short somethings

All I've learned over the past year, is mimicked by the actions of one little dog. He truly is the most annoyingly adorable creature that ever lived. This little Jack Russell Terrier has so much gumption and drive, not to mention absolutely obsessively focused.

You know when something is just too easy, like getting straight A's through high school while rarely trying, there's nothing real satisfying about it. Well, this little dog is that way. I've tried on numerous occasions to just hand him a raw hide and get him to GIVE UP ON THE DAMN LASER already, but he doesn't want it. BUT, make him do a whole butt load of tricks, he squeals and whimpers in excited anticipation. He goes into a sit-roll over-spin move all in one, just to get to it! I must have it! The more tricks you make him do, the longer he chews on that sucker.

He's a little arrogant too. Once he gets said rawhide or toy, he runs around showing it off. Look what I have, no you can't have it, it's mine, I earned it.

Like I said, what I've learned most over the past year, I learned from this little dog. Every moment of discouragement and dissatisfaction has forced me to dig deep into it and work harder, accept the hardships for what they were and what I've got right now; has been worth the struggle.

All this to say, everyone, everything, every animal has it's message for you. You just have to step out of ego long enough to know it.

Where is it.

I'm quite certain I've spent all of all of my life searching for that place of sustainability. As though, somehow, there's this lifelong nirvana waiting somewhere that I've missed out on. Alas, the inevitable mirage. There are these minuscule moments in time of new or wonder or awe! The view from an airplane where you're above the sky and the sun screams through a sea of clouds. Or an intensely met goal that leads elation. The high octane bar scene with its high on life. An artist's high? Yep, tried it. Dream world? About as close as it gets.

But really, where is it?

In being heard? If you've ever spent time alone with the local bar flies, you soon find you're a walking, breathing, ear. EVERYONE wants to be heard. So you listen, ask questions, be a good hearted, empathic person; but when you open your mouth, you're immediately drowned out by the drunken slurs. Folks begging, pleading, dying to be important. Their 'best' stories of grandeur roll effortlessly from tongues, waiting to be congratulated for times long gone.

Everyone wants to be somebody, or be special and yet it's clear this isn't the place to do it.

Martyr mothers or great mothers, either way under appreciated. Amazing lover moves onto another. The successful husband on his way to the upper class; laid off. Actors, celebrities, artists, musicians, under privileged, unfed, unwanted. We're all the same.

And the halfway to a voice box alcoholic who can't read or write hanging over my shoulder as I write? He tells me to "put him into my book." His name is Uncle Buck and he's crazy. Or so he says...

Everyone wants to be remembered.

Cooking dinners, folding laundry, clean this, suds that, who cares? Until it isn't being done. Where's the purpose in a life that seems to hold some crazy potential for fulfillment? It's not sustainable, just moments passing in time. It's in the past, often far before noticed as a future.

I'm not exempt. I find very few that actually listen when I speak. I'm not exempt. I have something to say. I want to be heard. The problem is, I know what it is, I just don't know how to say it and fight the ever present fear of deaf ears.

The disappointment of another failure to achieve the unachievable gone by. Dreams wash away the remnants until morning's amnesia dawns and the pursuit begins again... 

the idea of

Just say it's so
from far away
or on the phone
this or that
desire
wish
remorse

the idea of

When skin
becomes flesh
and distance
presence
nothings left
for it was

the idea of

Appetite satiated
in imaginary life
it was already given
in the mind
and

the idea of

E and Me

Words are only words,
but I see your words got stuck together
for another
and there's no room for me in we.
Transactions ill timed
there's little left to mind
'cept the tail of ee's that followed
my love out the door like a score.

What'd you want me for any how?

don't make me laugh

There's a woman who works in my building, die hard smoker, who by now must have Emphysema. I used to think she was unfriendly, but it turns out, she's smoked so much for so long that she can barely utter a full sentence without breaking into a wheeze fest.

I personally have come down with the kind of chest cold that's making me walk around telling people NOT to make me laugh because the cough that comes with it is so terribly painful.

That said, I was reminded of the smoker lady who's grandchildren, children, etc. should she have any will never hear the sound of her actual laughter. And making her laugh actually makes you feel a little bad because she's now wheezing and coughing between drags.

I'm bringing this up for reasons other than the obvious "DON'T SMOKE." I'm bringing it up because habit and the odd workarounds, nuances and pain that go with it are all around us. I went out with a good friend the other day and she recalled how she had at one time shared a bed with someone who was quite a cuddler. They had a water bed and she would often end up finding herself stuck between the bed frame and the actual bed. Most people who have dogs or pets that sleep with them go through similar conundrums and continue the pattern nonetheless.

These are pretty harmless examples, but the moral of the story is the same. People will often endure pain in order to avoid the pain of changing. So, how did we get to be that way? And what's your pain?