We missed the MayPole
i guess if they turned the time back to Vietnam times and i had to
wear beads around my neck and flowers in my hair i wouldn't mind. if
the music seemed cheezy and there were no laptops on my kitchen table
reminiscing wouldn't be any different. like father like daughter, i
while away countless private moments feeling the past. just my own silent
connectivity with history. a place where my roots feel strong. where
the world seemed a bigger but friendlier place. i wonder if that is
the same reason he can't let go.i know he does it too. where adults
protected, knew all, where a day of skiing was more excitement than
i could contain. yep, all this 2000-aversary stuff is aimed at me. that
was then, this is now. the history is mine.
and this day is merely in the process of becoming tomorrow's. that's why we must live it.
the music speaks to us in
turn. when we're small, we take what is thrown at us.
when we're bigger, specific lyrics and feelings target our specific life experiences, our fears, our moments. when we're a woman in the year 2000 about to turn 35, Sarah McClaughlin's wistful but wise musical cries make us turn our head outside the window and watch jets in the blue sky - and wet our eyes with the knowledge that her music brings to life our life. touching us in a way that is not explicable by words, pulling on our heart strings now made of thread, ripping each one as they go. we're torn in this world, not knowing if we should laugh or cry; not knowing if we're happy or sad; but just feeling in the deepest way that we know how.
just feeling, just feeling.
it's always useful to take public transport once in a while,
the guests are on time and the children make you smile
a few moments to sit back and think
of something other than driving
there's always lovers on the bus.
if my words are not accessible to you,
wait a thousand years.
was i always never relaxed? i'm seeing myself as antsy these days and i think i wasn't always like this. since there's no time to relax, i never relax. it's the paradoxical conundrum of the times we live in and it angers me. missions, i don't even know what they are any more. projects, things to do, people to see and places to go. i guess after going some places and knowing some people, these ideas become a bit less exciting. yet i'm still waiting. am i waiting to be exhausted as i rush to daycare? to quit my cushy job and open a restaurant?
it's an electronic world that overcomes us at every breakfast. the hungarian church isn't even immune. old teachers stopping by discuss internet chain letters; even the minister wants a website. by day i upgrade networked software systems, fire off an average of 132 e-mails, and discuss the plans and tribulations of a young mostly male information systems department. eventually you realize that your entire world is electronic and it's really ever so tempting to moralize about how this world affects the quality of your life in a letter outlining your vision of technology. but this is your world and you resisted. let's see where that will take you.
april 18th scratchy throat time
just some broken up thoughts on a scratchy throat morning;
after little trapsings to and fro the corner store, a jaunt to this
a step to that;
zoom over here and buzz over there. two blocks north and two blocks south;
the miles and miles of open road, over bridges, under passes;
scenery skylight from the expressway and a big bright moon through the forest;
i watch the seventy-two cent gastank guage, the cell phone on the seat more comforting now;
the burbs are really, far.
I think we often underestimate the value of raw companionship
in a marriage
When I say 'we', I mean of course, those of us who are busy doing the underestimating.
Wanting him to be home when I come home; and vice versa; this demonstrates that above and beyond
all of our interactions, having another person around is just a nice feeling.
april 11th oh no
and now, oh no, the little baby has died inside of
her - a feeling that i can't describe for myself,
or even to describe for her. i'm staring at my other windows now of Inboxes and Sent Items and
I'm wondering what they have to do with unborn babies, slavery, and all other life forms.
says 'Be Yourself', what she really means is
Be yourself enough to have the confidence to say
"Be Yourself" outloud even if all it means is singing
the songs at the top of your lungs in traffic.
april 07th we expect love
friday morning laziness grips me after a gripping yesterday.
pressurized, the alpha male avoids me.
that's OK.i'm just in stunned semi-hungover friday morning mode, watery coffee doesn't help.
i didn't make it through the paper, on the morning after
our second wedding aniversary.
he made a brilliant observation; of course that observation is the observation in itself;
how we come home not to challenge one another; not to pretend to live a life; not to
walk on glass or slip on ice; but we come home in peace, in friendship, and we focus
our life around that centre. i can't think of one thing i expect of him, other than to be a
good father. i don't expect the garbage taken out. he doesn't expect dinner on the table.
we expect harmony, and that's pretty much what we get. we expect our love to take
the blows. it does. we expect love to elevate us. it does. we expect that if we share our
love, it will be something between us, and not one-sided. we expect love. day in, day out,
we anticipate love.
