but it bleeds like water flows

Posted on 2011.05.12 by Dawnne

Things go in certain ways, at times, and the difficulty comes not in the way they go or where they take you, but in the fact that once you’re there, where you’ve been most often becomes unrecognizable, and all the new places you have to go hide mysteriously behind the veils of your own closed eyelids.

Perspective is a bitch, like that.

I don’t know if I’m midlife-crisis-ing or what, but my perspective has been shifting all over the place, lately. In some ways, I feel the best I’ve ever felt (mentally, emotionally, and I’m getting there physically again), but in other ways, it’s almost as if everything I do is ultimately pointless. And ultimately, I just get mad at myself for feeling sorry for myself.

But unholy fuckity-fuck, I need to get out of this place. The waiting for it bleeds.

I know, I’ve said that before. I’ll have to dig up that old poem; I’m definitely in that mode of late, and it’s related somewhat to this post.

But this waiting, this stasis, the waiting for it to lift or be lifted bleeds like water flows, and I am somehow at the head and foot of it all.

Which, incidentally, means it’s nothing new.

Go figure.

in days to come

Posted on 2010.12.09 by Dawnne

there is time, and there are dreams.

there is light, and there are questions.

there is hope, and there are discoveries.

and there are things to come: the timing of dreams, the light of doubt, and the discovery of hope.

if we are not alive to ourselves within the confines of our own minds, we live for nothing, dream for nothing, and hope for nothing. and i have become most tired with living this way, for if we are not alive to each other within the confines of our respective realities, we remake ourselves in the images of failure.

and for how long was my life like that?

in the past few months, i have been more alive than i ever was. i awoke this morning in the light of all my life, and it was no longer grey. would that i could awake every day, having fulfilled a promise made to myself long ago. would that i could go to sleep each night, confident in the fact that i have contributed the most possible.

and would that every moment could be spent in the light of you.

in days to come, i am tasked with the duty of realization. and in nights to come, certain demons must be banished.

collide

Posted on 2010.12.02 by Dawnne

the days have collided into one long, interminable scream: so much so that i’ve forgotten what i’m screaming for or about or to or why or wherefore. and i don’t even scream aloud.

so same, the days
in essence
so governed by extremity
and the levity of change
that dream
undisclosed
we grieve that none may know
the inner joy
engendered by the storms

that was jotted down during some work meeting in which i had only a bit part, if any. i don’t know exactly when. and the entire sentiment of not knowing that is exactly how things have been.

shit. that rhymed. you can shoot me now.

i am actually doing well. things change rapidly, which always seems to be the case with me. i don’t try to make things difficult, but that could well be simply another way of saying that i don’t have to try.

happiness approaches, which is not to say i’m entirely displeased with the here-and-now.

ugh. i’m gonna stop now. too many caveats, and i barely just started.

(on a completely unrelated subject: i don’t know what the hell “melon berry” skittles are supposed to taste like, but they taste like the smell of an old man’s farts contained with decades-old wet flannel. don’t ask.)

The following is at least tangentially relevant to my mental state of late. Which really isn’t saying much for me.

Sigh. I did it again.

(from “Porcupine”, Echo and the Bunnymen, on “Porcupine”, 1983)

There is no comparison
Between things about to have been.
Missing the point of our mission
Will we become misshapen?

A change of heart
Will force the nail,
Nailed to the door
To all avail.

There are no divisions
Between things about to collide.
Hitting the floor with our vision,
A focus at some point arrives.

displace, this place

Posted on 2010.10.23 by Dawnne

yeah, that last one was a bit more obtuse than intended. so, to clarify:

i don’t really hate it here per se. there are, at least, some really great people that i’ve met here over the past few years, and i enjoy having them in my life. theoretically, they enjoy having me in their lives as well. the only trouble with that is the fact (a very literal fact) that they are overwhelmingly from somewhere else, transplanted here just like i was. and it is they, along with my children, which constitute the only things that are keeping me here right now.

whenever i do get to leave, i know i shall have mostly good memories of this place, and certainly of these people.

mostly.

but things came together in such a way that i very much am in a holding pattern, now. how long i hold here has yet to be theorized, let alone determined. but i am waiting to leave now, and yes, the waiting for it bleeds.

but aye, some of it, i will miss. indeed. i am, after all, transformed somewhat by my experiences here.

Transformed By Evening Shadows © 2005 (photo), 2007 (comp) Dawnne

again

Posted on 2010.08.26 by Dawnne

would that i not be independent: that i couldn’t stand without your support, for a small, selfish part of me would very much like to just lay down.

would that i not be self-reliant: but as much as i like having your arms around me, i have to hold myself together in order to be yours.

would that i not be self-motivated: i could easily live my life for you and you alone, but only i can be responsible for my successes and failures, and i certainly wouldn’t pin the latter on you.

i feel incomplete without you, but i can’t feel helpless when you’re gone, for the hole you leave inside me is covered by all the things i appear to be and do.

and that vacancy is quite large, echoing with the sounds of my self-reliance, resounding then fading, as if they were searching for you, calling your name then chasing after you until they disappear over the horizon.

left alone, i return to myself somewhat, but it is, in truth, something less than what i am, when you are with me.

i might hide it well.

perhaps.

but i miss you already, and you’ve only just departed.

yes, insomnia, in case you were wondering

Posted on 2008.01.03 by Dawnne

moving choices now range from Colorado Springs, CO to Dahlgren, VA. whichever one of you sees me next, don’t be surprised if i’ve pulled out all my hair and tend to stare vacantly at some point between the end of my nose and whatever else is in front of me.

of course, it ain’t all about me. or the Spouse Unit. we discuss each option with the kids. they’re excited, but talking about it just brings to mind the uncertainty of their future.

oh, how i miss the old days. you know, back two months ago, when we didn’t know the Spouse Unit was getting laid off.

grumble. grumble. grumble.

until again

…ramblings from the evenings before the mornings after

Tag Archives: waiting