illegitimi non carborundum

It is peaceful in my little apartment tonight. I have the lights low, watching tv shows on my laptop, drinking tea and eating an apple. The simple pleasure of just being alone has escaped me the past few weeks. I forgot that I like being by myself, that there have been times in my life where being alone was a rare blessing.
I have been shutting off all my senses, dulling myself in order to survive the moments. I allow myself a few minutes to feel, to smell his shirt or listen to his music, but mostly I have closed my windows and doors and fell into a hole so I didn't have to bear it all. I sound so dramatic, but that's what I did. Now I see that there is so much more I could/should be doing with my time.
When did I forget that I love to create? That I feel sick when my room isn't clean? How did I let my passion drizzle out of me?
No more. I start in the morning, cleaning and fixing, and making things. No more just sitting around, staring at a computer screen so I don't have to feel. Where did I go? I LOVE to feel, even when feeling hurts.
I didn't know this would affect me like it is. I didn't know I would have so much trouble handling it. I thought I would just do what I normally do, and wait it out. Now I see that I have fallen into despair without even realizing it.
No more of that, thank-you-very-much. I am way too awesome to let something like this get me down.

i had a dream i stood beneath an orange sky

It is cold out here today. Not cold- it can never really get cold in Southern California- but definately chill. The clouds are thick overhead, and the breeze that is shaking the leaves on the trees, that breeze is right off the grey-green ocean. The breeze is cold. The sun is playing a child's game of peek-a-boo, shining its face from behind the sheet of clouds for a mere moment before hiding again.

It is midnight where he is. I don't know if that means he is alseep, sweating and hot in some bed, or if he is awake with a drink in hand, wandering the streets of Koh Samui. I hope his feet are in the sand and the moon is high and close to full. I hope right now he is thinking of me, too.

These days are going by, and mostly I feel like I am just wasting time until he gets back. That needs to change, quickly, becasue six months is a lot of time to just waste. I know there are things I am going to do with my time. When the days get hotter, I am going to become a surfer. I am going to hit the waves with a girl I know, and I am going to learn. I am going to take more classes at school, start integrating all the things I have learned so far into my everyday life. I'm going to start going to yoga at my school too, it's offered free for students. I'm going to get a job, earn some money of my own to save for traveling, or getting a bigger apartment, or just to have in just in case. I hate living off my grandparents, and saving nothing. That is going to change.

I wish, though, that I had my feet in the sand, looking up at an almost-full moon, sweating in the midnight heat of Koh Samui.

rose-colored glasses

It's amazing what someone can do with a videocamera. Record your whole life, all the little moments, put them to music and it somehow makes sense of things. I want to live a life like that, one where I can look back, put a soundtrack to it, and there it is: a plot. Something that makes sense.

Right now, I'm alone in my apartment, writing about nothing important. But someday I will look back on this, add some Bon Iver to the background, and voila. This will be a scene, from that time in my life when I was lonely. From the days when I didn't have Kurtis around me. The time in my life that used to be boring and dull... I can't wait to look back on tonight and remember feeling excited about the future.

It's easy to see myself, sitting alone on the couch, laptop on lap, white tank top with holes. Its easy to take a quick moment to adjust my perspective, to see that I have it all. I have freinds that kick ass. I have an apartment right on the railroad track, and a stone's throw from the beach. I am in love with an amazing man, who loves me back. I have a family that loves and supports me, in all my random ventures. I have everything I have ever asked for.

I thank god for the blessings in my life, and will happily wait an eternity for Kurtis if I have to. I didn't think I would be this lucky.

True Love.

Wow.

i used to be a morning person

I am going through a bit of an identity crisis.
What am I supposed to do? I ask the universe, over and over. Where am I supposed to go, who am I supposed to meet? What am I even doing here?
I am sitting on a couch that isn't mine, eating food that isn't mine from a bowl that isn't mine,wearing clothes that aren't mine... I look around and realize that most of my belongings are gifts, are bought with money that I haven't earned. And the worst thing is, I don't want them. I don't want this stupid couch or this stupid bowl or these stupid clothes. I don't want to walk from my bedroom to my bathroom, and into my kitchen to get to my living room, when all of it isn't mine. I want to pick up and leave, drop it all and just walk away.
But I can't. I am here for a rason, given these things for a reason. All signs point to 'learn to stay in one place' or 'learn to do what you need to do, rather than what you'd rather do'. I don't know if i can do it. What is it that I am supposed to be doing?
My spirit tells me to flee, to sell it all and find myself somewhere on some open road. To travel, and be free.
But my heart and head both agree that I am here for a purpose, that there is something much more important than the open road. I have to accoplish something, to be some kind of leader and teacher.
But NO! I scream. NO! I will not be tied down!
I have the spirit of a wanderer, and exploerer. A gypsy, if you will. But my heart and head fear it, give me other things to do, a task to perform for the greater good. WHAT DO I DO?

05-17-10

So I have done nothing worth doing today. I am sitting at my dining table on my computer, wearing a robe becasue I just didn't get dressed today. I watched two movies and finished a book. Okay, the book part I admit was worth doing, but really? In bed all day and not even get dressed? What kind of life is that?

