come passion

i'm not the coldhearted bitch i play on tv. sometimes, i actually have soft spots. one of my customers is a mess, and well, i do what i can. will it bite me in the ass, perhaps. who knows. but i trust that when we act in kindness, kindness is returned. not that the return is what i seek, but i have to try. i can't just watch someone go down in flames without trying to figure something out.

when he came in today, his demeanor was clearly downcast.

do you need a chat?

sure.

his slightly dejected reply did not phase me, he's going through a rough patch.

so i get my coffee and sit. he talks, about much the same stuff he's said before, though there are some new developments. i listen, and try to remain objective. but it's not hard when one is just listening. not invested.

would you ever get married again?

never.

i reply.

i would.

he says. this is perhaps his greatest struggle.

find what makes you happy, and do that.

then he tells me what she's called him, and it's not nice, but i encourage him to reframe it and not let it be a millstone around his neck.

he seems less dejected as i leave for my lunch.

at least slight improvement is better than none. i can't not do anything for someone obviously flailing in pain. however objectionable the container is.

this is not a customer i "like" as it were. it's just someone in need of help. someone who needs someone to treat them like a sentient being. i can do that. it is the least i can do.

and my motivational speaker had just left the building. the guy who asked me what i'd do if it all came together for me. today his questions were extended over about ten minutes while we exchanged ideas and i encouraged him to write them down. he makes me think.

he mentioned we only use 2-4% of our conscious brain. the rest is subconscious. he listened to my myriad questions and said,

you're trying to force your way to some resolution.

not necessarily,

i said.

i'm just a question asker. a why person. acutely aware of what i don't know. and i'm fine with ambiguity.

his vigorous questioning led me to say,

is this it?

he said,

that means you are unfulfilled. you want more.

absolutely.

more of what?

i don't know.

when i stopped trying to figure it out consciously, doors opened, things happened.

(his description sounded similar to where i'm at, what i do, though i contemplate things in writing because that also is what i do).

that is evidence that you're trying to manufacture a conclusion to the dilemmas you face (my words, not his. his were more elegant).

my lunch is nearly spent, but these are the days at work i enjoy most. when there are real people with real things to say, who take the time to interject themselves into my life. i appreciate that. even the messy ones. even the ones that try my patience (though i won't admit that at the time), in their own fucked up little way, they are trying to be present.

i awoke before my alarm today, which is just the excitement of the occasion. i'm ready for this, i was born ready for this.

i said to my friend,

i'm solid.

but i never really explained it. perhaps i didn't need to, it just felt complete. as i feel complete now. i'm trusting the doors that need to open will, the stuff that needs to fall away, will. that tonight will be as i envision it, and that regardless of what the future holds, it will be bright.

time to go, then to the train and the city for my reading...gods favor me.

birds fly

are you nervous?

i don't get nervous.

have you practiced.

no.

i'm not sure he got where i was coming from, it's not in my nature to fret about things, these things anyway. just as it is not in the nature of a bird to sweat flight. they just fly. poetry is my bag baby.

and if by practice you mean, stand and read poems aloud. i did that scattershot the past few weeks, but i don't really do that. my practice is more of the mind. subconsciously. i said already i was at my read, i saw it go down. i practiced, amen.

tried performing my poem the way i want to do it tomorrow night and, well, let's just say i chose the wrong audience. started talking before i was done. i shut her up, but she was oblivious. and it's hard to consider that anything akin to practicing. it was more of an annoyance.

that's the thing, mi familia don't get it. this is a big deal, huge fucking deal. they have no clue. most of my loved ones and relations have no clue. but whatever, wouldn't be my first stab at misunderstanding.

so, i think i'm ready. if i don't get lost, and i won't, i'll be fine.

lifetimes have passed since i was there last. i have to not make it about him. though, inadvertently, it is. it always is. the whole poetry book stands on his grave, and it is hard to get around that. there would be no book if it were not for him.

so i go to honor him, to be myself completely and bury this book forever.

though i am booking time at a studio to record my works. i've had it on my agenda for a long time, i'm finally over putting shit off. it's time for me to make a cd. i have a customer who has a studio, blah, blah, blah. and, well, next week we're going to set up a time. it will be good kids, i can't wait.

damn, forgot me leather. i have to get it hemmed. that's a whole 'nother fiasco. who will do the work. if i get impatient, i'll just whack the bottoms off myself but that would be the way wrong way to go without knowing there is no other option.

went out for a drink after work last night. it was nice to talk with someone for a couple hours. hadn't realized. not invested, which is good. just having fun. that's the goal. just have fun.

getting ready for my poetry intensive which is happening in june. my god i live for these things. they really are like rehab for me in so many ways. three days locked up with twenty nine poets, just writing. it's wonderful. last time we went out for drinks then came back and broke out the whiskey. so, we'll have a repeat of the shenannigans this time around. maybe i'll dance for them. i'm not sure. i've been considering it, i know they want me to. i have worn my stuff around, but it's always been so brutally intimate for me, and back then, i couldn't sort it out. the loss was fresh.

things are getting sorted out now. what's mine, is mine. i can dance where i want, when i want. and so i shall.

work is essentially mindless for me now. i just do what i do, and move on. my one friend whom i adore (but no longer trust), smiles the biggest smile at me and tempts me to trust him again. but i can't. just can't.

it's time for me to adopt a new persona at work. just not sure what that is. i enjoy being myself. i think i'll go with this a little longer. i just can't fake nice because i'm told to, though i know the reasons for it. i understand it. he said to me last night,

she's a bitch for all the right reasons, as i'm sure you are.

which made me smile.

i don't know. we do not decide how we are perceived, remembered, thought about. we can only do the best we can with what we are given. the rest, it seems, is some crazy mix of fate and luck, or karma and inevitability. who knows.

that which is mine will come to me, i believe this.

and the hawk, a cooper's hawk, was on the side of the road by my old digs. i stopped my car in the road to encourage him to move.

what will you do little one?

he hopped across the driveway to the grassy patch between the street and sidewalk.

that won't be much better,

i said. not wanting to scare him with my pony which was about to pull into the drive.

then he hops about a foot farther and lights up in a short tree and watches us pull in. his speckled belly and diminutive size make him seem almost tame. but his talons were not to be ignored.

goodbye.

he stayed in the tree as i drove off to figure out what to do next.

leatherette

went to retrieve boxes this morning. what a joyous occasion that is. seeing the ex. he relented and allowed me to retrieve said boxes, only after trying to slam the door in my face. but i've seen purple rain too many times, and know how appolonia gets in to see prince (though he is far, far, very far from prince by any stretch of the imagination), and so, red converse inserted in door, he is not coward enough to actually hurt me, and he tried to lash out at me, but i've been through it with him and so am largely unphased (she says that now), but he did call me a delinquent. which i thought a curious choice of words. perhaps he knows me better than i think he does. perhaps he finally got that i am still the rebel he married. curious how rebellion is attractive until you deem it unattractive because that rebel rebels against the way things are going, the way things have been, now said formerly attractive rebellion becomes the impetus for dissolution. funny. that.

