27 May 2008


lie inside
the ache in resistance

So many expectations are leveled at me right now. Yesterday was a miserably long slog; today, I'm glaring at what is piled up around me. Flurries of panicked emails are stuffing my inbox. In this little universe, everyone believes they are meant to be the most important ONE. I don't understand this mentality, this need to overschedule our children with endless projects, endless parties, endless homework, endless productions; this desire to impinge on what little time the rest of us have; these endless demands for time, money, cookies.

I caught myself last night, plotting my own early release. Duct tape be damned. Last week, I really liked my life.

It's always a matter of trying to find a balance. Sometimes it's a good balance, sometimes a little precarious. That I can live with. This nonsense I cannot live with.

So I did what I do best when I'm in a state of intense frustration: out the door, iPod on my arm, armed with Kleenex and my delightful hacking cough.

Cool and breezy, planes overhead, clouds and haze struggling with blue sky.

Everything hurt. My legs felt heavy and clumsy. Hard to catch my breath, my heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest, the mechanical entity of flesh and valves boxing with the metaphysical entity that is suddenly demanding to be let out, a state of affairs that is just adding to the general noise and confusion.

No, I told the latter last night, you are not what is next.

You sure about that? it countered slyly.

The truth is that I'm not sure about anything at the moment.

Well, I sure don't want to be baking muffins for some school event (ok, I did volunteer for that one, out of a sense of supreme guilt for saying 'no' to everything else).

*wonders why she has to be so damned honest when she's striving for righteous indignation*

I stalked grimly up to the channel, ponderous rage bubbling around in my soul.

Then suddenly that song came on, and I was right back to last Tuesday, and while waiting for the light to change, I was bouncing up and down on my toes on the curb. As I crossed the street, I ducked my head, hoping the brim of my cap would hide the sudden irrepressible smile on my face. And then it got to that part, and I was laughing (or coughing. The two are presently indistinguishable), and the pair of elderly women approaching me on the trail looked at me like I was probably mad, and I ducked my head again, but I know my shaking shoulders gave me away.


And I played it again because it made the world a little brighter. Right now, I'll take what I can get.

Go listen to some good music: "Resistance" from the album ...undone by The Lucy Show.

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