January 9, 2001
"I, Too, Dream"
''Plan for a major creative outburst'', my horoscope said. A poem I had recently promised all this growth. I don't see it. I feel barren.
''Make the best of what's given you. Everything will come in time'', the singer advises. And so I wait for poems, for stories.
I would like to tell the story of Glen, a man who always had such big dreams. From the day Laura and I first met him, he always had some big scheme going that he thought would make him rich. It was in the late eighties, before the web. We connected to local BBS's (Bulletin Board Services). Glen envisioned his ''Smorgasboard'' would draw in the people and cash. He enlisted Laura's help in making it an exciting place to visit. He had a stack of modems, and for a while, a stream of paying customers. Laura and I made a Tarot program that was accessible through the BBS. It was quite advanced in its day, and even still, that program seems to embody some mysterious element, possibly because Laura endowed it with her own Tarot magic.
It was in the late eighties that Laura's Mother, lonely from Laura's father's passing in 1985, met Glen. The attraction grew and soon after, they joined their lives. Her love would take some of the crust off the crusty old man. Not that he ever lost his gruff ways entirely, but she inspired a few changes in him.
In Goodyear, Glen re-established his ''Smorgasboard'' and started a window cleaning business. For a time, he played piano in a bar. He had some talent in that. However, the late hours were killing Mother. She always had to be with him. So Glen returned to the window cleaning business, and also gave up the alcohol use that the bar environment had encouraged. But he always had another scheme going, which would surely make him rich. The last one was a drawing program. What today is now done with a huge team of programmers, he hoped to accomplish with his own solo efforts. Even his very last days, though struggling with brain befuddlement, he spent with that program.
Dreamer until the end, he was, always reaching, striving, scheming . . .
Well, I can't criticize the man for his dreams. I clasp my own dreams rather tightly. Are these dreams of mine also vain? I dream, not of monetary riches, but creative riches. Still, it's the dreams that motivate us. Without the reaching, striving, scheming, what would we be?
For what are we without our dreams, but so much dust?
January 13, 2001 - A
"Restless"
I'm trying to sleep and I keep hearing rat-a-tat drums. Oh, and that neighbor's dog, will he ever shut up? I'm so restless. Normally I like my thoughts. I love unreeling this steady stream of them, one right after the next one in an unending stream . . . well until they peeter out and I fall to sleep. Then dream thinker takes over. I'm rambling here. I'm rambling. Too much caffeine. Gotta quit drinking that black tea. so if I stop and try to pin these thoughts down, will they settle down and I calm down and get to sleep? I've arranged these few with neat little sticky pins (okay, sticky computer keys), but I don't feel any calmer.
I don't. I've drunk my milk, ate my cream cheese and toast, and, well, the last black tea I drank was hours ago. Maybe I ought to give it up.
There is nothing worse than trying to get to sleep when you aren't sleepy.
January 13, 2001 - B
"Computer Error"
(Note of January 17th)
Before we proceed, I wish to apologize for the following rant. I know in polite society, this sort of venting is usually kept private, and probably it's better if we do. The thin veneer of civilization's graces wears off all too easily, as it is. But with that said, I'm going to leave it up anyway.
It was a mega computer error that greeted me this Friday. There's nothing like going to work and discovering the big, giant computers at the big, giant corporate headquarters have deleted you. I was, indeed, quite shocked, and unnerved. It, no doubt, played a big role in my insomnia, as I was anxious to do what I needed to do to right the situation. I just had no idea I was this furious. Apologies having been made, I'll now return you to the entry of this day:
~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~
Not able to sleep, I thought if I sit down with the depths, and let the words come to me, something useful might result. If not a decent poem, greater understanding of myself could occur. And indeed, such a revelation did occur. I had no idea I harbored this much anger.
|
I Did Not Know I Was Angry
Harsh, the descending wordiness,
falls about me like hard, icy waves.
I do not understand the hardness that is in me.
Who has brought me this far?
Who has taken me to the edge,
and dumped me here all shivering?
I find myself angry.
I would wrestle with demons,
those I can fight and win.
I am faster, I have the quicker punch.
But this unseen thing?
Who can battle such?
But I must, as must others.
In time, the ugly seed will be brought down.
Purge from the machines of the world this error.
Are we humans not bigger than our creations?
''Fix it,'' damn you,
grey people in unseen offices.
Fix it,
Re-instate me,
Fix it,
you beings perched over
huge computers,
Fix it.
