remind me who i am

i told my friend,

last night reminded me who i am.

did you forget?

no, sometimes it just helps to be reminded.

and so i was. but we almost got lost coming home, i turned down a street going the wrong way (literally, driving on the wrong side of the median), and that was a bad, i had to undo quickly, so i opted to drive over the median. i forget sometimes that i no longer own a jeep, though i drive like i own a jeep. which is the argument for me to have one again.

my jeep transmuted into my first home. which isn't a bad deal, it's just that i miss my jeep. have for a long time. but had an accident (which wasn't my fault--amazingly from what i've confessed here), and the car was close to being totalled, i wish they had because i never felt safe in it again (or as safe as i once felt in it). so i was glad to see it go. don't think i drove it much after i married, that was the unmarried suzanne's conveyance.

but it's time, i think, to obtain one again. i'm getting wild.

i forget they make the medians peak so if you do shit like i did last night, you will high center. fortunately, i have enough foolishness to attack it diagonally and we don't get stuck, just scrape the hell out of the underside of our sedan. sigh.

my pony can handle it,

i say.

as my guest (who i had probably scared shitless by then) said,

i hope you didn't damage anything.

nah!

and we made it home just fine. i am, perhaps, too bold.

then proceed to tell her about launching my car off the onramp. i bet next time we go somewhere, she'll opt to drive.

whatever. i like to be a passenger sometimes too, but it was an hour away and i wanted to drive.

sherman alexie is amazing. irreverent. beautiful. i can't say anymore about it here because this is my polite blog (if you can believe that).

but i was laughing the entire time. it was like a stand-up show, and i was grateful for it. laughter is healing. and i was healed.

one of the first things he said was,

it's good to see brown people here.

not many people say shit like that, and it is nice to hear.

quite a few ethnicities represented last night, which is also refreshing.

but all that race talk isn't "appropriate" but it is the kind of thing that gets noticed just never talked about.

he talked about it.

i love him for it.

unafraid. an intrepid soul.

standing up at rutgers, no less, and being utterly himself. it was a beautiful thing. i practically lobbed my book at him, feigned indifference is always the route to take. i don't like to gush over people.

so he signed my book, we chatted a bit, and while in line for his automograph, i saw a very heavy weight poet, and since he had to pass right by me, i was able to reintroduce myself and remind him i want to be his appointed slave at dodge poety festival this coming year.

he asked me my last name. (which is a loaded question)

and i spelled it out as i always do (it doesn't sound like it's spelled folks) and reminded him that my business card has a llama sticking its head out of a car and that we met at the poetry center in paterson.

yes.

he said.

so, i see myself at dodge, being his cupbearer, so to speak.

i'm not a hag, so if he just wants someone nice to look at, that will do.

i simply want to be on staff. i don't care how or in what capacity (she says that now). but i want to be on staff, i will be on staff. mark my words.

all this to say, it felt good, after slogging through work and school deadlines for months now, it's good to be back where i'm supposed to be. on the literary scene.

peace. out.

six hundred

i've finally upped the number of situps i'm doing to six hundred. but when you reach a point where the workout isn't pushing you anymore, it's time to up the ante.

so there you have it.

now i have that wasted tired, body exhaustion feeling which is a good thing.

i've lost some twenty-four inches, and twelve pounds. that's a lot of excess suz. i could stand to lose more, but when i went belt shopping (got a nice pink studded belt since i wear one everyday, and a jack skellington--only 34 inches! i miss my jack) i wondered if i'd gotten them too small, but i am shrinking, so it is beter to get them small and shrink down farther, than to have what i've got now, a huge belt cinched all the way in.

working out is getting cut out of my overbusy schedule, but i'm trying to work it back in. because it keeps me healthy mentally.

i'll rest some today before my long drive down to rutgers, but i can't wait. a friend might go along, but even alone, the drive is lovely. most every drive here is lovely. but this one is more mountainous and gorgeous than others. it's the road that we arrived to new york on, and i am glad to see it again.

it still impresses me.

i'm getting squaked at by my new boss about my availablility, but if they hire you knowing your limitations, they should use you to the full extent your limitations allow. my limitations did not change, expectations did.

what do to?

yes, i want to work at the coffeeshop, and i did bring in a school book yesterday during my shift, so i read a bit for school, but that is not how i like to earn my wages, working halfassed. so we'll see if i can cope with where i'm at, though the schedule is better for me. easier to accomodate.

at the moment, i'm not sure what will happen, but i will give it my best shot and perhaps it will be well.

of course it will be well.

