JOB #1 - SHOEFLY
title: mignion
duties: listening to boring people talk about how cute the ugliest pair of shoes in the store are and pretending to care and doing the bidding of the owners no matter how unfair it is while being heinously underpaid.
JOB #2 - ALASKA CANOPY ADVENTURES
title: herder
duties: dealing with angry tourists, explaining to them that they cannot go on the tour because, sir, i'm sorry, your girth is far too expansive for the little guides to be able to save when you don't pay attention to the instructions by these guides and get stuck in the middle of the wire. Being yelled at, being called names and ultimately, taking the brunt of the anger so that the people behind the scenes may save face and the large tourists may feel some sort of vindication on their trip and have someone to blame for how terrible the cruise was. Shuffling them onto the busses, to become someone else's problem while I wait for the next group of buffet-eating fuckwads.
you should hire me because I'm good at dealing with assholes and won't start swearing until after the tourists are out of earshot.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
neither rhyme nor reason
Budapest, Hungary
October 31, 2008
---unrelated---
It starts slowly at first
one small thing will start to eat away at me, one thing that I'll try to shrug away.
It'll just keep sitting there
in the middle of my gut
it's all I'll think about
It'll bother me, but outside I'll have a smile on my face.
It starts small, but every day it gets bigger, until one day I can't hide from it.
Until one day, and it's ripping me apart.
One day and the next I'm back to normal.
Like the last week never happened.
Lather rinse repeat.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
chercher
She fell to the floor. Every ounce of strength suddenly drained out of her, and the floor was the only thing holding her up - the floor and the counter top behind her. All she could hear was the constant humming of the machines in the room, the beeping, the occasional scratching of pens. She couldn't muster up the strength to get up and turn around by herself. The only thing that made her stand up and face reality, was the thought that she was still breathing.
All she could respond with was no. No, no, this is dumb, it doesn't make sense, NO. Even though it made perfect sense. Even though she should have done it before. She was afraid of being alone, and it was unfair to you. She wanted you to hold her together, find her independence. And she sunk to the floor again, lay on it staring up at the ceiling, like she used to do as a child. She used to lay on the floor and stare, imagining shooting stars and spaceships in a made-up night sky. She lay on the floor, absorbing this rejection.
It was an instant flood of tears, when she found out. She leaned against the beer-soaked counter top. She couldn't say congratulations, she couldn't feign happiness, she just stood there and cried, realizing that her strongest tree was moving across the country in just a month's time.
She dropped to the floor when she stepped into the only room she had ever known. She dropped to the floor, and began hysterically crying. She was alone, with only the comfort of her dog. She was alone, in a room that she couldn't recognize anymore. She screamed, WHY. Shouting at God, shouting, hoping that He'd answer and tell her that there's a reason for all of this loss. A reason for this weakness and crying.
She sat in her room every night. She snuggled down in her blankets, fighting out the cold and reading about other people's lives late into the night. This was the only thing that got her through her own - throwing herself into the lives of others.
She wrote. She wrote something everyday, her mind never failing her. She wrote about the pain of being alone, of being surrounded by people and not feeling the warmth of those people's hearts. She wrote.
She sunk down into the chairs of busy coffee shops, finding solace in the bustling around her, in the laughter of others and the warmth of the cup wrapped underneath her fingers. She hid in the libraries, calming herself with the purposeful duties of school. Wandering around the stacks of books, and hiding in the corner, reading the book she pulled out of the J's.
Slowly she found love again. She didn't want to surrender herself to it. She didn't think she could, but life had different plans for her. She surrendered to the picking hands of love.
She lost herself in it, she let go of her apprehensions, thinking that maybe it would be right this time.
She would later find out that it wasn't.
She sunk into the seat of the plane, embarking on her four month long journey with a heavy heart, torn between knowing that she needed to leave in order to find herself again, and between wanting to be surrounded by that love that had recently found her. She sunk into her chair and slept for 3 days.
She slept for 2 months.
She woke up after the reaching arms of betrayal plucked her from her slumber. She woke up a cynic, but she did wake up.
She stood up and began the adventure that should have begun two months prior.
She sat on train after train, lost herself in the fields passing her, experienced the streets of new places.
She spun around in fields.
She lay down in the grass and stared up at a sky too blue to be real.
She found her independence on the streets of Krakow.
She danced on the streets of Vienna.
She sunk to the ground in Auschwitz.
She sunk to the ground next to the Berlin Wall.
She sunk to the ground in the Jewish Ghetto.
She sat on a bench outside of Hungary's Parliament.
She leaned back on the warmed walls of the Salzburg Fortress.
She found herself in the streets of Krakow.
Her steps back onto the plane were stronger, but unsure.
She fell into the arms of familiar faces. She returned unsure, but confident.
Now she's sitting on the floor of her kitchen.
She had sunk to the floor of her kitchen, not in despair, but in complete contentment. In complete relief of finding herself again. She's sitting on the floor, waiting for the dough to rise. She's sitting on the floor surrounded by her family.
A patched up heart and one year later.
All she could respond with was no. No, no, this is dumb, it doesn't make sense, NO. Even though it made perfect sense. Even though she should have done it before. She was afraid of being alone, and it was unfair to you. She wanted you to hold her together, find her independence. And she sunk to the floor again, lay on it staring up at the ceiling, like she used to do as a child. She used to lay on the floor and stare, imagining shooting stars and spaceships in a made-up night sky. She lay on the floor, absorbing this rejection.
It was an instant flood of tears, when she found out. She leaned against the beer-soaked counter top. She couldn't say congratulations, she couldn't feign happiness, she just stood there and cried, realizing that her strongest tree was moving across the country in just a month's time.
She dropped to the floor when she stepped into the only room she had ever known. She dropped to the floor, and began hysterically crying. She was alone, with only the comfort of her dog. She was alone, in a room that she couldn't recognize anymore. She screamed, WHY. Shouting at God, shouting, hoping that He'd answer and tell her that there's a reason for all of this loss. A reason for this weakness and crying.
She sat in her room every night. She snuggled down in her blankets, fighting out the cold and reading about other people's lives late into the night. This was the only thing that got her through her own - throwing herself into the lives of others.
She wrote. She wrote something everyday, her mind never failing her. She wrote about the pain of being alone, of being surrounded by people and not feeling the warmth of those people's hearts. She wrote.
She sunk down into the chairs of busy coffee shops, finding solace in the bustling around her, in the laughter of others and the warmth of the cup wrapped underneath her fingers. She hid in the libraries, calming herself with the purposeful duties of school. Wandering around the stacks of books, and hiding in the corner, reading the book she pulled out of the J's.
Slowly she found love again. She didn't want to surrender herself to it. She didn't think she could, but life had different plans for her. She surrendered to the picking hands of love.
She lost herself in it, she let go of her apprehensions, thinking that maybe it would be right this time.
She would later find out that it wasn't.
She sunk into the seat of the plane, embarking on her four month long journey with a heavy heart, torn between knowing that she needed to leave in order to find herself again, and between wanting to be surrounded by that love that had recently found her. She sunk into her chair and slept for 3 days.
She slept for 2 months.
She woke up after the reaching arms of betrayal plucked her from her slumber. She woke up a cynic, but she did wake up.
She stood up and began the adventure that should have begun two months prior.
She sat on train after train, lost herself in the fields passing her, experienced the streets of new places.
She spun around in fields.
She lay down in the grass and stared up at a sky too blue to be real.
She found her independence on the streets of Krakow.
She danced on the streets of Vienna.
She sunk to the ground in Auschwitz.
She sunk to the ground next to the Berlin Wall.
She sunk to the ground in the Jewish Ghetto.
She sat on a bench outside of Hungary's Parliament.
She leaned back on the warmed walls of the Salzburg Fortress.
She found herself in the streets of Krakow.
Her steps back onto the plane were stronger, but unsure.
She fell into the arms of familiar faces. She returned unsure, but confident.
Now she's sitting on the floor of her kitchen.
She had sunk to the floor of her kitchen, not in despair, but in complete contentment. In complete relief of finding herself again. She's sitting on the floor, waiting for the dough to rise. She's sitting on the floor surrounded by her family.
A patched up heart and one year later.
I'm home.
It's weird and though I really want to hop on the next available plane back to anywhere in Europe, I am looking forward to some things here. Being across the Atlantic Ocean did it's job. I am nervous that there will be some reverse progress, but I guess I'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now I'm fighting jet lag and waiting patiently until my Aunt Didi gets here tonight.
I think now, more than ever, I recognize the things that need changing here.
It will be good.
I hope.
I ran away from a lot, and I knew that I was going to have to deal with it when I got back over here. Man, that first day was weird, for so many reasons. I guess I'll get into that later. I have a doctor appointment.
It's weird and though I really want to hop on the next available plane back to anywhere in Europe, I am looking forward to some things here. Being across the Atlantic Ocean did it's job. I am nervous that there will be some reverse progress, but I guess I'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now I'm fighting jet lag and waiting patiently until my Aunt Didi gets here tonight.
I think now, more than ever, I recognize the things that need changing here.
It will be good.
I hope.
I ran away from a lot, and I knew that I was going to have to deal with it when I got back over here. Man, that first day was weird, for so many reasons. I guess I'll get into that later. I have a doctor appointment.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
homeless
settling into a long strain of finding homes and searching for homes
stressfulhome.homeless.juneauhome.homeless.viennahome.homeless.
.awkwardhome.homeless.illegalhome.homeless.temporaryhome.
this is the last 7 months.
I think I might actually be looking forward to the day where I buy myself a home and live in it for more than 9 months at a time. The endless scrounging for a decent place to live is exhausting.
stressfulhome.homeless.juneauhome.homeless.viennahome.homeless.
.awkwardhome.homeless.illegalhome.homeless.temporaryhome.
this is the last 7 months.
