Crafting the American Dream

Today as I was out with my youngest child having fun just hanging out at the park and having a quick-lunch. I smiled often as she beckoned over and over, "Watch mommy, are you watching, did you see me?" Of course, I had seen every version of the same swinging trick so there I was nodding in agreement that I totally saw the difference from swing trick 32 and swing trick 17. It was somewhere in the middle of this excursion that a thought flitted across the cluttered floorboards of my mind. I was able to keep focus noticing where it had hidden and memorizing that spot for indexing purposes.

Throughout the day I would briefly flip through mind files revisiting the previously scurrying thought. Occasionally my response to this mental review was positive and yet at other times I felt more meh about where I and my family stood within the tangible meaning of this thought. By now I am sure you're getting impatient with me and are wondering what this scuttling little thought was.

My focus kept wandering back to the thought, "Am I, my family, hell--anyone really living the American Dream?" I came at this thought from several different angles. Monetarily, nope I am nowhere near living the dream. Then I considered the freedom aspect. For the most part I do believe we live as close as one can now to the original intention of freedom, though my opinion there (if you care) is we could be doing a lot better in this area. I won't continue because then we might get into politics and then I might lose a friend or reader which is a no-no.

I considered then the visual image of the American Dream. Anyone over 30 I assume knows this portrait. The wife with the perfectly coiffed hair, the smiling all american dad grilling burgers and waving to a neighbor, spatula in hand. Of course there's the dog who is milling around the barbecue grill playing the role of a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Then out of nowhere bounds two angelic children. Blonde hair, blue eyes; the boy is looking quite dapper in his button shirt and little man pants that stop short at the knee. The girl of course resembles Cindy Brady with two pigtails that fall into perfect ringlets and tied off with red boys to offset her baby blue checkered plaid frock.

It was during this moment of complete Mommy checkout that my daughter started asking again about swing trick 405. I nodded and smiled, "Sure, I saw it, how could I not?" Now, I admit that was a lie, I had been looking blankly in her direction but I had not seen the last, oh; 100 or so more variations to swing tricking. I returned my attention to her and of course by now she was tired of maneuvering the swing into these so called tricks. Off she went to the treehouse which acts as a maze within and the only exit is two slides.

It was during her trailblazing through said treehouse that I actually snickered aloud when my thoughts returned to the old idyllic picture painted by years gone by of what the American Dream looked like. I snickered because my dream somehow does not resemble that picture at all. Mine looks a bit insane. There is no husband out back grilling because my dear hubby never knows when to take the food off. It is either burnt or raw. There is no in between. No my husband is calling me over as if there is a crisis to check the "doneness" of his BBQ masterpieces. I use the word masterpiece loosely here.

I do have the two children only mine are both girls, both with dark curly hair that. One loves to do her hair and the other has no idea what the concept of a brush is. Neither has blue eyes, they both have their father's brown eyes. One races with grace, spirit, and passion into any task wanting to know what is next. Typical eight year old tomboy. The other, well sadly; she trips over air. It's a running family joke that she is vertically challenged. However, she is my hippie chick. The world is rainbows and butterflies to her. The tomboy is more of an independent soul who faces life like it's a chess game.

As for me, I am a far cry from the mother in heels carting out a tray of lemonade and kissing everyone on the crown as I pass by them stopping at the dear hubby. Nope, I am in jeans and tennis shoes and straightening everything around me as I move because things out of line drive me bat shit crazy. I do cook every night and we do actually sit down at the dinner table together. But the truth is our family and life looks more like one of those paintings where the artists just randomly tosses different colored buckets of paint at a blank canvas. Yes, my life is splatters, blobs, and long lined dripping paths of mixed up paint

.

It was at this point, when I had, roughly, the visual image above locked into my mind's eye that I realized that the American Dream that was proposed not so long ago in shows like Leave it to Beaver, The Brady Bunch, and The Cosby Show has evolved. It has evolved as each of the previous shows mentioned evolved with the sociological environment of that decade. There is a reason why those old portraits that represent the American Dream are now considered vintage. And today I truly figured out why.

When you stop believing your American Dream must match a picture or show what you are doing is finally asserting freedom, that concept I briefly touched on like a 1000 words ago. We are free to make up our own American Dream and mine just happens to be a far cry in many respects to what I believed life was and the American dream were. Hell, I live in America. Home of the brave, Land of the free, and welcomer of dysfunction everywhere!

So today I realized that my version of the American Dream is simple, I have a hubby that I love and he loves to drive me bonkers. I have two girls with a 10 year age difference that are of mixed heritage and polar opposite dispositions. As for me, my lovely readers, I am the planning, organizing, straightening quack who isn't happy unless everything is neatly in it's place. I attribute that to having sloppy kids, my doctor calls it mild OCD. You can take your pick. But what I have is love, tons of it.  And I have drive and motivation. I have a safe place to live with the lights on and food in the refrigerator. I am in debt to my ears in student loans but by golly I am earning two degrees. I realized that these past 37 years I have painting the picture of my own American Dream. It may not be someone else's version but I am content beyond belief. And now with a bit of reframing, that picture looks more like this...

