Through the Northwest region of Indiana, during the days and nights of winter, summer, fall, and autumn, Jerry's lessons in relationships turmoil ed her into despair. She felt her dreams of the profound career, marriage, and friendships were slipping through her hands. At dawn she chose to wake, journal her journeys to the east, west, south, and north ends of the world eagerly her suitcases were packed and for months she waited for the day her ship would come and she would sail away far into the oceans and seas.
"Jerry? Are you up?" Called mom.
"What?!!" She cried.
What was the time and age Jerry wondered. Where was that humility she left somewhere in her last relationship down in Bloomington Indiana. Would I ever get it back before my fear of pride and arrogance chokes me to death? She feared to herself. Being home from college, finding work, building new relationships, true love, and marriage plans were growing dim and Jerry colored her nails blue and her lipsticks were black and metalic colors.
She tried to learn guitar, piano, and creative writing but it was no use as she could not shake off her blanket of blues since Kloi, Jen, Rob, Derek, Delana, and many more of her graduating class had sailed their ships off already into the abyss of their lives. Jerry felt herself slipping deeper and deeper into wonders if she had missed her ship, and if she would be able to break from the heavy chains shackled around her ankles she imagined as her hangovers day after day put her dreams further and further away. Trembling and crying through the cold winters of northwest Indiana, Jerry's nail polish was chipped, and her lips were chapped. Her skin grew scaley and dry, and her hair was greasy and the ends brittle as she sat by the phone on the carpet of her bedroom at home.
"Jerry?! Breakfast is ready!" Mom shouted.
"Coming!" Jerry yelled.
Jerry smoked her last cigarette to the filter, and pale skinned and scared of another job or relationship rejection she grew more and more numb and began to feel her first stages of bitterness. When she couldn't remember who to blame anymore for the failures and risks in her life, she had herself to blame, and when she had blamed herself to her last tear and lethary, her comatose state blurred all the phone calls and work she had been taking into account for the past two to three years.
The only comfort she found was in the aroma of sausage, waffles, and eggs from the kitchen downstairs. Self pity stage had swallowed up Jerry's enthusiasm and humor. Her maps and journals began to get stashed away and lost in all her journals and her father would pack up the over piling journals and put them away in the attic and garage storage space. The phone rang.
"Will you marry me?" Asked Harold.
"No, but I'm flattered." Answered Jerry.
Chicago looked promising from the northwest region of Indiana. Summer was coming yet was still far from its first blooming flower. Rain splashed on the busy streets, and the recession was growing worse. The economy had been swallowing itself in larger gulps as the president of the U.S. was being blamed for not caring for the relevant matters of the people. Although jobs at the post offices were being lost in the thousands, other jobs were being opened up for hire. There was hope. Yet the worst was to come.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
City
Today after five years of independantly living in Chicago I've come across an article in the newspaper about a young womans experience living alone in the city, working, meeting people, joining clubs, and the differences of the life she was used to growing up in the suburbs. I was liberated to read this article as memories of making friends out of strangers, chosing places to eat, live, work was in abundance.
I was yet relieved when no one asked me for rides, to borrow books, clothes, or would just walk right into my house the way it used to be in the suburbs. The woman mentioned that in the city these things happened much less.
I was yet relieved when no one asked me for rides, to borrow books, clothes, or would just walk right into my house the way it used to be in the suburbs. The woman mentioned that in the city these things happened much less.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Mary Jane
The summer in Indiana rolled into a hot drought in June. It was the time Kelly decided to drive Bernard and his fiance Fran to Bernards cancer treatments. The ride would be over an hour drive east down the traffic infested highway and construction detours. There were car accidents most days of each week from the full four weeks Kelly would be driving them.
It was Bernards car that he requested to be taken in and sitting in the back seat on Kellys left hand side she could view his frail state for he was tall and very thin. In the passenger seat sat Fran, a petite woman in her seventys' with a keen and alert sense in caring for her partner. The sun showed itself most days and rain poured heavily at different intervals each ride back to dropping the couple off at home.
