sunday scribblings - #163 -- disconnected

i am a rock

zara was heading west with no particular destination in mind – her journey was not preordained with any sort of fixed itinerary, but rather just a free-wheeling sort of junket to wherever the spirit moved her --- even though the meaning of her name was “princess” from hebrew origin, she dressed like an itinerant, said sassy and provocative things to the truckers at the gas bars, and cracked her gum whenever she pleased – in reality she craved being this free spirited character that she was portraying, who had just hit the open road a few days ago with a full tank of gas and no obligations or expectations, no one to criticize or debase her, no one to trust but herself – a couple of times her spirit had gotten free enough to frighten her, and she’d had to - “whoa, hoss!” - rein herself in, but by and large it was all GOOD!!!

she loved the old “tunes from her childhood” as she was want to refer to them, and they streamed non stop from the radio, wrapping around her head and her heart like silk swaddling – her generation had gapped long ago and far away, and she was well aware that musically she lived in a time warp of sorts that easily dated her but she didn’t really give a damn --- into the mix of “oldies” came a song from simon and garfunkel – without being aware of it, zara immediately pulled herself up and sat taller and prouder, like an imperial monarch behind the wheel, and as she barreled down the highway she shrieked (never could sing!) along at the top of her lungs – this was HER! tune – she thumped her fist on the wheel keeping perfect time and bellered, “I AM A ROCK, I AM AN ISLAND!!!” --- gearing down for the last two lines she dramatically whispered, “AND A ROCK FEELS NO PAIN --- AND AN ISLAND NEVER CRIES!!!” – then as usual at this point in time she had come totally undone, flipped ass over tea kettle into a meltdown, and found herself wrenched with such ferocious sobbing that she was forced to pull off the road or drive blind --- some rock!!!

zara quickly lit a much needed smoke – the slower breathing pattern helped her overcome the great quaking gasps of her weeping and get herself down to simmer instead of full boil – after she’d sat there for a bit and had a couple of more smokes, zara finally got her act together and pulled cautiously back into the traffic feeling drained and driving more sedately --- the freeness of her spirit and the joy of that freedom seemed extinguished along with the final cigarette ---

the miles were clicking by and zara was whooshing around in her head like a psycho on ‘shrooms while she maneuvered the car as if on auto pilot --- she was sure some rock alright – she felt no pain, yeh-right! --- and the island that never cried – well that just purged itself back there on a strange and lonely roadside, didn’t it, sports fans???

how had she ever arrived at the bottom of the heap of her own life? - when had this all started and why? – was she such a rotten kid that she was unlikable and retreated into herself? – how come all the other kids would call one another out to play and leave her out? – why was she staring down the barrel of her second divorce – hadn’t she always tried to be the very best mate she could do? – how had her family left so many misunderstandings misunderstood? – how was it that she was misused and abused in her great effort to be a “part” of the world? – had she ever really been valued by anyone? – where had there been any help while she was a battered wife? - was she truly just a waste of skin? – she felt so alienated and disenfranchised and desperately alone – this free spirit and inner strength that people were privy to was just another mask, wasn’t it? – did or would anyone really unconditionally care for or about her ever? – would she always need to be a rock? – or an island? – forever??? – would she ever feel “connected” to anyone or anything? – she’d heard others talk about their warm snuggly life experiences and could barely restrain tears of sadness that she’d had none --- in a bid to get her attention, someone once alluded to the old streissand tune about people who need people being the luckiest people in the world (another tear jerker) --- well, she sure as hell needed atleast one good people, but she didn’t fancy herself lucky for that!!! ---

back where she had come from, there were quite a few people gathered at her home in an effort to find her, alarmed at her hasty departure and her unknown whereabouts – it was a sad irony about which she would never aware as she drove aimlessly into the never ending night, weeping at her overpowering feeling of disconnectedness ---