So what's your American Dream look like? Is it the chaos of mine that when you step back you realize the abstract butterfly or is it something entirely different? Feel free to comment and share what your American Dream looks like.

~DivineChaos

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Photo Credits (in order of appearance): Pam Glew, Better Homes and Gardens Barbecue Book 1967, Duke University Visual Arts Blog, UTeezSF

She Stands Alone

She stands alone buried in thoughts
Contemplating who she's been and all that she's not.
Tears prick at the edge of almond-shaped eyes
A quick snap of her neck allows her hair to hang low
Low enough to hide the tear's betrayal of a brave front
Hands dig further into deep pockets
half heartedly searching for the umpteenth time
maybe for spare change or just a shot of hope

Those who pass by seem not to notice the mousy girl
Standing alone in the center of the world
Hands come up empty and steal a swipe
Across moist lashes and choppy bangs
She moves a pace or two first left, no-no she moves right
She moves as though it takes three men's might.
The man in a rush in his charcoal suit offers no apology as he throws her off step
The last bit of dignity she possessed has finally left.

She stands alone buried in thoughts
Admitting to the world life does not turn out the way once thought
A sigh escapes and she struggles ahead
finding a spot where the grass is dead
Dropping low and curling tight
This small patch of earth is her bed tonight

When she awakes no dreams are meant to be remembered
Just another day trying to get by
another day of no one caring to ask why
The freckles that once danced across the bridge of her nose
are now covered in dust. No longer seen for a lover to count.
She no longer feels the pangs of hunger
She is too weighed down with more pressing matters

Who will love her and care to see
The woman she was and is meant to be.
She stands alone buried in thoughts
Finally accepting all that she's not.

~DivineChaos

*Dedicated to every girl in the world who has questioned her place in this world and those who fail to see her.*

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Google Search

How Chaos Came to Be

It occurred to me that many may not understand the nom de plume I choose to write under, Divine Chaos. So, I figure I'll explain, it may offer insight into who I am and how I come to what you see posted within this blog.

A little over a decade ago, I started making major changes in my life. Some changes were intentional and deliberate others just happened. I began reflecting upon situations and people who made me feel some kind of way in my past. I began evaluating my behavior, actions, and parts I had played in my downfall. This was not a good time to know me-- I was a complete bish.

I grew up with little parenting, in fact, to say I received a little is being generous. For a long time I blamed my childhood on other areas of my life where things were not up to snuff. Once I was a bit older, and I use the world older loosely here; I was in a perpetual stage of anger. Anger at what I should have had as a child, anger at my lot in life, and anger at myself. The anger with myself was mostly because  I considered myself unworthy of those things I envied in other people and their families.

I went on living a life fueled by anger. I pushed good people out of my life because I labeled them as too good for me. I kept thugs, hustlers, and bad boys right up under my arm. See, this type of person is after the same thing you are-- acquaintance without ties and obligations. I searched for freedom through a lifestyle of dashes of liquor and long nights. It did not work, I was still questioning my existence.  In case you have yet to guess, I didn't get very far but I did my damn best to exhaust the use of anger. Finally, I gave in throwing my hands up and just saying, "Feck it all." For those contemplating a life of anger-- don't bother, it's highly overrated.

At some point I noticed I was not growing. I was an emotional child trapped in an adult body. So I did what I thought would save me- I dove into every religion I could trying to find out the purpose of life when you come from the place I had. To be quite honest, I learned a lot, however; none of it answered sufficiently my wish to find the purpose of, or rather, my purpose in life. I did use what I learned to re-evaluate many of my actions and life choices, so in many respects this soul-searching wasn't for naught. I also learned something I value highly to this day. Religion is not for me because truth has more than one door. I have opted for an eclectic mix of many teachings which make up my personal religion, better known as spirituality.

Once I quit putting my hopes in religion and books, questioning my childhood, and being someone I wasn't meant to be  and just began to try to see my life through the eyes of others; it dawned on me that my life was two things, divine and chaotic. The two complement and compete with one another. I realized that the idea of the perfect life was a fantasy. I decided I will be content with the life I  been given--one of divine chaos. I found that I could empathize with almost any book, movie, situation, or person due to my past. I could laugh and relate to the chaos and I could see the divine spark of intention and potential in myself and others.

I am a fractal. A fractal is a  curve or geometric figure, each part has the same statistical character as the whole. I began to realize that I am the essence behind the questioning voice in my head. That the sum of who I am is not greater than  parts of me, good or bad, that comprise my being. That up close, like a fractal, I look a hot, chaotic, mess but from above the whole picture is attained and my real beauty is seen.  So I accepted my lot because I can now, and because it is who I am.

So now, I have embraced both the Divine and the Chaos in my life. Please, do the same....

~Yours~

~DivineChaos

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Photo Credits: Nietzsche & Fractal