On Being Mean

I had a bad day yesterday.  Nothing was wrong, except I hated everything and took it out on someone I care very much about and traffic and to be honest, was legitimately lucky that I didn't get into a car accident. (Trust me, there was plenty of time for it to happen...)

I know that everyone has bad days now and then, for good reason or for none at all, but I am still sorry I haven't figured out how to manage all those things that inevitably start to snowball and end up exploding in an awkwardly guttural yell that leaves the back of my throat itchy and raw for days.

And I am still learning that people are good and true and reliable and all of the things that you don't realize you need until they're sitting in front of you being needed.

It's still hard for me to believe I'm deserving of all the "second chances" that inevitably make an appearance in this life, but maybe now I can slowly realize that I am.

!

"I`m going to start setting realistic goals for myself. I`m going to skateboard every day for as long as the weather allows. I`m going to practice picking locks more regularly. I`m going to improve my French. I'm going to improve my Arabic. I`m going to learn to fight. I`m going to live in a decommissioned submarine with my friends. Good morning, Jeff. Ping. Are we out of toast? Ping. We`ll have to send someone into town. Ping. I`m going to start going out at night, dressed all in black, with my hood up. I`m going to stand in the shadows where a lot of people walk past. I`m going to encrypt my hard drive for fun. I`m going to encrypt the words, "You do good work" and I`m going to send it to every intelligence agency I can think of. "

on being joyful&content.

I am a minimalist when it comes to running. [Please note, I said running, not writing.]
Not the actual running part, but just the "gear" that is brought along with me. Apart from my trusty sneakers, old teeshirts, &swishy shorts, I am a lean, mean...uhhh, well, you know the rest. Sometimes my wrist carries a watch, but as of late, it has not. Summer evenings are good for jogs with no deadlines, nothing to race home to, &only the slowly sinking skyline to remind you that dinner should be ready soon. &ever since I made the jump to no ipod, my runs have become more feather-finding, less oblivious to dirt packed under my soles. I scrawled a page in my journal one morning, after a particularly freeing frollick through the hills of Santa Barbara, &it was simply this:
running brings joy.
that`s it. because on that day, those few hours spent exploring&thinking&praying&singing&living, my heart beat not blood, but joy through my veins.
I have tried many a time to mimick that run, &all the things that came along with it, but of course, joy runs come when least expected. Today was a day like any other. I awoke &attended church &did other sunday things, &then, like those old Nike commercials, I "just did it." I laced up my grey nb`s with my special socks from dad, &I was off! [not streaking, mind you, I just didnot mention the rest of my clothing...] It was hot today, &I have a talent for sweating in even mid seventies weather. &I don`t mean the cute "glisten" type sweat; I mean soaking wet sweat. Now you know. On my way past the Presbyterian Church, I spied a feather, &I knew that it was a joy-run-sort-of-day.
&my heart has been indecisive, &unsettled &restless these "passing sunrises &sunsets," but today,
today was a day like no other.
Hallelujah, Jesus.

movement three.

1. Chalky fingers.
2. A doe-eyed, matted haired child.
3. Picnic tables.
4. Mamma.