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Dear Readers,
I have found LOVE. TRUE LOVE.
It all has happened so quickly. It’s whirlwind of romance.
See, this guy flaked out on me but then said he was interested and then flaked out on me again, but today, TODAY, he has emailed twice and left a voicemail explaining his dog was ill, he was out of town, he was exhausted after his trip and had to sleep all day yesterday and last night. He even said these things really happened and that he wasn’t making excuses.
My heart is rejoicing.
His grandmother probably also died. And he was probably really busy buying an emergency supply of paperclips. And he probably really needed to trim his nails.
Bryan says he’s just my type.
I am so grateful. Remember the one who left the country without telling me? Or the one who waited until we were going to sleep to tell me he had no affection to give me? Well, three time’s the charm. Rarely does one find love once, ONCE, but I have been lucky enough to find in several times!!! I am blessed.
I just wanted to share with you all my happiness!
Medicated Lady
It’s been almost a year
since you entered my life
causing chaos
and laughter and destruction
Today
I realized
you are a relief
in a way inexplicable
My heart has eased
its aching
enough to be
to be confused by easy emotions
and images of closure
enough to be
glad that anger is
not the only thing
you were good for
Inaudible
I know
In their voices
I know
A sad, fierce look in their eyes
I know
The problem with my hobby of suffering through heartache is that I remind others of their own past relationship traumas (a saving grace is most of them are in good, healthy relationships now). I’ve finally realized when they tell me not to beat myself up, they speak from experience, not from indifference.
I see a light in their eyes, aware and remembering and I feel kinship and guilt. They know and I think they’d just as well forget.
It’s never as easy as I’m sorry.
I was called
mother today
and it felt right
not like the stick
in my arm
it was made
to sting, to ache, to burn, to bruise, to bubble, to burst
Have I mentioned how much I like wheat products? Bread, crackers, cereal, more bread. Lately, my diet has consisted of light sourdough bread, plain or toasted with spray butter, and oranges. I did have protein yesterday.
I had an epiphany. Again. It occurred to me as I was listening to the ends and outs of a loan forgiveness program where teachers who are employed in high-need areas have their student loans repaid (forgiven). What every single woman and gay man needs to do is establish a Man-Forgiveness Policy for which each potential man is evaluated and granted a full or partial forgiveness to his inevitably stupid-ass actions and comments. I haven’t worked out all the kinks and there are clear differences between loans and relationships. But essentially, so long as the man is meeting certain requirements, he gets forgiven.
We probably all have these policies in place so take a moment to assess your own.
My standing policy. If he’s cute, give him another chance…no matter how many times you’ve given him chances. If he’s over 6’0 and cute, he should be given exceptional leeway and any bone he throws, you should chase after it. If he’s cute, over 6’0, AND has dark hair, he should always, automatically, unconditionally, be forgiven.
My eligibility requirements. Must not play with food. Must be jackass. Must be cute.
My restrictions. If he becomes un-cute or stooped or plays with food, he is subject to immediate non-forgiveness and dismissal.
I realize, though, that my requirements were pretty low (although admittedly, they were too high for the men I chose). Recent experiences have prompted me to issue special regulations:
Must not leave country without prior approval/notification. Must have affection to give. Must make me feel pretty/wanted. Must follow through on at least 25% of what he says he will do.
So there you have it. By no means is this the only policy out there. Feel free to share your own policies.
A reassurance: I promise to the broken-hearted friends of his Shake site, Poeticgrin will be back. Actually, he’s not going anywhere. He’s still writing and will continue to share his work with all of us in the future. I am quite happy Bryan is receiving the accolades he deserves. Also, there are so many talented writers who blog regularly that maybe we should take his lead and light fires under our own asses to get published, too.
My coworker said, “Hey, you’ve got that Don Corleon look going on.” I would frown if my face was capable of contorting. Instead, I wonder if I’m drooling on myself.
Once swelling begins to recede, that’s when you start feeling the effects of constriction. My jaw feels like a giant bruise.
I had a pain medication-induced epiphany. I don’t remember it all exactly. Something like, the hole in my head hurts. But then so does the hole in my heart. It seemed profound at the time.
My dad came and went and came and went and brought my mother once who made me tomato soup. They bought me chocolate pudding from Wal-greens, not the fat-free kind.
Get rid of it, I said or would have said if I had been coherent. And then had another epiphany. This must have been what it was like for Aron Ralston to disown his hand. I’m better off without it now.
They told me not to worry if the wound continued to bleed and infection continued to ooze. I realize now that tact isn’t the most pressing thing when the patient is drugged up and looking about wildly.
But the tomato soup was good.
Poor thing Popeye he had it sad of olives and brutes pipes and green big jaws but no lips or teeth or gums is he a poor thing or a spoiled thing
Or.*
2/15/09
Poor thing Popeye
he had it sad
of olives
and brutes
pipes
and green
big jaws
but no lips or teeth or gums
is he a poor thing
or a spoiled thing
*Author is considering the impact of formats. Dearest, if you have an opinion, do express it.
The license plate says
NGD
No God
I’ll say
but maybe
I’m godless
today
because instead of narcotics
I am stuck
with over-the-counter.
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: