a few new thoughts and a poem

it's been awhile. either my life is boring or i haven't had time or made the effort to keep on top of this. this blog, diary, whatever you want to call it. 

still loving my tattoos. they define me. they make me feel whole.

took a vacation to big bend. hiking. can't believe *i* went hiking. 9 hikes. no injuries. unbelievable right? i enjoyed it immensely. i love the area. truly god's country. i only wish i could have taken tons more photos. next time. 

halloween over. bah. not even thanksgiving and people are trying to outdo each other in decorations. spare me the shallowness that christmas has become. jaded? yes. 

lotsa new music. michael mcdermott's "hit me back", the avett brothers "the carpenter", rick springfield, pitbull and phillip phillips. what's a girl to do but sing and dance. that's a  sight.

on to the newest poem i've been working on.


battlefield

love is war
it’s a bitter pill
that’s hard to swallow

dodging words like bullets
i don't know where to place 
one foot in front of the other

stepping on land mines
the bible in my pocket
shields my heart
from the shrapnel
and the fallout

I can’t hear anymore
the words are like
a phantom limb
I can still feel them
after they are  long gone
“physically ill in my presence”

give me patience, give me strength 
 I need some surrender 
it's all too much 

the battlefield 
is filled 
with land mines

broken hearts
and lost souls
wander aimlessly
amongst the blood
and debris

wondering what
went
wrong
and when did
love
turn
to hate

there is no white flag
no surrender
just bitter pills
and shrapel
stuck under my skin

you 
win
11/20/2012

till next time.

been a long time--new tattoo and poetry

yes, it's been a long time since i blogged. summer happened. at the library that means
never a dull moment and no time to think. tiredness when i come home. i did go to chicago to see my favorite musician and all my friends for the michael mcdermott record release preview. always a fun trip.

recently got my second tattoo. which i dearly love and am totally amazed by. the artist, nate beavers, is the best in the world. i would not trust my body to anyone else. his tattoos are truly living art.

these photos are from right after the tattoo was finished. it's healing nicely. the pictures do not do it justice. my arm is a living painting.

and without further ado.....my new poem.....


the words

don’t say the words
i
love
you
when there is
no love and light
behind your eyes

all those words
are
empty
and 
hollow
and cut me 
like a knife

i would lay down
my 
life 
for you
sacrifice my soul 
for you

yet
those words
are not a
comfort
to 
me

they hurt
they bruise
they crush
they eat
my soul

you are a part
of me
that
i
chose 
to
give 
life to

we share
blood
family
roots
yet the words
are spoken
with 
no
love
nor 
light

if you only
knew
the love
of 
a 
mother
for
her 
child

then you
might
understand
how 
the hollowness
makes
me feel

unloved
unappreciated
taken for granted
like a stranger
in
a
strange
land
where there is no love

don’t say
those words
to 
me
unless
there is love
and light
behind your
yes

I would
rather
die
than
be led astray

9.9.2012

the care and feeding of a tattoo (a.k.a. the tattoo experience)

i must admit, i never thought i'd get a tattoo. i've always liked them, but just never thought it was something i'd go through with. two things i've said all my life that i have wanted to do: get a tattoo and shave my head. for numerous reasons i thought i'd be a really old lady before any of these things happened.


in the early fall my daughter got a tattoo. found out about it in a round about way. she knew i would be cool with it, but poppa not so cool. it's beautiful. she has it on her left thigh. a victorian picture frame with mountain scenery and a gorgeous purple auroa borealis across the sky. she had done a lot of research before hand (like mother, like daughter) and picked an artist, nate beavers, to do her tattoo. he is apparently well known in the tattooing field. when i saw the breath-taking beauty of her tattoo, it inspired me to to want one.


i decided to reward myself when i reached my goal of losing 100lbs. it's also a milestone year for me. i'm turning 50 in september. so i starting squirreling away a few dollars here and there to save up for getting a tattoo. i contacted nate and told him what i wanted. the word "surrender"  written by my favorite musician, michael mcdermott, with angel wings somehow incorporated into it. 


