How I stop

My daughter is sitting on the porch steps
Ieating cheerios and raisins out of a ziploc bag
and she notices a bumblebee dying.

Something is wrong with its wings
and it can't fly
It struggles on the path near the grass

I tell her I'm going to have to kill it
That it's wrong to let things suffer
And I put a heavy potted cactus on top of it

I hope it is instantly crushed to death
I don't actually know which is more painful
the sudden crushing or the alternative

Turning on the hose
I've heard from plenty of sources that drowning is merciful
But the pot is my first impulse

So it's what I use
Then we wash it away with the hose
Into a shallow grave where the path meets the grass

My daughter wonders if the bee will live again
Whether it will come back as a fly
I tell her it could be a dog, a fly, a little girl

I don't feel sorry saying this, or sorry for the bee
But grateful- killing it allowed me to end my last flutter of feeling for you
Like you and me it was dying anyway

Someone had to do the right thing
You thought you already had

INSOMNIA

This just in, insomnia! That's right, a more and more frequent occurence, especially on work nights. I need to wake up fresh as a daisy and teach like hell, and here I sit, with eyes wide open, typing a new entry on this thing like an ubernerd! Also, it is the anniversary of my grandfather's death. And I am being stalked by my cat. She's like, you! You! I will rub against you as you write! No amount of petting will appease me. I will knock items to the floor for my own enjoyment and bat them around, but will soon tire of this and return to you!

Actually, she and I have that in common.

LALALA lightbulb

I wonder when I will develop a fan base of avid readers, when my 15 minutes will begin, and why I have chosen to spend my life promoting the accomplishments of others, and why the happier I am, the wierder things are, and why what fulfills me makes no sense to like, anyone else!

Exclamation points. LOL. I am screaming in a dark room next to a sleeping child. I am currently directing five pieces of theatre, and experiencing the following things:

No one cares when you behave well, or when you make reasonable requests, then you can toodle along and there is practically NO DRAMA. La la, kids are fighting. Lala the xerox machine broke. Lala cues are screwed up and people are tramping on your rehearsal time and space, but lala it all just continues.

People only care when you become selfish, needy, poorly behaved, manipulative, whatever that means. In need of an outlet. I got walked away from tonight on that front and I don't even know if it was a joke, a game, or a protected cover, and I don't really care, because lalalalalala I am very well behaved right now and kind of liking it. Because there's no real game when the truth sits there on the surface. Results, boom. Game, transparent. History, irrelevant.

I am actually not screaming. Just on paper. Dreaming sphinx dreams. Dreaming shipwreck
dreams about water and baggage. I haven't screamed in a while. Felt bad, but pulled covers over
my head and waited for rain. Is an umbrella baggage? Technically? I am procrastinating writing questions for the unit on media literacy. And damn, it feels good to be talking about something other than you. You know?

Who?

Love and kisses xxxooo