What’ll it be?
carrying on through the day
watching time slowly slip away
tick~tock- goes the clock
time flies by like a tossed rock
some folks hurry along singing,
humming ’bout something
seems like we’re stuck in routine
ready to grab stuff to say: ‘that’s mine!’
all rightie, everybody freeze
can you do that, please?
okey- instead of focusing on the cost
of all that needs to be bought
just reflect more on the memories
of all the precious little moments
by the fire
this i know
for a savior
and take her
this i know
i'll find you
at my door
Topography of Tears
Teardrops grace the kitchen floor
Yet, she persisting all the more —
An onion, with her knife she scores,
Draws snowflakes from her eyelid’s shore
Motherhood, an empty nest,
Marriage, change of life; her quest
Grid of tears fill her hope chest
Quilt in strength, an armored vest
Laughing tears, less often found
Scattered, pool on hallowed ground
Seeds of faith buried in mounds
A respite from his absence’ sound
Silence of death where stolen life
Cuts through commune like a knife
Emptiness where grief is rife
Strips, near bare, his bereft wife
I was inspired to write this after seeing a miscroscopic image of dried tears.
More information in the study titled “Topography of Tears” can be found at Smithsonian Mag dot com.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Talk. Talk. Talk.
Perception becomes reality.
(When it’s not.)
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Talk. Talk. Talk.
“The indefinite continued progress of existence & events
in the past, present, & future …”
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Talk. Talk. Talk.
Consciousness imposes its own subjective imprint
as clocks mock & calendars “rock.”
Matter, space; nature, change.
Linear or cyclical; endless or finite?
Arbitrary or absolute; real or “unreal"?
Is time tensed or tenseless? Tested or tasteless?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Talk. Talk. Talk.
Perception is reality.
Even when it’s not.
I don’t miss people
I find myself feeling like a liar when I reciprocate people saying they miss me, with a loving, “I miss you too.”
I’ve been thinking on it lately, trying to figure out how/why I can feel the “miss you” of my furbabbies/ of past, yet don’t find myself feeling the pull of loss/lack when it comes to people.
I’ve concluded that up until recently I felt somewhat emotionally dependent on the “good vibes” and “UNconditional love” that my animals always provided me, and thus felt the absence of it when they’re gone.. versus the people in my life who (as I have and occasionally still do) struggle with their vibes and offering “UNconditional love” so, I never developed the emotional attachment/depenancy, not even really with my Twin (believe it or not.)
I’ve also concluded that missing people is just a focusing of your mental and emotional attention on the absence/lack of them, rather than focusing those attentions on remembering and feeling their awesomeness, with pointed focusing on the gleeful anticipation of more memories of awesomeness during future engagements.
So, now when people say to me, “I miss you” .. I find myself hearing, “I am choosing to focus on the lack of your presence in my life.”
I think I will just start saying back, “I love you too!”
So there's this theory, that humans travel not to see new things but because it allows us to realize that we are not alone in this world. It establishes a connection with people and places. When I look down from an airplane and see a city, my heart breaks a little, maybe yours doesn’t, but mine does, becuase my heart explods for adventures yet to be had. Because somewhere, there a girl, dancing her heart out in the streets, and there's a guy in a bar, laughing, having the night of his life. It's the same way when I look at a hospital, because isn’t it amazing? In there, a little girl is receiving a heart and a little boy is giving away his organs, saving 11 other children. I live my life 1 minute and 30 seconds at a time, and for that short time, you gotta take in all the good and all the beauty, because the good should always outweigh the bad. We have to believe that we are all connected, and that this world is good, you have to believe that there are adventures waiting for you out there. I’m a violent dreamer, I long for nights in Irish bars, dancing in the streets of Barcelona, sneaking out and partying in South Africa, and to make it to light house island in Amsterdam and drive fast on the streets or Rio. So believe and dream, becuase everything you see before you in 3000 million years in the making, you are meant to be here, right here and right now. So go, why are you still here? What are you waiting for? Your 1 minute and 30 seconds are ticking. Your heart is pulling you into the streets of the world, and I suggest you let it.
If you looked into my eyes, would you see
Everything I try so hard to hide
The demons I hide have all but beauty
The many times on their behalf I've lied
The times you ask, and I say I'm okay
My demons cause me to do things like that
I can't deal with the things that they often say
They say "don't eat today, you're much too fat"
They wisper the worst things into my ear
They say about me, no one will ever care
When you say you do, lies are all I hear
In my head, their screaming will always blare
In my head, late at night, is where they crawl
Look into my eyes and you'll see it all.
