malva's descent into mAdness

moved ... again!

Thu, 09 Mar 2006 13:03:16 GMT

gone back to blogger

find me there ...

is this mid life crisis?

Sun, 05 Mar 2006 18:00:16 GMT

a dear, old friend of mine told me last nite on the phone that this- this questioning everything phase i find myself in - is 'mid-life crisis.' woah - really? holy fuck, when did i get old enuf to experience mid-life crisis??

questioning ...

Sat, 04 Mar 2006 21:46:37 GMT

everything i previously thought unquestionable. ever have one of those days, weeks, phases? well, that's my headspace these days. just ... wondering ... about everything. asking myself questions to which i used to know the answers. like: am i really done with my uterus? am i sure? hmmmmm - does it seem even remotely tempting to have another (child)? maybe i should 'bite my tongue' instead? and there are more questions, but you get the idea, right?

well, i have decided, i think, what i'm going to be when i grow up - lol. its a choice based on the fact that there are really only two things anyone can count on: death and taxes. i've already seen more than my share of death and anguish. done with that chapter. okay, so ... now lets give taxes a try. yeah, taxes ... accounting. that's what i'm gonna do. i just wonder why i didn't think of this before?

another list of four ...

Thu, 02 Mar 2006 20:30:42 GMT

sigh ... tagged again!

this time by contessa v. infinitessima

alright, then ... here goes:

4 things/people that make me smile:

p271828
the smile of another
an email or letter from a long lost friend
thoughts of my babies when they were wee bairns!

4 ways to win my heart:

clean hands and fingernails
intelligence (c'mon, ya gotta keep up!)
write me a love letter
share with other who have less

4 things i believe in:

the big bang theory
that there is no god
unicorns
humanity's immense capacity for destruction

4 things i'm afraid of:

grief
the sound of footsteps behind me (when i can't see who's making them)
that my headache is really a brain tumor or aneurysm
aging alone (widowhood)
rejection
heights

4 things/people/places i want to see right now:

p271828
my late sis: just for an hour
amsterdam
this weeks' winning lottery ticket

dear sis ...

Wed, 01 Mar 2006 03:42:16 GMT

i thought of you today when i read these words: "living is the horror, not death. the living mourn the dead. the dead mourn no one." and so it is, kay. i, the living, mourn you, the dead. kay, i cannot put into words how i miss you. and how bitterness, tempered with regret, fills my soul when i think of all the tender moments, secrets, and sorrows that remained unshared between us sisters.

i'm sorry that you never got to experience motherhood. its amazing, kay. amazing. these tiny lives - so dependent. vulnerable, and so ...us. and we mold them. shape them. they become our life project.they become life ... and its meaning. its scary, kay. and so much responsibility. and difficult. but ... ahh. the joy of hearing yourself in a tiny voice, or seeing your gestures in a tiny body. and the intensity of it ... knowing you would die for them, or .... worse - kill for them. i think you would have made a wonderful mum, kay. better than me, i think. better - because you were always the strong, disciplined one. but --these are just thoughts now, dear sis. i miss you. and ... i'm forever sorry. and, it changes nothing.

i'm sorry that mother never understood, kay. that she discarded you like a torn sock. when you refused to deny yourself in order to declare your 'loyalty' ... some fucking stupid and nebulus concept they made up for their own self-importance. and that i, weak and cowardly, fell for her ultimatum and turned on you. this, i think, shall remain my undying regret --lifelong. the only thing i shall take to my grave, kay. and ... kay, i do so wish you had a grave. somplace i could visit you. but ... all i have are those secret shadowy places inside my heart ... filled with childhood memories ... you and me, kay. and ... i have my sad, searing regret.

i try not to think of the fact that someone from florida had to call us to tell us that you died in a car accident at home, in northern alberta. when i do think of this fact, i reflect on how complacent, cowardly and distant i had grown in relation to you. and of the last time i saw you alive. on the no. 60 bus. i can never really know for sure - but in my heart i believe that you saw me snubbing you. me - that fucking snotty little sister of yours.

