I will not apologize for the Buick or the semi-feral cat in the spare room.

 How you live your life and how you perceive those around you is fundamental to your experience on earth. If you ignore the drunken garage door operator, the ex-meth   provider working to make child support, the hoarding OCD ranting uncles, as a waste of your time, you have removed yourself from what makes you interesting.  The ability to sift through  the crap that doesn't matter and listen to lives lived in another dimension is an extraordinary gift.  A culture with its own definition of rules,  opportunity and success is an expansion of the rigid solitary existence from which we mature. Who decrees what is acceptable? Where is the right place? Why is it embarrassing to have three old vehicles? How do you remember when the question is gone?
I did not graduate from college,  I have never made $15,000 on my own in a single year. I do not drive and buy 95% of my clothes at thrift stores, but I have lived in Italy for two years.  I was given the opportunity to work with amazing, intelligent, kind people. I mothered three wonderful children who I  fought desperately for them  to achieve and far surpass me.
 I married at eighteen and do not regret a minute. It has been such an adventure.  I am so fortunate for the people I have known, the time they have given me. I am happy.

I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR THE 97  BUICK  OR THE SEMI-FERAL CAT IN THE SPARE ROOM.

Where is my.....?

My personal  mantra is I can't find..... my phone, my glasses, my pills, my keys, my purse, my shoe. no matter what object is named it has disappeared locked within a circle of manic searching.
Organization is futile when a skipping brain is in frenzied pursuit for the most logical, most convenient, most perfect location for each item of material existence. There is no magical assignment bin for this repetitive Hell. 

My tangible world fights and taunts me pummeling me with  it's sentimental importance. Boxes overflowing with plastic forms, mountains of polarized images, bags of paper reminders begin to fly and dance above me.  I feel the cool air rush upon my face.

I can not waste this time, this life, this world looking for things. Everything I need has never been gone, just quietly, patiently waiting for me.

Help or Hinderance?

So many times in life I just float going with the tide that drags me along. I close my eyes to the passing humanity and silently hope someone else will help, terrorized I need to keep gliding forward anesthetized with anti-depressants and wine. So many funerals, so many losses I continue as one of  the fortunate who keeps moving .

Perhaps endings are the motivation to begin again. I am insulated in my cocoon of mediocrity safely nestled in routine. I need to change, to feel necessary, to be necessary. I am unsure what path to take.  It is time to shed the layers of my bundled refuge. No more talking, circular thinking, empty flasks, passive hours watching high definition trash lulling my spirit into limbo.

Where to start, at my beginning, my family? Is my protective cover an excuse or another compulsion? Can I continue to coddle and nurse the fragile egos of my siblings? I need to go beyond this insular mission that will never reach completion. I bid farewell to those that are unwilling to help themselves, content to live in an angry negative cave of blame.

I see the door of opportunity, of hope and it is beyond the narrow road I have been following. I  run silently into the air.

Yellow is Happy.

I've been thinking about colors wondering if my blue is someone's yellow. I think colors are nouns, concrete matter existing on a separate plane of light. Vision is such an amazing computation. My brain is taking longer to process what I actually see and skips ahead like a bored kindergartener. There are coyotes, non existent birds flying in open  spaces, warped and wavy, a dizzying Wonka-esque  landscape.

 Fantasy, reality, faulty wiring, it is magical, my theater of sight.