Lazy Sunday

I spent the morning cleaning my kitchen and bathrooms, washing clothes, and doing all the other mundane tasks that need to be done. Later we headed out the the retirement home to see Great Grandma Nana. I swear, the woman is 93 years old and is still in great shape mentally. She was showing me the novel that she just finished reading, it was almost 600 pages long. When she saw us she was glowing with joy. She has a difficulty hearing, so I have to practically scream at her when I want to say something. Sometimes her hearing aid will buzz because she has it up to loud. I love her very much. She is a woman of tremendous strength, and has been like a mother to me. I have gone to her many times when I needed advice, or just a shoulder to cry on. I hope that she lives many more years and remains as solid as a rock.

The I that is Me

Today we headed up to the mountains to embrace nature. We had hoped to frolic in the snow, but there wasn't very much of it. The view was absolutely breathtaking!





Then we went to visit grandma at the cemetery. It was a poignant visit, as well as a time to reflect on the brevity of life.




Later we went out to dinner with Angela to celebrate her birthday. The service was mediocre at best, but we enjoyed the free flan! After dinner she "found" a cat for me to adopt. We named him Samuel Milo Watts. Chris wanted to name him Sam (as in Sam Harris). I wanted his name to be Watts (as in Alan Watts). So after a heated debate we finally agreed upon the name Samuel Milo Watts. Angela said he is handsome, and I concur!

Turkey day

Yep, it's me...


I was so excited to watch the Twilight Zone today! Watching brought back so many childhood memories. I absolutely LOVE Rod Serling, he was a genius. Watching "To Serve Man" NEVER gets old!

I saw my beautiful Tiger Lily hanging out in my neighbors yard today. I tried to call her over to where I was, but she didn't recognize me. She ran away, and I ran after her calling her name. My neighbors probably thought I was a lunatic (they are correct in their assumption). All this time I thought that she was dead, but she is alive and robust. Hopefully we meet again. I miss her very much.

I had an awesome day, and truly enjoyed hanging out with my family. We enjoyed a delectable dinner, as we listened to Billie Holiday pour her heart out. Later we reminisced, as we sat drinking hot cocoa (with marshmallows!) in front of the fireplace.

Now I am going to sleep.

Amanda

Amanda died in her sleep the day before Thanksgiving. I thought of her today, and how her idiosyncrasies and sarcasm would make me laugh until my cheeks hurt. She was histrionic, and often employed artifice to gain what she wanted. I was truly lucky to have met such an amazing human being. Her beautiful smile could illuminate a dark room. The picture that was used in her obituary was taken on her wedding day, the happiest day of her life.

How fragile and fleeting life is. I am thankful for all of the special people in my life that have loved me in spite of my imperfections and character flaws. Thanks also to Amanda for showing me that regardless of how difficult life can be, we can still find time to laugh and smile.

The engaged shopper

After two days of bed rest, I had to force myself to get up and run my errands. I went to WINCO foods to purchase everything that I will need to make my Thanksgiving dinner. I dislike going to the grocery store because all of the people walking around me with their carts makes me feel very nervous. People really should be more courteous when traversing the aisles, and the aisles should be wider. I watched as one man left his cart in the middle of the aisle, completely oblivious to the fact that in doing so he was obstructing others from passing.

When I pass shopping carts I look inside of them to see what the person is buying. I watched as a lady filled her entire cart with collard greens. Another person had a few pieces of meat, protein, and peanut butter. Some people bring their grocery lists. I find it amusing to watch them cross out each item after placing the item in the cart. I am too spontaneous for lists. I have tried using a list in the past, but have found that I always end up amending the list as I walk through the store. My recipes are stored in my head. I know exactly what I need, and how much of it I need. No lists are necessary.

Sick day

I am sick with strep throat and extremely lethargic today. I called off from work because I have absolutely no energy. That is all for today.

Carny

I had a friend named Misti that had a gig as a carny. She would make pretty good money hustling people at the balloon popping booth at carnivals. Whenever she was working at a carnival, she would tell me to come out and play the booths for free. She was a great person with an enormous heart. She had been a methamphetamine addict for many years, but had managed to kick the habit. We met at a psychiatric hospital where we both worked together. We shared many interesting moments during our time together. I learned so much from her. I remember a time that we both were attempting to de-escalate a patient. The patient was 6'3, Vietnam vet diagnosed with PTSD, highly aggressive. We went into the TV room where he was arguing with another patient. He turned abruptly, picked up the large TV in the room, put it over his head and was about to throw it at us. My friend Misti and I directed him to put it down as we ran for cover. He did eventually put the TV down, but not before he gave us a really good scare. He could have snapped both of our necks with ease.