There was wooded valleys on both sides for miles along the highway to Bernards doctors office. Kelly drove the speed limit with concern for her passengers in the car, and paid most of her attention to the road in front of her in the midst of her chatty desire with the classy and elegant Fran Di Eloise whose sons owned a successful business in New Hampshire selling farm equiptment such as plows and tractors.
She talked joyfully of her family and her hopes for their future success with their families and company. Each day grew more and more pleasant in conversation that began with small chat about Kelly's city antics in modeling, art, and office work. Kelly told of her relationships with co-workers, boyfriends, the late night partying, and her turn to come home and focus on her career with fear and a intrigue. She discovered that while telling Fran of her city adventures that it was a steady hum in her heart that brought her to realization as to what brought her to the city in the first place, dreadfully it was to run away from herself. Frans eyes grew disinterested and she looked out the window with sincerity in her voice.
Fran was Kellys mothers and her good friend who was there years ago during a traumatic time in Kellys young life. Kelly faced a car accident that brought her patience and grace in her recovery from a traumatic head injury. Fran warmly invited a young Kelly into her home and they sang, prayed, and ate french toast with Frans touch of frying oil for crisp and melted butter.
Bernard came into Frans life soon after Kelly strengthened from her injuries. The two love birds danced and ate out romantically on weekends and took many trips to Florida where Bernards grandchildren resided. Bernard made Fran very happy within those years. Fran on the phone in the waiting room with her Mary Jane Candy while Bernard was in radiation kept a poised expression and firmness in her voice to take care of new appointments Bernard would be facing in his final days of cancer. Bernard carried a charm, and hearty sense of humor with Kelly she noticed stunned. He taught her a thing or two contructively about driving, and dieting and Kelly listened and learned intently with willingness.
Kelly brought them coffee sometimes and would find a quiet place in the clinic to move to the vending machine room to get rid of her car sickness. Yet in her gut she felt nothing more important than to sit by the elderly friends side each moment. As difficult as it was to see how sharp and in charge little Fran was for her Bernard Kelly knew Fran to be a trully Godly woman. Each visit Fran would take one Mary Jane from the front desk bowl of candy. Wrapped in its yellow and red wax paper, Kelly watched with calmly and still Frans soft and pale petite fingers open the candy.
It was Bernards car that he requested to be taken in and sitting in the back seat on Kellys left hand side she could view his frail state for he was tall and very thin. In the passenger seat sat Fran, a petite woman in her seventys' with a keen and alert sense in caring for her partner. The sun showed itself most days and rain poured heavily at different intervals each ride back to dropping the couple off at home.
There was wooded valleys on both sides for miles along the highway to Bernards doctors office. Kelly drove the speed limit with concern for her passengers in the car, and paid most of her attention to the road in front of her in the midst of her chatty desire with the classy and elegant Fran Di Eloise whose sons owned a successful business in New Hampshire selling farm equiptment such as plows and tractors.
She talked joyfully of her family and her hopes for their future success with their families and company. Each day grew more and more pleasant in conversation that began with small chat about Kelly's city antics in modeling, art, and office work. Kelly told of her relationships with co-workers, boyfriends, the late night partying, and her turn to come home and focus on her career with fear and a intrigue. She discovered that while telling Fran of her city adventures that it was a steady hum in her heart that brought her to realization as to what brought her to the city in the first place, dreadfully it was to run away from herself. Frans eyes grew disinterested and she looked out the window with sincerity in her voice.
Fran was Kellys mothers and her good friend who was there years ago during a traumatic time in Kellys young life. Kelly faced a car accident that brought her patience and grace in her recovery from a traumatic head injury. Fran warmly invited a young Kelly into her home and they sang, prayed, and ate french toast with Frans touch of frying oil for crisp and melted butter.
