Tick tock

Tick tock
Goes the biological clock
Tick tick tick
Tock tock tock

What's that old rhyme?
First comes love
Then comes marriage
Then comes the baby in the baby carriage

Well where's my love?
Where's my marriage?
Cos I'm starting to want that baby in the carriage

My last scare wasn't scary
I knew the line needed to be single
But oh how disappointed I was

I wake up from my dreams
Sad they had to end
Even if it wasn't "perfect"
It still was a happy feeling in there
In my dream

Tick tock
Tick tock
Can't stop the clock
Can't stop the clock

What did I do?

Pidgin for MSN says he doesn't have me added.
I want to know why
Did I do something?
Say something?
Not do or say something?

I'm racking my brain
And I honestly can't think of anything
That would cause him to delete me.

Maybe it was a mistake.
He didn't remove me from Facebook
As far as I can tell, anyway.

What did I do?

Unrequited

Almost makes me want to cry
Who am I kidding?
I do want to cry
But for some reason the tears won't come
The ache inside is there
Laughing at me
Because it won't let me go

On one hand
All that matters is his happiness
Because I care about him so much

On the other hand
Why can't it be me
Who makes him happy?

Sure, there are no wedding bells
Sure, there's only been one date
With me there have been more
But only in the friendship sense
Even though there have been more-than-friendship-touches

I wish, I wish, I wish...
But wishing won't make it come true.

All I can do is wait and hope and live my life in the meantime
And try to remember
That if it is meant to be it will be
And try to believe it

Even though it sounds so trite and hollow

Cougar

I made plans last night
To become someone's belt notch
Twice over
Big, older

He'll be my belt notch
Younger
By far.

I lost my cherry
Before he hit the age
Where BO becomes evident in young boys
Before he knew what sex was
Girls had cooties
And Spongebob Squarepants had just debuted

This should be pretty damn fun

If only

If he said the word, I would be his.
I would be the best girlfriend in the world for him.
I would love love love him.
I already love him, but there would be more love, different love.

We've kissed.
We've hugged.
We've groped.
We've...gone farther but not far.

If it isn't to happen, if we aren't to be,
I will live
I will love
And I will continue to have him in my life
Hopefully forever
Because I do love him
Even if I will love someone else
I will always love him

Hunger

I have a hunger in my belly...yes, partly for food as it is 5pm and I've yet to eat...though I didn't get out of bed until close to 3...

But the hunger is more one of wanting to feel close to someone. So close you can read their minds just by looking in their eyes.

I want to be held.
I want to be kissed.
I want to walk down the street hand in hand with someone I love, who loves me back.
I want to make him dinner.
I want him to make me breakfast.
I want to make love together on a rainy morning.

I've been alone far too long, in my opinion. I'm ready for that 'something more'.

Sinking

Depression
Sometimes it's situational
Sometimes it goes away
Sometimes it stays longer than you want
(Although, who really wants it in the first place?)

I thought this bout was situational
Based on the two months of nothingness
Perhaps a half dozen times of outings
NOT doctor related
Based on the two months of pain and sickness
Interspersed with feelings of physical well-being
Which were oh so brief

Needles sticking me
Drawing blood
Leaving bruises

Needles sticking me
Inserting little tubes
Tubes to deliver fluids
Some good, that were healing
Some bad that almost killed me

Veins taking the punishment
Until they broke down

Then more needles
Trying to find runaway vessels
To push more good liquid
The best ones
Made me forget the pain
Gave me relief
If only for a little while

So many pokes
So many piercing of skin
So many veins brutalized
Until they rebelled
Said NO MORE
And left me with an infection
That required all remaining pokes
To be in the hand
In the arm
That does everything with grace
Leaving the clumsy arm and hand
To do the work
Made more difficult because of the ache
From that infection

But I digress
This isn't about all those things
Those things are over
The bruises are gone
All that is left are a few more tiny scars
And the memory

This is about how I feel now
And how I feel now isn't all that great
I should be feeling better
I am home
I am relieved of the organ
That caused all the drama

Incisions almost fully healed
Going back to work
Able to be on my own

There is a heaviness to the air
A feeling of being imprisoned
Of being chained to imaginary walls

