I don’t know if it is going to eat off his leg or kill him.
His roommate is in fact dying (COPD).
To watch a man die by waste of air
is to know the horror of starvation.
His limbs have become bone
to the ghostly hollow of powder white skin
punched with dark circles of decay.
Contagious… I’ve been warned about mrsa.
Gloves, and a mask will need do,
but how do I protect my heart from knowing their fate….
SOMETIME A FEW MONTHS BACK…
I told my dad that is he is going to die, but not before the tirade in his living room. I walked into his house without knocking, because I believe that family is an open invitation, far more comfortable than the formality of proper etiquette, which I have in grace magnified by kindness. I know how to be a lady, because I am that woman by heart. My father has never allowed me that softness, and still, I walk right in.
He scowled at me when I entered, not rising from his chair because he can’t. These days he can barely stand due to the infection, flesh eating, MRSA a medicine resistant strain. His disapproval deepened further, until even a welcome was denied. “HEY!” he snarled, “You need to knock before you come in my house.”
I can’t rightly say why I chose to be angry in that moment, but I went from zero to pissed in an instant, and I gave a f*ck about his invitation. That’s exactly what I told him too, “F*ck you, and your knocking. I just drove an hour to see you, spent the last of my money on gas; I can leave mother f*cker, I can go…”
My father did not invite me to stay, “Get the f*ck out then, Amber. I am not going to let you walk into my house like a disrespectful b*tch!!” He was at the top of his lungs, and so was I.
“F*ck you and your respect! You raised me! I am your spawn father.” My words were the venom of old hurt. He came back at me with all the denial of a parent without responsibility.
“I didn’t raise you. Your mother did.” He was fuming and vulgar, swearing and raw.
I shoved my agreement down his throat. ”That’s right. I forgot that you weren’t there. You are out right lucky that I am even here to walk through your door without knocking. I should knock your f*cking head off, I should kick your teeth in, that’s what I should do.” I was the red of a bull tearing him apart, the cripple that he had become, “Who the f*ck do you think you are!!” My last question was as loud as the universe, “I should knock your f*cking head off!!!” My words could no longer hold the volume of my frustration, I turned and threw the contents in my hand at his front window with all the force of intending to break it. My keys, and a full water ball, ricocheted like bullets with out the impact of shatter, though I did manage to knock his curtains down.
My father’s face was torment. I could feel the heartbreak of his burden, and also the fear of his fate. He was looking at me like I was his own ghost, defeated, he lowered himself to the quiet resolve of his true intention, “I was just trying to teach you Amber. I am your father…”
It is a great fortune to have the blessing of employment, furthered still by passion, and then love. I am absolutely in love with the creation of my own success, which is not an equal right, or liberty. It is a choice; best fueled by belief, the belief in one’s self.
I believe that I can accomplish anything, and so I strive beyond that, because “doing,” is not enough, though it could be. It could be enough to do what is expected, but then so many expect the worst, and then give it. What if I could be the best?
I am the best by exuberance; the sheer joy of knowing that I couldn’t have done more, because I gave it everything I had with love. I have been a small business owner for eight years. My business doubled after the first, and tripled the next. It grew quickly by word of mouth, so fast that it pulled me, while pushing me to edge of my own capabilities. I learned all too soon the humility of needing help, and the impossibility of standard. Hiring was near nightmare by how little each applicant invested in work ethic. In all that time I only knew three who were a match to my own standard. I would mention them by name, except to spare the slight of those not mentioned. I can only tell you that my best employees were the success of my business. They were the heart of it growing. The greatest heartbreak I have known in business is not being able to meet my own measure. To honor the value of my clients, and what they deserve by the gift of their business. I wanted to give them perfection, but their volume by love, had out grown my own capabilities marring help. There was too much in the air without proper hands to catch. Until things started to drop.
