Stories of Meaning and Importance

What Next Big Universe?

2011-02-09T09:54:00.000-08:00

Unfulfilled potential is an unsatisfying feeling. Something like wanting to go out, but having nothing to wear, or having no money to get groceries, or realizing you've just run out something, but the shops have all closed for the night. You know you could do something wonderful, if only you weren't held back by yourself, your apathy, your lack of education, your lack of connection, your lack of courage. There is nothing quite as wonderful as being given an opportunity, but sometimes that just wonderful feeling is swiftly cut short by insecurity, fear and feelings of incompetence. Do I know myself to be competent? Yes. Do I know myself to be smart? Yes. Then what is this all about? Why does my courage sabotage itself by flinging it's entirety out the window? Where did that window come from in the first place? Somewhere, years ago, that window was built within my little soul as a defense to broken promises. I suppose it was a way to escape my own frustration with being poor, homely, unpopular, lied to. It was an escape from having to have my hopes smashed by someone else, and instead I taught myself to say "Thank you folks, but look, I can smash my own hopes! Look I can stop before I even get started!" Oh boy, what a terrible way to cope!

Well, news flash, I am well capable of trying hard for what I want, and having an escape route that doesn't involve a window but another opportunity. Yes, another and if that doesn't work, maybe another?

Perhaps I've let myself be too damaged by unforeseen circumstances. I've felt so locked into lack of community, into lack of happiness and I've felt locked in by my own decisions to move not once, but twice in the last few years, not across town, but across the country. Boston, you sucked my soul out and left me dry of compassion and empathy. Virginia, you have been both the most difficult time of my life and the most enlightening and oh, Seattle, how I long for you, but we are not meant to be at this time. So we need to move on, maybe someday we can be reunited.

Right now, here, in Virginia, I've got to make my life work, I've got to live here, be present, not withdraw from the enjoyment and potential I have here. I cannot live anymore in the uncertainty of happiness, God is with me, Justin is with me, I am with me. I will settle, I will move on, I will do something great, perhaps, with my pebble sized enthusiasm, I may impact others, and I may change for the better. I will overcome, with God's help.

The Beginning of a Long Year.

2010-06-19T08:17:00.000-07:00

We moved to Boston in the middle of July, leaving friends and family behind and looking forward to what may lie ahead. We decided to leave a week earlier then planned because we realized we needed a few days to look for apartments before August set in. With a Penkse truck packed up with our posessions and memories, we started out on our six day journey across this vast country. The first day, we drove through Washington state, Idaho and made it to the middle of Montana before we stopped to camp for the night. we stayed at a sketchy, pay-on-your-honor, 10$ a night camping spot on a river. The town was nothing but a gas station, a few rickety houses and several "meth watch" signs. There was no firewood to cook our dinners on, so we scoured the surrounding areas for sticks and logs, and when we did get a fire going, it was so dry and hot we thought we'd catch the whole world on fire. We went to sleep with the sun and woke up at 6, ready to go.

The sun rose up over green hills and pastures, it was one of the most beautiful things we'd ever seen. We drove all that day through the rest of Montana through dry Wyoming and finally into the black hills of South Dakota. Eleven hours of straight driving, and little food made us desperate so we opted for a hotel, where we could get a break from the scorching heat. Early we rose, the next morning, refilled our cooler with ice and hit the road. The prairies were glorious. the felt neverending. We drove through city after city, population 15 or 19 apparently or some other ridiculously small number, but they were big enough to be on the map. We realized then, just how far from home we already were. I had never seen land so flat and sky so big, it was a revelation to be sure, and gorgeous. Minnesota is where we laid our heads that night, in a beautiful little campground surrounded by trees, the campsite director let us stay there for free, because she was amazed by how far we were traveling, and how far we still had to go. The moon rose that night and we were in awe of how good the world could be, we heard critters in the woods and saw lightning bugs in the forest, like fairies in some myth. Our souls rested. The next morning we made oatmeal and changed clothes behind the truck, we knew that today, we would see my sister in Chicago.

Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois and then, there we were. Just a few short hours on the road. It was surreal to find my sister in another state, and to hang out with her though I had just said goodbye in Seattle. We ate, walked the city, there were fireworks on the lake and we watched them from beside a glorious fountain. Every time the wind picked up, we got soaked by fountain spray, but it was magical. Justin went with my sister's boyfriend to get the car, and she and I took a train to meet them. We took the wrong train though, and had a midnight adventure through Chicago suburbs to find an available restroom, then sat conspicuously on a bench beneath a "Park and Shop" sign. the morning was dramatic with goodbyes and my sister's relationship stuff but we had to go and get on our way. There wasn't time to visit other friends, though I wanted to.

That day we drove all the way to New York through the rest of Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania, and we slept just miles from Niagra falls in a KOA cabin. Our firewood was wet, so dinner didn't happen til after 9, we drank beers and wished we could just get to Massachusetts and turn right back around. It was sinking in that we were almost to our destination.

a judgmental piece of shit

2009-09-02T13:32:00.000-07:00

this is a judgmental piece of shit. i dont care about grammar or spelling, this is sheerly passionate writing, it wont be revised. im getting my mind off of it for a sec to say the fuck you's i feel like. so #1, because its so fresh on my mind is FUCK YOU belle (the cat) for keeping us up all damn night. and i wish we hadnt been so nice as to take you in the first place, you're box smells like shit and it makes me want to puke, i dont care how cute and talkative you are, i do NOT want to be pounced on every time i fall asleep, nor do i think its funny for you to perch on justin and meow at full volume in his ear at 4 in the morning... naive thing, you wonder why we finally locked you in the bathroom. #2 Boston, Fuck you for neglecting to give me a job. I AM JUST as fucking good as anyone in this damn uppity city and wish you'd get off your fucking high horse and give hiring me a chance. #3 Also i've got a beef with drivers AND pedestrians. DRIVERS, STOP BEING SO STUPID and start being less agressive, getting your car in the middle of oncoming traffic is really only likely to get you hit. PEDESTRIANS, stay the FUCK out of the road until its your turn to cross, cross at a crosswalk at ALL TIMES, and dont drag your children into the street to learn bad habits and get hit.

Churches, LEARN TO ACCEPT EVERYONE, GAY FOLKS, MUSLIM FOLKS, you name it, God accepts and loves and has a relationship with every living thing, so don't get all high and mighty and smug just because you happened to be born straight "the way god intended." That idea is a lie. Also, Christians, and Suburbanites especially Christian Suburbanites. stop buying, look around you, there are starving people, folks getting sold into slavery, girls being forced into prostitution, genocide, global warming, pain and suffering all around us, and couldn't you really do without an extra venti starbucks calorie drink? make coffee at home! Recycle, do something about our world, stop dishing out shit about abortion when our soldiers are killing babies and young children the same age as your children, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren across the world. if you are going to be PRO LIFE, DO IT ALL THE WAY!!! Stop thinking that GOD IS BLESSING YOU FINANCIALLY BECAUSE YOU'RE SO GOOD, MONEY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH BLESSING, SO DONT BE SO DAMN GREEDY, needing your iphone, and new car, bigger house, designer clothes, while you sit and listen to your tepid sermon about financial blessing. life is meaningless unless you have community, community is nothing without putting others first, and putting others first requires that you give up what you think you need, and care for others. sigh. im off my soap box now. just a few things i had to get off my chest.

naught

2008-12-02T18:54:00.001-08:00

i wish i had a story to tell,
one of nobleness and life,
but the only words that sit on my tongue
are those of feeble poetry
yet to be writ.

