2nd found Poem---The stars I don't give a second glance

The Stars I Don't Give a Second Glance


Oh the days here are silvered and sunny.
And the nights hold a thick, magnolian romance.
And I guess that the lesser gods would
count me as 'lucky'. . .
But the stars. . .I don't give a second glance.


So I live now in a leaf-filled, pine palace. . .
no walls will you find around me!
And I drink deep of life
from this gold-plated chalice
in my own falsely rose-tinted reality.


And as the music grows dim,
I fear the last note is done. . .
But. . .this heart that is haunted
still BEATS LIKE A DRUM
Just waiting
to be heard by
Someone.

Discovered poem-----Less for my sanity

I recently came across several of my infamous, but occasionally not-too-shabby, attempts at poetry.

So here are a few of the ones I've found.

Less For My Sanity

Less for my sanity,

more for Humanity. . .

Get me off to someplace that's

good, golden and green.

And do forgive these breaks I take

away from my own head

--that aches--

And also please forgive these flaws

flayed ALL OVER me.

Forgive these warnings

I DON'T heed,

Forgive this oft INSATIABLE need

For help I want but

eternally refuse to take.

And please forgive this life I lead,

spent ever-searching for reprieve,

Learning to bend just

SO I WON'T BREAK.

And for some strange reason. . .

shook me straight to my CORE

. . .seeing you in your hat, and

--Imagine that!--

. . .said you were looking for something MORE.

Anniversaries, adults, and adequate seating

This morning's post is brought to you, first and foremost, by a lack of sleep.  Traditionally I tend to get weepy when I have not had enough sleep, but today it would appear that I also get very chatty as well.  Or delirious.  Choose your adjective.

So today I was thinking about how lately I feel like SO VERY MUCH the grown-up. . .you know:  having babies, washing clothes, worrying about the economy. . .and it hit me that one of the main "I Am Now An Adult" markers in my life is something so much more obscure.

First, some back story.  I guess one of the larger reasons (the logical ones, anyway) that I am feeling like a grown-up is that my wedding anniversary is coming up next week =)  It will be our second wedding anniversary, and also the anniversary of the day we met exactly three years ago. 

It will also be the one-month anniversary of my son's birth.

It's a big day and I'm happy about it.  . . .And I'm thinking of all that we've crammed into those three years. . .

We got married on the sidewalk on a street corner in downtown Birmingham.  The exact same corner where we had met for the first time one year to the day earlier.  We rented a loft downtown.  And it will always be a kind of Golden Place in my mind, because I have NO bad memories of living there. . .kind of like those photographs from the 70's where everything just looked sunnier.

We took the kids to the park.  We took the kids to the Art Walk. 

We took the kids to the Star Wars exhibit. 

We went to movies.  We walked to bars.  We saw LOTS of live music.  We grilled out in the courtyard. . .  

. . . we had friends over for dinner.  We celebrated birthdays, and we smiled and laughed A LOT =) 

We dressed like pirates.

We sang Personal Penguin.
=)

                           
                                            



We found out we were having a baby!!  We moved into a house  (with a backyard and everything!!!).  We gave thanks for friends and family, and we laughed.  And then we laughed some more.

And I counted myself as one of The Blessed.

Because yes--I DO know exactly how lucky I am. . .

I know that every blessing that I hold close to my heart did not HAVE TO be.  And I feel that an eternal and almost overpowering sense of gratitude is the very least that I can do to show my appreciation.

But oddly enough, all of these things:  the house, the baby, the man of my dreams. . . are not what has actually made me feel like a grown-up.

Nope.

It's the kitchen chairs =)

This week Michael brought home four brand new kitchen chairs for our dining room table. 

(From World Market--$25.00 each. . . QUITE the deal, and something that I make no apologies for being QUITE pleased about. =)

And as I was standing in the kitchen this morning admiring them, half-asleep after being up with the baby and wondering if it was too soon to make coffee, I realized that THIS is what makes me feel like an adult---kitchen chairs.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not COMPLETELY ghetto.  I have, after all, had a kitchen TABLE for years  =)

. . .just no chairs.

