Anywhere, I would've followed you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmErRm-vApI

 

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere, I would have followed you
Oh-oh-oh-oh say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something, I'm giving up on you
Say something 

So Much Depends Upon....Yoga Pants

As I approach my 20 year college reunion, I think about this...

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

by William Carlos Williams

I think that

so much depends
upon

yoga pants...
I didn't have them 20 years
ago, only grey drudgery
and sweat pants

and it seems to me now
that yoga pants
have made all the difference

how they allow you to feel
somehow trim & fit even
while still happy & fat
even while still technically
(BMI Range) imperfect

with that lower leg flare
turning out just so, and
how the soft material
hugs your lovely
thighs and ass

all imperfect, and yet
just perfect, somehow, just
for this one moment

when it doesn't matter
because nothing matters
but this breath
this yoga-pants-moment
of complete
Acceptance

~Namaste~ 

Providing

Old poem, just now resurrected for no particular reason, maybe just the rage...:)

Providing                                                                        
January 24, 1998
                                                                     
when she drives home from the grocery store
and is just beginning to live a life
she’s not sure of
on a saturday evening
and cut off from the party-going
around her
outside the car windows
she envisions her next few steps
up the stairs to their apartment
load after heavy load
carried calmly in her hands
car stopped for a moment
in an illegal but convenient
spot and lights continually blinking
“hazard!”       “hazard!”
*** **      *****     *****     *****     *****
putting the cheese and milk
away in the refridgerator
the produce in the “crisper”
the cereal on the shelves
she envisions what she’d like to do
next: stop and turn with perfect
clarity of movement
to throw the frozen orange juice can
out the closed unsuspecting window
shattering
new-found domestic
haven of her beautiful kitchen
angry at the on-sale orange juice
and the emptied paper-in-plastic
bags - good for garbage and
recycling - angry at that careful forethought
that never seems to be reciprocated
and the loving hands that do dishes
and fold laundry and take care
of their lives, the boring      daily
destruction
of peace and order
*****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****
in the grocery store
the first time she took a large cart
instead of the usual small basket,
the kind with a small seat in front for a child
wanting Lucky Charms
and Twinkies and Coca-Cola,
the kind that screams “family!”
and big grocery budget
to feed all the expectant ones back home,
she felt dislocated,
off-balance, wheeling the squeaky cart
down aisles the loomed into her vision,
lost from who she was
or who she thought she wanted to be
would be someday
someday
feeling like her mother
inevitably
and like she was crossing
into some unspoken territory
of consumerism and womanhood
and the strange thing was: it feel so
very natural
*****     *****     *****     *****     *****
she remembers when her mother
would come home from grocery
shopping and would park the minivan in the alley
honking the horn for the kids
to come running to help carry
the bags in - she remembers how her mother
would get angry when they dawdled
over the TV watching, the reading or drawing
and resenting the interrruption
she wonders how her mother resisted
the temptation to take them and shake them
and yell “don’t you see that this is all for you?!”
spreading tired hands out to show
them the giving, the hours of coupon-clipping,
the organization of dozens of tiny
slips of paper in the small filebox
like the one for recipes
the time spent at stores
wheeling carts down aisle after aisle
after aisle
and thinking of others
who would never notice
any of this, as long as she was there
and simply providing

Acceptance Poem

As I start new journal
in the wide-ruled notebook
I bought today I am...

Accepting that I write sloppy and BIG
Accepting that I stay up WAY
too late, drinking and smoking
and am exhausted all the time
because of it

Accepting this body, its
boredom, and longings, and bliss
and that it always stays
AT LEAST 10 lbs above
where it's supposed to be
healthy BMI Range, all that shit

Accepting how the body
regularly fails
to be perfect

Accepting the lines
on my face are
permanent and
not going away
my forehead like
my father's - all
those deep furrows -
and so I kind of love it

Accepting and loving
the lines because I have
EARNED every little
last one of them

Accepting that all women
even those of us who
call ourselves Feminists
will always want to look

younger than their Age

Accepting RAGE

Accepting that my
father has died
for so long - in July
it will be 18 years now

He always wanted me
to be a Feminist and
rule the world but how
he left us so suddenly

I will always be
the "apple of his eye"
and he will always be
53 years young to me

I will always be
struggling to learn
how to live and to
Accept

Quite a Valentine - Still the One (and we're still having fun)