I think I might actually be looking forward to the day where I buy myself a home and live in it for more than 9 months at a time. The endless scrounging for a decent place to live is exhausting.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Manifestations
of a childhood dream
in the largest leaf pile
known to man.
Stadtpark
Wien, Osterreich
29.Oktober.2008
in the largest leaf pile
known to man.
Stadtpark
Wien, Osterreich
29.Oktober.2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
What I want right now
is a late night breeze-in run
for doughnuts and slushies
followed up by
a drive out thane road
singing loudly to music
and going over the speed limit
on that road filled with pot holes
that feels too small for two cars to pass each other on
eventually ending up in the Wharf
sauntering into Pel'meni
greeting drunks
and going outside to accompany a friend
as they smoke
and a walk on the docks.
I miss my girls
I miss my bedroom
at the corner of the house
without insulation.
is a late night breeze-in run
for doughnuts and slushies
followed up by
a drive out thane road
singing loudly to music
and going over the speed limit
on that road filled with pot holes
that feels too small for two cars to pass each other on
eventually ending up in the Wharf
sauntering into Pel'meni
greeting drunks
and going outside to accompany a friend
as they smoke
and a walk on the docks.
I miss my girls
I miss my bedroom
at the corner of the house
without insulation.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
in transit
...from a park bench at the base of Wawel Castle...
Probably one of my favorite things about traveling around here is going by train. You pass through so many little towns and see the countryside that you normally would never get to see. We just passed into the Czech Republic on the way to Poland. Only one thing seemed different from Austria, and that's the colors. The countryside here has the beautiful autumn colors - red, orange, yellow (even the browns here are beautiful), in full force.
I love being able to make up stories for the little villages we pass by, I think my favorite are the lonesome houses. These houses are surrounded by large, bountiful gardens. They always have a grand tree close to the house, and the houses themselves are always small and appear to be falling apart. You know that these houses have stayed in families for centuries because you know that hardly anyone would want to live all alone next to the train tracks.
All in all, it's just the shear beauty that strikes you.
It reminds me why I'm here in the first place - to see and experience the beauty of the things in Europe that have survived centuries of wars. When I see this beauty, I also hope that my faith in all of that will fill me up again, like it used to before I started actively participating in life.
I hope that I never get too jaded to be able to recognize the inherent beauty of the world around me.
And on the side of the tracks there are men digging ditches.
And o the side of the tracks you see a mother showing her son the trains.
And on the side of the tracks is something new to you.
You see forests of trees in which every tree changes color. This time of year, the forest floor is a soft and vibrant carpet of red.
This is the sort of place that autumn was made for.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
bikes don't look like this where i come from
She's been on a three month break from reality
and the break ends in exactly one month.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
too fast
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slow down.
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown
slow down.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Krakow
I spent the weekend in Krakow. It was amazing. If anyone ever gets the chance to go to Poland, please do. This is an underestimated and overlooked country. The people are amazingly helpful and friendly, even though most of the time you must communicate in wild gestures and pointing. The food is filling and tasty and the country itself is beautiful.
And again I feel amazing.
side note: there isn't really much better than ending a day with listening to Amanda Palmer and reflecting on the good things.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
glass hearts
Not sure if your shaky hands
are because you're cold
girls with glass hearts should always carry around super glue.
are because you're cold
girls with glass hearts should always carry around super glue.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
"two whiskey and cokes please"
It's the kind of place that wouldn't feel right without the plumes of cigarette smoke curling their way slowly up toward the ceiling. The walls are made purely out of brick, and out of the corner of your eye you notice a slow trickle of water. Your eye follows the trickle up to the top of the curved ceiling, where it's origin is. That, and the brick walls, remind you that you're underground.
The music is jazz. You aren't sure if the music is being improvised or not, but you pretend that it is because it adds to the romance of the place. You never really liked jazz, not until you got to hear it live. You definitely don't experience the passion in the music when it's just being played out of speakers.
You aren't alone.
You're reminded of this when the person you came with gets annoyed at the lack of service and goes to get your drinks. Whiskey and coke for the both of you. The service doesn't bother you, you're still caught up in the story you're making up for this place.
He comes back with your drinks and your attention is drawn away from the dripping on the wall. He starts chatting about religion. No, not really chatting, he starts talking at you about religion. He wants to prove to you that you shouldn't believe in God, that in reality, it's pointless. You're only half listening to what he says. You glance around and see couples of college students everywhere. Boys and boys, girls and girls, boys and girls. They are seemingly engaged in similar conversations and you wonder if anyone is really listening.
Slowly your eyes travel back toward the musicians. He doesn't notice, he's too engaged in the conversation with himself.
You begin to envy the musicians.
You wish that you too could throw all of your emotion into something beautiful. You want to be able to sing out your emotion, and hope that someone will understand what you feel and sing along.
You get lost in the plumes of smoke and the music. You see the sadness in the guitarist's eyes and begin to wonder who he's playing for.
Maybe hes playing to someone who broke his heart, maybe he's playing to someone he lost in that inevitable way of death. Your eyes mirror the sadness in his, and you unconsciously begin to play with him, now only hearing the music from the guitar, now only caring that the person you two are play to is listening and hearing your joint pain. Maybe they'll hear it if you play louder, the pain of two souls instead of just one.
And then you're just an audience member again. Just one of the pretentious college students pretending to care about jazz, arguing about the validity of religion, talking at each other, only loving the sounds of your own voices.
But part of you still feels the pain of that guitarist and you hold on to that, perhaps hoping that he's carrying part of your pain, as you are his. Lessening the burdens of each others hearts.
The music stops and you and your friend decide that it's time to leave. You get up absently, he's still trying to argue that we are all one-in-the-same spirit. You blandly appease the argument as you walk back the the subway. You say that though you see that too, and maybe religion has done a lot in terms of causing wars, it's done good things.
But you're still thinking about the music you played from the guitar, each step is a cord expertly strummed. You know that your friend doesn't really care, he just wants something to get worked up about, a face to talk at, because he's just as lonely as you are. You make plans to go back to the leaky ceiling, to cure your loneliness together, though not saying a word to the other about it.
Next time he'll start in on spirituality vs. religion. All you'll hear is, two whiskey and cokes please, while you lend your heart to the guitarist on stage among the plumes of smoke.
The music is jazz. You aren't sure if the music is being improvised or not, but you pretend that it is because it adds to the romance of the place. You never really liked jazz, not until you got to hear it live. You definitely don't experience the passion in the music when it's just being played out of speakers.
You aren't alone.
You're reminded of this when the person you came with gets annoyed at the lack of service and goes to get your drinks. Whiskey and coke for the both of you. The service doesn't bother you, you're still caught up in the story you're making up for this place.
He comes back with your drinks and your attention is drawn away from the dripping on the wall. He starts chatting about religion. No, not really chatting, he starts talking at you about religion. He wants to prove to you that you shouldn't believe in God, that in reality, it's pointless. You're only half listening to what he says. You glance around and see couples of college students everywhere. Boys and boys, girls and girls, boys and girls. They are seemingly engaged in similar conversations and you wonder if anyone is really listening.
Slowly your eyes travel back toward the musicians. He doesn't notice, he's too engaged in the conversation with himself.
You begin to envy the musicians.
You wish that you too could throw all of your emotion into something beautiful. You want to be able to sing out your emotion, and hope that someone will understand what you feel and sing along.
You get lost in the plumes of smoke and the music. You see the sadness in the guitarist's eyes and begin to wonder who he's playing for.
Maybe hes playing to someone who broke his heart, maybe he's playing to someone he lost in that inevitable way of death. Your eyes mirror the sadness in his, and you unconsciously begin to play with him, now only hearing the music from the guitar, now only caring that the person you two are play to is listening and hearing your joint pain. Maybe they'll hear it if you play louder, the pain of two souls instead of just one.
And then you're just an audience member again. Just one of the pretentious college students pretending to care about jazz, arguing about the validity of religion, talking at each other, only loving the sounds of your own voices.
But part of you still feels the pain of that guitarist and you hold on to that, perhaps hoping that he's carrying part of your pain, as you are his. Lessening the burdens of each others hearts.
The music stops and you and your friend decide that it's time to leave. You get up absently, he's still trying to argue that we are all one-in-the-same spirit. You blandly appease the argument as you walk back the the subway. You say that though you see that too, and maybe religion has done a lot in terms of causing wars, it's done good things.
But you're still thinking about the music you played from the guitar, each step is a cord expertly strummed. You know that your friend doesn't really care, he just wants something to get worked up about, a face to talk at, because he's just as lonely as you are. You make plans to go back to the leaky ceiling, to cure your loneliness together, though not saying a word to the other about it.
Next time he'll start in on spirituality vs. religion. All you'll hear is, two whiskey and cokes please, while you lend your heart to the guitarist on stage among the plumes of smoke.
Monday, September 29, 2008
despair.
I've been spouting my happiness on both of my blogs, in emails, in phone calls. I can honestly say that the last two weeks were my happiest two weeks in the last year.
But that feeling is gone and I don't know what to do. This whole year has been a constant flow of ups and downs and it started at the heart attack (or maybe i just started noticing it as something since the heart attack). When i really think about it, I realize that I've been this way since high school. I was talking to my mom yesterday and she affirmed that fact.
First I wanted to blame it on the family stuff, and then I wanted to blame it on the break up with Morgan. Next I wanted to blame it on Sara moving and then bad relationships with my roommates. I then wanted to blame it on my parents moving, and then on me moving to austria and lastly I wanted to blame it on Tom.
And though those were all difficult things for me to deal with, I don't think i can blame this depression on it because it feels deeper than that. I'm so used to being able to control my emotions, and I haven't been able to do that. There's something deeper controlling this. I really thought that I just needed a change of scenery, that I would find the happiness that I was looking for outside of the drama polluted Seattle. That hasn't happened.