there is a backstory about why the word surrender--it has many meanings to me. it's woven itself in and out of my life in various areas.i've suffered from depression, panic/anxiety and ocd. so has my daughter. the word surrender also weaves itself in and out in the lyrics of many of michael's songs. it just seemed to be the word i needed for daily inspiration. also see blog entries: surrender and the gift for more explanation.


nate said he usually does larger pieces, but he'd be willing to do it.yay, as kaitlyn told me she would not let anyone else touch me. after much back and forth emailing,  and emailing him handwriting samples from michael a date is finally decided on. june 6th  at 4pm. forever known to me as "t" day.


he sometimes works at a studio in kemah, but for my appointment i had to go to his private studio on taft street. that in and of itself for me was gonna be a bitch. i am not a freeway driver. i'm a freeway wimp. the mere thought of driving into houston on the freeway makes me clench up, start sweating and my heart start racing. if i can, i usually find the way to get somewhere in the most circuitous route. what i like to call the johnny backroads way. but on the 6th i faced my freeway fear head on and drove up the gulf freeway all the way to the allen parkway exit.  and then from allen parkway i found taft. now this is where the story gets really interesting.


i am driving down taft looking for the address nate gave me. i drive by and all i see is a church. with a coffee shop. he did say it was by a coffee shop. i drive down a few more blocks thinking i must be mistaken. but nope, don't see any tattoo parlors. i turned around and drove back by the address. circled the block. then i pulled over out of traffic and called nate. "are you in a church i ask". "yep. make the block the parking lot is in the back. come in through the coffee shop and they will direct you to my studio. i'm running a little late but you can come up and chill." so i park the car, check the surroundings and go into the door and step inside a funky little coffe shop with pub tables and such. almost like a bar. i walk to the bar and say, "ummm i have an appointment with nate. he said to come on upstairs. where do i go?" the gentleman behind the bar says, "let me call him. he has someone up there and usually doesn't like anyone else up there while he's working." i reply "i just talked to him on the phone and he said c'mon up." the bar guy indicates i should sit down. so i do. a few minutes later he calls me over and says "nate said to go on up." me: "ummm, can you point me in the right direction?" oh he chuckles, "go through the sanctuary, then through the doorway, up the stairs to your right and you will see it."

by now this is becoming a somewhat surreal experience. as i walk through the sanctuary, there are people praying in a group up towards the front. there are huge artwork photos of tattoos lining the walls of the sanctuary. strange i think. i go through the doorway and head up some stairs to my right. what have i gotten myself into? at the top of the stairs it opens up into a big room. like a boardroom. there are people sitting around the table. they of course look at me, and me at them. "i'm here to see nate." "oh, just go in through that door marked nate beavers." well duh, i think to myself. how could i miss his name taped on the door.

i slowly walk to the door. thinking should i turn and walk away? run? or do something crazy that i've always wanted to do. yes, i open the door. the studio has all this funky artwork on the walls, a chandelier and a cool victorian looking couch. my kinda place. past the couch i see nate (i had see his picture online. kind of a big scary looking dude, but kait assured me he was very nice. turns out he's a big teddy bear) and there is a guy on the table with just a cloth covering his butt. he's getting a huge piece worked on. i say "hi nate, i'm mary." he says "hey, you are a little early." i reply, "sorry. freeway wimp." "that's cool." i ask if he minds if i wait there, i brought a book to read. "no, it's cool." the guy on the table says "hey, you're making me nervous here." i quickly grab my stuff and head out towards the door. "i'm sorry i'll just wait downstairs." "hey," he says. "i'm just kidding." whew. so i get comfy on the couch, my back is to the action. so i don't watch, i can just hear. the tattoo guns? machines? sound like dentist drills. my anxiety level is through the roof at this point.

