See If You Can Find Me

Be our guest be our guest put our service to the test 

I am not here today. This is a recorded message to inform you that I am playing at Beverly's blog today. She was crazy nice enough to invite me as a guest over there. I talk about my success as a writer and the cha-ching I have got from it. So go check it out. She has nice pretty shiny playthings too. So go to Beverly's blog Writing in Flow I'll be waiting there for you.

Graduation Almost

This is for a writing prompt from TRDC. The prompt was graduation. 

Everyone expected I would graduate with honors. Then I would go to university, get my degree, and become something important. Except things didn't quite happen like that. At 16, you think you know far more than you actually do. The war that raged between my mother and I grew more heated and vile with each passing day, and I was constantly looking for ways of escape. That's when I met "him". He became the answer to all of my problems. I was in love, young, and desperate to get out of the hell hole that my mother called "home".

He was dark, tall, and exotic. All of the things that young girls dream about. All of the things you imagine in a fling over spring break, but none of the things you expect from a husband and provider. We married my junior year. I was determined to graduate though. I was determined to go to university. Marriage was not going to stop me from getting out of that rinky dink sink hole of a town. It was a stepping stone. The first step towards a better future. At least, that is what I convinced myself of. That is what I told myself every day. At some point I even began to believe it, but then the universe had other plans.

Six months later I would be sitting on the bathroom floor of our one bedroom apartment. Waiting the longest five minutes of my life for the results of a test I had not studied for. When the two blue lines appeared, I stared at them praying I was hallucinating. Praying that the tears rolling down my face were making me see double. Praying that this was some cruel joke and at any moment it would end.No amount of praying however could change the results of that test.

Five minutes earlier  I was thinking about a cap and gown, but now I had to think of onesies and booties. Five minutes earlier I was only worried about my sash not matching my shoes. Now I would trade that sash for maternity and the bump would keep me from seeing my feet let alone my shoes for the next several months. 

I saw my entire life flash before my eyes in that cramped bathroom. The life that would now never be. The life I had hoped for. Longed for. Now it was dead. Gone in a flash. Nothing anyone did would bring it back to life.

Image Source: accountingdegreesonline.com

It's funny how two little blue lines altered the course of my future. I didn't graduate. There was no university. No degree. Years later I would get my GED, but that did little to fill the void of the life I had let slip through my fingers. The life that almost was. I know most would say I became a mother and that is a great accomplishment. However, I failed that test too.

For 17 years I had been an honors student. For 17 years I held 3.8 GPA. For 17 years I was at the top of my class, but on the most important test of my life (motherhood), I failed.  There are no ceremonies for that. 

Becoming Sam- Indie Ink

It's that time again. Indie Ink weekly writing challenge. This week my challenge came from myplaidpants. No that is not a euphemism. It's an amazing blog that you must check out. Every week these challenges get harder and harder. This week was no exception. Entwined. That is my challenge so here goes. My challenge went to SUPERmaren. Yes she is that SUPER. Her reply will be up HERE later. 

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"Will you hold still for a minute?! It's difficult enough without you wiggling." 

"It itches. I told you to tell them about my sensitive skin. They were suppose to use the 100 thread count on the inside so it wouldn't itch so much".

"Don't roll your eyes at me like that."

I miss you, Sam. How am I suppose to go on without you? It's like a part of me is missing now. The best part. I can't open a photo album without your face staring back at me from each polaroid captured moment. You were always there, but now you're not and I don't know what to do. You were the leader.  I just followed you. You showed me how to live life. How to love. How to not be afraid of living. How do I live now? 

"Jamie? Sweetie? How you holding up? You okay?" 

"Yea Aunt Sarah, I'm fine". 

"Good, dear. Here have another slice of pound cake. Why, you're nothing but skin and bones. We need to fatten you up". 

Aunt Sarah means well. They all mean well, but none of them know what to say. Actually that's not true. They do know what to say, but they are afraid to say it. At least, with their words any ways. They had said it a million times with their eyes and subtle nods. They think I don't see, but I do. It should have been me. That is what they are thinking, but no one will say it. Sam was the pretty one. The smart one. The one that was going places. I was just the tag along. From the moment Sam moved to our street we became friends. I think she took pity on me. Sitting all alone on the front step, staring at the other kids playing hop scotch in the street. She walked right past them and sat down beside me on the step. 

"Want some candy?" she blurted out like we had known each other forever. From that until five days ago we were inseparable, now we were forever parted. I had never felt so lost before. I needed air. Without realizing where I was going, I walked out the front door. I could hear Aunt Sarah's voice trailing behind me, but I didn't stop to catch the words or throw back a reply. Before I knew what I was doing I found myself at the Cove. Sam and I spent many a summer's night at the Cove. Sitting on the rocks, with the frothy sea water tickling our feet. The void inside of me eased a little as the salty sea air filled my lungs.

Light faded into darkness, but I remained steadfast on my perch. As I stared into the inky waters, a clarity like no other overcame me. I knew exactly what I must do. It should have been me, and now it would be. I jumped off my perch with absolute certainty. That was the moment of my death and rebirth.

I couldn't save Sam from herself, but I could let her live. I could live for her. As her. From that day forward, I did just that. It's the reason I became a writer so that I could tell her story. Our story. It was my way of doing for her all the things I could never do or say when she was with me. I don't know if she can see me from where she is, but a part of me feels her and knows that she is happy with the life I gave her.

After all, isn't that what friends are for?

Not Your Typical Military Family

Normally on Saturdays, I feature an Indie author, but with the holiday on Monday I thought people might be off enjoying the weekend so Saturday Spotlight will be back next week. Since Monday is Memorial Day it seems like the perfect time to talk about how I betrayed my military family. At least according to them. 

