Napkin Scrawl #8 - Dream

I woke one morning to a dream. I don’t know where I was exactly… the house was unfamiliar. I remember the dream started with my husband entering the room. I had the feeling he had just come back from camping, fishing, or some other outdoorsy over night outing. He was dirty and in desperate need of a shower. But I was very glad to see him.

As my husband came into the room, I asked him where our youngest son was. He had gone with my husband but not returned… at least, not yet.I missed him immensely and wanted to hear all about his adventures with his dad.

My husband turned to me and explained that something terrible had happened. Apparently, our son had an accident of which my husband was responsible. He explained that he had accidentally killed our son and buried him at the cabin where they stayed. He hugged me and then apologized.

Of course, I was extremely upset. I was all a jumble of emotions, anger, sadness, fear and disbelief. I couldn’t believe that my husband, father of our son, would have first, killed our son, and second, been so nonchalant about the whole thing. I was hysterical!

“What do you mean?” I screamed. “How could he be dead? Are you sure? What did you do to him? Where did you leave him? Did you check his pulse?”

My husband replied, “Well, I kicked him in the butt for doing something stupid and he fell into a pile on the floor. It looked as if I had broken his neck. I saw no life in him at all! I didn’t know what to do.”

“Did you check his pulse, was he breathing?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, I checked.”

I wasn’t convinced. I sensed that he didn’t do a thorough job at any of it. I couldn’t understand why someone so intelligent would be so ‘Ho-hum’ about killing his own son, whether on purpose or accidentally. “Where did you leave him? Did you bury him?” I asked frantically.

He went on to explain that he had buried him up at the cabin where they stayed. I was desperate. I begged him to take me up to the cabin so I could check myself. I had to know for sure! I had to see my dead son’s face!

The dream moved on and strangely, time went by.

We arrived at the cabin and I leapt out of the car and ran to the cabin door. Strangely, as dreams go, my husband was ahead of me. He led me to the laundry room out on the back porch, where he hefted the washing machine gently out of the way. Under the washing machine was a mound about a head’s height above the rest of the ground and about as wide as the machine’s base. It seemed really strange to see where he had buried my son. “How could you bury him here under the washing machine? What were you thinking?” I said in a deranged huff.

I fell to my knees next to the pile of dirt. (Yes, this was a cabin and it had a dirt floor.) I looked up to my husband with tears streaming down my face. I begged him to tell me if he really believed that our son was dead. He gave me no verbal answer, but a shrug of his shoulders as if to say, “I don’t know.”

I laid my head down on the dirt mound. I tried listening for something, anything, as if I would hear something through the dirt. Wait! What was that I heard? No! It couldn’t be! I looked up again, and then put my ear back down on the dirt. I heard snoring! What the HELL?! SNORING? No way! “Listen!,” I said freakishly, “I hear snoring, breathing!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!

I began digging, moving all the earth from the mound as fast as I could, but carefully! An arm popped out… and then there was my son’s head. His eyes were closed in that angelic sleepy way. I knew he was just sleeping. I continued digging. I dug until I found his shoulders and then I began gently pulling him upwards, out of this hole that he was in. As I pulled him out, he was unclothed. I thought that was strange because I knew that my son never ran around naked. I remember wondering why my husband had stripped him of his clothing to bury him… how strange!

As I pulled him out, he awoke with a look of relief and a smile on his face. I held him in my arms as I sat there on the ground. All I could do was wrap myself around him and tell him that I loved him. He hugged my neck and said, “Mommy, I knew you would come! I was scared and couldn’t breathe, but I knew you would come!”

I turned to my husband and asked, “How long has he been here?”

“About a week,” he said.

“A week! What were you thinking? He couldn’t breathe, he’s had no water! HOW…” and I went back to comforting my son.

I awoke from my dream… Strangely, I had no animosity toward my husband. I just got up out of bed and went off to my son’s bedroom. I woke him when I picked him up to hug him. I cuddled him as if afraid I would lose him if I didn’t hold him tight.

Dreams are strange... What can I say?

