quiet

by the fire, with thoughts of the weekends happenings. a visit, a party, a trip down memory lane. time spent with my family, free for a moment, of the financial beating i continue to endure. but with patience and strength, certainly i can yank my future into the present, determined by my goals and a reaching, burning, fearless desire.

where have i been

hard to say. though not as far away as you might think, rather caught in the middle of it all. so deep, it's been hard to see out. now...staring out at the snow banked ground, sun breaking through, footsteps deeper, while chimney smoke feathers, and trees bend with wizarding limbs, casting promise, relief, hope...i am out. sometimes it's the reality of our lives that beats us down and sometimes it's that reality that pulls us back up. there's a moment when you can just let go...and i did just that. so quiet is the mind.

12:47 p.m.

In a matter of moments I may discover the end to a particularly frightful financial crisis, or I may just eat my lunch. I’ll choose the latter. But deciding the appropriate time to eat lunch is always a challenge. Taken too early and an end to the day seems a far distance to travel. Taken too late and the aches muck up the brains ability to produce. Factor in the crowding of the staff lunch room and the potentially hazardous smells of shrimp reheated and a girl’s decision can be seriously affected. I’m not partial to small talk nor do I care for the feel of a newspaper in my hands. The relationship I have with food is best enjoyed alone and after much experimentation, the appropriate time is 12:47 p.m.

when i can't slow down

it's where my mind goes, wandering through spaces black and cold, spinning in dead ends, breaking beneath heavy footsteps. i see in frames, the whole picture is absent. just moments, some of memory, some of wish.

i'll take my cocoa puffs with soy and my coffee with baileys

it's breakfast at givanni's. the lights are off. the sun is just peaking through the window of the narrow, 2 story city building. kate hides norah jones in the espresso beans and her shoes in the safe while i sit at the bar. paperwork, bank visits, inventory and stocking by day. spicy meatballs and billy idol by night. what happened to those days? those days when i only thought i was working hard. those days when i longed for something better. those days that i only wish would return. and it's not about the place, or the job. it's about the people who have touched me, who have since moved away, a group of girls that are reached by email as often as i twirl my hair. these girls are forever.

streeeetch

somehow as i ballooned up i escaped the branding of stretch marks on my belly. yet somehow after i deflated they appeared bright red and unforgiving. three marks seared into my skin like a scratch from an irritated house cat. a reminder of a different time, a time when emotions ran wild, when anger, tears, laughter rolled together in one simple moment. i'll consider it a battle wound, a scar to be proud of, a fixture that will remind me of the one thing i never knew i wanted and the one thing i could never live without.

pathetic and pregnant

pregnant and feasting on a big mac. no, not a craving, just a lack of time and a sudden hunger pain. i sat in my car, with my nine month belly nearly touching the steering wheel. parked in the back of the lot, no one around, i opened the signature box and wrapped my fingers around the sloppy burger. at first bite, a car parked to my left. at second bite, a car parked to my right. are you kidding me? the lot is half empty, can i please eat my mac privately? already digging in, i deny my urge to move to another spot. continuing my quest to satisfy my hunger, i take another bite. and it happened, as i figured it would, special sauce dripping down my white winter coat. i get over it, wipe it off and take another bite. shit, it happened again, but now it's on my chin and fingers too. trying to wipe it up only spreads it further and my frustration grows. i wonder if my car neighbors are watching. i wonder what they are thinking. is my role as the pathetic pregnant woman oscar worthy? it has to be. tiny car, big belly, sloppy food and only one napkin.