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sunday scribblings - #162 -- healing

heal thyself

before they left san fran for the napa valley on sunday morning katie had called her husband to touch base and murmur sweet things into the phone which probably made her feel a whole lot better than she was trying to make him feel all things considered – she knew he was getting ready for church when she called and she asked him to have a good talk with the Lord and pray bigger and harder than he ever had before – they had arrived at a point in time where the drug cache was very nearly rock bottom, and katie was carefully rationing the meagre stash out to dodie – enough to prevent her from going on a full blown one way trip into the screamie-meemies but far from what she was accustomed to taking because among dodie’s known dealers there seemed to be more demand than there was supply --- the night had been tortuous for dodie, filled with her demons, and exhausting for katie, filled with dodie’s needs and wants --- this had been going on week now, each night a little worse than the one before, each a nightmare all its own

katie had walked on the embarcardero early that morning while dodie was finally quiet and resting for a short while --- she sucked in the cool damp air - she tasted the salt as the wind currents shifted and swirled in the bay, and something bitter as some of her own demons threatened to rear their ugly heads – she could see alcatraz and at a little distance the red golden gate bridge rising from the fog, looking like it was part of an unfinished fairy tale – she knew she needed to get their show on the road, and reluctantly she began heading back toward powell street and the chaos that would make up the next and last 24 hours that she knew were still her duty ---

traffic on the bridge was a fright mare – they drove like crazy people here compared to the traffic patterns back home with which she was familiar - katie was happy to put paid to it and finally be napa valley bound ---

they stopped in napa itself to get some snacks and more booze for dodie to have at the motel overnight – there was simply no other way about it – dodie was first out of the car and moved toward the store as if she’d been commissioned under threat to get her tail in there as fast as possible – like a race against the fiends who were in charge of all things dodie --- katie was much slower getting out of the car – she lumbered out of the impala with age and exhaustion oppressing her big time, but suddenly she was energized!!! beyond measure as she looked down --- there at her feet, screaming! white and pristine, was a vicodin - spotless and gleaming in the sun, all by its own self there in its sunday perfection - jeez!!! --- go figure!!! --- her eyes welled over and she sank to her knees with gratitude – her husband must have been kneeling on rice and entreating his Higher Power all morning for this outcome --- she quickly scanned the immediate environs for more, but something told her not to push it – she said a silent prayer of thanksgiving and moved on to catch up with dodie – when she showed it to her, dodie swore that katie must have had this put aside all the while --- not the case, but no point in arguing ---

they checked into a motel in st. helena at suppertime, ordered a pizza and began the work of keeping dodie’s bottomless glass full - along with little bits and pieces of phenobarb and vicodin to keep her mellow, katie knew they’d make the overnight ---

the two cousins sat out on the patio and as it grew later, katie began to speak of her own personal experiences - the depths she had plumbed in her own life, the epiphanies and insights she’d come to accept and deal with, and the growth she’d experienced in her recuperative times – usually she was reticent and self-deprecating but for some reason she felt her age, experiences and wisdom combining into a force that she hoped would penetrate dodie’s fog and at least set the tone for this rehab episode --- she was trying to help dodie see that this was the fight of her life without scaring her to death --- she commended her for coming to this point on her journey, while at the same time she tried to help her see that it was now all up to her --- the supports were going to be there, the groups and the counselors, her fellow clients with similar problems, and the educational material – she would get good and adequate nutrition, an exercise program, and any number of psychological programs --- but the bottom line was that she had to do this by herself and for herself, she had to facilitate and allow the healing to come from deep within her, she had to true up to things she may not want to know or see --- she needed to plumb her own depths, gain her own epiphanies and insights to accept and deal with, and get to a recuperative place and time where she could savour her own personal changes and wisdom and allow herself to grow through it --- to heal!!!

the morning would bring the first day of the rest of her life --- and a new meaning for her of the words, “heal thyself!!!”

