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No money in my pocket…

The job I do which comes with money, insurance, sick and vacation days-

Will Never Define Me.

If I left tomorrow, another would take my place and yesterday’s trash would hold my memory.  I work for an organization that bears no ownership from me but seeks to own me 9-5 five days a week, 52 weeks of the year.

Not my circus, not my monkeys and,

still I work.

For the pitiful salary that allows me to live paycheck to paycheck.

I work.

Twenty-three dollars of green and cream coloured paper can pay for a NYRR race so yes, I

work.

Some money is better than no money.

Before 9am I am the person who owns myself, running 4-6 miles through Ppark alleviating all the knots and kinks required for the introvert in me to go forth into the wonderful office space world where, annoying can’t be alone extroverts, rule.

After 5pm, I revert to being me, in my apartment, wearing the jammies, with the furbabies, two glasses of wine and a good book or SVU on the tube. The introvert in me welcomes my non-inclusive space.

Non-inclusive means space for me and surely not you.

Lord have mercy…

for the extroverts and their lonely selves cannot exist without the attention sucked from introverts who long for the private office the extroverts occupy.

Still I work.

Money is earned not given in my case.

I work…

not for the accolades which are reserved for those who make the most and work the least.

Work,

because it pays the endless bills left always in arrears.

Some money is better than no money so

I work and will keep working until the bills ride off into the sunset or I win mega millions and with my middle finger held high, I ride off into the sunset.

***images from the web…

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Tobias Walsh…Toby.

Tobias…

Tobias, Toba, Tub of lard, Mr. Tobes, Mr. T, Tobester, Tobadia, Mr Tobadia.

Toby, for me

YOU will always be…just Toby. 1440421056303 (2016-11-02T19_58_20.842)

I want to write down the words that tell my feelings about

YOU.

But…

When I think of

USTED, I get all mamba jamba boogied up tight lip and my chest hurts, missing your bunny hopping days through Ppark.

The pain is so real and so there…as

TÚ is no longer here, and neither is Pi and I long to touch and smell

USTED as I do him.

Although, stink, Pi did, as did

YOU, and it did not matter because being all mine, all the time, unconditionally, lovingly far surpassed the dirty dog, musty stink after swimming at the doggy beach in Ppark brought into the house.

USTED passed into shadow on Monday evening, October 9, 2017, licking peanut butter from my finger as Propofol made its way through the vein that would eventually connect with other veins on a path to your heart-unstoppable as your personality and love was.

TÚ paused in the peanut butter licking, confused somewhat and before I could acknowledge what was taking place, the ER vet plunged Euthasol into that same vein, which stopped, and ended the pumping of your sweet heart that held mi alma intact and made me realize that yes,

YOU and your love were stoppable.IMG_2112

Pi took my heart…

TÚ my dear first fur baby, the oldest of the pack, took my soul (mi alma).

Beat on…run on…free at last from the arthritis, the crippling of the joints, the senioritis which left you at times confused looking for our house on return walks the sometimes incontinence, the sometimes-foggy vision, free at last, thank HIM almighty you are free.

Gracias me perrito  que vivir en mi vida por catorce años.

Gracias for choosing me.

I want to say to

YOU all that wasn’t said while this earth was lucky to have your soul in its presence, it’s concrete jungle, pseudo Ppark in the woods landscape with me by your side. Gracias a

TÚ for finding and choosing me to spend time in your life. Pi was not part of

the package, pero

dscn0751

USTED accepted him or better yet, tolerated him on your own terms.

The residents at the now defunct Bishop Hulces nursing home would also join in this thanks to

YOU, the certified therapy dog who strutted through the dementia ward bringing the gift of words to those who would not normally speak. 1094724054094 (2016-11-02T19_58_16.355)

USTED, my sweet baby boy would allow the locked words to flow in their gibberish, unstoppable, accepted and not challenged or corrected way.

I remember the young teenage girl who was placed in the nursing home due to her disability of severed legs sacrificed from her attempted suicide gone wrong pact with an MTA train. Mother and father were at her bedside during our visits and the tension and awkwardness were too real to ignore. They spoke no English and who knows what if they knew what to make of you grizzly Adams appearance.

YOU jumped on me, and unto her bed, snuggled up to a hip that no longer had an extension.  She in turn was happy to pet your fur which brought forth a smile easing the tensions from the parents who now mirar a

USTED at what I perceived to be respect and admiration. The visits to her room always brought out the best in the soul that resided en

dscn1109

LOVE

TÚ and el alma that took my own away.

