Several years ago, around this time of year, my niece died. She was three years old and had spinal meningitis. From the first signs of the disease to the final moment was less than 30 hours. It was absolutely devastating to many people. Her parents were, understandably, grieving for a very long time. Unfortunately from this grief came a separation of my mother and my older brother. For some reason, my brother's wife no longer wanted my mom in her life. My personal opinion on this is that Sierra was very close to my mother and my sister-in-law could not be reminded of her happiness when all she was capable of feeling at that time, was pain. My mother avoided being around small children for a few years. I have friends who had a daughter a few months younger than my niece would have been and for about 2 years, I had to keep them from bringing her to my mother's house.

Time has gone on and things have changed. The one bright spot in my holiday season has been tonight.

Tonight at my mother's house my family gathered. My mother, her husband and I were joined by my brother and his wife and their 4 year old son. He was born about a year and a half after the death of his sister. He's a bright and fun little boy and I very much enjoyed playing with him. I will always think of Sierra and miss her terribly, but I'm glad that after well over 5 years, my family can see past her death and understand that it is important to be together and to love and accept one another.

Coming from someone who rarely feels accepted anywhere, who merely seems to abide, this night has brought me a tremendous amount of bittersweet joy. I am amazed at the small miracle of a child and I remember the small miracle of another. And I'm amazed that a relationship, broken for years, has finally come back together.

I'm continuing to edit my poetry. At one point, I decided it was all crap and i was just stupid for thinking I had any talent. Thank you to my friends Lisa and Jessica for understanding this. Lisa and I are currently working on getting a website up and going. I'm arguing with Microsoft Frontpage at the moment, so if anyone has any suggestions for a better web-page building program, I would be happy to listen. Or, if you could find me a tutorial that would teach me all I need to know about Microsoft Frontpage, I'd be happy to go through it as well. We will have some of my poetry and her essays, and fiction up on the site. I am looking forward to it. I'm still trying to work on holding a writer's workshop online, but I haven't been able to quite figure out how to do it. I always dream too big.

One of the most wonderful women I know is someone whom I have never seen. She's someone I often talk with online. Everytime I'm feeling a little down, she seems to know. Most of her friends online call her Mom, because she has a mother's instinct for us all. Of course she's had her fair share of difficulites. We all do, but she is one of the rare people who has chosen to learn from not only her mistakes, but he mistakes of other. This wisdom she has gained, she passes on to us, her online, family to smooth our roads a little. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank her for making my life better, and more enjoyable and certainly more peaceful. I've learned more from you than you will ever know, Atira. Thank you. Your loveable, if very very lost, little Elfe.

Well, it looks a lot like Christmas here. It's nice to know that the 2 hours I spent driving from one end of town to the other in the snowstorm of yesterday at least resulted in a beautiful blanket of white. Since I will be gone for the next few days, I thought I would take this chance to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, or Happy Holiday, whichever applies. I wish the world tolerance for the beliefs of others and love for those who do not tolerate. As hard as that is, it's still the only way they will come around. Enjoy the break...if you get one. Good luck at work if you don't.

"It's the most wonderful time of year." I've never been exceptionally fond of this song. I think it's because of the line "Hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near." Having my friends and family surround me in good cheer always fills me with a warm and happy feeling. However, as a general rule, those whom I love the most, are often those I like the least. Coming from a family where women are expected to be servants, and repopulate the earth (as if it really needed more people), it is easy to see why I wouldn't want to be around my family very much during the holidays.

For some reason, I'm derelict in my duty of womanhood because I'm not popping out babies yet. In my opinion, it is important for a person of either male or female gender to be prepared for the responsibilities of being a parent. (I have discussed that in a previous blog, so I won't recap here.) Obviously this attitude offends many of the members of my family. So what is a 29 year old woman supposed to do when her family refuses to regard her as an adult until she sports the last name of a man and bears his children? At each holiday gathering, I am the victim of stares and sneers because I arrive with my boyfriend (of 3 years, and no, we aren't getting married) with the proverbial mask in place. I am cheery, and loving and kind. I sing the songs. I smile and laugh. I do all of the things that all of the women do, yet, I still have to sit at the kids table because I don't have any children of my own. Perhaps the motivation behind the seating arrangement is the hope that my biological clock will somehow be wound and mysteriously come to life from contact with the children.

