you
you hide
you hide behind the chair
cursing yourself
you
you cut
you cut you down
don’t know how
to change
but I can see you
I see all of you
Every bit
You tell me it’s ugly
And I can see you
And I sit and hold your hand
Seethe
Seething
Seething teeth you gnash
Ashamed you shrink
Breathe
Breathe in
Breathe in that I’m still sitting here
And I see
I can see you
See all of you
Every bit
through your embarrassment
I’ll hold your hand
You don’t have to believe
Any word that I say
Just take a look at where we are
I haven’t gone away
And I see you
See all of you
Every bit of you
Is what I love
I want you to feel
Acceptance
and the goodness of you
And even if you can’t
I’ll sit right here
I'll sit right here with you
I'll always be sitting right next to you
and hold your hand
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
I'm Gonna Focus
I'm gonna focus today, I say to myself. I'm gonna get some work done so that I can go into my busy weekend without fretting as much about returning to work on Monday. I'm gonna focus today!
First thing I do when I come in is write an email to my students. This is not work.
Then I had to go on Facebook, because one of my friends wrote me something. I had to respond.
Then I got into a Facebook conversation with my friend. This is not work.
Then I watched a video of a dude playing "Greensleeves" on a recorder. Not work.
Then I played Hangin' With Friends with my wife.
I love my wife.
This may be the best thing I do all day today.
Hangin' With Wife.
Then I focused up and got on my...
Then the door opened and a flood of screaming, loud, obnoxious children came into my building.
It's Bring Your Child To Work Day today.
I put in my earphones, but the children were still distracting me.
I had to listen to all the stupid things they were saying.
I sit next to the security guard station, and he was showing them how many security cameras there are around the building.
And they all loved it when he showed them a spider that had made a web across the lens of the camera.
And they all loved it when he showed them his gun and told them that he used his gun to keep "mommy and daddy safe".
And they all loved it when the tour guide asked the security guard if he had shot and killed anyone today, and the security guard answered, "Not today. That was last week." They loved him loudly.
One co-worker commented, "It gets bigger every year. Bigger and better."
And the security guard responded, "Yeah. You know, they really love the little things. It makes all the difference."
I felt like I had just smoked crack and found some deep meaning in a Saturday Evening Post Norman Rockwell painting, and the Meaning of Life had been revealed to me as spiders and guns. Fucking. Deep.
And after the barrage of children, a woman who sits next to me in our open-office work environment got a phone call.
Apparently her pre-teen son punched a girl in the face, giving a black eye to the girl, and then the son kicked a water fountain off the wall. I got all of this because my co-worker was yelling at her son over the phone. Lots and lots of yelling.
Then she had to (loudly) leave work to go and get her son from wherever he had kicked a water fountain off the wall.
And when she was gone, I finally got to focu...
Nope... the kids are coming back for some kind of lunch trip to feed the horses outside.
The door in and out of the building is right by my cube.
I.
Hate.
Everyone.
...excluding my wife. She never counts in my Blanket Statements of Rage...
First thing I do when I come in is write an email to my students. This is not work.
Then I had to go on Facebook, because one of my friends wrote me something. I had to respond.
Then I got into a Facebook conversation with my friend. This is not work.
Then I watched a video of a dude playing "Greensleeves" on a recorder. Not work.
Then I played Hangin' With Friends with my wife.
I love my wife.
This may be the best thing I do all day today.
Hangin' With Wife.
Then I focused up and got on my...
Then the door opened and a flood of screaming, loud, obnoxious children came into my building.
It's Bring Your Child To Work Day today.
I put in my earphones, but the children were still distracting me.
I had to listen to all the stupid things they were saying.
I sit next to the security guard station, and he was showing them how many security cameras there are around the building.
And they all loved it when he showed them a spider that had made a web across the lens of the camera.
And they all loved it when he showed them his gun and told them that he used his gun to keep "mommy and daddy safe".
And they all loved it when the tour guide asked the security guard if he had shot and killed anyone today, and the security guard answered, "Not today. That was last week." They loved him loudly.
One co-worker commented, "It gets bigger every year. Bigger and better."
And the security guard responded, "Yeah. You know, they really love the little things. It makes all the difference."
I felt like I had just smoked crack and found some deep meaning in a Saturday Evening Post Norman Rockwell painting, and the Meaning of Life had been revealed to me as spiders and guns. Fucking. Deep.
And after the barrage of children, a woman who sits next to me in our open-office work environment got a phone call.
Apparently her pre-teen son punched a girl in the face, giving a black eye to the girl, and then the son kicked a water fountain off the wall. I got all of this because my co-worker was yelling at her son over the phone. Lots and lots of yelling.
Then she had to (loudly) leave work to go and get her son from wherever he had kicked a water fountain off the wall.
And when she was gone, I finally got to focu...
Nope... the kids are coming back for some kind of lunch trip to feed the horses outside.
The door in and out of the building is right by my cube.
I.
Hate.
Everyone.
...excluding my wife. She never counts in my Blanket Statements of Rage...
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Mean To Me
Mama cries
Everything is a struggle
It’s so hard being alone
She cries to all her friends
Mama cries
My daughter is against me
Give me all your sympathy
She cries to all her friends
If only you could see
The anguish I am in
My daughter never calls
Can’t you see my daughter is so
Mean to me, she’s mean to me
I get beaten when she’s next to me
She won’t talk to me, won’t support me
In the greatest need
Because she’s mean to me
Obvious
All the friends agree
With mama in such pain
It’s hard to disagree when she says
Mean to me, she’s mean to me
Her silence is just deafening me
She won’t come to me, she won’t call on me
In my greatest need
Because she’s mean to me
Mama makes friends with her son-in-law
Those two used to hate each other
He abused his wife, he abused his kids
Now he’s alone and he steals her mother
Daughter sits alone in a room
She is finally free
She had to get away from him
Who berated her constantly
Bruises around her heart from all the
Abuse from husband and mother
And as they beat on her
They continue to tell everyone that she is
Mean to me, she is mean to me
They scream it as they pound her mercilessly
They pound her down then around again
They keep going even when she’s gone
Because she’s mean to me
Battles
My wife says to me, “I KNOW that, when you decide what you want, you will do that.”
