Heather Barton

Apparently November is NaNoWriMo…. National Novel Writing Month.  The goal is to write a 50,000 book by the end of the month.  Some have serious qualms and scream, “Impossible!!”  Others boast sure…. Easy Peasy.   I’ve never set a deadline for myself so I have no idea what category I’d fall into, so I’m going to try.

Yup... kids, house, work, libido... my challenges

And I’m going to cheat.  I’m going to count the words I put down in the blogs for the month.   Hahaha!!   And I’ve got the plots outlined out for almost 3 books to choose from so that might be cheating a bit also. lol  I’m hoping to fall  into the Easy Peasy category.  No guarantee on the QUALITY though!!

So I finally get around to starting all this.  I take one of my Wednesday’s off already a week into November and I set aside 3 hours to write.  Chores & errands are done, music is on and the computer is humming.  And I manage to write over 2500 words in that 3 hours.  The scenes just flow out of me, expanding as I go and by the end of the day the only reason I stopped (other than running out of alone time) was due to the need to plot out a little of the alternative world I created in order to set the base for our male main character.  And THAT… was going to take a bit of research.

And I was energized!  I was motivated.  I had the website in my browser for gathering the bits that inspired me from mythology to mesh together into letting my imagination speculate from there into 2,000 years of development to the now.  I was ready!  And I needed this distraction from my conflicting feelings about my own attractiveness.   I’ll admit it I was thrilled to be writing again.

And then I got a call from my brother, that evening, that my 72 year old, very healthy father had a major stroke and was in the hospital.  He said I didn’t need to come to the hospital as he’d just been admitted and they were working on him.  He’d call if he knew more.   Click.

And the muse just kind of sputters in frustration.   “Hard to compete with THAT!” she grumbles and settles back to wait.   Again.    And I try to go to sleep.  All the worries about kids, money, work, etc that writing had held at bay now crowd back into my consciousness trying to compete with the knowledge that my seemingly healthy father might be dead when I woke up.  Personally I felt very much like Spock.   “Thank you for the information, how is this going to effect my future, let me know if he lives please.”   This is how my mind handles things it cannot control or fix.

Needless to say I slept very little.  But as the days of this went on I forced myself to do the research to continue my story.  One day I’ll have time again to try to pick this up and I want to be ready.  Maybe December will be MY “NaNoWriMo” this year.

And so none of you are kept in suspense since I’m sometimes months late on a blog’s actual happened date I’ll just say I’ll write up a full blog on my Dad’s stroke & post it later.  But he survived the stroke.  He spent many stressful days at the local hospital stabilizing before being moved to Kaiser Sunset.  

I try very hard not to be a person to judge based on nationality.  But sometimes a nationality propagates its own stereotype.  I live in a LARGE Armenian community.  Our schools are pretty mixed of white, Hispanic, Black, Asian and Armenian.  But every other teacher is or speaks Armenian.  The fliers home come in 4 languages, English, Spanish, Armenian & an Asian language I cannot distinguish.  Hell, I think even the mayor is Armenian.

My City has the highest Armenian population in the nation... the NATION!!! According to the Census.

I’ve had Armenian friends & once even had it out with an Armenian grandfather who felt HE was entitled, for whatever reason was in his addled head, to double park in from of the Kindergarten to pick up his charge blocking the flow of traffic.  I’ve worked for Armenians and I’ve been a customer of Armenians.

And I understand the need to cling to your culture when you are new in a new land and when you are displaced.  But I beg of you to DROP the arrogance.  The “I am Armenian, we are better than ALL of you” is truly, truly annoying.  And worse, watching your children be the bullies in school because they are raised with the attitude that EVERYONE who isn’t Armenian is below, beneath, less, than them.   I know.. the bullies in my school district, every one of them, are Armenian.  I’ve had my sons point them out in the class photos.  And I’ve seen the boasting when I’ve helped out in the classroom.

Lucky for my Evan Armenians run skinny the day he decided he’d had enough and fought back.  He out-weighed them by at least 50-60 lbs.

The point to this rant?   My middle school son last week went to get his bike from the bike rack at school and it was gone.  I went to the school & was told they’d handle it then I was off to SF for a conference.  Of course, it wasn’t handled by the time I returned.  So I finally talk to the vice-principle & she says the boy who was found with it claimed it was his when challenged.  But couldn’t describe it to her whereas Evan could so it was deemed his and he came home with it.

I emailed her telling her I think his parents should be informed that upon finding an unlocked bike at school he just arbitrarily decided he would take it, that it was his.  If ANY of my kids EVER had that crazy idea in their heads I’d like to know it!  I wouldn’t want the school to cover it up as “resolved”.  But I get an email back from her saying just that.  That they considered the matter resolved.

I’m so tempted to file a police report… because with THIS attitude in a middle schooler, how long until he’s just ‘taking’ cars because he fancies them.   Except I’d rather not waste the cops time.

Do I know this boy is Armenian?   No, actually they won’t tell me nor Evan anything about the boy.   But other cultures are raised with the sense that if you see a thing and know its not yours and you take it, its called THEFT.   And if most are going to commit theft… they are NOT going to ride it back to school the next time they are in school and claim its theirs!  But Arrogance will.