i had a customer last night say,

perhaps it won't.

and i laughed.

yes.

i said.

we like to think positive. but it's tough sometimes.

peace.

strange compliments

tonight i had a cherokee man from north carolina ask me what i was.
always an interesting question as i don't usually know how to answer.
i tend to just smile and listen to whatever comes next.

you're beautiful,

he said.

thank you.

he was buying three bunches of kale and a bunch of carrots.

two rabbits,

he said,

males.

my daughter is trying to talk me into doing that.

bad idea,

he said.

he tells me what i all ready know about the naughty boys and how they don't play well together.

but kept punctuating everything with,

you're beautiful.

and it was genuine. which was nice. i lost track of my counting with his gushing. and just smiled, said thank you, and started counting again.

grown men who act like boys.

makes me laugh.

but then i thought about the cherokee i know and love,
it's good to see those who remind you of what you love.

last night, a man from the meat department, i think (fitting)
was fawning all over me. and i kept laughing and said,

you're dangerous.

when i sing to you, then you can tell me i'm dangerous,

he said.

all the while i'm thinking, this is why i don't like to be around men overmuch.

but i did see two of my lady friends, and it was good to see them.

my feet hurt, i'm tired. but it is all good.

i am believing goodness will come to me in the land of the living.

in the meantime, it feels good to smile again.

poetry saves me again

two weeks coming which are full of work, packed with work, but rounded out nicely with play. this, is what i've been working for. to play.

sherman alexie is at rutgers wednesday night.
i shall be there, wild horses could not keep me from it. (well, one could, but that is beside the point).

saturday, a poetry workshop with kurtis lamkin, dodge poet. and i get to read. what shall i read? i haven't been to a reading in weeks, months perhaps.

next weekend, a poetry intensive, three glorious days when i get to be who i am amongst those of similiar ilk. it is a curious thing, to be around others in such a way. but it is a godsend. a lifedefining moment (or several of them stacked end on end until one is fat and happy with their gifting).

my poetry prof (he's not a poet, but digs poetry), my prof (more accutate, you see, edumucation is not lost on me!) can hear my poetic voice and i dig that. he gets it. he can pick out a hesistant comma, or a uncertain period. but i think, next semester instead of going the full blown jungian route, i'll sit under the published poet on staff. or try to. go mano y mano and see how i fare under her piercing eye.

if nothing else, it will be excruciatingly exhilirating. like the rest of my life.

peace.

giving away my power

it is not every day i let someone completely get me off my game. but it happened yesterday. as soon as i arrived to work in high spirits, there was a customer intent on stealing.

i'd never encountered stealing by abuse, but her tactics worked. she badgered me a good ten minutes, and there are so many things i woulda, coulda, shoulda done in hindsight, but i let the bitch get to me and i gave her power to hurt me.

my co-workers didn't know how to pull me out of the rut i got into after that theft, and i didn't either. but i keep processing things in my mind, going over the scenario, trying to see what i could of done, what i will do next time.

we get some of the kindest people, but then we get thieves. and this one was so bold and in your face about it, i wasn't expecting it. and it frustrates me that i was the pawn she used to take the store.

the district manager was in house when all this happened and said,

shake it off, it's not your money.

but that wasn't the point.

during the ordeal, the thing that bothered me most, was she (the thief) took one of my actions, innocent to an honest person (that could have been my first clue right there) and used it to determine i was "mean."

she told everyone wihtin the radius of the register the whole time i was working how horrible i was and shit like that.

that i didn't shut her down, is my error number two. it's hard to think with someone riding you viciously the whole way.

the entire night ended in drama that i'm told may turn out for good, but i left there with my head reeling from it all.

crazy management. here we go again.

i walked away with an employee saying,

what am i still doing here? i have to get out of here.

she agreed.

i kept thinking the entire time i was trying to rectify the situation that communication doesn't go two ways with the unreasonable. and while in the end, i did get my point across, it wore me thin like butter scraped across too much bread.

i did not need that shit in my refuge. perhaps taking cover in asylums is my first mistake.

though that word asylum is not even a shadow of what it once was. it has been turned on its head to mean something beside what it once meant.

i want the asylum of original intent. a refuge. a place of rest. a safe haven.

to date, i have none.

a feast of crumbs

the sadness of my life o'erruns it's bounds tonight, and i can't keep it in. i'm sorry. i don't mean to be toxic, it just seems that i am in this season. perhaps in more seasons than i imagine. i don't know why or how anyone could read what i write and not feel anything but sadness.

but this is only a moment in time. i will not be sad always. it can't rain always i've been told and i try to believe it.

