Seussy Blues

Here's a taste of some of my poetry. This one came out a little Dr Seuss-y. I started it sometime last week when I was having one of those days. You know what I mean. Just blah about everything, everyone, everywhere. Finished it up today:

GROUCH

I'm feeling down in the dumpies today

"happy" and "go-lucky" have run away

I've got no reason to feel so down
I'm trying desperately to lose the frown

I even dressed up before leaving the house

well-fitting jeans and a brand-new blouse

my leather jacket and my favorite shoes

lookin' so good I just couldn't lose

my hair's done up with a cute little hat

who could be grumpy looking like that

yes, yes, that's right, it's true, I can

this depressed mood has ruined my plan

back to my jammies, back to the couch

back under blankets for this grumpy old grouch

I'll come out again on some sunny day

when the "down in the dumpies" have gone away

Make sure you leave a comment below to tell me what you think and so I know whether anyone is actually reading any of this :)

** all writing contained in this blog are the property of and copy-written to Rachel Gage, unless otherwise specified.  Nothing may be used or reproduced without written consent. **
** clipart remains the property of the original owner**

Eeeek! Snow!

Dear Other Drivers,
   
     I will be the slowpoke on the road in the winter.  Not because the snowy road scares me (yes, it does) but because I have a healthy respect for ice.  During my college years, unseen ice on the roads put my car into a spin, not once, not twice, but on THREE different occasions.  So yes, I will be the slowpoke.  I will give myself extra time to get to wherever I am going.  I'm sorry if I get in your way or slow you down.  However, I will also be the one laughing and waving as I pass by you after you've slid into the ditch.  I will be the one who makes it to my destination in one piece, though possibly a little late.
   
      If there is enough snow on the road to see others' tire tracks, there is enough snow to wipe you out.  If the road is shiny, it's icy, not just wet.  The fact that your great big fancy SUV has 4-wheel-drive doesn't make you invincible.  I have 4-wheel-drive too.  It may help you get going, but trust me, 4 wheels won't stop any better on a sheet of ice than 2 wheels.
   
     So.....put down your coffee.....turn off your phone.....pay attention.....have patience.....and, good grief,  SLOW DOWN!
   
     Sincerely,
The safe (but slow) driver in front of you

Removing the Mask

I'm tired of pretending.  I feel like I've come to a point in my life where I need to reinvent myself.  Well, maybe not so much reinvent myself, as reshape the image that others have of me. I feel like I have gone through life doing, saying and being what was expected, suppressing my own self.  Now, every now and then, I just let myself be myself.  For instance, I wore a cute little hat to work the other day.  I got several compliments "Cute hat", "very stylish" but I also caught a few people sending funny looks my way.  They didn't come out and say anything but I saw their thoughts in their eyes: "a little old to wear something like that" or "trying to be something she's not", "who is she trying to fool".  I'm not trying to fool anyone now.  But I have gone through life doing just that, being something I'm not, because that's what people came to expect from me.  The the good daughter, the good student, the good employee, the one who never gets mad, and never swears, the boring, homebody wife and mother  - goodie, goodie two-shoes.  My husband and I never used to go out - but it wasn't because we didn't want to , or didn't like socializing with others.  We had young children at home, and chose to be responsible parents.  A couple years ago, I got a little tipsy in the presence of a couple coworkers and the real me escaped for a little while.  I was dancing, laughing, telling jokes and publicly flirting with (gasp) my own husband.  One of my coworkers said in a surprised tone (and I QUOTE) "Wow, Rachel knows how to have fun!"

So, how do you stop pretending and be yourself without shocking and alienating everyone?  Many of you would say "So what if it shocks people, just be yourself.  If they don't like it, to hell with them."  For the most part, I agree.  But my family and the friends I have accumulated through my life are too important to me to just say "to hell with them".  I will need to introduce the real me slowly for their sake as well as my own.  After all, old habits are hard to break, and I have been pretending for a very long time.  Someday, when I have completely shed this mask, people will probably look back and think that I went through a mid-life crisis, and changed.  But I will know the truth.

