i feel pieces of myself coming back to me
sometimes
slowly
and that timid slow sometimes
brings a rush to my spirit
a buoy to my soul
a meager comfort
that i am not completely gone
i've been lost and found
so many times
in the course of my small life
that it never occurred to me
i could become so lost
that i wouldn't even notice
my own twisty wandering
but notice i did
and i feel the resurgence of life
the familiar spark
that tells me i am here
and
that i persist
and more than that
i have passion just like breath
and i can wake from this slumber
and soar
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
my week in review: a comedy of errors
so, i'm just going to give you the highlights, but suffice it to say that it's been one mere week since I had the tiniest bit of blonde put back in my hair and it instantly triggered the blonde that runs through my veins and lives in my marrow.
on wednesday morning i decided to check the mail on my way to work. since i'm lazy and i conveniently drive by my mailbox on the way to the rat race, i decided to make a quick pit stop at the mailbox on my way down the driveway to the daily grind.
i pulled over to the side of the mailbox, but out of the way of other cars that may need to traverse the driveway. i was wailing out the tune blaring from the speakers inside the car, and jumped out of the car - leaving the door open as i knew i would be popping right back in.
as i stepped away from the car and toward the mailbox, i couldn't help but notice my car moving steadily forward - toward the fence and busy street beyond.
yup.
i not only left the car running, but failed to even put it in park.
i have had nightmares where this happens and i am paralyzed and unable to make my foot slam on the brake. in those dreams my chest is tight, my breath is shallow and my legs and feet will not work.
if i can't stop an out-of-control car in my dreams - where sometimes i can fly - what are the odds i can do it in real life?
pretty damn good, it turns out.
oh, yeah! i was a rock star in real life. i was johnny on-the-spot. i jumped right in that car and slammed on those brakes - before any tragedy ensued. WHEW!!!
that brings us to this morning when i looked over at the fish bowl and couldn't find the fish.
having a probably natural, but definitely acute aversion to both finding and dealing with dead things, my heart instantly leaped to my throat as i feared the worst.
i approached the bowl with trepidation, all the time knowing that a 40-year-old woman should not be squeamish at the possibility of a dead goldfish. but i was.
with my eyes squinted, i peeked over the edge of the bowl and spied the poor fishy. he was laying on his side, eye wide open (like they are) with no obvious signs of life.
i picked up the bowl and swirled the water a bit to see if that would rouse the fish to action. no dice.
he did float up a bit and then, like a feather, slowly wafted to settle on the bottom of the bowl in his sad, fish-death repose.
at that point i sort of panicked - trying to figure out how to dispose of the body. i don't know if it's my addiction to law & order and true crime that made me panic, but i ended up with pretty much all my cupboards and drawers open while looking around frantically as the fish body lay in the bowl waiting for me to make the right decision.
i grabbed a ladle, then a bowl, then a tupperware, then a measuring cup. should i scoop up the fish and flush him to a burial at sea? should i scoop him up and dispose of him in a box of some sort that ends up in the ground or dumpster?
ultimately, i was creeped out at the idea of scooping up the dead body and flushing or boxing it. i decided i needed to move ahead with baby steps. i would slowly pour out the water in the bowl - making it easier, i suppose, to deal with its final resting situation.
as i moved the bowl from its usual spot to the kitchen counter, the fish didn't move. as i started to pour out the water, the fish didn't move.
after about half the water was gone the fish suddenly jumped in the bowl. i stopped. i sat the bowl on the counter. i looked at the fish.
it settled once again on the bottom of the bowl - laying sideways, that one damning eye staring up at me.
maybe it was some sort of death throe. maybe it was a last fight for life. whatever it was, i wasn't prepared to flush a fish with any sign of life left in it.
i decided to scoop the fish after all - using the soup ladle to retrieve the lifeless body from the bottom of the bowl. there was no flopping. no protest to being scooped from one container to another.
fortunately, i have a spare fish bowl. i filled it with some water and relocated the fish to his vacation home.
he settled to the bottom.
i stared at him.
his gills started moving aggressively and his mouth was making fishy-faces like he was working hard to catch his breath. he laid sideways and continued the aggressive breathing.
hmmmmmmm, i thought. i know it's early, but this might just be some kind of easter miracle. i am partial to christmas miracles - and i don't need it to be christmas time for one to occur - but given that we're in lent & all, i thought maybe this was a sort of resurrection scenario that was seasonally appropriate.
