Flying and Friends, or flying with friends.

Flying
for the first time
is like a roller coaster
but a thousand times more
terrifying.

I hate roller coasters.
They make my hands shake
and my stomach hurt.
I don't feel well or safe for hours
after I've ridden one. There is
no room for them in my head.

But flying
is like five hundred roller coasters
as your stomach drops and you see
your line of vision shift
and you feel gravity change
but the wind doesn't hit your face
and you can hear people laughing around you
and the voices of your friends telling you
it is okay
we are safe
this is good

There is comfort in my friends.
We laugh about books and how the ground looks
different and we speculate about where we are and how
glad we are that the flight is only 3 hours long, tops.
We argue over what to drink on the plane and
I am grateful at how much they make me laugh
in the midst of new terror.
How looking through the Skymall magazine
makes things feel normal and joking about wanting
scotch at 7 am makes you Hemingway, and not even slightly
an alcoholic.
The taste of fear, when I'm with my friends,
goes from entirely bitter
to sweet and sour
because even though my stomach hurts
it is because I'm laughing with them.

We fill three hours up so quickly
because we laugh and we read and
complain about the horrors of technology
and on the way back, I'll order a drink
that will probably live in infamy as long as we are friends.
There will always be something
so homey
about travelling with friends.

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

I did
two night shifts
in a row.
What a terrible terrible
idea. Now I feel like a slightly
crazier version of an already deeply
disturbed me. Deeply disturbed me is
annoyed by my lack of sleep and my achy
body parts and can't seem to find a comfortable way to
sit down or lay down or stand or anything.

It is storming outside here
lightening and thunder that I can see
from my comfortable bed and feel the vibrations.
It is comforting and unnerving, all at the same time. Loud noises
and violent sensations mixing with the calming rain that I can't seem to hear
quite as much.

I have a friend
I want to call because
I see that he and his significant other
broke up and I want to know if he's doing okay
but I already took an ambien and I am freakishly tired
and I want to just take him to have lunch or something
where I can hold his hand.
Because when I call him and tell him my friend is being a dick
what do I do
 how do I fix things that I helped break
he calms me down
and when he's in pain
I hold his hand.

I'm back to counting down days
and that's okay.

To an Old Friend

When I think of you
I think of an empty mall
and shirttails hanging out over
khaki skirts
phone in front pocket
the way you paid for her
to get her ears pierced
because you were over age
and we were under age
and we needed an
adult.

And you kept asking me
if I wanted anything
if you could get me
anything
as if gifts and shirts
and dresses
that I tried on
would make up for lost time
for days spent not talking
and nights where I missed
you so bad
I could smell you
on the air.

You were there
where we would dream
of each other
and then wake up the
next morning
and realize
hey
same dream, dear.

Seems silly now
fanciful.

Best Buy and Target
will always make me smile
first
Although after,
my stomach hurts
because I know what
it is like to look at you
across a table
across a room
and not be able
to speak
your name
or hold your hand.

And I don't love you
now
like I loved you
then.

We were the dreamers
way back when
we prayed to Mary and
you still answer the phone
and say
"hey
you."
When I talk to you
which is rare
next to never.

And I pray for you
because living a lie
is hard.
Remember?
I did it.
And it is so difficult.

She never read
the things you wrote to me.
Like next to nothing
I protected your words
like I protected my own


How have I known you
for almost a decade
and only have ten pictures
with you?
I have pictures from you
in orange bathing suits
and with old friends
but we are reduced
to one mall excursion
and a trip to Happy Lamp
and to be
perfectly
painfully
honest,
a pink Dickies bag
that will never go out
of style.

I hope you light a candle
for the me that once was
because the death of her
is still hard for me to deal with
even now.

And I know it doesn't help
(I never could)
but I wish you
the best.

For a Friend

I went and saw some friends yesterday
and it was gloriously good, and I feel renewed
spiritually because an afternoon and evening spent
with friends is more healing to me then a lifetime spent
at a church.

Girl time combined with favorite couple I know time
is awesome. Thankfully they don't get tired of me bumming
around their place sporadically.

And while there will be a post about them someday, because
I love them, and this is the only tribute of worth I can think of
that is not what this is about.
While I was there, I noticed that my friend had a
book on his shelves. As I looked further, I saw he had multiple books
by this particular author which lead to a conversation that had my other
friend abandoning us for a few moments as we reminisced.

The author of these books was named Brian Jacques.
He wrote the Redwall series of books, as well as the Castaways of the
Flying Dutchman series.
Both my friend and I read them, him back in the early nineties, I expect
and I starting around a decade ago, at the age of 11.
And my friend then let me know that Brian Jacques died in 2011.
And I didn't know until last night.

So dear Mr. Jacques,
I did not know you personally
but I feel your loss like we were friends.
The words you wrote sustained me during elementary and middle school.
You taught me about the fantasy genre, and what beautifully descriptive stories
do for the imagination. When I was lonely and friendless and in pain, Martin and
Mattimeo and Mariel and Matthias and Triss and everyone else in that world
comforted me and loved me and told me I could be a warrior even though
I was young and female and angry and alone.
That the strength of your heart
could be better than the strength of your arms.
And that being a legend
does not always involve being the bad guy.
That being a hero and being afraid are not mutually exclusive things.
That regardless of your upbringing, it is the choices you make
that define who you are and what people remember about you.

So thank you Brian Jacques
you gave me the first nightmare I can remember
with a snake that I've been terrified of for years
and an eye for beautiful descriptions in literature
and stories that I'll be telling my children for years to come.
For giving me connections with friends
and connections when I didn't have friends.
I will pour out a libation for you tonight
and light a cigar
and think of you.
You will be mourned
you will be missed.

Listening to Morbid Music in the Morning.

I GOT THE JOB! HOORAY! SHINY!
_______________________________________

I wrote this in the car
twenty minutes before I walked in
because it was calming. I wrote it all by
hand, and I'm typing it up so I think it still counts. I may
write more. My day is looking up, but I can feel
my body arguing with me, because I stayed up
and emotionally, it has been pretty fucking
taxing.
_____________

Oh redacted one,

You are definitely right about friendship-
as far as the components of it all go. I think
I do things backwards. I try to believe that someone
is my friend until they prove me wrong a few times.
Too fucking idealistic, now that that's written down, and more
than a little embarrassing to think about, of course.

I enjoyed speaking to you. I know it is awkward now and probably
will continue to be awkward for a while, but at least we have a good while of
stuff we don't know about each other, so we shouldn't run out of things to talk about for
a while. Or maybe we will. I have no idea. That is supposed to make me feel better.

I'm sitting here in front of Petsmart
I had about an hour of panic when I woke up at 5 this morning because
my stomach hurt and I was terrified. But I'm
sitting here and my stomach is settling somewhat. I was
up until one last night...or this morning. Hooray for
bad life choices!

But I was doing my calming music
and reading my books. I always get stuck on
Good Omens. Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman both
write in a way that fascinates me. I love any and all of the books they've
written. They can capture humor and satire and eerie horror so well.
Good Omens speaks to the Supernatural-lover in me, as well as the old
Roman Catholic from days of yore.

So I end up reading and re-reading their books, especially Good Omens
because the old gods comfort me more than the new gods ever did.
My handwriting has gotten dreadful over the last few years.
For shame!
But it is consistent now, which is nice from a far-off perspective.
To a certain degree.

And into the breach!

So say we all.

Hellkitten
______________________

More later, probably.

Good Morning

Good morning to the world
which has been pretty difficult today
and it is only the very beginning of the day.

I have a friend coming over
today. I have no idea what time she'll be here
or what we'll do, but hopefully she doesn't expect to much
because my house is not my house
and there is children's stuff everywhere.

I started a post last night that I'll probably
have to finish tonight or the night after, because it is one
of those things that only comes out when it is late
and I am tired or drunk or anything but staring into the bright
shining morning.

The idea of tomorrow is giving me a heart attack.
Between dentists and job interviews, I find myself
pretty terrified. This week has been too crazy and I can't see
the weekend being any better. There are over  600 books on my kindle
and I can't choose between them. So I read a few last night
and spent a few hours terrified out of my mind
because they were scary and it always takes me a good 12 hours
to get the horrors out of the front of my head.

They are gone, now, the ghosts and monsters of last night
they might be back but they probably won't
but just in case, I'll be careful when I drive at night.

In any case, until she gets here
if she gets here
(please get here)
I'll be listening to my music extra loud
and ignoring these dreadful feelings until something gets
resolved
and maybe pray
for the first time in a long time.

Posting today, and hopefully later when I have something better to say.

Today started with a fight

and a tummy ache.
And I cried after he left
because he was right
but I wasn't wrong
and it hurt.

And I'm still really really
angry
and it is making my stomach hurt
like crazy

so what will I do with this day
you ask?
Talk to 'strangers' on the internet
who are more friends than strangers
and watch the kids
and feel cruddy in general
while listening to Les Miserables
on repeat
ALL DAY LONG.

Or watch Shameless or Game of Thrones
or Six Feet Under. Something with lots of morbidity amongst
the humor.

24601!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes the sun stays hidden for years

I ran into an old friend on Sunday
and seeing him broke my heart
a little bit.
I sing in the choir and I spent almost the whole
Mass trying to figure out if that was him or not.
And I finally figured out it was him
and we gauged each other but finally
embraced.
I miss him
I miss our friendship and the way
you looked at me
and the way we switched jackets
so I could wear your letterman and
you could wear the coat. I remember
how I showed up to one of your soccer games
and how shocked you looked.
And we sat for a minute quietly in the pews
trying to remember days long gone by
and trying to remember who we are.
I miss you, love.
and I remember.

Darlene part 1

Hey,
it's me.
I don't know if you would recognize me
but if you were still here
I like to think we would be friends
and you would have helped me tell my parents
I was pregnant
and you would have helped me dye my hair
for the first time
and given me this bear ring
that I haven't gone without for
around 7 years.

If you were still here
you would have been the first
person I would have called
after I graduated
after I broke up with every one.
after having sex for the first time
after finding out I was pregnant.
after he proposed.
I would have called you today
when the kids were driving me crazy
no matter where you were.

And you would have come down
for my wedding
standing next to Uncle Ron
in his suit
when I saw him for the first time
as the biggest wedding present I got.
The older I have gotten
the more I have missed you.
And every wolf and dream catcher I see
makes me think of you.

I'd call you today to tell you
how annoying the weather is
because it is cold for two days
and hot for ten more and
honestly, I wish it would just be damn cold in the winter
it would be a lot more straightforward and I could just figure out what
to wear more easily.
I would tell you what extremely weird tv shows
I am watching for now
and how much it sucks
living in this body
how much you loved the
phantom book by
susan kay
and
and
and
why?

I miss you.

To A Friend Who Became a Sister

This post is a tribute to someone
called Boo.
I met you while you were in middle school
and I was in high school and I remember
quickly feeling like you and I were
a friendship made in heaven.

as the years have gone on,
I am so grateful for our friendship.
I remember singing in choir with you
and sitting in the choir loft during chapel
and giggling inappropriately and hysterically
at everything
and trying to switch shoes for a day
which was really hard due to our intense shoe
differences, but was the cause of much fun and silly
memories. It was much easier to hang out with you
when you hit high school, because we could eat lunch
together and commiserate over our classes
through the art gallery.

I've always deeply admired your
ability to play any sport, no matter what
and your artistic ability, because you draw
beautifully, and you are play a piano with
fantastic abilities  and you can charm all the parents
and I know that life is just starting for you
and college is hitting and changing
and lots of fun
and I feel like you've surpassed all that I've done.

and so I guess I'm both proud of you
and jealous of you but definitely proudest of you
you are beautiful outside,
but you are wonderfully beautiful on the inside
and that makes you a lovely person,
You are there when I need to relax,
or to make a gourmet meal,
and you drink all the beer that I don't want
and make me go dancing and to play pool.


I am so glad we are friends.
You've made me a better person
and I hope I've been able to help you
over the years.
I love you.

Maiden, Mother, Crone

As I drove home tonight
the thought sprang into
my head
I played the crone
tonight.

And it was a true thought
a real one
and even though it came
while listening to country music
that was telling me that
the South is the best
and to praise the Lord
it was my first thought
that the God
who might be a Goddess
to me
might have let me play another aspect
Hecate, maybe
or Diana
and instead of the
Father, son and holy ghost
there is the maiden, mother
and crone

I am a maiden
playing mother
who was the crone tonight
I listened
and gave advice
paid for the meal
and just let things be

and next time I spend time
with that particular friend
I will be maiden
while we dance

but tonight I was
the crone
and I was satisfied
and perhaps I shall be
maiden tonight
for the moon is out
but for certain
I will be mother tomorrow