I stare at two photos she posted over herself, unable to
tell which one is the real her, it either is – one, the happy-go-lucky gal she
most displays in the videos she posts, the other, darker, cautious, maybe even
scared, as if we have both traveled back in time to when she believe she had
every right to be, hair pinned back, head slightly turned, as if she felt the
need to be ready to run if she had to.
The brighter picture has her hair down as she smiles, both
bearing the same intense stare, eyes so deep I drown in them. I’m not sure
which one I believe though leaning towards the darker face as it face is the closest
I’ll ever get to the real her.
Feb. 12, 2024 Oh no, not again. Does this never stop, this endless shifting of sand, draining, the hour glass of good time so creates the need to turn it over and begin again, never easy, always hurting, sense of change that changes nothing, she merely older, perhaps not wiser, though maybe believes what does not kill her will make her stronger and it does, only it hardens her heart, making it impossible to reach, this once tender being scarred over, made so remote even the best intentions cannot reach her, though deep down, she needs to be reached 2024 journal menu email to Al Sullivan
“Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans,” says a paraphrase of a John Lennon song, who stole the saying from a poet whose name I have forgotten. This is never so true as to the events going on with the federal government these days as the new administration makes massive cuts to funding of not-for-profits and other organizations. Just when you think life is secure, when you have all your ducks in a row (as the old cliché goes), something mucks up the works (another cliché) and you end up scrambling to put your life back together, but don’t quite yet know how. Although correct in theory, the idea of reducing the work force has an unexpected impact on the people involved. People make plans; they assume they can get on with their lives securely. They believe that if they had put enough time into their careers, they will be rewarded, and perhaps get on pursuing their own interest, dreams they had since childhood for the first time poss...
Over the last two or three years, I’ve been posting old journal entries from a decade ago, putting up one or two or sometimes even three daily, reflecting some of the most emotional moments of my life. I’m not completely sure who exactly reads these diatribes, or what they think when they do. Some of these are poems, other essays, still others something in-between both, ramblings of a sort through which I tried to sort out confusing thoughts. Most of them aren’t even accurate, or at best, guesses about the nature of the world at that time. Some – because I altered my view from my original thoughts – actually contradict other pieces. While many are honest representations of how I felt at the time, time itself as made many of the irrelevant since life has moved on, and I’m a different person (as are the other people mentioned) than I was back then. I don’t even know why I continue to post them, since there is no way to set the record straight – what happened then,...
Comments
Post a Comment