Dear Roger:Inspirations,Motivations, Writing Jags and Monkey Sex-Or things Found In A Molskine

Im on a writing bender again. It could be worse, having writers block is waay worse for me, but my muse had paid a particularly inconvenient time to pay me a visit, especially with the crowded house, the stress of trying to find a new place that I can tolerate and the holiday stress. I have 3 new stories I have cooking, one is already at over 25k the other at 15k, and the third is around 8k but its rather dark and I try to keep it on the very back burner. My other stories I have been working on all along are still just cranking out of me and I intend to wrap up 2 of them in this next week. Its really not a stress for me to write, and that makes my son a little crazy. He has been hit with writing assignment after writing assignment lately and he struggles with them. He of course waits until the last minute to ask for any help and then he harasses me when im in the middle of either writing something that is really flowing , or editing. Both situations make me a little crazy. He had been struggling to come up with a concept for his one paper and he started bouncing ideas off of me. I shot them down one after another until he was about ready to scream in frustration. All of them sounded like the sitcoms or crap he saw on tv and I told him so. I told him to draw from real life and what he saw around him. We sat and threw things back and forth until he finally grasped the concept and away he went.

Life experience is what helps me to write.I have been asked in the past where I get the ideas I write about and how I create things so quickly, but its from observation and life. Everything I see or hear or experience has been filed away and preserved so that I can draw from it at a later time. I have had some pretty depraved experiences and that has made for some of my more dark and horrific parts of my stories, I have also had some pretty damn funny things go on in my life and those have been added in as well. Every person, every voice and story and place is added to the mix and drawn from and something as simple as an expression shared between two boys in a photograph can fire off an idea that takes on a life of its own.

I spent a lot of time in college studying criminal psychology, criminal personality, things like body language and microgestures. I wanted to work for the FBI in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I read every damn book there was to read about it, studied under some of the best professors to be found, and then life intervened, my head got scrambled up in a tumble down the I40 and it took several other knocks that left me with a wonkiness that no one wants to employ in any law enforcement capacity, but I still have all that knowledge from all those classes I got,"A's" in and all those books I read. So I study people and I use it when I write. Watching how two people move around each other or look at each other when they are supposed to be in a relationship, or others when they are just friends, it leads to some great ideas for story lines that only seem to wander through my mind at the most inconvenient of times. I get ideas when I am in the shower or almost asleep in bed or out walking in the rain, in a hurry to get somewhere. It never seems to be when I am actually sitting at my computer trying to write. One of my favorite authors,"Bukowski" said that that was how it should be though, you should only write when its burning to get out of you. Lately it has been. I dont know what I will do with it other than keep putting it up where I have been. I think about submitting it to a publisher from time to time, I have what are essentially 3 novel length stories already done, but I am so damn difficult to deal with when it comes to editing. I have that artistic temperament and my stories are my 'Vision" and much like a painter, I write them how I see them, and I write how I talk. Its often a bit crude and rough around the edges and impolite, though rarely graphic in the sex department. Weirdly enough the most graphic sex scene I wrote was in a story that involved two gay male characters. The research on that was interesting to say the least. I prefer to not smack my readers in the face with it,(so to speak) and let their imaginations do the work, but I still get reviews describing my sex scenes as,'Smoking hot" and so on, so I guess I am doing something right for someone who has failed in all real life research attempts as of late.

Writing has been my salvation my entire life. I have always done it. I write everything from stories to poems to songs to just nonsense ideas for things. My dream job would have been to be a writer, able to ensconce myself off in some Scottish croft, alone except for the occasional visitation from a hot lil number that I had flown in just to see to my needs when I wanted him, and there I would crank out my great American novels as the mood struck me, along with a few hit songs for others to sing, but life stepped in and smacked me up side the head and so I write from my bedroom in an apartment in a suburb of Portland in the wee hours of the morning, hoping to get enough time to edit and save before the dog needs out or the kids need food, and I save those experiences in my mental file for later.

