Thursday, March 27, 2014
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Not sure I could,
Where it takes me,
I don't know.
All I do know:
I must go,
to the future
who I am.
I will miss you,
that is true.
I will never
but I must look
Finding what I
yearn to do.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
I hid behind the sofa
Paralyzed in fear
I coward and I trembled
Knowing it was near
I wondered what had clattered
As I’d run away
I peaked around the corner
Not sure what to do
It kept creeping and crawling
Then I threw my shoe
It hit the target swiftly
And the threat vanished
I got up and understood
That I was the king
No one could defeat this beast
I craved one more fight
The adrenaline still there
In my eye a tear
Alas I got a towel
Since I’d spilt my beer
To think I’d been so scared of
What was just a slug
Monday, January 9, 2012
Sheila believed in reincarnation. What else would explain her fear of bank tellers? Clearly something had happened in her past life to spark this irrational fear. She had once read that the only fear you are born with is the fear of loud noises; but Sheila was not bothered by noises, no matter the decibel. What She could not confront was a bank teller, even as a child she would insist on waiting in the car as her mother or father did their banking. Whenever Sheila approached a banking counter her body would start to shake and she would begin to sweat. There were a few times that she had even come close to passing out, fleeing the bank as the tunnel vision set in.
This is why Sheila had been ecstatic just over a decade ago when the bank on Second Street opened. You see, back then, that stretch of Second Street was not the best area of town and so the bank had taken some extra precautions. One of those precautions included a large glass partition that separated the bank teller from the customer. To some people this feature made the bank seem unwelcoming but for Sheila it was just enough protection from the bank tellers that she was able to conduct her banking.
However, since Mayor Wilson had been elected, the whole town had been cleaned up. Mayor Wilson had even managed to clean up the potion of Second Street that Sheila’s treasured bank occupied. A year ago, when the bank had been remodeled, the glass partitions were removed. Sheila had not crossed the threshold of the vestibule since then.
Sheila did not know it but today would be the day that she faced her fears. It was just a typical Friday and she pulled into the bank bobbing along to the new catchy pop song that every radio station was playing. She grabbed her paycheck and walked swiftly to the ATM.
Sheila had been using the ATM, located in the atrium, since the remodeling. It suited her just fine. She deposited her check and got the usual $100 cash back. She waited patiently for her cash to dispense and grabbed the bills as the machine spit them out. She mindlessly counted the bills as she began to leave the atrium. She stopped midstep and looked at the money as she quietly counted, “Twenty, forty, sixty… eighty.” She counted two more times before she double checked her receipt to assure herself that she was indeed missing twenty dollars. Sheila turned and looked into the bank and then back down at her hands that held the eighty dollars and the receipt that showed she should be holding a hundred dollars. She considered leaving and began to take another step towards the door before hesitating again.
She was alone in the vestibule, no one heard as she chastised herself, “Sheila McCleary you are a grown ass woman who has no reason to not go inside. Bank tellers are just people behind a desk.” After a huge breath she turned around and entered the bank. Crossing the threshold for the first time in over a year she was hit with a wave of nausea. After her second step the tunnel vision set in and about half way to the counter everything went black.
When she came to she was surrounded by strangers. Several were fanning her and one was offering her a cup of water. A man, whose name tag alerted Sheila to the fact that he was the Branch manager, was asking her if she was alright. It took her a minute to process the question. As she began to answer she realized how dry her throat was so she accepted the water a young woman was offering, sipping gingerly, before responding, “I think I’m better.”
Other than being embarrassed she really did feel better. When she had come to she was surrounded by bank tellers and customers but there was no anxiety, no nausea. After filling out the necessary incident report Sheila had been able to confidently walk up to the counter and amend the ATM error. What had cured her? The cure was just as elusive as the origin but Sheila was not going to complain, she was quite proud that she’d overcome her preposterous fear of bank tellers.
Friday, January 6, 2012
The wind pulled me into the church as soon as I managed to open the large oak door. As I was swept inside I was wondering if my mere presence was adding yet another sin to my soul. Identifying the confessional booth was rather simple but I entered with great trepidation before kneeling behind the screen.
“May the Lord be in your heart and help you make a good confession.”
