Polishing a Turd

     For a few days, I've been trying to:

1.  Eat less overall.  (did super well at work, then blew it when I got home.  My two supreme weaknesses got me... chili spaghetti and Angelo's Pizza)
2.  Eat more fruit.
3.  Get consistent on drinking enough water (I'm sketchy on this one.  Rock some days, suck on others).
4.  Walk more.  (failed semi-spectacularly one day, next day did a little better, did even better today, though nothing near my pre-flop walking routine).

On top of those action items, I also decided to gussy myself up some, so I got some crap to put on my hair, scheduled a haircut for later in the month at a "fancy" place (Trim on 12th Ave in Nashville.  They are amazing), and got my nails and toenails done.  The entire time I was doing this, I felt as if I were polishing a turd.  I've been informed by two people (one of whom was a bit angry) that this I incorrect.  I don't see how, but I appreciate the sentiment.  I now have lovely brown hair, shiny nails and toenails, but I still am a lumpy sack of dough who has not yet gotten the hang of defeating out of control appetite and lack of energy.  So, I'm going to go with my original thought.  I am a shiny turd.  Perhaps next week I will be a shiny pig's ear.  I'm still shooting for silk purse, but baby steps, people.

The FLOOP Path

     Well, it would appear that I have taken approximately the first 5,000 or so steps on an unintentional and completely undesired journey.  It may have been inevitable that these things happen, as genetics, life changes, less than satisfactory habits, and lack of time/knowledge can create a perfect crapstorm.  But, here I am on a path that pisses me off.
     Genetically speaking, I am my mother in a multitude of ways.  As of 48 to two years ago we had these things in common: uterus problems of the insanely painful and undiagnosable sort, blood sugar irregularities (me low, her high), appearance in the I looked just like her when she was younger way, migraines, a fairly unproductive stoicism, chest pain/high cholesterol, and a less than optimal digestive system.  Yeah, it's fun to be us.
     So, being determined to not gain a lot of weight and end up diabetic, having heart attacks randomly, and generally feeling like mom does; I spent a lot of time not eating, playing paintball, going to the gym, and hitting the dreadmill at home.  A lot.  Of time.  It worked.  I managed to hold off the extremely sudden and dramatic weight gain that happened to mom.  At my house we call it "flooping".  You go along, looking like normal; then one day you look in the mirror and your body explosively expands and makes a sound something like FLOOP!  Well, I managed not to floop.  For a while.
     Life changed, as it has a tendency to do.  My schedule became such that gym, dreadmill and paintball time became extinct.  Other priorities took precedence.  I was convinced to quit smoking by a new influence in life simultaneously with the lack of exercise, so metabolism took a major nosedive.  And don't tell me how good for me it is to quit smoking, because I just don't really care.  Feeding new family members reacquainted me with eating, and I eat more now than I ever have in my life.  Since appetite is now through the roof and almost uncontrollable, I have FLOOPED like no other person has ever flooped.  In two years, everything changed.  I hate it.  It looks nasty; I hurt all over; and I have never felt this bad in my entire life. 
     I do understand how this happened and all the different influences that interfered with my plan for my body.  I do understand, also, the steps needed in order to halt and reverse this process.  That leads me back to the current undesired path I'm on.  I have to fight this insane appetite, while feeding or being with family members who eat things I shouldn't.  I have to take time from some needed activities (OK.  I know video games are not necessary activities. But, relaxation and fun are necessary so it still counts!) to get back on the exercise track.  While on the exercise track I am going to have to deal with the crazy muscle and joint pain that intensified with the floopage.  (It's probably worsening fibromyalgia, but whatever.)  And did I mention lack of energy and stressful job environment? 
     While the get past this path is walkable, I am very, very annoyed that I got on the path in the first place when I had been trying so diligently to avoid it.  So, I'm going to walk it while being pissy about it.  And I may log my progress, efforts, and pissiness on here.  The moral of the story at the end of this tale will be, "Heed this warning.  DO NOT ALLOW LIFE TO TAKE YOU DOWN THE FLOOP PATH!  AVOID IT AT ALL COSTS!"
     I'm already two days behind on logging items.  So, to catch up I'll post a couple a day.


