Depression, too, is a kind of fire - Taylor Mali

I’m an idiot because once
before we were married she asked me whether I knew
that we would not be having children
if we did get married, and I said yes.

And because she knew I was lying,
she asked if I was really okay with that.
And because I’m an idiot I said yes again.

And once during a fight, not married
more than two years, she said she felt like my first wife,
and I, like an idiot, assured her that she was.

She worked out at the gym five times a week
and smoked as many packs of ultra lights,
and I’m an idiot because when I asked her why,
She said, Because I hate myself and I want to die.
And I laughed and said something I don’t recall,
something completely and utterly insufficient.

From the roof of our apartment,
I saw 40 or 50 people jump from the towers
on a Tuesday morning—we used to be able to see them to the south,
just as, to the north, we can still see
(and by “we” I guess I mean now just me)
the Empire State Building,
which still steeps me in gratitude
because I’m an idiot—
out of the smoke with arms flailing.
And I swear I saw a perfect swan.

And I was going to write a poem
about how fire is the only thing
that can make a person jump out a window.

And maybe I’m an idiot for thinking I could have saved her—
call me her knight in shattered armor—
could have loved her more,
or told the truth about children.

But depression, too, is a kind of fire.
And I know nothing of either.

In search of something more...

I'm running out of options in the friends department. I'm in a very creative mood right now and want to be with creative people. However, my friend options don't allow that. There's Missy, Eric, Ryan, and Dustin... video games. There's Jason... religion and sports. There's Anie and Schrader... mindless television. There's Debon... boring television. There's Corey... hyper-ness. The only person left is Kelsey and she's in the hospital. I'm really out of options here. I need new friends. I need friends who understand the things I like... poetry, art, video blogs... I need new friends.

"One Time, One Day" from Burned by Ellen Hopkins

One Time, One Day

between Davie | and Roberta
I asked my mom | why she persisted,
kept on having | baby after baby.

She looked

at me, at a spot | between my eyes,
blinking like I had | suddenly fallen
crazy. She paused | before answering

as if

to confide would | legitimize my fears.
She drew a deep | breath, leaned against
the chair. I touched | her hand and I thought

she might

cry. Instead she put | baby Davie in my arms.
Pattyn, she said, | it's a woman's role.
I decided if it was | my role, I'd rather

disappear.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I attempted to keep the visual integrity of this intact, but this thing won't let me. The vertical lines are supposed to be spaces. It's set up to represent her eyes and the spot between them where her mother is looking. Use your imagination.

I've had similar conversations with my own mother. Of course, since I'm her only child, these conversations were really not similar at all. Her sister, however, has 12 children. And once when I asked her why, she said essentially the same thing Pattyn's mother did... It's a woman's role.

second draft of my short memoir for Creative Writing

Silent Night

Christmas Eve with the Myers family: eighteen cousins, seven cousin’s children, two aunts, two uncles, a great aunt and a great uncle, a few scattered non-relatives, my grandma, my mom, my dad, and me. One night a year we put aside all the things that fight to pull apart our family: teen pregnancy, alcohol, drugs, heart attacks, MS, guns, the military. We put aside all the things that have pained us throughout the year. We celebrate family. We reminisce. We pray, though half of us have no god to pray to. We look at each other as beautiful human beings who are different in so many ways but are held together by the strongest bond.

Christmas Eve with the Myers family. We all possess an unconditional love for Grandma. It pains us all to watch her struggle with such a debilitating disease as MS. She receives many hugs this Christmas. We all fear it may be her last. She bridges the gap between her children’s worlds. Her five children are remarkably different from each other. My mom, the oldest, has only one child. Aunt Penny, a radically conservative Christian, is the mother of twelve. Larry is an alcoholic with four daughters, each on the same path he took. Aunt Julie, the most liberal of the girls, became a mother at age sixteen. Galen, the loner, has multiple sclerosis like his mother. Extremes are expected in my family. Myers children do nothing in moderation.

Christmas Eve with the Myers family. We ponder many things in the days before Christmas Eve. Will Larry stop by like he said he would? Will he take this opportunity to escape his hard life and get a warm meal for once? Will Galen visit? Twenty years of the Myers Family Christmas Eve Gathering and he never has. Will this be the one he attends? Have Larry’s daughters, the new generation of Myers girls, produced any more children this year? How many illegitimate children are in the family now? Will the girls bring the same boyfriends they did last Christmas Eve? The answers are predictable, but still we ask the questions.

