May, 2008 Archives


Inspiring Woman

by Pj in Family

wbglasses.jpgClick to see a movie about Wisteria Marie Bowman. Nineteen years ago I gave birth to my daughter and I cannot adequately express my feelings for her or how grateful I am for her presence in my life. She has always been a joy to watch as she grew and learned and embraced her own life. She is determined and stubborn and proud. She is thoughtful and kind and funny. It is true, many say we are alike. This annoys her. She wants to be known as an individual. As for myself, I am honored to be compared to her. When I grow up, I want to have some of the qualities she possesses. Right now, I am just glad that I know this amazing woman. I am grateful for all that she is, all that she does and all she will yet become. Thank you, Wistie. You inspire me. (Click on her name for a taste of Wistie)


Steel Yourself

by Pj in Screenwriting

I had a teacher once who asked the class why they wanted to be an artist. Some responded because they wanted to make money. Her response to ANY art student whose goal was to make a living at art was, well, something like, if you want to make money, you should go into business or law or something like that. She continued on to say that the only reason you should choose art as a way of living is for the love of it. She did admit there were a few who made money, a ton of it, but usually they were already dead. She suggested artists usually have other jobs, mindless jobs, that provide the time and energy to pursue their passion. This teacher is now my business partner. We are the struggling artists because we passionately love our art form, writing. Our primary motivation is not to make money, but we are convinced we will. We believe in our stories. We love the process of writing them and we believe in ourselves and our ability to write. We know that when we pitch our stories to the powers that be that they will buy them, we aren’t convinced we will sell them. It is a control issue.

I know people who are artists. They have other jobs that steal their time and energy away as they purchase the necessities of life. They talk about carving out time in the summer or in the evenings to paint or compose or write, but they don’t. They dream of it as they drive to work, they set goals at their lunch breaks to accomplish a little bit of art work, then they drive home exhausted and their will has been lost. They like the “idea” of being an artist, but the reality of actually working? Not so appealing. Some argue that you need to take care of your responsibilities and I agree, sort of. I asked a married couple if they could do anything they wanted what would they do. They started to think about it and then pulled back. “We have kids and a house and we can’t just give up all of that to pursue our own dreams! What if we failed?” My response? “What if you succeeded?!”


Cellular Distress

by Pj in Family

Ben bought himself an iPhone. This left an extra phone in our family plan. So what’s a Dad to do but let his youngest 12-year-old, 7th-grade, pre-pubescent precocious child use it when she leaves the house. Great, another reason for her to be gone. She asked me, ever so sweetly this morning if she could possibly take it to “the last day of school.”

My emphatic answer was NO.

sadcj.jpgThe shock, the dismay, the question, “Why?”

Well, this will be fun. I will not relent.

“You may not take it to school. I watch you, your siblings, my friends, my spouse, my work partner and complete strangers become obsessed with answering the phone, or send text messages while those around them, in their very presence, are discounted, ignored and irritated. Your brothers come to dinner and instead of participating in a conversation with those present, they are texting those who are not part of me “here and now”. My friend picks me up for a late night ice cream escape and spends 15 minutes conversing with someone else while I sit there, in the suicide seat, talking to myself. Your father takes every business call at all hours of the night and morning ON SPEAKER. In every meeting I have attended, every movie I go to, every event, every play, every concert, someone thinks they are so special that they do not have to comply with the request to turn off their cell phone. So no you will not be joining all the other lost lambs who listen and only respond to the call of the cell phone shepherd. Beware of the wolf in sheep’s clothing, especially the one that comes with a two-year-contract.”

Her eyes are glassy. Her stare is empty. She has drifted off somewhere.

“And there will be no drugs, sex, drinking, or wildness. Do you understand me?”

She snaps out of it. “IGI.” Off she goes. Good thing because my phone is vibrating.


Be Afraid

by Pj in Random

Don’t you hate it when you have moments when the best thing you should do is find a cave, crawl in and stay there until nighttime comes and the blood sucking vampire that faces you from your mirror has been stabbed with that wooden stake through its heart?

Today, I was walking toward the office and that feeling washed over me of unrevealed, unwarranted, unwelcomed and certainly unwanted anger. All day long, Cyndi received the wrath of unfiltered words and thoughts. She hung in there and finally said, “Spill Pam. Why are you so mad?”

“Mad” is a good word. It connotes insanity. I have no reason to be angry and yet I was feeling angry. She had the misfortune to be in my line of fire and I blasted away. She alternated between trying to get me to talk or talking to me. I just yelled at her and told her to shut it. I glared at her intrusive and endless questioning. She was bound and determined to find the root of my evil temper. What a huge waste of time! There is no root, just fruit.

Eventually, I passed through it. She put the wooden stake back in the drawer. I got busy writing and I found myself starting to feel happy again. I found humor. I found laughter.

When I left she said she was glad that this day was over and I was “more normal” again. I said, “What if that mad woman is who I really am?” She laughed out loud but I could see a hint of fear in her eyes. Be afraid. Be very afraid.


