call it what you like, just make sure you call it

took to drinking
this evening

put "something"
on loop playback
loud as the speakers
and landlord
allow

grabbed this pen
and paper
to try to articulate
what I would
rather forget

it's odd to miss
what you never
really had

running so
hot and cold
I don't know
what to do with myself

let alone
what I must
be doing to you

I'd give you
what you want

if I only knew what you wanted

if I knew how.

all this rhetoric
'bout time
and change
rings just as hollow
from this side
of the bottle

cause time has passed
and things have changed
and I'm still here

something in the way you move
something in the way you know
something in the things you show me
something in your voice

I keep wondering
if it's enough

sure thing
the answers aren't
in a song
in a bottle
or on this notepad

but they're all I've got
tonight.

bang your head

all over the place today. listlessness, anger, resentment, bit of depression, and a pounding head are all combining to make it hard to focus on something other than myself. which is never good.

I don't enjoy conciliatory or pacifistic behaviour coming from third party players. It is more energy I have to expend to assure them I'm quite fine. no matter that I'm not, and that there is nothing wrong with that.

comprehend this: it is ok to not be fine.

nothing can change it. even consolation prizes. I keep thinking I'll get used to this. but I never do. and it makes me despise emotions all over again, and their brittle constitution. and optimism, which is responsible for each throb of my head I am sure.

too many people have a say in my life, and they want it to suit them, on their terms, on their timeline. feeling over-exposed. I want some time to figure things out without people watching me. call it cowardice, call it fear, call it whatever you'd like. I still want it. and I'm beginning to doubt that I'll ever get it.

it would be nice to curl up in the dark, with the music loud, by myself, miserable. until it passes. but I don't have that option. at least not for a couple days.

so I'm stuck. all over the place.

things on my mind

what is the difference between cute and beautiful? what bridges the distance? what makes you define one way or the other? aesthetics? subjectivity? rules? how do you peel that label off your being? how do you affix the one you want?

how often do you realize that labels affect? I think we forget who is listening. I know I do.

It is amazing the degree of wanting that comes from letting yourself experience something. If you close yourself off, you still want it. But it is a manageable thing. A passing irritant. But once you break down, that's all there is. wanting. Is the problem that you broke down? Or that you purposely avoided it?

How do you reconcile fear that has been a foundation of your person since you were old enough to understand who you were, and what you were becoming? I don't know how to trust enough to open the avenue that things might not be ok.

As wrong as it sounds, I wish I could play god sometimes. Wish I could control things like the world was a whiteboard. Wish I could wipe people away with a paper towel. As if I know best. Because in this case, I do, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise.

I want a day where there is no mention of her name. where I can pretend that she does not exist. that she has no bearing on my life, or yours. That, that particular stitch in time was never sewn. And I will have it if it kills me.

for the people who question my chipperness

apparently, as I have been told quite frequently lately, I'm not chipper enough here. Or well in general. And since I have no desire to fuck around with the in general part, I figured I would give it a whirl in here. As any good problem solver would, I'm going to try to define the problem before approaching the solutions. What exactly is chipper?

In lively spirits; cheerful.
One that chips or cuts: a wood chipper.
1. To chirp or twitter, as a bird.
2. To babble.
To chirp or chirrup.
adj : having a cheerful, lively, and self-confident air;
"looking chipper, like a man...diverted by his own wit"- Frances G. Patton
"life that is gay, brisk, and debonair"- H.M.Reynolds
"walked with a jaunty step";
"a jaunty optimist"

ok. let's take this step by step. "In lively spirits" Now I would argue that I fulfill this requirement quite well, relating it to the more traditional definition of spirits, i.e. alcohol. I try as often as possible to be in lively spirits. And I succeed. Great! "cheerful" this one is a little bit harder. and a little bit more vague, so let's break it down some more.

