Hot Water

... that's me: I'm either getting into hot water, or I'm fearfully tiptoeing around the edge of the cast iron pot, scared to death that I'm gonna fall in.

No, that's not right, I'm not scared that I'll fall in. I know I'll fall in, it's just a matter of when.

It seems my life is defined by my troubles, or, if I'm not in trouble, then I'm (not) living in dread of with is to come, and that in-between time, that dreading that something's going to happen? That's not living: that's waiting for fate to deliver me my doom.

ick.

... but then.

Well, so, okay. So I have my troubles. Bummer.

Or.

Well, there are people who don't have troubles, I'm told, and those people are resting six feet under their gravestones. I am troubles. Okay. That means I'm alive.

So I suppose another way to look at my troubles is to be thankful for them. I know you are thankful for my troubles, eh? It produces such lovely writing that you enjoy reading.

So I should be grateful for my troubles.

Just like the hot water I'm in.

I realized this, while showering after swimming in the pool after work yesterday. And I showered and showered and showered and let the heat of that water heat my very being.

Helpful, don't you know. We had an ice storm, and it was 'bitterly cold' at 0°C, and little me, slipping and skipping from my car to the pool ... well, yes, I was grateful for the hot water.

Which brings us to today's .... 'poem'

In the Dirt, by S. Carey.

"Don't leave,
'cause I believe
we were meant to sleep in the dirt.

If you doubt that I'll be there,
Don't despair
Don't you dare."

— `phfina commentary

This song is this week's download from a certain little coffee shop. Not much there. Modern music ... *sigh!*

But it's very nice to listen to: the driving beats and the alternative, chant-like quality of the music.

And then, well, I see the lyrics as my dialog. "Don't leave, 'cause I believe ..." and then: "If you doubt that I'll be there, don't despair, don't you dare."

Because I do want to leave. I want to run away. All the time.

And I do despair.

All the time.

But maybe ... I can dare. And maybe, there's somebody there.

So I don't have to despair. I can turn to others. I can turn to you, and bear my hear, and bare my heart, and get hurt, yes, but then I can hope, too, and I can know that I am not alone in my loneliness and sadness.