Wednesday, January 22

Out of Time

I turn my car out of the hotel lot, turning and pausing on my way to the interstate.
Cars and trucks zoom past me, I squeeze in between them before speeding up and flying past.
I left before dawn, the hotel room an empty memory of a quick night spent along the freeway.
Mountains loom, then pass. Coffee is drank in slow gulps. I put on music, sing along, mute it, turn it up again.
Bridges. Desserts. Trees, so many trees. The sun follows me across the sky. I wolf an orange at a rest area, drink water while I consult the atlas before turning my car west again.
The sun greets my face as I drive past the green signs telling me how far away from home I really am.
Another hotel. Another plastic room key. Another dinner.
I tuck my feet underneath me. Pull out my computer. More music. Then a movie, until I lose interest.
I check my phone.
In a few days I will be out of time.
In a few days I will turn my car east again and brave the sun.
In a few days I will be back home, ready to go back to work.
I wonder. Will I send you pictures or a quick anecdote from the road?
It doesn’t really matter.
I might not know it, but I’m already out of time.
I’ve been out of time since the morning I crawled out of your bed and slipped to my car in the quiet morning air.
I see the thundering falls and stop to feel your arms around me, your chin in my hair, watching the water with me.
I look out the passenger window and pause to picture you sitting there.
I can see you in my car. Your pack in the trunk next to mine. Your travel mug in the holder next to mine.
I can feel you in my bed. You slip an arm around my waist and tuck me close to you, afraid to lose me in the night.
I’m already out of time. I realize it while I’m still facing west. I realize it while I’m standing at the waterfall. I realize it when I’m sitting on the bed checking my phone. I pull back into myself. It’s best not to get too carried away. After all, I’m out of time.

Saturday, December 10

Have I lost my mind?

So you're a bad boy. You have tattoos. You've been caught and done time. You've stolen things in your life, but this time you've gone too far. You stole my heart and I want it back.

Monday, December 5

Dear Ex, (Letter 1)

Dear Ex (You know who you are),

I may have had another boyfriend than you in my seemingly long life; but he was just a boy, a mere child inside a man's body. He is no more deserving of a letter than a kleenex lying on the floor, or a leaf on the ground. You though, you are an incredible person. We might not have had anything spectacular, or anything particulary worthy of note, but you have taught me more about individuality, self-worth, and love than anyone else I know. You, knowing perhaps a bit to well the consequences of your decision to be true to the person you are deep within, let the world know that you are a human, and you have the same right to love whoever your heart says to love, as the next person. Maybe more, because you have known utter pain, humiliation, and rejection, and are still willing to offer your heart to someone in exchange for their love, acceptance, and a hand to hold on the journey through life. I know now, at a more mature age, that what we had wasn't really a relationship, more of a social agreement born of curiosity, fear, and comfort. We were good friends first, and while, yes, that is the cornerstone for any great relationship, you and I both knew your secret. It is that secret that I kept for you, I wanted to protect you from society, as much as you wanted to seem normal, and to hide from your demons and ghosts. You are gay. And I love you for finding the courage to let the world know. People have turned on you, people have hurt you with all the hatred of their fear and personal loathing. I was initially selfish, I thought that when you came out to me, that it meant you were not attracted to me, and while it is true, you weren't, my self-esteem took a hit. Then I woke up one foggy morning and was looking out my bedroom window, and I realized a fundamental truth. This wasn't about me, it was about you. Once I grasped that simple revelation, my life got better.

I won't lie, you and I have had our share of fights. We've raged at each other with the fury of lovers, the subtle agony of siblings, and the knowledge that we would smooth things over that is only evident in the close relationship of friends. I thank you. You have taught me that when I find the perfect person, it will feel right. Things will click. No, they will not be easy, but they will be worth it, much like our friendship. And I will be there the day that you and your Mr. Right exchange sacred vows and rings. I love you for all that you are to me and the world and yourself. You are a precious, amazing human being, and I pray that when I do find that guy for me, that he will have many of the admirable traits I so love about you. Frankness, acceptance, strength, humor, kindness, and a strong, loving heart that has known pain, and as a result, would not wish pain upon me. Because of you I will be able to love him back, as a better person and as a better friend. -The Girl Who Kept Your Secret.

