Building a Room

In your hopelessness is the only hope, and in your desirelessness is your only fulfillment, and in your tremendous helplessness suddenly the whole existence starts helping you. - Osho

2009-11-07T08:51:00.002-07:00

Sometimes a heart pumps lead and everything it fills takes such effort to move;
the weight at center anchors the body to the bed.
Mornings like this
after nights like that
land a person in a state of lessness.

When all the hot spots are exposed,
the slightest touch,
even the breath of a move in the direction of the raw nerve triggers truths
then all thats held back against the back of the best interest builds up and flashes white hot fire.

It feels like wrong, crazy and alone,

but listen in the lyrics,

see itin all the faces,

and feel the heat of effort in the wake of every foot step on the sidewalks.

Space

2009-11-02T12:35:00.002-07:00

Karen wasn't a pretty girl. Her long black hair absorbed the light instead of bouncing off a shine; her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent except for a line of gray freckles under each eye. All of her features were exotic and beautiful in isolation, but unfortunate proportion and symmetry left her appearance little "off."

I'd heard other kids talking about her, always commenting on how her oldest sister was a breathtaking beauty. When people heard who her sister was there was always an air of doubt in the reaction.

My sister was the pretty one too.

We met on the jungle gym where she was hanging upside down from the top rail with her with no hands. I stayed closer to the ground. The Jungle gym was a mystery to me, it was a three level collection of cubes arranged to look more like a house than any jungle and the small steering wheels attached to the middle level only added to the confusion.

I watched her hanging out of the corner of my eye while I wedged myself into position with one of the steering wheels in hand. "Aren't you afraid?" I hoped she would say yes.
"No. Want to play Major Astro?" She righted herself and took the steering wheel next to me. We launched at five, four, three, two, one, and at blast off all hell broke loose. We exploded into one life or death crisis after another. There were fires to put out and a hatch to seal; we were nearly sucked out into the stratusphere at least a hundred times. When the bell sounded that recess was over we rushed our landing. The parachute almost didn't open, but Karen was quick on her feet and she dangled once more from the top rail to repair the invisible damage.

When our space capsule hit the water we bounced up and sprinted to the back of our respective classes lines. We were breathless, and laughing. I waved good bye to her as my class snaked into our classroom and her's filed past.

We never played together again. Years later I saw her sitting alone in the middle school lunchroom. Her hair was greasy and pimples dotted her face in the places between the freckles. She stared into the nothingness just in front of her nose. It reminded me of my first few weeks there, before my grandmother's neighbor took pity on me and invited me to eat with her and her popular friends. When one of the girls made a comment about Karen; how weird she was and how ugly I told her about the time I played with her during recess, how lost we became in our fantasy, how we hardly spoke, only reacted to what seemed to be the same invisible world. I told them about her beautiful sister. We looked at her without pity, without admiration, without depth and only for a split second before moving on to the merits Bonnie Bell Lip Gloss.

It wasn't long after that when I read an article in my Nana's Reader's Digest. A mother wrote a heart broken letter about the death of her youngest daughter. She begged parents to listen to their children before it was too late, before they pressed a shot gun to the soft spot under their chin.

Karen's Mother wrote the letter.

Missing Alfonso

2009-10-31T21:10:00.004-06:00

Alfonzo smiled when we put tacks in his seat. He knew they were there, pretended to sit and let out a howl with Buckwheat face. Putting the tacks in his seat was a gesture of affection. I loved him, his open smile and the way he talked to me like I was his best friend. He talked to everyone like they were his best friend.
Alfonso was love. His father was a pastor. That's all I know about him. Color held no weight; he was a boy, sitting next to a girl and we were friends. We talked about what it was like to be white, what it was like to be black, how we combed our hair. We decided that was the only difference between us.

We used different combs.

From the Beginning- As I Remember

2009-10-30T11:05:00.006-06:00

She was annoyed. Spirals of telephone cord snaked in a coil on the floor in a tangle around my legs as she pried my hands from her calf and pushed me off of her feet. She rubbed at the wet tear stains on her turquoise Capri's and the pitch of her voice tightened. The space between my fingers ached for want of the satin ribbons that she was tearing from the edges of my blanket, the same cool satin that I spent the greater part of my days weaving in and out of my chubby digits while I sucked my thumb. The calm that washed over me when I found this combination was soft and warm; my ballast. I choked on sobs until I threw myself face first to the linoleum floor, exhausted and soothed by the waxy cool. She was talking about me. I watched her face sharpen when my thumb found my mouth and my fingers worked at twisting my hair into knots. Her lip curled and her glare burned through blue cat eye glasses. Shame planted like a seed deep in the center of my chest.