It's cyclical, I'm finding. I'll be sad for a few more days, I'll cry uncontrollably for a few more days, and then I'll feel like I've stepped out of a cloud. i'll feel good about myself, my friendships I've made, the friendships I've lost, the things i'm about to go out and see and do. But then I'll slowly get sad again, it won't be immediate. There will be one thing that will just eat at me for a couple of days and then I'll burst into tears and force my mom to talk to me for a few (very expensive) hours. It's really an uncontrollable loneliness.
Before I was trying to depend on others, and I know that I can have happiness without these other people, the last two weeks showed me that. But I'm starting to realize that there's something seriously wrong when all I want to do is sleep or lie in bed and watch movies the entire day and I don't even have the desire to get up and feed myself because that means have to be around people.
Maybe I was just better at controlling it before, or maybe it was having my family close to help me know that I am not alone, or maybe it really has gotten worse. I was never able to acknowledge it before because I was never allowed to be that person who needs help.
I was (am) always the friend who listens.
The one that tells you you'll get through it, that you're strong, and that you deserve more.
I've never really been allowed to think or talk about my own problems, not until recently.
I'm fragile and I don't know if there's anyone who can help me.
I'm fragile and all people know how to do is hurt me.
I'll have happiness again in a couple of days. Until then, not even sitting in the shadow of the Staatsoper which has been standing since 1869 can make me feel glad to live here.
But that feeling is gone and I don't know what to do. This whole year has been a constant flow of ups and downs and it started at the heart attack (or maybe i just started noticing it as something since the heart attack). When i really think about it, I realize that I've been this way since high school. I was talking to my mom yesterday and she affirmed that fact.
First I wanted to blame it on the family stuff, and then I wanted to blame it on the break up with Morgan. Next I wanted to blame it on Sara moving and then bad relationships with my roommates. I then wanted to blame it on my parents moving, and then on me moving to austria and lastly I wanted to blame it on Tom.
And though those were all difficult things for me to deal with, I don't think i can blame this depression on it because it feels deeper than that. I'm so used to being able to control my emotions, and I haven't been able to do that. There's something deeper controlling this. I really thought that I just needed a change of scenery, that I would find the happiness that I was looking for outside of the drama polluted Seattle. That hasn't happened.
It's cyclical, I'm finding. I'll be sad for a few more days, I'll cry uncontrollably for a few more days, and then I'll feel like I've stepped out of a cloud. i'll feel good about myself, my friendships I've made, the friendships I've lost, the things i'm about to go out and see and do. But then I'll slowly get sad again, it won't be immediate. There will be one thing that will just eat at me for a couple of days and then I'll burst into tears and force my mom to talk to me for a few (very expensive) hours. It's really an uncontrollable loneliness.
Before I was trying to depend on others, and I know that I can have happiness without these other people, the last two weeks showed me that. But I'm starting to realize that there's something seriously wrong when all I want to do is sleep or lie in bed and watch movies the entire day and I don't even have the desire to get up and feed myself because that means have to be around people.
Maybe I was just better at controlling it before, or maybe it was having my family close to help me know that I am not alone, or maybe it really has gotten worse. I was never able to acknowledge it before because I was never allowed to be that person who needs help.
I was (am) always the friend who listens.
The one that tells you you'll get through it, that you're strong, and that you deserve more.
I've never really been allowed to think or talk about my own problems, not until recently.
I'm fragile and I don't know if there's anyone who can help me.
I'm fragile and all people know how to do is hurt me.
I'll have happiness again in a couple of days. Until then, not even sitting in the shadow of the Staatsoper which has been standing since 1869 can make me feel glad to live here.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
hands
I started drawing this on the train from Vienna to Salzburg about a month ago, I finished it while sitting in the fortress which oversees the city of Salzburg.
"Not even my
phantom tree
could save me from the picking hands
of betrayal
of having to admit something
I've been afraid of."
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Munich. uncensored version kinda.
**writing it on a 5 euro bill
ME: This is my email, if you can make it out, feel free to email me. If you can't, whatever.
**group of three boys start talking to me, so I humor the conversation. Teal gets up and leaves with aussie bicycle boy.
Teal: HEY! HEY! GET IT GRRL! GET US SOME DRINKS!
**Swedish boy who has better skin than anyone I've ever seen
should be gay: Hey, so, I don't smoke, but if I did, I would ask if you wanted to go outside and smoke.
ME: I don't smoke either.
S.B.G.: So, do you want to go outside and smoke?
ME: OKAY.
**Teal comes back from next door, I'm still chatting with the three of before.
Teal to me: HA. I just kissed a boy.
GERMAN: *GIVES WEIRD LOOK*
Teal to me again: I lost my belt.
**and then she begins flirting with the germ. Is seen later leaving bar linking arms with germ.
**Bartender comes over.
BAR: what would you like?
ME: I like whiskey.
**comes back with two Baileys shots.
ME: That's not whiskey
Teal: OH WELL, PROST!
will be going back to Munich.
ME: This is my email, if you can make it out, feel free to email me. If you can't, whatever.
**group of three boys start talking to me, so I humor the conversation. Teal gets up and leaves with aussie bicycle boy.
Teal: HEY! HEY! GET IT GRRL! GET US SOME DRINKS!
**Swedish boy who has better skin than anyone I've ever seen
should be gay: Hey, so, I don't smoke, but if I did, I would ask if you wanted to go outside and smoke.
ME: I don't smoke either.
S.B.G.: So, do you want to go outside and smoke?
ME: OKAY.
**Teal comes back from next door, I'm still chatting with the three of before.
Teal to me: HA. I just kissed a boy.
GERMAN: *GIVES WEIRD LOOK*
Teal to me again: I lost my belt.
**and then she begins flirting with the germ. Is seen later leaving bar linking arms with germ.
**Bartender comes over.
BAR: what would you like?
ME: I like whiskey.
**comes back with two Baileys shots.
ME: That's not whiskey
Teal: OH WELL, PROST!
will be going back to Munich.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
This past year has been the year that life finally started happening to me. Until then, I coasted through life, never experienced drama focused on me, never had anything really happen. But this year I keep choosing this things that i know are not the right things. They are the things that make me happy at the time, but ultimately leave me crest fallen. It always feels right, but there's always something nagging at me.
I don't know.
I think I need to pay attention to my gut more.
I don't know.
I think I need to pay attention to my gut more.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
how quickly timee flys
its been a month since i left the states
and it only feels like its been a few days
its been a year since the heart attack
and it only feels like its been a month
im excited to continue this adventure here
but im excited to continue my life in seattle
im so glad you fought your way back to us, sister
i love you so much.
i dont think ill ever be able to express how glad i was
that you recognized me on that day you opened your eyes.
thank you.
i love you
see you in a few months.
and it only feels like its been a few days
its been a year since the heart attack
and it only feels like its been a month
im excited to continue this adventure here
but im excited to continue my life in seattle
im so glad you fought your way back to us, sister
i love you so much.
i dont think ill ever be able to express how glad i was
that you recognized me on that day you opened your eyes.
thank you.
i love you
see you in a few months.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Gypsy.
I was looking forward, for so many weeks, to coming back home. Coming back to a place (most likely for the last time) in which I know every street, I have a story about every corner. I was looking forward to coming back to the town where my little five-year old feet walked in the same places as my 20-year old ones.
Instead of finding familiar solace in this town, I can only feel how out of place I am here. I'm no longer content just sitting and watching movies every night. The people I grew up with sit and stare at me when I say something that others would nod at or laugh at.
But I'm no longer content with Seattle either. So I've picked a new city to live in, and I wonder if I'm going to find discomfort in that new city just like I have in these old ones.
Will Seattle be more comfortable once I've been gone on a four and a half month romp in Europe?
or will I forever want to explore new cities, only to find myself turning into a Gypsy?
Instead of finding familiar solace in this town, I can only feel how out of place I am here. I'm no longer content just sitting and watching movies every night. The people I grew up with sit and stare at me when I say something that others would nod at or laugh at.
But I'm no longer content with Seattle either. So I've picked a new city to live in, and I wonder if I'm going to find discomfort in that new city just like I have in these old ones.
Will Seattle be more comfortable once I've been gone on a four and a half month romp in Europe?
or will I forever want to explore new cities, only to find myself turning into a Gypsy?
Saturday, June 21, 2008
reckless ambition
She never noticed how quickly the clouds moved here.
They moved even too quickly to lie in the grass and create animals out of the shapes that they might make. All she could do was lie there and let time slow down as the clouds spend on. Today was the first day that she'd found solace in a simple thing and she needed that because her life hadn't stopped moving at all in the last year.
Her heart wouldn't stop thinking.
And all the thinking her heart was doing was just getting her into more trouble.
And while she lie there, she moved away with the clouds, speeding faster and faster - far away from the troubles caused by her heart. She found herself in the mountains of East Africa, where lakes lie peacefully in forests full of gorillas. This fantasy she hadn't allowed herself to feel for years, since the days she began to think more practically. But here she was, standing by one of those beautiful clear lakes, untouched by the ruthless hands of modern technology. She listened to the far away calls of the gorillas and flocks of birds bursting through the trees as they are disrupted by some forest-dwellers. She closed her eyes there - in that forest - and her heart began to cry and soar at the same time.
Because she was there.
Twenty and remembering the fantasies of an ambitious eleven year-old who's only goal was to save those less fortunate than her. Twenty and knowing how it feels to be freed from the daily toils of trying to prove her self-worth to strangers whom she will never see again. Twenty and freed from trying to be who she thinks she's supposed to be for the ones she cares about most.
And when she opens her eyes again, she sees the clouds slow above and she knows that she still has it in her.
She still has the reckless ambition of her eleven year-old self which is all she needs in order to make her life worth it.
