I drank my tea and have now found discontent as I look

into the traces left at the bottom of the cup.

In and out in and out

My days blend into a far too still and predictable line.

The movement sways so little that I question if

there is a difference between days at all.

Remembering old loves...

some with such disdain

or regret

or surprise

or sorrow.

It is not the ones I was most heartbroken to let go that sting the most in the brooding that comes on dark winter nights.

Nights where the sunlight has just said fuck you, I'm out.

She leaves now at a shocking hour, staying only as long as she absolutely must to keep up opinions and convince us that she still remains a part of it all.

perhaps I am taking my cues from her.

But on these days when the darkness has been given an early chance to creep in,

as I sit and think about chances that have come and gone,

ones I have pretended to try to tie my heart to,

it isn't the ones that broke my heart that linger longest in these shadowy spots.

Instead, I am more often consumed with the ones that I could have sworn were lovely things,

in the afterthought.

Looking back, I have had it good a few times.

These are the ones that pushed me away the fastest and hardest and most desperately.

It's funny. This odd creature that I am.

Have always been.

Will probably always be.

Sure, I've grown, evolved. It's survival of the fittest, baby.

Survival of the toughest, the calculating, the ones that can turn on and shut off certain things within that will cause them to physically survive.

Evolution in this respect seems to have very little to do with the emotions.

Maybe I'm going about surviving in all the wrong ways.

Maybe I've got it all wrong.

Maybe the thought of figuring it out is too scary though to make the necessary changes.

It's that time of year when the whole world falls in love....

we are promised the exciting possibility of a whole new year - Oh, how a new life might be started! Oh, the changes I will make! The love I will find! The world I will transform!

And then, every year, we are not awoken with a slap in the face or a splash of water to shock our system.

No. This is what we need to happen.

It seems that I sleep each January first morning a little later, stretching my muscles slowly as I fight that unwelcome pull to open my eyes. I awake with no new purposes, no new insight, no actual gumption to make all those exciting changes that, somehow, as I lay in bed on the dawn of the new year, seem suddenly less appealing and far more daunting.

And silently, unadmitting, and shamefully, I choose to close my eyes again, thus giving myself permission for the rest of the year to continue to make all the same mistakes and live the same little life.

This year, I hope I have the commitment to get out of bed. I have lain to long in this comfortable section of my life - where I am warm and unbothered.

I need that splash of water to shock me out of bed.

Maybe this year, I should stop trying to be a lot like love and be a little more like living.

you know what?

I've got a case of the blues and the mean reds.

The blues kinda suck. They're because a lot of things, including, famously, because I'm getting fat and it's been raining too long. Their just sad, that's all.

But the mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of.

I truly do think I'm too much like Holly. Not incredibly stylish or painfully beautiful, no. Not fabulous or coveted.

In all the ways that scare and devastate me when I watch. The reasons I hated her on the first go-around. Not her, no, but I did hate the film.

I think because I found it altogether to personal. I wanted to cameras to go away....no one needs to witness my fears and problems and pain and screw-ups, I thought, forgetting the separation between us, our lack of one-ness, Holly and I.

And yet now I desperately cling to the vision that she gives me. That there, perhaps, is beauty in all this mess. That through it all, even if we want to deny it, or wreck it all, someone might come along that will make it alright.

Someone that I'll belong to. Someone who will know my name.

I sit in front of this little box and find that I have nothing to say. This happens a lot. I long to be creative, and I can sometimes be, when given the right tools, or right direction, or presented with a situation where I have no other choice.

I find that I am a person who often lacks much gumption.

I long to create, I have the ability to create, I have created. And yet, in the moment of choosing and deciding and putting pen to paper...or paintbrush to canvas...or hand to clay...or voice to words...or fingers to keyboard...

I find myself overwhelmed.

I am a little caught up, in general, in trying to make things perfect. In being such a control freak that I never actually accomplish anything. I have such a glorious idea of the "could-bes" that I lose sight of the "right-heres"

And so I am alone with a lot of wants, of lot of unfulfilled wishes, a lot of broken dreams.

I don't just mean in reference to art.

I think this results from my childhood, from my upbringing...from the positions I was put in that children shouldn't be. I am so focused on the getting away that I'm not quite sure where I'm going.

I am so focused on the getting away that I'm not quite sure where I'm going.

We all sometimes let our minds wander to what it would be like to run away...we all have that flash of righteous indignation in our youth - the unfairness we want to just leave behind becomes overwhelming in our young minds sometimes, and we think there is only one solution.

I did. I actually did run away.

How strange it is to put it into those words...or words at all. I'm still not certain how I feel about those months.

I'm still not certain that I ever really went back.

I'm still not certain if I ever stopped running. Or will, for that matter.