For some reason, no matter where I lived (which has been almost exclusively in one apartment or another over the years), it never really seemed like a priority to purchase chairs to go with the table.  I entertained notions of eventually purchasing a bench of some sort. . . but those notions were hazy at best, and certainly nothing I ever actually acted upon.

True, in the loft we had kitchen "seating". . . there was a concrete slab of an island or a bar in the center of the kitchen, and we ate many meals there.  But those were meals taken on bar stools, and never in a chair.  . . .Certainly never in anything that had a back, and thus I feel justified in not classifying them as chairs.

And then, into my life suddenly-----CHAIRS!!!!!

FOUR OF THEM!  . . .Two on the long side, one on each end, and that mythical and storied bench on the other long side. . .

(Completely changes the look of the kitchen.)

Now, you look over there at the kitchen table. . .nay, "nook"!! . . . and it looks like the kind of place where people might gather for meals.  Where someone might actually sit down, relax, converse and maybe even eat.

Where we might actually have enough seating for people when we invite them over.

It is an honest-to-God, freaking BREAKFAST NOOK, and it is MINE!!!  ALL MINE!!!!   (*insert evil laugh here*)

Sincerely,
Danielle, The Adult

The problem with these things, and black magic on my baby

I've decided that the problem with these things---and by 'these things' I mean blogs---is that I never know how to start them. . .

Should I have a clear and determined purpose?  (For those of you that know me, and you are few, as I have a STRONG tendency toward hermitism, you most likely know that 'clear and determined purposes' are my kryptonite. 
**(As for the tendency toward self-imposed hermitization, it is the embodiment of my social anxiety disorder.  It plagues me, yes, but sometimes I can't help but laugh at myself.  So it's an issue.  And I'm working on it.)** 

. ' . ' . '  Chasing rabbits again.  (Sorry.)

Should I have a general theme for the blog??  And if so, would I then be forced to adhere to that same theme for the life of the blog?!?!  (That sounds a little too daunting, and a lot like a little too much commitment for me.)  But still:  SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!!!  . . . How much background information is enough?  How much is too much?  Should I introduce the major players in my life, much as one would in the opening credits of an 80's sitcom?  . . .

(And now I am humming the "Come And Knock on Our Door"  Three's Company theme song.) 

Side note 1:  Michael has always wanted to open a bar named 'The Regal Beagle.'  I think this is a business endeavor whose TIME HAS COME!!! 

Side note 2:  Chris, whom I dated in college, had a SEVERE Jack Tripper man-crush.  He thought he (Jack Tripper) was the very definition of awesomeness.  He (Chris) was a musician, and even named his band 'The Jack Trippers.'  . . . though, come to think of it, I'm not entirely convinced that the band name had more to do with his affinity for Three's Company, or his affinity for tripping on acid. 

Side note 3:  I've tried acid.  I DO NOT suggest it!!  And here's why:  I talked to a black cat using cat-to-human telepathy, (which I was AMAZED to learn that this was an ability that I possessed until that night) but THIS black cat was a REAL downer by the way, all doom and gloom, nothing interesting to contribute to the conversation, aside from vague references to 'The Plan'---(you know the type.)  But once he mentioned 'The Plan,' he got all super-secretive and sketch-ish, so I thought it wise to ask no more questions about The Plan).  I looked in a mirror (!!!WHY DID NO ONE WARN ME ABOUT THE MIRRORS?!?!?!!!) and saw my face age decades and decades in the span of a few seconds, and by the end of the night (as I was having, what those crazy kids call 'a bad trip') things were so bad inside my head and surroundings, I decided that I WOULD get out of this, it WOULD wear off, and that there were ALWAYS Three Good Things that would always be around to save me from myself.  In no particular order, those things are:  food (don't care who you are, the right food with ALWAYS make you feel better), sex (self-explanatory), and Music:  To uplift us, elevate us, speak to us, and often times, make it ALL better again.  =)

But writing is daunting.  Writing a BLOG is daunting!  I shudder to even contemplate the potential for typos and grammatical errors.  (Best not to even think on it.)

But for some reason this morning I decided I would start a blog, and that's what I am doing.  (As you are, by sure, now aware.  See?  I don't talk down to my readers.  Maybe this blog will be a success after all!)  And, as I was still quite unsure as to where and when and HOW to start, I finally decided on the most obvious route of "Now".   . . . My husband has accused me of over-thinking even the most simple and mundane situations.  (He's right.  I do this.  But please don't EVER tell him that he was right.  I get SO FEW chances to be right, that I must SAVOR every one.  It is NO SECRET that *I* am the train-wreck-screw-up in this relationship.  And it'd make it SO MUCH BETTER if he'd screw up just only OCCASIONALLY!!!  But apparently I married the Christ-child Perfect Man.  And let me tell you, if you're a screw-up like ME?  It can SERIOUSLY, REALLY, SERIOUSLY, SOMETIMES SUCK!!!!)  But for now I am just throwing caution to the wind and am going to jump right into this blog mid-episode.

I am tired.

I mean, I am really, REALLY, I-have-a-3-week-old-baby-in-the-house-and-I-have-no-idea-what-I-am-doing tired.  Said baby is now relaxing in his vibrating papasan chair, grunting from time to time and seriously just keeping it real. 

He appears to be in much more favorable spirits than he was showing signs of at 4:00 a.m. when, to all outward appearances, my child began to be prodded and tortured by the spears of invisible and tiny demons.  From what I could tell, Grey Bear (AKA: 'Took') was simply BESET on ALL SIDES by the darkest of forces and the BLACKESTof magicks.  (MY belief is that they want him to harvest his super powers, but it's possible they could want him for other reasons entirely.  I'll admit that I'm just not sure at this point.)

So I diligently spent half the night tangling with the problem of exorcising these demons so that my sweet, though quite probably just INFUSED with super-magickal powers, baby could sleep.  I was ultimately unsuccessful, but with the sun's first light the Evil Invisibles were sent screaming back to the bowels of Hell and my Took finally fell asleep.

As did I.  And I slept for approximately 90 minutes, which turned out to be more than enough time for me to have a bad dream about the baby.  It was your typical stress dream.  In it, I was waiting tables at Cucos again.  (Which has since closed down, but was a Mexican restaurant where I worked for a while during college, that had Quso dip and Chicken Chimichangas to DIE FOR.)  In the dream, I showed up for work without any socks or shoes on, with Nolan in tow, and with no ponytail holder to tie back my hair.  Luckily for me, my boss was Dr. Drew Pinsky (note to self:  STOP watching Celebrity Rehab.  It is an evil trap that you fall for every time.  Just shameful.), and he was incredibly understanding, as I have always imagined that he would be, in virtually any given situation.  . . .and if it is ever uncovered that he is a serial arsonist or a child molester, well.  I am just going to be so disappointed.  I tried my best to pull my hair back (I was really afraid it was going to get in someones food, and they would be forced to complain), and went about waiting on my tables.  Even as I write this, I realize that I never did get that drink order out to table 26. . .  Hell, I didn't even think to ask them if it was Sweet or Unsweet tea they wanted. . .  But that had to wait because it was at this point in the dream that I became aware that Big Toookie was no longer with me.  . . .where IS HE?!?!!! 

And that's when I remember that I have (inexplicably) left my newborn sitting in a metal shopping cart right beside a major intersection.  And I run outside to rescue my baby from the precarious situation in which I have placed him.

. . .it was NOT a restful 90 minutes.

However, in a delightful turn of events, it was at roughly the time that I awoke this morning from this bizarre and super-troubling dream that I realized that I am possibly (and QUITE probably) invincible. 

Yes, at roughly 6:48 a.m. I stumbled upon the shocking revelation that I do NOT actually need sleep in order to survive!  (I feel happy about it, but also?  I feel very misled.)

. . .I can only assume that most other humans DO need sleep, and this is where the 'invincible' part comes in. . .hmmm. . .but it's possible that they don't, I suppose.  . . .I mean, I'm 34 years old and I'm just now finding this out about myself.  (There may be others out there.  This is all that I'm saying.)

This discovery could not have come at a more opportune time, as it appears that now intestinal demons are attempting to convert my baby boy into a pig. . .

(I simply will not abide black magic on my baby.)

                  

Ah well, I guess I shall now happily press onward.  No rest for the wicked, I suppose.

But there is coffee. 

Oh, there is most CERTAINLY coffee for the wicked.  =)