Prufrock’s Spoons

Prufrock’s Spoons
by Jackie Lea Sommers & T.S. Eliot

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

And so have I.
Not enough spoons for a week like this one.
Not enough for this month, this year.
This is our unit of measurement,
J. Alfred,
or maybe Eliot himself,
the tired ones everywhere
who use the word chronic to describe
something unseen.

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
See the muscles spasm
along both sides of the spine.
Feel the sweat drip
down the neck of a body that can’t cool.
The girl in the bed
can’t move
or think.
She is like the night.
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table
Yes. Like that.
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
And throbbing with pain
like a subwoofer
underneath the pale, freckled skin.
Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
Those were days of endless spoons.
I could throw them from me like candy in a parade.
I was younger and in love with
Now I watch
for any glint of metal,
any strobe of silver,
for my collection of spoons,
the currency of this girl
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.



I want to be honest on my blog, but I feel like this year has been so difficult that I sound negative, and I want this to be a place of hope.

To be clear, I DO have hope. Lots of it.

But there’s also been a lot of darkness this year.

Today is a day when I’d love to write a post called “Raw.”

Instead I’m writing one called “Balance.”

Any ideas?mauricio-santanna-679405-unsplash.jpg

Steep weep? Reap deep sleep. Keep beep-beep.

It is crazy what a night of great sleep can do.

Today I am motivated, refreshed, full of ideas.

Thank you, Ashley, who volunteered to rescue me; my parents, who planned to drive an hour just to help me clean; all my dear friends who remind me of my accomplishments when I feel like a failure; medication, for abating my inflammation; and my CPAP, for letting me get 8 solid hours of good sleep.

Today I am cleaning, planning my workshop, and creating a customized planner … wanna see?

(I’ll probably show you regardless ha!)

Tell me something good, friends.

The Fall of (This) Woman

This is just a gripe session, so read at your own discretion.

I feel crummy, and I know it’s because I’ve eaten too much sugar this week, and yet I still want to, oh, say, eat Nutella with a shovel. Instead I will eat a salad.

I went to my university’s library to pick up the books I’d reserved to prepare for the workshop I’m teaching (IN A WEEK … procrastination is not your friend, peeps), and the library closes early in the summer, so I missed it by SIX MINUTES. I feel stupid.

I stayed up late watching SNL videos on YouTube. Another slick move, especially knowing how important my sleep is when I feel this way.

My room is a disaster zone, and I keep thinking of how the Queer Eye guys say that sometimes our space is representative of the chaos going on inside us. Hear, hear.

It’s hot.

Remember the guy “Ben” who ghosted me last summer? And then again in January? All of you said NO NO NO, NO MORE CHANCES, but we’ve been talking a ton and last week he said he wanted to get together this week. It didn’t happen. Of course. I should have known, but I’m sometimes too hopeful for my own good.

Too hopeful? Too self-sabotaging.

Okay, enough complaining. I’m going to go make a life plan.

Wish I looked this good while annoyed

3 Thoughts on Freedom

Happy Independence Day!

First, I am always, always so grateful for the exposure therapy that let me experience my first taste of freedom back in 2008. Here’s to 10 years of being master of OCD and not mastered by it.

Secondly, I will say, though, that I am scared for America. We have a rough history of colonization, slavery, and abuse, but I do believe that many here understand that diversity and freedom make our nation something beautiful. My prayer is that we will never concede to the horrendous forces that try to destroy diversity or freedom.

Thirdly, baby, you’re a firework.

Battery Means Two Things

I want to shake things up, change the world, write stories that move hearts. But I also want naps.

I’ve survived a civil war with my own mind; now I engage in one with my body. Winning and losing have lost their definitions.

I’m thinking about so many things today: bioethics, Salt Novel, choices and death, the drivers behind attraction, myofascial massage, story structure, online dating, the writing workshop I am teaching in two weeks for which I am not sure I have enough to say.

I just want to curl up in strong arms that feel like a battery charging station, even if that’s not really how love works.


You know, a lifeline.

That’s apparently how I’m using my blog tonight. Thanks for reading.

I finished a couple books in the last week, and they were both sequels. Good, interesting, well written, but just not everything I wanted. I will probably never write series … first, it’s gotta be so hard to continue putting your characters through pain; secondly, it’s too easy to compare the books to one another.

I feel like a crummy friend, bad coworker, lazy writer, all of these in a body that seems to always be pissed at the world. No matter how much time I spend with the word chronic, I keep somehow waiting to get over it, to feel better.

Have you guys watched the second season of Queer Eye yet? I cry basically every episode. I want the Fab Five to come fix my life. I want Tan France to be my friend and ask deep questions and get my clothes tailored.

I feel like I have all these things I haven’t announced yet on my blog, but they probably wont be earth-shaking to anyone else but me. I’m rambling now, aren’t I? It’s the lifeline, baby.

I have to put the laundry in the dryer. Herculean efforts.

Ok, did it. I’m gonna get some extra rest tonight; clearly my body is screaming for it.

Two questions:

1. What should I read next, any suggestions?

2. What’s the best life advice you’ve ever been given? Pretend you’re my life coach and pass it along in the comments, will ya?