This is Mania: A peek into Bipolar Disorder
With every toss, every turn, my bed squeaks and creaks, reminding me that sleep won’t happen again tonight. My eyes are cracked open, glancing around, vividly scanning the darkness. I’ve yet to achieve a full night’s rest in weeks. For most, this would be a breaking point; but for me, I’m at my peak.
I’ve gone through these recurring phases for years: no sleep, thoughts racing, nonexistent attention span, and goal chasing galore. It’s not only reminiscent of insanity; it’s also the biggest thrill I know. When it visits, I hold on tight and embrace the ride for as long as possible.
Still encapsulated in darkness, I pull out my phone from the drawer beside me and go through the routine of opening and closing my most used apps; to check the status of the day. All is clear on Facebook; no new drama, but Brenda has a new pet pig. 1,426 unread emails. Shit. I’ll delete them one day.
I continue scrolling through my favorite apps to make sure nothing has slipped past me since I peeked at my phone nearly half an hour before. Nope, all good! I stare off into the darkness as I feel my body brim with energy abound.
It’s about 4 am, too early for the sun’s rays to peek above the horizon; but it’s my time. My time to fulfill my passions and pursue interests that would otherwise be left behind. Something magical, almost otherworldly compels me to embrace a sleepless schedule to make my time possible. Wildly slinging me into orbit at times, and occasionally being so distanced that I long for it to visit again. It isn’t shy; imposing itself upon me until I beg for it to put me back down.
Dressed, ready, and my hair tied back in its signature curly ponytail, I head out the door to embrace my day. The air is crisp and cool with the scent of autumn leaves wafting through the gentle breeze. The stars sparkle with powerful brilliance as the luminous moon directs me through the open garage to my car. My mind is zooming along, listing off goals for the year, decade, and beyond! I must plan this out strategically, I chant to myself.
I can hear the shuffling crunch beneath my feet as I approach my car. Today is my day; my body’s ebullient spirit can be felt coursing through my veins, creating a flushed complexion. This feeling; a crazed, persistent energy exuded in phases, consumes my personality. Its arrival is swift, and gradually carries me higher and higher. Eventually, this phase is halted by a sharp, unannounced decline; but as usual, I’m embracing the flight while I can.
Wild-eyed, I turn out of my driveway to head towards the neighboring city of Greenville. I’ve yet to have breakfast, and my morning routine was completed in haste. Fourteen minutes; that’s pretty good timing, I admit to myself. There’s no time for such mundane practices; I have more important matters to attend to.
For half an hour I sail through the darkness, down the deer-laden highway, all the while searching for that perfect song. Next, next, too slow, too fast, that’s a stupid song; ah, there’s a good one!
Mid-hum I spot a fuzzy rat-like creature scattering across the road. Swerving maniacally, I barely miss the overstuffed possum darting out from the roadside. Before I can celebrate my victory, I hear the classic bump, thump. I guess that was his cousin.
Chuckling to myself, I begin rehearsing various comedy routines in my head. What do you get when a possum crosses the road in Alabama? Dinner! I release a loud cackle and shake my head in disbelief at my own bad humor.
Switching gears, I tune back into the music; time for a new song! With my playlist on shuffle, the next note is always a surprise: will it be an intricate rap beat, the ring of a banjo, a lone guitar wail, or will I hear the mourn of a church organ? I never know, and that’s how I like it.
Many skipped songs later, I land on a favorite blues hit from the 60s. Cranking up the volume, my seats vibrate to the beat. Emitting a boisterous croon, I attempt to match the melody surrounding me. Singing slightly off key I admit, but I still should have tried out for that play in high school.
My mind wanders to yesteryear as I slink along the highway, around the gentle curves; my headlights illuminating the path before me. Minutes later, the wail of a saxophone brings me back to the present as it belts out its last note.
Like a billboard gone haywire, a multitude of varying ideas scroll through my mind. What’s the best way to end a public presentation? How has the heightened level of medications in our systems affected the mating patterns of mosquitoes, if at all? Why is no one studying this? And did I pack my lunch?
I’m on an extraordinary journey, I tell myself. This is my time to shine; I’ve worked so hard to get to this point. I feel another surge of energy burst forth and I correct my sunken posture. At this moment, I feel as if I could lift the tallest buildings, and conquer the greatest of puzzles in the computer science realm. After all, I am me, and I’m extraordinary!
Suddenly, I realize that I’m on the outskirts of Greenville, and I become more cognisant of my surroundings. All is quiet except for the thump of the bass resonating within my silver Highlander. My mind is the only exception; it’s rarely quiet there. Perhaps during the dark times my inner voice creeps around and becomes desolate, but not during this phase. I concede to the extra chatter echoing in my mind, and embrace it as I would a dearest friend.
