3am

my mind it still spinning, it is so late,
perhaps too late.
i keep looking back over my shoulder, wondering if the steps taken where....
see it's late, perhaps too late...
to be worrying and wondering and playing the 'what if' game.
at this time between the sleeping and the wake,
3am.
flip the coin dear girl.
roll the dies
play a hand
winner takes all
take a chance
risk
go out on a limb
trust yourself
believe
live
love
touch
feel
know
peace

tossed salad

imprints and impression of experiences
leaving traces
tracks on our body, mind and spirit,
combinations blending together,
people, places, things,
make up who we are
explain why we are able
to constantly grow and change
throughout our entire life,
it’s a never ending process.
no days are wasted
regardless to our conscious opinion
of how it was
today

her dime, my time

I’m in the middle of a writing project, decided I wasn’t going to give up on it and I’m not. I have postponed and put off for years. If I stop now I will never do the actual work to make the dream happen. This is my goal I set for myself; write every day, even if it is only one line added, or one word edited. I will finish all my stories. So by day I work on my W-2 form and by night and any other time I write. The only person that can make all my dreams come true is me. if I want my life to change I am the only person that can change it. I have to stop listening and wondering and worrying about the thoughts and opinions of others. I have to follow my own light, my own instinct, my own path. I will do this for me. I will do this for the little girl that I use to be, that dreamed about what her life would be like when she grew up. She fought for my life. I will not take a free ride and just float the rest of the way home on her dime.

My training continues.

my pissology 101 class began today.
i was promoted at work and am now official a CSM or customer service manager.
my job description?

i still don't have a clear picture in my head, just like when i started as a lowly cashier, every person involved in your training tells you a different way of doing something.
which of course i hate. just tell me the fuck what i'm suppose to do and i will do it, but don't tell me one way this day and another way on tuesday.

fuck me. i was exhausted by the end of my shift but it was the most unusual and interesting day i have had thus far.

today i stood in an extremely small room, maybe 5' by 5' and listened to six angry women try to sort out their issues of blah blah changes and blah blah quotas not being met. was this a department meeting or a bitch session?
i could see both sides clearly, i know what needs to be done, i'm the peacemaker, it's my job to make happy people where ever i go.

they told me we were equals. we shall soon see.

"so how's that been working out for ya?"

I am a people pleaser.

I always try to please all the people that I find myself surrounded by at any giving minute in time which is not only an impossible task but a very damning one. I will never be able to make every person that travels in and out of my life happy.
In the end, I know I’m doomed to be a failure. Because not only is it impossible for me to ‘make’ people happy but also it is equally impossible for me to keep them in this constant state of bliss 24/7.
Realistically I know this is impossible, but still I try.

I should have been born with a magic wand so I can bounce around from place to place granting miserable people happy minutes. Yeah, just like on TV, don’t waste your happy minutes dear…

Fuck me, fuck you, and fuck your damn bitch too!
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why can’t I do anything for myself without feeling guilty or selfish or greedy or wrong?

I never answer my phone, I treat my family and friends like shit, ignore them all for months at a time, than become annoyed with them for actually having the nerve to miss me. I’ve spent my entire life trying desperately to not need anyone.

“So, how’s that been working out for ya?”
Well, let me think….
(Jeopardy theme music is playing in the background)
Realistically I know this is impossible, but still I try.

Why is it so important that people are happy around you?
Happy people rarely throw things,
like hammers at your grandmother
dishes at your mother
food at your siblings
rocks at your dog
Happy people rarely
Beat your mother till she can’t get up from the floor
Beat your sisters till their bloody noses swells and her teeth chip
Beat all your dogs till they “run away”
Beat everyone in your house; except for you.
Happy people don’t scream
In your face with horrid beer breathe
At the police when they pull you over for drunk driving.
Break, damage or destroy every material possession that is important to you, just to prove that the shit really isn’t yours

Winks from a monster, Angry jealous glares, battered and bloody faces, these are the people you love.


Right now, I’m working on making myself happy. I recently enrolled in the “Fuck you! I’m a self bitch school”
Realistically I know it’s impossible, but still I try.

And yes, I did spend some time with my mother yesterday,
Does it show?

My mother has had a run of bad luck lately. She was in a minor fender bender with a taxi cab driver no less. I was appointed the task of handling all the details of this drama for her because she is incapable of taking care of them herself.

Under normal circumstances the steps you walk through in such times are a tad stressful but for the most part simple and basic. You call your insurance. You call your collision repair specialist. You call the rental car place. You handle the ticket by either paying money and going to defensive driving classes or paying more money and hiring a traffic attorney.

Which is what I chose to do for my mother: Pay someone else to handle her problems for me. After all it’s the American way.

The most difficult task when dealing with my mother is her lack of intelligence. She was never a smart woman and now I find myself watching what little brain she had melting away into nothingness.

My sisters empathize with her. I, on the other hand, feel nothing but anger and contempt. This is just one more thing, one more reason why, it is our job to take care of her. She is our mother. We are supposed to take care of her therefore we do.

Just like she took care of us?

Her personality is changing and it’s not for the better. She doesn’t understand, she is no longer able to comprehend certain things, so no matter how many time they are repeated, no matter how many ways they are described, no matter how many languages we speak to her in, she just doesn’t get it.

For the past 11 days she has been driving a new rental car. Once she returned to the drivers’ seat of her old piece of shit, she knew something was different, she knew something was wrong, she just couldn’t quite recall what a complete and utter piece her old ford was.

“Are you sure they fixed my car?”

“Yes mom, remember the big huge dent on the front passengers side with all the red and blue paint from the taxi cab? That’s all gone. See… It’s all shiny and new.”

“But it sounds funny”

“Yeah, well sorry mom, but your car is a fucking piece of shit!”

a paradox perhaps, this life of mine. i have often wondered how anyone has the courage to go out into the world and just go and do without thoughts or worries of the effects and consequences of their deeds on those around. than i realize that this is just how i was programed to think and believe by my parents. that this is my perception, my viewpoint and mine alone, not even my sisters share this. yet even though this is different it is not necessarily right or wrong, it simply is mine.

what scales of measure balance my conscious life? strength and weakness are woven so tightly together they are sometimes difficult to distinguish; deeds done or deed left undone, action taken or actions resisted, words spoken or words left unsaid. temptations indulged in and those resisted.



sinners and saints are fictional beings. humans are neither of thoses and everything inbetween.