They moved even too quickly to lie in the grass and create animals out of the shapes that they might make. All she could do was lie there and let time slow down as the clouds spend on. Today was the first day that she'd found solace in a simple thing and she needed that because her life hadn't stopped moving at all in the last year.
Her heart wouldn't stop thinking.
And all the thinking her heart was doing was just getting her into more trouble.
And while she lie there, she moved away with the clouds, speeding faster and faster - far away from the troubles caused by her heart. She found herself in the mountains of East Africa, where lakes lie peacefully in forests full of gorillas. This fantasy she hadn't allowed herself to feel for years, since the days she began to think more practically. But here she was, standing by one of those beautiful clear lakes, untouched by the ruthless hands of modern technology. She listened to the far away calls of the gorillas and flocks of birds bursting through the trees as they are disrupted by some forest-dwellers. She closed her eyes there - in that forest - and her heart began to cry and soar at the same time.
Because she was there.
Twenty and remembering the fantasies of an ambitious eleven year-old who's only goal was to save those less fortunate than her. Twenty and knowing how it feels to be freed from the daily toils of trying to prove her self-worth to strangers whom she will never see again. Twenty and freed from trying to be who she thinks she's supposed to be for the ones she cares about most.
And when she opens her eyes again, she sees the clouds slow above and she knows that she still has it in her.
She still has the reckless ambition of her eleven year-old self which is all she needs in order to make her life worth it.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
hiding from what you know is true
Asking herself the question:
Are you welcoming all of your life's drama for the sake of entertainment or because it's important to you?
does it matter in the end?
caring too much about something which will probably just leave her unhappily jaded.
but if she's okay now, does that say something?
THE HAPPIEST SHE'S BEEN SINCE
the heart attack
doesn't that say something? happy without you
but glad to have her friend back
only finding it hard to keep from holding his hand
and wanting to kiss him
but she refuses to get hurt again...
like last time.
so she closes herself off a bit
she's been successful at it before
don't tell him you miss him
just say hi and ask how his week was
and oh! I read the best book the other day!
maybe the hugs are a little tighter than they would be
maybe the eyes linger with a playful smile a little longer than they would
if they didn't miss holding hands
but oh! such a good book!
and have you tried this tea? i think it's my new favorite.
Are you welcoming all of your life's drama for the sake of entertainment or because it's important to you?
does it matter in the end?
caring too much about something which will probably just leave her unhappily jaded.
but if she's okay now, does that say something?
THE HAPPIEST SHE'S BEEN SINCE
the heart attack
doesn't that say something? happy without you
but glad to have her friend back
only finding it hard to keep from holding his hand
and wanting to kiss him
but she refuses to get hurt again...
like last time.
so she closes herself off a bit
she's been successful at it before
don't tell him you miss him
just say hi and ask how his week was
and oh! I read the best book the other day!
maybe the hugs are a little tighter than they would be
maybe the eyes linger with a playful smile a little longer than they would
if they didn't miss holding hands
but oh! such a good book!
and have you tried this tea? i think it's my new favorite.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Papillon Cottage
Advertisment:
This cottage is for the broken,
for those looking to mend
their hearts.
They will find joy
in les papillons
et les fleurs.
This is not for the emotionally stable
but for those seeking
to untie the unpleasant knots
in their stomachs.
Because here you will
fall asleep in the uncut grass
and wake up blanketed
by the gentle wings of
les papillons.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Falling Asleep While Standing
The sky was full of patchy clouds, the kind that look like they're fighting the sun for ownership over that great expanse. The song in her ears made her want to both cry and laugh hysterically. the strong strum of the violins in this otherwise happy song was enough to make her want to melt into sadness. The violin bows played on the fragile strings of her heart, though the breeze was pleasant and the sun warmed her back - the violins made her want to cry. Each strum made her heart yell out for the people who had lost a love like she had, a love she didn't know if she would be able to go back to. The gentle chords, the vibrato, the staccato, the hum which grew louder within her as the song moved along gave her a sadness which overwhelmed her entire being. And even as she felt this sadness, she was greeted with an irrepressible smile.
She smiled because the sun fought back the clouds heroically - it's only foe up there. She smiled because she was caught up in the emotions of that moment, the fact that she realized that she knew what it was to lose, but also what it was to gain, two things she would never give up. The smile lingered on her face, and passersby couldn't help but be caught up in it - ignoring the salty wetness hidden behind her eyes. Her eyes always betrayed her heart. Wanting to keep this moment to herself, she buried her face in her scarf, covering up that smile, allowing it to belong only to her. The smile was for the fact that she was there, in that spring breeze. Smiling, and all the while feeling the strings of the violin tugging at her heart and battling tears.
And in that day in the city, leaving the coffee drinkers behind, her mind traveled back to just a few days before, when she buried her face in her scarf not to hide anything from anyone, but the shrug up some warmth. Her sadness was replaced momentarily by warmth given to her from a bonfire in the home in which a piece of her heart would forever lie.
It had only been twenty-five degrees out that night and the sky was still and clear. Perhaps the state of the sky reflected the state of her soul, because at this time it wasn't battling anything, only allowing the stars to twinkle brightly. She looked up and felt God there, felt the stillness of her heart stir with joy. She had been looking for a reason to escape the monotony of the apartment, so she and a friend met with others to build a bonfire. It didn't matter that she didn't know anyone besides that one friend, everyone just pretended that they had all known each other for years - finding common ground in the place they all called home. As the fire started from it's sparks, the cold burned through her sweatshirt.
And the fire grew until they had to stand fifteen feet away from it so as to keep themselves from burning. The rotation between facing the fire and facing outward began. Conversations cycled around the fire, no one felt alone because even if they were sitting by themselves on a log, they had the flames to lose themselves in. The guitar player, who changed every few songs, strummed along with the conversations. She couldn't remember a time where she had felt more content. Joy bubbled up inside her at the simplicity of the night. Ghostly voices began to sing together at the lone guitarist's invisible cue. Their voices followed the smoke up into the sky. She was comforted by the familiarity of the fire and the songs, and she would have given anything to be able to stay there.
It took a moment for her to realize that the song in her ears had stopped. The sun had finally lost it's battle with the clouds and the wind began to pick up. Once she roused herself from her memories, she was greeted once again by her daily toils. The daily duty of having to deal with the losses of her past and trying to figure out her future. Only able to hear the constant passing of the cars, she stopped and stared up into the greying sky. A heavy sigh told her that she was ready to get on with that day. She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck, acknowledging the fact that summer was still a few months away and made the long trek to her temporary home.
She smiled because the sun fought back the clouds heroically - it's only foe up there. She smiled because she was caught up in the emotions of that moment, the fact that she realized that she knew what it was to lose, but also what it was to gain, two things she would never give up. The smile lingered on her face, and passersby couldn't help but be caught up in it - ignoring the salty wetness hidden behind her eyes. Her eyes always betrayed her heart. Wanting to keep this moment to herself, she buried her face in her scarf, covering up that smile, allowing it to belong only to her. The smile was for the fact that she was there, in that spring breeze. Smiling, and all the while feeling the strings of the violin tugging at her heart and battling tears.
And in that day in the city, leaving the coffee drinkers behind, her mind traveled back to just a few days before, when she buried her face in her scarf not to hide anything from anyone, but the shrug up some warmth. Her sadness was replaced momentarily by warmth given to her from a bonfire in the home in which a piece of her heart would forever lie.
It had only been twenty-five degrees out that night and the sky was still and clear. Perhaps the state of the sky reflected the state of her soul, because at this time it wasn't battling anything, only allowing the stars to twinkle brightly. She looked up and felt God there, felt the stillness of her heart stir with joy. She had been looking for a reason to escape the monotony of the apartment, so she and a friend met with others to build a bonfire. It didn't matter that she didn't know anyone besides that one friend, everyone just pretended that they had all known each other for years - finding common ground in the place they all called home. As the fire started from it's sparks, the cold burned through her sweatshirt.
And the fire grew until they had to stand fifteen feet away from it so as to keep themselves from burning. The rotation between facing the fire and facing outward began. Conversations cycled around the fire, no one felt alone because even if they were sitting by themselves on a log, they had the flames to lose themselves in. The guitar player, who changed every few songs, strummed along with the conversations. She couldn't remember a time where she had felt more content. Joy bubbled up inside her at the simplicity of the night. Ghostly voices began to sing together at the lone guitarist's invisible cue. Their voices followed the smoke up into the sky. She was comforted by the familiarity of the fire and the songs, and she would have given anything to be able to stay there.
It took a moment for her to realize that the song in her ears had stopped. The sun had finally lost it's battle with the clouds and the wind began to pick up. Once she roused herself from her memories, she was greeted once again by her daily toils. The daily duty of having to deal with the losses of her past and trying to figure out her future. Only able to hear the constant passing of the cars, she stopped and stared up into the greying sky. A heavy sigh told her that she was ready to get on with that day. She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck, acknowledging the fact that summer was still a few months away and made the long trek to her temporary home.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
chikachikaboom
Jillian: Why can't we just find guys who weird but able to pretend to be normal in public? Does it always have to be one or the other?
Sara: I am convinced that there are only five guys like that in the world, and we've each already dated one. So there's only three left, and they're probably in Nicaragua.
Sara: I am convinced that there are only five guys like that in the world, and we've each already dated one. So there's only three left, and they're probably in Nicaragua.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Rainy Days and Lattes
I am sitting in the living room of the new apartment, Maggie is wandering around with her bone in her mouth, making sure that we all take notice of it. The sky is dimming, the further down the channel you go, the darker it gets. Today was a typical day for me here. Familiar and comforting. It began at Heritage getting a patented soy-drink. I then made my way down the street a little bit and stopped at Hearthside to find myself a book. I spent over an hour pouring over the books in there, the overpowering smell of new books making it's way through my nose. I spent over an hour in there and couldn't find anything worth buying. But I was determined to return to the apartment today with a book under my arm.
