Heaviness vs Lightness

It has been almost a year.  I believe it because this is how the time passes: one day after the other, slowly, dragging; then leapfrogging the next.  It will be August soon?

And where do I even begin?  334 days should be enough time to unpack a previous life if you do it properly.  One would think.

For this overly-sensitive pup, it's not.

Warm Reading

Just gonna leave this hunk of carbon here for a bit.

someone can be madly in love with you.
and still not be ready.
they can love you in a way you have never been loved.
and still not join you on the bridge.
and whatever their reasons you must leave.
because you never ever have to inspire anyone to meet you on the bridge.
you never ever have to convince someone to do the work to be ready.
there is more extraordinary love.
more love that you have never seen.
out here in this wide.
and wild universe.
and there is the love that will be ready.

-nayyirah waheed.

When I am Lost (and hot and lonely and wanting)

It's been really hot outside today.  The dog has been acting up and I feel guilty for leaving the house to 'take care of things.'  And it's been almost 4 years in this city and I still feel so fucking lonely.

And, yes, I dreamed about you again, as if I can help it, and you told me she has a horse and you've gotten to ride it and I stare at you with as much envy and curiosity as I can muster.

And my lovesick partner has gone home again and these are the times I realize that I am missing so much.

You show me your scars & I'll show you mine?  Or something like that.

Mondays

I think most things are made up of little secrets.  Like my dog, heavy on my leg, fast asleep, all limbs and fur and freckly nose; a heart that beats like mine.  I wonder if she misses her brother, her human 'dad,' all those afternoons we spent at the park throwing balls?

I wonder if he misses us, thinks about us as much as I do about them.  Wondering if they're okay, if he's in love, if he feels like he's able to breathe and laugh really hard again.

And when I fidget in the night, how someone else's hands reach out and pull me in close, so I can smell his stale breath and earthy skin.  How he tells me, "I've never loved as much as I love you."

My heart aches for family again, four walls disconnected from this, grass growing out back.

The chance to let go.

On Loss

It is hard to handle loss;
invited or otherwise
she hangs on my t-shirt like 
the grimy fingered 5 year old I used to watch on

Sunday nights.  When his mom went to her 
meetings so
she could be a better
mother
wife
caretaker
human.

She demands my attention,
pulls me one way then the 
other.
I can't resist her watery eyes,

the fierceness of her tug.
I want to watch tv or
put dino-bites in the toaster oven,
or anything else.

I swear it will be the last time,
no more bounced checks
no more dried macaroni on my second-hand jeans:
I'm getting too old for this!

Yet somehow it is Sunday again,
I pull up to the house, let myself inside
they see me
and
run.

If Nothing Ever Changes

I have had the pleasure of raising a critter, of petting her soft belly and praising her for peeing in appropriate places.  I have loved long and hard and given up on things I shouldn't have and fallen again.  I've done my best making a home in a place where I was told would 'never really feel like home.'  I have ridden bikes and laid on the grass and the sand and been burned in the sun and came back to do it all over again.  I have lied and behaved cowardly and confessed and smiled and fallen again.
For all these things, and if nothing changes, I have lived.

Like the Fox

I want to write about how lousy this week has been and how my throat has been so sore that I can barely speak above a whisper and how it was so hot in the apartment last night that I started sweating immediately after my shower, and fuck, I live in the valley now (kind of).

But then I see this quote on someone's Instagram (sorry, I should have read it in a book) and get rearranged AGAIN:

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
-WB

The 'manifesto' goes on to say some pretty strange things like, every day do something that won’t compute and  Love someone who does not deserve it and Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.

But back to the fox.

Can I be the fox?  Am I already the fox?  Are we all foxes at some points in life?  I like to think so.  If you could look at a map of where I've (we've) been I'm sure it would be covered in tracks, probably most in the wrong direction.  I guess this doesn't necessarily have to be bad.

Regardless of what you hold most dear, resurrection is typically a rejuvenating thing, right?

The Unexamined Life

It has been so warm outside today.  I walk my dog less than a mile and start to feel the beads of sweat forming on the skin above my heart, absorbed into my cotton shirt before I have a chance to awkwardly shoo them away.

I have noticed almost every piece of trash between Magnolia and Chandler (to my disappointment, so has the dog), the abandoned repair shops, the gigantic self storage warehouse, the Big Lots across the street...today everything is ugly to me.

This is my life.  I just started to worry that maybe I am living an unexamined one.  I do not want to wander mindlessly down these littered streets and come up empty when I unlock the security gate at the entrance to our modest apartment.

I treated myself to some flowers at the local farmers market yesterday.  They're in a glass on our kitchen/work table and, believe me, they are lovely.  I'm not going to say that I want to be like the flowers, that I never want to worry about how I look or what I'll wear...but I do want to be lovely.

Most days I take a line from the Princess Diaries, stare at my reflection, think "This is as good as it gets," breathe in a good-natured sigh and pour some grapefruit juice for my early morning commute.

Because, I suppose, "good" can be enough.

For now.

"It Can Be Easy" i.e. it doesn't have to feel hard to be good

One time I bought some very manly flowers for a boy I liked and it didn't turn out too well.  I know nothing about love but I have to say that I hit some sort of luck jack pot to have ended up here.

