i'm living in one of those between times--the time before the sun makes up its mind about rising or falling. it's gray, it's murky, it's plush and soft, and i'd like to remain insulated thusly forever.
the problem with being in said position is that at some point you have to wade out and face reality.
reality in the form of many, many things: my yowling cats, a car that needs work, bills that probably should be paid, milk before it goes bad--i could continue for weeks on end.
sleeping and waking in the gray is tempting. it's safe here--secure. i can pretend that the rest of the world and its opinions don't matter to me.
i am the ostrich, head stuck in sand.
and i'm comfortable.
i think a lot of the time it's because of this that my life stalls out. it's not that there is not fuel, or that i cannot find the fuel, to keep going. it's because locating fuel takes effort, and living in the gray is effortless, like coasting down a long, sloping hill.
there are always hurdles, and the hurdles and fences of the world are what stop me. there is usually a way around the distraction: i can hop over it, i can look for a way around, i can get pissed and just punch my way through ala the doors and break on through to the other side.
but again, that requires effort. and i am a minimal effort kind of person.
that doesn't mean that my house is a mess--because it's not. it doesn't mean my kitchen is moldy--because it's not--or that my cats are living in filth.
the definition is simply that instead of scaling mount everest, i'm the one cleaning out the pots and pans at base camp. and i'm happy to be there and not proclaiming myself queen of the known universe at the apex of a mountain.
my problem, i am discovering, is that i feel the pressure of the world's expectations of me to be the one at the top of the mountain. i feel pressure to be in as good of shape as my sister, the marathon runner, whose dog can wear me out after two miles. i feel pressure to be as well-dressed as my youngest sister, who is always at the height of fashion and make-up. and i feel the ubiquitous pressure of friends to keep up with the proverbial fucking jones family, whoever they are, blast and damn them to hell.
in the end, however, i keep trying to remind myself that the pressures i feel are all self-inflicted. just because someone says something does not make it so--ie, if i am told the sky is yellow, i've gotta check for myself before agreeing; science needs to back it up with fact.
now, if someone implies that i'm a plump woman, i take it to the next level. when i walk past a mirror, all i can see is my giant ass, crammed into khakis, swaying around like a lost planet. it does not matter that probably half the planet has larger tushes; mine is attached to this body, and this body is what i lug around on a daily basis.
that is just a simplified example of the self-flagellation that i perform on a habitual cycle. all the things i have agreed to--the things other people have said, the things society has mentioned--i have agreed to without pause, without basing my ideals in fact, without using logic. so when i look in the mirror, i can see all those labels pasted on me, as if i were a piece of luggage that's been round the world a few times.
yeah, i can blame the world, but in the end, i was the one who applied the stickers.
and in the gray, i'm too tired to remove them. perhaps tomorrow, when the fog lifts, after i have slept, after i have filled the hours with baking and cleaning and all kinds of things that cloud the between hours with meaningless matter--then, perhaps, i will sit down and begin to clean up my mental decoupage.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
i need an interpreter! STAT!
the world is full of languages. there's that great story about the tower of babel, where all the people were together and couldn't understand a word the people around them were saying.
personally, i rarely run into this type of issue. i live in minnesota, and although there is a TON of diversity here (we boast the highest level of hmong-americans in the states) i scarcely ever run into issues with language.
i will freely admit to the exception of my hearing, which really needs to have subtitles at all times. case in point: earlier two teammates were discussing an issue. the comment was made that someone would "back up" soon, in relation to sides of the building and a person. i was really confused because i thought they said that the person had hiccups.
so mis-hearing things is a BIG part of my daily life.
i rely heavily on body language to get through the day--if i do not understand the words, if someone cannot enunciate, etc--then it becomes vital that i am reading their body and face well enough to keep up with the conversation.
emailing, unfortunately, is open to so much interpretation that it's painful, and none of it relies on anything but little ol' me.
long ago i learned the hard way that you cannot read ANYTHING into an email--you have to feel out the sender if you need more explanation.
