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.