I’m Okay

“I’m okay.”

That usually means something else isn’t. It always means something else isn’t okay.

E. called twice on Saturday. S. hollered through the bathroom door, over running water from the shower. “E needs for you to call as soon as you’re done! He already called twice.” We’d been messaging back and forth. He probably wants to pick something up on the way here. Ice cream, or maybe my favorite coffee.

I finished without rushing and returned his call.

“I’m okay.”

“Okay…what happened?”

“Yeah, you know that yield sign where you have to crank your head all the way back and it’s a stupid traffic flow design? The brand-new Mini-Cooper in front of me didn’t go when it was clear. We’re exchanging information now, I’ll be there in a bit.”

He sounded calm. That’s what made me nervous. When he got home, I took a look. License plate was bent. Otherwise, no major damage. Fender bender minus the bent fender. I looked at the pictures of the other car, walked into the house, and discussed the next steps, grateful it wasn’t worse.

Where to now?

Year three. Day thirty-two. (I also posted on Tuesday, February 28th.) I knew I’d hit the inevitable wall, writer’s block is real. It’s ugly. It’s really ugly. But I got past it. So where do I go now?

I’ll take a little break (at least until Tuesday) and go back and read more posts. I remind myself it’s okay to return to past posts and comment. They’re new to me if I haven’t read them. There’s so much good writing out there.

I have some posts saved as mentor texts, suggestions for writing structures, techniques people used, stories that stayed with me. I make a plan, more of a mental note, to stretch myself during National Poetry month. There’s more than just free-verse, but I like to take the easy way out. I found one I’m eager to try and many more I’ve never encountered. It’s time I play a little harder.

Do I join a writer’s group? Create my own? Might as well give it a try. I’m a bit nervous about that since I was a member of a book club years ago, The Book Club With No Name. If that’s any indication of how that turned out, my hesitation is warranted.

Year three, you’ve been good to me. Thank you to everyone here, TWT for creating this amazing space, and to Chris Margocs of Horizon 51, who brought me along for my first ride three years ago.

I stocked my Writing Pantry with mini-bottles of bubbly. They’ve been chilling in the fridge. Summer’s flirting around here, so off I go, a toast to many more Slices!

Things I Say

Someone left a yellow mustache on the floor.

Are you chewing on your power cord? And it’s plugged in?! Do you want a permanent Joker-style grin burned into your flesh? Take it out. Now.

Do you still have the book that was due in September?

Yes.

Where is it?

In my backpack.

Go get it.

I don’t have it.

You just said…

I’m still reading it.

But you’ve had it since September.

It’s lost.

Did I tell you about the student who kept leaning back and forth in his chair and broke his face? Put all four legs of the chair on the floor and leave them there, please.

Yes, you have to pay for the books at the book fair.

No food in here, please, the cockroaches are big and they’ll take your food.

(Lights flicker, or something randomly falls) That’s Wilhelmina, my class ghost. She can do whatever she wants. She follows me to every school.

I have an alien implant in my pinkie toe, I just can’t tell you which one.

(Student pokes around the cart of new, unprocessed books behind the circ. desk.) Put your name on a Post-It note and put it on the book you want. You get first dibs!

Writing Pantry

I didn’t go shopping. Well, that’s not true, I have something in mind, but I don’t quite have it yet. I pop the door open. Seems the same items are there. Haiku. Six word memoir. Free-verse poetry. I use that one often. I need to add spice. You know what they say about spices, sometimes you need to throw them out and get new bottles. Fresh is best, but dried works too. These are a little too dry, though.

I’ve gone through so many cookbooks, it seems. I recycle some recipes and change them up, add my own flair, but those have also become a little, yawn…is overused the right word?

I’ve gone through phases of phrases, word play, restocked the staples. I mean, how can you ever go wrong writing about experiences? Small moments? Big ones. Hot. Cold. Just right. Even Goldilocks had to take a nap.

I peruse the shelves looking for something new.

Why don’t you try that one?

Well, a lot of people have used it. I know, I know, my version will be different, but…

Work avoidance issues?

Yeah, probably. Sometimes I want to come up with my own thing.

Sometimes you need inspiration to lead you to your own thing.

True.

Looks like you need to restock. Go somewhere different. Watch a show or two. You hardly ever do that. Take nap. Read a book you hold in your hands. Sit outside.

Can’t go outside. Allergies.

Yeah, okay. Do something you haven’t done in a while. Remember some of those Big C activities you started doing three years ago? Paper bead making. ‘Zine writing. Family game night. Writing and sending snail mail.

Oh, yeah, a bunch of those kid crafts I didn’t do as a kid and my own kids didn’t want to do? Yeah, I can do that.

There ya go! Take a break. Do something else. While you’re at it, make me one of those mocktails you concocted using herbal tea and orange infused simple syrup.

