I don’t believe I have ever created a masterpieceunless it would be my son or daughter. Everything I have ever done has been a work in progress. It is always shy of perfection and needs more work.
If you have ever noticed, most artists that can actually claim their work includes masterpieces are dead, sad but true. It is sad because people don’t appreciate people or their life’s work until they are gone. It is then, and only then they become legend. While thinking about this Writer’s Post writing prompt, I realized that I have studied a lot of masterpieces in History of Art when in college but I never really understood what in fact made them masterpieces. Obviously a lot of people agreed that the painting or sculpture was exceptional but still all of that was based on opinion. That was one thing I struggled with while studying art. It is all based on a grey area of opinion.
Instead of enjoying my art, in the end it stressed me out more than it was worth because I was constantly striving for perfection and that one masterpiece that would prove I was exceptional at my craft. I found that I enjoyed the black and white, right or wrong mentality of computers better than the fickle opinions of the population. I found I didn’t work well with so much grey area left to opinion. Deep down I believe that is why I ultimately walked away from graphic design school and never went back.
There have been countless musical masterpieces created by famous composers and countless other displays of creativity that by one person or another have been deemed masterpieces. Some may even go so far as to deem this blog a masterpiece, exceptional beyond compare. Instead of being fact, it would once again be opinion and something everyone would need to agree with to be true.
Gazing at the ocean waves lapping onto a beach, a sunrise or sunset, or a delicate flower in full bloom I realize that the greatest example of a masterpiece is all around us in G0d’s creations until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
The only good thing about endings is that with them come the dawn of new beginnings. A person can almost tolerate the pain of saying goodbye when you fill your mind with the excitement of something new and unknown.
The other day I walked out to get the mail and instead of the usual bills I discovered a letter from my daughter’s school. Toward the end of the year my daughter was tested to see if she would qualify for high ability classes. Throughout all of her years of school she has always achieved straight A’s. When she was in 4th grade she was tested for high ability and it was decided by educators in charge of such things that she remain where she was. At that point she cried because she didn’t get in! It was feared at the time that if she was moved up she might struggle, be overwhelmed, and then her self esteem would suffer.
This past year was an easy year for my daughter. The many times I ventured to the school to have lunch with her I discovered her to be extremely happy surrounded by her circle of friends. When it came time for her to be tested for the high ability classes for next year, her friends encouraged her to fail while I encouraged her to do her best. She wanted to stay where she was and wanted nothing more than to stay where it was safe surrounded by her friends, happy, and sliding through life without a care in the world.
I knew the envelope from the mailbox held the answer to her placement for the new school year and I knew instinctively that I had to open it before I went into the house. I tore it open and scanned through the letter that congratulated me and her for being placed into high ability for the coming school year. I braced myself to tell her. I knew she would not be happy. This letter confirmed that from here on out she would no longer be in an ordinary class with her friends, but moved to another section of the school and surrounded by other brainy kids she had yet to meet who excelled. I no longer was in a rush to get inside. I thought about my funny, zany girl and knew deep down that even being challenged mentally in high ability wouldn’t extinguish the comedic zany spark I always have seen in her. I knew I had to tell her, and I dreaded it.
I had good reason to dread being the bearer of this particular piece of news. At the announcement that she would leave M team to join the high ability S team of her intermediate school my daughter moaned “NO!” like a wounded animal and promptly broke into sobs. My heart broke for her but I knew what I had to do. I hugged her and helped her look on the bright side of this situation. Even though there was the stipulation that I could request she not be moved into high ability classes promising more work and the concept of leaving her group of friends, I presented the concept that perhaps this ending was meant to be.
Perhaps she should have been with the smart kids all along. I could see her fears ran deeper than leaving the friends she had found the year before. The bottom line was that she was afraid she would fail miserably and never be able to keep up. It was time for her to ride the lightning and step up to the plate. It was time for her to be challenged and have her mind opened to more new exciting things.
In another year the end of intermediate school will come and junior high will dawn on the horizon with even more promise for growth and opportunity. Absolutely nothing stays the same. Life is ever changing and keeps on playing out as it is meant to. I swallowed my own personal reservations about this new appointment and chose to encourage her. We chose to celebrate her successes and look forward to the future instead of dwelling on everything she would be leaving behind. With endings come the promise of a new beginning and with that comes excitement and hope for all the tomorrows to come until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Would you rather have your favorite beverage on the rocks or a relationship on the rocks? I would rather have a drink personally. Dealing with some people requires a drink, and quite a stiff one at that. Better to be numbed by the glorious effects of alcohol than deal with their venom completely sober. Relationships on the rocks are just a pain in my a$$ that I would rather not deal with. I have no time for them. Get along or get out of my life, which is my motto.
