I will fight
To the end
For the right
To feel

The weight of
My words
In my hands

Intoxication that
Ensues
From the scent
Of my pages

Flittering through
Front to back
Back to front

Savoring satisfaction
Of personal goals
Met and exceeded

As each is placed
Upon the shelf
Among all others

Reminding me always
Anything is possible

I have lived
I have survived
I still am alive

To spin my
Yarns
To tell my
Tales

Refusing to be
Pushed
From my place
On this stage

My fate
My destiny
As was meant
To be

He said he gave her the same smirk right back when she passed out the graded tests at the end of class and his was a big fat A, then proceeded to tell him that she was giving him a zero on the assignment. His question to me, “Why does a teacher who teaches advanced math treat kids like their idiots?!”

Good question…

My immediate response is to fire off an email requesting an impromptu tête-à-tête; and had this been elementary school, I would have done just that. However, we’re in middle school now and everything has changed. He asked that I please just let it go because it’s not worth her excluding him from class and taking it out on him because she’s mad at me for confronting her.

I want to respect his wishes, but the thought of that uppity witch giving my son grief for no good reason and getting away with it, is gnawing at my insides! That’s the one thing I’ve always done; make certain that his teachers know me, and know that his academic career is something I [we] take very seriously. He’s been an honor roll student since first grade, and the thought of him having to put up with nonsensical bullshit from someone whose job it is to educate and prepare him for college, for whatever reason, absolutely chaps my ass!

It’s almost as if they look at middle-school aged kids as a bunch of rowdy heathens that have no interest whatsoever in learning, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth in our case. Cole loves learning; reads anything non-fiction he can get his hands on, filling himself with all the knowledge and information he can contain. And just because he wears the same size shoe as his father doesn’t mean he has an adult sized mind! He’s still a child and while I certainly don’t expect him to be coddled and pampered, I do expect him to be treated with the respect his age and intelligence warrants.

Thought I would feel better after venting, but all I’ve managed to do is raise my blood pressure. Must meditate….

On my visit last Wednesday, he was very happy with the x-ray results, in that my bone is healing nicely, just as it should, with the nightly bone stimulator treatments, but he was concerned that the wound was not healing as it should, and so sent me to the wound care specialist.

Very nice doctor and RN treated me yesterday at hospital; removed the dead area of tissue so that the skin can now properly heal from the inside out. Showed hubby the proper way to clean and dress the wound daily, and sent me home with a bag full of supplies, until the insurance reviews and approves the necessity of providing supplies to me. They also spoke of skin grafting they think will be necessary once the wound has had a couple weeks to heal.

While all this sounds simple and effective, I’m looking at the calendar and counting down the days until January 1st, when my insurance coverage starts all over and a $5000 deductible must be met before the insurance actually kicks in and starts paying for anything, and wondering just how much healing they can get done in the next twelve days; because after that, I’m on my own, whether they like it or not.

This past week the insurance rep came to the office, went over selected coverage, explained the new premiums and such and sent me away with a signed document showing that my 24 annual premium deductions will total $10,500 for 2010. Add the $5000 deductible to that I will be paying a whopping and nauseating $15,500 next year for health insurance!

That’s Fifteen THOUSAND five hundred dollars for health insurance…

FUCK!

Now, before anyone starts in on me, I am well aware how thankful I should be that I work for a company who is even offering health insurance, and I am very grateful; but still…

My husband gave me a gentle reality check when he reminded me of my mother’s unexpected trip to the ER when she was here in November to take care of me and help out immediately after my surgery. She was having belly issues and when she called her doctor in Cincy they told her to get to the hospital STAT. Turns out she has diverticulitis and was experiencing her very first flare. Welcome to the club little mama!

Anyway, she just received the bill from the hospital a week ago, of which her insurance covered completely, outlining each and every expense incurred during her little five hour visit and it was $7300. YOWAZ!

Okay, so twenty grand for health insurance might not be a drop in the bucket of overall expenses we could incur in the span of a year, but damn that’s a lot of my money! Still, I would prefer to select my own coverage and my own physicians rather than have the government do it for me.

Sometimes I just want to be a kid again…

Tonight was date night and we went for a nice romantic dinner for two. I wondered how my son was getting along; knowing that they were having grilled chicken where he was sleeping over, and that he really doesn’t much care for it. A parent, worrying unnecessarily, that her child would go to bed hungry.

