Monday, July 25, 2011

Thank God for Cheese, Chocolate, Wine and Neruda

So tonight is one of those nights where I must surround myself with my favorite things to remind me not to be afraid, derailed, or confused by what's ahead. Organic chocolate, organic wine, and an organic version of Humbolt Fog enjoyed after an arugula salad with Goddess dressing and my fabulous echoing amigo Pablo Neruda.

See earlier this afternoon, I spent 90 minutes on the phone with my former husband. Through a clerical error of awesomeness - we are still unfortunately six months away from actually being divorced. I have one of those names that is easily misspelled and sure enough a typo on form one kicked back the whole process and we are again at day zero.

After having witnessed his attendance at a former friend of mine's wedding this past weekend (through the miracle that is facebook) and watching him smile enthusiastically as the couple walked down the same aisle we had done six years ago, I was a bit annoyed. He had no business smiling in our church. He had no business celebrating a marriage when he never intended to make his own work. Compound that now with the issue of being stuck with his last name for another six months and well, so begot a long ass call. Really, we had signed our final divorce papers - damn court. Damn attorney error.

And I know that there are a thousand women and men sitting on their couches right now, flipping through crappy reality tv thinking about their own marriages that didn't work. (And that's just in Los Angeles!) And I know that I am absolutely not alone in being bummed out that the vows I took could have been so disregarded by someone I signed up for forever with. But they were and it sucks. So as much as I thought I was done, finally liberated, ready to sprint, ready to breathe - turns out I have another six months of waiting and that just blows.

Thank god for wine, cheese, chocolate and Neruda.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Mismatched Minutes

For one an hour passes like a day
and to another days seem like minutes.
Three weeks to one is a short afternoon to another,
and there is no correlation to our lapsing of time.

Moments move slower when waiting
and faster when we only wish for the world to stop.
And the metronome of life beats
in cadence with the heart.

And in three minutes you can tell a story
of a lifetime.
And over a lifetime you may never understand
one simple thought,

Because our minutes are mismatched.
Time is relevant only when aligned with emotions,
that feel the spilling of an infinite hourglass
and the turning of wheels inside a watch. 

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

New Rules of an Old Game (a lyrical and temporarily optimistic view)

So I've done some thinking about the rules of the game.
New rules, old rules, it's all the same.
Times may be different than ten years ago
but dating games suck, that's one thing I know.

I see hundreds of guys and gals waiting away,
wondering just if they should call today.
Don't come on too strong! Let them come to you!
But bite your lip anxiously until they do.

And I've certainly charmed more than my share of men
but this time around, I'm not going that route again.
I'm not playing nor coaxing, nor waiting three days.
I'm not letting him lead while hoping in vain.

I'm finding connections and growing my mind.
This endgame is only measured by time.
What matters in this world and what's coming ahead?
What may I take and what should I share instead?

I've been down that road, worn the white puffed up dress
and goodness know that turned out a mess.
So this time around there's no hunting to be done
No scheming no dreaming, no prize to be won.

I'm of simple people - made of water and dust
created to love and be loved, learning what to give
and when to trust.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Let's try this again

So it turns out that a tantrum of written proportions generally precedes a bout of illness - or at least for me. Summer weekend spent with a seriously sweaty awesome bronchial chest punching collar bone bruising cough and no time on the beach is not much fun at all. I'll be ready to try again on some poetry, just as soon as the ethereal hallucinogenic effects of mucinex dissipate.


Thursday, July 14, 2011

Mad as mother freaking hell!

Yep, tonight I am just straight up pissed. Somewhere between getting dating advice from a well meaning and dear best friend, which god knows I do not need because I absolutely should not even remotely be dating, and a dumb-ass unneeded update regarding ex-husbandriffic, I want to throw something at the wall.

This is one of those times that a chick who was married/relationshipped for a decade wishes she could just fade into oblivion for six months or so. I spent the day de-fleaing my house because the two felines that  share my humble abode picked up some friends whilst adventuring the hood. (Note - I love the felines and all, but BOTH were gifted from dudes who got all nesty with me at certain points). While bleaching everything in my house,  I also attempted to dye my pristine pink wedding heels a poetic black after five years of closeted awkwardness. I showered twice and checked out my 15 year old tattoo thinking "hmmm what would my mom think of this little piece of defiant art", and then I bought a new vacuum cleaner, (because there is no better time to learn your vacuum is broken than when your house is salted in flea powder). Afterwards I went to the beach.