during the workday, while you're sitting at your desk/cube/in your car/wherever you work, you are already dragging around the stress of work. you're annoyed because you had to leave the warmth and familiarity of your own home, and come in to a chilly office that surrounds you with the soft shade of gray and the gripes of a thousand souls.
so when you get an email that could be taken in a variety of ways, all of a sudden, the outlet appears.
i know this happens because it happens to me all the time, and it happens with everyone i know. my sister sends an email, my aunt, my father, my friends, my coworkers--and i read it and interpret their emotions, their feelings, their opinions, and it swells like high tide. before i know it, all the ugly that i have been schlepping around for the past week--at home and now at work--all of it pours out, and i see those words, and i react in a manner that perhaps i would not if the person were standing in front of me.
i know i have said things in emails that i would probably never say in real life, simply because the object of my anger is not sitting beside me, to remind me that i am speaking to another human being. i'm sitting in my gray cage, being angry, and replying with angry words because it's an angry kind of day.
if it happens, i want to deal with it, which is why email is a boon and at the same time, a horrible, horrible medium.
emailing facts is one thing--"it is 75 degrees outside and sunny here."
emailing opinions--"i really did not like that salad you made for dinner last night"-- is a horse of another color.
yesterday, i had enough of the angry.
it has only been 21 days since that bridge collapsed. years are in between me and the death of dan's brother, of my aunt, of cari's mom. but it all is so sudden, and i need to keep that in mind. i would not want to be gone tomorrow and have the people around me think, "she died hating me" or "i never got the chance to talk to her about that issue."
i am old enough to want to just nip things in the bud and move on, and live life instead of pussy-footing around the issue. it takes up too much time and energy, both of which could be better spent elsewhere--cuddling with my boyfriend, playing catch with my kitty, writing and re-writing the half-assed novel with which i've been noodling.
in the end, the end happens too quickly.
yesterday morning i went and found my copy of epictetus--this is obviously a modernized version of the original. epictetus, if anyone wonders, lived way back in nero's day (the guy who was violining when rome burned). he was born a slave and a cripple--unable to be anything more, in that time. luckily, his owner sent epictetus to school alongside his own son, and eventually emancipated him. he became a well-known philosopher, but eventually was exiled for being a philosopher.
he's one of the original stoics, and taught marcus aurelius at one point. i ought to read "the art of living" more often; the first page alone was so perfect for the situation that i will post a bit of it here:
"Happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of one principle: Some things are within our control and some things are not. It is only after you have faced up to this fundamental rule and learned to distinguish between what you can and can't control that inner tranquility and outer effectiveness become possible.
Within our control are our own opinions, aspirations, desires and the things that repel us....
Outside of our control, however, are such things as what kind of body we have, whether we're born into wealth or strike it rich, how we are regarded by others, and our status in society. We must remember that those things are externals and therefore not our concern. Trying to control or to change what we can't only results in torment."
personally, i rarely run into this type of issue. i live in minnesota, and although there is a TON of diversity here (we boast the highest level of hmong-americans in the states) i scarcely ever run into issues with language.
i will freely admit to the exception of my hearing, which really needs to have subtitles at all times. case in point: earlier two teammates were discussing an issue. the comment was made that someone would "back up" soon, in relation to sides of the building and a person. i was really confused because i thought they said that the person had hiccups.
so mis-hearing things is a BIG part of my daily life.
i rely heavily on body language to get through the day--if i do not understand the words, if someone cannot enunciate, etc--then it becomes vital that i am reading their body and face well enough to keep up with the conversation.
emailing, unfortunately, is open to so much interpretation that it's painful, and none of it relies on anything but little ol' me.
long ago i learned the hard way that you cannot read ANYTHING into an email--you have to feel out the sender if you need more explanation.
during the workday, while you're sitting at your desk/cube/in your car/wherever you work, you are already dragging around the stress of work. you're annoyed because you had to leave the warmth and familiarity of your own home, and come in to a chilly office that surrounds you with the soft shade of gray and the gripes of a thousand souls.
so when you get an email that could be taken in a variety of ways, all of a sudden, the outlet appears.
