Through The Looking Glass...

I was always the kid who sat in the back
of the classroom according to last name.
Problem was I never could read what was
written on the chalkboard.

Sister would scribble math examples on
the board which looked like hieroglyphics
to me. Forget reading the homework assignments.
It used to drive the nuns nuts...

Every night I called my best friend, Gloria
to get the homework, which drove her
nuts after awhile.

After a couple of years of squinting like
a weasel and pulling at the corners of my
eyes to see anything, I had my eyes checked.
Yep, just as I had thought in my 10 year old brain--
I was blind as a bat.
Nearsighted, to be exact.

Not only was I skinny and the tallest girl in my
class, but also the Girl Who Wore Blue
Rhinestone-embellished Glasses.
The lenses were so strong and thick
that they gave the appearance that my
eyes were pinched together, like a goldfish's.
Achhh….

Nothing much has changed since then.
I’m still 5’8”--haven’t shrunk a millimeter,
and my wire frames are parked on my nose.
I don’t look like a goldfish, though.
The lenses now make my eyes appear
slightly larger, which is good.

The only difference now, because I’m older
and living in a high UV state, I need
cataract surgery in a couple of months.
I should be able to see much better than I do now,
which is like seeing the world in 3-D.
I’d be a great asset working at Pixar…

Long Ago...Seems Like Yesterday

I was pretty uncoordinated as a kid.
I’d stumble over a gnat if it was in front of me.
At St. Monica’s Girl’s High School, I played
basketball for P.E.
I was pretty good, except I kept popping the
ball into the wrong hoop.
The teacher pulled me off the court and put me
in the gym basement, along with my friend, Theresa, and gave us ping-pong paddles.

We stunk at ping-pong.
Everything but the table was a target.
The ball was flying off the ceiling, the windows.
You name it.
We made so much of a ruckus, the teacher, a
dyed-in-the-wool mean-as-a-drill instructor
woman [with little emphasis on the woman part]
came bursting into the room…
I think we cracked a half dozen ping-pong balls.
She ranted and roared for a few minutes, saying
she’d never known such two inept girls in all of her life.
If anything, Theresa and I were enthusiastic.

We both flunked first aid.
I could never figure that one out.
What’s so hard about putting on a bandage?
Oh, you’re supposed to clean the wound first..?
But there isn’t a real wound…

I went two years at St. Mo’s before transferring
to a closer school.
I wonder if Sister Ignatius ever found the bunnies
that were bunny-napped from the bio lab…?

A Mouthful...

Some people are adept at using slanguage or incorrect
grammar in their conversations.

Phrases like "Ya know what I'm saying...?" is commonly

reiterated and means nothing.

In 1996 in Oakland, California, there was an outcry over Ebonics.

Protesters felt it was an excuse for learning grammatically

correct English.

Students wanted this sociovernacular officially

recognized as a language in school studies.

Thank God Ebonics never made it to the school curriculum.

What would have happened if Shakespeare had penned

the phrase "Yo, Romeo! What up? Peep dis..."

It makes me cringe.

Expletives are part of our language, unfortunately.

The beauty of our language has been integrated with filth.

I credit its abundant use for lack of something substantial to say.
I've always had an affinity for words.

Words can color, describe, resonate.

Words can inspire and motivate.

I credit two wonderful English Comp teachers: Ann Singer who taught

at Canoga Park High School in California and Jean Wilkinson,

my professor at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, Ca.for furthering

my love of the English language.

Down the Yellow Brick Road...

Where have all the years gone, and so quickly?
These thoughts cross my mind every once in awhile,
especially now as I've had my 62nd birthday.
If I could, would I go back to an earlier time, back
to my teen years or my college days?

If I'd had a way of foretelling the future, I may
have done a few things differently, change my
direction a bit, but then again...
If I'd fallen in love at 19 with the handsome Italian
fella living next door, who I felt was in love with me
at the time , I'd no doubt have a houseful of kids.
But, I might also be divorced—since that was his
status a few years ago, and still might be.


If I'd been more motivated to finish college and
get a degree, I'd be teaching English Comp right now.
When I'd moved to San Francisco in 1970, I was working
at a local store. From the entrance I heard,
“Nancy, what on God's earth are you doing working here?”
My jaw dropped.

It was my former college professor, Jean Wilkinson,
who'd had very high aspirations for me.
She'd kept many of the works I'd written, and thought
I would've pursued a writing career, at the very least.
Presently, I'm still writing: short stories and romantic poetry,
as well as this blog.

If I'd followed my parents to Oregon instead of moving to
the Bay Area, I would've never met my husband, a handsome
airline captain,and had our two children.
Nor would I have had the opportunity to meet Charlton Heston
or Bing Crosby who were customers of mine one day.

We now live in South West Florida, which has changed the
direction of my life. I'm a freelance photographer, living a dream
I've always had--sequestered in the back of my mind.
I'm an artist, too.

Life is often convoluted.
You're never sure what each day is going to bring.
Ah, to be a kid again...?
Not a chance.

Bumpy Road Ahead...

Who said life was fair?
Things, big and small, all have a way of creeping into our everyday existence. Whether it's someone who cuts you off in traffic or the barking dog left outdoors for hours, these annoyances can simmer and boil, until you feel yourself changing into Frankenstein.

You suddenly start thinking of ways of getting back: the middle finger's been on vacation for awhile—what's one little wiggle going to hurt..? Yes, I'm guilty!
The barking dog a few door's down may eventually become dinner for our neighborhood coyote, panther, or alligators--of which there are three inhabiting the lake close by.

Yes, it's sometimes fun to entertain thoughts of revenge.
We're only human, after all.
Some annoyances needle and wedge, and cause brewing worries, until something alien takes over.
You've suddenly become a victim of a bad science experiment!
Where did rational thought go?

I've discovered the more something hovers over you, overwhelming your normal brain function, the more inclined your health—mental and otherwise—will suffer.
Increased blood pressure, junk food snacking, losing sleep, all add up to a doctor's visit.

My friend, “Mark” [see the archived blog, On the horizon..] has been stressfully waiting for a meeting with administration of the college where he instructs.
For two weeks, he's worried himself, speculating about the meeting, and what it may mean to him in relation to his job.
His blood pressure has gone through the roof.
I've commiserated with him, offering support and encouragement.

Allowing negative thoughts to upset your life to such a degree , is like speeding down a road with a sign saying DANGEROUS CURVES AHEAD.
There will always be worry of the unknown, and annoyances that want to burrow, but neither of these should be a winner...