Dear Roger: Keeping Things Interesting On The Homefront

So yesterday I mentioned I was having a hard time dealing with my teen son, right? Well my masochistic tendencies must have kicked into overdrive yesterday because now I have two teen boys in my home. Sons best buddy is having problems at home like we had a couple of years ago and he ended up needing a place to stay. Like I was going to leave a kid out on the street? You know I take in strays. Hes a good kid, and my own son seemed a lot calmer and happier knowing his buddy was safe. They are piled up in my living room sound asleep right now, its the first time in hours that its been quiet in the house. The kid must have thanked me a million times and I kept telling him its not a deal at all, but he hugged me.I am not a hugger. I hug my own kids, but outside hugging does not happen. I am not a very physically demonstrative person. I just kinda go into a freak out mode when someone grabs me for a hug, so I try to avoid them, but the kid was fast and before I could move he hugged me. Son told him,"Dude! She is not a hugger. She wouldn't even hug Jackson Rathbone when she had to chance so you are probably lucky to be alive!" I think I was too stunned at that point to do anything. The kids mom had hugged me too. It was just a day of my personal space being violated all over the place.

My sis called yesterday about wanting me to talk to my parents again. It was like the great gorilla in the room that she finally pointed out and decided to confront me about. I have not spoken to my parents since February of last year. It was a decision I made after much introspection and the realization that it would just be better for everyone if I quit trying to be the daughter I cant be. Its not about money or material things as they seem to think. I could give a flying fuck about money. I don't have any, never have , never will, don't care. Money just brings troubles of its own. If you consider pictures of your grandparents and uncle to be material things, then maybe. But it was because I was replaced. I wasn't needed. They had another chance to,"do it right" and I don't know, maybe they did? But I am screwed up and it just best this way. I am not a particularly nice or pleasant person to be around on the best of days. I got tired to being the family fuck up and without a family to be compared to, I seem to be a success story. I came up here with nothing, got a place to live, a job and built a life from nothing and now we are moving forward again. My writing is going well, my kids are doing well. My family tends to heed my advice and its working well for us so far. I've got issues and resentments and problems that go back decades, and rather than deal with them I prefer to just shut the door on that part of my life and move forward, trying to let it go. We all make mistakes. I was one of them. I know that, its okay. I have accepted that I was never the perfect kid, but I am trying like hell to be a decent parent to my own kids. I don't know what else to say. I worry about losing my sis. We finally built a great relationship as adults after being played off of each other for years. She was the favorite,getting away with almost everything but murder, and for a long time all we did was fight,. but now I would be lost without her bi-weekly calls to harass me about some craziness going on in her life.

I don't know how she lives back there, but she is doing well with no debt, a new house a great husband and life, once again the perfect child. We balance each other, the good kid and the black sheep. I miss her and her crazy kids whose adventures just about rival my own kids craziness, and maybe someday we will all get together again, but for the near future, I am happiest far away and wandering and I hope she understands.

Dear Roger:A Sure Sign Of Insanity

My eldest son is going to drive me to drink. I swear to God I do not know how teen boys survive to become men. He has moments when he is kind and helpful and charming and the adorable little boy with the dimples that charmed the hell out of people all over the place, and then in the next moment he is the epitome of,'Werewolf boy" snapping and snarling and trying to rip throats out of all those around him without rhyme or reason. He is reckless, like a,'Jackass" stuntman without the paycheck, often coming home with odd scorchmarks on his pants or his pants ripped completely out like he did the other day! I am serious Rog! The entire ass end of his jeans were ripped completely out. I asked him what the hell happened to an almost brand new pair of skinny jeans and all he could say was,"I dont know." He has road rash and weird scrapes and bruises all over him, like a stray dog that got rolled by a pickup truck. I know a lot of its because of that skateboard, but my God! Hes running around with a bunch of Japanese boys and hes picked up some of the language, so now he mutters in three different languages under his breath when I annoy him, which seems to be all the damn time.