My next stop was Rainy Day books. Rainy day is a small shop, with creaky wooden floors. Half of Rainy Day's ceiling is over twenty feet high. The other half of the ceiling? Well, I nearly have to stoop to peruse the books. However, the musty smell of used books and the character of the creaky floors and ceilings that don't make sense makes Rainy Day my favorite place to immerse myself in the lives of the characters in those wrinkled and torn pages. In looking through the lives of many characters,an hour later I enlisted the help of the guy behind the counter. He-who-usually-leads-me-in-the-right-direction-in-terms-of-literary-indulgement fell short this time. None of his suggestions gave me that excited under the skin feelings that I get when I find a book that I just want to sit down and read right there in the middle of the store. So, I settled on a Vonnegut that I had never read before.
Though today exemplifies the good things about this place - the sky was unnaturally clear and I spent a pleasant day in book stores with coffee, I am overwhelmed with the knowledge that this is not the place for me. I love it here, I feel at home here, I feel like I belong her, but I need to remind myself that there are many other places to go and so many other bookstores to peruse.
and now I'm watching Maggie is destroying her bone.
My next stop was Rainy Day books. Rainy day is a small shop, with creaky wooden floors. Half of Rainy Day's ceiling is over twenty feet high. The other half of the ceiling? Well, I nearly have to stoop to peruse the books. However, the musty smell of used books and the character of the creaky floors and ceilings that don't make sense makes Rainy Day my favorite place to immerse myself in the lives of the characters in those wrinkled and torn pages. In looking through the lives of many characters,an hour later I enlisted the help of the guy behind the counter. He-who-usually-leads-me-in-the-right-direction-in-terms-of-literary-indulgement fell short this time. None of his suggestions gave me that excited under the skin feelings that I get when I find a book that I just want to sit down and read right there in the middle of the store. So, I settled on a Vonnegut that I had never read before.
Though today exemplifies the good things about this place - the sky was unnaturally clear and I spent a pleasant day in book stores with coffee, I am overwhelmed with the knowledge that this is not the place for me. I love it here, I feel at home here, I feel like I belong her, but I need to remind myself that there are many other places to go and so many other bookstores to peruse.
and now I'm watching Maggie is destroying her bone.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
an age marked by optimism
And then she looked around her and realized that things only got hard for a short amount of time.
She still got annoyed
oh LORD, did she get annoyed
but she wasn't angry
she wasn't sad
she was able to sit still and smile
smile at the small things
like accidentally egg-less cookies,
sad bear and home.
Sure,
it'll get hard again,
but atleast she could take a deep breath
feel the breeze that she hadn't noticed for months
put on her hoodie
chuckle to herself
and realize that it's sort of become her trade-mark.
She's going home tomorrow
and also in june
another "summer"
of rain and early mornings and fog
the best kind of summer
She's going home tomorrow
to drive to the end of the road to clear her head
to spend time off the island that nurtured her
that made her who she is today
she's trying to accept being off that island
living somewhere new, yet familiar
but she is going home
and she gets to take another deep breath
for being with her family
mother, father, sister
for being with her family
if only briefly.
home.
She still got annoyed
oh LORD, did she get annoyed
but she wasn't angry
she wasn't sad
she was able to sit still and smile
smile at the small things
like accidentally egg-less cookies,
sad bear and home.
Sure,
it'll get hard again,
but atleast she could take a deep breath
feel the breeze that she hadn't noticed for months
put on her hoodie
chuckle to herself
and realize that it's sort of become her trade-mark.
She's going home tomorrow
and also in june
another "summer"
of rain and early mornings and fog
the best kind of summer
She's going home tomorrow
to drive to the end of the road to clear her head
to spend time off the island that nurtured her
that made her who she is today
she's trying to accept being off that island
living somewhere new, yet familiar
but she is going home
and she gets to take another deep breath
for being with her family
mother, father, sister
for being with her family
if only briefly.
home.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
cause i'm 18 (er... 19) and i don't know what I wannnt.
me: too much writing and studying - i dated something 2004 today.
sara: YOU ARE NOT FIFTEEN NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT MAY FEEL LIKE IT SOMETIMES. it's 2008.
sara: YOU ARE NOT FIFTEEN NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT MAY FEEL LIKE IT SOMETIMES. it's 2008.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
i don't want to hear about your bad day
so much work to do.
so little motivation.
I am quite content sitting on my bed, snuggled under my fuzzy blanket, listening to fiona with my christmas lights on. It's like being in a magical land; all I need now is snow, a lamp post and Mr. Tumnus.
Chronicling a good day:
Yesterday Ann had a long lay-over here in Seattle, so I picked her up at the airport. Naturally, our first stop was to get pastries and coffee. These are the blood of our lives. We wandered around town, met with Tess, met with claire, got very stressed out because we just HAD to get cupcakes and raced to the airport.
When Ann and I were wandering around by ourselves, I don't think I have felt so at home in Seattle. It's weird, your can live in a city for over a year, be friends with people for that long, but still not feel comfortable with them. It just felt right, and I'm sorry to say that I don't feel that way about many of my friends here. I've missed running around town, keeping my fingers crossed in the direction of the weather Gods and finding new nooks and crannies to wedge myself in. Maybe I've gotten too comfortable hibernating, maybe not.
these are the products of a good day.
so little motivation.
I am quite content sitting on my bed, snuggled under my fuzzy blanket, listening to fiona with my christmas lights on. It's like being in a magical land; all I need now is snow, a lamp post and Mr. Tumnus.
Chronicling a good day:
Yesterday Ann had a long lay-over here in Seattle, so I picked her up at the airport. Naturally, our first stop was to get pastries and coffee. These are the blood of our lives. We wandered around town, met with Tess, met with claire, got very stressed out because we just HAD to get cupcakes and raced to the airport.
When Ann and I were wandering around by ourselves, I don't think I have felt so at home in Seattle. It's weird, your can live in a city for over a year, be friends with people for that long, but still not feel comfortable with them. It just felt right, and I'm sorry to say that I don't feel that way about many of my friends here. I've missed running around town, keeping my fingers crossed in the direction of the weather Gods and finding new nooks and crannies to wedge myself in. Maybe I've gotten too comfortable hibernating, maybe not.
these are the products of a good day.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
makeshift newspaper clipping
should be dated mid-afternoon yesterday when I was feeling sorry for myself in the HUB atrium waiting for Bethany to come buy me coffee with her monopoly money. I said, "I'm really disappointed with who I've become, I don't know what happened to the Jillian I used to be who was a good friend and sat on the sidelines watching the drama happen." And then I felt better because I admitted it.
hurrah for admitting something shitty about myself. hurrah for monopoly money.
This time it's on the corners
of the sorry excuse of a newspaper
this student body provides
I only ever play sudoku
I'm lonely today
seems to happen once a month
that my hand feels unusually empty
kind of like my heart
every time I tell myself
I'll be okay
and I am
every time
I am ok, being alone isn't bad
but there are far fewer laughs
when you're alone
the world looks colder
less friendly
I know I'll be okay
but I don't want to be alone anymore
I want to feel like I matter to someone
I don't just mean
in that relationship sort of way
but friends and family too
sometimes I really do just feel
like I'm waiting for some
knight in shining armor
to come save me and make me
feel loved everyday
I know there are people who care about me
I just want to hear it
every so often
because maybe then
my hand will feel less
empty
hurrah for admitting something shitty about myself. hurrah for monopoly money.
This time it's on the corners
of the sorry excuse of a newspaper
this student body provides
I only ever play sudoku
I'm lonely today
seems to happen once a month
that my hand feels unusually empty
kind of like my heart
every time I tell myself
I'll be okay
and I am
every time
I am ok, being alone isn't bad
but there are far fewer laughs
when you're alone
the world looks colder
less friendly
I know I'll be okay
but I don't want to be alone anymore
I want to feel like I matter to someone
I don't just mean
in that relationship sort of way
but friends and family too
sometimes I really do just feel
like I'm waiting for some
knight in shining armor
to come save me and make me
feel loved everyday
I know there are people who care about me
I just want to hear it
every so often
because maybe then
my hand will feel less
empty
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
it's theraputic
Putting on music that I can belt out horrible vocals to and drawing fervently on a large piece of paper.
Each stroke is broken up dancing around my room as I move back to take in the whole drawing.
Stellar dance moves and vocals which don't match the songs.
I haven't felt so much like myself since June.
Each stroke is broken up dancing around my room as I move back to take in the whole drawing.
Stellar dance moves and vocals which don't match the songs.
I haven't felt so much like myself since June.
Monday, March 3, 2008
neat phrases oozing with profundity
It has always bothered me how at the end of super dramatic shows, everything is summed up so nicely. There's a song, and a sound over which allows the viewer to know how the characters all feel, how they are all connected to each other. This bothers me because this doesn't happen in real life, there isn't a concise ending where everything is summed up neatly with a beautifully sad song. I wish it were true. I wish I had a soundtrack to follow me around and a voice over at the end of the day summing up my life and the lives of my favorite friends and family.
So, at the end of my day, I put on the soundtrack that most fits how I'm feeling, and I write down the neat little phrases which ooze with subtle profundity.
Almost every week I want to write that I've been greeted by my past. Sometimes it's in my thoughts, where something on the side of the street or a smell will remind me of something that happened to me. A couple of months ago I was walking to campus and the way the light struck through the unexpected fog and the smell of rain just recently fallen took me into an immediate flashback of driving over the bridge at 6:30 in the morning on my way to another day of tourist herding.
