Between the Cracks She Slipped

There is a restlessness within.
One to which I cannot transcend.
An infinite lament.
A resonant ache lingers and deafens where the heart once beat euphonic.
Who have I become.
I am a wanderer of sorts.
Circumnavigating past and present.
Stumbling towards the unknown.
A product of my disillusions.
Head in the clouds, heart on my sleeve.
The fate of the idealist, the romantic, the dreamer is mine.
I love too much and too little too late.
I live and breathe in this city, but do I live and breathe.
Where have I been.
Where have I gone.
Where am I going.
Where am I.
Where are you.
I see faces and wear one, or two.
I pick up the mail; toss it back.
Go to work; leave.
Fill my mind with Dawkins and Hitchens and Sartre and Nin.
Drown the world in profound insights of musical genius.
Ask questions; search for answers...meaning.
Something, anything...
I evaluate scenarios and ponder absurdities.
I yearn for wisdom and solace, solidity and purpose.
In the dark I lie watching moonlight and streetlight and sirens.
I toss. I turn. I toss and turn.
I toss string for my cat.
Listen to his little racing heart... boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom.
Morning arrives too soon.
I want to reach, but hold back... a formidable endeavor to withstand.
If. you. only. knew.
You wouldn't believe me.
I talk myself out of you to tend to my heart.
For it's on the verge darling, of its demise.

Mixed Up

I have to keep telling myself that my feelings are important too.

The things I feel, I feel for a reason.

This time, what I want matters more than what he wants.

Five years is a long time. It should have been three, but I stuck it out. Why? Who knows. I guess it was easier to be miserable than to face the fears of change and the manifestation of conflict. Though, there was conflict all along.

Last year, around this time, we broke up. Twice within two months. Third time's a charm. Eventually you just reach a point where your soul really starts to just die and you have had enough. Call it divine intervention, fate, or simply a moment of pure, unabashed clarity; this time was different. In a moment of truth, I realized that what I want, need and value matters. That for the first time in my life I was putting my true self before anyone else... and not feeling guilty or torn over it, or deliberating for hours and days on end.

At this point, I could no longer just coast along allowing myself to live against my values, in a constant state of disharmony. I realized that I, and I alone, had let things go too far out of control and that this could no longer go on.

I left the province to go back home to the big city; to get away and start a new beginning. Thinking about it now, maybe I was running. But self-preservation is a strong motivator. Did I think there was a chance I would back down on my decision, absolutely! Could I let that happen this time, no way! I needed to clear my mind and heart and figure out what the hell it is that I want in this life.

Now he wants to move here to be with me. We have been apart for 19 days. He says he didn't realize how unhappy I was. Despite the arguments, the distance, the clear signs and problems in our relationship. He says he wants to work on it. After last years' episodes and all this time and broken promises, he somehow thinks that working on it now is going to magically prove to be the solution we've been looking for all along. It is hard because there is a part of me that is starting to feel like maybe this time is different and big enough to allow for some real change to happen. Am I crazy? History repeats itself, does it not? And the one thing I have learned is that you can't change anyone but yourself.

Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til it's gone...

There is a Silence

“In a rabbit-fear I may hurl myself under the wheels of the car because the lights terrify me, and under the dark blind death of wheels I will be safe. I am very tired, very banal, very confused. I do not know who I am tonight. I wanted to walk until I dropped and not complete the inevitable circle of coming home.” ~ Sylvia Plath

The city is full of noise, but it is drowned out by the deafening silence within. I am uncertain as to what I am doing here or why. It is a familiar place, these streets I have known, though I am unsure if this feels like home. The people I know have their lives and why should my being here change anything. I am living in three different places; my belongings strewn about everywhere. An unsettling tension lingers. Lost. Alone. Unsure of everything. I have no idea what the future holds or where I should be. The initial excitement of being somewhere I belong has subsided. The adrenaline has worn off. Emotions have surfaced. The emotions of the past three months have let loose their fury and I am at their mercy.

