Saturday, December 26, 2015


Someone asked me recently, "What's it all for?"  He was talking about the larger narrative.  About life.  About being human in this world.  What kind of answer could I have mustered to satisfy that question? I looked at the bottom of my whiskey glass for a reply.  My hands flitted around like lost birds trying to catch an answer.  But really, how the heck should I know?  I'm trying to figure this out for myself too. I am trying to figure out how to fit time for my writing and creative endeavors while holding down a full time job with all it's machinations and office politics while also dealing with my crazy family.  My hands give me away as I clasp on tightly to my calm exterior, the cracks are showing on the thin veneer. I am trying to create quiet spaces for myself so I can watch the sunrise or sunset, trying to remember to breathe deeply. Feeling it when love surrounds me but also feeling the edges of a lonely soul. Aching to be closer to the ideal life, whatever that might look like. I crave a quietness that stems from the soul.  Someone that's satisfied with who I am in this moment, instead of always feeling like I'm falling short from being a better person.  There is so much to be done and we are wasting time not doing much.  I am cat-sitting in Chelsea, keeping Otis and Tessa stocked up on munchies, water and catnip. Nice space with mewling kitties in the background. Must run, working on some poetry.

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