lack of motivation, but the book would go away and, generally, years later, I would pick up a new book and start again, with the same results.

I’m finding that the same thing happens with this blog, but instead of putting it down forever and starting over, I come back to the same place when I have the time or the motivation or just things that I feel need to be written down.

This blog has become a good chronicle, and I’m able to look back and pinpoint when things happened, or what was going on at a certain period of time, but it doesn’t stop me from still taking a hiatus from time to time.  I try not to fall into the oblogation of *needing* to write in it every day or every couple of days, but when people ask me why I’ve stopped updating, there’s still some measure of guilt that I feel for not having written everything down.

But the reality is that I don’t have all that much to say right now.  I’m still trying to recover from the travels and birthdays and, really, summer in general.  It’s not that things aren’t happening, it’s not even that things are exceptionally good or bad, it’s just that I don’t have the drive to keep writing on a regular basis.  No, that’s not true either, because I am writing, and I’m plurking and I’m doing all of those things, just not here.

And I have to say, that there are essays and pieces that I want to write down, that I want to put on my blog, but they just aren’t coming in a form I’m happy with.  It’s not exactly a writers block, it’s something else.  It’s a missing piece that I haven’t yet identified.

I want to write about watching Spawn start to try to define himself superficially, which is an important part of the high school years.  I want to write about the man that I can see him start to become and the rock star that he’s striving to be, but the proud mama posts simply aren’t there just yet.

I want to write about the things that are bouncing around in my head, about the external writing that I’m starting to do, but I feel like I might be jinxing myself to talk about them when they’re still in the seedling stage.

I want to write about the goals I feel I’m moving toward and the hurdles that I’m encountering, but those things are simply too close to me right now, and I don’t think that I can talk about them until I’m out of the situation itself.  Talking about it now is really nothing more than whining, and I don’t want to whine about things…

So I take comfort in the fact that my blog is there when I want it and need it and I try to get over the idea that I’m somehow letting myself down by not writing HERE, even though I’m writing in other places.  I have too much on my mind and on my plate to let myself get all wrapped up in some idea that I need to be writing everything in a single place.  Sure, if I want to go back and find out what was going on during this time, I’ll have a much harder time with all the different places that I need to check, but at least the information is around.

People stayed late to help me break down the party, but there were a few things that were left for later by necessity.  One of them was cleaning out the fire pit.  Since the party was on Sunday, and trash night is Tuesday, I figured I had plenty of time.

But Tuesday, when I went to take out all the trash, someone had pulled up EVERYTHING and piled it with the trash.  Not just all the pieces of the fire pit, but all the solar landscape lighting I had bought and set up nicely around the yard.  Now I don’t know why that would happen, but I called my landlord to find out if I had done anything wrong in using the *shared* yard and taking my time to clean it up.  He said I hadn’t and would talk to the neighbor who shares the yard, but I still haven’t heard back.

I got a new neighbor on Tuesday.  No big deal, not much to say.  Wednesday morning I brought in the recycle bin and put it in front of my door to bring it in when I got home.  What I came home to was a recycle bin filled with non-recyclable materials, HEAVY ONES, blocking my apartment door.  I rang my neighbor’s bell and said "This is my recycle bin, what are you doing."  She claimed to think that it was shared.

First off, why would I block my apartment door with a shared recycle bin?  Secondly, what kind of sharing is filling it with NON-RECYCLABLE materials?

She told me she only needed it until trash night, which she clearly didn’t know had been the night before!

She also doesn’t lock the damned door, which is seriously starting to piss me off.

The construction zone where I work has expanded, so now I have farther and longer to walk.  I can’t seem to figure out why they keep doing this, since they have more space than they actually use.  It seems like a war of attrition.  For me, it’s just plain obnoxious.

We’re still having problems with my father’s land, which we THOUGHT was sold over a month ago.  I shouldn’t still be having to deal with this, and I do not have the time or energy to put into it.

My plans are to not have plans outside of Spawn’s birthday this month, but the less planning I do, the more things I wind up doing.  I’m not sure how that works.