Take now,
this icy fear,
take it and swallow it.
It's yours.
You owe me,
you shrinking servants of the giant box.
You owe me,
You owe me,
You owe me.
Harrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!
Diablo!
|
As I was saying, I didn't realize I was that angry.
January 13, 2001 - C
"And I Am Angry, Too"
And I am angry, too,
at death.
I am the first child who
has thought they would not die.
Surely my anger would keep me from that.
Such a force,
how could the fates deny?
''But, please, at least a spark of me,
some essence . . .''
At least these vain words,
or if not these vain ones,
some other words, and better.
''Don't let it happen to me,''
the forever silencing.
Surely my rage should survive,
my love, my passion.
Don't let the veil tear all away.
Something must break through
and last past time.
I know I am not the first child
who has wished it so,
I know.
Still I voice my wish,
just the same.
JAL, 1-13-01
|
January 15, 2001
"Whew!"
I have quite a temper in me. I used to be so sweet. Ordinarily, I do feel calm and sweet, and behave calmly and sweetly. It's just sometimes . . . Some times, like last night. I didn't mean to let this one customer upset me so. There were two men in their late twenties who'd piled their items together before me. Not wanting to charge him for items he wasn't paying for, I asked the first man if they were together. I ask this question often, but never has it evoked such an odd response. He got all weird, and said, in a fake swishy tone, ''No, we're not TOGETHER!'' I should have just hur-rumphed and asked if their ITEMS were together. But this little display of homophobia got to me. Angry, I got. ''Well, it wouldn't matter if you were!'' He replied that his parents would kill him. ''Well, they're WRONG!'' He then started muttering stuff about god, to which I didn't respond verbally. His non-romantic friend, who'd been quiet up to now, told me ''Calm down, lady,'', visably amused.
Indeed, my heart had acclerated its pounding to a very rapid pace. My face probably had reddened, as well. It took several minutes for my heart rate to settle down. Later, when I told Laura and Julia, even Laura, who in proper venues speaks out loudly, said as a store representive, I had no business moralizing. And it's true, I know. Way back when, when I took that personality test, I got a flag for troubles with diversity. The test could not tell just what sort of diversity. I can handle diversity just fine, as long as it's the 'RIGHT' kind of diversity. But, yes, I know, the store must serve everyone, bigots included. The homophobia had just caught me off-guard. In the future, I will be better prepared for that sort of reaction.
But, as I've been saying in earlier recent entries, I am so often surprised at the anger that can well up in me. Knowing such intensity is in me will help me better deal with it.
January 19, 2001
"After The Fall"
I rose early to deal with the paycheck snafu, and after I got back from that, carefully clutching two money orders for the pay I'd not received as a result of being 'deleted', Laura left. She and Serena were going to Walmart and later to feed the ducks at the nearby park. Dave White park is a rather nice park, for a small town like Casa Grande, and the ducks are cute and hungry. One would think this would be a safe little outing. One would think.
While I busying myself with vacuuming the floor and other such errands, Laura returned. She'd thought she would return in time to do her exercise, (she walks on the treadmill while watching a soap opera), so I didn't think anything odd of her arrival time.
But she arrived at the door, all flustered, and said ''Get in the car, We're on our way to Richard's to tell him what happened!'' On route, she told ME what happened. I hope I've got this right.
Serena went to sit down on a bench, but her bottom only made contact with part of the seat. She fell on the concrete ground, with a loud cracking sound, and could not get up. Serena's fragile bones may have been broken, possibly even a hip bone. Laura walked to the park's clubhouse and called the ambulance. When the men arrived, they tried to take Serena's blood pressure, but it was so low, nothing registered. Had the fall shocked her that deeply? They had an helicopter take her to a hospital, where now she awaits in the emergency room.
When Laura called the hospital, they said she'll be in emergency for some time. It's an awfully busy place, and anyone who isn't determined to have a life threatening condition is just lined up with the others to wait.
Not wanting Serena to be waiting all that time alone, Laura has braved the polluted Phoenix air and gone up there to visit her. I would have gone with her, but I was given the duty of picking Julia up from work. We could have dropped either our car or Laura's Mother's car off at her work for her to drive back, but as Julia's not driven in a year, Laura didn't think that was a good idea.
So I'm here at home, waiting for Laura to call and keep me informed.