tomorrow, the family will go feast at a friend's (their friend's), and i'll stay home alone. it won't be the first time spending turkey day alone, i often do. i just cannot hold a smile for strangers at length anymore.

i would rather be alone and feast on crumbs.

not sure what i'll do. i may not even get out of bed, but if the mood strikes me, i may go for a long walk. there was a stream i once liked to visit. maybe there.

not sure.

there is no comfort to be found, that's the thing.
i'm essentially inconsolable, which is why i avoid people lately.

they say it gets easier, but my dealings with grief prove it only gets harder for the first year.

work is my life raft, and before i fell apart today i called my old stomping ground and asked if they needed help, which they did. i was glad to oblige.

but the place is still off and i need to get away from there, but how? and if it serves to get me out of my pool of tears perhaps the personal dramas are worth it.

i don't know.

i just don't know.

i'm tired now, so i will end this lament, but my breadcrumb trail is stale and i grow weary of so little to feast on. only heartache.

always, always,

words for you.

always, always,

this silence.

nothing satisfies

nothing comes close to comfort

nothing

i've come to know a great deal

about longing in this time.

it is the note my heart plays.

i keep waiting, looking out windows

hoping. and for what?

i'm asked this all the time

all i can do is retreat to my familiar

yet cavernous silence, to wait some more

i go apart alone now, walk beside waters that once

glittered like diamonds. but the cold has come and they

bite, frothy teeth, grey with cold. and i bundle up and try

to last as long as i can before retreating indoors, into my

cavernous, ever present silence.

and these words for you.

always, always,

this love for you

always.

don't buy that

so, i'm in training and ringing up stuff (since my new coffeeshoppe job is in a grocery store), and i can't help but make up shit about the people shopping. it is how my mind works folks, deal with it.

so the lady with one navel orange, five cans of cat food, some fake mouse toys, and small portions of thanksgiving type fare. i'm thinking, catlady. but at least she didn't buy tons of catfood. perhaps she only has one cat.

and there's nothing wrong with that. we all need companionship.

but then one of the managers goes through the line and i say something that strikes him as funny, and he's giggling. a grown man. it's late, granted. but he's lugging home a large bag of cat litter. i say,

long day?

yes,

he says.

time to go home and hug the cat.

catman.

i say to the young buck traning me. and we laugh.

my young counterpart bought one can of soup. i asked if he was like the guy on the morning show who admitted to peeling off the label, opening the can and setting it on the burner directly. no pan.

he uses a pan, which is refreshing.

it's hard not to make up stories about people. it is what i do.

so when the man with the mullet and red shirt are in the darkened meat section (the start shutting off the lights at 11pm), wanders around to the cash register, i am surprised to learn he is a very nice man (bad haircut notwithstanding), and i am a meanie. but we know that all ready.

it's weird, working with dudes. but i'll muddle through somehow. the best thing that happened was when my young (23) trainer asked my age and i told him, he was shocked. i haven't been around the young much of late (dudes i mean), i'm around young girls all the time. but it was nice to be thought much younger than i really am. it was meant in a good way.

home late, i'm working to the poing of sleepiness, and passed out when i walked in the door. i think that works for me, but the coffee bar closes much earlier than the store. so, i guess, i'll just have to come home wide eyed and try to sleep.

call me crazy

so, i didn't start my new job and i didn't leave my old job. see, my life works this way.

i volunteered to help out on black friday which is a freaky name for a day, but whatever.

it was a hard blow to my store to lose me because finding a replacement and training them at this particularly tough time of the year is, well, impossible.

so, since my new job didn't schedule me, i'm going to keep the old job and pitch in when i can. it works out for us both that way. i'm not dealing my dearly loved co-workers a stunning blow (which they would have to cover for me), but i'm also not sacrificing the job i really want.

it's probably madness, but...

the price of freedom is high. i gotsta start saving.

peace. out.

five bucks and change

if my belly dancing teacher's coins are the measure of her assets, shall we say, she's got about a dollar in change hanging there.

i'd say i've got about two fifty. and the stand in for my instructor this morning was five dollars and change. that's a whole lot of coins.

i couldn't keep the grin off my face, and if people knew i go home and write about them, i'm sure they'd be upset. but meanwhile, i just look happy, or giddy, or whatever.

it was so distracting though, seeing all that ass coming at me, shaking all around. i'm so used to my sculpted teacher, and it's not that this one wasn't sculpted. she didn't have a rack but she was loaded, if you know what i mean. she was as tight as a big girl can be. probably had a waist my size.

