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I have been thinking. For years I have been thinking. We all have, in one way or another, we spend a life duel to our actions very often thinking about everything we experience.
It's a wonder we are not all lost in some mad matrix of trying to figure "it" out.
I am so greatful for this place. The one place that I can write and there ain't no one who can look at what I'm saying and say that no matter how much they disagree, I'm not entitled to say it.
That's the beauty of free speech.
I've spent my life trying to figure "it" out. The it is the key thing the one truely meaningful existance that we are ment to have.
Without borders, bounderies, limits on how full this life can be.
I'm thinking tonight about the road ahead. I realized somewhere this afternoon after a nap I dropped into. Past out into would be more like it. It's a normal part of my life since my last surgery.
It would seem that my body chooses that time of day for a pit stop.
Ignorning it is a mistake. But it does do something strange when I obey it, I wake up full of energy and have a hard time going to sleep.
I wonder if my body is trying to get into night gear....
working a night job.
I don't know. Two fridays ago I had this experience at work.
It was close to quitting time, the last half hour of the day.
On Fridays, everyone flys through that place cleaning it up.
No one is slack in doing things.
Everyone flys no matter how wiped out they are. It's the mindset of a clear singluar purpose.
To get out of there and be free for the next two days.
Anyway, there I was and all of a sudden things shifted. In the shift I saw me either getting fired or leaving, either way, not being there.
And it was ok. I knew that I would be leaving so I stopped stressing out about getting up to the speed of work that my possition requires.
It was all ok all of a sudden.
Then this last week things began to happen, then friday.
After a few minuets of seeing this happen, everything went back to normal.
I knew the time to leave would be soon. I had no idea it was going to be this soon.
I'm not a quitter. I will keep going until there is no reason to continue. I will keep going until I see that the end result will be an accident or death.
I know when it's time to stop. Well with somethings anyway.
And with others it seems that I have to be hit over the head with a brick to get "it".
I don't think I'm different in that respect from most people walking around on the planet.
Anyway, I wish there was someone who I could just sit down with, and talk to them about all of this.
I wouldn't expect answers, since they don't live in my shoes, how can they know my heart?
I know that's where the answers are. But right now I don't know my own heart.
What it is that I really want to do with my life. I have no clue. I'm wandering around blind right now. Everything feels so out of focus right now.
On top of that, I've got this crazy thing going on with my physical side, and I just don't know how to navigate this place, existance, what ever you want to call it, no man's land, the land where the edge of the side walk went wizzing by about 8 months ago and your still trying to figure out why it went that way so fast.
Like it was running away from something, or maybe it was just that you were being propelled tord "it", and you past the side walk that fast.
I've been going with this flow now for I don't know how long anymore.
I feel like I'm a medochre excuse for a human being.
..completely pointless. It's that kind of thing, that is here all the time.
In my thoughts, in my activities, in my half assed attempts to do something creative.
I struggle to finish anything anymore. It's a war. and I really don't understand it.
I wish I did.
I need to know my heart right now. I need to see past all the mad circus that exists all around me. The music that feels like I'm being peeled from the inside to music that feels like I'm being ground to nothing...music hurts right now...
I love music, all kinds. Classical, Heavy Metal, Jazz, Insturmental. Experiemental music.
but it all hurts right now.
I find myself craving the sounds of nature and nothing more.
Rain seems like music now when it comes...
It makes me happy in my soul when it rains.
The birds in the morning sound like a beautiful orchestra playing some eitherial opera. It's delicate and graceful and powerful.
The sound of the wind in the trees, like a lulaby.
I don't know what's happening to me. And I wish I did.
I wish a wise sage would show up at my door, and help me see my heart.
Someone who could gently guide me through the maze I seem to have become.
I look at the insects flying around in the late afternoon sun, doing their thing. Being inscets. That's all they know to do, is be what they are.
Their behavior seems a bit mad at times, mostly because it's so fast.
There are some tall plants out the window. And some of them have little yellow flowers. A source of food.