The choices I have made are mine alone and I wonder if they are the right ones. For one I am certain, the rest... have yet to unfold.

Mad Woman Move

Packing...and I don't know where to begin.... Kitchen? Closet? Vodka?

Wow...

It is all a bit overwhelming.

I picked up a rental truck from Budget today.

It was bigger than I had expected.

I felt terror squeezing my guts as I jumped in; it was yelling "You're going to drive THIS onto the ferry, through the windy roads of BC, across the Rocky mountains and all the way to Edmonton? Woman, have you gone mad!"

Driving it out of the lot, there is a beep beep... beep beep...and I'm thinking what the F is that.

A block later I clue in.

I didn't think I had to release the emergency brake.

It's going to be a good trip.

Small steps in the right direction make more sense than a thousand big ones in the wrong

Bright Lights

There's a girl I know who could just never seem to get it right. Her life is a pattern. A perpetual cycle of wrong choices and mishaps. In her search for approval she has lost herself, her identity, though the saying goes you can't lose something you never had.

She once dated this guy who wanted to control her soul and her life. She was looking for God. He had found God and was looking for a wife. He told her what to believe. She couldn't believe it. They argued all the time. She finally left for summer to work for her brother a province away. He drove out a week later and convinced her to return. They continued the power struggle until her dad died that fall. Her faith vanished, along with the devotee.

There was another one just coming out of prison for accidentally murdering his mother at 17 in a fit of rage. They met online, he was moving up to a half-way house with a curfew of eleven. He sang, played guitar, quoted Nietzsche. She had a big heart. He always seemed a bit distant but she tried to find a way in. He was the one who found a way in and then, broke it off. Left his keyboard as a consolation prize and married a few months later.

There were others...like these.

The emotionally unavailable, the bad boys, the addicts, the users, the explosives, the ones who need to be "fixed". She is drawn to them... She who, as a child grew up thinking I wish he would love me, now is subconsciously attracted to men who can’t meet her emotional needs.

Did she really ever love any of these men? Not these ones. In hindsight, it wasn't ever really about love... It was sticking around despite all the red flags, the inner turmoil...giving in to fear, guilt...putting off the inevitable because it was just too damn comfortable, familiar....it was putting the needs of others ahead of her own...seeing the good, ignoring the bad...it was fulfilling her sick need for approval, her codependent tendencies. The persistent longing to be loved, to be cherished, to be seen, to be needed, to care for someone; this crazy motivating force to find someone to fill an empty space.

But it is a space that she is only starting to understand: only she can fill...

There comes a point in life when you are thrown a curveball. One that you did not see coming. It hits you head on and you see stars. In that instant, there is a major shift in perspective. The stars leave a light and suddenly, things are crystal clear.

And voilà, everything changes.

Done For

This office is stifling my creativity.
(Let me out)

Fluorescent lighting, blinding me with its incessant glare.
(Talked the maintenance man into turning the one above my desk off)

Constant whirring of the server fans.
(Why they're not in a closet somewhere is beyond me)

Sauna-like heat radiation.
(It's amazing I even stay awake in here - anyone heard of AC?!)

Lack of windows to the world.
(I really wish I could see outside)

Piles & piles of work waiting to be done.
(At least the day goes by)

Neverending to-do lists.
(I can't even keep track anymore)

Unrealistic deadlines.
(You want WHAT?!!! Done WHEN?! TODAY?!)

Yet another change, edit, revision, policy...disaster.
(No one really knows what we are doing around here, do they?)

Constant interruptions.
(I would love to talk shop, really, come on in!)

Communication breakdowns.
(Need I say more)

Or is it that I have too much on my mind to even concentrate on work.
(These days, it's just better to be asleep)

This song is the chaos of my mind right now:


Work? What work?!

Stormy Weather

"Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found." ~ Pema Chodron

This is all wrong.

All of it.

I'm losing it.

What is this thing in my chest? This thing that has hold... clenching ...tight... So tight, I cannot breathe. It navigates my life for me, I feel like I have no choice in the matter. Try as I might, I cannot win this one. Ever.

