200 years too late
yorlor has a fucking headache.
this week has fraught her ship with holes and she be taking in the drink rather quickly, mateys.
the touchstone cancelled her south american vacation, trumped by opportunity later in the year for his family. she ne'er did claim she ruled his time, nor he hers. and while he knowingly owns the blow he's dealt our heroine's soul, weary for his companionship, she is still left rocking in the wake of it's effect.
a job prospect called and recognized the white flag sailing above the wading craft. heard the song of trial and turmoil and how yet she persevered, though blindly at times. served as witness the skeletal [read:solo] staff which manages to keep this boat afloat and the meager collection of coin on which she runs. proclaimed the vessel worthy of saving and the captain worthy of good pay. then shortened the length of rope extended by half. ye' still need licensing of one sort or another, dear lass.
and so she sits bobbing. bailing buckets of brine out her innards. singing songs to make light of bone scraping work. knuckles bloodied. eyes swole. throat hoarse from the barking dry cough that scars her painted complexion of health.
still bending o'er those in need. teary eyed she pretends to hide nothing. in sorrow she serves, still motherly lecturing her fold to mind the ways set out for good health.
those who can't ...
"teach. your parents well. their children's hell. will slowly go by.
and feed. them on your dreams. the one they picked. the one you'll know by.
don't you ever ask them why. if they told you, you would cry. so just look at them and sigh. and know they love you."
it's not like i wasn't trying, dad.
this week has fraught her ship with holes and she be taking in the drink rather quickly, mateys.
the touchstone cancelled her south american vacation, trumped by opportunity later in the year for his family. she ne'er did claim she ruled his time, nor he hers. and while he knowingly owns the blow he's dealt our heroine's soul, weary for his companionship, she is still left rocking in the wake of it's effect.
a job prospect called and recognized the white flag sailing above the wading craft. heard the song of trial and turmoil and how yet she persevered, though blindly at times. served as witness the skeletal [read:solo] staff which manages to keep this boat afloat and the meager collection of coin on which she runs. proclaimed the vessel worthy of saving and the captain worthy of good pay. then shortened the length of rope extended by half. ye' still need licensing of one sort or another, dear lass.
and so she sits bobbing. bailing buckets of brine out her innards. singing songs to make light of bone scraping work. knuckles bloodied. eyes swole. throat hoarse from the barking dry cough that scars her painted complexion of health.
still bending o'er those in need. teary eyed she pretends to hide nothing. in sorrow she serves, still motherly lecturing her fold to mind the ways set out for good health.
those who can't ...
"teach. your parents well. their children's hell. will slowly go by.
and feed. them on your dreams. the one they picked. the one you'll know by.
don't you ever ask them why. if they told you, you would cry. so just look at them and sigh. and know they love you."
it's not like i wasn't trying, dad.
posted by yorlor at 01:42
3 Comments:
sorry to hear about the trip.
so did you get the job? yes? congrats!?!?
are you going to finish your classes? you can do this.
does your dad read your blog?
if so, hey pops! *waves*
all these questions, I know I know.
sigh.
kim, kim, kim.
i'm going to put you in a room with my mother and see who comes out alive. neither one of you seems to be able to understand my writing.
no, i did not get the job. i am not licensed. they hire LCSW's or folks with their masters. i have a BS in psych, but no LSCW and no RN.
they offered me Registry, aka, band-aid coverage for shifts that haven't been filled by full time staff with no benefits, no guarunteed hours, still piecing together my paycheck [albeit at higher pay].
i'm not in school.
the original school said no, like three times. even after i asked super nicely and applied all over again.
other schools will not take me as a transfer because of how far along in my program i was [a month from graduation], and some just don't accept folks who've been dismissed.
i am left to start all over again, which i can't do until next fall.
i seriously doubt dad reads my blog. it'd be cool if he did, but i seriously doubt it. he appreciates the waving. i know this. he's that kind of guy.
gotcha.
is your mom nice? moms dig me. i have that wholesome sort of attitude...people dig me really.
y'know?
i'm sweet. not that i'm tooting my own horn...i'm just sayin'.
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