memoirs of a twentysomething

dearest

2011-02-24T23:22:00.000-05:00

you is a beam of sunshine {smack dab in the middle} of a bleak bleak winter.
you is the back.beat.ba.ck.be.at. of my favorite dance tune.
you is my the strin–——————g that reels my yo-yo back in.
you is the shoeb[o]x stuffed with my favorite memories.
you is the friday.saturday.sunday of a really long week.
you is the def•in•ition(noun): of a perfect match.
you is the ......finale* of my 4th of july fireworks.

2010-07-13T18:17:00.000-04:00

"Dance for me."
"Please dance for me."
You begged me that day.
"I don't have any music.
I'll look like a fool.
Who dances without music?"

And here I am,
Three hundred
and sixty-four
days after I watched
you drown waterless.

And I could've danced
to the rhythm of your
gasping for air.

I still didn't dance.

And here I am,
Three hundred
and sixty-four days
later and I am
in the exact same place.

Except, you are missing.
And I'd give anything
to dance without music.

seeding.

2009-11-10T11:52:00.002-05:00

little leafies rustle differently these days

as if your absence
has affected their
physical space
to dance

as if they, too, know
this world is always
fading in out of life

as if they, too, succomb
to their own inevitabilities

as if they, too, see no progression

as if they, just like i,
cannot accept a substitute
of a new season

"she's having a really hard time."
they expect it to fade.
but the ticking clock
every.where.i.go.
suggests differently.

i don't forget you're gone.

i have this dream:

you've died.
there are pots of geraniums
in the bathtub.
the sink.
on the counter.
the kitchen table.
the sidewalk.
you lie flat.
motionless.
you see us.
we can't see you.
we busy ourselves
with:
nurturing the geraniums,
gathering their seeds,
wetting their fertilized soil,
shooing away the guests
that continue to bring
the geraniums.
and then they die:
first the magenta,
then the purple,
last the red.
and we lament,
as each one dies.
we weep.
we water.
they all wither
they're crunchy.
we weep.
we water still.
we remember:
we have the seeds.
we start over.

2009-09-26T12:21:00.002-04:00

lately,my life
is measuredmin seasons
and the cinnamon
(whose container is
almost emptied)

not so lately,
i have lost the will
to reminisce
(it takes so much
out of me.
but i am scared
the memories
will dissipate
if i don't devote
that sad energy.)

does anyone else
make gingerbread
that's cut into squares
gingerbread cake
with a sauce
that has a name.
(i never knew what to
call it. but it was
buttery and syrupy
and cinnamon.)

it was autumn magic.

and fried apple pies
that would be cooling
on the counter with the
perfectly shaped edges.
(the filling never escaped.)

and your house shoes.
and the matching touch lamps
on the matching end tables.
and the pressed rose
in between the pages
of that one bible
that sat in the bookcase
with the glass that had
the tempered edges.

and the warmth
that lived in that house.

and the little paper bags
with halloween treats.
it was never just a bowl
of candy.
little paper bags
little plastic spider rings.

i miss you
and i miss your autumn magic
and your voice
on the telephone
and your face.

2009-08-09T22:11:00.002-04:00

Your face
is pliable.
Putty I could
stretch,
distort,
with my thumbs.

You are fleeting.
I am grieving.
For everything
I have always taken.
Taken away.
Taken a token.
Token greeting.
Fleeting token
taken for granted
grievance.

If you never
walk again
speak to me
say my name,
I will forever
grieve,
seethe,
miss the steps
i never saw
you take.

It goes without
saying,
screaming,
grieving
That I am
assured,
quite certain,
impossibly aware,
that you'll walk again.

Hopefully you'll walk
into my arms
and
not out of my life.

2009-07-18T12:16:00.003-04:00

Listen to the way the breeze blows now.

The arrangements delivered.
To wither.

The casseroles served.
To soothe that pain
(the Southern way.)

Your Momma.
Our Mawmaw.
Your neighbor.

Her yellow kitchen.

Oh, how we all knew it.

Come and sit a spell.
Tell me your tale.
Of the greatest meal
you ever ate.
At my Mawmaw's table.

2009-06-02T21:27:00.002-04:00

i see light diffused. dispersed. dismantled.
i see life in the space between your blood. bones. breaths.
i feel night bleed into the dawn.
i feel june afternoons gasping for air.

i wish you knew
all of the different ways
i've imagined the days
that never came to be.

2009-06-02T21:20:00.002-04:00

peace remains when the fleeting
has fled to the thrones
in a hall
of a little
little bit
of time.

"whose time?",
you always ask.

"not yours," infallibly i respond.

"well, then... also not yours."

"i only wish to answer your impossible question."

"i only wish you'd supply the answer i crave."

then,
i take your hand
in mine.

"this is what we have.
right now.
this. now."

infallibly you smile.

2009-04-14T22:29:00.003-04:00

i feel like melted cherry gelatin
pooling from a plastic cup
on a july day.

i am going to disappear.
anything worth saying
will merritt phone calls.
not text messages.
not status updates.
not e-mails.

i will save my breath,
my thoughts.
Until they are something
worthy of a share.

i am inundated with junk mail,
piles of unsorted dirty laundry,
containers of moldy food within
the dark beyonds of the refrigerator.

i am surmounted by 23 years of apathy.

i am unconcerned,
uninspired,
unyieldingly exhausted
today.

tomorrow i will awaken,
remember my day's responsibilities,
feel slightly more than empty,
put my feet on the ground,
grunt
and then
go on with my day.

i just want to fit somewhere.

2009-03-29T17:07:00.002-04:00

I love the way
the French do life,
the Italians do art,
the Spanish do love.

2009-03-29T16:32:00.002-04:00

I wish she wouldn't
live so hard.

Why do epiphanies hide
for a couple and a half
of decades?

You should learn
that you do not love
everything you say you love.
You like. You like.
You like these things.
These mundane things.
"I love this song. These birds.
Your hair."
Perhaps you should conserve
your love. Your love, for when
it comes along.

I do not say, "Conserve the good times."
I do not say, "Bank your happiness."
I do not scream, "Tone down your passion."

By all means, be passionate.
But, BE PASSIONATE, if it matters.
If it fills your lungs and
pumps through your veins,
then do it. "DO IT," I'm saying.

You could be forty-eight thousand miles
from my space, my face, my space and face.
And though you are, I feel you and I save my
ten fingers, ten toes, my voice and bouncy tip-toes
to share my space with your face and space.

I feel you, though you do not linger.
I feel you, though you live your life.
I know you already.
I love you already.
It cannot be forced upon someone unsuspecting.
I do, I love you abounding and feel you with fire.

2009-03-29T15:40:00.002-04:00

i am tristing with Spring Time.

(though winter has once again left me with despair,
he is my re-supplier of all that is delight)

i am antici-painting:
red-tipped tree limbs
blue-skied water
warm pinking skin
green up-stretching fescue
happy flecking brown eyes

growing. growing.
stupid of the cycle.
living in the warm delight.
burying the winter under happy.

2009-03-04T21:39:00.002-05:00

seeing the forest
is an impossible task
for a gal who's adapted
to seeing the trees.

what's wrong
about seeing the micro,
anyhow?

what's wrong
about inspecting
the obvious?

the forest,
he is constant.
the critter
(on the limb
of that very tree
in that so big forest)
is not so constant.

like the forest,
my bones remain.

like the tree,
i grow
and grow
and even grow again,
until my growth is complete.

and then,
the trees
(around me)
they grow
and grow
and they even grow
(past my own growth)
(sometimes)
until their growth is complete.

and we all seed
and cycle
and revert to the dirt
and stretch to the sky

and revert to the dirt.

2009-02-23T22:39:00.003-05:00

On the polar opposite of the Golden Rule
lives this very affirmation:

Treat yourself as you would want others to treat you.

Love yourself with unyielding enthusiasm.
Convince yourself you are worthy of your own company.
Be disappointed when you don't spend time with you.
Impress yourself daily.
Be the one person in the world you can't live without.
Learn your own insides and outs.
Memorize the lines of your own face.
Wake up, happy to be lying next to yourself.

Celebrate your 23rd anniversary,
after all, you spend more time with yourself
than anyone else.

Laugh at the faces you make whilst
carefully wiggling on your mascara.

Water your roots,
you didn't become this beautiful creature
without a little help.

2009-01-09T23:56:00.003-05:00

My take, there's two kinds.

The first:
is made of bone.
will bend.
claims to know nothing.
is a floating soul.
glows.

The next:
is made of wire.
forms lines.
strives to understand all.
is a structural body.
shines.

resolved:

2009-01-01T17:02:00.002-05:00

i will hold a hand through trouble
and wipe tears from a face with my thumbs

i will eat the yogurt i buy or buy no more

i will find warmth in the dead of winter.
somewhere. i will.

i will remember the last words we exchange
before our next conversation.

i will recognize a good thing when i see it.

i will memorize your laughter and archive it.

2008-12-14T19:32:00.003-05:00

my tropical tea
tastes more like butter
than rain forest air.

there are two types:
those who enjoy
finding surprise corn
in plates of food
or bowls of soup
and those who
voice their disdain
of surprise corn.

i am neither.
i enjoy corn
now & again.
surprise & otherwise.

these days i feel
less like
painting my toes
&
more like
hiding in sheets
and making a cave
of my own space.

2008-12-07T17:40:00.003-05:00

Love is not learned.

Tonight you said,
"The most brilliant people that have ever lived have ended their own lives."

How do I keep from sinking into that same psychology when the weight of everything I have never comprehended has gathered around my feet like drying concrete?

How do I push the pull from the other side?

Why, when we are farthest from the sun, do we feel the most desolate? Aren't we wired to be nomadic anyway? Are we really better off in our little boxes than traveling to a vitamin D filled paradise? Why have we done this to ourselves. Why have we let our fellow folks die on a cold street?

