babies. i am surrounding myself with. to hold, to help, to catch, to love -
doula - ablan-goding - hah -
had my first class saturday and it was amazing, so many beautiful bellies and women who were afraid and wanting to know if they could do it - oh sisters, we've been able since we began - the instructor was amazing, she was so enthusiastic and encouraging - i really do aspire to have that level of energy - she loves what she does - and that is informing these women, they CAN. they can.
I am blown away by childbirth. Where has it been for so long? i think the one downfall is me now wanting to experience it more than ever - to relate, to experience, to find my way through - oh dear.
the times they are a'changin

laying over the edge of a bed. i knew it was about to happen, i felt tinges in my legs, shooting throbbing pump pump pump and then the water broke - and someone knew it was to happen -
i remember the pain, the sensation of pull and push - ouch - throughout, couldn't run away - gravity buckled me in . . . i didnt scream, and i'm a screamer. just lay there, breathing - so loud - i wondered if anyone could hear. i kept my eyes closed so tight, visualized the cool river, slimey rocks on my feet, waves licking my tattooed legs. . . in minutes it felt it was over, a shining red pearl at my thighs - and i imagined him, the child, before me - years older, "you can open your eyes now" . . . and when i did - it was done. the pain. the awkward restlessness. and my child, the child, had come . . .
and in my arms, clean and in blue blanket - he was laid into my arms. such tiny lips, such a tiny nose, perfect folds on the perfect ears half hid beneath a small hat . . . . i never knew love before.
and that was just the dream i had last night. . . .

goodbye jesus, and all your best friends.

woke too early. i dont even go to fucking work today. laundry is a job. a three hour escapade to keep me from . . . .
what?
sleeping more?
drinking more?
smoking more?
thinking more?

and none of these things combined - or else it all turns so deadly. the outcome of contemplation is usually hibernation.
at least . . . for me.

i am so destructive when boredom hits. i spend money, i make comments that hurt, i think never is not enough ~
i'm seldom satisfied with routine. is anyone? no, but i'm suicidally dependent on freedom.

found a broken pill capsule on the kitchen floor. dirty and opened. emptied. not mine. and i was suddenly jealous . . . where did it come from? why wasn't it mine?

banned book week starts soon . . . i enjoy that week. be sure to refresh the stupids that we will continue to read every and all books. . . . i should create a petition to ban other books - i will join the ranks of judgement. literary satan.

list...
1. danielle steele - all
2. repeat 1.
3. anne coulter
4. grisham
5. patterson
6. king - to watch the crowd go wild.

next saturday i have a childbirth class for which i'm psyched. watch the babies come out and cry, swollen bobbled headed mucus stained love muffins. . . . amazing.
what a career choice, what a choice career.
the very core of careers.
birth.

start.
new.
now.
change.

there's a hundred messages on my machine. but no one says a word.

all these paths.
everyone has one. leading to their careers, their children, their soul mate, their passion ~
they all seem to know. and have reached this enlightenment, or if not an enlightenment, a contented sigh of relief. the search is over. this is what i shall do. be. breathe.
and here i am in my jacquel-la-la land googling over a thousand paths wanting to put each one on my tongue and taste it - yet it's not helping my wallet, or my soul -
my focus is ripped to shreds, and if that's ripped, i can't even begin to explain my sanity -
drinking or sleep seem to pass the bruises over the easiest.
where is my knight in shining armor.
or god.
or myself.
or my future.
why doesn't something open and reveal itself to me.
i have searched.
i'm tired.
ride boldly ride - well, i did and here i am, with jack fucking shit -
some memories to write home about, and nothing to fuel me pass go
no collecting rent
just paying it, over and over and over again
my fortune in negatives and my heart in shambles, shambling further with each line i type.
you would think by now evolution would have removed this sticky part of our make up to help us survive - fucking darwin . . .
no help for the hurting.

good night. breathe and dont flinch.