so he's following me down to the basement where he's relocated some of my stuff, and i'm being the delicate flower that i am. just because he cannot rip me apart does not mean i cannot say shit to him. i know he feels defenseless, and the man is twice my size, what can i say. i'm just a girl. sometimes being a bitch is all a woman can depend on.

but i did splurge a bit yesterday. i know of a vintage shop where the good monied folk of my town dump their impulse leather. and, i, gratefully, gobble it up. this was where i found my turquoise suede, and my muave leather. a nice rose suede caught my eye, and a three quarter length black vest *but* it wasn't meant to be, they weren't must haves.

i grabbed some leather pants and a black leather skirt, just to see. and whoa! i ran out of the room and grabbed two more pair of pants because they fit my ass perfectly. like they were made for my body. all told, i bought three pair of leather pants, chocolate, burgundy and metallic green. :D the black leather skirt is just an a-line skirt i will wear to the dinner party if i can find some decent shoes. i've got some vintage styles in my mind, and i have to figure out what shirt.

when i told my friend what i wear out to the places i frequent, she had to pick her jaw up off the floor. corset with jeans and a long black velvet jacket. this is my standard fare. but, i don't think i fit into any of those clothes anymore (they were last season and about thirty pounds ago). who knows what i'll come up with for this.

i did also find a knit dress thing for belly dancing. i've always liked the renaissance look of the knit cloak (floor length, of course), and while this is not that, it is a close second. the closest second, i've ever seen. though it's gold. and i'm not into gold, but i'm going to have to start making exceptions.

this knit cover up will camouflage my still gelatinous middle, while being perfect for dancing in. my dear friend was thrilled to hear i am flirting and even applauded. she proceeded to produce an egyptian beledi dress, very old school, and told me to put it on. it fit perfectly. so i now have a traditional dress to wear over whatever i choose to belly dance in.

that's something.

since i've inspired confidence in my inability to put together a not alternative outfit for a dinner party, i'm going to haul my cookies and acquisitions of late up there for a try on everything and see what looks best.

are we showing tattoos?

i ask.

maybe at the second dinner party.

hmm. that increases the skill level. i buy clothes that frame my tats. this is going to get tricky.

so now i have to find those shoes i have in my mind's eye. hope they are comfortable because i'm not about to do uncomfortable shoes for any guy. i don't care who he is. i really want some knee high black combat boots, or black converse, but this will be met with gawking and no! (she's cool with what i choose to wear, just not where i choose to wear it--for this occasion. a more accepting soul, i do not know).

so while leather is not a need, it is most emphatically a weakness of mine. a man in a black leather jacket, especially the heavy biker kind, is kind of an achilles heel of mine. what can i say, i'm a simple girl.

overrated

had the most guiless banter with a gentleman at the library this morning. started with

too much cooperation in the morning is not good.

right,

i said,

i need a little opposition.

yes.

he replied.

i'm trying to be good at this time of the morning,

he adds.
.

being good is overrated,

i comment as he offers assistance i don't need.

and he chuckles.

my friend is trying to get me to engage people i encounter. to flirt. to notice men. to be out there. though, most would probably say i have no trouble noticing men, it's all the shit that goes with it. i'm not even looking, not interested, not engaged in the sport of flirtation at the moment. no desire. this is what she opposes.

so, she'll be pleased when i report this little encounter. it's progress, however slight. the other night at the belly dance thing she said,

guys were checking you out.

.

i didn't notice.

you need to capitalize on these opportunities,

she adds.

.

ah. i'm not interested.

(but this is not helping me to "have fun" this oblivion. this disengagement. this distance.

not sure i need the quagmire that goes with her kind of fun, but i think that is her point, to show me how to have fun without the quagmire i find. so be it.

i'm a willing student.)

granted, these were "my" kind of guys. bohemian. long hair, talented. artistic. watching the gypsy nomads chemistry, i said to her,

THAT is what i want. that kind of artistic collaboration. that respect artist to artist that is the stuff of great art.

they aren't like that all the time,

she says.
.

i know. i get it. i'm not looking for a fairy tale, but i am essentially in the performing arts as well, with dance and poetry.

.

but you have your book as a safety blanket to hide behind

(i still don't get where she was going with this comment)
.

meaning, i don't have to be there?

.

no, not at all.

as i lay in bed this morning, i saw my reading. i heard my reading. i was as bodily at my reading as if it were happening. there were wonderful things going on, i need to perform my poetry, not just read it. so much has happened since last i was there and it occurred to me that i need to contextualize this for the crowd.

she went on to say,

when we watched her dance tonight, it was more meaningful to us because we knew what she was doing. we knew the difficulty of it. when you go to your reading, the audience will be there for poetry. to hear you. they will be engaged.

i let that rattle around like a bb in my tin can, and exited the vehicle. don't really know, even now where she was headed with that observation. but it's closer, just about four days.

i think back to my goodness is overrated comment and how thoroughly i have bought into that whole, behave thyself mindset that essentially trapped me in a life that i could not, was not able to, had no power to change. because you see, i've tried everything to change the way things were, and the way things are is still the same, i've just taken the exit. and departed the building.

i won't do that again. ever.

the thing about this place is, it's void of desire for me. it's just where i'm at. i'm trying to understand what i want, where i'm going, who i am. how i got here. so many choices i made in the past led to this inevitable result, and i have to believe, that even though it feels like shit now, it will, someday, be something.

it is something now, don't get me wrong. it's something to not be despised every moment, and despise the one your with. that is something. it's something to have freedom to explore, to fail, to make your own choices. for so long i didn't make my own choices.

i read this hand written sign at the women's health center which seemed like it was there just for me. it said,

don't make someone a priority who has made you an option.

ouch.

i think that essentially applies to all my relationships. with very few exceptions. the truth of this stings. and i have to ask myself, is this enough? am i willing to accept "enough" when it worked so well for me in the past?

fact of the matter is, i'd rather be alone than someone's option.

i say this, but now i have to live this. spring has sprung, and powwows will ensue. dancing, endless dancing. i can't wait.

i understand the way it works, that we do not get what we want, that i am keen of desire and unable to secure what i seek, but i will not always seek it. there will be more options ahead.

my dearest friends keep reminding me,

there are more coming.

and i remember back to the first time i met one particular navajo who delighted me. i remained unencumbered in emotion that time. and i think i have to write about him. he is someone i still regard. that's my problem. i keenly regard those i am drawn to. whatever the outcome. even when they pass out of my life, i hold them still. i draw from the draught of whatever it was that brought us together and create something.

i guess that is why i don't mind being bad sometimes. it works out really well for me.

burned through

i lay in bed and could feel, this desire, this want of you has nearly burned through me now, the wick just a frayed remnant, all but gone. and i'm relieved.

last night i went with a friend to a wiccan belly dance celebration. it was wonderful and i got to hear a truly independent band, the gypsy nomads, who are simply amazing. had no ducats or i would have acquired their music, but in the near future i'm sure i'll see them again. i won't hesitate to rejoin this group for some fun.

my friend looked me in the eye and said,

i have to work on you with that. having fun. enjoying them for what they offer in the moment and not getting invested.

good luck.

so we're at the grocery trying to find some last minute something to take with us to share and we can't decide, we're bickering like school girls and i finally decide,

i'm going to make this completely fifth grade.

and put the options behind my back.

pick an arm,

i said.

