At The Moment...

well, it's all over. school, surgery...all of it. i finished the semester with a solid A in Professional Writing Skills, A-'s in both my Journal Writing course and Women's Studies, and a B (insert shocked face here) in Biology of Women. The last 3 or 4 weeks were hell because i was struggling so much with my back and all the pain i was in. (not to mention the myriad of narcotics i was on) i had to quit attending Biology because of all the stairs in the lecture hall. i just couldn't walk up and down them. i also missed quite a few of my other classes due to not being able to sit for long periods of time. honestly, i'm shocked i did as well as i did. i should still be on the dean's list...i'll find out sometime this summer when they send out the certificates.

i had lumbar disc microsurgery on may 13th and now i'm on the mend. the surgery was in a hospital in lafayette. brand new hospital...only been there for a few months. the room was lovely and the staff was great. the food was good. all in all, it went really well. i went in on the 13th at 8a and was out on the 14th by 4p. after leaving the hospital, we had to stop and pick up my new "wheels". i had to get a rolling walker for the first week or so post-op. i traded it for my cane a couple days ago. probably should have kept the walker a lil longer...but i'm feeling strong enough now to use the cane correctly. hoping that my leg with strengthen up enough soon that i can get rid of the cane, as well!

since the surgery, i've left the house 2ce and entertained a couple of guests. April came over and brought me a cute little stuffed puppy dog and (!!) some wax and a seal. the seal is a rose and the wax is pink. April, being the queen of Goodwill that she is, found it at the Outlet Center where you pay by the pound. she's amazing...she finds the best stuff there! i was, obviously, thrilled by it. i've already used it once to seal a handwritten letter to my mom and have plans for 2 or 3 more handwritten letters i plan on sending out. Maxine Dangerous came over yesterday bearing plenty of goodies for a lunch of finger foods. we had a lovely time chatting and nibbling. it was great to see her...it's been a while. hell, it's been a while since i've seen any of my friends. that will be remedied this summer.

i've also received a couple of cards via the USPS. (it's so much more fun to use acronyms than just saying 'the mail'...don't you think?) one was from Stacy and one was from Ashley...both are friends of D's. they are lovely ladies. i've met them both a couple of times. i thought it was incredibly sweet of them to send me 'get well wishes'. i plan on sending them both a little note (sealed up with my new toy, of course!) to tell them just what it meant to me.

i suppose that is just about it for now. today, D and i are spending some time with Shay. we're taking her to the park. she told me last night on the phone that she wanted to bring her baseball bat and her golf clubs and take a walk. not sure how much walking i'll be doing...but i'll give it a go!

The Taming Of The Squirrel...

I think I’ve previously mentioned my love of squirrels. If I haven’t, then let me mention it now. Squirrels are so cute with their bushy tails (except for this one that I saw a couple of days ago. It had mange and was mostly bald. It was really rather gross) and their little hands. Sometimes I feed them out the window of our 2nd story apartment. I have a few snack sized bags of chex mix that I sprinkle down from the open screen and drop to the ground. My squirrel (I call him Paul after Paul McCartney) comes over and eats it. Squirreling (ha!) it away in his cheek pouches. A-fucking-dorable.

Anyway, so even though I love squirrels, I’m wary of them. I won’t hand feed them the way some people do. I know from experience that a wild squirrel cannot be tamed. When I was 19, I was attending college at Indiana University-Kokomo, or IUK. Being such a small satellite school, it only had 3 buildings. They were arranged in a triangle and in the center was a little grassy area with sidewalks between the buildings. There were trees aligning 2 of the sides of the campus and a parking area aligning the 3rd. It was (and I’m sure still is) a very nice looking campus.

As I said before about the squirrels, sometimes folks try to tame them. They are able to hand feed them. The little squirrel inches its way up to you and gently takes the food from your fingertips. Sounds lovable, right? Don’t be fooled! They are vicious, wild animals. They will attack you in the wink of an eye. And, it will be without warning.

One day, I was walking with a friend who was also attending IUK. His name is Ryan and he’s a queenie bitch of a man. His mannerisms are extremely feminine. When he screams, as he did one fall day, it sounds like a woman. What made him scream was a ferocious squirrel. Ryan bent to offer a bit of stale bread that he always carried with him to feed the squirrels. The squirrel crept up to Ryan and took the proffered bread. Nibbling at it quickly and shoving it into its cheek pouches. It sat up and waited for a moment, as if silently asking for another bit of bread. Then, without warning, it got a crazy look in its eyes and leapt up into the air, hurling its tiny body towards Ryan’s skinny little chicken’s leg decked out in some sort of designer jean.