2009-10-26T14:44:00.000-06:00

erase. time to start over.

2009-10-25T22:12:00.001-06:00

i am 16 years old.

country western cliche

2009-10-24T21:39:00.005-06:00

I've had lovers who lifted me in the moment.

The man who let me spend a weekend, my first solo escape.

He lifted my heart with my hips.

it was a moment.

There was the man from whom I hoped to learn to live free,

to slip into his world, to be safe in his circle;

the man whose freedom would never survive the weight of my need.

Who wouldn't love the man who lives in trees.

The last in the line is the toughest of lovers.

a pragmatist who bristled at my romantic notions,

the man who had the hope of happiness beaten out of him as a child.

I lament that these men will not have remote permanence in my life.

regardless of how poorly or how ill the suit.

2009-10-24T21:21:00.003-06:00

I tried to be a toughie, tried to hate, but I can't.

I love.

unconditionally. I love easily.

I will look past the most hardened heart and want to wrap my heart round and
warm it.

This leads to heart ache.

I might curse and scorn, gnash my teeth and curse, say hurtful things, still...

I love

It hurts how much I love.

2009-10-22T21:30:00.002-06:00

Today I ran against the wind, swirling amber bits of confetti under foot falls.
The trees here are on fire, burning so bright your eyes burn; your breath catches in that place between the breast bone and laughing and crying feel the same.
My lonely gray heron stood in the river staring into the distance at the same place on the horizon where the flaming trees met the sky; all muddled indigo, cornflower, clouds of blue.

We are so small here, our footprint so faint in the scheme; all of our melodrama plays like a circus of fleas.

2009-10-20T15:04:00.003-06:00

I don't handle impermanence in relationships. In my head when a relationship falters it becomes abandonment and betrayal on an epic scale. I become a shipwreck and The slightest gesture of affection becomes a life raft that I hang onto regardless of fact that it's also buoys the chum that brings the sharks that swim round my brain move in for the kill.

A few weeks ago I was practicing my exit speech, thinking I need to get out, let him out and on with his life. In every way we are oil and water, But then I would be alone again and in the process of dating him I alienated the few acquaintances I've known, the few friendship I'd built. I saved every weekend to be on call for him. It felt natural and easy. He spent our evenings telling me how I should have done this, should do that, how he wouldn't date me if this, that or the other... I didn't bolt. It was comfortable, warm and cozy. I can't count the times he dropped me off in front of my house after a tirade that left me silent and in tears. Always about how it's been three years, I should have put a stop to the madness of the ex, of my son who's taken sides. I let a man tell me how many ways I am wrong. It was easy to curl up into it.

This man who as little education, little money, little tolerance...
This man who has goodness buried deep and locked away.

He yelled when my life and all it's drama interfered with our drinking and dining, I sat stone still & silent. I knew if I fought back might very well get the back of his hand. He made that clear. More than once I let myself into the house trembling at the lock, falling inside and wailing in a crumple ball of nerves.

The only time I spoke out was in drunken text. I hammered away not once, but thrice spitting out one hundred and sixty characters at a time- over and over and over again.

The one time he called to break my spell I begged him to come follow through on his promise. Take me out.

I meant it,

I wanted out.

I know I should be grateful that he is more sane than I-that he is finally truly done over and out...

I would take him back if he would have me.

He is a thousand times more dangerous than what I have known

And I would take him back as not to be alone.

How the hell did I become this person?

2009-10-18T10:10:00.003-06:00

A little wine mixed with rejection goes a long way dragging me off into bad zones of no return. I burn bridge after bridge in this zone. This crazy self pitying bitch zone where every stray negative thought I've swallowed builds into a bile thick as hate.

I know before it escapes that I should straight jacket & gag myself, but I don't.

I let the vile mess spew

Thick as hate.

Verb

2009-10-13T10:31:00.003-06:00

I've been following my Dear D's advice, and Will & Flutter holding that mirror up where I had to look at it. I'm moving things around.

It's really nothing short of miraculous,
well,
it's something other than the pity party where I've overstayed my welcome.

I Painted Art's bedroom!

He's been so dear through all the drama and I'm hoping to put to use some things I've been learning about How to Organize the Disorganized Child
Of late, this title applies to me as much as anyone else. Emotional immaturity was not something I would have labeled myself with before the divorce.