Everything the eye can see is still cast in the shadows of the night, with some households just now waking. I look along the roadside and spot a few others who are just as eager to begin their day. I wonder what their goals are and why they are up so early.
The streets, sparkling with morning dew, absorb the Christmas-themed reflection from the traffic lights. Not yet. I’m not ready to transition from the symphonic solace that I’ve created for myself. I continue my drive, zig-zagging through the streets, block by block, biding as much time as possible; to extend this segment of my time.
Acknowledging that transitions are especially hard for me during these phases never helps. Shifting that much energy into a new environment is no small feat. At this moment, all seems right in the world; it’s as if the music moves through me with such force that nothing else compares.
I feel warm, bubbling with excess energy as I turn to a favorite song. The music meets me at the highest of highs and can carry me to the deepest of lows within moments. Eargasmic is what they call it. This emotional tug-of-war with various melodies pumps me up for my day, and never lets me down.
After several blocks of postponement, I turn into the empty parking lot of the only open coffee shop. Slinging my java-colored leather satchel over my shoulder, I head for the entrance. The bulk of a person underneath tattered rags and blankets, hunched over in the corner, catches my eye. I can see her eyes in the pre-dawn moonlight, fearful of the world which surrounds her. I call out to her: “good morning!” I say, hesitantly. Certainly it must not be a good morning for her if her home is the same as the disease-infested city rats. Secretly, I’m fearful of what she might do or say, and how to handle it. Is she crazy, violent, or a beggar?
To my surprise, she responds cheerfully: “good morning, little miss!”. As I move closer, I could see the scars permanently imprinted across her dark complection. And I wondered, why is she here? What has her experience been like to get her at this point in life? It looks as if she’s packed for vacation; all of her belongings stuffed in a rust-covered shopping cart, no fabric in sight that doesn’t have a patch or two. I wish her good day, but little did I know, it wouldn’t be the last interaction. Her spirit is sweet, but I could sense something troubling within.
With music blaring from the outdoor speakers, I quickly make my way through the entrance. A joyous welcoming from the baristas greeted me, and I proceeded with my order: “I’ll have a grande iced americano” I chirped. Already exhibiting a frenzied expression, I questioned my choice of beverages. Two caffeine-filled shots of espresso should send me spinning into orbit!
Although I only had three hours’ sleep the previous night, my appearance suggested otherwise. The grey pressed slacks and silky button up reflected my inner drive for success. I smirked, feeling important and self-assured, although the neighboring mirror showed otherwise. Chubby, and hunched over, my inner confidence was not so apparent to others.
Seated, I slowly inhale intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed espresso, and the controlled chaos relaxes around me. My time to shine, I whispered. A shrill cackle from across the room interrupts my perceived bliss. I glance around, acknowledging the corporate imperfections as I search for the source.
Annoyed by the permeating glare from the overhanging lights and deafening blare of the music, I take a gulp from the murky, over-priced beverage. A forrest-green mermaid imprinted on my cup glares back at me, mocking my sedentary pose. It’s so cold in here, I noted.
The chairs, unwelcoming in their stiff, regal stature, were barren of anything plush, unlike their comfy counterparts nearly a decade ago. I hadn’t stepped foot in this establishment since my first pass at college. Jesus, has it really been ten years?
I pop in a mouthful of chocolate-covered espresso beans as I reflect on the surrounding assault on my senses. The grainy crunch, infused with rich chocolatey goodness takes me back. I close my eyes and allow the store’s energy to consume me. Eventually, I tell myself, the sensory frustrations will subside.
I snap myself back from my wandering mind. Pulling out a thick, small-print software engineering book, I mouth silently: “focus is key”. Counting the remaining pages left in chapter 1, I set my goal. Only 29 pages left; then I’ll look at my phone. My yellow highlighter glides wildly across key words as I read.
A puzzled expression is surely fixed on my face, as I learn about double linked lists and arrays. It’s so interesting, but also very hard. I’ve always been afflicted by the need to set exceedingly high goals for myself, regardless of my capabilities. But this isn’t that, I remind myself; programming is just difficult; skill and understanding will come with time.
With this reminder, I feel a brightness soar throughout my body. I’ve got this; I can do anything I put my mind to. I think back to all the pending goals that are juggled to fulfill my time. They’re in my mind, dancing about, just waiting to be picked. Like a crisp, juicy marker from a new pack, this goal is plump with expectations and desire. A crazed smile broadens across my face. I can still feel it surging through my veins; the pure energy, intensifying with each passing moment. This is mania, I tell myself, and it isn’t getting any better.