Pretty soon I’m off to see,
The people on my fridge,
I shall take my expat journey,
Time and distances to bridge,
There’ll be hugs, and there’ll be tears,
Then the years will fall away,
There’ll be lots of catching up,
As well as time to laugh and play,
Then the people on the fridge will wonder,
Why I just can’t stay,
I’ll admit I kind of wish I could,
But I won’t try to explain,
I’ll just hug and kiss them gently,
And then fly back home again.
Monthly Archives: July 2011
Dear Brother

Do I have a soul? I do not know. We cannot know such things. I'd like to think that it's not me, but my soul, that rhymes and sings.
When I was seventeen, I told you,
My deepest darkest,
And most devastating secret.
What he did.
What he’d been doing, rather…
It had become my demon possessor.
Strangling me. Choking me.
Every day killing me.
Crushing me.
Under its enormous weight.
And I was suffocating.
So I told you.
But you didn’t believe me.
At least not at first.
Not that I blame you…
Selfish it was to share with you,
My crushing burden.
But we’d been through,
So much shit,
You and I, together…
And how could you go on,
Living day by day,
In the same house,
With the same man,
Who did that to your sister?
Much easier it must have been,
For you to tell yourself,
I made the whole thing up.
That I must be lying,
And pretend I never told you.
Don’t Box Me In! (Walt Whitman says)
I like things,
But I don’t collect them,
Drawn to people,
But I don’t select them,
Don’t have a kind, a style, a type,
Can’t describe me with a magnet swipe,
I’m curious, a blesséd curse,
Love to explore the broad diverse,
(As a side note: I am slightly awed,
When I meet a diverse broad)
But seriously,
Don’t try to peg me,
I beseech, cajole, I even beg thee,
With a world that’s daily more complex,
We insist on labelling with an “X”,
“X” marks the spot – so we can see,
The consumer type you seem to be,
Answer these questions, check these boxes,
So we know what your preferred stock is,
Well I reject that!
No, no, no!
Walt Whitman said it long ago,
Am I filled with contradiction?
Of course!
That’s what makes truth stranger than fiction,
Not narrow-minded, all that that exudes,
I am large, I contain multitudes!
Ah-meh-ri-cah!
America Day Eh?
Ah, my friends, you’se Americans,
Yes, yes, you know, you’re the ones,
Who sometimes with some wit and luck,
Get mistaken for a Canuck,
Ah, just teasing now, don’t go smashing,
I know ya’ll take some bashing,
You’re always welcome up our way,
If there’s conscription in the U.S.A.,
We love you dearly, and we’ve got your back,
Here’s a Canadian flag, for your rucksack!
Friendship & Understanding
We’re all on our own journeys
All our choices are our own,
Not always a reflection
of how we have or haven’t grown,
We make mistakes, we stumble,
We each learn in our own way,
Sometimes all that we can do
is to take life day by day,
We should really fight the urge
to both judge and to compare,
Instead offer true friendship,
Shoulders that are always there.
The Fourth
Many people wonder how and why,
We celebrate the Fourth of July.
What are we really celebrating?
It’s certainly worth investigating.
What’s being an American all about?
They say we kicked the British out.
But did we gain our independence,
Or did the British just abandon us?
Saying, take the bloody colony then!
And don’t ever ask for help again.
Whatever the reason, it’s our day,
Celebrated in the traditional way.
With big emotions, and big explosions.
And lots of alcohol-fueled commotion.
Obnoxious and big and brash and loud.
It’s what we are and we’re damn proud.
Don’t mess with us. Don’t even try.
Have a Happy Fucking Fourth of July.
WOTD: hoarding
Well, that’s it. Another year over and done with. I mean another school year, natch. Today was my last day at work before summer vacation. Yippee! Now I have four days to prepare mentally and, indeed, environmentally for the arrival of my mother, grandmother and cousin. They’ll be arriving on the 6th next week and will say in Gothenburg until the 11th, when we’ll all journey to Stockholm. I’ll celebrate my 36th birthday in style in Sweden’s beautiful capital city.
But I digress from today’s very serious topic: hoarding. Actually, I’ve never personally known a hoarder. Until now I think. There are several types of hoarding, one of which is the result of hardship. For example, many Japanese have begun hoarding rice and other foodstuffs because of the disasters that occurred earlier this year. Animals hoard food for the winter. Then there is the type of compulsive hoarding with which this post is concerned. Wikipedia defines it as, “the excessive acquisition of possessions (and failure to use or discard them), even if the items are worthless, hazardous, or unsanitary. Compulsive hoarding impairs mobility and interferes with basic activities, including cooking, cleaning, hygiene, sanitation, and sleeping.”
There was a lot that needed to be done at work today to finish up the year. I did some administrative work, scrubbed the kitchen area, and threw away piles of old uneaten food from the fridge. Yeah, it was pretty gross but not nearly as disgusting as having to gather up the suspected hoarder’s multiple piles of accumulated stuff and moving them into her office. I don’t know if this person is at the compulsive stage yet, but could very well be on the way there.
Normally I wouldn’t have bothered, but we have cleaners coming next week who will mop and wax the floors and who had requested that all personal belongings be picked up off the floor. So, since my pack rat colleague is already on vacation, the task fell to me to remove her stuff from the faculty computer room. This room is supposed to be at the disposal of all members of the faculty. However, it had gotten to the point where every surface: every desk, table, shelf, and window sill was stacked with her papers and belongings. I found lists of contact information for students who graduated years ago, and boxes full of old homework assignments, which for some strange reason she insists on keeping. I doubt if she even remembers she has this stuff.
She’s done the same thing in the exam marking room, and don’t even get me started on her office. Yeah, she has an office, but she never uses it. Actually she has part of a shared office that also happens to be my office. She has two desks, a couple of book trolleys, at least four of the large IKEA Billy bookshelves, and several paper shopping bags on the floor, all stacked and stuffed and crammed with books and papers. It’s even worse now because I just brought everything she’d spread out in the computer room and shoved as much as I could on her bookshelves and dumped the rest of it on her desk.
Man, she’s going to be pissed off when she sees that. Still, that’s her problem. This is certainly not the first time her stuff has been gathered up and removed. One of the assistant principals did it last year and told her that she must work at her desk and cannot take over various communal faculty rooms at the school. Well, it took about a year for the boxes and piles to build up again.
Anyway, here’s a couple of pictures. You be the judge:

Miss Kitten's desk with colleague Pink Lady's desk on the left. See the origami garden on the window sill?
I should point out that our desks don’t normally look this clean and neat. We spent several hours organising and discarding last year’s papers. I’m very pleased with the results. Our desks can get pretty messy when we get busy and don’t have the time to tidy up. However…
No wonder she doesn’t like to work at her desk. I mean, look at it? Who would? Most of the stuff shown in the picture was there before I moved more stuff from the faculty computer room.
It is not my intention to come off sounding like a holier-than-thou bitch. I can certainly be messy at times and I don’t mind messes. Most of them, anyway. Life is often messy and I enjoy cleaning it up. No really, I do enjoy cleaning. What I can’t stand is clutter. Particularly, pointless clutter on this scale. I’m concerned for my colleague’s mental health. She’s making working conditions for herself and colleagues unpleasant.
I can only imagine what her house must look like.
SUMMER HEALTH ALERT
Last bus home at night
Then the first bus in the morning,
Is not sustainable
And should not be habit-forming,
Behaviour that should really come
With some kind of health warning,
But one must take advantage
Of the weather while it’s warming,
I can always sleep in winter,
When the weather comes a-storming.