    

Quietude

Do not speak, from thus comes discord and blame

Do not fail, as that leads to sorrow and shame

Do not dream, for this invites the critical

Do not hear, because words invade dreadful

Do not think, since thought requires release

And as we all know, the first rule is don’t speak.

Alice

My name is Alice, and it's no wonder
I have issues from time to time.
It seems I lose my place a lot
not knowing which one is real.
I've lost what I loved by giving it up,
whole-heartedly breaking my heart.
But, that didn't fix the fractured life,
bring peace, contentment, or joy.
Instead, I lie bleeding from multitudinous cuts
sustained while crashing
through your looking glass.

The Replacements

Line on up, smile at me shyly
Let me see that gleam in your eyes
Don’t tell me your name, I don’t want to know
Don’t care who you are, just give it and go
Don’t ask me anything, don’t speak at all
Keep your hands in the ride til the ride is done
Get your clothes, turn around
Hit the door and go home.
I’ve no interest in your life, your loves, your pain or joy
What I want tonight is a breakable toy
So give me some play, anonymous game
Limp away in pieces, I’ll stay the same
A girl has needs, not necessarily you
As long as it’s good, almost anyone will do
Don’t care who you are, just give it and go
Don’t tell me your name, I don’t want to know.
I won’t see you next week, next month, or next year
Don’t care where you go, just don’t come back here
Keep your hands in the ride til the ride is done
Get your clothes, turn around, hit the door and go home.
Tomorrow night, another line
Another shy smile with gleaming eyes.
No questions, no words, no names, no heart
No beginnings, no endings, no feelings, don’t start.
I don’t care who you are, who you were, who you’ll be.
This isn’t about you, it’s only for me.
If I can hurt you, I will, with no thought or guilt.
You’re a replacement fuck. You don’t mean shit.
I don’t want to know, so don’t tell me your name
Smile at me shyly, escape unscathed.

New Life

My love's not a gift, it's a prize to be won
I gave it before, it was stomped on,
so if you want it; this treasure to keep,
full of shine and soul, sweetness and heat,
you'll put in the time, the work, and the dreams,
but the prize, though amazing, is no longer free.

Yeah, I know. You don't have to agree with me.

I look at trees and I see god.
In rotten corpses, too.
The sun in spring, the smell of fall,
And both sides live in you.
Love and hate. Joy and pain.
Tornados, storms, rain.
I see them all, clearly and well
There is no such thing as hell.

I look at man and I see god.
In slaughtered children, too.
The gifts of time, the work to heal.
And both sides live in you.
Love and peace. Greed and war.
Hatred, anger, pain.
I see them all, clearly and well.
You’ve created your vision of hell.

Invisible

Struck blind suddenly
Can’t see anything
Big picture, what’s in front of me
Future, what will or won’t be
Deaf, too and somewhat mute
There’s nothing left to say
No one to talk to.
Nothing I want, nowhere to go.
Nothing I need, except maybe peace
With no memories or dreams
To torture my sleep.
Can’t see the next step
Though being pushed from behind
Maybe it’s a cliff,
Good thing I am blind.
People try to reach me
Through the haze I’m in.
It’s easy to dodge
To stay silent, so thin
Almost invisible
In a cold, hard world
Sleep on the rocks
And wait for no more.

Death Came By

If I were yours, and you were mine
We’d fight, Oh my, we’d fight.
Both of us stubborn, both of us right
Both volatile under the calm.
But, rather than part us, we’d be energized
As compromise always moves forward.
Then the twists and turns that make us a team
Would lead us back to the place
Where I matter, as do you
But, death came by, and you moved on
And I really miss your face.

