Starting a new relationship is hard in itself. This is especially so when you come into it envisioning that it will inevitably end. Being a defeatist isn't as crazy as it may seem-- the dating game harbors its demons.
Why is it so hard to just revel in the 'now'? Isn't that the definition of ZEN anyway-- being in the moment, taking each element in, being appreciative of all that surrounds, without thinking of the past or worrying of the future?
I'd say those monks may have had something there...
Blasted conscience.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
i want to say
there have been so many times i wanted to write times that my mind has crafted a delicate emotion into a blanket of lace or a well-soiled thought into a perforated canvas but then it passes and it becomes lost in the obligations of today and the wishes of tomorrow and i have so much to say yet i have nothing to say and i don't want to make it about me because i have realized that life is not about me even in the ways that i thought it should be but i am so damn tired and overwhelmed and stuffed full with stifled tears and unknowns and hopes that may not materialize in this life that i can't even express something simple it seems and i can't make anything seem worthwhile but i want to write something anything at all so i've decided that i could at least write this and this is all i can do. right now.
Keepsake
I need file folders, fasteners, to keep each of the feelings
the tellings the rememberings
of things once forgot.
I need wire holders, wrappers, to lock each of the feelings
the tellings the rememberings
of things never got.
the tellings the rememberings
of things once forgot.
I need wire holders, wrappers, to lock each of the feelings
the tellings the rememberings
of things never got.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Giving Notice
I don't have this post grounded in a precise idea, necessarily. No story, no moment. Just--a feeling. And an incredible one.
Today, I feel like I'm a participant, an active and happy, hopeful participant, in my own life. I am completely bombarded with a million thoughts and obligations and underground fears of impossible expectations and romantic imaginings...but, I am perfectly content. I am not passing through the day hoping for much more. I am not waiting on a tomorrow that makes me feel my today has worth. Even if I lose sleep, even if I never get around to cleaning my room, even if my feelings are hurt, even if I'm so far from who I know I can and want to be, my life is in a good place, for myriad reasons.
And I just wanted to write, as more of a self-reminder for when this joy becomes veiled in ineluctable strife, that this feeling exists. That, even in loss or confusion, springs a chance for growth.
Today, I feel like I'm a participant, an active and happy, hopeful participant, in my own life. I am completely bombarded with a million thoughts and obligations and underground fears of impossible expectations and romantic imaginings...but, I am perfectly content. I am not passing through the day hoping for much more. I am not waiting on a tomorrow that makes me feel my today has worth. Even if I lose sleep, even if I never get around to cleaning my room, even if my feelings are hurt, even if I'm so far from who I know I can and want to be, my life is in a good place, for myriad reasons.
And I just wanted to write, as more of a self-reminder for when this joy becomes veiled in ineluctable strife, that this feeling exists. That, even in loss or confusion, springs a chance for growth.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Fin de siècle
He runs his fingers across the wood of the café table top. It was the same place I had sat across from him months ago and first taken note of his kind, crisp eyes—blue with a green gloss. Now, I can see them studying my face, his brow in pitied curl, his hands resting flat. And I had been always aware of his hands—their aggression on my hip, their hesitation on my cheek. The hands that said so much but never enough.
“Something’s missing.”
“It’s been this way awhile.”
I watch blurred forms pass me, in pairs, in smiles, as we share a silent walk to the lot. The cars are parked diagonally in their places.
Waiting.
Crooked.
Metal.
Our steps diverge.
“You deserve love, and I can’t get there.”
“And I’m still in that same spot.”
I collect book, shirt, all the his in a bag, and I make the last leg to the house. I hover on the doorstep, float into the room. His words spiral between us, some flinging from the void and stinging my skin. And I watch him turn away as he rubs the steam burn on his inner wrist—a heart-shaped burn with a thick blue vein running through its center.
“How do you feel?”
Broken.
“Something’s missing.”
“It’s been this way awhile.”
I watch blurred forms pass me, in pairs, in smiles, as we share a silent walk to the lot. The cars are parked diagonally in their places.
Waiting.
Crooked.
Metal.
Our steps diverge.
“You deserve love, and I can’t get there.”
“And I’m still in that same spot.”
I collect book, shirt, all the his in a bag, and I make the last leg to the house. I hover on the doorstep, float into the room. His words spiral between us, some flinging from the void and stinging my skin. And I watch him turn away as he rubs the steam burn on his inner wrist—a heart-shaped burn with a thick blue vein running through its center.
“How do you feel?”
Broken.