i watched the fish for the next couple hours (i tried to resist, but i couldn't - i was obsessed - this was a life-or-death situation and i just couldn't tear myself away from the drama). i also wanted to be emotionally prepared if i did have to perform that burial at sea that was interrupted by the surprise resurrection earlier.
as the fish fought for its life, i added water to the bowl. his first few attempts to reach the top ended with him once again wafting to the bottom like a feather. eventually, though, he made it.
he started to be less sideways and more right side up.
i gave him some food and he's now swimming around, good as new.
before i started the initial pouring of the fishbowl water, i texted friends and family to alert them of our dear friends' demise. after the fish perked back up, i had to send an update letting people know (particularly the daughter who won the fish at a state fair almost two years ago) that i cannot, apparently, tell when a fish has shuffled off this mortal coil.
that is a really lame text to have to send (except, of course, for the daughter who's glad her fish isn't dead).
apparently this is not an uncommon occurrence. savannah has a friend who's fish did this near-death thing five (5!) times! the fish did, indeed, die on the fifth occurrence.
i have decided to call the fish lazarus from this day forward, and i pray to all that is holy, that i don't have to go through this four more times!
on wednesday morning i decided to check the mail on my way to work. since i'm lazy and i conveniently drive by my mailbox on the way to the rat race, i decided to make a quick pit stop at the mailbox on my way down the driveway to the daily grind.
i pulled over to the side of the mailbox, but out of the way of other cars that may need to traverse the driveway. i was wailing out the tune blaring from the speakers inside the car, and jumped out of the car - leaving the door open as i knew i would be popping right back in.
as i stepped away from the car and toward the mailbox, i couldn't help but notice my car moving steadily forward - toward the fence and busy street beyond.
yup.
i not only left the car running, but failed to even put it in park.
i have had nightmares where this happens and i am paralyzed and unable to make my foot slam on the brake. in those dreams my chest is tight, my breath is shallow and my legs and feet will not work.
if i can't stop an out-of-control car in my dreams - where sometimes i can fly - what are the odds i can do it in real life?
pretty damn good, it turns out.
oh, yeah! i was a rock star in real life. i was johnny on-the-spot. i jumped right in that car and slammed on those brakes - before any tragedy ensued. WHEW!!!
that brings us to this morning when i looked over at the fish bowl and couldn't find the fish.
having a probably natural, but definitely acute aversion to both finding and dealing with dead things, my heart instantly leaped to my throat as i feared the worst.
i approached the bowl with trepidation, all the time knowing that a 40-year-old woman should not be squeamish at the possibility of a dead goldfish. but i was.
with my eyes squinted, i peeked over the edge of the bowl and spied the poor fishy. he was laying on his side, eye wide open (like they are) with no obvious signs of life.
i picked up the bowl and swirled the water a bit to see if that would rouse the fish to action. no dice.
he did float up a bit and then, like a feather, slowly wafted to settle on the bottom of the bowl in his sad, fish-death repose.
at that point i sort of panicked - trying to figure out how to dispose of the body. i don't know if it's my addiction to law & order and true crime that made me panic, but i ended up with pretty much all my cupboards and drawers open while looking around frantically as the fish body lay in the bowl waiting for me to make the right decision.
i grabbed a ladle, then a bowl, then a tupperware, then a measuring cup. should i scoop up the fish and flush him to a burial at sea? should i scoop him up and dispose of him in a box of some sort that ends up in the ground or dumpster?
ultimately, i was creeped out at the idea of scooping up the dead body and flushing or boxing it. i decided i needed to move ahead with baby steps. i would slowly pour out the water in the bowl - making it easier, i suppose, to deal with its final resting situation.
as i moved the bowl from its usual spot to the kitchen counter, the fish didn't move. as i started to pour out the water, the fish didn't move.
after about half the water was gone the fish suddenly jumped in the bowl. i stopped. i sat the bowl on the counter. i looked at the fish.
it settled once again on the bottom of the bowl - laying sideways, that one damning eye staring up at me.
maybe it was some sort of death throe. maybe it was a last fight for life. whatever it was, i wasn't prepared to flush a fish with any sign of life left in it.
i decided to scoop the fish after all - using the soup ladle to retrieve the lifeless body from the bottom of the bowl. there was no flopping. no protest to being scooped from one container to another.
fortunately, i have a spare fish bowl. i filled it with some water and relocated the fish to his vacation home.
