Folds Of Grey

Dark shadows coming from the light
From one I trust,
It isn’t right to feel this way,
My memories wrapped in folds of grey,
Forbidden, hidden deep within
Guilt embedded in my skin
Lay buried there deep in my soul
For I believed I played a role
All those years ago
My innocence defiled
Your loyal, reponsible child,
Lived with years and seeds of doubt
Till finally the truth came out,
An unexpected voice let it be known,
It was not just me,
I was not alone,
He too has lived a lifetime spanned,
With ripples from your probing hand,
I was shaped and formed,
You bent my will,
With your own damaged needs to fill,
Now finally time turns around,
With answers not sure I wish I’d found,
And the facts just lay there,
Cold,
Like a steel crutch,
Shattered remnants of a mother’s touch.

This May Hurt

This may burn
But it’s your turn.
I’d like to know
What really happened
Between the two of you.
And why she
Spent my childhood
Trying to make me
Hate you.
Did you ever
Really love her?
Because I know
That she loved you.
She told me clearly
How you were
Sincerely
The great love
Of her life.
She was your wife.
So how did she
End up hating you?
She told me
How devastating
Taking us and leaving was.
Especially because
She knew you never
Loved her.
How you shoved her
And her love away.
And how she cried.
I’ve heard her side.
Now it’s your turn.
I’d like to hear from you.

Ch..ch..ch..changes!

Here she is, the face behind the name. I recently changed my hair from blonde to red and I like it much better. The bottom picture is of my sweet little cat, Cinnamon. I had just brought her home from the vet a few minutes earlier. Despite the fact that she just had several teeth pulled, she was so happy to be home she was rolling and purring like crazy. She would walk a few steps and then flop and roll and purr. Maybe it was the drugs they gave her but I’d never seen her happier. Here she is basking in the sun.

Will the real Miss Kitten please stand up?

And I fall apart again…(a note from a former student)

I don’t know what to say. First of all; thank you for everything. Thank you for helping me achieve a B on my CAE exam, thank you for always being so understanding and kind and thank you for being so patient with me, haha. I just don’t know what to say, really. For me, and for most of us 2nd years, you have been a big part of the school. I know that you will be extremely missed by all of us, and the school is going to be so empty without you. It’s so sad, I’m really going to miss you!

Lots of love,

Tedium

It certainly cannot be only me.  Granted, I do enjoy living in my bubble doing my thing, but I cannot be the only human being on this planet who finds certain people entirely tedious.

Maybe it’s middle age.  I have become very guarded about my time and how I invest it.  In the past, I had patience to deal with people.  Now, not so much.  Things should be simple, pleasant and even.  When things are not simple, pleasant and even, I find myself less willing to invest the time.  There is freedom to packing proverbial bags and moving on.

Anyone else feel this way?  I’m neither angry nor frustrated.  I’m just over it.

Surfacing

Submerged for years,
I manage to find which way is up,
Then rise again to the surface of our love,
Gasping for your breath and your warmth,
But trying not to make a commotion,
Not to ruffle the waters,
Or splash the feathers of those around,
Which is useless I know,
My re-emergence is obvious,
For they stand on the shore,
All asking “What for?”
Not able to believe,
That I want nothing more than to stand by your side,
They’d be just as glad, to let me slide,
Back in,
They’d not begin to help me out,
But they’ll look to you,
And if you reach your hand to me,
They’ll grab on to you fast,
Until you at last,
Pull me to land,
Then they’ll stand and wait,
And expect me to answer.

Not to belabor the point but…

I wrote this as a response all the unenlightened comments on this photograph posted on the Occupy New Brunswick page on Facebook.

I’m sure he saved as much as he could (as he mentioned) but, being a teacher making crap wages, it wasn’t nearly enough. Don’t worry, though. Teachers are used to taking abuse from everyone. We’re used to being held accountable for bad grades and never thanked or appreciated for good ones. We’re used to hearing about how our jobs are “easy” and how overpaid we are because we get summer and Christmas vacations off. We’re used to being hated by students, criticized by their parents and undervalued by everyone.

We’re used to it but we do our jobs anyway.

We stand up in front of a room full of distracted kids and somehow manage to engage their increasingly elusive interest for a few minutes. We ignore the eye rolling and the clock watching and get on with our jobs.

I work as a high school English teacher in Sweden. Maybe conditions are different here but I normally start work before eight in the morning and finish after five. Working ten or twelve hour days is a frequent occurance. A minor percentage of our working day is spent actually teaching. The rest of the time we spend in meetings, marking essays and making lesson plans. The students get week-long breaks in fall, winter and spring, but I (and the rest of my colleagues) work during all of those. I get a few days off around Christmas, and I get the standard amount of time off during the summer to which all Swedish workers are entitled by the government.

