Feel the Burn

My, my...it has been a long time between posts. Have I been isolated, sitting in a creative vacuum of some sort, afraid to put thoughts to the, ummm...screen for fear of the unraveling of strange thoughts or emotions that I need to control very closely right now?

Nah. Just been busy.

Lots of stuff going on right now - good stuff, strange stuff, familiar stuff and oddly surprising stuff.

I have a place to go!! And what a place...right in the funky neighborhood-y town (is it a town?) of Somerville, right outside of Boston. Closer to the job market that I intend to attack in a decisive motion, like a spear fisherwoman with a little less warpaint and a nicer outfit. Closer to some friends and family members....really close to one friend, like next-room-over close! I hope Kevin still loves me and finds me a glowing member of humanity after we live together. That is the true test, isn't it?

Well, I have nothing but high hopes for the next phase of my life. Really, the only nervous thoughts that I had about moving back to the city was how it would affect my dog. I don't care how sappy that sounds....he is as much my son as I have ever had, and I care very deeply about his happiness, dammit!
I have already signed up for the Somerville Dog Owner's Group newsletter and scoped out all of the best places to bring Z. There will much more poop-scooping....can't say I look forward to that. Here, up in 'lil old Milford, he does his business in discreet, out of the way places like the woods or under shrubs or in the backyard triangular tangle that is out behind my barn. No mess. No cleanup.

Kevin told me that I would meet lots of people while out walking my dog. With my luck, I will meet a really distinguished hottie with his (or her) dog and we will commence to chatting and flirting and then Zico will hunker down right there on the sidewalk....I will have to practice my offhand bathroom humor and learn how to be a skilled scooper. Sure, I can do this...it can't be any worse than changing a diaper.

I did lots of that over the last two weeks while babysitting at Tracy and Ray's house. What a fabulous time I had!! Even with the occassional poopy diaper. I learned fairly quick how to bundle the messy diaper up right quick to avoid having James, the baby, reach for it or stick his foot in it. That only happened once, and I only got it on my hands once. Not bad for a novice! The rest of the babysitting days were glorious feedings, rockings to sleep, fun projects with Faith, the four year-old, and more viewings of PBS Kids and A Bug's Life than I could have ever thought possible. We had a blast - walks outside, we made the tiniest snowman ever, lots of singing, lots of laughs and fun with babies. I like babies. Finally, I know how to hold them and entertain them and assure them and make them happy. Being a Mom must be pretty great, even if it is hard work. Much respect to the Moms of the world - ladies, you rule!!

Yes, so all in all, even with all of the unfortunate luck I have had with my car, and the loss of a job that should have lasted all winter, and a hefty transition looming before me.......I am ready. I am ready for this split with the husband, very sure that it is the right thing to do and becoming hopeful that he will apply this experience to his life in a positive, beneficial way. Sure, NOW he wants to tell me how great I am...NOW he tells me how much he will miss me. It is not making me waver in the least. For me, when it's done, it's done. I have no trust left for this person, or more specifically, this union.

It is not all his fault, in fact I blame myself for a large portion of what didn't work. It didn't work because I let it be what it was instead of being sure it was what I really wanted. I have painted myself into a corner more than once by accepting things that I knew deep-down were not what I wanted...undervaluing myself and overlooking obvious red flags. Well - I think I have finally learned this lesson.

Conversation with my girl Tracy-

Me: Boy, I really do have a knack for painting myself into a corner, don't I?

Trac: Well, time to walk out of that corner hun! Don't worry if you get wet, painty footsteps all over the place - that'll just make it easier for us to find you!

Indeed...you will find me in the alcoves of the many used-book stores throughout the city. You will find me hosting salsa parties at my new apartment in Somerville! You will find me exploring my new town with my happy, well-adjusted dog...trying to save face as I stoop down to scoop the poop.

What to Do

What to do...what to do.

No, really. What the Fuck do I do?