1. Being in good spirits; merry.
2. Promoting a feeling of cheer; pleasant: a cozy, cheerful room.
3. Reflecting willingness or good humor: contributed her cheerful labor to the project.

well lookee there, "being in good spirits, merry". or drunk if you will. check. "promoting a feeling of cheer; pleasant" whenever people are around me, they always seem to feel better about themselves. You know I can make anyone feel better about themselves, simply by affording them the knowledge that they aren't me. I'd say I have that down. "reflecting willingness or good humor" I have been known to eat those good humor chocolate eclairs while looking in a mirror and I've got the willingness down. I believe it is more commonly referred to as a chump and or sap in slang terms. So check.

let's see on to "one that chips or cuts" now I don't think this is entirely fair or applicable, but I'll be a good sport (see 'chump') it's a stretch but I have been known to deal a mean hand of poker and blackjack, lots of chips involved there. I eat chips. ooh! I also have chips on my shoulders. And I'm always chipping away at something, dedication I call it. As for the cutting, well I'm quite fond of saying "I'll cut you". So..check! "to chirp or twitter" hmm....a bit tougher. I inherited from my father the somewhat annoying habit of always making random noises, some of which could be classified as chirps and or twitters. So check. "to babble" I enter this entire blurty as proof of this claim. check! I'm gonna go ahead and lump "chirp or chirrup" in with "chirp or twitter" you agree with that right? right! so all taken care of. "having a cheerful, lively, and self-confident air" got the cheerful and got the lively already. self-confident.....I have been known to be afflicted with this at times, but it's not generally a permanent condition. "like a man...diverted by his own wit" I'm often, pretty much all the time to be exact, distracted by my own wit. "life that is gay, brisk, and debonair" um....do I really need to address this? Seems pretty self evident. check! "walked with a jaunty step" all my steps are jaunty!! for sure check! "a jaunty optimist" I'm an eternal optimist, much to my great disappointment. check!

there, an in-depth and concise argument that clearly outlines just how chipper I am. This should put all other disagreements to rest. A chipper entry in my blurty. no more lamenting ladies. Proof of my all around chipperness. feel free to apply the same method to yourself to ascertain your level of chipperness.

time in a nutshell, a very vague nutshell

it's been a crazy four weeks. they say to begin at the beginning of long stories, but I haven't one, and I doubt very much an end is in sight. So bear with me as I muddle through the middle.

Anytime you get a group of people together there is going to be an odd one out, someone who doesn't quite fit. More often than not that person is going to be me. Whether I cultivate that role, or it is simply my lot, I have stopped trying to figure out. I believe it comes down to my personality. Watching other people's interactions. Some will grapple, rip, tear, and rend to clutch attention, whether it's everyone's or a certain core person's. I don't. And I have no desire to stand in the way of person who does. Even though it is well within my ability to do so. I dislike cliques. I learned my lesson on groups of people, especially women, the hard way. Several times over. I'm not going to force my presence, if you want to be a duo, trio, quad you can be one and I'll appear when it's time to be a group again. Same goes for if you want to be solitary. I also can't get in line with the circuitous communication. It makes the game of telephone look like a clear concise way to get your message across. All that being said, I have a tendency to act weird. It's something I'm quite upfront about, but it does lend itself to people dissecting my motives, when there are none.

I get tired of people's perceptions being laid on my shoulders, their conclusions constantly confronting me, no matter how I try to correct them. Their double-sidedness. the belief that everything about me is free game, but the same courtesy isn't afforded to me.

I witnessed someone recently proceeding down a path I am quite familiar with. One that nothing good can come from. If I had thought it would have been appreciated, accepted, or even if it would have done any bit of good, I would have sat them down and shared. Explained how I had already been down this road, and the only thing you end up with are broken hearts, severed relationships, and a blending so severe between love and hate that it takes years to sort it all out again, if you ever can.

That old saying, if you love something let it go? It's really true. You have to love someone enough to see them happy without you in their life. You have to love them enough to realize when you are nothing but detrimental. Because if you can't you're just trying to own them. manipulate them. And there is no room for that in a mature relationship. well, if healthy is what you're going for, at any rate. And healthy is probably the last thing you're thinking about. Cause the concept is probably foreign.

