i don't like rollercoasters

written circa 2000, when I was still doing the brutal commute up to San Jose. Needless to say, I had a lot of time to think.

i don't like rollercoasters.

i never have.

i don't like the feeling of the bottom

dropping out from under me,

like gravity quits and yells “you’re on your own!”

i don't like horror movies.

i never have.

i identify with characters too easily,

and i don't like

the strangling fear i feel for them.

i don’t like to think

that there such horrors are possible.

 

i don't like those manufactured thrills and chills

because i am already riding the rollercoaster of my life,

dodging bullets and warding off boogey men.

i am driving too fast on a poorly maintained highway

with too many troubles on my mind

too much sadness, too much bitterness,

and the knowledge that i should be better.

this morning i was thinking about the situation at home

and i almost drove into the concrete barrier

that sits in the middle of the highway.

 

i'm a big-picture kinda gal.

too often i ignore the little tiny things in my path

that can cause me to stumble and fall

.

i am the sort of person who can be shot through with gloom,

then catch a glimpse of a hummingbird or a beautiful tree

and be filled with wonder and moved to joy.

does that make me shallow?    probably so.

i don't how to spell flibbertyjibbit.  is that what i am?

no substance, no depth, a vapid imitation of a person?

 

when my daughter was a baby,

i felt validated

by being her mother.

i felt validated when others saw me with her.

i felt as if i suddenly had the credentials to be part of life.

(yes, commandant, here are my papers.)

how's that for self-esteem?

i'm far past that now.  i have squatters' rights now.

it doesn't matter if others --

the pretty ones, the sophisticated ones, the hip ones --

don't think i belong: if they choose to forcibly remove me,

they will have to put forth that manual effort all on their own

because i ain't budging.

 

happiness is like a string of pearls;  we only pick the perfect ones

to put on the string.  there are lots and lots of

less than perfect ones we leave lying on the ground.

happiness is made up of moments you seize and protect,

guard and remember.  there are plenty of other moments.

we never understand this when we are young;

we want to be constantly bombarded with joy and excitement,

and when this does not happen, we become morose.

we wail about our "so-called lives", our loneliness,

our broken relationships, the coldness of the world.

we threaten to end it all, but we always want an audience.

we luridly relate our private tragedies to ensure

our niche of notoriety.

thankfully that period in our lives does not last long.

we get distracted by wonderfully textured realities,

and we, in short, get a grip.

 

i don't like rollercoasters.

i never have.