And why have we placed SO much value on monetary gains?

My brain is going to implode.

2008-12-03T19:54:00.003-05:00

I have this bad accidental habit
that I've been building through the years.
I kill my black sweaters.
Every black sweater I have ever liked,
actually, that I have ever had,
has had a tragic ending.

I stuffed one into the nook
between my purse
and my armpit
and it died in the street.
I am certain of it.
And the stranger that picked up
didn't appreciate it.
I am certain of it.
It had two square buttons missing.
And it isn't until now
that I considered how unique
those square buttons are.

I shrunk one.
The cute wrap sweater
with the too long tie.
Shrunk it.
It just wasn't the same.
Garments don't recover.
They don't bounce back
from mistreatment.

I left one on a theater floor.
Perhaps it developed all over
that buttery shoe print film.

Oh, and then another...
give-away-to-thrift-store-pile.
(Accidentally.)

So tonight, I found myself experiencing a
"wow, i'm an adult moment"
when i noticed that my
sparkly beaded edged black cardigan
was missing from the nook
in between my armpit and my purse.
I retraced my footsteps in the cold
and found it in the fortress of my front seat.

Tonight, I will not be attending
a wake
for a black sweater.

2008-11-22T11:13:00.002-05:00

At this age, isn't your life supposed to be coming together?
My spirit is a little splintered and I haven't a compass to guide my way,
I have been wandering these past 2 years.
Am I kidding you?
Maybe the past 23.
My palate is accustomed to this.
But it doesn't mean I don't long for me.

Am I supposed to be self-assured?
I am 10,000 miles from self-assured.

veintitrés

2008-11-09T10:52:00.004-05:00

Some favorite things remain:
buttered toast
morning stretches
fall blue sky
silly little songs about sunshine
napping on the floor
the story about my birth and the storm
(every year you tell it. don't stop. ever.)

I went for a run this morning... afterward I ended up sitting by the harbor, observing the liquidity of the sail reflections. Then I realized, I'm not sad. Not anymore. Not when there is so much to bask in. When people love you unconditionally. Would do everything for you. Would hold your hand as you brave the 8th and 9th circles. God forbid we ever reach the 10th, we've already experienced enough hell. Sadness has a way of consuming a million pieces - somehow there's always that one piece in reserve that sadness can't reach. It's no doing of our own, you know.

I feel a stirring under the soil. Our lives are about to synthesize. I am eagerly terrified.

2008-10-28T07:33:00.002-04:00

undercurrent buzz is surfacing
we're too afraid of a jinx,
so not a soul will speak it,
yet.

we are brinking the first
r.e.v.o.l.u.t.i.o.n, i say,
of our lifetimes.

breathe it in
look around
remember this pre-better life

smile, knowing that
our world was out of control
infested with greedy germs
hatred pests
intolerant idiots.

remember what it was like,
so our children won't have to know.

2008-10-11T12:42:00.002-04:00

months ago i saw
through shade the
multi-angular suffering,
buried disparity
a world i wasn't sure
i could ever add another.
(at least not without
feeling the guilt
of a succumbed planet
on my shoulders.)

now, i see the dawn
of something better.
years of better.
a planet of better.

are we on the brink
of learning how to love?
really love.
REALLY LOVE,
one another?

surely we'll be on the mend.

what i would know to miss if i didn't remember to know:

2008-09-06T22:56:00.003-04:00

candle wax fingertip molds
tiny t-shirt pockets
dancing ceiling shadows
gut feelings
walking into spider webs
map legends
good folks
spotty pillow scents
high heel click clacks
your giggles
magnetic album sheets
window down tangled hair
stair sitting
young vocal chords
curtain tie backs
plastic beads
hot rain soaked pavement
daffodils
silent movie scenes
phone call pauses
some good news
floor lying
high contrast photos
wine corks
every line of your face

what should simply not exist:

2008-09-03T19:18:00.003-04:00

split top lips
ear wigs
junk mail
yellow curbs
plastic bags
dear john letters
broken stall locks
peeling nail polish
goat cheese
hollywood
flawed economies
bad first dates
stale fig newtons
midnight construction
scar inducing shoes
crocodile tears
nude pantyhose
deadlines
animal testing
electric bills
styrofoam
saturated fat
grape flavored anything
bleached white flour
jesus camps
our relationship

2008-08-11T21:46:00.003-04:00

funny, or not so very funny
how my world is shattered in a fistful of words
ordinary words
arranged into a miniature movement
of disappointment.

by saying you can't make your decision
between the two of us.
means that you have not chosen me
as deliberately as i would've preferred.

and
damn you
for making me fall into a fairy tale world
again and again
and never delivering
the happily ever after.

2008-08-10T09:34:00.002-04:00

Hello again, August.
Empty-handed again I see.
Nothing to offer.
Rather you'd be empty-handed
than with handfuls of disappointment.
All I ask, fade slowly.
Give a girl some hope.

2008-07-06T22:21:00.002-04:00

My greatest wish isn't
world peace
or
a pretty puppy with a pink handkerchief tied 'round it's little tiny neck
but that
the parasite that ate your rotten heart
would help to compost the rest of your
putrid soul.
(And I hope it takes a few decades.)

Upon the next shooting star
I shall hope with my whole heart
Not for exotic black pearls,
but for a cyclone to rampage
your neighborhood
and whisper into the knothole
of the tallest oak
to fall upon your house
when you're taking your
little bubble baths
and listening to a band
that you pretend isn't
garbage comparable to you.

When I extinguish the flame
on my 23 made of parafin,
I will wish for my student loans to be repaid,
better insurance,
cheaper gas prices,
and a misprint on your gravestone.

*heart*

2008-07-06T11:37:00.002-04:00

Dear You,

For two thousand five hundred and fifty-five days my hatred for and dependence on you, replaced my blood. Or, at least, severely diluted my blood. This realization comes to me as I am re-navigating my own soul. My own thoughts are a new language that I am now having to learn to conjugate. Because I am no longer feeling the responsibility of saving you, I am allowed to write the following observation. In fact, this whole time, I should've been keeping a field journal of the your torrential cyclical self-destructive behavior.

You are the very definition of a monster.

Main Entry:
1mon·ster
Pronunciation:
\ˈmän(t)-stər\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
Middle English monstre, from Anglo-French, from Latin monstrum omen, monster, from monēre to warn — more at mind
Date:
14th century
1 a: an animal or plant of abnormal form or structure b: one who deviates from normal or acceptable behavior or character
2: a threatening force
3 a: an animal of strange or terrifying shape b: one unusually large for its kind
4: something monstrous; especially : a person of unnatural or extreme ugliness, deformity, wickedness, or cruelty
5: one that is highly successful

Enjoy your next flavor of the decade. When the chains you have bound her in are finally rusty enough for her to break free, refer her to me. I'll sponsor her. We'll compare lies, because I'm sure she never really knew you either.

You are going to be completely miserable for the rest of your life. You will torture anyone who has a gram of sentiment for you.

You know why? Because you are the scorpion and it is in your nature.

XXXOOO,
Your vindication

2008-07-06T10:12:00.002-04:00

what nobody mentions:

fringed fingernails from a gross twenty-two year habit
how frighteningly overside our egos are when we call something a "sky-scraper"
the arbitrariness of mountains of shoe boxes in landfills
the loss of love confessions sprayed on highway overpasses
mildew on washcloths
how they once perceived everything had a nervous system
(& how maybe they still feel sad when someone picks a flower)

2008-06-19T22:26:00.002-04:00

little leaves,
you quiver,
thirsty,
exposing your silver
bellies to the angry sky.

electric front,
you scheme.
where to throw
your neon triton?

familiar storm,
you brew.
circling my universe
with your shards of
magnetic electricity.

2008-06-15T00:44:00.003-04:00

don't think about me
with a door bell ring.

it makes me wish
for to be deaf.

i hate those
stupid
stupid
stupid
stupid
stupid
stupid
country songs.
every
single
goddamned
ONE.
about burnt cakes
and damaged goods
and loving him anyway.

i want to vomit in your volvo.

i would rather eat a
hamburger
than have you think of me.

nobody reads annotations.

2008-06-14T23:21:00.003-04:00

for three fucking quarters
of a decade
i have been 1-with-innumerable-zeros percent
wrong
about your guts.

.

you were not a mistake at all.
you were the several chapters
in my book that define a tragedy.

simply that.

i'm not concerned, though.
ages 17-22 are irrelevant
in the scheme
of soul definitions.

you used to be exclamation points, you know.
i want to several-verb-s you.
you are my violent gerunds.
though soon,

i think you will fade into a pronoun.
and then,

you will be the double space between
my sentences.

then, you'll be an indentation.
only affecting several hundreds of
paragraphs in a multi-volumed book.

you'll never be my dog ears
i don't need reminders of you.

some day,
you'll be nothing an annotation..
(or two.)

Who will get free copies.

2008-06-02T21:21:00.002-04:00

You. (of course. my muse. i hate You.)

Jennifer Koppelman-Hutt.

mom & kite.

babs k.

You. (I'll send you the ones from the damaged box.
Every single one.
You told me I was damaged goods,
So You deserve mine.)

Kendall. (kindling, I hope not.)

Queen Meghan. (Who I'm told is a size six. Cong(RAT)s.

My BFF (you'll own ten percent of me, anyway.)

Jaime.
and my Jamie.

Stephenie Meyer (I love your Edward. Make him real.)

2008-06-02T21:16:00.002-04:00

What you wrote:

"Goodbye, good luck. I'm sure if I were a being capable of love I would love you. But I'm not, and what ifs are just wasted moments of thought. You're right to say you do not know me. No one knows me, not even myself. My life is a deep, dark cave and tonight - once the sun goes down - I will put aside my doubts about God and pray to Him that you haven't crawled too far in to get back out and see daylight again. I'm so, so sorry for ever dragging you down into this endless tunnel. Somehow, for some reason, I had this completely false hope that you would climb into my cave and rescue me and pull me out with you. And that never happened - which is not to detract any from your character or your abilities, but it was just such a fairy tale for me to have in the first place. In short, I thought you were the one. Turns out, there is no one."

