verbalies.

i awoke from a dream this morning around 10:00am from the shrieking sound of my mom tearing into my room proclaiming that i had left the car hood open last night as it was currently starting to rain.

my dream unfolded on a picturesque day as i walked outside my front door to assist with the daily groceries from our shabby family van.  the stoic look on my father’s face foreshadowed that i would soon be receiving a verbal lash regarding some unknowing crime i committed against his stoic ideals.  i casually rolled my eyes as he turned his back and proceeded to join my mother and sister in the hording of groceries.  it happened so damn quick.  a guy with soft brown locks rushed onto us and before i could witness in slow deliberate motion what was exactly happening, i saw my mom slowly melting down the concrete on her knees.  she had been stabbed.  the scene transitioned to the house half stripped to beams and foundation.  time passed and i believe we were reinnovating the house to be sold away.  a tight emptiness filled the void of my interior as i quietly walked through the upper quarters of the house… recalling possibilities of walking atop of past memories; her arms holding gently holding me, her body masking the room with her perfume of citrus and gardenias, her fingers grazing her patent purse.  i sat slumped against the wall of my room as gray skies filtered meager light through a cast away curtain.  something hit me and i candidly raced to the window, my eyes narrowing to thin slits as a horrible realization hovered over me and irritated an unfamiliar rage.  —- the man who stabbed my mother lived right down the street and was ironically unloading groceries with his significant other.  i starred hard at his beady frame slamming their car trunk shut as he shuffled into his house.  time passed again and i was no longer standing psychotically alone in the window studying the culprit’s every move— i was soon joined by my haggard father and sister as we spent standard family time manically moving our eyes with his every movement, the pang of emptiness widening like paper aflame with harsh black edges.  i knew we were all wondering the same thing: why a “thing” undeserving of a humane label was prancing around enjoying the enrichment of life when he should be castrated and dismembered piece by piece.  i couldn’t stand it any longer as he slammed his car door shut and proceeded down our street.  i do not recall grabbing anything but feeling absolutely free.  not a sliver of fear as i forged through the front door and breathed with the pattern of desperate hunger to avenge the wrongdoings of my mother.  i carried only her heart with me.  even from a distance the smell of my demented demeanor quickly awoke a look of panic from my .. victim. 

i awoke instantly recalling the feeling of emptiness.  the empty house.  the empty family.  the empty thoughts of not having a mother to tearfully see me become something, to bear a child, to have late night chats of bright memories.  i awoke seeing her there beneath my door, alive apparently with her vocal means intact.  for the first time, i was felt pieced back together, happy to see her yell motherly at me. 

this is the sole problem.  this is why i enclose myself, wound myself up tightly so that nothing can penetrate my layers or peel them off ever so slowly.  this is why i unattach myself. 

far from perfect but that doesn’t mean one shouldn’t try to achieve. 

i know now why i step forward lost in thought.   heartless. 

steady maintainin’ it that way, youlostit.  lost her.

22nd seems so far away.  retail therapy NOWw, ugh.

i srsly don’t feel prepared.  at all.  nor am i sure about sudden consistency.

bfast / lite lunch:

• 2 slices of wht toast
• 1/2 glass of oj
• 1/2 sliced pear

plan: gym

• 30 min. cardio
• 30 min. elliptical
• lite weights w. brian

actual:

• 10 min cardio / 15 min. walk / 20 min. elliptical
• random reps

dindin: @ panera

• 1/2 asiago turkey breast sandwich
• cup of cream of chxn & wildrice soup
• 1/2 apple
• 1/2 pecan twist (…sin, ughh)

snacks:

• 1/2 corncob