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbH_sDyWZqo#aid=P8n36fwxF_g

We've been together since way back when
Sometimes I never want to see you again
But I want you to know, after all these years
You're still the one I want whisperin' in my ear

You're still the one I want to talk to in bed
Still the one that turns my head
We're still having fun, and you're still the one

I looked at your face every day
But I never saw it 'til I went away
When winter came, I just wanted to go
Deep in the desert, I longed for the snow

You're still the one that makes me laugh
Still the one that's my better half
We're still having fun, and you're still the one

You're still the one that makes me strong
Still the one I want to take along
We're still having fun, and you're still the one

Changing, our love is going gold
Even though we grow old, it grows new

You're still the one that I love to touch
Still the one and I can't get enough
We're still having fun, and you're still the one

You're still the one who can scratch my itch
Still the one and I wouldn't switch
We're still having fun, and you're still the one

You are still the one that makes me shout
Still the one that I dream about
We're still having fun, and you're still the one...

No GPS Required: Report From Our Fourth Visit to Panama

(With indirect reference to last blog post on Panama -  http://yousurecantalkbaby.blogspot.com/2012/06/how-to-break-your-gps-and-other-stories.html.)

So, we had a short trip to Panama planned for May, including a much-anticipated visit to Contadora Island one of the famous Pearl Islands (Las Perlas) of Panama.  We had everything all set up and it was perfect.  Then in April, as a result of my ongoing and somewhat lazy job hunt, I suddenly got a job offer.  A really good job offer: full-time and 20k more than I was currently making at Jackson Hewitt, back to straight-BA work (no more being a manager to the world's most dysfunctional team of testers!) and in the health care insurance industry (no more boring tax software!).

But there were 2 problems.  The job was in Tampa - at least an hour from our lovely little city of Sarasota - and the offer was contingent on my NOT taking this already-scheduled & paid-for vacation.  I was livid.  And seriously considered turning it down.  If they don't want me badly enough to deal with me missing a total of four measly work days then FUCK them! was my thinking. 

Well, my wonderful husband David - who said he was willing to eventually move to Tampa (and would find a job there, he'd been wanting to leave his current company/position for a while) - talked me off the ledge (as he often has to do).

Reader, I took it.

And in rescheduling the trip we were able to coordinate our visit with my dear friend Andrea who (along with the Panamanian man she married about 6 years ago) has been our connection and inspiration in regards to that country.  We had to give up Contadora Island (too complicated to meet up there around Christmas given an unreliable ferry schedule) but it was worth it.

So we had 3 days/nights in the mountain town of Boquete just me & David and five blissful days in a rented beach house in Portobello, on the Caribbean side of the country, with Andrea, her husband, and a bunch of his family members.  The second half of the trip included Christmas Eve and Christmas, which was perfect.  A few photos below:

Especially ironic how well the trip worked out, given that my sparkly new job for which we rescheduled totally didn't...by the time December rolled around I was well-gone from that crazy place and thank heavens!

My favorite part of the trip (aside from the spontaneous and awesome snorkeling we did the day after Christmas), was when I described the route I took to get us to Portobello which necessarily didn't follow our directions because we were coming from the regional, not the international, airport (which are sort of strangely no where near each other).  Alfonso (Andrea's husband) said "you drive better than many Panamanians!" and I felt proud.  I was a proud Panamanian-wannabe, with no need for a GPS. :)

Another Year

"Another Year" ~ K's Choice
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8iOAgDBPUr8
I wish you could adore
The way you did before
Now you're living through another year
Oh, the light you were
Will soon become a blur
As you're living through another year
Oh, what a waste of time it is
To indulge inside of bliss
Getting ready for another year like this
Another year to lie
Another year goes by
You're not sick, so you can't heal
But I wonder do you feel
The need to cry: 'I'm out of here'
Oh, your goal is safe
But is it all you crave
As you're living through another year
Oh, what a waste of time it is
To indulge inside of bliss
Getting ready for another year like this
Another year to lie
Another year goes by
Is it me who cannot see
The face of mediocrity
I try to smile you see
Your lightness darkens me
Filter all of your emotions.
Fake you're never low
Or face the one you fear
You're living through another year
Another year to lie
Another year goes by 

Thanksgiving Panhandle Roadtrip made us Ready for a Tropical Christmas

The loves to love the loves to love the loves to love...

MADAME GEORGE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrOgYjp20j0
Down on cyprus avenue
With a childlike vision leaping into view
Clicking, clacking of the high heeled shoe
Ford & fitzroy, madame george
Marching with the soldier boy behind
Hes much older with hat on drinking wine
And that smell of sweet perfume comes drifting through
The cool night air like shalimar
And outside theyre making all the stops
The kids out in the street collecting bottle-tops
Gone for cigarettes and matches in the shops
Happy taken madame george
Thats when you fall
Whoa, thats when you fall
Yeah, thats when you fall
When you fall into a trance
A sitting on a sofa playing games of chance
With your folded arms and history books you glance
Into the eyes of madame george
And you think you found the bag
Youre getting weaker and your knees begin to sag
In the corner playing dominoes in drag
The one and only madame george
And then from outside the frosty window raps
She jumps up and says lord have mercy I think its the cops
And immediately drops everything she gots
Down into the street below
And you know you gotta go
On that train from dublin up to sandy row
Throwing pennies at the bridges down below
And the rain, hail, sleet, and snow
Say goodbye to madame george
Dry your eye for madame george
Wonder why for madame george
And as you leave, the room is filled with music, laughing, music,
Dancing, music all around the room
And all the little boys come around, walking away from it all
So cold
And as youre about to leave
She jumps up and says hey love, you forgot your gloves
And the gloves to love to love the gloves...
To say goodbye to madame george
Dry your eye for madame george
Wonder why for madame george
Dry your eyes for madame george
Say goodbye in the wind and the rain on the back street
In the backstreet, in the back street
Say goodbye to madame george
In the backstreet, in the back street, in the back street
Down home, down home in the back street
Gotta go
Say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
Dry your eye your eye your eye your eye your eye...
Say goodbye to madame george
And the loves to love to love the love
Say goodbye
Oooooo
Mmmmmmm
Say goodbye goodbye goodbye goodbye to madame george
Dry your eye for madame george
Wonder why for madame george
The loves to love the loves to love the loves to love...
Say goodbye, goodbye
Get on the train
Get on the train, the train, the train...
This is the train, this is the train...
Whoa, say goodbye, goodbye....
Get on the train, get on the train...
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/v/van+morrison/madame+george_20143132.html

Much Better to Be The Leaver Than the Left

I had my last day today at HPS - HealthPlan Services - and I couldn't be happier to leave it.  On my own terms.  

They often say, you don't know what you have until it's gone.  And I have experienced that myself in the past (witness my feelings about NM, after I left!), and so I don't take leaving lightly.  But I don't think I'll feel that this time.  Not by a long shot!

Because more layoffs are coming, you can feel it like a tremor in the earth signifying earthquake...or aftershock.  Because the first schism happened a while ago with the first round of layoffs, and then the second, almost two months ago, and forgive me if I don't want to be around for the third.

I was mostly honest in my exit interview today but I don't think they want to hear it.  The current leadership takes that "flattened earth" approach and so they will devastate whatever they need to for the bottom line.  I think I'm lucky to get out with my skin alive!

Not to make it all sound so Armageddon, but you know, these things do feel dramatic sometimes.  And personal.  :)

And so, I quote Kurt Vonnegut and add my own little poetic twist:
“Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, 'It might have been.'”
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/98330-of-all-the-words-of-mice-and-men-the-saddest
If must-needs be
and can be deft
much better to be the Leaver
than the Left

"The Show" Must Go On

I've always loved the movie "Moulin Rouge."  It portrayed a certain adolescent drama and angst I guess I've always identified with - as silly as that may sound - and these sound-bites perfectly express it ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOCcuPcfTHc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s12XiAOtjcg
    
It's been over 4 months now that I've had my new job in Tampa and I talked with such rose-colored glasses about how great it was.  How we were "going to the show."

Truth is that we've had this great 2 bedroom apartment for months and I haven't done Yoga in the extra room set aside for Yoga.  Not even once.

Truth is the company I thought was so great (we moved up here because of it, after all), has had TWO rounds of layoffs now and I don't know exactly why I have survived them but I know I could be next.  It might just be a matter of time.  And meanwhile I have survivor's guilt and that place is so chaotic I can barely believe it.

Perhaps it would be a relief to be let go?  Careful what you wish for, I know.

Soooooooooooooooo "the show must go on" - I must keep a happy face on and see if I can survive it - October 1st deadline, fucking Affordable Care Act and Obama's will to carry it out.

Or find another place I can call work home.