The squirrel latched itself onto Ryan’s leg with that crazed look, hooking his tiny paws onto each side of the leg of his pants. Ryan squealed like a woman and began to violently shake his leg in an attempt to unlatch the squirrel. His arms were flailing and the messenger bag on his shoulder dropped to the ground. All of this seemed to piss off the squirrel so he bit into Ryan’s leg-through the denim-with his sharp little teeth. After biting him, the squirrel pulled back and looked up at Ryan for a brief moment before releasing its talon-like claws and jumping back and off of him and running up the nearest tree, the taste of blood in his mouth.

Ryan’s poor leg needed a couple of stitches and he had to have a series of rabies shots in his belly. The day after it happened, the Dean sent out an email to all students, warning them against feeding the seemingly tame squirrels. Everyone at the tiny school heard variations of the story as it flew around the campus from mouth to ear to mouth. I, myself, heard a few deviations from what happened as an eyewitness to the account. I never corrected anyone; instead, I just enjoyed the stories and laughed internally at the varying degrees of severity of them. The next semester, I dropped out. So did Ryan.

And The Beat Goes On...

I've got a nice mix of Lortab, Percocet, and Coke Zero coursing through me. I'm not the most lucid I've ever been so I hope, dear reader, you will forgive and forget if I make no sense.

I thought it was time for a life update. My semester is nearly complete and I've got a whirlwind of papers to write and exams to study for. 4 more weeks. This semester has flown by. Hell, this whole school year has flown by. June will be my one-year anniversary of living in the big city. There are days when it feels as if I've been here all along...and days when everything seems fresh and I feel so green and new. It's coming together, though. Our apartment has become a really kitschy and comfy pad. We are currently lacking a dresser and a bed frame...but they are simmering. D talked about going to get a bed frame today. By herself. I don't think it'll fit in my car...but who knows.

Anyway, so I'm sure you are curious about the pain killer cocktail. Somehow I've managed to injure my left leg to the point that it's in constant sharp, nerve pain and goes numb on occasion. Having an MRI tomorrow...I'll keep you updated, dear reader...for, I'm certain you are biting at the bit and dying to know what is wrong with my poor leg.

Shaylin is in daycare now because D needs to be here to help me. I have to admit I feel a little guilt for this. I know that Shay needs to move on to a learning environment where she is exposed to kids for long periods of time...but did I really need to be the catalyst that sent her to daycare in a whirlwind? D is having a rough go of it. I completely understand...after being with her daily for nearly 1.5 yrs, you are gonna go through a lil separation anxiety, amiright?

I think that's about it for now. It will be nap time soon. I suppose I'll wrap up this installment by sharing a blog that I have recently (yesterday) fell in love with. It's called six sentences. Check it out and you'll understand. I'm working on my 6 sentences so I can post, too. Look for me :)

An Attempt At Poetry...

if you know me on an intimate level, you know i am a writer at heart...but not a poet. i decided to step outside my box and try my hand at a poem just for the fun of it. it is a rework of this piece. any and all feedback would be appreciated and welcomed with an open mind.

*deep breath* here goes...

Struggling to find words that illustrate me
Shaping who I am and where I’ve been
Thoughts and opinions get expressed
In words far too big for my pretty mouth

By the time it’s made it all the way ‘round
I’ve lost the words
Sentences flying out the window of a moving car
Spitting against the wind and all of that jazz

I’m mute
I open my mouth and flap my jaws
Snapping my teeth at the moon
Snarling at the heavens

Yearning for a being higher than I
Longing to be in touch with spirituality
Hungering for acceptance
And craving prayer I feel gets heard

I need peace
Piece of mind
Self-worth
And self-control

Do you know me?
Am I familiar?
Why won’t you answer me?
Are you even out there?

Is it enough to just be?

Getting Freaky In Front Of Jesus...

It’s a quarter after noon and I’m doped up on caffeine and Klonopin. I’m freaking the fuck out because I feel like I’ve wasted my break. It’s only Thursday. I still have time. But, I feel like it has to all be done today. A chapter to read in Women’s Studies and a 2 pg journal about it to write, a chapter I don’t want to read for Biology, at least 5 journals and a reflective piece that I have no clue how to write for my journaling class. Fuck. Take another drink of coffee. Try to focus and write this damned entry. Try to make it worthwhile enough to be used for my journal. Write a little, swig the coffee.

I’ve got lyrics in my head that have nothing to do with anything but they run like a broken record in my brain. Maybe I should open the window to listen to the rushing cars as they zoom down College. It’s as close to nature as I get living in the city. Cars hurrying past and mimicking the sound of a river.

I turn on my mp3 player on the laptop, search for the song that won’t end, and play it. “Come on people now, smile on your brother. Try to love one another right now…” There. I can ease up a little. I stretch, reaching to the ceiling for a moment before slumping back over the keyboard.