What I will respond:

no(thing)

Authors note: If I get famous, you can have the credit. I don't want it.

2008-06-01T22:12:00.002-04:00

you were but a ravine,
and whilst
i was tossing fists full
of my soul into us,
i failed to see
that you were
bottomless
and a simple
notion
nor emotion
could not mend
a crack in the terra.

2008-05-26T21:13:00.002-04:00

"Artists don't have favorite colors,"
she said.
It's green(e).

Explain her, some day.

Responsibility over chocolate ganache...

2008-05-22T23:16:00.002-04:00

you say, "11:11 make a wish."
and though i have never heard your voice,
my heart is an empty tin can in this instance.

she says "kindness over all else."
and though i suspect that you,
having at least 40 years over me,
are correct,
my conscience's remorse booms on.

earlier, someone said, "peppermint tea soothes the stomach."
and though she knows herbal remedies well,
the knot in my stomach could've been tied by a sailor
and ten-thousand peppermint leaves could not soothe it.

mama says, "you are a woman now,"
and though every morning i commute,
manage to stay alive,
take vitamins,
wear perfume that makes me gag,
fill out a time-card,
pump gas,
talk about the declining US dollar,
scramble eggs,
make reservations,
and check the weather...
right now I feel less of a woman,
and more of disappointing friendship.

oh.. and though i've never heard your voice,
i celebrate 11:11 every day when I hear you announce it in my head.

what i should have reconsidered...

2008-05-19T21:46:00.003-04:00

a cotton skirt & a windstorm.
ceramic glaze & my favorite blue dress.
your face & a half lifetime of without you.
fourth grade & geography.
pigtails & age 15.
stilettos & sidewalks.
that yellow gingham table cloth & your pinking sheers.
a frog & the fish tank.
your feelings & my misgivings.
a whisk & a halloween costume.
blue toning & my favorite photos.
your 1st birthday & a part-time job.
a baby tooth & a lunch table.
girl scouts & a foul mouth.
bean sprouts & poster board.
microwave meals & final exams.

2008-04-20T18:05:00.002-04:00

how do you go from being a natural wonder
to a dying breed
to a lost culture?

how do you get from the top of the world
to skipping stones
to Death Valley?

how do you heal from a pinprick
turned heartache
turned fatal wound?

you wash the dirty linens.
you hang them to dry.
you leave the sun to bleach it. make it crisp.
you start anew and hope this time you won't have to suffer to get your prize.

this is adverse.
i am ready.

2008-04-19T12:08:00.002-04:00

i have declared
an end to this war. to this series of battles. to my wariness.

a soul knows
when something has reached the absolute end. a depleted source. a tapped out resource.

ten thousand years
could pass.
and i would know what i lost, yet regret not a drop.

2008-04-19T03:14:00.002-04:00

Imagination is a manifestation of past lives and lives we've yet to live.
We cannot know what we haven't experienced, which leads me to believe in a cyclical theory.
We experience what we know and we know what we have experienced.
We have not built monsters in the shadow from gray matter in our minds.

2008-04-17T23:37:00.003-04:00

in my mind i have built it up.
that moment, your epiphany.
as if you'll wake up on a tuesday
and by wednesday i'll be in your arms.

i'm wrong, i fear.

2008-04-15T21:25:00.001-04:00

i'm not strong enough for this anymore.
i have tasted the bitterest resentment on my palate.
it has already been too long.

2008-04-13T22:07:00.002-04:00

There were quite a few things I should've said over the years.

Like, how every day on my commute home
from school.
from work.
from a weary day of life in general,
for three-quarters of a decade,
I had conversations with you.
As if you were my passenger,
asking me about my day,
warning me about the car breaking in the lane ahead of me,
putting your hand over mine on the gear shift,
changing the FM to my favorite station,
drawing precarious words in the condensation.

Or, how a splinter of my soul always knew you'd never come around.

Oh.. and maybe how when I did my daily routines
three-hundred-&-sixty-five times seven,
I pictured you.
There.
Here.
Honestly, in every single wave of light.

Sure, I wanted somebody to turn the light off for me.
To assure me with a soft whisper.
To meld into.

But, it was always more than that.
Maybe more than you'll ever know now.

The girl is bound to realize:

2008-04-13T21:29:00.003-04:00

fairy tales are too far off.
slippers cannot be crafted of glass.
pumpkins are not midnight taxis.
her worst enemy is not an apple sampler.
fins never turn to limbs.
sleeping should never be interrupted.
crumbs don't help her find home.
princes less than rarely want peasants.

What's keeping her awake isn't a pea tucked under her mattress.

Little shiny light.

2008-04-12T15:23:00.003-04:00

When I am standing still,
I am standing, still.

Some day our molecules will meld.

Words that are but words
circle us
stalk us
infiltrate us.
Until those words help us
glue it all together
&
allow nothing afloat.

What I long for is
everything afloat.
We haven't defined it,
thus we cannot comprehend,
thus we cannot see
what truly makes us function.

I can't help but believe
we are missing a complete
realm
or realms
or hundreds of thousands of
our own realms
that belong to our very own identity.

Or maybe the problem is identity.

I am so close to absorbing it all
But, so far away.
Because I always get snapped back to reality.

This is my beautiful sea of realities.
& I am thankful for
every.single.drop.

hello fellas...

2008-04-11T19:22:00.002-04:00

springtime helps me taste the twilight
when you couldn't be farther away.

lately it is all a blissful blur.
as if i am seconds away from knowing
the entire world.

with every day transcendence
seems simple
and simpler still.

bring me the clarity in your eyes
and i will bring you blue posies
and maribou feathers.
i will bring you slivers of light.
i will bring you me.
i will present you my soul
splayed out in twenty directions.

somedays i can feel you:
in my morning stretches
in sugar rocks bottoming my teacup
in mucky puddles on a grayest day
in the pebble in the toe of my shoe

mostly i feel you:
in my daybreak ache
in a fleshy inside of the cheek bite
in the midst of a mystery
in window-down-weather hair knots

do you feel me in your
then agains?
grin-begins?
hello-friends?

i yearn for
a single tangible memory
a knuckle brush against the cheek
a fortress from myself

what i forgot...

2008-04-07T19:47:00.004-04:00

grass stains
your birthday
an oil change
(to change for that matter)
to water your plants
to water my own roots
the bananas in the crisper drawer
lunch
brunch
my latest hunch
all things mother goose
how to string beans
to preheat
to defrost
kick stands. squash blooms. your attic room.
hair bows
helium
the macaroni in the microwave
most days, gravity
family portraits
the berenstein bears
my chapstick in my jeans pocket
rock candy
sand rocks
moonstones and mood rings
mexican bubble gum
my lunch money
eleven
twelve
ten & thirteen
to add the dryer sheet
the ice scraper on the coldest morning
to lock the door. (they never lifted you.
or the tv for that matter.)

Let me.

2008-03-18T22:08:00.003-04:00

How is that tonight I can wrap my head around

quantum physics
reincarnation
metamorphosis
light filaments
& the big bang

more than I can wrap a single thread of understanding around you?

Please, just let me catch you when you're not so 90 degrees.

That is all I have ever wanted.

Just fall onto me.
into me.
whatever.
just let it be me.

You.

2008-02-28T18:28:00.002-05:00

I am tilting on a day that can't be saved,
and you level me.

I am landsliding, hooking my fingers into the edge of an insidious cliff,
and instead of grasping for my hand, or padding my fall,
you are hanging beside me,
volunteering encouragement.

How do you do YOU?
How have you perfected the most perfected notion?
Not even a notion, you are my reality,
and most days... I cannot believe it's true.
But there you are. There you are.
There you are, every day.

You are my 90 degrees on a 45 degree day
You are my concrete foundation in the midst of a twister.

Thank you.

Nor there...

2008-01-22T22:41:00.000-05:00

some days i see far beyond.
am i supposed to
see
the diffusion
of artificial light
against the natural?

am i supposed to
hear
beyond your words
into
your split particles?
am i supposed to
have
a keen awareness
that you left
every bit of
your energy
lingering on behind you?

futhermore, am i supposed to know you on this level?

do you see it...
this merging of a separate universe into ours?
i suspect you do
because, when your iris lines up with mine
it changes everything and everything changes.

there are days when my senses are so keen
and i can't begin to delve into explanation.

you are much more frightening today than in my dreams
where you have talons and sparks fly from your ear canals.

(i think you plan those dreams, anyway.)

i'm going to sit on the edge of sleep
and come after you with
a giant frying pan
to your skull
so that
i can
only have you in reality.

what i haven't known:

2008-01-16T22:43:00.001-05:00

tetanus and wild boars
desert nights and sour cherries
cantering
chainsaws
scuba diving and pate
martians. haitians. trenchcoats.
parachutes and eyeglasses
alpacas. arizona. igneous rock.
northern lights and albinos.
hedgehogs. captain planet.
skis
tailors
debutants. crabgrass. quail eggs.
inkwells. butlers. rubies.
chisels

any little piece of me...

2008-01-05T14:05:00.000-05:00

a struggle to identify my identity is daily.

where have my words evaporated?
&
who am i in this snow-gone winter?
&
when is this connection bound?
&
how are my roots with nutrition

if i can't seem to rise with the sun
then nor can i fall into the evening
knowing something is waiting.

when there are whispers
the audible becomes inconsequential

2007-12-03T19:46:00.001-05:00

something about revolving
on a sphere that is evolving
is moving enough to keep
me moving enough.

something about progress
or their definition of progress
is ironic enough to keep
progressing for definition.

to define me
is not your job.
nor is it mine.

