get a load in

so,i'm lazing about, i who have no time to laze about, because the dryer and washer are both occupado. maybe it's not cool to finish off someone else's laundry, but this really fucks up my plans to not have this laundry done. and since i've already stripped the bed of my only toasty winter sheets, hell, i have to get this shit done now. so, if i can get a load in before i leave for work, i can come home on my lunch, throw it in the dryer and get on with the program. otherwise, no sheets tonight baby. unless i unearth the cold cotton ones i use in summertime.

don't want to do that. but when i leave my joint, i clean it and wash stuff. so i come home to a decent joint. right now, i'm stalled out with the laundry situation. though, i could be cleaning my bathroom instead of lazing about, but i'm tired. and trying not to push it too much.

tonight i close, tomorrow i open, then leave from work and drive up to boston. i hope i'm not too tired. i think the excitement might carry me, but i passed out at 7 last night and didn't get up again until 9 this morning. a wee bit tired, i'd say. it's the jumbling shifts that keep me fried.

so, my semester starts friday. i hope i get the mentor i want. that amazing poet who took me on last residency. she's the one. the only one i want.

the headache's finally letting up, that's good news. had one since yesterday and didn't want to take meds, but had to. ouch!

so, i must away. lots to do before then.

it'll work out, it has to

that's kind of my mantra. i don't know the details, i just roll with whatever happens. i'm grateful i have the life i do. everyone struggles, i think the question is how much can i enjoy this situation.

it's about the theatre with the right buttered popcorn.
the not exhausting day, when co-workers are laughing together.
the safe return of little girls, and the messes they make.
the long drive (or flight) to see friends.
the reunion of two sisters after too long.

i don't know how it works out, i don't expect to know. but i believe we get what we need, and some to share. we are given opportunities every day to make a difference. in the way we think. in the way we act, in the way we treat one another. that if we're lucky, we're consciously making these decisions. if we're lucky, others are aware of what's going on and conscious as well.

if not, well, there is never a better time to wake up than now.

i sat with a mom at my store today, she was so gracious and while she is struggling she mustered a,

go suzanne! i'm so proud of you

cheer for me as she left.

we cannot change the facts. only redirect our energy and receive the lessons that come to us with dignity. try our best to be kind, and love, deeply, those who are in our lives for whatever reason, for however long.

i know how to love. i'm ready to learn how to be loved. i'm not sure one can learn that on their own. but i think receptivity is part of it.

i'm looking forward to the new year, though i haven't figured out my resolution yet. i think i might have just hit upon it.

receptivity is a powerful thing.

it requires humility and trust. i hope my trend to trust the right people (hear: not the easiest people, but the right people for my life) continues. i'm sure it will.

looking forward. my new year begins with a drive to boston.
doesn't get much better than that. may the weather hold out for my journey. i have been favored thus far, and need that to continue. i'm sure it will.

i see my baby very soon. it's been too long.

ms. my baby

we got to talk a while today, that helped, but my heart is aching and i'm just trying to roll with it.

work is even more crazy than before, and i'm glad i had such a huge chunk of time off, since i'm working eight days straight. then ten days off. i'll be fried by the time i'm off, but it will keep me from missing my girl overlymuch.

while going through stuff, i found a little piece of paper with a boy's name and her cute little handwriting with his last name as hers. it was very sweet. made me happy to see it. at the beginning of the year she was so, no way! to the whole idea of boys. but maybe now not so much.

i miss her though. that's all i can say. i miss her.

today the met

i've never been, and in an act of generosity to remedy that, my best friend is taking me. i forewarned i'm a wanderer and will leave them, to go contemplate the asian art by myself. it draws me. something about it. they want to do greek and roman, and while that is fine, it is not my first choice.

so, i have to get up and get ready. i'm so excited to see the city at christmas. what shoes to wear? i don't want to be too hot inside, so i will risk less insulated shoes. or i'll roast. we're driving, so i don't expect we'll be freezing much. guess i'll find out.

the great dilemma is always for me to take the journal and accompanying artistic tools, or to go without. sometimes inspiration strikes me, but mostly, i've been infusing with beaty and just being present. not asking for works right in the moment. it certainly changes the experience to ask for works at the time.

my music is the second issue. but i'll be with my friend, so i'll likely leave that behind.

got my schedule for next week and ask i suspected, it's jam packed, i asked for as close to forty crammed into four days as possible. she got me to 32, but it involves three back to back opens and a clopen before my five hour drive (which is ill advised) but unavoidable. i thought to ask if there would be anyone willing to switch, and may, but i can't lose hours. so, we'll see. that will be rough though and that week will be about getting as much sleep as possible before the clopen. because the drive begins immediately after that opening shift ends. sounds dangerous to me, but there may be no way around it.

i'm grateful for the work, but wish it wasn't so erratic, my schedule. three opens a close and open, is just too difficult to adjust to.

but i must away, time to ready myself for the city.

so excited, can't wait.

the cost

do you know what it reminds me of? that picture of you sitting on a bench. i wish i had that picture, had asked you for it. before the madness that is.

but i'm here, alive. trying to live. trying to grow. trying.

i found this vacation that i made myself take was worth every moment. every single moment. i loved it. even though i was alone, it was priceless. and i got to bond with my dear friend. what else can you ask for.

not much.

the belly dance, wasn't too bad, i think. and the reading, went as well as can be expected. i enjoyed it. felt like i was doing what i am supposed to be doing with my life.

today she told me,

your creativity costs a lot.

yes.

it requires a lot of you.

yes.

not many understand that. they can't. but i've committed everything to this, it's who i am.

i can see it, i recognize when it hits. when you've got a poem. you get this look.

right.

it's nice there is someone in my life who sees me. someone i can touch and spend time with. we lay on her floor reading and giggling like schoolgirls today. it's not how we mean to act, it's how we naturally act. we just revert to type. ultimately, we're just girls.

and today, she kept telling me,

take a nap. you're in a bad mood, whether you realize it or not.

i was spewing negativity today, and wasn't easy to handle. i'm glad she could.

sometimes, i want only to be left alone, but that doesn't seem to be in the cards for me, because as much as i want to hole up and go it alone, i need her, just as much as she needs me.

amen.

the unnamed fish

so, i guess it doesn't bode well that my kid isn't even naming her fish anymore. i get home from a wonderful trip to find him nosediving in the bowl. sigh. i had to tell her, she probably cried. i could have found another one, fooled her, or tried to, but i'm not big on lies. that's just bullshit. so, i told her. she was none too pleased. tells me

that's eight now.

i tried to tell her

dad killed the last one,

but she says,

i blame you.

ah, perfect. i didn't want to take my fish to be sat because i knew i'd get lectured by my friend on the fine art of fish care, and look, it died. perfect.

so, i'll send him to his watery grave and be done with it. i guess i'll just buy her a new one when she gets back. since i already have a bowl and food. i was planning on getting her a second one anyway, so i'll limit the number of casualties by putting it off until she returns.

poor thing. i feel just awful.

oh well, it happens. he was beautiful though, and i miss him too.

let's play

leaving bright and early tomorrow morning for arizona.

so ready for this, so glad i'm forcing myself to play. it's time the donkey is set free the grinding wheel. i'm tired and just need to rest. all told, i have five days off in a row. without residency being involved, i'm so stoked.

work is now waaay crazy busy, and while it's good, it's exhausting. but i'd rather be busy than bored. i'm just grateful for it all.

today was fun and went by fast. i hope to enjoy the weekend and take it slow. meet some new people, and just enjoy them. see some old faces and get reacquainted.

teach me how to play.

ain't no sunshine when she's gone

i would say it to anyone, my counsel always is, feel it. deeply.
don't get around the pain, don't bypass the bullshit. go through it. wallow in it.

my best friend says i love my emotions. and it's not so much that i love them as i've contended with them all my life, and now have come to accept them.

i wonder what' i'll do while she's away. i realized when i left the airport that a mother separated from her child is disoriented in some ways. everything centers around the child, every last damn thing. it's like losing true north.

so my whirly gigs been spinning wildly looking for what direction to point because there is no particular need to point in any direction, and i'd forgotten how good it is to be a mom. to be fully mom. mommy 24-7.

i even left my phone in my bag at work, she won't be needing me that immediately for a while, and well, it's just strange is all.

watching funny videos without her beside me, and well, they seem silly. much of what i do seems silly. and in some ways my silliness, and being constantly reminded that i'm weird is what i'm missing most.

i do hope she's having fun, i'm sure she is. i know she is.

and that is really all that matters.

just don't freak out

we have to get up so early to get to the airport, and i won't be boarding the plane with her. that's the toughest part. it's these moments when i ask, what has my life become? is this right? when i stop and think of the alternative, there is no alternative. this is life.

i'm going to miss being here,

she confessed.

i know. just enjoy where you are. be there. have fun.

it will be tough, flying back and forth between us, but it must be what it is. it must. there is no other way. or it would have happened that way.

and i must trust her to the kindness of strangers, to the gentleness in the eyes of good people. and i must let her go. from my arms, from my home, and grow. grow into the woman she will someday become.

tonight, i just have to not fall apart.

we both seem to be trying to muster courage. but we'll make it.

together.