sunday scribblings --- # 161 - confession

mea culpa – mea culpa – mea maxima culpa

--- “they” say that confession is good for the soul --- it strikes me that for some people that cliché philosophy might be a gimmick or a hook of sorts, and i’m not altogether sure i buy into it lock, stock, and barrel at this stage of my life ---

under the tutelage of “old school” strict nuns and priests from the first to the thirteenth grade – and beyond that throughout my post-secondary education - it became pretty firmly established in my mind that i was such a sinner and so in need of the confessional that i was quite nearly a waste of skin ---

in elementary school we were taken in a brood to mass every morning before classes began and part of the ritual was to receive communion --- hence, every afternoon before school got out we had to “order” our breakfast for the next morning – the breakfast order consisted of a chocolate dipped doughnut and/or a cinnamon swirl with white and/or chocolate milk – the way of things all those years ago required that one be fasting as a prerequisite to communion --- on a few occasions i’d thought i’d like not to have “breakfast” at school or i was caught out daydreaming --- WELL!!! – weren’t we (there were always others) in the soup then??? – the good sisters could fathom no reason for not going to communion except that we were in a state of sin – not acceptable, kids!!! --- so we were promptly trotted over to the church adjacent to go to confession ---

the confessional was hot and dark and scary and it smelled YUNKY! and you tried your level best not to hear another’s list of bad things confided just beyond the priest in the middle cuz you for sure didn’t want your stuff overheard - especially cuz half the time you were owning up to things as serious as talking in class or not doing your homework --- dastardly deeds at eight or nine years of age to be sure!!! --- somewhere along the line the sins grew along with my age and became more truly things to be acknowledged but certainly not the makings of a heaven or hell disposition ---

in my post secondary years in training to be a registered nurse it got a little dicier and very tricky to handle my transgressions because the good sisters had quite a different outlook on life than did i – you could be called from working in the hospital at any given moment and summoned to residence to meet with Sister H. and those calls struck terror in every one of our hearts --- you just knew the seat was going to be a real hot one – maybe you had folded your cap a stitch higher than regulation and one of three late leaves for that month would be cancelled – you were otherwise allowed two 10 o’clocks and one 11 o’clock leave each month, and all the other nights found you safe and sound in residence by 8 o’clock ---

in one instance when i got one of these sudden and unexpected calls i had no idea what awaited me and i sweated bullets all the way back to residence and my hands were shaking so badly that i could barely get the buttons fastened on a clean uniform – another requisite before you went to the office ---

so now front and centre in the office i stand in perfectly clean linens and shoelaces to be told the following by Sister H. – “miss p------! – you are crude, common, cheap, easy and vulgar!!!” --- clearly i was at a disadvantage in that she knew what she was about and i had no clue --- so like a sheep to slaughter i swallowed the boulder in my throat and chest and bravely and quietly said – “yes, sister” --- had to play it cool and collected here since i’d no idea what had brought this on and i was damned if i was about to tell on myself for something she didn’t even know – at least as yet --- the bottom line of all my degenerate and reprobate behaviour this time around turned out to be the fact that another nun had seen me eating breakfast that morning with the top button of my uniform undone --- can you imagine??!!!???!

so now when i respond to the prompt “confession” it is from a place where i believe that being honest and candid in my daily life is not only its own form of confession, but also not a bad way to go if i am able to keep it all balanced with some empathy and tact --- morality is as good for the soul as is confession, me thinks!!!

sunday scribblings --- # 160 - follow

a slice of life

katie welcomed the peace and quiet of darkness lit only by the candles glowing randomly around the room – her thoughts were equally random, waxing and waning just as the candle flames, teasing her like the worst of all flirts --- she was trying to make sense of this whole bizarre situation and as it all came back to her, it was the stuff of which tears are made --- and hers flowed freely leaving the trail of their tracks down her face and dripping off her chin – plop-plop-plop! --- so much emotion to purge in order to make room for more ---

when 9/11 had come and gone it had left her uncle mike with an irreparable hole in his heart – sorrowfully, he had watched every second of the coverage on cnn, and he wept when he learned of the death of one of the first responders in new york – a fellow who was in the service with him and who had become a fire fighter after his army days --- he went on mourning his country, unable to heal that heart wound – it was irrevocable and permanent, a pain that could not be put in words --- and it was believed by the family to be the cause of his sudden heart death just a few months later --- only three days before christmas ---

katie remembered her shock when bits and pieces of her computer arrived over three days beginning on the second of january – she learned that it was one of the last bits of business – having it custom built for her - that mike had tended to before his untimely death --- they had shared a love for words since she had been a precocious two year old, and gave back as good as she got when he was teasing with her – she fervently wished there were a way to go back and see those little verbal sparring matches in real time ---

the computer had been mike’s legacy to her – but, even if it had been just a gum wrapper it would have meant just as much, just knowing she had been his focus so shortly before he died --- and because of that very strong bond they had, she was where she was at this very moment – adrift in a real, real bad situation in san francisco --- like, REAL BAD!!!