And here is the freaking deal. I do not want to hang out with my mother on her birthday. She abandoned me on mine. I do not want to be friends with a bully or go on his holiday. He is jerk and I just don't play that way. I am so not interested in dating advice, because I am not remotely ready. My fingers are stained from the RIT dye and the pink shoes will not turn to black, no matter how long they soak. I am mad as hell about the guy who didn't call because I thought - he was maybe even fleetingly not a jerk, (he probably isn't but for the sake of my ego it kinda helps to pretend he is) and honestly to all the guys who gave me felines (and subsequently house fleas) - F U.

But I do have this tattoo and I got it at 18 years old. In college, with a best friend astronaut, we went to some shady (best-of-the-city) locale in Oakland and she got a rocket ship heading to the moon and I got an infinity sign made out of a vine. And back then, I promised myself, as I do today - to be infinitely passionate, to be infinitely alive. I wanted my older brother to someday tell my parents about the mark I got, but at this point - it's mine. All mine.

So yep, positively incensed tonight. Angry about the things that didn't happen and the loves that fell apart. Wanting to throw rocks at the guy who didn't call (or email - frick you interweb), and the ones who gave me cats. But most of all, I am determined that when tomorrow comes, I will wake up and remember that my mantra is infinite vitality - and come what may, in life I play - so let's find some adventure because grumpy, is just no way to stay.

Monday, July 11, 2011

undistracted

undistracted after a hiatus
focused on the opportunity ahead
not confused by romance lost
but excited by her ideas instead.

and the warmth of summer's waves
the changing of life's tide
a new way of spending days
nurturing this creative side
is all so very good.

and even though it finally feels strong,
lingers a quiet echo of something wrong.
because leaping for heights above
is simply far less intoxicating
than falling in love,

but it will have to do for now.

Summer's Warmth by Joe Mancuso

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The day is not yet ready

The day is not yet ready
to burst forward with full light.
Instead she turns tentatively
afraid of the sun's inevitable bite.

Wanting to leap forward,
she's made a few passionate steps,
only to realize that the axis of her footing
solidly has not yet been met.

And what of expectations
for all those future dawns and dusks?
The day is not yet ready
to understand nor hungry enough to trust.

And in time the day can learn to flow
with the turning of a lunar tide,
but for now she fears
the scorching sun and a blue moon ride.

So until the day is ready
to embrace the weather patterns ahead
she'll hide inside earth's poetry,
and the safety of her imagination instead. 

Darts

Limits, fences, expectations, 
I'm not good at setting them.
It backfires without exception.

For those I've loved, 
its simply been the same
unlimited license to attack,
I learned and taught a dirty game.
I always fought back.

But here's to trusting that 
it's ok not to just let darts fly.
And here's to trying 
not to throw them in reply,

but instead just saying "ouch
please stop." 

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A swimmers poem

The buoy in the distance
bobs orange and welcoming
Its color is meant to call caution
instead it begs come hither

and strokes matched with fins
out to the buoy I swim
day after day, sunrise and sunset
my wet ritual of salty peace

indifferent to the shadows 
that wander below
from the waves of this ocean
my strength daily grows

and as hand taps orange buoy
and back I then stroke
my mind, nay my sole
is gently afloat.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Dear Big Brother

Dear Brennan,

I miss you. I miss all that a big brother could have been and all that a little sister wanted to be. See, I've found my way back to the person we always talked about and I'm finally doing the things I said I could and would do, but just like when we were kids, that person doesn't get along so well with the parental units. And I wish I could have escaped to Alaska too, but for now Santa Monica is my own Alaska. I'm safe in the ocean and it feels almost as far away. I sleep under the Kennecott Northern Lights every night and wake to the red paint of the mine every day. They are my favorite pictures.

I wore your dream catcher earrings on the first day of graduate school, because I wanted you there with me. I filed my divorce papers on the way to school that day which was strange and then we did this really weird survival study thing about a pilot killed in a plane crash which cut deeper than anything I could imagine. But there is a guy with the last name Brennan in my class, so I think you might be there, or at least you helped me through day one.

And on a night like tonight, when everything is going overwhelmingly right and I am feeling so very inspired, it scares me. I don't know what to do with all the opportunity and responsibility to achieve. And I just wish I had my big brother to remind me that being scared is stupid and there isn't a mountain I can't summit, because sometimes it's hard to convince yourself to just keep climbing.

Love,
Summers