I didnt like today's, so I'm writing Friday's.
The End of the Day.
Well, the majority of my days end like this:
Crawling into my queen size bed, black sheets and frayed red comforter. Arrange the pillows, grab my teddy bear and find my warm little nook. The mind starts to race. I begin the process of trying to quiet her down. In the meantime kitteh #1 hops up and nuzzles at my nose then takes her place against my leg near the end of the bed. Quiet mind, quiet. Kitteh #2 paws at my nose until I lift the blanket for her to crawl under and curl up against my stomach. Purrs and purrs. Quiet mind, quiet. I stare out my window. Quiet mind, quiet. She starts to turn and spin and dream.
Some days, if its been tough I cry. Other days if its been nice I sigh happily. Certain days it takes longer to quiet the mind then others. The mind never stops. I go through so many things, so many thoughts, so many wonders. Shhhhhh. I start to paint pictures in my head. My crush takes me in his arms and kisses me, tells me he wants to be with me. I take centerstage and hold the audience at my fingertips. I move into my new fabulous little apartment. I go to work to a job I love. I do love the end of the day, the time to crawl into bed and dream. Dream about what I want, what I need, what I can do, the world being a good place, everyone happy, people in love. I dream. Dream. I love to dream.
Sometimes I dream I'm magic. I can solve anyone's problems with a wave of my wrist. Sometimes I dream that fairies exist. Sometimes I dream I have a love in my life. These are the pre-dreams, the fantasies that fight off the spinning thoughts of the day, the analytical thoughts, the worried thoughts, the angry thoughts. I then drift off into real dreams, dreams that are unexplainable and strange.
My end of day today is coming near, I'll have a glass of wine, sigh into bed and have thoughts of the crush, of my show, of fantasies while kitteh's 1 and 2 curl up and fill the room with the purrrrrrsssss.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
January 25 WBOD...
Shadows.
They can be fun. Scary. Odd. Artistic. Yes I'm being literal with this one. Last entry was a "shadow" enough from my past. This time we go literal. As a child I would stand with the sun high above shining down over my head and stare at my shadow. I would turn sideways and pooch out my stomach. Stick out my tongue. Make shadow puppets. I would try to run away from it. If I run just a little faster I'll actually beat it. Nope. She's always there following me. Attached to my shoes. No tricks or spins or jumps can shake your shadow.
I had a dream once and I watched someone die. Their body lay there motionless. I heard noises around me and the shadows started to move and moan. Shadows of light posts, windows, trees started taking the shapes of ghostly like figures moaning and crying out at the death of this human soul that lay at my feet. Blood swirled around the head and formed a glowing pool - shadows emerged from it sighing and reaching out towards the departed. I awoke.
Have you ever seen you shadow in the moonlight? Its different. Its clearer, crisper, odd. I sat outside in the moonlight one night, perched on the edge of the fire pit. Lazy smoke twirled upward from the cigarette dangling from my lips. I looked up and squinted at the brightness of the moon. I noticed movement and looked down to see my shadow. I reached out my hand, spreading out my fingers and started down at the crisp image of my shadow hand. I tilted my head. Its so different. Almost spooky like. I stand and watch my shadow rise with me. We danced under her light that night together.
Interesting assignment today. Shadows. Thats it. Just one word. As I sit here perched on my bed, laptop in lap, face and mouth sore as hell from my earlier dentist visit - My cats are watching me make a shadow puppet bunny hop across my wall....
They can be fun. Scary. Odd. Artistic. Yes I'm being literal with this one. Last entry was a "shadow" enough from my past. This time we go literal. As a child I would stand with the sun high above shining down over my head and stare at my shadow. I would turn sideways and pooch out my stomach. Stick out my tongue. Make shadow puppets. I would try to run away from it. If I run just a little faster I'll actually beat it. Nope. She's always there following me. Attached to my shoes. No tricks or spins or jumps can shake your shadow.
I had a dream once and I watched someone die. Their body lay there motionless. I heard noises around me and the shadows started to move and moan. Shadows of light posts, windows, trees started taking the shapes of ghostly like figures moaning and crying out at the death of this human soul that lay at my feet. Blood swirled around the head and formed a glowing pool - shadows emerged from it sighing and reaching out towards the departed. I awoke.
