A lone umbrella,
forgotten by a stranger,
Left behind for me.
Monthly Archives: February 2010
How can it be any thing
There is a reason
Why one should not consume wine during the work day:
To err is human,
But while intoxicated
is just plain stupid!
I must learn to love the fool in me the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. – Theodore Isaac Rubin
every action, every decision we make however well-thought out however best the intention involves a certain amount of risk and the absolute likelihood of self-doubt. from the most mundane choices to the bolder than thou what did I just say leaps emotions sway pendulum-like through the gray areas, barely touching the black, the white. it is these in-between moments when we are filled with excitement, zest, uncertainty, potentially regret, that we must remember without risk there are no rewards; that until we step out of our comfort zone and embrace “the wilderness of [our] intuition…by not quite knowing what [we] are doing… what [we’ll] discover will be wonderful, and will be [y]ourselves.”*
*Paraphrased quote excerpted from http://creatingminds.org/quotes/courage.htm
Stinging. Numb. I feel, don’t feel, anything.
The crick in my neck twists in angst. My thoughts muddled, everything is unclear.
There was a black room, I think. Concrete walls, covered in soot and ash; a breeze low and warm, was I outside at one point? I remember chalk writings on a wall, facing me? Or maybe overhead? Damn it.
Music there was music, a bass player, drumming vibrations. The sounds of something familiar, the sounds of something foreign, no, that’s not right.
Where am I? What time is it?
Hello, is there anyone out there? Hello?
My head is heavy, sandbagged.
Why am I heavy? I’ve never been heavy, just a waif. Ask her, Amy will tell you. We used to talk about God together. We used to wonder where heaven was and if he answered our prayers. All that seems so long ago. Now.
Stretching hurts, any movement limited by the fabric soft like linen, like cotton. I once bought a tunic in the Platka. Broad vertical stripes, white on white. So comfortable, boxy and roomy perfect for the beach. I wonder whatever happened to it.
I’m drooling, yet my mouth is dry.
Hello? Is anyone there?
My voice echoes off the walls.
Hello? Please, someone help me, I’m hungry. Hello?
I feel like a current of water, constantly moving standing still.
My eyes flutter awake, struggling to open wider. The room is not as black as I remember from before. There is light coming from somewhere. But there is no sound.
I feel lost.
Numb has faded, throbbing instead takes it place from where I cannot decipher. I hear whispering, they fade in and out, murmurs followed by unrecognizable words.
Where am I?
Damn it Wendy focus try to focus. Try to think, where were you last? Where were you going?
For a moment I forget that time has moved beyond my scope. I try to stand, pushing my hands against the floor. Bare hands on cold metal. Metal? Metal floor? Metal table? Where the hell am I?
I wish my mind would clear.
Has it been an hour? A day? A year? Time is the only thing that is lucid.
The sun is high and a sliver has beamed its way through the walls. Have I willed it to appear, to burn through the concrete? Is it God’s will that I should finally see?
I am covered head to toe in black gauze. I hate the color black, it reeks of death. There is a feather light semblance of white above where my hands are free. If my hands are free why am I not?
I see polka dots, splotches of color. A splotch of…oh my God, is that blood? Yes, red blood, dry and crusted.
A flash of a memory singes.
I am walking, it is nightfall; there are two faceless women flanking me on either side when another steps in my path grabbing me by the arms. I try to resist and then Darkness.
Horizontally the play unfolds.
A woman armed with an airbrush needle dripping color paints my arm. It stings, a million mosquitoes in attack mode.
An older woman holds my head, my jaw. I am biting wood.
The chanting is loud, over and over the mantra like an omen: Become one of us, and soon you will be free. Climb the ladder, soon you will see.
Stale cigarette smoke lingers
on a winter coat.
Too close for comfort
captive in a slow-moving,
stifling, subway car.
This weekend was a wash, I worked later than planned on Friday night. That over exhaustion plus the dread of the blizzard that wasn’t, left little incentive to wake up early on Saturday. Tigger was in agreement, as he let me be for hours until Dad’s shoveling scraped my eyes awake. All in all I felt as if I lost another day.
Work has been busy, with a capital B. For the most part I feel as if everyone (save a few but I’ll leave those observations to myself) is on the same wavelength. We’re in start-up mode, with leaner teams and mountains of work. The day is like water, a real time suck. In the past, I don’t think I ever felt it before, but I had a slight epiphany and in that revelation realized to some degree I’ve lost days. Days. Not minutes or hours, full on days!
time for a change
Last week I started to break free and leave early for “fun” events–dinner with dad/friends, writing groups, getting home early to read–in those few hours alone I was able to detox just enough to re-embrace life. Realistically it shouldn’t be that hard to do (winter cold as an obstacle notwithstanding). I used to engage all the time and at one point I averaged 2 concerts a week! But like any new activity or habit one reintroduces into life, it takes dedication and personal commitment to be successful.
This morning I had a conversation with a guy friend of mine, a new friend just getting to know my idiosyncrasies and flaws. He asked me how I was and in giving him the update I mentioned how I needed to balance my work life, how it would be ideal to have an incentive to leave the office on time. He laughed, nearly guffawing on the phone (and I’m pretty sure he cursed in that supposed cough). Then soon after taking a deep breath, he told me that my incentive had to be me, that the desire to live a better life should be enough to get me out of the four walls of the office, and back into the world.
I think in most cases it’s about being brave, brave enough to keep the promises you make to yourself. Challenging yourself to follow your gut to make the call that changes your life. It’s about flipping perception to try something new, and that first step is always the hardest.
Food for Thought