The Clock is Ticking

Hi. My name is Jayne, and I'm afraid of the dark.

Really. This isn't just a matter of not being all that comfortable in dark spaces. It's a fear.

I have night lights in my bedroom. And a small lamp that's on all night.

I can't sleep if the closet or bathroom door is open.

I never, ever, get into or out of my bed when the lights are off. Even then, I tend to avoid the space under the bed.

When I do crawl in bed, there are rules: 1) Sleep only happens in the middle of the bed. 2)My ears must be covered. 3) At no point should any of my body not be on the bed.

There are flashlights and candles within easy reach in every room of my apartment.

I guess, thinking about it now, it's really a fear of being alone in the dark. If someone else is around, I'm better. Not nearly as bothered by it. If curled up with The Man, I'll even sleep in the pitch black of his bedroom. If I were alone in his room, I wouldn't sleep at all.

I don't remember it being this bad after I was about 8. I've never particularly liked the dark, but I was no more uneasy than any other normal person. But I dealt.

Then, when I was 20, the only time in my life I can't recall anything about happened. I won't go into the details, because frankly I don't know them. I know what happened because of what I was told and dealt with later, but the specifics of the actual event are encapsulated in my memory. Completely walled off from the rest of my conscious mind. When I try to recall that time, there's a hole. I liken it to blacking out. Time passes, you might even be involved in the activities, but you register nothing.

So, for me, being afraid of the dark is a manifestation of my fears of that time. I know what happened that night, but only from what others told me. I have no working knowledge or memory of my own. It's a dark space in my mind. It's my monster in the corner.


Visit Sunday Scribblings for more offerings about monsters.

I wrote this earlier in the summer, when I looked at my summer schedule and realized I had exactly 11 days I hadn't scheduled anything on. For those of you that don't know, I'm a public school librarian. I'm not required to work all summer long, or even into the summer. Until this year, I did make it a point to go in every couple of weeks and sort the mail (which piles high in a week's time). This summer, I taught 2 sessions of summer school speech, went on a trip for church, visited the various and sundry doctors, and was at school quite a few days going over the renovation work in my library. I'd actually scheduled away my whole summer break.

Tick....tick....tick.....
goes the clock.
Ain't there supposed to be a 'tock' somewhere?
Seems like I learned that once
before.
But who has time to listen for it?

My other blog is "The Clock is Ticking." I tell people that I don't mean that clock--the one my mother claims should be getting louder for me by now. And really, I don't. I mean time is passing. And I've been letting it race by while I've packed my days. "Downtime is wasted time."

It's only been in the six weeks or so that I've been selfish with my time. I blame it on The Man (who, if you're following our story--which I'll admit I don't keep updated well--is back in the picture. Thank God.). Never before have I found myself sitting still, when I knew I had other things that needed doing.

I catch myself listening for the tock.

For other thoughts and ideas on the idea of time, visit Poetry Thursday.

This never happens to me...

More people should address me this way


BTW...this whole blog rocks.

For those of you who know me....what do you think? Is this accurate?

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are very passionate and quite temperamental. While you can be moody, you always crave comfort. You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You believe that people see you for how you are, not how you look. But deep down, you know that's not exactly true. Your near future is still unknown, and a little scary. You'll get through wild times - and you'll textually enjoy it. For you, love is all about caring and comfort. You couldn't fall in love with someone you didn't trust.

Hmm...I don't know how much I like that particular title. It just feels to me like my writing is always in the rough. My words come at me in a wild attack. Sometimes they hurt---like the utterly angry things I wrote this weekend about The Man (note to self--screw men. No, really, screw 'em all. Who the hell needs 'em?). Sometimes, they bowl me over in a rush of love and laughter, like when The WonderDog barrels down the stairs into my arms. On the rarest of occasions, they whisper-step up to me and calm me. I love words.

Over at Poetry Thursday, the prompt this week is whatever you want. I've never liked open-ended assignments. Even when it comes to writing. Give me some guidelines--a page, theme, single word or idea I'm supposed to state or allude to...HELP! Don't just throw me to the wolves---um...out into the wild. Hm.

