Today is one of those days that are pushing me towards wishing that I could be
ANYWHERE
BUT
HERE


A cup of good english breakfast tea and a swipe of lip gloss. I'm ready to get out of here.
But I have no where to go, no money to get anywhere, and I am tirer of all the places I can get to.

What should I do?

Toddler Jui-Jitsu class = Hell for mom

My son does not listen to me. The ultimate of all ultimate days of "not listening-ness" was today. At Jiu-Jitsu class he chose to run around in circles, pound the floor mats with his hands and feet, not wait his turn, and avoid any contact with the instructor. He gave everyone a stunning performance of everything from frogs to falcon impressions but refused, absolutely refused, to listen to anyone.
I could see the frustration on everyone's face as my son caused the biggest diturbance in the history of all "4-9 year old" Jui-Jitsu classes.


The whole thirty minute class sounded like this,
John stop that.
John you need to listen...How will you learn if you don't listen?
John, participate...John.. John..JOhn!!!
Stern voices became, clench fisted shouting from my husband.
Romelo, the teacher/master, kept looking towards me for some sign of relief, hope, or something.

What a nightmare. It was like a tantrum/crazy hyperactive episode.

Gosh darn it. What on earth was going on with him today?


I can't imagine going back there next Teusday as if nothing happened.
I'm even on the brink of leaving Jiu-Juitsu altogether because I feel so embarrased.



But, the "music-to-my-ears" ineligible four year old banter that John speaks to me only reminds me that I have to be strong and thick-skinned for him. That, now - in this world, I represent more than myself; Now, I represent my family.

And if I quit Jiu-Jitsu because of one bad day. That will let him think that he could quit on things all his life.



So, next Teusday it is.
Though hell may be a present driving force of his actions on that mat.
At least, I could try to expect the positive. Hope that he behaves himself (Especially, after the long sermon home I professed to him and will do again on the way back.)
And the past few weeks we've went he has always been well-behaved.

I pray to God, that that - god knows what that freakish alter-ego of his - was just a one time thing.

To all the other parents present during the JJ class this afternoon:

I swear that my son is a very well behaved person.
I'm very proud that he never throws shopping tantrums, knows his manners, and likes to pick flowers from our garden and give them to me in the morning.
He likes opera music, trains, and his favorite color is white.
I swear he's not crazy and if it is any consolation - if ever your child decides to go bizerko on that Jiu Jitsu mat in our presence - I won't look and judge you by it either.


Kids will be kids and Parents, well, they're just overgrown kids.
No one told me that growing up was going to be this challenging and now I understand more than ever why being a kid is often referred to as "the good old days."

A child can act as crazy or as careless as possible and everyone will go look and blame the parents.

Huhuhu... :(

Mira

A tribute to those that make the greatest sacrafice of all

New Christmas Poem

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
'SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS.'

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, 'CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE.'

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
'MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,!
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.'

This poem was written by a Marine.

Christmas will be coming soon and credit is due to our U.S. Service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities.

Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we
owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. Please, do your small part to plant this small seed.

Lucky Lucky Me

I've been generously given my own channel on the website

http://www.complainary.com

My column title (or channel) is labeled as "Fearmongering in San Francisco."
You can find all that I write under that headline link on the left side of the screen.

I shall be writing about everything. Art, Love, Life....and all that is in between.
I've also joined both the SFMOMA and Commonwealth Clubs, where I will be attending speeches, seminars, and gallery events. I plan on sharing my experiences with these guys with all of you through this blog and on Complainary.


Thanks to everyone for the support.

Daniel Amen loves my brain.

It's 7:45 in the morning and I am running on my first few sips of coffee.
Last night, before I fell asleep, there were a couple of things that I kept thinking of that were making my mind run a mile a minute.
I just woke up and I can't think of any of them now.
What is up with that? I'm losing my mind. My brain is gone, it's slowly dissipating.

Johnny, my husband, is making me read a book called "Magnificent Mind at Any Age" by Dr. Daniel Amen. He saw his show on KQED 4 at work and hustled to buy the hardcover making a special trip to our local Barnes&Nobles that same day.
(Ah B&N :)...That was a job that I loved. Since it was so many years ago I can't remember why I quit...Oh yes. Hotdog On A Stick offered me three dollars more than I was making - which later amounted to semi-good money but went hand in hand with immortal humiliation as my then boyfriend and friends would pass by smirking and later on laughing in my face as I mashed the lemon peels for the lemonade every three hours in my yellow, blue, and red circus themed uniform.)

By the way, my husband NEVER goes shopping. It's on the same line of "things-to-do" as "buy a monkey." So, I was thrilled to be given the assignment to read the whole text and apply it to our daily lives. (Johnny doesn't read, he honestly gives it a good try, but quickly loses interest - he likes audiotapes and newspapers when it comes to be being supplied important information.)

I'm at the stages of important supplements.
Omega-3's, fish oil, krill oil, and things of that nature work wonders.
Johnny tried to spike John's apple juice to get him the supplements ingested double time. So cute, He even decorated the entire apple juice bottle with Thomas the Train gift wrap...He really went all out.
I tried it - tastes like fishy apple juice. I'm really not sure how that's going to work out.

As for the book, so far so good. It doesn't just touch on the the scientific side of the brain and it's systems. It also shows the importance of the balance between all the things of our everyday lives. The things we do, a-duh!, effect our brain. But the things we do are not in control of who we are, we must learn to control those things before they turn around and defeat and destroy us and the systems of our body altogether.

First and foremost is the importance of nurturing and understanding the science and soul of what and who we are.

