Category: Life

Losing Track of Days

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Is it a good thing to not know what day you are in the middle of? I get restless and nervous when days start to blend together into one big long string of same ol, same ol. It finally happened today. I was in a Saturday frame of mind all day.
Maybe it’s because of the setting sun of my vacation. Maybe it’s because my dreams are the result of restless sleep. Whatever the cause I need to change the pace. Faster, slower. I’m not sure.
I’ve seen my father for four nights running. He comes to my life when I least expect it and every time I end up trying to show him where I’ve been before. Again with the running shoes. Again with him not dead, just gone. Why do I cling to something so unreal? Should anyone mourn like this? It’s not fair. I’ve cried more than my fair share. Exactly what is fair these days?
I even had a panic dream – thought I had missed teaching an important occupational therapy class. Woke up thinking I was late and fired. Woke up feeling confused and tired. Sweaty and disorientated. I hate that feeling at 4:00am. Even the relief of realizing the reality didn’t relax me. Situational insomnia struck again. I’m not sure I know who I am these days.
I’m thinking I should write these night visions out – put them into a perspective more coherent than my perplexed psyche. Something to do. Anything to help.

Green Like Me

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The snow fell yesterday like it was January 16th instead of three months later than that. Instead of being the weekend of St. Patrick’s Day green it has been wild winter white. People spent their Saturday morning digging out driveways and sanding sidewalks. Not a shamrock in sight. We were no different before we headed to the office. Snowblowers and shovels. Backbreaking for the already bruised kisa.
Maybe I was thinking of Myrtle. Maybe I was envious of the Irish. I don’t know. Whatever the reason I changed one wall of my office to “Amazon” green. I kid you not. I hired a professional painter and while kisa & I hung curtains and rearranged furniture my wall of blue was washed away with an anaconda hue. It took two coats to subdue the blue underneath but in the end I had a wall of jungle.
Sometimes you need to do something a little daring. Go out on a limb. I see green as a little dangerous, a little evil. Maybe this snake-like hue will give me the venom I need to fight in the future. Court battles and corporate takeovers and cold hearts.

I sat and I watched Myrtle. Ancient and grace. Beautiful and green.

Not So Far

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I’ve been working on flickr all friggin’ day. I think I can safely call it a new obsession. Not because I have actively been behind the camera lately, but because I can hear my mother in my head. She’s talking about how she never sees the photos that I take. Hundreds of photos. Tons of trips. Lots of faces. She’s not complimenting my pictures, but rather compensating for the fact that she feels left out of something…whatever that something may be.

I stumbled across this picture and realized that even though it was orginally a “wedding planning” picture (as it was the site for the reception), it is now a “house we are renting this summer” picture. Cool. It’s within a stroll of the island’s best pizza, great coffee and of course, should the need arise, public restrooms…and the church. Only “the bog” separates us from what is considered the heart of town. (The heart being where the most gossip takes place and that would be the post office.)

It’s hard to imagine grilling in the summer sun with the snow coming down the way it is now.  But, I’m getting excited. Only 4 months to go.

Grounded

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Never mind that we are sailing on dry land. Never mind that I am obscuring my face with a cheese sandwich. We are a formidable crew of three waiting to take on the world (if not the open ocean). I wonder where we all went.
If you haven’t guessed I have been spending my time tripping down memory lane, trying to flickr the pictures of my life. I’ve been inundated with wedding pictures and was more than happy to stumble on something that didn’t involved pretty bouquets, groups of pretty smiling faces and a veil of lace (also pretty). Even I can get tired of one of the happiest days of my life.
I don’t know what happened to the chick in the back of the boat. Maybe she’s fronting a rock band that got its start at New York’s infamous CBGBs. Maybe she’s a soft spoken poet in San Francisco, eating raw algae and wearing hemp shirts. I don’t know. Her presence didn’t rub off on me. I didn’t get a single particle from her…for I don’t even remember her name.
The blondie next to me went on to be a rock star of a different kind. She’s married with kids, a happy house, and a killer pot roast recipe. All that’s missing is the dog, but maybe that will come later… when the kids are in school. I don’t see her as often as I would like, but maybe that’s the way life is supposed to work.
The me in the picture? I hide my face because I’m embarrassed to be in a boat, pitifully shipwrecked on the lawn in the backyard. I remember now I’m too young to be embarrassed by the Ho..or the Dorothy Hamill haircut. I remember the person behind the camera cajoling for a glimpse of my eyes but I wouldn’t give up a glance. For even then I knew. I was no more rock star than poet, but something in between.