.

shimmy.

she said.

.
so i stood there, in the refridgerated section with my hips firing back and forth and laughing while she decided which arm to choose.

i feel like i'm seventeen with you.

that's because you are.

and we went to the gathering. but before we left her house, she put on some indian fusion and danced. she so easily slips into her role as belly dancer, because she's been

doing it for years,

she says. i watch her glide around the room, in a persian style, more ethereal and footworky (she explains these distinctions to me).

i don't watch her straight on, because i'm not used to watching people dance. i watch her with my peripheral vision, as her chocolate chip striped whippet is curled up on the persian rug eyeing me.

we're the same you and i,

i say.

he moves his eyebrows.

always waiting for someone to throw the ball. always hoping, every moment, even after we've been told no, that someone will pick up the spitty ball and throw it. we are the same creature, you and i.

and he lies there looking at me still. whimpering slightly since i've engaged him. my belly dancing friend laughs and continues to move gracefully around us, around the room.

hope is the enemy.

i tell him.

at this he walks to his kennel and curls up for a nap.

my friend and i are sitting in the second row and watch the tribal belly dancer mesmerize us and everyone else with three dances. god she was amazing.

before she danced, there was a fellow there who screened an indie film, his first short production which was actually quite good. the crowd loved it, and it was a nice segue into the dancing which would follow.

she started out very slow, postured, and i realized, what person doesn't like watching a gorgeous woman dance? her every move in time with the music, nothing overdone. nothing overstated. her tribal costume was more white than black which was refreshing since she was the palest shade of ivory (there is a poem coming about her), sometimes, when these things start germinating i have to sit very still and not disturb them. not jostle them out of my consciousness. i was taking in her every line, the gentle curve or her hips, the feathers on her bra, the tribal rosettes on her hips. everything, everything went into me like a sponge.

i could hardly move, i hated having to look around the person sitting in front of me. but sometimes she got on the floor, and i couldn't see. second row sucks.

so, these gypsy nomads start to play, and they were, they are, the bomb. i'm not inclined to sit and listen to any band stoicly. to not budge, to just be nailed to my chair. and the preformed plastic was hurting my ass. i wanted to get up halfway through, but held out until my friend suggested it.

we went to the back and danced. she, easing gracefully into her persian style, while i battled my pink converse to work the egyptian style i'm more familiar with. it is good my style is less about floor movement because i usually dance barefoot. but her shoes, arguably larger and heavier than mine, seemed to dissipate with her movements. they didn't encumber her at all, which i found, quite lovely.

then the trilling started. and i haven't done that in a long time. in texas, i used to roll down my window and trill at horses as i drove by. but not in years. no reason to.

so my friend does it, she's used to persian weddings and belly dancing being occasions for this expression. and i arch my back, extend my head up, and take a deep breath. and i trill L.O.U.D. and L.O.N.G.

she laughed and was surprised.

we'll have to have a contest sometime,

she said,

see who can do it the loudest.

and i smiled.

seems she'll be having a dinner party soon, and i'm among the invited guests, and, well, i told her,

we'll go out into your yard and do it there

(knowing the neighbors would blow a gasket).

we were at a campground at the base of storm king mountain.

my husband would not be pleased.

she replied. and i laughed, understanding.

it's hard to express, the freedom, the power of belly dance. and to be in a room full of belly dancers, and dancing with them, was wonderful. i didn't go up or let my friend go up to the front of the room (because i've never been a front of the room dancer). but i did cut loose, let go, and she finally got to see me in action.

that was fun.

i told her as we wove through the dark night misty roads.

yes, you finally let go.

yes.

busy me

i've signed up for a poetry workshop, first one in about a year. long time. i was at these things every month back in the day, but school demanded different things of me last semester so i let it go.

but last night i belly danced for an hour, it was wonderful. my belly is beginning to change configuration, which is also nice. it's melting away for one, but also, it's hollowing out, it's almost as if i have abs. long time. don't know that i've ever seen myself with a sculpted abdomen. don't think i have. it will be a sight, and since i love subjecting others to my tan bod, it will be nice to have that bod, um, toned. yes. that's it.

not like i care, but it's something to be shimmying away and seeing your body move, delicately swaying, jiggling. even the thin sculpted girls jiggle. the ones who don't have any fat on their bodies whatsoever (obviously) and on them you can see their muscles articulate each isolation. it's gorgeous. don't know that i'll ever be there, it's not really where i'm headed, but i'm an excellent dancer if i can just get some discipline and work at it a bit harder. i'm still not free enough.

some of it comes with acceptance, i think. accepting your body as it is, the way it moves, the things it does. part of it could be costuming, i could wear things that alleviate what my body issues are, but i want to wear these particular pants with a coin hip belt that is stunning. you can't be gelatinous with that on.

you could, but i won't.

had my mammogram yesterday. that was fun. it concluded the two months of the rigors of doctors and dentists poking and prodding me like i'm some cattle up for auction at the ft. worth stockyard. it is nice to know i've taken steps to take care of myself, finally.

i'm considering a new pony. this is a tough call for me. but i've a trip to mass coming up, and i will be there for ten days. not sure if my pony will be sound enough for that. perhaps she will. nearing 200k, and, well, i just don't want to take any unneccesary risks. though, i don't envy a car payment either. it complicates things. but i'm going to start looking and i must have a jeep. i just think when i do get near them, i won't be able to say no. (i'm kind of like that)

but one of my customers is a car dealer, and told me to find what i want and he'll find someone who can give it to me for the best price possible. we'll see how that goes.

i need to workout today, worked out last night before belly dancing. and i think i'll do the same tonight. it helps to be all warm and loose before dancing. much, much more is accomplished. of course this is probably obvious, too.

i'm working with the dudes this morning and that is a good thing. i like the dudes. no drama. i'm so tired of drama. (er, that is until my boss shows up, and he's more of a woman than i am. drama king.)

my meat

so here i am, on my lunch at the computer. i had to get out of my store because it is no longer a refuge. never was probably, that was just delusion. or diversion, not sure which. either way, i'm awake now. aware of it.

had a long, long talk with the girl who loathes the core of me yesterday. my boss said he was tired of losing sleep over our not getting along. so we wrangle in words for about two hours. got nowhere, apparently.