Don't think that I am bitter in the least. Bitterness is certainly not what prompts my outrage at this. I am just tired of being the one outcast because of the decisions I've made in my life. Of course the circulation of rumors that I'm a lesbian and that's why I've never gotten married doesn't help matters. Even if I were, is it not still my family's responsibility to accept me and love me for who I am. I am certainly not doing anything to harm anyone. I have as much love as any of them. More than likely, the love I give is more genuine because I don't put limitations upon it. I give my love to any member of my family without a thought as to that person's lifestyle. Do I not have the right to expect the same?

Perhaps I am just too forward in my thinking. Be that as it may, I don't intend to change, and until I marry and have children (should that ever occur) I will be forever outcast from my family.

For some reason it looks funny, and I don't want to mess with it tonight, so I'll work on it later.

YEA!!! My comment system is now working, I hope. So, you can leave comments if you want.

All my life I have driven cars that were nothing short of big hunks of dung. Finally, about a year and a half ago, I got a 1990 VW Passat station wagon. Ok, so it's not the best car in the world, but it was in impeccable condition. I have been having problems with the brakes and the roads were slick yesterday, so I didn't drive it to work. I came home to find that someone had backed into my car and smashed in both of the driver's side doors.

SO, I now have another big hunk of dung.

It consistently amazes me that people are so rude as to not accept responsibility for their mistakes. They consistently justify any and every action in a myriad of ways and expect those of us who live responsibly to accept it. The really kicker is that we have to. There is nothing that I can do about my car. It's considered a hit and run, so my insurance doesn't cover it. And of course, no one saw anything.

A friend of mine once said that she would love to read an online journal written by me. Somehow, I don't think this would quite live up to her expectations. No sushi, or murders so far, sorry Rosalinda.

I am a tutor for middle school kids after I finish my regular job as a teacher's aide in HS. It left me a little unsettled to discover that the mother of one of my students is only 4 years older than me. This would have been fine except she wants to call me "Mom." I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. Since I look so young, most people forget I am almost 30. Sometimes I forget it too.

I went to high school as soon as I got out of college. It was a "business school." The equivalent of a community college, but it wasn't accredited. After spending a year there, I went to the state university in my hometown and started my long, drawn out, interminable academic career. Over the span of the ten years that I spent in college I attended four different schools. The last one I attended was, by far, my favorite.

The first year I was there was horrible. School was the only spot of sanity in my life. I didn't realize how much pressure I was under until my teacher used my life to describe naturalism. This was to be expected since I was having a difficult time. I was very active in the theatre department, and I expected my theatre friends to understand the reference. However, as I looked around the room, I saw many unfamiliar faces bobbing their heads in agreement. That's when I realized that my bad luck had become legend.

To make a long story short I will list as opposed to explain.
1. I was attending school after having been out for over a year
2. I was being stalked, so I couldn’t go anywhere alone
3. My 3 year old niece died.
4. My mother had a nervous breakdown, even though she doesn’t believe it.
5. In the second semester I was already 2 weeks behind in school work when it was only 2 weeks into the semester.
6. The brakes fell off my car—twice. (Yes, fell OFF. I picked them up from the ground.)
7. Various other every day stresses and annoyances, like breaking off the key in the door lock, and having no heater in my car, having to replace the alternator, etc., etc.
And yes, that’s the short version.

I never thought I would graduate. I took a 3 year break after that year before I went back. Nervous. But as I got into the semesters, I realized that through that year of the inferno, I had learned many things. One of them was how to work through any kind of problem.

A year and a half later, I found myself walking down the aisle (not that aisle)—cap on my head with a lovely red and gray tassel, and grasping a beautiful red folder. Everyone else thought I would do it, but I was still in shock.

