My mom and what I'm doing

I'm not sure what it is about taking a bath.

I can't really remember what I was thinking.

Maybe this is part of it. I'm going to tell my kids (if I'm ever blessed enough to find a man that "gets" me) that sometimes they have to do jobs they don't like and I want them to do at least one job they don't like, and only one. Oh, how I don't like knowing how the hamburger gets fixed at McDs, anymore. I used to know and adequately forgot. I don't like knowing again. I'd rather think that they somehow were born in those wrappers all together in one piece. I had complete culture shock yesterday. Complete culture shock. There was nothing unsanitary--just culture shock.

Ooh--yuck.

I am trying to keep the Americorp program open in my mind. I have to "interview" tomorrow for an assignment--I'm just so tired of interviews. I'm going to the insurance company today. The only thing is, that with the insurance company, I do not know how I'm going to keep on going, with working at McDs until I take the insurance test. I know, I should think it's a means to an end but I am tired. I am tired and I am sick at heart. I am so sick at heart. Tired and sick of trying to move up a ladder that doesn't seem to exist. I like working for the bathroom remodeling company but can't rely only on it at the moment.

I wish I were successful, in many ways. I wish I could look in a working situation or back on a working situation and just know that RIGHT NOW, I'm all good. It's all good. I wish I wasn't sitting on my bed typing this, because something is rolling right, something is going well, I have peace of mind.

I think my mother "never breathing a word" about her loss and never telling people that she had taught has had a huge impact on my life. I think not seeing her in a career that could have ended successfully has had an impact also. In losing my job (though not the way she did) in education and being out of work a year, trying so hard over all the years to "get in," and being where I am, at the moment, has brought her struggle(s) to a forefront, for me. Memories of her and myself have been so clear, especially as I watch people at this fair. I think about being little and how she took such great care of me. How she loved taking care of me. (and I could shed tears as I write this). How she loved taking care of me.

I hope that Ellen or someone that has a copy of that DVD (which I'm thinking George Clooney and Charlie Sheen have not watched) can see how this woman loved her daughter and loved the field of education. The only time she talked about it and she had something near an honor was when she was dying. Her tribute came from "Dallas Richmond's" wife. I need to contact her but I hate to tell her about everything going on at the moment (or, better said, not going on).

I know I'm not the most special person in the world nor even special at all, but if these guys would do this for me--Tom, George, Charlie, Matthew--it would be the ultimate, universal good that could have been done for Bernice Boggs Taylor. It would be justice. Justice. Justice. Please guys, I know you all do a certain caliber of film and I'm trying to have faith that this is it.

There are quirks with it--maybe we'll have to change the names or locations and leave some things in and take some things out---I have been thinking about that---and of course, lack of a script. We have some things to work out, but I have a book and a chunk of papers that my mom wrote about her life. I think that's a good starting point.

How I loved my mother, and if love could keep people here, she would still be here today. (and I have tears welling up in my eyes now)

I had a dream last night that she was alive and she was pregnant. When she was alive, I used to dream those kind of dreams and it always embarrassed me. I never told her. Then, I dreamed my aunt was pregnant and the father was of course, older. He had white hair and a white mustache. She was probably the age she is now. How strange.

But, I must leave this here and go see my 87 year old aunt (one that is left from my father's side of the family).

Cindy