Wednesday, May 31, 2006

On the Park Bench (part 1)

Heart pounding, watching tug boats float by. Sitting straight up feeling my life flow into the gulf driven by the current of this muddy river as I press my back up against the wooden bench to stop it. Holding onto me has been as good as cupping water in my hands. My hands are small, the strength between my fingers weak. I have long hair today that graze my shoulder blades. God bless America and the weave shop on Monroe. No press and curl could press out the ever present lump in my throat as I decided to face this. As I sat on this park bench and decided to face me, to tell myself the truth .
"The wood boards that constuct this bench are the only ones spacey, boo. It's you too and that isn't at all in your blueprint." I have sat on the the metaphorical bench content with the rationale of destiny, of needing a break, of being held down, never being called up...sitting on this park bench with my legs swinging. It was depression, the oppression of others, the minimal strength between my fingers that force me into this section of living, of existance. That's why I couldn't hold on tight enough. I feel everything moving but I am being carried, carried by the current into the Gulf.

I eyeball one man walking by in basketball shorts stroking the wooden bench with space left for one. I often wondered why many would pass along though no one would sit. If there was one tired enough to sit next to me, it wasn't for long. I continued to stroke this bench longingly, still telling myself that I was waiting for the right person to sit next to me. I have sat with my legs swinging, my skin sinking into the crevices of the wooden bench watching many a boat pass along the Mississippi. The river carrying cargo, fish, drunken gamblers, tears, memories of the faces that briefly sat to the right of me and a little part of my pride into the Gulf.

Taking a breath, I for the first time in a long while kicked my legs up and laid my sun-glazed caramel body across the park bench. I was exhausted from waiting, from holding on with small hands and weak finger strength to bodies only meant to warm my bench briefly. I have become self-indulgent. It's so much easier now to do my toenails.
On the Park Bench (part 1)SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Wheels on the bus

I bought my ticket online only to find that if I'd simply walked up to the ticket counter five minutes to departure time I it would have been five dollars cheaper. Confused, I hadn't actually brought the printed e-ticket or perhaps it was crumpled at the bottom if my laptop bag. Either way when it was requested by the counter attendant it was out of reach...and she was a bit annoyed. "Okay, clearly you can find my reservation info with my ID or Visa card or is this not done at bus stations?" She found it.

To my left and right were two middle aged women with hair the color of new pennies and rather suspicious looking Louis Vuitton luggage in hopes of checking 7 pieces of luggage without paying extra. I'm not sure if it was the severe breakage of their copper-toned strands that could be easily remedied by a $1.99 jar of hair mayonnaise or the shameless peeling of the straps of their "alleged" LV luggage but something about them made me uneasy. Ah, it was the way every adjective in their dialog with the attendant was profane. Yeah, that was it. As I gathered my weekend bag, my laptop bag and purse to stand in uh, line #5 I notice three young gentlemen directly ahead of me with a number of black yard utility garbage bags and oddly attached were baggage claim tickets. What!!! Was this an emergency trip? I snapped pictures of the make-shift luggage collection for no one would believe me if I told them.

Everyone looked as if they were running, either from something or to something. Checking plastic storage bins, baby cribs, large performance Casio keyboards. It was as if someone shook the rug of life and they and most of their belongings just fell out onto the gathering floor. Some of the most inspiring stories involve a bus ride towards a dream. I believe that room held a lot of dreams and people more than willing to chase them. I was immediately reminded of why I was running and where I was running to and no longer griped about being unable to drive to my destination. Life doesn't always let you drive and despite it all here are folks willing to give it all they have. I smiled and gave my ticket to the driver. He was too surprised to smile back. I would be too. I was anonymous. I countinued to look for my seat number only to realize that there were no numbered seats. People always seem to ask "where are you going?" Many of the greatest dreams involved an anonymous bus ride to nowhere. So I guess my answer will now be "wherever this here bus takes me." I think I'll be fine with that, so long as the wheels don't stop spinning and I am determined upon arrival to take on the world.
Wheels on the busSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Friday, May 05, 2006

Silver Lining at the End of The Rainbow

Dark clouds cover the sky outside my office window as I think of 423 thousand other places I would rather be than here. Now as I hear the patter of rain drops I find it in myself to be thankful that I am at my desk and not outside in the rain. I struggle with contentment. No matter what is positive I will find a way to obsess over what is negative in my life. I long for the green grass on the other side of the fence. I only miss my water after the well runs dry. So I have become the woman with an unquenchable thirst for well water and incessant grass stains on her capris. I am ripe for a good comercial for Tide with Bleach.

