All posts for the month July, 2014

I seemed to have misplaced the cheese.

Published July 29, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I have been inordinately busy these past few days. I have heaps of copies of my resume and transcripts. (I’m trying not to be an ass and remark that I have three separate transcripts because I have three different degrees. But I do. ) I’ve had two job interviews, both went fairly well. I know which one I would prefer, but I’m not going to jinx it by mentioning it. The divorce proceedings are, well, proceeding. I have the bits and pieces of the costumes and props for my performance on Thursday. I have portfolios assembled for a job fair tomorrow.

My house is a pit.

Every inch of space has some sort of “hire me” detritus on it or florist’s wire and/or make-up and leaves (I’ll explain later.)

I am barely managing to feed myself.

I have been very distracted, so much so that I became horribly concerned that I had dropped a brand new package of cheese slices somewhere in the house. I couldn’t find them where they belonged, in the cheese hole in the fridge, so I automatically assumed they were in the hamper or under the sink or possibly tucked in neatly next to a Fabricated American.    Any of these are likely scenarios.  I began a silent litany of self-doubt. (I could have said it out loud, but frankly, Samantha is tired of hearing it.)

I beat myself up about being so tired and distracted. I feel that I performing below my potential. I should be able to stay focused and multitask and really give it my all.

But then I remember, I can’t do that. The universe gave me a huge trade-off; “You can either have life or endurance.”

I got very lucky 11 years ago. I can’t have that and locate my cheese, too.

(It was in the fridge, behind the lunchmeat. I think it was giggling.)


Method? Madness? are those the only choices?

Published July 25, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

So my former boss commented yesterday, “People have lost their minds.”

He was referring to the madness that is occurring in national and international news. Planes can’t stay in the air, various extinction level events are in the works and people keep letting Sarah Palin talk.  I know that’s putting kind of a fine point on it, but I am with him 100 percent. I haven’t even looked  at the news today and I suspect what was true yesterday is true today.

I am still studying for the teaching certification exams.  I do have a job interview on Monday and a job fair on Wednesday.  I’m performing on Thursday and that’s mostly my week.

When I take study breaks, I have been reading about insane asylums and watching a bit of the second season of American Horror Story.

Interesting that my sense of relief comes from observing madness.

It makes me wonder if it is possible to be completely insane and be self-aware.  Does that self-awareness make you insane.

Sunday is Brain Day.  I have ruled Intensive Care for 11 years.  I know I am lucky; Ryan Roach, an incredibly talented actor and kind person had a stroke last year on the 10 year Brain Day.  He didn’t survive.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful; I am not entirely convinced that I didn’t actually die 11 years ago and this chunk of time is purgatory. I have put forth this theory before. I mentioned this to the ex-boss. He agreed that if I prove that I’m in purgatory, there is the strong chance of all of my current  reality will just poof out of existence.

Thus my dilemma.

When I was working on my Phenomenology project, using a grief study to teach Hamlet’s soliloquies, a question became emergent; what was the most blinding problem in the “To be or Not To be” soliloquy?  My answer was not  “What dreams may come”, it’s what dreams DO come.

Which Madness do you chose? The crazy you know or the one you don’t.”

This is why I need cartoons.

I know what the problem is . . .

Published July 24, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

A former student of mine, a charming lass of great wit and creativity that I had the great fortune to teach for two years at two separate schools, was explaining to me the oddity of the decor in her home.  I was confused. She noticed and said, “I know what the problem is. . .. You want this to make sense.” Yes, Helena, I do want it to make sense.  That has been my hall mark and downfall on many a project or plan. Sometimes if I  let it go the nonsense will free form into a cohesion that may ultimately bring the whole thing together.

This is difficult for me. I usually embrace the chaos of activity but as I learn how to pass the tests that will, yea verily, turn me into a teacher,  I will have to harness the chaos into it’s own happy jumble.  I know this doesn’t make much sense right now.  It might tomorrow. My anti-seizure medication just kicked in and I probably shouldn’t be noodling around on the Intrawebs.   Sunday July 27 marks the anniversary of that time my head blew up.  I am still on many, many medications. They are all preventative, but they do make me loopy, which is probably better because I need to turn off the computer and lie still like broccoli before I make even less sense.