boots for kisa

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I adore this picture. There is so much going on in this one, poorly lit shot. Take the boots, for example. The boots shocked people. No. I take that back. The boots surprised only those who don’t really know me and shocked those who don’t believe in me. The flowers amazed me. Even now, still. Grown just for my day. Our day. Not a single blossom purchased in a no-name greenhouse. There was even a tiger lily if you looked close enough. My parents on their wedding day peeked out from the green. Their faces kept me calm, kept me grounded on an otherwise outrageous day. I wore a veil to look the part of champagne bride and maybe I blushed. I don’t remember. Kisa laughed from the shadows. Not a what-did-I-just-do? laugh, but did-I-really-marry-this-crazy-woman? laugh. It’s the banter of a new beginning. We are happy and defiant. Still.

Day 1 Ended

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TO ACCOMPLISH TODAY:
1.) Shop for three (3) meals (something chicken, something pork, something veggie:
Done! The “new” market is a bit fancy-schmancy but I enjoyed myself. Garlic and lemons, green onions and apricots, feta and picante tomato juice.
2.) Get phone numbers, addresses and emails to Hub.
Done! Technically, that should have taken a fraction of my time but I got sucked into #3…
3.) Read Climate of Treason for an hour.
Done! I got a few chapters read and since this law book isn’t due back for another month I’m in good shape.
4.) Read Children of the Souls for an hour.
I actually read 7 1/2 Cents instead. Reading two World War I books back to back was a little much. I opted for 7 because it’s humorous.
5.) Practice yoga for an hour.
6.) Write up a to-do list for the guest room(s). Gotta love lists! 😉 Yes, but I never got to it.
7.) Continue the great curtain hunt.
I looked online and wasn’t happy with anything I found. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.
8.) Pay some bills.
9.) Draft the first letter to Yoko.
I did this in my head a few times. Never made it to paper. Maybe tomorrow.
10.) Call mom Maybe tomorrow….
Bonus ~ call for a hair appointment.

Was today successful? I’m not sure. I added things to the list and other things took more time that I thought. I gave myself a hair treatment and my face a mud mask (the house smells like vinegar now). I prepared a brine for tomorrow’s pork. I got the ingredients for the chocolate banana cake together. Dinner was a juggling African number from Tyler Florence. Homemade spice rub (dry), homemade green olive sauce, apricot couscous salad, garlic, lemon, herb chicken….yummy. Tons of ingredients. Time consuming. I did a load of hand washables. Sweaters drive me nuts to dry. Judging Amy got me for one episode. And I bought cottage cheese.

Day 1

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Today I am using this blog as a productivity meter. I’ll blog about what I want to accomplish and at the end of the day, make a comparison. It’s stupid, really. I have stressed all weekend that I would squander my week off, that I would end up on my azz on the couch, watching Judging Amy and eating cottage chesse straight from the container. Okay, we don’t have cottage cheese…but you get the point. I could easily piss the whole day away because I’ve been going through weeks of worry and fury. So, without further ado:

TO ACCOMPLISH TODAY:
1.) Shop for three (3) meals (something chicken, something pork, something veggie.
2.) Get phone numbers, addresses and emails to Hub.
3.) Read Climate of Treason for an hour.
4.) Read Children of the Souls for an hour.
5.) Practice yoga for an hour.
6.) Write up a to-do list for the guest room(s). Gotta love lists! 😉
7.) Continue the great curtain hunt.
8.) Pay some bills.
9.) Draft the first letter to Yoko
10.) Call mom…….
Bonus ~ call for a hair appointment.

Let the games begin….

Pour Me More

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I’ve shunned the electronic social network and opted for the face to face this weekend. There’s some birthday reminder on myspace but I’ve ignored it. I had more fun wishing Sandy happy birthday as she poured me another cup of coffee and took my order. It was nice to see my husband sit up and take a meal for the first time in a week. Face to face, pour me more.
Last night I went out to dinner with the girls. Pasta and wine (Merlot, of course). Stories and laughter. We saved leftovers for later and didn’t worry about manners. Face to face, pour me more.
Today, I helped a friend with *her* office space. It was nice to not think about me, myself and moi for a little while. A different paint brush dipped in paint a different shade of blue. Lying on the floor, paying attention to detail and catching up. Face to face, pour me more.
Tonight, I am going to put my feet in kisa’s lap and watch ‘Go Further’…with wine. We’ll talk about my mother’s birthday, my family’s visit and beautiful Colorado. We’ll worry about backaches, try to figure out how to ship a burrito through the mail and laugh about the cat. We’ll take on life face to face. Pour me more and let me drink it up.