Instead of posting some sad piece from the mind of Negative Nancy, I have been coming up with some cool witty piece of prose to instead...for weeks now. Yeah, I dug deep but it wasn't there. In the recent weeks I have had to come to terms with the conclusion that I am a sucky person. Now, now, there are times when people are just hard on themselves and there are times when well, you suck. I think it's about that time.
Sometimes we believe that things always "happen to me" and they do. But it is the way you handle these "things", the fact that your spouse is a spendaholic, brother is stealing from you, girlfriend is cheating, lost your job... that makes you a strong, reliable, human being. Events in the past two weeks have shed light on the fact that I don't handle life well. Nope. My strategy of choice is to go slap crazy or some variation of it. Not that I've gone slap crazy this week , it's not necessary I am already aware of my capabilities. I've watched friends and neighbors face hardships and seriously face it, with class, with grace. Where can I get some of that grace? That encouragement at times of adversity? At the freaking end of the rainbow with the pot of gold and fountain of youth? Where is that anyway, Kansas? Encouragement. That's a fun word to say.

I once used laughter as my silver lining on dark clouds. When did things stop being so damn funny? We have all gone through it, perhaps even because of our own mistakes. Why not laugh about it? I am sure that this is part of the process of forgiving yourself. So for as many times as the question has been asked "how did you get over him/her?" Drew up my favorite strategy, just for laughs.

* Cry. Cry in front of him, his mother and his friends. Then call him and leave sobbing voice mails that he can't make out. Then follow that with a pleading voice mail for his friend, in case he didn't get it.

* Show up at her job unannounced. Bring flowers, candy, a threatening weapon, all your friends. What's the harm in props?

* Pull out all things of large monetary value that was given to you by your mate. Designer bags, jewelry, watches etc. and get rid of it. Sure you might regret it later but this strategy assumes that the future is not acknowledged.

* Stare at the ceiling for um, weeks. Sure, you might have a life to tend to but remember the previous assumption. Ruining you life is only an unfortunate coincidence.

* Stalk the new mate. Google, Myspace, Friendster and Facebook have now made this extremely easy. No black mask, no mess. Just click and stalk away.

* Write a song, poem and/or love letter detailing how you will change, begging forgiveness. Ensure that it is 7 pages double spaced and soaked in tears. Actual wrong doing is not required.

* Call your estranged lover repeatedly, in 2 minute intervals. CLEARLY they are ignoring your calls. Now if this lover attempts to be clever by turning the phone off, just call at 6:30am as they are preparing for work. Just keep calling, they will answer ultimately. I promise.

* Make up names for the estranged lover and new mate. Actual used names: Chester child-molester, Dirty Peter the Cheater, Waterboy, Jenny from the Block, Not Beyonce, Roach. (I'm laughing)

* Cry. But this time at his job, on the phone with his new mate, while trying to seduce him. Lay it on thick. Offering him the punnany that he is actually trying to give up is indeed enticing.

* Tell them you love them. Then tell them how you hate them and never really wanted them. Actually being in love with your estranged lover is not necessary for this said declaration. Wouldn't want to be honest.

* Accept that you just made an ass of yourself.

* Replace them with someone that makes you say "Well I'll be damned." Using someone that just makes you say "damn" is like replacing butter with margarine. Anything else is a whole different recipe.

* Laugh about it. This as well as other disappointments in your life is all a part of life's journey.
Silver Lining at the End of The RainbowSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend