siouxsiepoetuncensored

i'm not sure if it's the amount of madness at my work, the general discontent and ease of contagion, or if it is my exhaustion that made today one of the toughest of late. like i'm trying to hold two boats together that are pulling apart in opposite directions and the current isn't helping. there just isn't much i can do.

maybe swim. hadn't thought of that.

used to be a slow day at my work was huge. now the slow days have picked up and we're doing more business with the same number of people (hear, two). it's tough. but it's good. i'd rather be busy than standing around. time flies when you're just trying to keep your head above water.

something wet going on here. hmm.

today, i knew the order would be there when i arrived, but one case in particular was crushed, this case housed the caramel sauce and it was pouring out of the box and pooling on the floor. all i managed to do today with the order was caramel control. the rest of it is sitting there for me to get to tomorrow.

i left and the girl closing tonight just smiled. i told her,

i'm opening, don't worry about it. i don't care.

that's my new phrase, i don't care.

we can't work together without compassion. i understand she is saddled with the new guy, and is essentially tied to the bar. and that if i couldn't get the order put away, i who can get an order put away before 7:30am. if i can't do it, she shouldn't have to worry about it.

if she feels ambitious she can, but we're so busy, there is no way it can get done on most any day it seems.

and i'm just being realistic. trying to work less, because i'm tired. exhausted actually, and i still work twice as hard as everyone else, even when i'm slowing myself down.

just wish the customers would give me a break. that would be nice.

some of them do.

and sometimes, it all works out.

i'm just tired is all.

like a bit of butter scraped across too much bread.

as usual. sometimes the bloody pen is more than i can handle. and today, it cut deep. i sit here, with these new strangers, and wonder who they are. clearly they are mine, they are truth. but sometimes, i just don't want to see it. sure, when it's all zen, it's great. but there is still a lot of angst in me. that won't go away.

and then there are the unfinished stories i have yet to conclude. the answers i know but won't commit to in writing. the way i heard her speak and thought of you and finally said,

enough.

that's all there, waiting to be written. and i just don't know that i'm up to it now. i want to curl up in a ball and sleep. that tells me, i'm not ready yet to confront that story. to write that ending.

but it's over, it's been over for so long. you were never here. i never had you. why do i struggle to release that which i've never possessed?

same old story. so tired of it.

but last night in pilates, i was curled up in a ball and heard my heart say,

it's time. time for the good to come.

and i just sighed in relief. i knew it was right. that i'm ready.

the absent men, the nongivers are the ones i'm not accepting now.

yes, i do have loose ends to tie up, but soon, they will be bound.

and i will be free.

i am free now.

free at last.

belly dance was fun last night, wasn't my favorite class of all time, but we did a lot of different things. which, in my opinion, more isn't always better, i like the real intense blow your thighs out isolations, but we did that with arms. my arms need it, maybe that's why i didn't like it so much.

i keep trying to focus on what i'm going to do in december at these things, and last night, i'm standing directlyl behind my instructor who has as close to a perfect body as they come. it's something to stare at someone's ass for about an hour. particularly when it's a sculpted ass. the small of her back caught my attention and i'm simply going to have to write about it.

pilates. my god. i made it through another session, but i'm struggling. clearly. though last night wasn't all out pain like the previous session. i think it's when i miss a week, my body revolts. i realized, i need to start doing it at home. stop making excuses, just do it. because i'm not going to the gym or swimming yet, just haven't made it over to the pool to sign up.

i have one last paper to hand in this semester and i'm glad it's over. glad i made it. next semester starts new year's day with a residency. i'm just going to try to enjoy it.

gotta run, work. what else is new. the past two days i was off, and still went in to work. something about supporting yourself and a kid is very motivating, but now i don't have a day off until next thursday. long time. i'm going to have to pace myself, take my own advice.

it is well.

so, i made it through the marathon that was halloween weekend for me. it was such a rush and hurry situation that i tried to enjoy it but found myself mostly getting through it.

my girl's commitments to her favorite horse, the riding competition, and the demands that put on my time were legion. but she ribboned, twice. one blue, one red.
she wanted two blue, but understood what happened the second time. the judge called for a two point trot. not sure they had practiced this much and her horse tends to get a little quick. she came up pretty close to the horse behind and while she slowed, it was evident that she was not completely in control. equitation is all about control. she got second. i was proud of her though because she was competing in the older girl section of these trials, whereas she had competed before in the younger section. she has matured so much. and i got one last competition out of those riding clothes. amen!

next show, i'll probably have to buy her all new, but that is fine by me. we cannot pursue our passions in the buff.

so i had today off to recover, fortunately, from pilates, which has been kicking my ass. i've been sneaking out of there early the last three times i went because i was just so tired. but that doesn't help me strengthen, so i suffered through last night, though i was miserable. such a lump of gelatinous flesh, pilates is all about abdominal strength, i have realized, i have none. this is why i must do it.

i hope to progress, but i have to actually do the class, even though i keep struggling through, i have to stay and force myself to do it.

so today, when i woke up, my entire body felt like a headache. i think it was just sore from being exercised.

and my instructor has just returned from paris where she ate her weight in chocolates and cheese, and she has a nice little roll of fat on her perfect body, and it was nice to see, that's all.

i go away to residency and come back with love handles, she goes to paris, and, well, it happens.

belly dance was fun last night. at one point she had the whole class watching me and when i realized, i stopped dancing and stared back at them.

keep going,

she said, then came behind me and put her hands on my hips so she could see what i was doing. and she was breaking it down for the class as i danced with my eyes closed.

it was a pretty cool moment. i have strong technique, most of which i've learned from her. but i do improvise, and dance the way my body moves. i don't do everything as she does, because i am not her.

