American Dream or Gateway to Restlessness

I'm sitting here in a very comfortable chair. Where? I'm sitting in front of my very own home the we purchased last year. The crickets are chorusing with the frogs and the Whippoorwills and the sun has sunk to rest on the horizon and spill forth crimson, blush, and gold. The coming night is still and I am relaxed sipping my favorite drink - iced coffee. And yet, I wonder. I wonder at this feeling inside of me; this ever constant nibbling at the edges of my contentment.
You see, I am living the American Dream with my family: financially secure, happy and safe children, two cars we own, and a house we do not rent but instead we call ours! Isn't that the American Dream? Isn't that what so many come seeking or grow up here seeking? Is this not the epoch of living what so many chase? Then why does my heart still cry out to chase? I see others who have what we have and yet they cannot stop from ever running, ever stumbling, ever barreling headlong for more!
I wonder as I sit here safe and secure in my world if perhaps the obtaining of this Dream is not just a gateway to restlessness. Shouldn't we, I, be content to have reached at so early an age what others spend their entire lives fighting for? But I am not! I find that the Dream has been reached and my lust for more has not been satisfied. It would seem to be do with many, many others as well. We are immersed into a fast paced world from birth and we are washed over by the ideology of more ever more!! So much so that when what we reach what we are told is the Dream we suddenly find ourselves feeling stagnant and discontent. After all, there is more out there we do not yet have! There is more out there that others are doing and we are not! We must- we MUST!!!
Perhaps though, that is just me. Perhaps the Dream is not mine. I have loved the idea of a home and family and security and yet I have thirsted with an unquenchable thirst for just a hint of insecurity, just a dash of the unknown, a tidbit of danger and mountains of foreign and exotic places! My feet climb from bed in the morning and I walk through this American Dream while my mind tells my feet and soul to run as fast as possible! "Hurry!" Whispers my mind. "Flee!" Cries my soul. "Do not let yourself be too content," echoes my heart. For content I am and yet, content I am not. I have reached the Dream and upon entering its doors I found the gateway to restlessness.
I think my brother might have been right when he once observed to me, "You were simply born with the nature of a Gypsy." If that is my nature than who am I to accept anything less?

Let It Wander

Wandering minds: such vicious but ultimately satisfying creatures. Never stopping but long enough to say hello then scurrying on to the next great or lesser. Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue were we each of us able to physically follow our minds where they might lead us? Alas! We are not all rich and must content ourselves with outlets for wandering minds. We sing with the passion of the Sistine Chapel. We paint with the colors of a sunset bleeding over the Swiss Alps. We debate and argue with the fury of an avalanche coming down Mt Everest. We love like a Spaniard and cry like a monsoon in South America. Every passion we pursue reflects our wandering minds. When someone critiques or lauds, insults or praises our passions, no matter how wild those passions may be, remember that in a way, their mind is simply mirroring your own, or envying yours.

The Paranoia of Writing

Someone asked me: "What's it like to have all those stories in your head and to be able to write them?"
I am fairly certain my blank stare and slightly open mouth made them quickly rethink their question and perhaps even ponder as to whether or not I actually HAD anything in my head! The truth is, it's not like anything I really know and so I was rather taken aback at the question. Now I've given it some thought. These are the conclusions I've come too- the answers, if you will.
First, if I could liken it to something I would liken it to paranoia; breathtaking, never boring, exhilarating and confounding but paranoia nonetheless. Why? Imagine there is always the feeling that something or someone is whispering in your head, teasing you from just out of sight, and flashing you just the briefest glimpses of utopia while never quite giving you the directions. That, unfortunately or fortunately, is the closest I can equate all the stories in my head with. They are there, constantly thrumming and circling and it is up to me to chase them down and give them life.
Secondly, I am NOT able to write them all down. This often causes me a great deal of distress as my sometimes narcissistic mind believes that each and every plot is the next Gone With the Wind. I have to force my mind to behave and focus on some and not all at a time. It's dizzying but I wouldn't dismount this out of control carousel for all the sanity in the world!
Lastly, and I realize this was not part of their question but it is part of the answer, being a writer is not something you choose, it is something you are. I did not wake up one day and decide to mount this ever frantic, ever changing pace roller coaster. I did not look at people like F. Scott Fitzgerald or Stephen King and decide that it was my way to be rich. No. Instead, it is something that has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. The stories, the characters, the plots have been part of my every waking moment since I first can recall. It's as much a part of me as my heart beat is. Without either, I don't survive.
Now that! Yes, all the above; I wish I had been able to answer that person who first posed to me the question. :)

Brushed With My Fingertips

    Addiction to adrenaline. Whether it is falling or climbing, crawling or screaming; whether it is terror or laughter, speed or depth. Regardless of the contributing factor I am forever and always addicted to the place that my heart and mind go when my fingertips brush the corridor of adrenaline. I have never much cared how I got my adrenaline rush only that I could have an adrenaline rush. I love the way, when adrenaline spikes through my body, how my heart erratically skips a few beats and my breath quivers in anxiety and my stomach lurches unsteadily and how my mind scrambles to find a metaphorical safe hold.
    Sometimes I watch people and how they seem only to live for the next big rush of Friday night drinking and laughter or how they live for the rush of one more paycheck or one more compliment. So many people sit back and wait for the next big, oh wait, not big at all simple and meaningless point in their life. I wonder to myself how they can content themselves with simply going to work each day and then partying on the weekend. I wonder if underneath their bright smiles and loud laughter they are covering a deep and intense craving for something that will spike their heart rate and bring out cold chills?
    Surely no one can truly be content with just one ever revolving mundane cycle of life. Surely they long for their fingertips to brush that moment that brings all your senses so alive you feel almost comatose when you come back down.
   Normalcy and routine have never been something I quite understood. Planting roots and letting them grow seems a foreign concept to me. There is too much earth to claim just one spot of earth; there is too much air to breath just one spot for the rest of your life.
    I always want to brush the edge and sometimes, I even want to fall over. The hurtle down is so much more than the view from the top.