i felt so sheepish, at your funeral. and judged. judged by all those who thought they loved you more, and therefore deserved to mourn you more intensely. i felt so much i felt nothing, kay. numb ... flaming numbness. my boss - a bitch from hell - gave me the gears about taking five days off to travel to your funeral, kay. fucking cunt! but i travelled all the same. i don't remember the bus ride to edmonton ...

i'm guessing that has something to do with the 3x500 cc bottles of rye and coke (a 50-50 mix) i drank en route. i have a very, very vague recollection of getting off the bus ... and, i'm actually amazed that i could walk at all. but, kay ... nothing could drown me. i tried, drinking as much alcohol as i could find. nothing. just a little of the edge taken off. i wonder what your in-laws thought - seeing me at breakfast time in the restaurant, already drinking alcohol.

i'm not really sure how ... but thru some form of osmosis the reality of your absence from this earth seeped into my soul. leaving its mark ... indelible. this wound of mine - it closed over, kay. but it never really healed inside. i miss you. i'm sorry. but i know that no depth of feeling can change the unchangeable. and so it is. the living mourn the dead. i mourn you.

author's note: sorry if this piece seems a little scrambled or choppy. i did not really consider style when i wrote this. this was just a stream of conciousness poured out onto the page - raw feeling that resides inside me. and a small tribute to my late sister.

i'm having trouble ...

Tue, 28 Feb 2006 20:15:18 GMT

following yesterday's post. so ... i will compromise with myself by posting a story: mona lisa man. i know ... i know those of you who have been faithful followers will be sitting there, rolling your eyes. okay. just skip this post then ... but, there maybe one or two of you out there that have not 'experienced' this one yet (its really more than reading ... its an experience, lol). you know who you are! ... ;-) ...

there are parts of me in this story ... i leave to you to discover which parts.

MONA LISA MAN:

the faint echo of footsteps ... and, i ... drawn ... by some invisible, magnetic force ... found myself walking into the sound ... unsure of why, or what or who ... i could feel it ... growing stronger as i drew nearer ... intoxicating ... intense ... and, then ...

the tangy, piquish aroma of Brut. he wore a fresh, crisp uniform, complete with 4-bar epaulets and silver wings... a pilot ... a tall, brooding character with a luscious head of silver-splattered, dark curls and intensely glacial green eyes. he flashed me a mona lisa smile. i savoured it like velvety brandy. i stood facing him... motionless ... holding my breath ... and reached into the depths of his honey-flecked green irises with my own gaze...

so close ... close enough to smell, touch ... taste him. yet, so much of him remained hidden from my view, lurking amid the soft shadows of the curves in his face. his expression eluded me. a, vague, mysterious, yet strangely ... intimately ... familiar aura oozed from his pores ... captivating ... enchanting ... i found myself breathless. my heart galloped ... desire sat, like a stone, in my throat ...

silence ... soothing ... unobtrusive ... we, each unable, or unwilling, to utter a single sound. his touch, filled with warmth and gentle certitude, sent a shiver down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. our breathing ... in unison now. i interlock the fingers of my cold, alabaster hand with his long, sinewy fingers. we walk through the nearest door ...

utility closet: i, back against the cold steel door, swept into his torrential intensity ... bound, by some hynotic, familiar force. he, gently gliding his fingertips along my bare arms, following each curve, each undulation ... painting his touch onto my skin. he fingered the diamond on my wedding set, then bending slightly, kissed my hand. he closed his eyes as his lips brushed against the back of my hand and his warm, gentle breath soaked into my skin. a sigh - his - of tender longing, as i touched his cheek tentatively with my fingertips.

the hush of his breath through my hair sent tingles surging through my body as he scattered tiny kisses along my throat. silent ... breathing in unison ... spellbound ... peeling away layers of clothing, revealing delicate, ripe flesh. pulsing ... throbbing flesh. pressed against each other now - skin against skin. i could feel his heart beating, as if in search of mine.