Deep Inside My Head

Head against the shower wall, soaking in a hot, steamy shower, I’m filled with a flood of thoughts. If only I could stay here, soaking, basking in the quietness of this shower. I know that if I can just stay here, my thoughts would put themselves in order. I love the solitude here. Nobody bothers me. No noise…. Nothing!

But, I’m not one who can live alone. I must have people. I need to be useful and relied upon. So, this shower will only last until the water turns cold.

Why won’t my muse speak to me once again? Maybe she is, but I can’t hear with all these thoughts jumbled in my head. Perhaps I need a “thought muse;” a muse to order my thoughts so I can hear my “creative muse.” Hmm, now that’s interesting.

The other day, I was hit harder than ever by my muse. Again, in the shower, I was contemplating a new banner for a blog. The contemplation for the image was very short… for it just popped in my head. But, the thought process of how I would create it took more thought. To create the banner, I would need just the right images… I started getting frustrated because I’m not like my best friend who can just throw images together and get something beautiful. I lack time for one thing. I can see the banner in my head… Wait! No… it’s more than that… the image moves… no, I’m moving through my image! In this image, I’m hearing voices in my head. That day, I wrote everything I saw in that image. Everywhere my mind went inside that image, I wrote. Wow! What a rush!

As much as I love to create things, I’m not very good at it. I lack skill. I’ve always loved words, so talking isn’t a problem… Words are wonderful. I also love to draw… or used to anyway. So, two things I’ve really been working on are writing and Photoshopping. Of course, my hobby/career is web design so you’d think I’d have a strength some place in there, right?

I have at least one very harsh critic on everything I make or do… myself. If I’m not happy with a piece, I cut myself to shreds… and then whatever the creation, it gets chucked because I wasn’t happy. What a conundrum!

There was a part of me, who whispered loud enough, “In order to get good at something, you have to finish something.” It made sense to me and that is how I got here.

Maybe this is ALL I’ll ever be? Maybe all I’m good for is contemplation of what I COULD be someday. Maybe only nonsensical bullshit is all I’m cut out for. Such a waste of energy, space and air, don’t you think?

I have so many artists in my family; you’d think I could be good at something.

Standing here in the shower, I have come to the realization that I lack the ability to pretend. I have a vivid imagination, but not much into pretending. I think its due to my fear of acting out what’s in my imagination. Performing was always difficult for me as a child. The only part I was comfortable with was, narrating. I had a part once in a “Tom Sawyer” play. I was chosen to play the part Becky Thatcher, but was too afraid of the kissing part, so I was a narrator. *shakes head*

In elementary school, I was the artist for the school paper. My biggest obstacle there was the fact that I couldn’t draw horses or dogs. So, I ousted myself there as well. Yes, I had many who loved what I published, but because I couldn’t do certain things, I quashed everything else. I have to laugh, looking back I remember, I was really good at drawing cars and trucks. I was also very good at drawing 3D text. If only I had some sort of encouragement back then. *sigh*

Standing here in the shower, I began to realize that I crippled myself. I have blocked myself from creativity. I’ve lived my life in fear of what others would think, that I’ve completely crippled my creative self. I also realized that I’ve surrounded myself with creative people. I wonder why I’ve done that? That seems really odd to me. I feel so small next to them, why would I do that to myself. I certainly don’t like to feel small. I am very competitive. So, why do it.

Some of those ‘friends’ have been very encouraging. Maybe they see something that I no longer do. Maybe they’re just yanking my chain… hmm… I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter much, I guess.

However, I have a point to make to my boys… I have taught them, and have always believed that you can do whatever you put your mind to. For instance, if given creative writing assignment to tell “what it was it like to watch Jesus feed the multitude first hand”; or “what it‘s like to be sought after by a town of scared ignorant people trying to kill whatever monster you might be,” then you should be able to put your mind to it and create something. Therefore, I have to practice what I preach. Right?

With this thought in my mind, I’m brought back to my original thought of, why won’t my muse speak to me once again? Priorities and time are the first answers to this dilemma. I need to make time in my day to sit and write.

My shower is now complete… I must get work done. I think today I will only work a couple hours and then sit down to ‘create.’ This needs to be an every day practice.

