Life Rudely Interrupted

Been an emotional week. Whoah! That word just wrote it self “emotional”. Wrote a post on Wednesday that was significant to me. Had some people stop by. Their stopping by, their comments was huge for this clark. My thanks to Christine, Dyanne, Zoe and Clark.

It was one of those posts I wrote for myself, because it was there. And I had to. That afternoon, I began writing “Part 2″. I never finished it. Thought perhaps I’d work it into a Friday TToT post. But sudden death interrupted. Sudden. As in wtf. So.

Gonna scrap my Anniversary Afternoon follow-up. Got it tucked into a corner of my heart. Might break it out at a later date, might not. Right now?  I’m remembering my brother in law whose sudden death yesterday morning sent shock waves up and down the east coast and clear across the country.

The man who came into my life when I was 7, who became a part of my family, left the planet in the pre-dawn hours yesterday. This isn’t a “normal” TToT post. No sir. All I can say is I’m grateful that Paul’s last act on earth was engaging in an activity he loved. Fishing. I should be so lucky when it’s my time…to be doing a thing I love. To be out of doors, near the ocean.

What can I tell you about him?  Paul was a major scott. A lot of you know what this means. Anyone who doesn’t, scott = energy, action, color(ful), louder/larger than life, of the absolute moment. An artist, soldier, husband, father, grandfather, baker, chef. He was without doubt, a force to be reckoned with.

I’m going back well over 10 years now and I can’t for the life of me remember how we got talking music but it suprised me to find out that he liked George Thorogood. Wait, let me re-phrase that. Paul liked  a couple of George T songs at that moment in time:)

I have many a Paul memory that makes me smile. And if I had access to my old desktop, I would be posting a favorite picture of him, myself and Man from the last time I saw him. The last time he and my sister came to visit. But not today. Today, there is George. Today.

[..."I always loved that car. Even as a kid, I knew it was cool. Thanks for letting me ride shotgun today Paul..."]

 

Anniversary of Stepping into the Unknown …

“Tuesday, October 21, 2014, 5:59 am….Couldn’t get up when the alarm went off at 4:15… One year ago today, I was nervous and anxious about leaving for Virginia. Tomorrow will be one year ago that I left…For a new life. To make a new life for **** and Zoey. Only Zoey didn’t make it. I never saw Zoey again. I almost did at Thanksgiving. The fucking Thanksgiving from hell. A testament to how a person can be blinded by the type of life they are living…What are the blinders in life? Can we see them when we need to? Is it only in retrospect that we are able to learn? Lifestyle and options. When there are no resources, there are no options. Without options there are no choices. Without choices….we succomb to “blindness”. The particular type of shortsightedness that prevents us from seeing the paths that are there, have been there but for our own “blindness”, our own self limitation.”

October 22, 2013. One year ago today, one year ago this morning, I left my little family in Florida and drove myself 800 miles into a new TimeLine. I left because I had to. I left because my will created an opening. And because the Cat heard me and showed me the way. I did. What I had to do.

It was the thing that would “save” us. It was an opportunity to escape a certain train wreck, the magnitude of which would leave no survivors. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.  I was one half of an intelligent, hardworking, professional and talented couple. In spite of that, life had gotten out of hand. Sometimes there’s no stopping the avalanche.

I will not forget that morning. I’d gone to bed around midnight. Setting the alarm for 3:30 am, I’d only gotten a few restless hours of sleep. I will not forget Zoey and how she didn’t quite know why we were up at that ridiculous hour when all good dogs and people should still be sleeping. I will not forget her 3 hours later, lying in her spot in the foyer by the front door once again, asleep. For her, the excitement of getting up in the middle of the night was over. I will not forget bending down and stroking her head and telling her goodbye. To be good and that what I was doing was for her. And that one day soon the 3 of us would be a family again. I will not forget walking over the threshold of the home we’d known for the last 10.5 years and wondering: what will she be thinking when I didn’t return? How long will she wait for me? Will she think I abandoned her?

As a clark, I’m susceptible to the occasional emotional ambush. As a people, we are normally in total control. Except when we’re not. As this Anniversary crept closer and closer, I found myself catching a glimpse of  something – movement – just beyond the border of the “woods”. I was in danger of being overwhelmed with sadness. With a sense of failure. And a tremendous sense of loss. You see, the “saving” came with a large price tag. The cost? Zoey. Her life was the ultimate price paid. She never made it to the “new world”. I didn’t know that morning, October 22, 2013, would be the last day I would ever see my baby. Touch her. Talk to her. She who gave me the strength.