I was learning…
There were too many to give proper attention. The courtesy of proper attention should be standard business practice. I stood in line to buy groceries just yesterday, and the checker did not look up to see me. I addressed him with a question, “How is your day.” He mumbled that it was “fine”, still not giving me his gaze in full acknowledgement. “Not wonderful? Or amazing?” I persisted in questioning. He paused briefly, to answer, “No, I am not amazing. I work at Safeway.” Trying to encourage him, I said, “That is a wonderful job to have. You work for a company that offers full medical benefits, with bountiful opportunities for promotion. Surely, that is something to be grateful for?” He scoffed, near sneering, “Yeah lady, that’s just great.” He then handed me my receipt, turning back to the next in line without further comment.
We have become a people of entitlement, taking for granted what we have. A friend of mine from Brazil said it best, “American’s cry with their bellies full.” Guilty. I am guilty as charged, please note this cover letter as proof. I am not fulfilled, and so I am writing you because I would love to make your business mine. I would like photography, my current livelihood, to take second chair as a passion I pursue for the love of taking pictures, a dabbled business, not by quality, but by time. I could never give it up, but my ambitions are vast. I want to meet the standard of your business, so that you can know the pride of having that vision in completion. I understand the importance of a good fit, each role, each position within, integral to success. I would seize the opportunity of employment with gratitude, and arrive to my title knowing that I am needed, regardless of position, and beyond ego. A company is made by many roles. I will own it at such. Your business is mine. I will love it that way.
So, I had this crazy idea that it would be OK if I start this sentence with so. There are rules against this sort of thing (I read it once in a book), but then I am a rule breaker kind of girl. For example, that rule that says “If you can’t say something nice you should shut the f*ck up…”
Well, that is not exactly how the saying goes, but then that is just how I deal with dick heads, and A-holes. “Shut the f*ck up.” I am usually laughing of course, because there is nothing more amusing then (or than) when one makes a penis of themselves. I am personally guilty of that offense. Sometimes I am a ripe *sshole, but dangit do I try to leave the world better than I found it.
So (there I go again with the so), I have another confession. I kind of like talking sh*t. Especially if it’s true. What I can’t stand is a cry baby slobbery mess, and hurt feelings. I get my own feelings hurt pretty darn easily, so I try to hold the world in an egg shell. It’s a noble concept except I am clumsy, and drop sh*t, eggs rot, and are better eaten. I don’t even like eggs, or chickens for that matter. Maybe I just need to come up with a better analogy? Nah, that one seems pretty perfect considering the rooster. People give me sh*t about that bird, but people are into roosters. Songs are written…
So (I know it’s overplayed), I have a thing for macaroons, as in, I lust for them. It’s a newer fetish, or should I say, affliction. I am not into kinky food sex, another recant. Holy crap, how did sex even get brought into this! The San Fransisco bakery that’s how!!
I go to bed with those damn cookies, the macaroons in question. The ones from The San Fransisco Bakery. I sleep with them like a lover, moaning and such, with pleasure. I cleared out the case the last time I was in. I was going to put them in the freezer to make them last, except I kept getting up in the middle of the night to go gnaw on them. Holy Moses those babies are good frozen. The outside is caramelized, golden to chew. The inside is like biting into a cloud, the flavor bursts to fluff. The are the lightest treat. Eating them is like falling into snow.
I was tempted to stray today, and I did. I am not even going to lie. I am single; I don’t need to be tied to one cookie. I decided to try another cookie. This cookie was made by The Blue Heron Bakery.
It’s just not working for me, but I tried to get off. I figured, hell, I already shoved it in. I should at least enjoy it. I spent every bite wishing that I was lying in bed with San Fransisco. There was no contest. I will not be buying macaroons from the Blue Heron Bakery, though the apricot and nuts were a nice flavor combo. I purchased one with dark chocolate chips, and one without. I ate one frozen and one fresh. They both were like eating raw coconut in uncooked dough. The consistency was almost slimy, but more like mush. The outside has a nice shell, but the inside falls apart to organic. It is an earthy combo, as in my grandmother was buried in the earth. This cookie is buried as a “No Go”, but I will be back to sample other fare. The staff was super cool, and local businesses rock!! No foul intended. Just preference.