I'll post pictures of the room when I've added all the finishing touches and painted over all the lapses in concentration that ended up on the ceiling.

I wanted to surprise him, but he stopped by to pick up homework while I was in the middle of it. He's thrilled. I've painted, rearranged and I'm even adding some collages that I've made out of toy guitars and magazines. It feels good to be doing.
Thanks for the kick in the ass D!

His brother entertainment has been down right civil, even kind and loving. I'm hopeful, but guarded.

This could be a lull due to the absence of a beau.

The ex suddenly doesn't need to pull his things out of the house anymore. Then of course, this would not be allowed, I've change the locks and made clear the consequences if he steps foot on the property again, but that's never stopped him from hassling me before.

The boys continue to call me to check in, to see what I'm doing in the evenings. I like to think this is out of some concern or out of missing me, but as someone once called it, I think it's more to likely an attempt toward enforcing celibacy. Thankfully it's usually only once or twice in an evening.

Now I'm recycling old shit again,

I'm doing, pushing through.

I'm also limiting my cyber stuff. Face book really makes me feel like a stalker or often just feeling left out. Letting go of people is hard enough for me as it is, so when I can look them up and track how their lives continue without me, I make myself miserable. Yes I'm happy that they are happy, still... I don't like the envy I feel. So, there, other than the fact that I have to work until nine o'clock life is better here. I'm feeling mostly human.
Oh, and my classes are going so well I pinch myself every day.

2009-10-08T19:53:00.002-06:00

If I do really live by show me don't tell me,
and I do.

I've been showing anyone paying attention how to fuck it up.

I'm cynical, locked up and self absorbed.

I ain't no hypocrite.

2009-10-07T16:08:00.003-06:00

my motto:

Show me, don't tell me.

for better or worse,

I live by it.

2009-10-06T22:26:00.002-06:00

There are pieces of me scattered
somewhere

There were people who knew me
once

there are days like this
and the last
and maybe the next
when days seem like months
months years
years, forever.

this is now.
tomorrow will be then
then will be somewhere else.
but now
is

2009-10-03T11:18:00.002-06:00

I ran a 5k race today.

My son A, is at a marching band clinic,

My Son E, mumbled that me he loves me over the phone.

My Niece is Homecoming Queen.

My house is not a total shambles if I close the boys bedroom & the laundry room doors.

I cleaned my car.

My skin is clearing.

In this Very Moment ~ Or ~ How the going back on anti-depressants is working

2009-09-26T14:57:00.005-06:00

When I'm not working, running the boy who proves I can't be all bad here and there, when I'm not locked in the grips of a major attack of po angry piteous me, I'm watching TV.
Damn if I don't binge on my faves. Mad Men is driving me mad in the waiting for the next episode. I download this one online.
Then there's Net flix watch instantly The IT crowd which I prove my self a glutton and I'm left wanting more,
so my the not rejecting me seed, A has introduced me to The Mighty Boosh.

There are TV shows, 30 rock, the office and sometimes those csi shows that are so bad I watch for the opportunity to make snarky commentary to the walls.

It's mind numbing,

maybe we can call this meditation.

maybe not.

The real world hurts too much.
ze My eldest twin son is lost in his pain and I can't find a way to reach him. Every therapist is too geeky, every attempt to rationalize is lost. worry that there is a genetic issue at work that I will not be able to mend.
My youngest twin is sweet, lazy and flunking classes again.

I'm here doing my best to encourage,
to discipline,
to be what a good parent should be....

The beau has had enough. I don't blame him. He was all too much the same; controlling, angry, and uneducated. But, I don't say that without affection, he was great company and sex took me outta my head.

Sex gets me outta my head.

I will miss it.

I watched the stupid show Cougar and to my disgust I could totally relate to the protagonist except in the fact that her life was less fucked up than mine. Also, I'm not hot mammy like Courtney Cox.

My daddy, cried today. He wants to see me and the boys more often, he can't remember the boys.

so I stand by my last post and let me throw my fit. Life is not good here.

not for me.

depression happens because depressing things happen.

That said. I am taking a my meds again.

any relief is better than none.

In this Very Moment ~ Or ~ How the Coming Off of Anti-depressants is Going

2009-09-20T12:33:00.005-06:00

Earlier this week I worked a bookstore event that was in support of a charity that sends books to children in Ethiopia. The Author was so self-righteous and full of glowing reports of her success and how everything she touches is golden... she all but passed a petition begging for her canonization. The audience full of women with glowing eyes and children lost in the stacks making messes and more noise than necessary. Everyone in the room was sending out earsplitting vibes of "look at me, look at what a good person I am." The room was ice cold and nothing, but platitudes bounced off the walls.