she had learned just a month previously of the desperate state of affairs in which her cousin, dodie, was living – living? – HAH! – existing was more to the point, and barely even doing that most days --- seems dodie had been self-medicating ever since mike’s death five years past, and was currently nourishing herself with nothing but an average of ten vicodin a day and forty ounces of vodka with just enough ginger ale to lend a minimal bubble --- she was in end stage addiction and without an advocate to intervene her days were surely coming down to not so many ---

katie had learned of this terrifying state of affairs quite by accident, which was really a side issue --- and it left her thunderstruck that no one was stepping up to help dodie --- katie had spoken with her aunt emm, dodie’s mom, and had been frustrated to learn that dodie’s mom and her siblings were absolutely worn down by dodie’s high maintenance behavior – they were just plain tired of her bullshit, so no one was prepared to do boo – peep – or squat now ---

feeling so keenly her bond with her uncle, katie felt a sureness settle into her core – an absolute certainty that were he alive, HE would! be stepping up for his daughter – and it left her feeling unequivocally that she should step up in his place --- a way to pay it back and pay it forward at the same time – so having ironed out the logistics with aunt emm, here she was right smack dab in the middle ---

she had been in san fran five days now and she was spent – physically, emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically fried --- her days were consumed with unending phone calls to rehab centres, pleas to doctors, her aunt, social services and call backs from people who proved to be of no help whatsoever --- nights were a madcap and chaotic schedule of events that made a horror flick of the mad hatter’s tea party --- dodie was hallucinating, alternately screaming at phantoms and weeping hysterically in fear of them, and falling all over herself as she insisted on refilling her own glass at regular intervals ---

in addition to being up all night with dodie - who clearly had at least one foot into withdrawal (holy shit, very scary!) - today there had been extra icing on the cake for katie --- she had been forced to maneuver the huge chevy she’d rented around all the one-ways, and up and down the hills of this unfamiliar city to get to the haight-ashbury district - home of jerry garcia and the grateful dead, and still looking like hippie-heaven!!! --- the high point of her trip to the haight was doing a pre-arranged drug deal to score some vicodin and whatever else she could get to keep dodie up and going and she felt like it was all an out of body experience --- like WHAT THE HELL!!???! was she doing buying street drugs??? --- she had a very provincial way of life in a small city of a hundred thousand that was north of sixty, and she simply couldn’t reconcile that with her current activity --- WHAT WAS SHE THINKING???!!!!!!??? --- in fact she wasn’t thinking at all, but running like sixty through all the prayers she knew in her mind that she wouldn’t get arrested on top of everything else --- “dirty deeds done dirt cheap!” --- get me back to powell near the embarcadero ASAP, pulleeeze!!!

she had known she was into another of what would be many “iffy” situations before she actually delivered dodie to a rehab in the napa valley - she finally spotted her guy, and approached her business with marty robbins crooning in her head about a white sport coat and a pink carnation --- he was a beautiful man, a pure purple-black and he looked altogether prosperous if one were to go by the weight of gold around his neck and in his teeth --- he acknowledged her almost imperceptibly and she realized business would be done “over coffee” – so very civilized! – and trance like she followed him into a café and waited for the caffeine and its brother chemicals to come her way – in a matter of minutes she was bent to the task of secreting the holy stash safely in her purse - when she raised her head once more he was long since gone ---

she was repeating her heavenly pleas like an impassioned mantra and walking in time to that rhythm in her head – it kept some anxiety at bay --- and her faith in the purity of her motives

was standing her strong

she was following her heart!!!