i'm a tough nut to argue with because i stick to the point anally. i mean, come on, if you're going to be anal about something, let it be keeping people on point, addressing issues. amen.

a lot came out in that chat. and i was blunt as i am inclined to be. barring kindness, we were way beyond niceties at that point, i went for flat out honesty. i've been told i've been too "nice" and, well, nice suzanne is dead. (i don't think she ever existed, but people think what they will).

though it had occurred to me that walking on eggshells around this particular person was in fact favoring her. and she kept protesting how i am "so mean" to her, and attack her personally.

i kept telling her,

stop taking it personal, this is business.

por ejemplo. i ask her to ring and brew coffee and set off to do the deposit. the kid on bar needs to be there for reasons unknown to her. i have directives i'm following which i did not, and still do not feel i need to explain to someone who is putting themself in a position to approve or disapprove my calls as a supervisor.

she runs completely out of coffee, when i had set her up with four full pots before walking away (never let it be said i left someone's ass hanging out in the wind).

i come out on the floor and try to pull a coffee for someone, nothing. nada. zip.

what happened?

i ask.

(this, mind you, is interpreted as a personal attack)

i get no answer, just tude for days and proceed to help fix the coffee situation. this person then jumps on bar, which is where she prefers (hear: demands) to be, and i say,

you're on coffee.

which results in more attitude.

i did not say anything to her directly at that point. i just told my boss matter of factly what happened, and left when my shift ended.

this came up in the "chat" shall we call it (catfight if you want a better picture of the kind of antics going on). and i asked plainly,

what happened

and got an excellent explanation.

i did not explain myself beyond,

well, if you would have said that in the moment, i would have said, fine. understandable. but you gave me attitude and got angry.

this, all being said to someone with as defensive a posture one can assume and shifting eyes that would never look in mine (never a good sign).


my boss kept walking through during our conversation and chiming in, helpfully, which i was grateful for.

it's perception,

he would say. pointing out the obvious to me, but perhaps not to everyone. what can i say, it is all perception at this point.

so, while i fended off this latest attack, i got sad news in the midst. and i realized there is no one i can trust. that is a tough spot for me. i want to trust. but i cannot.

my boss has been telling me for a long time now,

don't trust anyone.

but that is neither my inclination nor nature, so i do. i venture out on that wobbly branch and see if it holds.

well, it didn't.

and i find myself fresh out of confidants, safe people. there is simply no one for me to trust at the moment. which is stunning.

my boss is willing to do the job, but he's my boss and it's not appropriate for him to be in that role for me. i'm trying to not talk to anyone outside our store about anything but that is very complicated. and i'm inclined to honesty. the answer for me would be to not talk to anyone to do with work outside of work, at all. being the extremist that i am, this comes naturally as a solution. but like i can manage that.

i was in the dentist chair for hours before this meeting and i walked in, no makeup (why apply makeup when the dentist's manhands will be in your face for hours--i kid you not, HOURS), and they spray shit all over your face with those implements of torture.

fortunately, about $1500 later, that's my co-pay kids, i'm finally done with la dentista. my teeth feel better, but i walked in to work and was shot up with that numby stuff, and was slurring my words a bit, sans makeup, my boss just looked at me and laughed. he likes to mock me (i enjoy mocking him back so it's an even exchange on that part).

i had a decent day, but so much to do. and after the marathon convo, my boss told me,

don't be so gung ho.

which left me scratching my head.

so he calls me one of the million times in a day (he calls me a lot), and asks me to do something, and i said,

i will if i remember. trying not to be so gung ho.

which struck me as funny, and he laughed. i got off the phone and said,

i'm going to enjoy this.

so last night, instead of staying overlong, i left before i'd completed the set up of the new merchandise. i got it 90% done. but ran out of time.

i walk in to open this morning, the place has been torn apart by the painters, removing every cup and shelf i'd so carefully positioned and shuffling them all around so they could paint the walls.

bastards!

they couldn't help it, it needed to be done. but my god. like i needed that. so this am i'm redoing what i done yesteray and i'm trying to just keep myself from being a bitch.

though i'm told i'm not a bitch. that only one person thinks i'm a bitch. so there you have it. let others decide what is and isn't true. i've got too much going on to fret about it.

but i have wanted to write, and my hours make it impossible to get to the library of late, so, i have to get hooked up at home. it's time. i'm ready. i need to write again, regularly.

i miss it.

let me believe

i am dialoguing with a soul via text on the nature of worth. i know, i'm so not a texter. it's awkward, weird, words like conflagration come out of me while texting and it takes a lifetime to say that in a text.

but i've decided we none of us know our worth. believe it deep down.

or at least i've never met anyone who does. it would be something to see.

the question at hand is, how do i value what i know completely, the frailties and flaws of. the hypocrisies and lies. how do i not take that into account and not devalue what there is (for truly all i see are the detractions).

then i hear the tearing into self, so common with me. as if my mind were speaking aloud, only it is not me, it is another devaluing self. and i have to draw the distinction between what is and what is not a determiniant of value.

if i say, i'm only worth, say $5, is that it? is that the end of the argument. no, i don't think so because i have come to believe value is based on what another soul is willing to pay. economics aside, i'm talking, what are you worth to me? what am i worth to you? it's hard to slap a label on that, hard to take the economics of the situation out of the equation and just get down to, what do you value yourself at? what do i value myself at?

not easy questions and ones i find myself strangely preoccupied with of late.

value is hard to guage.

sometimes we think we've got a good value (economics completely at play now), and find we've only put off for the briefest moment needing to repurchase or replace that bargain basement item.

sometimes we think we've got the most exceptional deal and paid a heavy price but that thing breaks, is as fragile as the tag holding the priceline in sight. i don't know why it works or how. why some things command a steeper price.

all i know is the sum i'm willing to pay for something often has very little to do with economics. has more to do with some felt need of the thing. something to do with my living with or without a thing. i determined this before i moved out on my own.

i will live without a thing until i cannot live without it anymore.

that has been my rule. that has been my mantra. partly because i'm lazy, but mostly because i desire nothing. i want nothing. i have all i need and there is no lack.

there are occasions when i cut my finger and have to run out for a bandaid, but that is utilitarian and people can hardly be called utilitarian by any stretch of the imagination. we do not love because we are making sound judgments or finding use for someone (as if they were a some thing). we love because we love amen.

see how my mind has bent around this subject. it's all contorted there and i've still no grasp of it, no clear understanding of all the factors being scrutinized at the moment.

all i can say is, we do not know our own worth.

heaven help us, sometimes it falls to others to help us see who we are, what we are worth.

may those souls be gracious and generous.

for truly, we do not know, cannot begin to estimate our value.

vanity, vanity

it came to me, after i wrote yesterday that mirrors aren't only the stuff of looking glasses. and that this blog, this portal, this space, these poems where i come and pour out my secrets and thoughts are, in fact, mirrors. and i do spend time gazing into them. contemplating them, chewing the cud. so that begs the question, what is vanity?