I am learning that this is not always true outside our pod, (especially the part about
expecting love) but in our pod, it is the rule of thumb.
says miss poots!
a few brief notes:
-when under pressure, i become arrogant
-it's just that when you say "I love Music" without telling me about your experiences; i have a hard time
believing that you really do in fact, love music.
-a bunch of other great ideas that i had tonight but have forgotten
-the cold has returned to the city
-i'll need to find some time shortly to put a bunch of things down in writing.
-how creative do you really have to be to have a website?
- what are the 'minimum' requirements, if any?
-it's just a tool right?
-and, a fool with a tool is still a fool.
you may think i'm not going forward: moving ahead: growing, because it's a slow process,
especially when all you see ar ethe words coming from my heart.
but actually although i'm still quite immature; and i say that in an odd way, i have actually
grown up in many other ways that are not apparent on this website. maybe i will never
really be mature enough to sit around in a meeting and feel like i 'fit in'. maybe it's just
not somewhere i fit in. i think i know that.
what can one do with a website?
post your resume
describe emotional experiences
talk about vacation
make free websites to support local restaurants
post stories you wrote a long, long tme ago
sell sausages while supporting a local church
start a page about macrobiotics and never finish it
show folks in the south what winter looks like
oh gosh every once in a while i panic because i'm actually not the person i thought i would end up being. i suppose i would have been glad to know that i'm much more irresponsible than i was expected to be; but i would really have hit the roof with glee if i'd have known that i can also be caring thoughtful and giving.
when i step outside a world of RUSH RUSH RUSH (i recommend you all
do this once in a while), i find that i actually have time to love.
i find myself with the brainspace to feel, the energy to reach out,
and the power to cause good things to happen. it's a weird feeling if
you're one of those rush rush rushers, and it takes a while to get into
it, but really it's the way that i always wanted to be, and my nine
to six, rush rush rush, pretense world of network administrating is
SO second in line in this life. i stand proud actually, confident that
i won't regret every decision i make to focus on friends and caring.
it's weird but i'm glad for it. it's the black inward hole of introspection
before the spring bounces outward. there are many many
personal thoughts in this little pootbrain today; i've got so much love for some friends today, one that is far away in particular, a tall she-friend that i think of often. today she is in my heart in a very special way; it's a depth of something that i'm not even sure of myself, but i can't say it feels bad.
i am not one of the chucklers. this may be immediately obvious; by my
serious and often sombre misdemeanor.
in the corridor, i can't say i enjoy hearing it, i just don't see the point; i cannot understand their humour.
i laugh selectly, at pointed, pointful wit. neither at the downfall of others or nor at predictable puns.
i laugh at him. he makes me laugh, and he is one of the few who does. uncontrollably.
it's important that i know that, and i do.
fergus arrived !
"answer me, my love ..."
in the city, a city where the SUNDAY PAPER is the
saturday paper, my life directly relates to the media;
more than i would have known...
lunch calls from the director of MIS featured on the cover of the arts section; while the housing market in the neighborhood i want to
live in is attempted to be described on the cover; and i bet it's hard for most readers to believe.
so a hurried week is over, meeting that drew the last few energy from a post-stress traumatized soul. a sense of rushing towards running after something that's unattainable when really all you want to do is you don't know what. and some people are having babies while others are drinking the champagne and smoking the stogies while nervously holding a quite beautiful three-day old semi-german,english,canadian son. and poots thinks she had a busy week. lol.
it must be the early spring emotional roller coaster as the figure skating makes me cry. the dust bunnies are accumulating again in the poots and boots household but joni sings some most beautiful tunes while the pigeons shadows hover above me on the outside ledges. a great ball of angst rolls around in me while the neighbors begin to vacuum. i can barely remember what i did yesterday. i think boots is going outside to read.
maybe i should eat.
"it's love's illusions i recall; i really
don't know love at all"