Night All

Who knows where they come from? Sometimes they just appear.

Published July 22, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am often asked (ok, not often, I’m acting as if I have an actual writing career and there are throngs of people clamoring to hear/read my every word. I have to pretend from time to time so I don’t, you know, go crazy and take off on a self-narrated crime spree. Hmm, I wonder if referring to myself in the third person during said crime spree would be a good foundation for an insanity defense. Hmm, it probably would if I just didn’t rant about it in a a blog that will be on the interwebs.) where I get my ideas for characters.

It depends on the character.  The focal character in Circumstance ( I know, I know, it was supposed to be out by now, refer to any of the previous entries if you need to know how my life got so nuts.) came from a conversation I made up while watching a couple on a lunch date. The girl stumbled slightly and her date looked concerned, so I made up this whole story about how she had an eating disorder and he’s worried about her health. He is so concerned that he doesn’t tell her about the interesting girl he met the night before. The girl he met is the character Vanessa Riley. Once she was in place, the rest of the story kind of came together. The other characters in that story are amalgams of people I knew in Farmington, NM and  from people I knew when I was younger.

The Miller siblings have each had three different characters based on them and their relationship.  The work in progress has a character based on Actor Boy. That character’s siblings did actually just poof into being, but once the main character is in place the rest of it just sort of happens.

There is a person from my past who is part of every character I create. I don’t know why that is. It’s unintentional. The first complete work I wrote after my head blew up, a one-act play called Another Blind Man at the Gate, has several moments that are largely inspired by that relationship.

I am finishing up a novella under my pseudonym (I know, I know, it’s not any more or less finished than circumstance, but I need to get it published under the fake ID before the next step in my career slips out from under me.) The characters in that one started out in one direction, but somehow came around in a completely different way. I know that is the hallmark of good character; they have a life changing experience and they are the better for it.  The character who started out as an antagonist  has somehow turned out to mean something completely different to the heroine.

I’m not entirely sure how that happened. I do know where that character came from. It came from one person and wrapped up as another.

Meanwhile there is a whole cast of characters hanging out in my brain tapping their feet at me with varying degrees of patience while I finish all of this up.

Maybe THAT’s what I should say after the crime spree.

Not really suprised

Published July 18, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I pride myself on being fairly unflappable. There are times when I have to say that I visibly flapped, but it was only for a moment.

The recent outbreak of just plain ridiculous in my world has left me a little jaded and wary.  I can’t help but wonder if I’m setting myself up for the perfect storm of anticipatory crazy.

Case in point: I decided last night that I’m going to grow my hair out for locks of love. I did this the year after Mr. Steve died and I think it’s encouraging to set a goal you know you can attain (If all else fails, at least I know I can grow hair.) It’s insanely humid here right now, so I’m facing the triple threat of grown out bangs, humidity and recently washed, naturally wavy hair. You’re probably thinking “So what? I bet your natural waves are pretty and flowing in the slightly damp air. ”

You would be wrong.

If you have  hair with any amount of natural curl, you know that “freshly washed” is your enemy. “Freshly washed” means your hair will stand straight out, sideways or at any number of angles out of your head as your hair decides what it feels like doing.  The humidity in my geographic zone is NOT in any way a slight damp.  It is actually the kind of humidity you would encounter if you were marching around in a lung, An actual human lung as it is breathing in the moist, tropical air in the Rainforest.   The grown out bangs need no additional embellishment.

Last night I lightly coated my hair with anti-frizz serum (Oh, anti-frizz serum, why does your magic elude me?)  and braided it, so it wouldn’t strangle me in my sleep.

I got up this morning and unbraided my hair.   It was epic.

Imagine Elsa Lanchester in her signature role on the day the Movie Studio ran out of Aqual Net.