I want to sleep
But sleep scares me

If I sleep, I will have to wake up
And face this all again
If I don't sleep
It will continue
But it will be the same
And maybe I can deal with it better

I know that's not true
But the hope is real
If misguided

I will sleep
Not soundly
I will awake
Barely rested

I will go through the motions
Lather, rinse, repeat

Every day is a new day
Full of possibilities
But the probability
Is that I will do what I always do
Scared to change
Even though I hate where I am
What I am
Who I am

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Oxymoron

I am feeling happily sad today
Contentedly melancholic
Not depressed, not manic, but not normal either
If I were feeling better physically
And if the weather was a bit warmer
I would head out to one of my favourite spots -
English Bay -
And just sit and people watch
And drink a cup of tea
And think
And not think

Just be.

That's what I like best
No expectations
No hesitations
No judgments
No hurry
No worry

I'm feeling very un-monkey-like today
I almost like it

Bite Me

that's what he did last night
and it was good
so good
unbelievably good

i was worried that i would have marks on my skin
bruises
that my mom
and everyone
and tomorrow night's date
would be able to see

thankfully my skin didn't bruise
but when i touch certain spots on my neck
i can feel the bites
and it feels
so
good

Floating Into Nowhere

Let me go crazy
Just release and fly away
Floating into nowhere
Flying through the day

Blow me off a mountain
Kissed by a gentle breeze
Floating into nowhere
Higher than the trees

Take me to the ocean
Drown me in the sea
Float me out to nowhere
Set my spirit free

Let me go crazy
Just give me one day
To float into nowhere
To fly myself away

He Was Poetry

A black man, dressed all in black
With a black hat and black shoes
And a pouty mouth
That shows his pink-red lip inside
Just got on the bus.
He made me think of you -
Not because you're black
Or dress all in black
With a black hat and black shoes
Or because you have a pouty mouth
That shows your pink-red lip
But because he was poetry,
And that reminds me of you.

Pain

I hate watching you
Watch me
With those eyes boring into
My skull
My heart
My soul
Time enough to stand still
I've gone crazy over you
Goodnight
Good luck

written late '06/early '07

hit me with your best shot

it's been almost two weeks since i had my gall bladder dug out.

remember how i said 'i'm the girl who if something *could* happen it will'?

Yeah. it did.

there were some sort of complications which meant uber pain when i woke up. usually patients with this surgery go home after 4-8hrs after waking up. I came home on day 4...well, i went to my mom's house. i still needed someone there 24/7 cos i had my whole drain thing still in.

drain out on day 8. yay! went home that night.

then my stapled areas started feeling hot...and uncomfortable...and painful.

i went to the doctor's today and he was shocked that the home nurses told me to leave the sites uncovered (even the drain site - i was told to take the bandage off after 24hrs). he said until the staples were out they should be covered...and that i had surfacial infections...and i have to now put polysporin on them at least twice a day and re-bandage them. blah.

well. i'm getting closer everyday to the big Three Oh. i s'pose the world and my body are contriving new ways to fuck with me until then.

what's next?
am i gonna get hit by lightning but survive with a new Don Ho hairdo and a perma-tan?
bit by some poisonous spider and have a giant chunk of skin rot off and leave a hole-scar?
accidentally buy 'counterfit' toothpaste made in China and get lead poisoning?

whatever.

on the plus side, i bought apple cinnamon rice krispies today. and a new square baking pan! i just might finally bake that carrot cake tomorrow!