My grandfather served in the Korean war. He was a communications officer. He didn't talk about the combat although he did have a few shiny medals that they pinned on his uniform. I don't know what he did to get them because he didn't like to talk about it and I didn't like to pry. All of his brothers served in the Armed forces as did their sons and their sons' sons. 

My cousin, whom I was often accused of playing kissin' cousins with, unjustly I might add, served two tours in Iraq.  He was special ops. During his last tour, he was MIA for almost six weeks. Then one day a couple MP's showed up on his mother's door saying he was in a mental hospital in Kuwait. Three weeks later, he was sent home under suicide watch, but the MP failed to show up and he killed himself. His mother fought and got him buried with full honors. His younger brother was called home. He had just begun his first tour of duty. He was stationed in Afghanistan. 

Then I also know the other side of war. My ex is from Iraq. His niece and nephew were killed when their house collapsed on them during a bombing raid. I know women who watched as their sons were dragged off never to be seen again, saw their daughters raped and tortured. I know men who were imprisoned, tortured, and beaten for no reason other than daring to have an opinion that differed from the government's. 

Whenever I walk the streets of my backwoods, redneck, Bible belt hometown, I am called a multitude of names, traitor being one of the few I can write on my family friendly blog. I am called these names because I chose to exercise my right of freedom of religion, my right of freedom of speech and my right of freedom of expression. What I find most ironic is that I am considered the "traitor" for choosing to be "different". However I feel that I honour the men and women who shed their blood fighting for my right to be different. If no one exercises their rights, then those men and women would have died in vain and to me that is the real treason.




Note: If you're having problems commenting on mine or any blogs, I have heard one way to fix it is to completely clear your cookies and cache and then restart your computer. Also make sure the "keep me signed in" box is NOT checked. If you're having problems, then maybe this would help to fix it. Or not. Stupid bleepin' blogger. 

Will You Marry Me

If this is your first time to travel across the pond with us, then you read about the guidelines HERE.

Since wedding season is coming to a close here, it seems only appropriate to tell you about the weddings here. I had heard much about them, but my first real experience was last October when my second to youngest brother in law married. My wedding was NOT typical or traditional so his was the first time I had witnessed one of these events first hand. 

There are certain times during the year when people don't get married and this is due to a variety of reasons. Some have to do with religion others have to do with the heat. I mean seriously who wants to get married when it's 50 (122 F) outside, and that is without humidity. Weddings officially are 3 days, but guests usually start arriving a few days before and stay a few days after so at the very least people are in your home for about 7 days. 

The first day of the wedding is known as the "Mehndi" ceremony. The bride will have a mehndi ceremony in her home hosted by her family and the groom has one in his home hosted by his family. This is basically a big "reception". For those who are not religious, there will be music and dancing. For those who are, then there will be qasidas and clapping. The bride/groom sits on a "stage" in front of the guests. The guests will come and sit with the bride/groom to have their pictures taken and to give a monetary gift. The bride traditionally wears yellow for this day. 

This is also the day where the "mehndi" (aka henna) will be applied to the hands, arms, and feet of the bride. Before the designs were done only up to the wrists, but today it is often applied as far as just above the elbow, on the tops and bottoms of the hands, and tops of both feet. Designs are intricate and extremely elaborate. 

The second day is when the actual marriage ceremony takes place known as the "Nikah". This was the only part of the wedding traditions that my husband and I allowed to take place. He and I both do not particularly like to participate in cultural aspects of things so our wedding was very different than the "normal" wedding ceremony. 

Traditionally,  on this day the groom's family, (mother, father, bros/sis, aunts/uncles, cousins etc) will travel to the brides' home where the marriage ceremony will take place.When the groom's family leaves to go to the bride's home, it is known as "Barat". Usually the groom's family will rent a special car for this occasion as well. This will be the car the bride and groom will ride in after the ceremony when the groom brings his bride back to his family home. 

After the bride and groom have been officially married, the bride's family will provide a dinner for the guests while the sounds of the dohl can be heard for miles around. 

dohl

The bride typically wears red on this day. Red is considered a symbol of fertility and happiness and this is why  the brides wear red instead of white. White is (in certain traditions) considered a symbol of mourning and sadness and this is why brides do not wear white to be married in. 

traditional bridal gown

After the nikkah ceremony is completed, the bride prepares to leave her family home and travel with the groom to his home. This event is known as "Rukhsati". It is usually a very difficult time on the bride as this is most often the first time in her life that she will have left her family's home. Once the bride and groom return to his home, there will be more celebrating throughout the night. 

The third day is known as the "Walima". The first two days are often held in the family home, but the walima is almost always held in a rented wedding hall or hotel. If you compared this to a typical western wedding, then the walima would basically be the "wedding reception". The bride and groom sit on a stage and everyone comes to have their pictures taken and offer their congratulations to the newly married couple. An elaborate meal will be served to the guests at the walima as well. 

During the walima the bride often wears red, but the dress will be different than that which she wore for the nikkah. Traditionally the groom's family presents these dresses to the bride as gifts a week or so before the event takes place along with the jewellery the bride will wear during the wedding. 

traditional bridal set

If by now you hadn't realized, getting married is VERY expensive. It is something that parents start saving for years in advance. Little by little they purchase jewellery set, dresses etc and keep them in storage. This way when the event arrives, some of the major purchases have already been taken care of. Even though my husband's family is more conservative and their weddings are more religious oriented, they still follow this basic 3 day guideline. One thing about living overseas I have noticed is that while in many ways we are very different, in most ways, we are very much the same.