A noise outside the door makes me turn my head. I catch a glimpse of D’s newly acquired Black Velvet Jesus Paint By Number…unpainted. In great condition, too. She’s excited to paint it and frame it. Where it’s going to go, I have not a clue. Hopefully not in the boudoir, I don’t want Jesus watching me get freaky.

A Big Dose of Vitamin "D"...

i live a pretty interesting life...but yesterday topped out pretty high on the interesting scale. d and i were doing our usual wednesday gig...lots of running around doing errands. we caught an eyeful (think drag queen and posse)...and an earful (thanks to the little gay boy at mc donald's) during our travels.

it started out with our diabetes education class in southport...we were late (as usual) because we weren't paying attention to the time. class starts promptly at 1:30...we rolled in about 10 mins til 2. (not a seat was left...no table...we had to sit in chairs in the back and write on our laps) oh well...at least the class "diabetic overachiever" (he always monopolizes the instructor's time after class is over and we never get the chance to ask questions) came in after us. he sports a goatee-type thing that runs all the way down his stomach. he binds it with little rubber bands to seperate it into sections...much like you'd see in the intestines with the sphincters that cause peristalsis. (at least that is what it looked like to me. i'm currently taking biology and our last chapter just dealt with the digestive system. what i don't get, though, is how i nearly failed my midterm, yet i know all about sphincters...how queer)

so, 3:30 comes around and we leave our class with a little more knowledge than we had originally. on our way home, we drive through homecroft. we spot a golf cart fully decked out with colts attire and two young guys waiting on a side street to pull out into traffic. we are mildly entertained at the sight and laugh about it in the car.

we are now homeward bound. just as we're pulling up to our apartment building on college ave, we...no lie...spot a modern day cowboy, on a white horse, galloping full-speed down college towards downtown. what. the. fuck. he was fully decked out in cowboy attire...ten-gallon hat, included. once again...what...the...fuck?!

after running by the house, we headed back out to do our weekly shopping. first, though, we drive-thru the mcd's on the corner of meridian and 16th. we are serviced by a friendly lil fagboy who informs us that although he has to be indoors all day, at least he is getting a good dose of vitamin d through the window...which, according to him..."vitamin "d" is the only vitamin i don't mind taking". wow...i really feel like i know a lil too much about you, dude.

next, we run by d's brother's apartment. upon leaving, we spot children out in droves. i literally mean between 40-50 of them just milling around the parking lot. it was like driving through a herd of sheep. d had to keep beeping the horn so they would part and let us through. this may not sound as exciting as the urban cowboy or vitamin d boy...but have you ever seen a herd of small children? it's scary. they are like clowns to us. *shudders*

so, after leaving joe's apartment, we are driving down lynhurst and lo and behold...there is another golf cart! this time, it's parked by the side of the road and two old men are drinking coffee and watching traffic go by. i really doubt they had any intention of pulling out onto the road. they were just enjoying the day...in a golf cart...on the side of the road.

finally, we've made it to wal-mart. i get my eyebrows threaded and then we have dinner at subway. if you don't know d, you don't know how much she enjoys people watching. our wal-mart always has interesting characters to watch. (i especially like titi the cashier-phonetically that is teetee-and the cashier who wears a wig) on this day...we were blessed with the presence of an over-the-top drag queen and her entourage of gayboys. she was wearing...what appeared to be...an argyle sock with the toe cut off on her right arm and a leather glove on her left hand. she was also wearing sunglasses, even though it was 8p.

sensory overload.

The Sum of My Parts...

I struggle to find words to describe me. I have thoughts and opinions that I express with words far too big for my mouth, but when it comes down to me…I have nothing to say. What do I want? I want to find a peace and sense of self worth. I crave a higher being. I crave spirituality. I crave prayer that I feel gets heard. Who am I, and why is it so hard to answer that question? I am. Is it enough to just be?

Who do you think I am? As much as I would love to say that I ignore what others think of me…in truth, it makes up who I am. What others say or think of me validates who I am. Perhaps it even makes up the sum of me. If I could ignore what others thought or said, would I even exist? Would I become a shell of me? So, instead of me telling you who I am…tell me who you think I am. Tell me what you think of me…and that is who I will become.

Taco Salad Night...

Rain patters on the windowsill. I peek out the blinds just in time to catch a glimpse of a bright streak of lightening across the dark sky. I clinch my teeth and duck my head as the loud clap of thunder follows the lightening strike. I feel foolish for having this knee-jerk reaction. So silly. It’s just a spring storm. It popped up suddenly and I’m sure it will end just as quickly. The droplets of water make little puddles in the craters of the asphalt. I watch intently as the oversized drops plop against the ground. “I hate mud,” I grumble softly to myself. What a silly statement. How can you hate something so commonplace as mud? I do, though.