Monday, February 11, 2008
A Soundtrack
I was given some iTunes money for Christmas--for those who love me know me well--and I just spent the majority of it buying songs of my childhood soundtrack. This includes but is not limited to several jams by Tevin Campbell, before he grew up and his voice changed, and "I Wanna Sex You Up" by the oh-so-eclectic Color Me Badd [to think I used to sing those words and honestly had NO clue what they meant...]. I can't remember what I just read this afternoon, but I still know every word of these beautiful bits of lyrical poetry.
Playing right now, a true favorite:
"Lil' Brother" by Tevin Campbell
My sister was the girl part, and I was the guy Tevin part, and we would sing the whole song, while my poor parents had to watch. We had microphones and made motions for the "I'll give you my French fry..." part. Sheer awesomeness, it was.
We had "dance parties" where we'd blast music like Taylor Dayne or Tevin, and we'd walk and dance around the Oriental rugs, lip-synching our hearts out. We each had our favorite song on each album. My Dad loved "Strawberry Letter 23" and I was into "One Song" off of T.E.V.I.N. I almost bought the song he did for the A Goofy Movie soundtrack, but it's an 'Album Only,' blast it. So great, so great.
I sometimes have this fear that my mind can only hold so much, so many memories, but then, innocent and easy times come back to me, like Sister and my sing-along nights, and the fact that I believed I had lost those things forever, that they had sailed away, makes the moments when they surface seem even the more precious.
My heart gets heavy reflecting on those meaningless memories- middle school dances, summers playing Shark in the 5-ft pool-they seem to hit the largest strings.
And it's moments like the past that make the present bittersweet. Things do keep going, the world doesn't stop, for anybody. We grow old, we move away, but parts of us, shiny shards of the person I used to be, remain in that past, eyes closed tight, hands clenched, belting out that long note at the end of the song, in the company of those who love me most.
Playing right now, a true favorite:
"Lil' Brother" by Tevin Campbell
My sister was the girl part, and I was the guy Tevin part, and we would sing the whole song, while my poor parents had to watch. We had microphones and made motions for the "I'll give you my French fry..." part. Sheer awesomeness, it was.
We had "dance parties" where we'd blast music like Taylor Dayne or Tevin, and we'd walk and dance around the Oriental rugs, lip-synching our hearts out. We each had our favorite song on each album. My Dad loved "Strawberry Letter 23" and I was into "One Song" off of T.E.V.I.N. I almost bought the song he did for the A Goofy Movie soundtrack, but it's an 'Album Only,' blast it. So great, so great.
I sometimes have this fear that my mind can only hold so much, so many memories, but then, innocent and easy times come back to me, like Sister and my sing-along nights, and the fact that I believed I had lost those things forever, that they had sailed away, makes the moments when they surface seem even the more precious.
My heart gets heavy reflecting on those meaningless memories- middle school dances, summers playing Shark in the 5-ft pool-they seem to hit the largest strings.
And it's moments like the past that make the present bittersweet. Things do keep going, the world doesn't stop, for anybody. We grow old, we move away, but parts of us, shiny shards of the person I used to be, remain in that past, eyes closed tight, hands clenched, belting out that long note at the end of the song, in the company of those who love me most.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Flowers
Lilies used to be my favorite. Stargazer lilies are my Mom's favorite. Their bold color, their sweet smell.
Then, it was daisies. Mom had one little daisy in her hair at her wedding. She looked perfect.
But now, there's a new flower.
The wildflower. The beautiful yellow bud that grows from the weeds by the driveway.
Then, it was daisies. Mom had one little daisy in her hair at her wedding. She looked perfect.
But now, there's a new flower.
The wildflower. The beautiful yellow bud that grows from the weeds by the driveway.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Remains
I've packed away your sketch of me,
the card with kites and stars,
the lyric that you read to me
of guns and unhealed scars.
I've left the photos on the wall
the stones, the shack, the flower
I wonder if all you've given me
was ever really ours.
The songs my ears have preyed upon
have preyed upon hers, too.
She's had the songs, the pictures, words
the bed I shared with you.
Despite her lethal aims of war
in shadows lurking near
My brightness can't survive the force
of a heart that holds her dear.
Of all the past mistakes we've spat
and times I've kicked with might
I wonder if I'd shut my eyes
and held my tongue with bite
If I'd recognize the scales you wear
you claim you tried to shed
If I'd recognize the cross I bear
of love, that is now dead.
Instead of holding onto past
I walk through glass today
with all the words still in my head
yet nothing more to say.
the card with kites and stars,
the lyric that you read to me
of guns and unhealed scars.