i'm not sure. certainly there are beautiful people, the stop traffic gorgeous whom we all stare at, is it external only?

my boss caught me looking at my red converse in a plate glass window once while we were out on the street,

stop looking at yourself,

he said.

so there it is, i look. i like what i see lately. hell, i even bought a mirror to watch. and the tremor is coming along nicely. it's such a delicate quiver, it reminds me of leaves on breezy day. just a gentle rustling really.

look at the tremor,

i told my girl.

i've seen one mom, i know what an earth quake is.

no, look at my hips,

i told her.

she was most unimpressed. (she thinks i'm weird, or perhaps knows it for fact.)

so we drove, far into the country, passing all manner of bird and beast, some of them glimpsed where their journey ended in the middle of the road, so sad to see. but i am taken by how gently the snowflakes fall and the stallion paws the ground while grazing, delicately. i can run my hand along his chiseled flanks, and he does not budge, does not object, why? because i think all we, any of us really want is someone to uncinch the gate. to help us get to that foraging ground just beyond reach. to help us experience full for a moment. to stand beside us and untangle the lead, then to lead us back to safety and tuck us in for the night.

they were rambunctious today, it was crisp and my girl didn't have her jacket. but the mom in me was prepared and we managed to scrounge up enough to keep the cold at bay for a moment.

i drove with her at my side, just like i slept with her at my side, and it was nice to have someone there, to throw my arm across, to draw close to when the chill of night set in. i'm tired of the cold.

i think that's what i am looking over the pasture fence for too, someone to uncinch the gate.

where it's at

fresh out of work, need to decompress, here's as good a place as any (or perhaps worse if you care what people think, since i don't. it's fine).

my boss is finally giving me the opening shifts i've coveted and leveled a challenge,

if you don't perform to this expectation, you're done.

(meaning, you'll close).

there is a double standard to be sure, but he's giving me what i want, i do my best to return the favor. today, i made it. though my crew wasn't really on board, when i told the one kid whom i adore the lowdown, he seemed to not object too much. i've always let him do what he needed to do, whenever it needed to be done. but i don't know the morning routine yet (or, i haven't established my own morning routine yet), so i told him

i would on any other occasion, but i can't today.

lots of reasons. he understood. i'm trying, that's all i can say.

you see i'm all about fully supporting those who work hard for me. i will go to extreme lengths for them, i think they understand this and reply in kind, or at least give me the best they've got. that's all i can ask for. i don't ask for anyone to work harder than i do. ever.

so, when i'm bitching about things not getting done by the morning shift, you better believe today when i left there was no, absolutely not one single carry over item that i did not handle. those i-s were dotted and those t-s were crossed. amen.

i have to be better than perfect at this am thing, because i don't think i'll get too many chances if i screw it up. people are generally unforgiving and when it feels like a couple key players are just waiting for me to screw it up, the pressure is on. i'm ready.

so i close only about twice a week now, and that seems about right. i get a lot of administrative bullshit done the rest of the week, stuff that was getting missed before, so i know that helps. but it's tough having your hand in every pot, and i try to not be "controlling" but then when i don't press issues, we miss shit.

i discussed an issue with my boss and we opted to let him handle it when he returned, instead of right then by me. he forgot. we missed it. i told him,

i wasn't pressing the issue because i wasn't being controlling.

this is not helpful in the scheme of things. so i keep pressing issues now, hopefully not to extremes but i'm definately asking him questions and covering his ass, that is my job. perhaps not by description, but it is the commitment i've made. that man will not fail on my watch.

i feel this way about every boss i work for, even the shitty ones. my boss is far from perfect, but far from shitty. he's a perfect compliment for me. and i'm grateful. but i'm a dedicated soul. i will put up with tons of bullshit until i'm done, and then i'm gone. there's no return from that place for me.

we skirted that issue nearly because i'd had it with the dramas going on in our store and i just wanted out. of course there were other reasons too, but that was the major one. my boss essentially said,

you don't cut off your right arm.

and so he is doing what he can to keep me around.

which makes me happy. because i'm tired of being shat upon for working hard. i feel like i work the hardest at our store and get nothing but grief for it. i'm done with that. now it's time to let others bear some of the burden as well, i just haven't seen many step up yet. not sure when or if that will or can happen.

but when i answer my phone at 6am, and it's my boss calling me in early, he's grateful i've got his back. it's the least i can do. i need my job.

i had a lovely day yesterday. the sun was shining, i pulled my linen shorts and tank out of the spring box and wore my platform flipflops, how i've missed them.

i sat in the sun for a stretch of time, and that was delightful. i've missed being able to bask en el sol.

i worked out early that morning, i need to go workout now, but i'm kind of tired. not sure i'm not overdoing it somehow. (don't really see how, but i'm tired, and that's a clue). so i spent the day with my friend and her sister, we shopped a bit, and it was nice. shopping with girlfriends is ten thousand times better than shopping alone. i even acquired a couple mangoes because i was in the mood for something tempting at the store (and i don't get tempted at the store).

then, to belly dance class. she kicked our asses, and i had been trying to do a tremor, which is a delicate shimmy. it is just like it sounds, just a rapid firing of the hips back and forth in such a delicate way, that it looks like a tremor, not a full fledged shimmy. layering this tremor over a figure eight is where i'm headed, but i had to first learn to hold the tremor. it translated to my hands which i found disconcerting, but by the end of class (which, delightfully we focused largely on shimmies), i was shimmying and dancing like no one's business.

we had to do this center side, center other side shimmy combination, and i found it quite difficult not to be choppy. so my instructor came and stood in front of me and just started shimmying through the whole cresecent movement. i shimmied along and it was very quick and exciting. so i'm flinging coins off my hips at an alarming rate (my hip scarf is getting along in years), but still going strong. i got some of the choreography down, but my body refused to commit fully. until she turned on some great music and i just went with it. i ended improvising toward the end, but i need to let go more than i need to reel myself in.

i kept telling myself,

this is belly dance, not rocket science. who cares if i fuck it up?

and that helped. i take everythign waaaay too seriously, so this gave me needed perspective to just let shit fly where it may and dance like i know i can.

