Time for a real blog...

There aren't many who even read this at all. For those of you who do, it's going to take a change. Obviously I've not been inspired to write poetry for a while- a mixed blessing- and I think it's time to turn this blog around. I think I'll follow the trail of the many who have come before me (unlike me, I know..) and begin a blog that's about my life. This is not to say that my life is of much interest. Actually, for the most part, it's not really interesting at all. The fact of the matter is that like most people, my life revolves around me. And I'm not all that interesting. But occasionally I do have interesting adventures or entertaining thoughts and observations. If you are patient, insanely patient, you may be able to glean something worth knowning. This will be a travel blog. This will be an everyday life adventure blog. Stand by..

I want to turn you into stone

A monument to who I have become

I want to watch as time erodes you

And you blow away in the wind

A story

Thin Walls

I wake up early. The mattress is memory foam, so he never even notices when I slip out of bed and begin my morning routine. By the time I'm in the bathroom, I've already shed most of the layers of sleep from my body and mind. In my morning life, I pretend I live alone; the eternal bachelorette with too many quirky habits and too much egoism to ever attract a life mate. I squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom, and I don't think I could live with anyone who didn't do the exact same. I'm pretty sure if I met morning-me during the daytime, we wouldn't be friends. Not for long.

I dampen my unruly hair; a temporary fix for my morning workout. I'm convinced that somebody does care that I fix my hair and apply a little makeup. It's about this time every morning when I hear it- the toilet flushes. Not my toilet, but Regina's toilet. She's an early riser, too. The walls in the duplex must be thin where the bathrooms adjoin, because I hear her every morning. Regina comes home late, when she comes home at all, and she leaves early, but later than me. In fact, it was months after moving in that I finally saw my neighbor for the first time. It was nothing spectacular. She just smiled and waved as I was driving off one day. Her hair is long and plain, and she wears it in a way that frames her less than beautiful face. I don't even know her real name. I call her Regina or Rachel, whichever she seems more like at the time. In the mornings, probably because she wakes up too early for her age, I call her Regina. Such a practical name. Regina.

Her routine, like her duplex, mirrors mine. No, it shadows it. It follows mine like a timid doppleganger. I imagine her listening, head pressed to the bathroom wall, waiting for the water to go off after the sound of brushing subsides. Then and only then can she turn on the water to brush her own teeth. She mimics my routine as if it will, given enough time, transform her into me. Doesn't everybody want that? To be married happily to the man who adores them most in the world. In a secure job where they are appreciated and needed. To be talented and successful in life. See? I told you morning-me was egotistical.

But my day is long, with ups and downs like any other. Another trip to the gym after work before I am finally home. There are things to do, always things to do. The floor needs to be vacuumed or swept, or the pugs need to go outside, or I have to use the bathroom, then I'll have to think about dinner, and I don't know what to cook or if we even have all the ingredients, and if we don't, we'll have to go to the store and it'll be 7:30 before we even start cooking, which means it will be 9 o'clock, as usual, before we actually eat, and by the end of dinner I'm ready to pass out from the exhaustion and frustration of a day that is ultimately like any other- full of ups and downs. Sometimes it's like the day is stuck on repeat and all I want to do is break away and be Rachel. So at night I follow her routine in earnest, with my head pressed to the wall between us, hoping that if I shadow her perfectly, the thin walls that separates us will open, and we can change places whenever we want to not be ourselves.

The Waiting Place

I reside in limbo
The place between now and then
It is sparse and dimly lit
I live here with only you
And we stare at our plates without words
And like always
I wait

We play chess
And it's always your turn
But you never go
Never move a single piece from our board
So I wait
And maybe when I cry out
From the pain of waiting so helplessly
For signs of life
Maybe then you make an absentminded move
And maybe one day you won't notice
You're in check-mate
And the game has ended

I wait for changes
Wait for new breaks
I wait for happiness again
But will I even recognize it?
I wait for things to be better
Things to be worse
Things to be
Maybe just be like they were
Before I knew I was waiting
Hoping, wishing so hard
For nothing at all

I am me again
Seasonal
But fixed like the Earth
In orbit
Around my sun

There's a flow
Like the tides
When I write
When I don't write
But after a dry spell
Words always do
Inch their way up
And wrap around my fingers
Urging me to write
Making their way
Onto this screen

But not now, words,
Not now that I'm happy
I'm happy
I'm happy
Don't threaten me with thoughts
Dont' taunt me with introspection
Can't you see
I'm happy?

If you have to be here
If you have to come out somehow
Then teach me how to
Stay in this season
Teach me the secret
To eternal fall
Teach me comfort
And teach me how to
Finally let go