Thursday, July 27, 2006
Seems like I'm missing a post somewhere, but oh well.
I wonder at my attitude today--am I getting older and wiser or just more lax? I am currently working two jobs--I own a company and work part time as a consultant. Today I was feeling really ill--partially from my period, but much more than normal pain and nausea. Consequently, even though there was a deadline today, I found myself unable to bring my focus to working on a document that was due for the consulting firm.
A very small part of me worries that I've 'let them down' and the owner will 'be mad at me', but to be honest, I can't bring myself to too big a sense of worry or my old sense of impending doom. I think, well, what if I am fired or they cut hours--more time for my business. I am financially fine for the next two weeks--I can always sell more ads. What a stage I've come to!! Being fine if only I have money to cover two weeks of expenses!!!
To be truthful, if I look at my pattern over the last few years, it is obvious that consulting is just not for me any more. I thought this job would work because it is so much more just research and flex hours and so forth. And actually, it has been fun. Until there is a deadline!!
Part of this work and recent reading of Michael Crichton's State of Fear has led to a place where I wonder if I may start trying to write some science articles...exposes...perhaps commenting on endangered species listing packages or environmental group letters on my own.
I do feel it is time to start writing again. I have been writing more poetry (I actually submitted one to an online magazine and was accepted--I must say though that I'm not really that impressed with their overall quality and I smell "vanity press:). I am so impressed with my friend A--she's writing a novel. She jsut decided to and is writing every night. I "wish" I could do that. Of course, that's silly to say...If I truly wished it, I'd do it. I have learned that I am fully in control of what I do and what my priorities are!
A lesson that I've learned in the last year: I truly do have the ability to choose my attitude. I can be depressed and worried, or I can be positive and happy (and thereby manifesting good things). The other day, I started worrying and getting sad again about the recent breakup of a friendship and I told myself, "you are not going to be stressed. Think of all the wonderful things that are going to happen in the next week." And I came up with a list of things--one of which was receiving at least $1000 in income--and I got to the post office and had over $900 in income. This has become normal in my life right now--I hold the ability to manifest positive change or negative energy and fears.
A couple recent poems (the second one being the better, the first more illustrative of my mood last weekend!):
I wonder at my attitude today--am I getting older and wiser or just more lax? I am currently working two jobs--I own a company and work part time as a consultant. Today I was feeling really ill--partially from my period, but much more than normal pain and nausea. Consequently, even though there was a deadline today, I found myself unable to bring my focus to working on a document that was due for the consulting firm.
A very small part of me worries that I've 'let them down' and the owner will 'be mad at me', but to be honest, I can't bring myself to too big a sense of worry or my old sense of impending doom. I think, well, what if I am fired or they cut hours--more time for my business. I am financially fine for the next two weeks--I can always sell more ads. What a stage I've come to!! Being fine if only I have money to cover two weeks of expenses!!!
To be truthful, if I look at my pattern over the last few years, it is obvious that consulting is just not for me any more. I thought this job would work because it is so much more just research and flex hours and so forth. And actually, it has been fun. Until there is a deadline!!
Part of this work and recent reading of Michael Crichton's State of Fear has led to a place where I wonder if I may start trying to write some science articles...exposes...perhaps commenting on endangered species listing packages or environmental group letters on my own.
I do feel it is time to start writing again. I have been writing more poetry (I actually submitted one to an online magazine and was accepted--I must say though that I'm not really that impressed with their overall quality and I smell "vanity press:). I am so impressed with my friend A--she's writing a novel. She jsut decided to and is writing every night. I "wish" I could do that. Of course, that's silly to say...If I truly wished it, I'd do it. I have learned that I am fully in control of what I do and what my priorities are!
A lesson that I've learned in the last year: I truly do have the ability to choose my attitude. I can be depressed and worried, or I can be positive and happy (and thereby manifesting good things). The other day, I started worrying and getting sad again about the recent breakup of a friendship and I told myself, "you are not going to be stressed. Think of all the wonderful things that are going to happen in the next week." And I came up with a list of things--one of which was receiving at least $1000 in income--and I got to the post office and had over $900 in income. This has become normal in my life right now--I hold the ability to manifest positive change or negative energy and fears.
A couple recent poems (the second one being the better, the first more illustrative of my mood last weekend!):
Saturday Morning
He said I looked bored.
He joked, “Do you want me to wake the baby?”
I was on the couch, looking at a mesquite tree.
The tree is framed perfectly, billowing
and waving in the wind. Fine wispy, yellow-green leaves
against patches of pale blue. The flowers have all fallen
except for one, small and yellow. It looks lonely there at the top.
A few old seed pods here and there,
but this year’s crop
is not ripe.
“I’m fine here,” I said.
Having nothing to do,
nothing to say,
no where to be
is a luxury.
He said I looked bored.
He joked, “Do you want me to wake the baby?”
I was on the couch, looking at a mesquite tree.
The tree is framed perfectly, billowing
and waving in the wind. Fine wispy, yellow-green leaves
against patches of pale blue. The flowers have all fallen
except for one, small and yellow. It looks lonely there at the top.
A few old seed pods here and there,
but this year’s crop
is not ripe.
“I’m fine here,” I said.
Having nothing to do,
nothing to say,
no where to be
is a luxury.
The shape of grief
When I was a child, my mother wept quietly
behind the closed doors and yelled
through the open ones.
My father was quiet during both the yelling and weeping.
When I was older, she sometimes asked me to hold her tears.
I grew frustrated that they fell so easily through my fingers.
My father watched quietly as I searched for a bowl to contain them.
I finally found, hidden in a cupboard,
a hand-carved bowl.
I hated her for the weakness of tears,
for asking me to hold the shape of her grief.
I loved the quiet impassiveness of my father’s calm watching.
It was only later, I watched quietly, calm and impassive
as my father cried over her grave, that I remembered her words,
“Please, someone help me.”
I wondered if he wished he hadn’t carved the bowl?
I wondered if he wished he had been the one to hold her tears?
¶ 5:20 PM When I was a child, my mother wept quietly
behind the closed doors and yelled
through the open ones.
My father was quiet during both the yelling and weeping.
When I was older, she sometimes asked me to hold her tears.
I grew frustrated that they fell so easily through my fingers.
My father watched quietly as I searched for a bowl to contain them.
I finally found, hidden in a cupboard,
a hand-carved bowl.
I hated her for the weakness of tears,
for asking me to hold the shape of her grief.
I loved the quiet impassiveness of my father’s calm watching.
It was only later, I watched quietly, calm and impassive
as my father cried over her grave, that I remembered her words,
“Please, someone help me.”
I wondered if he wished he hadn’t carved the bowl?
I wondered if he wished he had been the one to hold her tears?