she was a dancer, ballet, all kinds of shit. she named names. none of which i knew.

i told her, i have no idea who those people are.

way to end a conversation, but why feign knowledge i do not have?

so she's dancing away and i'm watching worlds collide. whoa!

if her thighs were glazed and had pineapples and cherries on them, i'd have been salivating. as it was, i'm not into chicks or food. so i just enjoyed the show.

and a show, it was.

i kept laughing.

it's is so wonderful seeing women free enough to shake their stuff. to slam coins across their hips and wiggle around for the world to see. i realized today, i can't not belly dance. in some form or fashion. even if it is just in classes, i can't not belly dance. it's too wonderful.

our class is decidedly loosening up. though it is still pretty focused. we tend to shout out a bit more at the teacher and that is always nice.

though this girl got on the floor and did some things i can only hope to do. humenah!

i'm not so bendy in those ways. i am more wiggly, shall we say.

my first day of work was a bust, but at least i got my schedule for next week.

peace.

one day more

my last day at work tomorrow. my first day at work tomorrow. why does everything in my life work out that way?

am i ready for this adventure? i'm not sure.

i don't think adventures begin when we are ready, they just begin. and we go along for the ride.

one new girl at work tonight said, i miss you all ready.

very much the sort of thing i say. i was grateful for the sentiment.

i've only ever worked with her once, but she's sweet.
the others are sweet too, but there is a certain innocent sweetness this one has.

yes, i will miss those girls.
i am still getting offers for my hopeful return.
but i don't know. i may, if i really miss them.
but i try not to go back, i like to move forward.

returning there would be going back.

i'm not sure what i'll do. i'm never sure what i'll do.
i think it's time to leap and let these wings catch me.

i'm tired. maybe i'll sleep tonight. i hope so.

big day tomorrow.

hope i'm ready for it.

peace.

worth

has always been a big issue with me.

i've never really believed in my own value.

it's coming down to dollars and cents now. leaving my lifesucking job was the first in a line (of hopefully) good life affirming choices.

went in to work one day and there is always shit to do as soon as you walk in the door at that place. one day, i got on a conference call (which is a huge waste of time but it makes the higher ups feel like they are doing something--besides wasting our time, i'm not sure what they accomplish with those things), and i forget to clock in until after the call.

i asked my (new) manager via post-it, and verbally, to please amend the punch.

found the note trashed, and thought, perhaps she did it.

went and looked (i do have those privliges), and nope. she didn't. ignored my request completely.

it's not like i was late and not working and wanted the time, i was there AND working, just forgot to clock in before the call.

wrote another post-it, and i'm not sure if she ever did it, so i printed out the punch to make sure i could go back and find it directly.

i've asked another manager, my so-called friend to help me figure it out, this from a girl who spends tons of time making sure her hours are right, and i've been put off and put off, until finally last night i was told,

you're going to have to go through the paperwork.

it's not about the 15 minutes anymore for me

it's about doing what you are supposed to do and taking care of your workers.

if she never amended the punch, she robbed me of 15 minutes, deliberately.

if someone will short you 15 minutes, they'll short you in other ways.

that, is why i'm leaving.

crazy management.

we become like those we surround ourselves with, i believe that. which is why, if i ever hope to be a manager with compassion and integrity, i have to get the hell out of dodge now.

explaining this to another manager, she didn't get it.

the other people i work with get it. and though they hate to see me go and tell me every time i see them, they are not guilting me into staying.

i must go.

now, what is freedom worth?

if i said, $300/hr was the price of freedom, is it something i'd be willing to pay?

if i don't pay now monetarily, what will that cost me personally? emotionally?

my greatest fear is that i won't think i'm worth the money. that i'll just continue taking the shit i've taken all along because i think it is the best i can do.

that is such a lie.

crazy management is not to be tolerated.

and when i stop preferring my self, my integrity, my own dignity, then i've become a crazy manager of my own life.

i could view it another way. that i am paying myself $300/hr for freedom.

then, perhaps i could suffer the blow and not want to resign myself to status quo.

if the universe truly does meet our needs, the money isn't an issue.

peace.

the price of freedom

is running about $350/hr. or so i'm told. pretty steep.
i wish money wasn't a factor in everything. that all my broke friends
could have what they need (namely, money). that i could give them
some of mine. but for some strange reason it is what it is.
and i've not yet found a way to live apart from money, there are
precious few who can.

tonight in belly dancing, my beautiful, delicious instructor
led us in a spontaneous meditation. this from a figure eight.
i have a poem in me about it, but it's not ripe yet. and will
have to wait. as i was driving away i thought, how odd i must
appear, when i have to go write. i make a beeline and shut up.