i keep reading for probably 30 minutes or so. nate finally finishes up with the guy he was working on. my turn now. big gulp. we introduce ourselves to eachother and nate asks me a few questions. he pulls up the email with the sample of michael's handwriting. "which version (there are three) do you like the best?" he asks me. i say the middle one. "good" he replies. "that's the one i would choose myself." okay, so far so good. "so what kind of wings do you want?" i tell him, "you know, i really don't know. i'm trusting your vision on this." "and you like purple" he asks. yes. i reply laughing as i'm mostly dressed in purple. "okay. i'm going to spread the letters out just a bit.." and away he goes. tracing, drawing, erasing, sketching, folding papers this way and that. we talk about music while he's doing this. he is very easy to talk to and puts me totally at ease. i tell him this is a bit of a surreal experience, this being in a church and all. are you a christian? yes he tells me. this is the church he goes to. he explains that the big photo art work in the sanctuary was for easter. several of the parishioners, including the pastor, were tattooed with the stations of the cross and had a live art show. it was on cnn. he said this is a very open church everyone is welcome.  he tells me he used to be a wild child, but turned his life around.


turns out adam ant (!) has contacted him to enquire about getting a tattoo!!! there are also some other threads where our lives have intersected. after five to ten minutes, he turns the page around and the drawing is incredible. just perfect. exactly what i wanted, even though i could not begin to imagine how it would turn out. i express my joy to him. he tells me my wrists are so small he thinks it would be better to do it a bit further up my forearm. also because i type a lot the lower wrist area has the potential to not heal properly, get infected and not last as long. i trust his advice and say "sounds good to me."

he said "i'm thinking a light purple on the wings, with white highlights. also i want to highlight the letters in white, so once it has healed it will really pop." i agree. i say "whatever you think is best. i trust your judgement." he gets some special kind of paper and copies the outline on it. he then places that on my forearm, so it leaves the skeleton of the outline for him to work from.


now for the moment of truth.  i'm scared, but yet at peace and nate has made me very at ease. he says he usually just has a person sit with their arm across the table, but he feels like i will do better if i lay down. so i stretch out on the table, which i might add he cleaned scrupulously before i got on it. he also uses an autoclave and everything is sealed etc. like i said baby girl did her research. he tells me to relax and the tattooing starts. it really didn't hurt but a few times. it was more of an annoyance than anything else. in some ways it was pleasurable. zen like moments. we talked at times and were quiet at others. i'd say it took him about 45 minutes or so.  when he was done, he said "take a look." wow. it was even better than i expected. so beautiful. the color of purple is perfect. the detail in the wings is amazing. and the lettering is fabulous. it's michael's handwriting to a t. i sat up slowly. i was actually afraid i might pass out, was a wee bit shaky on my feet. but otherwise okay. 


i expressed my sheer happiness about how it looked to him. he wrapped it in plastic and said to keep it wrapped until i got home. then to wash it off with clear antibacterial soap (like soft soap or dial). then to put aquaphor on it. he said i can tell you have sensitive skin like your daughter. the aquaphor will work best for you. once you get home and take the plastic off, wash it and massage it a little.it will ooze blood and lymph cells. don't be surprised if some color comes off. that's normal. for the next two days wash three times a day with the clear soap and follow afterward with the aquaphor. don't touch it, don't let anything rough on it. dry it with clean white paper towels. after that continue to wash several times a day and use an unscented moisturizer on it. sometime at the 3-5 day mark it should start itching. this is a sign it's healing. (this happened yesterday. and let me tell you itching is an understatement. it itches like a yeast infection gone wild ((sorry guys)). but you can't itch it, scratch it, or touch it. i found blowing cool air on it helped a little. i've had to use every restraint i have to not itch it. the next phase is it itches and starts peeling. the gross part. again, you cannot pick at it. or peel off the dry skin or you may damage the coloring. after washing now i still follow with a moisturizer.


i never ever knew there was so much involved in the care and keeping of a tattoo. on tv or in the movies they come out of the shop and bam...it's all good. you never see the other stuff that goes on. as i type this i am itching furiously and using all the restraint i can to stay away from it! also found out the sun is no friend to tattoos. once completely healed will need to moisturize daily with a moisturizer containing sunscreen.


i digress, back to the end of our session. it was a very wonderful experience. and nate showed nothing but kindness and helped so much to put me at ease and enjoy the experience. i thanked him several times, settled the bill and gave him a mega tip. he really is a true artist with skin as his canvas. he has no formal art training either. self taught.


after leaving i met up with my good friend leisa for dinner. needed a diversion from the going home houston traffic. we ate at p.f. chang's. another milestone. mary eats chinese for the first time! at the restaurant i had several people commenting on the tattoo and how cool it was, and this was even while it was still wrapped in plastic!
then i drove home one again on the freeway. this time tackling 610 to the gulf freeway. proud of myself for getting there and back and facing my fears head on.


