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.

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 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 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.

On Not Knowing

One of the first things I will confess to you if we spend any amount of time together is that "mostly, I know that I do not know." Sure, I have my opinions and beliefs about why things work they way they do (or don't), but these are my opinions and if you want facts, maybe you should consult a book or Google or better yet go straight to the source (if/when possible).

I am also one of the more passive people you will meet and would go to great lengths to keep the peace versus actually addressing an issue I may have with someone. Chink in the armor? I suppose.

All that to say, the more people I meet, the more things I learn, the more I realize how little I know about my neighborhood, the city of Los Angeles, the Golden State, and I suppose life in general. It is a gentle, humbling reminder that I am a little piece of a great, big universe. "And that makes things right."

Even when it doesn't feel that way all the time.

On at Least Trying to Be

In the words of Hush Puppy: "I wanna be cohesive."

My painful realization of the day yesterday was this: I am obsessed with pursuing/being in a romantic relationship.

So...shit.  This self-awareness endeavor is no joke. 

Now what?

On Night Hikes and Why Being Alone in the Dark with Your Dog Isn't Always a Bad Idea

Because someone new
Because I am afraid
Because I am not in control
Because I am tired
Because the dark
Because I am nervous for the unknown
Because sometimes the things I desire are very far away
Because I am still hopeful
Because I am not easily charmed
Because I fall too quickly
Because she is one of my best friends
Because I still want to adopt
Because "I see that I'm a little piece in a big, big universe. And that makes things right."

Also, cohesion.

Diving into the Wreck

First having read the book of myths, and loaded the camera, and checked the edge of the knife-blade, I put on the body-armor of black rubber the absurd flippers the grave and awkward mask. I am having to do this not like Cousteau with his assiduous team aboard the sun-flooded schooner but here alone. There is a ladder. The ladder is always there hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for, we who have used it. Otherwise it is a piece of maritime floss some sundry equipment. I go down. Rung after rung and still the oxygen immerses me the blue light the clear atoms of our human air. I go down. My flippers cripple me, I crawl like an insect down the ladder and there is no one to tell me when the ocean will begin. First the air is blue and then it is bluer and then green and then black I am blacking out and yet my mask is powerful it pumps my blood with power the sea is another story the sea is not a question of power I have to learn alone to turn my body without force in the deep element. And now: it is easy to forget what I came for among so many who have always lived here swaying their crenellated fans between the reefs and besides you breathe differently down here. I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes. The words are maps. I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail. I stroke the beam of my lamp slowly along the flank of something more permanent than fish or weed the thing I came for: the wreck and not the story of the wreck the thing itself and not the myth the drowned face always staring toward the sun the evidence of damage worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty the ribs of the disaster curving their assertion among the tentative haunters. This is the place. And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair streams black, the merman in his armored body. We circle silently about the wreck we dive into the hold. I am she: I am he whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes whose breasts still bear the stress whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies obscurely inside barrels half-wedged and left to rot we are the half-destroyed instruments that once held to a course the water-eaten log the fouled compass We are, I am, you are by cowardice or courage the one who find our way back to this scene carrying a knife, a camera a book of myths in which our names do not appear. -Adrienne Rich

on what can be said (again)

I have a place to go Monday through Friday from 8:30am-5pm. So...why do I feel exactly the same?

Middlemarch

He had never liked the makeshifts of poverty, and they had never before entered into his prospects for himself; but he was beginning now to imagine how two creatures who loved each other, and had a stock of thoughts in common, might laugh over their shabby furniture, and their calculations how far they could afford butter and eggs. -George Eliot

on what can be said

Hi. It appears that when one has more time than she knows what to do with, very little actually gets done. At least, that is what this she has found. Here I am, at the end of October, wishing that the weather would at least pretend to behave and shed its perpetual summer skin. But, no luck. I think it's about 85 right now. I'm still looking for a job. I am reading Mockingjay, trying to convince Brian that the fact that it is labeled "YA" does not negate the point that I am reading again. Which is something. I'd like to tell you that my recent transition into marriage has righted every concern and answered every question I've ever held in my heart. But it has not, and I guess I am glad that it hasn't. Instead, it has decided to bring with it more concerns and questions to which I know the correct response to quite few. I found that my husband enjoys making lists, and I suppose I am not immune to this simple task either. Here are some things I have noted in my first 100 days or so: Clean up your dishes. Vacuum the floors at least twice a week. Make sure the dog has a full bowl of water. Limit t.v. exposure. Kiss each other when you leave and when you come back. Go outside. Let me get the mail. Let him play games. Make the bed. Open the blinds in the morning. Don't wear nail polish for more than two weeks. Eat fruit & vegetables. (Try to disguise them if you're not as good at this as you thought.) Maybe you found something on this list that was really helpful for your relationship, or something new that you'd like to try out. I hope so! And if I had a verse to share with you I'm pretty sure it'd be the one from Psalms... "O Lord, do not delay!" I'm not sure why, but this is what I want you to have. Also, let me know if you'll be in Florida this coming week, because it looks like I will be too.

