2005-11-29 - 10:15 a.m.
You are my favorite bagel
Trapped in the cage of the
Toaster
Crusty and chewy,
Full of sweet raisins
And a hint of spicy cinnamon
The familiar alarm, and I rush in, eager
But you’re stuck in between
I carelessly reach in and pry
The fork and I rewarded with a jolt
Chastised by the toaster,
But my recklessness did free you
My beauty, my delicious darling
Most bagels require a
Shmear of cream cheese
But you are delightful as you are
2005-11-25 - 11:01 a.m.
got both muzak and a headache so loud, i can barely feel myself think. gregarious and cheerful despite it, or at least trying to be. some peppermint tea, to calm my tumultuous tummy.
happy day after thanksgiving, hope i'm not the only one still full from dinner last nite. stuck at work, should be at home curled up in bed with Ana and Cody.
everything turned out very well yesterday-- the pumpkin pie was perfect, my first attempt at any sort of roll-dessert, a pumpkin roll with a spiced butter cream filling, was delectable. squash was nice and squishy, stuffing stuffed me, roasted garlic and fresh rosemary smashed potatoes were a big hit, all 13 of 'em... cranberry compote good enough to eat by the bowlful, the roasted chicken breasts i made for Ana and Tom turned out nice and juicy, and my own tofu cutlet was pretty good. i made veggie gravy for myself, and chicken gravy for the chicken eaters. Judy made cream puffs and cranberry bars, which Tom brought over and we gobbled up.
just thinking about it all makes me hungry again....
2005-11-15 - 4:59 p.m.
is it strange that 9 out of 10 times, when i answer the phone, i know how to correctly spell the caller's name? Whether it's Michelle or Michele, Jodi or Jody, Deborah or Debra, Cathy, Cathie or Kathy. I just know. Even the hard ones like Caren, Karyn or Karen, I usually get right. I hear them pronounce their name, and my fingers just type out the correct spelling. Is that weird?
2005-11-14 - 3:47 p.m.
I feel like the world’s worst friend. Though I know that can’t be entirely true, certainly there are worse than I, it still feels that way. I think of you daily, berate myself for not picking up my stupid phone and calling, or at the very least sitting down and writing an apology such as this. I often sit and wonder, as I come across something interesting, what you would think about it, what insight you could add to my own interpretation. Of course by now all these intriguing issues have fallen out of my brain, and I’m left with my exhaustion and predilection for rambling.
I find myself increasingly frustrated by my daily life and surroundings. Work is a continual bore, and the people I work with are much the same. They’re dull and dense, which I can partially attribute to the drinking water in Niagara Falls, but I know there has to be more to it than that. I know at least in part, I’m projecting my own dissatisfaction with life onto them, but at the same time I know it’s not just me, there really is something inherently wrong with these people. Of course, I have impossibly high standards, but shit. If you’re as dumb as dirt, it doesn’t matter who is on the receiving end of the stupidity, you’re still dumb.
My new favorite person, on a more cheerful note, is our sometimes neighbor Peter, a delightful Englishman whose been through more adventures than I could ever hope to enjoy. He’s about 80, and he and his girlfriend Imogene live most of the year in Florida, since she has mesothelioma and is on oxygen 24/7. Peter was up here for a couple weeks though, visiting with his sons in Toronto, getting their things in order up here. Imogene couldn’t come with him, unfortunately, she’s been too sick lately to travel. While Peter was here I spent hours just visiting and talking with him about his world travels and exciting adventures, and one night I made him dinner, a wonderful French onion soup. I miss him now that he’s gone back to Florida; it was nice to sit and imagine traveling around the world, and to imagine him as a younger man having such a good time. He mostly just makes me want to go out into the world and explore, which of course I don’t have the money to do. But it’s nice to daydream. Sometimes. Other times, just depressing, knowing the farthest I’ll go this year is to Orchard Park to see my mommy.
I miss learning, miss information rapidly seeping into my brain and stimulating synapses or whatever little particles in my brain like to learn. I try to keep teaching myself, reading inspirational magazines, books, etc., but still feel like I’m coming up short. There’s an emptiness that I can’t seem to fill, a longing to connect with my spiritual self. I seem to spend a lot more time wanting to fix this than I spend actually making an effort to do so, and I guess that’s the first problem. I guess I keep hoping some helpful deity will fall from the sky, for the express purpose of guiding me to my soul’s peace and contentment. But I can’t hire my own Yogi or personal trainer, at the moment I can’t even afford a visit to the specialists I need to, to find out what’s wrong with me. And there are so many things wrong. And I’m so conflicted going to western doctors, with their symptom-suppressive and excessive chemicals, and it disturbs me to be told by someone they know more about my body than I do. I just want to wave a magic wand and be healthy. But don’t we all?
I’m also conflicted as to what I want to do with myself when I “grow up.” I want to teach the world how to live sustainably, with proper nutrition for their bodies, minds, souls and the world we live in as well. I’m considering doing this as a sort of nutritional counselor, along with my own natural food type convenience store. I want to teach people that they can get all the nutrients and health they need from their food, not from a bottle of pills. Of course, I’m an idealist at heart; there are thousands of things that prevent such a lifestyle these days, and much as I aspire I’m weak like everyone else. I also really want to have a restaurant, with the same general purpose—delicious, healing foods. Surely there’s some way I can combine them all to become the spectacularly wonderful person I know I am, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out right now.
It’s been ages since I’ve written a poem, but here’s the one I recently (ok not so recently, like September) became inspired to write:
I thought I would miss you—
But I don’t know what to miss
Swore I’d love you forever
Never thought it’d end up like this
It’s true, I still long for friendship
There’s an emptiness inside
Left by the part of me that loved you
The part of me that’s died
So I guess it’s just nostalgia
That keeps me clinging to thoughts of you
Memories of the good times,
Blind adoration distorting the truth
Exasperation and confused desires
Transformed into love by my weak mind
I look back and wish I could change
The awful past I’ve left behind
And I hate that I wasted so much time
Building so many shitty poems around a single good line
I guess anyone who knew me in high school would know who that one’s about. Strange to look back and think that I transformed such a platonic adoration into amorous desire, but then I’m a strange kid. And I’m glad I figured it out before I went through any more delusions. I still love Jen, but only as a friend, which I should have realized is the ONLY way I’ve felt about her the whole time.
Truth be told, I’ve never been as happy as I am with Ana. Still hard to believe it’s almost 3 years already; 2 years 9 months on the 16th. She makes me so happy! :)