The priest’s voice was more ominous than I had expected and it took me a moment before I started my confession. Ripping off what Hollywood had taught me about confessing I tentatively started to disclose my sins;
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I am not Catholic, and therefore have never been to confession…”
I paused for a moment but when the confessional booth did not ignite in flames I continued:
“I had a weekend full of debauchery. I exceeded the speed limit. I ate things that are in no way advantageous for my health.” I warmed up with a few mediocre grievances before plunging into the whoppers. “I did drugs that I swore I would never try again, I engaged in intimate relations with multiple partners both male and female. “
There was a small cough that came from the other side of the screen and I was not sure if it was induced by my confession or the dry air in the booth. But I trudged on:
“It is likely that I killed a turtle, unintentionally. I have lied continuously about all the events of the past few days. But the part that disturbs me the most was that I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it. The adrenaline that accompanied each transgression was addicting. I feel guilty and ashamed of my behavior now that it is over but to be completely honest the only reason I have not continued to indulge myself is because I could never afford the drugs!”
I laughed nervously as I awaited my doom. Now was the moment that the Priest would assure me that I was lost in God’s eyes. He would proclaim that my only hope was to join a convent and live out my days abstaining from all indulgences.
“Well my child, since you are not religious at this moment in your life, your penance is not one of a traditional nature. You are to enroll in monthly skydiving, start giving to a wildlife fund of your choice and disconnect from anyone you were involved with in the last few days. That is your penance, since you are not Catholic is it correct to assume you do not know the ‘Act of Contrition?’”
“You are correct,” I managed to say while reeling from the penance I had just been given.
“If you complete your penance you will be absolved of all your sins. You may go in peace my child, and know that you are always welcome here.”
When I arrived home I sat in front of the television in quite a daze, still processing the events of the morning, unaware of the passage of time. The ASPCA commercial that plays Sarah McLoughlin in the background roused me from my comatose state. At the end of the commercial I considered it, “$18.00 a month,” I thought, “Isn’t it only $0.50 a day to sponsor a child for Save the Children? I guess the ASPCA had to spend a lot of money to use the Sarah McLoughlin song.” I grabbed my laptop and within 5 minutes I was officially a contributing member of the World Wildlife Fund, contributing a mere $10 a month. I then picked up my phone and cleaned out the contacts that I needed to extricate myself from.
Contribute to wildlife: Check.
Disengage with those who may influence me poorly: Double Check.
And now to find a place to go sky diving, this is the best penance ever!
I realized how much my demeanor had changed since I had first left the house that morning and also that I had not truly enjoyed the events of my past weekend. I was genuinely excited about the prospect of completing my penance and maybe even visiting that church again.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I bet you had onions for lunch,
I am not sure, it’s just a hunch.
So I offered you some gum
And now I feel dumb.
There you go, chomping away.
Why is it me that has to pay?
I bite my tongue,
Wish I was numb.
It annoys me a bunch,
How loud that you munch.
You sound like a horse
And I’m filled with remorse.
I gave you my last piece,
If only the flavor would cease.
The incessant noise;
Clearly you have no poise.
And as I sit
Trying not to have a fit,
I grit my teeth.
Never again will I give gum to Keith.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
The pile of mail seemed overwhelming as I pulled it out of my little box in the mail room. I set the pile on the counter and double checked to make sure I had not dropped anything. As I started to sift through, tossing the junk mail that I did not need to trudge upstairs, a postmark from Boston caught my eye. I looked at the return address; the last name was my Grandmother’s maiden name and the first name sounded familiar. I racked my brain to try to remember the relation… third cousin, second? I placed the envelope on the top of the pile and headed up the six flights of stairs to my apartment. The high rise had two elevators but I had vowed to make healthier lifestyle choices as my New Year’s resolution and using the stairs was one of my choices. I had inadvertently lost 20lbs over the last eight months and was now smaller than when I had graduated high school eight years ago.
The six flights of stairs barely even winded me these days unless I was carrying up one too many bags of groceries. Tonight I almost went past my floor as I imagined what was inside the letter on top of my pile of mail. I was certain that it must contain bad news or at least a family secret, I honestly could not think of one positive that the envelope could contain. Questions overwhelmed me: Why did he write instead of call or e-mail? How did he get my address? How is he related? Why did my Grandmother, or whoever gave him this address, fail to mention that this estranged relative had asked about my contact information. By the time I got to my door I was no longer as concerned about the letter as I was about how easily this man had found where I live. I burst into the apartment so fast I startled my cockatoo who squawked at me impatiently as I rushed to my computer. I pulled up the internet and typed my name into Google, nothing. I leaned back, slightly relieved. Then the bird squawked again, bringing me out of my trance. I jumped up, mumbling my apologies to Saddie, my cockatoo, as I threw her a treat and retraced my steps to lock my front door and pick up the strange letter. I tore it open and read with apprehension:
I am sure this letter comes as a surprise, as we have not seen each other in some years. Our grandmothers are sisters but I’m afraid my location has prevented me from attending many of our family events over the years.