Christmas Eve with the Myers family. There’s someone missing: Nicky. Twenty years of Christmas Eve and this is the first one without Nicholas. My cousin always picked on me, but I love him. He’ll spend his twenty-first birthday in Iraq. The family beams with pride at the portrait of their Nicholas in his army uniform. The family bonds over his excellent choice. I watch, silent.

Christmas Eve with the Myers family. This year we’re singing Christmas carols. Aunt Penny pulls out a box of hymnals. I sit in the corner of the newly-built living room and roll my eyes. All of the songs will be Christ-centered. Aunt Julie and the rest of the non-churchgoers won’t know any of them. I keep this thought to myself. This is not a day for me to speak. The children have all escaped to the freedom of the ice, snow, and trees outdoors. How I wish I could join them, be the child I never was. Only a handful of my older cousins are left with my mom, aunts, and grandma. The men are off talking about their days in the army or air force. Yet another time I have to keep my mouth closed. We sing five songs from the hymnals. My mom’s voice fills the room, sweet and wonderful. I sing along, my own voice a faint shadow of hers. Aunt Penny belts the lyrics with the confidence of someone unknowingly tone deaf. Aunt Julie teases us, laughing at how we sing without needing to look at the hymnal. The music is familiar to us. In truth, it’s lost some of its meaning.

Christmas Eve with the Myers family. The core group stays later than the rest. I’m left in the living room with Aunt Penny and Aunt Julie. The rest of my generation has run off to occupy themselves with something more interesting than gossip. How many months pregnant is Wendi now, seven months, eight? Do you think Lauren is pregnant again? Did she keep the last one or not? Have you heard anything from Galen? Is he taking the medicine for his MS? Is Mom improving? I stay silent. I have nothing to contribute to this conversation, or any other conversation my family has.

I'm reading "Big Fat Manifesto"

"Point that gun.
Squeeze that trigger.
It's so easy to shoot the Fat Girl.
After all, we make the biggest targets."

"It's open season on fat people, no limits, and no restrictions. Hold on to your supersized butts, Fat Girls, because we're the last acceptable targets for bashing, snarking, and discrimination."

"According to some facts and figures printed in USA Today, the typical starlet or cover model is around 30 percent thinner than an average, healthy woman and is likely struggling with issues such as hypoglycemia, hair loss, and even risk of bone loss from lack of eating. Did you know a few decades back models and stars were only 7 or 8 percent thinner than "normal" people? Wonder how that relates to our national size obsession and "obesity epidemic"? Food for thought."

I am coming to grips with the things I've done. I've hurt many people and deceived many more. The pain I feel is great, though I know others have felt greater. I seek forgiveness for my sins, but I don't know where to find it. I have fallen from the path and wandered into the depths. I no longer know the truth, though this is surely what I shall always seek. I beg your forgiveness, for I shall never forgive myself.

I've come to a decision: Teen pregnancy isn't horrible. It's not good. It's just something that happens. Good can come of things like that. Not a big realization, but an important one.

Home for the Holidays

I'm back at home... and back to hiding my life. I have to keep a "safe page" open all the time now when I'm on the main computer. Sure, my laptop is safe - mostly. Whatever. This is my life. I'm used to it. Brio Mag... I'll become well acquainted with you once again.

I really wish I could write performance poetry. Sure, I write normal poetry... but it's not that great. And besides, it's not performance-worthy. My current dream is to record a performance poem. I don't think I'm going to live that one.

You know what my mom told me today? "Wendi's pregnant. She's about ready to pop." Blank stare. Are you serious? I'm already crying because I may never see one of my closest new friends again and you think it's the perfect time to bring up Wendi? I still miss her. It's bee more than 4 years since she left, and I still miss her. I guess I'm not so good at letting go. I can't stand to see someone I love screwing up her life. I guess she's already screwed it up, though. There's not much left she can do. 18 years old with 2 kids and 1 on the way. And for some reason, I blame myself.

xkcd "Couple"

This is quite possibly my favorite comic EVER. I have this strange urge to ask this to everyone I know... they'd say no of course, but still.

clipped from xkcd.com

Wintery Mix

So... It's finals week here at Bloomsburg University. Everyone is stressed (except for those of us who've finished our finals already), and they decide to close the school. That means that the finals that were supposed to be today will be tomorrow, and the ones that were tomorrow will be on Saturday. Wow. That really sucks... but I finished last night, so I don't care. However, I'm really ready to go home, but I can't. Stupid wintery mix.