Napkin Scrawl #7 -Storm Beneath the Calm

LOBSTER RED! That’s what color my backside is right now, LOBSTER RED! Soaking in a “hot-as-you-can-stand-it” shower for 30-minutes will do that to you. I needed something to calm my mind, my body, from getting all worked up for the past 2-hours.

Rewind the day and picture pretty butterflies flitting through the air… NO! Not that kind of butterfly! The cartoon kind of butterfly! Yeah, that’s right! Now, cue the music, "Ranz Des Vaches", from Gioacchino Rossini's William Tell Overture. I am certain everyone has heard this most wonderful piece of music!

My day started peaceful, happy, even keeled. I spent my day reading email, tweeting, shouting out orders like a sergeant in the military to my children. All is well, in my universe… I think.

Fast forward a few hours… kids are sitting behind me playing the most annoying game in the universe. It repeats the music over and over and over… NEVER once does the song change. Never once does the rhythm change. It’s fucking mind numbing! I digress… So now, there is an undertone of “Super Smash Brothers” with both boys talking at the same time, with intervals of yelling.

I’m proud of myself. I’ve maintained a calmness up to this point, even though I am beginning to feel the pressure rise inside my head. I sit quietly, focusing on my work, creating one page for the fourth time, knowing that this time will be the last time I have to redesign.

Finally, without skipping a beat I order the boys to shut down their game console and get out of my office… Whew! They’re gone now, resume tranquility!

More peace and quiet ensues when all the men folk in my house evacuated to their party destinations, leaving me alone with only my dog. Trust me, even Jasper knew that I would allow nothing to screw up my day.

Actually, this all sounds boring… but actually, it was nice having a boring day. No obligations, just sitting here consumed with getting stuff done. Butt numbing to say the least.

I am what many would call a “High-Bandwidth Broad.” I have a cell phone, Skype, MSN, Yahoo Messenger, Twitter, Blogs, emails… you name it, I have it! I was always afraid I’d miss out on something. To some degree, perhaps I still am afraid I’ll miss out. Today, I should have shut it all down!

Oh. My. God!

First, one-client left me messages on Skype, which I purposely ignored, then another client logged onto Skype. My heart skipped a beat because I had a job I was suppose to have done days ago for her and hadn’t, so I rushed to get that job spinning. Then I get a Skype call from first client. She wants to know how her stuff is going. We had discussed all this previously, I had it all set up to do, but she rang to tell me she needed changes! Ugh!

Meanwhile, I’m developing server issues on my other client’s job. Mail server malfunction! My job comes to a screeching halt.

Everything requires attention all at the same time. Twitter, email, text messages, Skype, Msn, husband, children, and the dog, all sound off at the same time. Oh. My. God. But, God forbid that I miss a thing!

All peace dissipates, poof, gone!

I can feel the pressure increase… blood pulsates behind my eyes. Heartbeat pounds in my ears, shoulders tense so tight they feel like they’ll snap.

I snap.

Expletive upon expletive erupts from my mouth, like Iceland’s recent volcanic eruption. Even the walls begin to shake in fear of my anger. Maybe it was when I punched the wall that they shook.

If I were a cartoon character, my face would turn red, my ears would blow out steam and the top of my head would blow off. Thank goodness, I’m not a cartoon!

There was only one thing to be done. Step away from the computer. Step away from everything. So, I did. I felt like running! But running accomplishes nothing. Instead, I decided that hot soak in the shower could help, and it did. I turned that water up full blast, and put it as hot as I could stand. Leaning against the shower wall, I let the heat melt away the tension.

My mind is numb now. My eyes are heavy. But, most importantly, my peace is back.

The moral here is this, “In order to eat an elephant, one must take one bite at a time.”

Napkin Scrawl #6 - Waking Dream

Every morning it’s the same. I open my eyes and am slammed with a bazillion of thoughts. It used to be that I could stretch and smile as I lay next to my husband, and on Saturdays, I still do that. However, today, I wake to two sides of my brain.