I'll get an email from one of my friends back home, every once in a while, that usually starts with, 'I'm so sorry we never talk, I regret losing touch with you every day'. And just seeing the name of that person takes me back to a memory of a good time with them. And then I regret losing touch with them too.
And then sometimes it's a phone call, and usually more than one on the same day. And you reminisce about middle school and make plans to see each other soon. And you reminisce about two summers ago, because that was a good summer where you grew a lot.
The past is always going to be with us, and it's amazing that we get to reminisce and remind people of the things that we did, and we get to be reminded of the things that we don't remember. So I'm not being greeted by the past every once in a while because it is constantly with me. I am just being reminded that it's there and I was happier once.
and I will be happier again.
and life is short.
but the bad times are shorter.
and when I'm old, if I can say that I've smiled and laughed more than I've cried, then I will feel like my life was more than fulfilling. And then I'll start to tell stories of those times that I was laughing and smiling.
and that will make me laugh and smile.
So, at the end of my day, I put on the soundtrack that most fits how I'm feeling, and I write down the neat little phrases which ooze with subtle profundity.
Almost every week I want to write that I've been greeted by my past. Sometimes it's in my thoughts, where something on the side of the street or a smell will remind me of something that happened to me. A couple of months ago I was walking to campus and the way the light struck through the unexpected fog and the smell of rain just recently fallen took me into an immediate flashback of driving over the bridge at 6:30 in the morning on my way to another day of tourist herding.
I'll get an email from one of my friends back home, every once in a while, that usually starts with, 'I'm so sorry we never talk, I regret losing touch with you every day'. And just seeing the name of that person takes me back to a memory of a good time with them. And then I regret losing touch with them too.
And then sometimes it's a phone call, and usually more than one on the same day. And you reminisce about middle school and make plans to see each other soon. And you reminisce about two summers ago, because that was a good summer where you grew a lot.
The past is always going to be with us, and it's amazing that we get to reminisce and remind people of the things that we did, and we get to be reminded of the things that we don't remember. So I'm not being greeted by the past every once in a while because it is constantly with me. I am just being reminded that it's there and I was happier once.
and I will be happier again.
and life is short.
but the bad times are shorter.
and when I'm old, if I can say that I've smiled and laughed more than I've cried, then I will feel like my life was more than fulfilling. And then I'll start to tell stories of those times that I was laughing and smiling.
and that will make me laugh and smile.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Lord, it's lonely here.
Completely frustrated.
I should wear a sign that says: Will stop at nothing until everyone around her hates her. That seems to be my motto of late, anyways. Maybe it's the medicine, it makes me anxious at the very least. Maybe it's the month, February has never been a good one. Maybe it's just a continuation of the bad series of events that have been happening in my life.
I don't want to deal with drama anymore, I'm not cut out for it.
I have enough on my plate right now, that I don't need people causing problems that don't need to be there in the first place.
I'm also wondering where the alleged best friend disappeared to. I'm not okay, if you're wondering.
THIS IS ME LETTING GO. THIS IS ME DROPPING IT, BECAUSE I CANT DO IT ANYMORE.
The stress in all areas of my life is making me so tired, I just can't do it. I want to go home.
all i want to do is to go home, to a time and a place where I just sat on the sidelines all the time, watching the drama happen. Somehow, in this city, I've been put right, smack dab, in the middle of it all. It doesn't make sense to me why so many people around me seek out drama from me.
I don't get enjoyment from it, all it makes me want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep it away.
I don't have the time for that right now.
I should wear a sign that says: Will stop at nothing until everyone around her hates her. That seems to be my motto of late, anyways. Maybe it's the medicine, it makes me anxious at the very least. Maybe it's the month, February has never been a good one. Maybe it's just a continuation of the bad series of events that have been happening in my life.
I don't want to deal with drama anymore, I'm not cut out for it.
I have enough on my plate right now, that I don't need people causing problems that don't need to be there in the first place.
I'm also wondering where the alleged best friend disappeared to. I'm not okay, if you're wondering.
THIS IS ME LETTING GO. THIS IS ME DROPPING IT, BECAUSE I CANT DO IT ANYMORE.
The stress in all areas of my life is making me so tired, I just can't do it. I want to go home.
all i want to do is to go home, to a time and a place where I just sat on the sidelines all the time, watching the drama happen. Somehow, in this city, I've been put right, smack dab, in the middle of it all. It doesn't make sense to me why so many people around me seek out drama from me.
I don't get enjoyment from it, all it makes me want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep it away.
I don't have the time for that right now.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
leaky nalgene
looking for someone
to blame
this on
how I've been feeling today
the nagging at the back of my brain
which I can't decipher
for the life of me
I just know that there's something that's bothering me
something that I need to fix
and so i'm looking
for someone to blame all of this on
picking fights with innocent bystanders
well
not-so-innocent bystanders
causing problems, just so that others
may be unhappy
like I am
right now
frustrated
cranky
annoyed
or as aunt kathy says
"crunchy"
just looking for someone to blame
because then, maybe i can remove my burden,
right?
I've spilled water all over me out of my nalgene four times today.
I think I'm going back to Juneau this summer.
"8 staaars of gold and a fieeeeld of blue! alaska's flag what is meaaaans to yooooou!"
to blame
this on
how I've been feeling today
the nagging at the back of my brain
which I can't decipher
for the life of me
I just know that there's something that's bothering me
something that I need to fix
and so i'm looking
for someone to blame all of this on
picking fights with innocent bystanders
well
not-so-innocent bystanders
causing problems, just so that others
may be unhappy
like I am
right now
frustrated
cranky
annoyed
or as aunt kathy says
"crunchy"
just looking for someone to blame
because then, maybe i can remove my burden,
right?
I've spilled water all over me out of my nalgene four times today.
I think I'm going back to Juneau this summer.
"8 staaars of gold and a fieeeeld of blue! alaska's flag what is meaaaans to yooooou!"
Monday, February 25, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
what we should do
You ever notice how, when things are going well, you don't really take the time to write them down? How we tend to focus on the negative things, we barely even think about how happy we are, or how a particular moment makes us feel.
Maybe we do.
Sometimes.
But it's only after we've lost that which made us happy that one day, that second.
I haven't been writing because I haven't been thinking about the hard stuff, I haven't been remember the bad times, I haven't been an emotional wreck. Sometimes you just have to take in the moments that make us feel so full of joy that the bad days just melt away, and the sorrow that constantly ebbs at our hearts is forgotten.
If only we could remember to pause in those moments where life feels lighter than air, I think we'd be much happier people in general. Because then, we could remember that feeling of elation, and when times get hard, we could remember how that joy feels and know that it won't hurt forever. That way, when we're happy, we won't feel guilty for not being sad (knowing that there are people out there who are crying).
Instead of living to get past the sad moments, we should live to be part of the happy ones.
Maybe we do.
Sometimes.
But it's only after we've lost that which made us happy that one day, that second.
I haven't been writing because I haven't been thinking about the hard stuff, I haven't been remember the bad times, I haven't been an emotional wreck. Sometimes you just have to take in the moments that make us feel so full of joy that the bad days just melt away, and the sorrow that constantly ebbs at our hearts is forgotten.
If only we could remember to pause in those moments where life feels lighter than air, I think we'd be much happier people in general. Because then, we could remember that feeling of elation, and when times get hard, we could remember how that joy feels and know that it won't hurt forever. That way, when we're happy, we won't feel guilty for not being sad (knowing that there are people out there who are crying).
Instead of living to get past the sad moments, we should live to be part of the happy ones.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
another step backwards.
i really missed you today.
no matter how much you've hurt me, I'll still be there to greet you with a loving smile and open arms.
no matter how much you've made me cry
I'll still want to lie down on the couch with you
my head in your lap, you smoothing my hair.
I'll still want to curl up next to you and hold your hand as we sleep.
I'll still want to sit side-by-side reading separately
the latest novels that transport us somewhere new
i'll still want to plan day-dream trips with you
to tibet, to norway, to new zealand
it doesn't matter how much you've hurt me
a smile is always waiting
a hand is always open
just itching to grab yours.
no matter how much you've hurt me, I'll still be there to greet you with a loving smile and open arms.
no matter how much you've made me cry
I'll still want to lie down on the couch with you
my head in your lap, you smoothing my hair.
I'll still want to curl up next to you and hold your hand as we sleep.
I'll still want to sit side-by-side reading separately
the latest novels that transport us somewhere new
i'll still want to plan day-dream trips with you
to tibet, to norway, to new zealand
it doesn't matter how much you've hurt me
a smile is always waiting
a hand is always open
just itching to grab yours.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
a muse or more
where a little boy under a table with cake in his hair stared at the grown-up feet as they danced and swayed and his father laughed and talked on the long ride home and his mother laughed and talked on the long ride home and he thought about how everyone dies someday and when tomorrow gets here where will yesterday be? and he fell asleep in his brand new winter coat.
I remember when I heard these lyrics for the first time, my obsession started. I found them extremely poignant, and a new world was open to me. I knew that writing was a medium for me, because the music behind it didn't mean as much as the words did. I've probably heard that song a hundred times, and it still never gets old.
and throw away my misery it never meant that much to me it never sent a get-well card.
Today I feel my heart being put back together a little bit. I see fewer pieces on the ground than I did yesterday. The urge to scream in angst isn't there. I might not be able to get you out of my mind, but at least I can smile when I hear your name instead of shrink back inwardly. I can remind myself that there are more important people in my life than you, and the love we lost, and things I can hold onto.
like laughing with her
and playing with her.
and romping with her
I wish they were here.
But you know, they're only a plane ride away afterall.
I remember when I heard these lyrics for the first time, my obsession started. I found them extremely poignant, and a new world was open to me. I knew that writing was a medium for me, because the music behind it didn't mean as much as the words did. I've probably heard that song a hundred times, and it still never gets old.
and throw away my misery it never meant that much to me it never sent a get-well card.
