I should have waxed my brows
And paid more attention to my lips
as there is nothing more of me, but a pair of sagging hips.
I should have said hello
to those I didn't know
Or said goodbye to those that
didn't take the chance to say, Hi.
I should have known that God would smile
knowing that this took a while
and would say, you have no worries, my child.
I should have known to finish my work
before I opened my mouth
and looked like a jerk.
I should have wished more love to my world
but it doesn't matter to them, the things I cared for,
like, if my hair was straight, gone or curled.
I should have taken the trash out
before the diapers soured
and the oranges began to pout.
I should have known that the first
would hurt the most
the last, wouldn't kill me,
or be the worst.
For I should have listened
to those that said, I love you
and you're my friend.
I should have done more for those I know,
I should have done...more to say
I love you...you're my life, my love, my end.
Okay, enough is enough. Hope you get the message...loud and clear. As they say, whoever THEY are, see ya on the flipside.
Yours in Cutting, Curing and Courting Loves Lost and Found,
Friday, February 17, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Quote of the Day:
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.
Current Local Weather:
Cold. Dark. Loud
Currently on my iTunes:
Dear Friends, Family and My Family of Friends,
This morning finds me awake. VERY awake. Trouble is that it's only 330am MST. I wish it wasn't. There isn't anything more in this world that I want more than a night of sleep that lasts ALL NIGHT LONG. This whole affair my biological clock is having with the digital clock of the world that happens at 230-730am every single day is getting old. I have to ask my body, why in the hell do you think this is ok? When did I ever give you permission to cheat on me with this early morning mistress of insomnia characterized by bladder fullness, fits of discombobulated creativity and worry for the better half of mankind...
I am more tired than I have been in eons. This is rivaling the absurdity of the culture of nonsleeping infants...This cavity of sleep deprivation is about to cause death to my roots. I'm about to need a root canal of my mind. And I know it's going to hurt and I hope my subconscious numbs me up for it before hand. I'm reminded of the great Aerosmith tune, Love in an Elevator...living it up while I'm going down.
I'm pretty sure that what I'm doing wasn't the point of Tyler's magical lyrics. I've had people say...well, at least you're getting work done...That's NOT my idea of living it up. So what am I doing?
What I'm doing is trying to make the best of this situation. There's lots of situations in my life at this moment that need a positive spin. Sometimes, when life throws a mass amount of smashed lemons right at your retinas, it's hard to see that there is ever going to be a positive spin on anything you do, ever again! But lemon juice, especially rotten lemon juice with shards of your past, will only cause temporary blindness. Painful temporary blindness, but temporary nonetheless.
Unless you add rock salt to the lemons. Then it can necessitate some doc or other digging out your eyeballs of the poison that pains you. Surgery is never the best option. Unless it's your appendix.
But thinking that just the elimination of something that is less than ideal, like this insomnia, isn't going to cure the root cause. Eliminating this time of the morning for me, as in sleeping through it, would mean that most of the latest blogs would be silent and some of the better book ideas I've had would be amiss in the universe.
So, there's the bright side.
The downside is that I'm beginning to look like this chic:
I'm sure she's very pretty when she gets a full night sleep. Inside and out. But living a dream or living through a dream isn't always the best option nor is it a given that your conscious thoughts will allow you to recall whatever dreams you've previously laid out for yourself.
Some small talk with your inner being while you're suffering through anything can also help cure your issues. The best way to get someone to open up to you is to make them feel comfortable within a few seconds, yes, not minutes, SECONDS, of meeting you or speaking with you. I learned this the hard way during the interview process for The New Face of Jazz. I tried to get it right, especially at first when I was literally winging it, but then I realized that I had to forget the notion of greatness right out of the gate and listen to what the subject was telling me and saying without words. Body language. Radio silence on the other end of the phone...could I engage a complete stranger in a conversation that would eventually translate to mean something on the page? Can I now do this with myself? Despite my excuses of insomnia, circumstantial depression or situational weirdness? I don't know.
But I have to, and I know this to be true of everyone I know that has gone through this or something similar, pick up my arse and get my head out of the crack running down the middle of it. No excuses. I'm not the only one with more issues than National Geographic. (Thanks Suellen!)
I know it's true. Sometimes words and walls are there just to be run into at the least opportune moment. Such as this one...at 3am. Oh well. Chasing pavements won't afford you opportunity, it will, instead, give you skinned knee and eat your elbows.
