A Bee in My Bonnet

So do you ever feel like you have a bee in your bonnet, Mister or Miss Universal you? I have one in there at the moment, buzzing around and making me want to take a bat and whack something. I need a good solid run, but I am home alone with my dear daughter and she is sleeping, and the older one is out, so running is out, and thereby I am out. Of sorts that is. I’ll have to wait until the morning, I suppose. I am hoping this bee finds its way out of my ear and gone. I feel like slapping something. Actually, I feel like slapping someone specific, but that isn’t any way to be, now is it? I’d also like to slap Trimet, the useless public transport company that gave raises to their executives while simultaneously cutting services, cutting benefits for drivers, and raising prices on everyone. Fuckers have more trip interruptions these days than electricity has interruptions by Enron. Excuse the f-word there, but that’s the only word I could come up with on the fly. It’s that damn bee, you see. (Again you, the universal). Tonight my eldest needed a ride home from her school play on the damn train. We checked trip alerts. No interruptions. Did that stop the bastards (Oh, another nice word!) from interrupting service? Hell no. She’s standing with a group of strangers at the rose quarter while I sit and type this. The dear baby is sleeping. She needs to sleep until tomorrow. It’s late enough that if she rises now, she will not go back to sleep until midnight, handily, and we can’t really have that, and so that leaves the eldest standing with strangers at a train stop a couple of miles away. If it weren’t so dark I’d tell her to walk, but I don’t want her to take that chance, not at this hour.

This truly is a stream of consciousness bunch of nonsense, now isn’t it?

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Delusions

I had a friend who I thought was one of my bestest friends in the whole wide world. I have a couple of other bestests who fit into this category, but there are some topics that are simply not discussed with them. One is not interested in hearing about my lack of love travails. The other really could care less about anything about spiritual growth or any of that.

Yet I could discuss anything this friend who I thought was one of my bestest. Even when we hadn’t seen one another in weeks or months or years, which could happen because we didn’t live close, we could pick right up and begin again. A couple of years ago, we made a decision to try and visit one another more because we were both lonely for a bestest friend we could see more often.

Then last year she decided not to be friends with me. Stupid facebook. It posts everything you do on all your friends’ pages and all they say back and on and on. All of it was about politics. I am drifting too much left for her (or many friends, actually), and I knew she didn’t like that. She didn’t like what my other friends said so she cut me off, then sent me a message telling me as much, then that was it. I never heard from her again. Phone calls unreturned. No more emails. I knew it was final when the birthday passed without so much as a whisper because she’s always sent a card at the very least.

It’s been a life lesson that I’ve chosen to replicate my family dynamic (I am a cliche’ of the highest order). I get it now. I’ve spent three years of work with a woman who is like an old medicine woman in her capacity to heal old wounds, plus a good year and a half checking in with her now and then. Years with counselors before never even got me in the same healing ballpark that this woman did. She is amazing. In any case, I understand it was my dynamic to choose people to love who didn’t love me back quite as much or at all. I make different choices in how I pick people now, but it’s slow going sometimes.

I never considered this friend whom I have known for nearly 20 years to fall into that category, yet I have gradually realized that she did. I look back and see the signs. They were there. They were sometimes right in my face, but no, I didn’t see it. How blind we can be sometimes when we don’t want to see something. She meant more to me than I did to her. It’s as simple as that, and as painful.

I’m thinking of this now and writing about it because I miss her. I haven’t spoken to her in almost a year and I miss her sometimes so much it hurts. I want her to be my bestest again, even if she never really was because I can be such a deluded fool sometimes.

Ah well. Sunny days will come again? Maybe…

Dancing Like a Sugarplum Inside my Head

Where did it come from? Why is it there? It came from nowhere and hung in my mind billowing like clothes on the line, the words playing over and over,

a ripe jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. …a ripe jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. …a ripe jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. …a ripe jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

…the fragment just plays, wispy and light, over and over as I take a shower, as I blow my hair, as I feed the dog, as I clean the microwave.

It isn’t Christmas. I haven’t even thought of Christmas. I even remembered my dream right before waking and it wasn’t about Christmas. I have not listened to or read the Night Before Christmas.

So can someone tell me why the right jolly old elf is ripe and why he’s dancing like a sugarplum inside my head?