a haiku about a boy

snotty girl

7 short days ago I welcomed the idea of having a week spent in bed with nothing more than a droning television or a good book to entertain me. Alas, 6 days later and I find myself attempting to accomplish as many different things as one lone woman can manage from her attic bedroom. The laundry has been washed, dried and put away. A grade 8 Late-Middle Ages unit plan sits contentedly to the side awaiting the arrival of all accompanying lesson plans, and Jessica has been indefinitely put on hold so that I may feel a sense of transcription advancement, and actually have something prepared to email the boss before she cuts off my pay forever. Whew *she wipes her brow*, but I remain bored, lonely, cranky and still a little sore.
Time for reflection can be good. Unfortunately for me I tend to imagine rather than reflect and while oftentimes my daydreams are entertaining they are rarely realistic or even feasible. I allow myself instead to feel somewhat sad, missing passionate kisses, loud laughter and music, and an overwhelming sense of panic that nothing will be ready in time.
And then I breath~ think of Friday- tomorrow not the last one, and I look forward to being out, being in, being touched, being talked to and snuggled against.
breath~ next week, Wednesday actually, head first into teaching after feeling completely out of touch, and I know that I will do just fine because even if I choke, forget everything I have learned about Egypt in the last month, turn brilliant pink in the cheeks or even trip and land on my new nose, they will all forgive me as long as I take the time to laugh at myself with them.
sigh~what I wouldn't do for a warm body tonight, soft murmerings in my ear, the sense of taste... mmhhh capuccino has never tasted so sweet...

this week I would like to *squeeze* everyone/anyone
except maybe...
no, them too!

new nose

3 days later and the swelling rampages on. I guess I should express relief in the fact that my eyes lids are no longer uber-puffy, but I seem now to be sporting rather jowly cheeks in exchange. the dull ache has also subsided, now I only feel momentary lapses in pain. and breathing? well that is virtually a non-issue as far as my nose is concerned, it remains on hiatus for at least 2 more sleeps. thankfully for James' sake I will continually attempt to force a snore out of my blugged nostrils for these next 2 nights-alone.
stay tuned for pictures! oh yes, a technologically documented journey into peaceful sleep for all of my loved ones.

people I most wanted to *squeeze* during the past 3 days: james, jessa, james, mom, james, ralphy...
such a sucky girl I am

movement and light

I have spent over a week attempting to compose a blog entry discussing the sudden death of Aeron...
I will miss him and I will remember him always.
He has inspired me, for that I am especially thankful.
He truly represents all that I imagine when I think of movement and light.
...that is all.

One man's treasure is another man's garbage

I started off quite calm as I set out on a journey to find the articles that were stolen from my car sometime, in the way too dark but warm hours of, this morning. I have experienced various moods and reactions; one of the most prevalent is relief. My car will easily be repaired and for the most part the stuff that was taken was of very little value either financially or personally, all except two.

For the past week I have lugged the heaviest of perfect carry-all bags to and from school. The newly re-discovered, canvas, Gap satchel is the perfect solution for transporting various school supplies, favourite pens, fancy post-its, etc. Stuffed into this bag last night when I parked on the street was all of those things, as well as my well stocked lunch bag and a collection of photos, these are what drove me to wander and explore for close to an hour this afternoon.

Many of the photos were retrieved from the bushes at the end of the street some 8 hours before I got there but I set off in hopes of finding a trail that would lead me to my abandoned belongings. I approached the same foliage James had described to me earlier and I battled my way through some rose bushes to gather 2 photos. I am not sure what disturbed me more- the pictures of childish faces scattered on the ground or, the used needle I found them lying next to. As I continued to examine the area I found syringe wrappers, spoons used to cook drugs and a pool of vomit.

I slowly continued along the sidewalk, watching the roadway, the curbs, trees, corners- I rolled my eyes over the content of garbage cans hoping that I did not appear to be pathetically combing for bottles. As I went, a commentary continuously rolled through my mind reshaping and changing. I pictured my thieves (I imagined 2 for some reason), this morning they were punks, malicious and useless. But then I had to wonder, the neighbourhood littered as it was with evidence of drug use and homelessness. A stolen lunch bag, two juice boxes taken from the front seat, things that could be sold (for very little $ but sold all the same). More and more I began to imagine a lone thief, armed with a crowbar and on a mission, a way to acquire their next fix. The lunch was simply a bonus.