The bastard keeps me up at night...

Pulls me, a constant tug. At first I thought it was funny. Now I'm not so sure. This is just madness... this thing in my chest.

I didn't ask for it.

I didn't want it.

You can have it.

It's up for grabs. Free for the taking. The key too...

I want to rip it out, stuff it into a brown paper bag, lock it in the freezer... and sew up the incision with fishing line. Freeze frame it in the frigid cold and forget about it. This incessant timpani of steady rhythm would cease to a muffled groan... as each drop, each cell becomes frost and silence instills...

But all I can do now is drown it out... with something louder...words...a melody...a voice...

Play it loud... and hope the tide comes in

"Memories fade Like looking through a fogged mirror Decisions too Decisions are made Decisions are made and not bought But I thought this wouldn't hurt a lot I guess not"

Northern Lights

The city that just won't let go...



Late at night
Sync your heartbeat to mine
And I will never try
To forget your northern lights

What'll I do if you never find me again

The heart is a caged bird unable to fly

"There’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you..." ~ Charles Bukowski

This deep, gaping hole in my chest... will not heal. Scar tissue built a fortress around it, now they're building a foreign country with foreign rules that should have caused a revolution... instead the inhabitants conformed. Resistance is futile when the weapon is regret, guilt or fear.

Attempts to stitch it shut have ultimately been in vain. Threads that are fragile do not stay closed, the needle is dull. This open wound steadily bleeds with each pass, each pulse...a festering pool of emotional chaos with nowhere to go.

Emotional Blackmail

We broke up.

Got back together.

I was unsure.

So I signed the lease.

We broke up. Again.

Got back together. Again.

I broke the lease on my way to get the key.

We are where we were a week or two, and far longer, ago.

Nowhere...

What am I doing?
Everyone thinks I'm nuts.
I know I'm nuts...
And I am certainly making some very strange decisions as of late...

Such as...

1) Calling my new landlord at 2:00pm to confirm our scheduled meetup that evening to pick up the key, then calling him back a few hours later to find him unreachable and having him finally answer the phone while on the way to the apartment, to say that you have decided to not take the apartment, causing him to have to turn around, drive all the way back home to pick up your deposit, and drive all the way back...then having to face him, and his wife, in shame and explain the reasoning to your 180 degree change of mind within the last few hours...

Lesson learned: Always give yourself more than a few hours to change your mind. Sleep on it. Talk it out with somebody! Anybody! Let the emotions cool down and then decide...like a normal person. Oh, and count yourself extremely lucky when you get your entire damage/pet deposit back when you break your lease because your new, now ex-, landlords are in fact reasonable people...and you, clearly, are not.

2) Ordering cheques from my bank to my new address and calling the next morning to cancel them only to find out they had already been shipped to the new address, BLANK... and having to open a new bank account and cancel the old bank account because apparently the bank cannot stop fifty numbered cheques from being cashed into your account without turning the entire cheque cashing ability right off...

Lesson learned: Do not put your new address on anything until you are carrying boxes into the front door of your new place... EVER!

And the biggest kicker of them all...

3) Deciding to leave, then choosing to stay. Only because you feel guilty because he is angry and laid off and accusing you of trying to bankrupt him and make him sell his truck and end up on the street because he can't afford the place on his own right now...And only because he says he'll change. He'll quit. He wants to quit. He'll do it for me...

He's not quitting...he continues to be consumed by his addiction and I continue to be consumed...

Lesson learned: How foolish am I...

Close, but no cigar

"I'm leaving you."

He doesn't know yet. He's gone for the weekend, camping. I'm sorting memories and things: things to keep, things to leave. So many, things. The stereo soothes. Music gets me through...fills the spaces...sparks the soul, letting me know that yes, I am still alive in there.

It's been a long time coming...but we have arrived. We can go no further. I can stay no longer. The decision has been made. Sealed in the heart...