Snow has fallen, snow on snow on snow on snow...

I'm 18 now! I feel absolutely no different. Oh well. Don't I say that every year? The difference comes with experiences, not a date on the calendar.

It snowed!!! This was technically the second snow of the season, but it was the first snow of December... on December 1st. How perfect is that!? My college friends and I went sledding at 2 AM last night (this morning). We didn't really do much sledding, though. There were rocks at the bottom of the hill. (Dan found that out the hard way.)

The Women's Choral Ensemble (of which I'm a part), the Husky singers, and the Concert Choir had a concert last night and the night before. They went well. I didn't screw anything up horribly, so I'm happy. Mom came up last night for the concert. It made me happy.

I'm sick. It sucks. I have so much school work to do today it's not even funny. As a matter of fact, it makes me ill just thinking about how much work I have to do.

9 days until adulthood

So I'm officially spending my 18th birthday alone. Ok, I lie. My college friends will be here, obviously (my birthday is on a Wednesday, where are they gonna go?). But none of my friends from home are gonna be here. It makes me so sad. Rachel was supposed to come the weekend after my birthday, but she's not. Thanks, hun. I love you, too.

the end of my world?

I'm thinking it's time for a new layout. We'll see how that goes.

Turns out college wasn't the end of my world after all... just the end of a part of my world.
I really like it here. I have a bunch of amazing friends. I even like some of my classes. I feel more myself here than I ever have. I'm still not happy, though.

"Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars."
-- Martin Luther King Jr.

Hashivenu

clipped from jewishmag.com Hashivenu Adonai Elecha, V'na-shuvah, Chadesh yameynu K'kedem "Turn us to you Oh Lord and we shall return. Renew us as in the ancient days."

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The Mother of Re-Invention (from The Magical Blog)

The Mother of Re-Invention

© 2007 JayCat

I bought a small bouquet

of scrawny yellow tiger lilies

from a Chinese woman at the station

at seven p.m. on a Saturday night.

I needed the comfort and the color

without you here, and

she looked like she could use the two dollars.

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(Dis)Comfort Zones (from The Magical Blog)

(Dis)Comfort Zones

© 2007 Franklin Perso

Washed out t-shirts and the smell of cigarettes.

So many other s have stood on these stairs.

Their troubles beyond my comprehension.

Consumed only in my own.

Ripped clothes and the smell of beer.

So many stand around me.

Their experience in the music,

so much different than mine

Formal suits and the smell of cofee.

Browsing over today’s agenda.

Their achievments,

so far above mine.

Everyday clothes, and no particular smell.

People with common intrest surround me.

Their feelings and emotions,

still different from mine.

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Humble Praise (from The Magical Blog)

Humble Praise

© 2007 Franklin Perso

I cannot take you to the ends of the earth,

but to the edges of immagination,

we may sweetly drift.

I’ll show you not the greatest,

nor the biggest river,

but the shy mountain stream,

where so much more is hidden.

To the peak of the highest mountain,

we venture not.

But I’ll show you a hill…

With the humblest of views

over the lolling vallies below.

The moon it is too far away.

The stars are further still.

But flowers of the ordinary kind,

I can give to you any day.

I know not how to build for you

a castle in the countryside.

But I’ll hold you safely here with me,

untill the life has left

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Final Ballad (from The Magical Blog)

Final Ballad

© 2007 Franklin Perso

The one thing that I thought I had,

was raped!

Was taken!

But without intent to cause me pain!

Oblivious to the truth that my-

one grey talent does not belong to me!

Revealed to be what I knew it was all along:

Useless, shamefull, worthless scribblings.

Not worthy of a child!

Irony-

I am but a child.

Unable to grow, in the way I wish to.

To Grow to my ultimate enlitenment!

To Strive to what I want to achieve!

Pretencious-

Denying what they all can guess,

denying what I know.

That all has been a waste of time.

Where to now with me?…

When I see your face again,

I don’t know what Ill do!

Probably turn and run away…

something I always do!

Life’s sweetest emotion has been ripped away,

by the one who never intended so.

Life will show you a picture,

but the caption will be blurred.

Too advanced for a human eye,

to grasp the meaning of it all.

Life Lies!

Life Steals!

Life has kicked me a finishing blow!

“Why?”

“O! Why” I cry!

Must of all that you could take…

Why did it have to be my words?

I am now at a loss.

For my love.

my words.

my world.

It is now all just an inexplicable feeling within me.

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