then at home, no one can talk to me until i'm done.

it must be the same for all artists.

but the poem eludes me and i'm too tired to try to wrangle it,
'tis not my style.

so i'll let it come. and will try to present favorable conditions
for its return. belly dancing music being one.

i have a few cds, they are not my favorite. i like the music my
bohemian instructor plays. but her tastes are ecclectic and trying
to pin down her selections is tough.

she's who turned me on to that annie lennox song. which i listen to many times
almost every day.

so, i will sleep with my belly dance cds on. and see what happens.

tonight she said,

belly dance is a dance by women, for women.

and we were all lost in the movement of our hips, the rolling of our spines,
the undulations of our arms. there were no awkwardnesses tonight, i stumbled a few times, but that is to be expected when lost in movements one is trying to learn.

i saw myself dancing. i was dancing.
and the instructor's movements are easier and easier for me to follow.
though her form is hard to hold.

she's got a rock solid body, and well, i just don't.

but i do the best i can, and muddle through.

that seems to be how i get along.

i want my freedom, seems i'll have to pay the price.
when i told my instructor about this she said,

freedom is priceless.

so much i want to say

but this will have to do. i miss you. do you hear me? i miss you.

it seems all i ever want now is some shred of hope, but hope in what?

i don't even know that i know.

i'm leaving my work in three days (on saturday) and starting my new job the same day. i'm sad and excited at the same time.

i've made a habit of leaving. i've said this all before. now it is no different. as i sat in the backroom eating lunch today, the difficulties we face, the mean customers, the kind customers, the laughter, the cameraderie, i'll miss it all.

but i know i must go.

there comes a time with me when i feel the fullness of the season.

things die all the time, times change. but that doesn't necessarily signify anything.

i'm watching a lot of things in my life wither, but it is not necessarily time for them to die off. and i'm not looking to hack off limbs before their time.

though i want to, at times, be done with anything smacking of death. so tired of it am i. but something in me feels, just a bit longer. one more day.

that is how i've made it this long, one day at a time.

the tasks at hand are almost too numerous to count (in fact, they are). i move mostly by deadlines. my calendar is my greatest ally in this race that has become my life, but i needed it this way. i was languishing on the vine.

now, i'm scrambling.

but i'm also trying not to neglect my right and true soulwork.

editing is that work. it is the thing that i put my hand to, like a master gardener and it flourishes.

that damn orchid my husband bought for me when we arrived here is still living, despite a long season of neglect. that has more to do with the strength of the plant than any ability in me to nurture a thing.

i'm sure of it.

i saw it tonight and waved hello. still with me.
though i can't imagine why.

sometimes, i want to hold on, to stop. to be steady and keep the scarcely familiar (though horribly unworkable) known as opposed to diving into the great unknown.

my friend told me this recently when i was considering staying at my lifesucking job.

but no, i knew it was a different motivation entirely.

i just wanted to be where the memories are rich, and the place that has helped me survive. though it is time for more than survival. i know this.

the season is upon me when i must make choices to thrive. i have all my options open. all my roads are ripe with possibility, it's just a matter of asking, what do i really want?

and moving in that direction.

i tell my girl this often,

we must ever move in the direction of our dreams.

she listens. i tell her,

it's not my bookshop, not my coffeeshop i'll be working at, but it is one step closer.

i'm grateful for where i've been. for all i've learned.
for the companions i've picked up along the way.

today i didn't feel quite so lonely, like i might actually have friends on this planet.

but, friends rejoice when we move toward our dreams.

and this is my greatest challenge for these dear souls i love.
will they rejoice with me, even if i leave them?

or will they curse my departure and divorce any knowledge of me?

i cannot say, no one can say how another will receive our pursuing our dreams.

but it is not their dream we pursue. it is ours alone.

so i saw two hawks today. how i needed that.
and i'm not certain of anything more than yesterday, except that today
i feel loved. and grateful.

tomorrow can only get better.

first snow

leaving work tonight i drove from rain into snow, the first gently fluttering flakes of the season, it was downright heartwarming.

too bad i don't have anyone to share it with.

my girl crept out of bed to say good night to me and i told her. she jumped up and down a few times, then crept back to bed because she was cold.

i pile the layers on and prepare for another late night.

schoolwork keeps me up. sleeplessness is my companion.
i seem to only want to sleep when i have to get up.
but just in from work and i'm bright eyed and bushy tailed.