Have you ever seen you shadow in the moonlight? Its different. Its clearer, crisper, odd. I sat outside in the moonlight one night, perched on the edge of the fire pit. Lazy smoke twirled upward from the cigarette dangling from my lips. I looked up and squinted at the brightness of the moon. I noticed movement and looked down to see my shadow. I reached out my hand, spreading out my fingers and started down at the crisp image of my shadow hand. I tilted my head. Its so different. Almost spooky like. I stand and watch my shadow rise with me. We danced under her light that night together.
Interesting assignment today. Shadows. Thats it. Just one word. As I sit here perched on my bed, laptop in lap, face and mouth sore as hell from my earlier dentist visit - My cats are watching me make a shadow puppet bunny hop across my wall....
Sunday, January 24, 2010
January 24 Writers Book of Days...
Write about leaving.
When I saw this assignment and the first thing that comes to mind is when I left my husband.
Its really the only time that felt like leaving. Leaving a life I thought was going to work out, that we'd be happy, that I'd be married to this man the rest of my life.
This was that morning.
I woke up and something was wrong. He had been falling back again, keeping things from me, the lies, the dis-trust, it was flowing back slowly. Painfully. I didnt want to accept what I already knew. He left early. He said he had a meeting. I came downstairs. Something isnt right. I began too look around for the satchel that he swore he'd left at work. The satchel that supposedly carried the proof he was working, proof he was paying his bills, etc etc. Our therapist had suggested he show these things to me regulary. It had been a few months. I walked into the garage. There it was. Underneath some things. Underneath some of the drug paraphanalia he had said he stopped. I pulled it out. Out spilled overdue bills. So many. I carried it inside, set it on the counter and called him. There was a silence at the other end of the line. He knew this was the end. He fucked up for the last time. He hadnt been working for 3 months.
I hung up the phone and turned. The time on the microwave blinked a bright green 6:45. I walked outside, sat on the ground of my patio and started to cry. My neighbor's teenage angry daughter had a fight with her mother about 20 minutes earlier. Her room faced my patio and she had Lincoln Park's song "Numb" on repeat and was screaming along to the loud music. How appropriate. I called my job to tell them I was not coming in today. I then called my mother.
She calmed me down, and suggested some things I do. I added up the total amount we owed. I didnt have that money. I called him again, he was to call his rich relative to borrow the amount. I called all the companies telling them the money was coming. My roomate came downstairs and I broke the news to him. He hugged me and left for work. My husband came home. We talked. We cried. He was to leave until I moved out. I couldnt look at him.
Within a few weeks I had found another place to live. My roomate and I and our pets all moved out and I left the marriage I tried so hard to fix. A marriage that was un-fixable. A marriage that was never meant to be. This was one of the most painful moments in my life. My heart was broken, shattered. I was confused and angry. I did nothing wrong. I left. I left a part of my life that was tearing me apart and sending me down a spiraling finanical hole. But I left. I will never forget that morning.
When I saw this assignment and the first thing that comes to mind is when I left my husband.
Its really the only time that felt like leaving. Leaving a life I thought was going to work out, that we'd be happy, that I'd be married to this man the rest of my life.
This was that morning.
I woke up and something was wrong. He had been falling back again, keeping things from me, the lies, the dis-trust, it was flowing back slowly. Painfully. I didnt want to accept what I already knew. He left early. He said he had a meeting. I came downstairs. Something isnt right. I began too look around for the satchel that he swore he'd left at work. The satchel that supposedly carried the proof he was working, proof he was paying his bills, etc etc. Our therapist had suggested he show these things to me regulary. It had been a few months. I walked into the garage. There it was. Underneath some things. Underneath some of the drug paraphanalia he had said he stopped. I pulled it out. Out spilled overdue bills. So many. I carried it inside, set it on the counter and called him. There was a silence at the other end of the line. He knew this was the end. He fucked up for the last time. He hadnt been working for 3 months.
