Ahhhhh…….

Ahhhh….. that was nice.  Birthday massage today was lovely.  I fought off snoozing as much as I could, but drifted off a couple times anyway.  So nice.  Thanks to my wonderful friends for that gift!  😀

So my Jays have been playing quite well of late, and I’d just like to point out they’ve been putting my Johnny Mac in the games consistently.  He’s been working on his swing and it seems to be improving, which is really great for me to see because heck, that’s really the only thing (oh, and those pesky Yankee fans who just vote for their own) keeping him from winning a Gold Glove.  I mean, really folks, this guy deserves it.  His defensive stats are impeccable.  Just because he’s had trouble hitting doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be ignored for the honour, since the Gold Glove is supposed to reward defense.  Okay, enough out of me.  It’s been said a million times by others, anyway.

Today a lady came up to me in the grocery store, with her daughter shyly clinging to her leg.  She told me, “I just wanted to let you know, my daughter told me your hair is exactly how she’d like hers to be when she grows up, but she’s too shy to tell you herself.”  I thought it was so sweet.  I thanked her daughter, and thanked her for telling me.  As she walked away, I heard her say, “See?  People like it when you give them compliments.”  A life lesson learned.  🙂

I love it when people compliment my hair.  If you don’t know me, it’s very long, strawberry blonde, and very straight.  I get asked a lot about when I last cut it, and I always reply, “when I was in grade 3.”  I don’t even know for sure that’s exactly when it was, but that’s close enough.  I remember walking out of the salon in Niagara Square, with a bit of a bob hairdo — just below my ears, and slightly curled under….. very bouncy, which is of course very fun for a little girl.  Anyway, I always get a kick out of the different responses people have to it.  There are several, and I’ll detail them here, including what I’m thinking, and what I actually say:

  • “Wow!  You have such long hair!”

What I’m thinking:

“Really?  Oh, so that explains the hairy thing that’s been following me around lately.”

What I actually say:

“Yup!  It’s pretty long, eh?”

  • “How long did it take you to grow your hair?”/ “When was the last time you cut your hair?”

What I’m thinking:

“An eternity/An eternity ago.  Probably before I was even born.”

What I actually say:

“Well, the last time I cut it was in grade 3.”

  • “It must take a long time to wash, eh?”

What I’m thinking:

“…..because things take a long time to get wet?”

What I actually say:

“Actually, not really.  But it takes forever to dry.”

  • “How long does it take to dry?  You must need a blow dryer, huh?”

What I’m thinking:

“Not unless my palm frond-fanning servants are taking the day off.”

What I actually say:

“Yes.  Without one, it takes hours to dry.”

  • “How do you keep it so nice and shiny?”

What I’m thinking:

“I don’t ever shower.  It’s just greasy.”

What I actually say:

“Thanks, I just make sure to use conditioner.”

  • “Have you ever thought about cutting it?”

What I’m thinking:

“Every time I have this conversation with someone.”  (just kidding)

What I actually say:

“Yes, fairly often.  I just never seem to get around to doing it, so I guess I just like it.”

  • “You should donate it to Cuts For Cancer”

What I’m thinking:

Okay, this one really gets to me.  Clearly, I’m attached (quite literally) to my hair.  Telling me I *should* donate it kind of offends me, even if it’s well-meaning.  If someone has spent a lot of time working on something, you don’t just suggest they give it away, so why is this any different?  For one, it’s like saying “You have a good feature; get rid of it.”  On top of that, donating hair to this cause is SO prominent in today’s society, it’s like asking if I’ve been living in a cave, to have never thought of donating it.  If you want to know the truth, I have spent a lot of money and effort over the years on it, to just donate it like all the people who never really take good care of their hair but donate it anyway (and the wig-makers still make great wigs out of that hair).  That’s not to say it’s not a good cause or anything, but I would rather sell my hair for money, and donate some of the money to finding a cure for cancer.  Or, I would like to have my hair made into a wig that I could give someone I know who has cancer.  For me, that would be more meaningful.  Besides, it’s like seeding, growing, and harvesting a crop and then being expected to donate it to the Food Bank.  I have heard there are companies that pay a substantial amount of money for hair in good condition, and honestly, I wouldn’t mind making a little money from it if I could.  After all, I have looked after it all these years; I feel pressured and a bit annoyed when people act as if I don’t deserve my own hair.  I hope I don’t sound like a mean old witch, and I hope I’ve explained myself alright.

What’s even more frustrating is that often people will have this “epiphany” that I should donate my hair, and then they get more and more excited about it, saying I should do this, or that, and they get so happy about it, it’s like they won’t be satisfied until I say I’ll agree to do it.

“Guhh.  This again.”

What I actually say:

“Yeah, I have thought about it.  Maybe sometime.”

  • “It must be pretty heavy, eh?”

What I’m thinking:

“Imagine it soaking wet!”

What I actually say:

“Haha I don’t even notice it.  It grows slowly, and my muscles have just adapted to it now.”

  • “Nice hair!”

What I’m thinking:

“Thanks!”

What I actually say:

“Thanks!”  😉

 

Alright, enough of that for now.  If I remember more later, I’ll post them, too.  Time for bed!

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Dead End

he came back
when the sky was crying
and said a speech
we were supposed to understand
and by the time the water turned
he was long gone
evaporated
with a residue of truth
well, if I got it
I never let on
and with new life
the dead end where we’d begun
the climb

under the forest canopy
you just might join me
if you could just find me

he came back
when the sky was friendly
but didn’t preach
what we couldn’t stand
and by the time the candle burned
we were long gone
carbon-dated
with the residue of youth

well, if I got it
I never let on
and with new life
the dead end where we’d begun
the climb

          

           

Copyright L.M. 2008.

What Will Never Break

maybe I’m just greedy
I’m taking too long
maybe I am happy
and just didn’t know
maybe I’m not lying
I’m just waiting for the truth

tear it apart
you think that you can
tear it open
again and again
tear it apart
but it never will
break

maybe sleeping’d be good
I’d rather not know
maybe it’s something I should
try on my own
some night for a change
one horn won’t find me truth

tear it apart
you think that you can
tear it open
again and again
tear it apart
but it will never
break
no, it won’t ever break

pyraminds, waterfalls
katydids, overalls
pictures of the truth…..

tear it apart
you think that you can
tear it open
again and again
tear it apart
but it will never
break
no, it won’t ever break

        

        

Copyright L.M. 2008.  (written March 4th, 2008.).

Passed Presence

yesterday I did a lot that will be forgotten
during the day
and upon arrival of the night I sat
within sight of stars and a friend
unable to contain my joy
I don’t care what it meant
it was part of my present

the little questions that crawl
slithering like wily wordsmiths
stab of criminality
inauthenticity
pressure
but I ignore them all
for whatever was meant
was all part of my present

I never ignore the truth
but sometimes it takes a while
and processing asks a fee
when something requires action
it finds a way of surfacing
and regardless of intent
it was all part of my present

if there is a problem with my words
perhaps it’s my turn for the blame?
well, that’s alright, I am strong
I know who I am
and I know what I need
I ask no one’s consent
to take part in my present

moderation is essential
and those who judge harshly
will lead a boring existence
for rules and standards and doctrines
bastardize life
where any threat of deviance
begins the cycle of torments
I live by me and my present

I should not be misunderstood
we all need a conscience
but show me a tribunal
for all our small misdeeds
and I will show you a hymnal
that touts many creeds
so you will see, and thus lament
your state of being, your sole attempt
and every hour you might repent
but I shall bask in my present

why care you of their dissent
life itself bids you relent
she mourns so many lives unspent
tomes filled with these nonevents

the only one you represent
is you, so follow your intent
it is your world to reinvent
and do what makes you most content

now should I like to end my words
with you
right here
my dear
I shall

Copyright L.M. 2007. (originally posted here at 2:15 a.m. tonight.).