Bernard came into Frans life soon after Kelly strengthened from her injuries. The two love birds danced and ate out romantically on weekends and took many trips to Florida where Bernards grandchildren resided. Bernard made Fran very happy within those years. Fran on the phone in the waiting room with her Mary Jane Candy while Bernard was in radiation kept a poised expression and firmness in her voice to take care of new appointments Bernard would be facing in his final days of cancer. Bernard carried a charm, and hearty sense of humor with Kelly she noticed stunned. He taught her a thing or two contructively about driving, and dieting and Kelly listened and learned intently with willingness.
Kelly brought them coffee sometimes and would find a quiet place in the clinic to move to the vending machine room to get rid of her car sickness. Yet in her gut she felt nothing more important than to sit by the elderly friends side each moment. As difficult as it was to see how sharp and in charge little Fran was for her Bernard Kelly knew Fran to be a trully Godly woman. Each visit Fran would take one Mary Jane from the front desk bowl of candy. Wrapped in its yellow and red wax paper, Kelly watched with calmly and still Frans soft and pale petite fingers open the candy.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Recipe: A Summer Smudge
Ingredients
1 cup of peanut butter
Tspn of Vanilla Extract
5-6 shakes of cinnomon
Directions:
Mix them all up in a bowl. Microwave for ten seconds. Alternative: Add 2 tspns of honey and 1/2 cup of milk for a smoother and sweeter taste.
Slice a french bread roll and spread the sweet delight on for a snack with risque and unique flavor.
1 cup of peanut butter
Tspn of Vanilla Extract
5-6 shakes of cinnomon
Directions:
Mix them all up in a bowl. Microwave for ten seconds. Alternative: Add 2 tspns of honey and 1/2 cup of milk for a smoother and sweeter taste.
Slice a french bread roll and spread the sweet delight on for a snack with risque and unique flavor.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Happy
Sunrise to sunset no room to fret or fear. The future turns and rolls over in circles over a hot surface that burns. Belong to a routine of what you have created if you know what I mean. Living wet and crumbled missing what you left. You think what you say is nothing when all you say is something.
Dig into that or dig into that. Where is it taking you if your words are watery and sword fiery. Imagine her deeper as she holds his hand and you can't let go the thought ignites. His piercing dark green eyes are now a blessing in disguise. You see him in your sunrise, you dream him in your sunset. You piece him in your imagination and once just a selection now a fascination.
Nails to flesh, shards of glass or bliss. Happy to miss the cure of that one kiss. Unfinished twists blurring the signs, a start without a finish in the maze stuck in thorny vines. It feels like forever longer than the temporary never. Theres the wet and muddy tracks of together or the airy and spacy plaques of apart. A new law of my world Elton Johns Love Songs at every wedding and funeral on a live piano.
Dig into that or dig into that. Where is it taking you if your words are watery and sword fiery. Imagine her deeper as she holds his hand and you can't let go the thought ignites. His piercing dark green eyes are now a blessing in disguise. You see him in your sunrise, you dream him in your sunset. You piece him in your imagination and once just a selection now a fascination.
Nails to flesh, shards of glass or bliss. Happy to miss the cure of that one kiss. Unfinished twists blurring the signs, a start without a finish in the maze stuck in thorny vines. It feels like forever longer than the temporary never. Theres the wet and muddy tracks of together or the airy and spacy plaques of apart. A new law of my world Elton Johns Love Songs at every wedding and funeral on a live piano.
Dad
From Chicago to Indiana theres no place like home. There are many days in a year and time spent with the little annoyances of dads belches of habit and moms monstrous sneezes. Sometimes blaring Elton John Sad Song, is the only choice out of crawling in a bedroom corner with a pillow until the next day or stretching out your dreams until your thoughts are bleeding.