ss - #159 - language

LOVE UNSPOKEN

his gaze lingered on her
she cast down her eyes
that he might look longer
without being known

they walked hand in hand
along the shore’s edge
unmindful of the stares -
a world known only to them

they danced all alone on
each new years eve
clad in flannel pajamas -
unspoken renewal of their commitment

they sat outside
on velvet soft nights
each drinking in the other -
punctuated only by sighs of contentment

at the end of his days
she curled softly and gently beside him
she crooned anthems of love that had no words
and lovingly stoked his hair and his face

words uncalled for
redundant --- superfluous
all is communicated
in their language of love

sunday scribblings --- #155 --- “i came from …..”

song of a silver swan

deeply cocooned in a swaddle of soft cozy blankets she lay quietly on the chaise lounge near the hearth – the jewelled hues of the flames mesmerized her as they reflected along the lines of the opalescent damask as she sank deeper and further away from the world around her ---

mary kate knew that she was actively dying and she burned with the fever of her impending death as sound swirled around her as senselessly as the voices at babel must have sounded in their time --- as she contemplated her condition the sounds made little difference to her beyond the fact that they were kind and gentle, filled with caring and calm --- her nieces were watching over her with such love and respect that she’d surely have tears were she not so very dehydrated --- inwardly the tears cascaded around and through her core, bathing her very essence, saturating her spirit with sensations that defied the inevitability of her death and endowing her with a sense of well being that she had experienced all too infrequently ---

free fall could best describe her thought process as she waited contentedly for her demise – her thoughts hopped from hither to yon, like birds drunk on fermented berries, with fragments of disconnected memories ---

she was just your average every day spindly kid – or so she thought at the time – stupid looking and graceless, gawky and clumsy --- it would be many years after she passed the peak of her own personal physical beauty that she could look back in a melancholy to see how truly pretty she had been – certainly far too many years to begin using her good looks upon which to build the self-confidence that she lacked all those many lifetimes later ---

mary kate knew that some of the people around her had tried to buoy her up as a child – uncle leo had always called her “merrily” and smothered her with lavish bear hugs --- he was one of the special and important ones for her and she could now hear his cheery “merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream” and in a rush she remembered how he came to call her “merrily” ---

capriciously her recollections shifted their focus and abruptly shining in her mind she was the young woman who was living in a dorm - and the image she saw was the night her dorm mates killed her pet white mouse because they thought it was getting an overdose of vitamins - and she creatively captured her anger by putting lighter fluid on the terrazzo door sills of their rooms and lighting it --- when they came blasting out of their rooms in fear she was waiting with the fire extinguisher and covered every last one of them in foam --- hah!!!

switch!!! to her friend gwen who had helped her acquire an appreciation of candles and incense and freed up that part of her that had always envied but failed to treat herself to their use – together they had done art and amateur tarot readings while secrets were shared but always held in confidence --- so much different than those secrets in childhood that were always the proverbial elephants in the living room ---

she thought unexpectedly of kandy with whom she had been out of touch for years that seemed like a lifetime before they re-established their friendship – she was always wise, spiritual, and pragmatic and held tremendous confidences, all the time being totally supportive during mary kate's fears and sorrows ---

she knew the end was gaining ground now by the speed with which her recollections were flashing - illuminated randomly, speed strobing with scenes of abuse being blotted out by seeing herself trading comic books with the boys on the railroad tracks while the other girls played with their infernal dolls far below – incidents of nursing wounded mourning doves in the poison ivy under the evergreens supplanted by pictures of playing carelessly in the surf with the love of her life --- that first sexual tingle as she rode her bike on a bumpy dirt road, too young to even recognize it for what it was, displaced by mind snaps of the police answering her calls for help as she was battered yet again --- her cousin sylvia who had been so steadfast and patient with her during the really bad times ---

she had a short stark realization of the enormity of what had gone into comprising her life - bringing her full circle from the total dependence of the infant at birth to the total dependence of the infirm actively engaged with death ---

she had no fear – she only hoped death would be tender with her, like the late night walks she and her beloved had enjoyed – she had never hesitated to take his hand, to trust him to keep her safe and warm – she was far too young to be experiencing this phenomena of life, but she hoped she would pass from this life to the next without a moan or a fuss, but rather a silent swan song - so the happy loving noise would be the melody to which she could choreograph her final and solo waltz --- best for them to believe her asleep as she danced with elegance and pride from here to there ---





The phrase "swan song" is a reference to an ancient belief that the Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) is completely mute during its lifetime until the moment just before it dies, when it sings one beautiful song.



