556: Hope


Every day, I hope.

I hope it will get better, that it won’t hurt so much.

I hope that I will be able to slow down and not be at everyone else’s beck and call.

I hope that I can say no. And mean it.

I hope that I can sleep until I want to get out of bed, instead of rolling out every morning before dawn because I have obligations to meet.

I hope that I make it through the next six weeks of no-money until I get paid again (a yearly problem, and January has thirty-one long, cold, and dark days).

I hope that Christmas will again just pass, without requiring from me efforts to be social that I just do not have the resources for.

I hope and I am chagrined that I still hope.

I hope that the house I currently am spending all my free time remodeling (paint smears in my hair and decorating both my forearms, random punctures, scratches, and broken nails) soon will become a respite and sanctuary – a place of peace and repose.

I hope that it will get better – that it won’t hurt quite so much.

I hope, even when it appears fruitless to hope.Hope-2-570x379

I hope.




535: Beginning


A beginning

brightwithpromise, fraughtwithchoices

exciting and frightening

restless sleep, dreaming of possibilities and terrors

opportunities and nightmares

chances and horrors

ideas and fears

good and bad


time to live it

either way

474: Ode



An ode is a lyrical poem that expresses strong feeling or sentiment for someone or something.


So when I say I don’t want to live without you, that qualifies?

Or, do I have to make it pretty, and dress it up with rhyme and meter

So that it becomes both something more…and less

Than it was before, when I said it all in one sentence?

There are very, very few things humans can’t live without.

Air, water, and curiously, sleep – where dreams rule.

And yes, you are that essential to me.


471: Subconscious coming OUT


The subconscious is that primal being living inside of us that does not rise to the surface of our waking awareness. Some of us call it our intuition. Some call it dreams, or visions, things you just “know.” It is that back-of-the-neck hair raising premonition that lets you know something is very wrong. It is instinct. We all have it, but we learn to squash it, and to “logically” override what that ancient knowledge is telling us.

Here lately, for at least the last two months, I have been coming into contact with the subconscious me, who apparently is intent on getting OUT where I will pay it some attention. It is doing this by preventing me from falling asleep – literally trying to verbally communicate with its obstinate host.

As I relax into the arms of Morpheus, and enter that twilight zone just prior to being actually asleep, I am being awakened by a sound, which, when I come fully awake, I realize is ME, making an effort to speak. WTF? Warnings from beyond the pale? I have never (well, virtually) spoken in my sleep.

This happens repeatedly, as many as a dozen times before I finally manage to tip the balance and get to sleep. No dreams in months, just other-worldly phantom speech. This is weird. This is new. Now, admittedly, this is the two-month period when I have been under some considerable stress and uncertainly, changing jobs and moving to a new country, settling in and being ill with my first cold in the new location. I am sincerely hoping that as things settle and a routine develops that the voice from beyond will relax its urgent warnings. I could use the sleep!

443: Prisoner



I am your prisoner.

I live a free life, I work a job I chose, I live where I picked to live, I associate with the people I choose to be with.

Does not matter. I am your prisoner.

WE lasted a long time. It was a good time, mostly, usually. Except…

now that it is finished, it isn’t finished.

You are there every time I close my eyes to sleep.

You are there when I breathe certain scents.

You are there when I am alone.

You are there…….still.

When do I get paroled?

393: GI Tract Reflections

Most of us don’t think too much about all of our internal workings. As long as they ARE working, that’s usually good enough. We don’t check up on the mechanism too often, until we hit the age of 50 and are introduced to our first joyous colonoscopy experience. Believe me, you will learn far more about your insides than you EVER wanted to know before, during, and after that time.

Last night, I had an intimate dance with my GI (gastro-intestinal) tract. I thought about my insides, literally, all night. All night is a particularly vulnerable time for most humans. We expect to be sleeping peacefully. We don’t expect to be jolted awake from a doze by violent warnings that an eruption is about to take place. Thank GOD, I was not awakened by the notification that a violent eruption HAD taken place.  However, the situation was grim enough that I put a towel in the bed under me, just in case. I am talking serious, even inflammatory, issues.

This dark-of-the-night suffering led to an intense personal reflection over the last several day’s activities, in a pathetic attempt to pinpoint what egregious alimentary error was responsible for this nine-hour ordeal I was going through (every twenty minutes), in hopes that I might forever avoid that food if I ever saw it again. I got to repeat this reflection process about twice an hour for the full duration. This problem LAUGHED at Immodium, the anti-diarrhea medicine that usually manages to nip violent food poisoning issues in the bud. LAUGHED. REPEATEDLY.

Thank God for petroleum jelly. I learned THAT trick while undergoing the aforementioned joyous colonoscopy experience. Just wait – your turn is coming……..

and as a helpful. public-service preview of this delightful procedure: http://www.miamiherald.com/2009/02/11/427603/dave-barry-a-journey-into-my-colon.html



152: Sleep, perchance to dream

I am someone who can go to sleep standing up. I have fallen asleep in the dentist’s chair, on the doctor’s examination table – you name it, I have gone to sleep there. I consider sleep to be a real  luxury that also happens to be a dire necessity. Things do not go well without it – in my life, anyway.

The best sleep of  any given night comes after the alarm has sounded, when I hit the ‘snooze’ button. Those extra nine minutes are priceless. Somehow those nine extra minutes are the sweetest of the previous eight hours. I am, unfortunately, given the way I worship sleep time, also a night owl, and my career path demands that I be up and moving before eight o’clock each workday morning. YUCK.

If I was reading a good book the night before, I have been known get involved and wrapped up in the story, to finally  finish the book at some ungodly hour, and then be short of sleep the next day at work, when I would kill for a nap. I used to pull all-nighters in my ill-advised youth, something I try very, very, very hard not to do now that I have attained the advanced and venerable age of fifty. I don’t handle all-nighters as well as I used to, like a lot of other things that I don’t handle as well as I used to in my youth (I am NOT discussing alcohol here).

Given that unavoidable fact, I try very hard to arrange my life so that I have no need of working throughout the night. However, since I am married, a parent, teaching full-time, living in a foreign country, working a part-time job online, AND writing a doctoral  dissertation, there come occasions when these varied responsibilities collide, and I find myself working far into the night, well beyond what I would have chosen, had I my druthers.

Remember when you were a child, and you HAD to take a nap during the day, and how much you hated it? I would KILL for a nap some days – I am not sure what I would kill, but I would definitely kill.  I am of the opinion that a nap would be therapeutic and beneficial to increased employee productivity, and I think a room with comfy beds should be set aside at work for those occasions. The research supports this opinion – you can look it up!