Stay conscious I tell my self. Theres someone out there who can relate. From paranoia of having a small mind to losing out on winning souls you just have to wait for the strong finish of an indescribable start. Go with the familiar or think outside the box I read over and over that its really your choice. I wanted to say what I thought to say after I left that I had planned to say in the first place. Patterns of reasons why things don't come out pile high justified in my mind.
Summers, Falls, Winters, Springs, and all the inbetween prolongings year after tearful dreary eyed year. Goals, and disclipine for a high chin. The pouring out of learned things for the knowing nose.
Can any prayer rebuild the choices to come? Where will the day shout for joy today? Songs played and engrained over and over for the sane. Come inside so I can kick you out again dad, your the best dad I can ever have because you are the only dad I have so thanks for moving out of the way for me when I couldn't.
Stay conscious I tell my self. Theres someone out there who can relate. From paranoia of having a small mind to losing out on winning souls you just have to wait for the strong finish of an indescribable start. Go with the familiar or think outside the box I read over and over that its really your choice. I wanted to say what I thought to say after I left that I had planned to say in the first place. Patterns of reasons why things don't come out pile high justified in my mind.
Summers, Falls, Winters, Springs, and all the inbetween prolongings year after tearful dreary eyed year. Goals, and disclipine for a high chin. The pouring out of learned things for the knowing nose.
Can any prayer rebuild the choices to come? Where will the day shout for joy today? Songs played and engrained over and over for the sane. Come inside so I can kick you out again dad, your the best dad I can ever have because you are the only dad I have so thanks for moving out of the way for me when I couldn't.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Quiet Confidence
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Desert sand.
The matter of millions of rocks, millions of stars, millions of thoughts, and millions
of wars. The one in my head is the longest I stand. I'm still walking up the stairway to heaven. My heart is no tart, not sour or a part. Its a whole colorful flow of an ocean. Salty notions and fragile seas, devotion and majesties.
Where do I go, and where is my home. I want to live here, while I'm here. I don't know how to not fear the day or the year. Money is poverty, but poverty is not money. My socks stink and are sweaty. I sit all day, and walk all night in my dreams. There is no where that I can say I feel fine and reign.
I'm sick of spinning, my head grinning. I'm nodding and a big part of me is flogging. I have been filling in a big part of me that was torn and ripped out, and I don't even think it will ever be enough to route.
I've found a love as sweet as can be. He's made of chocolate and covered in cherry. His smile is a style of elegance and grace. His beast is not in the least a bit in the way. Theres room for us all in the roll of hay. Then we lie along the dock of the bay.
of wars. The one in my head is the longest I stand. I'm still walking up the stairway to heaven. My heart is no tart, not sour or a part. Its a whole colorful flow of an ocean. Salty notions and fragile seas, devotion and majesties.
Where do I go, and where is my home. I want to live here, while I'm here. I don't know how to not fear the day or the year. Money is poverty, but poverty is not money. My socks stink and are sweaty. I sit all day, and walk all night in my dreams. There is no where that I can say I feel fine and reign.
I'm sick of spinning, my head grinning. I'm nodding and a big part of me is flogging. I have been filling in a big part of me that was torn and ripped out, and I don't even think it will ever be enough to route.
I've found a love as sweet as can be. He's made of chocolate and covered in cherry. His smile is a style of elegance and grace. His beast is not in the least a bit in the way. Theres room for us all in the roll of hay. Then we lie along the dock of the bay.
All the things I've passed by.
I'm being shaped and formed for the truth and spirit of the most powerful responsibility. Here comes the moon shining over my window over the city, I've never have serenity. I don't know what it is. But I do believe its not enough for me.
I'm changing my mind, and my thoughts, and time. I'm good with many things but I am only going to do one. OH oh I ach so. I'm tired. I'm quiet. My heart is snow. I'm silent. I don't know where to go. Emotions have gone out the window. I can't act, I can't try. I don't deny to identify.
I don't have a clue what Ive been up to. Maybe I've gone mad and lie about everything I said.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)