Spent a good majority of time saying goodbye to people. Fulfilling a pattern I unknowingly put in motion a long time ago. I don't know how to say goodbye anymore. Emotions really, play no part. It's pretty much right up there with death on my unnatural reaction scale. But it's starting to hit me now. Especially now. When I get the phone calls, and the awkwardness of adjusting to not being in each other's lives anymore. Feeling colder lately.

It's good to know that I still won't take things that are freely given. Still can't quit take that last step. nevermind that it might be put before me, solely for the purpose of my taking it. I like to know I haven't wised up yet. dense and consistent. and chicken. that's me.

It's frustrating for me to see people I care about continually make the same mistakes, choose over and over to surround themselves with the same kind of people. Every person has a history of encounters that has worn holes in their armor. Most tend to choose the same kinds of people that will reinforce the trauma left behind by others. Because it is what they know, what they expect. They wouldn't know what to do with someone who didn't fulfill those expectations. And no matter how apparent it is to me, that they continue this cycle, it isn't exactly like I can point it out to them. who wants to hear and believe that they reinforce every bad thing that has happened to them with every friend or partner they choose? I know I wouldn't want to hear it. especially since I would most likely already be aware of it. But patterns aren't so easy to change. I know I've been guilty of it before. Hell, I'm probably doing it right now. And that's just depressing. I wish it was a situation where I could speak freely. Or more to the point I wish it was a situation that words would magically make better.

Feeling constantly like a vagabond. I did not imagine my life like this. Then again that doesn't mean much since I didn't imagine my life at all. but still. I should have made other choices. But I did not. and it is too late for that now. Just really overwhelmed with wanting my time to be my own. Not feeling indebted or controlled by someone. The guilt and gratitude reach heights that I fear sometimes will drown me.

Karma is no joke. No matter how much I think I've repaid my misspent youth etc. I still get lovely reminders that it's not enough yet. Fitting really for a former punk to get rolled. The poetic justiceness of it all is really the icing on the cake. Especially since I'm most irked about the fact that I got rolled and not that they took my shit. Talk about a blow to the ego. I've gotten soft! and that just sucks.


Adjusting to a new city. Trying to adjust my life. Trying to fit when really I want to be somewhere else. Just trying.

bit o fun

Stolen from E. The point: strike out what I feel doesn't apply to me. I'm easily amused.


MAY:
Stubborn and hard-hearted. Strong-willed and highly motivated. Sharp thoughts. Easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention. Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). Loves to dream. Strong clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. Loves literature and the arts. Loves traveling. Dislike being at home. Restless. Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited. Spendthrift.

pbbt. and eye rolling.

Do you ever sit and analyze how unhealthy you are? I don't mean physically, though that certainly plays a part. But more your unhealthy patterns, your dysfunction. I do. Which I am sure adds to the unhealthy list. Can't be good for you. I do not think. But it is fascinating.

I make things more difficult than they have to be. Always. Mostly because I am always blind. Not usually tentative. I plow forward taking what comes and doing with it what I feel I can. Which generally is not a lot. My own lacking, never anyone else's. I am not careful with emotions, because I do not understand them. What they do, what they cause, what they effect. Most people will not believe that. But I am careless with them because they have no meaning to me. So it is trial and error. What happens when I do this. It's also why I make things more difficult. Why I beat dead horses.

It effects my relationships with people. I only feel things in the scope of an amputee with phantom pain. I will put everything I have into them, until they are gone. And they are always gone. And will only remember them with that same sort of trickery of nerve synapses. I know that they use to be there. And that they use to be a part of me. I miss them, and it hurts, but it is only an echo of something that has already happened and has no chance of happening again, in the same way.

I don't think people understand this. I want to shake them until they do. As if violence will pave the way for understanding. I do not have enough faith. It requires a leap of faith, to stop having things be an echo, and have them be real. I have enough faith to soldier on, but not enough to build a bridge into permanency. That is where everything begins to fall apart. I am sure I have all the tools needed, just not the knowledge. Not the faith. In this case the two are synonomous, who would have thought that would ever happen? One as etheral a concept as love, and the other equated with concrete, solid. But they are closer than I ever would have believed. With all my studying, learning, looking, and processing I am only now beginning to understand.

