Poetry is an Old Friend

So in light of the unsettled nature of my mind of late, I have been enjoying reading a good deal of poetry. It's mostly free on Kindle, you can download whole collections, English, American, historical or modern. This is one I have a particular fondness for and will find myself reciting, apropos of nothing.

Antigonish by Hughes Mearns

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!)

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

Isn't it fun? I like all sorts of poets and poetry, Emily Dickinson and Shakespeare and e.e. cummings are all part of my bookshelves. I used to pull my mother's books of poetry off the shelves when I was in elementary school. I remember reading Longfellow's "Evangeline" and dreaming about "the forest primeval, with the murmuring pines and the hemlocks,"  Tennyson's "Lady of Shallot" (10 bonus points if you can name the Agatha Christie novel that took it's name from that poem) and even poor e.e. cummings who tragically misplaced all his punctuation. So poetry and I go way back. And really, what is so comforting when we are troubled in our spirits, as an old friend? It may even be better than chocolate. 

Praise, indeed.

Bitter, with Baggage, Seeks Same (or How I Spent My Summer)

I forgot how much moving sucks. The first time I moved, it was three states and 5 hours away and involved selling a house and just about everything I owned. I was ok with it. Also, was ready to go from that place to my new adventure. One year later, only moved across town.
Fast Forward, five years later...
I'm leaving an apartment I've grown to like and the city I've called home for six years. I'm not even going far away, maybe 30 minutes West of here, but in terms of living conditions...30 minute drive, 10 year time warp. My job has shifted me to a new location and since I haven't found another that I like better, I'm going along with their evil plan. I can't afford my rent and the extra gas it would cost to go back and forth every day, so I'm resigned to leaving my fair city.
As I type this, I'm sitting in a favored bakery/cafe in the artsy section of the city and I can't really believe that I won't be fifteen minutes away anymore. My living room is full to critical mass with boxes and bins. The walls are bare and my things are piled here and there.
I'm not coping very well.
I'm binge-eating, although what I call "binge" is definitely less than it was a year ago. I considered taking up drinking, but I've never been a drinker. I find myself grouching at people who are only trying to help me and I'm unable to speak to my beloved husband without becoming Bride of Chucky. I know everyone is being so good to me, being helpful and nice and everything and me, I feel like I'm strung up on wires.
It's not fun.
I'm sorry for the pity-post, my friends, I promise to do better soon. Right now, I'm just gob-smacked by the fact that I am unexpectedly very sad to be leaving the place that has become my home. I didn't see this coming. But then, do we ever, really?

Right now, it's a rainy Sunday and the late-night crowds are coming in. I'm going to leave you for now to try to work on some projects.

Here's to silver light in dark of night.