i also discovered the church where this took place...my nephew goes there. it's like all these elements intersected. like it was meant to be.


since then, and tomorrow it will be a week,i have had numerous compliments from folks i encounter at work and out and about. i look down at it daily (even at this gross peeling stage) and love it. it reminds me of what i've accomplished in my life, what i have overcome, and makes me proud to be me. (and as a friend once said to me....fly your freak flag proudly girl!)  another friend told me "brilliant colors" and i look down and that is what i see. hubby doesn't care for it. but this is for me. my life. my accomplishments. my surrender.


and shhhhhh.....starting to think about another one........i think i'd like the angel of grief on my shoulder.......

6.12.2012

the gift

the gift


you can’t take it from me.
this gift i’ve given to myself.
i love it.
it’s special to me.
everytime i look down at it.,
i feel accomplishment,
love,
hardship,
endurance,
and inspiration
i’m proud of myself.


it makes me feel happy,
to know i have come so far.


after my father died,
you are right
i have never been the same.
a never ending downward spiral.
ups and mostly downs.
and yes you picked up the pieces
so many times.
and for that i am forever grateful.
the love you’ve given 
the care, the concern.
i am sure at times you felt like you
were raising two children not one.




sickness of the soul,
sickness of the body,
sickness of the mind.


it’s been a long road,
an uphill battle,
but i am here, 
i am still standing
and i am proud.


proud of myself,
for persevering,
for not giving up,


proud of you,
for supporting me,
and holding me up,
when i needed it most.


proud of you for being there
for kaitlyn, whether she
realizes it now or not.


i am sorry if you do 
not understand
what this gift means to me.
that it brings me joy,
peace,
and a sense of self-worth.


there is no ulterior motive,
no reason for you to think so.
understand this gift is mine.


it brings me love,
it brings me joy,
it brings me happiness.


i will not let you take 
that away from me.
we are joined,
yet we are individuals.
we will not always see
eye to eye.
it doesn’t mean there isn’t love
it doesn’t mean intent to hurt you.


it’s my surrender to my self.
it is mine.
5.7.2012

surrender

today i rewarded myself.
it's been two long years of hard work.
losing weight is never easy.
for me, who eats for comfort,
to combat stress, for love,
for hate, it was a rough road.
but it was killing me.
my health was bad.
too many medications.
too much sickness.
counted carbs.
learned portion control.
learned to eat better.
keep a food journal.
go to the gym 4 times a week.
keep an exercise journal.
it's paid off.
100 lbs.
gone.
forever.
my mom says i've added years
to my new life.
years to enjoy family.
years to cherish my friends.
to do things i hadn't done in years.
years to be happy.
years to be alive again.


to surrender:
to yield to the power of another
to give oneself up
to give oneself up to some influence, some course, some emotion
to abandon or relinquish
to yield
to yield to a compulsion or a demand


i've surrendered.
surrendered to myself.
surrendered to my demons.
surrendered to my god.
surrendered to my weaknesses.
surrendered to my addictions.


i feel alive again.
whole.
healthy.
happy.
at peace.

this is my surrender to myself.

summer @ the library......my woeful lament

yes, summer @ the library has started with a bang....err....barf??


i think library workers need hazard pay. at least at my library. today was the first "hazmat" type situation of the summer. a frantic co-worker runs into my office with the words......SOME KID JUST THREW UP ALL DOWN THE HALL. now there are no daily cleaning people at the library. so everyone stands around looking at each other. who's cleaning this mess up? so usually me, with my love of all things csi and forensics, gets the job. if not me then who? so a co-worker, kim bless her heart, and myself glove up, get a pile of junk towels, and trash bags and get to work. no mentholatum today. so it's....breathe through your mouth......breathe through your mouth...mantra running through my head. we sop up and throw wet towels into trash bag, sop up some more, and more. how much did this kid eat??? i can tell by the stomach contents he had some type of blended fruit smoothie type drink with oranges, peaches or mangoes in it. bleergh. okay that's done. now what? carpet cleaner. check. spray, spray, spray. guess what? it glowed white, almost like luminol. you could literally see the barf outline. cool? sorta. scrub, scrub, scrub. then comes the lysol. gloves off. trash to dumpster. a patron sitting close by nursing her child says...do you guys get extra pay for this. is it in your job description. ha ha ha ha. sure we do.


