Is 5am too early for a beer?

It's Thanksgiving and I have been up since 4:45 am sorting out the difference between being thankful, and accepting things as they are. I always get very lonely around the holidays. I left New York state 18 years ago. You'd think I'd let go of the memories of the hills, the people, and what I felt like there. My circular harpies remind me it's never pretty, the mountains are never as tall- you can never go back for these reasons. I have been away from for so long, I do not remember childhood traditions. The boys are with their father as always. I still have not yet formed traditions of my own. At least not other than the cyclical harpy that feeds off the conflict of being thankful for what and who I have and aches for something I am not even sure I am remembering properly. It's a yearly thing. To let go of my days of coming into adulthood and true independence is not something I'm willing to do. I ended up in the deep South with ever intent of moving on in few months- to keep the gypsy life that I was enjoying. One thing lead to another and to quote Jimmy Buffet- "Summers and winters scattered like splinters ad 20 more years slipped away...."
I'll be ok. I will go back to bed after I cry for bit, go to the orphan Thanksgiving that one of my dear friends will host and enjoy myself. Until then, unhelpful as it may be MY tradition is aching longing in private and feeling very alone for an hour or two before a party.

Confidence- week 18 Feminine Voice

the lion within

I have an admittedly hard time knowing the fine line difference between confidence and arrogance. The minute I realize I am describing myself in a congratulatory way, I feel I am that shameful descriptor- Show Off. (remember, no one likes a show off) and my confidence fails, my lion with a thorn in her paw. When I am aware that I feel confident in a skill, I fail. When I am absolutely sure I know what I am talking about, I am wrong. When it doesn't feel like anything out of the ordinary, it's all good. When I think - hey- this was a pretty darn good .....smack!
I do not like it. I am constantly struggling with it. I have been consciously and somewhat unconsciously holding things back and in more and more.

I listen over the cubical walls and I think there is something better- more intelligent- more creative to me and to my friends. I think I must be stuck up to think so. I think about the life I have led and their "35 years of dedicated service" plaques. I keep very quiet and to myself as much as possible. To paraphrase Mr Twain- better to keep your mouth shut and appear a stuck up bitch, then to open it and remove all doubt. And I roar at my sister's memory when she said I was too stuck up and that's why no body likes me. And in the echo I wonder if there is any truth to it.

Where is the line between confidence and arrogance, I wonder? Today I do not know. In a day or two, I will be sure I do. All I am sure of is there is a cyclical quality to my feeling this way about myself. And I don't like not knowing.

Impotence - femine voice week 17

-inability to preform and accomplish
-too much pressure, which is an unblaming way of saying insecurity and fear
Frozen in fear
Impotence:
frustrating at best in terms of creativity
terrifying at worst in the face of violence when being frozen in fear results in harm.

I have spent many focused weeks on creative writing- poetry- and now this feels foreign. it will take some getting used to to write in full sentences again.

Illusions- feminine voice week 16

I'm back in order, and almost on time-

I am disappointed to realize that my own search for truths in life has resulted in the disbelief of illusion. Like a Victorian scientist, I am focused on looking behind the curtain, to not let myself be swept away, or otherwise fooled by a trick of the eyes or hand. I'm finding it terribly unfair to my heart, my spirit of whimsy to not let it be amazed by a street magician's card tricks.

Pray to not lose your innocence- to not lose your ability to just be amazed.
Pray to not need the truth.

Simple Subtraction- femine voice week 11

This topic still eludes me. I read it, and I have nothing.
Math?
Paring back commitments?
Eliminating unhealthy people?

Not a thing has come to mind for 6 weeks.
I think I'm going to have to pass on this one, Alex-
Maybe someday something will come of it. Until then, I'll put a line through it on my list of things I hope to right about.

done and done

Poetry, by it's very nature is secretively personal, whatever the emotional circumstance. I have ones from when I was sure I was in the deepest love or pain (sometimes both at the same time)that I was sure were brilliant at the time, but now I shake my head at how little I knew about either thing at that time. I would never let them go though. They are more than mine. They are the manifestation of something significant enough for me to document.
Because of that personal nature, poetry is so very intimate. To send out a manuscript is a huge step of chance. It feels riskier than other forms of writing. It is standing naked at the Super Bowl and asking everyone what they think of your body, and then compare it to others equally naked.
I just mailed my first collection of poetry to be judged. I'm at the 50 yard line, during half time, and I can't see how much time is left on the clock.


Exciting, isn't it......?

other missings and noticings

Last night I had a meeting with the director of The Polk Street Players- a tiny community theater that uses the basement in our church. Michael is an 842 year old Englishman. It was nice. I helped him tape the seams on the flats before the painters tomorrow and we talked about all 38 of their par 38's. The theater seats 50.
I had not planned to go back into theater again. It's bad for families, esp those who want to do other things on the weekends. Of course, I have not done a quarterly production deal since high school, so maybe it's not as bad as the weekly event work, or local crew.
The point is I'm toying with the ideas of happiness. What was going on when I had my own person satisfaction and happiness at it's highest?
The Furniture Doctor-
being a stagehand-
the first couple years of my business-
Yes I love love loved doing the work. I loved the job, even (maybe especially) when I complained. Deep down, I wouldn't trade those 15 years for white collar any day. My only regret of that fact is monetary, but not the experience. The common thread was us working to realize a common goal- the team work, counting on each other to do what needed to be done and being trusted to do my part. It was knowing for sure that if any one of us failed, they others could absorb and get the job done. Unwarranted blame was unacceptable. Someone had your back. The end game was the goal, not the praises of any one of the team, and we were going to make it happen. We needed it to happen. And we are not going to bed until it does.
Back in those glory days, the goal was all we had. There were few pets, fewer relationships (outside the wings) and no kids. Our only obligation was the show. Once you have the pets, and love, and kids, and the house, and PTA and all that, is it the natural flow of life that you lose that single mindedness? This may be a motherhood thing where you have no choice but to split your own goal concept and give slivers to all your charges.

Away from home-

I've been missing my book. I'm out of the house a lot more now. My eyes are so tired by the time I get home. I'm feeling the "practical" of my everyday like distracting grains. I miss my characters and taking them out to play with them to see what happens to them and when. I miss seeing if a situation fits this character or that one better. I have not been completely keyboard quiet.
I have been working on the Walt Whitman Award for Poetry entry. I still have a few weeks. I just might make it to 50 pages without resorting to double spacing. I'm ok with taking the time off to take the stab at the poetry project. I first wrote poetry and didn't think I could write fiction. But I'm missing it.
It'll be good to go back after being away to see if what's there still holds when my mind is different. I'm looking forward to finding out if it does. And if it doesn't, I'll take a break, then go back again to see if it was the writing or my mood.
But I miss it-

Summer silence in the south ends
with the cooler air of an October night
raising the song of birds from
heat hiding hibernation

The low southwest sun of morning
Pulls heartache for the hearths
of flagstone chimneys in
history's abandoned houses.

Acoustic morning music moves through a memory
of long back days
that began with cooler October nights
and melodies of morning

Silence - Feminine Voice week 15

Unplug
Turn off
Let go
What is there to do
When the power goes out?
An awareness acknowledges the
Audio electromagnetic gang rape
that is convenience
forces a fear of quiet.
No comfort taken or relaxation
in case the assailant comes back-

Constant contact
forces fear of time alone.
Perpetual stimulation
Under satisfaction
Let go-

What is there to do
When the power goes out?