I recommend this book immensely.
I can't wait to genuinely apply it to my own humanity.
Of course, I'll start after this cup of joe. Amen says its bad for my brain...but right now, it's good for my grumpiness that hates to do mornings.


Take Care of yourself,


Mira

I am not a Quitter...

I quit my job Sunday night. As much as I would like to thank Ulta for all the oppurtunities that the company provided me the last three years... I decided that the new management bitches were just too pathetic and power-hungry to fucking work with.

What was Julia (my ex-boss) thinking when she hired these people?!!

They had no team work ethic. They had no supportive or positive mentality.

They made the working environment absolutely poisonous with wrath, shit-talking, and backstabbing that I just couldn't stand to keep my one day a week. One day!!! Imagine. If I couldn't fathom four hours a week there, the poor girls actually working there 40 hours a week with these insecure nuts must be going through some absolutely unbearable inner torment.

Half the people I met when I started, got promoted to manager, and then backed (involuntarily - I wanted to quit entirely then, since my son was suffering from some pretty severe asthma at the time, but to be nice when Julia asked me to stay, I agreed to for one day a week) back down as an a associate, had left and quit like dropping flies. Supposedly, it happened twice as fast with the new store manager. I don't know her well enough to hate her or not like her, but from what the other girls have told (on my one day a week) she isn't any good at her job at all and bearly any of them can stand her or my old boss (who with all honestly I actually liked a lot and admired my old boss for her levelheadedness and ability to withdraw from catty company bullshit.)

The new manager, who actually filled my last same position, would keep me an hour after closing, every Tuesday, to sweep floors, mop entry ways, and other janitorial crap - even while I was wearing my splint wrists with a doctors note stating that I should be on wrist rest. By the end of the night at 10:21 pm,(I should leave at 9:30 pm) as I was nicely asking permission to leave since my husband was waiting outside in the parking lot for me, she made me sweep the entire store as a "last favor." Though my right hand had nearly swelled up twice it's size, I did it half assed, and scurried my way out the door.

The nights "last favor" was truly meant as literate as the words could possibly be.

Fucking bitches. The inner witch in me wishes upon her to sprain both her wrists as well just so she could see how it feels to be as handicapped as I was.

I hate her so much I can barely remember her name.

Oh! and the new prestige manager gets picked up by this semi fake low-rider fresh from the ghetto car, painted two tone in orange and purple, with like - I don't know - 36 inch silver shiny UGLY rims. Not to mention, everytime she gets in it she looks at me, talking on her cellphone, like I should be jealous. Way to make mom proud, dumbass. But this is just some exra goodies added to my wonderful reasons of quitting a job that I once loved so much and now hate so impetuously.

Partially my problem is that I can never say the word "No"..Did we already delve on this subject? Anyways, easily, I could have said I don't want to because my wrist was hurting but she asked and I looked and I could not say no. So, depsite my agony, I did it anyway - with so much regret and resentment that I conjured up the finalization to quit this now very stupid job once and for all.

I am now unemployed. I made this site so I could write and add a new title to my many job titles.

Although now with no "real" job - I am now a "Blogger". The first story I get printed, I shall become a "Freelance Writer." And my writing abilities will then charismatically take over the world...yay!

I have alway loved to write, and since I could remember people enjoyed the things that I did write. I have an unusual knack for it, where it comes so easy. Like fluid from my fingers. I am gifted enough to be able to write a ten page thesis in three hours...and yes I am boasting. And yes I am proud about that.

Maybe this is my real calling.

All of the jobs that I have had has led me to who I am today.

The bookstore job reawakened my love for books and led me to my other love, Johnny.

My Family Resource Center job taught how to deal with kids, which is now so useful when dealing with my 4 year old son, and which I think makes me a better parent.

and Ulta...well, now that I am getting older, I notice how much more I am going to need make-up in order to feel good about myself. (Also, working there. I've witnessed some pretty great people. Yes...many strong, sufficient women that I really admired and adored.)

and yessssss... Getting older sucks.

For my 24th birthday, I gave myself some fine lines under my lashes.

Thank God for Ulta, for introducing me to Elizabeth Arden's Ceramide line..They've diminished by the thousandths...

GROWING OLD = SO NOT FUN> but better than dying abruptly and unfinished.

Thanks for reading...

and a have a good day.

Don't let your 9-5's wash away your dreams and in the words of the great (and not to mention super duper hot and sexy) Rob Thomas:

All lives are made in these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate.Time flows away but in these small hours, we'll remain...

I don't feel a bit bad that I quit. I don't feel bad that I will be a couple hundred dollars poorer either. I know that things will be fine.

Always,

Mira

Pictured above - The girls and I, during Ulta's good ol' days.

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

Life's vicious cycle. These ridiculous, repetitious drives. My thoughts haunt me. My thoughts mock me.
Sometimes I feel like this could be all just one big joke.
In the end, all there could be is just a big, "Just Kidding!"
It's two in the morning and I've been ordered off of any strenuous wrist activity since I was sent to the ER to have my arms looked at after my boyfriend's pit bull pulled me three miles down the park behind our house.
But, I'm starting a blog. An activity that would probably require me much more time spent than I already do and have.
You see...
I'm a stubborn little thing. Quite a rebel in my own pretty pathetic way. Always full of good intentions but really, really, never know when or when to stop.
Actually, tell me it's not good and the more I'll want to do it.

I'm writing this to make myself useful. full of purpose.
To put my stubborn antics into good use. The kind that humanity can appreciate.


Good night,

Mira

P.S.
Rocco is pictured above. The only dog capable of ever breaking both my wrists and still have me melt when he cuddles in for a kiss.