And then I kicked myself in the ass for losing sight of reality. Not just within my own world, but in its entirety.

We live in a world where hunger is the most extreme form of poverty. Every day nearly 16,000 children die from hunger related causes; one child every five seconds; simply because their families cannot afford to meet their most basic need for food.

I thought about this, as the waiter brought our check and deposited it on the table along with two to-go boxes for our leftovers; which will in truth, probably never again be touched. But the empty effort was made and we bagged them up and carried them home. And I wondered, just how many people could have been fed, and possibly spared, given the money we spent on that one meal, or the leftovers contained in those boxes.

Have you ever counted the number of commercials they spoon feed you, during the station breaks of your favorite, not-to-be-missed program? Have you ever counted how many of those commercials are food related?

Now, imagine if you will, not only the cost it takes to produce those advertisements, but the money exchanged buying and selling them as well; and then explain to me what is wrong with this picture; and just exactly how we have come to be such a self-serving, thankless, and glutinous society?

Then ask yourself what you can do to make a difference…

Screaming for love
When there’s no love
In them

Crying foul
When they cheat
At every turn

Pointing a finger
Casting the
Blame

Refusing to take
Responsibility
For actions all
Their own

Refusing or
Unable

A sure sign
Of the true
Make-up

Is it any
Wonder
I chose this
Path of
Darkness

Blinded by the
Light
When true colors
Are revealed

Always fun to look at; pick apart the pain of others, as vultures on a carcass. But what I’ve found to be true, more often than not, is that those who find pleasure in the pain of others rarely are able to grasp anything beyond the elemental; especially when their own lives don’t warrant a second glance.

Just something to think about, while trying to read between the lines…

Change your ways now – save the planet tomorrow, or be sorry when you grow up! Shifting focus; no more fear of God, like when I was growing up, but fear of pollution, global warming, total inhalation of the world if you don’t buy these green products, recycle every fucking scrap of garbage, decrease your water and electric usage, erase your global footprint.

I nearly fell off the sofa while watching the Discovery Channel; the show about sending billions of trillions of lenses into space; a million miles wide to be precise; in order to deflect 2% of the suns rays, so as the save the world from global warming.

Basically, these scientists, physicists and gurus want to put a giant pair of shades on the face of the earth. The problem being, even if they’re able to make a lens one fiftieth the thickness of a human hair; are successful in launching it into space so as to linger between the earth and the sun; the cost of these shades would bankrupt the worlds economy. What the fuck ever…

I have a great appreciation and respect for the natural world and while I pay homage to some of the mystical man-made wonders, I typically loathe how man has raped and pillaged the planet. We humans have a tendency to live on the earth; the surface of; using, abusing and destroying its precious natural resources; instead of living in it; finding ways to exist in harmony and balance within its magical realm.

This saddens me; the fact that we have allowed ourselves to be led by greed and lust of material possessions; searching always for the quickest, most user-friendly way around everything, streamlining ourselves into modernity that we’ve reached this point of desperation; screaming and preaching for immediate change, before the damage we have done destroys the planet.

Uh, excuse me, but haven’t there been people preaching this stuff for years? Oh, yeah, the ones that were once scoffed at; labeled hippies and tree huggers; the ones standing outside Proctor and Gamble in the scorching summer sun for instance; trying to get the attention of anyone who would listen to the potential dangers and hazards of the chemicals used in all the products of convenience they sell and we buy every day. The billions of gallons of waste dumped into our rivers, waterways and oceans, by huge companies that just don’t give a fuck. Yes, I remember those days well; thought I was making a real difference, doing my part to save the world.

Even today, among the madness, what they’re preaching has nothing whatsoever to do with saving the planet, but our own asses. And the truth is, no matter what we do, we’ll never destroy the plant, simply ourselves. How’s that for poetic justice.

Walk in the department store, two minutes to twelve, store clerk stops me short, “You can’t be in here ma’am, we’re not open.” Surely she couldn’t be talking to me, “Ah, excuse me, but the doors open, I just walked in.” She rolled her eyes, “Yes, but it’s not twelve yet, you have to leave.” Two minutes; two fucking minutes! I’m already in the store and she’s telling me to leave!