How They Dream

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There are times when I need to breathe. Just remembering that taxes me to the limit these days. I feel the fuse getting shorter, the patience wearing thin. It’s not enough just to count to ten. Ten hundred seems a little lacking, too. I want to sleep for days.
Last night was supposed to be yoga. I was in the car, mentally murdering other motorists, hurrying home knowing, nagging I forgot something. Class came to remembrance. Between the bad back, painful promotion, unofficial office relations, public coming into the private, and the everything else, I haven’t had a moment to even think calm, let alone be it. I want to sleep for weeks.
Last night I dreamed of honey, slow and golden. I dreamed of calico cats and birthday presents for little boys. Green tea by the water’s edge. I woke to the sensation of drowning and dark. I want to sleep for years.

“I sleep just to dream her. ” ~ David J. Matthews
“Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?” ~ John C. Mayer
“I come to you in restless sleep where all your dreams turn bittersweet.” ~ Natalie A. Merchant.

helfen Sie mir

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I firmly believe that all things happen for a reason. Everything has a purpose in the grand scheme of things. Take yesterday, for example. A coworker called me to say he couldn’t make it to work. Begrudgingly I threw on clothes and went in three hours early. Driving through rain only made me angrier. The roads weren’t treacherous. My 40 minute drive wasn’t hindered by weather. Meanwhile, my coworker took the whole day off because his 15 minute drive was compromised by rain. Rain! The whole day off. That didn’t help my already fiery disposition. Kisa called to “check in” three hours later. His drive to work was the same as mine. He knew I’d be mad.
But, now, 24 hours later I’m looking at the rain differently. If I hadn’t been called to work early I wouldn’t have been able to paint my office. I wouldn’t have been able to leave that same office three hours early. Getting home at 3:45 in the afternoon allowed me solitude, silence. When I first got there I “shoveled” the slush from the walkways and driveways. It was heavy work but I poured my anger into the exercise, relished the exertion. When I finally came inside I didn’t bother turning up the heat, turning on any lights. I didn’t idly pick up clothes,straighten cushions or start laundry as is my custom when I have time to myself. Instead, I stretched out on the couch and in the dying daylight lost myself in a book about a real war. The personal battle of my life faded into the distance as I read accounts of World War I battle. It turns out my coworker gave me 145 minutes of time to tune out.

I called my mother this morning. As I dialed the digits I steeled myself for a battle of a different kind; we don’t always see eye to eye or even heart to heart. I was ready to be defensive and demanding. Always on guard and emotionally gated. Things happen for a reason. I’m glad I called. I broke down and told her every little heartache, every little I-want-to-hari-kiri (seppuku) moment. I let it all out in a flow of faith. I wasn’t electric with anger. I wasn’t raining rants. Calm became me. Heartache turned to homesick and we talked about her upcoming visit. Logistics aside, I need family around me right now. It’s going to be okay. Better than okay. The source of my angst can’t control me forever. Sooner or later things will happen. They will happen for a reason.

“anyone lived in a pretty how town”

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Cummings, E.E. “anyone lived in a pretty how town.” Poems 1923-1954. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc. 1954, 370.ee cummings

I’ve said before that sights and sounds are indicative of times gone by. The smell of freesia will make me think of Ruby even though the sprays we bought together are more than 10 years gone. Words work the same way. Cummings wrote about anyones and noones and someones, giving them voices, feelings, life. When I was in college I wrote a story about a Somebody and a Nobody. My professor called it “slickly professional” implying plagiarism to the point I had to prove myself. (Thanks to Cummings I remember this like it was yesterday.) I dragged my Him into —-‘s office and in a trembling, yet defiant voice, announced “THIS is my Somebody.” Did I remind this professor of Cummings with my somebodys and nobodys? I certainly wasn’t as melodic as Cummings! I didn’t write with the same fluidity and beauty, either.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust’s chapter on Poetry Pleasers (p. 188).

Excuse Me While I Get Giddy

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John MayerGirly giddy. BoyBandGumSnappin’ Giddy. BubbleGum Giddy. Tonight is body-is-a-wonderland-bubble-gum-guy time.

I told my friend of 25 years I am at least 20 years too late for this kind of concert. She knows I didn’t grow up with a boy band to drool over. Oh, sure. I loved Duran Duran, but I loved/adored/worshipped from afar. Far across the ocean afar. Dad didn’t park outside the civic center, station wagon engine running as he didn’t run through the dos and don’ts driven by teenage angst. I didn’t sit there, toe tapping, heart palpitating, one hand on the door, waiting for his release. I’m behind when it comes to being a screaming lovestruck girly girl.

