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.

one lucky...

I have heard it said that "a dog is a man's best friend." I don't doubt the statement, but it does make me wonder about the mechanics of the human animal bond. Or maybe why the phrase isn't "a woman is a man's best friend." (I assume for some this is entirely the case, however, for the sake of argument...)
I have some reasons why this proverb may be so, particularly from a man's point of view:
-they are always happy to see you
-they're down for a ride in the car anywhere
-they always listen
-they never criticize you
-they don't care about how much money you make, or what you do, or fancy dinners
-they (for the most part) do what you ask them to
-they think you're the best thing since breakfast 3 hours ago (see point 1)

I'm not trying to anthropomorphize, or maybe I am, but I think we could learn a thing or two from those critters. Whether you're a man or a woman, I don't even care if you have a dog or not, maybe we could try to be more like them in all our various ships. I think we could have a lot more honest and hopeful interactions that way. Think about it.

a day

I couldn't let this day go by without making some sort of proclamation. TODAY WAS A LOVELY DAY! The light has been lasting longer since March 13th, but I haven't been enjoying it the way I did today.
I rode to work without mittens or a jacket this morning. (It has been the first time in a long time since I've done that.) It was opening day for baseball, too. And I'm very happy that it's here. Because of all the sports I could get into, baseball just happens to be the one I like. So forgive me if I don't know the names of all the players, because I do know who won tonight. And I do know that people wondered why Posey threw to third.
In summary, I got to be outside a lot, even though I had to work.
It was a very good day.

re:cycling

"The Rider"

A boy told me
if he roller-skated fast enough
his loneliness couldn't catch up to him,

the best reason I ever heard
for trying to be a champion.

What I wonder tonight
pedaling hard down King William Street
is if it translates to bicycles.

A victory! To leave your loneliness
panting behind you on some street corner
while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,
pink petals that have never felt loneliness,
no matter how slowly they fell.

-Naomi Shihab Nye, 1998.

It is a new year.

I'm expecting a lot from you, New Year. I expect you'll teach me how to be more gracious and tender, but also truthful. I'm pretty sure there will be some new birthdays to celebrate and parties to be had. I expect there will be some sorts of physical and unphysical movings and rearrangings and I'm also expecting to be content in them.
I hope I don't think that just because it's 2011 terribly wonderful things will happen. But I hope they do any way.
In other news, my road bike is on its way to town, so I am expecting it to be here soon. You may also presume that I will be riding it a lot.
I hope you are expectant in the New Year, too.

On not really being able to say it any better myself.

"& they loved Him."

whinings.

There is a lot to be thankful for, that is for sure. But, for the most part, it is easier for me to gripe about my day, rather than to keep track of all the tiny graces.
I have this car that I bought from a gentleman on Craigslist a few years ago. I didn't consult with my parents before making the purchase, and feel that I have been cursed ever since for this error. To make a long story short, lots of money has been invested into Craigslist car to bring her back up to speed. Recently, she had her oil changed along with a nice bath, and just the other week the nice guys at vw replaced her rock guard because the old one was dragging on the asphalt.
So this morning, at approximately 6:57 am, the check engine light illuminates. The reasons for this horrifying occurrence range from an unscrewed gas cap to a faulty catalytic converter and about 5,000 other things. My brain starts to ache at the thought of my dishonesty, automobiles, and mysterious pasts.

7:14 am: I decide to avoid the situation altogether and pedal off to work.

How to grow a woman:

Step One: Ride your bike.

on naming things.

I spent the better half of the past two weeks transporting my self around town by any means other than Jetta. Jetta was spending some well deserved vacation time, housed in a garage, having her insides examined and receiving new organs as needed. I spent the majority of that time either begging rides off of e, or riding my bicycle from point a to point b. Let me tell you some thing about bicycles. There are a few different kinds; mountain, road, hybrid, commuter, to name a few. Giant is a sort of crossover, not purebred, but some mix of the above. I have had this lofty notion in my head for several months now that I will soon be trading in Giant for a SSS (sweet, sleek, sexy) Bianchi. Though we have never met, Bianchi and I will be good for each other. Sometimes a girl just knows these things.
And so I faithfully rode my Giant up and down the coastal highway two and three times a day, convincing myself that if I am "still riding this old thing!" (after a year?!), that probably means I will be the perfect candidate for Bianchi in the near future. (I can barely feel its weight as I sling the frame over my shoulder and climb the stairs to my apartment...)
Alas, I am brought back to reality as I lug Giant's deadweight up to the safety of our second-floor balcony.

on long, dusty roads.

we can make time for the what that matters.

on days.

there are some times when fresh air is just the ticket to the wisconsin family`s much-anticipated annual vacation
& the smell of chlorine and hot-tubs, lion paws &duck landings, barely brushing the backside of water reminds me that to be antsy is to be alive
and to be alive is to feel
and feeling is hurting inside your innards,
flying past framed photographs,
still wondering what you could be.

but it`s okay.

i am learning that there`s not much more to living than fire works, baseball, soda pop, &conducting the chorus.

cavities.

There was a time in my life when I wrote about my heart's laments in a black, hard bound journal.
I also had a special [non-blogger] blog that held all my adolescent secrets.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Maybe they were secret, but that certainly didn`t mean I didn`t want them to be found. In fact, if I'm honest with myself, if I didn`t want something to be found, why would I have put it on the internet?! Just think about it.
Any way.
I got pretty good at posting cryptic messages about the boys in my life. Or should I say, the boys [I wished were] in my life.
But one in particular had really caught my eye. Nathen with an "e" not an "a" wore a dress shirt and tie to school every day of the 10th grade. Because he "didn`t want to buy uniform shirts, &this was my only option."
What a guy.
Didn`t matter that I was a year older. He was way out of my league.
So in my little online journal, I would practice writing letters that I would never send to this counter-cultured 16 year old.
Fast forward to 5 years later, &through some smiling of the gods, Nathen &I have developed a friendship of sorts. It mostly involves a bi-annual 20 minute phone call, and a few letters here &there. Nothing too demanding. Nothing too promising.
He`ll probably grow up to be some big, hot-shot lawyer somewhere; &I`ll probably be making money writing cryptic poems about him. [I`ve found out I`m pretty good at lying when I write. But I heard they`re calling it fiction nowadays.]
So, if you happen to stumble across a poem that has some love-sick undertones, don`t you worry. I`m just reminiscing on what could have [never] been.
Most likely, it`s for Nathen.

P.S. Please don`t tell him I wrote this.

i still use kid shampoo.

the air tonight was heavy with the traces of a summer that i would never hold: a syrupy, sweet thickness of sticky popsicles and hand-squeezed lemonade that made me instinctively pedal faster, knowing this indulgence was far too rich for me.
families &sidewalks of streets, lazy summer dinners, night-time readings, and bed-time prayers floated just above my head, just past the place where i could comfortably reach-[oh, but if i stretched just a little bit farther...]
&you, with all 99 of your red, hope-filled balloons, reminding me that you`re off soon: to wherever those dreams touch down.
ask me if i`d like to come along for the journey, for company, or just for someone to talk to, perhaps.
but i cannot leave the ground so easily, with that lost summer floating so lackadaisically close to my brain.
&so i instinctively pedal faster and faster, hoping the dust will cover you in my wake.