Bloody Shirt

Kiss my heart and make it better.
It fell so hard, and it hurts.
There's a hole in my chest,
blood on my shirt.
I'm afraid it won't heal over.
I want my revenge, I want you in pain,
but I want you happy more.
I want to get angry, slam the door,
instead watch it, wishing in vain,
and all I want in the end,
is for you to be healthy and free,
doing whatever you will
while I bleed out, alone and unseen
too numb to move, too hurt to scream.

Wrote this one a few months ago.

Understudy

They give me the lines
that you could but don't
Give me emotions
you should but won't.
Semblance of meaning
hit all their marks
Follow the script
not from the heart
Life is a play
and I am it's stage
Scene and Act III
tragedy well-played.

Stupid Question

Of course I'm not OK.
What a stupid question.
Rib cage is cracked open
and all is exposed.
Nerve endings raw and screaming.
So, how could you look at that
and still ask?  Damn.
You hit me in the face with a sledgehammer
so I wouldn't hurt.  The logic in that
is beyond me and my eradicated face.
My brain and eyeballs still work
and I see what I see.
And none of it is pretty.
You are exactly where you want to be
(with the exception of dying), and
with whom you want to be, also.
All explanations are useless slight of hand,
and I just can't be that blind.
You trust me, while saying you don't,
but you tell me things I could use against you.
I am a comfort, your back up if you need it,
but other than that, I'm nothing.
If anyone deserves a meal ticket from you,
that person would be me, for the simple reasons
that I don't want one, since I won't use you,
and no matter how hard you crush my face
when you have need or even want, really,
faceless and bloody, I'll fill it.
All that means is I give but don't take,
and you take without giving.
So, really, no, I'm not fine,
and I'm offended you can even ask.

Trash Day

Don't want to be discarded
like yesterday's trash
or burdened with the knowledge
that this won't be the last
time that I'll be garbage
in someone else's eyes.
It seems it's always something
that makes me simply less;
not good enough, bad enough,
pretty, smart, stupid, strong,
and the big ones--not helpless
or independent enough.
So, I don't know why I tried
this one last ridiculous time
Cuz it just buried the spinning hatchet
and I'm not going to fight.
There is no reason why
I should.  Garbage from birth--
garbage 'til death, and fuck--
make that soon.
If it's trash I am,
then it's trash I'll be.
I deserve nothing more or less.

Balancing Act

I remember the weekend,
  the one that was happy
and how you watched me
  whenever you spoke.
I remember you smiling
  standing there, beautiful,
and holding my hand while you slept.

But, now it's Tuesday, too cold
  and rainy, so hard and dark.
You told me goobye
  sorry, it's done.
There's another who's less likely to hurt.

I remember you speaking
  for me when needed
and laughing so hard at my jokes
  and taking care of me in a few small ways,
enough to matter, but not choke.

But, then it was over and packing up
  I heard you cough in the trailer
and I knew then, bad was coming
  balanced out by the good we just had.
And I was right, a week and a half later
  Tuesdays are forever changed.

I haven't slept since Monday night.
I try, but dreams of you wake me.
I can't seem to eat more than 3 bites a day
I cry from my good memories, and balance maintains
but soon, the grief will fade.

But, still I remember you driving my car
  like it was yours, and that memory
is also a sweet one to keep.
  I remember playing the game and you
keeping me near, but not so near to constrain.

So you walk just the line I need
  between caring and trust that I can
handle myself.  You walk the line between
  kindness and rage equally well at times,
since integration isn't your thing.
  And you never look so beautiful as when you wear
the brown jersey and pants, relaxing
  and smile down at me.

But the greatest beauty I have
  to remember is when you held my hands
whille inside me and spoke perfectly sweet words
  at perfect times.
But now it is Wednesday
  a week and a half later
and I'm skinnier, weaker, but hanging on
  to the cherished memories and goodbye.