Bits and pieces taken out

7 hours until i get picked up to go to the hospital for surgery.
9 hours until i go under

i'm not nervous - it's a relatively routine operation, and i have (apparently) one of the best GI surgeons in the lower mainland doing it.

and i've made friends with most of the nurses both in the ER and in the regular ward.

i don't know any in day surgery though...but still. i'm no stranger to this hospital.

hell, i have the iv in from this morning's trip to the er. they let me keep it in - covered it with gauze and netted dressing so i could come home with it. that way i don't have to get poked again tomorrow, which is great because i'm running out of viable veins in my arms. my left arm is out completely due to an iv infection. my right hand's last viable vein was used this morning. and they tend to only ever be able to find one vein in my right forearm and it's an awkward one to do.

i'm not nervous.

but i'm nervous. i'm nervous that i'll have forgotten to bring something they needed me to bring (although i'm 99.9% sure i haven't). i'm nervous that something will happen out of my control and i won't be able to have the surgery tomorrow and will have to wait wait wait. i'm nervous there will be complications (hey, i'm the girl that if something *could* happen to, it will). i'm nervous i'll wake up with a migraine and they won't be able to give me any iv drugs for it because i'm already going under two hours later. i'm nervous that they will put me on Cipro, even though my red wristband and chart tell them not to due to allergies (they did that this last trip in but i caught it i n time simply by asking what it was she was hooking me up to.)

i've taken my meds, i've brushed my teeth, i've put together my bag o' stuff to take with me (only one day's worth, no biggie).

i am looking forward to the end of the "Surprise!! Gallbladder attack!" pain and vomiting.

i am not looking forward to the feeling of total lack of control and panic that comes with general anesthetic (for me, anyway).

i am not looking forward to waking up to pain pain pain pain where's the drug button.

my side is dully throbbing with a mournful doomed tone.

more pieces of me coming out.

more empty room inside.

more scars.
more tears.
more

please let my body do well tomorrow. please let the surgical team be rested. please let them remember my allergy. please.

Writing Happy

I've often wondered why I can't seem to write "happy". I've often heard people say "Write what you know" and I find it so sad that I don't know *real* happy. It is also often said that writing your woes can be cathartic - just get it out of you. The irony, for me, is that I write 'my sad' and I end up more sad. It doesn't take the weight off my mind. It doesn't really add anything either...but staying in a 'mind rut' just isn't fun.

Outwardly, I can be smiley and upbeat and 'yay', but as soon as I am home alone, that all fades away. I can't seem to hold on to "happy" for very long. The world is Happy's partner, and I am but the fling.

And that fact alone adds to "my sad."

I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had...

-Tears for Fears

Being alone together

I don't remember when I wrote this, but I think it was sometime in 2008...I found it on a page in a notebook I remember buying at Aberdeen Mall in Richmond.

Jigaloo and I had gone there to meet Mish and enjoy the delight that is Beard Papas. After enjoying the light, sweet, cool cream surrounded by puffy pastry perfection, we strolled through the mall, looking in the different shops. We stopped in at a stationery/papergoods store and it caught my eye. It was only a couple of dollars, so I bought it to use as a journal of sorts. As what happens most of the time with me, there are only a few pages written on. Three, but one has writing front and back.

Anyway, this is what I wrote one morning:

On a lonely day I sit at home wrapped up in the heavy mantle of a misty morning...or is it night? I can't recall the chirping of birds to make me think daylight...but there are still the apartment building noises above and beside me. A reminder that I am not the last on earth , but surrounded by solitary others. It makes me wonder why the lonely don't seek out others. We prefer to sit and mope, waiting for someone else to take it up.

Not so much a poem...but the demons need to spew

My life sucks.
Ok, maybe not compared to a lot of people's lives
but it still fucking sucks

it's unfair of me to make the following comparisons but fuck it all this is MY demon
this is MY space
and if you don't like it
LEAVE.

know what? I had a bunch of stuff written out and I deleted it.
know why? Cos it's stupid.
everyone has their shit to deal with.
everyone feels like this from time to time

but seriously? my life has sucked more than is measurable.
it sucks more than a starving infant at it's mothers breast
being two strides from first place, only to cramp up
it sucks more than a Humboldt squid sucks onto it's writhing prey

30 years alive and breathing
1980 - 1988ish : can't remember much of crappy, but then I was a kid, oblivious to the world outside my dollhouse and puppy dog

1989 - 1991 : the coming of the realisation that my life was not 'normal' - my family, my home, my world was significantly skewed.