skin against skin ... surge ... electrifying ... i, a vessel, feel him inside me ... throbbing, engorged ... he fills my cavern with his sweet, milky essence. i, holding my breath, waiting to exhale ... rapture ... along with the slow, soft trickle of infinitesmal beadlets of sweat. panting ... breathless ... silent ...

we carefully pieced ourselves back together, layer upon layer. silence remained. a thick, hot passion lingered, an after-effect of our brief, but intensely intimate fusion. we stood, studying each other, in suspended animation. i tried to memorize each line, each curve, each shadow of his face ... to keep an etching of him in my soul. we parted with a kiss.

pangs of guilt soaked into me, like a slow, steady rain, as i sat in my plane seat, reading a piece in some daily british rag about John Major's extramarital affair. the irony did not escape me. reality settled upon me like a thick, soupy fog. guilt ... corroding my consciousness ... guilt ... i felt as though each beat of my heart told the tale ...

though my husband seemed blissfully ignorant ... and ... why shouldn't he be, i told myself. i sensed the rise of quiet contemplation and controlled anticipation in my husband as he fingered the outline of his Camel pack through his shirt pocket. i could see the wheels turning - he pondered seeing his brother for the first time in a decade. i could feel the anticipation bubbling ... foaming ... frothing ... as the plane began its descent toward our quaint, mediterranean destination ...

butterflies ... panic ... swept into a throng of human cargo, pressed into the aisle of the small plane and down its steep, narrow steps ... nervous ...pit of my stomach ... wild anticipation ... we make our way across the tarmac and into the tiny, two-storey terminal building. customs ... luggage claim ... frenzied excitement clings to me ... stifling me ... the guilt, it falls away ...

in the moment i cast my gaze downward to flick my wild mane over my shoulder, i heard the rustle of an embrace as the two brothers pecked each other on the cheek. still looking at the speckled floor, i felt it again ... intoxicating, intense ... but ... how ...? nothing could prepare me for what i saw when i cast my eyes on my brother-in-law: the intense, glacial green eyes ... and ... that smile ... elusive ... vague ... my mona lisa man ...

********************

my mona lisa man stood near the door inside the small terminal building. a single shoulder bag sat on the floor, at his feet. he wore a blue jacket over his crisp white shirt ... 4-bar epaulets and pilot's wings glowed in the streaming midday sun. my heart sat in my throat, skipping a beat when we touched in an embrace. his lips gently brushed my cheek ... the hush of his breath in my hair ... a flash of goosebumps - mine ... and his hands traced the curves of my body, like they had visited these places before.

his touch stirred in me a deep, desperate longing ... longing that lurks in the dark recesses of a shattered heart. a longing i thought i could deny, when i thought i'd never see my mona lisa man again. now ... this longing haunted me ... a restless ghost, enticing me ... beckoning me ... teasing me. his voice - exotic, european - enveloped me like warm, rich chocolate ... creamy, sweet, smooth ... so tantalizing, leaving me thirst for more ... more ... and ... more ... my mouth felt hot and dry and desire burned in my lips ...

we three rode through the small mediterranean town, to his lonely, highrise apartment. we talked about regret, estrangement, and the dark despair of grieving. he spoke tenderly of his wife's death from cancer three months ago, his self-imposed estrangement from his family during her final days and disownment by his son and daughter for failing to witness his wife draw her last breath.

my husband remained silent, the kind of silent that comes from feeling choked, as i solemnly recounted the details of our youngest son's untimely demise ... the words tumbled from my lips, sailing on a stream of regret, longing and cavernous loneliness as i recalled a loss that could only be described as 'plucked away' ... as in a large, bright and deeply-rooted feather deliberately plucked from a bird's plumage ...

i did not speak of my husband's inability and unwillingness to conceive of parenting anything ever again, his oppressive despair at this crushing blow, or the bitter taste of what-could've-been that resided in his kisses and lingered on his tongue ... all of these things lurked in the lines and angles of his face and lived in the undulations of his voice. i did not speak of the oppresive sorrow ... grief over the loss of our youngest son ... that extinguished the passion which once fired our marriage. or the desperate emptiness i felt as i wallowed in its charred remains ...