speak to me

i spoke to her briefly about you. told her what i could, and that i have been told to drop it. but i can't. i can't.

so, the story goes on. i will give it a while more. though, it is momentum carrying me at this point. i knew i had no strength left, and that forward movement must come from some other source. i am not sure if setting yourself up is considered another source, but i've done the best i can to arrange my life so that i end up where i want to be.

why wouldn't i continue with my education. my best friend, very well schooled, tells me that graduate school is another world. so, i need to just enjoy it.

i understand what they want of me, and fortunately, the poem commissioned of me will serve more purposes than i had originally foreseen. i turned it in jacked up, revised it, but only minorly and mostly because i had a prof demanding it.

so, i will continue in that vein with that poem, because it is a mythic piece i am not emotionally connected to. i like the poem, yes, but this poem will be my revision exercise, because, it still needs work, i can see that.

now to understand the distinction for me between what needs work still (though i've known from the start that this poem needs work, i just did the best i could in moment. usually, if someone interrupts the flow of a poem i'm writing, i lose the thread, but this poem. i had so much pressure to get it in that moment, i held that thread through the stream of interruption).

what i turned in and read at samhain though, was not my best work, it was what i could produce in moment. has the poem improve with subsequent revision, of course.

but the difference for me here is, i knew it needed revision when i wrote it. i was not emotionally tied to it being complete, because i knew as it was coming out that it wasn't. that is huge. i'm not sure other writers experience this, but i'm sure they do. i saw what was coming from my hand and knew it was not fully formed.

just like when i wrote my odysseus piece, i knew i dropped a line, i wrote it out and sent it saying,

i dropped a line.

then i picked up the line. it just came to me and fit so seamlessly into the poem that i had to let it ride.

that is revision for me. the poem has not changed since that incarnation because it is done.

they want me, the mfa program, to revise for the program.

i will, i guess i just need friends to commission works that i'm not wed to emotionally. the distinction for me is huge.

i did submit my seduction poems written for my dark muse for this workshop. i don't know why, those are finished. and i just want to hear what people say.

not sure what i'll read at the student reading either. again, need three rockin' minutes. who knows, maybe i'll write something new.

goodbye

sometimes endings write themselves, and for those times i am now grateful, there is simply too much on my plate for me to fret about anyone other than my kid at this point.

trying to focus on my upcoming belly dance, but work is demanding. with the kids calling in sick at what seems their leisure, it's tough to know when i will have time to rest. i have a very short week when i go to arizona, and i think i want to just play when i'm there. i won't pick up the extra time, so i can have some fun and be rested when i get there.

today is the third time in as many days men have stopped me to tell me how beautiful i am, at work, no less. this is a kind compliment as most of the time i'm getting shit from customers and it gets old.

this one guy said,

the first time i saw you, i thought...

and i interjected,

i was a bitch, right?

yes.

i know, i intimdate men.

yes. but you're really a sweetheart.

and so today, this man is looking at me and hands me his card, an artist apparently. does still lifes. asked me if i wanted to be drawn.

still not sure. but part of me says, why not.

i don't know. it is nice, especially when i'm wasted tired to get a compliment, my gosh, could you imagine if i actually felt decent.

ha!

let them know

so, i'm bringing some very strong poems to residency. who wouldn't? they are going to be scrutinzed. we are told not to bring finished poems, per se. but to bring poems in process. not first drafts.

ha!

can you call what i do a first draft? it is as near a final draft as anything. we'll see. i plan on choosing a tough advisor this semester. it is what i must do. i figure, being guided down some path (and, arguably struggling through it), is better than fighting phantoms alone.

i am tired of fighting phantoms.

it comes up all the time, and i considered driving away in the middle of our day together because she said i am conjuring you. which may in fact be true.

but i can't not want you with me even in misty form.

however, i'm ready now to move on. ready for the tangible. i've loved the intangible for too long.

and now, while she tells me to cast you away, i determine to look at you one last long gaze. and if you walk out of shadow, so be it.

if not, i will find the strength to move on. i must.

fare thee well beloved.

play

it was important for me to rest up, because today, i have to work on my belly dance. since my class was cancelled last night, and last week, i need to tighten this up and make sure i have everything ready. two weeks until arizona.

i think i know which poems i'll read. we'll see.

as far as the trip, i need it. i'll likely take time to go up to my ex's reservation and visit his family, say goodbye to them, as i won't likely see them again.

i need to get up and tidy up the apt but i'm quite comfortable and that is the problem. but there is much to do before i meet with my cohort in play.

tomorrow we go to the farm and my girl has her last lesson before leaving for texas. it will be so strange, and being alone for christmas is an interesting idea. wonder what i'll do. know i'm going to work that day or night (not sure) at my old store. my old boss, a favorite guy, and me will make up the crew that day. it will be fun. seems they miss me there. and i'm glad. i took the exit i needed to take, and i'm very content at my new store.

being constantly busy is something.

though, sometimes, at six am on sunday mornings, we are still and quiet and the store is kind of nice. my young friend said,

this is the store they come for, it's not the store they get.

nope. it's not. it's quite a noisy place.

and i think i've lost my headphones.

ah well. it is what it is.

not busy

for technically being less busy, i'm exhausted.

got my paper back from my prof yesterday, haven't even glanced at it. no time. have been passing out as soon as i get home, then i'm up at times like now. which is produtive when i've got schoolwork, but not so much now. my schedule hast mostly shifted to a days schedule, with one close. now some of the other kids are closing all the time, and i have to just be cool with that. i did it for a long time.

we had a really nice, slow day. but then, a tidal wave of people came through, of course just as one left for the day, one left for break, leaving me and the new guy. it always happens like that. poor planning on my part probably, but i'd rather be slammin busy, than standing around. stood around a lot today. had a good time with customers, which isn't always something i do, but should. i know.

friday i have a manuscript due for next critique session at residency. haven't even begun to figure out what to compile. i'll likely just throw some things together and send it in. chum the waters so they can attack if they'd like. but my work generates little by way of sound critique. mostly people don't get what i'm doing (and therefore, can take a hike), or don't have anything bad to say. which i find interestingly consistent in my experience.

i'm up because i've wanted to tell you that while i disagree with your means, i appreciate the ends. particularly since i've known. i've known all along. quite the conundrum for me though, only in that i can't keep waiting forever. i'm tired of it.

nothing has changed, though i try to force myself to walk a different road. and when my heart cries out for you, i just shake my head but understand, it's how i'm wired. it has been happening a lot lately, and i didn't understand it.

perhaps there are a lot of reasons.

so much has changed, everything has changed. yet, nothing has changed.

and i long for that place, that white sand beach of my dreams.

surprise

there are few things that geninely shock me. but this did. is this how you want me to find out? how i'm supposed to gather that what i believed is true? bad form. that's all i've got to say. piss poor form.

i've wasted too much time on this.

more questions

there is some relief in it, finishing. having jumped through all the hoops set before me. i floundered this semester, didn't perform to my own expectations and that is a hard load for me to carry. i want to surpass my own expectations. but they are high.

even at work, i don't compliment much, until it is earned. i don't bullshit and tell people their work is the bomb when it simply isn't. i can't start now making bullshit my rule, because it never will be.

i pose a question to my prof this last time around, which i believe is the source of some of my confusion. what is expected of the writing in this short semester window? of the sixty poems i produce, that they be original and current, or that they be the strongest i've got. because, what i create in the crunch of a semester cannot all be publishable. never is that my goal, i think it beyond the reach of many writers. so i went with, an accurate, honest window into my writing, which is the more vulnerable place for me.

i think what these professors forget from time to time is that we are actually artists. that this is more than just a craft class. that the emotional core of our work resides in us, not on the page. shut me down and it's tough to regain that momentum. my work in semester was compared to my pre-semester residency packet which was culled from at least two years work. the best of two years will always be better than sixty under the gun in semester poems. the comparison is unfair. as much as i hate that word. professors should know this.

if there is some tempering of souls that needs to take place, if we are supposed to toughen up to withstand this process, then i say that is bullshit too. what is needed is trust. violate it and it is hardwon a second time.

i went straight to a book i'd been checking and rechecking all semester in hopes of reading, but finally gave up a couple weeks ago and returned. it was nice today to sit with it and delve in. definately what i need to be reading right now.

i am intrigued by certain things, this being one of them.

now to the endings i must write. the words will come. they have begun.

and the tip leaf tree's scar from where the limb was removed has weathered and toughened. proud flesh. and i wish it were that time again when the memory lived. i wish that more than you know. but for me, now, the key, i think is letting the memory go. that is not accomplished by denial, but rather, acknowledgement. today felt like the beginning of that.

i must go back to the old places and leave your memory there.

done. done. done. done. done!

just put the last period on my critical paper. what a load off.

now i'll let it set for a couple days and read it again. usually i just lauch them out the door, off my plate, but i'm trying not to be hasty. (again, the zebra line comes to mind).

i can't help it that i think academia is a load of crap. i don't think we are the sum total of our works alone. the works are an expression, merely that. it's hard to say what i'm getting at. but i think so many writers out there think they are what they write. i don't buy that.

reviews, good or bad, don't make a writer.

passing an mfa program, does not an artist make.

i don't know how to say it other than, there are a lot of artists out there without one scrap of training or technique.

