Oh woe is me

oh woe is me

Well so is he

and so is she

What are we, but company for misery

I hope to be with glowing glee

But for now am just a growing tree

Temporarily, hopefully

How much longer do I wait and see

How much longer do I wade this sea

Am I blowing it, or is it blowing me

Does it show and tell, my destiny

Do I tow a shell, bring home with me

When the going’s gone does it leave a thing

When the song is sung does it make a scene

This distorted path is so old to me

I’ve resorted,

gasp,

to poetry

“Well at least I know the alarm still works,” I think as I silence my phone.

I savor a few extra minutes under the covers, but I know I can’t dally too long. The reason for that is now waking up next to me and the first item on her to-do list is always to give me a wet kiss and promptly plop the whole of her body weight onto my chest.

"Oof, good morning, River," I say as I try to push her off my face. "How did you sleep?"

She doesn't usually say much, so I have to make up responses on her behalf.

"You had a dream that you had unlimited access to a cheese, bacon, and peanut butter distribution center? And there was an emergency that required all of the inventory to be eaten as fast as possible? Wow that is a good dream."

My day officially starts when I brave the chilly world outside of my bed. I'll believe winter's over when I don't have put on sweats and a hoody as soon as I wake up every morning. Once I get myself dressed and go to the bathroom, the next order of business is getting the dog out for the first time. It's especially during the colder months that I wish I had a yard so I didn't also have to go outside every time she needed to pee and poop. No point in complaining, though.

"All right, River. Let's go," I say for the fifth time as she stares at me from the warmth of the bed.

Finally, she gets up and I put her harness, collar, and jacket on her, and out we go. When it's below 40 degrees out she usually finds a spot just off the porch to pee and then wants to go back in. No arguments here.

I'm working from home today, so the rest of the day consists of me sitting at my desk and River lying on the couch only to get up every now and then to check if that one patch of sunlight that crawls across my bedroom floor is in a good spot yet.

At lunch, I take her out for another walk. This time we go a little farther, venturing into the adjacent neighborhoods. River gets wound up pretty easily, especially when she sees another dog, so I've been working on taking time-outs during the walk to find a calming moment.

"River, sit."

Saying this makes her look around nervously to check her surroundings. Because why would I tell her to sit if there was nothing around to bark at? Eventually she sits, but is still looking around. According to the trainer we go to, I should reward her when she gives her attention to me instead of whatever else is going on in the world. When she looks at me I praise her, give her a treat from the pouch clipped to my waistband, and we resume our walk. I try to do this every block or so. Sometimes it seems like it's working, other times not so much.

I finish out the work day, which has been the same as almost every work day before it and probably all the ones to come. The only thing that kind of gets me through it is talking shit with one of my coworkers in a Teams chat about someone else in our office.

At the end of the workday it is time for our evening walk. This can be a somewhat stressful walk for River because of what I refer to as the post-work pre-dinner dog-walk rush. She manages decently well--only a few outbursts and lunges--and we are back home for dinner.

I settle onto the couch for what I would call some well-deserved TV time. When I finish my food and no longer have a plate to defend, I let River curl up on my lap and we watch another episode.

I get her out for one last walk before bed, and then get ready to go to sleep. Without fail, River jumps in bed before me and lies exactly where I sleep.

"River, we go over this every single night. That's my spot. You can't sleep there because that's where I sleep. Move over to your side of the bed. I'm giving you like a third of my bed. I think that's plenty generous."

If I try to move her by hand she growls and she can move her head really fast, so I started luring her off with a piece of kibble, which I know is setting a dangerous precedent, but one behavioral issue at a time.

I read for a bit before turning the light out. When I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep is usually when the sadness, emptiness, and loneliness take hold. Since I got River, I can't remember the last time I felt that way.

Joy! Splendid baby

Breath, warmth, feeling only love

What promise you bring

Rebellious phase

Just let me do what I want

Haikus are stupid

Chasing horizons

Endless pursuits, wanting more

So much for promise

Finally learning

How to love and want enough

Now I’m falling up

So many goodbyes

No one left to eulogize

What now? Close your eyes

I am a word. My creator needs help, but I fear I am not the best word for the job. She has deep pain and suffering, but I hardly express that. My primary purpose is to garner approval from friends. My adapted goal of pleading for help is barely perceptible. I am usually deployed with a drunken breath, or am otherwise unrecognizable beneath a thick cloak of sarcasm. I have entered neighboring ears from every angle, but can only produce smiles where sympathy is needed. The fireworks drown me out tonight. Hopefully, I can try again when it's more quiet.

The fluorescent bulbs above Nick’s bathroom sink washed over the contours of his face as he studied his reflection in the mirror. He started into his own eyes for a few moments as is he was trying to place a familiar face in his memory. Deeper and deeper he searched for full recognition of the visage staring back at him. The third bulb from the left flickered and went out. Slowly, the face in the mirror aged, becoming wrinkled and weathered. The eyes dulled, eyebrows creasing and collapsing upon them. His cheeks sagged, drawing the rest of his face downward into a fixed scowl. Eventually, Nick was peering into the eyes of a much older version of himself.