I thought of her today because I happened to be at a carnival. I kept looking around, hoping to see her again. However, she was not there.

Only her memory surrounded me.

Friday...

is here, and I am off to the the drive-in.

There are no angels, only humans with broken wings

I am unable to clench your hand and pull you to safety. I can only love you from a distance. Beneath my gossamer veil I whisper words of hope to you. I send the sparrow to your window to sing you a song that will surround you with my memory. It is the wind that carries your loneliness to me. I capture it, and transform it into words that only you and I can understand. Within you is the seed that will bring you the freedom that you long for. I may never get to see it grow, but I want you to know that the seed is there.

You are never alone...

Mrs. McCormick

It amazes me that after 23 years I still remember an incident from kindergarten as if it had just happened yesterday.

I sat quietly on the carpet waiting for the teacher to begin her lesson, when suddenly a little girl raises her hand. Mrs. McCormick calls on her to speak. The little girl proceeds to tell her that somebody stole her baseball cards. The teacher begins questioning the students, trying to pinpoint a suspect. The little girl mentions to her that she thinks that I stole them. I was stunned at this ridiculous accusation, I don't even like baseball! The teacher glares at me and directs me to go find the cards, and return them to the little girl. I was frightened, and therefore did what I was told. I remember going straight to the reading area, where all of the comfy pillows were located. All of my classmates were looking at me as I walked over to where I was to begin my search. Tears were streaming down my face. I turned over one of the pillows and lo and behold, there were the little girl's cards!! I looked guilty and I knew it. Weeping I told the teacher that I had no idea how I knew that the cards were there. She did not believe me. That day I went home and told my mom what had happened. My mom went to the school and had a lengthy discussion with Mrs. McCormick. The rest of kindergarten is a blur.

I often look back at how horrible that incident made me feel. If she is still alive, she probably has no recollection of this incident. It saddens me that for the rest of my life I will remember kindergarten as the time when I was falsely accused of stealing some stupid baseball cards!!

Mrs. McCormick you are one mean bitch!

Sentient beings

I visited an animal shelter today hoping to bring home a cat. As I walked down aisle after aisle of malodorous cages, it saddened me to see sentient beings trapped in squalor. Some dogs sat frightened in the corner of their excrement covered cages. Others barked in desperation, hoping to attract the attention of potential owners. The look in their eyes made me feel helpless. Somberly, I walked over to where the cats were located. I passed by the cat with the missing left eye, several feral cats and a couple of overweight beauties. They all seemed lonesome, I would have taken several of them home if it were financially feasible. I went to find out how much it would cost to adopt. I was shocked when I was told that the cost of adoption was $110! I had a verbal exchange with the woman at the counter about how unhappy I was that I would not be able to provide a loving home for a cat because of cost. Wouldn't it be more efficient to lower the price significantly, thereby increasing the likelihood that people would adopt?

I left the shelter deeply troubled.

Sometimes words are superfluous

In general, I express my emotions in words. However, there are times when I feel the need to draw rather than construct sentences. The following are just some of my "journal entries."

Spitting out my heart

Today I spent a few hours of my day reading. Reading always brings me a tremendous amount of joy. I re-read House of Incest by Anaïs Nin. Her work is absolutely brilliant. As I read her books, I find that I can relate to her in so many ways. I can remember being completely awestruck the first time that I read House of Incest. I had to pause several times so that I could savor each sentence and digest its meaning. Anaïs Nin possessed passion, courage and freedom. I admire her for not being afraid of expressing her vulnerabilities and most intimate thoughts. With that said, the following quote resonated within my being.

" The morning I got up to begin this book I coughed. Something was coming out of my throat: it was strangling me. I broke the thread which held it and yanked it out. I went back to bed and said: I have just spat out my heart. There is an instrument called the quena made of human bones. It owes its origin to the worship of an Indian for his mistress. When she died he made a flute out of her bones. The quena has a more penetrating more haunting sound than the ordinary flute. Those who write know the process. I thought of it as I was spitting out my heart. Only I do not wait for my love to die."