now who would have thought that the library would be a place you need to glove up in? over the years, let's see......patron's exploding in the bathroom stall, fishing bloated kotex out of the toilet with a coat hanger, handling bloody books, bloody kids, picking up poop off the floor, diapers dumped (contents spilled), barf, snot, diarrhea on dvd/video cases, vasoline (i prefer to think it was vasoline) or semen on a dvd case, applesauce covered books in the bookdrop, roaches crawling out of dvd cases, hair....in books...people it's gross. this is just the tip of the iceberg.
did i mention a bookpocket full of pubic hair. oh yes. all true. all true.


so yeah, i think we deserve hazard pay. or a least some really cool tyvek hazmat suits to clean the messes up in! 


libraries...not just a quiet, clean place with books.

trip to joshua's nursery

managed to get to joshua's nursery in the heights on saturday. here are a few interesting snaps from the visit.


.....feed me

new addition to the family

last friday darling daughter kaitlyn adopted a gorgeous 4-5 month old siamese kitten from the local animal shelter.

her name is mitsy. and she is so lucky to have found kaitlyn as her "human." she's the sweetest kitten. very loving and vocal. she got a clean bill of health from the vet on monday. she is however in heat. it's been a rough few days. but she will be spayed tomorrow. 


i must admit the house had become very lonely without beloved tessa. it's nice to have a calming animal presence again. the home feng shui back to normal. 

now that's true love!!!!

poetry mayhem...this one is for my daughter

chrysalis


once very tiny inside my womb
growing ever so slowly
ready to be reborn
born once when conceived
born again when you emerged
with a kick and a cry 
into your new world
awakend and amazed at all around you
growing so fast and learning  so quickly
struggling
overcoming 
lonely
screaming
crying
railing against the bonds that hold you down
in love
happy
beautiful
smiling
blossoming
into the person you are today
once again like a chrysalis
you have opened your wings
and are ready to be reborn again
to begin the next adventure
to travel down a new road
to live a new life
your were mine
now i set you free
5.23.2012

poetry mayhem

angel


there is an angel that comes to me 
in the night 
as a dream
during the day 
as a whisper in my ear
it may be a fleeting glimmer
barely remembered as I wake
or a sensation that lasts all day
is he seeking sin or salvation
temptation
saturation
starvation
liberation
release
rescue
is he saint or sinner
this angel watching over me
or is he my epiphany
leading me down a path
i would not ordinarily choose
he comes to me in the early morning daylight
he comes to me miday
he come to me at twilight
saint
sinner
temptation
salvation
rescue or relase
this angel of my dreams
5.15.12

bermuda triangle of libraries

we've begun to keep a tally at the front desk of the weird encountered daily.....
today's tally:


cowboy: today he first, of course, commented about my hair, for the hundredth, thousandth time. it's getting a wee bit old. then wanted to know why i didn't ever cut it any closer to my head. i responded "well then i'd have a crew cut." he said "what, you don't want to look like a man?" umm "no not really." he then moves on to is it me that smells so good. i answer "no not me, i'm not wearing perfume." he proceeds to grab my wrist and sniff! ewwwww. he says "mmm smells good." my reply " well you must be smelling some old perfume that's on this sweater because i don't  have any perfume on today."


lithium man: who has now taken to following groups of young girls around. he told a coworker that he has a job starting tomorrow counseling people at a fairly well known bank.  hmmmmmm.


gr: in but didn't cause any trouble.


white glove lady: one of those who wear white gloves because they are scared of germs, but nothing else is protected. she also thinks it's okay to wander freely in private areas of the library (workroom/office areas)


a new one:
crap man: he came in at opening looking for his big black backpack that he said he left behind a decorative retaining wall in front of the building, had anyone turned it in. after consulting the first two employees that had arrived, they said a city employee and a policeman had been in that area putting the flag at half-mast in observance of fallen peace officer day. i call the city employee who tells me he called the police because the guy (crap man) does this kind of stuff all over town and did we know that he had taken a crap behind the retaining wall and left the "evidence" with toilet paper and his pack. he could pick up his pack at the police department. i then had to find cp in the library and tell him he could pick up his stuff at the police department. he had a strange look on his face, and as he walked away his back side is covered with grass and dirt. 