Move to Maine and live with my Dad...regroup, save money? Move to Jacksonville and stay with family there while I get back up on top of things? Move closer to Boston so I can retire my vehicle...get a job, try to save money? Move to New Mexico...just 'cause? Do I know anybody out West?

My head hurts. I am sick of spending way too much on my old car, just to allow me the ability to travel, if I need to, to my job, if I can find one. A good one. Not that I don't have little stuff to keep me going, but I want that kick-ass job that I deserve dammit! I don't care where it is, as long as independent thinking is welcomed rather than forbidden...as long as there are no corny rules about "cubicle etiquette"....Jesus, what are we, in finishing school?

I want more time to spend on whatever the hell I want to do creatively. I've got so many ideas, and so much stress over other considerations, that my motivation to do much more than fret is minimal. Lame excuse. Just this day. This day sucked. I always know...I wake up knowing.

I watched a show about a portly dude who travels around and eats strange foods in strange lands. The show last night was about Ethiopia. I still want to go to Africa and lend a helping hand to the poor and downtrodden there...but maybe I won't go to Ethiopia. How frustrating it is to be so conditioned against scary, dirty, unpleasant situations. I am drawn toward rough and/or depressing scenarios because I think that I could be a tough, hardworking force for change...but I bet it would be harder than I could ever imagine.

Oh well. This day is almost over, and at the very least, I have freshly-baked apple pie, vanilla ice cream and Top Chef on TV. Tomorrow will be different. I will figure out what to do.

When Life Hands You Singles...

I like my life.

Sometimes, I say that to myself. I mean it, too, and I love that the criterium that prompts such a pure and honest statement to well up within me, is so simple.

When the sun comes out after two days of rain - or - when it rains after a week solid of hot, penetrating, debilitating heat and humidity...I get happy. When I realize that after a difficult week of mishaps, bad luck and depression, there always follows a sense of strength. I trip out sometimes, on the nature of my meandering path through life and how it criss-crosses the straight and determined path of others, but yet I manage to delight in my wayward journeys. I may be the perpetual child humming to herself, out in a field picking wildflowers while others are planning their retirements, but I really am singing to myself: I like my life.

The movie Singles was on TV last night. Coincidence? I don't think so. What a way to pull me back fifteen years!! This was a film that documented the lives of young twenty-somethings in Seattle during the mid-90's, when grunge was the movement in music. My friends and I, we had our own movement here in NH that mirrored the one on the West coast. We didn't emulate it as much as we appreciated the similarities. We just loved the music, and we all happened to be young, single twenty-somethings, asking the same questions as the characters in that movie.

Did we want careers or motherhood? Did we all want to get real and stop playing the dating games? Did we want relationships that transcended the constrictive ideals of past decades...easy-going and pure and enlightened human connections punctuated with passionate experiences out at dingy clubs where our favorite bands played?

It was all so heavy and thoughtful. Dropping tabs of acid, having intense conversations about aliens and government conspiracy. Getting drunk and laughing ecstatically with friends who were all so cool. Gatherings of people who were one part poet, one part anarchist and one part to-be-determined...so much potential in us all. It was palpable - I felt lucky.

I loved my life then, even with the difficulties and the embarrassing stumbling through an awakening of my Self....at least it was happening. It was happening all around us and we were intelligent young people with talent and depth, who wrote songs and played instruments and spoke volumes.

We will always be those people. Fifteen years have passed and so much as changed - some of us have spiraled off into explorations of other sub-culture, other forms of artistic expression. There are marriages, and babies, and mortgages now, for some. We go to clubs to see bands play, but when we do our backs hurt a little bit more; we wonder if we will get enough sleep, if the babies will sleep for the babysitter. But we are still those people.

Maybe my mood today is the simple result of a refreshing blast of youth. I don't feel old, but there are more mature sensibilities at play these days, and those can be cumbersome. How do I clean up my credit? Will I ever own my own home? Will I ever get a job that is fulfilling and worthy, the kind that I dreamed of ten years ago? Those relationship questions....have I learned anything?