How do you reconcile the acknowledgement of, the celebration of, the incredible feat of jumping TimeLines while simultaneously mourning the loss that accompanied that feat? Why do I feel utter failure? Why do I give all that was lost, power of/over all that was gained? Power of/over all that still potentially can be gained? How do I unsee the sadness? How do I accept the loss of the life that was when the life that is is not what it should or could be?

Once upon a time, I became a positive person. Once upon a time I evolved into a person who believed in the ability to achieve the seemingly impossible. So how is it that today, I cannot find a way to celebrate my achievement? Why is it that today, I struggle with coming to terms that my dog is dead, Man is still 800 miles away, the life I lived from 2003 -2013 is a distant memory and that life is not as I would have it?

I remind myself to look 3 feet to my left. I remind myself to use death as an advisor. I remind myself that it is my responsibility for how I live life moving forward. I’m not living the life once dreamed. In fact, no dreams have been realized. That is my cross to bear. But it boils down to choice. Always, there is choice.

On this, another day of opportunity, I would tell my younger self: look! see what you are capable of accomplishing. Do not hesitate. Do not wait. Identify that which is most important. Fight for what you deserve. Look to your own self and live the life you want. One day, it will be too late.

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah? What Of It Buddy. WTF Of It?!

clarks. We’re such fucked up people. To top it all off, like the proverbial cherry on top, we spend most of our (young) adulthood trying to “figure” ways to deal with all the shit that fucks us up. clarks know what  I’m talkin’ about. We’re looking for the answers, for the way to cope, sometimes on a daily basis…in our heads. “Cuz that’s where it all happens. That is the place of origin, ground zero. The “haid” (thanks be to the Lady for correct pronounciation lol)

The insistence that I can think my way out of a bad mood, a sad mood, out of hopelessness and defeat, darkness and despair. That is a clark thing. It is just this internal dialogue that so fucks us up. The thinking! We all know this to be true. clarks think, scotts act and rogers feel.  The saying isn’t “she/he jumped in head first”. The saying is “she/he jumped in feet first”. Ostensibly to avoid injury. So what the hell does that mean?  For/to us? What does it represent?

You know those things floating around the internet: “who did you get?”, what color/character/author are you?list your favorite (fill in the blank), list your most influential/favorite books?” I’ve never participated. This last one? About books? I’m going to use that as my first thankful. “Cuz up there in paragraph 2, 7th line, I mentioned internal dialogue. Which never doesn’t bring to mind Carlos Castaneda and his book series that begins with The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge.

TF No. 2 A Separate Reality (book 2 in the series). We clarks know all about that, don’t we:) Our reality, that of the Outsider, is a real reality. We relate ourselves to the world as outsiders. We are here, the world is…out there. My “job”, my self challenge, has been to better my self, my quality of life, by learning to relate myself to the world as a scott, as a roger. At will.  A huge undertaking. Since I have a secondary scottian aspect, the “at will” business is a little easier. Relating to the world as a roger has always been more difficult. The currency of rogers is emotion. A non rational thing. This is in direct opposition to what we clarks trade in – the intellect. We be rational – “gotta be a reason for everything and I’ll figure it out if it kills me by golly“. I’m happy to report that in the last 2 years I’ve made some inroads into understanding and relating to them rogers. Which…has helped to alleviate a lot of questions that used to perplex me. And that one my friends, insists on being TF No.3. (damn, I’m all over the place, tense wise. Note to self: learn how to write!!!)

TF No. 4 Journey to Ixtlan (book 3 in the series). It’s been way too long but memory tells me this book is really getting into the “good stuff”. Which is why maybe I’ve been so s-l-o-w to start re-reading all the books?! Seems I’ve been putting it off, why??

TF No. 5 Tales of Power, 4th book in the series. I need a refresher for sure.

TF No. 6 The Second Ring of Power, the 5th and final in the series as written by Carlos. Imo.  Yes, I own the next 4 books in the series but no one can convince me that Carlos wrote them.   

TF No. 7 For thinking I haven’t already lost that last sandwich(what is that ditty about being short a sandwich and picnics and isn’t there a basket involved?!). I mean, maybe I’ve already succombed to the pressure. Word to scotts and rogers: you have no idea the types/kinds of pressure we clarks put upon ourselves. It’s not just the pressure we perceive is there, it’s the pressure we simply put upon ourselves to be…better, to fit in better, to be a part of – better. The pressure to: not fail, to excel, to somehow prove that we are living up to our potential, that we “have what everyone else has”. To not be so on the “outside” of it all.

TF No.8 Now here’s a different one. For all the poetry proliferating on the net recently, here’s a couple of my favorite blog places to find it. Here – check these out. FYI guys, I haven’t been leaving comments ‘cuz sometimes I’m speechless when it comes to voicing my reaction to words grouped and labeled “poetry”:) Lets see, where’d I put those links….Zoe , Z’s poetry (and Lizzie’s too) can be found here . Laura. She has recently presented this site, The Reverie.

Where are we now? At the point that I go “amnesciac”.  On those items that I’ve been thankful for all during the week…Now this is a good one. TF No.9  That a co-worker, my office manager asked if she could join me on my lunchtime walks. Of course I said “yes!”. The first time she came along I was unprepared (didn’t know I’d have company). I hadn’t brought my sneakers that day and figured my walk would just have to be a little slower. Guess what? My walking partner turned out to be a “serious” walker. Man, we hit it right away at a pretty darn good clip. Needless to say backless shoes are not overly conducive to power walking. But I kept up. I’m very glad to have had the company.

How to round out the TF No. 10 spot? I know! Having a little time off from the story at The Secessionist Rag. It is after all Roger’s “turn”. Having said that, I now need him to HTFU and write Chapter 28.

Hey! How’s it Going?

I’m really bad at getting to know people. I mean know people. In the reciprocitous way. I’m a clark, so let’s face it. I can know people but not. Except! I’m armed with the Wakefield Doctrine! Cyndi and I both touched on that very thing over the weekend. By having a deeper understanding of the Wakefield Doctrine, we have a better understanding not only of our own damn selves but of other people. In a wa-ay more complete sense than they would ever believe was possible. Tell me that isn’t fucking cool. lol

In my former TimeLine (in Florida), the one directly preceding this one, I was given a very good tip by a rogerian artist I knew.  He’d come through my line (because I was the speediest cashier and so nice to boot lol) and each time, we talked a little more. You know rogers, most of them are pretty easy to talk to.

Bill. I liked Bill. A good person. A talented artist. He never once disappointed in upholding the principles of the Wakefield Doctrine. I remember giving him the elevator speech about the WD. He so had that smile. The rogerian smile that said “I like you, so I will indulge you in your “wacky” personality theory”.

I was one of the quickest, get ‘em in, get ‘em out, cashiers in that grocery store. So quick I’d be standing there, waiting for people to pay me as they put that last bag of chips on the belt. I had already processed and bagged their order. Yeah. That fast. When Bill came through my line it was difficult to stall. Unless there was no one behind him, we only had but a few minutes to chat. After a few months, after having given him the urls to Girlie and the Doctrine, I asked him: “Bill, what should I be saying to people when they ask me “how are you doing, or how’s it going?” He told me: ” tell them “pretty good”. Tell them you’re “pretty good”.  I took his advice.

It felt odd at first. But as he explained it, it was open ended for people. You weren’t expressing anything specific. It was neither positive nor negative. In many ways this was a significant piece of information about the rogerian worldview. To Bill, I say “thank you”.

I’ve had discussions with Clark about the Doctrine. About my learning more and more about myself through the observation of others as well as the observation of myself interacting with others. All of this using the Wakefield Doctrine as a guide. Using it as the helpful life tool that it is. For me, the Doctrine  reminds me of certain aspects of myself with which I still struggle. It challenges me to be a better person. It challenges me to enhance my existing reality.

As a clark, I am private. But not in a snobby way! I simply am very bad about “sharing”. I respect people’s privacy because it is a value I hold in high regard. An aspect of my worldview. In so doing however, I see how my manifestation of “respect for privacy” can be interpreted as disinterest. So very far from the truth. It used to make me laugh, when I found out that people actually thought I was a snob. Yes! clarks are constantly being mis-labeled as snobs. Ask any clark.

I find this virtual world a supreme challenge. Not simply from a “having the time” aspect but how you actually go about getting to know folks. Thank God I’ve met so many clarks. I don’t feel as alone in my stumblings about the web. As I continue to stumble, I’m quite grateful to have come in contact with/made the aquaintance of not only my fellow clarks but everybody else. Yes! That means all you scotts and rogers!

I should be saving this for next week’s TT0T but you know what? When you’re feeling thankful, there’s no time like the present. Thank you all who stop, stumble or otherwise find yourselves at GirilieOnTheEdge. It’s been a work in progress with some stops along the way. Hell, some major stops in the last year but I have confidence you’ll all still be out there, willing to take a moment out of your day to step on over to the Edge.

 

 

Sissies need not apply….

Today’s non-featured band: Halestorm. Lizzy Hale: self-aware scott. Her brother, the drummer Arejay Hale? I like him. No, not for the obvious:) I like him for his expression.  His energy. His passion. He becomes one with the kit. When I watch him, I’m reminded of Tommy Lee. For you kids out there, Mötley Crüe was a band out of L.A. around ’81 or so. They’re on a “final” tour like so many other bands but that’s for another post. Lizzy’s brother Arejay is very physical, very, shall we say dramatic.  Hence my comparison to Tommy. Both drummers imo, very good. It’s difficult for me to describe what it is when I watch old clips of Tommy and various clips of Arejay.

I wonder at myself sometimes that I can watch and listen to a drummer and be affected. Speaks to the musician. Isn’t it about being “affected”. Isn’t it about artists creating and others feeling something about that art?

Speaking of “feeling”. I did a bunch this past week. Yeah, I really think I did! And for that, I am grateful. And because of this past week, I feel a tad more qualified to put up a list. You know, for the TToT.  Don’t know that I’ll have 10 items but we’ll see. I can say that each item holds within it enough components to qualify as stand alone thankfuls. The problem? I don’t know how to express them. They’ll just have to wander in the wasteland of words that populate my brain. So! Without further ado-ness:

First) The Epitome of Fall. I have fully intended for years to try and write about this annual experience. It is for me, the one day, the only day, in which I “know” it is fall. There is a “feeling” about the day – it is the light, the smell, the crunchiness of the leaves, it is the color and the sound. It is the day my body knows Autumn has arrived. And it’s a good feeling.

Second) This one is an inverse. Yeah. Inverse. I’m grateful for all the damned pieces of paper with scribblings of the beginnings of, oh, about 6 posts that have filled my purse these past 2 weeks. The purse that is bulging because I keep throwing in these pieces of paper with ideas for posts and such that I never quite get to.  So-o….thankful I still have some ideas!

Third) I’m rather thankful that I haven’t totally given up on myself. The SBoR/BoSR would allow me to sub-catagorize at this point thereby allowing me to “cheat”. But I will not abuse the sacred book.

Fourth) I’ll  just say that I have not given up the idea of writing. And publishing. I recently attempted to write a dream/flashback sequence in Chapter 27 over at the Rag. I have a renewed admiration for so many writers! Writing is hard!!!!

Fifth) Thankful these lists don’t have to be in order of priority. lol I much prefer the freeform approach.

Sixth) That I made one of my nephew’s soccer games yesterday. It was the 5 year old’s game. They are very cute to say the least. Oh, and yes his team won. In fact, there was a moment right before Brady scored in which I was quite vocal and clapped my hands together so hard one of my 4 hemetite rings I wear on my right hand cracked! But all for a good cause.

Seventh) This is unexpected…that I’m a clark. (Not for the usual reasons.) As a clark, I had the whatever to be able to withstand standing on the sidelines of that game amidst all the families and their little kids. Because I don’t have any. Kids. And I should have. Kids. And it’s hell (what an understatement) to be around them. But I set it aside, ‘cuz, well, I have to.

Eighth) I can’t ever not be thankful for access to the internet. Which is access to the world. Which is access to people, and ideas and art and entertainment. It is opportunity to watch people grow. It is opportunity to be part of a community of creative individuals. Like all those who participate in this blog hop.

Nine) That I’m still writing and, at #9, not caring that I forgot and/or can’t remember the mental list I was compiling this week just for this very purpose!

Tenth) The one thankful that will always appear on my list: one more day.

