Envy

Man boy, maybe 22 at the most. What looks like second hand clothes, a torn knapsack, a bottle of water, and an air mattress. Seems to be alone here at the camp ground. Seen him a few times this weekend. He floats down the river on top of his queen sized mattress, into the crystal clear spring, where he then lies on his stomach and digs goggles out of his knapsack to peer into the water and watch the divers or fish below him. He puts away his goggles and then dives into the icey water time and again with the biggest grin on his face each time he emerges with a shake of his head. When he has tired of this he pulls his mattress out of the water and finds a quiet spot away from the crowds to put it out in the sun, stretches out with an apple or sandwich he has removed from a plastic bag deep within that sack before setting it aside. After finishing his meal, he lays in the sun and naps.


I think right now I envy this man boy more than I ever have any other.

Cauchemar

A device meant to make you a better person. Meant to assist you in overcoming your fears and inhibitions; and to show you just what it all (life) holds for you if you don't do better, if you don't try harder, if you fail to go as far with this life as you are "supposed" to. Also meant as rehabilitation if, at any point in your success, you begin to slip. A gently nudging reminder of what lies at the end of the path to self destruction.

Sensory deprivation. Electrodes wires and clamps gently feeding you all of your surroundings, supporting cast of characters, thoughts, feelings and more. So realistic you'd never realize it wasn't until you were snapped back to the other reality. To the real reality. Snapped back with gratitude at the lesson learned.

I show up in a rush, frustrated that The Company has decided that their CEO needed a booster session from Cauchemar, but knowing that this is the policy I, myself, has implemented. Stopping to smile with an infant in the lobby hardly equates to "actions, thoughts, or emotions non-conducive to the further successful progression of oneself in all matters directly or indirectly in a position to influence the rate of prosperity of The Company." ( A gorgeous child. Green eyes. And those little ringlets of reddish-blonde curl sprouting around her ears...) A brief smile released and exchanged at the sound of a giggle brought forth by her Mum twirling her in the air near the fountain on the ground floor was caught on the security cameras and reported, as is company policy. Protocol mandates that if a smile is found to be wistful in nature, the bearer is required to undergo a full session on the réparation device. The only longing permitted by The Company's policy is that for continued acceleration of success.

I am greeted at the door by Cyril, the receptionist, and shown to my room without comment. It is a small room with dim lighting and no sound. The chair before me resembles that in a dentist's, but much plusher and with a slightly more elevated lower half, for raising the feet above the heart in order to assist in relaxation. I slip off my Manolos and Marc Jacobs pantsuit, lie them on the small rack provided in the corner of the room, and put on the sensoriels suit, designed to block the feel of the chair's touch on the body. It is a lightweight bodysuit that covers all exposed skin, leaving only the head and neck bare. I climb into the chair and instantly feel more relaxed, although I am mentally running through the things that need to be done, phone calls that need to be made, and contemplating changing the policy of The Company simply for wasting my time on this Tuesday morning.

Cyril waits patiently for me to finish preparing, and then presses a small button to the left of the door that makes no sound I can discern, signaling to the staff that I am ready for treatment. She smiles softly at me as she begins to leave the room.

"Enjoy this life as much as possible, I'll see you in a few hours."

I don't bother smiling back.

She walks out as Riley walks in and closes the door again behind her. I'm glad to see who will be handling me today. Riley is quiet. She will not want to to discuss why I might be here. She will not require me to review the full life I am about to live and experience in only a matter of a few hours on what would otherwise be a productive morning, upon my completion of the treatment. All the quicker I can get back to the office this afternoon.

Riley quickly and efficiently attaches the necessary nodules and wires to multiple points of contact on my suit, scalp and face. She pulls the articulated arm holding the helnel and slides it across the room towards me. She places the headgear around the upper half of the chair, enveloping me mostly in darkness and effectively cutting out the small amount of sound there was in the room. I feel only the slightest hint of a prick as the needle pierces the small area underneath my hairline just behind my right ear.