the critics can pick them apart, but it brings me back to my basic question, the premise of my life, what is the function of art? is it a soul expression, an attribute of who we are, an expression of our being? or is it merely a skill we develop and hone?

there is something to be said for working at the craft. there is something to be said for using ten dollar words appropriately. but the world does not revolve around expert critique.

neither does it thrive on inspiration alone.

i don't know the answer. it is yes and no. this and that. the middle road, which is where i always find myself.

here, at the end of my first semester i am no closer to my answers. no nearer my goal. but i am nearer the prize. or, the prized credential, as it were.

just yesterday i was invited to study under a great poet whom i love, to obtain my ph.d. why would i do that? do i want to do that?

what purpose would it serve?

i do not know. but it is an interesting question. and for one who seems to both love and hate academia, it is one i will have to consider.

peace out kids.

one more to go

so, the last thing left on my rather sizeable plate is a critical paper. i started it. strange how i write, i just pour it out. like a glass of water. rarely do i go back and change anything. very rarely, i think that's what freaks people out most about my process. so i partially fill this glass, then walk away. when i return, i will pour some more, then more, then the glass will be full and off my plate. but i need an infusion of beauty now.

i just wrote five poems, and while i can't say if they will live or die (that has never been my decision to make) i can only wait and see. which while garner respect, which will command the breath of life, which will live and be strong enough to take to a reading.

maybe what i just wrote is strong. i never know. before the last student reading i still wasn't certain they were strong poems that i was going to read. that is, until i read them and the place went mad. this is my experience at readings. the place responds to my work. i don't know that i have anything of that ilk, but i will try to bring something this semester, most likely in a different vein, because i don't write only smutty poetry, some of it is actually decent.

once i punt this paper off my plate, i need to get a manuscript together for our three hour a day poetry workshops. where we critique each other's work and explore the subtleties of misinterpretation and inane suggestion. where i grow disagreeable and facetious. that is my hydean aspect. i guess. though, maybe i am always disagreeable and facetious. who knows.

one more end to write, that epic tale i have yet to conclude.

but i'm growing tired of the unrequited. and won't carry the burden, yes, that is what it has become to me, much longer. i will leave it off for the good that is coming my way.

i'm tired now. only enough strength to carry the viable. the rest will have to make its own way. or languish on the roadside.

these are my crossroads. this is my course. i will finish this paper and pass this semester. and try, with all my might, to rest while my girl is away.

but mostly, i just want to play.

teehheeeheee.

my day off

it will be nice when my days off don't involve work. but that is not the case yet. i made it clear to the kids that i'm exhausted and anyone who can pitch in, needs to. some did, that pleases me because it meant that i got a nap and was able to do some work while i was there instead of just leaning up against a counter and trying to stay upright.

it's bitterly cold tonight. gonna snow cold. which i don't mind so much, i just want traveling weather on jan 10, that's when i get my girl from newark (but i'll be driving down from boston).

my deadline looms, and at least i've another window of time after tomorrow, if push comes to shove. but i never force myself to write. i write what i can, when i can. poetry is not made on demand. at least, mine is not.

though it is nice when a friend commissions a piece, as my best friend did before her belly dance troupe danced at samhain. that piece came out okay, i knew it would go over well outloud. and it did. my prof banged it out on her desk and mentioned a ghost meter, iambic tetrameter, and so she wanted it revised.

i banged it out today, literally, in iambic tetrameter. if it will hold up, i do not know. my best friend loves it more now, it doesn't have the weak spots, and it might actually be better. who knows.

poetry is utterly subjective, as i've always said.

so i wait for her to come online and hold me with words. this is how people tend to me, and i'm grateful. so tired, my parts are all over the place. i'm doing more now than ever, but it's all forward movement. these means produce desired ends. and that pleases me.

so lean i will, and am grateful for those who lean into me. though i have little to offer. only time for one friend. and my girl. beside that no one exists to me. (well, there is one school friend) but beyond that, no one.

perhaps tonight i will write the ends of the stories that need to be set to rest. anchored to today, so they will not haunt me tomorrow.

i'm ready for the good. it is coming, i can feel it in my bones.

the diner

yesterday night we agreed, my girl and i, to eat at the diner. it was perfect for us. she got what she wanted, i got what i wanted--not cooking.

today, i'm supposed to be off, but it's black friday and the guy scheduled can't work, so i am supposed to be covering for him. at least i said i would. but that makes three weeks straight of one day off, and thirteen days straight leading up to the three week run. i'm just tired.

so, my boss and i agree, my days off have to be my days off. end of story. the thing about that is, i need the money, and if they will authorize overtime, so much the better. when i am pulled in from far for some bullshit shift, an hour or so, that's no good. but i figure it is paying my dues in some strange way.

but i need to say no over forty. the thing is, i've not gone far over forty in all this madness. that's the surprising bit.

i had the teacher gifts hanging over my head, and this morning sat down with my kid and organized them all. anything, any small thing, any miniscule thing that to a normal person would just be another easy thing, to me is nearly overwhelming. so, we sorted through it all and got them bagged and packed up for her to give to her teachers. transporting and delivering is still an issue, but one that will work itself out. at least i don't have to deal with that until december sometime. but i can push it out of my mind now. that's the thing.

there is so much going on in there, that i get lost in it sometime. and when i'm standing there contemplating life while perfectly foaming a venti dry cappucino, and the customer yells at me for not acknowledging them. i am irritated by that. people say i need a thicker skin, but i say, don't yell at baristas. period.

i'm tired of it. the thing about it is, i was making the drink the way he asked for it, he just felt compelled to stand there telling me how to make a drink i make perfectly anyway. so, after yelling at me he goes into the bathroom and yells at me again when coming out.

you just had to acknowledge me.

i was making your drink.

you see, i'm short, can't see over the machine. so to hear people, sometimes i have to lean toward them. and if the machine is going, forget it. plus, he was a lowtalker. doesn't help. i hate lowtalkers at work. they frustrate me because the acoustics of our store are so bad, i can be standing two feet from you and can't hear, but can hear crystal clear from the back of the store. must be some funnel the raised ceiling is making. i don't really understand it.

and if that cappucino was bullshit, and flat, that would be one thing. but i make a damn fine cappucino. creamy foam. the way it should be done. these drinks don't just fall from the sky.

and yesterday, my co-worker gave me a noogie because i left a part of the espresso machine in a pitcher. my bad. i was in the process of closing the bar, and it is standard to soak these things. well, she asked me what i was doing, and i had to just laugh because i was nearly delirious at that point.

so she walked over, put me in a headlock (she is much, much taller than me, so it was not too difficult for her to grab my head quickly), and gave me a noogie.

i laughed.

it hurt though. i hadn't been given a proper noogie since i was a kid. she was raised with many older siblings. i guess she was making a point. and, i got it.

oddly enough, besides the wanton unprofessionalism of doling out the noogie, it made me feel like i'm accessible. you know. only family does that shit. we did that kind of thing all the time in my family. i don't even remember how old i was when i got my last noogie. mind you, i would have clocked someone else attempting that maneuver, but from her, it was hilarious.

i proceeded to demonstrate the limpy, but one must have the height advantage, which i sadly lack. so. i let it go with a simple visual.

yesterday was wild. saw new moon. loved it.

and had an omlette for thanksgiving. with homefries and toast cut on the bias.

i love my toast cut on the bias, because the rectangles don't taste as good. my daughter looked at my plate and said,

ooh, the bias.

yes.

why don't you ask for it?

i feel pretentious.

no one, not i, especially, want to be a difficult customer any longer. i probably still am. but, i do what i can to not be a complete pain in the ass.

so when i get my toast cut on the bias, i am thrilled. it is one of the small fortuitious graces i am grateful for.

weird. i know. my daughter reminds me constantly.

we are fond of the salami on hand sandwich. i told her when she goes to her dad's and pulls that, he'll be mortified.

she laughed.

oh, it will be so strange when she's gone. so very strange to be alone again.

deadlines

coming up to my last deadline this semester, i never thought it would end, but i'm grateful it is upon us. i'm tired. i'm out of words. yet i've got this last great push before delivery. i will pass. that i'm sure of. just have to make this last deadline. five poems, two revisions, and a long critical paper to write. it's all so much bullshit, and i've come to the conclusion that a master's is mastering the saying of what people want to hear (in proper formatting). that's all.

i hope to not be so stubborn next year. :)

i know, good luck with that. a zebra cannot change her stripes.

so i will be who i am, and struggle through this program and all the cognitive dissonance that drags me back to the ring for another round. i have so many artistic issues with this work, this study, i have to put those aside. i essentially realized this semester that if i'm going to make it through this program, i have to stop thinking. isn't that sad? i have to divorce my conscious mind from the process and just let my process take over. i can do this work. the doing is not the problem, it's the bullshit of it all. the, mine is bigger than yours, mentality.

so, so, tired of it. and i've just begun.

i have a friend who has slogged through the mud of my doubt, dragging me through with her outright love for the program we are both in. i needed that ballast against my disdain, because i would have quit if i had not had it.

residency then will be a great party for me. ten days to enjoy. and struggle. but at least it is ripe with fun.