I never start anything without being fully aware of its end. And while there is a certain romantic angst to to fatalism, to being tortured and wounded and arty; it does not herald well a bright future.Most of this belongs in a letter I have only begun to write. Which will lay unfinished more than likely.

Because I don't know what my point is. Or what it will change. Or even if it matters.

lightbulbs and hourglasses

time has the ability to bury things. old hurts, wounds, scars, resentment, pain. all the things that crop up between two people who inhabit so much of the other's space. Some things get dealt with and moved passed. Some never get mentioned, they are held silent, in our heads, in our hearts. time buries them equally, till if you're lucky, you forget they exist to some extent.

but unlike real sand, it does not take effort to dig things up between people. it can be so easy, a word or two, and in a flash, you feel as if no time has gone by. or the bittersweet reminder of things that will never leave you completely. It is an ache there is no cure for. you just acknowledge and wait for time to bury it again. or decide that it is too much, and let the person go. leave everything buried. A graveyard to mark who you were to each other once.

sometimes you dance around a buried hurt. One person reluctant to share it, speak it aloud, make it real, have to deal with it. The other completely in the dark, they just keep poking till it pops up, till they can understand what keeps the distance firmly in place. till they understand why they can never really reach the other person, why they can never really see quite all of them anymore. And if they are sucessful, finally things spring into place, everything shifts, becomes sharper around the edges. And you have to deal with the reality of whatever it is. whether the other person knows it or not. and so I am.

he looked at me and said.."well, it's not like I'm going to follow you wherever you go". and I really wanted to say why not? I really wanted to question that belief. why not me?

a light has dawned. all the words he has said, in the moments of weakness, of vulnerability. all the dreams, the plans for the future. the countless hours I have sat listening. what do they mean now?

he has made his choice. over and over again. it has just taken me this long to understand that. now all that's left is for me to understand why wasn't it me? when it should have been. and to decide if I will continue to choose him above all others.

Do I add another graveyard? or just a tombstone?

I did not think I could hate inantimate objects or specific spaces of time. Turns out I can. And quite vehemently too.

when it rains, it pours

I've been told that people liked this better in the beginning, because the entries were more real, more about me, and though I don't like to admit it; they are right. In the beginning I did not have to worry about the consequences of my actions. Slowly this has become more about what I feel other people will be ok with and not what I really want to write. But the ground has become shaky and I don't know the ramifications of anything I might say or do anymore. So it has come down to self censorship, which I abhor, or just processing everything internally. I tend to lean toward the latter naturally, but in true me like fashion I am choosing neither one at the moment. So here's the good old college try, the contents of my head as they come.

There is so much going on, happening, taking shape, taking form. And at the same time, nothing much is happening. And that's really the most accurate way to describe my life for more months than I would like to count. To process the emotions that are actually taking place I tend to need to disengage and really look at myself. And most nights I am not able to do that. My attentions are required elsewhere. And quite honestly I probably don't want to look. But lately I've been moving more and more towards disengaging. Because my level of frustration is reaching a point where it's leaking out onto other people.

I've always sectioned off people in my life, in reference to what they can know about me. Or what I will share with them. Keeping the different sections quite separate. Living a splintered life is hard on a person, it's even harder when you are the one that insists on splintering it. I quite often find myself, even if I want to speak, having no one to tell it too. Because while they may be perfectly happy to listen, the backstory, the history I would have to relate in order to have them be on the same page as I am. In order to have them really understand, is too much effort for a moment of weakness. But more and more the dichotomy is wearing thin and I would enjoy someone who I could talk to. The problem being with this is that once you bring someone in, inevitably at some point it is them you have to talk about, and then where do you go? someone else? too much talking behind backs for me, when it should be communicated to the person you're talking about in the first place. Perhaps I'll finally start feeling better about putting all my eggs in one basket and seeing which ones don't crack.

Do you think you reach a point where death doesn't mean anything anymore? I've seen it too much, dealt with it's after effects, heard it from other people, held them while they fell apart too much to process it anymore. My friend's cousin died this morning, and I found myself struggling to respond with anything that was halfway helpful. It's probably not the healthiest disposition to have, but I'm somewhat reluctant to change it. Sometime soon I'll be facing it again, and I would rather be numb for it, than "normal". Depsite how gruesome that may seem.

What do you do when you have lost common ground? When you can no longer touch them though they might be sitting right next to you? What do you do when there is nothing left to say? When you don't want to push for scrutiny and you don't want to be scrutinized? What do you do when you learn more from someone else than you do them? Where do you go when you've forgotten where you began? Do you keep talking even when they don't believe a thing you say? Do you push for definition, just to make your life easier? Do you become what they want you to be? because they need it? because it's maybe, the only thing you can give? Where is the line between banter and lies? How do you explain frustration when all they will see is recrimination? How do you point out double standards and blatant falsehoods? Why bother? How do you see past your own jealousies to the point of the whole matter? How do you stop feeling second best? How do you stop it mattering? because it really shouldn't. How do you learn to accept as it comes? As it goes?

Do you ever feel like you're moving entirely too fast and there is nothing you can do to arrest the motion? And that even if you could, you're not so sure you want to. Have you ever felt that you are living with lies no matter how hard you try to embody truth? That you dread the time when people realize it as well, you dread it with a stomach churning sort of worry, but you welcome it at the same time, because then you no longer have any appearances to keep up, and when they leave (and they will, in some way, shape, or form) you will be able to say, I knew it all along. Triumphant even in your misery.

I dive right into situations I am not familiar with. I am a risk taker. I don't want to think about it, I just want to do it, and see what happens. That doesn't mean that I don't think, it's just that I choose, and choose rather quickly to not pay attention to the consequences. More and more I find myself almost drowning in the deep end. I would like to take my time, but it seems I am not capable of it. And sometimes when I am not able to cram my head with other things, the what ifs come to call. The inevitable outcome that will be quite painful, and in some scenarios, detrimental to my future. Assuming I have one. This is why I don't gamble, I will always take the long shot. Just to see. People mistakenly believe I have no hope or faith, quite the opposite is true, I have too much.

There is a difference between not wanting someone to change, and accepting them, or things about them as is. Having the former does not always precipitate the latter. And if you really really think about that. it's a scary realization.

I've begun to tell people that I'm leaving. And while I've always known come september I was leaving. I'm sure most people didn't believe me. I'm quite positive I'm making another bad choice in a string of them, but it's the whole headfirst affliction I have going on. why not? My father was the biggest surprise. Considering the amount of interaction our entire relationship consists of. That he was unhappy caught me off guard. I had always assumed he resented my presence. Though whether that was a holdover of my feelings from when I was a child or bore a hint of truth, I don't know. That he wants me to stay, I have no idea what to do with. I'm sure my mother feels the same, but she resigned herself long ago to losing us all. And for the most part, she wants that. Though there is a core of resentment that I can't really hold against her. I've got two months to get to a point where I feel ok leaving. And I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. Too much left undone. Left unsaid. Too much left unknown about where I'm going and what I'm doing.

Boo has always known, he knows when I say something is going to happen, it is. But really grasping that is another thing. We have spent the majority of our lives apart now. And it never changes, when I am gone, he misses me, and I am left to deal with the phone calls, phone calls that take a toll on my conscience as well as my emotions. We miss so much of each other's lives. But when I am in a position to have us be closer, he grates against it with everything he has. I don't understand, to some extent I don't even care anymore. I listen to him waffle back and forth about leaving. Listen to him say he would come with me, just to know that he will change his mind again. Listen to how he wants to leave here, but when the time comes to do something about it, he flakes. I understand. I understand his motivations probably better than he does. But it doesn't stop my frustration with the whole situation. Or the fact that this separation might be the one we cannot gap. And where do we go from there?

these are the contents of my head...

who knows?

