Saturday, May 18, 2013
I think the amount of stress I was under, due to the way the semester started for me, has been gouging holes in my gray matter, and severing neurons left and right.
I was afraid that I would lose my grip entirely if I let myself relax...
Here comes summer!!!
Two weeks to myself, then the kids are out of school, too, and a week later we pile into the swanky new minivan and drive to MAINE for the younger stepson's graduation! Spend a couple of weeks of wild family fun, then send everyone else away and play for 2 more weeks with my friends, so I can hit my 20th high school reunion (how'd that happen??) and then drive back to Iowa for a couple of days, and on to Utah to visit family and friends for a couple of weeks before reclaiming my boys from their month with Dad. Whew! It's gonna be a helluva good time, I can tell already!!!!
Ok, enough rambling.
Not sure why I even post here.......it's like tossing a message in a bottle into the ocean...
I have some goals.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Weird year, eh?
School is going well, considering.
Winding down, which really means packed with lots of papers and tests and projects and
I feel a little bit overwhelmed, but then--
And lots of road
I believe in the texture that poems can bring to words,
but not really in poetry, not the way the literary world tries to force us to view it.
Just gimme words, gimme rhythm, yeah.
I feel like my brain--or really, my mind--needs a massage, and like, maybe some aromatherapy-bubblebathy situation as well.
Just, y'know, like....a real chill out.
Ok, here's my rant: all this faceobooky crap is distorting the precision of language.
Says the girl who just wrote "facebooky" and is about to complain that teenagers' use of letter repetition as emphasis is fucking up her ability to do the same. Only different. BETTER.
See, I like to use the device of adding extra vowels to draw out the word, like "chill"--above, I wanted to draw it out: "Chiiiiiiiiiill...." And I wanted you, the reader, to understand that I was saying it long and slow. However, these little scalawags do not pay attention at all and simply add extra letters in the hopes of adding general emphasis (I'm assuming). Like "I lovvvveeee you." Ok, but I can't stop thinking the v's should be stuttered and making the e's long (by the way, I am generally opposed to using apostrophes for anything other than their PERFECT uses, BUT I read in a style manual that for things like single letters it dispels confusion to just use the apostrophe instead of the italics and s, like I was taught 843 years ago....
Wow! A rant AND a tangent!! Nice!
And I know I'm totally a hypocrite, because I am living proof that our language is evolving, and I do believe that that's what makes it a living language, but.......I just wish that everyone understood phonics a little better, maybe???
I suppose I should go to sleep now.
One more episode of "Smash," and then lights out.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
and I know it sounds casual
as though I were picking him up from the airport,
or from some perfectly mundane place across town.
But that’s not where he is.
He is on a windy hilltop,
in a building designed to be comforting in its serene beauty,
its halls plush
meant for hush-
but has been reduced to his essence,
the stuff not eaten by the flames.
His last flight…
“I don't EVER want to fly again,” he proclaimed
upon returning from far across the ocean,
from that island
Home we’ll go.
So that he may,
at long last,
rest with the peace that he has earned--
impatiently sought, in these last days,
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
I better get something written so I can squeeze in a trip to the gym before my lunch date.
Yes, that's right!
I have friends!
Two friends in Iowa...how about THAT?
I have too much to do so I'll just leave it all for tomorrow...again.
I keep leaving things for tomorrow, and soon I'll run out of time.
I have emails to write, emails to reply to, and so much more,
yet somehow, trips to the gym and lunch dates are all I can seem to accomplish in a day........
But I'm happy.
Nope, it's not a Bob Dylan kind of morning.
I need.......something else....
Pearl Jam radio is always the answer; why did I even try for something else?
Ok, I'm off to fiction-writing land. Wish me luck and proliferation...
Have a great day--
Friday, January 04, 2013
on the cusp of being late.
"Run like the wind," I say
and turn to see if their backs will fade
quickly toward the large brick building.
they trudge as though moving through ankle-deep sludge.
Slow-motion versions of the lightening-fast boys I pictured when the doors slammed in unison.
turn on NPR and move back out into traffic.
The start of my day was in the still-dark hours as my Love readied himself for work.
I lay, snuggled beneath the down,
stretching and purring, like his favorite pet.
I worked out my life, my future, in those dark, half-awake hours,
and when I finally rose,
I felt renewed and lighter than I have in weeks...months?
I have been depressed.
I am loathe to admit it...
not because I look down on depressed persons,
but because of my father and his genes.
My father, who slipped through a rip in the fabric of time, or space, really
to live with me--
with no pre-planning,
no asking or even telling.
Just desperately, frantically discarding the life he had begun to build in the Philippines for the past year,
emailing to ask if he could "visit for a while."
Was I stupid to not realize that he had no where else to go, so a visit would be far more permanent than any visit has a right to be?
--any father has a right to be, after deserting one's angelic mother despite the amazingly thorough and kind way she cared for him and his every whim for 38 years???
Oh yes, I have some unresolved anger, did you notice?
Could you see it there, dripping down my sleeve, leaking from the heart I wear there?
His choice to leave her is still nonsensical,
it is discordant,
it is unrhyming, unrhythmed
So, not to mention a lifetime of having nothing in common
(except my broken genes and my worst character traits),
I now have unexpressed anger for this cute little man.
And moments before my son went in for BRAIN SURGERY,
I read the words, "I can't stay here any longer. Could I come visit you for a while?"
