The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Notes From The Shower September 1, 2010

Hello all.  Just thought I’d give a little shout out to the rain shower happening outside my window right now.  It’s still badly needed.  But also, the title of this post refers to a couple of things I realized yesterday. 


First of all, judging by the amount of hair in the drain of my shower after one of the crumb-crunchers gets out, one would be under the impression that I live in a house full of 80’s rock stars undergoing chemo!  I swear, these children are about to find themselves in the barber chair getting an Army draftee hairdo!!


And second of all, to steal a line from the late, great Erma Bombeck:  just because there is thirty pounds of hair in the drain, there is no need to shampoo it!  What is so difficult for these children about placing a shampoo bottle a) upright and b) lid closed!?  Really? 


Also, I just have to share this.  I had to go around smelling all manly yesterday because we were out of body wash and the only thing I could find was my son’s AXE body wash.  🙂  (It was so cute when I bought that stuff for him.  He was just in awe that he had his very own bath stuff just for boys!)  So I was worried that people at work were going to be asking “Do you smell that?  Who’s wearing men’s cologne?  Somebody got a secret around here?”  But no.  Not a mention.  Which is good, don’t get me wrong.  I’m as happy to get attention as the next person, but for the right reasons, like my beauty, brains, and talent, not for my manly smell. 


And since this post is kind of water-themed, I will address an issue that arises from LACK of water and say that I believe my newest tree is dead.  I think it has fallen victim to the rotten weather we’ve had the last two months and is now nothing but a baked stick with broiled leaves standing in the middle of my yard.  It was a redbud, too.  (Oklahoma’s State Tree, by the way!) I love those- I’ve always wanted one, and my mother, when she decided to singlehandedly reforest an entire trailer park that was wiped out by a tornado, saved me one of the trees she got.  She planted the little guy in a place of honor right in the middle of my front yard, and now I think he is just dead, dead, dead.  Thanks, Weather!  Now is a fine time to be pouring down rain!


I’ll tell you this much, though.  If he’s not dead, I’m going to dig him up, plant him in a big planter, nurse him back to health, and make a bonsai tree out of him.  I toyed with the idea of making the bonsai out of the willow tree that’s been growing there since Mom and the kids planted it when I was on my honeymoon.  Sort of a reshaping, reforming of the hopes and dreams I had for my marriage, kind of thing.  However, Daughter S. said she likes the tree where it is and wants me to leave it there, so Little Redbud gets to be a bonsai, if he lives. 


I’m going to be posting some more poetry in a minute, and I only mention this because it sort of fits in with the water theme.  At least one piece does.  Metaphorically, some of the other pieces do as well, because they come from a time in my life when I was simply drowning in darkness, despair, struggle.  I’ll admit they are very dark works, but they represent my process of getting through that time.  If you read through all my poetry, you will see many poems about the actual experience of writing itself.  For me, writing was surviving.  Writing was the only way I could express all the pain, the only way to let it out and keep it from killing me.  But check out the poetry anyway, and let the overall theme of survival speak to you however it will.

Thanks for reading!

Until next time,


(ETA:  The new poetry is now up.  11:00 a.m.)


My Life As A Bonsai August 12, 2010

Filed under: Poetry and Fiction — DDKlingonGirl @ 1:28 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

Growing for years,

Beginning to be established.

Life is the Ultimate Gardener.

I am Cut Down and Brutalized.

I am nothing but a Stump.

But after successive Springs

gradually New Shoots grow.

New leaves to disguise

The Scars.

A little guidance; I am Wired.

And soon

I am smaller.

A more compact version

of what I was.

But more deliberately shaped

and trained.

I am an Art Form.


8-11-10   10:35 a.m.


I wrote this yesterday and thought it deserved to stand alone as  a permanent post rather than under the poetry section.  I have recently become interested in trying to train a bonsai tree, and will probably embark on that journey in the Spring. 

Hopefully will have my home internet back on by Wednesday, and will have new entries on a more regular basis.

Thanks for reading!

Until next time,



The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Shawn L. Bird

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