I am in full procrastination mode. I have to be ready to leave for AZ when I leave my house for work Thursday morning. That means sub plans for three full days need to be completed in addition to my suitcase being packed. Instead of working on these items, I wrote a poem about the rhythm of life. While I am a bit stressed to get all this done and even to go on this trip since it will be tough to see my G-ma in the hospital, and my G-pa getting by w/out her, I am realizing that I get more done when I have less time in which to do it, and that I am happier when I am busy, than when I am stress-free with lots of time on my hands. Sounds weird to admit... Don't get me wrong, I love time off and especially my weekends, but I guess I just mean that sometimes I prefer to be busy. 'Nuff said.... Enjoy!
If Something’s Wrong, Everything’s Alright
My room’s a mess
Papers need grading
Sub plans are calling my name
I’m up too late
I ate too much sugar
Being short on time is what I blame
If something’s wrong, everything’s alright
Without treasured items a mess could not be made
Glad to have a job from which the papers grow,
Freedom to go where I need to go
My rhythm can’t be bound to that of a structured bedtime so
At night I gain my second wind to create and work and flow
The clock is ticking seconds pass, yet worry I do not
Everything will come together in time and I do know
Perfection's unattainable
My habits seem unchangeable
So I ponder on this thought,
If something’s wrong, everything’s alright
My room immaculate
No work to do
In bed by nine
May sound just fine
But bored is what I’d be
Predictably practical is what I seek
But why?
Deep down I know,
If something’s wrong, everything’s alright
Without a challenge or two
No list of things to do
We’d float through our day and you’d see
The boredom set in, for both you and me
Although the stress at times may come to engulf you in its cloud
And the daunting challenges can be so loud
These hills and mountains
Build you…. stronger
Change you… for better
Shape you… into someone new
If something’s wrong, everything’s alright
So make your to do list
Don’t cringe one bit
You’re here for a reason
Keep on pushing and remember,
If something’s wrong, everything’s alright
Perfection unattainable
A mess the status quo
This truth I know,
If something’s wrong, everything’s alright
If nothing’s wrong…
Are YOU alright…?
------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem is kind of a mish mosh of a mess, but I had fun writing this and it destressed me a bit. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I am determined not to leave work until my sub plans are done. Then when I get home I will pack and everything will be all good.
Peace Out.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
That's My Grandma Milli
I have never truly lost a loved one. I know I am very fortunate.
When I was about 13 or so, my hamster Scooter died. I cried real tears over the loss. He was a good hamster. He nibbled on the carrots I would feed him and let me confine him in a clear plastic ball while he scampered about the house, for my viewing enjoyment. He even let me hold him and pet his light orange and white fur, and he only ever bit my brothers when they would pull his tail or squeeze him too hard. Like I said, he was a good hamster. :) (Sidenote: My sister wanted to name him Alaskan Patches… yeah I know! In her defense, the white patch on his side WAS in the shape of Alaska.) Anyhow, after Scooter died, I cried my tears, and then we buried him in a Kleenex box next to the garden. Case Closed. Hamsters die. I was lucky he lasted his projected lifespan of 3 years. Life went on.
Sure there was my turtle, Shak, that ran away, my snail, Slimer, that melted under a hot lamp, and of course a few goldfish that went belly up. (Two in college due to the stupidity of Christina and I putting them in bottled Evian water- we wanted the best for our fish Stick and Feisty. ) The sadness I felt from these losses was a small raindrop in the massive oceans of sorrow.
Now however, I am feeling sad- a different kind of sad that I have not experienced before. My grandmother has been in the hospital a little over a month now. Normally when we’ve spoken, while physically her body is not up to par- she was in good spirits. She exuded energy during our conversations and would chat away. Not being able to see her I would have expected she was sitting on one of her bar stools at her kitchen counter, in front of her crossword puzzles and magnifying glasses, instead of laying in a hospital bed.
I spoke with my grandma last night, and I only lasted about a minute before I broke down in tears and had to pass the phone off to my sister. She told my mom yesterday that she thinks she is dying. While I knew it was her on the other end of the line yesterday- it was not the jovial Grandma Milli that I am accustumed to hearing through the receiver. Her responses were short, almost labored, and all the emotion I had been holding in came spilling out as I realized that I can’t have her here forever.