Bereavement is not so acceptable when it comes to fur babies because for many they are insignificant, easily discarded as the wrapper on a wad of gum. Going into shadow is as irrelevant as swatting a mosquito of an arm.

But guess what…

For me not having

YOU, the job of life can be done but trust me, it will be half assed done, for your unconditional no judgement love does not await me when I return home and I’m left with no defense to put the day’s sucking vampires behind me.

DSCN0073

I go to work, forced to converse in conversations when I’d rather be home licking my wounds and thinking of you. Grieving for your lil bro was much easier-I was unemployed. 580

To pick up your ashes, I must return to the place your last breath was drawn and I will bring

 

YOU home.IMG_2164

Which is where you are now, my sweet Toby boy.

 

 

 

 

 

** TÚ, USTED = You.  Mirar=look. Gracias a tú=thanks to you. en= in. pero=but. Gracias me perrito  que vivir en mi vida por catorce años=Thank you my doggy who lived in my life for 14 years.

Dignified Toby-001img_0555roomies-220140916_113709

 

Routines…routes…Peace out.

My,

easy to follow a staunch routine when it comes to others. For myself? Nope. Routines are erratic, completed by convenience, routines disguised as promises broken, no follow through or follow up-sounds like my childhood.

Coffee

Bustelo coffee, brew the same way, everyday

Mind you,

attachment to mom, my mom is akin to that of a momma and baby bear where the roles flip flop as a fish on dry land.

Oh boy,

this writing started out as a five-minute morning routine I seldom follow and of course, forgot to set the timer. Five minutes tops, not a minute under or over.

writing

The writing desk with all the idea prompting chutskies.

Well now,

guess this writing turns into a post about routines, easy to establish, impossible at times to follow. Routines are predictable structures set in place by the grandest of intentions, never veering from its designated path, constant.

Alrighty then,

let’s give a cheer for the routines I follow when it comes to others, but nope, not for myself.

-cinco minutos a escribir-(NOT)

Big E

The feline furs demand the 6am breakfast-6pm dinner.

Not in Kansas anymore…or…AND, OR , BUT.

My running season goals of 2017 were:

  1. To be social and branch out of solely running Ppark (Prospect Park)
  2. Graduate from the 5k’s with the tee shirt award to the 10k’s with the tee shirts AND medal awards

Guess what?

Achieved, done, concluded, fulfilled, ended, over and done with!!IMG_2078

Goals are the wish lists we formulate and attempt to complete… OR…fail while doing so.

Failure…

At times, staying in ‘Kansas’ may be the road block which caused the goal failure to begin with. Comfort-ability does have its snags… BUT… so does taking that initial step to ‘make it happen’ and tripping,  falling flat on your face and ending up in a hospital bed, thinking , ‘How the hell did that happen?’

Well, as John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.

And so it does…life happens.

The running goals for 2017 were not going to happen if I continued to run alone in Ppark doing the same thing, the same way, everyday. IMG_2079

Change.

It had to come so I joined a running group, paid the joiner’s fee with money borrowed and not paid back. This major shift gave the best results as my running goals were met as well as having social running buddies. Aspirations and new goals are up a notch for 2018 (God willing because we know he can be tricksy sometimes).

So…

There are no AND, OR ,BUT to change. No excuses.

Just do it.IMG_2075

 

 

 

Mercedes Benz…

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

Janis Joplin and her Mercedes Benz…

Of course, my pity me, pity bee self, let those lyrics set in my heart at a young age while I licked my “How many licks does it take to reach the center of a Tootsie Pop?”

Joplin was amazing.

A white chick who could wail like a black chick and gained kudos beyond the norm for being a white chick who could wail like a black chick. Meanwhile the black chicks who are the backup singers to the white musicians remain in the background, behind the lines of the white musicians who need their sound to cross barriers and bring in more buyers of their records.

Tina Turner was amazing as she wailed out in front while her backup singers remained in the back. The black chicks that is…

‘Nuf said.’

So…

Back to asking for that Mercedes Benz…

The ONE and ONLY, THE LEADER OF US ALL, the one otherwise known as JEHOVAH, YAHWEH, ADONAI, GOD, THE ALMIGHTY…this stops here (Current thunder and lightning storm taking place and it is not wise to anger the ONE who controls the weather). Well he’s not giving me a Benz, nor am I asking for it. What I want, what I really want, and yes, I’m telling you, is a grand piano.   piano-1522856__340

 Sigh…

I’ve been teased by three grands over the years.