I wonder if you took away all the voices screaming at all of us all the time, the commercials, the adds, the t.v. the politions, the gurus, teachers, what would you hear?
I love art. I miss the hours spent lost in it. I miss writing poetry with words pulled from a stream that lives in my world.
I miss sitting down at the key board and just playing and disapearing for a while, letting the mixture of notes melt me into their world.
I miss thoes things.
I still do them, but not to the extent and intensity that I used to.
There isn't enough time anymore. It's all going past so fast, and I keep wondering if everything is just going to take a nose dive straight into the toilet, is there a reason to keep doing it...
So, having a wise sage showing up would help me, hopefully to see my heart in all this.
I've tried to keep up with meditation, but I've been so exausted the last few weeks that I can't concentrate long enough to get into a meditative state.
Although I feel a bit better at the moment, having poured this all out, I still have no idea as to what to do.
Or what it is that I really want.
I've tried listening to my heart. I'm trying to take care of myself a bit more now, after friday's scare.
That's a good thing.
The old truth that I have held to, that I'm going to survive much, reminds me that I'm on a journey, and that I will get there.
I don't know what shape I'll be in when I get there, but I do know I will get there.
...I just saw a white moth fly by...how beautiful is that?
Maybe I'm trying to break out of a really big cocoon.
Maybe I am just a really big butterfly after all...
In a human body.
I don't know. That's the hard part for me...that I don't know.
This is my life for crying out loud!!!!
I know I have seen things about other people's lives, deep things, but I have never been able to see inside me that clearly, and I really, really wish I could!!!!!
I don't go looking for problems mind you, I have never set out to see what's behind someone's skin. I just see it, that's all.
Not all the time, only when they need to know it's there.
And then they show up at my door, it comes out of my mouth and then they go.
I've never asked for anything when they come. Why would I? This wasn't my idea, so it would be wrong to ask them for something that belongs to them.
When they go, I have no recollection of what I said. It's been that way for years. Without exception. So with such clarity you would think I could see my own heart. Know the truth and be free from everything that truly doesn't matter.
For what ever reason, I can't see my own heart. Right now at this moment I would love to just stop time for a few months. Give all of a breather and allow alot of us to take a rest, a real rest.
Be peaceful for a while. No pressure of any kind. No bills to think about, no aches to feel, no pains that make life harder than it already is.
Give us all a bit of space for a little while, so we can actually not feel guilty about taking a day and doing nothing in that day, or week or month or year...how ever long it would take.
Maybe then it wouldn't feel so out of order, so messed up.
Wouldn't it be lovely if on a fine day
such as this day could be
if all the walls of all the banks
and corporate highrises would just stop,
and help themselves to a big helping
of Just shut up for one day?
I know it doesn't rhyme. I think I need a good long and very deep cry.
A washing of my eyes and soul.
Sometimes a woman just needs to cry. It's built into us. Sometimes it's like dumping out a big bucket of junk from inside where there are no words that can explain why we need it.
I know guys have a similar need, but crying isn't the venu for the need. I tend to think it's doing something very agressive for a little while, and then everythings ok again.
Well, since there don't seem to be any answers I have hidden up my sleve, or under a hat I'm not wearing, I guess I'll put a pause to all of this...
It's Sunday morning. I'm writing this because I feel it's important enough to talk about.
Last week was a hard week at work. For everyone. There were two people who had been there a long time that left. One who had given his two week notice the day before, and his best friend who worked there as well.
When it was discovered that the guy who gave his two week notice was going to the competition for more money, they got angry and let him go the next day after he gave his two week notice.
His friend walked out the door with him.
That was on Tuesday morning.
The next two day the work and the heat from the weather took it's toll on everyone there. We were all exausted but kept going.
On Thursday we got several wet bags that had gone moldy in.
Since there is a history of allergies that run in my family, it's possible that I got exposed to something that I had a reaction to.
It just hit friday morning.
I woke up at about 3 a.m.
I was sick to my stomach. Light headed and terrified.
Now the only times that that feeling of being terrified has ever been connected to any illness has been when it's preceeded a trip to the hospital for some kind of life-threatening situatuion that I am in.