She has been telling my mom that she wants to be buried on the right side of my grandfather (who is still alive and well). Then last night, she said to my sister, “If anything happens to me, take care of Grandpa.” I am sad that I can’t be with her right now, yet also sickened by the fact that I’m not sure that I want to see her- to see her like this, that is. I do know that if she were closer I would be there by her side, no matter how hard it would be, so really it is the distance that is keeping us apart at this point. I’m praying for some guidance as to when/if it would be a good time to go out there. Anything is possible really. She very well could pull through- she has been a trooper thus far, but as of late- yesterday and today- her instincts say otherwise.
I know she cannot live forever. We are all going to die, yet selfishly I do not want to let her go. And while I know she will be going home to be with Jesus, I selfishly want her to stay here with me- at least a little while longer. And not just for my sake, but for my grandpa’s sake, her husband of over 60 years. They bicker like you wouldn’t believe, but in the quiet of the night, as they lay in bed just before falling asleep they would always debrief the day, unaware that I could hear them from my bed down the hall. Usually they would be bragging about their children and grandchildren and you could tell they were proud. Proud of their family and content and secure as long as the other was next to them. Milli and Leroy belong together like PB and J, Cookies and Milk, Peas and Carrots-- it makes me sad to think of one being without the other, especially while they are so far away from me. It is a rather helpless feeling.
Any prayers would be greatly appreciated.
And now, a poem
This one's for you, Grandma:
Not Your Average Grandma
Milli Stark is not your average granny
Her creative abilities are just uncanny
She’s an artistic, oil painting, craft making
Mexican tortilla casserole baking
Creative crossword puzzling pro
Making the best sandwiches just so
That’s my Grandma Milli
Collecting Betty Boop and Teddy Bears
Always remembering me in her prayers
Gambling in poker and nickel slots
Emailing me from Arizona lots
Cyber grandma is what we call her
A lover of sweets, just like me, for sure
That’s my Grandma Milli
Laughing together throughout the days
Sharing with me a Bohemian phrase
Creating the perfect egg, scrambled
Teasing my grandpa, she often rambled
Witch hazel’s number one fan
Play the organ? Yes she can!
That’s My Grandma Milli
Classic storyteller of my past
Viewing me through a flaw eliminating eyeglass
Always sharing an encouraging word
Her positive praise, I always heard
I love her dearly and she loves me
I’ll never be ready for Jesus to set her free
That’s My Grandma Milli
Not to ruin the moment or anything but I gotta do it: "WAAAAH WAAAA" Yes, tonight I am feeling like a total Debbie Downer. Perhaps I should have warned you at the beginning of this post... And finally, this clip art somewhat applies:
LOL! What's funny is I'm really not depressed. I know my wonderful grandmother of 85 years of age cannot live forever, and I do not doubt that she is heavenbound, yet it does not make it any easier. I have never lost someone close to me before, so this is just hard for me. Anyway, I'll be alright. I have hope and some peace. I just pray she is not in pain, and that the Lord will heal her. If it is her time to go, I pray that God will carry us all through this difficult time, particularly my dear Grandpa, her husband of over 60 years.
When I was about 13 or so, my hamster Scooter died. I cried real tears over the loss. He was a good hamster. He nibbled on the carrots I would feed him and let me confine him in a clear plastic ball while he scampered about the house, for my viewing enjoyment. He even let me hold him and pet his light orange and white fur, and he only ever bit my brothers when they would pull his tail or squeeze him too hard. Like I said, he was a good hamster. :) (Sidenote: My sister wanted to name him Alaskan Patches… yeah I know! In her defense, the white patch on his side WAS in the shape of Alaska.) Anyhow, after Scooter died, I cried my tears, and then we buried him in a Kleenex box next to the garden. Case Closed. Hamsters die. I was lucky he lasted his projected lifespan of 3 years. Life went on.
Sure there was my turtle, Shak, that ran away, my snail, Slimer, that melted under a hot lamp, and of course a few goldfish that went belly up. (Two in college due to the stupidity of Christina and I putting them in bottled Evian water- we wanted the best for our fish Stick and Feisty. ) The sadness I felt from these losses was a small raindrop in the massive oceans of sorrow.