But here is what I want to share. My new friend Jason is quickly becoming one of my favorite people. He's even stepped up the last few days and given me an ear, a shoulder...whatever. A few weeks ago he shared some of his writing with me. One of them sent images to attack me. The opening lines are:

Clutching the broken fragments of glass
I bleed through my scattered faces

I could see it. The whole poem, stretched out in a black and white photograph before me. I loved it. The image I had in my head took my breath away, captured so many things. I wrote and told him he needed to illustrate some of his poetry with his original photographs (which are beautiful). I do wish he would.

I've requested permission to share the whole poem, should he give it, I'll update this post. It's...ugh...amazing.

UPDATE: Mere minutes after the initial posting of this, permission came through. Bless you, Jason.

(no title)

Clutching the broken fragments of glass
I bleed through my scattered faces
a handful of eyes looking back at me -
more imposing than the pair I so recently destroyed.
It was a weakness, a panic,
a fear of my own self-worth.
I could have turned out the light
or simply walked away, but
I stayed to fight.
I chose to kill,
and now my reflection
sits back and laughs
as I soak in defeat.

Hm...playing today with a haiku prompt at One Deep Breath. This week, it's "Coffee & Tea."


Warmth and peace, steeping
in a quiet cup at home.
Recharge, refresh...aaaah.

I should have thought to do this for my dad. Darn the luck.

So, this morning on Slate I was reading I'm Gonna Keep That Gray, a column by Beth Frerking. She was explaining why she hasn't made any attempt to cover the gray hair she started finding in her late 30s. She's now 49 (I think) and completely gray, or at least mostly gray. I hope that at the point (either 49 or completely gray, whichever comes first) I will have embraced my gray hair, or at least have accepted that it's there.

Actually, I've accepted that it's there. Just like every couple of months, my hairdresser accepts my money for coloring my hair, a perfected shade of blonde highlighting (now) that the gray blends very well with. I was coloring it auburn for awhile, and while I loved the color, a single gray strand was like a beacon. So, I've gone back to being blonde. The real issue for me is that I'm, really, rather young.

I found my first gray hairs--8 of them--at 22 years old. Actually, my dad found them. They'd appeared over night when I'd broken up with my then fiance. (That's a story not worth repeating.) Obviously, they were stress-related. I quickly pulled them out, praying the old wives' tale was truly, truly a myth. You know, pull out one and 2 grow in it's place.

The next spring, a few more showed up, randomly, during my student teaching semester. After my first full year teaching, everytime I went to the hairdresser, she pointed out some. She'd get rid of them and we'd go on about our business.

Two years ago, after being unceremoniously dumped by M, and trying one last time to be with R, they started coming in a bit heavier. So I started coloring my hair. That's when I went auburn. All over. it was bold, and daring, and...wow. But like I said before, gray is definitely a beacon in auburn hair. So, in the spring this year, I let all the auburn fade out and went back to being a dark blonde, with lots of blonde highlights.

Okay..so that's the chronicle of my coloring story. I know I could save the money, and just not worry about. I'm sure I'd be one of those women who look fabulous, sexy even, gray (especially with my hairdresser's help). But one fact remains.

I'm only 29.

Yes, I'm turning 30 this year. But I've had gray hair in one volume or another for 7 years. There's quite a few to be found now. Okay, to be honest, 'quite a several.' If I let it go, honestly, I'll probably be completely gray by the time I'm 40. Damn genes--it's my understanding that's how it was for my grandmother. It's not that I'm opposed to be graying (like I'm opposed to being 30).

I think it's because I'm still single. If I were married, doing that thing, I'd probably be more willing to just deal with it. I think I've convinced myself that no man is going to want a 29 year old who looks old.

Setting aside how silly that must sound...what do you think?

Wouldn't it be nice if combatting stupidity was really this easy?

Of course, then we might not have stories like this.

Why would someone pour money into this?

This one is just plain weird.



This story..however, just makes me a little sad. And really appreciative of where I live.

Music has been a huge part of my life. It's a refuge for me, an escape, and to some extent a magic elixir. It's brought on much needed tears, and chased them away.

This week's Poetry Thursday prompt was about songs. As silly as it sounds in my head--songs really do sing to us. Rather than write about any one particular song, I thought I'd share with you the soundtrack for my life right now. (Each of these links points to the video. Sorry they're a bit convoluted. The javascript links didn't want to work.)