First thought I wake with is, “Oh SHIT! I’ve lost my earring again!! Where is my fucking earring?” Looking around everywhere I’d been, I search. I notice the dirt on the floor. There is no carpet, just wooden planked floors covered in dirt. I squint my eyes tightly as if that will help me find my earring, but I wonder, where-the-hell am I? I begin my search like all who lose earrings… first my hair, then my blouse. Wait. Blouse? Something is strange. I continue my search from my hair to my blouse. I reach down my blouse attempting to feel for my earring. It isn’t there. I brush my blouse and straighten it as I listen for my earring to drop, but hear nothing. By now, I am frantic! I can’t afford to replace my heart shaped earring! As I search the floor below, I am saddened and worried that this time I won’t be able to find my earring. I’ve been lucky in the past, to always find my lost earrings. This time there is just too much debris on the floor. How am I going to see my gold studded, heart shaped, amethyst earring in this dirty place? I’m not stopped. I press on with my search. Strangely, my feet won’t move. It’s as if I am stuck to the floor! All I can do is twist my self around. Even though this is odd that I can’t move, I begin to search the floor. There… over to my left… there is a strange shape of dirt. What the hell is that strangely shaped piece of sand? At that moment, within the blink of an eye, I’m there on the floor examining this odd piece of dirt. Hmm, no not dirt I ponder. Perhaps it is just a piece of the tumbleweed that blew in next to it. As I reach for it, my eyes finally put a shape to it. I gasp as my brain finally realizes … It’s. My. Earring! My heart begins to beat flutter as I pick up my earring from the floor. “Thank you, Lord, for helping me to find my earring!” I whisper a prayer of gratitude.

My eyes pop open and I check my ears. Earrings are intact. Wow! That was a strange dream, I think. As I take in the fact that all was a dream, I turn toward my husband whose gentle breathing is still quiet and steady. As I lay here watching him sleep, my mind becomes a flutter. I have so many things pop to the forefront of my mind. One of which has nothing to do with getting things done. The second side of my brain kicks in and all I want to do is lay there, watching and caressing my husband. All is calm, serene. I feel the breeze blowing through the window and hear Jasper moving in his kennel.

My mind begins to think of ways to wake my husband. All is perfect for some serious cuddling or perhaps more. I feel a grin form on my face as I try to follow that thought. But, no sooner did I think that thought, he turns over. That very same moment, as if Jasper is somehow, jacked into both of us, hops onto our bed searching between us for a spot to lie down.

Normally, I would shout at the dog and tell him to get off my bed that he doesn’t belong here… but no sooner is the thought complete, my husband reaches over to the dog. He pets him and tells him what a good boy he is... WHAT THE HELL!! Ugh!

Jasper then takes this opportunity to find his spot to lie down between us… But wait! Damn it Dog! His spot today is on top of me! What? Can’t you tell I’m here Stupid? He looks up at me with those puppy dog eyes, which tug at our hearts. He snuggles in, and I mean snuggles on me! His muzzle fits nicely between my breasts. Ugh! Dog!

My husband, propped up on one elbow, smiles at me and says, “Looks like Jasper wants to cuddle.” I smirk and give in because now, dog has thwarted all my plans of any serious cuddling of my own! “Dog! This is NOT the cuddling I had in mind!” I tell my dog… I’ve learned that if I push the dog away, all that will happen is my husband will get up and carry on with his day. So, I decide to give into the dog’s behavior so that MAYBE a second opportunity might arise. As lay there, calmness engulfs me and I fall back to sleep.

In what seems like only minutes, I awaken to my dog, floundering to get off me and move to a more comfortable place… his kennel. Ah, freedom! I look at my clock to find that we fell back to sleep for two more hours! Now, my mind is racing! Eleven-in-the-fucking-morning! What the hell! My day is half-gone! Of course, there is still the wisp of thought lingering as I turn to my husband to find him turning over in his sleep. He’s so far away this time. He’s on the edge of his side of the bed. Perhaps, I’ll let him sleep a bit more…he only came to bed at 5 A.M. Thoughtful of me.

Ok, fine. Perhaps this would be a good time to read my new book. I guess that was wrong too, because no sooner had I begun reading, my husband awoke and decided it was time that he get out of bed. Foiled again! Curses!