Can’t argue with that, but I’m adding a little extra to mine. Off I go the the *writing* cabinet.

Oak, no!

March
means
clear blue skies
popping wildflowers
grass awakening 
from winter's slumber
thick and green
twittering birds
gentle breezes
air perfumed with
blooming jasmine

March means
oak trees 
doing what oak trees do
their spiky little 
pollen nuggets
littering the ground
invading 
my headspace
tickling my throat
choking me up
making my nose
drip
drip 
drip
postponing
that evening walk

Bench Warmer

I figured out I was a bench warmer as a third grader, before I knew there was a term for it. My parents allowed me to join Little Dribblers, our local kid’s basketball organization. All my friends joined, and they were the cool kids. I don’t remember how I ever got to the practices, I probably walked to most of them, but my parents weren’t always in the stands cheering me on. Usually, they dropped me off, picked me up, and that was that. Typical 80’s kid doing her own thing. Their work schedules often conflicted with extracurricular activities and there were two other younger kids at home. Later it would become three.

During practice I tried to keep up, watching the others with envy as their basketballs obeyed and bounced back to their fingertips for another forceful tap. I spent most of my time chasing my basketball. If a coach intercepted it and passed it back to me, I moved out of the way so it wouldn’t hit me in the head. I like to think I have a metal plate in my head that attracts moving objects. It’s still there and it still works. I was never good at catching.

My dad watched some games, but I rarely played. I learned that you have to be good to play, otherwise you sit and wait for the team to win. Or lose. Sometimes I’d go in and it seemed that just as I got warmed up, a buzzer went off or a whistle blew and there was a switcharoo. Back to the bench. Cheer the team from there.

The following year, the sign up form went home again. I looked at it, but I knew better. I wouldn’t bother. We didn’t have a smooth driveway with a basketball goal for me to practice. I didn’t get any better. I wanted to play because my friend played, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as they did. I preferred to spend my time in different ways. After all, if I was going to sit on a bench, I’d rather sit there reading a book, not wishing to dribble basketball.

Perch

I've perched at the end
of the kitchen
table
in front of the back porch
window 
facing the 
front 
door

It became my 
desk
grad school homework
nonstop
for three years.

I nested there
awaiting my possibilities
adding to the space
making it as cozy
as one can make 
a kitchen table
competing with 
family meals
kids' homework
craft projects
during down time
and breaks
junk mail
wine glasses
coffee mugs
papers waiting 
to be graded

Time passed,
yet I still perch
at the end 
of the kitchen 
table
in front of the back porch window
facing the 
front door

It has become my
desk
morning pages,
three of them
every day (mostly)
for over four years
flanked on the right
with a writing
cabinet
wine glasses
and unopened bottles
of wine occupy the 
top shelf 
waiting
to be sipped

This morning,
I changed my seat
and now I perch
on the long side
of the kitchen 
table
to the right of the back porch
window
next to my son's 
favorite seat, 
occupied only when
he visits,
leaving the front door 
behind
enjoying
a better 
view

Since When

has Friday become a dreaded yet welcome
oxymoron–
the end of the week
but an entry to the weekend
where once, after work
hours of happiness
clinking glasses
full of endings
and beginnings
now are more work
than mondays
that make one
want to go
home and 
crawl
into 
a 
hole?

Tag, You’re It!

It’s my turn already? Uggg, I just… Okay. Sheesh. There. I close my eyes. Take a deep breath, and try not to think. It’s okay, no biggie.

Beep, beep, beep!

I slam press hard. I’m not ready for this. No worries, it’s fine…

Beep, beep, beep!

Goodness, I KNOW it’s my turn, I’m just not feeling it. It’s hump day. Two more to go.

Beep, beep, beep!

I just fell asleep after my 3:00 a.m. jolt out of slumber.

Why?

We go back and forth in five minute increments until 6:10. My eye pillow flops to the floor at my last attempt to slam the alarm clock, but instead I turn it off. I should’ve just set the thing for 6:15 a.m.

I get out of bed and don’t even look back at the sleep I left behind. It left me at 3:00, but I gladly took it back with open arms, reconciling my frustration and sinking deep into delicious rest that’s cut too short with my day job’s wake-up call.

#myday #in #hashtags

#morning #doughnutboy #spiderman #actionfigure #coffee #LEGObuild #makerspace #mlacitations #lessons #overduebooks

#lunch #turkeychilli #salad #again #friends #checkin #marcopolo #chat #calendar #evening

#bribes #jollyranchers #readaloud #afterschool #detention #whenteachersskip #kidsgotafreebie

#threemoredays #springbreak #sotired

#highschool #parentmeeting #already #staylittleforever

	Alice on I’m Okay
	Alice on I’m Okay
	Alice on I’m Okay
	Anita Ferreri on Are You There Judy? It’s…
	natashadomina on Secret Spaces