Things are happening faster than I had imagined. Last night, I found (with a little help from my friends♥) an apartment downtown... Available October 1. We did a walkthrough, spoke with the landlord and I am returning tonight to fill out an application.

I am scared out of my mind. Where is my mind? I am dreading the conversation upon his return. Even more so now, as he told me today before he left that his boss was talking about laying him off next week. Though it's not for certain, it still makes me feel like that much more of an ass.

My heart is racing.

My lungs are shrieking.

My cat is shedding.

Valium... Gin... A big fat Cuban... Oh the endlessly tempting options at hand...

You have to consider everyday happens only once. You must not waste a single one. There will come a time when you will want more time so make sure you spend wisely. ~ BP

Missing

For a moment there,
she thought she'd lost herself.

Then, she realized,

"It's true."

Battlefield

Thought I had it mapped out but I guess I didn't, this fuckin' black cloud
still follows me around but it's time to exorcise these demons
These muh'fuckers are doin jumpin jacks now

Is this the edge of sanity? Destruction. Heart on fire, a blazing pile of sizzling muscle. The smell of burning flesh and bone fills the stagnant air. Hot. Smoke. Black clouds hang low. Smouldering sinews once beating, now charred. The soul lingers above looking down, hopeful of something worth saving. And the fire rages on...I've never been one to which making decisions come easy. I consider it one of my biggest flaws.... though should I put some more thought into it, I would likely come up with others more enormous in proportion!

When I was "younger", I made decisions based on my immaturity...flown by the seat of my pants. I didn't think about the consequences of my actions... I just did it and paid later. Smartest thing to do? No. But did I learn from it? Yes. Sort of. Kind of? I don't know really. I would like to think that I have.

As I've grown "older" (old, young, it's all relative), I noticed that it takes me ages to decide upon something. Am I now overanalyzing a situation? Making things more complicated than they really are? It is a conscious choice I make to choose to make a choice. I have to force myself to just pick something. Pick one. Pick the other. Go with your gut. Go with your heart. Go with your head. Go bury your head under the sand. Do something. Anything.

I hate that this inability to choose has so much power over my life. And it's not because I don't want to choose, it's usually because I see the good and tend to overlook the bad. And the bad is what ultimately consumes. I'm stuck with this perpetual habit or curse should I say. Unable to choose, or choosing not to choose. Someone once told me years ago that not choosing is also a choice. Wise words those are. What am I afraid of? Why can I not choose? What is holding me back? I think I know what the right choice to make is, yet I do not make it. Why?

This is insanity. Doing the same thing, over and over again.

I pinch myself to find I am wide awake and screaming.

Time Travel

I am only a woman. A living-breathing-feeling-hot-blooded woman. How can I escape these crazy thoughts...this crazy mind. That thinks this way and is driven to act most ridiculously. There is one thing for certain: I am a BIG FLIRT. There is no cure for this disease. At least, not yet.

It really doesn't help when an old flame from twelve years ago looks you up online and his gay friend also sends you a message saying 'he' was looking for 'you'... I mean, what is that? Where did this come from? It never went anywhere back then, so why is it coming up now? Years later? Unfinished business? A question of what-if? Or just purely what-is?

He was a drummer with a pony-tail. I pretended to play the flute. We flirted through high school band class and he made me blush like a tomato. (Apparently I still haven't out grown the whole tomato thing) We didn't date. We were never a couple. We never did more than make out like idiots. He shoved ice-cold slush down my shirt as we wrestled in the winter snow, shit-faced and face-washed, drowning my glow-blue-in-the-dark watch. That was a great watch by the way, and I'm still pissed about it.

We end up chatting as if there were no time lapse in between. Two big flirts. One chatty box. This could only mean trouble. Double-trouble.

I went to bed feeling strangely rejuvenated and woke up wondering why in hell I opened that can of worms.

This guy brings out my dark side and is driving me to drink. I'm still an ass. Still a flirt. Still know how to push those buttons. Still "Trouble". Will that ever change?

