One Day, A Guest Reader, and Buckets & Health

I am trying to find my center today. As on most days.

Most importantly, I might have a guest reader! Welcome to "Emily's" Insanity!

Today, it is precipitating and freezing! It doesn't matter what day it is, there is usually some tune floating around in my head. My personal musical list started today with "Valley Winter Song," that goes, "The snow is coming down, in our New England town," and the artist, Fountains of Wayne, was then followed alphabetically by the Four Aces, of course. Which reminded me of the shore and better days, so I switched to "Soulful Strut" by Young-Holt-Unlimited, and then moved to Melody Gardot's "One Day."
I am setting the scene for an entrance into my mind.....

The picture on my blog, "The Pink Beach," is of a local spot, but the snow is not from today! We didn't get that much!

The name "The Pink Beach" is exotic, welcoming, Bermuda- and vacation-esque. It's my little resort.

The pen name for this little blog is "Emily Brown," which is one pen name I chose a long time ago. (I have another pen name.)  This current pen name is from Billie Holiday's song, "Miss Brown to You."
I relate.

So, I am a musical, mental vacationer!

This blog began as a covert commentary on the foibles of education--and some things that just really pissed me off!

I got so busy, and there were so many things that pissed me off, I just couldn't keep up.

However, my health has really taken a nose dive, and so I decided to try to write some things down for my nineteen-year-old nephew this year. He is getting into trouble.

I could have been him.
I could have gotten into drugs. I could have run-away. I could have murdered my parents. Become a prostitute. Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking could have been me. Truly. Honestly. I could have turned to the dark side.

I survived twenty-five years of domestic abuse. I was born into it.
Then I started a business: the cliche lives! "Out-of-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire!"
Then I became a teacher. See above cliche.
I've had the most difficult jobs in the world. The only job I have not done yet is Motherhood.
Recently, I've realized that I work so hard to pay for these sins of my parents--or things I did not do to stop them. See? I'm a basket case. I've realized I do not want to work this hard. Or--better yet--I want to do some things for me, that I enjoy!

My health is not good, however.

I stopped writing this week on Wednesday, my first day back to school after the holidays I was given. When I did go back to school, I could hardly make it to my car. I was just exhausted. I just feel like I'm going to have a heart attack or stroke at any time. It's the weight. The weight is a whole other blog, believe me.

Back to the things I enjoy. There are some things I want to do, but I don't know how to accomplish these things.

I want to own a classic, 1950s car. I want to enjoy driving it.

I want to buy Maureen O'Hara's old house above Magen's Bay, St. Thomas. I want to decorate it over a period of time. 

I want to take my friends and family (the good ones) on a cruise. NOT around ITALY. Better yet, take them to Disney World, and take them to the Grand Floridian Spa.

I want to take my ninety-year old bestie to Scotland. She wants to see her home again, but she is "afraid she is going to fall." I wish I could take her.

I still want to sing in a rock-n-roll band. Still. I have a good voice. How can you be a slave for years and not know how to sing the blues? Well, I DO. Minne and Aibileen, I get it. And I have a voice to sing with.

I want to spend a Christmas in Ireland. I'd love to spend a Christmas in J.K. Rowling's castle--that's a real fantasy!

I want to go to Hawaii. I want to go to Hawaii as a thin, sexy, healthy girl!

I want to do something that actually helps abused children.

I want to paint all day.

I want to read all day.

I want to know how to invest money.

I want to do something for my sister that makes her happy.

Oh yes, and publishing would be cool.  Writing well would be cool.

I want to breathe.

Time for a cigarette. Relax! Time for one of my imaginary cigarettes. I used to smoke a little bit--in college, in bars, after work--but I realized it was unhealthy. And smelly.

So now, I can pull out an imaginary cigarette out of the air, and take a long drag, and give a long, deep breath. I'm quite good at the dropping of ashes, and blowing of smoke, too. I look at it this way: the cigarettes are free, in plentiful supply, are not hazardous to my health, and this little ritual of mine serves as a meditation. A breathing exercise.

Sometimes, the only thing us poor people get is the irony from the song, "Taxi" by Harry Chapin. He wanted to go flying, and so he did, by getting high. She wanted to be an actress, and so she did, by acting in a marriage. I want to breathe. I can do some imaginary cigarette breathing exercises--but these are not the breathing exercises I really need. But they will have to do.

Such is my little insane introduction to my blog for my new reader. My goal this year is to write lessons to my nephew. Maybe someday he will read these generational, family lessons. (I get to say, "I told you so!") Maybe they will help him get out of trouble. Maybe this blog will act as warm-up exercises for my novel, so I can finish it. Write blog; write novel. Buckets & health; Kibbles & Bits.
I gotta get me some......


Welcome!

Welcome to My Insanity! I write freely and honestly. And, I curse.

And I try to breathe.