Now however, I am feeling sad- a different kind of sad that I have not experienced before. My grandmother has been in the hospital a little over a month now. Normally when we’ve spoken, while physically her body is not up to par- she was in good spirits. She exuded energy during our conversations and would chat away. Not being able to see her I would have expected she was sitting on one of her bar stools at her kitchen counter, in front of her crossword puzzles and magnifying glasses, instead of laying in a hospital bed.
I spoke with my grandma last night, and I only lasted about a minute before I broke down in tears and had to pass the phone off to my sister. She told my mom yesterday that she thinks she is dying. While I knew it was her on the other end of the line yesterday- it was not the jovial Grandma Milli that I am accustumed to hearing through the receiver. Her responses were short, almost labored, and all the emotion I had been holding in came spilling out as I realized that I can’t have her here forever.
She has been telling my mom that she wants to be buried on the right side of my grandfather (who is still alive and well). Then last night, she said to my sister, “If anything happens to me, take care of Grandpa.” I am sad that I can’t be with her right now, yet also sickened by the fact that I’m not sure that I want to see her- to see her like this, that is. I do know that if she were closer I would be there by her side, no matter how hard it would be, so really it is the distance that is keeping us apart at this point. I’m praying for some guidance as to when/if it would be a good time to go out there. Anything is possible really. She very well could pull through- she has been a trooper thus far, but as of late- yesterday and today- her instincts say otherwise.
I know she cannot live forever. We are all going to die, yet selfishly I do not want to let her go. And while I know she will be going home to be with Jesus, I selfishly want her to stay here with me- at least a little while longer. And not just for my sake, but for my grandpa’s sake, her husband of over 60 years. They bicker like you wouldn’t believe, but in the quiet of the night, as they lay in bed just before falling asleep they would always debrief the day, unaware that I could hear them from my bed down the hall. Usually they would be bragging about their children and grandchildren and you could tell they were proud. Proud of their family and content and secure as long as the other was next to them. Milli and Leroy belong together like PB and J, Cookies and Milk, Peas and Carrots-- it makes me sad to think of one being without the other, especially while they are so far away from me. It is a rather helpless feeling.
Any prayers would be greatly appreciated.
And now, a poem
This one's for you, Grandma:
Not Your Average Grandma
Milli Stark is not your average granny
Her creative abilities are just uncanny
She’s an artistic, oil painting, craft making
Mexican tortilla casserole baking
Creative crossword puzzling pro
Making the best sandwiches just so
That’s my Grandma Milli
Collecting Betty Boop and Teddy Bears
Always remembering me in her prayers
Gambling in poker and nickel slots
Emailing me from Arizona lots
Cyber grandma is what we call her
A lover of sweets, just like me, for sure
That’s my Grandma Milli
Laughing together throughout the days
Sharing with me a Bohemian phrase
Creating the perfect egg, scrambled
Teasing my grandpa, she often rambled
Witch hazel’s number one fan
Play the organ? Yes she can!