It feels good to be supported like that.
And for a moment, I feel like anything is possible, like what she says is correct. And in my head, a little voice says, “Ok, time to fly.”
And my whole being decides, literally, that it’s time to fly-- for me to defy gravity and levitate.
And I don’t.
And I DECIDE that it’s time to fly.
Because my wife told me that when I decided what I wanted, I would do it.
And I believe that, too. I am capable of anything.
But then I don’t fly. And I don’t levitate. And I don’t bend the ceiling fan with the power of my mind.
And the doubts come flooding back.
“You’re no good. If you were good, you’d be able to do what you believe. You’d be able to do what your wife believes. Right now, you’re a pretty big disappointment. You’re letting yourself down. You’re letting your wife down. You’re one big let-down.” And the faceless mouth on the Inner Voice frowns.
And I’m left feeling like a failure again.
But then my wife reminds me to Turn Down The Volume of the Voices in my Head.
And that works.
And I breathe.
And I’m able to sleep.
To start the fight again.
Today.
It feels good to be supported like that.
And for a moment, I feel like anything is possible, like what she says is correct. And in my head, a little voice says, “Ok, time to fly.”
And my whole being decides, literally, that it’s time to fly-- for me to defy gravity and levitate.
And I don’t.
And I DECIDE that it’s time to fly.
Because my wife told me that when I decided what I wanted, I would do it.
And I believe that, too. I am capable of anything.
But then I don’t fly. And I don’t levitate. And I don’t bend the ceiling fan with the power of my mind.
And the doubts come flooding back.
“You’re no good. If you were good, you’d be able to do what you believe. You’d be able to do what your wife believes. Right now, you’re a pretty big disappointment. You’re letting yourself down. You’re letting your wife down. You’re one big let-down.” And the faceless mouth on the Inner Voice frowns.
And I’m left feeling like a failure again.
But then my wife reminds me to Turn Down The Volume of the Voices in my Head.
And that works.
And I breathe.
And I’m able to sleep.
To start the fight again.
Today.
What Do I Want To Do?
I had a super therapeutic talk with my wife last night.
Oddly, I can't remember too many details, just that I'm left with a feeling of relaxation.
As well as this question:
What the hell do I want to do?
I used to be an actor, singer, entertainer.
I don't do that anymore.
Do I really want to do that again?
Because I keep stalling on really setting my mind to doing that.
Do I want to make movies?
I don't know.
Used to be, I had a pretty clear picture in my head. I KNEW what I wanted.
I don't have that picture in my head anymore.
I don't know what I want anymore.
It could be the same thing.
It could be something different.
But it's really unsettling right now.
And I gotta talk with my wife again.
What the hell do I want to do?!
Oddly, I can't remember too many details, just that I'm left with a feeling of relaxation.
As well as this question:
What the hell do I want to do?
I used to be an actor, singer, entertainer.
I don't do that anymore.
Do I really want to do that again?
Because I keep stalling on really setting my mind to doing that.
Do I want to make movies?
I don't know.
Used to be, I had a pretty clear picture in my head. I KNEW what I wanted.
I don't have that picture in my head anymore.
I don't know what I want anymore.
It could be the same thing.
It could be something different.
But it's really unsettling right now.
And I gotta talk with my wife again.
What the hell do I want to do?!
Monday, July 16, 2012
Facebook Flashbacks
Randomly checked my Facebook today, and an old high school friend popped up at the top of my news feed.
It's been a long time since I have seen him. Over 20 years.
When we were teenagers in high school, we would routinely get drunk and stoned together, and then the group of us would sit around his indoor pool while he jammed out on his synthesizer. And we would all enjoy each other and life.
His face hasn't changed in 20 years. He still looks young and fit.
And he's now a clinical psychologist for Kaiser Permanente.
I'd really like to contact him and see how everything is going. Catch up on the last 20 years. See if he can still buy me beer and if he knows who's holding some good shit.
But I feel like he would analyze me as having a codependent personality, and then prescribe one of the "good" drugs that makes money for one of the largest, faceless, evil corporations on the planet.
Facebook blows.
If anyone wants to buy me beer or knows who's holding some good shit, lemme know. Thanks.
And if you run into any clinical psychologists who work for Kaiser Permanente, tell 'em to call me and catch up.
It's been a long time since I have seen him. Over 20 years.
When we were teenagers in high school, we would routinely get drunk and stoned together, and then the group of us would sit around his indoor pool while he jammed out on his synthesizer. And we would all enjoy each other and life.
His face hasn't changed in 20 years. He still looks young and fit.
And he's now a clinical psychologist for Kaiser Permanente.
I'd really like to contact him and see how everything is going. Catch up on the last 20 years. See if he can still buy me beer and if he knows who's holding some good shit.
But I feel like he would analyze me as having a codependent personality, and then prescribe one of the "good" drugs that makes money for one of the largest, faceless, evil corporations on the planet.
Facebook blows.
If anyone wants to buy me beer or knows who's holding some good shit, lemme know. Thanks.
And if you run into any clinical psychologists who work for Kaiser Permanente, tell 'em to call me and catch up.