Horlbeck Creek

taken this morning, prior to my first solo row

Weltschmerz

Weltschmerz (noun): a mood of sentimental sadness, a mental depression or apathy caused by being idealistic in the face of reality
if we haven't spoken since high school, lemme tell you something.
high school was 10 years ago.
people have told me that i look 22 or 12 or something. i am even the same size i was at 18. in the course of a decade, life has happened, and a woman, not a girl, is writing this blog. i've got a set of [figurative] balls.
it is tempting to be remiss over this, that, or the other. someone wise once told me that we have to mess up a great deal to finally get it right.
i am speaking of love mostly, and career.

trudy's winter coat

she tries it differently every year. every year she'll add something, a swatch of fabric, a decorative edge: anything to draw attention but most everyone laughs. one day she'll get it right.

significant

today the tip of the bridge has become a pinnacle, and the clouds around the setting sun resemble a fried egg.

we are, all of us, blinded by the immersion of sunlight directly in the eyes. one hand on the wheel, the other cupped over the brow, driving home to our lives.

i rise before the sun, chase it to the timeclock, and face it again at the close of nine hours.
it could all be another day with nothing special or significant.

i've spent so much time coming and going to work that it could become that way. life is gift, not a familiar friend to spend time with or lose track of. or is it?

significant

today the tip of the bridge has become a pinnacle, and the clouds around the setting sun resemble a fried egg.

we are, all of us, blinded by the immersion of sunlight directly in the eyes. one hand on the wheel, the other cupped over the brow, driving home to our lives.

i rise before the sun, chase it to the timeclock, and face it again at the close of nine hours.
it could all be another day with nothing special or significant.

i've spent so much time coming and going to work that it could become that way. life is gift, not a familiar friend to spend time with or lose track of. or is it?

they want their illusions

*so much thought and effort has been placed on me, and it's sickening. this will be the last piece of this nature for some time.
there is too much information; there is too much education.
and the words tumble out, with those thoughts you won't repress, until they're stepping away, don't know how to handle it.
you were always told
"be yourself; be true; don't worry
if they can't cut it, if they leave you high and dry.
they looked in the mirror when they met you, and they want their illusions.
settle
when you are appreciated.
it will take time to embrace you, because
alone
you challenge convention, and then you open your mouth."

the standard

peanut butter in your beard,
curl of your lip,
and another quick quip
made the trip to school.

your replies to any whim
of a nickname created,
snapped it up like
any word out of poetry,
made the banter fulfilling.

line drawings to color
in a now timeless afternoon,
coupled with puns
and imparted lessons learned
made my childhood.

gentlemanly decorum, flecked
with testoterone
and open sensitivity
derived from your heart
made the standard.

you are the man
of my dreams, the pragmatism
to another melodramatic storm.
you are, evidently,
whatever could be needed
and you give more.

rowing, going, like a rebutle

when you are in the middle of a creek with a punny middle-aged man, you have two options:
a) take an oar to the side of his head to create silence
b) offer an ersatz appreciation, promising yourself that the dock isn't far away

i prefer to submerge myself in the deluge that there is a strapping man, hans, who is going to instruct me next time. aaaaah.