New Poem, Old Topic

I put a quarter in the Wurlitzer.
He pushed
three buttons
and the thing began to whirl.
I asked for him
to play me
his music,
But she was on every track.

He held my hand,
with parted lips,
speaking an unfamiliar language.
Lost in the translations,
I kept hearing her name.

He promised the next picks wouldn’t be so sad,
But “it don’t mean nothing at all.”
The first choices
Were not
For me.

He’s damaged,
by someone else’s hands.
Mine are expected to cradle, croon and console;
soothe and sing to sleep a dissonant heart;
strap on the defibrillator,
stand back,
and wait
for rhythms made for me.

Part of the Problem

I’m no poster child for responsibility. As stated in my previous blog, sometimes I make horrible choices. But like my best friend always reminds me, I try to at least own those choices, knowing that I can’t exactly control the world, but can certainly make an attempt at mastering how I react to that world.

Spring has sprung and despite years of miserable serial dating, despite finding luuuv four months ago, there’s still a great desire in me right now to be…free and alone again. There are a few reasons that are leading up to acknowledging these feelings:

1. I forgot how content I am when I’m alone,
2. I can’t help but wonder if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, and most importantly,
3. Mr. Dreamy has been continuing a trend of annoying behaviors that cause me to wonder, “Is this IT? And if this is it, am I really willing to sacrifice my independence for THIS? Four months have come and gone. Despite a lot of hot air, he hasn’t truly made serious changes to improve his OWN life (gaining weight, eating healthy, taking proper care of his damn dog). Part of me can appreciate the fact that it’s likely way too soon for him to be in a relationship, since his shocker divorce. Maybe he just hasn’t learned how to take care of himself…Another part of me doesn’t really give a rat’s a– what his reasons are for lacking proactivity and being irresponsible. I’m already reaching my Excuse’s for Mr. Dreamy limit.

The bottom line for me is this: I’m done being disappointed. I’m done trying to fix other people. I know how difficult it is to truly change your own bad behaviors. It’s a constant struggle, a struggle that can be inspired or disrupted by others…if we let them.

Galway Girl

Okay. The real story. I’m in love. And I don’t know why, but tonight I have this great desire to just dump it and sacrifice it for this weird desire to be; to be alone. I think I’m going to blame these traveling feet on my father, his father, and his father before him.\"Wheels\" John MayerGalway Girl

If

I had to stay a little later at work today. They needed all adults at dismissal. A boy had a hit out on him.

It frightens me a little that these stories, after years, are beginning to be commonplace.

Wild Rovers

Coming from a long line of pub crawling micks, I’m sure it’s no surprise that St. Patrick’s Day is positively one of my favorite holidays. My dad plays the bagpipes and the day I was born he sang “Black Velvet Band” to me, a pretty little ditty about a pick-pocketing prostitute. As I was growing up, my dad would get plastered the night before St. Patrick’s Day and paint a massive Shamrock at the center of my hometown’s main drag with his friends. The next day he would be hung over and content, playing bagpipes all day long all over the community. Despite our current hiatus, I can still muster up fond memories of him parading into my kindergarten classroom to perform for my classmates, as I sat indian style on the carpeted floor in my miniture kilt.

As of late, life has been A-Okay. I’m not far from my goal weight and having a great time getting used to being in this new body. I really wish I would have made this lifestyle change a LONG time ago. But like my magical and impetuous father, my genes seem to direct me to making poor choices before the right ones find me in due time. It could just be that this is the cost of having a few too many drops of rebel blood flowing in my veins.

“I’ve been a wild rover for many’s the year,
and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer.
And now I’m returning with gold in great store,
and I never will play the wild rover no more.”