he settled to the bottom.
i stared at him.
his gills started moving aggressively and his mouth was making fishy-faces like he was working hard to catch his breath. he laid sideways and continued the aggressive breathing.
hmmmmmmm, i thought. i know it's early, but this might just be some kind of easter miracle. i am partial to christmas miracles - and i don't need it to be christmas time for one to occur - but given that we're in lent & all, i thought maybe this was a sort of resurrection scenario that was seasonally appropriate.
i watched the fish for the next couple hours (i tried to resist, but i couldn't - i was obsessed - this was a life-or-death situation and i just couldn't tear myself away from the drama). i also wanted to be emotionally prepared if i did have to perform that burial at sea that was interrupted by the surprise resurrection earlier.
as the fish fought for its life, i added water to the bowl. his first few attempts to reach the top ended with him once again wafting to the bottom like a feather. eventually, though, he made it.
he started to be less sideways and more right side up.
i gave him some food and he's now swimming around, good as new.
before i started the initial pouring of the fishbowl water, i texted friends and family to alert them of our dear friends' demise. after the fish perked back up, i had to send an update letting people know (particularly the daughter who won the fish at a state fair almost two years ago) that i cannot, apparently, tell when a fish has shuffled off this mortal coil.
that is a really lame text to have to send (except, of course, for the daughter who's glad her fish isn't dead).
apparently this is not an uncommon occurrence. savannah has a friend who's fish did this near-death thing five (5!) times! the fish did, indeed, die on the fifth occurrence.
i have decided to call the fish lazarus from this day forward, and i pray to all that is holy, that i don't have to go through this four more times!
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
ugly nasty hard shit - sick of it
i don't know how many times the "lucky" people who have to encounter me on a daily basis have heard me shout out, spit out - almost sob out - that i'm sick of it.
i'm sick of the people who cut you off in traffic and in life (who care more about themselves than the people around them - who continually think they are more important than everyone else) getting away with it.
i'm sick of being the bigger, better person. i'm sick of always saying "i'm sorry" first. i'm sick of making other people feel okay about treating me and people i care about like shit.
and i'm taking a break.
it may not be healthy. it may not be christian. it may not be who i've tried to be as a mother, daughter, friend, colleague, stranger. but it's where i'm at - and it's what i need to do right now.
i need to give myself a moment to feel hurt, tired, brokenhearted, fed up and pissed off.
i'm sick of walking the tightrope between tears and laughter every moment. and i know that that's just life - but, for the tiniest second, my anger is like a deep breath i haven't been able to take for months or that elusive nite of sleep, after which i might finally wake up without feeling tired.
there's something about reaching this limit that i need right now.
and i don't feel it just for me - but for everyone around me who is being disregarded, overlooked and even beat the hell up by accidental (and not-so-accidental) assholes. assholes who oh-so-often abuse their position as friends or family to justify their treatment of you while at the same time self-righteously judging the fact that you even have the balls to let them know that you're hurt by their actions and that their special brand of douchebaggery just isn't gonna fly anymore.
yup. i'm sick of it. and i'm going to ride this wave for a little while.
i'm sick of the people who cut you off in traffic and in life (who care more about themselves than the people around them - who continually think they are more important than everyone else) getting away with it.
i'm sick of being the bigger, better person. i'm sick of always saying "i'm sorry" first. i'm sick of making other people feel okay about treating me and people i care about like shit.
and i'm taking a break.
it may not be healthy. it may not be christian. it may not be who i've tried to be as a mother, daughter, friend, colleague, stranger. but it's where i'm at - and it's what i need to do right now.
i need to give myself a moment to feel hurt, tired, brokenhearted, fed up and pissed off.
i'm sick of walking the tightrope between tears and laughter every moment. and i know that that's just life - but, for the tiniest second, my anger is like a deep breath i haven't been able to take for months or that elusive nite of sleep, after which i might finally wake up without feeling tired.
there's something about reaching this limit that i need right now.
and i don't feel it just for me - but for everyone around me who is being disregarded, overlooked and even beat the hell up by accidental (and not-so-accidental) assholes. assholes who oh-so-often abuse their position as friends or family to justify their treatment of you while at the same time self-righteously judging the fact that you even have the balls to let them know that you're hurt by their actions and that their special brand of douchebaggery just isn't gonna fly anymore.
