No Time For Poetry


There is no poetic way to say any of this, because I don't have any time for poetry these days.
Issac is sick with a fever and an ear infection (so says the doctor--I took him in because he has a fever and I need to go to work tomorrow--as if I could hand him to the doctor and say "here, fix him," and then pick him up in an hour good as new. We all know that trips to the doctor don't usually do any good unless your kid has menengitis or something REALLY bad. Otherwise, the trips cost seventy-five bucks and they put your kid on medication that gives him diarreah. Fun.)

Well, turns out that they can't stop his fever but they DID discover that he has an ear infection.

So anyways, that's what's going on. That and my cat had kittens under my house. Last week she brought them up onto the porch and I had pity on her and allowed her to bring them inside. They are sleeping in a basket in the laundry room.

All but one of them, which must've not made it up onto the porch. Because something outside smells REALLY disgusting.

What else to put in this digest? A self-realization, perhaps? I can think of four times that I fell in love. In two of those events, I was really, truly, head-over-heels, walk-to-the-end-of-the-world-for-you, genuinely, thoroughly in love. The other two scenarios were naive imaginings that occured before I knew what real love was. Yet I am not on speaking terms with ANY of these people.

What does this say about me? I think I am rather ruthless. It makes my heart hurt to think about how badly I handled some earlier relationships. When push came to shove, I shoved, and shoved hard. I burned bridges. No looking back, I told myself. But there is always looking back.

But I just gave misinformation. True love number one contacted me last week through myspace after SEVEN years. It's been weird. But good. Thanks, Ed.

Oh, what else? I'M GOING TO UKRAINE FOR TWO WEEKS, LEAVING THIS SATURDAY!

I can't beleive it. I hope I have sense enought to write long, detailed descriptions of what I see and feel while I am there.

I must admit I've been struggling to find inspiration these days. But my writing days are not over. I'm just letting everything brew up--and maybe when I get enough chutzpah to get rid of my TV once and for all (it's slowly sucking me back in--so alluring at the end of a long work-day, when reading just makes me pass out--right now the challenges are Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy, although Lost is good too and so is Supernanny) and maybe when I get a faster computer, things will pick up with the writing.

I've been a little numb lately. On the outside, it seems as if everything is happy, but I find myself muttering at times that I'm sad.

Not sure why.