i think these resided in our tentative physical contact: the way each flinched reflexively when touched by the other, as though stung. i contemplated all these things i failed to speak of, as we silently disembarked the taxi and waited for the lift ... in these moments, grief settled upon us all like flour settles on damp skin ...tension lived in all the silent moments that followed ... heavy ... weighty ... oppressive. i pondered silently that i understood the intimate familiarity, the enchantment, the captivation ... the magnetism of the connection i had forged in that utility closet with my mona lisa man.

the letter, the white lighter

Mon, 27 Feb 2006 15:31:45 GMT

edwin yue, aged 19 was shot to death while working the evening shift at his parents' convenience store, which also happens to be my neighbourhood's corner store. his parents saw their son get killed, watching the video surveillance monitor ... this killing is the third shooting fatality in 6 months within a 1 to 3 block radius of my home. i'm angry. outraged. and saddened. why do the good ones leave this earth far too soon, while the fucking toilet trash gets to survive ...? that's what i'd fucking like to know ...

when i get the piles of stuff

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 23:57:06 GMT

off of the scanner ... then i will be able to open said scanner and scan the letter i mentioned in my last post ... of course, being the procrastinator that i am ... lol ... no, no, i must, i will go into the junk jungle so i can rescue my scanner from the nasty dust bunnies ... it will be done this evening.

the little corner store where the murder took place remains closed. the famly lived above the store, and the parents saw the whole thing happen on the video surveillance monitor ... can you imagine ...? it just makes my heart break, thinking about it ... ackkk ... and that's not the end of the story ... the killer - the low life piece of shit that the feds let outta prison, despite classifying him as a high rist to re-offend violently - was apprehended only because the boy's father held him at gunpoint until the pigs arrived.

this is just so extremely revolting, grotesque, and soooo fucking SAD. i wonder when the politicians will get off their asses and do something about this ...

or is that expecting to much from a bunch of jack-offs in harry rosen suits???

a lighter

Thu, 23 Feb 2006 18:47:59 GMT

yesterday, i wrote a letter to the editor about a lighter and a pack of rolling papers i bought from the store clerk who was shot to death monday evening. these items i purchased only a few hours prior to that boy's death. and that's what the letter was about. *blushing* well, the Winnipeg Free Press published my letter today. i have not seen it yet, but my mum tells me that is set apart from the rest, 'letter of the day' ... hmmm ... maybe i have another calling after all?? now ... if only someone will pay me for churning out the words like that. *laughing out loud* since i submitted this letter online, i actually don't have a copy of it yet, since i'm a cynic and don't read the newspapers *wink, wink* ... but mum is making me a copy. i'll post the letter so you can read it ... maybe this eve or tomorrow.

oh, yeah ... and today i found out that this fucking RN bullshit is like a god-damned trip to hotel california ... you know the song, right? 'you can check out anytime, but you can never leave ...' well, apparently they cannot strike my name from the register ... there's no mechanism for that ... and if i drop down to a non-practicing license it would cost more - a conversion fee ... and there is no provision for fee refunds ...??? trust manitoba to be so fucking retarded ... oh well ... when they send my license back to me in the mail, i can still piss on, or get my dog to, or burn it, shred it if i chose ...

okay his royal highness the dog is getting attitude ... i better get my ass in gear and do my 'walking duties' ...

mad malva signing .... OUT!

OMFG!!!

Tue, 21 Feb 2006 19:02:56 GMT

"19 YEAR OLD SHOT TO DEATH
Just before 10:00 Monday night, a 19 year old grocery store clerk was shot and killed in an attempted robbery. Winnipeg City Police say a man demanded money from the clerk at the Magnus Food Store at 1028 Main Street. The clerk resisted and was shot in the head. The incident was caught on the store's video-surveillance system. CTV Crimewatch reporter Kelly Dehn has details on the shooting and tells you who's been charged on CTV News at 6:00."

that is the news story that appears on the CTV website ... and it is pretty much the story the reporter told me when he came to my door this morning wanting to interview me about 'what happened last night' ... oh FUCK! that's all i can say. this is a little corner store that we go to, my lovey and me ... you know for that carton of milk, pack of smokes, whatever ... they are a nice korean family - mother, father, son ... my son is only i year older than this boy. and it well could be my son working in a convenience store late at night ... and it well could be me or my lovey in the store, getting a bottle Cola, or smokes, or whatever ... while that arm robber comes in the store ... wow ... this fucking freaks me out ...

not much else to say ... shocked ... scared. stunned.

far too hungry ...

