Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

Peace December 25, 2013

I know that it is difficult for many to make it through this time of year (myself included). Just know that you are not alone in your feelings, and that there is a brighter and better tomorrow. Take a deep breathe and take it one moment at a time. If being around relatives is difficult, just remember: YOU control how you feel. Do not give others that power. Do not allow yourself to fall into the trap of being reactive.

If you are alone (not by choice) try volunteering at a soup kitchen or shelter. You will be lifted by what your kindness can do for others.

I wish you all peace, love, and joy this holiday season.

Advertisements
 

The Waiting Room December 13, 2013

The woman appears disheveled. She sits perched on the edge of the waiting room chair, swinging her petite, pajama-clad legs back and forth nervously. She hunches into her over-sized sweatshirt and pulls the hood tighter as if she wants to disappear. Her hands are clasped over her ears to keep out the noise. Anxious eyes dart around when a man takes the seat next to her. After a moment, she walks to the front desk to ask how much longer she has to wait. She’s waited six hours already. She returns, but chooses a new seat.

~

The family comes in together. The man, who appears to be the one in charge, is dressed neatly in a Green Bay Packer’s sweatshirt and pressed jeans. The younger man wears the uniform of his youth: over-sized shirt hanging over carefully sagging jeans. A sharp pair of  Nike’s complete his look.  The older woman is obviously the matriarch. The men walk her in, flanking her sides. She walks slowly, but steadily, with their help and her head held high. Two younger women trail behind, huddled together for support. Both of their dark faces glisten with fresh tears. The family gathers together and has a quiet conversation. In moments they dissolve in tears. The men comfort the matriarch as her tears deepen into sobs. The news of an impending death of a 10 year-old family member is too much to handle.

 

~

She sits with legs splayed, filling the seat with her bulk. Her gray sweatshirt is stretched tightly across her stomach. Stains show at the armpits. Oblivious to others, she continues her phone conversation. She complains loudly about various problems in her life. An older man brings her a greasy white bag which causes her to finally end the 45 minute conversation. She thanks the man and he leaves. She unwraps the first of two tin foil packages and the smell of cooked onions fills the air. The woman eats with great enthusiasm, licking her glistening fingers after every few bites. A few minutes later she unwraps the second package and consumes the other burger. Flecks of cole slaw dot her lips when she sits back with a satisfied sigh.

~

The waiting room in a hospital emergency room gives a unique glimpse into life.

 

You November 28, 2013

Filed under: all,love,Poems,poetry,relationships — rainey46 @ 7:46 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Nude art

How many hours have I wasted

dreaming of you?

How many days are lost forever

thinking of you?

How do I continue breathing

living without you?

You are the blood that runs through my veins

You are the one who  makes me insane

You are the air that touches my lips

You are the wind caressing my hips.

How many hours have I wasted

dreaming of you?

How many days are lost forever

thinking of you?

How do I continue breathing

living without you?

 

HAHAHAHA!!! November 22, 2013

1424538_427443294024453_1988150829_n

 

1459047_427443884024394_1680462877_n

 

1471172_428048083963974_178344878_n

 

1472765_427104060725043_1502696963_n

 

1472895_427123110723138_1984112352_n

 

Time Will Tell November 17, 2013

I stumbled upon a Facebook page of my old high school. I live within thirty minutes of where I grew up, but high school was not a good time for me so I put that time of my life behind me- along with the people I knew then. For some reason, I scrolled through a few screens of people trying to reconnect, or announcements of class reunions, and a name suddenly jumped out at me…the name of one of the men who gang raped me when I was 16. I closed my eyes and almost didn’t look at the page. After a moment, I looked: it was his death announcement.

I followed a link to an online obituary that showed pictures of him: with his wife, then children and grandchildren. The younger pictures looked just like the man I knew: cute, almost shy smile; slightly mussed blonde hair; and clear tan skin. As he aged, he got a little heavier, but seemed to maintain his “boy-next-door” good looks.

