Days like today

I'm frustrated and upset. Partly because Patrick showed his head, and saw his shadow-there will be yet another 8 weeks of winter. He and I are so similar and yet so far apart.

I want to dig a hole. Crawl into it, and wait out this passing storm. Why do the little things frustrate me so. Why do I feel like a bounced back pinball.

It’s coming on christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don’t snow here
It stays pretty green
I’m going to make a lot of money
Then I’m going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

Ashes

At times I feel like I'm a broken record, repeating myself, over and over and over. SOmetimes its the only way I know how to get through things.

After Patrick came for a visit (which was a kind token), I became frustrated-frustrated with him, frustrated with all humans great and small. It bothered me, to be become so discombobulated over such a small thought, ideal, yet that is apart of who I am. For Patrick and I, this is the last day of our aquaintance....

"There's one more thing you better understand. I have taught myself to sew, cook, fix plumbing, build furniture - I can even pat myself on the back when necessary - all so I don't have to ask anyone for anything. All I need from anyone is respect, and if you can't give me that, then you have no business being in my life...."

There will always be "Kims", "Patricks", and other people that eat away like acid to this paper doll. I need to learn to be a phoniex and rise from the ashes. I need to learn, not to be bothered by those who seek harm, those who I disagree with, and go about my day to day existance knowing that I rise.

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

And like the ashes poured before me, I rise. I rise. I rise.