Everytime I try to change my mind again, it gets me back to where I was.

2007-11-10T01:17:00.000-05:00

Okay, six months of abstractions aside, I'm back for some cohesive words. My life, my thoughts, and my words have been unsortable since graduation. So much has gone on within the recent months to make me understand myself, FINALLY. It's exhilarating to find myself in a place in my life where I am at peace. It is beyond acceptance of reality, it is an appreciation for it.

I just turned twenty-two. After all the phone calls, text messages, singing voice mails, cards, dinner with the two absolute best friends... I am grateful beyond words. I have been given these great people whom I don't feel deserving up. They continuously support me through my angst, my constant chatter, and my fits of self-centeredness.

This fall feels different. I am ecstatic about going home for Thanksgiving. I don't know if I've been this excited to drive on the Interstate for hours. I will get to sleep in my comfortable home in my trafficless town. I will feel that crispness that only comes with Mountain Mid-Novembers. I will be among the people I love most. I will hold the niece I feel I have neglected in my lap and sing her silly songs and archive the sound of her giggles. I miss them. So much. More than I ever thought was possible. I miss couch time with Momma, senseless conversations with Daddy, and nostalgic storytime with Mawmaw. I miss the understanding that only comes from a big sister who has lived my same life ten years longer.

I'm well adjusted right now with the city I'm adjusting to and the new job I just acquired. Everyone's proud of me, they say. But, I'm more proud of them then they'll ever know.

2007-11-08T22:08:00.000-05:00

twenty-two years ago
there was a rainstorm.
there was a mother.
there was a dreamer in her womb.

i've seen the photographs.
of the golden yellow haze.
the doctor with the blue mask.

my family.

there were green spritzer cookies.

it rained for days.

i was yellow
they were afraid
i'd have to be returned
until i wasn't yellow
anymore.

autumn memory jogs...

2007-10-18T23:34:00.000-04:00

many times you told me
of your protest to autumn
"know you love it,
but it makes me sad."
every year
with the first
fallen dress
blazing orange.

"he loved it.
knew this poem.
dancing leaves."
every year
with this glisten
in your eye
that reflected
everything he was.

"wish you could
remember your pawpaw."
every year
you tell me.
he loved my curls.

"things were simpler"
you say
and every year
i live
i see it more.

remember that halloween?
it snowed. remember?
i was thrilled with them.
ruby slippers.
gingham dress.
i was tall for 8.
you hemmed it for me.
independent even then,
i was defiant.
i was going to curl
those pigtails myself.
ended up with a scorch mark.
and then it snowed.
remember? it snowed!

across the street
that lady who had,
what i imagined,
a secret garden.
with those bleeding hearts.
she'd forgot the holiday.
she thought i was heidi.

"i hate it."
every year.

"i love it."
every year.

"i know you do.
but i miss him.
can't you remember?"

and i don't.

because so much
of my happy memory
is tied up in you.
that is enough
to keep up my devotion to autumn.

I know what you are, I just don't mind...

2007-10-17T17:01:00.000-04:00

As I sit here on a seemingly insignificant Wednesday, I am listening to the soundtrack of mid-October. In a few weeks, I will have been on this earth 22 years. I am still, yet, I am constantly morphing. Am I someone I would want to know? I may never be able to answer those questions.

22 years have taught me that:

Standing tall in the face of adversity isn't always the most impacting action, learning to flex my limbs is.

Possessions mean absolutely nothing, the non-concrete snapshots of the most abstract notions are the most valuable.

Sometimes I am wrong beyond reason, but sometimes I am absolutely right, and standing on that pebbly ground with 10,000 chariots charging at me is worth the wounds.

I came into being in this universe is exactly what I will leave with, absolutely nothing but a handful of people who were there from the idea of my conception.

My soul has absolutely nothing to do with the shell that has my name.

Recycling...

2007-10-17T01:09:00.000-04:00

There are nights when
I forget winter
and when
my dreams feel more
and more
like an addition
to reality
than the daytime wake.

There are always
more alsos.

I find daily meaning
but I cannot
find a whole
in which
to add myself.

I cannot add
the shards of the universe
I have managed to gather
in my apron pocket.

I cannot find neither
words
nor
comprehension
of pre-existing
thoughts.

It is all recycled.
It is someone else's trash.

I refuse to get trapped
in the cycle
of believing my thoughts
are my own.

For if they were my own,
I would feel as though
they had more worth
than the ones I have do.

In fact, I refuse.
And refuse.
Yet, refuse again
to be anything
stronger
anything
larger
anything
subsequent.

I refuse
to find myself
among the others
refusing
to find themselves
because we would all
just find the same.

Projection screening...

2007-09-30T23:42:00.000-04:00

This time she won't Fall promises nothing and delivers much more
A complete melody courses through her being at peace is beautiful

She finally feels familiar to herself.

Sometimes there are upturned stones
Never are there unturned regrets

It is all backwards
Meaning, your views on this place...
...this planet
yes...THIS corner of your universe
that you share with I am just another projection of you.

all but matter...

2007-09-23T22:56:00.001-04:00

sometimes i find moments
where the light and it's diffusion
can define me
can define the exact moment
that encapsulates me

it is all but molecules
all but matter
all that matters is
all but matter

yet we let them define
every piece of our being
we find thems
and we separate into us
we find comfort in knowing
that to someone we are an us

i am exact
and a culmination of every soul
seeped into the fibers of
ten-thousand scenes of
one-hundred lives
i
have
lived
before

i beg of you, take my hand
and live the next
two-hundred lives
with me.
knowing we have been
before together but
never of which
we
can
be
exact.

Interrupted pronouns...

2007-09-19T00:55:00.000-04:00

how do you (i) (we)
learn with.adapt among.crawl through.
fields of everyday sadness
where do you (i) (we)
glean the strength to
harvest the hope
you (i) (we) need
to exist on a plane
we have no means of understanding.
ever.

e.v.e.r.y.s.i.n.g.l.e.t.h.i.n.g.i.d.o.
is merely a nobraccarboncopyypoc
of actions that once haulted progress.

Rolling with hunches...

2007-09-10T00:47:00.000-04:00

Subtitled dreams bleeding into restless mornings
into restLESS nights
only creating a need for retention
and
a desire to keep what she wants
and
to glean what she needs
and
to reap what
she has
indeed
never found.
(though the world continues to be blind to factual material.)

maybe she is the fact
and he is everything invented
thus he is the diversion
(or of such she wants the world to convince her)
and though she is full of blatant inadequacies.

she scatters.....splays....tosses
what is left among the regret.
(though the only fault:
love was neither tangible nor definable)
love is only a noun among 10,000 dictions

Wastin' youth...

2007-09-09T11:39:00.000-04:00

Findin' meanin'
in a sliver of the universe
is
rare
yet not as rare
as
findin' that another's
meanin'
in the sliver
pairs with yours.

Could be not a
meanin' but a
way
of
survivin'
'cause that's
what it's
all
about.

Conviction sure is funny
and
rehearsal's a prank.

Footholds are learned
but
pushin' on blindly's a gift.

Fittin' my pieces shall teach
me
to embrace the
five
billion
nine.hundred.ninety.nine
million
nine.hundred.ninety.nine
thousand
nine.hundred.ninety.nine.
other entitities of my
existence.

Light splatters differently with the comings of September...

2007-09-01T23:28:00.000-04:00

To you I am defined by
the weight of my degree
the degree of my weight

To me you are defined by
the grace of your smile
and the slight of your hand
your subraction from perfection
and addition to my universe

whether you are the plus
i am the minus
we are the equal
or divided into others

doesn't matter
never mattering
matters striving
simply being
matters nothing

because we are
we are six billion
6,000,000,000
parts of one being

Everwhich way...

2007-08-25T22:22:00.000-04:00

Life presents inevitabilities to dance around:
Life.
Death.
Homesickness.

I can transplant myself back to

Lawn chair Summers.
thatfadeinto
Applebutter Autumns.
interruptedby
Woodstove Winters.
thatmeltinto
The greenest Springs I will ever see.

Dirty feet. Sweaty hair. Buttery smiles.
Shag carpet burns. Swingset rust palms.
Bean trees. Apples too sour to sample.
The cool cement of the basement flooring.
Crinkly FM station storm advisories.

Memories lacking but a sense.
Intangible. At the edge of my memory.
Coveted before expiration date approaches.

forgotten words and shifting sands

2007-08-11T23:23:00.000-04:00

the sands are thoughtless
in their s hi fti n g
and
the roads are angry
in the wearing of my tires
(though tiring they are)

everything i never said to you

(like: how does your bread rise
or: who planted those apple trees
and: what was it like when only could i crawl)

is dry in my throat.

roots are truthful
and
no matter how
very so far
my path beats from them
truthful they remain

theres something about
the valley
and that river
that limeplant
(i remember you telling me of sliver trees)
and the closet of our
toys
books
contrary collections

please do not hold on

if you have not the strength
please fly

i never understood the
depth of your pride
until that day.

Listings...

2007-08-06T02:31:00.000-04:00

it is, i realize.
it is inevitably.

seeminglyallblurringtogether.
like the edges of fresh watercolor strokes.

and perhaps that's how i am, i realize
refusing to define myself, inevitably.

(in any visible manner.)

no tugging
and
from behind
no shoves, for once.

just a vast and undeniable
empty.
empty only on the days
when i cannot even be factored
into 1.your 2. list 3. of 4.priorities.

fractions

2007-08-04T00:49:00.000-04:00

i am twentyonepointfive years of
what have i missed?s
who am i now?s
where did you go?s

my being is evenly in fractions
onefourth my reflections
onefourth their misgivings
onehalf your memories

i am
around a bit
under occasionally
beside forever
behind eternally

i have two namesakes
one woman i know to be beauty and grace
one woman i only know from faded photos

i find myself
bored with myself
lost in my thoughts
fearful you'll flee

and then you do.

but my namesakes, my muse, and i
we manage to go on, defying
that doubt which defines me
that pulse that beats through me
that regreat that surges inside me

i refuse to let you define me
any longer
because soon, that which defines me
becomes your identifiable dna

Convexity complexity and amorphic eyes...

2007-07-26T23:12:00.000-04:00

everything

i ever had to say
will have to say
will never be able to say

can be preceded by a just
interrupted with a comma
and sealed with a nevermind.

a never-you-mind,
because you-never-did-mind
to
seal with a just
reason
to seal you and i.

you know me well.

well enough to know.
You know me well enough to know that I only use complete sentences and punctuation when I am angry.

well enough to know
the color green my eyes turn when I use complete sentences and punctuation.

never-did-you-mind those capitals enough.
enough
to
look me in those cha(brown.green.brown.GREENGREEN)meleon eyes.

you remind me
of
a child pushing the plexi
..C
....O
.....N
.....V
...E
..X
button of every floor he needn't go
on an elevator filled
with
strangers comfortable with their anonymity.

but, still i stand

my eyes gradating
back from green
again to brown

and all i want
is to be waiting
when the elevator doors slide open
and you are there
with your sly smile
and guilty finger.

You seem like a soldier who's lost his composure...

2007-07-15T23:21:00.000-04:00

unceasingly,
you leave me with less .

and i refuse to be an altar for your inadequacies.
or your dumping ground for the infractions of others.
againstYOU.

i.am.not.them.
i am not them.
even on your grayest days i am not them.

so plot yourself
againstYOU.
i have neve acted your contender.

i wish. no. i plead you to be wary of RIPPyourLES.
for your ripples morph into tsunamis
more quickly than i can seek refuge from those words.

i am never your enemy.
i have always been in your
C O R
N
E
R

yours is not hestitation.
and it is without regret.

that i tell you i cannot wait upon this shore any l o n g e r.

i cannot build a fortress on quicksand.
i cannot build a home in you.

This is where the whole world keeps on turnin...

2007-07-13T00:55:00.000-04:00

what it's like to watch the pieces
f
a
l
l into places you never meant to be(come something you never knew you were)
is more than what it see(a)s and mine are splitting without assistance
like the atoms on the day the universe decided we needed you more than she

you take yours and i'll take yours because you've taken more than mine before
but mine is not what used to be, what used to be is more of what the rest had dreamed

and if you will revisit mine then i shall show you what its like and tour your own when
you shall least expect to see my hopes for things they all need you to rise
and they'll applaud and at best forget that they are mine on which you intrude
and not your dreams at all (the things i want you to be are more than theirs and what they need)

iWHENf you walk (i know you will) and gaze into your crystal ball(erina once my dream)
what will be gone is ever(so delicately)ything i once could be(come something you'll never be)

My memory's a dirty floor...

2007-07-11T21:02:00.000-04:00

i (undeniably) am

stretching when i should be growing and my elasticity is not

and you are

intangible.

how do i

tra nsla teyouin toalan gu agethe yllunder stan d?
where do you begin to end and why are they who?

began you.

i(a)m beginning to w(o)ander among the other lost

and found

only they're never really findings of anything worth keeping because they were lost for so
l o n g

ingly i remember those nights that f
e
l
l

into mo(u)rnings i pocket-ed-ucating your heart puts you into debt with your conscience

& your conscience puts you into the break with the r(evolution) of progress.

so i'm bending with the wind until i splinter into something less significant than my foresight.
(ing fragments of light. light. -n. 1. the absence of your silent misgivings. 2. luminous energy

more than sometimes i wonder whyoyhw i am (though i undeniably am) here to me there to you.

so when wYoOrUds fail me, i shall fail wYorOdUs.

you are the subtractive and i am the constant(ly morphing part of your w)hole.

I have a good heart, I just can't catch a break...

2007-07-03T23:05:00.000-04:00

If only you knew:
the v.a.s.t. emptiness
the long distance of my actual heart to home
the pain of unwelcome and inevitable change
the regret of forgetting what's really good in this life
the ache of family seams ripping
how much I am trying to make THIS my home
and how much it's not working
how settling is a little difficult when you're 21 and none of your plans are happening as easily as you thought
how i can't find anywhere in this town to be simply and utterly alone with my thoughts
why i'm crying this unending well of weakness
why i feel completely inadequate around 99% of everyone I encounter here
why i've felt completely inadequate 99% of my life
how much I miss creating

then you'd call me. or you'd come visit. or... something.

There's nothin' you can do if you're too scared to try...

2007-06-01T00:22:00.000-04:00

Life post-graduation is exactly what I anticipated, nothing I expected, and more than I hoped for. I have passed through 10,000 valleys and grown miles. I feel comfortable in my skin and confident in joining the ranks of the strong women I have immersed myself in lately. With each new morning, I am breathing in air much different than I am used to. Here is what they never tell you: of the fear that will harvest in you with each new hurdle, the exhiliration that comes after every new small triumph, the way you never before analyzed every word in your family member's summation of the day, the way home suddenly morphs into something far less tangible, how when you pack up your things and move to a city you will miss the stars.

Let me speak of my proximity to the ocean. One singular mile. Although the mountains shaped my identity, the ocean is solidifying it. Stretching my limbs in the sand and letting the white noise of the waves drown my worries is something I wouldn't trade right now. I feel completely in my element here and my phobia of solitude is somewhat cured. I need it. I need the time to sit and gather my many gratitudes.

Do I miss you? Yes. More than you could ever know. But you as well as I know that it is not without reasons. Who knows why we had so many roadblocks, but I'm sure that it was the right timing.

So, June, you are here. I fell unprepared for your visit. Please forgive my misgivings and my mess, but this summer has the potential to wreak chaos. I'm sure you understand, I mean you did sneak up on me. I do remember you, though. On your eleventh day, you brought my beautiful niece to me, forever changing my ideas on virtues. For that, I am indebted to you. When the timing is right, I will give you proper thanks.

For now, I rest my eyes.

Take me to the breaking of a beautiful dawn...

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

What I got today was exactly what I didn't know I needed. It was my chance to say goodbye to the mountains that made me who I am. I can't believe I've taken them for granted for such a very long time. For so long, I have refused to look back at everything that shaped me. I'm learning now that maybe my roots weren't ever as planted as they should have been, but I always had enough to keep me on the ground. From California at 13 months, to West Virginia where at the age of two I almost slipped into the river, to North Carolina where I made my first best friend and began to get a concept on home to my actual home - it has all supported me. I am so thankful to have had the upbringing I did - full of love. Unconditional, uncomprehindable, immeasurable love. Where people are watching me and rooting me on. And now, I have to leave. It's my time and I have so many emotions about it, but today was the first time it hit me that I'm not going to see mountains every single day of my life. Truth be told, I am absolutely terrified for what lays ahead of me, but I've got to keep my head up.

The other day I was toning some photographs and realized that the process is similar to growing up. I watched as the blacks and grays were replaced with tones of blue. As one color slipped away, another was replacing it and all of sudden, the whole photograph was blue. Isn't that what happens? We change and we lose parts of us, but at the same time, something else is replacing that. Something greater. Something older. Something wiser. Something so much stronger than you ever thought you could be.

This past year of my life has been the best one yet. I have a family that holds me tightly enough in it's grip but loosely enough to let me go. I have two best friends, life friends. Two people who know exactly what I need even when I don't. Two people who will reach in and scoop me out of my bad decisions and the aftermath of my mistakes, but never tell me they were mistakes or bad decisions. Two people I would kill for if it needed to happen. It's so hard to let people in, because you never know what they're going to take from you and the truth is that 90% of friendships dwindle off. Katie and Stephanie... thank you for your spirit. For your beautiful genuine smiles. For your guidance. You may never know how much I love you, but I hope I'm able to show it some day. It's more than gratitude. You are both a large part of me and you are more than I ever ever expected.

Mom and Dad, I promise I'll be home. You keep telling me how proud you are of me, but there's no way I could've gotten through without you. I remember all the calls home freshman year, well... and sophomore year.. and let's face it, junior year. But, especially freshman year. It was excruciating and I wanted nothing more than to just disappear from it all. I wanted to quit so much because I was encountering people I never had before. My naive little eyes were being opened. And as much as you hated to see my hurting like that, you never said "pack your stuff, we're coming to get you." And for that, you are the best parents in the entire world. You have both been an integral part in molding me in subtle ways. You never EVER forced me to be anything you wanted me to be. You let me make every single decision for myself and learn things on my own, even if it meant missing the bus in the morning because I was intent on dressing myself. I never felt like I had to hide anything from you and I never needed a lock on my door, because you invested all your trust in me.

So, if you're wondering... I am scared to move to a new city... petrified even, but I know I can succeed. But, above succeeding, I just want to be a good person. I want to never stop crying when I see someone hurting whom I can't help. I want abounding happiness, but even when that happiness isn't there, I've had so much more than anyone needs.

To everyone who has ever been in my life: Thank you. To everyone who has ever hurt me: Thank you. To everyone who ever doubted me: Thank you. To everyone I will come across: Thank you. To you: Thank you, you have made an impact and you have made me who I am and you are beautiful for that.

Only kindness matters in the end...

2007-04-19T10:13:00.000-04:00

So, I've been afraid of my blog this week. I've been afraid of all my emotions, actually. If you're expecting clarity, then read another blog because this one will be clouded and jumbled.

On my sadness: Does it come at random moments in your day? Do you get an image of it all and find yourself crying perhaps the largest tears you ever have? Driving down the road. Taking a shower. Eating breakfast. Sitting in class. I never know when it's going to happen. I try to supress all of it, but it wells up. It is so deep that I am embarassed because I am not even a student at Virginia Tech. Who am I to be sad when I haven't even experienced it myself?

