The McManual

Blogging my little heart out in poetry and prose.

Category: Uncategorized

Good day to you.

It’s the 19th of December, and it doesn’t feel like Christmas to me yet.  It seems that as I get older, the years go by faster and the anticipation that I used to feel really disappears.  I am saddened by this, becuase I used to really savor the month of December. 

Maybe it’s because everything is so much easier these days – after all, when I wanted to buy gifts as a kid, I was severly limited as to where I could go.  I couldn’t just hop in the car and go to whatever mall was closest – it was a family trip to Kmart.  Having money saved up was also different.  My parents would start reminding us at least as far back as early November that there was planning to be done – we would draw names with the cousins to see who got whom, and then we were responsible to save enough for a decent gift (under $5, though) for that person. 

I usually managed to draw or trade for my cousin Walter, and the thing that he seemed to like the most in the world was Mountain Dew, so I would buy him a 12 pack and wrap it up.

Not the most festive of gifts, I suppose, but he really appreciated it.  And it felt like it meant more, somehow.  Nowadays, gift shopping is more of a chore than a joy.  It’s still fun to think about what people might want, and I like wrapping gifts, but the more important aspect by far is getting together with friends and loved ones. 

It doesn’t seem like Christmas should be the only time we see certain people.  Maybe this year I will work to change it so that Christmas warmth and cheer gets spread more evenly through the rest of the year.

Good night. Sheila


A couple of older poems I wrote

Hi all.  I just got home from work.  It’s only a week before the winter break, so a lot of people at my school are wigging out.  It’s a weird time of year, the week before winter holiday.  I have been feeling great, though.  I think that I am not really in the game as far as teaching goes, but I feel really good, so that might count for something.

I found a couple of poems that I had written a while ago, so I was thinking that I would enter them here.  I’m not sure whether they should be under their own sections as poetry – now that I think about it, I  believe I will enter them as seperate posts under their titles.  (there.  done.)  Kinda weird having my work just out there for anyone to read.  I like it, though.

Jay is worried that people might copy my work and say it’s theirs.  I hope that none of you do that! 🙂  I’m not really worried about it, though.  I don’t see myself having those types of problems.

Today it felt as though there was a force working in me; it felt like I was doing yoga all day; I felt calm and detached; I felt connected to everyone; it seems like there’s nothing I can’t do.  It’s strange to feel so good, but it feels natural, too.  It also seems that my mental state has nothing to do with my physical state. By that I mean, I am still sick, I even have a minor headache, but I still feel euphoric.  And of course, I am sober – I think I’m high on life.  High on possibilities.  High on writing. 

So maybe I should keep writing and getting others to write.  I like how it feels.  Now I feel that I am rambling unforgivably.  I think I’ll go off and let my friends know that I’ve started a blog.  Good night, dear friends.


Recycling Life

i’d love to take the long lines
            at the grocery store
and transform them
                  into lines of poetry
or lines drawn in great art
              my winding path to the cashier at Cub
could be the horizon as defined by a mountain range.

if each trudging footstep on the way to work
             was a blob of paint
spattered on a grand canvas
               every movement – every moment
in life – fast or show
            staccatoed or stationary
were translated into
              paint, ink, or pigment
what art
              life would be
                                    and is
                                              if we can but see.

C 2007 sheila mcmahon

%d bloggers like this: