Tuesday, June 29, 2010

"Life without LOVE is like a tree without blossoms or fruit." -Kahlil Gibran

Thursday, June 24, 2010


If I could adequately articulate everything I am thinking & feeling, I would be so much better off. But I can't.

Monday, June 21, 2010


It has been a long day that got off with a stumbling start. I found my groove & rocked it. Proud of me I am.

what she said


Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Excruciating doesnt even adequately convey the pain I am feeling.

Monday, June 7, 2010


The unceasing urge to pray to the porcelain god is sometimes worse than actually doing it.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

it's a conundrum

It's been moderately busy in here this evening. There is a special forces reunion across the street this week and we are already full every night but tonight. I have hopes that we'll do really well tonight because I have already sold a lot of rooms and it's early yet. Busy is good because it leaves less time for me to worry/obsess/stress myself.

  • Mondays always suck for me and I get to start a new treatment on Monday thereby ensuring that this Monday will pretty much suck as well. Aren't I just a bundle of sunbeams? I'm trying to remain positive and upbeat about it all but damn, if it's not difficult. 
  • School gets out on Thursday. This, without a doubt, is something I am looking forward to happening because it means the end of running back and forth between two schools and work and the angst-filled teenage spawn will be allowed to return to regular school when school resumes in August which means less stress for everyone who is involved with making sure he has a ride to and from school.
  • There are still some plans to finalize for Chicago which I need to do ASAP (like yesterday.)
  • There's the situation with someone I hold very dear that I will not discuss on this blog but which has me all tied up in knots and wondering what to do and what comes next.

I have a new book I am starting to read. I have a day off tomorrow (because of the whole doctor deal) and I intend to actually sit down and watch a movie (probably Angels & Demons) and I also intend to see if the program about aliens that Russell was telling me about is on History onDemand. I am hoping it is because I really want to see it.

At this present moment, I am listening to the timer tick because I have cookies in the oven in the kitchen area for the guests that I am going to put out at 7pm, the television in the breakfast room is on a news channel and they are talking about the oil spill, and there is no one standing in front of the desk or anywhere near the lobby.

I do believe I'm getting random. There was so much I wanted to write about tonight but I find myself short of words. I guess I will try again in a little while.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Peccant by Elizabeth Alexander

I have recently re-discovered poetry and for some reason, I'm really getting into it. 

Maryland State Correctional Facility for Women,
Baltimore County Branch, has undergone a face-lift.
Cells are white and ungraffitied, roomlike, surprisingly airy.
This is where I must spend the next year, eating slop from tin trays,
facing women much tougher than I am, finding out if I am brave.
Though I do not know what I took, I know I took something.

On Exercise Day, walk the streets of the city you grew up in,
in my case, D.C., from pillar to post, Adams-Morgan to Anacostia,
Shaw to Southwest, Logan to Chevy Chase Circles,
recalling every misbegotten everything, lamenting, repenting.

How my parents keen and weep, scheme to spring me,
intercept me at corners with bus tokens, pass keys, files baked in cakes.
Komunyakaa the poet says, don’t write what you know,
write what you are willing to discover, so I will
spend this year, these long days, meditating on what I am accused of
in the white rooms, city streets, communal showers, mess hall,
where all around me sin and not sin is scraped off tin trays
into oversized sinks, all that excess, scraped off and rinsed away.

Don't ask me to explain what appeals to me. It just speaks. That's good enough for me.

i don't know what to do


threatens to consume me.

One molecule at a time.


there's nothing left of me


an empty shell.

GIST - The Sunday Edition # 175

It's been awhile since I have done one of these although my offline gratitude practice remains on point. In no particular order, here ar...