Sunday, September 18, 2011


It's not you it is me.

I love Facebook. I do because it affords me the opportunity to talk with people I would have never otherwise gotten to interact with. There are a host of interesting people; notable and everyday folks some make me laugh, others make me think, and there are those that make me want to fight. The conversations are what have turned Facebook into a compulsion. My days have become inextricably tied to Facebook. Hours and hours of my life are eaten up by commenting, posting, tagging, untagging, or uploading. As I speak I am listening to George Michael singing "If You Were My Woman" my immediate thought was to post it on Facebook.

I don't want anything to control me so. I am taking time off. My desire is to reprogram myself. Get my priorities in order. Facebook cannot and should not be a priority. I don't know how long it will take. Like any other addiction I can only approach it one day at a time. I am 2 and 1/2 days in...

Friday, July 22, 2011

Lamentations of the deluded

Frida Kahlo "The Little Deer" 1946
I could have been
      better bodied
      done better
      lived better
      loved better

Tied to
      the saboteur
      the doomed
      the damned

I believed in
      the future
      a hope

I lost verdant spring to fall’s winter preparation
I swallowed the bitter poison of disappointment like mothers milk

It was my

Baptized and reborn as a distortion
     No more

Friday, March 18, 2011


I look at my boyfriend, Devin. I wonder what in the world would prompt him to rip off the bottom of his polo style shirt and tie it around his head? He is mad at me yet again for a reason, or reasons, only known to him. There was some infraction, real or perceived, that I have committed. And he isn't saying. Why does my man have to be "special needs"? Everyone else has normal boyfriends with normal issues. No I have a weirdo. No job. No car. And proud to have made a 4.0 one semester in his low level classes.

I didn't even like Devin in the beginning! He just showed up wherever I was, at my locker between classes, at cheer practice, sitting at the corner of my street after my yearbook meeting, and at McDonalds after a game. I thought he was a stalker. Then he seemed harmless and I was flattered by the attention. Now I was convinced he lives to make me miserable. The problem is my heart is entirely too big. I am too generous and long suffering.

South Chagrin Reservation
It was bad enough that he acted completely antisocial and moody at my family's picnic at Squaw Rock, which really ticked me off. Seriously he couldn't hide his crazy for a day? My aunts and mother sat me down after the soiree imploring I rethink this relationship. Seriously it's not like I am planning to get married! I don't imagine my future with a bunch of extra light bobble headed kids and Devin. But I listened.

So here we sit in the back seat of our friend Alex's car, who was conveniently dating my bff. Devin sat silently looking out of the window. Silently because he isn't speaking to me. I found the whole thing perfectly absurd. Since I am sitting directly behind Mia we talk like our normal chipper selves. We review the day's events and giggle, giggle, giggle. Because we are teenagers and that is what we do. Something in our self contained joy and our gal pal-i-ness sets Alex on edge. Or it could have been "Devin Downers" dark cloud of death. Alex pulls into the lot of Pic-n-Pay and parks the car.

"You both are so damned silly," Alex said.

Our necks whip around and we look at him like he has completely lost his mind. He is one of those normal boyfriends. We would expect this from the King of Romance over there not Mr. Level Headed. When  Mia and I look at each other again we roar with laughter. Needless to say this did not go over well. He then begins to scold us about our immaturity. We are completely without remorse and laugh louder. Not demure hand over mouth modest laughing. No, we are talking head back uvula dancing gut busting laughter.

My gem of a boyfriend springs into action. He finds his voice and says something about it's not worth it. And they get out and go into the store. It takes us awhile to regain our composure. All either one of us has to say is "You both are so damned silly" to get us started again. Once we are silent for a second I have an epiphany. Why in the world should I be tied to somebody who gets on my nerves? Life IS funny and I am young.

"Mia I will see you later," I say.
"Wait for me," she says.

Saturday, March 5, 2011


The sky is gray and dreary. Heavy laden clouds shift shapes as they meander slowly across the sky. The breeze whips my hair around my head. And my loose clothing billows around my body. Aside from the wind everything is still. Even the street below is strangely quiet devoid of traffic, foot or motorized.

Unrelated thoughts weave, intersect, and overlap through my disturbed mind. A migraine begins its dull march from my temples behind my eyes. Panic washes over me. I take deep breaths until the anxiety passes.

A baby sits on a field of grass. Wondering wordlessly at the expanse. A hand grabs for the verdant blades. Once successful the hand tries unsuccessfully to stick the cool things in her mouth. Despite knowing nothing of hands nor mouths.

I am a daydreaming teen. Organizing a fantastic life filled with pouty faced magazine covers and runways. The twins fame and fortune are mine. Exotic travels, a peacock array of equally exotic men,  penthouses, limos, champagne wishes and caviar dreams is how I roll.

There once was a sense of adventure. Let's ride this out to see how it all ends. It has to be better. Master of my own destiny and all that. Do the work and it all falls into place. The world is my oyster... yeah.
Then every slight, every disappointment, every failure is clear and fresh as if it were a new occurrence. The strength of memories cause my knees to buckle. I struggle to maintain my balance.

I question was it worth it? The loneliness? The lack? No joy? No contentment? Insensible to time passing or the temperature dropping I turn these questions over and over in my mind. I evaluate each thought and memory as it takes shape. I take my time. I want to answer honestly. WAS IT WORTH IT?

Once again I take long deep breaths to calm my nerves. Inhale. E x h a l e. I N H A L E. E x h a l e. Then I take the final step over the rail and off the building. My pure virgin white clothing floats gently like a full body parachute. Briefly I am peacefully flying. Until the wind picks up speed and gravity pulls me into her embrace.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Letter to My Sister

I dream of turning back time in increments to the day of, hours before, days before, weeks before. The most insignificant things are magnified. Disjointed words and conversations float in my memory. I want to  hear you say "Hi Geeeena" or "Oh "**LL NO!" Or simply hear you at all. Know you are on the line, on this earth, at home.

After my year long absence I finally made it back, the saddest journey I've ever made. Once there I wanted to be among your things. Cocoon myself in the comforter you'd been in only days before and release my anguish, disbelief and sorrow. Crying for you, myself, the conversations that are no longer possible. Cry for my niece who is living my oldest childhood nightmare. But I always woke up.

Our family lacks balance. There is no comfort. No words, no "better place" cliches, nor empty angel wing promises help. Not even after oceans of tears. We knew of the possibility, the likelihood, the probability. Yet nothing could have prepared us for the reality. The blow has left us breathless and lost. Your absence is a gaping raw edged wound. Will time truly heal it? Or will we just bury the pain and continue forever changed but unhealed?

I knew you were a loving sweet spirit. But I didn't realize how loving or how sweet. I knew you were strong but I didn't realize how strong. It wasn't until we stopped and reflected about all that you were that we began to understand. Sometimes we can't see until our view is unobstructed. Your impact was far reaching. The people who knew you are devastated. The ones who have heard of you mourn with us.

I will continue to bear witness to your life lived in earnest.