Don't offer ginger candy to a homeless man

2008-09-30T18:08:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the back alley with my husband, having a cigarette, like I do, on a Sunday afternoon. We were chatting, like we do, when I noticed a man walking down the alley. This is not unusual. As the man passed I saw that he was carrying a guitar and wearing weary-looking clothes. He told us to ignore him, and that he didn't want anything, and in general I try not to pay much attention to anyone coming down the alley, as to respect privacy and keep my nose out of other peoples business.(run-on sentence)
We had gone back inside, and whilst sitting around the house, we decided that we wanted to get out of the city for the day. Because we have no vehicle in which to escape the city, we chose to ride the ferry to Bremerton and back. It's a cheap and beautiful option, for us poor, car less folks who live downtown. Anyway, we left the house, and when we got to the end of the block we were joined by the homeless man who walked through the alley about a half hour earlier. This seemed like an odd coincidence, but we embraced it.
The man, lets call him Bobby, asked Justin if he had any change. Justin said no. Bobby asked Justin if he had any dollar bills. Justin again said no, but reached into his pocket and pulled out a chewy ginger candy and offered it to the homeless man. It was all we had at the time, and was not offered in a rude or demeaning way, and so Bobby kept talking to us. He said; "Do you know what the word eclectic means?" and Justin replied that he did and said that it meant diverse. Bobby then corrected Justin and said; "No, eclectic means that you really like one thing, like, I bet only 37 people woke up this morning and said "I really want a piece of ginger candy." That's a really eclectic taste." I'm pretty sure he actually meant "acquired taste," and we were starting to get the point that this man didn't like what we had offered him. Anyway, we kept walking and Bobby walked alongside us, and made a comment-question; " You're probably an agnostic, huh?" Justin replied that the was not, and then Bobby asked Justin if he was a Christian. To which Justin replied; "Yes." Then, still trying to get something other than conversation, Bobby asked Justin this question: " If Jesus were here, right now, in this day and age, what do you think he would do for me, a homeless veteran with a bad back?"
This whole time I had been silent, just listening to Bobby talk and to what Justin was saying. But this was it. I had the perfect answer. I spoke out of honesty, and I was not unkind.
"Offer you a piece of ginger candy." was all I said.
Jesus didn't have much, he would have healed the man, and said go and work, you are healed and so on. But no kidding, I felt like if Jesus had owned one piece of special ginger candy, kept in his pocket for his journey, he would have offered it to the first person who asked for something.
In any case, whatever Jesus would have done, my answer was not wanted. Bobby's immediate response was, "Fuck you bitch, God bless you, Fuck you, get out of here, bitch. I'm not talking to you anymore. God bless you, Fuck you! Fuck you guys. God bless you."
I guess ginger candy is a sore subject for Bobby, and anything we did or said for the two blocks we walked with him or the fact that we talked and walked with him for two blocks meant nothing. The timing was perfect, and unscripted, I just hope something Justin said made it meaningful.

Violence!! Blood!!

2008-09-03T19:37:00.000-07:00

I was listening to my husband and an old friend of his have a conversation at my table. Our small studio apartment allowed me to hear some of what was said from the kitchen, but the sanctuary of work was what I craved. Generally I feel more comfortable putting myself to a task rather than socializing, so I decided to clean the kitchen and make a little dinner. I suppose it was about six o'clock, I had started to tune out the other-roomly conversation and had absentmindedly placed myself in an comfortable spot in the kitchen. (To tell you where this comfort-spot is, I have to explain a little of how the kitchen is arranged. The refrigerator and stove are awkwardly situated at the end of my narrow kitchen, and they leave a small space in front of the window for me to stand while I cook. I could probably stand in front of the stove, but instead I always choose to stand beside, tucked between the fridge and the oven and the wall and window.) I was stirring the couscous and ground lamb when I heard a scuffle outside. Now normally I would pay no attention to noises from without my apartment, because I live downtown and noisy scuffling, shouting, or other such noises are common, especially during the day. Anyhow, on this particular day, from my comfort-spot, I heard these noises and decided to look. I peered out the window and saw a man wrestling another man to the ground. This piqued my interest, of course, and so I kept looking. I vaguely heard the man on the ground, quietly in his defense, plead to his aggressor. "I dont want to fight! I dont want to fight"
Which was promptly followed by his assailant grotesquely fist-pummeling his prey.
"Oh my God!! Someone's getting the shit beat out of them! Justin! Look out the window!" I said, running to the other room. Blow after blow, the victim's facial structure shook with the violent punches of his predator.
"Call 911! CALL 911!! I shouted to my husband as I ran back to the kitchen. I looked back out of the kitchen window. This time I noticed a man, walking calmly past, just inches from the violent beating. How could he just pass by and not try to do something? I yelled out the window to him, "DO SOMETHING ASSHOLE."
Somehow this shocked the predator, and he began to flee, I saw a cop drive by, but how could he know there was an unconscious man just mere feet away? I needed to flag him down, I needed to. I couldn't control myself any longer, the adrenaline rush was too strong, my will to do.......... something.....took hold of me. Barefoot, and without anything in my hands, I ran. I heard my feet on the hardwood floor of my apartment, I heard the dull clunking of my feet in the hall, and I heard the slapping of my tender feet upon the rough sidewalk. I circled the building and there, lying on the pavement before me was an unconscious human life. The horror of the crime, the reality of the evil there, punched me square in the stomach.
Someone asked me if the cops had been called. I felt mute, but out of my panting lips came the answer to his question. I called to my husband inside the apartment to bring me some paper towels, unsure of when the medics would come. I guess I planned on putting pressure on the wound. The wound! A grotesque tennis ball sized lump on his temple, bleeding. Bleeding a puddle of transparent blood onto the dull grey sidewalk. Running down his ear! Running.
Onto the dull. Grey. Sidewalk!!
Cops and medics and new witnesses came as I stared. But their flashing lights and swarms only brought, uncertainty, languid confusion and indifference. The witnesses all told conflicting stories, some saw the man run to the ally, some saw him cross the street. I was useless, too adrenaline shaky, rattled and breathless to speak concisely. I had not seen what the predator looked like, what he had worn. I knew he was wearing a hat, but that was it. I could not claim to have seen anything, I knew that wrong information equaled bad information, so I quietly dismissed myself from the chaos of the streets. My head hung down in an emotion that was somewhere between powerlessness and uselessness.
I heard myself utter the words, "Lord Have Mercy," but those syllables flew sharply up into the trees with the wind, looped and fluttered back down only to land in the street.

Insecurities of a Pudgy Young Diva.