I want to stop. I want to slow down long enough that the ideas and wishes and dreams have a chance to catch up with me. Have a chance to ruminate in my mind long enough for me to figure them out. I think I'm scared of them. Of what they might mean, or bring. What I might discover about myself if I slow down long enough to figure me out.

Here's to putting pen to paper...and holding it there long enough to see what gets written down.

It's been a long time. In so many ways. Maybe I got so caught up in embracing the new that I left a bit too much of myself behind.

Maybe I thought I would catch up.

Maybe I was just going where I don't belong.

And yet, lessons can be learned. In the going back. In the remembering. In the acceptance. Today, I am accepting that I don't have to accept everything. Today, I am trying to settle, for once and for all in my mind, that I cannot settle.

It is beyond frustrating to me that I can't seem to want to things that I should. That the ideal or acceptable way of doing things isn't the way for me.

whycan'tijustbenormal?

If I am destined to a life of difference, wherein lies my connection? I am literally disconnecting in the pursuit of connection.

I never did say I made a whole lot of sense. I never did claim to be easy to understand. I will never claim to be the kind of girl that you should want to have around.

But I know I have the possibility of so much love. Maybe it's that I don't know how to corral or control it yet. Perhaps I've done the world a favor in hiding it a bit.

And yet I know that holding back love does no one any good.

I think, perhaps, these are wasted words. I think, perhaps, that I just need to wait for the pieces of the puzzle that are missing before I try to see the picture. I think, perhaps, that I'm trying to make a picture that isn't there. That I have gotten this idea of what the outcome should be, when I should wait for the beautiful surprises.

I think, perhaps, that that I think too much.

I did it. I made the leap. I embraced the new. I waved goodbye, said I love you but I have to go, and cried the whole way out of Texas.

I can't believe it really came and that it is really happening. This whole new life. I'm not sure how I really let go. I keep expecting to wake up. Or for the trip to be over.

But its a new chapter.

I am sitting in my very grown-up hotel suite all by myself. That right folks - sitting at a desk, checking emails after a day at work - real work. I watched the news while I ate some dinner (soup heated up in my very own suite kitchen) and went over my schedule for tomorrow. Its all terribly surreal. And I'll probably go to bed early tonight. Weird.



I have a funny feeling its all going to be okay. That we are all going to be ok. That we will make something for ourselves that we never dreamed. That we will make a difference in this world because we embrace it in all its crazy beauty. That we have stared the struggles and the fears in the eye and dared them to defy us. Not denied their presence but refused to be overcome. We are the wind,the stars and the song in the birds. We are beauty understoody some. We are a light for some to see and be lead by and we will shine and not be hidden. We, my friends, will change the world. By being who we are meant to be. I lovelovelove you. And I lovelovelove my dreams that you will occupy. Thanks for the memories. And for the ones to come.

tell me that you'll open your eyes....

please.

please tell me that someday you will see. that you will be open enough to look inside yourself.

and I wish for you...I dream for you. Not neccesarily of you.

I am so sad at all the parting. I have never known heartbreak like this, and I have known heartbreak. But to be separated from so many at once...it really isn't fair.

This. This isn't fair. I'm royally pissed off.

Maybe I'm making a terrible mistake.

Maybe I already have.

Maybe it really was you.

And maybe this is perfect. Maybe its supposed to be goodbye...that it has to be. Maybe its never going to be the same but maybe thats perfect.

Maybe I should stop looking for perfection.


I had a complete breakdown today. Okay two. The first was immediately upon waking. The second took a total of two seconds. From start to scream. It was hilarious in an awful sort of way.

Choices choices choices.

Can'tdecidenevercouldmust.

Heavens to betsy. This better get easier.

Dear world.

Here I come. I hope you're ready.

Love, Scared in Texas.

ps. I'm excited. I'm looking forward to the newness of you. We have some good times in store. Let's see what happens when we collide.

the story remains...the characters change out....the actors take over...this play of ourselves.

Why are our sons not bleeding anymore, and our daughters weep no more?
Why is it that only the calves in the slaughterhouse have any blood left?
Why is it that only the willows on Lake Urmi are shedding tears?

The emperor stands in need of a new province, the peasant must hand over his savings.
So that the roof of the world may be conquered, the roofs of all the huts are carted off.
Our men are taken away, scattered to all four winds so that the noble lords at home may feast and revel.
And the soldiers kill one another, the generals salute one another. They bite the widow's farthing to see if it is real.
The lances are broken.
The battle has been lost. But the helmets have been paid for.
Is it so? Is it so?

Yes, yes, yes, yes, it is so.