If this was just simple heat exaustion, I would have been ok. Heat exaustion like dehydration is something that I had first hand experience with and know that with immeadate treatment, things you can do at home, it's survivable.
This was beyond thoes two. Every time I tried to stand up, I had to sit down due to how light headed I got immeadately,
My arms were on fire, the muscles, and my hands had started to swell up to the point where I could not close my left hand completely.
I decited that if I lay down it might stop. But by 7 a.m.
it was still going on. So I tried to get through at 7. No one was there. I tried again at 7:15, again no one was there.
When I finally did get through at 7:30 the woman I talked to, a supervisor was pissed when I told her I was sick and very light headed.
I made my way back to bed and passed out. I woke up about 4 hours later, sick to my stomach and my head felt like it was on fire.
I had planned on going to a clinic that afternoon if I was feeling any better. I never made it. I started feeling better about 11 p.m. although I was still extreemly weak with a weaker version of the headache.
I finally felt good enough to make a trip to the grocery store Saturday night. I was lightheaded and my body was shaking and I was sweating by the time we got to the check out.
We had been there for about a half hour.
I was sick to my stomach, and I started wondering if what ever it was that hit friday morning was comming in a second wave kind of thing, but thankfully it passed quitely after sitting for about an hour.
I made the decision that I need to leave this job. I don't want to go through anything like that again.
I'm not sure what made me so sick. But I do know that it was work related.
On Wensday morning, after about an hour of work I noticed that my muscles were starting to burn.
My arms were getting heavier and heavier. I wrote it off to my body still trying to adjust to the work.
Thursday, I babied my arms as best as I could because they still felt like they were burning.
It subsided by mid afternoon at least to a dull ache.
I thought I was fine when I left.
So, I'm taking my id stuff back tomorrow morning and I am resigning.
I value my life more than any job out there.
What is the point of working in a place that ends up making you so sick you end up with medical bills you can't pay?
Or worse yet, ends up killing you?
There isn't any.
Anyway, I made my decision and I am at peace with it and that is all that matters.
Two days ago, after a particularilly exausting day I come home to find two packages waiting for me.
One was from my mother and the other was from a friend. I opened both and sat there after opening the one from my friend and cried.
The one from my mother was a pillow she had made of bits of cloth that brought back memories of growing up. Different dresses, one peice in particular was from a dress I wore to a father daughter dance when I was in highschool. It was my junior year. I can still remember where we went to dinner, and the picture is around somewhere in some box at my mom's house.
The other box was filled with chocolate and two envelopes. The first was this awesome letter, I love getting letters, they are my treasures, they hold words from the heart of the person writing, the other had something completely unexpected, I thought it was another letter, kind of an on going letter, but it was money.
I sat there holding all this chocolate, a pillow and this other envelope and a letter and it all felt like christmas had just decended on me.
All I could do was cry, out of gratitude that both had arrived on the same day.
Things for a very long time have been very hard, both emotionally and physically.
I'd been feeling like I was not worth the hours in a day when these wonderful gifts arrived. It's been a bit hard to write about this as I'm still overwhelmed by the whole thing.
Life for a long time has been more like wandering around in the desert with no water.
Depression comes and goes at will. I ride things like that out, since I know that it's due to the chemistry in my body is still in major upheaval, and will be until menapause is done.
Feeling like I fall short no matter how hard I work is something that is a constant. In short it's a desert most days.
I wish I could let these two people know what they did for me from behind my eyes. How much it means to me. Thank you feels so insignificant at this point.
I want to give them both something that will give them the same experience of christmas decending just like they have given me, because it's the most amazing feeling in the world. It's alot like the first time someone tells you how much they mean to you, what that does to you.
Not out of obligation. I remember doing things as a kid out of obligation when I didn't understand gratitude.
Sometimes in life to understand how wonderful a gift is and what a tresure it really is, letters included here, you have to be living in the desert for a while.
It makes what someone does for you the size it really is in the light of everything, and it makes you cry and have trouble talking.
