Observations, 05 November, 2007

Window seat. Often taken. Today, waiting for me. Dark coffee. Cream. Likely should have used milk. Gotta think about my cholesterol now. Ruby & Westminster. I miss the unique Wolseley street signs. Apparently people couldn't read them. Duh. Outside various shades of grey. Dancing leaves not yet hidden by snow. It's coming. The air smells of it. Some fell this morning. Beautiful. Beautiful three-story houses. Stucco. Brick. Siding. Screened porches on top & bottom. Last minute yard work. Cleaning gutters. Canada flag. Bike rack. Park bench. Both empty. Every time I see the grand, wood & glass entrance door on the apartment building across the street, I envision myself standing inside, leaning on the door, looking out. I'm nude. I'd love a photo of that. Perhaps on a rainy day. Short guy walked by outside. Inside. Young man at the next table. Too young for me. A reminder of my age. He's typing on a Mac. Blue sweater, black tee. Jeans. Brown kicks. Toque and one glove on the chair beside him. One glove is on the floor. I want to pick it up. I don't. Beautiful dark brown hair. He just spoke. Is the song skipping? Or is it just really drawn out & monotonous? The latter. Floor to ceiling books. What could be more comforting? Coloured spines. Coloured letters. Second cup of coffee. Feeling worse about the cream in this cup. My little indulgence. Looking out, I see much. Looking in, not so much. Lost focus.

Observations, 02 November, 2007; Part II

Waiting. Waiting. & more waiting. Waiting in the doctor's exam room. Waiting for my results to be faxed over from hospital to clinic. Dr. Morham is trying to keep me calm. In & out of "my" room. Disjointed conversation(s); always pleasant. I notice new artwork above his desk. Sail boats. Nice. Something about the jar of tongue depressors makes me want to grab a handful and stuff them in my purse. Even though I have no use for them. A few magazines. None that I'm particularly interested in. Flipping pages. Not even seeing what's on each shiny page. Article on running. I tear it out (shh!), fold in half & then in half again and slide it into my purse. No one sees. I stand. Admire my breasts in the mirror. Fix my hair. Brush a few cat hairs away. I return to my seat. It makes a rude sound when I sit on it. I dive into my purse & finally resurface avec my mini lint roller. Thanks Manda. More than anything, I'm fidgeting. All (most?) cat hair is removed. Finally. Finally papers in hand, he sits. Then reads to himself. Dead. Silence. Looks straight into my eyes & says, "It was nothing. They couldn't find anything to be concerned with." No air is in my lungs. His eyes never leaving mine, we were suspended in a void. Processing. Like a "hot flash", I felt a wave wash over me. Then the tears of relief. "Thank you." Eyes still not breaking away. Intense. Relief. Kindness. All shared. "Thank you." I was never alone in this.

Observations, 02 November, 2007; Part I

Doctor's office. No cell phones allowed. People still using them. A pink one. Are you above the rules? What makes you so special? Unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face. TV's on, sound's off. Very overweight man. Gross. He's sitting on a chair and his belly is hanging down over the chair. Closing the top of my coffee mug that I brought from home, it spatters on me. A few word puzzles to distract me, although I can't seem to concentrate. Then three familiar faces: Andrea, Diane and Brian. I like them. All three of them are GOOD. "The View is on one TV. And I think it's the Jefferson's or 227 (??) on the other. Closed captioned. My coffee is cooling off and will soon be undrinkable. The pink cell phone rings. I contemplate pointing to the "Cell Phone Free Zone" sign. There's a woman at the payphone, looking through the phonebook. She has bright orange hair with reeeally bad roots. And it looks greasy. Ick. The lady across from me is wearing a red jacket, jeans, brown shoes, blue blouse & has a black purse. She's impatient. I'm nervous. My name was just called and now I'm sitting in the doctor's exam room. God. I hope I don't have cancer.

