Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall, Not Sure When I’ll Get It Together Again

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Walking the pup the other day I found a pictographic fountain metaphor for my life; a tiny toy Humpty clinging alongside a gushing geyser. It was one of those moments where you look up at the cerulean and wonder if you’re really  alone and if someone is laughing at you. Cackling in my case. I spent every morning of last week on the beach with my trainer. At the 45 minute mark daily I got nauseous, but I’d push through. The other day however, I received some bad news and binge ate three slices of cheesecake, tortilla chips and spicy guacamole. Before I could forget how hilariously oxymoronic my existence is, I  snapped the picture above.

It wasn’t a stream of bad luck as much as natural progression, as much as my best skip forward—waiting on my return on investment, as much as my understanding after having a serious conversation with my ex ex ex—my sentiment? Indifference. I’ve felt stronger feelings for my neighbor’s dog in which I’ve playfully nicknamed Marmaduke. Finally, mentally free.

Bernadette Murphy (my workshop leader) said to me yesterday during residency workshop “you are the orbiter of your own work.” I’ve written a few short nonfiction stories and submitted them this week. I received one response, which I can group into the maybe category, as my work wouldn’t work for their current issue, but perhaps in a future one, they’re going to keep me posted. Good enough.

Gayle Brandeis taught a lecture emphasizing eco-literature and the importance of being hyper-aware of pristine landscapes and your childhood to stay present in your writing. Then she quoted Rosenblatt:

“Writing is the cure for the disease of living. Doing it may sometimes feel like an escape from the world, but at its best moments it is an act of rescue.”—Roger Rosenblatt

I’m starting over. I want a new life. New colorful friends: wanderlust. I hope my SOS isn’t smothered by my smokescreen.

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Comments

  1. winston cheatham says:

    nice shit….. Rere said follow her

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