Yeah, I’m stressed out and tired. I’m exhaused. But I cannot let my students down. They are the reasons I get up in the morning and go to work everyday. I do my job for them.

I’m a teacher. That’s what I do and I’ve never wanted to do anything else.

One Evil Tortilla Chip: a dental adventure

(Warning: this may gross out some of you)

The Most Evil Chips Ever

It all started on Monday when I was eating these new Santa Maria “American Barbecue” tortilla strips. Unlike the traditional triangle-shaped variety, these are shaped like long rectangles with surprisingly sharp edges. One of them became lodged quite painfully into the lower right corner of my jaw. I tried to maneuver it out with my tongue, but it was really stuck in there and seemed be digging deeper into my cheek. After a few seconds I managed to remove it but the area felt weird, almost like I could still feel the offending object there. Oh well, I thought, mouth injuries usually heal pretty quickly. It should be okay in day or two.

However, in a day or two I had developed a rather painful hard lump on my lower right jaw, which kept increasing in painfulness and size and I was starting to resemble a large chipmunk storing up food for the winter. There was definitely some kind of infection in there or something that wasn’t going to heal on its own, so I left work early and went to my local medical center. Because the injury had nothing to do with my teeth, I thought they might be able to help me. Instead, they told me I needed to see a dentist and sent me on my way without looking at it. As it happens I have a dentist appointment next week for a checkup, but this needed immediate attention. I went home and called the emergency dentist, kicking myself (at least metaphorically) for getting myself into this situation. Unlike regular health care, dental care in Sweden is not covered under the national health plan, and this had the potential to cost me a fortune. I was told that I could come in that evening but that appointments after normal working hours cost twice as much. Since I wasn’t in excrutiating pain I decided I could wait and got an appointment first thing in the morning.

By morning the lump had doubled in size. When I got to the dentist’s office, I filled in the requisite health declaration form and was taken in within minutes. So far so good. The hygienist looked at the affected area and tapped my teeth firmly with a dental instrument just to make sure there was nothing wrong with them, and indeed, there was not. She then took an x-ray just to be sure. Then the dentist came in and my condition presented him with a bit of a challenge. I told him that this had never happened to me before and he told me that he had never seen this before in a patient. He even brought in a colleague to take a look. They both kept remarking at how nice my teeth looked and I said that yes, I have very good teeth and hardly ever need to see a dentist.

What neither of them had ever seen before was this, a gingival abscess, an infected area in the gums which apparently can be caused by aggressive tooth brushing, toothpicks, or in my case, food that is forced into the gumline. I am very lucky in that the infection never got into my teeth since that’s a much more complex problem to fix. He lanced and drained the infection, which involved a lot of squeezing of the very sore infected area. (I think that many dentists are secret sadists.) However, it needed to be done. He then prescribed me some penicillin and an anti-inflammatory painkiller.

Then came the most painful part of all (or so I thought): the bill. I was fully expecting it to cost a fortune but, surprisingly, the entire visit and treatment came to only 475 Swedish kronor (about $70 US). The antibiotics and pain medicine came to a further 175 (about $25). For someone used to the exorbitant costs of American health care, just under one hundred dollars for an emergency visit to the dentist including the medications is really not that bad at all.

Still, it’s lot to have to pay because of one evil tortilla chip. I’ll certainly be avoiding those in the future, and I recommend that everyone else do the same.

Six Years So Far in Sweden

Six years so far in Sweden,
For the most part have been good.
I’ve tried hard to be lagom and,
Do what a good Swede would.
I learned the Swedish language
And I did the best I could.
But I still don’t hurdy gurdy,
As well as I think I should.

Six years so far in Sweden,
Have not been all that bad.
And yet there are still certain things,
That make me kind of sad.
I feel out of place on holidays,
And I miss my mom and dad.
Though my Swedish family loves me,
And to see them makes me glad.

Six years so far in Sweden,
All the laughter and the tears.
Six years of glorious vinglögg,
And watery Swedish beers.
Six years of not quite fitting in,
Of culture shock and fears.
Six years so far in Sweden,
Have been strange and wonderful years.

SEX ADDICT?

The question,
Caught me off guard,
And it was hard,
At the time,
To answer,
But chances are,
You’re not far off the mark,
For as I lay there,
In the dark,
Hands bound fast,
Your tongue in my ass,
Eyes made blind,
I admit I could find,
I wanted nothing more,
Than what you held in store for me,
So I left wonderingly,
Am I afflicted?
Somehow addicted?
I’m not really sure,
But if I am,
I hope there’s no cure.