He comes home to eat, poop, get his clothes washed, and to practice guitar for hours. That is about it. He only really talks to my ex, which blows my damn mind. Its lately been like he prefers his company, which he might. Maybe he is just desperate for any adult male to talk to? I dont freaking know. He seems to be pissed at me most of the time no matter what I do, so I just try to stay the hell out of his way. I have over indulged him and I can give him anything else, but at times its reached the point I dont even want to be around him, but that may not be a problem much longer. I found an Arts and music magnet school in the city of Portland that is very highly rated. They actually have a gifted program and they are an immersion program in the Arts including Music, dance and painting and such, in other words, heaven for Stevie. The only problem is that its in a very spendy neighborhood that we all couldn't afford to live in, so what we are considering doing is me getting a studio down there with her, letting the boys stay in Gresham so that they wouldn't get disrupted, and commuting back and forth for work and visits on weekends and holidays. A lot of things have to fall perfectly in place for it to work, but Stevie is beyond excited. Its the neighborhood we originally wanted to move to when we moved to Portland and she would fit right in. The ex already has applied for 6 different jobs and is waiting to hear back on them. He wraps up one he got today, so hes already showing signs of progress in that aspect of things. If I find the right place and get in, we can financially make it with no problems, and maybe my son will be less moody to be around when he doesn't see me every day. I dont know, teen boys are difficult creatures to deal with, and I have 2 others on the way, a terrifying prospect to say the least.

Dear Roger: Pretty,Pretty Shiny Shiny, All Are Welcome,Alll Are Welcome

Things have been pretty calm around here. There is a spirit of cooperation that seems to be working out well for all of us. Maybe its the holiday spirit, maybe its just the realization that its root hog or die, or maybe its the realization that we have to work together for the common good, but everyone has been doing okay, even with all the typical strangeness going on.

The ex has finally accepted that he plays second fiddle to a monkey and he even got into the spirit of helping to find monkey related Christmas presents for her. I was floored. Most of the time he seems pretty confused as to how to deal with her. She seems to amuse and terrify him at the same time, but finding her things he knows will make her happy are his one sure fire way of communicating with her.He brought her some tattoo magazine the other day that had her fella in it and that got him a hug from her that about strangled him before she vanished into her room to read it to her Jackson. I had to ask,"Are you on drugs again or something? I didn't even know you remembered that boys last name." He said, "Well, I figured I better learn it, she has been pretty damn loyal to him for the past few years so it doesn't look like hes going away any times soon." He kinda growled that last part and I saw the irritated biker father for a minute,and it cracked me up. He has been buffaloed by a tiny blonde and a monkey...oh how the mighty have fallen.

She still calls him by his name, but at least she does talk to him now and she doesn't vanish the minute he shows up. She showed him her art work, including the birthday card she drew for her favorite fella and when he asked how old he was going to be, she said,"Lets just not talk about that." So her smart assed brother ,"Stubby" (though no longer called that to his face), said, "Hes going to be 27, that's TWENTY YEARS OLDER than you! ANCIENT!" He made several other snarky comments until her other brother, my oldest son said, "Why you hating on Jackson? What the heck did he do to you? Do you KNOW him? Have you met him? What is causing this problem with you? Are you jealous?" Just prior to this dissertation, he had been sitting in his chair obsessively playing with his new Iphone 4's guitar tuner app and ignoring all of us, I didn't even know if he was in the same world as us, but then BOOM! He calls Stub to task. All of us stop and stare at him, and he never even looks up from his phone, just keeps messing with the app, until his baby sister flies into his arms and hugs his neck so hard she about strangles him. The ex goes and puts an arm around Stub and says to him,"Son, we are out numbered just drink the koolaid and smile, its safer that way."

Christmas shopping has been a little better this year. Im still not rich by any means, but I have been able to pick up a few things for the kids and its going to be a lot better than it was last year for them. There wont be any fancy tv's or game systems because we just aren't into that kind of stuff, but there will be things they need and musical instruments as well as music and we will all be together. That is the most important thing. I missed my kids all being together last year and it was a very sad Christmas, this year? We are thinking about going out and actually having a Chinese dinner and enjoying ourselves, even though the ex thinks we are all crazy.

