Haiku Assvice.

Scraping the barrel
like never before these days.
Weak, and yes, ashamed.

I know it takes time.
Am no stranger to symptoms;
it is depression.

From this low vantage
I can look up and see those
who are still moving.

Hear what they say, watch
what they do, and be amazed
at what’s important.

Be amazed at what
some find worthy of energy.
Anger. Ugliness.

It is so easy
to become ensnared in that.
Don’t let it happen.

With experience
comes perspective, and when it’s
shared, take what you can.

Try not to jump so
quickly to offense, anger…
do you benefit?

It is not easy
to step back and remain calm
with little practice.

I say this because
I know. I’m quick to anger,
easily annoyed.

And so often quite
the righteous rebel. And what
have I gained from this?

Drama is pointless.
Time passes by and I am
wasting my focus.

Have always found it
easy to see negatives.
Overlook the good.

Life is rich, complex.
Try to remind yourselves of
of this and do your best

to just ignore the
insignificant bumps and
enjoy all the rest.

Doppelgangers and other people you may want to kiss and/or kill

I’m going to tell you a secret.

This here lady you all admire so much? That one called Sarcastic Mom? Yeah, that one. She is to blame for so many of my misadventures in the computing world. And for that, my friends, I’m not sure whether to hug her and feel her sweet teets pushed against my own, or smack her around and box her about the ears and THEN feel up her lovely bosom.

It’s a toss up.

I’ve known Lotus for a long time. A long time in blogging years, which adds up to more than three real years. That’s, like, 50 blogging years, I think. Don’t quote me on that. I’m not a mathematician.

I met young Lotus (which she will always be to me since I have a few actual years on her in my undercarriage) on Myspace of all places. She was part of a circle of friends that I happened to be entangled with, and blah blah blah, we ended up becoming bosom chums for life. I remember when I asked her to be my friend (which sounds so 7^th grade, but you know, it’s Myspace). I said, “You amuse me. Let’s be chums. Shall we?” Sadly, I’ve never been in the same room as Lotus, but I’ve broken bread with her dear John several times and even enjoyed the comforts of his band’s tour bus, so that counts as being in a room with about one half of Lotus.

Again, I’m no mathematician.

I blame Lotus and our lovely mutual friend Amanda (who should be writing her own blog because of her genius, wit, and candor – do you hear me, Amanda?!) for immersing me into the world of online chat. For HOURS. And HOURS. Until the wee hours of the next day. Laughing and peeing ourselves over who comes up with the best insults or vulgarities. Sharing our souls and hearts and gut-wrenching agonies that we don’t dare utter to others, sometimes even the people who share our individual homes.

It’s a sisterhood that I’ve rarely found myself to be a part of.

I wrote endless tales of silliness and such on Myspace, and it didn’t occur to me for a very long time that I was writing something called a blog that other people outside of Myspace would enjoy. I was just delighted with the silly banter I exchanged with the people who dared to comment, which often included Lotus and her five thousand comments on the same entry. Around the same time, Lotus and I had come to the epiphany that we could branch out and unleash our madness unto the masses who may or may not think that we are far too old to be on Myspace.

Sarcastic Mom launched a month or two before my own blog. I watched how my incredible friend went from unsure blogger to overnight sensation in such a short amount of time. Her drive, her charisma, her wit… she won over the hearts and minds of the blogging world with her gorgeous pictures and tales of poop. She is real, and you can see that. I’m very proud to call Lotus my true friend, and I’m incredibly proud of what she has accomplished with her writing.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not all peaches and roses. This lady and I have had words. We’ve had throw-down, biting, harsh words with each other over the most ridiculous and sometimes very serious topics that have come between us every now and then. We make each other cry and yell. After that, we make up. We pet each other and drool and lick, and the world becomes whole again. It’s not often that I encounter someone who can make me so hot under the collar and then absolutely adore her the next day.

Over time, Lotus and I discovered that we have far too much in common. Like, SCARY amounts of things in common. Have you ever met your twin? That person living on the other side of the world who seems to think like you, move like you, and has been through all the ups and many downs that you felt were only your own? We freaked each other out with all of the confessions and stories that were so familiar. I won’t list them here, because my bond with Lotus is more sacred than confessing our similarities to the world. Suffice it to say, we’re both pretty f’ed up cookies.

It’s for that very reason that Lotus and I have such intense rows with each other. Imagine fighting with yourself. Who wins? Who loses? It’s maddening. What I’ve learned from these experiences is that it’s best to step back and see why I react that way to my friend. I’ve learned, the hard way, that most of the time it is because I don’t like what I’m seeing in myself reflecting in the eyes of someone who is so much like me. It’s all very cathartic and insane, but that’s how we work.

When I wasn’t looking, Lotus became one of my dearest friends in such a short amount of time. She is my therapy. She is my mirror.

Despite all of the incredible hardships that this lady has had to endure over the past few years, she built this blog to be one of the biggest in the mommy blogosphere. She started around the same time as I did, and I didn’t have the same drive to keep building and writing and working working working. That’s where the mirror image begins to separate. We both started out strong, and then I petered out. I let things like life and death, babies, miscarriages, finances, and procrastination get in the way of my goals.

