Troubled Times

I am inspired. For the moment. So you, interweb stalkers, are going to suffer reap the benefits. Tonight I had meaningful conversations with two co-workers of mine. And they made me realize what a loser I am for wasting my talents. More about them later.


My grandmother comes to visit me, pretty often lately, I'd say, although I can't be sure because I can't see her. She died in 1990. But she is around; I have felt her presence with me, have even felt her arm around my shoulders when things got really bad. She stays around because she is worried about me. I was her first grandchild, and she was my best friend. She was always there, often taking the brunt of the storm that often raged in our house. I was lost when she died. Empty. And so she comes to me. She may be here now, and I think she is, but I can't be absolutely sure. I can't see her, although someone in my family can. Actually, 2 people can. Monster is one of them.


I spent quite some time last weekend talking about Mom-mom with my step-father, Wolf, who can also see her. She hadn't been around in some time, he said. I asked Monster where Mom-mom was, and she shrugged and said "Mom-mom not here". An expected response, I suppose. But I guess Mom-mom's ears were burning because she did come to us. Wolf asked Monster where Mom-mom was, and she said "Mom-mom is here now", and trailed her eyes around the room, watching Mom-mom move. Wolf spent a long time that night acting as translator for her, telling me things that he could not have known, observations only one who truly knows me could make. You may think I'm full of shit, but I'm not. Spirits do walk this earth, and the innocent, the very young, can see them. (As can Indians, apparently, because every damn Indian I know can see some weird shit that I can't) Monster can.


Later that night, as I tried to put her to bed, she refused to let me go. This is a child who loves to sleep. It was hours past her bed time, and yet she still called for me. I went in to the room, and she asked me to lie down with her. I asked her what was wrong. No answer. On a hunch, I asked if Mom-mom was here. She nodded, a slow, deliberate nod. I asked where Mom-mom was, and she said, very slowly, "I can see her". She pointed, but not to any definitive place. She made me lie next to her with my arm tucked around her until she fell asleep. This child never lets me do that. She saw Mom-mom, and she was unnerved by it. (Can't imagine why)


The point of my supernatural story, is that Mom-mom stays here because she is worried about me. She sees my troubles, my inner turmoil, and she watches over me. And for that I am grateful, although a little advice now and then would be nice. Being ubiquitous must have its perks. So she is here, now, because I am a complete mess. Even when I fix the external and change my life, what's inside does not. It's still a raging tempest of confusion and sorrow, and I cannot seem to find the tools (or the strength) to tame it.


Now, bring in the girls. One girl (I guess I should call her a woman, but she seems so young to me!), and intern, is 23, beautiful, intelligent, well educated, exceptionally nice, and loves the news. Loves it. She actually does research and tracks stories down -- a real News Hound. I really wasn't sure there were any in the biz anymore. But she loves what she is doing, and is excited every day. She wants to learn it all and do it all, all with her eyes on the prize: a reporting gig. I could see the excitement and passion in her eyes, and it made my heart hurt. I envied her her dreams. Another girl woman works part time there like I do, and just like me, her heart is not in it. But she's not letting that stop her. She has published a book. A book, people! An actual, honest-to-God book on the shelf in Barnes and Noble. She is also living her dream, and doing what she is passionate about. She put herself out there. Took classes, met people, shopped around for an agent, and she did it, by God! She goes in to work when they call her to make the money, and she makes it happen. I look at the passion and intensity of those dreams, and I wonder where mine went. Or if I ever had them at all. And if I did (directing and producing movies) did I let them slip away, let them get lost in that inner tempest that seems to devour every positive thing in my life? If I found the strength to pull myself up out of the dark, could I accomplish what I never dreamed I could? I'm looking for some advice. Some help. From this world or beyond.