2008-08-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to visit my sister and her kids. She lives in a clean and sober house with several other people and some of them also have children. While we were visiting, I was watching with curiosity, my four year old niece Zoey, interact with another little boy named Trey who lives in the house also. Here an account of what I observed;
Zoey approached Trey, hands behind her back and out of the chaos she asked in an almost inaudible voice, "Trey... do you still like me?"
"... You smell like fire" he answered
I could see the confusion and insecurity on her little face. " What does fire smell like?" she asked hopefully.
And with all the matter-of-factness of a little boy, he replied " I don't like the way fire smells... its stinky." All the while waving his hand in front of his nose and exaggeratedly scrunching up his face as if someone had just ran over a skunk and he was smelling it now for the first time.
Horrified and embarrassed, my niece flailed into a fit and stormed out of the room telling everyone to stop laughing at her (when in fact we were laughing at trey's passive aggressive answer to a question he was bound to fail answering.)
My nephew, Liam, told trey that what he had said wasn't nice, and to go apologise. Obediently, Trey went to find Zoey, who was on her way back to the room anyway, and apologised.
Minutes passed and I had gone back to what I was doing when I noticed that Trey had apologised again, and Zoey and he were hugging. Then Zoey, who cant leave well enough alone, said to Trey; "Smell me."
Then they each, in turn, leaned towards each other and sniffed.
She then asked; "What do I smell like?"
Trey looked up, searching his young mind for something good; "Not stinky, NOT STINKY," he said finally and with enthusiasm. Obviously he had recognized his earlier mistake and vowed not to make it again.
But Zoey asked again; "Yeah, but what do I smell like?"
Trey smiled as if he just came up with the perfect answer and replied gleefully; " You smell like good!"
And that was that.

iona moon

2008-01-21T22:19:00.000-08:00

the end of this day is the beauty of the next, i havent seen a moon this big and beautiful since iona, i love that this night, like last night is bathed and illuminated in blue light. this day was gorgeous sun, fiddle music, and a sweetness of frigid air.

man on a bus, child on the stairs

2007-12-17T22:00:00.000-08:00

i didnt feel well this morning, i woke up with the swollen eyes and throbbing head of a woman whos gone to bed wearing her grief like a blanket. i shuffled to the bus, feeling less than stable and more than nauseated, i sat staring north, waiting for the 16 bus to take me to work. it arrived in much less time than i was prepared to wait and as i stepped onto the bus and paid my fare, i noticed a man, clean-cut, with baggage, sitting in the front seats. he was mumbling to himself, and talking to no one and everyone. in this situation i know the drill, look out the window, look distracted, sad, tired, bored, disinterested, etc, anything that will make me part of my surroundings, i make myself disappear this way often. as the bus driver continued on his route, he took a sharp turn, though much less sharp than ive experienced with other bus drivers and so when the man in the front seat slid with a sandpaper thump to the floor, i was a little surprised. then came the marked change in his attitude, he suddenly became angry, irrational and belligerent, cursing and swearing at the bus driver. the driver tolerated him for a while longer, and when the man kept grousing and asked to get off at the next stop, he was more than willing to oblige. it was a less frequented stop in the middle of a residential neighborhood, the man sat in his seat and slowly gathered his things. when he moved his way to the front of the bus he stopped, cornering the bus driver in his seat and started yelling, swearing and making threats of violence. "ill kick your motherfucking head in if you call anyone, ill knock the glasses off your face you faggot-ass punk, is that clear?" this kind of language continued at the stop for about 5 minutes. five minutes of which i sat with my phone open, 911 dialed, just waiting to hit send. i was not in any doubt of the man's intent to physically harm the bus driver, and i was actually surprised first, and then relieved when he left the bus. i got off the bus at my normal spot, and went to cross the street when a man walking next to me asked "hey! where are you going" in a creepy, not friendly way. when i walked through the stone archway of the park i was afraid he would follow me in.
i got to work a little shaken, i greeted parents and children and started to go around and check attendance. one of the teachers told me that nigel would be late and i would need to lead him to the sanctuary of the neighboring church for christmas pageant rehearsal. he arrived soon after with his mother and as i started to lead him down the stairs, he did something unexpected, he took my hand. it was then that i knew there was still hope, there was still nigel, a sensitive 4 1/2 year old child, willing to learn, and able to love.

2007-11-26T15:18:00.000-08:00

i entered the park through a stone archway, and though i have passed it nearly every day, i had never explored what was through that little passage. i stepped up the long path through the crisp crunch of dead leaves and gazed in awe at the beauty that lay inside those overgrown walls. it was cold, and heavy dark clouds wove their gloom above me. the trees that lined the park were old grey creatures with twisted trunks and nests. far above their branches flew the clusters of black birds who had made those trees their home. in the park i walked, utterly alone in the green and grey and was was deliciously wrapped by the loneliness inside. i knew the trees had stories, and the large brick estate at the far end had its hauntings, but all of it seemed to welcome me, they all seemed grateful for some solitary company. there were, in a dotted grey line, skeleton trees that still clung to their blood-red apples. the deep green carpet of mossy grass surrounding them was fragrant with sweet crushed windfalls. i kept walking and wishing the trees to will me one perfect unspoilt apple. finally i reached the far end of the grove and i looked to the south. in the far corner of the park i saw another small grove with an altogether different tree. one whose branches swung so low that the seemed to be protecting the earth below, they were bent in the position of a perpetual belly laugh, a sob, a curtsy.
i walked a little more quickly towards it and took off my shoes, it the earth was cold and damp beneath me but i started to climb, the bark felt rough under my cold feet, but i held on, and looked down on the earth as the tree does and realized, if i were a tree, i should really hope to be planted somewhere where i like the view.

felted and soft

2007-11-19T22:00:00.000-08:00

he is always weeping, at least in my visions. he weeps for joy and pain alike, and his eyes always lacquered with the silver of sea-salt tears. he wrapped me up last night, in the dark cathedral, he held me. with his ineffable everything, he wrapped me up in a long, beautiful, and crimson scarf of the softest combed and felted wool. this is far more than love. this is everything, the whole world and yet none of it, a smile and a frown, a kiss, a sigh, a tree's low swinging branches, intangible, ethereal, and at the same time, sweetly-softly-gently-passionately all mine.

october seventh, dusk

2007-10-07T18:36:00.000-07:00

like a lamp lit above, red leaves illuminate the hall casting a blushing shadow on my book's jealous pages. the sky is pink and an eerie yellow. it is full of sallow grey jaundiced clouds, but the trees seem to be aflame with their autumn leaves, a ghostly vibrant fire dripping life into the wind. the gusts of breeze seem to nourish the quivering leaves, shaking them to life from their sweet slumber and kissing each one with its fullness. suddenly a darkness falls, splashing everything with its violence. the leaves' fire dulls to embers and and its warmth is lost in the chill of a fall dusk, but i am cozy, wrapped in a sweater and scarf, warmed by the sweetness of wine and a gregarious fire.

who is this

2007-10-06T11:28:00.000-07:00

i have awakened with a song on my tongue and a breath in my lungs to sing it. i have woken to chilly autumn morning. i will lie with my eyes closed, the morning's cold breath on my nose. how content, how sweet, how lovely, i am touched by nature, felt and tested, held. i am inspired, i am not alone, i have mine, and you have mine. my senses are satisfied, my eyes full of light, my hands are cold, my mouth has tasted, my ears keep the sounds of nothing and everything. i can smell you in everything. you. you must smell like everything you ever created, and every beautiful rain and fall leaf rotting hill. the sweet apple scent of love. i do not understand, you are a mystery, and i like you that way. you, my father, brother friend and nature. you have not left me, you have not forgotten me. you have me. how have i forgotten your goodness. how you treat me like your own earth, changing me and giving me what i need.

i havent written in 5 months bear with me.