they want to offer me more money to stay, but i keep saying, no. don't.

i need to leave there. i must leave there.

tonight a customer started yelling at us, and when she was leaving, i went up to her and told her it was inappropriate for her to yell at us. she was mumbling and grumbling but i'm tired of taking shit from people who don't know how to treat hardworking underpaid servicepersons.

another lady i met shook my hand, just the second time that has happened at work, and i must say, it's damn refreshing. to have some stranger shake your hand and introduce themselves, it's unexpected and restores my faith in human decency.

we get the whole gamut, thieves and the honest. meanies and ladies so kind it makes you all melty inside.

mostly we get the meanies though. or at least those are the ones we remember.

why is that? perhaps it's the footprint they leave behind.

good kind people are like good hikers, you never know they are there until they pass you by. the yammering kind of hikers i can live without (had to avoid many of them the other day out with my girl).

the line from a poem, when in the forest, speak no louder than a tree kept coming to me. i kept trying to honor that sentiment and shut my mouth. but it was also a time for me and my girl to be together.

so i talked with her.

and the hike leaders. them i don't mind.
but i realized, i don't really like people in general. except the people i love. them i would give my i-teeth for. but the rest of humanity, not so much.

a hermitage somewhere is what i need, a reclusive pasture to be away from people is my ideal. driving around new york today, i was amazed at how anyone could ever want to live elsewhere.

one other kind customer said,

then you'd really like kentucky, it's more beautiful than this.

i can't even imagine anything more beautiful than new york right now.

first snow, wish i had someone to share it with.
peace.

leaving for good

so, i signed on the dotted line at the new job today. start the day i leave hell.

this will be heaven by comparison.

remind me, when i piss and moan, this is heaven.

i don't know that everyone feels so secluded in their own reality as i do. that every mistake is tragedy and every triumph elation. but this is how it is with me. i don't know how else to be.

the bird feathers and seed got so thick in my kitchen i had to do something about it, this is the child's job, but she neglects her right and true duties. and i take them up. when i am so tired and have so much to do.

i tell her repeatedly,

this is easier than horses. how can you own horses if you can't keep parakeets and a rabbit clean, fed, and watered?

she fails to see the logic of this, but i insist she try.

meanwhile the sailor in me is coming out and i'm trying to be a "good" mom, if there ever was such a thing, she surely weren't me. but my girl is used to my tirades and just keeps shirking her duties.

she did clean her room though, because i laid down the law.

but i'm so tired. i have so much to do.

and the hubby now complains that he's "tired" of paying for everything.

what the hell is that about?

this is the same man who told me to quit my job when i got pregnant. stay home, raise our child.

now, because he's tired, everything changes?

my working fulltime would put my child in public school, she does not want to go. (i can't blame her, her deal is pretty sweet).

but i can't get into my industry (editing) without my bachelor's so that buys me another year. one year more. uno mas.

then, we'll see what the cards hold.

walking down the beach in cali, i told god,

i don't believe in you anymore.

he didn't say anything.

the honesty of that place for me though, was what mattered.

i'll grapple with my faith some more. and the christian friends i still have will try to persuade me that i'm wrong. i'll try to persuade them that i'm fine.

but the questions are undeniable.

i've lost everything this year. that my faith would end up a wreck was not hard to foresee.

that i'm still having these conversations with god, as it were, is proof to my dear athiest friend (who says i shouldn't be an atheist until i can spell the word), that i'm not completely down on god.

who knows.

i know nothing anymore. anything i claimed to once know, i hereby foresake.

i've lost it all and i don't see any of it returning anytime soon.

dull aches

the dull ache of a headache is threatening me again, i've only been up about an hour today, the rest of the time in a haze of drug induced slumber. seems i'm fighting off something that would take me out. but i cannot sleep, though i try.

fitful rest is no rest at all. and i have stared down the sun too many times, eyes blurry and nearly blind i wonder if i can see at all. if i've ever seen at all.

i believe in hope and love (not little dogs)
these are the very things friends counsel me against.

they watch my zigzagging path around graves and wonder when i'll accept the facts.

the facts have never been what they are, in my mind.

but i am tired now, and restless.

uncertain and wanting to see again, just when i feel my eyes have failed me.

these moments when it boils down to my inability to exert my will, my vain attempts at changing my life, my grandiose ideas of my future

these are the moments i want to fade away into a dream, walk off the set and be no more here.

but i am here. and there are at least two people who would miss me.
i know what it means to grieve, i know how they would struggle for every breath

so they keep me here.