i know this happens because it happens to me all the time, and it happens with everyone i know. my sister sends an email, my aunt, my father, my friends, my coworkers--and i read it and interpret their emotions, their feelings, their opinions, and it swells like high tide. before i know it, all the ugly that i have been schlepping around for the past week--at home and now at work--all of it pours out, and i see those words, and i react in a manner that perhaps i would not if the person were standing in front of me.
i know i have said things in emails that i would probably never say in real life, simply because the object of my anger is not sitting beside me, to remind me that i am speaking to another human being. i'm sitting in my gray cage, being angry, and replying with angry words because it's an angry kind of day.
if it happens, i want to deal with it, which is why email is a boon and at the same time, a horrible, horrible medium.
emailing facts is one thing--"it is 75 degrees outside and sunny here."
emailing opinions--"i really did not like that salad you made for dinner last night"-- is a horse of another color.
yesterday, i had enough of the angry.
it has only been 21 days since that bridge collapsed. years are in between me and the death of dan's brother, of my aunt, of cari's mom. but it all is so sudden, and i need to keep that in mind. i would not want to be gone tomorrow and have the people around me think, "she died hating me" or "i never got the chance to talk to her about that issue."
i am old enough to want to just nip things in the bud and move on, and live life instead of pussy-footing around the issue. it takes up too much time and energy, both of which could be better spent elsewhere--cuddling with my boyfriend, playing catch with my kitty, writing and re-writing the half-assed novel with which i've been noodling.
in the end, the end happens too quickly.
yesterday morning i went and found my copy of epictetus--this is obviously a modernized version of the original. epictetus, if anyone wonders, lived way back in nero's day (the guy who was violining when rome burned). he was born a slave and a cripple--unable to be anything more, in that time. luckily, his owner sent epictetus to school alongside his own son, and eventually emancipated him. he became a well-known philosopher, but eventually was exiled for being a philosopher.
he's one of the original stoics, and taught marcus aurelius at one point. i ought to read "the art of living" more often; the first page alone was so perfect for the situation that i will post a bit of it here:
"Happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of one principle: Some things are within our control and some things are not. It is only after you have faced up to this fundamental rule and learned to distinguish between what you can and can't control that inner tranquility and outer effectiveness become possible.
Within our control are our own opinions, aspirations, desires and the things that repel us....
Outside of our control, however, are such things as what kind of body we have, whether we're born into wealth or strike it rich, how we are regarded by others, and our status in society. We must remember that those things are externals and therefore not our concern. Trying to control or to change what we can't only results in torment."
Saturday, August 18, 2007
the psychology of a muffin
i will never forget the first time i had dinner with my friend, cari. i knew we would probably be best friends, right then and there, when she was sauteing peppers and asked if i'd mind music, and the living room was filled with alice in chains.
about two weeks later we were sitting at work. one of the younger kids came and sat with us, where we were doing a crossword. (i know, it sounds really staid, but i think that was the day we gave up on the clues and tried just fitting swear words into the puzzle. "will fuck fit there? no? how about fuk? sweet.") tom sat down and we chatted for a few minutes, and then he said, so what kind of music to you guys listen to? dave matthews?
we both grimaced and rattled off a list of bands. as the list grew, so did the size of tom's eyes. he clearly had no clue that two girls working at a grocery store and wearing green aprons could possibly enjoy music that makes moms cringe and dads yell things such as: "will you turn that crap down? for the love of god!"
is it because i don't look like a hard rock chick? i don't wear lots of black, my hair is calm and aqua-net free, and i've retired the combat boot look since it wore out in the nineties.
and yet i love love love metal. my current repeat cd is disturbed, ten thousand fists. it's so cathartic and pleasant.
of course i alternate this with that music that people might expect me to play--the puppini sisters, loreena mckennit, dead can dance, amy winehouse, they might be giants--being that i could win a suburban soccer mom look-alike contest. there are three categories in this, two of which i could pass with flying colors, the third of which i'd fail miserably.
