Tag Archives: safety

Engine light

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Engine light

“Navigator” is an important role…

But so is “Driver”.

Both must give up control of many aspects…

But trust that both intend to arrive at the agreed destination…

Hope; that both travel in the same direction…

at similar speeds…

attitudes and road games can cause wear and tear…

upon both the vehicle and the occupants…

GPS often requires signals that can get lost…

Sometimes you just need to pull over and look at the map.

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Fire walk with me…

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Fire walk with me…

I haven’t blogged in a while. It’s been a combination of not having time and not having really anything nice or uplifting to say about anything. Yesterday was probably the lowest day energy and attitude-wise I have had in a couple years. I don’t think that it was necessarily anything in particular, just a lame culmination of the last few months and the proverbial straw on the camel’s back. So as things just seemed to domino in my world, professionally and of course personally because I am not one of those cool people that can leave my job at the office…. I just kind of gave up yesterday.

 

But as I always do, I woke up this morning and decided to try again cause really that’s all you can do.

I went to work, decided no matter what I was going to have a good GD day.

And I did.

I helped a family get housed that has been in shelter since January and it was a win. I really left work yesterday sure that it would not happen for them and rehearsing that conversation of sadness.

When I went to the shelter today to meet them and have them sign some final paperwork, I was showered in the grace of the experience. Everyone there is like a family. The family I work with has been there longer than anyone else in the shelter and literally had a couple days left on their 3rd extension. Everyone was happy and congratulating them, high fives, hugs, tears, etc. Their kids? One of them was so happy he was about to burst. He couldn’t even imagine having a room of his own again. The mom who has not let herself have any hope the last few months was over the moon. I honestly had never seen her smile a real smile. She had not even allowed herself the anticipation of this house.

It was the best experience I can remember having in a long time.

And it reminded me of this song:

So I ask you….

What is YOUR fire?

Is it waiting for fuel?

Are you the fuel for someone else’s?

Whatever lights that passion in you, however briefly….

FIND IT.

FEED IT.

The fuel is out there.

Let the spin stop.

Ignore the distractions and feel the burn.

 

sympatico

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sympatico

Ruminative on synchronistic evolutions;

almost growing paranoid by each shared thought.

Such interesting revelations;

drawn by each obscure reference caught.

Reciprocality in physical and mental states;

asks us to avoid habitual over-musing.

Chemically enhanced binaural beats;

stay present, speed can make it more confusing.

Rhythms in compatible energies can be misleading;

but sometimes they are also psychogenic.

Just because something happens to come easy, 

does not allude that it can’t be authentic.

Fear isn’t the only immortal enemy;

questioning the wisdom in another chance.

Like control, it too is just an illusion; 

It is what it is, just dance.

The people in the basement…

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The people in the basement…

Here is an OLD one!

See, in my own way I was always going to be a social worker. Look at that natural social justice insight! *oy vei*

There’s an imaginary dog downstairs,

I hear it barking.

A psycho has fantasies about me,

and thinks that they’re real.

I met a child yesterday,

she had one this morning.

Just a few pieces of paper,

what’s the damn deal?

A flying or ground attack,

trample and rampage of one.

Electromagnetic motor,

fucking up my reception.

Vegetarian vampires whisper,

“I’ve fast for too long…”

Tossing memories without sequence,

back when we were spun.

I heard her cry again,

this afternoon around two;

Swearing to leave

“You rapist bastard!”

A flower grew, bloomed, and died,

all in three weeks.

There was a kitten lost,

somewhere around Jefferson and 3rd.

A pill I call Alice

and her friend Maryjane.

The guy in my dreams,

versus my own mind’s eye.

I lined them all up,

they still fought over who gets first.

Didn’t they say it’d be fair?

I must have already been high.

I hear her calling him,

back home again.

Kathy needed a friend,

so I called her a slut.

It’s always purple here,

spring, summer, and fall.

What the hell?

I hate that fucking mutt.

© 7/6/1996

A poem to a ghost 2.0: Post-ghost writing….

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A poem to a ghost 2.0: Post-ghost writing….

In loving you I have loved myself

They are one in the same

tethering myself to you through the years

Love is a strength that grounds us

I needed to see myself as you see me

You are as I see you

I have anchored myself in that which is the you I have created

Through a glass, darkly

but you need to move on

I do, but not from you.  We have always been together.  Always.

I understand that now

into the beautiful ether…

Back from the beautiful, yet terrifying, ether.  This world is my ground.

Into the rest of your own experience

Don’t be silly, things are not so serious as we make them.

Souls united as ours cannot be separated

This is truth.

in truth

but the tie that binds can be undone

Quantum Mechanics, my darling

In loving myself I can love you

You can do both

but letting you go shall be my

True love is free, and unconditional.

most loving action for you.

*Original version published March 14th, 2012

**Bold written by someone besides me.

Sentinel

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Sentinel

Jani wrote a song.

It’s been a tick since she did that; chords and every junk.