i drowned my phone, by accident of course, and now have a new one. i barely knew the ring of my last phone, and now, this strange ring. so i get a call tonight and i look at my kid and wonder why she's not answering her phone. she looks at me and picks up my phone.

it's yours mom.

oh.

so if you call and i, a. don't answer, or b. hang right up on you, it is because i am technologically delayed. i need my paralyzer ring tone again. i have had it for so many years now, i don't even recognize anything but that as a phone call.

and my little girl grows in strength and beauty. and that is all i can ask for. all a mother wants or needs (well, mostly).

threadbare

i'm not sure if it's the amount of madness at my work, the general discontent and ease of contagion, or if it is my exhaustion that made today one of the toughest of late. like i'm trying to hold two boats together that are pulling apart in opposite directions and the current isn't helping. there just isn't much i can do.

maybe swim. hadn't thought of that.

used to be a slow day at my work was huge. now the slow days have picked up and we're doing more business with the same number of people (hear, two). it's tough. but it's good. i'd rather be busy than standing around. time flies when you're just trying to keep your head above water.

something wet going on here. hmm.

today, i knew the order would be there when i arrived, but one case in particular was crushed, this case housed the caramel sauce and it was pouring out of the box and pooling on the floor. all i managed to do today with the order was caramel control. the rest of it is sitting there for me to get to tomorrow.

i left and the girl closing tonight just smiled. i told her,

i'm opening, don't worry about it. i don't care.

that's my new phrase, i don't care.

we can't work together without compassion. i understand she is saddled with the new guy, and is essentially tied to the bar. and that if i couldn't get the order put away, i who can get an order put away before 7:30am. if i can't do it, she shouldn't have to worry about it.

if she feels ambitious she can, but we're so busy, there is no way it can get done on most any day it seems.

and i'm just being realistic. trying to work less, because i'm tired. exhausted actually, and i still work twice as hard as everyone else, even when i'm slowing myself down.

just wish the customers would give me a break. that would be nice.

some of them do.

and sometimes, it all works out.

i'm just tired is all.

like a bit of butter scraped across too much bread.

losing my way

as usual. sometimes the bloody pen is more than i can handle. and today, it cut deep. i sit here, with these new strangers, and wonder who they are. clearly they are mine, they are truth. but sometimes, i just don't want to see it. sure, when it's all zen, it's great. but there is still a lot of angst in me. that won't go away.

and then there are the unfinished stories i have yet to conclude. the answers i know but won't commit to in writing. the way i heard her speak and thought of you and finally said,

enough.

that's all there, waiting to be written. and i just don't know that i'm up to it now. i want to curl up in a ball and sleep. that tells me, i'm not ready yet to confront that story. to write that ending.

but it's over, it's been over for so long. you were never here. i never had you. why do i struggle to release that which i've never possessed?

same old story. so tired of it.

but last night in pilates, i was curled up in a ball and heard my heart say,

it's time. time for the good to come.

and i just sighed in relief. i knew it was right. that i'm ready.

the absent men, the nongivers are the ones i'm not accepting now.

yes, i do have loose ends to tie up, but soon, they will be bound.

and i will be free.

i am free now.

free at last.

the small of her back

belly dance was fun last night, wasn't my favorite class of all time, but we did a lot of different things. which, in my opinion, more isn't always better, i like the real intense blow your thighs out isolations, but we did that with arms. my arms need it, maybe that's why i didn't like it so much.

i keep trying to focus on what i'm going to do in december at these things, and last night, i'm standing directlyl behind my instructor who has as close to a perfect body as they come. it's something to stare at someone's ass for about an hour. particularly when it's a sculpted ass. the small of her back caught my attention and i'm simply going to have to write about it.

pilates. my god. i made it through another session, but i'm struggling. clearly. though last night wasn't all out pain like the previous session. i think it's when i miss a week, my body revolts. i realized, i need to start doing it at home. stop making excuses, just do it. because i'm not going to the gym or swimming yet, just haven't made it over to the pool to sign up.

i have one last paper to hand in this semester and i'm glad it's over. glad i made it. next semester starts new year's day with a residency. i'm just going to try to enjoy it.

gotta run, work. what else is new. the past two days i was off, and still went in to work. something about supporting yourself and a kid is very motivating, but now i don't have a day off until next thursday. long time. i'm going to have to pace myself, take my own advice.

it is well.

these magic moments

so, i made it through the marathon that was halloween weekend for me. it was such a rush and hurry situation that i tried to enjoy it but found myself mostly getting through it.

my girl's commitments to her favorite horse, the riding competition, and the demands that put on my time were legion. but she ribboned, twice. one blue, one red.
she wanted two blue, but understood what happened the second time. the judge called for a two point trot. not sure they had practiced this much and her horse tends to get a little quick. she came up pretty close to the horse behind and while she slowed, it was evident that she was not completely in control. equitation is all about control. she got second. i was proud of her though because she was competing in the older girl section of these trials, whereas she had competed before in the younger section. she has matured so much. and i got one last competition out of those riding clothes. amen!

next show, i'll probably have to buy her all new, but that is fine by me. we cannot pursue our passions in the buff.

so i had today off to recover, fortunately, from pilates, which has been kicking my ass. i've been sneaking out of there early the last three times i went because i was just so tired. but that doesn't help me strengthen, so i suffered through last night, though i was miserable. such a lump of gelatinous flesh, pilates is all about abdominal strength, i have realized, i have none. this is why i must do it.

i hope to progress, but i have to actually do the class, even though i keep struggling through, i have to stay and force myself to do it.

so today, when i woke up, my entire body felt like a headache. i think it was just sore from being exercised.

and my instructor has just returned from paris where she ate her weight in chocolates and cheese, and she has a nice little roll of fat on her perfect body, and it was nice to see, that's all.

i go away to residency and come back with love handles, she goes to paris, and, well, it happens.

belly dance was fun last night. at one point she had the whole class watching me and when i realized, i stopped dancing and stared back at them.

keep going,

she said, then came behind me and put her hands on my hips so she could see what i was doing. and she was breaking it down for the class as i danced with my eyes closed.

it was a pretty cool moment. i have strong technique, most of which i've learned from her. but i do improvise, and dance the way my body moves. i don't do everything as she does, because i am not her.

but the lebanese hip circle is really beautiful, and it's moments like those that i am certain december will be a riot. i'm just going to have fun with it.

come to think of it, i better start choreographing that. i have the outfit completely put together, the music chosen, now the serious dance club starts!

peace kids. hope you're well.

lysts

sometimes making lists can be a blessing. i sat down yesterday at work, and wrote out all the cannot miss pieces of this coming week. having them out of my mind and corralled on a page, even briefly, was a gift of sorts.

however, it can also be overwhelming to stand alone at the head of the week, and look down the long corridor which will command your time and attention, your energies and affections, and not give a single damn thing back.

i want to get it all done, hell, i have to. but mostly, i cannot go it alone.

yet, i am alone. so what does that mean?

i went and sat on the chief's couch last night and cried. not big breakdown cries, but just waters flowing, i couldn't keep them in any longer. sometimes the pressure builds to such a point, the tears come unbidden, unwelcome.

and, so i try not to hide it so much as to not overwhelm whomever happens to be around.

so, the list. the burgeoning list.

crossing things off one at a time, it's all i can do.

and i have a few moments to rest now. better make use of it.

late night

so tonight i see my kids homework sprawled out on the floor. i usually am too tired to notice, too tired to care.

i'm not so exhausted tonight as all that.

so, i look it over. it's pretty rough.

it reminds me of when i was her age, how no one helped me with my schoolwork and how vexing that was.

so, i notice the posterboard timeline she's drawn is all herky jerky with things crossed out. mind you, i can do scarcely better, but at least if one employs a ruler and whiteout for unsightly marks, it helps.

so, i decide, after hemming and hawing over it for a couple minutes, to go to the store and get some fresh posterboard.

she's been lugging this piece around for a while.

so i laid out her grid, and used a ruler, nice straight line.

but i can't rewrite the board for her, but reading the grading scale so conveniently taped on the back, i see she's missing some things, and a thing or two is askew.

so i draw light pencil lines for her to write her own words in,
and do the math so her integers are correlated correctly. it's the least i can do.

i'm nothing if not a distracted, utterly distracted parent.

but i was that kid with the shoddy no chance at placing art project or science project. honestly, i don't even remember doing those. i just remember scrambling to come up with something to hand in.

it was such a tough situation for me. and my mom was in the same position i am. not blaming, know that. just saying, i've been where my kid is at. since i noticed, is it a crime to get some fresh poster board and throw this kid a bone?

i want her to do well.

so in the morning, when we're both groggy, i'll give her the option of taking my board along with hers, and filling in the blanks.

she may opt for her own, which is entirely her option.

but, at least, she can know i was trying to help with the homework, even if most nights i pass out before she does.

i've been enforcing a pretty early bedtime, mostly because i need it. but, i think it helps her. she needs rest just like i do. we get along better when we're not sleep deprived, and, well, i just want to help her navigate this life if i can.

so much to think about. this little girl beside me, and i'm her only model. that thought kind of freaks me out.

but i do the best i can, and she learns much about the need for forgiveness, and we move on, one day at a time.

i'm told this is how one moves forward.

down on me

that movie was, just what i needed. yes, i had to read the entire time, but it was really, truly motivating. enough of the pity party, at some point we all have to get over it and just move the fuck on.

so, here i sit, trying to reconcile my piss poor parenting with the myriad demands on my time and energy. i keep telling myself, i'm not the first person to go through this. i'm not the first person to attempt this. it can be done.

sometimes, this is not so helpful.

and i've had the personal dramas ongoing through the semester, the stuff i wrangle into words and becomes my poetry. my best friend said to me,

she has to know everything is fair game.