Mon, 20 Feb 2006 17:57:22 GMT

to process cognitively enuf to actually produce any meaningful writing ...

gotta feed my brain ...

the sun shines today ...

Fri, 17 Feb 2006 08:08:58 GMT

yes ... yes it does ... and it feels good! oh ... yeah ... it does ... of course, in reality that means its fucking freezing outside ... i think that hell will be permanent sensation of -40 degrees celcius ... with no relief ... that's what i think hell will be ... lol ...

so ... i am still addicted to deviantART ... just can't help myself ... already have one print for sale: crimson forest ... and today i digitally airbrushed wings for the first time ... see that here ... if you're into the macabre and morose ... there's this ... or this ... eventually, i hope they will become prints for purchase ...

well ... its 0200 hours and i have little to say aside from shameless plugging myself ... besides ... it time to go have another smoke ... ;-)

nighty-night ...

an open letter to my former boss

Wed, 15 Feb 2006 18:23:18 GMT

you will never read this letter, and for this reason i can pour my heart into it ... finally, i will get all this ugliness off of my chest and out of my soul ... i thought you would like to know the outcome of my story - our story (its my husband's, too) - turned out, since all of you extremely small-minded individuals in your cosy little devoid-of-reality-colony wrote the largest portion of the 'script' ... so to speak ...

we both have given up the ghost - the nursing ghost that is ... an extremely tortuous and painful decision for each of us to individually make ... but absolutely necesaary from a self preservation stand-point ... you might be glad to know that you all have succeeded in killing our spirits, and killing any hope we had in humanity ... while you were at it, you almost took out our marriage, mental and physical health ... you should all be proud - your work as saboteuses went very well, indeed ...

i want you to know that i'm still angry - STIL FUCKING ANGRY, YOU BITCH! and hurt ... desperately hurting ... you all betrayed me - us ... how could you - all those absolutely malicious accusations and lies - and you just stood by and let it all unfold. do you have any idea of the many nights spend screaming, crying, in anguish - as a direct result of things that went on ...? what am i supposed to do when my husband is falsely accused of showing up a work intoxicated ... falsely accused, because you know as well as i do about the test - the test he took freely - you know ... the one that read '0 blood alcohol level ...?'

now think for a minute how awful it must feel to take a blood alcohol test at your place of employment because people are out for you're blood! you wouldn't have any idea tho, would you, you fucking cow ... that's because you're too busy, just like every other nursing manager on the god-damned planet, with your head stuck up your ass ...! and did he ever get an apology ...? no - only the promise of one, an lie no doubt ... just like the lie about ... 'we'll get to the bottom of this ...' ha! and to think - we actually believed you ... how naive and foolish of us ...

and then ... you have the nerve to wonder why i'm so fucking angry!!?? gawd - you are stUPid ... why does that surprise me ...? who wouldn't be hot-to-trot after all that ...? do you have any idea what that did to my marriage, my relationship with my husband ...? what it did to me ... who had to work along side all of you back-stabbing, sabotaging, harrassing fucking bitches!? well... in case you didn't know ... it made me physically ill ... almost sent me off the deep end and made me HATE nursing and HATE ALL OF YOU ...

i am so hurt and traumatized by all of this that i cannot even bring myself to go back to the shitty little town where you and your shitty-ass hospital are located ... i cannot even set foot in the town ... or even mention its name ... THAT is WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! whatever possessions i have left there, you can just burn ... yeah ... have a bon fire celebrated my departure ... its what you all wanted for so long ... isn't it ...?