Nationality is one thing but if it leaves your child slightly Alienated in your adopted country you do them a disservice.   Worse if it leaves them a reputation of untrustworthiness.  And sadly that is the reputation amongst my other friends of my city’s Armenians.

Caveat to all these facts and opinions I know that not EVERY Armenian treats everyone else as a pigeon to be scammed, no matter how prevalent that is in my city.  And I know that by the 3rd generation they’ll be so Americanized that you’ll not distinguish them from any other American, because they themselves will.   I just wish we’d stop catering to the ego-demands of some of these parents walking about.

So a bit ago I had a weekend of fun that left me more unsettled than satisfied.  I won’t go into too many details as those participating might not want my opinion specifically aired!

I will say that Tasty Man is as tasty as ever but he MUST heal is back so our time can live up to HIS expectations!   I’m always satisfied 🙂   And I will say that Great White Cock (justly deserved nickname heehee) well, lets just say I have ideas to make our time together even more fun than the fun we had but he needs to get outa his comfort zone!

It's only Respectful!

I also spend time at the beach with Sex God & well for some reason by Monday I had all these very strange feelings about the whole thing.   But like I’ve said before in a previous blog the best part about being almost 50 is I don’t have to hide my feelings or play games to get them out or feel heard.  I just sent him an email.

Which because of his crazy work schedule he promptly didn’t notice for 3 days! lmao  So for 3 days I’d poured my feelings & confusion & neediness into a vehicle and waited for a response.  Then he sent me a text saying how much work sucked & I said, “Well, then don’t read the email I sent until the weekend.”   Which, of course, prompted him to read it.

And then he did the exact opposite of smart.  He treated it lightly with joking texts.  Which, of course, made me feel my feelings were invalid.   And duh, I ALREADY knew they were crazy and invalid… I just wanted him to know I was feeling them & that they were the reason I might be pulling away a bit.  To deal with said insanity.  And if would be nice if he’d like to help me deal by eliminating some of them with a bit of reassurance & ego stroking.  hahaha.

So the next day he called and we talked it out.  Because we are grown ups.  And because when you ARE in a relationship, communication is a primal part of keeping said relationship.   And I felt a bit better.  But I knew that the only thing that would truly fix it would be to get a good fix from my Sex God.  But our timing wasn’t going to have that any time soon.  So I sighed and went on.

And then started my period the next day!!!

Turns out the whole “strange feelings & insecurity” was PMS!

Dammit, Menopause!!!

I discovered an interesting thing on my latest trip to Chicago.

I kind of miss living near trains.   See I grew up a half block from the tracks that go through Burbank.  I spent my whole childhood hearing the freight trains pass.  So when I woke in the middle of the night to a slight tremor of my bed I’d listen for the train.  Well, to reassure myself it wasn’t an earthquake and I didn’t need to rush for the doorway!

This last trip I rode the train from Medway Airport to my hotel in downtown Chicago.  The Loop, its called.  I mistakenly got off the wrong exit and since I didn’t want to deal with all the luggage on the train again, Joan and I shared a taxi.  But the first ride was actually pretty pleasant.  I had my music in  my ears with my iPhone and a good grip on my giant suitcases!  Everyone else was a commuter of some sort and it was the same type of mix as I’d see on the Metro in Los Angeles for the most part.   But this train traveled through downtown on elevated tracks.  It gave it a certain “Disney” effect.

At the time it was fun and I watched the mostly brick buildings with their different types of balcony’s pass by at a slow pace.   And I thought back to so many t.v. shows I’d seen of people complaining of the constant train noise outside of their apartment.    Once home I was watching a DVR recording of the new show Chicago Fire (while working cuz I cannot seem to watch television without doing something whilst doing it!!)  and I saw a train pass in the background of the show on elevated tracks.

And the strangest feeling of nostalgia swept through me.  Truly strange… and I can only blame the wonderful time I had there for any attachment to the city.  Yes, my father was from Chicago originally but he’s been in the So Cal now for 50 years & we have no family still there.  (Well, actually I have a crazy Aunt in a home and a young married cousin somewhere out there… lol… but one I barely know and the other is a good Christian woman and doesn’t need eccentric Heather on her doorstep!  Even if she IS my favorite… and that was before I broke her leg when she was a 6 month old baby…but that’s a whole other blog!)  And yes, my father speaks with a slight accent which I inherited from him but it’s always mistaken me as originating in New York not Chicago.

Seconds ago (and what prompted this blog) I saw another television show and in the background was the sound of the train with a train whistle.  And I realized that I LIKE trains and wouldn’t be unhappy living next to tracks again.   Or even better, living in a city where commuting by train was more normal than inconvenient.  I suddenly  understand how one of my lovers is so happy about his recent move to New York.   As addicted to cars as we are in Los Angeles (and I know my driving would make any Chicago man or New Yorker crazy)  I like the slow, enjoy the scenery aspect of commuting by train.

I’ve done the tourist thing before, but I think I’m looking forward to San Francisco in a few weeks.  Perhaps we’ll take the BART to the convention center and a trolley here or there.

Oh and my fondness for trains… couldn’t possibly be related to trains being the hobby of my father!  Nah….