Squirm

Hey there, all...

This last weekend was an absolute blast; I had a whole lot of fun, 'fit in' a lot better than I worried I wouldn't, and got to know quite a few people I had been meaning to for a while. Today the weather is absolutely gorgeous, not a cloud in the sky, bright sun and cool winds. Work has been pretty fulfilling, there's a generous workload today that makes me feel useful but not overwhelmed, and I have a night of Irish creme and Conan O'Brien to look forward to tonight.

But still, I feel...discontent. Why?

1) Bush is going to attack Iraq without the backing of the UN, which sets an awfully dangerous precedent and flies in the face of diplomatic sense.

2) SARS is spreading still, and even though there are a few promising notes that have been made, the whole thing has a "Stand"-ish quality that's very unnerving.

3) An on-line friendship feels like its detiorating, and I have no idea why. I don't know what to say, and I don't know what he thinks, and the things he says could be taken as condescension but...I don't know whether that's me being hyper-sensitive or observant.

4) I had to wake people up for work *again* because the fellow who normally takes me left without me...*again*. It's not so much the leaving part, but the not-telling part, so I'm left scrambling for a ride five minutes after I've already gotten there.

All of these things are situations that I may or may not be able to do anything about (the first two I *certainly* can't), but there are so many great things right in front of my face that I'm ignoring because of these...worries and fears that I don't let go of, even though it'd be a lot easier to just not worry.

It's an amazing thing to me, how *easy* it is to actually be positive. It's even more amazing that a lot of the time I can't bring myself to do it. The knee-jerk reaction is to react negatively, to hold onto hurt or slighted feelings, to say something that will voice my displeasure and/or hurt other people, or cause arguments, or just make things worse. There's so much less energy involved in letting things slide, in not letting these things affect my mood. But it's like the river's been dug, and even though it's not the straightest line it's the one I'm most familiar with.

I haven't been able to let go of negative feelings towards a specific person for a couple weeks now, and it's making me feel really...anxious. I'm conflicted. This person is a good person, just not compassionate and prone to anger. I don't *want* to dislike him, but I do, and I just don't know what to do about it. I can't let the whole thing drop and go back to the 'way things were', but I don't want to have animosty between us. There's got to be a balance somewhere.

I'm trying very hard to be a compassionate person, without being judgemental, or aversionary to anyone. It's simple, until it gets complicated.

Out to Lunch

According to Reah, delphinios has straight-flavored nipples. :)

Poem: Puzzlebox Mosquito

I've decided to submit about 20 - 30 poems for a chapbook that a poetry review is offering. So, I've been pretty busy cleaning up poems and writing new ones. Especially tonight. <:) Expect a lot over the next few days. And yes, feeling sorry for myself was the inspiration. ;) But hopefully it doesn't sound *too* whiny, and I like the imagery. ******** Puzzlebox Mosquito He lived as a mosquito sawing around people's ears and eyes itching his thoughts into people's skin hoping they would stop for a scratch but he never registered. He thought about dipping his proboscis into a vat of honey or maybe a pickle jar afterwards hoping the taste would carry through bloodstreams and someone would smile. His opinions were a puzzle no one wanted to solve, a black-and-white Rubik's cube with no reward of bright and dark colors to grab the eyes of the company who looked his way. He could fade into any background, even if the squares never matched or if he stood in three-quarter profile to double the monotony of such strikingly different shades of gray. He simply never registered. Even a puzzlebox mosquito has ambitions of his own. Enticing music, a melodic click of his wings hoping someone would step into his parlor and find the collection of eggs something cozy. Every evening he dreamed of being something recognized, a confident arc stretching gracefully, a sweep of light that just was, quiet and illuminating. Every night he dreamed... but he just dreamed.