The first was a Bechstein, when the company was in NY, before the rents went up. It was a lower end model, selling for $8k. I let it go or rather it let me go, for when I decided yes it was the one, someone else bought it then mom, my mom, became sick…very sick.

SOLD

The second was a Mason and Hamlin which sat in a church collecting dust in the corner. I begged, tried to borrow, could not steal- everyone. No loan, no piano. It was bought the next day and ended up on Craigslist a month later selling for $15k. Duh…

SOLD

The third piano, and yes this is it. No more searching, do, did, done. Nunca más.  The heart (mi corazón) cannot allow false hope (esperanza)  to take hold only to dissipate into steam, traveling upwards towards the sky (el cielo) , out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. piano-1655558__340

Sigh…

This time, it was a 5 foot 7 Steinway grand, placed on Craigslist and discovered while scouring the job market ads. The address on the ad was located five blocks up from where I live. Yes, my neighbor who moved here twenty years ago before the gentri came, when it was cool and hip to live here, when the rents were under $2k…enough…is currently selling their 5 foot 7 Steinway grand for an unheard of price.

Bubble gum wraps!!!!  (Not the words I prefer to use but profanity is such a cliché reaction-whatever)

Sigh…

No funds reserved in a savings account, in a 401k fund, in a money market, in an overseas bank account, in a CD, in a mattress or under it, in a silver plated box buried in the backyard, or in a sugar daddy’s pocket. My salary will not cover the cost of the piano, as the salary itself is a joke because I work with others who make way more than me for doing way less.piano-2412403__340

Go figure.

Borrowing the money to pay for the piano is akin to hitting lotto’s biggest jackpot. So close but yet so far or rather I pretend the wasted money I used to purchase the lotto ticket  will bring me riches as I do not know a soul who would lend me the Benjamins, period.

So…

Getting back to Janis with a twist:

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me, my neighbour’s Steinway?

My friends play Bosendorfer’s, I must make amends

Worked hard all my lifetime, switching careers back and forth

So Lord, won’t you buy me my neighbour’s Steinway?

piano-2173426__340

Feelin’ Groovy, Felling Well…But…

Wellbutrin…wellbutrin-lawyer-lawsuit-law-firm-attorney-300x300.jpg

(or rather the generic version since my insurance will not pay for the real thing)

Well…

We have a rather strange relationship.

I take it.

It takes me.

Well…

We have separated for now.

Possibly a long separation…

Although (Wellbutrin) you are noted to deliver far more than I could ever imagine,

You don’t…and

Well…

You leave my brain in a state of discombobulation, like walking through a foggy swamp, pausing long enough to see the resident croc munching on my left big toe and then later  wondering where did it go?

My sleeping is flawless as you cruise through my blood, leading me on pinkish cotton candy paths until I step on the dog s***t someone left behind.

Appetite is in check as there is no appetite, for you are a cheap date who does not pay for food, you as a foodie who loves to boast about consuming,  but once I run away from you, my chomping mouth is on non-stop mode, savouring all the non-delicacies your stinginess denied.   download.jpg

Liver values checked every three months, just to make sure you’re not taking more than you should and yes, thank you my liver is quite clever at leavin’ you wishing and hoping

Okay…

Getting back to what was initially stated,

Wellbutrin and I are separated for now.

Maybe indefinitely.    pills

Maybe forever as was the case of my first so called civil court matrimony union to a man who thought I was wacko anyway…

Wellbutrin.

You are a wonder drug for some.

For me, too many questions on what you bring to the table…

What you have you done for me?…

Ms Jackson…if you’re nasty.

 

 

***BTW-Be so very careful-make sure you research and familiarize yourself with Wellbutrin. If you post ignorant statements, beware…

 

 

 

 

Brooklyn

I so miss the Brooklyn that was me

Before they came with their Caribbean nannies

I miss the Brooklyn that was me

Playing red light, green light , one, two, three

Miss the Brooklyn that was me

Italian ices and of course Mr Softee

The Brooklyn that was me

No longer is what let me be

Brooklyn was me

Long before it became we

 

***photos-www

one.jpgdownload.jpg

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