That’s My Grandma Milli
Classic storyteller of my past
Viewing me through a flaw eliminating eyeglass
Always sharing an encouraging word
Her positive praise, I always heard
I love her dearly and she loves me
I’ll never be ready for Jesus to set her free
That’s My Grandma Milli
Not to ruin the moment or anything but I gotta do it: "WAAAAH WAAAA" Yes, tonight I am feeling like a total Debbie Downer. Perhaps I should have warned you at the beginning of this post... And finally, this clip art somewhat applies:
LOL! What's funny is I'm really not depressed. I know my wonderful grandmother of 85 years of age cannot live forever, and I do not doubt that she is heavenbound, yet it does not make it any easier. I have never lost someone close to me before, so this is just hard for me. Anyway, I'll be alright. I have hope and some peace. I just pray she is not in pain, and that the Lord will heal her. If it is her time to go, I pray that God will carry us all through this difficult time, particularly my dear Grandpa, her husband of over 60 years.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
New Beginnings
I’m on a poetry kick- Check it out:
New Beginnings
Selective memory is a blessing
Allowing us to hang on to the memories that bring us joy
While tossing out those that cast shadows on our souls
Blessings in disguise most often do cause pain
Through which we are stretched, heated, molded, changed and made new
After the storm peace will arrive
At an unknown time which we hold hope to discover
The year has turned
Capping off memories bound in time
Opening doors to the possibilities ahead
And if the year has already gone sour, there’s always tomorrow
The sun will rise
And a new beginning will begin again
Happy New Year! Wishing you all a healthy, joyous 2008! :)
New Beginnings
Selective memory is a blessing
Allowing us to hang on to the memories that bring us joy
While tossing out those that cast shadows on our souls
Blessings in disguise most often do cause pain
Through which we are stretched, heated, molded, changed and made new
After the storm peace will arrive
At an unknown time which we hold hope to discover
The year has turned
Capping off memories bound in time
Opening doors to the possibilities ahead
And if the year has already gone sour, there’s always tomorrow
The sun will rise
And a new beginning will begin again
Happy New Year! Wishing you all a healthy, joyous 2008! :)
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Where I'm From
Two summers ago (2006) I wrote this poem as an assignment for one of my masters' courses. The point of the assignment was to reflect on yourself, family, etc. and share a piece of who you are/where you've come from, through poetry. I found this as I was sorting through old files on my old computer and thought I'd post it to at least have here if I should ever want to look back on it.
June 15, 2006
Where I’m From
I am from the dining room table,
where mugs sit that emit the aroma of fresh brewed coffee.
I am from the tall trees scattered in the distance,
which swallow the mailbox from my front door’s view.
I am from the raccoons scampering nearby,
the neighbor’s barking dogs, the chirping birds, and fireflies.
I am from Arizona where the hot sun shines.
I am from Milli and Leroy,
the supporting, loving, outgoing, and humorous,
who love to tease.
From where witch hazel can cure any ailment,
and a timely joke always evokes joyful sounds of laughter.
I am from delicious food and a gourmet cook,
who makes chocolate cake and a five-course meal appear,
after the fridge has been surveyed,
and we’ve reported that there’s nothing to eat.
I am from a joyful year,
where Nathan’s arrival brought us all happy tears.
From Friday night family dinners where we linger at the table
to dote on the little one and laugh together,
long after our plates have been cleared.
I am from the house that never sleeps.
From where my grandmother’s Bohemian words are thrown into the mix,
and my grandfather’s dusty black and white war pictures
remain crisp and colorfully vivid in his mind.
I am from a long, hard to pronounce, strangely spelled last name.
My heroes are not well known, rather they are the ones in my life who have a great Christian faith and live by a strong moral code,
who I feel so blessed to know.
The teacher in me is dying to assign you the same task! What would your "Where I'm From" Poem say?
June 15, 2006
Where I’m From
I am from the dining room table,
where mugs sit that emit the aroma of fresh brewed coffee.
I am from the tall trees scattered in the distance,
which swallow the mailbox from my front door’s view.
I am from the raccoons scampering nearby,
the neighbor’s barking dogs, the chirping birds, and fireflies.
I am from Arizona where the hot sun shines.
I am from Milli and Leroy,
the supporting, loving, outgoing, and humorous,
who love to tease.
From where witch hazel can cure any ailment,
and a timely joke always evokes joyful sounds of laughter.
I am from delicious food and a gourmet cook,
who makes chocolate cake and a five-course meal appear,
after the fridge has been surveyed,
and we’ve reported that there’s nothing to eat.
I am from a joyful year,
where Nathan’s arrival brought us all happy tears.
From Friday night family dinners where we linger at the table
to dote on the little one and laugh together,
long after our plates have been cleared.
I am from the house that never sleeps.
From where my grandmother’s Bohemian words are thrown into the mix,
and my grandfather’s dusty black and white war pictures
remain crisp and colorfully vivid in his mind.
I am from a long, hard to pronounce, strangely spelled last name.
My heroes are not well known, rather they are the ones in my life who have a great Christian faith and live by a strong moral code,
who I feel so blessed to know.
The teacher in me is dying to assign you the same task! What would your "Where I'm From" Poem say?
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