It is extremely pertinent that you make your way to Boston, I have enclosed plane tickets for a flight that leaves 72 hours after this arrives. I hope this gives you enough time to notify your employer and make any other necessary arrangements. I am sorry for the haste but the matter is extremely important.
There will be a chauffeur awaiting your arrival at Logan International.
The letter was handwritten and seemed to be more of a demand than a request. There was no number or contact information other than the tickets that were mentioned. I examined it and realized it was a one-way ticket and it was indeed for a flight that would leave in approximately 72 hours.
As the plane descended in Boston I had trouble coming to terms with the fact that this was real, I was not dreaming. I had taken vacation time and told my boss that it was a family emergency, and it might be. Thankfully a neighbor two floors up was willing to watch Saddie for me. My thoughts were interrupted by the flight attendant announcing our arrival; “Welcome to Boston, where the local time is 5:43 PM and it is currently 56°F,” my own thoughts drowned out the flight attendant as I thought, “and you may find buried treasure.”
“Hey everyone, seeing as we are rarely all together like this I was hoping I could make a quick announcement.” The casual conversation simmers to a lull and all eyes focus on Janey who is wearing an old pair of overalls and a plain black t-shirt. She has a carving knife in one hand and a pumpkin with a very intricate design is set in front of her on the table but she has yet to puncture the surface. Janey turns slightly pale as the room focuses its attention on her and she proceeds with a little less confidence. “Every year we get together to carve pumpkins; some of us come to exercise our creative spirit and some of us come to take our daily frustrations out on inanimate objects, others are just here for the pumpkin ale…” The room laughs politely and eyes start to shift wondering why Janey has suddenly become an amateur comedian and where this announcement is going to lead. My eyes don’t shift away from the man to Janey’s right, Michael. Michael is Janey’s boyfriend of two years and the love of my life.
If you were to ask me a month ago I would have told you that I would never be the other woman and neither would any other self respecting woman; but sometimes life is a lot more complicated than that. Neither of us had planned it, we just both happened to be decompressing at the same bar one night. Nothing had happened and yet everything in my life has changed. Since that night there hasn’t been a day that I have gone without talking to Michael and rarely a moment that I have gone without thinking about him. We had shared intimate details and desires and secrets that we had never told anyone else. I was certain that Michael felt as strongly for me as I did for him but his situation was more complicated. It was not that he no longer cared for Janey, it was that after we had made such a strong and undeniable connection there was no way that what he had with Janey could even compare.
Janey and I could not be more different. You could compare our pumpkins and see that we have nothing in common. She is a free spirit, creative and imaginative and yet shy; I, on the other hand, am a total type A personality. I like to have a plan and I need structure. But at the same time I have honed a very charismatic personality that offsets the strict regime of my everyday life. I never expected that Michael and I would ever have so much in common, judging solely on the fact that he was with a girl like Janey. A month ago I would have told you I don’t believe in soul mates but now I want you to know that you should never stop searching until you find yours because there is no better feeling.
Honestly, when they arrived together I had been quite surprised. We had not discussed it much and I had certainly not asked Michael to leave her but it just seemed like that is where things were headed. I was pretty confused and went to work on my pumpkin right away to try distracting myself. The few times I had glanced at Michael he had seemed to be deep in thought and not aware of his surroundings at all. I hadn’t caught him looking in my direction at all since they arrived; this fact made my stomach churn as if I’d just been asked to deliver a public speech in just my undergarments. I felt like I was 14 again, which is every independent woman’s worst nightmare.
Now that the announcement had started Michael seemed at least slightly more aware of his surroundings. He slowly put his hand on Janey’s free hand that had been fiddling with the stem of the pumpkin in front of her. This gesture hurt me physically so I started to inspect my own pumpkin. I had already finished carving a very simple and traditional pumpkin and I raised it above my head to try to scrape the remaining guts out as Janey continued with her impromptu announcement.
“No matter what brings us back here every year I’m so grateful that we are all here. That we can all indulge our inner child, if only for the night. Michael and I would like to let everyone know that this is the last year that we will be coming…” My ears perked up and I looked at Michael, who was staring intently at the table in front of him with no signs of emotion or even life on his face. “To carve pumpkins alone, next year we will be bringing a brand new baby pumpkin of our own! I’m pregnant!”
As the last words sunk in I coughed and the pumpkin that I was still holding above my head slipped from my grasp and fell straight onto my head. No one noticed as the room converged onto Janey and Michael to express their congratulations. I could see through the mouth I had carved on the pumpkin and I saw that Michael’s grim glance was focused on me for the first time since he had arrived.