The rain begins tapering off just as quickly as it began. The sound of thunder has been replaced by the clatter of pots and pans. I rise from my spot on the couch and wander into the kitchen to find my partner beginning dinner. Taco salad night. I move to her side silently and she turns her face to offer her cheek to me. I lean in and kiss it lightly; brushing my lips against her soft skin. “Storm’s over,” I mumble around the piece of tomato I’ve just popped into my mouth.

“That was quick.” She continues fussing with the meat, stirring it to break it into crumbles. I survey the kitchen. The counter is covered in little piles of vegetables; tomatoes, lettuce, onions, bell peppers. I smile to myself. Her organization always amuses me. A place for everything and everything in its place. Even the vegetables aren’t immune to her need to arrange things so they are aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

My ears prick up at the sound of a distant rumble. The storm has moved on but it’s left the thunder trailing behind. “Can I help?” I reach for a pepper this time and her hand darts out quickly. She lightly bats me away from the perfect little piles she’s worked so hard on. I pout and draw my hand back, pretending to be hurt by her playful admonishment.

“You can help by leaving the veggies be and getting down some plates. The meat is almost ready.” I’ve knocked one of the peppers out of place. She’s rearranging the pepper pile as the words fall out of her pretty mouth. I can’t help but laugh a little. It bubbles up and comes out as a short “Ha!” She gives me “the look” and I bite back my laughter. I hide my smile behind the open cabinet door while I’m reaching for the plates.

I set them down carefully on the counter. She’s so picky about the dishes. They were her great aunt’s. I wonder, sometimes, if she loves me as much as those dishes. “Dinner looks great, babe.” My stomach rumbles hungrily while I watch her begin making our plates. Careful piles of lettuce topped with meat, cheese, veggies. Her graceful hands work quickly and before I know it, the salads are ready. I drizzle just a little taco sauce over mine and hand the bottle to her. Our fingers brush.

I feel the electricity between us. Ever present, even after all these years together. I glance up at her. She’s watching me. I smile broadly and give her a wink. She blushes and giggles girlishly. That giggle. I call her Betty Rubble sometimes. She pretends not to like it, but I know better. It’s just another part of our dance.

Rearranging Letters...

i’m a writer.  say it out loud.  say it twice if you think it’ll make it stick.  i’m sitting at my desk in my office in what used to be the dining area (i’ve set up a screen to separate it from the living room) and i’m pounding loudly on the keyboard.  i’m angry.  i’m scared.  the words won’t come out and i’ve got a deadline to meet.  i can’t force them, that just makes it worse.  i take a deep breath and count to 5.  i stand and stretch…reaching towards the ceiling and arching my back.  “i’m a writer.”  say it louder.  “I’M A WRITER!”  that’s better.  i sit back down and begin to type again.  a little softer, not beating the keys into submission, just letting the words flow.  i look up at the photos of my life decorating my desk and think about all the wasted time in the last 30 years that i could have been doing what i love.  but i wasn’t.  i was playing games.  just teasing the surface of what needed to be said.  i know those years were wasted.  i’m fighting to make up for lost time now.  this thought makes me angry and i begin beating at the keys once again. 

it’s time to stop for the night.  i don’t want to wrap it up but it’s gotten late and d’s already in bed.  she kissed my forehead hours ago and told me not to be too long.  here i sit, hours later, still typing.  nonsense and gobbledygook.  damn.  i want this to be good.  i want THIS piece to be the one.  the one that i get brave enough to submit to an anthology or a magazine and not just some website.  i feel like crying.  i want to bang the keys.  i want to pop them off and rearrange the letters.

The Carnival Was Ringing Loudly Now...

the decemberists -- here i dreamt i was an architect



And here I dreamt I was a soldier
And I marched the streets of Birkenau
And I recall in spring
The perfume that the air would bring
To the indolent town
Where the barkers call the moon down
The carnival was ringing loudly now
And just to lay with you
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
Save lay my rifle down

And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
All right, it's okay, guess it's better to turn this way

And I am nothing of a builder
But here I dreamt I was an architect
And I built this balustrade
To keep you home, to keep you safe
From the outside world
But the angles and the corners
Even though my work is unparalleled
They never seemed to meet
This structure fell about our feet
And we were free to go

And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
All right, okay, guess it's better to turn this way

And here in Spain I am a Spaniard
I will be buried with my marionettes
Countess and courtesan
Have fallen 'neath my tender hand
When their husbands were not around
But you, my soiled teenage girlfriend
And how you are furrowed like a lioness
And we are vagabonds
We travel without seatbelts on
We live this close to death

And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
All right, okay, guess it's better to turn this
But I won, so you lose
Guess it always comes down to
Alright, it's okay, guess it's better to turn this way