I hope the end of the world lands on a Saturday. I can’t afford to skip work.
Television grows louder, yelling at me through paid advertisements offering me everything I don’t need. Tell me what I want to hear, the end is near, we’re in the clear.
Farewell to dwellers of the northern land swimming out of sight, out of sight out of mind, I’ll take to the underground before I watch my mother die.
My friends who still consider Yellowstone home may have noticed a series of tremors a couple of weeks ago. About 300 to 400 small tremors, the strongest being about 3.6 on the Richter scale occurred around the Yellowstone Lake area in the last 2 weeks of December. Very unusual activity. Yellowstone usually experiences about that number in a 10 year period. The alert level is still at green, but scientists are still conducting researches waiting for the next disruption.
This past week California had an earthquake that measured 4.1 on the Richter scale. A day later, Costa Rica experienced an earthquake of 6.4 on the Richter scale.
The Middle East is still in upheaval as Israel and Gaza are still at war and extremists in Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iraq still reign terror. What are we doing here?
80,000 dead in China from an earthquake measuring 7 point something on the Richter scale, and Hurricane Ike kicked Houston right in the TexAss.
It’s hard to say what’s going on here: climate change, Armageddon, business as usual – who knows?
There’s a belief that the world will end on 12/21/2012. This is the last date on the Mayan Calendar, and Nostradamus himself predicted a major happening in the year 2012. Astronomers have predicted a Galactical Alignment will take place on 12/21/12. When this occurs, the center of the Milky Way, the earth, and the sun will all line up. I don’t think anyone really knows what that means. We humans are still pretty ignorant when it comes to space. The Mayans were the exception. If they’re right, we’ve got about four years left.
I followed behind and in line as daily struggles turn into years of discontent mixed with complacency.
I have my excuses like we all do, but the storm took me by surprise and the flood was unexpected – as unexpected as my failed spirit. Trees are still stripped of their bark and I still can’t fathom how they survived at all. A surprisingly strong root system must have stepped in the way, a miracle for this day and age.
I need to find something else. A dream to believe in again. Aspiration. Where is my motivation? If I could be so blind as to try again, perhaps mend these trappings of the mind mechanically wreaking havoc. That storm that I faired in my prime, now shrouded with time, but not so long ago I felt the second coming, a witness to The Rapture where I was left standing alone and the world collapsed on itself – only to start again.
A man I once held very dear in my youth showed me the silver lining, and I believed 100 percent in everything he said, but secrets sometimes seep through the cracks revealing truths, unexpected, un-planned for, even psychics were caught off guard. I stand by my decisions, and my beliefs are mine alone. Silver linings are only produced when the sun penetrates rain clouds, this I believe 100 percent.
It’s been a bad week. I got a frantic phone call from a friend today who lives in the neighborhood. She was screaming that her house was on fire and needed me to come over. I felt panic. I grabbed my smokes and my purse, made sure everything was turned off, carefully blew out my candle, and ran outside to the car with my slippers still on, I had the thought that I should grab our fire extinguisher.
March 22, 2009
Half-finished and undone, but isn’t that always the way. All those things we never said, words held back are progressively losing their chance for release as the years go by. I have chanced my confessions in the wake of family functions, birthdays and weddings. I found my voice but continued to go on ignored. The truth is so seldom welcomed. Isn’t it strange the way things never go the way we imagined, and if they do, it’s always a bit of a disappointment. I guess I need more, but I don’t know what that would be, I only know that there is no room left under the rug.
I need a break today. A forced effort combined with a hungry dog got me out of bed this morning. On such a beautiful day when “spring is in the air” with the birds chirping and all that jazz, I’m trying to stay positive, but before the clock stroke noon, I had already smoked some weed, and now an hour later, I’m almost done with my first beer of the day. Sundays are always a work in progress.
It’s an easy, breezy day and I’m trying to suppress my inner Cover Girl one gray hair at a time where life is sustained by Post-It notes and all the dogs have free reign.
Let it rain all day until the skyline is smeared into abstract and I can once again see clearly.
The beach houses have looked better. Christmas trees line the shore and gray skies seem to stick around like an unwanted memory. Boarded up and abandoned, un-sturdy and off balance, these dwellings are in no shape to face another hurricane season on the Gulf Coast. It’s been a couple of years since I last graced the sand of Surfside, Texas, but I had to get away and see the ocean and pay no mind to my sunless day. It’s been so long. Waves still call as their energy rolls toward me, but I decline this time as inviting as they may be, I decline on a cold April day with clouds threatening every inch of the way. Still, I’m glad I came, if nothing else, to wash away the hate.