I had a care-free moment today…In fact I was so light and carefree that I smiled and giggled for no particular reason on the way BACK to work.
It’s true that I was listening to a very good song (Maroon 5’s “Sunday Morning”), and I had just eaten a good lunch. It’s also true that the week is shorter due to Memorial Day, but an even shorter week for me because I’m helping my mom move on Thursday.
But those reasons, although very good excuses for being in bliss, were not the ones making me so happy. I wasn’t worried about anything, and that is very rare for me. Don’t get me wrong, I can worry about things and still be happy! But the worry is usually in the back of my mind, nagging me like a backseat driver (Worry about this now! Turn left and worry about that now!..No, MY left! Watch where you’re going! Don’t stop worrying now, you’ll get beeped at! #&*@# “Tara, Tara, quit f***ing around and type the God D*mned letters!”).
So try to imagine a much welcomed lack of worry and nervousness in my mind. That void was filled by surprise with happiness and bliss. It was like a “fruit buzz” without the fruit, a chocolate buzz without the Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups or the alcohol buzz without the booze. An honest-to-God…carefree feeling.
And it’s still there!
Ray: “It just popped in there!”
Bill Murray’s character, Peter Venkman, I think: “What, Ray, what just ‘popped in there’?”
-Dialogue from “Ghostbusters” before Ray (Dan Akroyd) tells Bill Murray’s character that he thought of and unintentionally summoned the “Stay Pufft” marshmallow man to be the ultimate destructor of New York.
And now for the actual quote that I thought of just seconds ago.
“Once you make out with someone, you can’t ask them their name.” – Seinfeld
Hamlet’s Cat’s Soliloquy
To go outside, and there perchance to stay
Or to remain within: that is the question:
Whether ’tis better for a cat to suffer
The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather
That Nature rains on those who roam abroad,
Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
And so by dozing melt the solid hours
That clog the clock’s bright gears with sullen time
And stall the dinner bell.
To sit, to stare Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
Then when the portal’s opened up, to stand
As if transfixed by doubt.
To prowl; to sleep;
To choose not knowing when we may once more
Our readmittance gain: aye, there’s the hairball;
For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob,
Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
And going out and coming in were made
As simple as the breaking of a bowl,
What cat would bear the household’s petty plagues,
The cook’s well-practiced kicks, the butler’s broom,
The infant’s careless pokes, the tickled ears,
The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks
That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,
He might his exodus or entrance make
With a mere mitten?
Who would spaniels fear,
Or strays trespassing from a neighbor’s yard,
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
And scratches at a barricaded door
No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
And makes us rather bear our humans’ faults
Than run away to unguessed miseries?
Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;
And thus the bristling hair of resolution
Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,
And since our choices hinge on weighty things,
We pause upon the threshold of decision.
Written by yours truly, circa 1993
As I sit at my desk,
as I lie in my bed,
I always expect to hear
the pounding in the walls.
This isn’t written figuratively,
I really do hear the pounding.
just hear the pounding….you guessed it,
in the walls!
I am connected to other neighbors,
for I live in a condo….
but who would be
pounding at this hour?
Still I expect to hear
the pounding in the walls….
and they never disappoint me.
What, if anything, do they want me
All I see is the digital at eleven.
I want to sit up, I want to feel free
to say, “What in the hell are you pounding,
Maybe it’s a message,
maybe someone’s in distress!
Was someone buried alive in these walls?
I don’t know, I can’t tell!
I just want to wake up and say I slept well.
This isn’t a dream, a nightmare or
If I could tell its exact location,
I would go and see and help
to stop the pounding in the walls.
Paranoia 100 (revamped)
I sit down tensely in psychology class
Like a goldfish among a school of piranha
Wondering what others are saying about my hair and clothes.
I pretend I wouldn’t care if they were secretively laughing
At the way I take my books out of my plaid book bag.
I keep my eyes to myself and wait desperately for class to start
So they will shift their alleged glares to the professor instead of
Copyright ©2005 TaraM.W.
Hieee-yah! Starting off on the right foot.