Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Angels in the Outfield (or infield)





It is September and to many people this is a time of happiness. Children go back to school leaving their parents relieved that their offspring will be entertained by someone else. Others are joyous as the busy summer months are over and the chaos has finally stopped. Yet others are indifferent, not affected by either senario. For me it is a time of rememberance. The one person in the world that made me who I am today, passed away at the beginning of this month, years ago. My Mother, strong and stubborn in her beliefs, died from complications of breast cancer. She made me the independent person that she never was.

She would hate the picture above, not depending on angels and religion to get her through the rough days. I like this sculpture and the angle the picture is taken. It reminded me of her looking down on me when I was a young girl with pigtails, smiling at me. This sculpture, found in Central Park ,New York, over the Bathesda Fountain, was used in the mini series, Angels in America. The history of the fountain in Jeruselum, I believe, washed people of their illnesses and sins. There is more to it than that but I wish my mom could have jumped in that fountain. It would have taken a herd of elephants to push her in, as she wouldn't have believed the magic of the waters, but her stubbornness would have manifested in quite a large display of anger before she knew what was good for her.

It's funny that I can recognize those characteristics in myself and yet still fight the help from others. In my own bullheadedness, my being a Taurus doesn't help, I have similar moments. I have been known to fall off the radar occassionally, usually fighting with my inner demons. I have ways of shutting the outside world out, perhaps to avoid any hurt or disharmony. I hate to cause a large scene, directly that is, and as the youngest of three children, learned to manipulate situations to my benefit. Unfortunately, this is usually fleeting, as I am more 'focussed' on instant gratification. My mother showed her strength to us as an amazingly healthy woman, never sick or under the weather. She never needed a doctor - of course she did eventually - and because of her stubbornness about not needing medical assistance, she died of a illness which could have been prevented.

I am my mothers daughter, stubborn and stuck in her ways. I can give a look that could kill and not blink an eye. I can also soften enough to cry but not for long. Crying is a sign of weakness, although also an interesting tool. For some reason I am unaware of my using this implement until it's too late. Have I unknowingly manipulated the situation? Possibly. I never see it as a conscious strategic move when backed into a corner. When I see red (although proven not to affect bulls) I tend to charge.

With the current situation, I have backed myself into a wall; too many hands out to try and pull me back on to the radar screen. I don't take to surprises well. I also don't like it when my peers are treated like second class. In addition, I am not to be taken for granted. With all of these little grenades thrown in my path, without one of my equals at work removing them or putting the pins back in, I am due to explode. Collateral damage created by the unfortunate time of the year and direct association. It's my own little way of poking myself to prove I'm alive. It helps to wake up surrounding soldiers of the incoming shrapnel, too.

So now the wall has been built. It never needed to be built but the people at my work decided that they could be the mortor between the bricks. If they knew me at all, they would have let the wall pile high without the bandaids and then the bricks would have fallen easily. Then I would be standing in the open. Even when I tell them to leave it alone, they get their spreaders out with the bucket of cement. My only hope now is to kick the wall down myself.

Back to my mother, who was a master at walls and windows. My question is, if I can see the mirror image, why don't I see the wall behind me in the reflection. My mother and I obviously were born with the same genetic trait - self image distortion. People see us as ones to look up to. Well balanced functioning individuals who never wobble off the balance beam of life. (I have fallen off a balance beam literally. It hurts!) When the outside world witnesses a missing blip on the radar, they send out the emergency vehicles. My goodness, how could we have a moment of weakness, especially with out walls built so well by our peers and friends. But, alas, I point the blame outward.

Well, mom, I believe in God, on my own terms. You made me in your likeness. Ask my dad's friends - "she is so much like Diane". A successful cloning without all the political red tape. I wonder if the cloned offspring were supposed to know they were clones. Seeing the maker, I can see the future. I have forsight into my future that others can enable me towards. I ask another question...Can a person change? I am trying. I am trying. I am trying. That's all I can do.

Wish me luck!

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