And the other thing it does is make you want them to feel what you feel, because it's so powerful in how deep it goes.
All I can say is thank you, for more than you know.
I have never been in a job where I counted the days I survived it.
This is a first. Since I started there I have been trained in a few areas.
I basicly hang clothes for 8 hours.
They have been looking and found a sorter. That's the person who goes through carts of clothes that come in from all over and then hands them to me to hang.
Because this woman is new, her second day, I am sorting clothes as well as hanging them.
She will learn what is unacceptable with time. In the mean time I'm doing my job plus catching all she misses in the way of disgards. This makes my job harder and longer. But I'm good at it, so there you are.
About 50% of what she is sending through is non sellable, stained, ratty, completely out of date. Yes, there are standards for stuff that goes out to sell.
I'm learning that most of what I see I would like to just not put on hangers. At this point just to get through the day.
I've seen a few real vintage things come our way, and the ones that end up on hangers are beautiful.
There was a fur coat, I'm guessing from the 1940's that had bakalite buttons on it.
That was before it was in bad taste to wear fur.
I hate hanging baby clothes by the way. They are small and a real bitch to hang up.
We get all kinds of stuff that comes through. We even got a ceramic sperm bank, it was the kind you put coins in. Very cute, we all laughed at the realism of the bank in shape at least but could not put it out for sale due to someone would get offended at it.
It would have made a great conversation peice!
Anyway, I'm exausted tonight. And I hope I win the lottery. Then I can actually rest for a change.
This is an interesting process, disecting days.
I'm doing mental push up's again. That's ok. Mental push-up are part of boot camp for thoes who want to be all that they are ment to be. Yes I borrowed it from an army slogan but changed it a bit, to suit my approach to my life.
The jury is still out concerning this job. I know I don't want to be there for years and years. That would be madness.
The part that disturbs me the most is the amount of stuff that comes through. Thousands of things, clothes, stuff. A tribute to high volume consumption, with a chaser of bordom.
That seems to be the way of life in this country. I haven't been to a land fill in a long time, but the thought frightens me to some degree because how much new stuff can be made in the quanities that its being made in before we run out of raw material to make the stuff.
Cotton and natural fibers are renewable because you can keep planting them. With all the toxic crap that keeps getting sprayed on crops however, I'm not sure about the quality of thoes natural fibers.
Case in point. I bought some really awesome tie-dyed cotton for a pair of pants. I used my favorite pattern that is so comfy to wear. Easy to make and so I thought this will be wonderful.
I wore them for about two months before the fabric started tearing, and breaking down. That's not right.
I have made pants from cotton before and this never happened. The knees wore out and then I would just either patch the knees or cut the garment up and make something else from it.
Anyway, I'm watching this stuff come through and am thinking this about all the stuff I'm seeing. At the same time the thought of all those people working to exaustion in factories making this stuff for people who don't think about the people who made it, knowing what some of thoes workers make per hour and I am ashamed at what I see.
Not that there arn't beautiful things that come through, but, the amount is staggering. And this is just one store.
There are thousands of stores through out this country that carry vast invantory and much of that invantory ends up at places like the one I work at.
There is the bigger, better newer crap to take it's place.
If we stopped today, making stuff, there would be enough stuff to last years and years.
Our children's children would still be dealing with the stuff.
See, mental gymnastics.
I don't know how much longer I will stay at this job. I start each day giving it the benefit of the doubt.
The good days, like today, make it not so bad to go for one more day. The bad days make me want to quit immeadately.
So the jury is still out.
I didn't have nightmears last night by the way. Just really crazy dreams where one woman who works there was smoking a cigar and carving a peice of wood with a stylist.
It was weird.
But I could actually see this woman smoking a cigar in real life. She is a hard know it all, with a temper.
Too much anger this woman has. And absoulty no paitents. Wonder how long it will be before it stops her and reminds her that it's better to lighten up than to die from self induced stress.
Anyway. It's day 11 tomorrow. I can hardly wait..giggling to myself sarcasticly.