Instead of being disappointed with myself, I try to look at Lotus as my inspiration. I can aspire to work as hard as she does in every aspect of my life, no matter how many parents die on me or how many financial disasters burn and singe my flesh. Just hold your giant chin up, Sarah, and follow Lotus’ lead. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and thrust your bust out far and wide.

And then take a picture of it.

So, no matter how far into the doldrums you fall, dear Lotus, I’ll always reach out from the mirror to hold on to you. I can’t thank you enough for the many nights when you signed on “just for a moment” and then saved my life. I was too stoic to tell you, but it’s true.

I hope that anyone who reads this will find their own Lotus, maybe even the very same one as mine (although, back off, bitch, I’m kind of possessive – and so is she… ha!). Look to your friends to inspire you, piss you off, and get you moving in the right direction. Lean on their shoulders but listen to their angst. Get over yourself and laugh. Talk about boobs.

And then take a picture of them.

________________________________________________________________________

When Sarah and I are not busy either engaging in a love fest or scratching out one another’s eyes, she can be found at Imaginary Binky.  She crafts posts of intelligence, honesty, humor, and wit.  Follow along as she takes you with her through the highs and lows of her life.  Think you can “suck on this?”

I close my eyes.

I close my eyes at night and the blackness that stares back at me from inside my eyelids is deep and dark. I know my eyelids are right there. But if I didn’t… well, I wouldn’t. And then it would just seem like… Endless Dark.

It’s what I imagine it must be like inside a uterus.

Disconnected from the day, and staring into the black nothingness, I can’t help but start to feel like I’m floating. You know, as if I’m in some kind of fluid.

My thoughts drift.   I realize that I have no real knowledge of what is sustaining me, only beliefs… feelings.

I just am.

I sense there is someone out there – very close, but in another sense, so far still. Someone who loves me, whom I do not yet really know.  Someone who wanted me; someone who is waiting patiently to meet me.

My heart is beating but, after some time, I start to feel very tired and weak. I have the sense I am fading.

I still feel, but it’s so dark, and getting darker.

Suddenly there is nothing.

In the morning, I wake again, and I get to open my eyes. I see the world around me and time marches on.

I get to keep going.  I continue to be.

I hope that they are somewhere where their eyes have opened unto the most beautiful sights they could ever dream of, and that when I get there to join them, they are bursting with stories of all the things I’ve missed while they were waiting patiently to meet me.

If I iron them out, can I smooth back over time?

Today’s Photohunt theme is “Wrinkled.”

And that’s how time feels to me, suddenly. Like it’s been wrinkled. Or folded like an accordion.

Like it is filled with the skips in an old, worn record. The vinyl spins over and over and the details of the songs are faded; sometimes, even large sections of lyric are missing. I’m left with sudden, blurted words and jolting rhythms that hop from one point to the next…

Photo by Athena Carey, lifeprintsphotography.com

Will the folds between the wrinkles be deeper the older I get?

Will the skips in the record become so broad that the melody is lost almost entirely?

Have to find a way to hold on to the details… I like this song too much.

Just for a moment.

Sometimes you have to give in.  Sometimes you have to reach out.  Sometimes?  You have to do something just because your soul said, “Please, can we do this?”

Yesterday, we drove south for over an hour, on a whim, with a 15 month old in the back seat, just to look at something.  Just to touch it for a few minutes.  It was a Colonial home that was built circa 1900, on 10 acres.  We drove south for over an hour, with baby snacks and juice and diapers and songs like “ABC” and “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” because it’s for sale, and my heart ached to see it in person.  Ached to stand on that old front porch. 

John humors me like that because he loves me.

I was so at home standing next to the bubbling creek on the property… looking out over the rolling hills into the blue sky… with nothing commercial for miles and miles and miles.  Just trees, bare of leaves.  For now.  But my mind’s eye could see their summer coats of shiny, green leaves, waving in the breeze. 

Grass under my feet… I could imagine the stark contrast of the white stars against the black night sky that would happen on that spot in hours time.  If I closed my eyes, I could see the garden I would plant on the acreage.  I could hear my son playing and splashing in the pond, with a big dog that we’d have. 

I wonder if John could hear the creak of the tire swing hanging from the tree in the front yard?  Or see me sitting under the shade of the magnolia tree around back, reading a book, as the tree burst with fragrant white blossoms over my head.  Maybe he could hear the birds singing, like I could.  Maybe he was lost in that moment, too?

I guess sometimes you have to let your heart dream so hard that you let it drag you for miles and miles just to touch something with your own hands, just for a moment, even if it means your dream will fall and break at your feet.

We decided that it’s just too far away from the town we need to be close to.   

So we drove all the way home again. 

Between the Colonial and our (rented) home we talked about desire and life and money and old age.  We touched on needs and hopes and the dreaded Practicality and Responsibility. 

We breathed in life, we breathed out patience.

Braden screamed and fussed… he laughed, sang, and talked.  He bucked, thrashed and complained, and at one point, he peed all over me. 

Then we drove the rest of the way home, and I had cold piss all over the side of my shirt. 

But I was happy.

When we got home, Braden ran all over the living room wearing nothing but a shirt and socks, laughing and screaming. 

With stars in our eyes, we watched him run to the curtains and twirl himself up in them over and over again, giggling madly as he fell to the floor, then jumping up to do it all over again.

We breathed in life, we breathed out love.  And it felt just right.

It was a great day.