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.