"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous." ~Anais Nin

26 August 2015

Poetry Wednesday #5


Please forgive me: I forgot
Last weeks post.  See, quite a lot 
Happened, and I lost my head -
Wound up spending time in bed.
Really, I am not to blame.
By the time that Wednesday came:
Some lady had hit my car,
And I'm lucky not to scar
From my shattered shower door
That rained glass upon the floor
While I was stuck within it.
It was a stressful minute
Spent crying on broken glass
'Til my mom rescued my ass -
Naked as the newly born -
Broken, bleeding, feeling worn -
I just couldn't concentrate, 
So my poem is very late.

As amends, before this post's done
You'll get two poems instead of one.

Greenwood Trill

"Trees sing, you know,
When the wind is right,
And if you tilt your head just so
You can understand them,"
A witch told me once
While I slept and dreamt,
Dreamt of the fathomless depths
That only sleep can see.

I spent my days after that
Dreamt advice
Running outside whenever
The wind blew, and
Tilting my head this way and that
Hoping to catch their songs.

12 August 2015

Poetry Wednesday #4


Starting subtle, not a hiss of pain,
But inside of the skull feels sour.
Senses strengthen: sounds grow sharper,
Skin sensitive, and smells, too, intensify,
As sight skews by the hour.
Silent agony creeps closer,
Unobserved and unassuming, until,
Like Athena birthing herself,
Spear clashes with bone
And the brain itself attempts escape.
Then pain closes.
Then pain comes.
Too late to stop.
Too late to do anything,
But curl and cry, 
Silently, in a

05 August 2015

Poetry Wednesday #3

Woman, 1 of many

She was not trained,
As other women were,
To endure discomfort;
And so, refused to wear those icons of 
That were called
High heels.

Her girlhood consisted of
Rough and tumble games,
Her dolls were always dusty with
And she never learned,
As other girls did,
How to hold her tongue,
So she never lost the power of her

I envy her
The power of her tongue,
The strength of her words,
The comfort of her stride.
My own is often tied,
I walk cautiously,
Afraid to trip,
Afraid to fall.
Rarely speak with confidence,
If I speak at all.

How is it
That I learned what she
Did not?  
In youth, I played the same
Rough and tumble games,
But somehow my play
Turned quiet.
As did my voice.
Now, my feet hurt
All the time,
And I barely say a word.

02 August 2015


So, I have this problem: I can't stand taking photographs of myself; I can't standing looking at photographs of myself; I get this sick, super-panicky feeling whenever I'm told that I must get pictures taken for whatever reason.

And now, I've got to take some photos.  To help my brother and his wife adopt a baby.  And I will, but it doesn't keep that feeling from eating away at my guts.

The problem is that I'm very fat.  I weighed in at 309 lbs this morning, and while that's less than my heaviest, it's still far heavier than I want to be.  I've maintained this weight for the last several years.  I want to lose it though.  I just don't feel attractive, which leads to another of my problems: social isolation, but we're not getting into that today.  Today, we'll just talk about the fatness.

And my fear of photos.

They break the illusion, you see.  In my mind I don't see myself as fat, just an older version of the svelte teenager I once was.  Seeing a photo of myself I have to admit that I put on over 100 lbs, and just generally let myself go.  The weight's not attractive on me either, it sits awkwardly around my middle, making it difficult to sit straight with my legs closed.  The least my weight gain could have given me was bigger breasts, but alas, no, my boobs have remained relatively the same size.  Though, on the bright side, I'm taking that to mean that when I lose weight they'll remain the same then too.

I did not gain weight attractively, more's the pity.  Some of my friends did.  There are women out there in the world, who I knew from middle and high school, who put on significant amounts of weight - as much as me, adjusted for their frames - who look good.  Maybe they don't feel that way, maybe when they see themselves they feel the same way I do when I see me, but that thought doesn't change the way I feel about myself.

I need to lose weight.  I've been saying it for years, promising myself that I won't go another summer, another Halloween, another birthday so uncomfortably large, but I never follow through.  And I need to follow through.  It really is affecting my health and happiness.

My knees hurt, my back hurts, I spent the last two days hobbling around like an old woman most likely because I spent Friday night at a full moon ritual where I had to sit on the floor and stand multiple times.  This is not who I want to be, and I am far too young to have all these aches and pains.

It's decision time.  That quote from The Shawshank Redemption seems apropos: "Get busy living, or get busy dying."  I need to change my life.  I've blogged about this before, but it really is far past time.  I fear having the loose and floppy skin, but I think I fear the poor health, atrophied muscles, a lifetime of pain, and the belly that makes some ask when I'm due more.

So, what does this mean?  Well, 10k steps is being reinstated*, my fitbit is coming out of hibernation, and I'm going to take a serious look at my diet (I've got to cut out sugars).  Beyond that?  I'm not really sure.
*Sorry, that's from one of the posts I recently deleted in my massive clean-out of this blog.  10,000 (10k) steps is about the equivalent of 5 miles, and it is my goal to work up to walking that every day.  When I was in really good shape (still dancing, etc.) I walked/jogged around 9 miles a day in addition to dance classes, aerobics, acrobatics, and yoga a couple of times a week, and on top of my daily just-moving-around.  Like I said, I was svelte.  At this point, I would just like to hit 10k steps a day total, once that happens I'll think about additions.