Its difficult shopping for the boys because they want gaming systems, and the ex has finally gotten on the same page with me about that in that he has realized that gaming systems just make the kids fat, lazy and irritable. So its no Guitar Hero, its real guitars. No Tony Hawk Skate games, its real skateboards. He was floored to realize his little girl has quite the attitude and is learning to skate faster than her older brothers. Her attitude and style had him muttering the other day and he looked and me and said,"If my daughter grows up to be a Suicide Girl I am going to blame YOU!" I didn't know what to say, he was the one who was a biker, not me! I may have been into punk and edgier things, and maybe I had shown her a world that most little kids in polite society didn't see, but HE was the biker. I pointed THAT out to him, and then he reminded me that while he may have been a biker, he was not the one with tattoos on his wrists and arms and a hobby of telling people where to go and what to do once they got there, and as my small daughter trotted past us after her brother for some slight, with her monkey hanging out of her back pocket, a stick-on tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of her t-shirt, as she yelled,"Im going to kick your butt you ass hat!" He pointedly looked at me.

Dear Roger:Texas Nicknames for Short Men or Why My Son is Developing A Complex?

Nicknames. I have had one pretty much my entire life. When I was a kid I was,"J.D." as if I wasn't enough of a tomboy, that appellation incited me to even more orneriness and contrariness than just about anything else, including the chopped off hair and the lack of a shirt until I was 12. It was shouted from the baseball bleachers by cheering parents when I would zing a pitch a little close in on an opposing player, or from the soccer sidelines when I would charge down field against much larger opponents. It shaped who I became as a teenager and young adult when I was called,'Speed" for reasons I wont get into in great depth due to the fact I know my family and friends tend to peruse this blog, other than to say it started with my reputation for being a daredevil and having a lead foot and willingness to push the envelope, and it grew from there. That lasted for a few years while I was in the wonderful, wild world of the greater Metroplex and then it ended when I realized that there were some scarier and crazier motherfuckers in the world and I relocated to Arizona in the wee hours of Dallas morning when a NRH friend of mine told me he was leaving town and it was a good idea if I did the same before we both ended up finding out what was in the bottom of Ray Hubbard. Somehow, in the midst of all that, I ended up without a nickname for a while, but then I went back to my daredevil ways, but it was for good this time.

It was after being chased up the side of the Nogales mountains by a 30ft flame front and losing parts of the backs of my ears, some of the hide on the back of my neck and giving my fire chief the scare of his life,(considering I was only supposed to be delivering water to firefighters already on the defensive line), that he looked at me and my partner in crime, and said,"God Damn, Calamity!" I got 6 weeks on dispatch duty and the nickname that has stuck for nearly 20 years.

To be honest, I think it kinda fits.

I have given all my kids nicknames and they have all fit the kids rather well I thought, though my eldest sons original nickname was given to him by his granny. He was originally called,'Pecker", it was just a West Texas thing that most people really wouldn't understand and I couldn't explain. Now that hes a teen, he is,'Werewolf Boy" though rarely to his face. I call him that not only because of the whole hair issue, but because he is moody, unpredictable, and likely to want to rip the throats out of everything and everyone around him with little thought or provocation. My next oldest is called,"Sticky" because he just always is, sticky. My baby girl for the longest time was the,"Stinky Princess" when she was a tiny baby. That name was given to her by her brothers. I just called her princess, but the boys just called her,'Stinky". Last, but not least, is the main subject of today's blog,"Stubby". My short man. He is my shortest son and its driving him crazy. Hes in the 5th percentile for height, shorter than all the kids in his grade except for 2 Asian girls. He blames me. I have tried to point out all the short guys that are doing great, but he doesn't care. He knows that his 7 year old sister is within an inch of being taller than him. She tried to be helpful and tell him that her favorite boy is a petite fella, and that just pissed Stubby off even more. I told him that he would probably have a growth spurt in the next few months and that didn't help. He is just wrapped up in being pissed off about being ripped off in the height department and much like I was at his age when I realized I was the smallest in my grade and people were patting me on top of the head and telling me,"Dynamite comes in small packages." He is ready to start kneecapping people, so I really should not have been shocked when he snapped at me this morning and said,"QUIT CALLING ME STUBBY!" I still was though. I wasn't ready to have to put his baby name to rest. He is still finding his way, trying to find where he fits in and what his niche is. His sister is,"Monkey Girl" and she is the Artist,singer and entertainer of the family. His big brother is the musician and the athlete. Sticky is the one who everyone just loves no matter what because he is just charming and sweet. Stubby...he is smart and and sweet and funny, but he doesn't know how to showcase himself like the others do. Hes still struggling to make friends and find his way. He prefers to read and be by himself, though he often find himself being the straight man to his sisters comedy routines. He wants to show that he noticeable in his own right and capable of casting his own, equally tall shadow. Its not going to be easy, and I warned him I would probably slip and call him Stubby more than once, but it wasn't that I didn't recognize that he was growing up, it was just me not being ready for it and being able to handle it.