ONCE AGAIN I COULDN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP IF I TRIED!


i believe our library is the bermuda triangle of libraries!!!! 

monarch love

in the backyard today:

in the top one, he's getting ready to join his friends well hidden on the fence behind the holly berry tree.
we've got one large one still eating his way through the butterfly bush.
and then we have two teeny tiny ones that must have just hatched! love watching them grow.

poetry mayhem

patience is not a virtue


patience. i am not patient.
i do not wait well. 
they say patience is a virtue. 
i say it's a curse. 
a watched pot never boils. 
you're damn right it doesn't. 
it just sits there slightly bubbling, 
laughing a little at you while you wait. 
all things come to those who wait. 
really? 
then why am i still waiting? 
waiting. checking the phone. 
checking my inbox. just waiting. 
i am the baby of the family. 
obviously used to getting my way. 
my way is i want it now. 
like yesterday. 
be patient. that light will turn green.
i'm still stuck at red.
waiting.
the longer you wait,
the anticipation is supposed to make you
enjoy what you are waiting for more.
it just makes me angry.
i want to stamp my feet like a little girl
and scream at the top of my lungs 
until i get what i am waiting for.
love is patient and kind?
what do those two things have to do
with each other any way?
patience is a curse.
clock watching.
steering wheel thumping.
staring at your computer screen
or cell phone waiting for those icons
to light up like christmas.
and yet still here i sit.
waiting.
tomorrow it will be the same, only worse.
because now i've been waiting even longer.
and what little patience (if any i've ever had)
will be long gone.
then i will be pacing. wondering.
and second guessing myself.
maybe it's not meant to be?
is that why my patience is running thin.
is someone trying to tell me something?
don't put off til tomorrow
what you can do today.
exactly.
that is why patience is not a virtue.
for me it is a curse.
5.9.2012

a whole lotta nothing

monday...a whole lotta nothing going on. well i guess i shouldn't say that. 2 good friends came through for me. =:O)  thank you. you know who you are!


looking forward to the week ahead. work tomorrow. day off wednesday. maybe even getting my early birthday present to myself then. if not then, then real soon!


my baby....22 year old baby....took her last college final today! so proud of her. it's been a long road and she's done so well, and grown so much. grad school in the fall. that's my girl.


that's it. nothing else. quite boring today. tomorrow, well, that may be a whole nother can o' worms.

library rant

I often wonder what it is that makes libraries so attractive and inviting to strange people who do weird things. Are we that welcoming? Is it just because it's a special place? Do they feel comfortable flying their freak flag?


I mean where else can you have a man mooning a lady in the parking lot because she dislikes the Astros? And where else can said man walk up to a gaggle of teen girls and tell them they are fat? Or how about the time he called a lady "cunt" (sorry mom if you are reading) just because she and her toddler happened to be walking in as he was trying to walk out.


Nest builders, dumpster divers, food snatchers--when I worked at the Medical Center Library in Houston for a few years, one of the staff would go across the street to the TWU cafeteria and get cheese rolls for breakfast only to be accosted on the walk back and have our rolls stolen.


The whisperer, Mr. Wanky, Mr. Can I have 5 crisp $1 bills. That's only the tip of the iceberg people. People who work in libraries are like bartenders. We hear anything and everything. We should also get hazard pay and haz mat suites. Cleaning up your own kid's barf is one thing, but cleaning up a trail of it down the hall that belongs to some one else's kid is another. Let's not talk about scrubbing poop off of the carpet, or cleaning up a bathroom stall where some one had the unfortunate experience of exploding everywhere. Blood, don't even get me started  about blood. 


