Things Could Always Be Worse

In the midst of my somewhat stressful workdays, and everything else that comes along with grown-up life, I would like to simply take a moment to remind myself (and maybe others) that the things we put importance on may, in fact, not be actual “problems,” and that all said and done, we probably have it pretty damned good.

I apologize if some of these images offend; they are meant to provoke thought, to shake out of the mundane trappings of stupid, superficial “life.”  Remember why today was good for you, if it was.

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A Disturbance In Mirrors: Remembering Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath took her own life 48 years ago today.  She would have turned 79 last October.  One of my very favorite poems, of hers or otherwise, follows.

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it—–

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——-

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The Peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand in foot ——
The big strip tease.
Gentleman , ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart—
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—-

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

I Hate Feeling Powerless

I have no idea where to begin tonight’s blog.  My next ’30 Days’ topic isn’t one I want to tackle right now – not hiding from it, just one of those I don’t know how to write about and would rather skip (but I won’t).

This morning was weird.  My other half has been hormonal lately.  And no, I’m not being chauvinist – there’s WAY more to that story, I assure you.  We’ll get to all that another time – over tea or something.  Anyway, she even cried a little as I held her in bed.  She’s in a complicated place at the moment.  And I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it.  And I guess that has to be okay.  One thing I’ve been trying to work on within myself is realizing that when someone around me has a problem or brings a problem to me, I don’t have to take it on and immediately try to help solve it.  Sometimes the best (and/or only) thing to do is simply listen and be there for moral support.  I don’t even have to proactively offer advice, only if asked.  Most people who are just being dramatic bring you problems because they’re hoping you’ll give them advice on how to fix it.  People who are legitimately hurting from something may not even want advice – even if they feel like they do – but rather, may just want someone to vent to, or someone to give two shits for a moment.

So far I suppose it’s working, because I am catching myself thinking about offering a solution, then realizing that I don’t have to and taking another tactic.

But, all in all she’s fine now.  She had a good rest all day (she’s a night owl) and is currently listening to Arabic music and doing a little living room dancing.  This is part of why I love her.

We had a little talk about a big topic we’d been entertaining last fall.  It came up this morning, after I was supremely inspired by a friend’s post on Facebook about an adventure.  I won’t go into any more detail just yet, as I don’t know where (if anywhere) this is going yet.  Anyway, the talk about reassessing that situation turned into not talking about it right now because we don’t want to just “talk about talking about it.”  If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen.  More to come, in some fashion I’m sure.

That turned my mood right around this morning though, after getting that dose of inspiration from my friend’s words.  I sent wifey a text, and a suggestion to discuss this evening.  I went from my solemn, blue mood to a much happier place.

In other news, the weekend’s almost upon us.  I need to get BUSY with some creative projects on my plate – I’ve been asked by a friend to do a commissioned piece (paintings), another friend to work on an image for an outdoor sign for his restaurant, and I have a poetry/art book project I’m in the middle of, as well as editing photos for a photography book.  Ugh!  I wish I could devote my full-time attention to these matters – but then, I’m sure most artists do.  But, alas, I must keep a day job.  Luckily it’s one I do well and like, so I ain’t complainin’ too much.