There is a typo in this poll…
Coconut Macaroon Thumbprints with Raspberry Chia Seed Jam
I told him that I hadn’t, but that I had thought about it. The tide of my memory lapped at the detail of water at mooring. He had asked me to describe it as we pulled into port. I found my mind grasping, near empty, like lungs held without purpose of air. I was nearly absent under the Tacoma skyline, my lips parted to the taste of the city as I remembered surrendering to it. I was in love, had fallen, when I first drove to find my new studio within the sprawl of architecture months before. The urban aroma, once a stench, had opened to the flower of new possibility, and the lights did dance. They were the red and green of Christmas until the memory of Bo surfaced like a seal’s head in the liquid of my consciousness, with all that I was trying to hold under surface suddenly looking back at me, hungry, and untied by trying. He was the question mark of gifts to come through romance, the celebration of new spirit, rekindled after a long and desolate divorce. I remember that my heart lit to get his messages, the first so close to Christmas, and then on the day, even a “Hi” was magic. He drew his smileys with noses : – ) The coolest motherf*cker on the planet. I couldn’t wait to meet him, because I knew what I felt before knowing his face. I was excited about him and everything; inspired.
I blinked, and the season had past, leaving the city to concrete and the boat to float new memories. I was nearly bitter that it had ended, until I saw July on the horizon of the sea. Santa wasn’t real, but independence surely was. I was the freedom of open waters sitting on the vessel, my mind the color of quiet. Inside, I was the detail of a hole. “They look like fireworks,” I said at last.
“Fireworks?” his question was to my obvious. The water was a reflection of show.
“Yes, fireworks, like sparklers lit all at once,” I let the description drift lazy in mediocrity, while remembering ignition inside myself by comparison. There he was again, his memory that same seal, stealing salmon from my date. Knowing Bo was like bursting, until I did through implosion. Falling in love with him was like swallowing light, only to have it reabsorbed by darkness. I felt put out sitting in the company of another man, but then it would always be that way, until it wasn’t, until I let him go, and damn it if I wasn’t trying. I felt like a fool sitting in the memory of nothing; I had nothing, because there wasn’t. There was never an us. I had imagined the whole thing, much like the fireworks masquerading on the water.
I studied the doctor in the twilight, wondering if I could feel for him, if I dare imagine trying again, after swallowing my own heart. He was quite handsome, tall in skin the bronze of statuesque. His eyes were pools of clear emerald, flecked with an invitation to gaze and his smile… His smile was the carved ivory of tusks, near synthetic in appearance, while bolstering all that is genuine and also rare. I couldn’t have written him better, Cheshire to my cat, or to the Mona Lisa by ponder. The question sat pregnant to void, consistent with every suitor since parting. Even if they were better, they were still not him. They were still not Bo. The doctor was an exception, further still, in that he was everything I had asked for. In fact, he was exactly what I had written as wanting in my dating profile, down to the mission of his travels. He visits orphans in third world countries, helping them thrive by the simplest gift, the joy of a smile, and arms open to hold in friendship.
“Maybe…” was my silent answer. Bo had taken the “Yes”.
MY PROFILE (the first of many, this one pulled as unattainable)
I have a few deal breakers, cats, smokers, and idiots. I will consider lifting my restriction on stupidity after I depreciate and turn forty Until then I have certain standards and romance is one of them. Romance is wanting nothing more than to make someone smile, and caring to know how. I am looking for a guy that knows exactly what he wants, and is able to articulate it. He should consider himself an active participant in the outcome of his life because CHOICE is a freedom and an obligation. I make mine conservatively, though I am a free spirit by nature. My life revolves around fitness, business, and art, with family being center. I am looking for a man with equal values. Love is the easiest thing in the world. I just need to find someone that wants the same lifestyle and an incredibly ambitious and sexy blond. I am old fashioned; I prefer a man to lead, but I am also fiercely independent and strong willed. I work in dialogue, communication is everything to me, so I need to find a man who enjoys conversation. I would allow myself to be taken care of, but I believe relationships are reciprocal. I am a career woman out of necessity- I don’t want to be a liability in my relationship, so I try to match each investment, whether that be emotional or financial. I try to contribute, as much as I take. I am not a fan of the consumerism; I believe we live in a culture of excess. I intend to change the world with kindess, so the man I fall in love with will need to be a humanitarian. People tell me all the time that, “The world will never change.” I disagree, “All it takes to change is one step in a new direction.” Humanity is best served with smiles. I prefer someone around six feet tall, with a smile that dazzles, and eyes that light up in mischief. He likes to hike, run, walk on the beach, and laugh. He is confident and kind, an intellectual without being pretentious, and affluent because he understands value. Midas is a very cold king & LOVE really is the only thing of real value.