My original decision made. Only two choices left to choose from now, read or get up. I read.

Napkin Scrawl #5 - Taming the Savageness

Blood pressure rises, head throbs in pain, and eyes are seeing red as I make way up the stairs crossing the threshold of my bedroom. I slam the door and throw myself to my bed, angry at the words just spoken between son and self. As I stare at the spinning ceiling fan, I feel heated, angry. Why must we argue incessantly? I’ve come to my room to throw a teenager sized tantrum. God, why did my mother wish this on me?

I lay here remembering when I was 13 going on 30. Oh how unpleasant the memories of my mom and I butting heads routinely. I was always the one to relent. Why can’t I be the one that is right for a change? Oh yeah, I was the teen then and I respected my mom … or maybe feared is a better word. I remember Mom doing the same thing as I’ve done here, except she made sure to let me hear her cries. I remember how bad I felt back then, when she would emerge from her room with swollen, red eyes. My heart would always melt. Mom would always say how much she hoped that I would have children like my brother and me, rebellious and uncaring.

At that time, I swore to myself that I would never do that to my children. I would never make them feel guilty for voicing their opinions. Little did I know at that time, that there is much more at stake then just an opinion, respect must be in the equation.

My son has learned a trick. He grumbles lowly with needling remarks that hurt and belittle. I’m consumed with anger and hatred toward my son, as he needles me with his snide, rebellious, belittlements.

Again, I am reminded that Mom would slap me whenever I did that to her. Perhaps this is why I fear her. I learned not to speak my mind to her. To this day, I still cannot speak my mind to her without first finding the courage to do so. God, these memories are frightful and confusing. I want so much to be a better mother, but now I’m consumed with all these emotions as my son goes on with life as if nothing ever happened. All I want to do is slap the shit out of him… but I am the adult… right?

My eyeballs still burn with anger because of him. I shall not speak to him the rest of the day. He has summoned this beast within me and I must work hard to contain it. Therefore, I must remain quiet, gritting my teeth when I see him. I shall speak only if addressed.

Of course, there is always the alternative. Instead of turning this anger inward, I could just allow this beast to rear its ugly head again with expletives and words of anger. Sometimes I hate being the parent. Guess what Mom; I have a child just like yours. Thanks for the well wishes.

Napkin Scrawl #4 - Blink

Today is just a blur as I sit her contemplating sleep. Yesterday’s panic created such a numb, blurry day today. Strange really. I’m not used to that. Usually there is someone there to pull me from my shell and coerce me back to life, but not today. Perhaps that’s best…it’s been quiet. Children play their video games in the background, yet I don’t hear. I sit here hoping, waiting for someone to reach through my screen to wake me, but no one does.

I remember once today my husband stopped by to greet me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and brushed his lips on mine before he continued his journey down the stairs. From my corner of the loft, I can hear that he too has buried himself in his game of tanks. I might as well pull down this shroud of loneliness and isolation around me.

I blink and half the day disappears. No one wakes me from my daydream. No one checks my pulse or breathing… I’m overlooked. I must look normal. But I’m not… I’m all inside my head today. Perhaps if I really sleep, I can escape myself, and rest. No, I’m not tired, just numb.

An hour passes and I begin to wonder where my day has gone. I feel no less numb after napping, just aggravated with myself for doing it. I blink again and lose more of my day. Like sand sifting through my fingers are the seconds and minutes of my day. Twitter tweets as fast as my clock ticks it’s seconds, but no one speaks to me.

Through the numbness I reach out to those, I call my friends. Soon I feel the loneliness and isolation lift as people begin to wonder where I’ve been. I feel myself digging out from under the veil that hides me. Nevertheless, as quickly as the flurry of attention comes, it fleets out again. I blink…

In my attempts to do something with my day, I pretend as if I have a family to care for and I pull together a meal. First one, then another, comes to feed themselves… all of which return from whence they came with food in hand. No thank yous, no kisses, no “You’re the best mommy in the whole wide world…” More like cows to their feed troughs…

I blink again. It is 2 a.m. I know I should go to bed and snuggle next to my husband, but I don’t. I’ve been searching for models to tear apart and recreate, but I’ve lost my way with material that I would be difficult explain if caught on my screen. I’m on autopilot.