Driving Crazy

by Pj in Family

Saac came in and said. “Mom, have you seen the look on dad’s face? He loves driving tractor!”tractor1.jpg
I reminded Saac that he used to get a kick out of driving tractor once upon a time. I told him to take a picture. (He likes driving camera now.) Ciera came in later and she confided in me that they did a wheely on the tractor when they lifted up the cement. Wished I had that one on film! dirtyard2.jpg Chris received a warning glare from the one who drives family! Wistie commented that the backyard will be a mess for four years and Ben, well Ben left town. That kid will do anything to get out of work!


Lost and Found

by Pj in Random

“Pam, Where’s your bike?”

“What do you mean, ‘where’s my bike’. Isn’t it in the garage?”

“No. Neither is Ben’s.”

The garage is a mess, but not that messy. Sure enough both bikes have disappeared. I am mad. That bike was my birthday gift. It was a nice bike. Why can’t I have anything nice? I storm around the house … cleaning. It’s a hereditary thing.

Two days ago Chris brings home a new bike for Mother’s Day. A couple days late, but what the heck. He tells me the kids are all chipping in to buy it for me. I tell him to return it because I am trying to teach the kids about not buying on credit, especially credit from the Bowman bank. My argument is rather convincing and the bike is returned. I am sad because I liked my bike and I will miss it.

Yesterday my girlfriend called to ask Ciera to babysit on Saturday.

“Hey, your bikes are still in my garage.”

“What? My bikes?”

“Yea, remember you and Ciera rode them over a couple of weeks ago and then you stayed lated because we ended up having a girls night?”

I am jumping up and down, but wait now I have to tell everyone that I had another “senior moment.” The moment actually lasted a couple of weeks. How did both Ciera and I forget about that? Right now, I don’t care. I have my bike back. I am on my way to get it now. Waiting at this stop sign. Waiting for it to turn green.


Mother’s Day Memories

by Pj in Family

pj_cjhammock.jpgThank you Ciera for paying attention. Thank you for trying to make mother’s day a special day for me. Thank you for spending time with me and wanting to spend time with me, even if it was just laying in the hammock and talking. I enjoyed our time together.


50 cents

by Pj in Random

Last week we decided to post it. We couldn’t resist anymore. We had no idea within one week it would go viral, but it did. We had decided to start posting some other funny moments, and then we saw it. Someone or a lot of someones put their watermark on our clip. What is up with that? We don’t care if you want to share what we share, but for Pete’s sake don’t try to own it! Kind of let’s me know how artists feel when others down load their creation. Come on people. Don’t you feel wrong? For those of you who would like to see a small clip of a crazy guy check out on YouTube 50 cent Zambian. We think he is hilarious. Share if you like, but don’t call it yours. Don’t imply it’s yours. It isn’t. There ought to be a law. Oh wait there is. Obey it.


No Nuts Please

by Pj in Family

Mothers Day. Oh boy. In my lifetime, I have run the gamut on this holiday. As a child I looked forward to honoring my mother and her efforts on my behalf. As a young wife, I was eight (8) months pregnant on my first “married Mother’s Day.” I received the small gift passed out in church for the mothers. As I recall it was a bar of chocolate. As the years passed, I went through the “oh-boy-I-get-a-gift” phase to the “oh no! More sentiments expressing how wonderful mothers are! Excuse me, but I could really do without the guilt.” This Mother’s Day, I am most aware that my nest is emptying and my family size is diminishing. I still enjoy the chocolate but it really ticks me off when they buy the kind with nuts. ARGH!

Every year my family used to ask me what I wanted for Mother’s Day. I remember thinking about a gift for my mother months in advance. kids2007.jpgI started saving and shopping and scanning the Sears Roebuck catalogue. It was really important to find just the right thing. Something to make her delighted. Something to make her eyes smile. Not the fake smile, but, the real deal smile. This year, the only one who asked me what I wanted was my husband and I am quite certain he is not my child (although some of my friends think of their husband as one of the children)!

It hurts my feelings when they run out on Saturday evening and grab any gift they can locate at Walmart. When their friends are having a birthday or the holidays are approaching, I watch my children save and shop for their friends weeks in advance. When it is my birthday (well, let’s not even go there this year) or a special holiday, I am saddened to have become a duty or obligation they endure.

This morning, I found an old envelope. I opened it up and there were all my old Mother’s Day cards that my kids had written to me. Some of the early ones were so full of youthful love, enthusiasm and excitement. Those were the days when I was still on the top of their list. Barring a miracle tomorrow, I am pretty certain nothing could beat those childhood gifts that just keeps giving. Dang those darn memories of wet kisses and misspelled sentiments of love and devotion. What’s a mother to do? I am still looking forward to chocolate bars. Surely someone will remember those. Hold the nuts, please.


Why Reinvent the Wheel?

by Pj in Random

What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, and say, ‘This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, all in the same sequence. The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned and you with it, dust of the dust!’ Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer, ‘Never have I heard anything more divine’? — Friedrich Nietzsche

“The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny.” — Albert Ellis

“Life’s challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they’re supposed to help you discover who you are.” — Bernice Johnson Reagon, African American Composer

“High minds, of native pride and force, most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse; Fear, for their scourge, means villains have, Thou art the torturer of the brave.” — Sir Walter Scott

Related Posts with Thumbnails