I hope all of you reading this, right at this moment, went to bed earlier than I did. Or passed out from too much beer at a Super Bowl Party. Seize the opportunity to make the most of your day, regardless of the weight sitting on your shoulders. It can ALWAYS be worse. Mostly.
Yours in Skinned Knees, Skirting through the Middle of the Night and Sailing through Today to Get to Tomorrow,
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Quote of the Day:
You have to believe that love will be there when you need it.
Current Local Weather:
Snow. Slate-Cleansing snow.
Currently on my iPod:
"What Might Have Been"
Dear Friends, Family and My Family of Friends...
I love the anticipation of a good snow storm.
Growing up in GA meant I had an unusual sense of the awesomeness known as snow. While growing up it didn't take much. The mere thought of snow meant we (my generation and younger) began, almost immediately, to hold out for our biggest hope of all hopes that school would cease to exist. It's not that we didn't care about learning or bettering ourselves, it was because flaky white goodness was the end all be all of seasonal rewards. We could stay up late and watch HBO, we didn't have to study! We could sleep in! Or better yet we could go into the ice, dressed in our once a year winter jacket and learn the ups and downs of frostbite.
Snow days ranked up there with waiting for Jesus/Guffman or the next Zombie Apocalypse. It just HAS to happen, right?
Snow is THE Jabberwocky of all things weather related in the South. It HAS to be real, right?
Just because we lived in the South didn't mean we didn't deserve days off of school for snow! But they were rare, hardly seen, hardly felt, feared by the adults and loved by kids. Snow...ah, the snow. The silent beauty.
Ah...memories...I'm reminded, while keeping one eye anxiously on the window, two ears plugged into Fleetwood Mac and my fingers moving to spin a yarn for you all, of those days and those third person dreams. Dreams of this type tend to appear as crazy or unfounded by those that believe dreaming is frivolous and hard work is the only bedfellow a person should have. I suppose those of us that do dream need to hold tight to our third person dreams for those that don't. It's our duty. There are those of us that weren't born to dream, we were born dreaming. Of course we lose our way and forget how we got where we are. Reminders of this life are sometimes blind, blunt and bewildering. This is when we must allow our peers to hold their third person dreams out there for us to borrow, enhance and send back for the next.
This isn't always easy. As I get older and the snow storms become more of an expected nuisance, dreaming of a clean white slate of a day seems frivolous and boring, a waste of space in my mind. But it isn't. If we're not careful, as adults, we will soon be left with only a reflection of ourselves in those snow covered hills. By the time this happens we honestly risk our lives staring at that snow-covered hill. We will have forgotten to play in the snow and become a paranoid of avalanches, dreamless person.
I love the Fleetwood Mac song,
***And the link is to the best version out there.***
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
until the landslide brought me down...
oh mirror in the sky, what is love..
can the child within my heart, rise above.
Can I sail through the changing ocean tide,
can I handle the seasons of my life...
Well, I've been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you.
But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too.
Oh I'm getting older too...so...
Take this love, take it down.
If you climb a mountain and you turn around.
and if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
well the landslide will bring you down...down...
and if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills....
well maybe, the landslide will bring you down...
well, well, the landslide will bring you down.
Nothing like a good Stevie Nicks set of lyrics to bring the tears on...and you back to your dreaming self.
So, what's the point? I have to confess. I'm amidst something I think could be great, honestly so. And no, it's not my medical crap. I've recently experienced something I'd rather keep to myself for now. It started as a hope/fear of the unknown and became this unexpected, wonderful and worrisome thing all at once. Turns out, I'm smack dab in the middle of a third person dream. Someone from an unknown constellation is lending this to me and they knew right when I needed it. This isn't my dream. It's, at least not from where I stand, always a good thing but looks like it might get there.
It's a landslide.
It's ok. I'll either die trying to find a safe place for myself in it or I will live to see what the land beneath it looks like. Either way, I can't complain. I don't know what I haven't seen. I don't understand what I can't hear or feel and like most, I fear all of it. The good and bad, the known and unknown. We're bred to live in a life where we address those that are part of our current known dream in the second person and find it ridiculous to live in the third and observe our lives from the outside in. Even if only for a moment.
My third person life kinda goes like this: Cicily likes to dream in color. She finds the best people she possibly can and attaches herself to them like one of those sticky octopuses that walk on walls that she used to collect from Happy meals...She thinks Salt-Water Taffy was invented by dentists, slips in & out of conscious thought all day long and truly believes that snow is the best of all known distractions. Cicily is currently dreaming. Please don't disturb her. Just trust it will get better, just like she does.
Yours in Dreams, Drifts and Delivering a Delirious Draft,