but the lebanese hip circle is really beautiful, and it's moments like those that i am certain december will be a riot. i'm just going to have fun with it.

come to think of it, i better start choreographing that. i have the outfit completely put together, the music chosen, now the serious dance club starts!

peace kids. hope you're well.

sometimes making lists can be a blessing. i sat down yesterday at work, and wrote out all the cannot miss pieces of this coming week. having them out of my mind and corralled on a page, even briefly, was a gift of sorts.

however, it can also be overwhelming to stand alone at the head of the week, and look down the long corridor which will command your time and attention, your energies and affections, and not give a single damn thing back.

i want to get it all done, hell, i have to. but mostly, i cannot go it alone.

yet, i am alone. so what does that mean?

i went and sat on the chief's couch last night and cried. not big breakdown cries, but just waters flowing, i couldn't keep them in any longer. sometimes the pressure builds to such a point, the tears come unbidden, unwelcome.

and, so i try not to hide it so much as to not overwhelm whomever happens to be around.

so, the list. the burgeoning list.

crossing things off one at a time, it's all i can do.

and i have a few moments to rest now. better make use of it.

so tonight i see my kids homework sprawled out on the floor. i usually am too tired to notice, too tired to care.

i'm not so exhausted tonight as all that.

so, i look it over. it's pretty rough.

it reminds me of when i was her age, how no one helped me with my schoolwork and how vexing that was.

so, i notice the posterboard timeline she's drawn is all herky jerky with things crossed out. mind you, i can do scarcely better, but at least if one employs a ruler and whiteout for unsightly marks, it helps.

so, i decide, after hemming and hawing over it for a couple minutes, to go to the store and get some fresh posterboard.

she's been lugging this piece around for a while.

so i laid out her grid, and used a ruler, nice straight line.

but i can't rewrite the board for her, but reading the grading scale so conveniently taped on the back, i see she's missing some things, and a thing or two is askew.

so i draw light pencil lines for her to write her own words in,
and do the math so her integers are correlated correctly. it's the least i can do.

i'm nothing if not a distracted, utterly distracted parent.

but i was that kid with the shoddy no chance at placing art project or science project. honestly, i don't even remember doing those. i just remember scrambling to come up with something to hand in.

it was such a tough situation for me. and my mom was in the same position i am. not blaming, know that. just saying, i've been where my kid is at. since i noticed, is it a crime to get some fresh poster board and throw this kid a bone?

i want her to do well.

so in the morning, when we're both groggy, i'll give her the option of taking my board along with hers, and filling in the blanks.

she may opt for her own, which is entirely her option.

but, at least, she can know i was trying to help with the homework, even if most nights i pass out before she does.

i've been enforcing a pretty early bedtime, mostly because i need it. but, i think it helps her. she needs rest just like i do. we get along better when we're not sleep deprived, and, well, i just want to help her navigate this life if i can.

so much to think about. this little girl beside me, and i'm her only model. that thought kind of freaks me out.

but i do the best i can, and she learns much about the need for forgiveness, and we move on, one day at a time.

i'm told this is how one moves forward.

that movie was, just what i needed. yes, i had to read the entire time, but it was really, truly motivating. enough of the pity party, at some point we all have to get over it and just move the fuck on.

so, here i sit, trying to reconcile my piss poor parenting with the myriad demands on my time and energy. i keep telling myself, i'm not the first person to go through this. i'm not the first person to attempt this. it can be done.

sometimes, this is not so helpful.

and i've had the personal dramas ongoing through the semester, the stuff i wrangle into words and becomes my poetry. my best friend said to me,

she has to know everything is fair game.

.

because it is. no thing is sacred in the writer's life.

and i just read a poetry book that spoke to me as a mother and person. this famous poet writes about the awkward untouching existence, unemotional existence, the extinguishing of her line, the family that is fading out.

and while, that is not my case, perhaps mine is the opposite, i'm touchy, too emotional, fiercely passionate and deeply in love with the people in my life. all the people who get close enough to me to dodge the flailing arms.

who put up with my bullshit ways, and allow me to put up with theirs.

i came to an understanding in her absence. and i finally articulated it tonight,

you think, perhaps my behaviour is exclusive to you. that i write poems to you, that i act this way to you alone. but my behaviour is exclusive to me. it is who i am.

i think, she understood. who knows.

the best we can do is try. to be present to one another and hope to reach through the bullshit of misunderstanding and fear. that someone will accept what we have to offer, the best we have to offer even if it is miserably shallow and frail. that they can understand the often herculean task of just making it through another day, and hold you in the dark cold of the night and whisper,

it's all right.

.
so often lately i've thought that i need to go off alone and be apart from everyone and everything. that loving is what does me the most harm. that caring is what weakness is.

but then i hear john mayer lauding the merits of love, and maybe it was mraz, both are so similar in my mind--and my morbid optimism rises up in me and i fool myself into believing someone, somewhere needs what i have to offer.

but i'm just so tired of feeling it is all a waste, of time, of energy.

i have bullshit assignments i have to complete. and i will complete them, but they have to come from the place where my waters flow. the depths of me. i have to incorporate these bullshit lessons into something that matters, because i do not write to fill a page. i do not write to get a grade.

so many words are needed at the moment, and my hope is, the well has not run dry. and being down on me is no way to start laboring through all that has need of my attention at the moment.

i may never write another poem, but i will continue to believe in life, in love. and in spite of how poorly i perform, how shitty a job i do mothering this child, that she is best served by my presence, flawed as it is.

it is all i can hope for now.

that somehow it all works out.

how does it?

it's a mystery.