Hey! Here’s a thankful for you guys: that I didn’t load up on a ton of music vids! Drives me crazy sometimes – not only do I keep “lists” of books to read, things to do….but now I’m keeping “lists” of vids to use in future posts!!! Ka-ra-zee!

 

 

 

 

clarks. Such Self Centered Bastards…(What? This is the TToT?)

OK. Fine! I’ll write that post another day. I mean, why would I talk about clarks being self centered bastards here in a 10 Things of Thank-full post, right?

My song of the week. My “happy” song is this one, the one at the bottom of the post. “Aw, yeah..” And no, that is not Led Z. No riff rip going on here. Nope. Dontcha love that cow bell. lol. Love this song. This song from what, 1986?!

When I was young I would listen/hear music from when my parents were young and think “man, that’s such “old people” music. Well, what in the world is She’s Crafty? Would a teenager listen to the Beastie Boys today and say “man, what old people music”? I think music in general has evolved to the point where the music (some lol) of my youth transcends the “old people” stereotype. It’s often accepted by today’s youth as still relevant. (how’s that for old time “relevant“?)

I resist putting up a formal list of 10 things today. No, not simply because as a clark I do things “differently”. It’s just that I know there are at least 10 instances this past week for which thanks could be in order but I feel inadequate in my ability to describe them. I can’t color them brightly enough for them to shine for you as they do for me.

Quandry. I will always, each day it happens, be thankful I wake up yet another day. Practically speaking that would qualify as 7 thankfuls. No! I am not making light of it. It’s just that I find it difficult, more often than not, to express that which touches me on an emotional level. I live in the world of the rational unlike my rogerian brethern who seem to be able to craft words out of nothing to express their feelings. Or the scotts who slam their words together with such impact you can’t help but read them!

This week there have been simple things for which I am grateful – the touch and feel of the wind on a beautiful day, the sight of a gathering of geese by the side of a pond….I tend to put all my thankfuls in the same basket. The one sitting on the fireplace hearth or on the top shelf of the bookcase. The basket that contains the promise of another opportunity at making a go of it.

I’ve been up for quite some time now. Literally waking with music in my head, more specifically a line from a song. After putting the coffee on, I got back in bed, turned on the laptop, opened the page that holds my “morning words” and started writing. Only my usual morning words started to write like something else. Seems I was writing the 3rd post for tube tops, tattoos and TimeLines. Huh. Go figure.

I’m thankful it’s not now 5:00 pm instead of…holy shit! 11:40 am but I still have the Saturday morning errands to run before I head into work. So…thank you for stopping by and if I don’t return for awhile it’s for not having access to the internet. Sometimes that’s a thankful. Sometimes not.

Here’s to another day. May it be all you want it to be. Enjoy.

It’s the TToT Train. Hold up. I’m comin’…

It’s a long time since this morning when I had all the “ideas”. When the creative words were like morning coffee perking in the pot. But I let them sit. Let them simmer all damn day. Until now. Now? They taste like shit. What’s up with that? If you don’t write them right then and there, they simply go away? I can’t help asking, is it the words that go away or the feeling(s) that produce them?

“Ole’ blue eyes”. He was “it” for my Mom when she was a young girl. Born in Jersey City, NJ she felt a kinship with Frank simply for the fact he was from Jersey too. She knew Hoboken. Now everyone knew Hoboken. When I was young she’d tell me stories about life, her life. As I got older she’d tell me more stories about life, her life. Today, I remembered her telling me about about how she once had a huge crush on Frank Sinatra. “What girl didn’t back then?” she’d ask me.

It’s an anniversary this weekend. An anniversary I don’t necessarily mark the same way each year. Some years it comes and goes like a whisper. Other years, it comes in like a stormtrooper. This year? This year it arrived guerilla style.  I was not prepared. rogers will tell you the horrors of not being “prepared”. Don’t believe me? Ask Kristi. She will tell you straight away I speak the truth.

I am most grateful, not simply for the existence of the TToT, but rather for the fact that the “rules” allow for posting any time of the weekend. Any time. No pressure. And on top of that, people will stop by and visit even days after. Nice. Count that as No. 1.

2. For the rainy day yesterday. For the overcast skies. It was a light rain. And just overcast enough for my mood. Suited me just fine.

3. For the sunshine today. For the “calibre” of light shining. There is a seasonal change to it’s hue.

4. Other clarks. More specifically, for being able to read, speak with, correspond with, witness (to use Clark’s term) other clarks thanks to the wonder that is the “sphere”.