I want to buy a t-shirt. I heart JM. But, that would be wrong. That implies attraction and BubbleGum is not the adjective. He calls himself Chewbacca, as in the walking carpet from StarWars and yup, I agree. Scary. I wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley, tuxedo or not. Really scary with or without the monkey suit. No, I want to buy the shirt (I Heart JM, seriously) because it’s something I missed out on doing when I was 16.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ll get sucked in when someone intrigues me. BubbleGum has that intrigue. It’s rumored that he knows Japanese. It’s fact he’s funny. It’s rumored he suffers from anxiety. It’s fact he is generous. It’s rumored he’s a family man. It’s fact he can play the guitar. Rumor & fact aside, I like him. I was the same way when I first met the members of sirsy. They were so down to earth, friendly and welcoming that it completely influenced how I heard their sound. That kind of thing mattered. It still does…with BubbleGum. So, excuse me while I get giddy.

ps~ Okay, I know I didn’t fool some of you with this blog. I’ll admit it…it’s JJ I’m giddy about! If only the heartbeat had his own t-shirt. *sigh*

Believe Me Or Me

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I ran on Friday and this is what I thought about while I was the gerbil.
I am of two minds. I feel mentally ill. On one side of my life I should be upset about the things that were said. About me. On the other side of life, that relationship is behind me and the importance of that person is no more. I’m beginning to think I sided with the wrong side when sides were being taken.
I don’t like insecure people. No, I take that back. I don’t like the way insecurity makes people do and say outrageous, mean things. Bragging to be something they’re not. Lying to lay claim to something they don’t have.
But, on the other hand, maybe I’m jealous of them. When I’m less than confident I shirk from importance. Stay in the shadow of someone more superstar. Keep my mouth shut for fear of saying something stupid. I want to be able to say, I got it going on. I know it’s not true. It’s definitely not me. Maybe I would like to brag about something, anything. But, then again…maybe not. Bottom line, I am who I am. Bad mouthed or not.
Run like a girl. It implies a negative. But. I know better. I run like me.
3.6 miles

Drunk

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We need another night like this. Drunk. Or getting there. Giggly and silly. Giddy and stupid.
My friend asked me out for drinks saying we need this. “We. Need. This.” She stressed every word to make me hear them, understand them. My answer was a sigh. Even getting drinks on campus sounded like work. Later, my mother said I sounded tired when we talked. The phone felt heavy, but I didn’t want to get into it. I couldn’t get into it. She simply wouldn’t understand. Where have I heard that before? I felt bad that I wasn’t even giving her the benefit of the doubt. I simply decided she wouldn’t get it and couldn’t say more. Tired. I let her go on about spaces too small for toddlers, gifts too expensive for birthdays, dates for a visit too inconvenient. Everything too something. I thought about work.

We “moved” my office yesterday. Today I want to buy paint. Someone told me that paint makes everything better. Fresh start. I like that idea. I want honorable colors. Colors that reflect seriousness, authority, respect, the whole thing. Is that even possible? I’ve never had an office of my very own before. I walk around coworkers sensing veiled resentment. It follows me, swirls around me. I want to scream. Don’t hate me because I worked my ass off. I gave up message boards and frivolous websites for a promotion. I stopped wearing jeans and sirsy shirts. I gave up the proverbial water cooler to get ahead. I started doing more than my job. I started doing yours.

I am tired. I will welcome a week of nothing when it gets here. Please get here. Maybe I’ll get to that list of projects. Open that BIG bottle of Merlot and get drunk. Drunk and giddy. Drunk and silly. Drunk.

Behind

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My watch is two days old. I think it’s the 110th watch I’ve owned. This is, by far, the most expensive watch I’ve ever owned. I don’t really love it so I’m wondering how long it will take before I leave it behind. Like all the others.

That’s the thing about losing things you don’t really love. You can’t miss what you don’t love, especially if you don’t love it enough to go looking for it, or even realize its misplacement. I had a friendship that went missing. I didn’t love it so when it disappeared I didn’t take notice. When I finally noticed I didn’t even search for it. I didn’t want it to be found. At all. I wanted it left behind. Is that bad of me… or is that what they call growth?
They say that people outgrow relationships all the time. What about methodically breaking them down, taking them apart, dismantling? I know I have systematically dismantled two in my lifetime (and if you have been reading my blogs on that other space you were witness to one of them. I had to walk through that leaving in a very public way). This time it’s more private, but I can’t say I regret either leaving behind. Then or now. I’m not sorry for dismantling. I’m not even sorry about the ones that dismantled me. I probably deserved it.