On my guilt: I still haven't let things go. What if this had happened here and the individuals I hold grudges against were suddenly gone? I have not treated people with the kindness and genuine respect they deserve. But, then again, do any of us? Is there such a thing as a stranger? I mean, every single person we come in contact with has an effect on us, even in the most indirect manner.

On my anger: My anger that hit it's peak last night when the news stations released the video of Cho. I tried not to watch it and it's not my fault that I did. It was presented to me as news, so I naively clicked the link on CNN and up popped horror. Something worse than any nightmarish movie I have ever seen. The decisions of the news networks to release that is, what I feel to be, COMPLETELY UNETHICAL. We are saturated. They are vying for viewers at our expense. There is nothing positive that comes out of that video. Just when people had begun to heal, the media ripped the stitches out of the wound. Our nation didn't need to see that. The FBI needed to see that, but we did not. Every time I closed my eyes last night I saw him, pointing a gun at me (as that was the huge picture that appeared on my screen every time I opened my browser. I am a media major, so I understand that this is an industry. What's sad? That that industry is one that exploits us more than any other commercial one.

On my hope: Last night at the vigil I began to let go. I cried the tears I needed to cry. I embraced the community of which I am a part of. I saw they were feeling the same things. I see the kindness in our hearts and I am finally understanding that Emory & Henry college has not only given me the tools to succeed in a career, but they have given me an understanding of love. Love before was this hugely abstract idea that I couldn't quite get my arms around. Love is having a place to run to when nowhere else feels right. Nowhere else felt right last night. I hadn't been able to find solace anywhere, but now, I am okay. I see the VT students binding together and I understand that they have found what they need to make it through. I'm sure they know it won't be easy, but do they have another choice?

On their faces: Their beautiful, beautiful faces. I didn't know them. I am not their family. I am not their friend. What I am is another student who can begin to feel the pain their community is feeling. The hole that was made there. The gaping hole. The realization that they will never hold their friend again, never hold another study session for a French final with them. Never see them walk across a stage in their morterboard. They will feel the effects for some time, even as the rest of the world indulges in other huge breaking news stories. Ten. Twenty. Fifty years will pass and the question will be "Where were you when it happened?" And they will bow their heads and tell somberly of where they were when that meteor crashed into their universe.

To move freely you must be deeply rooted...

2007-04-03T14:14:00.000-04:00

I wish so much that I had never been in the hurry, the rush, the whirlwind I was during my youth because I missed learning my roots. In my attempt to be an individual, I missed out on the best parts of my family. If I close my eyes, I can still experience every single sensation I associated with HOME. It is only recently that I have begun to explore the impact that my ancestors have had on me. Year after year, another person passed and I was unable to cry at every single funeral, and I never understood why. It was because I never took the time I needed to really, fully love.

I feel a sense of hypocrisy wash over me when I speak of how unsoiled my family’s name was. I can beat my chest in pride about the hard work they all did - the hours in the sun bailing hay or digging up potatos, but what I really feel is a deep overwhelming sense of regret. For once, I think this regret is healthy for me because it gives me time to explore the very family tree from which I fell and which I lay rotting at the bottom of, waiting for my seeds to extract and yield my own tree that others can be proud of. For my to wrap my arms around the massive trunk of my existence would be nearly impossible, but I’m willing to do it. It will take careful consideration and soft treading for me to find the source of my being.

I know why a heart gets lonely...

2007-03-13T13:52:00.000-04:00

Lately I have been obsessed with memories and the way they have molded me almost subconciously. I’ve also been thinking about different views of the afterlife and how there’s this idea of someone’s soul maybe lingering behind and become a ghost. I think it’s intriguing that there’s this stigma attached to the idea that a person’s soul can still remain on this earth even when their bodies are decaying in the ground. Why do so many socities and cultures believe in ghosts and hauntings? Is it something we make up to ease our minds when something is out of place in our universe? We aren’t even able to physically locate the soul... or even define it for that matter, so how can a soul just wander about the Earth? We hear people’s testimonies about strange things that have gone awry - books flying across rooms, beds being shaken in the middle of the night, ghastly voices. Is it psycological?

I know I have ghosts, but they are definite ghosts of memories. They are the people who have molded me and who remain with me because a bit of their soul was passed onto me. They are family and friends. Some of them aren’t even people, but abstract experiences and senses. They are long past, but they are still able to comminucate with the world through me. Who am I to deny these ghosts and to be completely individualistic? Aren’t we just inviting spirits into our lives when we simply live the way we do every single day?

Ghost hunters must be the lonliest people on the planet, because to not own ghosts is to be alone. To have to track down someone else’s ghosts must be so that you can claim them for yourselves. I guess in a way we are all ghost hunters. We are all reaching for explainations as to who we are and that pursuit must be an ongoing one. For, if it’s not, we ourselves are but mere ghosts and memories.

Do you remember when we used to sing "Sha la la la..."

2007-03-11T11:24:00.000-04:00

Sometimes your outlook on these huge abstract things changes. Sometimes you're hit smack in the face with something you can't explain and something you've never experienced before. It's scary and exciting, but amazing.

Things are looking up. It's going to be so hard to focus on these last 2 months of school knowing that I have a new life in Norfolk waiting for me. An internship at the Chrysler Museum and always a house full of awesome people... how wonderful.

Sometimes life is fabulous. :)

The best thing you ever did for me was to help me take my life less seriously...

2007-02-22T23:17:00.000-05:00

It's only life after all.

I love my friends. I love them so much. It is possible that they are my soulmates. I know for sure we were destined for friendship... and I feel like the word friendship doesn't even describe it. You know when you try on a pair of shoes that fit absolutely perfectly and you think they're wonderful and so you wear them out a few times and people say "Oh! I really like your shoes!" but they soon become your favorite shoes and you wear them every single day because they're so damn cute and they just fit so right? Ugh, what a stupid comparison... but that's what my friends are like. I feel quite sure that these are the girls I will know forever. The girls who will be first on my invitation list to my someday wedding. The girls who will be the first on my call list when I have my first child. And somehow, I realize... we're not girls anymore. We have grown gracefully into women because we have shared some of life's best and worst experiences together. We are our mothers and we are thankful for that. We're not scared of dawning on that cloak of reality. We are who we are and we are completely unapologetic about that. We stand defiant in the face of adversity and we smile, because that's who we are.

So, best friends. You are my sole-mates ;)

The only thing in my pocket are pennies and a picture of you...

2007-02-21T00:29:00.000-05:00

The winter makes me like a snake, almost. I'm so ready for a new skin I could scream. I feel this intense claustraphobia coming on again. This feeling that SOMETHING, something, something is not right or not fitting or not appropriate or just... WRONG has wedged it's way into my mind. Into my heart. Into my deepest emotions. I don't feel like pushing onward anymore. I just want to be horizontal and void of negligent thoughts. I want all the world to feel the same thing with me, even if just for a minute, but I don't want to know that the world is feeling the same thing, because I don't want empathy. What do I want?

Spring. I want to breathe again. I want to go on long walks and come home and smell like outside. I want to eat ripe fruit from my own state. I want the walls to open back up and I want to count the number of puddles in the driveway as I go outside and smell the staunch odor of earthworms writhing in those same puddles. I want the sun to pour onto me and for that smell of suntouched clothes to still remain when I float inside.

I just want natural progression. I hate winter (in case you haven't figured this out.)

Nowhere to run to, baby. Nowhere to hide...

2007-02-13T13:56:00.000-05:00

This is how I’m feeling today: so frustrated that every muscle in my body is tense. I am stressed out and worked up because it feels like people are pushing from me on all sides. I am reaching toward graduation day, stretching all my limbs in hopes of attaining it sooner. It’s so close, but days like this make it feel so far away. On days like this it is almost as if my brain is knotted up, trapping my thoughts and making me unable to even articulate individual thoughts. Frustration is minute on a day to day basis for me, but it’s always there and tends to build up until I explode. I inherited all of my Daddy’s temper and none of my Momma’s cool nature. On days like this, I feel like a monster and it’s best if people stay away from me.

In a way, human body language contains a set of universal symbols. When I create art, I run into the problem of conveying emotion concretely. The way I create a feeling or a mood is through abstracts and I wish this weren’t my only way of expressing those things. I wish I could find a way to extract all of the symbols in body language - furrowed brows, devious grins, crossed fingers, etc. I would love to create art that somehow expresses all of this, like a dictionary of emotional body language. I think it would make for a really interesting study and series.

All these ups and downs trip up our good intentions...

2007-02-12T22:58:00.000-05:00

I've never been so in awe of nature's verticality as I was today after I treked up to Miller Hall for my class today. It crossed my mind that I should start thinking about savoring these last few months of my collegiate journey and I looked at my current horizon line and saw the barren trees stretching up towards the day's gray sky. And it became clear to me, verticality and nature's way of destroying horizontally. I'm not sure if I'm articulating it enough to express my thoughts at the time, but it was this clear, concise realization that I am not in control of everything and I'd be nothing short of a fool if I thought I was.

It's been a strange time for me recently because I'm adjusting to my individuality and my own reality that no one else ever has a claim to. I'm slowly learning that even though I am an individual, I am responsible for the way my unique brushstrokes effect the whole composition. I know, too many art similes lately, but it's what I relate to right now.

You know the feeling of falling asleep when it's daylight and waking up to darkness? How everything feels off kilter and that something may have happened while you were adrift in dreams. That guilt that creeps in because there was more you should have been doing to increase your productivity? Maybe I'm the only one that understands that feeling, I don't know.. but, that's what it's been like lately, just less of the guilt. I feel like I've woken up finally and shaken off the sheet wrinkles from my skin, stretched my limbs, and said "Here, I'm ready for the world."