If I were a believer, I'm certain I would go straight to hell for this reaction.

But I am not a believer.

I do not believe that people are good at heart;
so many have none.

I do not believe that life is good; keep the fucking stick figure away from me.

I do not believe that good things come from those who...insert what ever fucking banality one might wish to fill in the blank.

I believe that those who take for themselves, regardless the good of man, find happiness.

I believe some accidentally help man in the effort to touch themselves.

I believe that self-sacrifice is promise of sorrow.

I believe that one should never believe anything anyone says.

ever.

I believe nothing comes from kindness except by chance.

I believe in the laws of chaos,

Things happen,

and much of the time the things that happen suck hard.

I believe ignorance is the only path to bliss.

I believe I've encountered more wolves in sheep's clothing than a girl needs know to reach this point.

I believe it i my optimism, my hope for what might or should be instead of what is real, has been of no use.

I believe that when I finally really believe all that I think I believe and start living with myself in mind that I will be OK.

I believe this will never happen.

I believe I've learned to hate,

I believe hating is poison

I believe advice is never worth a shit less you walk directly in some one's shoes. Which can never happen, so...

I believe I don't know.

anything.

I believe I don't want to know

anything.

~PS~

after a good long sweaty run...I still feel pissy.

2009-09-17T08:27:00.002-06:00

-No more anti-depressants.

-get to work on the house.

-get back to the gym and the weights.

-all some miles to weekend runs.

-get certified to teach elsewhere.

-Get the house in order to sell.

-stop listing and start doing

Beautiful Futility

2009-09-14T19:33:00.002-06:00

A boy from Jordan called across the room to a girl from Jordan, "did you get my goat? I slaughtered that goat."

The kids around him gasped as he explained how he slit it's throat and ran around the yard, then how it's muscles continued to twist as he tied it to a tree and skinned it.

"It's a ritual." he explained. "you can't kill it first for religious reasons..."

His father showed up for parent exchange the next day and challenged my assignment.

I called the assignment "Careful! You'll poke your eye out!"

The objective of the lesson was to use the exclamatory rhythms found in warnings; such as the labels on medicines or aerosol cans: Contents Under Pressure. We discussed how the sharp staccato and direct command adds a sense of danger and urgency to a simple statement. We listed such warnings and the assignment was to turn them into a poem.

His father said it was pointless, "why bother? It's Like teaching Hamlet; a waste of time ... a pointless exercise."

I said I suppose anything not required for moving air into the lungs could be considered pointless and without meaning.

He said," like what? I don't understand."

I said, "it's like killing goats."

He stopped talking.

"...and the pursuit of Happiness."

2009-09-11T05:57:00.004-06:00

What is the purpose of studying the Liberal Arts
What are the Humanities and why care?

Charlie Brown's "Happiness is..."
John Lennon's "Happiness is a Warm Gun"
Aristotle On Happiness
Daniel Gilbert: from Stumbling on Happiness

Assignments: Small Group and classroom Analysis
Comparison Contrast Diagraming
Essay personal definition of Happiness:
Figurative response- Artistic representation of Happiness.

Aren't all of ours stories about the pursuit of Happiness? Isn't that what drives humanity forward, or backward or stuck in a rut?

This how we are beginning the year.

2009-09-08T15:47:00.003-06:00

I have enough to be ashamed for all the wanting.

It's not for things I long, but for some intangible ability to live free without reigns.

I fall in love with people who live unbridled.

but me, I am the bridle.

Therapy tells me that I am wrong to shoulder the unwelcome drama in my life.

I'm told to cut myself some slack, that sometimes there is a victim and I am one.

but it's of no comfort.

"If you could do anything right now what would that be?"
This is what the therapist one, two, three, and four ask me.

"I would run away"

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know."

"would you go alone?"

"I would go to...."

"who would you go to?"

"someone else."

"what is someone else like?"

"I will know when I meet him."

"It's not enough to be alone?"

"That is death."

"to be alone?"

"have you ever been alone?"

"No."

"I am."

2009-09-04T20:45:00.001-06:00

alive

2009-08-25T09:08:00.001-06:00

Barely a week into school and I'm already home with a very sick kid.

2009-08-24T05:46:00.000-06:00

Back to work.