(that reminds me, i bought this giant mirror to dance in front of. i'm not a vain person, i don't think, at least i don't spend time gazing into mirrors, if that equals vanity--but i needed a giant mirror for my apartment because i've taken to dancing before bed. i have a lot of pent up energy and need to strengthen my self confidence. belly dance is the perfect tonic for this. sometimes i feel most lost, and after a half hour of dancing and moving--perhaps it's just the endorphins--i feel much better about life.)

i find it takes time for me to really let go. i don't just walk into class and cut loose. i have to warm up. i've known this. so when the other students arrive and sit there, i am just closing my eyes and moving my hips and warming up. this helps me to dance better because i'm not making up for being sedentary all week long during my class. though my lifestyle could hardly be called sedentary any longer.

so after belly dance, i'm dripping with sweat, and have to go retrieve the kiddo so we can go swimming. i ate before we went, changed and whatnot, but i ran out of gas about forty minutes into swimming. i didn't use a noodle to drag my tired body through the water, because i've got some flab i need to work off. so i swam laps. granted they were slow laps, but at least i wasn't parked on the couch.

my favorite way to swim laps is on my back, just gliding through the water, feeling my legs kick, the water pulsing beneath me, my arm cuts through and drags my body forward (i'm sure there is a more glamorous way to put this), but it feels good. to be swimming, breathing, living.

my daughter has taken to diving a lot while swimming her laps, this is a very large diving pool, and she kicks a great deal when descending, and sometimes splashes me in the face. we try not to take up two lanes, we share a lane and do our laps. after getting splashed quite thoroughly i told her,

i don't like to get wet when i swim.

that doesn't make any sense mom!

she laughs.

exactly.

see there's something about swimming and not getting my face splashed constantly (which is tough following a twelve year old diver). i'd rather not have my face get all splashy. sometimes it's because i've forgotten to take my makeup off, most of the times it's just my weirdness. what can i say.

but we are swimming our little hearts out and i said,

bug, we've got to go. i'm wiped.

she was bummed, but i am picking her up tonight and we're going to find the horses tomorrow. i had to open the store, which means get up at 4am, so i had to get to bed.

she was gracious, reluctant, but gracious, and i just ran out of gas.

so here i am, contemplating squeezing in my gym before retrieving her. i can do it. i probably should do it. i neglected the gym for a few weeks there for a while and the result was not good. i think it helps keep me mentally sound. i need a lot of exercise to burn off the dross, if you will.

maybe it's just the endorphins i crave.

at least i'm craving something. that's good.

and now, i think i've said all. i've written some of late, but nothing earth shattering. i keep thinking of my reading and have decided to just hop on the train and enjoy the journey. i may try to get to the city early and putz around a bit. linger in restaurants, or something, not sure.

it's different not having to be brave for my child. now i just have to be brave for myself, and that is tricky. i find, i'm not so brave as i once thought. the most terrifying things of late are the seemingly silly inconsequential details.

i have to get car insurance for myself, things like that. these are by no means deal breakers, life enders, or the like, but they scare me shitless and i don't know why. i guess i'm just tired. sometimes a girl just wants to be taken care of, but i haven't had that in ages, so what is different now? no one to punt to. that is the difference. when i was scared, i did something because someone told me to. now i have to do something of my own volition and that is horrifying. truly fucking frightening.

i am realizing how little i cherish myself and value my own worth. this has been a great revelation. something i need to explore poetically. it's hard, to find words for this place i'm in. but i have a friend who understood and she was telling me a great many things, among them were descriptions she knew from experience and i breathed a sigh of relief to know that i am not going down a road others have not travelled before. much as i like to think myself the pioneer. there is scant comfort in knowing you're some place others have survived.

i shall survive too, in fact, i shall thrive. i'm ready for a new day.

this is our slogan at work now, i like that slogan. they always find ways to inspire me.

today one customer asked me what i would do if it all went right for me.

without hesitation i said,

edit and write poetry.

those two are highly compatible. i like to work with writers and i think for my third semester's work, i'll try to find an internship that will help me move in that general direction. i need to go toward my dreams. they certainly won't seek me out.

i trust it will be well.

and that which is mine shall come to me.

i believe this with all of me.

what i didn't expect

this song

see, my sister had been telling me for weeks, maybe it's been months now that i needed to hear this song. i'm not too quick to get around to requests lately. i've just been focusing on one foot in front of the other (i'm told this is how one moves forward). so when i heard it, i knew it was the song. THE song of my life at the moment. so many reasons, so very many reasons.

i don't care by apocalyptica
(Feat. Adam Gontier & Mats Leven)

Try to make it through my life, in my way, there's you
I try to make it through these lies, that's all I do

Just don't deny it
Just don't deny it and deal with it, yeah
Just deal with it

You try to break me,
You wanna break me...bit by bit,
That’s just part of it

If you were dead or still alive
I don't care, I don't care
And all the things you left behind
I don't care, I don't care

I try to make you see my side
Always trying to stay in line
But your eyes see right through
That's all they do

I'm getting tired of this shit
I've got no room when it's like this
What you want of me just deal with it

(nothing can care about, nothing can care about)
(you won't be there for me, you won't be there for me)

If you were dead or still alive
I don't care, I don't care
And all the things you left behind
I don't care, I don't care


...

i try to sing it like i mean it.

I DON'T CARE,

but that silly girl voice in me still says,

but i do.

I DON'T CARE.

but i do.

she's pathetic, really. sometimes i wonder when i'll be able to not care. but she keeps her vigil by the window, with the damn candle lit, and i try to blow it out, i really do. i scream at her,

he's gone. dead. not coming back,

but she just sits there. even looks at hawks still. kisses him in her dreams, and i wake up screaming.

...

brokenness.

my birthday was a joke. if it weren't for the people that held me up, the kids i work with, that came beside me and loved me, i would have crawled in a hole and died. i had forgotten how it felt to just lose it completely in that way, in a griefstricken way.

today is the two year anniversary of his death and i still sit here, fighting the tears and it was okay until this point, because i was the ice queen. i had no one to thaw out that tender heart i locked away. but then, someone did and now, i'm all gushy again.

damn.

my boss and i had a long, six-hour long conversation about everything (i awoke at three am and went to work though it was my day off because i needed to get some things sorted out, some things said).

you're whole here.

he said.

yes.

and that's the toughest part. being entirely, every good bad and damnable thing about myself in one place at one time. i've wanted this. i wanted to gather up my scattered selves, but i never knew how, never knew it was possible. but now, here they are, all with me, all of us, like that ironic video riding in my pony singing

I DON'T CARE.

and, that one of me keeps saying,

but i still do...

my boss realized i was trying to jump ship, to run away, to abort process. this is what i do, leave. i'm terribly good at leaving. but it is why i chose my master's program, so i could stay. i want to stay. to be here, now. but it's frightening reckoning with your demons. finding those parts of you long neglected and so needy, and having to figure out how to get those needs met. how to meet them yourself and not depend on anyone else.

i think that is what it comes down to, for me. i have to be, to continue to be honest with where i'm at. the kids were grateful, i think. my boss was not happy, but i was not in a place to care. i was broken.

...

wholeness.

it's not what i expected it to be. being present. being acutely aware of how impossible you are. but all i can do is state my case, make myself known and move forward.

i picked up my poetry books last night, time to prepare in earnest for my reading. it will be here soon. i'm reading from stalking the dead and will honor it. it will be, perhaps, the last time i dedicate a reading this way to that book. more is coming. more always comes.

i have decided to go about it like i've seen so many poets, just bring your book and flip through it. i will dogear some pages, but for the most part, i'll try to just speak my truth and read.

a kurtis lamkin line comes to me, that sums up the whole thing in my mind (and that girl again says,

see...)

the hardest hunger in the whole wide world is reaching for someone gone forever.

and that line sums it up. this hard hunger.

perhaps my next book needs that title. hard hunger.

that is what it is.