At the end of the day, you have to live in your comfort and you shouldn't let anybody rob that of you or convince you of anything else. You don't have to be apologetic for your character or for the choices you made that you feel are completely the right decision. What you do have to do.. what you MUST do is keep your soul open. Not to opportunities, not necessarily for love, not for spirituality... but you have to keep your soul open to something new, something pure, something that will keep that spark inside you there. You don't have to be on fire for anything, but you have to keep that spark. You have to stop every now and then and just breathe, because breathing in itself is perfect and as long as you're alive, you have that. What you have to keep your eyes open to is the goodness in everything, even if it's subconscious, because if you close your eyes, even for a second, you may miss what this "life" is all about. No, you'll never fully figure out why you're here, why WE'RE here. But, you will have a sense of what it is to be connected to something on a much larger scale than you are. You are a drop in an ocean of understanding. You must place yourself outside of your own reality now and again and let go of the ropes you've clung to always in order to clear your conscience. You may make mistakes, but they are never on your own accord. You are never to blame fully and that is what you have to grasp at. You have to see your beauty, no... you have to understand what beauty is first, aside from a word. You have to connect somehow to every single ghost that exists in other parallels.

Something I wrote in my digital media class the other day... Totally off track.

2007-02-01T00:10:00.000-05:00

This is a place I know, a place that reaches far beyond familiarity into the depths of what shaped my character. I know Spring. Yes, I know Spring and her green dressings, but I also know cold stretches of winter that encapsulate one's existence. I have felt that cold that stings one's lungs and numbs one's limbs. I remember winters when the ground was so cold that it took a great deal of work just to dig those holes into the ground to drop the corpses of our deceases family into. I remember stretching thick black tights on and buttoning my coat over layers of black. Black and blue mimesis. That is what I knew winter to be. I remember ice so thick that the tree limbs collapsed under the weight. I remember hearing of the how the ambulances came to the houses to steal the shells of the ones that passed into the other existence. I remember the cold hands against me as we hugged, trading condolences I wouldn't learn to understand until the last one passed. The cold inside was surmounted by the chill in their voices, uncertain of what they were to say. The winter witch took them, one by one by one. Stealing them until we didn't know what to cling to anymore, our stiches falling out, not one by one but as purposefully as my ancestors used to rip out wrongly made stitches in those heirloom quilts. I remember the horrifying stench of the hideous sprays of flowers people would send to the funeral home. That familiar funeral home I memorized like a maze puzzle in the comic section of Sunday's paper. That funeral home with it's faux-gilding and Bible verses covering every empty space. I wanted them all to go away, to realize that we'd never heal unless we could celebrate the coming of Spring. The newness. The births. I wanted to push them all away and tell them to cut themselves so they could watch their thick warm blood pour out of them. To tell them to CELEBRATE their being alive. The fact that their existence was concrete, that they were here and now was all they had. I wanted to stop supressing that smile that tried to creep its way across my face because I knew they would all be laughing if they knew we were crying over them. I remember the laughter, the stories of accidental rescues and hilarious catastrophes.

Yes, my body remembers Winter. Cold. Stark. Winter. But it also remembers what's lying underneath that solidly frozen soil. The tiny movements under the earth, sprouts turning greener with ever ice pellet that melted. And that is what continually keeps me going. That cycle. That promise of something greener and warmer. Something far from death.

Life could be sweet...

2007-01-20T18:12:00.000-05:00

Written on the train ride from Florence to Rome:

What's next? You're on your way up and out. You have one more semester, four more extremely short months, until you are finished at E&H. You are the same girl with a transforming outlook on everything. You are leaving that frightened small town girl and you are headed for a life of adventure full of highs and lows, ins and outs, and crazy loves. You still have so much to see. You haven't even dreamed of determinations. No goal is unattainable because you know your limits and you know yourself like nobody ever will. Don't ever be ashamed of your ambitions and stop thinking you are inferior. Always know it is okay to shed your tears when you feel defeated. Know when it's okay to accept defeat, but do it gracefully. Keep your head up and tred softly, but don't forget the impact you are making or the ripples you are creating. Breathe through everything even when the air is thick with impossibility. Know that impossibilities will come by handfuls, but genuinely good times wil come by the truckloads if you are only willing to embrace them. Stop fearing the unknown and start learning to appreciate the beauty in everyone. If you do one thing in your lifetime, let it be to forgive. Let your heart and compassion guide you because some situations won't allow much time for consideration. Don't underestimate anyone and try to see things through different eyes when you hear that vioce of argument within you. Remember your roots always and don't forget what your Daddy told you when he said, "The trick to carrying on is not to get carried away." Slow down when exhaustion steals your smile. Remember that words can be extremely sharp and their effects last much longer than you sometimes know. Don't mistake unthruths as art, but do strive to keep your artisistic intuition in tune. Know that smiles are often reciprocated and are a universal symbol. Laugh at yourself and learn to unleash the mistakes you've made. Be aware that every single person you enounter will inevitable shape your character. Don't be offended when your good deeds go unnoticed, rather do good deeds when you have no idea if any eyes are watching you at all. Don't feer what's ahead of you. Remember that you used to be terrified of an open closet door in your North Caroline bedroom.

All that aside, get ready for the best ride of your life.

Nothing else will do...

2007-01-18T01:00:00.000-05:00

Today

I love:

that this is my last semester and that I have 3 studio classes
that I can look back at my blogs from a year ago and laugh at that stupid girl I was
that my family is so supportive
that winter can be so silent
long hot bubble baths

I wish:

I weren't a dweller
I could sleep for one week straight
I had more time to read novels
I didn't have so many court cases to memorize for media law

Tomorrow

I will:

Hit the snooze button approximately 9 times
Inevitably forget to warm my car up before it's time to leave for school
Be somewhere I'd rather not be
Wander aimlessly through the grocery store
Curse the bitter cold temperatures
Thank god Friday is one day away
Feel inadequate in at least one of my classes

What can I compare you to?

2007-01-13T09:13:00.000-05:00

So, I thought I'd share a little bit from my amazing 15 days in Italy. I wrote these exact words on a now tattered piece of journal paper that lays in front of me when I was in the Accademia viewing Michelangelo's David:

There is not a singular view of this sculpture that does not take my breath away. It is the strongest thing I have seen in my entire life. I could have never imagined he would be this colossal, because how does a man, an ordinary mortal man, sculpt something so monumental. Did he realize that no artist who came after him would be able to trump or ever come close to copying him? Did they realize his brilliance? The anatomy is SO correct even though he is sculpted unproportionally (as was Michelangelo's way with everything.) The natural shadows that are cast on him make him seem like he could breath. David has slayed a giant and here, he IS a giant. The lines are so organic... the way his limbs are so intricately sculpted out... his hair, his eyes, his buttocks, his VEINS, it's all exquisite. Is this where our ideal body images comes from? How could Michelangelo not have been in love with his newly animate creation when he was completed? How did he keep sculpting after this? Where else is there to go? I never fully understood the effects of contropossto until right now. He is standing there with no steel beam support. He is deep rich marble and genius. Nothing else. Marble and genius. How do we as artists define ourselves as anything of worth if he too is an "artist." How does something made of stone convey so much power? Ribs, fingernails, muscle contours, how did he get it SO right? Perfect? Yes, perfection in it's most pristine form.

Here's how it goes: car, bus, plane, plane, bus, walk walk walk walk, metro, walk walk walk, metro, taxi, train, taxi, walk walk walk... I LOVE IT!

2007-01-02T16:44:00.000-05:00

I'm in Florence, Italy... and I may never come back. This city is incredible!!! Rome was exhausting, but we saw so much. Passing by the Colosseum on a daily basis is a surreal experience. I have never walked so much in my life, but it's exhilirating. I missed home until today, when we stepped off the train into Florence (or Firenze as the natives call it.)

Tomorrow = shopping

Today = The Ufizzi and The Duomo and Baptistry. It's hard for me to believe I was inches away from Boticelli's Birth of Venus. I have seen so many pieces of art on this trip that have brought me to tears.

Seeing these crazy huge churches covered in gold and extreme devout Catholics shakes things up for a person who's faith has been shaken.

I'll write more later!

CIAO!

I almost dialed your number when I thought the coast was clear...

2006-12-15T22:28:00.000-05:00

I hate being by myself for extended periods of time. I'm afraid of lonely silences because they leave me with nothing but my thoughts, and sometimes my thoughts scare me. Sometimes my thoughts are so far beyond my realm of thinking that I wonder if something foreign has taken over my mind. When I'm alone with my thoughts, things are far more complex than their facade. I throw myself into philosophy I don't comprehend. Thoughts of tonight included: we are all just exactly the same. We are one person walking around in 6 billion different vessels because all of us are too powerful to ever exist as one unit.

Whatever.

If my life was a movie, this is what my soundtrack would be...

2006-12-11T18:43:00.000-05:00

So I did the whole "open up your itunes and turn it to shuffle and type whatever song is playing for the event" thing to see what my life soundtrack is. It's actually pretty funny and some of them are kind of weird.

Opening Credits
Full of Herself - Gavin Degraw

Waking Up
It'll All Workout - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

First Day of School
Young - Nickel Creek

Falling in Love
The Weight - The Band

Fight Song
What Goes Around Comes Around - Justin Timberlake

Breaking Up
Miss Misery - Elliot Smith

Prom
Come Pick Me Up - Ryan Adams

Life
Lose Control - Maria Mena

Driving
Vegas Baby - The Weepies

Flashback
Love - G. Love and Special Sauce

Getting Back Together
Beautiful Love - The Afters

Wedding
Dead Wrong - The Fray

Party
Your Redneck Past- Ben Folds Five

Birth of A Child
This Place is a Prison - The Postal Service

Final Battle
Some Days- Matt Wertz

Funeral Song
Giving Me Reasons - Jon McLaughlin

Ending Credits
Somebody Loved -The Weepies

Goin' the seashore, doesn't matter anymore...