all this from a cold. it's good i don't get sick often.
but i'm tired and want a rest, yet resting does this to me.

when i'm moving at the speed of light and hardly have time to think, i merely function. i am reduced to survival. that is how i've navigated this year, mostly, survival.

but i will have to slow down. have to feel again.
have to reenter my life and i watch the exits go by
faster than i can react and think, next time. maybe next time.

meanwhile, i try to be present to the two who need me most
and let the rest settle itself.

so...

just got a call from my store manager, every time i try to leave they offer to promote me.

i'm such a sap for going for it.

they will do the same for me now if i'll stay.

they will work me like a dog if i stay. which has been a lifesaver for me.
but the mall parking, my god.

my LA driver tendencies kick in and i'm such a witch when i can't find parking or get delayed on the road. i'm better sans commute.

but i will miss the girls.

it's always them that keeps me there.

sure are a lot of good people in hell.

it doesn't hurt that i had 100% segment goals achieved this past month.

the store is going double platinum in april and that would be fun. lots of panties and nighties and bras to play with (i'd be in the lingerie department).

but that would be too tempting too, spending my hard earned money and for what?

i just don't know.

sounds like a mass exodus is about to begin with the sales associates too, so it can only get worse.

sigh. what to do? is this even a question?

easier now

it has gotten so much easier, my job, my stint in hell. perhaps it's the perspective of leaving, that makes me appreciate what time i have left. what few challenges there are for me to master. perhaps, it's just the relief of moving on.

so much there is not right. and i can't fix any of it. all i can do is my small part, being faithful with the measure i was given. and tonight i felt successful in that small way. my small part played, and played well.

i'm slacking in school. there are so many deadlines in my mind, so much to do. i seem to never have a moment just to be. but i arranged it this way, to alleviate my malaise. i could not cry anymore. i could not think of all i've lost anymore, i had to move forward and start believing for the future.

and so i do.

my daughter and i talk a lot about what is to come. it will certainly involve horses. one way or another, i will make that happen for her. i'm not sure how, but i've never been sure how. and it has always worked itself out.

she's smitten of horses.

when we hit turbulence, the thing that gets me through is the morbid thought: what a way to go out. such glory.

but i couldn't say that to her. so we hit some rough patches and i had her name all the animals at the ranch where she takes lessons.

she told me the names and tempraments of the cats and horses, the assorted livestock that people the place. i'm not sure she knows the names of the people who actually work there, but they are necessary evils in her mind.

something else to focus on. that is the key to getting through the hard spots.

so i've focused my mind as much as possible on pueblo nations. right now i'm reading a book on the pottery of the pueblos, as well as the day lifestyle of the peoples.

i feel so removed from them. i've not grown up with any native traditions other than story telling. my grams told me stories every night at dinner. stories i couldn't figure out, but many of them were captured in women who run with wolves.

i wanted a sand dollar when i walked the california beach. i figure it isn't too much to ask of a soveriegn god to slam a whole sand dollar on a rock laden beach for me to find. but i found none.

instead i found a small necklace of fishline, made when i was a very small baby, with the name "suzy" on it. my childhood handle. this, was in my grams' jewelry which we were sorting through to determine what we'd keep and what we'd part with.

i kept more than i should, probably, but it was grams' stuff.

and i've untangled the small baby necklace and have it hanging here beside me. reminding me of one who loved me more than any. a good thing to be reminded of. i have felt so far from love. so far from the lifegiving force that makes living worthwhile.

that is why i focus my mind on other things. so i don't focus on what i've lost, or what is absent.

i've spent enough time in tears, it's time to move forward.

whatever that means. i'm not entirely sure.
but the steps come easier now, though not without longing.

and i wish for one to make it all make sense to me.
and i would gladly welcome that one home.

i see it in my mind. how it will happen.
and i long for it to come.

any day now...

i have no idea

so i'm writing this series of poems right now, that will likely never get published in my lifetime, which is a curious thing to say, to know. but it is something i must do. today, every step i took was a word, a poem, a line. it was the most vivid experience of poetry i can say that i've yet had.

often i hear my poems (often, always, actually). but today, i lived my poem. it's a curious thing to convey. hard to fit into words. i know the lines came to my ear but i was walking through that poem with each step. and as i stood in the appalachian mountains overlooking the delaware, i thought, one never knows when a poem will come, like this vista. one step lets you see far beyond what you could see hemmed in the treeline. one step was all it took. what will the next step be like?

it's a curious thing.

then, when i'm driving home, marion woodman (love her!) was speaking about feminine consciousness and said,

if you surrender you may find you are a poet and you have to take responsibility for that.

i hope i've taken responsibility for that.

i don't know that being a poet MEANS i have to publish. or that not publishing MEANS i'm not a poet. i don't think those two things are invariable correlates. i think those two things are like any other two things that some times come in tandem, sometimes not.

what i do know is, i write poems and some dear souls read them. it does not concern me how many souls read them, because

it is a dangerous thing to put soul in the marketplace,

marion woodman warns.

timing is everything. i must not rush. i must not be hasty.
and with my poetry, as with nothing else in my life, i can wait.
i can let it continue to richen and deepen and grow.
in fact, i want it to.

i may be faulted for never going back and rearranging a thing.
but i cannot be faulted for not growing.

my new works are so vastly different from anything i've done before.
at least they feel different to me in length and content. (though i was headed here all the while, i know that in my bones).

i just don't know that anyone really understands the story i'm telling or if it can be understood along the way.

perhaps in hindsight, when the last jot and tiddle are struck on the last cyber sheet, i will know what i have created. then someone can say,

this is what she's done.

though, i don't care to converse with that person about it.

i will likely be on some mountaintop somewhere living another poem.
so close the two are melded.

my life, my poetry
my poetry, my life

publishing is an entirely other subject.
one of admittedly little interest to me.

loose hips sail ships

so my belly dance instructor tells me today as we're doing ribcage figure eights that i have loose hips. which made me smile.

try doing a ribcage figure eight. move no part of your hips, don't lead with your shoulders, but use the bottom rib to jut out forward and up, circle around and drop down and back. your butt must be very clenched (sorry, no delicate way to say that), and your pelvis pushed as far under as you can get it. this is the belly dancer's natural stance. an upright pelvis. (or a pelvis standing on its toes makes more sense to my mind).

once half the eight is done, alternate with the other bottom rib jutting out (which happens naturally as the first rib juts back). the trick is, moving just the ribcage, not leading with your chest or shoulders. it's difficult.

so we did isolations today, and everything on me wants to move with everything else, but i've been working on isolations for nearly a year now (i can't believe it's been that long, more like nine months), but still. long time.

the trick is to get your ribcage moving independent of your hips. your shoulders naturally follow your ribs but they do not initiate the action.

to do this, i have to fix the image in my mind, and often, close my eyes to see my body moving in the form i'm trying to make. it's not natural movement by any means. but i can see how far i've come. i've farther yet to go, that's for sure. but it was nice to hear her say i have loose hips. they do like to shimmy and shake. i can put a wiggle in just about anywhere. and no harm can be done from shaking what you've got, right?

i've started dancing more at work. when the girls are looking and (hopefully) customers aren't. there are these great songs on and the girls laugh. which is my whole point. it's quite something to see someone's hips moving independent of their ribcage. it's a peculiar movement. something one works up to.

we're so blocky, we don't use many abdominal muscles in our instant age.

i've danced for no one yet. i thought about dancing for my sister and mom, but was glad i decided against it, i was just too tired.

so i dance for no one. i dance alone.

i hope to study flamenco next. i can get into that dance. it's gorgeous and shares many postures with belly dancing.

peace.

t minus fourteen days

so i gave my notice at my lifesucking job. got offered another job by a humble, compassionate man--at a far better rate than i'm getting now. and sans commute. can't pass that up. while i'll be working with dudes now (a safeguard i invoked for myself back in the day--working with only women), i figure i'll be fine. i'm a tough bitch.

my manager said to me when she spoke to me about my leaving

going some place with less responsibility.

i think i said

yeah

(as in, yeah right). but that is the management style there, very strange.

it is time for me to leave, i never want to subscibe to the management philosophy of this particular company.

i have to get out now before i mindmeld into some manager i never wanted to be. it's hard enough for me to keep my shit together personally without having to defend my managerial style (which is "too nice").

i will never stop being "nice" to associates. i told my new manager,

compassion is never a the wrong answer.

and he just smiled.

i haven't gotten the job yet, but i've done the paperwork, taken the drug test and i hope it's all but done. i am really excited to start there. but i'll miss the goils.

i will always miss the goils.

one of them wanted to come with me. but she can't.

i miss my sister's babies. they were totally zen for me.

i don't want anymore kids, but i would love to participate in any baby raising i can, it's so wonderful. babies are healing. and i've needed healing.

it's hard to be away from them, but i know their cries now and can tell them apart on the phone.

the clock is ticking on my stay in hell, i'm glad to be getting paroled. i hope i've done what i was there to do. i think i have.

it is time for me to move on.

peace.