Though looking back on my life thus far... and should I ever have a chance to jump in a time-machine...I probably would have done things a little differently... maybe have skipped a few and focused on the one who was truly important.

I'm all strung out, my heart is fried.

The Permanent Theme Which Prevails Over All Others Is The Persistence of Desire

You found me

In my dreams
Spanning reality
A vivid clear

Words lingered
Suspended between
Two long lost souls
Passionately entwined
An eternal embrace

I awoke heavy hearted
Thunder beneath my ribs
On the verge of tears

Reality intervenes
As you drift away
Like the ebb of the tide
Returning to sea

The Underwire Fell Out, Again! #&@*!

When I'm angry, I clean like a 1950s housewife. I don't know what it is but there's something therapeutic about scrubbing a bathtub or washing the wall or throwing all my belongings out, while blaring music such as Basement Jaxx, or the likes thereof.

Everything must go.

Everything that's been sitting in drawers, on hangers, collecting dust and taking up space.

I don't fit the wee sparkling dress I wore for Halloween back in '98. What was it now... a dancer from Electric Circus with my partner in crime CJ where I played bass in the basement, danced in the living room and I think I even barfed on the front street and had to be held up and put into the automobile. Fun times. Yeah, that dress should have been sent to goodwill years ago but I'm having a hard time parting with it, only because it makes me laugh. Obviously, at myself.

Gone is all the bathroom junk. The chemicals and parabens that I long ago stopped using, but for some reason kept under the sink. I did decide to keep the Lunapads my sister gave me. Yes, they make those. And no, I've just never been able to go there. But one can always hope for a greener future. Right.

Gone are EVERY pair of holy socks (sorry God) I ever owned and suckered myself into wearing the odd time. I mean, what the hell woman! Let's just face it, there is no time to sit around darning those socks.

Gone are old bras and I've got a serious bone to pick with the inventor of the underwired bra, or whomever is making these half-assed contraptions. Why is it that these underwires eventually find their way out of the bra and into the washer? Is it just me? This is discusting! A perfectly good and sexy bra winds up suffering this fate only to end up stuffed into the bottom of a drawer never to be seen or worn again. I had thirteen in there. THIRTEEN!

And of course, the lie I told myself: I will get around to sewing them back in one of these days. This has got to stop. First of all, the list of things to do "one of these days" keeps growing, along with the list of "shoulds"...and well screw that vocabulary, and all those lists. And secondly, I don't fit that bra I wore in grade 10. In fact, my boobs are so much bigger now.

This is just the tip of the iceberg.

SO. MUCH. JUNK.

Why do we keep all this "stuff"?

Damn, damn the circumstance

“My mistakes are taunting me
And I’m hanging around in my old haunts…”

Try as I might, I cannot ignore this incredible wrenching knot in the pit of my stomach. I thought I was on a roll there for a while…getting on, getting by, and as my mother always sings in her theatrics: “Que sera sera”. What else are you supposed to do when it's clear there's nothing you can do - it's up to fate, or time, or the Gods, whomever, whatever. But, I thought wrong. It was all a façade - a temporary lull in this ridiculous, insatiable, undeniable madness and all it took was a slight push in the right wrong direction. My thoughts, my mind, my body, my soul and my heart are consumed once again. I have no idea where to go from here…Sometimes I wish I could go back in time…revisit my old self, smack her upside the head, and say: just what were you thinking girl? But this is no way to live: regretting action, inaction, and wishing for impossible things. It is just not healthy, and it takes over if you let it. Maybe that’s what I’ve gone and done. But craters in hearts are hard to fill…

No!

Ok, I am working on steam here, wondering what I am doing up so late on a Tuesday night. Not exactly “working”, but good lord woman it’s nearing twelve o’clock! (So late, I know!) But here I am, fighting to keep my one eye open, contemplating toothpicks to delay having to go to bed only to wake up again and when it comes right down to the nitty-gritty: about to lose my freakin’ mind. Or have I already. I suppose some would say this is highly debatable. Damn, girl, you start off so well in the beginning, and then things just spiral out of control!