January 20, 2001
"After The Fall - Day Two"
Serena did in fact break a bone, a big one. Her femur, thigh bone, will need either a metal rod inside it or along side it. But doctors give her good hope of walking normally after the surgery. She was originally to have been operated on in the morning, but two more urgent cases were ahead of her. Laura and I visited her in the morning, and she wasn't in so much pain as the day before. An elaborate pulley system had her leg held just so, and medicine kept her comfortable.
Laura called at 1:30pm, and learned they were just prepping Serena for surgery then. Allowing a couple of hours for it to be completed, she headed back to Phoenix with Julia around 3:00pm. As of 5:00pm, I haven't heard from them yet.
8:00pm
Eight o'clock, Laura and Julia have returned, and we still don't know anything. Serena is STILL in the operating room. Has something gone wrong?
9:30pm
We've just learned Serena has finally been released from the operating room, and is now back in her room. But we have no further details.
January 22, 2001
"I Am Tired"
In a twenty five hour period, I have worked seventeen of them. I'm pooped. My stint is because someone didn't show up for their shift. However, some people do this as a matter of course. I don't know whether it is an indictment of our tough economic times, but I've learned of a great many people who hold not one, but TWO jobs. Actually, I DO suspect the times, as it is often single mothers who have taken on such a burden. One customer boasted of having once worked 27 hours continuously.
I don't have such stamina, myself, that I could do this sort of thing with regularity. But I am in amazement of those who do. One co-worker, being thusly duel jobbed, bragged of his house on two acres. No doubt, such material acquisitions are nice. However, when does this man ever have time to enjoy his house?
No, I would rather an humble tiny room, but with more time to myself.
Not having much time today, my entry is being cut short. I'll be back another day, more refreshed.
January 23, 2001 - A
"A Reasonable Update"
The sun is shining brightly, it wasn't even a cold morning. No ice formed on the car windshield. But I'm sleepy. The soft, warm bed is calling me with tones I shall soon not ignore. It was only an eight hour stint this time, but, still, the 'graveyard' shift always leaves me weary. Maybe that's why they call it 'graveyard', for one feels half dead. Okay, slight exaggeration there. I must say compared to yesterday's grueling hours, I feel almost perky.
Almost. Okay, I know I like to complain too much. Yes, there are children and adults starving in India, and people working two jobs in America . . .
. . . . and people who've broken a leg or two. So I will cease with the complaints. I do want to give you all a reasonable update on Serena. They did not put in a rod, but a metal plate about three inches down from her hip and three inches up from her knee. She'll be in the hospital for some time longer. But after that, she doesn't get to go home then, either. She must go to another place in which she'll be for weeks, where she will receive intensive therapy on the use of her newly mended leg. Hopefully, such a facility can be found here in Casa Grande.
So she is anticipating a long haul. But every one has been doing what they can to cheer her up. Serena's sister Debbie will be visiting her soon for about a week, and that will light her spirits, I'm sure.
Laura has headed up to Phoenix this morning with a happy bundle for her. Laura's printed out the e-mails Serena's received, and pictures of all her kitties, each with a cute message.
As an example, Yang Tsu is her oldest cat, and here's her message to Mama:
January 23, 2001 - B
"But Your Mother"
'A Dream'
My Grandmother came to my door. She was rather thin and dressed in a tattered olive green sweater. But she wasn't bent over with osteoporous and her blue eyes were bright and clear.
Gramma handed me a piece of bacon, and said ''Here's your treat for the day.'' The bacon was tasty.
As I chewed it, she said ''It's been so cold here in Joliet. I thought I had it bad, limited to one warm room, but your poor Mother doesn't even have that. She is limited to one chair, underneath a pile of layers of blankets, and shivering. Go see to her and do what you can do to help.''
With that, I woke up in my own cozy bed, startled with the dream's realism. I must send my Mother that money we promised as soon as we're able.
January 25, 2001 - A
"The One Within"
|
No War But The One Within
And if I have regrets,
it is for
unchecked words
that float so easily
from the vagueness.
Why a float
without mindfulness
could sink a ship.
"Loose lips sink ships."
Somewhere, from some old day of war,
that quote arises.
Today, no war
but the one within.
JAL, 1- 25-01
|
January 25, 2001 - B
"Into The Night"
The 'unchecked words' apologized for by way of a giant (one foot across) red rose (the size of it made her laugh), Laura and I have again exchanged deep soulful eyes and reassured our love once more with tender kisses. She now slumbers peacefully, and I prepare again to go out into the night, for another bout of labor . . .
