I’ve got grief, wanna see it? or Personal progress

March 18, 2013 § 6 Comments

I wrote this ten months ago in a fit of insomnia, sadness, unemployment and some surprising 4am clarity. You know what it proves? That what we call personal progress is slow and circular. We make concentric circles in our efforts to be better people and we come back to the same stuff, the same issues, over and over again. Beautifully frustrating.

May 2012

I would describe it as a mental health week. That’s what it has been, this past stretch of days. We like to name sequences of time so that we can remember them or feel like we’ve learned something, made the most of it, or maybe we’re just self-absorbed. So while I was busy being so aware of myself it happened. My mental health week crept in through the backyard even though I had been watching carefully from the front porch, thinking I’d see it strolling down the street and get ready for its arrival. Five or six days later and there it is, boozing and smoking it up on the back patio, like I had been entertaining it on purpose. It was taking up space without my even knowing it. Although, that’s why I’m writing this. I know it. And it’s real. And once again, I have to face myself, my situation, and say, yes I have a mental…I live with mental…I have a low grade depression called…this is who I am. « Read the rest of this entry »

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Dry.

March 4, 2013 § Leave a comment

I have spent all of my emotional coins for the day.

She doesn’t live for her writing

May 1, 2011 § Leave a comment

Stella is currently making all of her statements through action. For example, she speaks about herself in the third person so that she can understand exactly what she is doing. She thinks, “would an eight-year-old child understand her message? If not, it’s bad writing and it’s bad living and she should be stopped”. Her thoughts can be fairly loud.

Stella thinks that it is more important to live her life (and write about it later) rather than live life so that you can write about it later. Understand the difference? If you don’t, it is entirely probable that you and Stella simply cannot be friends. The best stories have good middles, never mind the beginning and the end.

Franny’s Pursuit

October 21, 2010 § 2 Comments

She had to have another smoke; the game of Trivial Pursuit was getting tense.

Love Junkie Shame

August 10, 2010 § 2 Comments

Many people in my intimate circle have been revealing their love junkie shame. I want to tell them:

  • It is not ridiculous to love someone’s smile, spirit and general loveliness. It is okay to fall in love with other people. It is also okay to let them go.
  • Wanting to be natural with someone else is natural. Counting the hours since the last visit, phone call, text message, email, comment on Facebook status, in some form or another, is something we all do. If we are thoughtful people, we will have a broad scope of love for others. We will continue to think about other people, whether happily coupled or not. The important thing is whether we are happy when partnered with ourselves.
    « Read the rest of this entry »

Grief for R.

July 24, 2010 § 4 Comments

Grief descends swiftly. We circle and swoop towards each other, arms outstretched, cheeks red and swollen from crying. Our mother, daughter, sister, aunt, lover, friend has gone. Is gone. Is. Gone. Gatherings occur, food is warmed, the air is soaked with the scent of grief and everyone moves slowly, allowing small escapes of low laughter in the dim kitchen light. People call. The phone is both a comfort and a wound. Words seem to drop out of our mouths like worms, and every sentence seems to echo too loudly with the obvious. There is a strong awareness of tense. She was so brave. She will be remembered. « Read the rest of this entry »

Walking with a book on your head

March 30, 2010 § Leave a comment

Don’t try walking with a book on your head. It’s fun for a moment, but it will not achieve great posture. You will only feel like a ruffled-up schoolgirl with naughty thoughts. Or at least I did.

This will be another rant on good posture; I am discovering it again. My spine. Over and over I feel my spine. It is the anatomical equivalent to my spirit and forever a fluid memory of every movement I have ever chosen and not chosen. Oh, however do we remember those puppet strings of childhood freedom. Spine happily dancing instead of slouched with stubborn opinions. I stood up straight this evening and felt that longing for a time when I did not think about having good posture – I just had it.

I sit back and think and slouch again. « Read the rest of this entry »

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