I've left the photos on the wall
the stones, the shack, the flower
I wonder if all you've given me
was ever really ours.
The songs my ears have preyed upon
have preyed upon hers, too.
She's had the songs, the pictures, words
the bed I shared with you.
Despite her lethal aims of war
in shadows lurking near
My brightness can't survive the force
of a heart that holds her dear.
Of all the past mistakes we've spat
and times I've kicked with might
I wonder if I'd shut my eyes
and held my tongue with bite
If I'd recognize the scales you wear
you claim you tried to shed
If I'd recognize the cross I bear
of love, that is now dead.
Instead of holding onto past
I walk through glass today
with all the words still in my head
yet nothing more to say.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
A Slave Narrative
Frederick Douglass writes in his narrative of the Methodists justifying slavery with religion.
Justifying oppression with love.
Expressing concern with constraints.
Converting wrong-doing to blame.
Douglass, a slave. Education, the key to success.
My key?
Freedom.
Justifying oppression with love.
Expressing concern with constraints.
Converting wrong-doing to blame.
Douglass, a slave. Education, the key to success.
My key?
Freedom.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Frozen
The cold of the weather
The cold of the pain
The holes in your sweater
The hole in your brain
The time looking forward
The time standing still
The cold hollow hole
The time-willing will
The cold of the pain
The holes in your sweater
The hole in your brain
The time looking forward
The time standing still
The cold hollow hole
The time-willing will
Friday, November 9, 2007
OX
not the animal. But a Hug and Kiss.
O, the emptiness. X marking the spot.
O, the shape of your head, shrinking in the rearview, out of sight.
and X, your arms crossing over my shoulders as I go,
before I pull away.
OX XOXO XXX XOXO
and I pull away.
O, the emptiness. X marking the spot.
O, the shape of your head, shrinking in the rearview, out of sight.
and X, your arms crossing over my shoulders as I go,
before I pull away.
OX XOXO XXX XOXO
and I pull away.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Unconditionally
My dear neighbor of nearly 14 years had cancer for about four. Her insides were horrific, but she was the strongest woman on the out. It was mostly because she was so stubborn. She would never show her weaknesses, in body or mind. She made us all wear those Livestrong bracelets. When she caught me without mine, she scolded and gave me another. I never took the thing off, not for an involved workout or formal event. When I was away for New Years, I was sitting on the couch and fiddling, as I always do. The bracelet suddenly popped. I wasn't even tugging with much force, but it snapped, right between the words live and strong.
I called my Mom from the airport as I was arriving home, and she asked me to come by the antique mall where she works so she could see me. My mom is very loving and affectionate and involved, so I thought she just missed me and wanted to hear about my trip. I called her as I was approaching the parking lot, and she met me outside. "Sweetie," she said as she approached me with a pitied look and arms outstretched, "Mrs. Judy is dead."
The weird thing was that it happened on the day my bracelet went. I'm not religious- but, that gave me the biggest shiver and strangest feeling, and I wondered about whether it was a mere coincidence.
You never think about it, but parents have the most horrible, noble job of having to inform you when someone dies. There is no sadder, more difficult job than that. Even when my Grammy died, which was probably the most sobering event to happen to my mother besides the sudden death of her father, I remember her being so strong. She sat on the couch, pulled me to her, and whispered the words that Grammy was gone. "Oh, honey," she cried as I became hysterical. And it was that reaction that amazed me so and amazes me still. Despite whatever heartbreak and sorrow and devastation she was feeling, she was more worried about me and the hurt I was feeling.
When I had gotten my heart broken for the second time and called my mother crying, she ended up crying too.
"If I could take away your pain and feel it for you, I would."
What a thing to say, you know? The thing is, she really meant it. Sure, we've all had times where we felt so sad, so sorry, for a loved one or dear friend when they were going through hard stuff. But to be willing to take it and feel it in order to relieve the pain of another--that's something truly fascinating to me.
I called my Mom from the airport as I was arriving home, and she asked me to come by the antique mall where she works so she could see me. My mom is very loving and affectionate and involved, so I thought she just missed me and wanted to hear about my trip. I called her as I was approaching the parking lot, and she met me outside. "Sweetie," she said as she approached me with a pitied look and arms outstretched, "Mrs. Judy is dead."
The weird thing was that it happened on the day my bracelet went. I'm not religious- but, that gave me the biggest shiver and strangest feeling, and I wondered about whether it was a mere coincidence.