Stalemate

I have a sight
I thought somewhere near
takes me a while to
to…..
well I should have lost it
perhaps
maybe
somehow
did
inside it burns
and I shiver
you know it’s cold
so very cold

I’m not hopeless
just delusional
apparently
and to make up
for all the lost time
somehow started
to believe in fairytales
masochistic? probably
I’ve heard it heals
or bides time
with other distraction
sort of like me
I guess that’s ironic
but really, not hopeless
that’s part problem
you see why
it’s the hope that kills
if I were numb
oh to be numb
I would lose fear
I would lose pain
I would lose anger
I would lose love
well, you’ve taught me
you can’t win them all
in my year of luck
my precious months
a troubled match
a frightened soul
helped onto my plate
peppered with perfection
here and there
and when that bell begins
I will be a mistake
and another chapter
in a drama
whose clout extends
far beyond
the amusing present time

I’m sleepless
and you know why
and you won’t tell me

I’m walking the lines
with chains around my neck
ball bearings in my throat
and hands behind my back
and I say “I’m starved”
and you say you’re tired
but give me food
that I can’t eat, smell, see
and say it ought to be enough
but death takes its toll
bending all rules
portraying life as such
well you feel remorse
but upon the next
bestow a fresh nothing
ready to be devoured
and kill another
just like before me
me
and after me

I’m still sleepless
could you tell me why?

I did have a dream though
yes I had to wake you up
you transformed
into the jerk
and I couldn’t get you to leave
I awoke frightened
with the door open

do you realize
character and honesty
can both be judged
by ignoring words altogether
and looking
solely
on what you do

so in this pretend world
this fantasy of yours
some things bleed
into mine
and I try to see
subtract the you
subtract the me
to look right through
to reality
but look at me
I play the fool
I’m just the tool
to set you free
of memory
of any need
of honesty
responsibility
respectability
honour, value
worth, and truth
you see, all these
I could be for you
but that fantasy
well it bleeds too
into one which you
have saved for me
I still can’t sleep
and I blame you

Copyright L.M. 2007.

Open Mic Night

a night of hills
rounding o’er the surprises
at the almost intangible
we crashed
but would you look now
the sky separated
no more lenses
and look how it shines

sparkled eyes sending
flashes of truth and water
yet you stay
what a day
at the razor edge, slipped
but somehow fell up

how could you doubt
every same word
every same thought
every same hope
that I should see them too
presents your proof

I wanted to see through
the piercing eyes
the flicker I suspected
was maybe for show
mischief like a contact lay
across your iris, scratching thin
just enough to let you know
the trouble you were getting in

yes, I say so honestly
whether or not I should
but this eve you’ve proven
after everything, it’s still good

so all those hills we scrambled over
skating ice and slipping tripping
end up scorching the fruits
and giving something we can put to use

no more lenses, show the truth
look how you shine
and we will be fine
just show me all this hidden you

    

     

Finished: 6:03 a.m., Saturday, December 1st, 2007.

Harbour

if you ask me I will tell
the story of my chance
sentences strung as one
beautiful words taking turns
to paint the scene
of immortal love

if you ask me I won’t hide
won’t push the thoughts aside
you’ve always been light
ever since the first
and I sense till the end
oh to be there, with love

if you ask me I will say
truth to you, one
do you know I’ve been there?
just ask and I will say
like a stem grows each day
to hold its beauty high in the air

yes, love, I’ve been there
I have seen what I should not
and I didn’t want to return
but you — yes, you frighten
I could swear on my life
you take my breath away

love, have you been there?
I want to change your mind
I want to show it could be
love, I beg you to tell me
someday you’ll join me there

      

        

Finished: 6:18 a.m., Tuesday, November 20th, 2007. (adjustments 6:26 a.m. to final verse, same day; further adjustments 6:32 a.m., again to the final verse, again the same day).
Copyright L.M. 2007. (see note on next poem. perhaps exaggeration, emphasis on feeling, not necessarily definition).