Observations, 10 October, 2007

It's interesting to look around the waiting area in the plastic surgeon's office. "Rednecks", bling, snooty, shy, young, old, denim jackets long out of style. Shiny boots, perky breasts, funky glasses, shortage of chairs, stroller, fake plants, stacks of magazines. Red Rave drink in the hands of a man who has made himself all too comfy in the upholstered chair; his legs spread wide. His shoes are polished. Candy bowl, ceramic bust...of a bust. Ginger flowers, fake stone floor and grey carpet, pretty artwork, big obnoxious TV that keeps the silence away. It's yapping about virginity, inability to have sex, "vaginisimus" (sic), waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting in the waiting area. Apropos. Brown/red wood for the desk and cupboards, silver edged top...I would have used brushed silver...golden walls and floor. More people come in. No more chairs, sorry. Overweight. Low-cut pants too tight. When will it be my turn? What does the little girl across the room (she must be seven or eight) think about this TV show talking about sex? What does the adult she's with think about it? Admin. ass't drinking Dasani. Wish I had some. Lumps on faces, tummies round, aging, sweet black hair, forgetting I have an appointment and not just here to people-watch. Patience thinning in patients. What do all these ppl. dislike about themselves? I could have moved seats to he could sit beside his woman, but I didn't want to, although now I think he got the better seat. It's by the window. Filing cabinets black, pieced together office isn't designed as I would have done it. Running through the magic forest to the castle. TV. Name called. Familiar. Do I want everyone to know my name? Do they care? Moving from waiting area to office, only to wait more there. Stars, Portage Av. lights: red, green, amber, white, some pink & blue. RBC Financial Group, Dominion, constant movement, smells funny in here; I don't like it. Comfy black leather chairs (x2), laser-type sounds from another room, what are the people back in the waiting room thinking I'm here for? Was I noticed? Subway, red circle, hustle & bustle, must be 800p by now, ugly art, waste of a canvas, different room than last visit, more artificial plants...even with large windows. Surely live plants would thrive in here. I guess no one wants to be bothered. Singing from the TV, something silver & odd-looking plugged into an outlet, interesting office chair, I'll be undressing soon - I think. I sure have a lot of cat hair on my red tee-shirt. Ankle socks slipping down my heel in my black CAT's, blue hoodie & Bombers jacket by my side on the chair. Comfy jeans that are too large are held up by a green studded belt, sirens screaming down below, patients being shuffled from waiting room to exam room, apologies for the wait, another chair brought out. My turn.

Blue

Morning sun lifting

Spirits follow grey clouds part

Revealing blue skies

Grey

Grey, grey, grey, grey, grey
Various shades of grey gloom
With hints of brown blah

Memory

Shifting ground beneath
My feet unsure made to wait
For things still foreign

Hold tight to me now
I need to run run faster
Then not turn around

Until I'm on shore
With cupped hands sipping the Lethe
I long to be free

Re: beautiful

I would appreciate any comments you may have about the poem that I just posted (that appears right below this post), entitled "beautiful." I've had many varying reactions; it seems to be quite controversial!

Thank you for reading!

Rey

beautiful

beautiful

i am so beautiful.

sparkling eyes;
full lips
opening into a perfect smile.

i am surrounded
by people who adore me;
worship me;
vie for my attention.

too bad
they just want to fuck.

i am so fucking beautiful.

A lesson...

"Well-timed silence hath more eloquence than speech."

Martin Fraquhar Tupper

My First Post (albeit shamefully desultory)

Here it is. My blog. I wonder how often those words have been used on someone's first blog post.

I've contemplated the content of this first blog post more than I'd like to admit. I keep coming back to one question: Where do I begin?!

Perhaps I could start with something innocuous like the events of my week thus far. But it really hasn't been much of a week. Although the cat falling in the bathtub was quite the event!

I suppose I could start with something bouyant like the upcoming Winnipeg Folk Festival! But it makes more sense to write about that after the festival, when I have some fresh stories to share.

There's a part of me that wants to delve into something reflective and consequential; to start telling tales of the demise of my marriage & where I think things went wrong, what I used to wish I had done differently and why I'm so content with who I've become by hiking along this uncultivated path.

I find myself wanting to entertain with my words, my thoughts. Heaven forbid I'm ever boring! I need to keep in mind that there's something lovely in being staid, and that I need that balance in my life. I absolutely need to return to my meditation schedule.

I could write about any of those things; all of them, really. If I wanted to. But right now, I just want to go eat a bowl of Cheerios.

I'll find the right place to start yet...