Violet Van Buren got her feet wet today, gracing the blog with her very first post. It is brief, but the chick has two toddlers, a career, marriage, and all that jazz. I am freaking STOKED, because this girl is about as frustrated as a man without water, dry humping a cactus.
In sum: Bitter working mother. Personal journalist. Greener grad. Crochet nerd. Foreign and indie film watcher. Terrified, but tenacious. Beer drinker (especially the hubby’s homebrew). Direction-less, and without a career, but renewing promises to self. C’est la vie!
Online dating is at the very least, interesting. The following is in response to my dating profile. I did alter the author’s name & username in respect to privacy.
“Okay. First of all, I read your profile several times — not because I am slow or lack. intellect,’but because it was/ is important to me that I respond to you.
My name is Jacob, and the simple truth, the bottom line, Amber, is what you already know.
Life is a process.
Now, let me share with you.
I’ve lived an interesting life, one that ultimately landed me in the witness security protection program, run by the DOJ.
I tell you that in order to show you how big of a mess I made of my life when I was younger.
I just completed a prison sentence that started in 1999, and you know something?! Life is wonderful. There are so many kind and helpful people that I am amazed.
But.
But people do not want me in their personal lives. You see, how do I make positive friends when people turn away from me when they hear about my past?!
Does it help that the US Marshal that arrested me is now my friend?! Or that anyone can speak to me and see that I am intelligent?! What about the fact that the last grade that I completed was the 5th?! I am completely self educated — but who cares?!
Something else that I loved about your profile!! I hate this bs idea that people put forwards: if a person curses, it demonstrates their lack of intelligences…WTF??!! That is some horse sh*t for sure!! I f*cling cuss cuz it makes me feel good!!
I would love to hear from you — I do not have any friends in Washington.
Id like you to be one of them.”
Dear Jacob,
You felt it was important to write to me, and so I will return the favor, with a reply. What you are seeking is redemption, but that is not a gift freely given, because people are scared of becoming prey. Why should anyone let you close? Why should they give you a chance when the risk out weighs the benefit of six billion other choices. Why choose you? because you’re amazing? I don’t really care how amazing you are. As you said yourself, the world is full of wonderful people. I am going to pick one of them to be friends with, less liability; I know you understand.
That’s a b*tch for you. Life is a b*tch, but don’t be flattered, because you are not alone in isolation, and judgement. We are all convicted, and guilty. Sinners. I am no different than you. I spent most of my childhood in and out of the hospital, missing more school than making it. I appreciate the compliment you paid me by assuming my education, but mine is of similar extent, though I did attend some college. I was living on the streets by sixteen, and I know full well what it is like to be caged. I laid low with warrants out for my arrest for two years, because I was not going back, and they would make me. I am respectful of an honorable sentence, but I was not willing to become the system simply because there was no place for a girl with my mind and attitude. Juveniles do not need to commit crime to be incarcerated; they are the ward of parental justice as the law sees fit to uphold.