1. enjoys shopping
2. can create dinner (with help of the frozen foods section and betty crocker)
3. has 2.5 children and drives an suv, preferably one that gets less than 13 mpg and sports a "my child is an honor student at (insert name here) middle school."
dan and i were talking about this the other day. in my mind, men can listen to just about anything they want to, without getting weird looks. oh, people might laugh at someone's choice, but they won't look at you as if your third eye is wearing bad mascara.
i have a lot of girlfriends like this--women who like to rock while putting together a pan of berry cobbler, who turn up the music until the windows rattle. you would think that after this many years, the stereotypes would be little broken shards on the floor, but there still seems to be some unspoken rule about the way that you look needing to fit into the cookie cutter section at the crafts store.
why the focus on this? well, my new job position is going to be something wherein i will be meeting the public more often, and therefore must dress up. i think about the small talk that people make during meetings--how was your weekend, what did you do, etc--and i think about what i have in common with an accountant.
for a while this week i was in a panic. yesterday i pled headache and scurried home, feeling the need to hide somewhere until all the wrinkles were ironed out.
this morning i decided to consider my fears in a different manner. the first thing that popped into my head was: here i am, being such a complete hypocrite! i've been stewing on the fact that perhaps i am afraid of this position, and meeting people who might think that i am strange and odd for being who i am.
how can i sit here and be so selfish? the first time i walk into a room, how do i know that the other person will not be feeling the selfsame way? how can i label a cpa as someone who golfs on weekends and wears glasses, when in all actuality, they might be doing the same thing i did this morning--baking oatmeal chocolate chip muffins while listening to three days grace?
i need to let go of the label i have placed on this position and on myself and remember that every person on this planet is just as unique and has the capacity to be just as confused and afraid as i am.
the muffins came out of the oven hot, smelling like warm oatmeal and melted milk chocolate. it's pretty sappy, and well do i know it, but i've gotta just keep thinking of those 12 muffins, each one in its individual cup, made up of the same ingredients as its neighbor, but each shaped separately and by that separation, made different.
about two weeks later we were sitting at work. one of the younger kids came and sat with us, where we were doing a crossword. (i know, it sounds really staid, but i think that was the day we gave up on the clues and tried just fitting swear words into the puzzle. "will fuck fit there? no? how about fuk? sweet.") tom sat down and we chatted for a few minutes, and then he said, so what kind of music to you guys listen to? dave matthews?
we both grimaced and rattled off a list of bands. as the list grew, so did the size of tom's eyes. he clearly had no clue that two girls working at a grocery store and wearing green aprons could possibly enjoy music that makes moms cringe and dads yell things such as: "will you turn that crap down? for the love of god!"
is it because i don't look like a hard rock chick? i don't wear lots of black, my hair is calm and aqua-net free, and i've retired the combat boot look since it wore out in the nineties.
and yet i love love love metal. my current repeat cd is disturbed, ten thousand fists. it's so cathartic and pleasant.
of course i alternate this with that music that people might expect me to play--the puppini sisters, loreena mckennit, dead can dance, amy winehouse, they might be giants--being that i could win a suburban soccer mom look-alike contest. there are three categories in this, two of which i could pass with flying colors, the third of which i'd fail miserably.
1. enjoys shopping
2. can create dinner (with help of the frozen foods section and betty crocker)
3. has 2.5 children and drives an suv, preferably one that gets less than 13 mpg and sports a "my child is an honor student at (insert name here) middle school."
dan and i were talking about this the other day. in my mind, men can listen to just about anything they want to, without getting weird looks. oh, people might laugh at someone's choice, but they won't look at you as if your third eye is wearing bad mascara.
i have a lot of girlfriends like this--women who like to rock while putting together a pan of berry cobbler, who turn up the music until the windows rattle. you would think that after this many years, the stereotypes would be little broken shards on the floor, but there still seems to be some unspoken rule about the way that you look needing to fit into the cookie cutter section at the crafts store.
why the focus on this? well, my new job position is going to be something wherein i will be meeting the public more often, and therefore must dress up. i think about the small talk that people make during meetings--how was your weekend, what did you do, etc--and i think about what i have in common with an accountant.
