13 Years

Today is the 13th 'anniversary' of my dad's death. Wow, 13 years. In a way it seems like a million years ago. I've had a really good day thus far. Pretty happy. Time doesn't heal all wounds, but working your ass off in therapy and reading and praying and writing and having mini-breakdowns, haha...well, doing the grief work helps. And time does help. It doesn't make it all better. Tomorrow I might cry my eyes out. Who knows. I'm just so involved with myself right now - that doesn't sound good - but you guys know what I mean - that my dad seems kind of far away. In a way that makes me a little sad, and I feel a little guilty.

But it is what it is.

In the infamous words of the great poet Robert Frost:

"If I have learned one thing about life, it is this: it goes on."

Indeed.

Sweet Mother of Mary There IS a GOD!

That, or I am simply a genius. I jest. I just found out I PASSED both of my CSET English Literature and Composition exams. (CSET = California Subject Examinations - put in place by NCLB and Bush to make sure teachers know their subject matter and pedagogy).

HOW did this happen? I was totally emotionally unable to study for these tests. I think I studied a grand total of 3 days before taking them. I know I'm a good bullshitter. That had it to be on the compositions. I must have guessed well on the multiple choice exam too.

The fact is: I have to take two more exams: Linguistics and the history of the English language, and Communications and Media. The test date is March 14th.

I am high as a kite, have done my "Tom Cruise jumping on the couch" run through the apartment about five times and scared Zoe into the next zip code.

But dammit, once you take these tests, you NEVER HAVE TO TAKE THEM AGAIN. I am two tests and one methods class away from being certified to teach English. It's actually kind of a scary prospect.

JOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lazarus Dreams

There will come a time when you will find
yourself alone
in a faded room of despair
the stale aroma of some unresolved grief
heavy in the air

And you will be playing mental solitaire
and smoking cigarettes
trying desperately to remember
how simply to forget
crazy things like the strange feel of December
in the dead center of July
the long, deep, bitter want
and someone that you loved once
a long, long time ago.

There will come a time
when you will find yourself long since past the age
when it is acceptable to rage
against the dying of the light
and you will blow out candles in the night
and wonder when you lost the fight

And you will learn
You will learn to carry your grief with elegant grace
You will learn
that in this world integrity finds no easy place
You will learn
to master the fine art of goodbye
You will learn
that often silence is your best defense
and that sadness does not guarantee
any more tears left to cry

There will come a time
when you will stop searching for some great cosmic sign
and you will let go of the concept of fair
And you will live in a house of mirrors
to prove once and for all
that you're really there.

There will come a time
when you will spend your nights dealing kings and queens
playing Jesus Christ to the demons dancing in your head
and raising Lazarus dreams
from the dead.

Note: I can't recall if I ever posted this. Apologies if I did; I just came across it last night and thought how ironic! It is 17 years old; I was 25 years old when I wrote it. What stuns me is that at that point, my father and grandmothers were all alive, I hadn't gotten sick yet and yet I could have written it yesterday and it would've been more appropriate to my life now I suppose. Anyway...yes, I was occasionally smoking back then. Yikes. And I was depressed - I just didn't know it. I wrote bad poetry to deal with it. LOL! And in the end, this is about life, but also, so much about a great unrequited love I had. I still think of that person fondly to this day.