How I Feel About Life Today

I have been going through my writings the last few days. A big thick manila folder, and that's not even counting all the stuff on my blog, or the countless journals I have kept through the years. I'm going to start posting some older stuff and see how it goes. Stuff that has never seen the light of day. I would like to write a book, if I could get my shit together about it. This is a dream I've had for so long, and after talking to a good friend today who was there through most of my adventures, and I told him I'm just trying to figure out what to do with my life right now, he mentioned that I should  write a book about my life and all the crazy relationships I've had and everything I've been through. He said it might help somebody. It's already written in those journals, I just have to find a way to put it together.

How I Feel About Life Today
August 4th, 2008

I see a guy today walking up the street crossing the railroad tracks drinking from a bottle encased in a brown paper bag. He is wearing business casual clothes, not really a bum. The look on his face is not  one of despair, happiness, or agony, it is nothing. It's that look that says, Fuck it, I just gave up...and I'm Ok with that. I pass him while I'm driving and I think, maybe that should be me. Maybe right now I should just ditch my car, buy a bottle in a brown paper bag, and be the non-happy but not unhappy. I forgot this is an option, just not a very good one, and like my Kerouac, lying by the side of the railroad tracks in San Bernardino in the 50's, alone, broke and crying, there is a price to pay for everything.

But, my friend, which breaks you worse? The daily grind of trying to figure out how to pay your bills, put a roof over your head, where your next tank of gas is going to come from, what to do after you loose your job, all the while getting up each day, going through the motions, grabbing your coffee and heading out to work in a world that is not built for the vulnerable? Or, saying fuck it, walking up a busy highway, with a bottle in a daze, leaving it all behind, if only for a while. When Kathy Hilton criticizes John Mc Cain today for his insensitive humor in his recent ad campaign due to "millions of people losing their homes and their jobs," maybe it's time for us all to grab a fucking bottle and paper bag and make our way to the railroad. If the rich start caring that much, you know we're screwed.

~Jenny Miller

Some may have heard of practicing a program of rigorous honesty

Me, at the cusp of 40, trying to practice a program of

Rigorous selfishness

I have to remind myself of this on days like today

When something doesn’t feel right

When I don’t want to do something

Because inside I know it’s all bullshit

And just for appearances and such

I have to ask myself

Is this in line with living an authentic  life

Cause after all this time

You owe yourself an authentic life

That means no fucking faking

Cause your afraid of what people will think

And you want to keep up appearances

And someone’s feelings might get hurt

It’s time to lay all that to rest.

If people really knew, they would thank you

For being genuine.

A program of rigorous selfishness

Means I still help the people I love

I am helpful by nature

It means that I don’t do optional

If it feels like I will not be true

To myself and others

I have quit my stage job

I’m just an unemployed actress now

Looking for a new profession

~Jenny

There will be many choices

On the way to your destiny

Choose wisely

They all lead to the same

Destination

The question is

Will you choose the road

That is rocky

Difficult

Hope testing

Or will you choose the road

That offers the most beautiful

Scenery

The smoothest ride

With the best travel

Companions

There is no shame in that

Too often in this life

It is touted to take the road

Less traveled

Well I say,

It is ok not to

take that road

There is no valor

In being a hero

For the simple sake

Of being a hero

Heroic lives

Happen accidentally

Choose the easiest road

And enjoy the ride

All roads lead

To the same destination.

~Jenny

I’ve been sitting here in the home office

Looking up what happens to pets after they die

After my parents have lost a 2^nd dog

In a 2^nd week

According to psychics

Dog utopia, it says

 

And I look over

At my cat

Laying on the window sill with

A back drop of beautiful blue sky

And ever so subtly changing

From green to autumn colors

Leaves gently blowing in the wind.

 

He is watching them,

My cat, then he looks at me

And says, in his greenest eyes

“of course I know, I know everything,

And. I’m sorry.”

 

 

And I wonder what really happens to them,

And to us after we die.

 And as I was looking out

At my cat gazing through

The screen

And we both looked at

The peaceful trees

And I thought of Roy the dog

Who we just lost

Who I was with on his last night

Being sick

Who we all took to the vet in the morning

who looked kind of like a puppy again

the last moment I saw him

on this planet

as they wheeled him into the room

I thought this, in that quiet moment

as I looked at my cat

and the trees and the leaves

blowing gently

against the blue sky:

“Maybe there is a world I left before this one

And the people there miss me

But I just don’t remember

Because I’m not supposed to”

~Jenny

There has been the
grafting
the grooming
the trimming
the pruning

the forcing a shoot
the small pot for root

opening my blooms
by day
closing by night

a bag over my branches
to prevent frost bite

no more
no more I say

let me grow
and open my blooms
by night and by day

let me grow wild
in rocky soil

cut off the top
and start again

these buds are not mine
they are where you began

let my own buds grow
spread as far as I please

wild thorny shoots
wild spreading roots
growing so far
opening to heaven
under the stars

I am a wild thing
no more pruning
priming
or grafting their
things
its mine
its mine

I am a wild
and natural
thing.

~Jenny

Death was nothing to me then
as I sit here in a mundane life
typing away meaningless shit.

I am brought back,
something brought me back to it
and my ears started ringing.

I am very young.
And that day comes again.
Riding in my grandfather’s pristine
car with the white interior.
My grandmother’s mother has died.
We are going to her funeral.

But, it is not sad.
But, it is not happy.
It just is.
As I watch it all out of my
little girl movie camera in my head.
I see us pass by the trees and green
green grass on the road in Ohio.

We
are all together.
I know it is for something special.
But that is all I know.
We are all together, in our souls even
and it is a beautiful day outside.
And other people are in charge.
I always liked it when other people
were in charge.

And the white leather of the seats
is so soft. And the grandma and grandpa
smell is beyond comfort.

We get to a church.
I look up at big glass windows
in the wooden tower
streaming in light.
I think some people are crying.

This is something for great grandma.
But I do not feel sad for her.
I just observe.
I somehow know she is not here anymore.

At the cemetery, there is a tent,
and a casket is lowered,
and a priest says some words.

I will never forget.
“Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.”
So it is to the dust we return.

We can throw some dirt on her coffin
in the hole to remember this for her.

It is my turn.
I take my handful.
And I let go every last bit
and brush both my hands together
like one would after gardening
to get all the dirt off.
To make extra sure this was
good for her.

I do remember this.
This was death
to my little girl mind
to my little girl soul
who was not so far away
from her source at that time.

~Jenny

Every once in a while
I see one of my people
It is not often
because we are in hiding
hiding from the world

Like this morning
pulling out of the gate
on my way to work
I saw a little red headed
guy
his face mostly covered
by his hoody
as he fought the wind
while walking his dog

Just a glimpse
of his elf face
sparse red beard
shy eyes
littleness

I could just tell
he was one of us
and it made me
not feel so alone
it made me feel
happy.

~Jenny