My greatest interest beyond my children is transpersonal psychology so navigating social networks like Facebook is a challenge I enjoy. This machine with the screen allows me to have relationships with many people I would not otherwise know, specifically, friends from my hometown and friends from other places very far away from where I now live. I have to tell you internet friends - The majority of you... Well, we are not alike.The Daughter
I
Am not a flower
And I am not the thorn of your rose
I
Am not your lover
This is not the way the ballad goes
I
Am not the answer
And I cannot bother with more lies
I
Am not the cancer
And I am not the babe who sweetly cries
Bring to me
All your misery
For I am not the sunshine that you see
Hold me down
This your holy water
Cause I am not the sun, but the daughter
I
Am not a story
And I am not your moment of regret
I
Am not a warning
This too I’m sure you will forget
I
Am not the data
I am not merely DNA
I
am not the pattern
and I am not there when you pray
Bring to me
All the misery
For I am not the sunshine that you seek
Hold me down
In unholy water
Cause I’m not the sun, but the daughter
I
am not your crisis
And I am not the secret to be told
I
Am not a player
I never learned how to be so cold
I
Am not the mistress
I am not the reason for your lie
I
Am not returning
I have already made up my mind
You have brought me
So much misery
And I tried to be the sunshine that you seek
I am swimming through
Your unholy water
I am not the sun but the daughter.
On September 10th, 2001, I wrote this in my journal:
"I was walking to my car this morning when I felt a cool shift in the air, bring about little goosebumps on my arms. I smelled September.
Suddenly I was back in Midwest City Oklahoma and my mom was calling me in the house to set the dinner table. Our green and white checkered curtains above the sink that she made herself were so vivid to me. And the quirky table with the matching vinyl chairs that left their swirl pattern on the backs of my legs were almost real enough to touch. I remembered it all in a split second – the backdrop of my childhood on Willowbrook Drive. And with the memory came such a longing to go back – just for one dinner.
I thought about what I would say to me as an eight-year-old. Knowing what I know now, would I look into her overly lashed brown eyes and give her a good dose of the Truth? Would I name the people she should not trust, the people who would hurt her? Should I tell her to forget about Jr. High and High School and College as being the places she would find self worth? Should I beg her to be more cautious about the boys and men who are capable of breaking her heart? And still, would I give her a list of people she should spend more time with – Grandma Ruby K, her big sister, Alice, Grandpa and her namesake, Grandma Rene? If I had one night with eight-year-old me, what would I do with that precious time?
At that age, I was, by most accounts, completely innocent. I did all the things that kids do and I took the time to know what September smelled like. As I sit here now thinking about it, I guess I might’ve been happy. So I can’t help but wonder if maybe I would reveal nothing to Penny Rene age 8 if I saw her. Maybe what I would be wiser to do is ask her what her favorite book is, what she likes about her big brother, what’s her mom’s specialty dish, and - Isn’t Grandma Rene funny? And I would ask her what she wants to be when she grows up.
Sigh…. Lately, when everybody looks so tired and my pen feels like a toothpick hurled at my giant ego, I cannot help but miss that innocence. Today I have been trying to remember how all my big dreams of being a writer began. One little girl in her Robin Egg Blue room, with a shelf full of books that would all be read and a pine cone tree hideaway across the street where she could find some peace. It was a good time."
One summer I was laying on the bank of the Rhine in Schaffhausen and the next thing I knew I was 40 years old.



All the late night guilty pleasure
you had the balls to sulk
While I put to rest my demons
You saw not me, but my ghost
When all else was confusingTell me, how clear was my touch?It was nothing that you'd known beforeAnd still was not enough
Merritt Malloy said, "Relationships that do not end peacefully, do not end at all." Social networks like Facebook are booming, in large part, because of the regret that lingers for years after we have walked away from each other. Oh, we say we have no regrets because having regrets is immature. Ironically, immaturity is at the core of most of those bad break-ups, isn't it? But, like it or not, all these relationships have an impact on us. All those people are not just mistakes, but teachers too. We learned. And we should be thankful.
It's Mothers Day and I hope that most of you mothers were able to sleep in this morning, at the very least. At best I hope you received flowers, breakfast in bed and a one hour spa massage.
When other mothers tell me they don't like to make a big deal about this day I simply do not understand. Mother's Day should be a monthly holiday in my opinion. I don't know about you, but I sure as hell earn it.

Thanks to Netflix I watch TV again. Only I do it two or three episodes at a time, whenever the kids actually go to sleep in their own beds and I am still awake enough to hold my iPad. So... not often.
Pulling:
Gavin & Stacey:
