For Maia

The window's closed,

but I hear birds. Maybe

they're discussing Spring.

Written 4/2/2024

It's cold in the house.
I open the windows anyway 

to smell Spring.

Written a couple days ago

 

California Bluebirds

They say

There aren't really Bluebirds 
in California.
We have Scrub Jays, but they still mean
Spring. And I just saw one.

Not Haiku

The cold wakes us up.

The young cat squeaks & squibbles

& runs around as usual.

The old cat & I plod toward the heater.

Sharing the space, we get warm.

A Letter

This letter to myself was one of the things I was supposed to do as part of a 12-day "Self-Care Challenge." Ugh. At least parts of it are amusing. 

A Letter

First of all, 17-Year Old Me, I want you to know I tried, but it didn't work out how we planned.

I know I'm not the person we hoped I'd be. I'm not a genius or rich or important. I don't have a career. We could never decide on one of those anyway. And we got sick. Maybe you'll understand why 19-54 Year Old Us was in so much denial about it. But I know you'll understand why I didn't fight for us. Which is probably the same reason I was in so much denial.

I did do us a favor & stay sober. No being  murdered by truckers, bikers, or an abusive boyfriend like we thought! No more being raped because we were too drunk to get away! No more stealing from running buddies & stores! Just a lot of coffee & 6 more years of cigarettes & taking our own & other people's inventories. Plus a lot of fun. It never seems like enough fun, but that's just us wanting permanent euphoria again.

And I did meet a rad person. He's way better than anyone we could have imagined. He's a little nuts, but, then again, who isn't? He is the best person we know.

And we have lots of friends now. We don't upset people as often. We keep our home reasonably clean & spoil our cats & dote on other people's pets. We are a decent person. Uncle Eddie & Aunt Pat have us in their lives, & you know they'd have bailed if we turned out to be a selfish asshole.

Like you, I am still not sure our life is of use to anyone. That idea wanes more & more, but very s-l-o-w-l-y. I thought for sure we'd be dead already or deliriously euphoric all day long by now, but we just have the same old roller coaster life most lower-middle class Americans get. We have it better than many.

I hope you can forgive our life of bland ordinariness that features a lot of enjoyment from reruns of "Castle." I hope you can see that our life has value even though our dreams did not come true. Those were all about making up for how we thought we were inferior anyway.

I do plan to kill us off once adult incontinence wear becomes a reality, so maybe we can enjoy the 20ish years we have left in such a way that people will understand why we want "You've Got Another Thing Coming" played at our funeral.

Sincerely,
Your Almost 55-Year Old Self

Written Just Now

Daily

I lay before myself

a long list
of things

To Do

To Think

To Be

There's no way to accomplish it all

I add more

sometimes even more

Not walks or stopping to smell flowers, No.

Every moment must be an accomplishment.

Then I wonder
so often
why I am so sad &
hate myself so much