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.