Godmama Says…
a buncha stuff.

Spring Backward

Daylight Savings.   Wouldn’t it be nice if you actually could save daylight for when you need it?  All the pretty daylight has been wasted on workdays when I don’t get to see much of it, and I would like to keep some in an account for later.  A daylight savings account.

Spring Forward?   I’m workin’ on it.   Seems that certain laws of physics state that before something can spring forward, it needs to be pulled back slightly.   Like a slingshot.   Before going forward,  you have to go back.

I had an energy crash after the fast last week.   Like the foggy grey smoke at the end of a fireworks display,  funk and pollution hung lazily in the sky of my soul.  In the same way that your tummy can be oversensitive to normal amounts of junk food once you have cleaned it out,  your spirit can be sensitive to regular amounts of everyday crap for a while after it has had a good cleansing, too.   Work felt like a bigger drag than normal this week.  (Giving yourself up to a job where you don’t belong and having to be cheerful while you slave for next to nothing can feel like having to give your body to a repugnant dirty man you hate… and having to fake it for him.) Of course, I had no transportation of my own and that was starting to bug the crap out of me in more ways than I expected it to.    Also,  Husband has disappeared into SxSW land for the next week and a half as an official photographer,  so if there ever is a good time to be stranded, this ain’t it.

In response, the universe has pulled me backward like a slingshot rock and resurrected that fucking truck again.

That thing will not die! Turns out it was a broken water pump.   (THIS time.)   A craigslist ad and $150 later, the damn thing is back in the driveway with the bright green “TO BE TOWED” sticker only half-heartedly torn off the window.   As much as I made it into a symbolic, shell-shedding rebirth moment, circumstances dictate that I have to hold onto the old and crusty for a little while longer.  Paycuts and lay-offs all around…  my health insurance rate just went up…etc.  It’ the new American Standard.  (Good thing nobody is opposed to reforming all of that.)   Time to crawl back into my old rusty hermit crab shell for now,  and be thankful that I have anything at all.

It’s like fucking Pet Cemetery with this truck.  I bet if I drove it out into the desert and set it on fire it would show up again.  I guess I have to respect that.  I should rename it phoenix, except that it doesn’t really burst forth triumphantly from it’s own ashes…it just kinda limps and groans out of it’s grave like a hard headed zombie.

I know that I deserve more than what is manifesting in my life right now.  The tricky part is changing whatever water pumps and belts and are busted in my head so that I can spring forward and get there.

I’ll get there… soon.    Apparently I’ll get there in my busted-ass, undead zombie mobile.

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2 Responses to “Spring Backward”

  1. Whatever works. Much love.

  2. That damned truck.
    Well, maybe it was just a warning that change is coming and to start preparing for it before it truly dies. I don’t know.
    Those old things can really nickle and dime you. I KNOW this. And you put those nickles and dimes in it because it’s cheaper than getting another one and it becomes a vicious cycle because you don’t want to be STRANDED and like your independence. Sometimes having a car die on you feels like having a lung ripped out of ya. It’s like freedom with chains.


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