I turned and walked out; actually I stormed out; NO WAY was I waiting. I might have wasted a thirty minute trip getting there, but was not going to waste two more minutes of my time, because a recent high school grad told me I had to! I wanted to tell her she just lost herself a really big sale, but it wouldn’t have made a difference, she didn’t care. It’s not like the days when I worked her job, when every customer could have been a secret shopper; get one mark and you were written up. Forcing pride in your job; it sucked, but it worked.

Next stop; cruising the lot looking for a parking spot when an old woman in a motorized buggy comes flying out the door directly into my path, didn’t even bother to look, slow down or stop. I’m old, I’m a pedestrian, therefore I’m privileged and don’t need to be bothered with something as trivial as looking to see if someone in a three thousand pound vehicle is about to plow my old ass down. She slammed on her brakes, looked at me and glared. I just shook my head and felt my blood pressure soar.

Pedestrians…someone gave them the right of way and look what they created!

Mother pushing an overloaded cart with two snot nose kids in tow; walked past the woman manning the dressing rooms, “Which one yelled at you?” They pointed to the woman in red. “Did you yell at my kids?” The woman shook her head, “I didn’t yell at them, ma’am. They were running through the department knocking clothes off the rack and I asked them to stop.”

The redneck mother puts her hands on her hips, turns up the attitude; “Don’t yell at my kids, that’s not your job, that’s a parent’s job, do you understand?! Who do you think you are, yelling at my kids? I want to speak to your manager!” The woman behind the counter didn’t say a word, what would be the point.

I, on the other hand, within perfect earshot, began conversing out loud with the voices in my head; “Yes, a parent’s job! To control your kids when they’re running around trashing the store, terrorizing shoppers and being little menaces. It doesn’t matter that I’m a fucking idiot and DO NOT control my kids; it’s not YOUR place to reprimand them. Reprimand…that’s another word for discipline; you know, busting their deserving asses instead of threatening with empty words!”

Her hand fell from her hip, her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t utter a word; the kid’s stood there with their eyes wide in disbelief, the clerk smiling a jubilant smile. I winked at her, turned and walked on.

Two teenage boys running through the store, slammed into me, dropping sunglasses and a video game into my cart. “Jesus!” I said then began to move on. “You shouldn’t use the Lords name in vain lady,” one of them actually said. “And you should watch where the fuck your going you big turd!”

“Mama, you’re scaring me…..”

My head suddenly spinning, my vision temporarily blurred, feeling as if any moment, I was going to collapse to the floor; yes, I had little buddy in tow, as my sanity unraveled and the meltdown occurred. I stopped, took a few deep breaths and tired to steady myself.

I apologized and explained that this is one of those days when I should have stayed in bed, rather than try and face the world. I don’t know if he understood, but that’s the best I had to offer.

The truth.

Wise one says I have to open my eyes, accept and see; be part of the truth instead of always looking the other way. The only way to advance on the path toward enlightenment; to make certain this insanity is not repeated again and again and again. But the more I see the more I suffer; the farther I want to run and hide; my intolerance to the point that I can barely cope; a manic search for the operator who can flip the switch and stop this wild ride…

He waits in silent darkness for to her to come to him; one eye always open, ready to pounce at any given moment. She stealthy steals through the night, avoiding certain areas; sometimes sitting in one place for hours, just so as not to wake him. He alludes to what he wants; she feigns ignorance and hopes he doesn’t persist.

The days are less troublesome, for in her confinement of conformity, she finds comfort, even freedom. But the nights grow long and dreary; never knowing what to expect; hiding behind the invisible wall in secret she has built.

He looms in the shadows, a keeper with a stick; prodding through the bars to make his presence known; regain her attention; tame her at whatever cost. The lioness lays weary, exhausted from the fight, seeking only refuge in the still and silent night.

Gathering strength, the lion at her back, waiting for the inevitable moment when finally she strikes back.

For this

Her cold hands
On my breast
Pain and discomfort
Stops to examine closely

My tattoos

Four films later
I sit alone
Waiting for radiologist
Whose running way late

Fuck him

I’m so sorry
Ultrasound is necessary
They see something
Need a closer look

My God

Dial his number
Rings and rings
He doesn’t answer
I leave no message

Still alone

Just a cyst
No big deal
See you back
Again in six months

Major relief

Oh hell no
You’re not waiting
Call your doctor
They can’t be sure

Mother freaked

Packing my bags
I’m leaving today
I’m running away
On the next train

Blue train