2007-10-04T22:32:00.000-07:00

i am soft, lonely, happy and soft. like a handful of feathers, a polished wooden table soft. i am your mother, your sister, your bestfriend as a kid. i am a lover of, a holder of, a cherisher of. i am the sweetest thing youve tasted, the most savoury, i am. i am what loves you most, what feels your pain, what makes you laugh and what dries your tears. i am what holds you when you feel like your skin wont even do you the favour. i am what kisses your rough knees and pushes you back to the playground. i have looked in the mirror, i am. i am beautiful, i am full, i am free, i am loved, i am. far from where i stood just one year ago, but i am still there. i am loose, my heart is loose, my heart is open and free and full full full. fullest. i can love. i can feel. i can just be. i am what you have allowed me to be. thanks be to god.

boys

2007-05-24T14:43:00.000-07:00

i had been a tomboy all my life, i took pride in the fact that i didnt ever look in the mirror, i thought i was ugly besides so it made no difference to me. i didnt know how to use a curling iron, or paint my nails. if i could get away with it, i wouldnt shower for days (getting past my mom with this one was difficult though) my sister was very girly and pretty, blond wavy hair and big blue eyes with long eyelashes. i got stuck with hazel eyes, short, stubby eyelashes, what the fuck is hazel anyway? my hair was lank and flat, blond in the summer, grey in the winter. there are no love-poems about girls with irrisistable hazel eyes and lank dirty-blond hair. no great paintings were inspired by girls of my kind. people wanted blond beauties with rosebud lips and pink cheeks who danced ballet and played with dolls. on top of this my sister told me my forehead was too big and that i had buck teeth, i couldnt disagree.
instead of barbies, i had a whistle that i tempted fairies and called troops with, and instead of ballet slippers i had a pair of boots i wore constantly. i inspected plants and bugs, crushed things up into potions i kept in cut flower tubes. in my world i was the fastest bike rider, the strongest tallest girl my age, the most courageous, and the quickest. i didnt care if i had dirt under my nails, i wanted to ride horses and explore things i had never seen, i wanted to find hidden treasure, go sailing across the sea. i wanted to be an orphan, a pirate, an astronaut. i liked playing with boys best, they didnt require too much and they liked to pretend to be the same things i did. boys let you be who you were and didnt ask you to do things a certain way. they made mud pies and used leaves as money, they could climb trees (of all things i was too afraid to do this) i wished i was a boy, longed to be able to do all the things they could, i felt like i had no place, no right to be a girl and play the games i liked to play. i thought it would be so much easier to be a boy.
now, miss skye, all grown up and just as boy-like at heart, likes boys for friends better than girls, but decidedly more clean and better dressed. i still have a pair of boots i wear almost constantly, i still like adventure, exploring and digging for hidden treasure, but ive softened, i am a woman, i do girly things like wear makeup and skirts, i like to do my hair and sew. i am still a tomboy but instead of wishing to be a boy, i am happy to be a girl happy to inhabit a womans body but still take on challenges.

give, have given

2007-05-15T00:11:00.000-07:00

i am losing, i have lost. i have lost what i have, i will lose it again. i have lost the memory of how it feels to be kissed, i have lost and been lost. i have lost you beneath the lashes of my eyes. beat you with the lashes of my eyes, loved you with them. things i remember, of what i felt, things i used to do to feel near to you i now do for someone else, but not completely. it is not complete, i am not, we never were. we never were fully aware, but you were always full of the meals i cooked for you, full of the inspiration you drew from me, full of the transfer of energy i gave you willingly too willingly. i was never full, the moon was full, the wind was full, the sea was full, my bed was full, but i never was, i never never was. you never gave it all back, as much as i pulled and pulled, i pulled for love, i pulled for inspiration, i pulled for energy, but all you ever did was take what was mine, take what i gave you, and nurse me back to fullness, then do it all again. i looked into your eyes, looked deep deep into your soul, looked til i saw nothing, looked for what i couldnt and wouldnt see. i never found you, i wanted to, i love you, loved you keep loving you, lovely full of laughter, full full up with the love i gave. i was passionate, you were passionate, but i beat you. i was overzealous and full of passion, but nothing else. i loved you love you keep loving you. love you loved you must stop loving you. you are always moving, always away and towards me, never stable never secure and never ok with where you are. you are always running, like a racehorse, like a greyhound, like a child on the playground running. i wanted to run with you, but all i can do is fly. i cannot stay, because you cannot, i am forbidden, but you are allowed.

2007-05-13T11:07:00.000-07:00

ambivelance, silver tarnished sky, waiting for a distraction, relishing the fact that i didnt wake up alone this morning so that i dont have to think about my confusion. blues body, blues soul. mint, clove cigarettes and coffee. distraction! distraction! oh wont you get here sooner than expected? before i give up and lie on the floor of this cold forsaken place, before i scream from being out of my own wits. i wanted sun this morning, i really wanted sun, a warm bed, warm blankets, blinding light to wake me, not a fuzzy radio signal singing bad memories and a grey chill seeping through the cracks at my window pane. how long this charade, ive tired of pretending to be things, ive tired of pretending to not really care. people, always others, with me and around me when i long to be alone, always alone when i long to be with others. oh oh heart, why do you remember everything!??

faux love

2007-05-10T17:39:00.000-07:00

what is it about love that scares people to death? open love that makes people run? we have all loved before without inhibitions or fears, but that was years ago right, before we learned our lessons, before we got hurt by "faux love." love is an interesting thing, and as i grow older i realize how much love i still have for many people, more love than i even did 3, 2 or even 1 year ago. something has changed in me, i am able to see people's potential, where they might have come from, where they hope to go, all of these things, and this ability also makes it so easy to stop judging people, and start loving them. somehow knowing that so-and-so had an alcoholic father makes it easier to love him, or knowing that the girl working at the coffee shop was verbally abused as a kid makes me less likely to call her a bitch or a whore, i know her, and she needs love too, even if she is orange from too much tanning, and wears alot of makeup. i used to think that i could not love everyone fully, and i still acknowledge that i cannot emotionally give 99.8% of people in this world the kind of love and care i have the ability to give, but i can give love to some people. the love i give is maybe more intense than it should be, i like to smother, when i love someone, i let them know with hugs or gifts or words or time spent. im not the best listener but i try. i open my heart to many people, but something about our world twists and skews love into something sexual and dirty when it is really quite innocent.

what i am, what i cant be

2007-05-09T11:37:00.000-07:00

i am a breeze, i never settle, i am never able to just settle, settle in the branches of a tree or on the surface of the ocean to feel the waves move beneath me. i will always be a breeze, i might accelerate down a mountain, or pause on on a rooftop to look back and see where ive been, but i will never be able to rest. i long for rest, i long to lie still, i desire more than anything to be able to just stop, drop into the household of some family and lie still between the coolness of plaster walls. instead i frustrate the branches of little bushes, push wee birds out of their nests, upset piles of papers on desks, steal napkins and plastic bags, and snatch balloons from children. i agitate everything i meet, i cannot leave anything else to rest either, everywhere i go i cause trouble, occasionally pleasure but mostly irritation, i am the hair in your face, the leaves scuttling up the road, i am broken branches and displaced families, if only i could rest, or wrap myself around the trunk of a tree. even if i could just lie flat in a field and be content to rustle its grass, but somehow, i am always pushed, pushed to continue, pushed to move where i dont want to go, to do what i dont want to do, to hurt what i dont want, to be where i dont want, and never to have what i do want. i am the breeze, i will never rest.

instability

2007-04-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

my stability has been threatened, despite all of my attempts to secure it. thanks.

giftbox

2007-04-23T23:28:00.000-07:00

what do i do, what do i do, how do i say, when should i ask, ask with imploring eyes and a scared tongue, ask for a reiterated statement, a plan, an understanding. how can i be certain that he is decent, that he means good, that he means well. how do i know that what he speaks is truth, not drunken fawning, how do i know that he does not deceive? my heart tells me he doesnt, i do not feel that he is false, i have never felt that he is false, he is not false he is not. my heart, mind and spirit tell me that he is good, that he is kind.
i have been broken before, i have been fallen before, like a tree, like a bombed building after a peace treaty, fallen. i have fallen, fallen into love before, fallen into, whilst others crawl out of it. i have been lied to, i have been cheated, i have been tested for a reaction and left to draw a bath with my own tears. i am not certain, i am not secure, this has happened before, but i prayed, i prayed and i gave up after six years of praying, and now i just pray that this is not another broken heart waiting in a giftbox. this is ridiculous, sickening, i am silly, stupid insipid? dilerious delusional.

julian the tempter

2007-04-16T00:16:00.000-07:00

ill timed. long email, lost man, lost love, lost reason. what has he done, tempting god and tempting fate, tempting me above all others. why. when ive lost hope and gained it again, he replies with languid broken english, replies with feigned love and rememberences of lost times. times when he held me and read william blake to me under a fat iona moon. why, every time i choose to move on does he make it a point to keep hold of me, with some wretched long leash he holds the end of millions of miles away from my bed. he cannot have me, i cannot have him. we are not meant to see each other again, why does he try, why do we keep this up? because i professed and proved my love to him a year and 3 months ago, because i would not let him go, with my heart, mind or spirit, because somehow, when i dream of him, i dont see his face, but a figure in an airfeild. because when i write to him i sign "love, skye" and mean it. because of all men, he has been my beloved and my best friend, and because even though we are miles apart i still love him as if i could just walk the mile to his house any time i wished. i cannot do this, i want to move on, i want someone tangible and audible, someone i can feel, touch, hear and taste. not someone i can pretend to from miles away. years away, lifetimes away, wings and rudders away.

the bus

2007-04-06T16:22:00.000-07:00

i slipped into a seat near the front of the bus, i am content today, its good friday and i cried for the reality of christ this morning, the first time ive cried for him in 2 years i think, i was beginning to forget.
i looked out the sun-white scratched window and closed my eyes. when i opened them again i noticed a young man sitting across from an old woman, he was having a conversation with her about where she came from, and why she came to amerika. he asked her questions and she answered him, she didnt feel threatened, and i didnt feel awkward had his gentle interrogation of her. i welcomed it as much as i would have shunned it if it had been me he were asking questions. it felt good to know that people were still interested in the stories of others. some few stops down the way a woman walked onto the bus and sat near me, but closer to the front, moments later a man walked forward, sat down next to her and asked her name. she sized him up in an instant, looked at him and knew in one flick of her eyes that he was not someone she wanted. she judged him quickly. we all judge quickly, in moments we decide whether a person is worthy or not. maybe more time is needed.

another reason part 4

2007-04-04T21:49:00.000-07:00

i slept without ease that night, i woke several times from frightening dreams, the sky lightened every time i woke and finally my alarm went off. my eyes felt heavy and cold, and when i looked out my window it was foggy. i pulled myself reluctantly out of bed, and headed towards the bathroom. even with a shower i felt tired and sick. i had a headache that stretched its crooked fingers down my neck and into my shoulders. i dressed myself and looked in the mirror, my face was deathly pale and i had dark grey circles that dulled the green of my eyes. i left for work, and wrapped my heavy coat tightly against the misty air. i walked into the abbey, hesitant to see him again after yesterdays awkward interaction. as i stood looking over my list for the day, i heard the click of the doorknob and turned my head, but there was no one there. i knew there were ghosts in the abbey and i suddenly became very aware of the fact that i was utterly alone. instead of staying in the big room by myself, i decided to make myself useful in the kitchen. while i started to clean up a little, he walked in, i felt my face become flushed, but kept my back turned to him, he didnt say anything, he just finished whatever he was doing, and left. i wasnt so afraid to be in the big room anymore since i knew someone was there, so i also left the kitchen and started my days projects. as i started moving some things out of my way so i could start cleaning, it came to my attention that there was a bit of paint peeling on one of the walls which needed to be touched up. it was very near a painting which was hanging on that same wall so i decided to remove the painting in order to not ruin it. i started to try to dislodge it from its hefty nail, the painting was really quite heavy but i was determined to pull it down. it needed to go, i disliked it anyway, it was a favorite of his so i had no scruples in removing it. as i pulled, and nudged and tugged at it trying to remove its colossal ugliness from the wall, it seemed to move a little on its own and i suddenly lost grip. it came loose from the wall, and landed with a horrible dull crack on the cement floor, then proceeded to sigh and fall heavily on my weakened knees, i barely caught myself and it from falling hard to the floor. i caught my breath, what had just happened? how had i lost grip of it? i thought i had been holding it securely. i tried to calm the pace of my heart before checking the damage. as i surveyed the painting i realized that i had not only split the wood of the frame irreparably, but that the masonite beneath the paint had been warped and crushed to a dull pulp on one corner. i was horrified, this was his favorite piece, i think he had paid alot for it, and here i stood in its ruins. he walked in a moment later, undoubtedly he had heard the crash. i felt the tears begin to sting under my lashes while i tried to stay composed.
"whats happened?" he asked.