On not disappointing.

For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late. -Habakkuk

Brian and I are getting married! Tell all your friends.

On big time commitments.

There's no ring, but this is a pretty damn good start.

hanging with friends

You would think by now that I would have had time to settle in, find a job, do some writing, ride my bike to town, and all these things. But, in truth, I have only spent 3 nights in my new room, and punched my last timecard on Friday. I didn't really know what to do with myself, so I missed some flights and finally ended up at home. Home is a nice place to be when you don't really know what to do, and, indeed, it is a luxury to travel on a whim (somewhat) and know that someone will be waiting to pick me up on the other side.
In other news, my brother, sister-in-law, and niece are also visiting, so it has been nice to see them for a few days, too. It also makes me never want to have children under the age of 5. (I hope you can understand.) I have been mulling over the idea of adoption for when I am older and financially stable, so there's that. It might also throw all my relatives for a loop which could be a nice change of pace for the Nelson Clan.

on leaving.

let's hope so.

clear nailpolish.

I believe that there are a lot of big parts of me that appreciate change. I relish the idea of ending one job in search of a new (more fulfilling) one, and then working other part-time (less-fulfilling) ones. I'm anxious for friendships to become deeper and permanent. I get goosebumps thinking of all the great rides I'll have on a bike I can effortlessly carry up stairs; I'm even thinking about all new streets and sidewalks in the next year! See, I'm okay with the different!!
But (there had to be), I also believe that there's an even bigger part of me that appreciates the constancy of this life I am (lest I forget, currently) living. I have my rhythms and habits and place for my shoes at the front door.
So I worry about where I can find a place to work out in the mornings, if I don't live near school, and I wonder if any one would hire me with such limited job experience. I also wonder who would want to live with me, or who I would end up living with apart from here.
I am afraid of change. But I also firmly believe that He/She is aware of my fears and validates my concerns. Which makes me feel a little better. And I'm also fairly certain that the God who bore with 'please send us a puppy' Christmas prayers is still able to determine immediate needs and those that I could do without for just one more year.
So there is that. Which is nice.

like a river

Some times I get worried that my life isn't turning out quite how it should be. Some days I wake up and wish I was going to ride my bicycle to the letterpress factory or retirement center instead of the animal hospital. I wish I could go on walks with my dog and play fetch at the park. I even wish most of my ships were further along than they seem to be.
For me, it is hard mostly to be content in today. I know it is an important skill to have, seeing as life is just a bunch of todays strung together, so I am working harder at that. I think contentedness and inner peace, in general, are lacking in a society that slyly questions satisfaction and pushes its students towards insatiable desires.
I took a trip to San Francisco a few weekends ago, which is where I took this picture. There's nothing incredibly symbolic about it; it's just open books that look like they're falling from the sky, and the sun happened to be shining at that point in the day. I am warming up to that city, but I wonder if I woke up in an apartment in North Beach if I'd be any more peaceful than waking up where I am today. I'm pretty sure there are things that need to change inside of my own heart before I could truly live a life that is turning out quite how I think it should be. "Whatever my lot," I suppose.

some sort of light

I remember when I found out that a girl from my high school was pregnant. I was standing in front of Barnes and Noble when O said, "Did you know M's pregnant?" (No.) "Are you kidding me?" (No.) I remember seeing "the guy" one day when I was driving. I had heard he wasn't interested in becoming a father, and I told him so behind the protection of my tinted windows.
I thought about M today, and I think she's doing pretty well. I've seen pictures of her boy, and, what can I say? He's incredible.
I guess what I'm getting at is that life happens whether we think it's the right time or not. Mostly I forget this, but I am trying to keep it all in perspective.

Forgive my negativity.
It has been too long since I have written any sweet words.

"On Cities"
I have not come across a place
as difficult as you.

Your parks and sidewalks
sparkle,

But tear up my boot's soles,
challenging me to take one more step.

So I climbed to the top of all the no-name bridges,
and sailed away to the jail at sea.

I cannot seem to grasp the congestion of square miles
or the vastness of one urban block.

He has fallen into your rhythms so well;
and I, bow my head in peace,

and command my troops
surrender to your composition.