Instantly I can feel my body temperature rising, and a deep lethargy taking over. My last conscious thought is that I hope this time I am at least single.

I'm ready to wake up now.

slowdance

my post yesterday led to me opening this in my email today:

S L O W D A N C E:

Have you ever watched kids
on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain
slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's

erratic flight
Or gazed at the sun into the fading
night?

You better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last

Do you run through each day

on the fly
When you ask "How are you?"
do you hear the reply?

When the day is done,
do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
running through your head?

You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last

Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow
And in your haste, not see his
sorrow?

Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
'Cause you never had time
to call and say "Hi"?

You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting
there.
When you worry and hurry through your
day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away...

Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over

Winter

feel like I’m sinking
clawing at breath exhaled

frozen alive

in this drift of recollection

moments mesh together

forming hours

days

weeks

years lost

just clawing

forgotten tidbits of

nondescript happenings

that all too easily

consume

sadness takes over

was I sleeping

did I miss

all the good stuff

all things taken

those not worth mentioning

but meaning

everything

do the memories that

weren't found to be worth

remembering

shape the memories to come?

Is it that

I've missed the beauty

of the single flake

for the fury of the storm

Manners

I, myself, was taught to say please and thank you. I was told, beginning at a very young age, to show appreciation for things that you are given, for kind words, for compliments, for favors. This was carved in the stone of my upbringing, and is a part of my day to day living as naturally occurring as breath.

I find myself in a position of feeling frustration that exceeds normal ranges. Normal day to day disappointments disappear with time as I go about my life. This instance is leaving me with feelings of anger, confusion, and bafflement that I simply cannot shake. I think of it multiple times throughout my days, even though it is now a week later.

I invited a friend in need into my home. I was told she had no where to turn, was having a difficult time financially, and needed a place to stay. I moved my own children from their familiar surroundings so that she would have a place to call her own while there, making as many changes to our own lives as was feasible to make her feel comfortable. Asked of her was $50 per month to help with the additional expenses expected, such as increases in the water and electric bill, and household items such as paper towels and toilet paper.

Month one went by with no money provided, until a reminder conversation was initiated by myself to her, and then $20 was given. Month two brought about a 200% increase in utility bills, with electric spiking from approximately $190 to $387, and the cost of water doubling. I was given an additional $20.

During this time, minor nuances were mostly overlooked: doors left open at night when said friend snuck in the house after nights out; refrigerator doors left open, spoiling food; air conditioning controls changed to suit; trash left in the yard even after repeated requests to remove it; files downloaded to the family computer that were most definitely not for children's viewing.

This stay was extended long past the original agreed upon time frame. One month stretched into two, that turned into three - all the while only $40 had been exchanged. I reminded friend of my desire to return my children to their own rooms and environments before the start of the new school year, and it was agreed that they would move out in two weeks time, during the following weekend.

I arrived home the following night, on a Tuesday evening, and discovered that the room in question was bare. The only clue that it had been inhabited at all was a television sitting on a table. I sent a text message inquiry and received no response. A few hours later, my daughter comes in to tell me that the television has been stealthily retrieved whilst I was folding laundry in a corner of the house, and that this friend had just walked out the door.

I threw down what I was doing, and ran through the house to the driveway, only to see their vehicle backing up to head out. I threw up a questioning wave to get their attention, had a slight acknowledgment, a quick few words, and they were gone.

No Good-bye, to me or the children.

No Thank yous.

No show of appreciation or gratitude at all.

Haven't heard from them since.

Manners.

Things he should have been there for

1) To teach me to play the guitar

2) to scare my boyfriends away

3) to walk me down the aisle

4) to show me more of his love for music, it's something we share

much ado about nothing

Writing eludes me. No, scratch that. Time to write eludes me. Why? well, because there is dinner to make, and laundry to fold, and carpets to vacuum. Work to be done. and writing isn't work, is it?