Shall we talk about the gross things we find in books and dvd's? Dead bugs, chunks of food,
money (that one is not so bad), hair, uh let's just say all kinds of hair, above and below, if you get my drift. Medical prescriptions--I'd rather not know that Mr. H is becoming a Ms. Y. Barf, snot. How do you tell some one that you are charging them for a movie because it had diarrhea  all over it and inside it? They want to see the proof....um yeah I kept that to show you, right. And the real big nasty animal urine. It does and can congeal, bet ya didn't know that. 


Over the years we've had the growth chart man, mr. can i borrow a trash bag to tie off my arm so I can go shoot up drugs in your bathroom. The toilet percher,   *Maddy who's mom fell off the moon and was trying to get back to earth. She also used to be a hand model, work at NASA and looks, according to her like Jesus.  Bathroom dude who was accused of being in the women's restroom and trying to take pictures of a little girl by putting his phone under the stall. 


We do give code names to identify our "people". You have to have a good sense of humor 
and a strong will to work in a public library. Next time you visit one give us a smile, say hello, put please don't give us the contents of your pocket, or money with white powder on them. And for God's sake, don't come in when you're sick! 


You make think all this ranting means I don't like my job. I do. It just keeps it mighty interesting, because you never, ever know what the day will bring.


On a side note the grocery store visit today was disappointing, the 6 ft+ tranny was not shopping tonight, nor was the weird couple with the man who has dyed black hair and wears blush.


Hmmm....maybe it's me that is attracting all the freaks and weirdos......nah it couldn't be, could it? 


*name changed

more poetry mayhem

the shore


emotions crash like waves upon the shore
leaving behind the flotsam and jetsam of my life
a broken heart, scars and bitterness
a tightrope of angry words, fists and fury
the tide rushes in bringing with it
peacefulness and longing, 
the hunger for a love that will never die
as the water rises
have i made a difference i wonder
will i be remembered, remembered for the right reasons
the waves keep crashing down upon me
i can see a searchlight out in the distance
is it my love
my love coming to wash over me
to help me keep my head above the water
to cleanse me
i want to feel, i need to feel
emotions that crash like waves over me
engulf me, entangle me, engage me
strangle me if you must
i want it, i need it
wash over me until i drown in your water.
5.3.2012

things i am not ashamed to admit i like, which others my find strange and/or amusing

• bullet popsicles
• courtney love-she's a train-wreck goddess but i can't look away
• those candy wax lips and harmonicas from my youth
• the lost boys (movie) and corey haim (r.i.p)
• adam ant--antmusic for sexpeople
• chuck woolery--where is love connection when you need it?
• chocolate necco wafers
• pit bull-i don't get it either, don't normally like that latin machismo thing  but something about him.......mmm
• rick springfield
• dragonflies
• doodle bugs
• every new piece of cellphone/mp3 player/or camera that comes along
• purses
• wallets
• make-up--i worship at the altar of sephora
• trace cyrus
• the people's court--judge milian kicks ass
• maury
• mayhem from those allstate commercials

what about you???????

more poems from inside my head

anger


anger creeps upon you like a thief in the night.
stealthy and quick and seemingly out of nowhere.
it invades your body quietly
your breath quickens
your thoughts begin to turn dark
the rage boils quick and hot
until you can no longer contain it
you try to resist but can’t keep control 
these vicious emotions 
manifest in ugly words
they may make you lash out
with your hands
perhaps you hit or slap
maybe you throw a glass
that shatters into a thousand pieces
on your pretty tile floor 
you shake 
you cry
all you want is for the black cloud
to go way
breathe deep and count to 10
and by the time you get to 100
or 1000
the anger quits boiling and slowly
begins to fade 
to slither out like the snake it is
until the next time anger decides
to visit you again
5.2.2012



death


to those left behind
death becomes the time from whence we start counting from and not to
it’s been 27 days since Tessa was laid to rest
is’s been 288 months since I lost my unborn child 
it’s been 13 years since my father died
why
why
must this be so
a burden we all must bear
instead of looking forward
we continue to look back
did we treat those who are no longer with us
the way we wanted or intended to
did they know our love
or how we even felt at all
if we could only turn the pages back
to say what we needed to say
and do the things we needed to do
to make things right in our head
would that help
would that help
would that help us to move on
instead of being left behind.
5.2.2012