Tuesday, May 17

As the Sky Falls

We see the world they way we've been taught.
We chase things just long enough, they refuse to be caught.
I watched you tonight, you smiled and laughed;
How do I compare to that? I'm only just me.

Just me. I'm only one girl. I can only see the world this way.
I'm blind to how it all works. I don't know what to say.
But this time I want you to hear me. I want you to know.
I spent a long time, fearing the world. I was scared of what could happen.

I walked and meandered. I thought, but never felt.
I thought I understood, but I needed to be held.
Things are complicated, a tangled web of feelings.
We make them worse, every day a another strand of fear.

People walk around me, the sky begins to fall.
I look around this world and I feel so terribly small.
This time you drive away, and I struggle beneath it all.
I never thought I'd feel this way, powerless and alone.

I have to start all over, this time I'm on my own.
I judge everyones reaction--their look, their feel, their tone.
How do I know when I find myself the one?
Does a voice speak aloud, a warning bell, a gong?

I spent so much time with you, I forgot how to fall again.
This time is different, I remember how it went then.
I change it all, I make him mine, I don't waste this chance.
This one is for me, I can see that now. I'm supposed to smile and dance.

The greatest things in life are love, family and hope.
You gave me love, fear and doubt. Showed me how to cope.
He gave me family. He gave me hope, he loved me through it all.
And this time I know what to say, when the sky begins to fall.

Tuesday, April 26

Pick Five

I got this genius ideas from one of my favorite bloggers. Emily Schumann at Cupcakes and Cashmere is so incredible. Words cannot express how in love with her blog I am. But, I digress. Once a week she lists her favorite things. Sometimes there are long lists of lists. Other it's a short, five item list. For today, I have too much time on my hands and more than too many ideas rattling around in the forefront of my mind.
Blogs and/or Bloggers:

1. Emily Schumann of Cupcakes and Cashmere

2. Phyllis Grant of dash and bella

3. Jenny and Andy of Dinner: A Love Story

4. A Cozy Kitchen

5. Yummy Supper

And, before I get tired, or bored of this tabulating.

My favorite things this week.

1. Flowery summery shirts.

2. Old houses.

3. Smooth jazz, ala Dave Kaz, Kenny G, and Chris Botti.

4. Snow and rainstorms.

5. Grilled ham and cheese with lots of spicy mustard.

Tuesday, March 29

I loved you anyway...

Tears fall, one at a time
fingers fumble, and try to stop the flow
the silence is cold, and suddenly harsh.
Reality returns, and with it time speeds up.
The air is warm with the electricity of words said
Words not able to be taken back.
A hastened, "I'm sorry, I love her instead."
The slow, "Are you sure? You said you loved me."

Noise returns in incremental pieces.
A car around the corner, a bird outside the window.
The realization that the world was crying with her.
Rain began it's lazy descent
The curtains hung with their collected moisture.

Suddenly, with a breath of consciousness,
and a return to the normal, she grabbed her keys from the hook
and dashed for her car.
Turn the key.
Lights and wipers on.
Car in gear.
Thoughts came in fragments, pieces of greater actions.

Her head was protecting her heart from the pain...
Aimless wandering became a specific pattern.
The pattern she repeated every Tuesday night.
His house. The gas station on Third. Her mom's office.
The park. Then back to his house.

Her house grew large in her windshield.
The car in Park she sat and stared at the structure she knew so well.
This was it. This was ground zero.
Two hours ago she'd waited with bated breath.
A four word text.
"Can I come by?"

Now that it was dark she noticed her family moving silently.
Her mother laughed while standing at the stove.
Her father at the sink.
The dog was looking out the front door with a look of content.
All was well in this household. No broken hearts.
No fights late at night. No sadness.
Or so it appeared.

Hidden from the world was a different view.
The vodka bottles in the trash.
The pills in the cupboard by the bathtub.
The bruises and scrapes, so carefully concealed.
They looked like the poster family.
Father with a job at the bank.
Mother in a real-estate office.
Two older daughters in small colleges.
And a daughter who wore the wrong clothes.
Spoke the wrong way. And dated the wrong guys.

The world never saw the youngest Harper daughter.
No. Marissa was the black sheep. She was hidden away.
People would know about her now though.
Marissa would finally get noticed.