The well-known Orlando Gibbons madrigal (The Silver Swan) states the legend thus:

The silver Swan, who living had no Note,
when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:
"Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes!
"More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise."

note to self: can’t get there from here!

“kate, what the hell is wrong with that kid?”
“who knows,bob? – just who the hell knows anymore anyway??? – he’s just off in his head again – don’t pay any attention to him!!!”
brad was off in la-la land again --- his sister loved to tell people shit like that when he was caught up in his head and soooo removed from all the folks around him – she also said that he wasn’t wrapped too tight, that he was many few facets short of a good cut diamond, and all the rest of that crap that nine year olds spout off about before someone puts the brakes on their yap ---
today his uncle had said to him - and not for the first time - that he should have gone the way of his older brother and wrapped his cord around his neck before he landed on deck --- something that would have suited him straight down to his socks reverberated in his brain with an unending and irritating boing! boing! boing! --- they say you can never go back, but what if i could??? --- wonder if i would? – maybe a do-over wasn’t such a bad idea when you got right down to it!!! – maybe i could use that cord after all --- what a bittersweet idea!
he had no real memory of being as yet unborn – but some things he knew just as sure as he knew that stephen king was creepy – he knew that he should have done as his uncle said, he knew that his folks were not parent material, and he knew that by the time his little twirp of a sister was his age, eighteen, that she’d be off in her screwed up head, too!!!
secrets were as much a part of gestation as growing fingernails - that was one thing he knew even if he couldn’t vividly recall any of that time – when he rambled around in his head it cemented certain thoughts that became increasingly upsetting, thoughts that now were kept under a veil of secrecy as well and drove him starkers!!! --- it was supposed to be safe and warm as you lay there curled in innocence and becoming increasingly cramped for space – but he knew it couldn’t possibly have been a secure harbour – he tried to talk to his “mother” about the pregnancy and his early years – no satisfaction there – she cooly told him him he had coloured on the blinds and cost her a shitload of money – that the pregnancy brought more trouble to an already troubled marriage --- GAWD!!! – she had so many ways of making herself his victim and he hated it – he was her victim all along – why couldn’t she wrap her head around it???
he was at the mercy of her moods from the moment he was a fertilized ovum – what tipped her canoe threw him into a chemical storm against which he was defenseless with what had to be overdoses of adrenalin and god only knew what other hormones and chemicals --- by the time he stupidly let himself get popped out alive he was such a sensitive wreck that everything set him off – still at the mercy of her chemical maelstroms and their fallout, he had been an infant who was extremely high strung – coupled with a mother who lacked the skill set to be what he needed, things just went from bad to worse day by day, year by year, until here he was bouncing around in his own head again like a berserk mexican jumping bean ---
a part of him “got it” and realized she couldn’t offer what she never had – a much bigger part was filled with resentment and anger and sadness even after an epiphany of insight – and it was the sadness of it all that prevailed when he went off in his head - a sadness he could no longer bear ---
he had been doodling mindlessly on a writing pad and without warning he discovered that he had done more than doodled, he had written --- he guessed it would do, because regardless of what he wrote, they’d never get it in the end anyway –

as yet unborn with a top secret life
no available boundaries
just the innate skill of secrecy
overcome by chemical vagaries of
maternal mood and influence

born unvolitionally - overly sensitive
no available boundaries
just the innate skill of survival
overcome by the unskilled caregiver
maternal mood and influence

growing up – withdrawn and awkward
no available boundaries
just the innate knowledge
to be seen and not heard
maternal mood and influence

he cried - oh shit! how he cried!!! - and he rifled in his closet for the cord he needed ---

sunday scribblings --- #152 -- lost

give me a break

UH-OH!!! - LOST? WHO? ME??? – bet your sweet bippy i am --- this prompt did it to me BANG SALLY!!! with so many possible directions in which to go ---

my consciousness is going six ways for sunday, taking off on so many tangents that i feel incapable of containing it or even getting a slim grip on it --- i flounder attempting to capture the words of it as it runs amok, going at break neck speed with all the many and varied possibilities ---