Today I feel my heart being put back together a little bit. I see fewer pieces on the ground than I did yesterday. The urge to scream in angst isn't there. I might not be able to get you out of my mind, but at least I can smile when I hear your name instead of shrink back inwardly. I can remind myself that there are more important people in my life than you, and the love we lost, and things I can hold onto.
like laughing with her
and playing with her.
and romping with her
I wish they were here.
But you know, they're only a plane ride away afterall.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
this ridiculousness is killing me with insane laughter
I've escaped my house, thank God. My dad's here, so I left and am staying in the hotel with him. I'm sitting by the window, with a view of all of Seattle. The sky is patchy blue, people here would find reason to complain about the lack of sun whereas the people I grew up with would call this a gorgeous day, one for hiking and fishing, and probably swimming. You notice things from up here that you wouldn't normally notice, like the american flag on the roof across the street, the undulating hills that are the Seattle skyline, a billboard that changes every 20 seconds between three different advertisements. It's calm up here, so the city seems calm.
This whole emotion thing is such a roller coaster, one day I'm great and I find the hilarity behind everything that I've been going through and the next I just want to curl up and be comforted because of all of it. When I try to look beyond all of the heartache and confusion and stress, I realize that this is such a short time in my life, that it will be okay (i'll probably be laughing about it tomorrow). There are people here who don't make me cry, countless people who make me laugh uncontrollably, or just smile nonstop. People who wouldn't think twice about defending me, and people who love even my biggest faults.
I think I just need to remind myself of that sometimes.
in other news
i gave up facebook for lent.
the valentine house is having a valentine's day party... the dress is apparently "happy." I refuse. Whatthefuck kind of dress code is that anyway? February can die. I wouldn't miss it.
This whole emotion thing is such a roller coaster, one day I'm great and I find the hilarity behind everything that I've been going through and the next I just want to curl up and be comforted because of all of it. When I try to look beyond all of the heartache and confusion and stress, I realize that this is such a short time in my life, that it will be okay (i'll probably be laughing about it tomorrow). There are people here who don't make me cry, countless people who make me laugh uncontrollably, or just smile nonstop. People who wouldn't think twice about defending me, and people who love even my biggest faults.
I think I just need to remind myself of that sometimes.
in other news
i gave up facebook for lent.
the valentine house is having a valentine's day party... the dress is apparently "happy." I refuse. Whatthefuck kind of dress code is that anyway? February can die. I wouldn't miss it.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
done
How dare you!? How dare you decided to come in and out of my life as you please? How dare you think about me, and tell me that you're thinking about me, when both of us know it can't happen. How dare you write me after days of ignoring me?
I've cried over you.
I've screamed over you.
I've exhausted your name.
How dare you think that it's okay to just waltz in whenever you feel like it? How dare you tell me that all you wanted to do was thank me, when I know that you just wanted ot hear my voice too.
And you make me listen to yours.
And you make me feel pain again.
And you make me miss you again.
Don't act like it's nothing, because i's not. Because I'm feeling this in every corner of my heart.
Don't write me.
Don't call me.
Don't expect any response back.
Because I can't cry over you anymore. I can't wonder about you. I can't wish for you.
I've cried over you.
I've screamed over you.
I've exhausted your name.
How dare you think that it's okay to just waltz in whenever you feel like it? How dare you tell me that all you wanted to do was thank me, when I know that you just wanted ot hear my voice too.
And you make me listen to yours.
And you make me feel pain again.
And you make me miss you again.
Don't act like it's nothing, because i's not. Because I'm feeling this in every corner of my heart.
Don't write me.
Don't call me.
Don't expect any response back.
Because I can't cry over you anymore. I can't wonder about you. I can't wish for you.
Monday, February 4, 2008
still crying
I thought I was done crying over you. I thought that I had moved on enough that I had built up that wall again, the wall that I held strong for eighteen years.
But then here I am, crying over a lost cause. Crying because you don't have the decency to write me back. Crying because I've never missed someone this much, because my heart aches everyday I don't wake up next to you. Crying because my hands are empty, and I'm sitting here writing. I'm emailing your best friend because that's the closest I can get to you.
Crying because I know that you're doing me a favor by not writing me back.
Because it's hard for you too, I know that. I know it's hard for you too... but that doesn't make it easier to know.
I'm crying for my lonliness, my stress, my longing for someone to hold me and to tell me that it's going to be okay.
but the people I would normally call on to hold me while I cry have all gone. You're gone. Sara is gone.
Sometimes it feels like words are only words, and all you need is to be held. you need someone to look into your eyes and tell you that it's going to be okay, because it doesn't feel like it's going to be anymore.
i need breakfast.
But then here I am, crying over a lost cause. Crying because you don't have the decency to write me back. Crying because I've never missed someone this much, because my heart aches everyday I don't wake up next to you. Crying because my hands are empty, and I'm sitting here writing. I'm emailing your best friend because that's the closest I can get to you.
Crying because I know that you're doing me a favor by not writing me back.
Because it's hard for you too, I know that. I know it's hard for you too... but that doesn't make it easier to know.
I'm crying for my lonliness, my stress, my longing for someone to hold me and to tell me that it's going to be okay.
but the people I would normally call on to hold me while I cry have all gone. You're gone. Sara is gone.
Sometimes it feels like words are only words, and all you need is to be held. you need someone to look into your eyes and tell you that it's going to be okay, because it doesn't feel like it's going to be anymore.
i need breakfast.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
drawing from an airplane napkin
sitting here trying to figure out
why
I'm still sitting here waiting for you.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
waiting
It's almost as if you think, maybe, after that day that I felt like I was over him, everything will go back to normal. We'll be friends. We'll talk about our days, share witticisms, laugh... and be friends.
But the more you talk to him, the more you realize that you're not over him. the more you miss holding his hand, and kissing his forehead. His birthday, so you send a gift, you make a card, you send it in an envelope. He gets the gift, and calls you but you can't answer because you're out in God-knows-where and have no cell phone service. He leaves you a message. It's the first time you've heard his voice since you ended things. All you can hear in the message is the initial, "WHATTHECRAP?!" and then your stomach drops because you know it's him. The message goes on but you don't hear a thing it says, you just stare, immobilized, the phone still held to your ear. You catch yourself, because you realize that someone is going to notice, and you put the phone down and make small talk with the people you're in the car with. you wait until you have service again, and everyone leaves the car so you listen to it again. He's thanking you for the gift.. the card, saying over and over again how cute it was, and how he's sort of glad that you didn't answer because he was nervous. He doesn't ask you to call back. So you email him when you get the chance, and tell him you got the message. You ask if you should call him back. He doesn't answer. You painstakingly check your email to see if he's responded.
His best friend emails you to tell you that he appreciates your shared love for your guilty pleasure, Hilary Duff.
A friend you never talk to emails you to ask you how you are.
An old best friend of yours emails you to tell you how much skiing sucks on the east coast.
But he doesn't. You get the picture.
But you still want him to email you back, because you want to know where you stand with him. You're still shocked by the fact that he called to thank you in the first place, you're also shocked that your heart flipped and your stomach dropped.
And then you remember the other guy you've been spending time with since you and the first one broke up, and you feel guilty because you know that you're in no place to start something new. It is painstakingly clear that you're in no place to start something new and that's not fair to this other guy. But even that's more complicated than it needs to be because you've been playing emotional tango with him for over four years, and he's finally fallen in step. To top all of that off... he's one of your sister's best friends.
And between all of these thoughts you hear the message in your head over and over again. You check your email more times than is necessary.
And that emptiness in your heart that you thought you had filled, has never felt more empty.
So you check your email again, because when you see his name there, your heart fills up again... if only temporarily.
But the more you talk to him, the more you realize that you're not over him. the more you miss holding his hand, and kissing his forehead. His birthday, so you send a gift, you make a card, you send it in an envelope. He gets the gift, and calls you but you can't answer because you're out in God-knows-where and have no cell phone service. He leaves you a message. It's the first time you've heard his voice since you ended things. All you can hear in the message is the initial, "WHATTHECRAP?!" and then your stomach drops because you know it's him. The message goes on but you don't hear a thing it says, you just stare, immobilized, the phone still held to your ear. You catch yourself, because you realize that someone is going to notice, and you put the phone down and make small talk with the people you're in the car with. you wait until you have service again, and everyone leaves the car so you listen to it again. He's thanking you for the gift.. the card, saying over and over again how cute it was, and how he's sort of glad that you didn't answer because he was nervous. He doesn't ask you to call back. So you email him when you get the chance, and tell him you got the message. You ask if you should call him back. He doesn't answer. You painstakingly check your email to see if he's responded.
His best friend emails you to tell you that he appreciates your shared love for your guilty pleasure, Hilary Duff.
A friend you never talk to emails you to ask you how you are.
An old best friend of yours emails you to tell you how much skiing sucks on the east coast.
But he doesn't. You get the picture.
But you still want him to email you back, because you want to know where you stand with him. You're still shocked by the fact that he called to thank you in the first place, you're also shocked that your heart flipped and your stomach dropped.
And then you remember the other guy you've been spending time with since you and the first one broke up, and you feel guilty because you know that you're in no place to start something new. It is painstakingly clear that you're in no place to start something new and that's not fair to this other guy. But even that's more complicated than it needs to be because you've been playing emotional tango with him for over four years, and he's finally fallen in step. To top all of that off... he's one of your sister's best friends.
And between all of these thoughts you hear the message in your head over and over again. You check your email more times than is necessary.
And that emptiness in your heart that you thought you had filled, has never felt more empty.
So you check your email again, because when you see his name there, your heart fills up again... if only temporarily.
Friday, February 1, 2008
It's not so much coping with anew place, it's coping with this place.