5. Thanks for music. What would I do without it? How would I express myself? How empty I would be. Incomplete.

6. Another day.

7. The Seccessionist Rag. For providing a platform to practice. You know. The writing thing. If I’m not going to read about how to write, might as well just “do it” and have fun.

8. A good job. Most important.

9. A reliable vehicle. Very important.

10. Faith. The ability to believe. In anything. In Everything.

 

Here’s to us, Ma….

 

 

TToT Con’t….Back in the Day…. there was “Stand In Line”. I did.

Damn! Back in the day, yes folks, the 1980’s (T-ful #8), I bought this album brand new. Yes. Album. Today, this day, this 7th day of September, 2014 I’m watching the VH1 vid for the very first time. Back in the day, I didn’t have cable. Didn’t see any MTV vids. Nothing. Back in the day (ok, still am), I was all about metal, young “guitar gods” and the energy that was the music of the day.

Back in the day for me, there were no visuals except those that came from seeing a band or musician live. It was left to my imagination. Point in case, until today, I did not know what Graham Bonnet (his voice could be T-ful #9 but isn’t) looked like. Back then. Back in the day. I don’t want to know what he looks like now because that would wreck it. It would wreck the image. The energy. I still get from listening to certain music. From back in the day.

It’s all about the energy. If someone planted a camera to catch moments of me enjoying certain music they would see a head nodding, sometime singing ( at times loudly lol) 50 something caught up in the energy. It is the be all and end all. Music. It is my “expression”. I borrow this term from Clark over at the Wakefield Doctrine. rogers are known to possess certain activities which are referred to as their “expression”. Being the polar opposite to a roger, as a clark I like the term. Fits.

Where the hell was I? Oh yeah. Music is my aeroplane (yup the Chilis are T-ful #9), music is my aeroplane, it’s my aeroplane….oh, man. Got so interrupted. Lost the flow. Lost the….impetus here. What can I drag up from the vaults to inspire and otherwise catapult me to the finish line? Where do I look? To what genre? What am I now feeling?

That music can be transformative? That it is a time capsule? That it is an expression? That it can catapult, comfort, cajole and without fail communicate that which singular words cannot? As much as I love the bass guitar, it is singularly the six string that pulls, tears, heals and otherwise allows me to feel to the fullest.

This has turned into a ramble but I committed to a continuation from yesterday’s words…I’m thankful for “back in the day”.  I’m strong enough to carry her bags (T-ful #10). My music “library” is vast enough there will never not be sufficent energy for today. If we cannot use the past, what use is it? If we do not move forward, there can be no future. Once upon a time in the future, there will always be a “back in the day”.

It is with sincerity of strength I post this vid. And the second one. Don’t think I need to explain why.

 

Thursday was my Tuesday

But ya know what? It wasn’t twice as bad. Nope. But it was rather “somnabulistic” for severe lack of sleep. My most memorable moment from Thursday (T-ful #1) came in the early a.m. drive to work. Barely 3 miles out from the apt., approaching the 95 overpass via the “new traffic pattern” (T-ful#2 for the life reminder), I glanced at the driver’s side view mirror. If you had been a passenger in my car you would have heard me exclaim reverently “wow”.

There, appearing in the mirror was an engorged, oversized sphere, suspended above the horizon. Surrounded by the most beautifully hued reds and pinks, and just a splash of dreamcicle orange. It was breathtaking. Had there been an audience within my car, the sight would have inspired all kinds of oos and ahs.  So powerful this vision I had to physically turn my head, just for a moment (I am on a major highway lol), to glimpse head on (reminder to self about life) a moment in time that in minutes would no longer exist. (ok already, I get it. only today. no tomorrow) (T-ful#3)

I’m thankful for those types of moments. In time. In the vast expanse that is my life, surely there are millions of such moments. Stored as if bytes of information on the hard drive that is my heart and soul. It is now 1 day into another TToT Blog Hop. I’ve decided not to chastize myself for writing this post, for participating in this most wonderful of blog hops.(T-ful #4) No sir. Why should I? If I write nothing more than a post a week, do nothing more, share it with others, why would I be so hard on myself? And yet…..