You are a convict, good sir. Do not forget your place, because it knows you. The rest of the world has its head so far up its own ass that you might as well be invisible. I wonder about your intent in sharing, a con knows a con, suspiciously. What are you selling, sympathy? Would you have me feel bad for you, would you have me friend you, because it is difficult for you to fit in? I am a total freak my friend, I don’t really fit either, but I can. I blend quite well to most any situation, and I thrive in the most unbecoming circumstances. I flourish elsewhere. Perhaps you should consider creating a new reality. You asked how to be surrounded by positive people, mentioning that you are shunned upon the mentioning of your past. Now might be a good time to keep your f*cking mouth shut, as in, shut that door so a new future can come in. You are dragging the devils tail along with you by putting your business out there. No one really cares that you went to prison, but since you are announcing it I will imagine that you are a pedophile, or that you beat women. I will imagine all the crazy things that lead to a thirteen year prison sentence… did I do that math right?
It doesn’t really matter does it, because at the end of the day none of us want to end up the statistic. There is nothing more stupid than a corpse. Attracting positive people is easy. It is as simple as being a positive force in this world. I am radiant, and so my life is full of people the color of sunshine, in all shades of warm. I do good things, and so good things happen. I have yet to meet anyone that I would not call a friend, but not all are invited for close attention. I simply do not have time to be friends with everybody, but I would love to meet most everyone once. Could you imagine how cool life would be if I was able to write a novel about lives I will never have time to live. Lives like yours…
Who are you besides your past? If there were no history, who would you be now? Is there a reason you stain your first impression with such a vulnerable truth? Certainly you would know better, having served time? Trust no one with your business…. Respect is earned, and money is the only justice, because death is too final. What is your value as a person, and by what measure? Is it one that counts for more than the justice you were served? How would you judge your aspirations, tethered by your capabilities? Are you living up to your own potential?
These are the questions I ask myself everyday, in a world where most could careless, because they can’t care more. There are too many people for you to ever be alone. If you are looking for a different crowd all you need to do is walk into church. Those people are love freaks, and they lap up comeback stories like a kitten spoiled on cream. There is no way you can fail in those doors, and I am saying that as someone who does not walk through them. If you go in there, and you start doing really cool things to help other people, people with less than you, your entire life will change. You will only know positive. I am telling you that with all the faith I have in man’s own evil. We are equally good by the freedom of choice.
My choice to swear is an indulgence, quite rude by habit. Swearing does evoke proof of lack of intelligence, because it is a standard of class. One of proper stature would not be so stupid as to stoop to the vulgarity of offence. Word choices are powerful in the messages they send, and people are sensitive. I know without doubt, that at least one person will be offended about something written in this content. I considered removing, “The rest of the world has its head so far up its own ass that you might as will be invisible.” It was nearly an edit, because it offends me to be thought of that way, self centered, which is worse that selfish, because it is plural to a way of being. It is also a type cast we all fit on some level. To consider the entire world at once would be the madness of impossibility, and failure. I am the centered self that knows the peace of an invited circle, and it is an exclusive club. I only have so many hours, and so many days, and mixed in all that is the responsibility of choice. How, and with whom, do I want to spend my valuable time?
I took a considerable amount of time, the gift of it in thought, writing this reply, which is more attention than I allow most. As you felt it was important to write to me, please make equal note in the gravity of my message. You are the product of your choices. If you want to be a good and honorable man you will be. You will attract what you believe you are, so please look for the best in yourself. Life is indeed process, which means that each of us is tangible to every possible outcome. I write this in the highest regard of wanting all the best things for you, and your new life. I believe that you will have many, many, good friends because you said it yourself. “I am amazed by how many good and kind people there are.” Those people are friends.
You contacted me on a dating website, and so you should know that beyond your circumstance I would not choose you. You are not my type. In regards to friendship, please do add me to the list, with the caveat that I do not have time for most everyone. It is not likely that we will ever meet, but if we do I will extend the handshake of a smile, with the acknowledgement of my best. I will also not be writing again, as I do not have time for pen pals.
You are your own identity, but you are not one. You get to choose who gets what part of you. The world does not deserve the knowing of all, most of you should be kept to the privacy of love. Choose to be the man that you are most proud of, and the rest of us will see you that way.