And I primally screamed,
for my emotions were already entirely used up by the 3 weeks in the pediatric ICU and my baby boy, my tall, lanky, incredibly creative, tough and delicate little (taller-than-me) boy.
I wanted to throw a tantrum, because
IT WASN'T FAIR
that my father was asking me for a bucket full of emotions
when he should have known I had not even a drop to spare.
I was wrung-out, exhausted, worried.
And then I had to shift and worry about all the ways it would suck
to have my father in my house,
desperately trying to conjure positive memories and potential goodness.
Gruffly ignoring the memories of all the self-less, kind things he has done for me.
And he didn't arrive calmly and joyously;
he didn't arrive after careful planning,
and by bringing with him all that he needed.
He arrived broken and whimpering,
as though he had literally dragged himself across the entire Pacific Ocean and fully half of the United States.
But it just wasn't good timing, you know?
And when he was in the sorry state he was in directly due to his own poor choices,
HOW THE FUCK
could I brim over with pity, or whatever??
I'm still too angry about his desertion of my mother,
and too tired from living in a place I'm resisting,
and too depressed from having had to give up half of my dream in order to keep the other half...
but that's a different rant for a different day,
or maybe not at all,
like I can breath deeply of the crisp Iowa air
and accept change.
Oh, sure, it has been one whole, entire, complete, extra-long-due-to-leap-year year.
So, giving me any accolades whatsoever for reaching the point where I'm ready to accept that I don't get to live in Maine anymore (oh, god, can I really accept it, when every time I say/think/hear that line, it feels like the winds of a Nor'Easter are churning through me, leaving me hollow and shaky?)
But, yeah. I guess I have to.
I am ready to embrace this place, and the changes that come with it.
But that, apparently, is separate from my clingy love affair with Maine.
I can let go a little...
Friday, December 07, 2012
(moved from Word to Blogger)
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
So...tomorrow is a big day. I've been avoiding the thought, pretending it's no big deal. But as I watched my tall, strapping, handsome sons wrestling around and bouncing and laughing out on their trampoline...it hit me. My son, my first born twin, my darling child with all the fucked up health issues, will be under the knife again tomorrow. Almost exactly 12 years from the day they came home from the hospital. Almost exactly 12 years from the day the first neurosurgeon placed the VP shunt that they are finally replacing tomorrow. And I know it's a routine procedure. But it's still brain surgery. And there is still that chance...however small...that the boy I know will be changed forever. Just writing that makes me feel better, because my gut says he will be just as funny and cantankerous and wonderful as he is today. But. I cried over the sink full of dishes anyway.
And here is the essay I wrote 7 years ago, about the whole thing.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
that would be so much more appropriate at this point.
I am happy.
I am also lonely and _________.
So many different words could fill in that blankety blank blank right now.
But they won't.
Because I can't even say them...just...
Don't want to give in to the sadness.
I'm sure half of this is hormonally motivated, or what, is it like...a full moon or some shit??
But the bare bones truth of the matter is that I am alone
Sure, it's summer now, so the kids are technically here all day.
But they're like, ya know, TWELVE now, and they've always needed each other more than they needed me.
Or maybe "liked" is a better word than "needed."
They love me, but they prefer each other's company.
I don't blame them...I am the Mom, they are the Twins.....and they are friggin BOYS, to boot.
They don't want to watch Anne of Green Gables and dream of princes and play Barbies--
And so we have little in common.
Since I don't shoot air soft guns or enjoy video games of war and such.
I feel like such a misfit sometimes...I thought being a Mom would be so fun...so natural.
But instead, I constantly feel left out and confused and out of touch.
I don't get to be the soft-sweet-singing-giggling Mommy, I have to be the no-stop hitting him-don't-touch-that Mom. I have to remind them for the 4 millionth time to CLOSE THE GODDAMNED SHOWER CURTAIN or whatever the hell is the cause of the fucking drenched bath mat/2-3 towels after every shower I have to force them to take.
I need a fucking girl's night out, the only problem is that I live in fucking Iowa now.
I am acquainted with precisely 2 women.
They are each the wife of one of my husband's co-workers, and I don't get the sense that we are destined to be friends, not all together, at least. I think I will be friends with each of them, separately. They don't seem likely to mix. But I could be wrong. Either way, the fucking point is that I don't really have the option and I just miss my friends, and I miss my Mom and I am mad at my Dad, but I miss him, too, and I worry about him in the fucking Philippines and I worry for Oliver's surgery on Thursday and I am just tired.
But I shouldn't be tired, because I don't DO ANYTHING.
Well, maybe some laundry, dishes, baking, cooking...but, like, way more Castleville than I would admit to if the proof wasn't splashed all over Facebook.
I feel like I'm fighting off a tsunami of emotions with an origami sword and shield...
And I kind of feel like just crawling into bed and waiting for it all to pass, but that is THE OPPOSITE of what I feeeeeel like doing!!!!
I am sick of doing so much NOTHING.
I am sick of the self-indulgence with which I pass my days...I feel guilty and panicked because I do so little.
And play the aforementioned annoying and embarssing game.
But I don't WRITE.
And I don't create.
And I don't explore, exercise, examine, exult..............
I need stimulation, dammit!!!
I need to register for classes and power through these last free days of summer, then put my nose to the grindstone.........
I just hope I don't drown in my own paddling pool of self-pity before then.
Good lawd, I'm dramatic today.
Here's hoping this little therapy session helped me find steady ground.
And maybe I will tap into a little momentum and rock my way out of my rut tomorrow....