Dear Roger: Temper, Temper

My son says I have a temper.I don't think its so much of a temper as a lack of willingness to suffer fools and poor behavior. Case in point, I have been a customer of Sprint since May. I own 4 lines of service for which I pay a SUBSTANTIAL amount of money each month. My bill is paid up, I have been an excellent customer and I have rarely complained though I have had some ongoing issues with my phones. I have the LG Optimus S phone which as my research has found, has some gremlins. Its does fun stuff like freezes and shuts off for no reason and with no warning, so I have been walking around part of a day, thinking that my phone was on, while my daughters school was trying to get ahold of me because she was sick, when actually it had shut itself off in a weird fit. The media player stops in the middle of songs and the whole phone wont do anything until you shut it totally off and restart it. All kinds of cute stuff that I could go on and on about. My sons phone does the same thing and more. I had called SPrint and they had walked us through a hard reset which wiped all our stuff and supposedly fixed the problem, but all it did was cause us to have to go back through and reset up all our things. I called them back, they said,"We will replace the phones since they are under warranty and you have the insurance as well, just take this ticket number to the nearest store and they will take care of you." Sooo, I went out in the rain, ticket and screwy phones with, and went to the store I loathe because they always treat me like I am some goofy old woman, and they looked at me like I was a crackhead thief and said,"We aren't replacing your phones. We dont care what the people at corporate said, we are a sales store, we wont do it." Things deteriorated from there. I spent over 2hours on the phone being transferred around, hung up on ,condescended to, lied to and just treated like they had me by the short hairs. I finally got cut off again so I called AT&T. They have IPhones with more features, a better service plan,and its almost $100 cheaper a month. In less time than I spent on hold with Sprint, I had new service ordered from AT&T. I would rather pay the early termination fee than be treated like a punk by a company that doesn't appreciate me.

I was angry though. There have been companies that have pissed me off and I have never done business with them again. Restaurants, stores, what have yous, if I get treated with disrespect, I will walk past them and pay more to go someplace else. I am the same with people. Maybe I hold a grudge too long, maybe not, but being treated with respect is a huge thing with me. If I am giving you my money, I damn well expect to at least get common courtesy. When I am met with respect, and even someone who goes a little beyond and acknowledges that I am a person? Hell, I am loyal to the bone, but treat me with disdain and with disrespect? I employ a scorched earth policy. I pay waay to damn much for clothes for my son at the local Zumiez store, but you want to know why? Because every damn time I walk in there, the manager looks up, says, "Hey Jen! Hows it going? And he remembers what I have bought in the past, he actually offers decent suggestions for what my knuckleheaded son could use and he thanks me for giving him my hard earned money. That is why I shop there when I could buy him cheaper clothes elsewhere. Its the same with bands and music. When I went to see Flogging Molly, it was a huge ordeal. I had to save up to buy the $38 ticket. I got it months in advance and I felt guilty for buying it because at the time that was a lot of money for my little family. The trip down there and back on the Max took the last $2 I had. I didn't even have money for a t-shirt or anything, but I had the time of my life and I left that show feeling appreciated because Dave King stood on that stage and he acknowledged that he KNEW that many of us in that audience had spent money we couldn't afford to come see him, and he thanked us for it and he meant it. That someone acknowledged they knew the the true cost of devotion and love of music to some of us, was amazing and it cemented in my heart the love of that band. It ensured that when times got better that more Flogging Molly album and t-shirts joined my old ones.