...

kindness.

i'm always surprised when i find it. one of the kids i worked with early on my broken birthday came back late that night with a little pink cake and one candle. he stood there smiling at me, telling me to

make a wish.

but i don't wish for anything.

well, you have to.

he would not budge.

so all the kids were eyeing me then. and i stood there for a long time, until it came to me, what the one thing i would wish for would be.

and so they sang to me, and we cut the little cake and made my wish.

...

writing.

i awoke that morning at three am. i had two things to do. writing a letter that i heard, like a poem, tracking through my brain. i haven't had the desire to write anything of late. not one word. i am trying to keep a journal but it's a lackluster attempt. i don't consider that writing, more spending time with pen in hand. very different in my mind.

when i awake to something, when i am writing what is written in my heart on the page, that is what i consider writing.

all of my writing comes this way, subconsciously. that is why i trust it. the true writing. the words that matter.

i wrote you a letter

i said.

i'll read it later.

you don't have to read it,

i replied,

but i had to write it.

wax seal,

he said with a smile.

at least your still smiling.

what else is there to do.

you see i'm the kind of person who must get it out there. all of it. if i'm going down in flames you're going to know exactly where my heart was at before i bit it. that is all i can say. this compulsion to honesty.

it's not so much that i want to force an issue, though it probably comes off as that. it's that i kept messing it up. i kept trying to say something right and it kept coming off wrong.

at least, when words present themselves to me, they are strong enough to be on their own. i can trust them.

i sat up in bed and decided to get ready, to start my very long day, and so, by five am i was sitting outside my store writing by the street light waiting for my boss to unlock the doors.

what is the worst thing that could happen?

my pen ran out of ink. i, who always carrry refills, had none. so i commissioned a lesser pen and wrote on.

all morning my boss tried to get the letter, to read the letter, but i kept jockeying it away, maneuvering it just so, so it couldn't be seen. and i sealed it with wax right there in the store, and didn't address it until just before i handed it off.

then, i went and bought a new pen.

...


the red tail.

circling just now, he caught my attention, held it for a moment, lit upon a tree then drafted away. always leaving. they are always beyond reach, but i guess, i expected that.

who am i

to tell you otherwise when you are so convinced you know, contrary to what i see so clearly in you. that you are not, were not finished. it is not an issue now, as the words begin to trickle out and i rejoice, i rejoice. i rejoice.

it was daunting, the prospect of going it alone. such great creative endeavors ahead and i want my constant poetic companion beside me, in a sense, writing as well. it is selfish, i know. if someone says they are done, let them be done. but i knew it were not right. it was not finished. i am not finished. and our works feed and grow off of one another's. this may be a problem. i'm still typhoid mary in a sense, and i'm sorry about that. but your work seems untainted by my particular strain of delusion. and i'm grateful for that. it is what i've liked most about you. your ability to stand beside me and not succumb. like that tree we wanted for the cover of our collected works, it did not yield. it held its own through the deluge. and the deluge did come.

it continues to come.

sometimes i get these moments when there are no poems coming out, no poems stirring and i wonder if i've lost it, if i can be a poet anymore. if i am still a poet today, though i am not actively writing. but this is all doubt and silliness. my process is not to force a work. i know this in my head, but it is not my head that doubts, but rather, my heart.

traitor organ that it is, always betraying me the first chance it gets. i cannot control it, i cannot tame it, i have to simply let it be.

last night i was feeling a bit down so i put bells on my hips and ankles, i got up and danced, i forced that heart to pump fresh oxygen through my body, through my blood, i forced that heart to work and work hard. not to lament, not to be denied its class tonight, though denied it is--i got up and danced because i need to keep moving to keep dancing to keep becoming.

even when i'm lost. most especially when i'm lost.

i'm in the middle of the forest now, the heavy mist sets in and i'm uncertain of the way. i hear some faint echoes but they are beyond my grasp. i can't go back, i've lost the trail. i can't move forward because i've no idea where to go, so i lit a fire and danced. circled around it, bend back and forward laughing and dancing. if i'm not invited to the party, i will make a party where i'm at. that is my agenda now. have fun. it has been my agenda for a while, but i'd lost touch with it for a moment. i get so serious.

i'm trying to forget about the expectations and limitations of this season. to just live through today, and when tomorrow comes, live through that. it's not my inclination, i'm used to having to mastermind everything--that is what a mom does. what a wife does. and i'm far removed from both of those roles now.

it's a curious time. a birth canal experience, and i tried to abort my process, unwittingly, i don't know that anyone tries to abort process consciously. but i need to do what i used to do, time to engage in the poetic scene around here. time to be active and move forward.

i've got a list of books i'll have to read before my residency, and writing assignments to complete, that will help me burn some of this nothingness away.

but i don't want to fall into trance. to moving through a time in body, not in mind and spirit. i did that for too long. i'm whole again, at last. i need to make complete decisions. take chances. have fun.

and so i will.

gggrrrrr

i am trying to find ways to self soothe. so as i am walking into the library to write, presumably to meander through the good thoughts and come up with something worthwhile--or at least not a complete waste--my phone rings. que sopresa. it's my dad. haven't heard from him in ages. don't remember when we last spoke. think back when i was telling him it was over between me and the ex.

he starts asking me questions and trying to get me to guess what he knows. i tell him,

if you want to tell me what you know, do it. i don't have time for games.

he does. apparently, my ex called my dad and spoke with my little sister to spill the dirt on me. gotta love it.

my dad, playing the role of the concerned parent, (oddly, for he has never played that role before in my life), lectures me on what not to do when divorcing.

he should know. he's on his third marriage. i hope i don't go that way. i hope i'm not fool enough to try this again. this was a sham. i'm convinced what i had was not a marriage but a parenthood agreement. we were not partners, we never were. we were parents to our child, which was good enough when it was good enough. but no longer good now.

my dad, who opted out of my life in every way at the tender age of 8, is lecturing me on not missing opportunities with my child.

i spent 24-7 with that kid for her first 11 years, i don't think i've done what you did.

but her coming years matter just as much.

this from a man who didn't come to see his granddaughter when i'd hauled our cookies all the way out to cali, for no good reason. even after telling that granddaughter he would see her. unbelievable.

i've been a flake, but never a flake like that. i've never been a relational flake. i've never not done what i said i'd do relationally. (except the whole love and cherish till death do us part bullshit, but i think the contract--and that is all it was--was mutually void somewhere back in the day).

my dad is trying to tell me if i'm angry at the ex, it could mean i still love him.

i don't even think of him. haven't for years,

i told him. we didn't even acknowledge our anniversaries for the past two years (though last year he did send me an email the day AFTER).