When it rains, it pours

For a while things are great, and then suddenly the torrential downpour arrives. This is usually how life unfolds. Today I got some bad news. Throughout the day I had to keep asking myself, "is it serious?" I suppose in the grand scheme of things, not really. However, I am human, and it is difficult not to feel sad when faced with unfortunate circumstances. Physically this problem manifested itself in the form of a migraine. Right now, I just want to go in my room and sleep. I had difficulty concentrating while I was at work, and felt somewhat disoriented. What I find interesting is that last night I had a frightening dream. All I can remember is that I was bleeding to death. There was blood everywhere. I woke up terrified, and expecting to find myself lying in a pool of blood. I suppose this was a sign from the unconscious part of my being. A harbinger, foreshadowing what was going to transpire.

Sometimes I wish I could reach into my brain and "turn off" my dreams. Other times it is my obsessive-compulsive nature that I wish that I could amputate.

Of course, for now I must endure what I am faced with. I am ready for the challenge.

Sunshine

I went to visit a little girl that I know at the hospital today. She is currently in ICU. Her parents brought her to the ER after she exhibited several serious symptoms such as vomiting, extreme thirst, and incontinence of bladder. The doctors informed her parents that she had Type 1 Diabetes, she is only nine years old. She will have to watch her diet, and endure insulin injections daily.

She is like sunshine bringing warmth to everyone around her. She amuses me with her obsession with Hannah Montana, and educates me on the importance of knowing who the Jonas Brothers are. I hope that she feels supported and loved, and emerges from this situation with renewed strength.

Writer's block

"Write what should not be forgotten." ~Isabel Allende

When I was a young girl I had a diary that I would write in on a daily basis. All of my adventures, thoughts and emotions were contained within. It remained hidden underneath my bed for a long time. One day I came home from school and saw it on the dinner table. My mom had found it and read every single page. I felt not only embarrassed but betrayed. That day all of the pages were destroyed, but the memories that inspired my writing remained. From that point forward until about the age of 20 I stopped writing anything personal.

However, housed within my body was an insatiable desire to express my inner thoughts and feelings. Words were whirling around in my head, manifesting themselves in the form of dreams. I chose poetry/short stories as my primary method because it was a beautiful way to transform my memories and experiences into something that hopefully others could relate to. I could add some magical elements to my poetry/stories, and carefully craft what I wanted to say. In addition, the process has been cathartic. My poetry book has taken the place of my diary.

I no longer keep it hidden. Its location changes depending on the day. Sometimes it is on the couch, other days it is on the washing machine, and most days it sits quietly next to my nightstand waiting for me to nourish it words.

Combat mission

Sorry dad...

Head in the Clouds

There is so much beauty and visual poetry surrounding us that is often overlooked. People tend to dismiss the environmental gems that surround them, opting instead to focus their spotlight consciousness on other things.

I spend a significant amount of time looking up at the sky on my way to work, as the traffic is always stop and go. I particularly derive amusement from examining the form and patterns of clouds. About two weeks ago, I observed six clouds perfectly aligned, and resembling Mayan glyphs. I was so amazed by this celestial configuration, that I couldn't stop looking up at the sky.

El tiempo pasa

A year ago today I received a fateful phone call. I remember feeling as though I had been thrust into an abyss of dark despair. Each word was a poisoned arrow puncturing my heart. As the news of my grandmother's death was relayed to me, I felt pure darkness and solitude envelop me like a cocoon. In one moment my life had dramatically changed. The core of my being was shaken, I was raped of one of the only things that had remained consistent and predictable in my life. A tornado formed in my mind, memories collided against one another, fighting to survive. Confusion set in; I found myself face to face with a side of me that for many years had remained dormant and starving. What would result from this rapacious hunger?

Losing my grandmother was one of the most heart-wrenching things I have ever experienced. However, it was the beginning of a journey inward that would finally bring me out of the shadows...

You were the catalyst for my creative expressions, and were responsible for my metamorphosis from a moth into a butterfly. Today it is with love that I remember you. I carry you with me always, and your name is permanently carved on the walls of my heart. I hope to someday leave a mark on the world as you did. Thank you for everything, I miss you.