Peek into My Journal

I've decided to put myself out there a little more.  I think most people by now have figured out that I am a photographer.  I think I also mentioned it in my very first blog.  My son asked me once "Mom, why do you always take pictures of everything?"  The only answer I could give him was "Because that's just what I do."  It's a part of me.  I am compelled to take pictures.  Let me give you an example so maybe you can understand:

During the summer, the sun rises in my rear view mirror as I drive to work in the morning.  It always seems to be a particularly gorgeous sunrise on the days when I am running late.  I actually talk to myself "Rachel, you don't have TIME to stop and take a picture of that sunrise.  I don't care how beautiful it is."  But I have to do it.  I can't continue my drive to work, and ignore that photo, just sitting there waiting to be taken.  I can't NOT stop.  You know what I mean?  

But there's something that most people DON'T know about me.  I mentioned it in my first blog as well.  In addition to photography, I also write.  It started with a poetry assignment in 6th grade.  I have continued to write poetry, and have recently (within the last 5 years or so) begun writing stories.  One story in particular could probably be a published romance novel if I could ever get the words out of my head and onto paper.    I have also written a few short stories, though I most likely will not share those here.  The language, intensity and sexuality of my short stories would shock anyone who knows me.  In fact, I don't think I've even let my husband read any.  I think the lead female in my short stories in my alter ego.  She always ends up resembling me a little, but she says and does things I have never said or done - not enough guts or too strong of morals.  Last night, I just couldn't get to sleep due to the beginnings of a brand new story swirling through my mind.  So at 1am I gave in, got up, found a notebook, and scribbled away.  I would like to share with you, my readers (you ARE out there right?  SOMEONE is reading this??) what I have so far:

     He was so young, and she was married.  Those sinfully delicious thoughts shouldn’t have been filling her head, but they were.  She shouldn’t have been obsessing about him, but she was.  All she could think about was how she wanted to press herself against him and kiss him so deeply, so sensually, it would make his head spin, make his blood boil.  She thought he might be attracted to her too but it was hard to tell.  It had been so long since she even looked at any man other than her husband.

     She wasn’t a typical beauty.  She was a mother of two.  With each pregnancy she had added a little weight, but she was round and soft in all the right places.  Her hair was mousy brown but silky to the touch.  She had cut it short a few years back, but it was cut in such a way that, when styled just right, could show the fun and funky wild side she usually kept hidden from the world.  She taught an art class at the local college, three nights a week.  That’s where she met him.

     When she had walked into the classroom for the first time, she noticed him right away.  He sat in the back row.  Thin and lanky, he had his legs stretched out as if he was in his own living room.  He appeared relaxed and mellow, but under his baseball cap she could see his eyes taking in everything in the room, including her.  Springy hair thinly covered his cheeks and chin, as if he hadn’t shaved in a week or two.  It didn’t take away from his looks though.   In fact, in her opinion, scruffy was sexy.   When he took his turn to stand and introduce himself, rather than looking at the rest of the class, he looked only at her and by the time he was done, she felt as though he had undressed her with his eyes.

     She told herself that she imagining things of course, that she was being silly.  But she couldn’t help noticing over the next few weeks, how the models in his assignments bore some resemblance to her.  This one had her hair color and style.  That one had her eyes, the shape of her eyebrows, the exact slope of her nose.  She even recognized her own birthmark peeking out from the model’s neckline.  Again, she told herself she was being ridiculous, merely looking for similarities, and finding what she was looking for.  

**All writing and photos contained within this blog are original work and copywritten to Rachel Gage.  Nothing may be reproduced or used in any way without express written consent from the owner.**

Medical Disappointment

I am sitting in my living room crying tears of disappointment after my doctor's appointment today.  Don't worry, nothing major is going on.  I have a skin condition called Hidradenitis Suppurativa. I think I spelled that right, but how 'bout we just call it HS.  It's a cousin of acne.  But it causes large swollen, painful lumps under the skin, in various places on your body.  My first memory of it was back in college. It's a close enough cousin to acne that it has been successfully treated with the acne medication Accutane.  If it works, I would be taking it for the rest of my life to control the HS.  Accutane can cause some horrendous birth defects, so going on the drug requires you to be registered with a federal program called iPledge.  There is a lot involved with iPledge.  First you must not be able to conceive.  OK.  I had my tubes tied 7 years ago.  I'm good there, right?  Nope.  As long as my uterus and ovaries are intact, I am still considered able to conceive in the eyes of iPledge.  That means I would have to go on birth control.  Wait, the whole reason I GOT my tubes tied was so I wouldn't have to worry about birth control.  So if I have to take Accutane forever to control my skin's HS, then I have to take birth control forever???  AND, before each month's prescription is written, a new pregnancy test must be taken.  EVERY MONTH!!!  Second thoughts started entering my head.  Also, blood tests to check the function of my liver had to be performed before starting it.  Of course, they also have to tell you about a drug's side effects.  So they include:

• possible worsening of asthma (great, I haven't even gotten my asthma officially diagnosed yet, and now I'm going to make it worse?)
• possible worsening of joint pain (I have a knee/hip problem that already causes occasional disabling pain.  so that could be worse too?)
• possibility of severe depression and suicide (oh but I'll have clear skin!!!)
• you can't donate blood while you are on Accutane (I donate at least twice a year)
• may affect your vision, so no driving at night for the first couple weeks (um, how do I gt home when I close at work???)

The list went on and on, but these were the ones that bothered me the most.  So I made a tough decision.  I told the doc I changed my mind and didn't want to go on this medication.  I would just live with the HS as I have been.  On my way home, I cried in the car.  I had been excited to start this medication and end the painful symptoms of HS, end the scarring, the embarrassment.  The disappointment was huge. But the risks far outweighed the one benefit: clear skin and no more HS sores.   

I feel better now.  This is almost like therapy.  Oh do you or anyone you know have Hidradenitis Suppurativa?  How do you (or they) handle it?

**All writing and photos contained within this blog are original work and copywritten to Rachel Gage.  Nothing may be reproduced or used in any way without express written consent from the owner.**

The Color Purple

No, I'm not talking about Whoopi Goldberg's movie.  I'm talking about the color PURPLE.  If you don't know me, or haven't figured it out yet, I like purple.  I really like it.  It's my favorite color.  I have a purple leather wallet.....made myself a purple purse.....I write with purple pens.....I have purple gloves for work.....I painted by bathroom a lovely pale purple, with purple towels.....If I could, I would paint my car purple...one of my favorite poems is about purple:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. 

~ Jenny Joseph

So when I was browsing through the 75% off Halloween stuff at Meijer last week, you can imagine my excitement when I came upon a tube of purple hair gel.  How exciting!  I don't use bright colors regularly.  But, years ago, I found a purple temporary foam hair color that you just shampooed in, and shampooed out.  It was fun.  It just kinda tinted my hair slightly purple, and at the time I had a dark, DARK dye job, so it wasn't bad. Looked nice actually.  Earlier this year, I spiked my hair with red hair gel (LOTS of red hair gel) and took some pictures:

It was fun, and the pictures turned out cool, but it's not a look I intend to wear out of the house. Also, my job doesn't allow "un-natural" hair colors.  Translation: no purple (or RED) hair at work.

So I waited for my day off - today - to play around with the purple gel.  I was disappointed.  It didn't come out like the red.  In fact, you can hardly tell it's there at all.  I could probably wear it to work, and no one would even notice.  Maybe I didn't use enough?  After all, I did use a LOT of the red gel in the picture up there.  Maybe tomorrow I'll add more and see if I can turn myself into a punk.  I'll let you know.

Filed Away

Today, while I was at work, I saw someone I knew.  When I first saw him, my brain didn't register who it was but I thought "He looks familiar."  Another regular customer perhaps.  Then I did a double take.  It was a classmate of mine from Grand Marais.  "What are YOU doing HERE?" I exclaimed.

It's strange how we don't instantly recognize someone we know, when we see them in different-than-usual surroundings.  In my mind, different aspects of my life are filed away in different places.  There's the Petoskey file:  this is where my kids' friends, teachers and my coworkers are.  There's the Grand Marais file: this is where my best friend, my dad and sister, and my high school classmates live.  And there's a Downstate file: my mom and former Grosse Pointe classmates go in there.  Most of the time these files stay separate.  I see Grand Marais people only in Grand Marais, Petoskey people only in Petoskey, etc.  But every now and then, there's a crossover.  Like when someone from Petoskey goes and vacations in Grand Marais.  Or when a classmate from Grand Marais shows up in Petoskey (like today!!).  There ARE a few permanent crossovers.  There are a few former Grand Marais residents living in Petoskey or the surrounding small towns.

When these crossovers happen it's weird.  It almost feels like an invasion.  I'm almost eager to get the experience over so I can get back to whatever "life" I was in the middle of. But I don't understand why I feel that way.