Facing this elder specter, Nick’s mind exploded with fears and doubts. His mind became mayhem. Questions were flung in all directions within him like shrapnel on a battlefield. What would his future-self think of him currently? Would he like what he saw in the mirror fifty years from now? Was he ready to watch himself age one day at a time until he ran out of days?

The dark bulb came back to life and Nick’s reflection returned to normal. He turned the lights off and left the bathroom. Two questions continued to haunt his mind. Why must the past keep getting longer? Why couldn’t the future give the present any time?

A stunt pilot has decided to attempt the most legendary, mythical, dangerous stunt ever imagined. No one has ever achieved this before; no one has ever dared to try. They say it’s impossible. He says it can be done, and he’s the one to do it.

He gets in his plane, starts the engine, and takes off. He makes sure to gain the altitude and velocity necessary for this trick. He checks the readings on his control panel: perfect conditions. He breathes in and begins the trick. Soon, he is in the midst of a breathtaking sequence of twirls, spins, loops, rolls, and dives. To his amazement, he completes the stunt flawlessly.

When he lands the plane, he expects to find a cheering crowd to greet him and congratulate him. It seems that nobody cares, or they didn’t notice. He finds everyone gathered in a circle farther down the runway. He rushes over to them and asks if they saw the trick. They apologize and say that they missed it. They were distracted by a mother duck and ducklings walking across the air strip. They ask if he can do it again. The pilot gets back in his plane and does the trick again. He has now completed an impossible stunt twice in one day.

On his drive home he notices great billows of smoke pluming in the air. He decides to check it out and finds a house ablaze. He slams on the brakes and gets out of his car. A woman is standing out front crying. She tells him that her baby daughter is still stuck inside. He tells her not to worry, and sprints into the burning home. The heat is agonizing, the smoke is suffocating and blinding. Somehow he manages to find the baby girl and bring her to safety. The mother is relieved and grateful, but is still sobbing. The man asks her if he can do anything else. She tells him that her pet cat is still trapped in the fire. Again, he battles the flames and the smoke, and just barely makes it out alive holding a trembling orange cat.

When he finally gets home, he immediately finds his wife and gives her a kiss.

“You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” he says.

“Where’s Ralphie?” She asks.

“How should I know? I just got home.”

“It was your turn to pick him up from band practice.”

“Again?!”

Searing pain flared in Ruth's knee with every step. Her body screamed at her to stop, begged her. But she refused. She knew that wasn't an option. She had to finish this.

"You okay, Mom?" Liam asked from his chair in front of her.

Ruth looked down at him, and the pain in her knee vanished. Instead, all she felt was love in an unfair world. Running a marathon was his dream, not hers. Thanks to his recent ALS diagnosis that dream had become impossible.

"I'm fine, honey," Ruth smiled.

"Push yourself, Mom," Liam encouraged. "And, well, push me too."

Obsessed with nothing

Stumbling endlessly on a loop

Feelings are numbing

Unable to find a troop

Eyes travel with nowhere to land

Heart stays out of it, indifferent to plans

Feet remain fixed, awaiting command

A better version of me

That knows what he wants

The ideal me

A vision that haunts

Alone on the sea

Adrift,

as a dilettante

A horse strolled riderless down an empty street. Old lampposts hummed on dutifully, illuminating a forgotten town. If the dust could talk it would hardy be able to remember any stories it might tell. People used to flock to this quaint, rustic town in the hillsides every summer. The area offered a variety of enjoyable activities and natural attractions. It seemed everyone came for a different reason, but always at the same time, and never permanently. Gradually, the visitors slowed until they stopped coming entirely. The allure had run out. The geographic beauty that the land boasted could not compete with whatever had replaced it. Businesses closed down, and the few year-round residents moved away. Without any human supervision, the land was left to its own designs. Sometimes, the greatest art requires total secrecy.

To start, I really don't see climate change as a political issue. There is no ideological or cultural war to be won here. To think otherwise is to evade the issue.

Some climate advocates may come off as overly self-righteous, pretentious, and condescending in their efforts to do what they believe is right. Additionally, the idea that we need to save the planet only to keep it habitable for humans can be seen as arrogant in that we assume the Earth exists only for us, and that without us the Earth would just be a random rock in space. However, the argument that because the Earth itself will still physically be here after humans are extinct, making any concern regarding climate change unwarranted, is lazy and selfish. It is selfish because it ignores every other organism on the planet that suffers from man-made pollution, as well as future generations that will have to find ways to survive. That kind of detached attitude of, "whatever happens happens" is not a justifiable excuse to pollute ourselves into an early extinction. I would say that it's possible to care about the Earth and Humanity at the same time.

In terms of actions that be taken to curb climate change, I feel like most of the responsibility (and ability) falls on major corporations to adopt more sustainable practices. Although, a general shift in the public's habits and climate consciousness needs to happen as well. Daily, personal choices are also important. Being more conservative with electricity at home, driving less, using re-usable shopping bags and containers instead of plastic bags, and cutting back on meat production are all significant choices that can integrated easily into your daily life.

As proof that progress in this area is possible, the hole in the ozone layer has been slowly repairing itself and is projected to return to normal by 2045. This recovery is thanks to the 1987 Montreal Protocol, which prohibited chemicals that are harmful to the ozone layer from being used and produced.