All the love my limping but hopeful cardiovascular muscle can pump for this sweet heart fast asleep next to me.

On Ordinary

One of my favorite times with you was the Saturday morning you surprised me with coffee before work.  You told me you had heard of this really great place and even though I had no idea how significant a well-crafted latte would become to me, I was excited to be chauffeured to the office with a quick stop for caffeinated goodness on the way.

"What if I didn't work on Saturdays?" I mused as we walked back to the car.  I don't think you responded.

And so the morning drive continued without incident, you dropped me off right before the Farmer's Market vendors started unloading their trucks, preparing for the day's activities.

A few months later, I got Saturdays off and we both worked Monday through Friday like "normal" adults do.  This isn't super significant, except to say the surprise coffee trip only happened once.  And maybe it should have happened more, or maybe the novelty of it made it matter most to my aching yet hopeful heart.

And I am still trying to process these feelings and hurts and choices, but when is it enough?


I dreamed about you last night, so I figured this was the most appropriate form of response.

On Quiet

Some days the hardest thing is just keeping my mouth shut.

Also, this.

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.

On What We Really Need

Listen, I'm not trying to say that I know anything about anything.  I have little to no idea what it means to grow up or act like an adult or present my 'best self'* to the world.  I suppose what I have learned (and continue to learn) is that there can be a fine line between wants and needs when it comes to the way I have been living.

I also realized I become very nervous when reading poetry to anyone because I'm worried they are losing interest after approximately 2 lines.  But more on that later.

So I am faced with a choice (every day, aren't we?) to choose between wants and needs while trying my darndest to negotiate what exactly the difference is. 

This post isn't going the way I planned.  Oh well.


*what does that even mean, again?

All the Feels

I am here to say that I have been pleasantly surprised by the quiet unfolding of events over the past few weeks.  I feel lucky/blessed/etc/etc to be in this place, but the truth is I have put in a lot of work and made several fucking hard decisions to get here.  And, yes, I was not expecting this "so soon," but I can't deny that something is happening.

For now that is enough to keep me hopeful, to continue getting to know this peculiar person and to be okay with all the not knowings of something new and real and fragile.

It's not the worst place to be, I suppose.

On (Not) Knowing.

I will never apologize for being "too kind." 

I cannot be sorry for having a heart that is "too soft."

I understand I'm in my head too much.

I know.

I know.

Iknow.

Some Things

Things have happened since Christmas. Nothing earth shattering, but I can tell you that I am "pretty good."

Uhhhh...I met someone.  Trust me, I am just as confused as you are.  We shall see what happens.

For now, I am doing my best to not worry, to stop beating myself up over how things have been over the past 12 months, to acknowledge that I am okay in company and in solitude.

There is such a thing as grace.  I am so quick to forget.

On Being Here

I want to write about how lovely today is, how terribly windy it was on my drive in, but how eerily clear the 10 was and how it made me almost forget how many hours I've spent on that road this year.
I want to tell you that after I leave work there is a family & dinner waiting for me and lovely heart-felt presents underneath a tree wrapped in a string of popcorn & cranberries.
I want to tell you that I'm not going to be lonely and that this was "one of the best years...ever!" and that "I can't wait for what's next!"
I want to tell you that I'm sorry our Christmas postcard is a little late this year but "don't worry! it should be arriving shortly"

You know that I can't.

Though today is still lovely, and the freeway was clear, there is no family dinner or tree or best year or postcard coming.  It's just how it is right now.

And while I keep encouraging myself, hopeful for the inevitable "it can only get betters" next year, I must confess that most days it leaves me feeling orphaned and drained, pulling myself up by my own bootstraps and reading inspirational quotes trying to desperately flounder at the surface of the metaphorical ocean of life.

I'm sorry these aren't the most positive feelings, especially on such a meaningful day.  They are honest though, so I guess there's that.

Non-Resolutions

I want to spend less time worrying about the things I cannot control (which is most every thing) and more time being at peace/belonging to myself.

I want what's important to you to be important to me too.

These are not my resolutions.

On Want

I wanted to write about the nature of wanting and then I talked with a good friend last night about all different sorts of wants and decided I want to tell you about how most days I think I could be very happy on a ranch, running around with horses and dogs and maybe some cows or something.

I do not know why I think this.

Except for yes, mostly I do.  I like to think that I would be "good" at living the simple life.  Simple for me = less noise + more quiet + less electronic shit + more outdoors goodness.  I like to think that a big move, a change of scenery, a different pace equals simple.  I suppose it's not that easy, though, right?

When I reflect on my current state of affairs, sometimes this doesn't seem too far away.  A sense of an ending in this weird but achingly lovely city doesn't necessary seem imminent, but at the same time I can't rule it out entirely just yet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that (you guessed it): I don't know.  Maybe the more I admit this the less terrifying it will become. Eh, probably not.

When the Rain Comes

The building I live in is old.  Also, there is a storm happening. (Right now!)  And I found myself tossing & turning in bed as the curtains flapped wildly against the screen, convincing myself I couldn't close the windows because I have never closed them since moving in and why would this morning be any different?

I will refrain from turning this into some sort of philosophical metaphor for old things and leaving things open or forcing them to close and just say this: I was able to shut the windows.

Everything was still okay.