so, i think i got most of it off my chest ... and it didn't come out half as vitriolic as it sounded in my head while i was walking my dog ... but i want you to know i hate you, like i hate my rapest ... even more ... you have raped me again, and again, and again ... this profession has raped me ... yes i am angry ... i can't think of anyone who wouldn't be, under the circumstances ... and i will likely be angry for a long time to come ... i cannot forgive you, any of you ... you are all guilty by association ... and the ones i hold the most contempt for are the ones who hold positions of authority ... HOW COULD YOU?

i wish you as much pain and anguish as you have caused me and my family ... and i hope that in your old age - when you reach infirmity, that you are treated like an animal, in much the same way you treat your patients - like an animal, living in a small room, shitting and pissing there, and laying in bed for hours on end, restless and neglected ... with bitchy health care aides refusing to take you to the bathroom or put you on the commode because apparently there is a bathroom quota, or something ... remember, what goes around comes around ...

feelin blue today ...

Mon, 13 Feb 2006 21:33:50 GMT

so ... i have done the deed ... written the letter that will seal my fate ... i no longer consider or call myself a nurse ... wow ... slight feeling of relief, only so very slight ... tempered by this incredible feeling of loss i am swimming in right now ... i remember entering this career - feeling so excited, so much promise, and naively believing that i could make any kind of positive difference at all ... hmmm ... it only took 5 years to change my mind on this ... now, as usual, i am at a loss ... feeling loss, like i lost something i did feel so passionately about ... i feel like one of those soldiers that came home after losing the vietnam war ... shell shocked, broken-spirited ... i have breathed in the suffering of others ... not just suffering, but the deepest, darkest, most painful, gut-wrenching, angst-filled experiences that people have ... watching people die ... slowly ... imprisoned by their own bodies and associated defects ... i'm weak, i guess ... i hate to admit it, but i just didn't have it in me to do this job ... i failed, i guess ... fuck, do i hate failing ...

well ... that's it ... i can't see thru my tears anymore ... gotta go ...

:-((

ugh ...

Mon, 13 Feb 2006 04:10:53 GMT

okay ... i'm dying for some pot ... how many more times can i scrap out my pot grinder before i end up smoking tiny little pieces of said grinder ...? hmmm ... an interesting question ... maybe i should go and experiment ...?

yes ... that's what i'll do ... as i contemplate the stupid headlines ... like this one: 'Dick Cheney shoots a fellow hunter while hunting' ... awwwww .... too bad that fellow hunter wasn't dubya! lol ...

oh yeah ... and i am definitely forging ahead with my career change ... i will be giving up my nursing license (with glee!!!) next week ... hmmm ... what should i do with the ca$h ... hmmmm ...

gotta think on that one ...

what the f *ck ...

Sun, 12 Feb 2006 02:39:49 GMT

am i doing here ...??
that's what i asked myself, today at work ...
what is my first clue that its time for a career change?
(a)the 30 or so minutes of non-stop shitting thru the eye of a needle before i could rip myself away from the house and drag myself off to work?
(b)the incredibly oppressive feeling of forbiding i had for the entire 1 hour bus ride going to work?
(c)the intense desire i had, when i walked up to the door, to bawl and then run as fast as i can in the opposite direction? [of course ... you realize i didn't ...]
(d)the way i felt imprisoned by the day and the way time seemed to move slowly?
(e)the feeling i have right now that i just can't go back there for any more ...?
(f)all of the above

well ... if you chose (f) ... you win an all expenses paid trip to hell! ha!
that's it ...really ...
i ...
... am ...
... so ...
... done ...
turning the page ...
time for a new career ...
not looking back ...

pOOf ... there ... look - it's gone ... in a cloud of smoke ...

... okay ... now what?

phfwoompfh!!

Sat, 11 Feb 2006 05:11:32 GMT

its mad malva checking in ... actually ... swooping in from some other, unknown destination ... is this... like ... like ... like ...rEAlity, or somethin'? gAwD ... i sure hope not! well ... i like it here ... i think i might just hang around ...