You could drive for 10 minutes and not see so much as a house... but you will probably see cows. Apparently my parents don't like people anymore, but love the scent of cow dung wafting through the air. House after house after house, packed with stuffed bears, and green carpets, and cigarette smoke. Nothing even worth considering.
They want fruit trees. As far as I'm concerned, fruit comes from Foodland downtown, after it's sat on a barge for a couple of weeks. We like them ripe. I couldn't tell a fruit tree from a poplar. And I still get confused when they say poplar, thinking they're mentioning everything I was not in highschool.
Don't get me wrong.
I'm not completely ignorant when it comes to nature.
I've eaten muktuk, deer jerky, and smoked my own salmon. I could tell you the differences between the five different types of salmon - Kings, Sockeyes, Cohos, Chum and Pinks. I could spot an eagle hundreds of feet up the mountain, hidden away in the trees, before anyone else. I grew up next to porcupines and black bears. I can navigate those mountains even better than those black bears.
But when it comes to poplars... and pine trees... and fruit trees... and bobcats or cougars, I am clueless.
I also didn't realize that being so far away from the ocean could make someone feel so trapped. There are lakes around here, and mountains. The ocean, however, is so far away. There are so many roads out, and yet I feel trapped without the constant ebb and tide of the ocean.
And oh Lord.
There are wild turkeys.
Please.
turkeys
this is going to be some transition.
You could drive for 10 minutes and not see so much as a house... but you will probably see cows. Apparently my parents don't like people anymore, but love the scent of cow dung wafting through the air. House after house after house, packed with stuffed bears, and green carpets, and cigarette smoke. Nothing even worth considering.
They want fruit trees. As far as I'm concerned, fruit comes from Foodland downtown, after it's sat on a barge for a couple of weeks. We like them ripe. I couldn't tell a fruit tree from a poplar. And I still get confused when they say poplar, thinking they're mentioning everything I was not in highschool.
Don't get me wrong.
I'm not completely ignorant when it comes to nature.
I've eaten muktuk, deer jerky, and smoked my own salmon. I could tell you the differences between the five different types of salmon - Kings, Sockeyes, Cohos, Chum and Pinks. I could spot an eagle hundreds of feet up the mountain, hidden away in the trees, before anyone else. I grew up next to porcupines and black bears. I can navigate those mountains even better than those black bears.
But when it comes to poplars... and pine trees... and fruit trees... and bobcats or cougars, I am clueless.
I also didn't realize that being so far away from the ocean could make someone feel so trapped. There are lakes around here, and mountains. The ocean, however, is so far away. There are so many roads out, and yet I feel trapped without the constant ebb and tide of the ocean.
And oh Lord.
There are wild turkeys.
Please.
turkeys
this is going to be some transition.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Alaskan Tennis Shoes
..shuffle around, drop my bag, drop my coat, pick up my bag and my coat, make my way down the tiny airplane aisle. My head is a centimeter from the ceiling of the aircraft. 12...13...14... oh good. I plop down. shove bag under chair, shover coat next to bag, find book, find music. heavy sigh.
"I see you got your Alaskan tennis shoes there."
"wha..?"
"Your alaskan tennis shoes..."
"hahaha, yeah."
looking down at my xtra tuffs, the characteristic Alaskan trademark.
"I retired mine"
"Yeah, mine are still alive, though it doesn't seem right without those fish scales."
"Where you from?"
"Juneau, you?"
"We used to live in Juneau, just moved out of there a couple of years ago."
"Oh really? My parents are making to move out too, thats why I'm headed this way."
"Oh, what's your name?"
"Hahnlen"
"huh, I don't think I know it..."
DING "we've reached out cruising altitude, feel free to use any portable electronics you've brought on board."
"well, I'll let you get to that book there."
"yeah, I'll let you to yours."
Headphones. Book. another sigh. Settling into my Alaskan tennis shoes.
"I see you got your Alaskan tennis shoes there."
"wha..?"
"Your alaskan tennis shoes..."
"hahaha, yeah."
looking down at my xtra tuffs, the characteristic Alaskan trademark.
"I retired mine"
"Yeah, mine are still alive, though it doesn't seem right without those fish scales."
"Where you from?"
"Juneau, you?"
"We used to live in Juneau, just moved out of there a couple of years ago."
"Oh really? My parents are making to move out too, thats why I'm headed this way."
"Oh, what's your name?"
"Hahnlen"
"huh, I don't think I know it..."
DING "we've reached out cruising altitude, feel free to use any portable electronics you've brought on board."
"well, I'll let you get to that book there."
"yeah, I'll let you to yours."
Headphones. Book. another sigh. Settling into my Alaskan tennis shoes.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
impeding progress
I think I'm constantly impeding progress.
progress when it comes to trying to get over someone.
I'm still sitting here alone.
when all I want is to be sitting next to him.
impeding progress by getting letters
and writing back
at this rate, i'll be missing you forever.
progress when it comes to trying to get over someone.
I'm still sitting here alone.
when all I want is to be sitting next to him.
impeding progress by getting letters
and writing back
at this rate, i'll be missing you forever.
Nights With Too Much Whiskey, And Nights With Just Enough
It's like searching for something that you'll never be able to find. When you've lost all hope, and yet, the only thing that makes you smile is the thought that there still is some shred of it. That's what this feeling is, that's what losing someone you care about is, that's how it feels when you're sitting next to the bed of your sister when she's in a coma and all you can do is rearrange the blanks and hold her hand. You hold her hand even though she can't feel it. Complete loss, but yet you try so hard to grasp onto a ledge, constantly grasping, while your heart is aching.
You never knew that your heart could actually hurt.
And your heart aches again when he leaves you. This time it feels like you're being punch repeatedly in the heart, even though you know that neither one of you wants to end it. Simple time and place forces it to end. And that makes it harder. The strength that you used up from being strong when your sister was in the coma, forces you to melt into tears when he leaves you. When you can't talk to him everyday, when you can't hold his hand, or wake him up with kisses in the middle of the night.
Kisses you don't feel like you can give to anyone else, because they belonged to him first.
And the pain returns when your family leaves the only home you've ever known. This time even more excruciating, because the clumsy band-aids from the last two times fall off even more easily now. Your head aches, your eyes hurt, and your stomach is in knots. The whole time you're home, the last time you're home will be your home, the last time that those trails will be yours and they will be your neighbors, you're crying. You stayed stoic for over fifteen years, but you can't do that any longer.
And on that plane ride away from the trails which you could navigate blindly, you muster up your strength again.
You go back to that transient life you've been living, in that city that you've had to call home for the past year and a half. The place that you know won't be your home for long. People are rude, people are mean, you honestly don't know where the support system you had disappeared to. So you search for those things that used to make you happy.
You can finally sit alone in a room again, and not be dragged down by dark thoughts.
You can finally glory in your sadness.
You can finally write again.
You haunt those coffee shops, drink the chai, and even realize that it's okay to turn to vices again. The friendships that you pushed away for a year and a half are the only things that bring you comfort now. You reminisce about nights with too much whiskey, and nights with just enough. And you make plans for more nights like those.
Because even when everything goes wrong
she came out of the coma
you and he started talking again (even if that sometimes makes it harder)
your memories of that home will never be taken away from you
and the coffee shops
which grant you peace of mind
are always there.
And your friendships that you resented for so long, you realize are the only things that you have that are constant. And your family is the strongest thing you have. The people that knew you when you were growing and changing the most, are the ones that are going to be the most willing to accept you when you've forgotten them briefly. The best ones are the ones who don't blame you for changing or forgetting.
Because when you feel like there's nothing left for you, you turn around and realize all you've had. And you're reminded of how much you're going to have. Because it's constantly changing, just like you.
Because it all gets bad at once.
Until you realize that it will get better.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Lessons From An Airplane Napkin
an ending
overused, and doesn't five full meaning
to the pains of my heart.
It only made sens
became real
after they got the offer
then the tears came.
A never ending stream
of God-forsaken tears.
day after day.
with only a minute's reprieve.
The salty wetness
trying to fill the lonliness which these endings
so many endings
close calls
and not-so-neatly tied up things
have left.
My final trip home
to the plank which documented my height
beginning when I was first
brought there.
To the games
the scraped knees
and the standing in the middle of the street
after dark
just talking
for hours.
and where an ending
had it's first kiss
and endless laughter
smiles unending.
And still, loneliness seeking tears.
Skies full of dancing colors
lightning behind the mountains to the right
sunsets to the left
and eclipses behind sister's tree
which was next to the spider tree.
A brown living room
where I mimicked her dancing.
nightmares and dreams
hopes and fears
the end of a place
which holds so many
beginnings
things I long to forget
and things I carry with me
in my notebook
wherever I go.
An ending
bringing about the freshness of mind
of something exciting
and new
something which reminds you
that it's not really an ending at all.
overused, and doesn't five full meaning
to the pains of my heart.
It only made sens
became real
after they got the offer
then the tears came.
A never ending stream
of God-forsaken tears.
day after day.
with only a minute's reprieve.
The salty wetness
trying to fill the lonliness which these endings
so many endings
close calls
and not-so-neatly tied up things
have left.
My final trip home
to the plank which documented my height
beginning when I was first
brought there.
To the games
the scraped knees
and the standing in the middle of the street
after dark
just talking
for hours.
and where an ending
had it's first kiss
and endless laughter
smiles unending.
And still, loneliness seeking tears.
Skies full of dancing colors
lightning behind the mountains to the right
sunsets to the left
and eclipses behind sister's tree
which was next to the spider tree.
A brown living room
where I mimicked her dancing.
nightmares and dreams
hopes and fears
the end of a place
which holds so many
beginnings
things I long to forget
and things I carry with me
in my notebook
wherever I go.
An ending
bringing about the freshness of mind
of something exciting
and new
something which reminds you
that it's not really an ending at all.
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