Some people who shall remain nameless live to stir the $hit and love nothing better than to ruin the holidays with their drama. What do they get out of it? Are they looking for attention? All they get when they involve me in such activity is left to stew in their hatred and discontent alone. I have no intention of rewarding such behavior with my presence or subjecting my family to it. The irony is, when you refuse to play along…the instigator ends up ruining their own parade in the end.
People that pull that crap with me honestly don’t get far. I hate people who are two faced, and while I love nothing better than giving someone the benefit of the doubt; some people don’t deserve the pleasure. I have found in my life that people that are given the benefit of the doubt invariably prove they didn’t deserve it in the first place. They stir the $hit once again. Why? In my mind, when everything is rosy and everyone is getting along someone who stirs the $hit is screaming for attention. Look at me! Look at me! Come over to my house so we can have World War 3 because I like to! Let’s make this a holiday to remember!! Then they can’t understand why no one shows up. No matter how hard you try to get along with a person like this, you will always fail. They can not be trusted, and I kick myself hard for being stupid enough to give this person the benefit of the doubt, AGAIN. What was I thinking?
For the record, I pride myself on telling it just how it is. I don’t like liars, and I don’t play games. I am me, take me or leave me. I would rather live in a world with no chaos, happiness, rainbows, and fanciful unicorns hopping about than get involved in mortal combat with some idiot craving attention. It is just the way I am. Someone who makes up lies about you is not on your side, and will never be your friend. Your relationship is on the rocks and will forever stay that way.
For better or worse I tend to cut poisonous people out of my life after giving them more chances than they deserve. I avoid people like that like the plague. I don’t understand their viciousness and have no tolerance for the evil that lives within them. For obvious reasons, I don’t want people like this for company and I sure as hell don’t want my husband or children anywhere near people like this either. It leaves me with a small circle of trusted companions who I love dearly and will go through the fire for. Life is entirely too short to fill it with people who get their jollies making others miserable. Ever noticed how the person pointing fingers screaming liar, liar is the biggest one of all?
The same person will show the rest of the world an entirely different face designed to garner sympathy much like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It is funny how that venom ricochets back like a cursed boomerang. As they say fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. If you can’t handle yourself any better than that then our relationship will remain on the rocks, I will learn not to trust you, and see you for the unstable psychopath you are until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
What is the last straw and when does it occur? Is it the moment right before you lose your mind or is it the time that precedes going off the deep end when you are painstakingly going through each straw coming dangerously close to the last one? You know, when your kids are bouncing on your last nerve and you are 1/16 of an inch of wringing their precious little necks. It is the moment when you begin to count at the top of your lungs and the time bomb in your head is ticking…loudly.
Sometimes the last straw comes at that precise moment when everything that can go wrong does go wrong and only praying to G0d above can save you. Usually in his divine wisdom, He chooses to save your butt because if you have ever noticed somehow, someway life goes on regardless. There is always a life lesson attached because it wouldn’t be life if we didn’t live and learn and gain a little wisdom from each trip into the pits of our own personal hell.
Like most people I have seen my last straw. I have been there and done that and have no doubt before I go toe up I will get to that last straw again probably many times over. I will blow a blood vessel, hyperventilate, ultimately calm down, find the way, and life will continue with a new box of straws. Even the most even tempered folks ultimately have to go through a lot of straws. Then you have the more explosive sort who probably knocks off a box of straws a day. Thank heavens for the mellowing effects of aging. If it weren’t for the beauty of aging and the natural progression of learning not to sweat the small stuff, many of us, me included, would have blown our entire life’s supply of straws in our youth. I blew so many straws when I was younger that I have noticed myself using up fewer and fewer as I age. I pick the battles I can win now, and don’t blow my straws on lost causes.
Even though my fuse has lengthened over the years, I have seen a whole box of straws blown in one instance that can be chalked up to the pre-menopause hormones that bring on Towanda moments worthy of scenes from the classic movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” or that classic moment in “The Father of the Bride” when Steve Martin’s character decides he is no longer getting screwed over by the conspiracy between the hot dog and bun companies forcing people to buy more buns than they need. Yes, given the opportunity I am capable of losing it on the gargantuan proportions that can rival both notorious scenes.
Providence knows, with two relatively young children who have yet to reach the dreaded teenage years, I probably haven’t even begun to touch on the stock pile of straws I will go through during that stage of life. I have heard horror stories, and for now I am completely content to deal with the small stuff using up my stock pile of straws slowly, deliberately and with precision until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Thank you to Jenn at Wine and Chat for this week's Writer's Post Blog Hop prompt! 