2006-12-10T12:35:00.000-05:00

I am thankful...

for a warm place to rest my tired body after a long day
for music that reaches into my feelings and forces introspection
for surroundings that enable my self expressions
for living in a place where i can see the stars most nights
for being able to laugh heartily with my loved ones
for my paint brushes
for my favorite books that i've read many times
for forgiveness

I wish...

you would reconsider
winter would pass quickly
all the continents were connected
i were a more organized person
sadness wasn't so predominent here
i could talk to you one last time, i wonder what i'd say
there were no such thing as secrets
i rememered my lost loved ones, it's becoming cloudy with every day

I need...

more attainable aspirations
a major dose of solitude so I can really begin to appreciate things
to know you're okay, i'm freaking out because i haven't heard anything in months
to learn my weaknesses

I have learned...

the ins and outs of self-doubt
that no matter what, you never disappoint me
that forgiveness can be humbling
to embrace all of life's quirks
that anger doesn't get one very far
that the best way to live is to wait for others to harvest what they want and to glean what's left over
that my favorite people in the world are the least like me
that selfishness is the most destructive quality to have
time is an illusion, we've made it up because we have no way other way to explain it
that life and death are the same thing
to fear you when your sadness has taken over
some people are just mean, plain and simply.

My defenses hit the ground and they shatter all around...

2006-12-02T21:37:00.000-05:00

Today felt like a total failure of a day. You know the feeling of trying to keep your head above water, paddling against the riptide, trying so hard to just make one more stroke before the water takes you under? If you don't know that feeling, do you know the feeling of trying to hike against the elements... the wind blowing you in a direction you never intended, every step causing you trip? Maybe you don't know that feeling. But, do you know the feeling of realizing half the things you do are meaningless actions that will never benefit yourself or contribute to the general good of the majority? Maybe you don't, but I'm sure you know the feeling of a cold, lonely December day. Everyone does, because that's what winter is... lonely December.. and January.

I don't want a single thing for Christmas but to just be with my family. To be healthy and laughing and loving. I don't want to battle my heart agaist consumerism. I just want things to feel the way they're supposed to. I want a break away from it all. Away from yelling bosses, meaningless school exams, working retail. I feel so incredibly greedy, like I've sunken every bit of energy and money I have trying to reach some higher ground. I want people to stop lying. I want to feel genuine warmth. I want to see my loved ones glowing and blissful.

Right now, I want to sleep... for a very long day...

Hello, wishin' well.. got a story to tell...

2006-11-25T21:44:00.000-05:00

I've come to realize that there is little difference between life and death... rather the coming into this current realm of existence and the exiting this current realm of existence. I've heard people talk about death. I've felt the effects of death. I've watched death happen. I have also watched one day fade into the next. I've seen 11:59 turn into 12:00. I've watched the seasons change with no apology. I've seen the shapes of shadows stretch and sheer. I've seen faces turn into maps of frowns lines. I've watched you as you strut and I've watched you as you've been feign with exhaustion. I have seen creation and destruction. I've seen attempts at reversing negativity. I've spun in circles and watched the sky as I was dizzy, yet it was uncontrollably constant. I've tried chaos and I've tried organization. I have contemplated and I have grasped at experiences that may have never happened. I have tried to race time. I have wept about loss. I have listened for answer, anywhere answers... and wept some more. I have theorized and concluded, asserted and assumed. I have pursed my lips and declared. I have tapped my pencil and shrugged it off. I've watched you go with little want of remaining. I have extended my fingertips and worn my heart on my sleeve. I have stumbled and plummeted. I have grown and I have withered immensely. I have explored with no navigation. I have written and chanted my existence...

and yet, I don't have the answers for you. I don't have the answers for me. For us, I have no answers. I never have, but I have hope and for now, that is enough.

The whole world is moving and I'm standing still...

2006-10-23T20:09:00.000-04:00

Walking out of Byars Hall today after my painting critique, I felt like a new girl. Today was the most perfect October day I've ever seen. Lately I've been caught up in daily routines and normal stress, but when I felt that brisk cold air on my face, it all melted away. I looked around and realized that I never take anything in context with my environment. I never realized that there were 27 shades of green in the view I see every other day after painting class. I never took time to notice the duck pond isn't just green, it's brown and green with reflections of the fiery orange tones from the falling maple leaves.

If you want to discover who you are, you can take yourself out of your environment and plaster every experience you've ever had, every person you've ever loved, every word you've ever spoken, every day you've ever had and you can meticulously examine it. You can dissect it, you can splay it all out in front of you, you can experiment, using yourself as the control and your environment as the variable. You can remain silent and you can perform that intropspection.... or you can accept yourself - the complete package. You can spend time blaming others for your character flaws, or you can embrace them. You can laugh at the mistakes and write them off or you can completely mutilate your spirit. You can turn off the light at the end of the day and know you'll never get that day back, or you can exhaust yourself striving for perfection. You can weight decisions or you can go with what will ultimately make you the happiest. You can float through life unaware of the ripples you make, or you can walk deliberately, with full intention. You can embrace happiness or you can let guilt crush you. You can be yourself or you can live up to expectations and be what the rest of the world wants you to be.

A simple correspondence...

2006-10-19T12:07:00.000-04:00

Eva,
Let me blink back the tears from my eyes and send you a big hug via e-mail!!! Thank you for such a sweet and meaningful letter!! You simply cannot know what a 'lift' you put into my week!!! Yes, my heart does still burn with a passion for education - for opening doors for kids, for showing them that there is 'more', for helping them to reach out and take hold of something higher for themselves and those they love. But, when you're in the nitty-gritty of teaching the SOL's and battling a hundred things that are standing in the way of your students' best, it's easy to become discouraged at times. Your note boosted my spirits back to the lofty heights that drew me to teaching all those years ago (21 years to be exact!)
I am delighted to know that you are going to be an Art Teacher!! Your future students will be so blessed by your presence in their lives!!

I have printed off your note - it'll go in that folder of special things that remind me of why I do this thing called teaching day after day :^)!!!

All my best to you!
Love,
Mrs. Farmer

Kim Farmer
EEMS
Language Arts & Science
5th Grade

---------- Original Message ----------------------------------
From: "Eva Harrison"
Date: Tue, 17 Oct 2006 23:26:32 -0400

>Dear Mrs. Farmer,
>
>I guess this must seem like a random e-mail from a former alum of
>EEMS, but I've recently realized I had a handful of amazing teachers
>that inspired me to continue my education and strive towards my
>ambitions. I want you to know just how much of a wonderful teacher and
>mentor you were to me several years ago, 11 years ago to be exact.
>This e-mail is far too long in coming. I'm a senior at Emory & Henry
>this year and never would've gotten this far without the constant
>encouragement of my teachers and within the past few years, my
>professors and academic advisors.
>
>What I'm getting at is a simple "Thank You" for your dedication to
>teaching. I've been studying Mass Communications and Graphic Design
>for my years and E&H and have only just decided I want to be an Art
>Teacher. I want to be in the ranks of inspiring women like you.
>
>I hope your heart still burns with the passion for education that it
>did when I was in middle school. You truly are an inspiration. Thank
>you.
>
>I hope all is going well on your front.
>
>Eva Harrison
>
>--
>"Barn's burnt down. Now I can see the moon." -- Masahide
>

What can I compare you to?

2006-10-08T11:32:00.000-04:00

You make me smile, please stay for a while...

2006-10-08T00:04:00.000-04:00

Warm weather has most definitely faded. I took another 4 hour nap after I got off work today. It was on accident... sort of. I like to lay down when I have nothing else to do (even though I need to clean), but I never intened on it being for more than an hour. Anyway, I've been having these horrifying dreams that seem so real to me. In my one today I got held at gunpoint and my car was stolen, leaving me deserted in the middle of a city where I gotheld up again. So I went and bought a gun. Me. It seemed so logical. A gun and me, in my dream... it made sense. I woke up sweating and crying. I hate these dreams. They've been happening more often. I'm wondering if it's not from all the media exposure involving shootings lately.

Fall break ends tomorrow and I'm very disconcerted about it. This break has been nice for me to just collect my thoughts. I like that I haven't been so rushed in the mornings. I worry myself too much. I think about things that have little relevance in the scheme of things and I squander time away this way. Where did I get that from? I'm a complete mess but I never seem to understand that if I'd gather myself up I wouldn't have to be constantly worrying about things. Will I ever get it?

Bedtime. I have a full day of painting ahead of me.

I want to live a simple life...

2006-09-28T21:31:00.000-04:00

What an entirely beautiful week. A series of perfect days. So this is what sheer contentment feels like. I've missed it. I'm laying here on my bed, going to work in about a half hour. But, the sky has hung heavy with gray clouds all day long. The kind of clouds that you never know that they're going to yield anything because autumn skies tend to be weighted until the grudge of winter sets in. In my soft bed, with the room lit from the remaining sun outside. I'm comfortable. I'm not lonely. I'm not wanting. I'm not sad. I'm content. Autumn has always been my favorite season because it never promises anything. It is consistently different every year. It's raining... fall rain is my favorite. It always has been.

I remember when we'd trek up to Misty Mountain Farm as a family on a chilling weekend before Halloween... every year (until it burnt down) I always looked forward to it. Mom would make sure I was wrpapped up so I wouldn't get an ear infection, my sister would sit with me while I got a pumpkin or a bat painted on my chubby cheek. I remember there being more happiness that I could ever understand on that one day every year.

I'm so happy with my friends. My decisions. My family. Time.

I want to be an art teacher, no longer wanting to do anything with my mass comm. or graphic design. I HATE my internship, or rather the tasks I'm put to there and I don't want to be stuck in an office. So for the first time, I'm going to take the leap after graduation and make it happen.

Oh, and hey.. whoever you are, reading this... you're beautiful, and you're loved, and I just wanted you to know that.