Trading the sun
for the moon
trying to counteract
the fact
that your night
is just beginning
while mine
is drawing to a close

borrowed time
rushed
stolen
squeezed between
the have to's and musts

when is too much
too much?

when is too much
never enough?

Questions I need you
to answer.

The future
is unclear
as always
and there are some things
I despair
in knowing,
even more
to say aloud

to make them right

Uncertainties
like pearls
in their infancy
start small
and grate
and chafe
molding
into something
else entirely

threaded carefully
on a string
tangled in my mind

if I were less of a coward
I would seek your
reassurances

if I were more of
an optimist
I would not need them

in the middle
of the night
when l pour out
these thoughts to you

a tidal wave
of vulnerabilities

remember that
I need the truth
more than
I need my delusions

however painful.

be the sun
when I can only see the moon.

other words...

The Letter

Little cramped words scrawling all over the paper
Like draggled fly’s legs,
What can you tell of the flaring moon
Through the oak leaves?
Or of my uncurtained window and the bare floor
Spattered with moonlight?
Your silly quirks and twists have nothing in them
Of blossoming hawthorns,
And this paper is dull, crisp, smooth, virgin of loveliness
Beneath my hand.

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
And I scald alone, here, under the fire
Of the great moon.



-Amy Lowell

science won't leave me alone

There’s a breathless sort of feeling encompassing me that smacks of changes coming. Cryptic phone messages, correspondence sitting long overdue, phone calls I should have made. Lists and lists of things I should have done already, lying all about. The walls are closing in, the days where I just don’t care, where the tenacious clawing that is a staple of the living is absent, are coming one after the other. And I’m struggling not to turn to outside means to escape. I sit in the dark and turn the music up and smile when the beat takes up residence in my sternum, shaking each rib one by one. Where I can count on the music to take over for my heart that should be beating, but finds itself reluctant to continue such a monotonous rhythm.

I’m taking advantage of a small space of time where I have no one looking at me. Carefully cataloguing my every move. Expecting things of me that I am convinced I can never give. And I waste it sitting here, writing this. And over and above the chaos of whatever is coming, over the deafening music, over the roaring white noise that is my consciousness, over the vigilant solitude are thoughts of people. Nagging emotional ties, that pull and stretch and consume.

I’m finding myself learning the other side of emotions I had never thought to know. Because each emotion has always had two sides to me:

Infatuation
Need
Guilt
Worry
Obsession
Love
Want
Power
Desperation
Futility

My brain is a prism and each occurrence just another refracted frequency of light. The music is no longer loud enough.

mental ticker tape

Just once I would like to hear "Yes, I want you here, please come." rather than "It's all up to you, you can come, or you can not, makes no difference to me." Without the reason being some dire drama filled crying phone call. Why is it so easy to be desperate? But you can't say what you want on any normal fucking day?

I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of people who I let make me cry. Doesn't matter the reason, hurt, pain, happiness, a commercial. I want it all to stop.

I either want to be a mind reader, or I want people to stop expecting me to be one.

I'm tired of second hand information. I'd like to hear things from you. I'd like to know that the silences are not you telling someone else, what you could be telling me.

I'd like to know what to say. All the time. I'd like to stop the gut wrenching worrying that I'm going to say the wrong thing. Be the wrong person. Not be sympathetic enough, caring enough, involved enough. I'd like to not know that I'm entirely self-involved. Or better yet, I'd like to not be entirely self-involved.

I'm tired of stipulations on all my relationships. I'm tired of: well you'll only get this far, unless you do this. I don't want any more fucking ultimatums, unspoken or not. I'll compromise as much as the next person. I'll work just as much as you will to keep this connection going. But stop toying with me.

I'm tired of distance. Real miles as well as metaphysical. Probably more metaphsyical, since I can change locations at any given time, but I don't always know how to reach you when you're right next to me.

I'm tired of double standards. I no longer want to be an open book. I don't think I ever wanted to be one.

I'm tired of pink elephants. I'm tired of secrets. I'm tired of having things to confess. I'm tired of duality.

I'm tired of jealousy. Extremely tired of this merry go round of emotions.