1992 : my world spun out, careened into the galaxy and crashed somewhere past Orion's Belt

1992 - 1996 the wonder years of teen angst. I spent mine seeking solace in something that may or may not exist, but even if it does...i dunno how much work he's really putting into his project

1996 - 1999 : realised slowly but surely the hypocrisy of what i had spent so long devoting myself to. felt lost all over again,

2000 - 2006 : oh the downward spiral - not just a NIN album. Had some great times, but they were counterbalanced and sometimes tipped way out of reach by the bad shit.

2007 : my life spins out, quietly but quickly. taped myself up with life's cello tape, and put on a brave new face. then life said "Hah. Right. Not so fast there, Missy. Here's a BIG OL' CHRISTMAS GIFT FROM UNCLE OVARIAN TUMOR! Let's open it to see if it's CANCER!! WOO!!!" Thankfully Life decided to spare me the Big C, but it was NOT the kind of xmas gift you want anyway.

2008 - 2009 : no huge medical issues, but lord (see years 1992-99) knows the financial troubles of being on disability and making 3/4 of what 'poverty line' is set at means i have virtually no life, and my newest clothing item is a pair of PJs bought for $16 at Wal*Mart, that I only bought cos I needed a 'costume' for hallowe'en....ah yes, the cop-out "baby" costume.

2010 has just started and lucky me - I have a GALLBLADDER infection!! Yippee! More surgery! But I get to WAIT this time, because the damn thing is too big and infected to remove safely, but not big and infected enough to warrant emergency surgery, so what happens? I get to go on a week of IV antibiotic treatment! Me and my uber thin, blow-out veins! A normal IV is lucky to last about a day in me. Toss in shit loads of hardcore drugs? BLOW OUT PARTY!! Yes, I had not one, not two, not three, not four...but FIVE!! FIVE GLORIOUS STABS OF HOLLOW TUBES SHOVED INTO MY SKIN!!! Oh, and the first antibiotic they tried? Turns out, I'm allergic. Yup, oh the glorious feeling of that wonderful find! Almost as wonderful as when they opened a tomb in Egypt thinking they found a 2nd Tut haul, but when the wall came down it was the last resting place of ancient Egypt's chamber pot museum. Shit from Khafre to Cleopatra.

Think that was it? HELL NO. Two weeks after being discharged (still waiting for surgery) I land myself back in there. Four IVs this time 'round. Two attempts that didn't make it. The last two blow outs are still giving me problems...ohyaymaybetheyareinfectedheylet'sgowaitatthewalkinclinicforhourstofindout!!

Fuck.

Seriously.

Life? I'm sick of your shit. I can't walk away from you (ok, technically I guess I *could* but i am NOT LETTING YOU WIN THAT WAY) so let's call a truce, mkay? You quit fucking with me, and I'll....uh...fuck I don't know. Just stop fucking with me, please?

If someone gave me a box with a big red button and said "Your life can be normal - no more medical shit, no more personal life bull, just nice and normal....all you have to do is push this button. The catch is, though, if you push it someone, somewhere in the world will die. You won't know who they are, but your pushing of that button will cause them to die" - fuck yah I'd push it.

The 90minutes of my chick flick life is almost up. Where's my happily ever after?

Inside is a pain
Literal
Crushing
Nauseating
Alive

It keeps me from sleeping
To simply lay
Peaceful
Would be heaven

I cannot even touch it
Stroke it
Soothe it

It hides under my ribs
Evil
Taunting
Reaching around and kicking me in the back

All consuming,
The pain sneaks in
Just when I start to feel normal
And reminds me I am not

Soon enough I shall have my revenge
I shall lay on a slab
A bright light shining over me
And a team of skilled assassins
Will carve the pain out
And slice it thin
And I shall be free.

Untitled from a series for a certain person

My tender pink flesh
Will long for the softness of
Your warm tongue's caress

Never again to
Feel your body pressed against
My own. Hands grasping

Skin and hair and sheets,
Mouths searching for each other
In the hot darkness

Of your silent room.
No one needs to know of our
Secret pleasures there

And it begins

And here shall my selves be given license to spew.

They will dredge up their pasts.
There will be epiphanies.
There will be refutations.
They will soothe themselves with the knowledge that their secrets are no more.

Whatever happens is real. There are no lies here.

Only angels, demons, sirens and succubi.