The Sure Thing

Sleep, that's all she needs. Turn off her brain and shut down her body. Virginia can't figure out how this became her routine. Up with the birds then run around frenetically accomplishing next to nothing until her feet are so sore it hurts to walk. And for what, that's the question. Clear as mud, to quote her mom. She picked the wrong fork in the woods way back when, that's obvious. Thanks for nothing Mr. Frost. Hours and hours of breaking her back trying to master her craft and for what? A life of constant struggle and suffering with little to no reward. These days, at least- that's the reality. Give give give. What about some taking, hmm? Ginny's ready to stop and smell the roses. Reap her just rewards. Throw her stupid alarm clock out the window and sleep in for a change and participate in activities and work that is actually fulfilling, creatively, spiritually, emotionally. Ten, fifteen years ago maybe this was a different story but what happened to respect coming with age and experience or opportunity following hard work and due diligence. It's insane. Ginny has to get up in less than 4 hours to star this crazy cycle all over again and still, at the end of the month after busting a gut on five different foci, she still can't get ahead. Screw the affirmations and self helpologisms. When is it her turn to win, huh?  Is that so much to ask? Her phone buzzes, beeps, honks, tweets. Possibilities abound. But no Sure Thing. That's all she needs. A Sure Thing, right here, right now. Blow this whole world of stasis wide open.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Moving in Stasis

Go. Get on that plane, that train, that bus. Walk if you have to. Swim, we've got great lakes and oceans and rivers. So many bodies of water and tracts of land to get across. Find a way, they said, just get here, soon. And so Tally packed a bag with just the essentials: a blueberry corn muffin with a shmear of cream cheese, her well worn pocket stone she rubs in her left hand, a packet of mints from the drive in theatre, and two pineapple juice boxes. A clean pair of socks, some dental floss, mom's old cigarette lighter she stole off her bureau, and twenty three dollars and eighty five cents in change. That was the heaviest part of her backpack. She wondered if she was forgetting something but her mind raced with all the things at once. Will her shoes be comfortable on the long journey? Did she feed the cockatiel before she left the house? How can she get across the ocean if the boats aren't docking in the harbour anymore? What if she runs out of money? Will Joseph be
Read more

Kindness Is A Boomerang

If he can make it off the couch to the kitchen, then he'll be up and at 'em. Movement is motion and motion is energy and like a battery, he'll recharge. Feel better. Or different. Good enough. Long nights of hourly wake ups, followed by the struggle to quiet his mind. Loop, loop, looping through endless thoughts of what if and who will and I should and maybe they'll but just go to sleep. Sleep. No tech in his room, just sleep and sex. Although physical touch has been lacking. Wanting. Week seven, but who's counting.  And that's just sheltering in place. Before that, well...seasons. The sky is bright. City living with no light pollution is like life at the cottage on Lac St Joseph. There are meteors tonight, a shower or falling or maybe it's his brain playing tricks on his eyes. Looking for things  he can't possibly see. Four missed calls. Thirteen notifications. No one he's pining for so it's a wash. Is it too late to get up... too early
Read more

Good, Not Great

She hits the down button. Two hospital admin types, young women in almost stylish outfits, the ones afforded on entry level salaries, wait on a car going up. The elevator arrives, doors open, she steps on then realizes she's going up. Force of habit, she says aloud to no one in particular, pavlovian response. The two women sort of smile as they study the floor, suddenly intensely awkward and private. She gets louder as she backs out of the car. Doors close and she hovers her finger over the already illuminated down button. Right, just did that. It's quiet here, far from the madding crowd. Emerg was busy, mainly the geriatric crew. A few indigent and drunk and disorderlies draped over chairs, hanging out of gurneys, buried under sheets and gowns, moaning, rambling incoherently. It's the large-and-in-charge paramedic night: 4 teams of doughy young men stand sentinel with their wards, buried in paperwork, bored with the hurry and up wait logjam of daily deliveries.
Read more