(Thanks Jess, I am thinking of you and others)

Sentinel

Even during times of peace….

you’re always watching for the doors.

Allowing yourself to relax and drift,

catch yourself…

nodding off to sleep….

It sends you back into the panic

that you had just pushed back

down into your soul

hidden deep…

You know, I remember what it feels like,

I can feel it too,

But my triggers are limited and peculiar;

not everyday, ordinary things,

everyday…

just like you.  

A blacked out window; an old building next to the sidewalk;

drinking all the memories away  all in vain;

sitting with your back to a door…noises on a television,

children in the street, dog crying out in pain….

Even once you came home….

you’re always watching in front of the cars.

Looking for a change in the baseline ,

catch yourself…

thinking about shrapnel….

Sends you back into autopilot

Running on limbic

our walking talking sentinel

You know, I remember what it feels like,

I can feel it too,

But my triggers are limited and peculiar;

not everyday ordinary things,

everyday…

just like you.  

A blacked out window; an old building next to the sidewalk;

drinking all the memories away  all in vain;

sitting with your back to a door…noises on a television,

children in the street, dog crying out in pain….

Even while you were with us….

You were already good and checked out.

To protect us, you forgot us…

Calculating every risk,

Staying three moves ahead….

Kept you hopped up,

Back to the new normal,

What is it I didn’t hear,

what was left unsaid

 

Complete with theme song…..

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Complete with theme song…..

I don’t know if I am grandiose or not,

When I first meet people I catch myself making up some sort of recipe;

A fictional psychosocial evaluation on them

which becomes their individual narrative in my mind,

*This is guided of course by what I think I know of people, think i know of social work, think I know of psychology, think that I read on their body language, or learned in life, learned reading a book, learned by being the one that could shut the fuck up; observe & mimic other people in order to blend in like a chameleon, in  new and/or uncomfortable situations for safety)

Meh, I digress…

Anyway, your narrative (and by “your” I mean you who are reading this had I met you or when I met you, not anyone person in particular) that I create in my head is how I related to you until I learn more and start replacing my humble conjecture with relayed facts;

But I admit, sometimes, I feel like a superhuman;

Like I must be psychic or an empath or Dr. Xavier;

e.g. Sookie Stackhouse trying to ignore the thoughts she really does NOT want to hear;

Sometimes, I find out that through many of the facts people share with me;

Actually align pretty well with the totally fictional made up backstory I spun them. It’s very unsocialworky of me.

I mean, what do I have to go on in talking to people for only a few minutes? I can see their eyes, their hands, their voice, their body language, their tone, etc….It’s totally inappropriate for me to create their whole backstory based on a few minutes interaction…

Do other people do that?? They must. I hope they do; otherwise, I probably sound a bit like a loon.

I am sure it is merely some sort of experienced/educated projection….some fancy defense mechanism that allowed observant and smart people to reproduce…skills that are not being passed down today because we are so distracted and looking down into a portable rabbit hole…WHOA, speaking of rabbit holes…

Sorry, I’ll spare you the self disparaging rant.

Anyhoo, like…maybe I have this social worker lens,

Seventies television show idea of each new person I meet’s whole life….

If I did, it could be something as follows:’

Complete with theme song *wink*

Baby of large family

The smallest Brady no one mentioned

Grew up wanting a family

Baby sister

Baby brother

Someone to take care of

Someone to have your back

 Just wanted to be someone’s hero

Wanted to be a soldier;

a fireman;

a teacher;

a doctor;

Found a family there

People to look up to you

Someone to share first memories with…

Your substitute hard drive

 Exhausted and rejuvenated finally fell in love

Family wasn’t there

Decided to go back there and then came home

Moved onto another

A Betty Crocker Readymade family to love

To replace the one you didn’t know yet to want

But it just didn’t fit

You internalized the blame 

 Then as you got older

You realized you needed more ways to go back,

So through trial and error,

Sex and beer,

Adrenalin, fighting, racing, speed

Went back in different ways to reestablish:

yourself, your worth

All the familiar roles

Pride and admiration

Understanding of experience

Validation for your work

Found your family

In more than one way.

Who knows.

Maybe I am grandiose and plain ol’ crazy.

I can spin a good back story though.

C’est la vie.

XOXO

Jani

I am….I am….I am….

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I am….I am….I am….

Every time I have ever doubted; every time I have ever wondered if what was happening or happened in my singular, seemingly meaningless life had a purpose and questioned every decision I make, I am reminded that it all works out.

It all has meaning.

It all is what it is.

I have recently made decisions that make me question myself in the wee hours of the night, was this the right choice, was that the right action, should I have said this, revealed this….

And the Universe responds with a resounding “YES.”

It’s nice.

I really, really like my job; despite it not being what I had envisioned doing.

In addition to really, really liking my new non-social work job; I really, really like my co-workers despite the apprehension I felt upon meeting them and the nervousness I felt just sitting next to them taking a 3 hour test.

There is nothing wrong with the fact that I get a long best with military, law enforcement, and/or firemen. They aren’t all the same. It’s true. It’s just who I get and who get me and who I seem to attract into my world… Which leads me to the next epiphany:

I like being alone, except when I don’t :)… In which case I have friends again that can fill that void willingly, without any sort of romantic enmeshment.

Speaking of that *Mercury retrograde aside* I can totally have male friends again without eventually thinking they are “the one.”

I AM THE ONE.

Ergo; I can live totally independently again/still, despite what I may have been led to believe by weaker others in recent years.

I kinda fucking kick ass. ‘Tis true.

I am the muthatrucking queen of making lemonade out of bitter ass lemons.

*The secret is in the vodka 😉

Huzzah, muthatruckas.

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” 
― Sylvia Plath

If I only had a brain….

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If I only had a brain….

Oh the multitude of ponderings my brain has been chock full of as of late; contradictions and questions which appear to have no answers. I over-think things, it is true. But recently, I have been trying to get out of the habit of doing so when that over-thinking does not serve my better interests.

The questions I am asking are things like, can I change anything about this situation? Am I fixating on reality or possibility? Is what I am thinking about in the past? If so, I can’t change it…only my perception of it. Is it in the future? If so, I can’t change it, only my participation in it. Is this something I am feeling or is it an emotion, because they really are not the same thing.

I am also trying to keep myself in check by examining those feelings and making sure that they are not hijacked feelings from another experience; I have a terrible tendency to finally experience things at the wrong time…. Which is to say that I may dissociate from something at the time and apply those feelings to another situation which totally does not warrant it. I do not think I am unique in this, you do it too, if you are honest with yourself.

I have also been thinking about not being so hard on myself…I seem to make allowances for people who do not treat me in the same fashion as I treat them, be it in physical life or in the ethereal relationship; I make excuses for them because of their traumas and the effects that they have had upon their life and personality; yet I treat myself much more harshly and without forgiveness without taking into account my own traumas, mental health, struggles, etc.

I hold myself to much higher standards than many of the people I surround myself with. I have really been trying to look at this and decipher why… is it so I can feel better than them because I do not let things affect me? Because if that is my motivation, I am truly self deluded, because it isn’t true. I am human. I am fucked up. I am in love with the world and I hate the world all in one singular breath.

I don’t know what it is, really.

I know that I am honest.

I know that I am loyal, to a fault.

I know that I trust others more than I trust myself in situations wherein I should do the opposite.

I know I am attracted to misanthropic men and needy women.

I know that I want to be independent and taken care of and/or protected all at the same time.

I know that I am kind.

I know that I always think of how things will affect and are affecting others before myself; this causes me strife internally and externally.

I expend much more emotional energy into others expecting it will always be reciprocal and then I feign shock when it is not.

But I know that even when I am not surprised that I will do it again.

Because I believe in people.

I believe that no one is ever beyond needing others.

I know that I am not going to always be that other.

And I believe in love.

And I know that it will come back to me in one way or another.

Rinse and repeat.

“Why, anybody can have a brain. That’s a very mediocre commodity. Every pusillanimous creature that crawls on the Earth or slinks through slimy seas has a brain. Back where I come from, we have universities, seats of great learning, where men go to become great thinkers. And when they come out, they think deep thoughts and with no more brains than you have.”

What every teen girl should know about sex and the alleged men they are having it with….

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What every teen girl should know about sex and the alleged men they are having it with….

This is a first draft excerpt of something I am working on….

            As she walked down the sidewalk, barefoot and confused, she tried to put together the jumbled pieces of what the last few days had involved. Thoughts floated in and out of her consciousness, alternating between internal processing of the previous night and external concentration to avoid stepping on glass and goat heads in the gutter. Her feet were leathery tough from years of being barefoot, but it still took effort.

            Self-conscious, she tried to smooth down her long strawberry blond hair which probably hadn’t been brushed in a few of days. She was certain that the people in passing cars were staring at her, knowing all her deepest secrets simply by looking at her. Frustrated by her inability to recall simple details, she knew she had started out the day before with Laynie’s sunflower sandals. She was positive that she remembered taking them off in his mom’s room, but when she went back in there this morning to get them, they were no longer there.

            It was all pretty overwhelming; trying to put memories in sequence after having only just slept a few hours after not sleeping in several days. The first thing she could remember definitively from this last episode was Laynie taking her to the mall to lift some new Mossimo clothes, then flagging down two boys named Shawn and Brody in the parking lot…..but it started much longer ago than that; it had really started the morning she began working at the Western Inn.  That was the first time that she met Katie Kizer.

            Katie Kizer was a pretty girl with a chip on her shoulder you couldn’t see because of her beautiful and thick black hair. She had moved to Belnesse from Portland, Oregon and Lila was immediately taken with her. Katie had stories that made fifteen year old Lila’s small town adventures of sex and drug use seem very pedestrian…. 

To be continued….