.

because it is. no thing is sacred in the writer's life.

and i just read a poetry book that spoke to me as a mother and person. this famous poet writes about the awkward untouching existence, unemotional existence, the extinguishing of her line, the family that is fading out.

and while, that is not my case, perhaps mine is the opposite, i'm touchy, too emotional, fiercely passionate and deeply in love with the people in my life. all the people who get close enough to me to dodge the flailing arms.

who put up with my bullshit ways, and allow me to put up with theirs.

i came to an understanding in her absence. and i finally articulated it tonight,

you think, perhaps my behaviour is exclusive to you. that i write poems to you, that i act this way to you alone. but my behaviour is exclusive to me. it is who i am.

i think, she understood. who knows.

the best we can do is try. to be present to one another and hope to reach through the bullshit of misunderstanding and fear. that someone will accept what we have to offer, the best we have to offer even if it is miserably shallow and frail. that they can understand the often herculean task of just making it through another day, and hold you in the dark cold of the night and whisper,

it's all right.

.
so often lately i've thought that i need to go off alone and be apart from everyone and everything. that loving is what does me the most harm. that caring is what weakness is.

but then i hear john mayer lauding the merits of love, and maybe it was mraz, both are so similar in my mind--and my morbid optimism rises up in me and i fool myself into believing someone, somewhere needs what i have to offer.

but i'm just so tired of feeling it is all a waste, of time, of energy.

i have bullshit assignments i have to complete. and i will complete them, but they have to come from the place where my waters flow. the depths of me. i have to incorporate these bullshit lessons into something that matters, because i do not write to fill a page. i do not write to get a grade.

so many words are needed at the moment, and my hope is, the well has not run dry. and being down on me is no way to start laboring through all that has need of my attention at the moment.

i may never write another poem, but i will continue to believe in life, in love. and in spite of how poorly i perform, how shitty a job i do mothering this child, that she is best served by my presence, flawed as it is.

it is all i can hope for now.

that somehow it all works out.

how does it?

it's a mystery.

horrible

i decided today, i'm probably a horrible person. the worst. will likely die alone some old hermit bah humbugging my way through life.

i'm leaning over the counter at work talking to the kids, when my kid starts poking me. and poking me. and poking me.

i turn and snap at her,

knock it off.

and turn back to the kids who were asking me something and who looked horrified (they don't have children, they don't know how kids can set you off in an instant). they do, however, know, i am a crab sometimes, and i'm bossy, and i'm a bitch.

so i turn back around and try to finish my conversation with them, and they all have this deer in the headlights look.

so we leave. i feel like shit, and i ask her,

does that ever go well, when i'm not having a conversation with my co-workers?

no.

why did you do it then?

i wanted to show you something (in the pastry case).

what could you possibly show me that i don't see every day? and why couldn't it wait?

mind you, we are in my store, she's gazing into the pastry case that haunts my dreams and waking hours.

nothing.

so, i spoke quite sternly about this to her as we are driving to our (soon to be cancelled apt at the farm). The call comes and it's cancelled, and i'm frustrated because i spent an hour doing nothing. i had just sat down at the library to study when i get a call saying,

we can try. rain is just a drizzle.

i understand my girl's riding instructor needs to keep appts. it is how she earns her money. and by the time the lesson is cancelled and i'm home, i've wasted about two hours.

i crashed when i got home. slept until just now. i'm wicked tired and fortunately, before racing out the door this morning, i did all my chores and put dinner (chicken soup) in crock pot. it smells wonderful, hope it tastes as good.

a hot soup would do my soul good right now.

make me feel human somehow, even though i'm, apparently, a completely and total bitch.

watching diving bell and butterfly.

long day.


it is in french with subtitles, not really in the mood to read them. but i need an attitude adjustment. maybe this will help. hopefully now that i'll be up most of the night, i'll write.

it's a tough movie. true. i like those best.

they remind me that my life isn't, and doesn't have to be perfect.

so much to do before my next packet is due. so very much. i can only eat this particular elephant one bite at a time. one tiny bite at a time.

i realized, academic writing is essentially learning how to say fuck you in big words. never have liked writing like that. of course i can. i just don't like to.

i will make it through this semester, i just have to dig deep.
i can do that. i will do that.

who cares?!

so, i'm slogging through my master's work. it feels like a bog that is drawing me under, and i need to just succumb. to sink and let the life be sucked out of me. maybe it's like the rabbit hole, and wonders await below. but maybe, it's just green muck and slime and i'm not completely inept.

i guess, what i'm struggling with most is, what does this all mean? there is no, this is how you write a poem. that can't be taught. there is very little instruction at all, mostly, i am analyzing books and poems, and my critique is critiqued.

i guess that is the point of learning, i think my difficulty is, the narrow confines of my scope. my last program, i was able to incorporate lifegiving aspects into the tedium that is study of poetic craft. horsemanship, belly dance (which was required of my school for my art credit--and i'm so glad they forced my hand on that one), shamanism.

but this, it is just poetry, just craft.

it makes the act of poetry, the art of poetry feel like something tasteless and bland in my mouth. something i'm stuffing down because i have to, not because i desire it or it has any nutritional value.

i'm told to listen to the prof, but nothing is really being said. other than, this isn't quite it (hear: jump higher). and so, i struggle to find my way up for air.

essentially, i'm debating on whether or not to continue in the program. if i'm not going to pass this semester, no point in continuing. maybe it's just not the right time for me to do this. (hear: i don't give a shit)

if i'm going to pass, i've made no secret of my struggle with the soulless element of this (or any) program, it's not just my program that i'm struggling to care about. it's the prostituing of art that has always stumped me.

my bachelor's didn't feel this way. it didn't demand of me art outside of life. it accomodated art as life. this, oddly enough, not so much. i can't explain it other than, i think the reading, the finding substance where none exists is the problem. so choose meatier books, you say. fine.

i am trying to go outside of poets i am inclined toward, but have no luck that way either.

perhaps direction is what i need. i thought a gentle hand would help me through this, and perhaps it was a wise choice, considering all that has changed since the beginning of the semester. but, a directing hand would help me more. someone who is strong on the rudder. i'm lost in this academic realm, not by choice, mind you, just because it is alien territory for me.

i can write critical papers. what i have to stop doing is looking to give a shit about what i say. stop caring.

i attach so much value to committedness, to connection. to simply giving a shit about what i spend my time on, that i am struggling to care about this.

which is odd. for me to embark on a study of poetry and essentially have to divorce my mind from the process is ludicrous. i think i've lost my way.

in fact, i know i have.

flame on

it's as if i'm wired for destruction. not moments after i wrote, i'm welcome, i grabbed the welcome mat and threw it on the fire. fortunately for me, my friends have come to expect this kind of behaviour and love me in spite of me. what can i say. we're all fucked up, i've said it before. nothing new.

all i can say is, i'm tired.

but tonight was a new experience. and while my kid is not technically alone while i'm at work, she is, in practice, by herself (that is, wihtout me).

i can't do that anymore. nights, that is.

so, i'm changing my availability as my boss seems to use the schedule for a punitive tool. and i'm tired of it. no one else is a single mom, they are all college kids, why the fuck can't they close? i'm done. no more closing for me. for this season. i can't do it.

so, we'll see what comes.

i bolted out of there one minute after the store closed, i had to get to my kid. she's so brave, so wonderful.

and i'm probably the worst mom on the planet.

and when a kid tonight said i was stressed, i didn't handle it well. i'm not known for handling that kind of thing well.

i said,

i am a single mom with a child at home and i couldn't reach her.

she forgets to take her phone off silent when she gets out of school, and it freaks me out.

but i force myself to stay calm, and at work, though every ounce of me wants to hop in the car and see where she is and what she's up to.

i have to be home at night. that is all there is to it. and three closes in a row are just beyond too much.

i'm tired of getting the shaft. tired of it.

persona non grata

seems i'm welcome again, where once i wasn't.
that's a nice change. i hate leaving a place with misunderstanding, but sometimes
absence is all that can change perspective.

so, i walked away, as i'm inclined to do.

i know how to leave. how to sashay out a door
leaving only the scent of patchouli.

i'm wide awake now, i will likely force myself into forward motion
and do what need be done. what i've been putting off.

i need to check my mail, i don't get around to that but once a month, if that.
but it isn't good practice. and i've been hauling my ex's letters around for longer than that, i'm sure he thinks i'm up to something. no, just busy.

my girl is happy though. if that's any measure of success.
and i would say, it's the only measure.

i have learned there are things which i cannot do.

i opted out of a performance on halloween, i cannot make it to practices
and the thought of trying exhausts me. so if just the thought of something wears me out, i best not do that thing.