And blogging?  Pfft.  I don’t have much to say about these things except to whine and/or complain about them.  It sucks, but oh well.  These things tend to work in cycles and not last all that long.  This too shall pass.

Earlier today I found myself feeling like I was standing on the edge of a precipice.  I’m not sure what’s down there, but I’m pretty sure I have to go through it in order to keep moving forward and progressing.

I had a recent catch-up type of conversation with an old friend.  She asked me how I was doing and what was going on and all I really had to talk about was my job and my kid.  She asked, "but what about YOU?" and I didn’t have an answer to that.  Right now I’m pretty well defined by my work and being a mother.

Most years, I have a breakdown on my birthday.  This year, I was far too busy to do that, so I’m starting to wonder if it’s just trying to catch up with me now.  I really don’t have time to break at the moment and I’m not entirely sure what all it would entail.

I’ve been happy to be as busy as I’ve been and now that work is really starting to take off, I have very little time alone with my thoughts, but it’s still sometimes a little too much.  I overthink *everything* and that’s not good for anyone.  I question the nice gestures and apparent good intentions of some of the people around me.  I can’t help but wonder sometimes whether or not they’re actually genuine and what it is that they want from me.  People going out of their way to be nice often leads to a streak of bad events, usually when I let my guard down and start to just accept the kindness.

The people and things that I was questioning a year ago are different from the people and things I am questioning now.  If they were the same, I would have very simple answers, but since they’re not, I just have a whole new set of questions and not as many answers from last year as I would have liked.

Birthday week is over.  Spawn’s birthday comes in about 3 weeks, then I can take a week or two before I have to start thinking about the holidays.  I think this is why I like Spring best of all.  Fewer birthdays than any other season for me.

There were some 20 people at my party.  By consensus, it ended around 8:30, which surprised me, but I prefer when a party just ends when it’s finished.  I suppose it’s a sign that we’re all getting older, though I wasn’t ready for bed at all by that point.

A handful of people stuck around to help me clean up, which only took about 20 minutes all told.  3 days to set up, 20 minutes to take down.  Pfft.  A few people hung around, but not exceptionally late.  At midnight the clock changed from my birthday to my brother’s, so I wished him a happy happy and gave him his presents.

I had two FyreGoddess moments, the first when one of the tiki torches appeared to go out.  I went over to check if it needed more fluid or to be relit and as I touched it, the flame surged up and it was burning just fine.  I have witnesses to this strange little moment, FyreGoddess, indeed.  The second was when they sang Happy Birthday and brought me my cake.  As the song ended, the wind put out the candles.  They relit them so I could blow them out, but still, I was certainly amused.

I can’t say that there were any real surprises, which is actually a good thing.  I suppose you could call it a surprise that so much went off so smoothly.  I often have these birthdays where I look forward to it, but then it just is meh at best.  This time around, I was too busy to look forward to it and I really couldn’t have asked for any more.

My new custom Chucks are so cool that not only have my friends been asking about them and comment on them, but random people walking down the street stop me to compliment how freakin’ cool they are, and ask where I got them.  I would be surprised if converse.com had a minor surge from my immediate area, especially since they’re not all that expensive.  Certainly not in comparison to the non-custom Chucks.

But that was yesterday and is in the past.  For now, we’ll keep on with birthday week and spend some time giving my brother the focus.  I think that 18 used to be a much bigger deal than it is now, because, sure, he can vote, he’s legally responsible for himself, but what does it really mean?  He’ll go out tonight with his friends, after we do a family dinner, but I don’t think he’s getting all that much from the "legally an adult" business.  Now, 3 years from now when he hits 21?  THAT will be all his…  and I won’t claim the birthday week that time around (of course, it won’t be a weekend, either, so I won’t really want to, anyway )

As much as I love the three-day weekend, I’m ready to be finished with the overall birthday week.  Just this last one and we don’t have to stress it anymore…  You know, for 3 weeks until Spawn has his birthday.