for a while this week i was in a panic. yesterday i pled headache and scurried home, feeling the need to hide somewhere until all the wrinkles were ironed out.
this morning i decided to consider my fears in a different manner. the first thing that popped into my head was: here i am, being such a complete hypocrite! i've been stewing on the fact that perhaps i am afraid of this position, and meeting people who might think that i am strange and odd for being who i am.
how can i sit here and be so selfish? the first time i walk into a room, how do i know that the other person will not be feeling the selfsame way? how can i label a cpa as someone who golfs on weekends and wears glasses, when in all actuality, they might be doing the same thing i did this morning--baking oatmeal chocolate chip muffins while listening to three days grace?
i need to let go of the label i have placed on this position and on myself and remember that every person on this planet is just as unique and has the capacity to be just as confused and afraid as i am.
the muffins came out of the oven hot, smelling like warm oatmeal and melted milk chocolate. it's pretty sappy, and well do i know it, but i've gotta just keep thinking of those 12 muffins, each one in its individual cup, made up of the same ingredients as its neighbor, but each shaped separately and by that separation, made different.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
shifting ground
i've never been through an earthquake, so i can't say i know how it feels to have the earth actually dancing around beneath my soles. i can say that i have had the rug pulled out from below too many times to count, and i can report that every time is just as surprising as the next.
i suppose that's why every time it takes a while to pick myself back up and move forward.
my feeling is that the rug at this juncture is my job. everyone else at work is getting new job duties--mine. and i'm just handing them out as if my coworkers are trick-or-treaters. it's difficult, and i know that the next job position will be interesting and i'll enjoy it because that's just who i am, but i'm still peeved at the way the entire process has been handled, stem to stern.
the job thing has been affecting all bits of my life. i've always been a cautious person--probably overly cautious, anyone who knows me would venture. and if i withdraw at times like these i can only say it's instinct.
i didn't get the tortoise award in 2nd grade for nothing, folks.
i'm a plodder, and when the going gets rough, i need time to process. that time is spent in my shell, patching up my psyche for the next encounter.
it comes and goes, the depression. i know that there are ways in which i can assist my body in the climb, and i do a good job for the most part. it's only when that rug gets replaced that i find myself sliding down again, into that pit that's always waiting.
in my mind it's an open mouth--a large, gaping red maw, lined with rows of sharks' teeth and the blunt molars of a horse--all the better to eat you with, my dear.
sometimes i can shut it up. or ignore its presence. but other times--these times--it is a precarious act of balance for me to remain vertical for the majority of the day. i just want to sleep--curled up in the afternoon, a siesta, a nap.
i think it's because internally, at the core of my concious, i know that the bed does not move. i feel safe cocooned under comforters, more safe than i can when i am awake and alert. how is it that when i am at my most vulnerable i am most secure?
ignorance, i suppose, is bliss.
ignorance is what keeps me plodding along, every day. it is what keeps me lugging around the shell on my back, ready at a moment's notice to be pulled over my head, so that i might consider the world in silence and darkness. ignorance of my own life.
ignorance bothers me, in a general sense. but in the sense of life, it's necessary. if i am able to be ignorant about the future, if i cannot plan for every contingency, then i will keep on going.
if i dwell on the scary and the shadows and those things that go bump in the night, i will stop altogether.
so i suppose in the end this shifting ground beneath my feet is healthy. it is part and parcel of being alive, and on the planet, and a member of society at large. it is something to which i should be conditioned, by now.
but the fact that i have not--that is what keeps me ticking, in the end.
i suppose that's why every time it takes a while to pick myself back up and move forward.
my feeling is that the rug at this juncture is my job. everyone else at work is getting new job duties--mine. and i'm just handing them out as if my coworkers are trick-or-treaters. it's difficult, and i know that the next job position will be interesting and i'll enjoy it because that's just who i am, but i'm still peeved at the way the entire process has been handled, stem to stern.
the job thing has been affecting all bits of my life. i've always been a cautious person--probably overly cautious, anyone who knows me would venture. and if i withdraw at times like these i can only say it's instinct.
i didn't get the tortoise award in 2nd grade for nothing, folks.
i'm a plodder, and when the going gets rough, i need time to process. that time is spent in my shell, patching up my psyche for the next encounter.
it comes and goes, the depression. i know that there are ways in which i can assist my body in the climb, and i do a good job for the most part. it's only when that rug gets replaced that i find myself sliding down again, into that pit that's always waiting.
in my mind it's an open mouth--a large, gaping red maw, lined with rows of sharks' teeth and the blunt molars of a horse--all the better to eat you with, my dear.
sometimes i can shut it up. or ignore its presence. but other times--these times--it is a precarious act of balance for me to remain vertical for the majority of the day. i just want to sleep--curled up in the afternoon, a siesta, a nap.
i think it's because internally, at the core of my concious, i know that the bed does not move. i feel safe cocooned under comforters, more safe than i can when i am awake and alert. how is it that when i am at my most vulnerable i am most secure?
ignorance, i suppose, is bliss.
ignorance is what keeps me plodding along, every day. it is what keeps me lugging around the shell on my back, ready at a moment's notice to be pulled over my head, so that i might consider the world in silence and darkness. ignorance of my own life.
ignorance bothers me, in a general sense. but in the sense of life, it's necessary. if i am able to be ignorant about the future, if i cannot plan for every contingency, then i will keep on going.
if i dwell on the scary and the shadows and those things that go bump in the night, i will stop altogether.
so i suppose in the end this shifting ground beneath my feet is healthy. it is part and parcel of being alive, and on the planet, and a member of society at large. it is something to which i should be conditioned, by now.
but the fact that i have not--that is what keeps me ticking, in the end.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
odd
i've been feeling quite odd since leaving work yesterday. since all my job duties have been divvied up in between about 5 coworkers, i technically should have nothing to be concerned about come Monday.
strange to consider. i don't think i've had a vacation in ten years that has allowed me the comfort of being worry-free in regards to my own desk.
i am, of course, still worried. it's genetic, and despite my best efforts, i still am concerned about my coworkers and how they will handle things. i disliked the way in which my responsibilities were divided, and there was so much grumbling yesterday that i wanted to weep. it's not my fault that my friends are being overburdened with all this work--clearly i would have liked to have kept the position i had--but i still feel responsible, in no small way.
and guilty for having a few days off this week, while they are trying to learn and keep things under control. i told them to call or email if they had questions, but i'm sure that they'll muddle through.
(all right, truth be told, i have no idea if they've called or emailed this morning, because although i've been awake for two hours now, i have yet to examine either media source.)
i also am not looking forward to the next few days. my sister and bro in law are going out of town and their usual dog-sitting duo is awol due to a broken leg on the part of one spouse. i volunteered and while caring for a dog is fairly simple, i am not especially looking forward to it. i like dogs, don't get me wrong. but in the last few years i really feel like i've become a cat person--cats are so much more independent, and mine at least are just about as social as any dog i've met. i don't have to take them outside every few hours, or wake up at ungodly hours of the morning to go for a walk and feed them.
tonight we are finally going to spamalot, though, and that i have been looking forward to since dan purchased the tickets a year ago. so with no further ado, i'll be cleaning up the house, looking up directions to the ordway, and getting myself ready for a night of music and laughter.
in the end, odd as it may feel, i ought to be grateful simply to be feeling.
strange to consider. i don't think i've had a vacation in ten years that has allowed me the comfort of being worry-free in regards to my own desk.
i am, of course, still worried. it's genetic, and despite my best efforts, i still am concerned about my coworkers and how they will handle things. i disliked the way in which my responsibilities were divided, and there was so much grumbling yesterday that i wanted to weep. it's not my fault that my friends are being overburdened with all this work--clearly i would have liked to have kept the position i had--but i still feel responsible, in no small way.
and guilty for having a few days off this week, while they are trying to learn and keep things under control. i told them to call or email if they had questions, but i'm sure that they'll muddle through.
