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I’m dead with dying
There is an eye I refuse to catch

I was born with knowing
I look and I listen and I discern
I know

You’ve caught my eye
I’m not God
But I know

Tell me everything
The bile and the filth and the worst, pour it
All that will be left will be left behind
Listen to my knowing

Let me catch your eye
My knowing is a reflection
There’s no dream I can’t decipher
I simply know
You tell me what’s the matter
And that’s what’s the matter
A reflection
through kinder eyes than you can’t bear to see
This is my knowing

I was born in January
I am dead with dying
There’s an eye I refuse to catch

It’s the eye of a child
Who won’t let me see
Something terrible happened
Something awful and humiliating
Something that drained my blood from my face my screams from my throat my heart from my chest and
Something that puddled my potty down my leg and between my toes
Something terrible
And I don’t know
Something terrible
And I don’t know

Hollow now
I won’t catch my blue eye that eyes me in the mirror

I was a child born dead with knowing
It was January
It was cold something terrible
Something terrible
And I don’t know

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It’s been brought to my attention that I have a knack for convincing the good people in my world I’m competent until it’s much too late for them to do anything about it. It was brought to my attention recently when I mentioned to a friend that I was changing jobs and she said she wants to change jobs, too, but she doesn’t feel competent in anything that’s open on the market right now. I laughed at her naiveté and told her that competency has nothing to do with it. I personally am not capable of carrying out the duties of my current job and I failed miserably at my old job…I spread my incompetence around like a STD but I’ve mastered the art of appearing to be quite thoughtful and able to do many tasks. Now you can, too!

• You need to go to LensCrafters or some asshole hobbit eye doctor and get thick rimmed librarian glasses.
• You should put your hair in a bun, no matter your gender.
• In the course of a conversation, pick something you know about (however little) and pretend to have a strong opinion about it. They will wilt in your knowledge because if you are vehement, you clearly know what you’re talking about. For example, when I was 19 or 21 there were elections going on that I knew nothing about but I was in college and wanted to appear knowledgeable. Or simply repeat someone else’s vehemence (is that a word?) as your own conclusion. I listened to a pundit sarcastically say that Pat Buchanan wanted to nuke the borders to keep the illegal immigrants out. I repeated this in political conversations numerous times at my university and got raves for really knowing my stuff.
• Mention research or statistics. Peoples eyes go dead and they bow down to someone who knows research or can read it. Even if you haven’t touched the research. Spout facts and the people will be believe in your ability. TRUST ME! Note: you don’t even have to spout facts if you don’t want to. Most people will not question you. For example, if you start talking about standardized tests, and you say, “statistically speaking, there is no way for everyone to “pass” a test based on a bell curve so “rigor” cannot be determined by an invalid test,” who is really going to challenge you?
• Make bulleted lists when you go into a staff meeting or when you write a bullshit blog. Be sure to have enough bullet points to seem comprehensive and give pointless details to make the bullet points seem especially important. For example, use “for examples” frequently. Note: Titling your lists as “how to” also gives credence to the idea that you actually know how to do something.
• Shake your luminous hair out with a pensive look on your face. You know how to look competent…you’ve made it this far, right?

[begin transcript]

me: How’s work tonight?
him: pretty slow
him: what u doing up
[it’s 2:02 am on a Sunday]
me: Good question. I keep waking up.
me: Are we gonna still see each other or…?
him: Yah I have to you about that but don’t want to do it over text
me: ok, not a conversation I’m looking forward to but I get what you’re saying.
him: sorry I’ve been so distant
me: I’m good at reading the writing on the wall. Let’s just leave it at that for now.

[end transcript]

[end relationship]

it was a small statement
words with a gentle punch
I’ll take the dogs out, he said
on a Sunday morning
leaving me to rest
he knew I needed to rest
on a Sunday morning

• his thoughts weren’t worth my penny, I decided (much too late)
• if you want to keep him, don’t let him take you to Hot Springs
• I’m needy
• I’m weak
• I’m bull-headed stubborn
• if you want to get rid of him, talk about your own problems
• if you like him, you can sit through any story no matter how many times you’ve heard it or how vulgar and unbecoming it is
• if you like him, he will not like you
• if you agree that neither of you will play games, accept that you’re both playing that game
• I’m accommodating
• I’m sweet
• I’m a good listener
• weed is never a good conversation starter
• weed is an awkward topic of conversation if you’re not into weed
• telling me you tried to sell weed to an undercover cop and that as a result, you think you were “framed” even though you admit to doing it is cause for concern and perhaps a reasonable moment to challenge him on his “it’s not my fault” mentality
• sushi is okay
• shorties don’t do it for me
• kawai (spelling?) means cute in Japanese
• Republicans scare me
• tall men are unreliable
• tall men are reliable
• I don’t like body odor
• I like sexy texts but most times, sexy texts ruin a relationship
• I don’t like to hear about maps in the Middle Ages
• I have a birthmark on my face
• I have freckles
• not everyone is gay-friendly
• straight guys can be insecure
• men are robots
• men are funny
• I fall in love with laughter
• I don’t like rice balls
• as it turns out, I like blue eyes after all

“you know what comes next,”
I say to him with a sad smile
it’s a smile I think he’ll come to know well

>>>>>>>

on my lips
a song from yesterday
words not quite audible
not quite decipherable
the melody doing the work
working the doing
working the words
slowly forming
on my lips

Dear Readers.

I have agonized for you. The hurt you will feel. So I’m just going to come clean (not necessarily sober): I’m a slightly less medicated lady.

There.

The trazodone had to go. Over the past few months, there has been a marked increase of misfirings in my brain, producing cognitive confusion and speech difficulties. Don’t blame the trazodone; it’s a good drug. Blame me, dear readers. It just wasn’t for me and it greatly pains me to admit it.

I’ve been substituting 3 benadryls for the trazodone at night. I’m sleeping well…except for worry about your reactions to my having failed you and the medication.

Yours always.

Medicated Lady.

caught up in the stream
of things
the streamers I made as a 10-year-old
still hanging from the rec room ceiling where my father tacked them
a long ago place
never touched
and now a new place
that takes me back to when I was 21 and how much I couldn’t enjoy my life then

On Monday, happenstance occurred. Happenstance, I say, because I’m not sure I believe in fate or destiny, puzzle pieces fitting together just so. I see a yellow sticky note on my office floor. I leave it there for several hours. I have things to do. In the mid-afternoon, I pick up the note and take a look-see. I’m jolted to see it. His email, the asshole, who ruined the name Steve for me, although I never liked it anyway. The one with no affection for me. His email, who I’d finally forgotten. His email, written down a year and a half ago just in case we ever started communicating again, still waiting to be typed in my compose box.

He’s not much to me, not even painful to think about. He’s nothing. He’s an asshole. He is Steve.

He facebooked me a few months ago and I told him to never contact me again.

I’m not sure why I can’t bring myself to throw the sticky note away.

SOB with me

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at MedicatedLady@yahoo.com, loria29@gmail.com Or Facebook Me: www.facebook.com/loriataylor3

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