Tag Archives: self doubt

Poems from My Day (5-10)

i had a day i thought would turn out better.

I bought a bike.
I purchased it in pieces.
I assembled as much as I could.
Perhaps I was overwhelmed.
It’s been sitting half done in the spare room.
That room smells like rubber now.
Hang on a second, I have to let the dog in.
Two people offered to help.
I can’t take them up on it.
I don’t know why.
I should be biking,
I’ll have to this summer,
Carless. When my ride goes back down to Montana.
I can’t seem to, get it done.
I stare at it.
I think, give me a little more time.
I think that about a lot of things,
Just give me a minute.
One more second.
A moment to figure it out.
I am the mud of spinning wheels.
I am death.
I don’t know what that means.
I should go to sleep.

I’m sad my clothes smell like the wet mold you get from not drying properly.
I don’t know how to fix this.
The dog, not my dog, the dog bangs at the door to come in.
She scratches.
Her owner taught her to breathe at the door.
Exhale, exhale, exhale.
She wants to come in.
I can’t hold out as long as my roommate.
The whining gets to me.
If I ever have a baby,
The same thing will probably happen.
I’ll be the weak one who’ll give into the cries.

The woman who works next to me read me part of a book today,
A children’s book about how to play nicely with others,
Something something brown colored pencil,
No one wanted to be around the thing because it was always negative.
Is that me?
I am a brown colored pencil that’s always angry and sad.
What does it mean about my adulthood that I take lessons from children’s picture books?
I self-censor when I keep my mouth shut.
Adult conversation isn’t all that advanced from when we were seven, I suppose.

A little kindergardener mimicked me in a mocking way today.
That hadn’t happened to me in years,
I wanted to call her a little shit,
But she’s a kindergardener.
I didn’t know what to do.
I was upset I was offended.
I have no coping mechanism for this.
It reminded me of the time I met a new girl in choir,
And the first thing she said to me was did I know my two front teeth were longer than all the others?
I’m aware.
That’s all I can ever say to bullies young and small.
I’m aware.

They look at me like they’re waiting for me to say something else.
I don’t know what.
That’s it.
I can come up with more to say.
If I were on a college campus it would be a day where everyone would look at me weird.
And the servers at the dining hall would cock their heads to the side.

I want to go home.
I use that phrase as a litmus test of how bad a day is going.
Oh man, I only thought that three times before lunch.
I have no home to go to.
It would be worse back there.
I tell myself.
You’d be within driving distance of your mother.
But it’s become a Monk’s chant.
I shower. I want to go home, I want to go home.
I cook. I want to go home, I want to go home.
I fall asleep, alone, after no one invited me out.
I pet the dog who can’t quite get her blind eyes to focus on my face.
I check my cell phone for messages.
I stretch familiar yoga poses in the dark.
I sing Prince songs I’ve heard a thousand times before.
I pretend to like the beer they’re drinking.

She was on the second floor of this office building off a boulevard right off the exit of the highway.
The building next door stood empty.
She is black,
I didn’t want that to be a thing,
But I think worrying about it was wrong,
I tried to be normal,
So I guess, that makes it just like all my other interactions with people,
Trying to pass as normal.
Not wanting anyone to hate me, so they won’t tell everyone else they hate me.

Poems from My Day (3-23)

I’m going to preface this by saying, this has possibly been one of the worst 24 hour periods of my existence. Also, in case you missed a previous post, I’ve moved to rural Alaska to work for a national service organization.

Everything about me is wrong.
There might not be a right,
But there’s a better than this.

I just want to talk to my mom.
My call won’t go through.
And I’m hold again.
Everything would be ok if I could talk to her.
I could tell her what happened, and she would say,
Oh, I’m so sorry.
Then she’d talk my ear off, but I wouldn’t mind,
Because it would be my mom’s voice.
It would be familiar.

One day, I’ll be rich enough,
And I’ll live in a sauna. And I won’t have to have blankets on the back of my couches, and people won’t tell me my hands are cold. I won’t have to try and fall asleep cold.
I remember once when my dad didn’t turn the heat on in the great square house, and I was so cold that I put on the pink and white flower comforter that we’d left on the floor for years.
I didn’t care. I was so cold.
It’s so hard to fall asleep cold, wondering if there are bug bites in your blanket, but not caring, because you have to put on something, because heat is so expensive for those great, big, floor-to-celling, build before air-conditioning houses, and you don’t want to wake your dad up to say you’re cold, because you’re already costing him so much money.

I ache, I miss something, anything familiar, ache. Actually ache.
I want a friend, I want, I need, I am, I feel.

My Mom used to complain about her Mom going to bingo.
She would come home from college, she hadn’t seen her Mom in months and months.
And her Mom would still go to bingo, and her club, and hospital.
She wouldn’t alter her schedule.
And now, my mother is the same way. My sister went to visit her.
My Mom put my sister on hold, because she had to walk nine miles, she’s training for a mini (mini-marathon) and she had to make food for the church.
My sister complained to me.
“I guess I’m just not important enough.”
Waiting for me to validate her.

My life is hold music.
I called the IRS. I sent in my taxes check today.
I called the state department of revenue. I paid them over the phone.
Because of the new time-zone shift, I have to call people when I first wake up.
By the time I’m off work, it’s ten o’clock there.
I called the Amazon overlords to replace missing screws for a desk, they’re sending me a new desk.
I called the bulk grocery store. They’re sending me another box of cocoa powder. The first one exploded. I have packets of crackers covered in chocolate dust. I offered to send pictures.
I called grant administrators.
I had to call my car insurance company.
Then I had to call the car insurance for the state.
Then I had to call the car insurance agent.
Then I died.
Then I made calls for work.
Then I called in for the last conference call of my old job.
Wait, what did they call it? “” I checked the email.
It was the worst one of the day.
I felt used. I felt manipulated. They were talking from a script instead of to me. They weren’t reactive, they were covering their bases. Did I say this? Yes. I can’t get in trouble then. And look I can make it through an actual call without having to talk to anyone.
I am numbers on a dial-in conference number.

I learned how to say it’s not my problem
I worked for a businessy-business.
That’s what I learned.
To not take responsibility.
To know the answer to a question and keep your mouth shut,
Otherwise someone, somewhere will push you into doing something.
And you’ll end up searching for deals online at one in the morning looking for pre-wrapped canvas cityscapes that fit the overall décor scene.

In one way, I feel like I fit in,
In the same way that I’m like Dad,
That I don’t have patience for useless things,
Like straight edges.
And people here don’t seem to care either
If my 6 year old mac book has greasy keys.