(all right, truth be told, i have no idea if they've called or emailed this morning, because although i've been awake for two hours now, i have yet to examine either media source.)
i also am not looking forward to the next few days. my sister and bro in law are going out of town and their usual dog-sitting duo is awol due to a broken leg on the part of one spouse. i volunteered and while caring for a dog is fairly simple, i am not especially looking forward to it. i like dogs, don't get me wrong. but in the last few years i really feel like i've become a cat person--cats are so much more independent, and mine at least are just about as social as any dog i've met. i don't have to take them outside every few hours, or wake up at ungodly hours of the morning to go for a walk and feed them.
tonight we are finally going to spamalot, though, and that i have been looking forward to since dan purchased the tickets a year ago. so with no further ado, i'll be cleaning up the house, looking up directions to the ordway, and getting myself ready for a night of music and laughter.
in the end, odd as it may feel, i ought to be grateful simply to be feeling.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
the muse escapes
a tide, when it rushes in, leaves behind midden--
shells, dead small-mouth bass, tiny crushed blue crabs,
a pencil marked with someone else's teeth. they say
the moon pulls it, sure as you draw thread and correct seams
of late you have waded into this tide, felt the currents
tug closer to swirling middle
where seaweed winds round ankles
and you can feel undefined dark things writhe--sheets
wrapped around your legs at four am, unseen and taut.
ripe and sodden the lake lulls skeleton silent, and numb
you drift, lost in pulsing lake. you cannot feel the sand
under your feet, not any longer, and you should
be afraid--the night is long, and you are chilled.
but instead you tread this water, and you murmur
nothings, over and over,
and when your hands reach for words, they elude you,
the description of drowning
is your only explanation.
shells, dead small-mouth bass, tiny crushed blue crabs,
a pencil marked with someone else's teeth. they say
the moon pulls it, sure as you draw thread and correct seams
of late you have waded into this tide, felt the currents
tug closer to swirling middle
where seaweed winds round ankles
and you can feel undefined dark things writhe--sheets
wrapped around your legs at four am, unseen and taut.
ripe and sodden the lake lulls skeleton silent, and numb
you drift, lost in pulsing lake. you cannot feel the sand
under your feet, not any longer, and you should
be afraid--the night is long, and you are chilled.
but instead you tread this water, and you murmur
nothings, over and over,
and when your hands reach for words, they elude you,
the description of drowning
is your only explanation.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
the net
if you haven't seen it yet, a bridge collapsed right here in minneapolis today. it looks awful--cars floating in the water, twisted cement and wires, the bones of that structure bent and warped. people have been injured and so far one person has lost their life.
these things always elicit so many feelings all at once--perhaps moreso the closer they are to where you are. when the towers fell, i knew people out there--but it was not here, not something i could point at and say, i drive across that all the time!
the second thing is the sheer horror of it, the fact that death walks close to the river tonight.
and the third thing is joy--joy because humans are such a connected bunch of animals. i am reminded forcibly of the good things that come with being human -- people reaching out to other people, helping, saving, soothing.
the phones are clogged, and the news reminded us to stay off the phones. but it's too hard when you don't know. my sister takes that road all the time. i could not keep off the phone until i knew she was okay.
now i am waiting to hear back from nathan. and from my friend cari, whose brother lives down town.
when my mom called originally i was just happy to hear from her. but now in retrospect, i can see the net that links me and all these other people, miles apart, invisible but strong.
these things always elicit so many feelings all at once--perhaps moreso the closer they are to where you are. when the towers fell, i knew people out there--but it was not here, not something i could point at and say, i drive across that all the time!
the second thing is the sheer horror of it, the fact that death walks close to the river tonight.
and the third thing is joy--joy because humans are such a connected bunch of animals. i am reminded forcibly of the good things that come with being human -- people reaching out to other people, helping, saving, soothing.
the phones are clogged, and the news reminded us to stay off the phones. but it's too hard when you don't know. my sister takes that road all the time. i could not keep off the phone until i knew she was okay.
now i am waiting to hear back from nathan. and from my friend cari, whose brother lives down town.
when my mom called originally i was just happy to hear from her. but now in retrospect, i can see the net that links me and all these other people, miles apart, invisible but strong.
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