I have dreams that are waiting but I'd rather put them off, as perfect and strange as they normally are. The moment I close my burning eyelids (burning because I'm getting a cold) they'll start to rush in, desperate to have their say. The players, orchestra, and backstage crew has everything arranged just so, ready for me to enter the weird and wicked world my subconscious has created just for tonight: glittering eels swimming through seas of magma, polka dot swimsuits worn by beautiful strangers, twenty pairs of hands clasped together on a beach, twenty people singing softly with their eyes closed.
It's a world that I love and that I visit nightly but tonight I'm just not ready. Tonight I'd rather sit here and type and look at the boxes that are starting to be filled with what will travel with us the 4,000+ miles back home. I'd rather feel my legs go numb in this position, read until it finally gets dark at 2 am, and wake up feeling like I'm on vacation. Listen to my husband emerge from his shower and wait for the accompanying smell of his cologne on his wet warm skin. Wake up feeling alive and new. I put off the things that excite me, though. The waiting is the jewel of it all. The perfect, hard little stone that begs to be thrown and skipped in the water. But the best part is waiting to throw it. Watching the sun dance on the water with your arm reared back behind you. Knowing that perfect moment is just moments away. Then you're in it. And it might as well be over.
Showing posts with label It's late. Show all posts
Showing posts with label It's late. Show all posts
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Princesses
After a bit of an abbreviated story time this evening, I sit here (too late as usual, when am I going to stop caring that we're night owls?) silently dredging up the courage to complete the BIG PROJECT (on my end at least) and have decided to let a few small demons out to make room for the vacuum of productivity.
She was one of those women that seem have reached the end of their reincarnate journey. A fully evolutionized, free-of-neuroses goddess. I wagered that she had never envisioned (quite clearly) tossing infants out of windows after hours of crying or woken up next to many strangers covered in cigarette ash and vomit. She probably never spent a night in jail and never rolled her eyes at those she didn't find the least interesting or humorous (or both). She probably felt just fine when she didn't get her way (which wasn't often, things often go ones way when you've reached the end of your reincarnate journey) and never, ever ate anything with high fructose corn syrup. She had fully finished her education and was putting it to good use. She never let sorrow and pain fill her with a twisted pleasure that resembled a religion, and she never thought she was the least bit better than anyone else for liking Iggy and the Stooges over Beyonce. She probably never, never used too many q-tips in one day and ended up with the tip of one stuck in her ear, missing the first day of a very new and important job to have it removed at an Urgent Care Clinic.
I've met one other person almost just like her before. Cloyingly sweet and cute, so pretty you can't hate her or you'd have to spend time away from her presence, which would be unacceptable. I made up a nasty anecdote that this person didn't have any of the nastier bodily functions. No pee, no puke, no poop, no snot, no period, etc. She simply coughed up a tiny box, wrapped in gold leaf and her mother (we were teenagers together) put the tiny gold box into a beautiful shadow box, filled with thousands of other tiny gold boxes (she expelled one once a day, at 7:00 p.m., I said). It had become over the years a delicate but impressive art installation piece. Everyone loathed and adored her simultaneously. And everyone loved this catty anecdote and it's made its way literally all over the world, travelling farther as she encounters more and more people in her busy, productive life. Everyone throws their heads back and crows at that little chestnut, proclaiming, "It's perfect! I can't see her even sneezing!" I feel bad that I don't even feel bad about this loathsome venom that I'm still inclined to expel.
Of course I don't loathe people who are well-adjusted, calm, talented, and kind. They just remind me that sometimes I am none of those things. I am kind but honestly usually have ulterior motives. I am quite bright and am highly self-educated and well-read but I have never finished any sort of higher learning past high school - I view these princesses of poise and kindness in the vision that they NEVER have to use a thesaurus, or claw their brain to remember the true meaning of multi-syllabic words. They didn't fry their brain a skillet full of wine and pot like I did.
And with the "never throwing babies" thing - of course I don't throw babies out of windows...I am a loving mother but I get totally annoyed with Xander all the time, and instead of looking at it in a calm, general, psychoanalitic way I beat myself up about it. Instead of viewing it as the biological commonality it is (watch a mama bear for about five minutes and you'll see her shoulders droop and hear exasperated bear-sighs).
Another horrifying truth about me: I think everyone should love me, or worse be IN love with me and am pissed off when no obssession with me is reciprocated. Even if I am not in the least attracted to you, you MUST think I am the best thing since sliced bread or I will tremble and crumble like an aspen. I've met many like me, most of us I think are like me. When we see these alien creatures who are not, we either want to be near them to learn from them or to bask in their sweet calming positivity (those of us who want to learn from them might be further on their reincarnate journey, too) or we want to hiss and spit their way - they're not like us, they'll encroach on our muddy territory.