Public offices overcrowded, officials sitting all the way out to the street.
Rivers overflow the banks and devastate the fields.
Men who can't take their own pants down are ruling empires.
They can't count to four but they eat eight courses.
The corn growers look round for buyers, find only starvelings.
The weavers go home from their looms in rags.
Is it so? Is it so?

Yes, yes, yes, yes, it is so.

That's why our sons are not bleeding any more, and our daughters weep no more.
Why only the calves in the slaughterhouse have any blood left.
Why it is that only the willows on Lake Urmi are shedding tears.

~B.B.

comfy bed. mmhmm.

sweet dog at my feet. mmhmm.

whole wheat goldfish. MMHMM.

completion. mmhmm.

goodbyes, lasts, decisions, choices, rejections, messes, searching...not so much.

is everything and everyone running away or is my heart just starting to drift? am I getting a headstart on the separation?

distance distance distance. not only in space.

I repeat things a lot. just a side note. just an observation. I think I've started to take comfort in the strangest things.

lots of sweet nothings lately. too bad they really are nothings...or won't amount to anything besides empty. damn.

taking chances. taking risks. is it a coincidence to say "take"? cause I feel like I'm stealing something. or thats its all borrowed time. I'm waiting to wake up. or at least be told my turn is over.

I still have an awful lot of growing up to do. I guess I always will. its really the only option.

It is finished...

hhhmmm...those words. so interesting in my life. I sit and reflect on the day of yester....remembering and believing in a love so much greater than I could ever understand. so much bigger than I can wrap my fingers and mind around. I really like things that I can hold. I really like wrapping my head around something and sinking my teeth in. But I've very much come to realize that this is a love much more powerful than I can begin to hope for understanding about.

but today, I moved on. I had bigger things to think about - my life. so big, I know. I fluttered around like the proverbial headless chicken. I was both wishy and washy and almost lost my stomach on multiple occasions. and I did it. the moment I had been dreading and anticipating and staying awake for and ripping my hair out for...it came.

it went.

its over.

and then I sat here on my couch, I patted myself on the back, I put my feet up on the coffee table. I checked my fbook with a smug satisfaction that I wasn't using it to avoid the bigger problem and more urgent need. I sighed and said to myself...

it is finished.

it took me a moment to catch myself. it took longer than I care to admit to connect it. and oh the irony of yesterday when I did! oh, how very insignificant my moment became! how little my life is was suddenly so very clear.

my focus in question, my priorities askew...deep breath. deep breath.

and then it hit me. I was sitting here thinking "now what" about my life....where do I go from here? it was so simple to question....so much has led up to this point...now I have to look beyond. and that's scary. because it is finished doesn't mean its over.

and did it ever? certainly that's not what He meant when He uttered it.

because that's where it all began.

it wasn't finished. the story - my story, your story, the BIG story...it began when everyone thought it was all over.

sigh.

I'm really grateful, really hopeful, in the endings. at least for this moment. because one thing ending means another must begin. the story goes on, always and forever. it is finished means we get another chapter.

I can't wait.

get it together. seriously.

I don't understand how you can have something so good and throw it away.

you're dumb.

I'm pissed.

mostly because - if you can't make it work - if you can have something so good and its still not enough...

then I will never be able to.

ok.

so I just was struck, after reading j's post, about being grateful for cages. I have never been about to explain it, or even really understand it, but there is definitely something to be said about having gone through dark waters.

Because it makes the calm ones all the more peaceful.

Having run from things makes you appreciate strolls.

It is the valleys that make the peaks so beautiful.

Sure, I'm not grateful or happy about some of the things I have been through. But I do have to graciously accept that they have made me a stronger person. That I have come out of the last 21 years victorious because I survived.

There's something to be said for knowing that there is very little out there that could overcome you.

I have been made strong at the broken places.

looselipped

So yes. I just made the most delicious dinner with mollopallo. Accompaniened of course by a full bottle of wine. nummers.

I am not going to say that I'm not disappointed. Cause I really really am. It is making me quite peeved, in all honesty.

I write confusing posts. Whatever. Nobody reads this. And I know what I'm talking about.

So how come I'm never quite good enough. Never enough. That is frustrating.

And I can maybe acccept that. But don't pretend I am. Don't say I'm what you want and then... whatever. I'm not.

I'm not. I know.

But for a moment I beleived I could be for you. That we were pieces broken enough to fit together. That somehow we were complete, if only for that moment.

maybebecausei'mnotformostineedtobeforsomeone.

I have to fit somewhere.

I am not asking you to be my cure, my remedy. I am simply hoping that I am for someone.

it's ok that it isn't you.


I wish it was ok for me to cry. Or be angry. Or be anything other than....sweet. I swear if I am called that one more time I will hurt something. I'm not. Your calling me such just screams of how much you don't know me, don't know my life. Sorry to burst your bubble.

