In My Eyes

Cold splinters aching joints

The chill of nameless broken hearts

My arms are weary from displays

Of trying, when I miss

The boat I breathe

The cold air stings my face I sing

A tune to float away

But in the sunshine

Oh in the sunshine

It feels like California

Water-air press on lungs that

Grew in dry and heat and winds

I never thought the step

Through clouds would suffocate me so

That solid air abrades my skin

I’m blocked into the nothing

I am trapped in place by sticky

Eastward air

But in the cool breeze

Coming off the sea

It feels like California

In the lonely whispers

Of the broken city

I can hear snatches of melody

Pied piper’s flute

Got nothin’ on

The fingers of sun

Tugging me back home

Fasting forward starving on

diet cola’d heroine

The thicker air that breathes you in

You

Suffocate

In sound

But in roses carried on the air

The kisses of the breeze I swear

The sunshine feels like

The moonlight shines like

In my eyes like

California

I Have to be a REAL PERSON and do REAL PERSON Things, but I Totally Don't Want To

Today, I learned an important lesson in my attempt to do real-person things while enjoying a migraine that is doing its best to eat my brain. And the lesson, my friends, is this: don’t.

It’s one thing to sit completely still in your bed, in pj’s, drinking your second cup of coffee and hoping that this one will do the trick in getting rid of the brain-eating migraine, along with the Advil and the staying completely still (did I mention staying completely still? No? Stay completely still). It’s quite another to be lulled into a false sense of security (damn you Advil and coffee! No no…just kidding, I love you. Don’t ever leave) and decide that RIGHT NOW would be an excellent time to dress yourself in a t-shirt and beat up sneakers, throw your unwashed hair into an incredibly messy ponytail—aka The Hobo-Chic look—and attempt produce shopping at your friendly local neighborhood sketchy produce store that is jam packed with loud music and even louder patrons.

I am of the opinion that when you have a migraine, the world should sort of go out of its way to make things easier for you. I don’t think that’s so unreasonable. At the very least, it should inform every supermarket in existence that the shopping carts for the store should be located in front, in an easily accessible and visible place. Not around the corner and behind the checkout lines, where teenage boys loiter and block them while they flirt with the cashiers. This would confuse me on my best day. This was not my best day.

Also, trying to navigate a shopping cart through aisles that are barely wide enough (let’s read that again, boys and girls. Who the hell builds aisles that aren’t wide enough?! Build wider aisles, or buy smaller carts. I have a headache. Don’t make my life harder, please) is challenging for those of us (ie me) who have spatial relationship issues (think a complete inability to complete a Tangrams puzzle. I’ll stop with the parenthesis soon. I promise). Staring stupidly at the cart, and then at the aisle, and then at the cart again is not a good way to convince the world that you are not on drugs (which I am clearly always trying to do.) (Ok, I lied about the parenthesis thing. Sue me).

Speed ahead to check-out. My brain is pretty much cotton at this point, and my vision is starting to fuzz. I really, really want to get home. I put my 7 things on the belt (love the express lane. Or X-press lane. Do they realize they don’t actually save any letters by spelling it like that because the hyphen is a symbol and takes up as much space as another letter? Am I the only other person in the world irked by this?!). I approach the cashier, who seems to be a nice enough woman, until she looks at me, smiles, and says, “Happy Mother’s Day! Are you a mother?”

Due to the cotton/marshmallow mixture in my brain, my first reaction was, “Huh wuuhh?” I’m pretty certain I made those exact sounds. She smiled kindly and repeated the question. I was dumbfounded again. Has my migraine aged me so much that I look as though I am in the throes of motherhood? Maybe she just assumed that my zombie-like state was due to Little Timmy teething and being up all night. Or something. I don’t really know. I smiled and said (I hope I smiled. Shoot, did I smile? I didn’t want to antagonize the poor woman. I was just confused) no. Note to self: Do not shop at this grocery store with a migraine. It will shred your self confidence and otherwise ruin your life.

I packed up my groceries. I left. I managed not to get hit by a car, I stumbled home, I put away groceries. I felt mildly accomplished. I fell back into bed. Then I (for some odd reason) decided to make this a blog post.

Moral of the story: Don’t try to do real-person things while also suffering from a debilitating migraine. Also, Dan’s Supermarket is out to ruin my life. AND YOURS TOO.

P.S. I have been reading waay to much of this blog lately. If you don’t like bad language, don’t read it. If you like random things, violence, bears and swearing, enjoy. I wish I was as funny as she is, although I do think she’s affecting my sentence syntax.