yup. i'm sick of it. and i'm going to ride this wave for a little while.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
ugly nasty hard shit - a brief introduction
my silence has been the direct result of things i have just been too busy mucking through every moment to face head-on. i am now at the place where i need to look the ugly, nasty, hard shit right in the eyes and deal with it.
i like to be entertaining. funny. oddly touching, at times. but i have been too self-consumed and too balls-out in survival mode to do any of those things. mostly i've been scared shitless of baring the really sad, scary, broken parts. but it's come down to broken parts or nothing - so broken parts it is.
i'm just breaking the ice, here - mostly for me. but hopefully it will evolve into the greater purpose of writing some good stuff that is worthy for human consumption.
this is your only warning. what comes after this will be dripping with hurt, anger, pain, love, sadness - and the odd drop of hope.
i like to be entertaining. funny. oddly touching, at times. but i have been too self-consumed and too balls-out in survival mode to do any of those things. mostly i've been scared shitless of baring the really sad, scary, broken parts. but it's come down to broken parts or nothing - so broken parts it is.
i'm just breaking the ice, here - mostly for me. but hopefully it will evolve into the greater purpose of writing some good stuff that is worthy for human consumption.
this is your only warning. what comes after this will be dripping with hurt, anger, pain, love, sadness - and the odd drop of hope.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
muddling through...
It's Christmas. That alone is enough to bring out the old, familiar melancholia. But I had it beat for a while. For a few years it went into hibernation. This year woke it up.
It's weird to feel like a stranger in your own life. With your own kids. In your own family that you created. Of course I knew that it was going to be different. That it would change when the girls grew up. But it changed too soon. Everything did.
I guess it's another of those times when I thought I would have more time. But you never have more time. Life happens right now. It's a fucking game of hide-and-seek: ready or not, here I come!
Part of me really wants some Christmas magic to dump all over me like a blinding blizzard and bury all my worries, fears, frustrations...sadness. Just for one day - well, maybe like, a day-and-a-half (it is Christmas Eve, after all!).
Maybe it will. Until then, I'll have to muddle through, somehow...it's never as bleak in the real world as it seems in my mind. There is a disturbing solace in that fact. It was just so much easier when the girls were little. When they didn't criticize every move I make. Hopefully they'll decide to give me a little bit holiday happiness for Christmas this year. It could happen.
Last year - another weird year (but not as weird as this one) because it was Savannah's first year of college and she was just home for Christmas - Gabi actually had an endearing Christmas epiphany. I think it might have been even before any presents or stockings had even been opened and she looked at me and said, "How did you get so good at Christmas, Mom? I was thinking about it last night, and you are really good at Christmas. You do all this stuff to make it special and it's always awesome, and I just wondered how you got so good at it."
This year they're both home for Christmas after living elsewhere. And I guess I expected it to feel either normal or special. And it mostly feels awkward. I feel unclear as to my role and I feel like I'm walking on eggshells trying so hard to please everyone - and we all know that I don't like to do that. I think I'll just take a deep breath, remember Gabi's words of Christmas past and put on my smile. If that doesn't do the trick, I'm sure there's a glass of wine out there somewhere with my name on it.
It's weird to feel like a stranger in your own life. With your own kids. In your own family that you created. Of course I knew that it was going to be different. That it would change when the girls grew up. But it changed too soon. Everything did.
I guess it's another of those times when I thought I would have more time. But you never have more time. Life happens right now. It's a fucking game of hide-and-seek: ready or not, here I come!
Part of me really wants some Christmas magic to dump all over me like a blinding blizzard and bury all my worries, fears, frustrations...sadness. Just for one day - well, maybe like, a day-and-a-half (it is Christmas Eve, after all!).
Maybe it will. Until then, I'll have to muddle through, somehow...it's never as bleak in the real world as it seems in my mind. There is a disturbing solace in that fact. It was just so much easier when the girls were little. When they didn't criticize every move I make. Hopefully they'll decide to give me a little bit holiday happiness for Christmas this year. It could happen.
Last year - another weird year (but not as weird as this one) because it was Savannah's first year of college and she was just home for Christmas - Gabi actually had an endearing Christmas epiphany. I think it might have been even before any presents or stockings had even been opened and she looked at me and said, "How did you get so good at Christmas, Mom? I was thinking about it last night, and you are really good at Christmas. You do all this stuff to make it special and it's always awesome, and I just wondered how you got so good at it."