Blood fell. A drip at a time. This time the fingers didn't try to stop it.
The lights from cars flashed across her skin as they drove past.
This time no one stopped to help.
A pool of blood grew beneath her and trickled over the edge of the granite step.

When morning came it was too late.
Blood had congealed, and skin had turned a pale white.
Marissa had been noticed. The newspaper bore her picture.
This is what the Harper family really was like. A dead daughter.
Not just dead, but bloody and sordid.
The letter was short. It simply stated, "I loved you anyway."

Friday, March 11

What exactly?

As I start this, I caution you. I am not aware of a purpose for this entry. I have been working on college essays for the last few days. I am sick of editing, and proofing, and capitalizing, and making sure each i is dotted, and t crossed. I will acknowledge that such obsession is necessary, and hopefully it pays off. But at the same time I seek solace from my blog. My blog is 100% my own. It belongs to me. I can say what I want. The only glitch is I have so many things I want to say. Thoughts, ideas, scraps of poetry and songs roiling in my head, but I can't seem to project them into written word.
I have some strange ambitions in life. I have all the dreams that come standard-issue. I want to graduate college. I want to be successful. I want to witness a miracle. I want to have a family and a white picket fence, minivan and soccer practice included.
But then there are the wishes that I hold dear to my heart. The thoughts that come unbidden during times of quiet inactivity, or startle me during the oddest moments. I entrust you with these hopes, and fantasies. Some are time-worn, if they were on paper it would be soft, and creased, the edges torn and frayed, the writing yellowed with time. Others are still new, recently minted. The paper is crisp, and stiff, the writing is still precise and legible.
As I have explained at length before, I am waiting for Prince Charming. I know he'll find me. If I were a simple person I might leave it at that, and perhaps for your sanity I should. But I'm not simple, I'm complex, I like pickles in my grilled cheese, and potato chips with my ice cream; as if these food-related examples can portray my complexity and depth.
Someday I want to be in love with a man I trust. I don't want to fear for my safety, or the loyalty of our relationship. I want a man I can be myself with; if I want to dance to Madonna while I clean house, I want him to laugh with me, and think I have never looked more attractive to him. I want a man who is laidback and sweet, honest and sincere but not cruel. I want someone who will catch me when I fall in love with him.
I want lazy Sunday mornings. Sleeping til noon, and listening to soft jazz and blues on the radio. I want incredible rainy afternoons. I want 2 AM moments when I wake up and just listen to him breathing, moonlight dancing across his face. I want love, and passion, and joy, and security. I will become jaded with time, and I want to be able to look back at this list and remember the things that my innocent 19 year old heart desired.
I want to be a mother. I want the whole thing. The pain, and the nausea, the exhaustion, the irritation and hormonal insanity. I want to decorate the baby's room. I want to pick up my baby at 3 AM and calm he/she to sleep. I want to sit and hold it, marveling at it's perfect fingers and toes, beautiful eyelashes and my little nose. I want to kiss it's feet and breathe in that "baby smell."
I want to cry as my precious child goes off to school for the first time. I want to teach it how to ride a bike, and throw a frisbee. I want to take posed family Christmas pictures. And decorate for holidays.
I want to be successful, but I am careful when I define success. I want to be happy, and have money. But I don't want to be a slave to my career. I want to take the time to play games with my kids and husband. To spontaneously take trips to the lake, or grandma and grandpa's house.
I want a happy marriage. One defined by the great times, and the everyday happiness we find in ourselves. I don't want to worry about infidelity or betrayal. I want to know that my husband loves me and wants to spend his life with me. I want to be a grandmother, and sit on our porch watching our grandchildren search for Easter eggs, or scuffling in autumn leaves.
I want to always be close to my sister. She and I can spend 2 hours apart, and when we see each other again act like it's been 2 weeks. We talk about literally everything. She is so smart, and supportive, and good to me. I can't fathom what my life would be like without her. I make a lot of claims, but she is my best friend in this whole world. I want to live near her family, I want to spoil her kids rotten, and invade her kitchen and take over.

It's not surprising that my dreams are all related to relationships, and love, and happiness. I don't see how money and fame and success in a stressful field lead to fulfillment. I don't have any guarantees what life will hold for me. But if I get some of these things I will be the happiest person ever.