I went home over the Labor Day holiday weekend. Semi-spur of the moment. A couple of days prior to leaving I started hearing a song on the radio. One of my favorites except you don’t hear it on the radio much. At least around these parts. Then I heard it once on my return journey. I sang along quite loudly in my car. Here, take a listen. (T-ful#5)

As a clark, I assigned significance to hearing this prior to my journey. Just as I assigned significance to another song very rarely heard. Which I heard only in R.I. (home). That particular song is not so welcome. Associated with my father’s dying, it is a song which I immediately turn off once I’ve identified it. I heard it 2x while driving in my home state. Only this time, I did not turn it off, did not turn the dial. I listened. Let my body listen. (T-ful#6).

It has been over a decade since I last visited my homeland. A whirlwind trip, it was understatedly powerful. There were no words (still no words) for what I was feeling, for it is was a totally physical experience. By that I mean my body was assimilating being there. Trying to process the steady stream of emotions running beneath the sights and sounds, places and people. (T-ful #7)

Attempting to configure the placement of my own self. There. (Here). On the planet. In space. In time. It was a moment in time. Too short. Incomplete.

If you all don’t mind, I think I’ll save my last 3 T-fuls for tomorrow….

Lizzi, Laura? This is the song I mentioned last night…that you guys would like:)

“A Circumstance Beyond Our Control”

I’m like you. Like a lot of people. I’ve got my skeletons. Got my darkness. Hell, I’m a clark. That in and of itself should give some of you a huge heads up. LOL. Except I don’t hang out in the dark places too long if I can help it. Did enough of that when I was young. Got smarter about things. “Course it doesn’t always help. You know, to intellectualize things. Sometimes you just have to cry.

I did that today (Friday)  in the ladies room at work. It took one event to tip my scales and there I was. In the stall doin’ the silent, muffle tear jerk. Luckily no one was in there. Why the cry? So simple, stupid. It was a day I felt I needed a little extra “support”. It was the last day of a work week that began in a particularly unpleasant way. Maybe I should start with that?

Pre-story. In case you don’t know. I jumped timelines last October 22, 2013 and arrived in Alexandria, Virginia at the apartment of a nephew by association. A lifesaver in my travelogue diary. I’m still here. And shouldn’t be. Which the Universe reminded me of on Monday morning. It’s funny. Only the day before, Sunday, I came to some heavy duty realizations, some decisions and was anxious to put them in motion. For they would put me in motion. Forward motion. Lacking lately, bigtime.

There’s a project at work. Overtime has been extended. I gladly accepted. Woke up Monday morning at the usual 4:15 am. Had every intention of leaving extra, extra early but alas, I was only a little early. Can’t seem to get to work extra early on Mondays. Anyway, I walked up the stairs from the apartment to the landing at the front doors of the building. Looked out to the parking lot and noticed the picture was wrong. Where. Was. My. Car.  It was gone.

Heart beating fast. The f word now on a loop (in various formations). Yup. This event was way more effective than my usual a.m. caffeine… but way more unpleasant. There had been a recent change in the parking policy that I was unaware of. I had a parking pass in my car but apparently, not the right one. $185 and 35 minutes late to work later, I was fuming. At myself.

Monday = having the Universe rub my face in the gritty sand of stasis reminding me that I have languished too long between timelines.

Friday = realizing that I need absolutely nothing. Almost nothing. Just the basics – music, books, instruments, computer. Anything else? Yes. Coffee.

What happened today? I may have mentioned, navigating timelines is not for the feint of heart. Me? I have no feint heart. (most of the time) Yet today I decided I “needed” something. So I put a ring on my right index finger. A silver, “woven” band that belonged to my mother. A connection to the clarklike female who gave birth to me. My aforementioned “support”.

Sometime in the early afternoon I looked at my hand because I felt “empty”. No ring! I’ve lost it! I’ve lost my mother’s ring. Panic. I looked everywhere at work. Nowhere to be found. Result: the episode in the ladies room. Afterwards? Sadness. Depression. And an absolute belief that “things” are a complete burden. Sentiment …a burden.

It’s a little late to take credit for making the tough decisions in life if the Universe steps in to remind us after the fact. I don’t mind some butting in (by the Universe) ahead of my not so seeing eyes.  But after I “get it”, after I see all the things that until that moment I did not see. Really?

What about that? Am I the only one to have those moments (sometimes awful) of seeing the things that were always there but for my own…what? What keeps us from seeing the things we cannot see?

 

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