I expected to feel rage that he lived an ordinary life when I lived so much of mine in emotional pain. I expected to feel relief that he was dead and had suffered from the ravages of cancer. But I felt neither of these emotions.

I really felt….nothing. Just a little twinge that someone I once knew was dead.

Does this mean that I’ve really finally healed? Did I take back my power after all these years?

I hope so.

Only time will tell.

 

Parts Sag and Things Hurt October 7, 2013

This weekend, I went for a trip on the motorcycle. I had a great time, but my butt hurts from riding 1,100 miles. And my back hurts from two nights on a brick-hard hotel bed.

I’m also sun burnt from an October sun that didn’t know it was October.

I woke up late this morning because I set my alarm for the wrong time. It wasn’t terribly wrong, but just enough to start my day off-kilter.

Got to work on time, but no time to spare. In fact, no time to spare all day. After my normal morning meeting, I had a meeting with the bosses to brainstorm and problem-solve. When they left, it seemed as though everyone on staff was lined up outside my door with a different problem. I guess it is good that I am needed at work.

At the end of the day, I had a nose bleed. Not bad; just a little one. I haven’t had one since I was a kid.

On the way home, my left eye started twitching. It does that some time for no apparent reason.

Sometimes, it’s a bitch getting older. Parts sag or don’t work and things hurt, but my mind doesn’t know we are getting older. It wants to go and do like we always have. I still have fun, but fun hurts more now than it did.

Did I mention that today was my birthday?

 

 

 

Embrace Your Weird September 8, 2013

We are all weird. Although we all start the same way, when Mr. Sperm meets and greets Ms. Egg, somewhere along the way we each develop in our own uniquely weird way.

As small children we have some weirdness that begins to show. Some, as toddlers, run around in full naked glory and refuse to put on clothing. Some eat weird food concoctions, or only eat one or two foods. Young children don’t mind being weird because they mostly only think of themselves. But soon, they grow up and become…TEENAGERS. Teenagers thrive on being the same as everyone else. Anything that makes them different must be hidden at all cost. Some people get stuck in this mindset and spend the rest of their lives hiding their weirdness and trying to live exactly like everyone else. They are the ones who will never fully develop their own hidden potentials because they are too busy trying to be normal.

Being weird is not a bad thing. In fact, I am here today to celebrate my own brand of weirdness. It is my weirdness that makes me who I am. My weirdness factor sets me apart from every other person living on my street or in my town. I am uniquely me, and proud of it!

Here are several weirdness factors about me:

1. When I am following directions, I visualize a birds-eye view of the area roads. I am good at finding my way around, but not good at telling someone else how to get there because no one understands my way of seeing it.

2. I hate, truly hate, shopping. I am a rare breed of woman who would never set foot in a store OF ANY KIND if I had a choice. I don’t like buying clothes, shoes, household items, gifts, groceries, or any other necessities of life. I do love online shopping for things, though. Why? Because I can find unique items that no one else will have.

3. I love singing in my car. I have a 30 minute drive to work and I spend most of the time singing at the top of my lungs. (I am not very good, but I don’t care!) I don’t look at other people or cars, so I could care less what they think. The other thing I do in my car is talk. To myself. Out loud. Sometimes very animated.

4. I am artistic just to be artistic. I create what I want to create. Most of my work is sitting in my studio in piles. I get people who ask me all the time to paint certain things, but that is not how I work. I stare at the canvas (or wood, or whatever) and let it tell me what it needs to be. Anything else is forced. The same is true of poems or stories I write. I cannot pre-plan; it becomes what it was meant to be.

5.  I count colors. When sitting in a waiting room, or standing in line, I look around and see the different colors of all the people and objects. I then count the colors that touch one another. No color can be repeated. This is a game I started as a young child when I had trouble falling asleep at night. It soothes me, even now.

These are only a few of the many, many ways I am weird. How are you weird? What makes you a wonderfully flawed and beautiful human? Embrace your own weirdness, and share with me!