My hair managed to be big and lank at the same time.

This is when the roofers decided to come look at the huge hole in my ceiling.

I answered the door. One guy was visibly taken aback. The other guy simply gave me his card and walked in to look at the hole.

He must be having an interesting week, too.

Have we learned nothing from the Ebola virus?

Published July 17, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Leading news this morning: a giant hole has appeared at what is called the world’s end.

So what do we do? Plan a bunch of expeditions to poke around inside the hole to see what happens.

I hope that a bunch of bongo playing monkeys with Alanis Morrisette;s face come boiling out trailing streamers made of forgotten political promises and the secrets to a delicious fat-free doughnut.

Seriously.  A giant hole just appeared. Anywhere. Do you immediately start poking around in it? Imagine you are six years old and a gaping wound just appears. Does your mother or designated adult just let you start yabbing at it with a stick? No. You are to wait until a logical plan appears.

Knowing what we know about the spread of disease and the fact that the Earth is clearly trying to eject us like a bad cow heart and the fact that technology led us thinking people into the darkened recesses of an African Cave where the natives clearly did not want us to go because “Bad things are in there”. And what did we learn? We learned that the bad thing was a deadly virus that will eat your face off lives there. And we poked around and it got out.

Because we just couldn’t resist poking it with a stick.

When has poking something with a stick every turned out good?


Make some cents

Published July 16, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I love teaching and I love learning, so I am kicking myself for not having gotten my certification earlier in my career, like maybe when it started.  I somehow have managed to spend twenty years or so teaching part-time under the auspices of volunteering  with non-profit groups or being paid to substitute teach.

Now that I am middle-aged (Oh it burns, it burns!)  I have decided to actually act like a grown up and get certified already and support myself.  (I made this decision prior to what I can the Diaspora. For those of you who will look it up and know at least one person will, I know that my situation doesn’t technically meet the requirements, but being forcibly removed from your homeland fits the purpose.)

So here I am studying like a fiend to get ready for the TExEs. (For those of you trying to decode my location, that was a big hint.)  I am also applying for just about any job I for which I’m qualified. It averages out to one application every three days. This activity combined with studying and the crap-storm that is my life has caused me to have a tension headache swing by to visit my sinus cavity.  Sometimes the tension  will wander over to one side of my head. (My Amanda Friend suggested I lay with my head on that side so that gravity will pull it out of my head.  I’m kind of afraid to do this because I might lose something valuable.

As you might have noticed, I have a tendency to meander, both literally and figuratively. Somehow I manged to find my way into a curiosity about insane asylums.  I have no idea why. I do see some resonance between my physical and mental reality.

If you are aware of your sanity, does that make you insane? How long will I think about that until I feel my frontal lobe begin to unwind?

Probably a lot longer than you  would think . (Or would you?)

So, this is happening . . .

Published July 14, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

As I have said/screamed/raged/guffawed, I am preparing for my teaching certification. In the state in which I reside (insanity?) this is about a million times more complicated than it needs to be in a world where there are so many terrible teachers who cruise their classrooms for dates and/or abusing  students with indifference or inferior education (I have a lot to say about this.)

I am studying for one of the tests that reviews the basic components of learning English. This isn’t as mind-numbing as it could be, because a lot of this was covered in some of the coursework I have just completed.

A portion of the review struck me with such resonance that I had to underline it for future reference.  (This is the Academic equivalent of screaming “Hells to the Yeah!”  I would do that, too, but I didn’t want to startle the cat. She’s had a rough week.)

“The cognitive model of language acquisition, developed by Piaget, asserts that individuals develop linguistic skills in order to control their environment .” -TExES Mometrix test preparation.

(Here’s a bit  about Jean. I don’t know how accurate the information is but the picture of him is mighty cute. i

There is a wonderful story by Dan Simmons called Vanni Fucci isAlive and Well and Living in Hell. (Google it, it’s worth a peek)

In the story, an inhabitant of hell, according to Dante’s Inferno, appears on a televangelist show to request that someone rewrite a description of hell. It seem in the reality of the story, until the universe create hell because Dante described it.