knowing my place

2007-03-28T15:10:00.000-07:00

he is out of reach, so completely above me it sickens me a little. he said my name last night, for the first time ever, ive known him for months, but hes never said it. in fact we've never shared a civil word in eachothers direction before. my name sounded foreign on his lips. i turned around, i had been trying to slip past him unnoticed, but somehow, he recognised me. "yes?" i asked. he started on about whether or not i approved and made comments well studied and articulate, premeditated even. i stood there, so awkward, like a child being asked math questions that were too advanced. i stuttered and stammered through answers, hoping they were clever enough, or smart enough. he and i are on different planes though. he is high up in the ethereal world and i am the earth. we mix like oil and water, there will always be a separateness with us. the laws of nature say it must be so. the thing it uses to separate us is like a knife, so sharp that if either of us leans the slightest towards each other, we will get cut. this is how the universe tells us that we are not meant to know each other, not a little bit, not at all.

we are on different planes
we are different worlds
i am water, he is oil
he is beauty, i am function
he is sky, i am earth

another reason: part three

2007-03-27T11:30:00.000-07:00

i stood there bewildered, he said my name as if to address me with a question. i had no interest in hearing it though. i started on and began to pass him, but he took my arm to stop me and inquired about whether or not i would go with him to get coffee. i opened my mouth, and shut it, but no sound came out, before i could come up with a justifiable reason to not go, i heard my mouth squeak out a yes and quietly followed him to a cafe across the street. he ordered, and urged me to order, i hardly knew what to ask for, or what to say, in fact i cant but think that he was under the impression that i was altogether dumb. i asked for hot chocolate finally because it seemed straightforward enough and in my speechless state i had recognized that it was something i liked. he paid for us both, which surprised me, and ushered me to a table where we sat in relative silence for about ten awkward minutes. i sipped my chocolate and glanced at him, uncertain and confused. finally he asked me a question.
"do you come to this coffee shop ever?"
"no, not really" i replied. my hands were shaking slightly, and my heart was beating way too hard, i worried that he felt it through the table and decided to lean back a little.
"do you drink coffee?" he asked
"yes, remember i was making coffee this morning when you knocked the press out of my hands" i said this in a tone i probably should have checked, but i was still so frustrated with him for being so inconsiderate.
"oh right, i meant to, uh should have..." his voice trailed off.
we sat in silence for another few minutes, i stared into my chocolate, he, out the window. after some time he stood up, gathered his coat and bag and said,
"well, i best be off, but before i go id like to ask, would you like to go for a walk sometime after work?"
"no" i said, "i think that would be a bad idea"
finally i had said what i meant. he blinked his eyes a little and looked out the window again, then looked back at me.
"em well, have a good evening" with that he turned and left, the door jingled behind him and after a moment he disappeared around the corner. i silently rejoiced, i had cut him down a little, and i had done a pretty good job of convincing him that i hated him. i almost felt guilty, he sounded defeated, and as much as i convinced myself that he didnt deserve my pity, i did hate to hurt anyone and the fact that i had nagged at me all the way home.

the life of a loyal doormat

2007-03-15T15:07:00.000-07:00

right. im a doormat. i let myself get stepped on all the time and i do it in the name of love. i am a doormat. i am at your mercy, if i care about you, i will not say no to something i can reasonably give. if i can do it for you, i will, if i can sacrifice it for you, i might give up everything. i let myself get used. i pretend to stand like a desert tower, strong, diligent and full of definite boundaries. i am its moat instead. walk over me, walk straight into my heart, do what you like, make yourself at home, etc. etc. etc. i am uncertain, i value relationships above my own thoughts, i will do anything (mark this) anything, to keep, maintain, and protect the life of a relationship. after all, they are but little plants struggling to grow, and i will pour my own blood before i let them die. i will live sick for days with a nervous stomach ache before choose to do anything that might, might effect a friendship. i am loyal, i will lay at your doorstep til you throw me in the dumpster, i am your doormat.

another reason for him to hate me: part two.

2007-03-12T12:52:00.000-07:00

i left the bathroom after taking about 5 minutes to calm myself. when i walked out into the hall, i didnt see him. i breathed a sigh of relief and walked into the kitchen. as i started to make coffee in my wee french press, i heard his voice in the hall and knew i was trapped. he walked in, haughty and aloof, ignored me, but brushed past just a bit too close. for a glorious moment i felt him near me, and while his arm bumped my shoulder, i lost grip of the french press and it fell with a brown crash to the filthy floor. i looked down, disappointed and furious at the same time, but by the time i looked back up to address him for his carelessness, he was gone. he hadnt given a single thought to the mess he had caused. i spent the morning sponging up coffee grounds from the floor and cursing him, and countering those curses with blessings. i worked the rest of the afternoon with a feeling of bitterness. i didnt know what to make of him, there were things about him that were nice, he was well born, talented, beautiful to look at, but at the same time, he had no regard for others, he was selfish, rude, condescending, and narcissistic. despite my frustration with him and my desire to forget him entirely, i found it impossible to think of anything else, and in so doing neglected parts of my job, failed in areas and forgot important steps. he was driving me insane. every step in the hall i twitched at, every strange sound made my heart jump, there was no rest in this building as long as i knew he was there. i felt trapped, but i could not give up because of him, i could not give in, because giving in, meant letting him win, and i was far too prideful for that. in the meantime, i thought, i would pretend to ignore him, to ignore the hateful comments, and the tone of voice he took with me and no one else. i swore to pretend indifference, i swore to look past him, keep my lips pressed in a firm line, and never let him know he hurt me with every glance.
at the end of the day i sneaked out past him, locked the door behind me, and stepped into the bright afternoon. the clouds had apparently surrendered to the sun and given way to a bright blue, but not warm day. the walk home was temperate, with a close look at the trees i could see that they were starting to bud, tender green knots seemed to appear on the branches overnight. velvety smooth flower buds pushed forth to meet the sun who, during the course of the day, had seduced most of them. in a moment the days worries were forgotten and i was lost in the beauty of early spring. i plucked a few flowers and smiled at their honey-smooth scent. i closed my eyes for a moment as i walked to drink more fully of them, aware of the sweet intoxication. i abruptly opened them though, i had sensed something, and as my eyes fluttered open in the blinding sunshine, i stopped dead in my tracks. he stood directly in my path.
to be continued...

