I’m not afraid to die. I said to a coworker. I’m more afraid to live. I don’t mean this in a suicidal manner. I mean it in a finality, you can’t beat death kind of way. You have to live to die. It’s a song. I just want to live until I die. Bon Jovi. Or it’s lyrics from his song? Or maybe it’s not even a song?He comes up a lot in my song memories. So does the Star Spangled Banner. I love to sing this song. I was caught singing it yesterday watering plants. A customer snuck up behind me. I was so embarrassed I turned red. She said it made her day. I blushed more. Some belt out ave Maria or maybe hallelujah I sing the most American thing I can think of. Because it reminds me of what it used to be like to be proud of us. Am I still?
I can’t complain. I don’t vote for leaders and people who run houses and senates. I am grateful for all the women who fought for this right. But with the right to vote comes the right not to. I can’t maintain an accurate educated belief of candidates in our new age. I don’t know what to believe. I know my vote counts. It may have to be taken more seriously after this. I want to be an educated voter. I want to understand and listen to political debates. Form opinions. Stand my ground and beliefs. So what do I believe?
In the flag.
I believe in the American flag. I love the pledge Allegiance. It was my favorite part of the day at school. I sometimes wish we still did it each day. Maybe that will be my meditation right now? I can’t find a good word maybe I will stand proudly, hand on heart and say the Pledge of Allegiance. Get to what I believe. Something I can see and not let touch the ground. Fabrics made with rules and meaning, hanging and blowing in the breeze over war battered lands. Over destroyed buildings. Out windows. Over interstates. In space on the moon. On our soldiers, on our loved ones who fought and now are laid to rest. Covered with what they fought for. Burned at times. I know the history of the flag better than I could tell you what we squabbled over in any war. Maybe all along it was the flag? Pulling at it from all ends. It won’t rip. No one pulling actually wants that to happen.
Any American song about America brings me to tears. Pride yet disappointment. We need a wake up call. We need to call to action so much more than some of the things I hear we fight over. Climate change. A slow change that people study and predict to change. Is changing. Now it shows air pollution is decreasing because so many are being told to stay home. The ecosystem is resilient. But will it withstand what’s to come? Will it be able to fight back when we fight back to rebuild a stilted economy? Will air pollution not only increase but increase at a higher rate from so many doing and going to make up for the doing and going missed?
I worry about the internet. Probably more than climate change. Not in the same way as most. I don’t rely on it so much. Specifically because I’m worried it won’t be able to handle it all. Is there an end to it? Is that what people are looking for when they scroll? Why is there no end to it? Why does it keep making you search? It should just stop and say. “Sorry this is the end of the internet, your answers are within.” Quit looking. Can it be unplugged? Like for everyone. Where is the place it’s plugged in? With us all home not really socially distancing because we are still socializing. It’s physically distancing that they stopped. Something so many of us lacked and craved and are now afraid of. This will make us either more connected to each other or more connected to ourselves. It’s a choice.
What did you do? Who saw it? Was it important to you and you missed it because you had to also share it? Why do I even care? Because of my choice not to? Or because I wish I could? Or because I feel as left out as I did when I was little.
We used to play this game in grade school called toilet master. We meaning not me. It was a bunch of big tires stacked together to make little tunnels. People would collapse inside and someone would crush them down like they were being flushed down the toilet. It was the stupidest game. I wanted to play. I watched it. I could hear the screams of joy and occasionally see the master on the top tire yelling he had mastered flushing. When I tried once I was never flushed or sat on. I didn’t really know how to be. I didn’t really want to be smashed through these tires with shards of metal sticking out. What if my head got stuck inside the sides and someone came crashing down and snapped my neck? What if I did it to someone else? What if I won? What if I didn’t?
It eventually became banned as someone broke there arm or leg or some body part. If we were caught playing it we had to sit on the line. That’s were I sat anyway. That was my game. I would walk along the lines on the painted concrete. No one listened, then the tires were removed. The metal became too exposed and was ripping clothes. No more toilet master. Now I think there are monkey bars in place. A nice safe game of monkey bars.
Most people fear the dentist because of the noises, the tools, the mouth open and hands in there, maybe to avoid the lack of oral hygiene yet obvious over brushing and flossing from the enraged bleeding gums. Or the awkward conversation that is tangled with questions one can’t answer with things in there mouth or not gagging on spit. They should teach this. How to maybe just tell a story while doing the work. Or chat with the hygienist as if I’m in surgery out. I won’t mind. Pretend I’m not here. I don’t want to be anyway. The tools somewhat fascinate me, the thought of anyone wanting to even do these things to a person fascinates me, what kind of person wants to clean and fix teeth? Who are they?
My biggest problem is that teeth tend to make me think of skulls and being identified by teeth if you are ever found dead and can’t be identified any other way. Where are these records? I know the health department but there must be a database of teeth prints and xrays. Is that where my xrays go? Filed away to identify me in case Im burned beyond recognition. Is that why we are really supposed to go so often to update this? Who is it that is called? How do they know which health department to call? What if I’m found out of state? Who will solve this mystery then? Or does that make you a cold case? Questions to ask my dentist? Or therapist?
Once I told a man at a bar this story. It’s the quickest way to get someone to leave you alone. Trust me. Other than saying you need excused because of diarrhea. Even reading a book doesn’t. In fact it seems to draw them in. What I ask is. What about a woman in a bar reading a book with her meal says I’m approachable? Someday maybe someone will challenge me and force me to put it down. They will seem interesting and intellectually stimulating enough to engage. Or maybe not.
I am finding myself doing the weirdest things. I am hand washing my panties. For no reason. I have plenty of soap and money for laundry and time. Something about it reminds me of being conservative I suppose. I’ve backpacked multiple day trips so much I sometimes come home and feel everything is too much. Too far away. Too big. Such a large pot to boil noodles? Why would I do a load of laundry when my fleece made of recycled plastic bottles washes fine if not better by rinsing in the sink and hanging to drip dry? Why is my bed so far away? All the way down the hall. Silverware isn’t right in my side pocket? I carry spoons like I may need to drop and eat something quickly. I usually forget a spoon in a trip. I have used flat stones, bark, a stick, 2 sticks to see if I can do chopsticks better when no one watches, my fingers, a spoon I found and didn’t want to leave out to confuse wildlife. Would they try to eat it? It would be reflective would that scare them or make them curious? Depends on the creature I suppose.
I dreamt of a lady who was killing bats that were spreading this virus. I woke “in my dream” to a story online of a tally of bats killed. Instead of people. I couldn’t tell if I was less sad or more? Are bats to blame or people? People are in places they don’t belong maybe, maybe we don’t cohabite well with bats. Our shit mixed with theirs is saying something. Are we listening to what’s being said or thinking of what needs to be said?
Has everything I’ve learned been to help me get through this? Is that how it works? Everything is setting us up for what’s next. We don’t know it until we look back and look. I remember my trips better today than I did the day after them. I’ve written about them in so many ways and times that each time felt like I was recollecting more and more. Am I remembering my memories from that moment or from the last time I remembered them? Is that really remembering? I feel like I’m at a place I need to remind myself I’m extremely resourceful even if resources are readily available. Not just in case. Just, just in case.
Aspenleaf 