i'm still gathering finishing touches for my current outfit, i just ordered a new hip scarf because mine is flinging coins like crazy and i want to look perfect.

we'll see. i'm told my outfit the way it is is perfect
but i've got a few other ideas i have yet to try.

feeling the tired now. i close again tonight, don't mind.
but then again, there are reasons now for me to be home before the sun goes down.

i have stated those reasons plainly, and we'll see if anything happens.
right now, my work situation is improving. a lot of changes have to be made and i really don't think my current manager is able to implement those changes. i certainly can't given my station. so, who will? remains to be seen.

i'm over killing myself for that place, so when i got the call on my only day off since last wednesday, i refused becuase i won't get another day off until sunday (that would be some ungodly number of days in a row, sure it's overtime pay, but i'd be a raving bitch by the end of it, then who will help me?)

overtime is nice, but sleep is better. and i passed out weds night after leaving pilates early (because i completely ran out of juice), and slept from 7:30pm to 12:30 the next day. wasted tired.

it is well. i don't feel so bad today, hence, being up to see the kiddo off.

life is good. regardless of what they say.

i'm still looking forward to arizona. P.L.A.Y. time.

can't wait.

spent

i'm utterly wiped, but my mind is spinning. i'm so tired, i can't even rest yet. tomorrow, i'm sure i'll sleep all day. how unproductive, but forty-five plus hours, seven days in a row is too much. what can be done? not sure. i'm supporting myself here. it is how it has to be, i guess.

i just hope i can pull my shit together for this next packet.

poems i have to write. papers to write. and i need some rest.

i wonder if this isn't beyond me, but then i remind myself, you are not the first person to have done this. no the first person to have done work and school and family simulatneously.

we'll see if i'm right.

again she rides...

there was some reason, unknown to me, my horseloving daughter wanted nothing to do with riding lessons. i did not openly object to her, but discussed it with her instructor, and agreed that while she may not want to ride, it is best to keep her around horses. she loves them. she wants a future with them. why the aversion to riding? i don't know.

today was our first saturday at the barn. her favorite horse was being led out to the arena by someone else. she went to visit her other favorite horse, and we heard about a cancellation in the instructor's schedule.

i'd had the idea that perhaps even if they weren't formal lessons, my girl could just tack up and ride her favorite horse just for fun. why not? who says lessons have to be all seriousness. can't they just be fun?

so, my girl is leading the other horse to the barn for a wash and i suggest to her she ride her favorite horse but not for a lesson.

she says,

sure. sounds good.

and i ask the instructor if it can go down that way. she was grateful, a cancellation is no bueno for her.

so, we get an hour riding time, and let it begin with me up in the barn mucking stalls. and when i finally wind my way down to the arena, my girl is looking like she's having a blast.

when she had tacked up barney, she looked at him with this grin that was what i was waiting for. it was this relief, satisifaction type of look that i hadn't seen in quite some time.

she rode, and i took pictures, ever the dutiful mom (actually, i was just goofing around with my new phone and it works really well. i should upload those photos, but i'm too tired. maybe later).

so, she's riding again.

what a relief. i told her instructor,

i knew she wasn't done, but she had to know she wasn't done.

.
her instructor smiled and said,

i thought she'd need some time to get her sea legs back, but look at her, she's like an old pro.

.
my girl has aged. matured. three years have passed since she started riding. she looked like an older girl. it was nice to see. i'm grateful to have seen it.

all this fun, and i was a half hour late to work. my bad. too much fun with the horsies.

ah well...

ssshhhhhhh

do i do everything right? no. but then, no one does. i will be the first to admit i'm wrong. i will take responsibility for things i've said and done. and to make this point, i told the boss today what went down with the guy i went all six armed on.

she just listened and said i was right. i told her the unflattering parts too. the parts where i'm yelling at him on the floor, and he's yelling back. which isn't really supposed to happen on the floor. the parts where i told him i wasn't going to bitch him out to the boss, because that's what he'd done to me. i told her all of it. i have nothing to hide.

and one of my co workers came up to me when i told her i let the boss know.

you understand the problem, right?

i still don't think i'm wrong,

i said.

but you understand how it can be a problem?

that i confront?

yes.

that is not my problem. that our store thrives on drama is not my affair. until people are held accountable for their actions and their words, nothing-- hear me-- no thing will change.

i'm tired of being the accountability committee. but that is my role here.

so, my being called in for a full shift on my day off was fortuitous. i got to tell the boss the whole story myself. she asked my opinion on several things coming up. and we were able to touch bases.

would i turn my back on her for a second, hell no.

should she turn her back on me? sure.

i will stab you in the front if i'm going to take you down, best to look me in the eye, gauge my intentions and honesty that way. i'm very much what you see is what you get.

and that is one of my shortcomings. so today when the two ladies who spend all their time yaking were making it known to me that my demands are essentially insufferable, i just fact of the matter said,

listen, i'm always left alone with one person. that is how it is. and people wonder why i get angry.

it's been a long time coming since i got really pissed off. it was due. am i perfect, no. do i need to change, sure, but that will happen over time (or it won't. i think i'm kind of set in my ways). but my behaviour is no worse than anyone else's. my behaviour somehow becomes the fodder of the gossips. one guy said to me,

your'e an easy target.

why do you say that?

because you're emotional.

which is true. so fucking true it hurts. so if i can curb the emotion (which i can't, poet, hello!) i would be so much better, or would i?

but i'm never going to creep around the store hoping she doesn't hear what i just did. i'm going to walk right up to her and tell her, because i am doing her job at this point. she should have had those conversations. held those people accountable. and i'm tired. just plain tired.

but my shifts will change with all the upheaval in the store and i'll be more mids and opens soon. huzzah!

so not a 9

so, i tried to pour my slendering ass into a size 9 jeans, juniors size 9, mind you. no way. noooooo way. couldn't even get them over my abundant hips. i'll have to be content to be an 11. so be it. but i had to laugh at the thought that i could fit in those hot pink elizabeth tripp jeans. they were horribly tacky, and i only didn't get them because there was no chance in hell i'll fit them any time soon. but i'll be glad when i do. i got another pair of skinny jeans, stonewashed. too snug to be comfy just yet, but i'm will be in them soon. thanks to pilates.

i did also pick up a tripp black halter that matches (exactly) the tripp jacket i got not a few months ago on a whim. seems my halloween costume has come together all its own. i'll be some devil. my girl's idea. but i need six arms to get this halter on. it's more a corset than a halter, it has a collar and a complicated closure, which will require assistance. i got it far enough on in the dressing room to know it fits. i'll take it with me to my best friend's house and she'll cinch me in. then, i'll have my girl do it on halloween.

i'm going to make my kid a costume this year. we have some great ideas and i hope it all comes together. it should be fun, and i have some doesuede that i didn't use on my belly dance outfit that i'll supplement her costume with. she will be more in black than she likes, but i'll just have to find some complimentary happy colors for her. that and snakes.

don't ask. but i'll take a picture when we figure out how we're going to make it happen. it should be a lot of fun. i can't imagine how i'm going to get her ready for school that friday morning. it is a bit of a labor intensive outfit. (the hairdo anyway).

for my belly dance outfit, i've decided to scrap the armbands idea and go with some punker safetypin strappy things that i've been considering. it may look tacky unless i do it right. dominatrix here i come.

peace kids. keep your six arms flailing.

little lady

i may be short but i'll kick your ass,

was my mantra today. i was on the rampage, shall we say.

i could take someone's head off today,

i told a friend.

and there was only one guy who i wanted to part head from shoulders. the same guy who was towering over me and i was looking up at him not backing down. tallness doesn't intimidate me. neither does sex.

if you can't tow the line, get the hell out of the way.

i've got to be more gentile some would say, but i don't really know how. will it bite me in the ass? perhaps. i've been pushed too much and i'm just flat out tired of it.

pushing back. sword circling overhead.

no one likes a strong woman. that's the bottom line. no one likes a bitch. but, somedays, being a bitch is all a girl can depend on.

today was one of those days.

whatever. it is what it is.

i put on a pair of snug jeans (something wonderful about tight jeans. that's why i won't give them up). and i feel refreshed.

still tired, but at least cinched in. (which is a curious thing to admit). i guess it feels like being held, maybe that's why i like them.

when a woman sheds her power, beware. the fall out is great. tribal men know this. they stay away and women stay away from them.

it would serve men well to reckon the times a woman sheds her power.

be wary. zits are a sign, at least for me. i have more trouble with that than when i was a teen. go figure.

quittintime

i'm finally quitting my gym. i can't fucking stand it anymore. i've not been going as faithfully as i should, and believe me, there are plenty of other ways i can get a workout. just so over it. same damn circuit for years on end. no thank you.

so, my kid and i are butting heads. we're kind of champs at it. some part of me wants to not take her binder to school (since the one i have found has nothing in it, why bother?)

and isn't there a responsibility lesson to be learned here? or am i just being a bitch. i who always tell her before we go to bed,

get your shit together tonight.

i'll do it in the morning.

which is a fine plan, provided you set your alarm and turn it on. yes, she overslept this morning. how that becomes my issue, i don't know. but that kid was going to make it to the school bus if it was the last thing i saw happen. so she's grabbing shit as she's walking out the door (because my simple, get your shit together tonight is too easy to listen to).