reading a book – doing the laundry – driving to the grocery store – feeding the cats – you name it, and i’ve misplaced myself in too many ways and so many places that it is scary to dwell too long upon it ---

maybe it’s one of the pieces of my grief puzzle at this particular point in time – but until a year ago when doug died i had no such excuse and it happened regularly none the less ---

professionals would have me subscribe to the theory that i am not being mindful, and i have to give fair room to that idea --- but i have to wonder when i’m off in my head so much with all this stuff running wild if i’m not just a maniacal genius in disguise --- like what if i was really supposed to be einstein and he got here before me and beat me to it? - what about that, sports fans???

or maybe i got lost on my way to writing the strauss waltzes – like maybe the blue danube ought to have been my accomplishment – so many delicious things i may have done if only i’d been here first – but in truth and in fact, i wasn’t, was i? – more’s the pity ---

now that i am here, i’m discovering that i feel lost regularly on my journey – i seem to lack a proper compass for my sojourn in this mixed up earth place --- i have a moral compass, but is that all there is??? – like what the hell is my purpose here? – have I been dropped off by mistake in a place parallel to where i truly belong??? – sometimes I just hafta wonder!!!

i’d like to be the doer of something great and good but to this stage of the game i’ve not been cast in the role – does the producer need a bed mate, or what’s the story???

on the flip side, perhaps my standards are simply too high and i just need to give myself a break – maybe deeds done already have been great and good and my measuring stick is simply too big for me to handle - i can deal with that if i think about it a bit ---

i’ve heard it said that you can make it through a day without chocolate or an orgasm, but not without atleast one good rationalization --- maybe all i really need is a good rationalization and i’ll be just tickety-boo!!!

sunday scribblings --- #151 - trust

hindsight by candlelight

she lit another smoke in the half dark, and took another big swig of jack’s as she gazed hauntingly into the candle – it was the only light she could tolerate when her eyes were so swollen and burnt with these many melancholies and tears --- the deeper into the candle she sunk the more vivid and acute the pain became --- it engaged her on an almost feral level and consumed her more quickly than she could consume the booze --- fifteen years of her life down the tubes and nothing but this grip of agony to prove its reality!!!

hannah had been over the moon to begin with – twenty-one with two months to spare and engaged to a fellow that she had eyed from afar for several months – then he asked her to go out and it was all too good to be true!!! --- next she actually became a bona fide fiancee --- WOW!!!

hiccups in the relationship started, and like any respectable case of hiccups, they kept coming back – so she literally held her breath each time she felt the need to assert her own true self as things progressed --- he treated her condescendingly each time she confided misgivings over the whole marriage thing, and she soon began to doubt her own feelings and put all of her faith in his answers --- when she expressed uncertainty that she really wanted to marry and have her time consumed with other penned in women prattling on about kitchen curtains, measles,cookie recipes, and the like, he patronized her yet again and softly coaxed her into the belief that she was suffering a little case of pre-nuptial jitters --- the jitters began to evolve into seismic activity sized doses of anxiety, but she was IN LOVE!!! - and so it was that he was so easy with the facility to talk her out of her own convictions, qualms or reservations --- she went forward with her certainty based on his wants and needs, and all too soon the wedding was actually happening, becoming a fait accompli - and hannah was caught up in the hype and excitement of the real deal as it actually transpired ---

she had seen herself softly and romantically clothed in a flowing, liquid mother of pearl gown, glowing in ethereal beams of a subtle otherworldly light --- her attendants had looked waif like, seeming almost to be fragile and rare butterflies with sequined wings --- the groom and his group stood waiting, elegant in dazzling formal wear – it was all very distorted in her mind!!! --- back then it had felt like an inter-galactic affair but in truth and in fact, it was an ordinary october wedding with all the usual bells and whistles on a very modest scale --- more’s the pity for the girl in love with love rather than well and truly in love – desperate to escape a life filled with disappointment and woe by romanticizing her independence and freedom from what came before --- seeing what lay ahead as perfect and beautiful, an unblemished and untroubled “happy ever after”