Now, I sit and contemplate going to an MFA program and I find myself in the same flustered state I was about 5 years ago. What makes me think I am good enough to get into a good program? What makes me special? My writing (to me) is nothing special. It is insightful in my life and applies in a few ways to others, but do I really have the universal words to express the feelings of people around the world.

I also worry about whether or not I can do it in a reasonable amount of time. It took me 10 years to accomplish the goal of my twenties. I said I wanted to graduate before I was 30. At 28 years old, I reached for the hand of the president of the college and my diploma.

These are just my concerns and hopes and expectations and worries of school, academia, and life in general.

No rants available today. I feel decently calm despite having to break up a fight yesterday. Sometimes calm is deceptive.

I will try to figure out a way to receive feedback very soon. I just haven't had the energy to fight the html battles, and other sorts of things that I'm dreading doing. More than likely I'll give the whole page a makeover as well.

So, exactly what qualifies one to be a parent? Just because you have a uterus, doesn't mean that you should use it. Just because you can produce sperm, doesn't mean that you should do it. Working in a public high school, I am ever amazed by the myriad of parents who really don't care where their children are.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm calling to see if you can tell me why {Jason} is not at school today?"
"Aww, f***, I dunno. I'm just so sick of this s*** and y'all're always callin' me to find 'im. As if I'm s'pos'ta know where he is."
"Well, ma'am, he is your son. Did you know he wasn't at school today?"
"I dunno. He don't tell me nothin'"

etc., etc., etc.

This is a typical conversation with the mother of any number of boys in my class. So, I ask again, could someone please tell me what qualifies these people to be parents.

My own parents were lacking in many ways. They instilled in me many different forms of intolerance which I had to overcome in my twenties. They were controlling and manipulating and often very disapproving of a child, who, by any terms was not difficult to handle. I never snuck out of the house. I never drank, smoke, did drugs, or (knowingly) dated anyone who did. I was respectful. If I wanted to yell at my mother, I knew I was going to get the back of her hand across my face, so I didn't do it. My father wasn't really around when I was in my teens, but the same rules applied to him. Regardless of their faults, they did their best to see that I was in school and completing that education.

Never in my high school career did I dare to tell my mother that I wasn't going to get up and go to school. Indeed when I was sick I often got up and went to school anyway. Her opinion (wrong or not) was that if you could walk on your own, you needed to be in school.

So, when I call a mother and she tells me that she tried to wake her son, but he just simply wouldn't get up, I have to wonder what has gone wrong in society or with parents. Why is it that a mother is afraid to stand in the doorway and say "You are getting your happy little butt out of bed, or you will not be going anywhere or doing anything for the next several weeks." Whether or not you believe in different forms of discipline, at some point in a child's life, that child must be disciplined. When did we lose the ability to do that?

Some parents don't like to spank. That is perfectly fine with me. There are plenty of other ways to achieve results. Every child will rebel. That is a given. But to allow rebellion to go so unchecked that by the time the child reaches 15 years of age, the mother is afraid of him, or her is ridiculous. Independence is good. Rebellion for the sake of just saying no is not.

This is just my little rant on the state of parenting today. I realize that there are some parents who do phenomenal jobs with their children. But the more I look at society the more anger I see in younger generations and it's frightening. There will always be those who believe they don't have to follow the rules and the ones they manipulate, but (at least to me) it seems that those people are becoming more and more common.

Upon reading my friend Lisa's blog, I was inspired to create my own. I must agree it does rather feel like the last step in egotism. Being a little new at this, I probably won't write much at this time, but since I'm currently a teacher's aide at a public school in a program where the majority of the kids are (to say the least) outcasts from mainstream society, I am sure that I will have interesting things to come for the eyes of those interested.

I typically do not keep a journal other than my own poetry. Thus, I'm not very good an narrating my personal experiences. While understanding the positive aspects of logging my life, I have found that I am so forgetful that I can't keep track of a single book. However, I think that even I would have a difficult time losing a computer, so perhaps this is the start of a beautiful journalistic experience for me.