I find that I have debilitating thoughts. Thoughts that flood into my mind unbidden, and while I can objectively look at these thoughts, pick them apart and destroy them as being stupid and unproductive thoughts... the pulling apart of those thoughts takes up most of my energies. So either I think the thoughts, and cripple myself, or I banish the thoughts and still end up crippling myself.

My problem is, I am in love with someone who is so out of reach... I hold him in my dreams, and I wake up to find him on distant shores, soon to be almost a world away from me. And while there are half-promises made, and plans half-laid, the odds are surely against us. Sure, they say "If love is not madness, then it is not love" and all those other brilliant cliches explaining how illogical true love can be, but it doesn't make it any easier. I wonder if I will do something to cripple it as well, and doubt if I am really as loveable as he thinks of me. There is such a good chance that nothing will matter, and all this inside me will be for nothing. To quote miss Regina Spektor: "Love will be the death of me."

But as much as I may wish I weren't, I am that girl who throws it all away for some love or another. And this love... this love is a real one. This love walked in the double saloon doors like Robert Redford and demanded my full attention. I'm lost to it already, planning the epic poems and hand-written letters and believing against all logic that he will return to me.

Being that as it is, I have two options: wallow in self pity and dig myself a shallow hole to wait for him in (and he may never come), or put my big girl boots on and go live some more. If he does ever hold me again, I don't want what's left of me to be a half-rotten shell of what I could have been. I can't go around dying when there's beauty to be seen, life to be made. I've learned that the hard way once already.

Today was just a hard day. And it isn't over yet.

the gypsy and the vagabond

She had come into the world a screaming thing, like everyone does.
A little blonde thing
With tiny feet that were sure to walk the world.
She took to dancing on rooftops and
Changing lives with her smile.
Through the strife of her youth,
She managed to keep her head in the clouds,
Where it should be.

Yet for a time, all there was for her was sadness,
A darkening of her heart and mind.
There was nothing left but escape,
A drop in the bucket of despair.
It was music that saved her, the night she meant to die.
A song that saved the beauty inside her.
That beauty bloomed like roses, and she laughed again.

She found a path and took it,
Gambling all her eggs in one basket
But the path was rough and she dropped them all.
Back to the farm, for more eggs,
But the silly gypsy girl took the same damned path.

On the fifth go ‘round,
She met him.
A sweet and gentle vagabond,
Tall and strong and handsome in his worn out shoes,
Standing in the grass and sunshine a little way off the path.
“I’ll trade you an apple for an egg, there, Miss” he said,
But they traded heart for heart instead, and were happy.

It’s like that for them now,
All sunrises and sunsets.
Wherever he walks, she wanders.
Wherever she rambles, he roams.
They sit on back porches and share lemonade.
He makes the music, she dances.
She makes the magic, and he dreams of her.

It’s a forever kind of love,
The kind that can last a single moment.
Its all tall grasses and polaroid pictures.
The wind in the trees,
The sunlight dancing with the dust.

And its only a summer, but its also forever.
Like everything else is.

by the way

I have another blog, full of ideas and chapters for books and such. Just so y'all know.

http://newbookidea.blogspot.com/

dreams of what could be

The way she moves
It's like she's dancing
A simple two step to the rhythm of the world.
And she chooses what to let in,
What to hold onto, and what to let go.
She takes it all in stride,
whatever floats her way
A slow-motion waltz.
She is a goddess
An angel
A siren to those who know her.
She pulls you in to hold you, to let you go.
(Akasha)
A whisper
She is a dream of what could be, made real.


He is...
Well, he is everything to me.
My simple vagabond:
'...The soles of your shoes are all worn down...'
He held my hand once,
And I was gone.
I didn't know my heart could hold all this love.
It's infinite,
The skin of wine that never empties;
A gift from one God or another.
He makes me want to bare my feet
To touch the earth and be free.
He laughes without restraint
And loves in the same way.
He is my dream of what could be, made real.


These two,
My Angel and Light,
My Vagabond Love,
They are two pillars of truth that hold up the sky.

...i do know where you go is where i wanna be

The air in my little apartment is revitalized, refreshed. I have thrown the windows open and rushed to let the light in. There is new art on the walls, depicting sweet nothings and the nature of the gypsy who loves a vagabond.

Still, there are dishes in the sink, and clothes on the floor. I know the mess will get worse before it gets better, and it overwhelms me. I cast my eyes and in glimpses can take it all in, but I cannot muster the attitude of will to make sense of the chaos.

So I sit, bathed in sunlight and letting my wet hair dry in the breeze. The train goes by again, and I wonder what he's doing, what he's learning, where else he will go today. I smile sheepishly at the little notes he sends, and break the newfound silence in my apartment with my laughter and glee. I ache for him, like a tooth. Its a dull pain, but it throbs and pulses and hurts most at night, when I lay down alone. There is always a Kurtis-shaped space next to me, and it is empty.

Time goes by like the dripping of a faucet: maddeningly slow. It can drive a person crazy, waiting for that dripping to fill up the sink... I feel like I'm waiting for it to fill the bathtub, and the drain is open.

There are still slivers of joy, the silver lining, thin as scotch tape. But they hold me together... Things like his shirt, and the tinkling of a bell. Sweet words and half-made plans, all prop me up so I can see a little better. I'd be lost, a cricket in a forest and no way out, if it weren't for these simple things. Sprinkles on my cake of life.

There is nothing as bittersweet as this...