then i get a call while i'm at the gym,

mom, i forgot...

how is this my problem? and the binder i find at our place literally has one paper in it that has writing. the rest of it is blank and the folders are empty.

seems a waste of my time to drive over there and deliver an empty binder.

and why are their backpacks so heavy anyway if these kids are lugging around empty binders? they have to carry entirely too much shit.

i'm tired, i think. it's my day off. i'm going to spend it with a friend. we'll work on our belly dance outfits. i'll try on everything i've got for her. she's convinced my wearing a thong is tacky. but i keep saying,

i don't want granny panties sticking out.

she seems to think i should have something covering my upper thigh region, but i am not of that opinion. i think, the less the better, i will be fully covered, but not seeing something is better than seeing a hint of something.

these are my dilemmas.

i need to work in a pedicure today too. some pampering would do my soul good. yes, it would.

must away. i've an empty binder to not deliver.

six armed and dangerous

i got my second packet back from my prof. she loved my poems, which is nice. there are some that need work, and i may just do it. but then again, being me, i may not.

i'm glad she's getting me. she's feeling me. that helps.

spent the better part of yesterday getting my belly dance outfit together. as we're shopping, i'm thinking about the pieces i have in my closet and what i can do to augment those pieces.

my friend says,

you can go dominatrix with this or tribal?

maybe both,

i say with a smile.

working a fishnet top into an outfit is not so easy as it might seem. but i like the look i've pulled together and i keep thinking of things i've got that can go with it. jewelry and such.

i'm loving the sheer harem pants. they are exactly what i needed. i'm actually fully covered, wearing more clothes than you'd think, but they are either fishnet or sheer. so, there you have it.

and at work, i'm flailing arms and getting everything donemostly alone. no one wants to work, but i keep trying. and sadly, i hardly care. i do the best i can, but it's tough swimming up stream all the time.

ms. stress

honesty is the kind of mistress that can bite you in the ass, or kiss you wet and deep and you don't know which it will be until it happens. but she won't abide unfaithfulness, the truth is the truth, bottom line.

sometimes it feels like there are shades of truth.
we can agree that sometimes it's easier to let truth go unsaid.
but it's never easier to speak the truth at all times.

it's tough.

and so, just the other day at work one guy said to me,

for all the complaining we do, no one says anything to corporate about our boss.

but i did.

today i go deal with the fallout. i'm sure, absolutely positive she knows and will be scrambling. trouble is, i don't yet know who my allies are. if there are any.

sure the corporate line is, we support you, but do they really if they've overlooked this for the past two years?

perhaps they'll just transfer me out of the store, that is what happened to the last two people who complained about this exact same thing.

but then again, maybe something will happen. i don't know.

but i saw my girl on the bus, went and worked out. i was up at 3:30 this morning, i think just overthinking everything. it's a lot of responsibility, one little girl. i want her to succeed. i want her to do well. i can't be anyone else but me, and that is sometimes tough for her, i know it. hell, it's tough for me.

but, on the diversionary side, i booked my ticket, room, and car for arizona. and i'm going. come hell or high water, i'm there.

now to choreograph the dance. to prepare for my first public performance. it's got to happen sometime. i just hope i can do it as well as i want to. i've got the moves, have to put my look together, it's a bit scattershot at the moment. i have this and that i've been carrying around for just such an occasion.

i'm trying to decide whether or not to get some sheer harem (or genie) pants with slits down the sides (which i like very much), or to work in some yoga pants i have which are opaque. the harem pants are sheer, but i have layers to put over them, so it will be fine. it's just a question of how much leg to show.

the answer: a lot.

guess i'm getting the harem pants. friday. i'll be able to get them and figure out what to do with the rest of my outfit.

poquito por poquito mija.

yes, gramsy. yes.

farmlife

turned in my second paper a day early after not writing a single word until that night. i had, however, written the required number of poems along the way from packet one to packet two. so, those were transcribed and ready to go (or i did them then, i can't recall). either way, it got down to the wire for me, and i knew i would pull it out, i just had to trust myself.

that's hard to do when you're crazy busy and have a work schedule that seems to dominate your life. i closed, did an early mid, then closed the day my paper was due, which afforded me no time--none--to get anything done. i've been working six days, one day off, three days, one day off, six days, one day off for some time now and i'm wiped. i really need two consecutive days off in a row.

but the kiddo starts school tomorrow, which will be a whole new dynamic. i've got her in an afterschool program so she can have some kind of routine aside from my erratic whirling her about time and space.

so she'll be accounted for most of the day and evening m-f. the weekends will be tough, but it will work out. i think my boss is going to try to schedule me more weekdays, which will totally screw up my plan to write while the child is at school, but i must do what i must do, and trust the muse to come when i need her.

we went to the farm on friday. it was a wonderful day. mucking stalls, scratching giant heads and manes. getting reacquainted. we'll be helping out once a week again, and i'm so grateful.

to just pop back into the lives of these horses and have the instructor say,

suzanne can you go bring bitty in from the paddock?

and off i go, to retrieve the fat little welsh pony so she doesn't eat too much in the field. she's quick of foot, so i had to keep her head up while we returned to the barn. usually, i let her have some say in where we go and how we get there, but the terrain is tricky for a two footed, and she had the upper hand (always has) where strength is concerned, so it was more a matter of directing her firmly so she'd know i wasn't fucking around.

i hate domineering any of them though. they remind me to be gentle, but firm. the delicate balance i so often lose touch with. especially when i'm just trying to get shit done at work and all i want to do is scream,

just do your fucking job!

but, i don't. i remain calm. i try to reason with the unreasonable which presents itself on a regular basis. but i can't. so i have stopped trying. i'm in a dead end job in a go nowhere company, that's how i see it now. i will bide my time until i move out on my way to teaching. just two years or so more. that's not forever.

and who knows. maybe something will change before then. maybe the sky will fall. maybe i'll grow wings and fly far far away. maybe, the six armed woman will exact her vengeance and i'll get promoted after all.

who knows what can happen. it's a mystery.

mom-me

it has been a lifetime. LIFE. TIME. since i've lived with my baby. my love, my little one. whose not so little anymore. and i just have to say this, a woman is nothing, no thing, without her children. i can't even really explain it. it's something about the comfort of a mother, the way a mother soothes, i only know how to hold, to kiss, to comfort in person, not remotely.

so, for this brief moment, this beautiful child will be with me again, for this instant. i will be present. we will laugh, we will fight (that's a certainty), and we will love, furiously. that is the one thing i am capable of, loving. deeply.

listening to john mayer, and he sings,

i know the love we send out comes back (or something like that),

and i believe that too. it's all i understand. even when it comes back in ways we don't expect, or don't even recognize as love.

i know there are limitations, we're all fucked up here. no one has a market on healthy. no one. if they look like they do, it's because their shit is not the kind you can see. if they admit it, it's just because they are honest. those are the cats i dig. the honest ones. don't tell me you're fine if you're fucked up, and i know you're fucked up because we all are.

it's those people who can laugh and cry with me, who can fight and laugh, dance and scream with me that i love. the real people. however fucked up they are. i'm fucked up too. i don't ask for perfection, don't expect it, from anyone. and when i do, that's my bad. no one, no fucking one is perfect. ever.

fuck is my favorite word, has been for a while. ;) just thought i'd mention it.

anywhoo, my baby. back.

even for a moment.

does the six armed woman have a six armed child.

you better believe she does. she's powerful, that one. it radiates from her. it won't be easy, i know that. it's a lot of arms to keep from struggling against each other. but we'll figure it out. we'll learn to love each other again. and, we'll remember how to laugh.

that's the best thing about our time together, we laugh, a lot.

next week, we start working with the herd again. there are eight of them now. so we meet three new horses. and my girl's riding instructor said,

i've missed you so much and wanted to call. i went away for five days and couldn't relax because you weren't here.

which was wonderful praise, since we love her horses and being around them. i can't wait to see them again, my girl tells me bitty's sweet spot has moved.

it's okay love, we'll find it again.

and she's excited as i am.

two day nap

so, i have barely gotten out of bed the past two days, it is how i spend my days off. which will have to change soon, as my kid is moving in. i push really hard when she's underfoot, and so, life is about to change again.

i understand we have limited time on this planet to make a mark.
i don't know what kind of mark i'll make, but really, at this point, i'm not overthinking that. i'm just flowing with the momentum that has brought me to this point.

i ran into my belly dance instructor, who gave me the biggest hug and said,

i miss you.

and i miss her, terribly. summer is hard because i lose touch with a lot of things that really ground me. belly dance, namely. my instructor, as well. i would take her summer classes just to shorten the time away, but found yoga didn't do it for me.

so we're talking, and i told her how where i'm at is where i've come from solely on momentum. so i don't know where i'm headed or what's coming.

i don't put a lot of pressure on myself to plan each step. i live by intuition. something else i've learned.

and, so, she says,

i've got plans for you. you don't know it yet, but i've got plans for you.

and i just smiled and said,

yay for plans for me.

she tells me pilates will change my body in four weeks. we'll see. i could use a change. a challenge.