Everyone already knows the reason for the whole Monkey loyalty thing. The ex has given up trying to dissuade her and when he finally sat down and listened to the whole story,he realized that playing second fiddle to a rangy little rock star was better that not being allowed around at all. He was looking around her room the other day and he commented that there were no pictures of him on the walls. She said,"There isn't any room. I have my art and my Jackson pictures and my Harry Potter pictures, so I don't have room for you." He didn't take that very well, but he knows he fucked up and for the majority of her life he hasn't been a positive thing for her, and the man who has been, takes up much of the important space. Shes not holding a grudge, but hes going to have to work hard to make up for all the bad karma that hes so worried about because sometimes one temper loss in the wrong way can cost you more than you think. I work on keeping my under control and contructivly managed, he needs to learn how to do that before he goes trying to usurp a monkey.

Dear Roger: That Old, Familiar Feeling

My ex arrived up here last night. The one thing I had hoped to avoid more than anything else has finally come to fruition. Like an albatross around the mariners neck, he is mine, signifying my doom. I will never be shed of him. It was as if all the joy and light had gone out of the world and the hand had once again clamped around my throat, slowly tightening.

He brought the dog I told him he couldn't bring, and the boys were thrilled to see it. I told him the dog couldn't stay and he said,"Well kids, your mother says I have to get rid of him so I guess I should just let him run out into the road and make it quick." He laid it all at my feet, finding a home for the animal, or taking it to one of the overfull shelters, none of which are accepting animals. Luckily for me, my son had heard of a rescue for the particular breed and when I called them they said they would take him, but it would be a couple of days before he could be picked up. Of course he has had no vet care in the past year or shots, so I will need to get those done. Yet the boys still see him as the hero and me as the monster. They want me to get rid of my dog, Spencer, because he is newer. I dont understand. I just dont get how he has managed to fuck up my sons so badly in such a short amount of time. My eldest son got frustrated with how he was speaking to me the minute he walked through the door, so he walked up to him to say hello and to let him see that he now looks him in the eye and is just as broad shouldered as him, hes no longer the scared and small 12 year old he beat in the front yard like a misbehaving dog.

My daughter has hovered around the periphery of the situation. She is eager to show him things and talk to him, but nervous as well. She doesnt really know or trust him anymore. She has seen the dark side of him once too often and she worries. He has already told her to "Be quiet" twice, and that rankles me to no end. My daughter is the youngest and the only girl in a house full of savage boys, she is vying for attention and to be told to be quiet is cruel. I saw her shrink physically when he said that, and it pissed me off. I had come from her parent teacher conference thrilled that her teacher told me that my daughter is a born director, leader and a force of nature who has a goal in mind and the ability to reach it. She is driven and vivacious and outgoing and a happy child. I like to think that I did that by getting her out when I did. She has had over half her life away from him and his influence, never being told to shut up or go away or that she was stupid. She has been supported and loved and encouraged and allowed to love who she wants and follow her dreams, he was already making snarky comments about Jackson last night, and if he keeps on I will send him down the road. He threw away my eldest sons stuffie that he had from the time he was a baby. A battered and chewed but much loved stuffed bulldog named,"Churchill". My son had gotten it in Yuma and had carried it with him for over a decade. It had been stitched up, re-stuffed and was retired to a shelf in my sons room. When we left, somehow , Church got left behind. I asked the ex to please put him in storage with a few other things and I would gladly pay the fees, he said,"oh that old ratty thing is long gone, I threw all that shit away." He threw out all my eldest sons things, most of my stuff, and a good amount of my daughters things too. I dont know what possessed him to do that, but it was evil and I fear he would attempt the same with Jackson if given half the chance. He knows his position has been usurped in her heart and he hates that, and I worry that he would try to force her to love him because he is her father.

I hate this. I hate he is here. My stress level is through the roof, the boys are behaving as typical kids of divorce, not wanting to listen to me and playing us off one another, and he keeps claiming he doesn't want to cause problems while he continues to make passive aggressive comments and little digs at me about everything. I wish I could just run away for good.