dis-affected

I think I may suffer (mildly) from Seasonal Affective Disorder

Grey days sap my energy.

I find myself thinking how it might be nice to be one of those "tea and cozy" people with a good book and a warm blanket. The people from the movies and the commercials. The people that I've read about. You know the people... I don't need to go on.

I like that grey weather has this romantic notion of tea and cozy, and even that I'd like to be ones of those people, but it doesn't really work for me.

I guess it's a lot like a lot of romantic cliches, it's pleasant to think about, and easy to imagine that someone must be doing it, but it doesn't really happen all that much in "real life."

so...

I usually end up doing at least one "something" on a grey day - - something up and about, being a part of the world. Perhaps because I'm just too willful to give in and surrender to the grey, or perhaps because I keep believing that if I just get up and DO something often enough, eventually the grey won't be able to seep into my mood, soul, spirit, whatever, and I'll be cured.

I've been doing this for YEARS, and still, more often than not I'm only about half as bright and bumblesome when the weather is dismal.

I suppose I could go make tea and grab a book. I suppose that like so many romantic cliches I could "make it happen for ME" if only I fought the inertia a little and got up and did something about it.

But I'm not.

I'm not making tea and grabbing a blankie and book.
I'm not giving in to romance and cozying.

Instead, I'm gearing up to head out and see if I can't find something to do that will kindle some sense of inner sunshine.

Call me a clicheoclast.

I'm not satisfied with "what works in romantic notions."
Not me.

I'm making my own Romance.

Rhapsody

no.
not the music thing.

a sleep-resistent night last night; i was overcome by the beauty of night. it was cold but not bitter, dazzled with brilliant stars in a deep black sky, quiet except for the small motion of night-things, and still - so very still - - but deeply stirred in my soul.

after i came in from the outside, echoes and cadence and creaking floor boards and the soft soft bed waltzed me into a "write the poetry" frame of mind, and i was up a bit longer crafting a draft of a thought of a dream of a someday maybe poem.

- - it's not the one i've been working on for weeks... that one is my taciturn piece and STILL will only speak when it has something important to SAY.

i am happy to have irons in the fire, poetically speaking. it's nice to be able to bumble about with a few, or even several, different thought-works at any given time on any given day in any given mood.

this is happening because i'm spending more time on what i write now. even when i think that i'm getting complete thoughts and phrases, i want to hold on to them, roll them over in my hands for a bit - - feeling all the edges for rough spots, holding them to the light to make sure that they not only shine but SPARKLE (but only where they should sparkle... sparkling where one should shine, or maybe even glow is as distracting as a dull spot in the middle of a rhapsody), and waiting for that weepy/giddy/giggling/jaw-dropped/can't-breathe self to say:

"Oh My God, did that REALLY just come out of my OWN mind? It can't possibly have, I don't have that kind of skill... but look there it is and it's in my book in my own writing so I must have. How Wonderful!"

then i know it's ready to move over to the next page where the finished thoughts live. that's where it waits to be partnered with the other good thoughts, and arranged and rearranged
(and then revised again)
before they're all finally lined up in perfect formation for a final read, as a full poem
at which point i usually tear it down and start editing all over again.

but last night - -
last night was beautiful
and so was this morning
and i have a lot of new thoughts in my little book of pencil scrawls and i'm happy

Ejector Seat

On Monday night (or Tuesday morning) 'round about midnight, the aliens took over my guts.
I spent all day Tuesday feeling very much like a battleground... a sloggy, swampy battleground.
Yesterday was better... until later.
So this morning, at 4, the baby was up and hugging the toilet.
It's been a craptastic time for tummies Chez-Nif.
Sigh.

In other news:

Had a great afternoon in the park yesterday. Lots of walking and laughing and time away from the normal hum-drum. We talked about science (-ivores) and used our imaginations (The Great Northern Gator: A Herbivore) and expressed our impatience over the onset of spring (wishing the redbuds into bloom). We had a picnic and quality time. It's so freakin' awesome being a mom.

Found a fun restaurant in Belleville (Bayou Grill) that has some pretty good food (ultra tender ribs) and really fun staff. Had a nice dinner.

And then the puke. And whatnot.
Her belly is rebelling again.
Nif out...

Glass House

Today's thought is not an easy one for me... it borders on political, and that's a tough pill for me to swallow.
I suspect I'm likely to offend a few folks with it, as well. It's not my intent...

Here's the thing.
It's called Judge not...
It's called love your neighbor...
It's called, do unto others...

I have no respect for the comments of the radical right wing (or the radical left wing, or the radical anyone for that matter)... and in many cases, I not only disagree with what they say and do, but much of it sickens me.

A school principle telling her gay students that they're going to hell...
A politician saying that unmarried parenthood fosters child abuse...
A FLOCK of politicians making long strides backward in terms of womens' rights.

The whole lot of it makes me want to puke, and scream, and raise my fist in the air and call down the lightning...

And then I have to stop.

Because the minute I want to call down the powers of heaven, or the universe, or God, or whatever else it is that's going to smite them with thousands of volts of "righteous fury," I've crossed the line and become just as bad as I think they are.

If they want to be what *I* consider sick, or wrong, or cruel, or stupid, or... - fine. That's their gig. They have as much right to it as people have to be gay, or women, or followers of Islam, or....

Do I want them running my country? No. I vote against them.
Do I want them running my schools? No. I appeal to the Superintendent.
Do I want them in my life in any way? No... not at all...
But as much as they are in my life, I follow the channels to remove them from it.
Is it time for new rules? Sure... maybe... I don't know.

But I'm not judging people.
I live in a glass house.