Writing Successes: Just this wealth of blog.

Music Playing: KISN Love Songs

Exerpt from "...And You Think You've Got It Bad"

If you find yourself of depressed spirits, morbid and gloomy imaginations or perverted feelings, try to discover the cause. Look first to your diet, quality and quantity. Those who work with the brain do not need pease and beans. See that you get enough exercise. Cultivate a quietness of mind, and freedom from care and passion. Try reading aloud, singing or any kind of music that will lift your spirits.

Put down those pills! Here's how to battle depression: Sing! Read aloud! And just what is "pease and beans" ? That's a new phrase on me and I know a lot of old phrases. And of course my diet is to blame. I eat too much, too little, and too much crap. I knew it! It's not a symptom of depression! It's the cause!

Not too big a blog today, I fear. It's late and I expended a lot of energy on this massive PSP project I started. I'm drawing a face all on my own. Okay, well, I copied the color and shape from another picture, but the blending is all me. It's taking a long time. I'm learning quite a lot about color and blending. All good.

Let's see, when last we left our heroine, before the freedom of speech rant, she was going to say something about her sister Kellye. The upshot is that I'm terribly jealous of my sister. There's a simple reason: She has my life.

You may think, what a rude thing to say! You have the life you were meant to live! Which is true. I wouldn't be me without the horrors and the nightmares and the troubles. Who would? But the similarities between Kellye's actual life and my dream life are spooky, to say the least.

I discovered she loved ice skating, had professional lessons, and was in competitons. When I was a child, I slid around the house on the wood floors in my socks. During the '76 Olympics, I mimicked the Hamill Camel in the middle of the kitchen, much to mother's dismay. I spun and I twirled and I dreamed and dreamed. I had the haircut. (Who didn't, really?) I took up roller skating as a poor second, my tennis-shoes bargin-basment skates (ah, disco rolling!) didn't really do well on the pavement. But I learned to skate backward, stop, turn, all those things. I was a genius when I hit the actual floor. My first time on ice? I'd had two kids and we were taking them skating. Probably about 8 - 10 years ago.

It hurt to find out Kell had lessons and was competing. I think I was fairly obvious about this as a child. It's not like I practiced when nobody was looking. And I know for a fact the tic-tac-toe board shaped scars under my chin are from several Hamill camels that landed me out the back door onto pavement.

She also learned piano. My father can play, and well. He worked at a Rodgers Organ Company as a tester of some kind. He occasionally played the accordian. Not a piano, but it had a keyboard and it was kind of cool. (It was the 70's, remember.) When I was about six (I recognize the dress in the Christmas picture as one from my kindergarten photo) I got a tinny little "Shroder" piano. I adored that thing. I played it until I couldn't play it anymore. Not songs, nobody taught me songs and I lost the book somehow. Just plunking away. When my brothers and I made up our own entertainment, I always played piano in the air band. Again, it wasn't something hidden. It was fairly obvious I wanted to learn this. I still have no idea how to play. I did teach myself "Oh Christmas Tree" one time, but I've forgotten that.

She has been to and remembers California and Disneyland. I remember "It's A Small World" and a lemon on a sign. We were there at least a week. She's been camping, can fish, hikes and bikes, visits my brother in Montana, all kinds of things. I went to Hamfairs and Hamfests and learned to make a really good rum and coke and how to squirm away from older men. I've never visited my brother. My father never took me camping unless it was in relation to the Hamfair, and that was out the back of the Ford Van. I don't know, it was fun. We had a lot of games we'd play and I had a lot of reading to do and enjoyed trying to get into the "off limits" room and sneak coffee. But overall, it was all about him and not about us anyhow. He spent as little time with us as possible. He spends a lot of time with Kell.

She's in a choral group in high school now, getting straight out A's. She works very hard, and she succeeds. She is praised and petted and she excels because of it. She will go to a real college and get a real education and have a really good life. (Not that mine sucks. I like mine fine, thanks.)

I don't begrudge Kellye her life, not at all. I'm glad she can skate and play piano and sing and travel and get A's and all that. Go her! I'm so proud! I'm her sister, after all. But I can't help that little voice that goes, "She got it, you didn't."

Then I hear she's had the one thing I would actually kill someone for. A breast reduction. Well, this is just the last straw! It's gotten insulting now. It's laughable!

So I called my stepmother. She made some good points. First, my father didn't notice any of Kell's budding talents; that was her. Second, she was the one who signed Kell up for things and made sure her interests were cultivated. Third, I had a small mother problem.

All true. I just didn't think of those things. My mother was equally wrapped up in her own world. Bikers and drinking and substances of the 70's. The farther dad pushed away from the family, the farther from the family my mother went. My brothers and I were little islands unto ourselves. I watched them and cared for them. I cleaned up after them and helped with homework. I kept track of where they were and I made them dinner.

In that light, it's not a shock that nobody noticed I was smart and enjoyed school. That I read a lot. That I wrote as much as I read. That I skated in the middle of the kitchen and really hurt myself doing it. That I danced through the house. That I sang at the top of my lungs. That I played air piano and put on plays. Nobody was there to notice.

All in all, the phone conversation was really good. You can tell, since it took me over a week to relate. And this was just the phone call. We talked about an insane amount of stuff the day I went over for several hours. I don't remember much of that. It was more personal to her than to me. I think the phone call was more enlightening for me.

Next time: Deo tells her dad about the Year of Hell. This should be fun. I can't wait to do that. Really. NOT.