another reason for him to hate me

2007-03-09T19:27:00.000-08:00

he stared at me for a moment, as if my face was melting, he stared. the simple question i asked him, out of curiosity, perplexed him somehow. i strained in the dark hallway to see his eyes, but all i caught was the dark hollow of his sockets. he replied with a blunt, if not unfriendly answer which left me feeling nonplussed and to be honest, quite diminished. i waited til he left, i was afraid to meet im on the stairs or the dark hall again, it was hard enough to be looked past and ignored, but even worse when his patronizing stare caught me off guard. soon after he left, i locked up the abbey and walked home in the rain, the autumnal trees mocked me with their bare dripping branches, i had no umbrella. when i got home i opened the door slowly, and closed it gently behind me. i stripped my wet clothes and twisted the shower knob of my porcelain tub. while i waited for the water to heat, i examined myself in the mirror, wondering what was wrong with me, if i was ugly, or unpleasant to be with. i didn't really see anything that seemed offensive, save the flab under my arms and my short, but not ugly neck. when the mirror steamed up i stepped into the shower. i washed the flabby parts of my arms and my short neck first, hoping that somehow, washing them would make them thinner or more attractive. i knew it was pointless, but i did it out of subconscious thought. i continued on to wash my hair, face, thighs, feet and belly, i felt clean enough and turned off the faucet. after putting on a clean slip, bra, skirt and a warm sweater i went into the kitchen. pulling some vegetables from the fridge for a soup, hoping to make enough for a weeks lunch, after all i had only myself to feed. as my soup simmered, i drank some scotch and started reading "dracula." i couldnt stop myself envisioning him as the cruel, but attractive dracula, he seemed to fit the description to a t, even his canine teeth were a little sharper than usual. after putting my soup away and washing the dishes i didnt feel like going out. i decided to go to bed early, i needed some extra sleep anyway and hopefully my dreams would take me where he would not.
the next morning i woke up to the sound of wind, rain and the trickling of a little river down the gutter outside my window. i had not dreamt, so i pulled myself unwillingly out of my warm nest-of-a-bed, put my hair up, put on a skirt, tights, a t-shirt and a cardigan. i wrapped a long scarf around my throat, i suppose it was a weak attempt at making my short neck appear longer. i climbed into my wellies, grabbed my lunch, and an umbrella this time, and stepped out of my apartment. as i walked down the street i noticed nothing but the oily mirrored puddles on the street corners and the cracks in the pavement. i stared at the sidewalk, protecting my already flushed face from the harsh wind. i unlocked the abbey and walked in, he was already there. i tried and tried and pretended not to see him. i pretended that i had no clue who he was. i stole one glance at him and it was at very unfortunate timing, because as i looked, i caught his eyes, stone cold and guarded. my heart flew to a panic, this was very bad, very, very bad. immediately my face turned scarlet, i could feel my face on fire. "oh god, oh god, what should i do?" i got no answer and quickly, and quite unnaturally walked to the bathroom and cooled my face with a wet paper towel. to be continued....

lovely

2007-03-05T15:27:00.000-08:00

waking up to the damp sweet smell of night being gathered up by the sun. a soft brown nest of blankets keeps me enraptured in dreams, inquisitive breeze plays cautiously with the window linen. i slip my feet from the covers, pulling myself up, i gaze upon the newest day, bright, but hazy, open the window fully, earthy, leafy and sweet. feel silky wind slide past my face, fresh baked walkways, clouds of wool, and still barren trees greet me. i am home.

all work

2007-03-02T15:07:00.000-08:00

she stretched her cramping muscles, bending her back in her chair she closed her eyes to the dim flourescent lighting and tried to ignore the din of sewing machines. her eyes fluttered open after a moment and focused on the steel pipes on the high industrial ceiling. the scent of fabric and the acrid odor of permanant marker had been making her dizzy, so she took this moment to breathe, unbend her shoulders, and move her feverish face from beneath the lamp she used to see better. the irritable electric scissors squealed in the back of the werehouse, with that, she decided to take a quick walk about the building. she stopped in the front office, looking out the window, she realized that the sky was no comfort and provided no change of feeling. it seemed to mock her with its near mirror image of her dull office. a steady rain fell, and she felt that it was the only refreshing thing that nature provided her. she stood with squinted eyes, gazing off to a nearby hill through the giant bay window that dwarfed her. rooks and seagulls flew with heavy wings across the black river, they did not invite her to join. a mint green and black tugboat rolled in lazy over the rippling water, also mocking her lack of freedom. she sighed.

birds of prey

2007-02-27T13:55:00.001-08:00

the night felt long as i sat in a yuppie bar in the heart of fremont. the ambient noise of 90's beats forgot its guests and only played what it wanted. girls in low cut shirts, tight jeans tucked into black stiletto boots, and gaudy belts shuffled in two by two. they seemed to me like elaborately groomed birds, preening their dyed and processed plumage and performing ritual dances to attract a mate. even our waitress wore a push-up bra and a revealing shirt which made me wonder if some poor man would be feeling disappointed later. bending just enough to display herself to her guests, she took orders and flirted for tips which seems odd considering most of her clientele were women. the party of girls, i call them girls because i cant call them women, across from us grew exponentially as the night dragged on, they were scarcely joined by a few men who pretended to act indifferent. they were all action and no words, a montage of buttcrack, cleavage, thick eyeliner and hearty ass slapping. i cant help but wonder where i am amongst all this, where i fit in this society of sex. i am not a sexless woman, i am not indifferent to my own flesh, but how is it that i can, and will, and choose, to restrain myself from displays of rude sexuality? in essence, why am i not like them, what separates me from them and what makes it so difficult for me to relate. i am not better, im not, but what makes me handle my desires so differently?

change of heart

2007-02-27T10:55:00.000-08:00

she had broken down several times that week, but todays breakdown was different. it was like the storm that marks the end of a season. the winds that purge the dead leaves from the trees before winter, or the torrential rains that herald the coming of spring. todays breakdown was a fight, a battle, and the end of a war. it was time for change and she felt in her soul the desire for a new direction. it was time she shed last year's skin, and she did it in one day, scrubbing it off in the shower, blow-drying it from her hair, and starting with a new face. feeling new, she stepped from her front door, strode down the hall, and walked down the hollow-sounding stairs. she stopped at the mailbox near the base of them, reached in tentatively and pulled out a single envelope addressed with her fathers sweeping handwriting. an instant smile found residence on her mouth and stayed as she opened the door from the cool hall and stepped into the temperate sunshine. she held onto the letter, too fearful to open it, afraid of the tears that were inevitable. in agonizingly slow numbered steps she opened it, #1: read the address, assess the envelope, #2 rip open the top of the letter, #3 read the first line, #4 place the letter back into the envelope unread. #5 pull out the letter again, look at it, put it down, pick it up, read it all and cry.
it said,
"dear skye,
hey there kiddo! how is work? how is life? i am so proud of you and all you accomplish. but just know that my love is unconditional! no matter what you do, you will always be loved very much by me. i was very proud, but not surprised by you being on the seattle P.I. i would like a copy of that if you could get one. things here at the ranch have been good. breakfast is served between 7:00 and 8:00, lunch 12:00 and 1:00, dinner from 5:00 to 6:00. we also get a snack at 10:00 we have a pool and a weight room to work out. I work 40 hours and i take 6 to 7 classes a week so i am quite busy. I have to go now since i have to go to work. I will write again as soon as i can. please write soon and send pictures if you can.
love, dad"
the letter read like from a kid at summer camp, but in even in its simplicity it thrilled her to read it. it blessed her to know that her father was thinking of her even in drug rehab. it was that day, like the other changes that took place, that her opinion of her father changed, and she remembered the kind of father he was. she remembered who he had been, not what he had let himself become. she remembered, that even though he had made bad choices, and been a bad person sometimes, that he had always treated her well, with love and respect, with care and teacher-like patience. she also came to the realization that if he was able to exhibit those qualities to her, then they truthfully existed within him, and that change was not impossible for him.

