Sunday, January 29, 2017

send my love



I had to stop peaking at facebook today. I don’t read the newspaper or listen to the radio or have a tv but I’d probably cancel my “prescription” if I did. The world got to much for me to handle, there were marches over basic human rights and angry people and sad people and people not being treated like people.

SO I sat and cried last night. And today I took myself off facebook, I didn’t cancel my account or anything crazy, but I’m cutting back on coffee (again) and stopping the influx of news from the states.

There’s a pull right now, to stay informed vs stay sane. To be there to help people, and take care of myself, I’ve had one anxiety/exhaustion attack this week and a cry fit last night. 

Which means I also have to watch what I’m eating again because something could be sneaking in there.

Anyway, this morning I took my journal to the “Laundry Basket” where I do my laundry and wrote for an hour. I never write in my journal there, I usually end up watching the laundry go around or an episode of criminal minds, I enjoy the watching the laundry more than the TV.

I soon started to smile and laugh to myself. I was writing myself little jokes and laughing inside. I may not be doing improve or acting funny all the time but when push comes to push I can still make myself laugh. It’s not easy to do right now, what is happening next door is affecting real people and isn’t funny.

But I’m still here whispering in my ear taking up the funny.

With a little bit of writing and resting I feel better, and ready to take on the week ahead. Ready to admit openly when something doesn’t work for me and ready to bow out of conversations I would love to take part in but would leave me empty inside.







Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Tim Curry is my Spirit Animal



It’s Tuesday night I should be at Zumba. But last night after a little bit of exercise I started shaking, I had already eaten supper but I topped off my night with some pasta and seemed to settle down again.

Tonight I decided to stay home. I had trouble staying awake after the alarm went off this morning. And work was not focused and I felt weird.

There’s a bunch of things

I got a rejection letter for my poetry last night and in the letter included a lot of great information. Like any large amount of great information, I have to process it. It has to run through my body a few days and I have to decide what I take and use and how much. It also puts me in my place a bit, telling me my poetry, or whatever it is, needs more work and editing.

I’m exercising and eating differently and perhaps this has an affect on the large amount of medication I’m on. Maybe it needs to be managed a bit differently. So I’m going to call the DR in the morning and see if that is something I need to worry about.

All this Donald Trump shit is giving me nightmares; I’m arguing a women’s right to her body in my sleep.

I’ve been busy the last couple weeks and maybe it just got to me today. Maybe I just needed to sit down and write and work shit out, so here I am

We Have a curse jar at work and that has been causing me anxiety. You just can’t replace the word asshole with poop head it doesn’t work. I calmed down a bit when I closed my own jar of collected change.

I don’t make much money and that affects me a lot too.

Last night I decided I just wasn’t good enough to go anywhere. Not good enough to make much money, not good enough to be a real singer, not good enough to be a real poet/writer.

SO that’s what I have to work with perhaps it’s a salad of all of it put together. And I just needed to relax.

I feel like it’s a Tim Curry day. When I can relate to every face every character he has created and understand the wildness in his eyes.


Monday, January 16, 2017

Dream Froward




Last night there was another dream about the past. About making it to work, to the hotel, on time. It’s stressful and although I don’t know how to stop dreaming about the past- cold (tofu) turkey; I can look forward in my waking hours.

I’ve always wanted to have dreams of the future, but am plagued with memories of the past, past jobs, past feelings, past activities. I have spent the last 20 years exploring my past, trying to understand it, trying to heal it.

I don’t think I need to do that anymore. I can stop focusing on the past and look to the future. Stop looking and listing all the things in the past that hurt, that worked, that didn’t work, and focus on the future.

Make a list of things that I want to do, want to be, want to go, want to work at how I want to live the rest of my life. It makes sense I can’t see forward, while looking back so far.

There are lists and pictures, wishes and dreams of places I want to go and the person I want to be. I’m ready to go forward.


That’s part of the emotional contract of today to look ahead.



Monday, January 9, 2017

Globes

SO let’s see if I can get this all down, it’s sort of a mix of anger and disappointment in the human race, right now. I guess it starts with hero making. The Golden Globes were on last night for hours and hours; Rich people, beautiful surroundings who take hours to dress up really nice, and wear lots of make up. Ok I saw the pictures today and some of them missed their pretty mark—just sayin.

I don’t have a TV, I can’t handle main stream shows anymore because I’ve started to think for myself, not be spoon fed my life goals by Netflix and Hallmark Chanel. Vogue and Chatelaine are not my bibles never were.

But here’s hours of a selected people, giving themselves awards for playing a role on TV, in the movies that they make millions in the process of doing it. I doubt this year I’ll make it over the poverty line, their dresses cost more than I make a year. That’s a reality I live with, not pretty dresses and who is wearing a shoe that is too small for their foot on “that night.”

You know that people are scrambling in places around the world for the right to live. Aleppo is all but gone from the news. Standing rock is still there, on facebook anyway. Canada Just said yes to pipelines and no to saying the word fart in the house of commons. I don’t see how in this day in age, after all it’s been 74 years, why we maintain the same habits and do the same things without deducting how different the world is from the time we started.

