Again

It hurts... again. He said he would call back, and he didn't. Not even to say that he can't talk.

I'm worried. I hope everything is fine with his family.

It appears as if he turned off his phone, and that hurts.

I don't know what to think.

It hurts. What happened? Why didn't he call? Doesn't he know just how much it hurts me and how much I miss him???

I want to strike back. I want to cry. I want to curl into a ball and not let anyone touch my heart again.

I know I'm exaggerating. But I'm not. It hurts.

The tears are slowly slipping down my cheeks, and I am wishing that they carry the hurt with them. Out of me.

I try to tell him how much or how important it is for me to talk to him. Maybe it's too important. Maybe it's too much.

I don't need him. Make me don't need him. Make me don't care. Make it go away.

Maybe I expect too much. I'm sorry if I do. I'm sorry that I believe you when you say you will call. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. Just go away and I'll be fine.

Months Ago

Memories of months ago remembered as years of love and smiles
In our understanding through the ancient passion of others
My desire grows with my trust
And the future is nearer than the past

How I long for you without time interrupting;
An eternity of contentment and beatific smiles satisfied in your arms
But the fear crashes through the golden gates and darkens my hopes of forever
It surprised me with a quick return after I had banished it
Vanquished it with your understanding.

I dream of suffocating it with our happiness and together times
But it drags my heels reaching for my open heart.
I want to cut its claws but am afraid of amputating my own hands
Ghost pains of mistrust will only continue to hound me
Until I know what part of me I must fight
To win you

He Called

He called. Cowboy that is.

But don't ask me what's going on. I don't think either of us know.

It was enough for now just to hear the voice I love so much.

Give Me More

I don't like one word answers. I like reasons, and explanations.

I like to know why something took place or how come you feel a certain way.

I want to understand before I can accept. And I hate the answer that there is no rationale or logic for things to be the way they are.

If you feel a certain way, I want to know how you came to this point.

I don't know if I want to know all of this because I'm curious or because I feel that there is always a causality.

All I do know is that it's easier to explain to me the answer why, as opposed to telling me to do something because you said so. It usually also takes less time.

btw-I've noticed that same thing applies to DB

Writing

Do you get scared before posting an intimate story, poem, or intense and questioning feelings? Do you feel compelled to share them anyway... to open your soul so that the world can embrace it or trample it at will?

I find it easier to expose myself to many people at once than to just one person privately. Maybe it's because there's a lower chance of rejection, ridicule, anger, disgust or even shame. Because there must be someone out there who has experienced even the tiniest bit of what I write.

I'm thinking about why I write. Yes, it's expression and I use it as a release, to clarify and then try to look more objectively at my thoughts and feelings. But I think I write for understanding, interaction, feedback and accomplishment.

My writing voice is much different from my speaking voice. The tones and word rhythms I hear in my head are more formal. Isn't that funny? You would think they would be more casual. But maybe its because I view my thoughts and emotions with such intensity that is deserving of a more serious and formal tone/voice to express them. I love to write and forgot how much I loved it... how it flows from my head to my fingers.

There was a time when I refused to write on my computer. I was used to a more visceral experience... of my pen pressing down hard on paper leaving marks of the letters on the pages underneath. Crossing sentences and words out because I disliked the way they fit was always down with numerous strokes which then used to annoy me when I felt that I needed that phrase or word in another part of what I was writing. I would have to stare at the paper to find the shapes of the letters hidden under the marks.

Then I started to use computers and saw that the words could flow more freely, quicker than with my right hand and the callus on my middle finger, that bump from gripping the pencil and carving my words. It has started to get smaller and not as noticeable. Believe it or not my brain still works faster than my fingers and when I have a thought of another line to follow if I don't write it down it's possible to lose it as I get involved in the thoughts I am writing at that moment.

It can get distracting sometimes. I prefer to finish the thought I'm in the middle of rather than to write down a reminder word or phrase afraid of losing the flow. And now I have done just that and am racking my brain trying to concentrate on these words hoping that the idea will decide to come out of hiding, as if it's punishing me for ignoring it.

I even reread all the above to see if it would kick start it, but it seems that it's gone. But instead I go back to how I used to shuffle the papers around. And I've just remembered that I wanted to write about how I would agonize over first sentences, how I would write and re-write them. Or even start with the second sentence knowing that something a certain rhythm, cadence of words naturally belonged in front of it. I used to place the papers with different sentences and switch them around till I felt they fit together.

Do you write with a rhythm in your head knowing that a certain word comes next with two syllables and the emphasis on the first one? I do. If I can't remember the word I want I don't usually fill it in with a synonym instead I leave it blank and come back to it later. Re-reading and drumming out the beats of the word in my head until it comes to me or until I use a thesaurus. I do this when I write prose as well as poetry.

I just read an essay on poetry and on the rhythm of syllables. I need to read it again so that I understand it better and can actually use it and the terms describing it that were written there. When I read different authors the words on paper set a rhythm in my head. I like the way it feels, different than my own thoughts.

I guess people would call it a style of writing but when I hear that word it reminds me of the characters and descriptions a writer uses not their____. I also find that writing late at night or very early morning the words flow easier. Is it less barriers because my mind is tired after a long day and thoughts and feelings come out??? Don't know. I'm getting a little too tired to write now it's about four in the morning, and I've been listening to the slight click of my fingers on the keyboard.

What a difference from the sounds of typewriters or even older keyboards. Maybe it's easier for me to write with a computer now because the sound is less distracting to the rhythms in my head. But I remembered one more point about how I also write using an informal voice. That's when I hear my talking voice in my head. It's when I feel as if I'm having a conversation, maybe a more relaxed or joking conversation with the reader. And that made me think that maybe my formal voice I also use my formal voice my writing voice when I speak. Hmmmm.

Too tired to continue and the thoughts are not fighting for attention in my head anymore. My eyes are closing so I'll end this post. I'll read it later to edit it for spelling etc., but this one just wouldn't leave me alone until it was done. Good night or should I say good morning the birds have been singing for over a half hour now. That makes sense considering that its now 6:30. I thought I started writing a little earlier. Guess not. G'morning to you guys I'm off to get some much needed eye rest.


After reading this over again before I posted, I remembered another thought that I lost while I was writing. It's that I don't listen to music when I write. I like quiet. That way I can hear the rhythms more clearly... so maybe that's another reason why I like to write late at night or early in the morning the world and my life is less noisy.

I Hate Love

It hurts too much.

I hate limbo because I don't know what I'm expecting then I'm not at ease and can't experience what I really feel. All that I feel then is anxious. It colors everything a pukey sea green kind of color that reminds me of hospitals where I've done a lot of anxious waiting through my life.

I'm horrible at making decisions, not all decisions just a few and of those only the ones that impact on me singularly. I would love for someone to make these decisions for me, but then what would be the purpose of me being involved in my life at all?

I don't know whether to cry or yell so I do neither. The pain is muted right now. I have too much going on in my life to feel it completely or maybe I just don't want to face it.

I feel like I'm losing a best friend, and he's not even lost. It just that things are in limbo, but I have this feeling. Anyway... I'm sure my tears will come. But my eyes are dry right now. I guess, I'm trying to push it down. I've never felt this way about someone. Maybe it was easier to care about him like this because he was so far away. So that this wasn't "real." Then why does it still hurt?

I have too good of an imagination. I let dreams get the best of me. At this point in my life, I should know that there is no such thing as "happily ever after." But I do know that. I don't want perfect. I just want to share. I want to share smiles and tears, arguments and make-ups, family dinners and slamming doors.

I wish... I hope... I dream... and I curse myself for wanting the impossible.

Didn't reread. Don't want to read this again.

Can You Think For Yourself?

Do you know how to think for yourself? Do you know how to question? Do you even know what questions to ask? Have you asked them? Have you been able to answer them for yourself?

Have you taught your children to think and not just to accept? Are you willing to listen to their questions? Have you made yourself accessible so that they will feel comfortable coming to you with their questions? Are you willing to admit to them that you don't have all the answers?

I'll probably continue this post another time. Just felt the need to get it out.

Who Are You?

About three months ago someone wanted to add me to their contacts on Yahoo! Messenger. I had no idea who she/he was so I refused. Then about two months ago they tried to add me again... still no idea who this person was. After the third time they contacted me I responded to them.

This morning, about two weeks later, "she" initiated contact with "toess" and I'm just about positive that I don't know anyone who would start a conversation with me like that.

My question of "who are you?" was answered with, "you were added when we talked... forgot about it... took you long enough to ask."

Now I don't remember chatting with someone about toes or even feet so I asked again, "Who are you?" and got, "sweettoes how many more times?" I burst out laughing and looked at my feet; manicured toes painted big apple red, smooth heels, and soft soles. Not bad, but there's no way I would forget someone calling me sweettoes, maybe she was referring to her own.

"Who are you? Maybe you think I'm someone else?" I asked. She continued, "no, i do not your 56 yrs old and not called john" This was definitely starting to get interesting. What immediately popped to mind is "why isn't he called john?" Maybe she's a hooker and trying to refresh his memory.

At this point I really wanted to know what was going on and who this person was. "Who are you?"

"why?"

"I think you have me confused with someone else."

"ok then i delete you and apologise"

There haven't been any more messages, but I wonder whatever happened with Sweettoes and Not John.

Don't Know

I just don't know. I just don't know what it is, how it is, and if it is. Do I want it to be, and if so why?

I know I should talk about it and not just write about it, but there really hasn't been an opportunity.

Is it because of the concern and kindness? Is it because of the attraction? Is it worthwhile pursuing? Am I just letting my sex drive run away with me?

I need to know so that I can know where I stand... or sink.

Can you think of any more questions that I might have? Should I even be asking any questions?

Shabbos With DB

DB (darling boy) and I spent Shabbos together at home in Oz this past week. I just realized that a nickname I use for DB is munch or munchie. It's short for munchkin or munchkin face..... I guess we're really not in Kansas. Anyway, we had planned on going to friends, but it didn't work out. We also weren't able to go to Kansas because Shabbos starts too early right now and I'm not going to risk getting caught on the road. Shul was out because I don't want to waste my energy on people who used to be my friends but now ignore me when I wish them Good Shabbos. I thought that DB and I might be a little lonely, but instead we had a great time together..... a lot of game playing, reading, and talking.

For some reason there wasn't the pre-Shabbos craziness that usually happens. Even though I had to cook a little on Friday, it was enjoyable. The music was on and I was singing and dancing around the apartment. It reminded me of Thursday nights when my mom would be cooking for Shabbos and Neil Diamond was playing on the 8-track. She'd grab my hands and dance me around the kitchen. It's a habit that I picked up except DB and I were listening to Bare Naked Ladies. He likes their music and just realized the name of the band and loves to say it.... so he smirks and says "Mom, let's listen to the naked ladies." He really is turning into a boy because when I read to him on Shabbos he tried to hide his giggle when I said the word penalized. I wasn't positive about the reason for his laughter until he told me "penalized, penis." Yup, he's a boy.

DB told me something that I was almost positive about. When he was giving tzedaka right before licht benching DB mentioned, "Daddy doesn't start Shabbos this early. He starts it after it's dark outside." This is one of those times that I wish that DB wasn't so observant and aware. His dad is definitely not shomer Shabbos when they are together. He wasn't when we were married so why should anything be different now. It's just an act he puts on for his friends and family.

DB started hitting me with questions, "How come Daddy doesn't start Shabbos the same time as us? When is the right time to start Shabbos? Is it Shabbos for my cousins now? (They live in Eretz Yisrael) Is it Shabbos for Bubbi now?" I decided to ignore the first question and instead started explaining to him how his cousins had already started Shabbos and were now sound asleep. Of course that statement got him thinking and we had to pull out the globe. We got into a discussion about the difference between the earth's rotations and revolutions around the sun. He forgot about his father for the moment, but I know it's still in the back of his mind. I will not speak bad about his dad to DB, but he's a bright boy and sees people for who they are without any help from me. It made me sad to hear him tell me that "Daddy is a liar, Mommy." I try to play these things down, but I am not going to make excuses for his behavior.

Back to our wonderful Shabbos, we sang and talked about the parsha, and how the mishkan was built. DB went straight for the Lego "to build a replica to scale" and he wanted me to give him the exact measurements.... Where does he pick up these things? It was finally time for bed.... I had been ready for over an hour.... We read two more chapters of Gulliver's Travels. Didn't know it was possible to read in my sleep, but the next day I couldn't remember any part of Chapter 13 and was about to start it when DB informed me that we were now on Chapter 14.

Of course since it was Shabbos, DB woke me before six!! When I asked him why he woke up earlier than during the week it was "because I want to play with you." So play we did.... first came chess and he beat me on his own. In my defense it still wasn't even seven yet and my brain wasn't functioning. Then we played masterpiece, othello, mastermind.... inside the clubhouse he built out of chairs and blankets. Oh! Don't forget yugioh. I have no idea how to play and I am soooooooo bored by that game so whenever DB isn't looking I stick another card into the sofa cushions so it will end faster. The whole day went by without any whining or DB getting angry. WOW!!!! Maybe all he needed was some time with me. The best part of Shabbos was the warm content feeling I got inside when we were cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket while we read our books.

Thank G-d for Shabbos and DB.

Existential Son

The existential son has come up with the solution to his problem. The problem being his yearlong quest to find out who/what created Hashem.

We're driving over the GW and I comment on the many colors in the sunset and isn't it amazing that not only has Hashem created beauty in nature, but the lights starting to sparkle in the city buildings are also beautiful. He's quiet so I'm not even sure that he heard me. The next thing I know his voice pops up and says "When I die and go to shmayim I'm going to ask Hashem who created him. Then I will finally know." He continued with, "Becuuuuzz , it just doesn't makes sense." And with great emphasis added "It doesn't follow the laws of physics."

I had to choke back my laughter. He reiterated that the fact that no one created Hashem goes against the laws of science. I had to agree with him. Then I gave him my standard comment when he brings this up. "It's very hard to understand and even adults have problems comprehending this." I have yet to discover a different way to handle this. I had/have these questions sometimes myself, but it didn't start until I was around 11 or 12 years old. He started asking this when he was seven and has been completely frustrated with me for still not having "the answer" for him.

Usually, if I don't know the answer to something he asks I'll tell him so and then say that we should look it up. That's how I have ended up with an extensive knowledge of dinosaurs, geodes, minerals, spiders, Benjamin Franklin(one of his idols along with spiderman) and the revolutionary and civil wars. But I can't look this up in the encyclopedia or google this with him.

Help, anyone?!?!?!?