I'm tired of wanting. Of all kinds.


I don't know why I never take the time to write the things in my head that make me happy. The things that bring me joy. Probably because when I am happy I want to be furthest I can be from words, from pens and paper, and this machine for the purpose of writing. These are just the build up of things, from every day, things that have refused to go away, or be addressed. Things that pop into my head, that popped into my head when I looked at this page.

perpetuating the chain

So three questions. If anyone is actually reading this (yes I know two of you are) and you have some questions you're just dying to ask me, here's your chance. Though I would wonder why you didn't just ask me in the first place.

Any question, and you'll get a truthful answer. Send an email, post them here, smoke signals, morse code, hell, you could even dig up a marconi if you wanted.

words that say it better than I could

Rage

In me there is a rage to defy
the order of the stars
despite their pretty patterns.
To see if Gods who hold forth now
on human thrones
can will away my lust
to dare
and press to order the anarchy
I would serve.

The silence between your words
rams into me
like a sword.
--------------------------------
Will

It does not impress me that I have
a mind.
Chance amuses me.
Coincidence makes me laugh
out loud.
Fate weighs me down
too heavy.

When I can't bear not seeing
you another second,
I send out my
will;
when it brings us face to
face,
there's an invisible power
I respect!



-Alice Walker

you assume I have a point...silly you

I believe in any relationship you reach a point where you begin to wonder why you love this person. Maybe things are hard, frustrations pile up, and the work that it takes to keep things going just seems like too much. In relationships that have lasted a long time, you reach this point more than most. Generally, when I come to find myself anguishing over this question, I fade away. I come to the conclusion that loving them is too hard. Well, no, that isn’t accurate, not that loving them is too hard, because I still do that. I haven’t gotten to the point where I know how to stop loving someone. I’m not sure anybody ever does. But I come to conclusion that I don’t fit in their lives, or they don’t fit in mine, and it’s better to quit chafing to make it seem so. All you do is rub away the parts that made you love each other in the first place.

It has taken me a long time and a lot of lessons to understand that love is work. Any kind of love, any kind of relationship is work. And balance. Allowing the other person to grow, making sure that while you grow you keep them in the loop. Listening, really hearing what they tell you. Supporting their decisions. Millions of other little tidbits. And even with the great strides I have made, I still know that I have so much left to learn. I’m ok with that. In some ways, I look forward to it.

Lately all I’ve been doing is asking myself if it’s worth it. Everything is beginning to seem too hard. Or pointless. And I’m beginning to look at people with questions rather than the answers I already know. I’ve been coming close to giving up. But I woke up today to something that reminded me why I love. My sleep had been filled with dreams of some of the people that have been giving me the most cause to question and I had decided to stop, decided that really maybe it wasn’t worth it. But eight little insignificant words, left for me on a whim, for no real purpose, made me laugh. God, did I laugh. And a little bit of the weight the rests on my heart lifted. All the reasons I’ve worked so hard, refused to let them drift away from me, came rushing back.

It’s really the little things. The things you do without motive, without greater purpose that count the most for me. Calling because you wanted to, not because there was something you needed to tell me. Letters hand written just to say I am missed. Emails filled with nothing but ramblings just because you wanted to connect with me. The pebble you picked up on a walk that you gave me because you thought I might like it. Messages left on a whim, just to make me laugh. Those count, oftentimes more than people realize. I’m going to make damn sure that they know those eight words were very much needed.

So I’m firmly grabbing hold again. The white towel has been put away. I know I’ll come to the point where things are hard again, and the questions are coming one on top of the other. I’ll look at the combined history and only see the problems. But I know something will come along to knock some sense in me.

I'm hoping I can return the favor, for someone else. Remind them without even knowing, why they love me, or why they love something. Make them smile, and laugh, and look at things in not quite so dire a fashion.

to just about everyone I know...