I hung up the phone and turned. The time on the microwave blinked a bright green 6:45. I walked outside, sat on the ground of my patio and started to cry. My neighbor's teenage angry daughter had a fight with her mother about 20 minutes earlier. Her room faced my patio and she had Lincoln Park's song "Numb" on repeat and was screaming along to the loud music. How appropriate. I called my job to tell them I was not coming in today. I then called my mother.
She calmed me down, and suggested some things I do. I added up the total amount we owed. I didnt have that money. I called him again, he was to call his rich relative to borrow the amount. I called all the companies telling them the money was coming. My roomate came downstairs and I broke the news to him. He hugged me and left for work. My husband came home. We talked. We cried. He was to leave until I moved out. I couldnt look at him.
Within a few weeks I had found another place to live. My roomate and I and our pets all moved out and I left the marriage I tried so hard to fix. A marriage that was un-fixable. A marriage that was never meant to be. This was one of the most painful moments in my life. My heart was broken, shattered. I was confused and angry. I did nothing wrong. I left. I left a part of my life that was tearing me apart and sending me down a spiraling finanical hole. But I left. I will never forget that morning.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Today's attempt...
I'm working on it.
I'm working on my life.
So tonight I was a good girl and marched on the treadmill for almost an hour since its a fucking rainstorm raging outside (I am in CA right?) of course followed by a cig and a glass or two of wine...hey I said I'm trying. I decided to have a bath. I dont know what it is about crappy cold weather outside that makes me want a bath. So I slap on a mask, fill the tub with Lavender salts and try to quiet my busy busy mind. I later find myself on the floor staring at the ceiling wondering what to do with life. I did decide I want to write more. You cant force creativity, and I havent had the urge to blog too much lately. I have been journaling some, but not as much. Its kind of funny when some of my better writing comes when I'm really down (Shit I should have written last Friday Night). Anywhoo, a little nudge at the creativity never hurts. So I bought The Writers Book of Days a while back. I did it for a few months, but tinkered off...so I thought I'd write some here. Not every day, but days like tonight when I'm craving a bit of writing. I'll pick up the book, go to today's assignment and share it with whoever actually still read this blog. So here we go:
"Look out your window, write what you see"
When I peer out my childhood window the dark engulfs the world. One of my furry companions hops up and stares out with me. Everything is wet and battered, plants drooping, puddles fading, the glass is cold against my nose. I start to remember growing up in this room - staring out this very same window wanting so bad to move on in the world. I've climbed out of this window. I remember Jason used to sneak over the fence and softly rap on my window some nights. He was my very first "french" kiss. I remember the blackberry bush mom planted out there - I'm sure to keep me from future sneak outs. When I recently moved back home there was a rose bush and a single beautiful red rose bloomed right outside. I'd lay in bed and stare at its beauty hoping to get my life back on track again. Here I am, looking outside wanting to get out again. So many years later. Life's outlook is different now though. All grown up...sort of. Now I appreciate more the work my mom has put into her garden. So many plants and life. They survived the storms, and will survive the next few rolling in. I cant wait for Spring.
I'm working on my life.
So tonight I was a good girl and marched on the treadmill for almost an hour since its a fucking rainstorm raging outside (I am in CA right?) of course followed by a cig and a glass or two of wine...hey I said I'm trying. I decided to have a bath. I dont know what it is about crappy cold weather outside that makes me want a bath. So I slap on a mask, fill the tub with Lavender salts and try to quiet my busy busy mind. I later find myself on the floor staring at the ceiling wondering what to do with life. I did decide I want to write more. You cant force creativity, and I havent had the urge to blog too much lately. I have been journaling some, but not as much. Its kind of funny when some of my better writing comes when I'm really down (Shit I should have written last Friday Night). Anywhoo, a little nudge at the creativity never hurts. So I bought The Writers Book of Days a while back. I did it for a few months, but tinkered off...so I thought I'd write some here. Not every day, but days like tonight when I'm craving a bit of writing. I'll pick up the book, go to today's assignment and share it with whoever actually still read this blog. So here we go:
"Look out your window, write what you see"
When I peer out my childhood window the dark engulfs the world. One of my furry companions hops up and stares out with me. Everything is wet and battered, plants drooping, puddles fading, the glass is cold against my nose. I start to remember growing up in this room - staring out this very same window wanting so bad to move on in the world. I've climbed out of this window. I remember Jason used to sneak over the fence and softly rap on my window some nights. He was my very first "french" kiss. I remember the blackberry bush mom planted out there - I'm sure to keep me from future sneak outs. When I recently moved back home there was a rose bush and a single beautiful red rose bloomed right outside. I'd lay in bed and stare at its beauty hoping to get my life back on track again. Here I am, looking outside wanting to get out again. So many years later. Life's outlook is different now though. All grown up...sort of. Now I appreciate more the work my mom has put into her garden. So many plants and life. They survived the storms, and will survive the next few rolling in. I cant wait for Spring.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
My hopes...