it's been dead a long time now. this is just the rigormordis setting in.

i'm so over it all. my dad asks me how i am and i try to explain to him now that i'm living with some dignity. while i had internal dignity before, it was not external, nor tangible. i couldn't live like that anymore. so it had to end.

what to say, then my dad finishes off with,

you have a birthday tomorrow.

well, at least he didn't piss me off like this on my bday. it would have been better if he hadn't called. he said,

i will always be on your side.

i said,

i don't need anyone on my side. he's the father of your granddaughter. have a relationship with him if you want,

(but stay the fuck out of my business. don't call me and be a dad to me because you get some bullshit line from him. it is as messed up from my dad's direction as it is from my ex's).

that is what i don't think people understand about me. i'd rather stand alone than have people taking sides. it has always been the case. i am strong enough to be alone. i am strong enough to defend myself. i don't need anyone going down for me or taking a hit for me. just live your life. be happy. that's all i'm trying to do.

to work. at least it will be a diversion.

sigh...

the thing about it is, when someone finds their way into my heart, however temporary that stay may be, there is always, always, always a place for them. and i must resign myself to this again, it is the way i'm wired. i do not give up on people. i let them go, but i let them stay if they so choose.

call it a personality flaw, if you will.

it's a beautiful springeque day, and i'm going to the movies to night with my movie buddy. i need to stick with chicks, i've decided. i'm in a particularly vulnerable place in life and, well, i need to muddle through, and so i will.

i'm off to go sit by the hudson and write. i feel like this week that kicked my ass needs to congeal into a poem somehow, or wants to, rather. i need to sit on a giant rock and welcome it if it chooses to come now.

if not, the rock will be grateful, i will be grateful, and the hudson will be grateful. all ends well.

who knows what will come.

that which is mine, i believe this, still.

i dun it.

well, it was tough, but it's through. i'm tired. i need a vacation somewhere. i need to remember how to be alone in my own space. there are a lot of things on my plate right now, none of them need be told in public. but i always do.

it came to me today, the truth is the most frightening of all. many people cannot bear it. but i would rather have the truth, brutal, painful as it may be, than a lie. anyday.

don't spare me any pain for kindness, just let me have it. that's all i ask.

so i've got to refocus my life, back on the things i've neglected of late, working out for one. got my diploma in the mail today. which was perfectly timed, i'd felt adrift again. lost.

and, this reminds me of where i have been, where i'm headed. i can't lose the ends to the means. i think i risk that regularly.

and i also still believe there are no wrong choices, no bad choices, only the choices we make and the consequences that follow.

will i always be impulsive and fast paced, yes, absolutely.

i need someone who can keep up with me. so far, that has only ever been one person. and so, i must press on and keep moving forward. one foot, they say.

i took the train to my last feature in nyc, i can do it again. i have to abandon myself to fear to being alone, to whatever it is that is daunting. (though it isn't really, it just feels different in this quasi-separated place i find myself).

i don't like that i have loose ends in my life, but there are legitimate reasons for them, and i must take care of myself now, before all. and so i shall.

bought a dozen roses to replace the faded blooms a dear soul from work gave to me. i think it a fitting tradition, to lavish these things upon myself. i have to find what matters most and do that.

i can't remember where i was headed or why, i need to determine that.

i have a window of time here, a moment. an inhalation. i must seize it. excise the wound. knowing it is the door where the god comes.

these mistakes, if i can call them that, though i call them that not because it is how i feel truly represents what they are, but because they are not the path i am going down, if that makes sense--these mistakes have helped me to clarify what i want. what i need. something closer to where i came. but next time, perhaps the encounter will be timed properly.

it also came to me today that i don't linger at crossroads long. our lives intersect and i'm halfway gone before i realize it. so much so others. i have to let them go. they cannot linger past their time either. so be it. it was a nice encounter, that's all i can say, i've no regrets. no pain. just fondness.

but i have to walk away. and so i will.

my sister tells me, reminds me,

people will tell you exactly who they are, you just have to listen.

yes,

i said.

knowing i have made it explicit who i am. all of me. frailties and strengths combined. there is no one else living in me to pretend to be. i am the mess you see before you, but i will at least be honest about it. i've come to understand my needs acutely.

i had not experienced such willingness before. that was nice. i should like to have it come again.

and so it will. that which is mine will come to me. i believe this.

KEEP OUT!

i'm debating on pulling in the welcome mat and barring my heart back behind walls. it's too painful, too confusing and i don't need this right now.

this, all while it's still "good" "new" "fun"

i am a downer.

what can i say. i want to be beholden to no man. none. not one single one. yet, my life seems ripe with them, and that needs to, has to change.

i am feeling the urge to make a drastic change, take action, but i'm not sure if it's a plain and simple case of self-sabatoge. it may well be. that being said, what do i do? there are legitimate, very legitimate reasons why i doubt now. why i fear.

do i give those reasons precedence?

i do not do well in this context. i hate that i'm high needs in so many ways, but perhaps it's better to see this now. to know what i want, what i need, than to pretend it is not what it is.

besides that, i've got a lot of exciting things coming up and i can easily be distracted. i think that is what i need to do. hole up my heart and distract myself. to reel it all back in and do without.

is this sabatoge? it may well be.

i do not deny it. but i cannot walk blindly into something that is, at the outset, simply confusing me.

i don't need more confusion by any means.

i think it's time for me to walk away.

secondary considerations

i don't recall the context of this thought, but perhaps it will come to me if i write my way to it.

i have to finish the pony story.

so we're going to leave, i'm in the car, looking at him, and my girl. she's touching his lip and he's wiggling it away. they do this repeatedly for a while. he's got his head way high, and he looked happy.

i wish she could have seen him through my eyes for that instant. because she walked over and laid her body against the closed door of my camry, and pouted.

finally, she gets in and we're off. as we drove i tried to reframe the whole thing for her.

so many things could have gone wrong love, but they didn't. be grateful they didn't. when you get that pang of fear or regret, just remind yourself that the worst didn't happen, and be grateful. this is how i deal with things that scare me.

she just sat there. listening. not wanting to be comforted. we had to pull to the side of the road, and there were the white bones of a ribcage, which i pointed out to her.

look!

gross,

she said.

anything to take her mind of what was troubling her.

it helps that in my memory, even very recent memory i have a whole slew of fuckups to draw from.

there was the time i...

and off we go, down memory lane, where i did some crazy thing and my girl ends up laughing with me, or perhaps at me. that i did not utterly maim myself or someone else irreparably.

be grateful for what didn't happen.

i remind her, and myself constantly.

so, i try to nudge these tender memories back to the light lest they fester. she tolerates it well, i've done it her whole life. we poke around the tender spot until there is some resilience, some strength, some soundness of bone and body.

i had more to say about the ponies, but i'm done with that now. so hard to blog on someone else's schedule (namely the library's).