You want honesty? Ask for it. But don't ask unless you want truth. And it's true - it isn't always pretty.

I am a bit sicky. Nothing big, just enough to make me sigh. Its my tiring kind - one that I used to be used to. I'm grateful for its absence of late.

One week. It really is coming to
an end.

Two days. It really
isn't happening.

Missed calls. Something saddening
but neccesary.

Waiting for that call. Every unknown number...it always was a possibility. It always will be. He'll always cause fear in my life. Even from such a distance of
space and connection.

I can't be there. And she can. She gets to be the one. That's really
not fair.

Worried about my mum. I hate her pain. I want to
take it away.

Opportunity to be a part of love. Creation, addition, realization. I want so much.
I hate the obstacles.

You. I want you.
Can't you see?
Please.
I didn't want it to be like this.
I asked for reasurrance.
You gave it.
Back it up.
Please.

Maybe all the above is the reason its back. Its a lot to handle at once.

My Momentary Wishes....

Allow me a moment of carefree spinning in the winds of this change. I am excited. I am swishing my skirt perhaps higher than I should out of giddiness. Ignored possibilities have become cautiously embraced chances. Chances I'm taking.

Allow me a moment of terror. Changes loom so close, as they do for so many. I have to let myself cry about it a little. Not all the changes are welcome. They reside in bittersweet communion with the dewy newness. At the end of the day, I will smile about forward motion, but I must mourn the treasures left behind. Always in my heart. But far from my eyes.

Allow me a moment of indignation. Let me scoff a little at hypocrisy. If only you could pull yourself, even a bit, out of your own little world. Then you could see that I want good things for you. Out of love. It is an internal focus that blinds you from this - makes it all about you in far different ways. It's a big beautiful world. Open your eyes to the possibility that other people embrace it's beauty in many forms, even if you can't do so yourself right now. I'm trying to speak love. I guess things get lost in translation.

Allow me a moment of sappy thankfulness. Let me get a little bit teary-eyed out of sheer gratitude. I have been given incredible gifts of friendship. I am constantly overwhelmed by the magnitude of love that surrounds and changes me.

Allow me a moment of regret. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.

Allow me a moment of passion. I feel so much sometimes that I wonder how the world doesn't see my heart breaking and overflowing. A heart can break from happy love too. And maybe thats when things really begin.

Allow me a moment. With you. What I would give for one more moment with you.


I'm crossing off days but I am grasping at moments. Sliding through my fingers, pulling back into the tide. Continual, circular, forever amen.

I love how I can love something that is so wrong for me. Or even love the idea of it. I'm not really there, I'm not being loved, so I can allow myself to be hurt in countless tiny moments of being alone, istead of maybe a bigger moment of rejection, or the facing of reality.

I have condemned myself to a life of slowly dying. Slowly killing myself.

And yet I find comfort in this. I am comforted if not comfortable with the familiar.


Also....

I'm not sure about the whys of things. And I find it extremely frustrating. I so believe that life isn't fair and I am totally ok with this. Not happy when it spites me in particular, but fine with the existence of its unfairness. I don't, however, like not understanding it. That's just mean.

I've seen your dreams get broken
I've heard your words unspoken
And sometimes hope is layin low
Hidden in the ashes left after the fire

In my heart I see you run free
Like a river down to the sea
all the chains that held you down will be in pieces on the ground
you'll drink the rain and ride the wind to me

I've seen a faithless lover
take you down to deep water
and I have watched a fragile wing
tangled up in longings
get broken in the struggle

in my heart I see you run free
like the child you were meant to be
all the chains that held you down will be in pieces on the ground
you'll drink the rain and ride the wind to me

Someday your tears will turn to diamonds
with a kiss you'll wake to see
that you're strong at the broken places
I know someday you'll go free.

Something like......

What a strange place this is...this coming and going...this wanting and rejecting....this knowing and this not knowing...this perfection and this chaos....

But in these times of such uncertainty there are moments of absolute peace. Moments where I can say without a doubt that there is a God and He is Love. That there is nothing else that could touch my soul in the ways that this love does. Last night was one big perfect moment.

Can anything really beat dancing your heart out to Viva La Vida in your front yard, joined in presence and soul by people who connect on such a deeper level. Really, isn't it the best when you don't know people at all but you can sit with them and talk and listen and drink and be.

I can't express the quiet joy of lying in the front yard, all in a tangle and looking up to the stars.

I can't express the intense joy of watching someone dance Celine with such conviction.

I can't express the calm joy or doing nothing. Because I can.


I am oh so fearful about the everything but oh so pleased with this singular moment.

I guess that makes me oh so hopeful. And I am very much ok with that....