I suppose I have learned alot. And even if I haven't, I like my life. I like the simple pleasures of interacting with my fantastic friends, when we drink and laugh and converse, and listen to music.

Friend: When you get married, will we still go out dancing?

Linda (at club, dancing): We will always go out dancing!!

Or, how about:

Cliff: Do you think this happens to all couples?

Janet: No. Just us.

Lazy Damn Female Parts

Oww. My ovaries hurt.

I'm not joking, you heinous bitches.....my little goddamn ovaries are aching like a finger that's been pounded by a hammer, and that aint fun.

I'm not a sissy about pain. Pain has always been a matter-of-fact element of my life. I don't appreciate it - well, scratch that, actually I do. I like the fact that I can get a headache and be OK for an hour or two before I go running to the medicine cabinet. I like knowing that when I do a long day's work - physically strenuous activity - my leg muscles ache and my shoulders get twingy and I know that it means there is blood running to the scene of the crime to lend healing energy and nutrients. I like knowing that my body does all of the amazing things it can do, and all I have to do is to allow it.

I heal really fast too. I hardly ever catch cold, and when I do it does not sit like a stone tied to my neck. The sickness falls away quickly and I do as little complaining as possible.

But this ovarian nonsense. Something like this is far more insidious, I suppose. Perhaps because I am rounding out the end of my baby-making days, I pay more attention to any and all reproductive issues. Oddly enough, the whole time I was ripe and fertile and young, I had no issues involving the female parts. Everything ran like clockwork - light periods, regular checkups with no bad tests, and cramping that was easily endured for the scant two days I would have it.

Now, though...every month I get to experience the searing pain of my poor throbbing ovaries. Yes, sure, every month it is a different one making all the ruckus, but mine are somewhat stacked in my little inner-universe, so the pain seems to come from the same place every month.

It's hard to wear jeans or pants with a snug waistband, and sitting down in such outfits causes the pains to intensify. I won't lie - even though I was working at a corporation in a professional environment, when this time of the month would come I would have to take aspirin by the handfuls and unbutton my trousers beneath my blouse or sweater, stretch my legs out straight in front of me to minimize the discomfort of bending at the waist, control my breathing and hope that no-one noticed.

Standing is no better. My lower back is seized in an iron grip, and my legs get wobbly and weak. And I am not even talking about that time of the month, the usual time of the month!!! That comes in a couple weeks. No, this is a different situation.

My goddamn ovaries are forming cysts every month! The nerve! Large, watery pockets form at the exit points...follicles, anyone? They're big, too...bigger than those old egg factories. I saw one during an ultrasound a few months back...it was cute, nice and round. I wanted to name it, something angelic, like Sabra or Angelique. I don't know why, just...I suppose that it was a significant experience, the ultrasound. That's when pregnant ladies get to see their little newts, the little tadpoles that slowly grow into babies!!!

All I get is water pockets, I guess. Maybe my ovaries are bored. They are like little girls in the middle of summer on those long, hot days when everybody is at camp or at the lake or someplace fun but they can't go because their parents are broke and at work. They wander around, trying to find stuff to do..they sit forlornly on the front steps and they blow bubbles, giant airy bubbles that wobble away on the breeze until they land precariously on a tree limb or bicycle or the ground, and then they burst with a big, wet *pop*.

I can just picture it. And oddly, that helps.

Yes, I'm Sure

Yes I'm sure I want to have
self-reliant freedom, vision quests and sugar binges
a solid dark encounter and small victories
Satisfaction with self, for once.

I'm sure it won't be easy
stressful money difficulties, vague hollow reflections
and those solitary outsider fears
Uneasy questioning, as usual.

But at least there will be
unusual strength and optimism, knowledge of a newfound purpose
to make things feel right and not keep doing wrong
an unpublished meaning, force of personality
that is unbashedly different and unique -
Yes, I'm sure that's what I want.