Rascal Flatts - Bless The Broken Road
Okay, so I've been down some rough roads the last several years. Life's very sweet these days and I'm feeling so happy and blessed. Obviously, this has a lot to do with The Man right now. We've both been down some less than stellar roads in our lives. But it's smoothing out.

Pussycat Dolls - Buttons F/ Snoop Dogg
I'm really lovin' this song right now. It's H-O-T. (geez..I just said that, huh? Ugh. I've been around high school boys too long). Honestly, though, I wish I was this brave sometimes (read "not shy"). And I wouldn't be hurt one bit if I had the body of any one of those girls.

Rob Thomas - Ever The Same
This one is about R--my closest friend the last few years. Out of necessity, our relationship has changed. I don't think either of us is very happy about it. But, we'll always be important to the other. This song reminds me of that.

Christina Aguilera - Ain't No Other Man
This the ringtone on my cell for The Man. Teehee. (Please let me know if this young love crap gets sickening)

Hoobastank - If I Were You
I'm not really sure what it is about Hoobastank's song that gets me. I really like it though. Makes me think about all the things I should be doing--like appreciating some things more.

Panic! At The Disco - I Write Sins Not Tragedies
I'm not a huge Panic fan, but I like this one. The video's fabulous, visually, but I love the line "I'd chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the g** damn door?!" There's a life lesson if I ever heard one.

Dixie Chicks - Not Ready To Make Nice
I think the jist here for me is that I'm tired of backing down and playing along. I've not been selfish with myself often enough. I've probably pissed a few people off, but oh well.

LeAnn Rimes - Something's Gotta Give
This is my life for the last couple of years. Except for the cat named Jake. *wink*

Pink - Stupid Girls
I work in a high school. It's not the girls who have good heads on their shoulders that worry me. It's the "stupid" ones.

Nickelback - Far Away
Warm fuzzies

Switchfoot - Stars
In this whole 'discovering' myself phase I'm in, this song reminds me of my place in the mystery of the world.

Gretchen Wilson - California Girls
Remember, it's okay to be yourself. Especially if that self is a little bit redneck. *wink*

For more Poetry Thursday offerings this week, click here.

Here we go...yet another turn around the news world.

Pope says he's starting to learn his job
Well, thank goodness! It's only been 15 months. I do have to question his circular logic there on the subject of holidays. I'm sorry, it's not a holiday if you do work.

Woman in doghouse over Jehovah's Witness sign
Excuse me? 'Gentle joke?' My ass. Granted, I think it's pretty damn ridiculous of Witnesses to make housecalls on Christmas Day, but there's nothing gentle about that sign.

Human hand, skulls found at stripper's home
Hm...methinks there's a lesson here.

Inmate includes own name in bomb, anthrax threats
You know, I've always heard that the prisons are full of geniuses. Okay, so it's "full -1."

Mistrial declared in cell phone case.
Note to self: Just let The Man see the phone. I've nothing to hide anyway.

Rice shares ASEAN stage with furry green frogs
Oh, this is weird. I'm so glad Condoleeza went with something a bit more serious.

Malaysia draws up list of unsuitable names for children
Okay, this might, might just be taking political correctness a tad too far. Obviously, I won't be raising my family there--oh, btw, meet my daughter, Yellow Carrot.

ER closed, Hazmat called after birds fall from sky
eeeewww.

Pet wedding veiled in irony

This is not funny. It's sad, it's pathetic. It's just ridiculous. These people are obviously in need of some psychotherapy.

I mean, they actually list one of the reasons they did this as "being 30-something and alone." That's just sad.

Stories like this one give me hope in our society.

School district creates refuge for homeless students

We need to be doing more to help those kids that are flying under the radar.

Pardon the cross post here...I don't usually do this, but I can't help it.

Okay, I got reminded to do something this week. I've been in Tulsa most of the week for a church conference. At one point, I ended up with free time in the (fabulous) youth area. They had one of those semi-portable basketball hoops set up in one corner and two teenagers were shooting baskets. Both boys appeared to have Downs Syndrome. Both were having the best time, coaching and cheering each other with every shot.

I was watching them, getting a lot of joy from just watching them have fun. Soon, they were casting shy glances at me. After several minutes, they invited me to join them. Now, I suck at shooting baskets. I told them I wasn't very good at all, that I'd probably be in the way. They told me it was okay, they'd help me.

I was instantly humbled. And as we played there in the youth room, so many different things happened. My tension that had hit me rather suddenly at the start of the week melted away. As I said, I was humbled being coached on the best way to shoot the ball. And we laughed and had such a good time. It was awesome.

And then, when we sat down for a break, before going back to our respective posts for the conference, I wrote for them.

Unabashed smiles, eyes
watching the ball -- swissssshhhh--REBOUND!
Reminds me to play.

I didn't manage to get their names. It wasn't important, you know? But they did so much for me.

Okay, I got reminded to do something this week. I've been in Tulsa most of the week for a church conference. At one point, I ended up with free time in the (fabulous) youth area. They had one of those semi-portable basketball hoops set up in one corner and two teenagers were shooting baskets. Both boys appeared to have Downs Syndrome. Both were having the best time, coaching and cheering each other with every shot.

I was watching them, getting a lot of joy from just watching them have fun. Soon, they were casting shy glances at me. After several minutes, they invited me to join them. Now, I suck at shooting baskets. I told them I wasn't very good at all, that I'd probably be in the way. They told me it was okay, they'd help me.

I was instantly humbled. And as we played there in the youth room, so many different things happened. My tension that had hit me rather suddenly at the start of the week melted away. As I said, I was humbled being coached on the best way to shoot the ball. And we laughed and had such a good time. It was awesome.

And then, when we sat down for a break, before going back to our respective posts for the conference, I wrote for them.

Unabashed smiles, eyes
watching the ball -- swissssshhhh--REBOUND!
Reminds me to play.

I didn't manage to get their names. It wasn't important, you know? But they did so much for me.

The Sunday Scribblings prompt this week is "Thief," which can go just about anywhere.

I've been thinking a lot about stealing things the last few days, even before seeing this prompt. The last few weeks have been crazy, I can describe several things that have happened and thoughts I've had as stealing.

Wow, that last sentence is awful. Maybe I'll go back to it. Probably not.

Anyway, I need to give a run-down. I'm big into listing things right now, and have made dozens of lists for everything. I migh as well continue it here.

1. I work through the summer. I teach summer school, professional development classes, and do a bunch for my church job. I realized that this summer I've packed too much in. I've stolen my own time away. Away from deadlines, working. Time to relax. I figured it out, the first week of summer was the only full week I was not required to do anything or be anywhere.
2. I've met a guy--I've commented on him in other posts. He's 'The Man.' He's amazing. I really don't have other words to describe him. It's been a long time since my attention has been drawn to a guy like this--and I don't mean just paying attention to him, I mean my thoughts are drawn to him. I think he's definitely starting to steal my heart...he's already managed to steal my mind.
3. Earlier this week, my peace was stolen. I don't want to go into details for several reasons. Stealing my peace...I just don't know how to wrap my head around it. It happened so suddenly, so violently that it took me a couple days to sort it out for myself. But you know who's managing to help restore it? The Man, whether he knows that's what he's doing or not.

Hm..maybe that's all, then. I guess it just feels like so much more.

I realize it doesn't really fit the prompt. Oh well, I don't tend to follow the rules well anyway.

I've been so overwhelmed in Tulsa this week, that I haven't paid much attention to the news. So, now that I'm home, I'm running through MSN and CNN and all that.

Here's a great one...
2 girls found starving; have well-fed siblings
I hate stories like this. My heart goes out to those little girls. Obviously, the step-mother is a heartless bitch. How could you starve children? I don't care if they're yours or not..how could you do it? And shame on the father. You can't tell me he didn't know this was going on. Even if the girls were always slight of build, you have to notice when your own children are dying.

Court rules teen must have cancer treatment
I'm not sure how I feel about this one. On the one hand, I think it's a very personal decision to decide how to treat (or not treat) your cancer. On the other, I can't identify with a 16 year old who wouldn't be willing to try EVERYTHING to live, and parents who wouldn't insist upon it. Then on the other hand (yes, I know, we're up to 3 now), I have a real problem with a judge or social worker demanding treatment, even if I do have an understanding of current child neglect and protection laws. Of course, if the cancer was obviously terminal and treatments were to just to prolong life, not heal the boy, I could understand opting to not treat. I just don't get not wanting to live. I just know. Thoughts?

Family vows to battle Anna Nicole Smith
And I care, why?

Schwarzenegger gives $150M stem cell loan
Good. You know, I kinda worried about having muscle-brained actor as governor somewhere. (Especially when people started talking about amending the Constitutional requirements for presidency. That might be a bit much, kids.) But, I have to commend Arnold. Stem cell research is SO important.

Gays accused of discrimination in resort town
Hm..there's a twist. Is this hetero-bashing?

Okay, I've been thinking about posting this for a couple of weeks. I haven't gotten around to it, because it's a bit embarassing. And I'm a little afraid that I'll be judged.

But I have to get it off my chest.

The WonderDog is into bondage.

There, I said it. Should I explain?

I bought The WonderDog (Wonder, for short) one of those harness things PetCo sells. Wonder has this crazy idea that taking a walk includes pulling at the leash at full force. I'm afraid at some point he's going to wind up hurting his neck, or bruising a vocal cord or something. (Hm..let me rethink the vocal cord thing. He'd be quieter then, right?) So, we went shopping and found a bright blue harness for him to wear.

When we crawled back in the car, I put it on him--no reason to wait to, you know? INSTANTLY, he calmed down. Just settled right down, and sat in his own seat instead of my lap. Hm. Okay. Whatever.

Now he won't let me take it off of him. He does this pissed puppy growl thing when I even touch it. Think "gnashing of teeth." But if you leave it alone, he's damn near an angel. Okay, so the halo is crooked, but geez, he's still young.

On the rare occasions I do get it off of him, he is fine. Back to normal Wonder mode (read: unruly and ornery.) Just don't let him see it somewhere. He goes bonkers trying to get it. Extremely crazy--crying, clawing, climbing. Ugh. Once it's on him--back to the angel.

I can't take it. My dog's stranger than I am.

is Tulsa.

I'd swear it. I mean, heat indexes of 110 and higher? That's gotta be a level of Hell. Just gotta be.
I know this, because I'm in Tulsa right now. It's nearly midnight and the temperature is a cool 90 degrees out. 90!! There's something wrong with a place that hot at midnight. Ugh.

Have you played with Yahoo!Answers yet? You've GOT TO go do this. I've had so much fun. It's my new way to procrastinate instead of writing. It's way addicting.

I've spent entirely too many hours having to sit still and listen today. I'm so wired.

(Wait, looking up the screen, did I say something was 'way addicting.' Geez.)

Anyway, wired, really wired. The Man (read "the man in my life") even noticed it on the phone earlier. I just couldn't say enough. It was crazy.

Whew..just hit a wall. Ugh.

But you know what...I'm really happy right now. Might be The Man's fault.

It's a bit ironic that this week's prompt at Poetry Thursday is sex.. The Man (read "the man in my life"), and I had a playful conversation last week that produced this gem of a line (hope he doesn't mind me sharing!):

I think your naughty little devil and my innocent little angel need to have a meeting of the minds.

A few days, some twisting and turning...and then the prompt showing up, brought me from there to here.

“Girl, what you doin’?”
Damn the angel.
Ignore her, close my mind.
Wander.
Need your breath on my neck.

“Girl, you’re delicious,”
The devil speaks.
Touch you, lose myself.
Revel.
Steal the warmth from your touch.

“Please, don’t stop.”
Quiet words for
a devil from his angel.
Hunger.
Taste your kiss, and give in.

I've never written any poetry that even hints at sex. I don't really know why, possibly lack of inspiration.

Teehee..The Man should take that statement as a compliment.

I commented last week that not everything we write has to be visceral. I think sometimes I have to be reminded that visceral doesn't have to mean 'gut wrenching.' It can simply refer to the butterflies that swarm with a touch. Ooh, there's an image--butterflies swarming. Hm...


Check out Poetry Thursday for other poetry contributions.