You never think about it, but parents have the most horrible, noble job of having to inform you when someone dies. There is no sadder, more difficult job than that. Even when my Grammy died, which was probably the most sobering event to happen to my mother besides the sudden death of her father, I remember her being so strong. She sat on the couch, pulled me to her, and whispered the words that Grammy was gone. "Oh, honey," she cried as I became hysterical. And it was that reaction that amazed me so and amazes me still. Despite whatever heartbreak and sorrow and devastation she was feeling, she was more worried about me and the hurt I was feeling.
When I had gotten my heart broken for the second time and called my mother crying, she ended up crying too.
"If I could take away your pain and feel it for you, I would."
What a thing to say, you know? The thing is, she really meant it. Sure, we've all had times where we felt so sad, so sorry, for a loved one or dear friend when they were going through hard stuff. But to be willing to take it and feel it in order to relieve the pain of another--that's something truly fascinating to me.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Little Miss Piggy
I sifted through a collection of home videos the other day. We have a lot, because we lived overseas my first two years and my parents would make tapes to send Grammy and the relatives. Every Easter, my parents would hide all kinds of candies around the apartment- Cadbury eggs, malt balls, chocolate squares- and Sister and I would take our wicker baskets and search. Sister, being older, could easily see the hidden sweets, but instead of snatching them and adding them to her basket, she would call over to me and tell me to help her look around the area she stood. I would come over eagerly and hoard all of the candy she caused me to find. I never caught on. Nor did she ever tire of me. She would become really excited and continued to lead me this way until I had found most of the candy. Before the scene cuts on the film, Sister begins to unwrap a chocolate from her pile. I walk to her, release a whine, and steal the candy from her hands. My parents reprimand me. Sister leans in toward my face and kisses my forehead as I walk away, chewing.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Love Letter
Dear Older Version of Me,
I am sorry for all of the things that I did to make life worse for you. For example, all of the sleep I cost you and sunscreen I dismissed--I apologize for those. I apologize for listening to my music much louder than necessary and for choosing not to floss, besides the week before and after a dental appointment. I'm sorry for staring at the computer screen for hours and for scrunching my face and causing you those well-defined forehead folds. I wish I would've spent some money on those memory vitamins or strong sports bras, because I'm sure the dragging and sagging damage has been done. And that time I drank too much and then fell onto my left shoulder, forgetting to properly clean the thing for nearly two days and ending up with a 3-inch scar...yeah, I'm sorry for that now, too.
But, if it is any consolation, the younger you did do some great things. I tried things that made me scared. I said no. I said yes. I felt things, right to the heart. I hurt. I healed. I did a lot of things. Some of them made it possible for you to do more things now. Some things made others more difficult. What is important is that- even if I had the chance- I wouldn't do any of those things differently. I know you probably think otherwise, being "older" and "wiser." But, as you also know, that thing known as regret...can shorten a life. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?
Love and life,
Me
I am sorry for all of the things that I did to make life worse for you. For example, all of the sleep I cost you and sunscreen I dismissed--I apologize for those. I apologize for listening to my music much louder than necessary and for choosing not to floss, besides the week before and after a dental appointment. I'm sorry for staring at the computer screen for hours and for scrunching my face and causing you those well-defined forehead folds. I wish I would've spent some money on those memory vitamins or strong sports bras, because I'm sure the dragging and sagging damage has been done. And that time I drank too much and then fell onto my left shoulder, forgetting to properly clean the thing for nearly two days and ending up with a 3-inch scar...yeah, I'm sorry for that now, too.
But, if it is any consolation, the younger you did do some great things. I tried things that made me scared. I said no. I said yes. I felt things, right to the heart. I hurt. I healed. I did a lot of things. Some of them made it possible for you to do more things now. Some things made others more difficult. What is important is that- even if I had the chance- I wouldn't do any of those things differently. I know you probably think otherwise, being "older" and "wiser." But, as you also know, that thing known as regret...can shorten a life. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?
Love and life,
Me
Monday, September 3, 2007
Steady
The balloon fills. It stretches and expands, unable to resist the force of water. First, dripping. Then, a steady trickle. An even pour. A rushing stream. A forceful downpour. A waterfall.
Water.
Fall.
A needle's point pierces the surface, to allow relieving leak.
But when the needle pricks, the container bursts, and its contents explode outward, soaking everything around the broken skin.
Water.
Fall.
A needle's point pierces the surface, to allow relieving leak.
But when the needle pricks, the container bursts, and its contents explode outward, soaking everything around the broken skin.
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