Its now 2010.
A new year. A new beginning. Time for change.
We all say that at each new year I know, I've been saying every year since I was old enough to understand the concept. I'll be turning 34 this year and I'm tired of things not happening. As you saw in my last blog, last year was full of extreme ups and extreme downs. I'd like to look at that as the year I fought. The year I battled my emotions. Yes, I've done that for years but it seems this time around instead of falling into that deep dark depression I can sometimes find myself drowning in, I found that I was more frustrated. More angry. More of a fighter. I think this is a good thing. I believe that is prepping me for what is going to happen in this year. No more. Shit needs to happen and this is the year it better. I'm prepared for a fight. I'm prepared for challenges. I think things have taken their toll on me for sure but I feel better that my attitude seems to be more of a fighter spirit this time around instead of giving up and drowning my sorrows.
I don't make resolutions, but I do have hopes for this year.
I want to go back to school. I'm not quite sure for what yet, I'm actually thinking of something in the medical field. X-ray technician or something like that. I basically want a secure job that will have a retirement and pay me decently enough to get out of this monster debt and out of my mom's house.
I want my body back. She's taken a beating this past year, a combination of laziness, age and battles. I will always eat what I want, but I plan to be much more physically active this year, quit smoking and get all those damn doctor visits I've been putting off taken care of.
I want to move out. This will hopefully happen before I necessarily go back to school and change careers. I do hope I can at least get back on my feet and out the door with some budget help and finding ways to make some extra dough.
There are other things I want - like finding love or at least some more fun times, or writing a book, or getting some of my photography seen but they will come. These things will fall into place.
I have to make this happen this year. I will.
A new year. A new beginning. Time for change.
We all say that at each new year I know, I've been saying every year since I was old enough to understand the concept. I'll be turning 34 this year and I'm tired of things not happening. As you saw in my last blog, last year was full of extreme ups and extreme downs. I'd like to look at that as the year I fought. The year I battled my emotions. Yes, I've done that for years but it seems this time around instead of falling into that deep dark depression I can sometimes find myself drowning in, I found that I was more frustrated. More angry. More of a fighter. I think this is a good thing. I believe that is prepping me for what is going to happen in this year. No more. Shit needs to happen and this is the year it better. I'm prepared for a fight. I'm prepared for challenges. I think things have taken their toll on me for sure but I feel better that my attitude seems to be more of a fighter spirit this time around instead of giving up and drowning my sorrows.
I don't make resolutions, but I do have hopes for this year.
I want to go back to school. I'm not quite sure for what yet, I'm actually thinking of something in the medical field. X-ray technician or something like that. I basically want a secure job that will have a retirement and pay me decently enough to get out of this monster debt and out of my mom's house.
I want my body back. She's taken a beating this past year, a combination of laziness, age and battles. I will always eat what I want, but I plan to be much more physically active this year, quit smoking and get all those damn doctor visits I've been putting off taken care of.
I want to move out. This will hopefully happen before I necessarily go back to school and change careers. I do hope I can at least get back on my feet and out the door with some budget help and finding ways to make some extra dough.
There are other things I want - like finding love or at least some more fun times, or writing a book, or getting some of my photography seen but they will come. These things will fall into place.
I have to make this happen this year. I will.
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