Back to Back

It's not me, it's you.
Yeah, we both know that.
I don't want nothin'
outta you that you wanna keep.
You just play.
We both know that, too.
Cards, ballin', head games;
That's a full life you've got going there.
Well, my fun times and good ear
should be moving on.
Don't wanna burn on the bridge
as it goes up, so wave and turn your back
on me and my gas can.
Pull it back in, lock it up tight.
Believe it's not there.
Head back to games that don't scare.

Lessons in Flannel

I have a red shirt, faded and worn,
smelling faintly of vanilla.
It never makes it quite to the hanger;
it just calls to be put on.
It's never buttoned or accompanied by
other items of clothing.
It's partnered, instead, with snapshots
of you, watching me laugh with serious eyes
and bemused, half-smile on your face.
That was the moment, the second I knew
that given the time, it was you
who could see me exactly as me
and end the cliff jumping for good.
That safe and secure could never be boring,
comfort a gateway to weakness.
I wish we'd had the red shirt before
when we first wanted each other.
The decade between could have filled the void
of the photos not taken and saved.  I regret
the years of missing that look and you quietly telling me why
you liked the shirt and loved me in it.
That path we ignored, then came back to, too late,
makes the hardest word, simply, Goodbye.

Kicked Puppy

I am a stupid girl.
Self-preservation not a strong point.
Running like mad toward the edge of a cliff
Convinced that flying can happen.
And even if it's just a long fall
What a rush that last step will be
Blood pumping, hair blowing
wind on my skin and roaring in my ears.
Adrenaline addiction
So what if the river below is dry as a bone this time?
Broken and bleeding and twisted on rocks
is fine if I land on my back
so looking up the sheer cliff face
at the sky, the edge, the trees
perhaps I'll see a flock of birds, clouds,
maybe a lone eagle. 
Then, truthfully, I'll be able to say
"For a moment, I joined you."

Flipside

You do some of your best work in denial

Convince yourself, convince yourself

That Evil is real, punishable by death

That doing right by harm proves it

Staying afloat seals it

Violence and force aren’t just another part
Flipside to the planet, nature, universe, us

Convince yourself, convince yourself

That one of your extremes is the bad side

When it’s just another piece

Manipulation that is almost lie

Heap abuse on others and you

When control slips what can you make them do

Convince yourself, convince yourself

That the dead were murdered

And the killer must pay

That selfishness is a fatal flaw

That to reveal what you are is at best a deal killer

That crazy is a reason rather than a life

Convince yourself, to hide your flipside

From you, from me, friends, not foes

Hit the next level of crazy and run/hide

Wake up decades earlier a week later

Don’t get played, all the while playing

Convince yourself, what’s in your blood

You put there, maybe you did or maybe not

Maybe it’s just the cards since the world is harsh

Torture yourself on the rack of judgment

When you do what you do

Neither you is right, nor is he wrong

There has never been just one

We are all cut in two

Void

Gehenna's burning.
Watch the fire.
The warmth it brings
is worth the price.
The void is filling
with useless things.
Gehenna's burning.
My personal pyre.

Honesty dies
with flames bright white.
Then loyalty goes
and burns dark gold.
Kindness is thrown
and glows soft rose,
but love, it gleams,
burns black, and screams.

The last two, I promise.

Record Keeping
For the record,
you are the most beautiful
person I've ever seen.
Even your darkness has beauty.
And your light...
so bright it shines
'til blinding.
But, really,
is there anything else to see?

For the record
I saw the evil you tried to hide,
and it was beautiful, too.
So, think about it, long and hard.
How many people
bother to look.
And, really,
love all there is to see?

Keep it
You hang on to it
because I don't want it
kindness and giving bring no profit
caring for others offers no return.
So you keep it
the best of me
at no cost to you
completely free
but don't expect to earn any gain
it's obviously worthless
never brought me anything.

According to you
that's completely my fault
operator error. Maybe.
It's probably true.
The manual confused
and the times I've tried equal three.
Third time's the charm,
and I've figured it out.
I'm only good at one thing.
That one thing won't last, so
everything else, do without.

All right. Done now. Moving on.