i'll have to start cooking again, regularly. which is fine, i used to do this for a living, being a mom. but, now it will have a different edge. this young lady will have a lot to contend with and i should really get up, clean my apartment, and rearrange, becuase i need to find a dresser for her and a place for it.
but we'll see how it goes.

i think a nap is in order.

lap swam

so yesterday, i jet out after my kid calls. a stalker must take a break eventually, and i race to the pool. i only have an hour tops, so we get in and she has these diving toys, the way it works is, we usually swim laps until i warm up (i can't keep the body temp lately, go figure, which bodes well for the decreasing layer of insulating fat).

so i toss these things out seemingly at random, and we race for them. back and forth down the length of the pool. i toss them out in front of us all the way across the pool and so we go racing to get them. i start out getting them all because i can swim the side breadth of the pool with one breath, and she has to come up. so i do a clean sweep, and she races faster each successive time with me getting fewer and fewer.

i don't "let" her win, i genuinely race her, but it pleases me to see how fast she's swimming now. while we're not masters of form, we are dragging our asses back and forth across the pool for hours on end. this is good news. particularly since she is of the ds generation, and doesn't do shit. (maybe that is what ds stands for ;)

i don't either, dont' get me wrong. aside from standing and manual labor at my job, i really am a slug. i admit it.

so, sometimes we clock each other, she in retaliation, me, because i've six arms flailing through the water. note: don't swim too near a six armed woman unless you want to get clocked.

and sometimes, i come up under her, because i swim deep in the pool, right at the bottom (it's only about four feet deep, so it's not that deep), but i like to brush the bottom of the pool, and drive my arms through, it's very zen for me.

and i will come up and tickle her belly and i can hear her under water giggle really loud. it's very cute.

she's such a girl.

so occassionally, i tickle, she giggles, and we swim on. she gets mad at me, and i throw the toys out again. we get over it, i figure, exercise is more than a good way to burn off excess energy, anger, angst, what have you, it's just good clean fun.

the water has been particularly nice of late because summer finally hit here and it feels like hell opened up and we're living in it.

but ah, that is my penchant for the dramatic.

to the pool for three hours, then i climb out of the water, put on my work clothes and go to work all chloriney. it's rather nice, i probably stank, but whatever. at least i'm cool and refreshed. if not rested.

that, it seems is for another time. another life.

and arizona calls. i must buy my ticket so i go. so i make myself take this path and enjoy. playing with adults for three days, can't wait.

so fight.

i had begun to question a lot of things about my life, namely, why every damn thing is a battle for me.

i asked her, after she inquired why things were the way they were.

i asked her if my power is derivative.

.

you empower others. yours is not derivative.

why is everything a battle?

because it's who you are. be difficult. it's okay.

and i cried. she tapped my waters again.

i love her and she knows it. that's good. it is, perhaps, the most important part of me, that people know when i love them. i do not hide it. i do not feign it. it just is. when i love someone they get my unwaving allegiance.

we love whom we love,

i said to him. because i think he was trying to dissuade me. to stifle my enthusiasm. but it cannot be dampened. it is what it is. i no more control it than i can control myself around him.

i take liberties. that is what i do. i really try not to, but before i know it, i've got my foot creeping up his shorts again, and he's trying to digest. it is what it is.

i begin to wonder, is taking liberties what we all do?

who knows. perhaps it's just the ballast for my fight, my l'amour. my sensuality.

come in closer so the battle arms don't take you out, it's safe here, where you can hear my heart beat.

because that is all that matters to me.

and she said to me,

be who you are.

.

and i said,

yes.

derivative

as i flail about my life, six arms swinging, swaying, mesmerizing, i find that i do alot of battle. i'm not sure if this is common in other people's lives or peculiar to mine. the many wars of suzanne rae deshchidn, or something like.

and yesterday, before it got real bad, i went by my store and found the place had rallied around me, and championed me to the boss who found out how i was hounded last week.

she called me an asshole (which was a lie)

and my boss said,

so were you?

which i found funny, particularly if it were true. but even in untruth still amuses me.

i rise to champion those who need me whenever i can. in whatever way i can. it is what we do for each other. part of the calling, i guess. you don't befriend a six armed woman unless you need someone to cover your back.

i don't care about everyone,

i told her.

just a few people. the rest of them can go fuck themselves.

this is how i see it. i can only rally for my clan. those who stumble into my inner circle. those who find their way into my heart.

but i'm tired of fighting. i need a break. yet, am not sure if it's how i'm wired. does the warrior get a break? is he not ever defending against intrusion?

who am i to think this is my role.

i feel brave around her,

i said.

i wonder if my power is derivative.

that is the question i ponder. i do need people. not masses of faceless throngs, but the few, the ones i love, who love me as they can. those people keep me alive. make my stay on this planet interesting, to say the least.

i am not easy to be around, i understand this. particularly since i'm always ready to strike. to defend.

but then, there are those who hear me cooing in my sheets. who find the quiet gentle arms (there are a couple), and manage to get in close enough that the other four don't take them out.

my power then, is not derivative. it is, simply, mine.

will this be scary?

it was, perhaps, the strangest conversation i've had of late. and some pretty weird shit happens to me on a regular basis.

but i ran into the ex at the library. he was looking through videos, and i picked one up, instead of dodging out of his sightline, i held up a flick and asked,

will this be scary?

maybe. who's it by?

it wasn't a full blown, hello how are you conversation by any stretch of the imagination. it was just, a, you know me, tell me if i'll like this kind of cut to the chase conversation.

i asked another question, without looking at him, then walked away.

it was strange. strained. but what can you expect. it's been over six months now. nearly eight.

every day i'm glad i did it. i made the right decision, it just complicates things so much.

ease has never been my wish. i just want peace. p.e.a.c.e. whatever that means, however that looks. for all my people, for those i love and have loved. i have no ill will toward any of them.

i only hope they know it. that someday they will come to understand.
we do the best we can.

why such compassion

you have not been out in the sun,

i said
for he looked faded to me. i, the darker, which was unusual. sadness locks him away, but i hardly think it sadness over me. it is merely sadness.

we will try to be reasonable, and come to terms on our own.

but i wonder if i will ever be comfortable with this attempt to resolve what eludes us. to find peace where none has ever really been.

but for her, we struggle together to make amends.

to come to some agreement we can both, as her parents, live with. live by.

i do not want to be unreasonable. but neither do i want to be gullible.

at work, the jerk had a family crisis today, and while i did not utter a word to him before he said hello to me, i did reply. because i have no stake in being cruel.

i will respond in kindness if kindness is given.

it is when you are a jerk, you will bring out the bitch in me.

and tomorrow is another day. who knows what it holds.

i've lingered here, restful. grateful for a good day.

and sleep beckons me. i look forward to this weekend, to three days of being able to rest.

wrong bitch, wrong day.

so, i get the slacker talk today because i sit down for a ten minute break, which i'm due, btw. and i'm not even alone. i'm with a customer, trying to be cordial. so, it's not like i was even getting a ten. sigh.

then, the guy in charge, or supposedly in charge, starts trying to intimidate me.

wrong bitch, wrong day dude.

i don't back down and he says,

this is a waste of time.

sure, but everyone wastes time, why is it such an issue when i do it.

literally, seven hours into my eight and half hour day, i finally get my lunch. there simply was no time before that. and this guy is calling me ME of all people a slacker.

unfuckingbelievable.

and i'm getting shit for being the heavy and doing my job when i had to. love it. love working with kids. it's a piss and moan festival, there is no real reason or logic to any of it. basically, the person who gets the most people to dog pile the one on the right side (or perceived wrong side is probably more accurate), wins.

trouble is, six armed woman don't go down without a fight.

and, kids, be forewarned. she ain't goin' down at all.

they don't know how strong i am.

they have no idea.

slowwwww

i finished my packet, i just had about ten pages to write, which, for me, is no big deal. it was the analytical bullshit. i cranked it out in about two hours, while playing vampire wars (unfortunately, i'm hooked kids), and bullshitting on facebook.

now, i'm going to stay in bed the rest of the day. i contemplated going to the gym. to the pool. but bed sounds best. i'm tired of saying how tired i am, so i'll try not to lament the lack of pizzaz in my step, the lack of vim in my vigor anymore. it just is what it is.

had a conversation, slightly disconcerting with the pussycat yesterday who is an overinformer just like me. i went in about forty five minutes early yesterday just to talk to him because he soothes me somehow. i don't know. anyway, i kept following him around and continuing the conversation as he was preparing to leave, and he ultimately said something shocking but i took it in stride because a. i've been married and know how men really are. b. i'm not shockable.

so he said,

i'm just lazy.

no you're not. you're tired. if you were lazy you wouldn't want to work one job, you have three.

see, i've been hearing this guy is lazy from him, from everyone. but i don't see it. i understand tired. tired i get. but lazy is a different breed altogether. he finally saw my point and said,

you're right.

which always makes a girl happy. tell them they are right, but mean it.

so i'm off today, having just finished my paper, my mental load is now nil. i am not inclined to even get out of bed, i am lying here typing on my belly. won't even bask in the sun today. i'll just stay in and drift in and out of consciousness. if nothing else, it's good for the writing. and since i just submitted almost every last new piece of writing i have, i better get to it.

alpha time baby, here we come.