So, more Piaget.

The reason I used the qualifier “In the reality of the story” because I want to avoid anyone who might smite me, and because I agree with Piaget. We do create our own reality with our language. Actor Boy says he watched me and my dad have an entire conversation through a series of eye rolls.  My Amanda friend only speaks with a Texas accent when she’s talking to me.   I know a dog named Styner who could say, “Bitch, Please:” much better than Ru Paul. (You have to watch the attitude around Yellow Labs)

We create our method of communication  so that we can establish order in our own little patch of the universe.

So my house isn’t messy, I’m creating a fortress of solitude out of books and pens and paper.

Works for me.

Lots going on. More on Method and Madness soon.

Sometimes a banana is just a banana

Published July 13, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

In the immortal words of Roger Murtaugh, I’m getting too old for this (insert word of choice.)

Tonight I scoffed in the face of my paranoias and fears and general desire to stay away from situations that ook me out and went to see EH’s band play (He’s the bass player in several bands and this particular one is my favorite.) The whole evening had the potential to be horrifying. The lead guitarist was best  man in our wedding, the singer is the Adulteress’s ex-boyfriend and the drummer is choosing to stay neutral on the whole issue. He is also the drummer for the Reggae band that EH is in. I don’t got to see them much, because I kind of told the lead singer to do something unpleasant and logistically impossible when he gave me the stink eye when I met some guy for coffee. He is one of the several locals that looked the other way while said adultery was happening.

Tonight had some real potential. I remembered that the best revenge is looking good so I had on more make-up than Ru Paul and set out.  The handful of people who know all involved parties were visibly uncomfortable which EH and I both  found hilarious.

The opening band was one guy in rockabilly hair who yarled int the mic as he played the guitar and thumped on a bass drum.  Is this a think now? When did I miss the performance art as rock show opener? I can bang on the triangle and hoot into a mic just as good as the next guy and I could use the extra cash.

And when did all of the men decide that there were only two options for Saturday night attire: skin tight jeans, western shirts rolled up over the bicep and hair producted within an inch of its  life and skin tight jeans worn with a vest over a bare chest. Vest guys also had long, flowing locks.

I think I missed something. I don’t know  if I care to know what it was.

It was a little surreal watching a band that I have more or less been on the fringes of for the last two decades. It was a little  sad, like seeing Clarabelle without her make-up.

I think one of the songs was the one the lead singer wrote about his GF  being a psycho. I’m not sure that was it, but if it was, it was a nice touch.

It’s past my bedtime.

Good night sweethearts.

Is that really breaking?

Published July 11, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Sometimes my only window to the outside world is a breaking news update from the Huffington Post. I know all news is skewed in some way (I am an optimist, not an idiot.) soI do review the news from other sources and I have just renewed my subscription to The Week.

I got a breaking news alert about LeBron James going back to Cleveland. All of this under a big red banner that said “Return of the King”. I’m not a sports fanatic, so it’s not a huge revelation to the world that all I know about LeBron came from a McDonald’s Chicken McNugget commercial. (There was also a puppet involved in that; I assume he still is looking for a contract of some kind.)

Really, does this information warrant breaking coverage?  Other things are happening in the world, but I had to hunt for the story about the Earthquake off the coast of Japan,triggering a Tsunami warning. An unexpected cold front is predicted for next week (Can you really predict it if it is unexpected?)  I would provide a link, but I can’t see to find one.  Women in India are still being treated as pawns in the most horrifying way imaginable ( While here in America a video of teenage girl being raped goes viral (

In other horrible news, Kim Kardashian’s Iphone game is set to make 200 million dollars this year (

I’m not sure why I started this rant, but it makes me tired in the same way that knowing the house needs to be cleaned.

It’s a great big mess, but I’m only one little me.

There’s going to be a Supermoon tomorrow. Take a look at it and see if it’s wearing a cape. I hope so.