I picked a street and went up one side and back down the other, pausing to inspect as I went. I crossed the street into a park where no child should ever play. I found a lunch box, perched on the merry-go-round- but it wasn’t mine. Back and forth, now paying close attention to the small items- a baggie that may have contained my stoned-wheat thins…and on
“what are you looking for Sunshine?” an all too smooth but seemingly harmless voice asked. Nonplussed I responded “a beige and black bag”, the shabbily dressed man who was supporting his extremely intoxicated companion on a swing, pointed me toward the bag on the merry-go-round. “mine is much larger but thank you”, he smiled and I turned my attention back to the ground as I left the park.

I reminded myself that there was little likelihood of finding anything, the pictures were along the road, the other stuff had likely made it into the home of the thief where they would riffle through it and laugh at their bravado and accomplishment. The ‘sketchy’ crack house a block down the street somehow beckoned me to walk on.

I walked around the front and the side, I felt nervous and disgusted, I found myself expecting to see articles of clothing once worn by James, there were lone Nikes and Airwalks, a hoodie, a red and black mac jacket, a dog house filled with blankets and a tarp, an exciting assortment of socks and my lacy blue-thong panties.

Near the corner of the lot, snug against the fence I found my lunch bag, everything eaten except the stoned-wheat thins, a smiley face paper clip and the small pieces of paper that had to be replaced before teaching my class this morning. I picked up the bag and noticed a single penny that had been left inside then headed back to my car. I left the paper, which did not seem like garbage, white and bright amidst the shit scattered around it; and the panties, nauseated and uncertain.

A junkie broke into my car and stole my lunch. Now I am pissed off.

I left the yard and made my way back to my car. I managed to find a total of four pictures; hopefully James rescued the majority this morning. This whole thing has left me confused and sad, but more than anything else I am bitter. Any sympathy I may have had is gone. My last imagined picture today is of an asshole, squatting by the fence of crack-house yard in the dark, sifting through my belongings deciding what is garbage and what is his treasure.

I have been teased before for my garbage fascinations but I have never experienced anything on this level before, found garbage, abandoned garbage, many once-treasures deposited by those who have no conception of the value such things may have meant to the people who own them.

Moral of the story: “don’t leave stuff in your car dumb-ass!” and when you buy a car, get one where the windows are behind a seal, not easily accessible, waiting to be popped off by a dick-head with a crow-bar.

My goal for the week: not to kick every vagrant I pass...or run them over with my poor violated car!

And…
today I would most like to *squeeze*: James, Jessa, Mom

late the other night

stolen

What a blissful, well-spent week this has been. Nothing has been written due to my willingness to relax and do nothing. The fire has been rekindled under my butt and I am prepared to be running from it for the next sixteen weeks, I will begin counting down the sleeps until spring break very soon I am sure.

New Year’s Eve was beyond perfect, even the recovery was worth the experience. I celebrated my one-year anniversary with many of the same dancers and dreamers that I joined last year.

The slow, morning car ride home was somewhat shadowed by the sleepy, drifting, wanderings of my mind and the first day of this new year was enjoyed with good friends, quiet time and a great movie. I look forward to continuing the tradition in… 361 sleeps!

A wise whizard suggested that I do not make ‘new year resolutions’, instead I should make choices for myself and follow through on them for their usefulness alone:
This year (drum roll)

Who do I want to be?
A woman who is strong, happy, and healthy. Someone who is close to their family and who is always making new friends (and accepting such people to the highest degree, without doubt or question).

Who do I want to become?
-a fire spinner
-a teacher
-a burner

In the 2004 edition of my beautiful pink and blue blog I have also added the following, to be filled in with each entry:

today I would most like to *squeeze*
Lello’s James, Mary, Shan, James, Amara, Steve and Chelsie