Night Song

In the kitchen, kale wilts
in the sauté pan, the garlic
weaving its magic into every

fiber. The crook-necked squash,
bathed in tamari and sesame seed
oil, lightly sizzles, and I think

is it only in the South that such
delicacies smell so inviting, their
richness so welcome? No matter

anyway. Heat lightning strobes
the night. Crickets stridulate,
wing meeting wing to fill the air

with song, their time soon
to be gone for a season. I want
to sit on the porch and smoke

late into the night, so late
I forget that I should be in bed,
my body a vessel of needs.

I want to forget that I need
to remember my body and its
needs, the longing with no end,

the perfunctory way I chop
the kale and garlic, the squash
and onions, the indifference

in which I greet them on the plate,
these fellow inhabitants of the planet
whose only purpose is to feed me.

Monty Python - Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

Sunday morning (coming down alright)

Woke from a troubling dream. Was back in my
old office only it was three times larger
than it was when I lost my job. I sat at my
computer and acted like I was still part of everything
knowing full well I had no business in that office
and on that computer. A former coworker came in
and I told her how much worse I was, how each day
I grew more and more despondent, how I would
only be in there for a short while. She closed the door
and called the woman who fired me. Then a girl came
in with a large bag containing 3 neon green poster
boards. She said the boss sent them for me. I told
her I didn't work there any longer, but she said "they"
were on their way and handed me the bag.

I knew then that someone was coming to get me--
the police, the boss, a committee, doctors. I kept
trying to find a way out, but the building was a maze
and I could not find a door. I opened a window
and climbed out into a school yard. It was pouring
down rain. I was trying to figure out how to get back in
and get my purse and my child. But I couldn't get out
of the fenced-in grassy yard outside of the building.

So I just stood there in the rain and started to cry
and tremble. And I woke up, heart palpitating.

That was 5:30 this morning. I finally went back to sleep
after my old boy, Dante, climbed into bed and curled up
next to me. I put my arm across him and fell back asleep.

The last three days have been extremely difficult. I want
to write things down in my journal, but I can do nothing more
than open it, pick the pen up, wonder where to start with
how I feel, decide it's best not to write about how I feel,
and then I close it. So this is the best I can do for me now.

Just write here. Just give myself enough to feel some release.

If not for my children, I am not sure how I would be doing.
Oldest son invited me over for dinner on Friday night. Being
with my grandson is so healing. Yesterday, the two of them
came over here to visit, and my youngest son and I played
Scrabble and then went to the photography studio to have
his senior pictures taken.

Last night a friend brought over a movie--Zeitgeist. I have some
research I'd like to do regarding some of the info in the film.
I thought it was most interesting.

I finally got up at 10 this morning. I rolled over, looked at the
clock, said Oh sh**--poor Molly! I don't know how she didn't
have an accident, but she was fine.

Cooked brunch--sautéed chopped green pepper and onion
in a little olive oil. Chopped some kale and added it.
Sprinkled that with kosher salt and pepper. Mixed
4 eggs, some hot sauce, a little milk, and some salt
and pepper in a bowl and poured that over everything.
Then I added chopped ham and shredded provolone
and sharp cheddar cheese to the whole shebang, slapped
a lid on it, and let the omelet slowly cook (which makes
it nice and puffy--the way I like omelets). While it was cooking,
I cut up some watermelon and cantelope and mixed those together.

My son and I shared the omelet. It was all tasty. Of course,
I had to have my glass of milk and one piece of Ghiradelli
dark chocolate, too.

I'm gonna be alright. I am. I am.

TORI AMOS - GOD

R.E.M. - Low

Friday's Jeremiad: Trying to stay focused

...on the positive, but the Herculean effort
it takes to make myself believe things will
get better only serves to vitiate my spirit even more
each day. Still no job though god knows
I've been doing my share of looking, interviewing,
sending out resumes, etc. I am more than
discouraged--I am despondent and disconsolate.

Losing money every day which we invested
in stocks and bonds for our retirement and for
our youngest son's college doesn't help matters.

As of last statement, we had lost nearly all of
the earnings from our investments and are
just about to go below our initial investment.

I know CDs don't earn much, but at least they
don't cost you anything. I just cringe every time
I open a statement about our IRAs or mutual
funds or Wes's 529 plan. I thought I was doing
the right thing--the smart thing. And it really did make
sense to do that, then. I believed it was prudent
and necessary to take that money out of a savings
account that was not earning us much and let the money
make money, but like so many decisions I've made
in the last few years, I am beginning to question that one as well.

Although I had good advice about how to invest, the fact
remains that the economy sucks. And the fact remains
that I am old-school and want to go get the damn money
out today and bury it in a Ball jar in the back yard.

My husband didn't want me to invest--too risky
he said--and for a while I thought I had dispelled his
fears as I would show him the statements and the steady,
though not enormous, gains our funds were making.

The investments were doing rather well.
Now, I can't see that we'll have much in there
when that retirement day arrives, and I don't know
what to do. Pull the money out, pay penalities and taxes,
put it in CDs that are safe, but where will that leave us?

And here I am, jobless, after spending years of my life
working and going to school and raising my family.
Jobless. Apparently I wasn't quite as valuable as
I thought I was or would be. Jobless. Having to pay
health insurance every month with no money coming
in. Jobless. While all the others I had worked with
through the years are still working, still contributing
to society--teachers, social workers, psychologists, poets,
midwives, MDs, RNs, sonographers, anesthetists, toxicologists,
academic advisors--all of them still working. Many of
them who, like me, also worked, went to school, and
raised families, but who, unlike me, successfully completed
not only undergrad, but grad school and beyond.

What in the hell happened to me? I was staying afloat
for so many years, lifted aloft at times by sheer tenacity,
and at other times by plain old stubborness. I was going to prove
to myself that I had it in me to set goals and see them through.


I was going to prove to myself that I was not a failure.


But two years ago, I came crashing to earth, a doomed
zeppelin, a massive hole torn in her side. Crash and burn, baby.

Crash and burn.

Can't see the forest for the trees. Hell, can't even see
the friggin trees.

I literally feel sick to my stomach every morning, lying
there in bed after my son leaves for school, trying to think
of a reason to get up and keep going. And though I usually
get up and keep going, I'm not going anywhere except
further down the proverbial toilet.

I feel like I'm in a canoe in the middle of the Atlantic--no
oars, no wind, no compass, little to eat or drink, the sun
unbearable and unwelcome, hope to see land again
diminishing with each passing second.

God I hate feeling like this. God what a pathetic ramble
this is today.

If just one positive thing happened--just one--perhaps
this disconsolate melange of me would rally, would start
to believe there is hope.

But for now, only the thought of getting back in bed
and pulling the covers over my head sounds appealing.

And it is to bed I shall go now.

Billie Holiday AINT NOBODYS BUSINESS