a ten hour adventure

2007-02-26T16:10:00.000-08:00

i fell asleep at 9:00 last night to the gentle sound of sweeping. nestled among three pillows on my kid-sized bed, rolled in a ball, knees pressed to the wall and two blankets slowly filling my limbs with warmth, i closed my eyes. i woke again at 6:15 dying of heat, and noticing the hint of pigeon-grey light outside my window. its too early. i threw off my blankets and slipped back into sleep. at 7:00 i woke feeling cold and retreived one blanket, leaving the other in the corner, nonplussed and lonely. the light began growing to a steady lucid grey, so i pulled my face under the covers, this time with my back to the wall, face nuzzled in a pillow. i dozed into a half sleep state, wondering as i sleep if what im dreaming is real, or refreshingly fake. my subconscious suddenly picked up on a roommates telephone conversation and i woke again, i can never understand why her friends call her at 7:30. i was frustrated, and rolled over again, slipping into another hazy doze of half- thought ideas, subconscious- created partial realities, and eventually, a sun heated blanket. i awoke at 8:45 and got up at 9:00.

what im falling into

2007-02-25T17:08:00.000-08:00

the sky is a cup of cream,
a flat canvas for me to paint my self confidence on
ive lost myself in a state of elation, a frivolous sweet feeling, peanut butter tongue, cranberry lips. feeling especially beautiful, new haircut vanity. tequila dizzy, and sleepy rose-faced delight. im losing myself in senses, smell, taste, touch, liquid-soft prophet's eyes. hazy gentle rain. sleeping beneath soft sheets of music. i hear the played chords of sea breath and the quivering of harp fingers. i long for the feel of moss beneath me, the rising of tides and sharp grass to lie lazy among. things do not revolve around my hands. words, breath, birds, all find their own course of life, and so will i.

clipped wings grow

2007-02-25T16:25:00.000-08:00

i sat listlessly in my car, considering the past week and the manic ups and downs ive dealt with. i turned down the radio and let myself listen to my own breath, the sound of passing cars, the rain dropping methodically from open clouds and the hum of the engine. as the rain fell and slowly slipped down into the earth, a thought trickled into my mind and i realized, life is delicate. its easy to let it slip by unchanged. i am fearful of breaking it, and so i avoid touching, embracing, or changing it. it is scarey to think of changing things, and it is easy for me to be afraid. i sometimes tend to look at life like i do snowflakes, with awe and the knowledge that if i take it into my hands, even gently, iam likely to cause a meltdown. sometimes the beauty of life is in the meltdown though, in the uncertainty of watching something that is solid, become liquid and changable. this time of my life is exciting. the newness of feeling, original thoughts and freedom of spirit is all so intimidating, but exciting and freeing.

oh god, where are you now

2006-12-26T20:26:00.000-08:00

christmas was a delicate balance of secrets we all knew, but couldnt speak, tiresome meaningless dialogue, hidden track marks, and constant effort to replace this christmas's realities with old memories. my father is leaving for oregon to live with a girlfriend he was never going to tell me about. of course he wasnt ever going to tell me about his move to oregon, or his track marks, he wasnt going to tell me about the jewelry he stole from my mother and pawned, and he surely wasnt going to tell me that his attendance at rehab was just an elaborate lie. my father wants me to be ignorant of his faults, wants to keep me innocent of his crimes. where is the father who wrote songs for me, taught me how to fix things, and taught me how to ride my bike. where is the father who taught me how to draw, and then nurtured my artistic abilities? there is no trace of that father left. i dont know where he went. i feel like my father has died.

brother security

2006-12-04T10:42:00.000-08:00

i, like many unfortunate girls in this world, have never had a brother. i didnt grow up with the roughousing and competition that my friends who have brothers dealt with. but most importantly, i never had a boy to stand up and say, "who the fuck is this guy who's trying to date my sister???" i never had anyone with that protective instinct towards me except my dad. i always took those responses from my dad very badly and actually didnt understand them. perhaps if i had grown up with a brother, i would take his care and concern about who i date for granted, and probably learn to ignore it. but now, later in life, i live with two assumed brothers, one younger, and one older. their advise and protective inclinations are valuable to me. i hold that very close to my heart. cory, the older, is so similar to my mom that i cant help but feel like he did grow up with me. we are so similar ourselves, that, as much as i like to hang out with him, eventually, we cant stand each other. steven, is the apple of my eye. i cant stop my own protective instincts towards him, and i have the constant urge to feed him and take care of him. last night i had such an anxious stomach ache, steven came and hung out with me downstairs, and when he was done giving me advise and making me laugh, my anxiety was gone. earlier that day, corey told me how he was feeling the need to go out with me the night before to meet some people at a bar. he told me that because we were such like brother and sister, that he wanted to go along just as a protective presence. i am not taking this for granted. these boys are precious to me, and i care for them more and more each day. this is a blessing.

lost in translation

2006-12-03T14:22:00.000-08:00

i keep listening to casimir pulaski day by sufjan stevens, i am frustrated and i feel totally lost in translation. i know this phrase doesnt really apply to people so much, but its how i feel, so bear with me. i am constantly frustrated at myself because i tend to waver between being lonely and being satisfied with being single. someone asked me last night, probably with quite wise intuition, if i was lonely, and the answer i gave was a lie. i said no to that question and betrayed my own heart. i feel the need to not let people know just how lonely i am. for me, that decision comes with the intent of not putting pressure on said person. i dont want people to feel the need to hang around me more than they normally would just to keep me from being lonely. the truth is, i dont need a man. i have all the resources i need to take absolute care of myself. unfortunately, having the ability to care for oneself does not mean that you dont want someone to love or care for and it doesnt nullify the desire to be with someone and to have someones neck to kiss. i hate being lonely, but im not desperate. im not just going to find some random guy and hope he sticks around til i can find someone better. im too careful with my choices, and my choices are never reciprocated. i am frustrated, lonely, anxious, and scared. i think im scared to hear " i dont feel that way about you "... again. im scared of being lonely for the rest of my life.

unusually beautiful

2006-11-30T09:45:00.000-08:00

as i stepped outside, i marvelled at the soft noise the large feather snowflakes made when they landed in my hair. i listened, and heard nothing more than the sound of snow colliding with earth, and the crunching of my feet as i walked up fremont avenue. i looked up and stared with squinted eyes to the streetlights and the black sky beyond. i left my tracks behind me.
i love that when it snows i cant keep myself from giggling like a preteen when a huge flake lands spot on in my mouth. earlier that night i had dinner with my mates, then sat on the couch, legs curled under me, sketching. sometime after, steven stepped in the livingroom, and with a childish expression, asked cory if he wanted to, "go ride bikes in the snow" with the emphasis being on the word snow, he definately got our attention. we were all action then, each of us making our way down the cold hall to the door. i saw the mood change in us as we stepped, one by one, into the night. by the blue light of the street lamps we saw that everything was slowly being erased by snow. unearthly sounds of awe escaped our mouths as we crunched and slid and skidded along the ice.
we know our world so well and the places that surround us are so familiar. its strange, but that all changes when it snows, we step out like toddlers exploring what we've never seen. then, with joy, we revert to our childhoods, and scream and giggle, and play games, throwing ice and snow at each other, and searching for cover. thirty and twenty five year old men become eight again. we forget what bothers us about each other, we forget our pains and struggles and at that moment, we are ageless, happy children.