BUT THOSE DAMNED HICCUPS WERE STILL TAKING HER BREATH AWAY!!!

soon after the big day was over and done with, they returned with the vengeance of a mythical creature betrayed in the worst way --- and as if to add insult to injury she became pregnant when she least expected it – far and away too soon to suit her - and her worst fears were being realized --- all the worst case scenarios that ever she had fantasized were fact rather than fiction --- and now when she tried to unburden her heart to her groom he was no longer patient or kind --- he was callous and rude, debasing her intentionally and calculatingly ---

her insight had grown proportionately to her overloaded belly and on the birth day her hopes and dreams were as empty as that same recently evacuated belly --- the downhill ride which was the remaining years of the marriage had been terrifying and brutal, ending with a predictable fatality of the whole relationship ---

why had she let herself get roped into that mess? – why did her life mate change so drastically? – had he really changed so drastically? – or was she finally in touch with a reality from which he had cajoled her away? – she could see it all with such clarity now in the waxing and waning glow of the candle - his own ulterior motives of having a family as an accomplishment, a trophy of sorts!!! --- a way of inflating his sick, sorry, and sad self-image - a pretentious way to make up for all that he had seen himself to thus far lack in life – he was the same manipulative SOB that she had happily allowed to drown her skepticism in the first place --- she felt opressed by her own need and stupidity - how had she let this happen to her --- shit!!!

why had she not trusted her own intuition??? --- maybe someday she could --- maybe someday when she didn’t need the jack’s and the candle --- maybe someday she would ---

just maybe!!!

sunday scribblings --- #149 - art

renaissance widow

there is a force that is drawing me out and encouraging me to keep it real - an ideal prompt helping me to once more be open and honest and a great segue between last week and this ---

i usually rely heavily on my words – however, when i saw the topic of the week at sunday scribblings i felt emboldened to post some body art for all to see, and fall back on my words simply for explanation and background rather than the essay being the pivotal point of my post

i arrived at a place in my grief this past summer which caused a major and total meltdown and culminated with a psychiatric admission --- it heaped trauma upon trauma for me - i am one of those people who subscribe to the theory that it will always happen to someone else, but surely not me!!! --- anyway, i became the someone else – it was surreal and i hardly recognized myself!!!

with nothing but professionals and time on my hands i became acutely aware that i desperately needed to focus on myself and figure out how i was going to survive this indescribable anguish and sorrow which refused to give a respite --- lopsided trial and error finally prevailed with a half baked idea that i would work on reinventing myself --- as the ideas began to come into the light i put them on my own bucket list and went from there ---

my hair would be longer(still a work in progress) and i’d get that tattoo that i’d secretly wanted for the longest time – these were at the top of the list

i decided to do a whole sleeve on my right arm as a memorial to my hero --- between october and the middle of december while my hair began to get longer, i worked at my body art and i’m very proud to display it here as a done deal ---

my friend volunteered to draw it out for me so that it fit my arm properly and incorporated as many elements of my idea as possible --- my tattoo artist tried to grant my every wish patiently - and i am really proud of the finished product - and pleased as well that i had the forbearance to withstand the people who told me that it was a silly thing to do at my age, yatta-yatta, and otherwise tried to discourage me!!!

my sleeve is comprised of all my hero’s favourite flowers from our yard – summer was his favourite time of the year ---

he most preferred sunflowers, and so i began with that – the yin and yang in its middle represents the beautiful balance we had in our marriage

he was keen on morning glories, too – so they are weaving their vine down and through from my shoulder to my wrist --- the calico cat is named girly-girl, and she’s there also – a butterfly, ecchinacea, a lady bug, daisy, purple delphinium and orange impatiens to name just a few, find their way down my arm --- he was a big peanuts fan, so charlie brown, woodstock, and snoopy are at the base of the florals --- finishing it off is his signature scanned in from an inscription in one of the stephen king books that were always special gifts, and always inscribed with a message of love and that special signature ---

and so began this complex journey into widowhood and loneliness, and i feel some pride of accomplishment to have gotten my body art – one by one i’ll add to my bucket list and one by one i will achieve the things on it --- and i will continue to be the renaissance widow for the balance of my years!!!