Somebody asked me, wouldn’t it be nice to have a rewind button for life? And initially I would say yes. There are tons of things that I could have done differently, better, or not at all. But after having sat here, confronted with some of my decisions, I say no. I would not want a rewind button. I have done the things I have done. Made the decisions I have made. Said the things I have said. Because that was who I was then, I did what I did as best as I was capable of. It’s quite often not pretty, or likeable, or even admirable. But it was all me, without the supposed magical gift of hindsight. So I claim my regrets gladly, knowingly and will continue on.

Acceptance, however, does not preclude wishing things had been different. That is the nature of regret. Idly, at least once a day, I envision a world that is not shrouded in secrecy and intrigue, and varying levels of trust. I can indulge in such nonsense in my head, because while the reality of such a thing would frighten me beyond belief, the idea is theoretically perfect. I would not have to wonder when I was treading too heavily, I would not have to worry about the things you are saying to other people, that you feel you cannot say to me. I would not have to carefully pick over my actions bit by bit to piece together which one caused which problem. Ideally…perfect. But in reality, no one is strong enough for that kind of disclosure. Not even me, even though I want it. I want it despite the hurt, because, perhaps mistakenly, I figure it has got to be better than the wondering.

I can sit here and say all the things I have been holding back. I can sit here and say that I want to listen to you, no matter what is in your head. I can sit here and say that I am sorry for hurting you. And none of it matters, if you are not listening. If you are not willing to believe me.

Now. If I could just take these words to heart, just as much as I would urge you too. Everything would be ideal.

always words....

Gild wears away
shines begin to dull
rose tint fades to blue

there is an inevitableness
with infatuation
that I am well aware of,
but it hasn’t stopped me

from flinching
when the silences
get too long
when the urgency
begins to wane
when the goodbyes
cease to linger.

Knowing nothing lasts
hasn’t prepared me
for the finality
of the end.
*********************

Do I
take two steps
forward
or two steps
back?

I’ve reached
the ever present fork
in all my roads

One path
that will lead me
unerringly
straight,
despite the bumps
to you.

The other a switchback
that will
allow me
to retreat
gracefully,
without detection
from this
whatever
we’re doing.

I want
so much
to cut and run
from the
anxiety you bring,
the insecurities
you highlight,
the absolute
upheaval
your presence
manifests

but for the fact
that I love your voice
when I hear it
and I love your attention
when you give it
and I love pleasing you
when I finally manage it.

I love thinking
that you might want me
too

so it’s
one step forward
and
one step back
guaranteeing I’m
going nowhere
with you.

trick questions and problems

What the hell am I doing?

It’s taken me three hours to get past just reciting that question endlessly in my head.

I listen to other people and I begin to think maybe I see one of the problems causing me so much trouble. There is a distinct delineation that they have, a definition of lines they are sure to adhere to. Cut and dry and compact. Bold.

All my lines are blurring. I cannot define even if I were to use a metaphorical chisel.

I don’t believe in making something less than it is because it is not conventional. I use the buzz words without thinking, out of habit, and so people can understand a little of what I’m saying, when really the buzz words mean nothing to me. People are people to me, there are no lines, no definitions, no boxes that suit when it comes to them. And maybe that’s where the communication gets severed, where the synapses misfire, because some part of me yearns for that stability and when I cannot produce it I am thrown into utter mental mayhem.

Really I get hurt by the tiniest things. Never at all what you would expect. And, if I’m honest, never at all by what I would expect either. The trick is deciding when the hurt is justified. When is it concrete enough to be given voice to? The trick is not falling into established patterns. Not dissolving away, mired in confusion, knowing no more than I did to start with knowledge wise, just adding another notch to my hurt belt.

The trick is deciding what is that I’m doing. What it is that I want, and from who, and when. What I want to give.

The trick is saying all the things I have to say. Not tripping over my reticence. Not being restricted by my knowledge that it will just be used against me. Not regretting the things I know I will, though it is much too late for that, mostly. Not having this wall that always separates me from every single person in my life. Sometimes it is so transparent that I don’t even notice it’s there until I run smack dab into it at full tilt.

The trick is deciding to let fantasy go and concentrate on the real world. And not feeling that is conforming to ideals I don't believe in.

The problem is it was never a question of fantasy and real to me.