24 Hours

A mother's love is infinite. It extends past the reaches of time and creeps into the areas no one else knows about. However, a mother's love may be infinite but it also needs a momentary rest on occassion. Our love does not stop but from time to time, our batteries wear down and they just need to be recharged. I used to think I was a bad mother for wanting a break from my children. Now I realize that it is the good mother that can admit when they are just exhausted and worn out and frazzled. I never want a long period of time away from my children because more than a day and I miss them excruciatingly. (I used to be Active Duty Navy so I know a bit about being away from my children for more than a day). No, what I need is one full day. 24 hours. 24 hours to recharge and to clear and wash away the shorted out fuses in my brain. 24 hours to not hear the word Mommy because as much as I love hearing the word Mommy sometimes I just want to hear "BrookLynne" instead. LOL. My children are wonderful and they behave and they love me. In fact, the love me so much that if I am out of their sight for more than 2 minutes (i.e. bathroom, upstairs doing laundry, in the kitchen, etc. etc.) they tear through the house yelling for me because they "really missed me and were looking for me." LOL. I call them my Hollywood Lovers because they love like Hollywood shows love. There constantly, touching constantly, hugging and kissing constantly, and just generally never wanting to be apart. I am blessed beyond measure. Right now, I need 24 hours. =) I am tired and my brain needs to unplug from Mommy-hod and plug into alone-hood for just 24 hours. LOL. 24 hours doesn't make you a bad mom, it makes you appreciate even more what you have and what you can miss when you don't have it.

Writing, Hobbies, and Excessive Ramblings

Writing and writing and writing and feeling like you will never reach the finish line and then suddenly, one day, out of nowhere, the most amazing thing happens - you find yourself writing the end!!!! Ecstatic to say the least!! LOL. Of course, in my case, I still have about sixty or so more pages to write before I can tie my wonderful ending in but then....Oh glory THEN the real fun begins. The fun of finding an agent and/or a publisher who will except the monstrosities that come out of my mind and filter down onto paper. I love my little scrap pile of words but will anyone else? Time will tell and as I am not famously known for my patience level, I do fervently hope that the time between closing line and publishing date are not tremendously long. LOL.

Hobbies. Am I the only one who can not stick with a hobby of any sort? (I adamantly discount my writing because that is simply something I have always done). I have struggled to fir the "normal" and find a hobby but unfortunately my brain is quite unreceptive to the idea. Someone mentioned to me that my children are my hobbies? Really? I am not seeing that at all. Granted, the majority of my time is devoted to them. Driving, cooking, cleaning, feeding, washing, training, disciplining, directing, listening, and advising and the list goes on and on but honestly; I cannot describe my children as hobbies but more as a part of my life. They are what I love and they are what help me every day I wake up. No.  think I shall right now refrain from referring to my living, breathing, loving children as "hobbies." So what is your hobby? How have you managed to stick your mind to it and keep it there. I think I find a new hobby and my brain quickly and promptly calculates and executes a very swift right and turn away from the hobby. LOL. Indeed, I could show you my closets and boxes full of my "hobbies" that have never been fortunate enough to see the light of a second day. Say!! Perhaps that is my hobby: to collect hobbies. I do believe I have just stumbled and staggered upon a brilliant concept. The hobby of collecting hobbies. Scratch my earlier reasoning. I DO have a hobby.

This was a ramble post and if you were unfortunate enough to stumble across it and then, in turn, unfortunate enough to read through this whole dastardly piece, I both commend you ad apologize to you at the same time. Until next time!!

Sticks, Rocks, and Grass

Whatever happened to sticks, rocks, and grass? NOTHING! They are still everywhere. Only, children do not seem to notice them anymore. When I was growing up, I can remember every day, almost, playing with these three things. They were essential to mine and my siblings happiness. =) The things we could create! We created miniature little worlds for Roley Poly bugs, for snails, for every little bug-creature to cross our paths. As we got older. these three ingredients became massive forts for us. Obstacle courses. The possibilities were endless. Now the possibilities for a child not becoming bored do not seem to extend beyond the X-Box or the Wii, the DS, the PSP, or the computer. The possibilities definitely do not exceed the boundaries of the TV room. The concept that nature itself could provide hours of fun with the right sprinkling of imagination is a foreign one to today's children. The phrase "I am bored" is all too common of a phrase. I admit, even my children ply that phrase on me and I do not even have cable! My two oldest do have a DS but they use them only about once or twice a month as they are still a little young. Riding their bikes for more than 10 minutes at a time is redundant in their minds. Children today become so easily bored. It leads up to that the attention span of the average child today is not nearly what it was 20 years ago. Encourage reading and less gaming. Books are proven to expand imaginations! They are priceless and can show your child worlds they never dreamed about as well as force them to imagine their own characters as opposed to Hollywood fast food characters. Everything is fast food in America - even a child's mind.