When things calmed down everyone realized that my head was in a pumpkin and it quickly became apparent that it was not by choice. A few of the friends that had been carving at my table scuffled back to help me. Some were making jokes about how an adult could get their head stuck in a pumpkin and that it was a good thing that I was not the one with child. And I started to wonder, what if I had let things become physical? What if I were the one with Michael’s child growing inside me? All I knew for sure was that I was glad that there was a pumpkin on my head so no one could read my emotions. And that is how I got my head stuck in a pumpkin.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Tits: the essence of woman? No, but if I’m completely honest with myself it is most definitely the first feature that any heterosexual male notices when they look at me. I could be a manipulative succubus or a devout and innocent child of god; the first impression I leave only consist of two large spheres of fat. Essentially that is all that breasts are, fat. I’d barely started to wean myself from my parents’ identities and develop my own personality when the ladies started to grow with vigor. That personality has had a long struggle for the lime light. One day, when the ladies shrivel down to leathery sacs that no one finds appealing it is reassuring to know that my intellect and charisma will still be there to support me. The real hope is that someone notices those aspects despite my ample bosom and before my skin begins to prune and my bones become arthritic.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
People are often amused by some of the things that come out of my mouth. Some may view these statements as signs of immaturity but I think its imperitive to find joy in the little things in life. For example, I recently went to use foaming hand sanitizer for the first time and was taken by the product. I exclaimed, "It's like a bubble bath without the tub!" everyone was amused by the amount of enthusiasm this product had illicited from me. But if everyone could find joy in the small things that pass us by in our day the world might just be a happier place. Maybe if we all took a moment to appreciate the small things that make us smile daily there would be less of us who wished they could be a kid again. You don't have to be a minor to enjoy life!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
How is the Hoveround different from any other motorized chair? It DOES look more comfortable, I will give them that much. It's like a first-class airline seat on wheels. But does the rounded foot rest really make it more user friendly?
I'll tell you what doesn't make it user friendly; the fact that if I'm interested in buying one they are going to send me a VHS tape to watch.* Talk about dated technology, how am I going to get my blu-ray player to play this? Do they make a playstation that also plays tapes? Why don't they send me a record to listen to, it will probably be easier to find a record player than a VHS player... oh wait, those were called VCRs weren't they?
So once I buy a Hoveround I'll be free to see the world. But will it be free to see the world? Does the Hoveround come with tickets to see the Grand Canyon?? It is in every commercial... The commercial also claims that I will have unlimited mobility. I personally do not own a Hoveround, so last Friday I stayed home because I was afraid to go out since I only had limited mobility.
What I wouldn't do for unlimited mobility... just imagine! I could go rock climbing, scuba diving, parasailing, sky diving, the options are endless! Oh wait, I can't really do any of those things in a Hoveround... they all involve getting out of the Hoveround. So basically I can roll around the house and the grocery store and where ever else I made need to go. It may be a little bit easier to navigate turns... but remind me again, how is the Hoveround different from any other motorized chair?
*They do have the option of sending you a DVD but they show a VHS in the commercial, which makes it comical.
Friday, January 15, 2010
I was driving South on I-75, approaching Macon, Georgia, when I noticed that the motorcyclist on my left is rubbing his crotch pretty intensely. My first thought was, "Wow, that's a big itch..." but when I passed him again several minutes later I noticed his hand was still rubbing his crotch.
He had noticed me looking and it was at this point that I realized he was not just itching... I am riding in the middle lane on the three lane highway and I pass a car in front of me. The motorcyclist manages to stay with me, I decide to not look over or engage him in anyway.
UNTIL... curiosity got the best of me. There had been several pockets of showers and I was surprised that he was still keeping pace with me throughout them. I casually glanced over again.
It was a quick glance, but I could have swore I saw a penis. How could that be?? Surely, no one would actually expose themselves while riding a motorcycle! I did a double take... how could I not?! There he was... a creepy smile on his face, staring directly at me and just rocking out with his cock out. I just stared as he continued to rub himself and then I turned to concentrate on the road ahead of me wondering what one should do in this situation. And then it was over... he merged onto I-475 and I was left in shock.
I did not call the police, I had no idea what I would have said:
Operator: 911, what's your emergency?
Me: Um, I'm not sure if this is an emergency but there is an exposed motorcyclist heading South on 475...
I had no details about the man or the motorcycle and so I did not call the police... but I did call several friends. I felt molested and intrigued all at once, it was an experience I HAD to share.
Has anyone else had any similar encounters on the road?
How would you have reacted?? Would you have called the police??