This year they're both home for Christmas after living elsewhere. And I guess I expected it to feel either normal or special. And it mostly feels awkward. I feel unclear as to my role and I feel like I'm walking on eggshells trying so hard to please everyone - and we all know that I don't like to do that. I think I'll just take a deep breath, remember Gabi's words of Christmas past and put on my smile. If that doesn't do the trick, I'm sure there's a glass of wine out there somewhere with my name on it.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
my holiday reading list
I love nothing more than curling up with a nice glass of wine and a good book in the warmth of a hot and steamy bathtub. During this magical time of year, I enjoy revisiting some of my favorite holiday tomes. I hope that you find something below that tickles your festive fancy, too!
The Stupidest Angel by Christopher Moore
"Christmas crept into Pine Cove like a creeping Christmas thing: dragging garland, ribbon, and sleigh bells, oozing eggnog, reeking of pine, and threatening festive doom like a cold sore under the mistletoe."
This heartwarming story of holiday horror had me at "creeping Christmas thing." There's something in this book for everyone - Santa, crazy warrior babes who wield swords and hear voices in their heads, science, animals like dogs and talking fruit bats, and zombies. Cool, huh?
Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris
This delightful Christmas collection features David's breakout piece, The Santaland Diaries, which includes a passage that makes me giggle no matter how many times I read it. I don't know if it's my Catholic and then fundamental Christian upbringing that makes this so funny to me, but take a read:
"We were standing near the Lollipop Forest when we realized that Santa is an anagram for Satan. Father Christmas or the Devil - so close but yet so far. We imagined a Satanland where visitors would wade through steaming pools of human blood and feces before arriving at the Gates of Hell, where a hideous imp in a singed velvet costume would take them by the hand and lead them toward Satan. Once we thought of it we couldn't get it out of our minds. Overhearing the customers we would substitute the word Satan for Santa.
'What do you think, Michael? Do you think Macy's has the real Satan?'"
It also features other instant holiday classics like "Dinah, the Christmas Whore." While each of those tales literally makes me laugh out loud, my very favorite Sedaris holiday tale is not in this collection. My fave is called, "Six To Eight Black Men" and can be found in Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. The essay shares the story of the Dutch Saint Nicholas as told to David while traveling in Holland.
Apparently Saint Nick is the former Bishop of Turkey who travels around on Christmas Eve sneaking into the rooms of Dutch kids with six to eight black men (no one seems to be able to agree on the exact number) and, depending on whether the kid was naughty or nice, will either leave presents in the tot's shoes OR stuff him in a sack and beat him with switches - possibly taking the kid back to Turkey with them. I don't know about you, but I think this would be a much more motivating story for kids than the seriously lame threat of coal.
You Better Not Cry by Augusten Burroughs
I never thought another irreverent collection of holiday humor could warm my cockles and tickle my funny bone as well as that of my beloved David Sedaris (see above). But I was wrong. Augusten's Christmas stories are awesome and brought tears to my eyes from both laughter and (yes, it's true!) that warm, fuzzy feeling some may call "heartwarming." One of my favorite passages is from an essay entitled, "Why Do You Reward Me Thus?" that goes into the absurdity of "The 12 Days of Christmas." Here's a snippet:
"...And what's the message? Did you ever notice that a lot of the alleged 'gifts' happen to be people? Eight maids a-milking, so that's prepubescent girls forced into labor, probably inserting the underwire into bras. And then nine ladies dancing? That's the sex trade. I won't even go into the five golden rings. But somebody's paying somebody off for something. Human trafficking and birds? That's a good Christmas song?
"Oh, and swans, which are the drunk, violent ex-boyfriends of the bird world. Because what would any holiday be without a little domestic violence?"
Ah, Augusten! You may just be a man after my own, shriveled holiday heart. (That, I hate to admit, has indeed gotten very warm this holiday season).
Well, there you have it! My favorite yuletide reads. I also love more traditional, childlike wonder-filled tales like The Polar Express and Auntie Claus, but nothing works the holiday magic for me quite so well as a snarky take on an often-simpering holiday - and throwing in a few meaningful, good-will-toward-men and peace-on-earth tidbits here and there doesn't totally suck, either.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
nobody knows christmas better than hallmark and lifetime
Check out lessons learned from holiday movies on celebutant:
http://www.usdish.com/celebutaunt/lessons-you-can-learn-from-lifetime-and-hallmark-holiday-movies
http://www.usdish.com/celebutaunt/lessons-you-can-learn-from-lifetime-and-hallmark-holiday-movies
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)