Just as I wake from my stare, twitter picks up once again… “Good night” they all say. “Don’t work too long or too hard,” “Make sure you rest!” All is silent once again.

The time is now 3 a.m. I should be sleeping but all I can do is write. What is this new thing I do? Why is my mind filled with words? Is there nothing more to be done? This is so unlike me to spill my thoughts on paper. It is as if there is another inside my head. Perhaps one who feels that others may wish to know the deep secrets within my mind?

What a bore.

It has been raining today. The clouds as black as night have burst and watered the desert I live in. The smell is rich and clean, the sound helps my contemplation. However, it is quiet now. There is no more rain, for now.

Sleep, real sleep invades my thoughts now. Perhaps it is time to rest. I wish I could hear rainfall on the roof as I lie in bed and sleep. It would add to the melancholy that I feel.

I blink…

Napkin Scrawl #3 - Hackers

Minutes, hours, days have passed…the clock ticks on… Life continues, good or bad, happy or sad, we carry on with our life’s numbered days.

I spend multiple hours behind a screen, hacking my way, creating multiple windows to numerous beautiful homes for all to look in. Creating something of beauty is where you will find my heart’s desire. Code, images -- images, codes… all day, everyday, non-stop.

Imagine how I feel when I find that someone has found an open door or open window into one of my newly made creations. They have illegally entered one of my homes and bedded for more than a night. Instead of them breaking in and leaving, elated by the fact that they have gained access, they proceed by building their own home inside my home. Each day they squat, they gain more and more rights to the greater home. They grow like an amoeba, slowly digesting my home.

Enraged by the fact that I have become a fool, angered to the point of explosive verbal behavior, I search all folders, files, and scripts… High and low, in every crevice, nook, and doorway, to find HOW my home invasion occurred, HOW my creation was defiled. I find a small hatch, hidden beneath a rug, deep inside my home. This room, primarily used for storage, overlooked in its importance for many years, was my culprit’s port of entry. My home invader knew what he was doing, entering through the equivalent of a basement in this home, my creation.

As I remain oblivious to the determination of my home invader, he hacks away, finding weaknesses in code I use but never wrote. He chips away at the pre-manufactured framework of my creation. Once he has chipped away enough, he inserts his own code, a self-building house of his own. He’s a squatter, poaching on the resources of another, sucking my time and livelihood away.

Upon further analysis I find that the code I use yet never wrote, the pre-manufactured framework used to help build this home had upgrades made available that fortified its structure and closed off poorly made code. Had I known earlier that these upgrades were available; I might have thwarted the hacker’s attempt at access into this beautiful home, my creation.

Today, I sit here feeling violated, remorseful and defeated, beating myself again, knowing now what more I could have done to protect my creation. All I can do now is clean house, clean up the mess left by his amoebic code that once resided in my creation. I’ve changed the locks and closed all doors and windows as best I know how. Squatters, hackers, all are vermin and must be eradicated before too much is swallowed away by their greediness. Therefore, I’ve engaged the services of my tech support to exterminate any residual effects of these vermin.

Perhaps now I can rest assured that he no longer lives in THIS house, my creation. Only time will tell. However, now I have learned my lesson. I have been reminded once again of the importance of making upgrades whenever possible, and changing locks regularly.

Napkin Scrawl #2 - Mom Time

"Hisssssss," a sound erupts from my very own mouth as I walk outside my front door. The sun seems brighter then I remember.

"Ugh…" I groan as I drag my feet out the door to drive my boys to their physical education class.

I was rudely awakened this morning to the deep gravely voice of my oldest son. "Mom, mom! It's me, Matthew… Mom, we only have 20 minutes… We have to leave." As he argues the point with me that today is Wednesday, I bury myself deeper in my comfy, cozy bed. I hate Wednesdays.

