The Day of Reckoning

I can’t help but feel that I’m on the precipice of something dark and terrible.  I’m losing more time every day and, yet, there is still too much time to get through in the day.  I’m finding it harder and harder to drag myself out of bed, especially if there’s nowhere I have to be, if there’s no reason to be awake.  The self-imposed isolation creates more days when there’s no reason to be awake.  If I didn’t have to go to work, I don’t know that I’d ever see the sunlight.   And why should I?  What is out there for me?

The growing piles of trash lead me one step at a time closer to living in squalor, yet I can’t find it in me to change it.  The one person I was keeping it at bay for doesn’t come see me anymore.  If my phone rings, there’s an 80% chance that it’s a debt collector.  I’m on the verge of defaulting on my student loans.  My car insurance is in the process of cancellation, although I think that can be remedied once it’s done.  I’m almost a month behind on my car payment and mortgage.  The one place I’m actually close to where I need to be is at school, and I’ve clawed my way up to that point, if for no other reason than because I have to.   Not doing so leads to uncomfortable discussions that I can’t avoid by ignoring them.   I’m pathetic.  Just pathetic.

The day of reckoning is coming.  Imminent.  And I don’t have any of the resources I need to deal with it.

Seeing God in a Shrew

Miss Fortune has brought me another present; this one is still moving, but I can tell she is not quite finished playing with it.  As I hear her poor prey squeak, I shoo the cat away, attempting to rescue this creature.  She drops the thing and scampers away, jumping to the top of the refrigerator in her silent revolt, glaring evilly at what she must perceive as my betrayal and lack of appreciation for her efforts.

It is small, brown and furry, this creature, and at first I mistake it for a mouse.  Looking at the ears and eyes, both significantly smaller than those of a mouse, I decide it is a shrew.  The poor thing isn’t moving much, though it doesn’t seem to be hurt too badly, the punctures in its side looking more superficial than anything.  I am careful to hold the creature with a towel, wary of diseases it may carry; but as I hold it in my hand, I take the moment to examine it closely, taking in the perfect little ears, the whiskers, moving slightly, the squinty eyes, the elongated snout, the tiny feet curled underneath it.

Before this moment, I would have called myself an atheist, living in a world that could not have been created by a fair god, if there was a god at all.  But taking in the image of this tiny being, helpless in my hand, just a part of the food chain, and a lower part at that, I couldn’t help but think that this tiny perfection was no happy accident.  It brought home for me the doubt I had been feeling, the idea that something, at some point, must have come from nothing.  In this moment, I saw God—just for a moment—and was happy.

First Eli Snapshot

Lying together in the dimly-lit room, I can see your eyes drifting shut as you fade into sleep.  Not yet.  Maybe.  Not yet.  Your eyes slide half-shut, then your body jerks as you fight to stay awake, to make sure that you don’t miss a single thing.  You have been fighting sleep for almost a half hour, thirty long minutes of pacing and rocking and crying and eye-rubbing and swaying and snuggling.  But now we lie here, looking into each other’s eyes.  You stroke my fingers methodically as I use my thumb to gently pet the back of your chubby little hand.  Stroke, stroke, your delicate skin like silk under the roughness of my much-chewed thumb.  Your eyes drift ever further, ever further, back in your head, your eyelids shutting for longer and longer stretches. At last, sleep has you in his gentle grasp.  I lie with you, watching you breathe, taking in the sweetness of a face that has done no wrong, that has known no real hardship, that is not yet jaded, as it will be in fifteen years, if not ten, if not five.  Quiet as a monk in prayer, I lift you off of the bed, snuggling my hand to your face as you start to awaken, and lay you gently in your crib.  You have put up a valiant fight little knight, but the dragon of sleep has won for the night, that dreaded dragon has won.

My nephew, Sir Doodle

First Memoir

An Unpeeling

So this will take a minute or two to download, but it is the culmination of my first attempt at memoir.  I’m hoping to add to it, and I’ve already got some pieces started, most of which are unfinished.  Hell, they may never be finished…

On a Mission

So I know I created this blog for class and haven’t used it since, but I think I’m going to give blogging a shot.  There probably won’t be anybody following it, so it will be for my own person edification.  I’m determined to work on some memoir stuff, and I’m hoping that, if nothing else, it will at least be cathartic and a means to work some stuff out without paying a therapist.  Saving up for a psychiatrist as it is…

This is what I was thinking about for my next tattoo.

I figure it’ll have kind of an art nouveau feel to it.

Not set on it yet, but then again, I can’t really afford it right now anyway.  Hoping to hit up on some Lasik as my next big expense, so  I have some time to think about it, that and what I want on the other shoulder blade.

Anyway, to any who have the mis/fortune of reading this, be kind.  The baring of a soul is more intimate than sex, though probably less enjoyable.

Peace

K

So, the ink is finished, the lump isn’t on my thyroid, my tests are halfway graded, my lawn needs mowed, I’m tired, and it’s only Monday…

But check out the ink

Finally Finished

Video Clip Project from Anna and Anna

Don’t You Take That Tone With Me

Video Clip Assignment Rationale

No Air

Bleeding Love