I guess what I see is the people suffering, and being killed, people rushing into to save them and we have to turn on our tv and see Michael Keaton not know the difference between the two main movies staring black actors and actresses. Hidden Figures, not Hidden Fences.


DO we want to do this any more, do we want to buy into this anymore? DO you want to spend collectively, billions of dollars on an industry that currently isn’t even relevant? Or do went want to spend our money on people and lives, animals and the planet, education and basic health.

In my small little world, a war veteran just killed three generations of women, the day after he was turned away at the mental health department of the local hospital. I’m sorry, and who won for best actress? Did Carrie Fisher die of a heart attack? Yes, she’s my princess too, but so were these people to their family and friends. We know why Carrie and Debbie Died, lets spend this time and money figuring out why an ex soldier came out of a bathroom in an airport killing random strangers. Let’s figure out why men violently rape and kill their wives, mothers, daughters and sons etc. And how we can stop it. 

I’ve been tangled up in the mental health system since I started puberty, started getting prescribed pain killers in high school and so on, I know what’s it like to think it can’t get any worse and be turned away at the hospital. I know this system and the understanding of mental health needs to be studied and understood far beyond anything that my Dr’s were able to handle or throw the wrong anti depressants at.

But do tell me what Billy Bob said when he got awarded his globe, because really it doesn’t matter to me anymore.

The reason I use The Globes as an example is all I wanted to do as a Child was be on the TV and be in the movies. I even have a theatre degree I wanted it so bad. Now, wham, things have changed.

I want the world to see and process what is relevant. That rather than arguing over whether what is happening and Aleppo is really happening and making a movie about Bosnia and the sex trade of woman. We do more than watch the movie. and start making sure Dr’s and teachers and PHD’s are getting recognized and we can spend another hour without people suffering on our door steps.

I wanted to focus on the animals in this piece, but man, we can't even look after wives and mothers, let alone care how badly your steak was torchered getting to the table. Oh Jimmy Fallons Prompter didn't work, le sigh.


Sunday, January 8, 2017

Solitary



Solitary: myself by myself with myself for days. Even around people: it’s just me. Like a peanut; they say I have a soul mate, a partner. Yet I know we are kept apart, by the skin that keeps us safe as we grow on the vine, as we turn from seeds into food and back again.

Solitary: myself by myself with myself for days. While being considered by teachers and masses as being the same as those around me. I am so different. “Follow my dreams.” they said. Yet I know I am separate from my dreams. Despite them being inside me and being part of me I was never told how to break the skin and grab hold of being a seed rather than food for someone else.

Solitary, Even around people: it’s just me.  Like a peanut; I fall out of the shell and begin to grow on the land I drop to. I want to not just sustain but to move forward and feel free. Remove the skin that separates us and feel the wind and the sun and let our branches touch.Like knowing that you are scared, yet there’s a need to stay in the spot; grow into the sun, and defend life.
 

Tea and berries, surround us and we become weeds. The fingers of a writer calculate emotions like a mathematician walking up and down the rows and patches. His mind does 1+1, while we can’t calculate big numbers, we can spend hours on an emotion, on a decision, that has been made, or, needs to be made, passing the knowledge from the heart to the mind to the truth tellers. Hold this feeling in your fingers and then send it to the heart and the mind and then mix all knowledge together.

5 more minutes, Into the words on the page. The feelings in my heart, and the thoughts in my mind. It’s solitary. How I live my life, I’ve learned to take the day, I’ve learned to walk to work, One step at a time.

5 more minutes, Into the words on the page. And then there is a coffee on a Saturday morning, a shop in town with over flowing cups, and little spoons of apple carrot soup. I’ve learned to talk one word at a time.

Tea and berries, the words we share like vitamin “b talk” and vitamin “feel the soul.” We mix our solitary into big mixtures of togetherness. I understand, though I can’t transpose myself into another life walk through a different key hole behind new eyes, I feel I am part of another world. We share more than our heart, we share our growths and we parents to ourselves.

Solitary.


Myself by myself with myself for days. Even around people: it’s just me. Like a peanut; they say I have a soul mate, a partner. Yet I know we are kept apart. By the skin that keeps us safe as we grow on the vine, as we turn from seeds into food and back again.


We Lost the Princess in a Heart -- Attack





A blanket over darling’s head
Through ages one to sixteen
Until one January day in 2017
Across the open tarmac of an
Airport in Fort Lauderdale
A gunman shot a woman dead
In front of darlings eyes
Blood on her sneakers
She was sure she was next
Neither mother nor school nor god
Had prepared her this

When someone yelled “My Princess”


Death Trap




You see…
My cats
won’t eat me
If I die:

A sudden death
Of choking
Or heart problems
I’m not like
dinner from a can.

We feel safe
A paw on the hand
To keep steady
A dress in a storm
“Tights” I say “wear tights.”

My cat tried
to catch a mouse
once
She spit the taste
Of raw dying
Out of her mouth.

Kitty sat in the snow
this morning
and screamed
it was too cold

without mama.