Last night wasn't a quick to bed night as it should have been. There were many distractions to keep me from my goal of early sleep… A new friend needed a shoulder to cry on just as I began to log off from my portal into my obsessed world and a very lonely husband realized he missed the attention only I could give. I should complain, but I can't all these things are important too.

Morning approached so much faster than I remember. But, like a good mom, I stave my grumblings and roll from my bed. As I stand by the side of my bed, my husband embraces and whispers his apologies for not waking me sooner. He kisses me gently and leaves me to my shower.

I climb into that one place I know that I have complete solitude. Standing in the hot spray of water, I watch as the steam rises to surround me. This…. this is my time… This is most enjoyable. As my eyes open to the scent of shampoo, my mind fills with a jumble of things to do. My thoughts begin to erupt more clearly, "P.E., writing, coding, writing, email, writing, coffee, writing…" What the hell? You’d think I there was something important on my mind.

As I climb out of my fortress of solitude, I wrap my towel around me and stroll to my bedroom door. I order up coffee only to hear there is none. I sigh a painful sigh. How am I to perform without nectar from the gods? I’ll manage…

Cleaned, dressed, and out the door in ten minutes, a record I think, we’re off. Why is it so bright? The trees and cacti seem greener than I remember. The sky bluer than I’m used to….not a cloud in the sky. It actually looks picturesque.

We arrive at the park where P.E. class is just beginning. It is warm for 9 am in the morning… just a reminder that I now live in the desert. Today is different. Today the park is full of little people. Their clothing so vividly bright… their voices so high pitched, screaming as the run to the playground. I wonder if school is out… again?

As I sit here in my truck, I sense eyes staring at me. There's a knock on my window. I look up to see my neighbor friend smiling down at me. She greets me as she sees I’m deep in thought. She giggles and says, "I was heading to Starbucks for coffee and thought you might like me to grab you something." I must have, "Need coffee" tattooed to my forehead. I feel my smile reach my eyes as I blurt out thanks and gratitude for her offer. "I would LOVE a Suicide!" I tell her. She takes my order and what little cash I have to give her to get that sought after nectar of the gods.

As I sit here watching the children play, I realize that I am not in pain, albeit I am stiff and need a good stretching, but the pain I once had is no longer here. I also realize that springtime is the most amazing time of year. All that was dead or sleeping awakens once again.

I feel like a sleepy, grumpy bear, awakening from a long hibernation. I emerge from my cave into the brightness of a new season. The air is fresh, the greens greener, blues bluer. There is an excitement in the air, a buzz if you will of busy-ness. If you sit long enough, you can almost hear nature waking up.

The children approach as I realize my quiet time has come to an end.

Napkin Scrawl #1 - The Monster

My night burns quickly toward its end as my vision blurs and my head begins its almost nightly pulsating routine. My heart beats in my ears, thump, thump, thump as my eye begins its retreat to the back of my head. Yes, a migraine ensues. Down goes the pain pill, backed with a wash of Diet Pepsi. Only time will tell if this to shall pass.

I sit here at my laptop only briefly reading code and tweets, lounging in my upright office chair… hoping. I am hoping that I may once again complete my task instead of putting off for yet another day, the drudgery of this job. Perhaps by putting pen to paper, or in this case, fingers to keyboard, I can eloquently describe my feelings, both physical and mental. Perhaps by setting my mind on things not routinely thought upon, I might beat this monster beating on my head. I stand to face the wall, remembering once before when a slight concussion helped to remove the monster that ravages my head. As memories arise, I realize that though this cures the ache I now feel, it also brings beautiful hues of purple, green, and blue to the surface of my skin.

Oh for some lovely eye candy, to kindly draw my eyeballs back into their sockets. Perhaps, if said eye candy was enough sweetness, it might raise my heart rate just enough to send my blood pulsating back to the blood vessels in my head instead of residing in my ass.

Another thought arises… perhaps a nice endorphin rush would surely help with blood moving from its sedentary zones. Yes, this too might work, but for this to work you most certainly need a partner. For tonight, I do not hold this thought for long. It is only but a thin wisp of thought that blows back and forth like the wind.

I shall think on these things, as the monster on my head begins to exhaust and tire of his beating pain.

Back to work I say, back to work again.