Genuinely sweet
no ulterior motives
not the least like me
She was one of those women that seem have reached the end of their reincarnate journey. A fully evolutionized, free-of-neuroses goddess. I wagered that she had never envisioned (quite clearly) tossing infants out of windows after hours of crying or woken up next to many strangers covered in cigarette ash and vomit. She probably never spent a night in jail and never rolled her eyes at those she didn't find the least interesting or humorous (or both). She probably felt just fine when she didn't get her way (which wasn't often, things often go ones way when you've reached the end of your reincarnate journey) and never, ever ate anything with high fructose corn syrup. She had fully finished her education and was putting it to good use. She never let sorrow and pain fill her with a twisted pleasure that resembled a religion, and she never thought she was the least bit better than anyone else for liking Iggy and the Stooges over Beyonce. She probably never, never used too many q-tips in one day and ended up with the tip of one stuck in her ear, missing the first day of a very new and important job to have it removed at an Urgent Care Clinic.
I've met one other person almost just like her before. Cloyingly sweet and cute, so pretty you can't hate her or you'd have to spend time away from her presence, which would be unacceptable. I made up a nasty anecdote that this person didn't have any of the nastier bodily functions. No pee, no puke, no poop, no snot, no period, etc. She simply coughed up a tiny box, wrapped in gold leaf and her mother (we were teenagers together) put the tiny gold box into a beautiful shadow box, filled with thousands of other tiny gold boxes (she expelled one once a day, at 7:00 p.m., I said). It had become over the years a delicate but impressive art installation piece. Everyone loathed and adored her simultaneously. And everyone loved this catty anecdote and it's made its way literally all over the world, travelling farther as she encounters more and more people in her busy, productive life. Everyone throws their heads back and crows at that little chestnut, proclaiming, "It's perfect! I can't see her even sneezing!" I feel bad that I don't even feel bad about this loathsome venom that I'm still inclined to expel.
Of course I don't loathe people who are well-adjusted, calm, talented, and kind. They just remind me that sometimes I am none of those things. I am kind but honestly usually have ulterior motives. I am quite bright and am highly self-educated and well-read but I have never finished any sort of higher learning past high school - I view these princesses of poise and kindness in the vision that they NEVER have to use a thesaurus, or claw their brain to remember the true meaning of multi-syllabic words. They didn't fry their brain a skillet full of wine and pot like I did.
And with the "never throwing babies" thing - of course I don't throw babies out of windows...I am a loving mother but I get totally annoyed with Xander all the time, and instead of looking at it in a calm, general, psychoanalitic way I beat myself up about it. Instead of viewing it as the biological commonality it is (watch a mama bear for about five minutes and you'll see her shoulders droop and hear exasperated bear-sighs).
Another horrifying truth about me: I think everyone should love me, or worse be IN love with me and am pissed off when no obssession with me is reciprocated. Even if I am not in the least attracted to you, you MUST think I am the best thing since sliced bread or I will tremble and crumble like an aspen. I've met many like me, most of us I think are like me. When we see these alien creatures who are not, we either want to be near them to learn from them or to bask in their sweet calming positivity (those of us who want to learn from them might be further on their reincarnate journey, too) or we want to hiss and spit their way - they're not like us, they'll encroach on our muddy territory.
Genuinely sweet
no ulterior motives
not the least like me
Sunday, March 9, 2008
What does one do in the wee small hours of the morning?
Lament.
But not envy.
Go way beyond what would ever be attainable.
So that even this looks like something I should covet:
But it isn't. Contacts are peeling off of my eyes but I've got that old so and so thing going on again. That "really into something right now" thing and sleep isn't an option. Besides all the Diet Coke.
*Reality alert: Xander is sick again and with a high fever. I mean to tell you this kid has been ill since he started his new school. He hasn't had one full week there yet. He'll be out again tomorrow while Gary is off. Here's praying his little immune system fights back like a champ. *
But not envy.
Go way beyond what would ever be attainable.
So that even this looks like something I should covet:
But it isn't. Contacts are peeling off of my eyes but I've got that old so and so thing going on again. That "really into something right now" thing and sleep isn't an option. Besides all the Diet Coke.
*Reality alert: Xander is sick again and with a high fever. I mean to tell you this kid has been ill since he started his new school. He hasn't had one full week there yet. He'll be out again tomorrow while Gary is off. Here's praying his little immune system fights back like a champ. *
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