"- don't be so quick to knock it. People don't usually part with the weird shit they personally know because they know how easy it will be to punch holes in. Now I'm tellin you somethin. It's for you to poke through the soup and find the meat." John Patrick Shanley's 'the dreamer examines his pillow'

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

I have come to the realization that what I am doing in my life is a sort of dabbling about to find what makes me happy. I am not altering a set course, nor am I starting on a new course, I am flailing, dabbling, testing. What is life but a searching? None of my actions or decisions or even the people in my life will ‘make me happy,’ of this I am quite aware. The only peace to find is in the way I interact with the world. I am here, and the world is what it is. My only choices are how I respond to all that’s around me. I can operate from fear, from despair, from deep hunger, and consume and consume in an effort to fill self. I will certainly do that. But I can also choose to operate from a centeredness, a knowledge that I can not change the world, but I can allow goodness to be a part of who I am, as well as all the things we call ‘bad’, making peace with the boredom, the confusion, the fear by allowing them to be a part of who I am without fighting them futilely or allowing those feelings to control my actions. And whatever actions I do take, whether they matter in the grand scheme of things or not, I can know that I took them in confidence and chose my best course in the moment, not being blinded by self-doubt or despair. I am me. All of me is all of me, the world is what it is, I can not go out and force it to be better; I can use what I have to be a better part of the world, however that affects my actions.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

1:01 am

Ok, what is it about love that feels so familiar? Why do you say all the same things and profess promises that sound strangely like echoes? Is the world playing a big joke on me? It’s really not the love that’s the same, it’s our expression – each of our relationships could be as complex and intricate and UNIQUE as each one of us, if we shed the clichés and show ourselves – even just occasionally. Down with the words ‘I love you’- Fie on hugs for sake of hugs. Give me what you want to give me when you’re with me, anger, touch my face, sit in silence, don’t give me what you think others have wanted, I don’t want it. Don’t pretend to be happy to see me when you’re not. Don’t play it cool if you want to make love to me. You are shitting on authenticity. You are shitting on me. You are shitting on yourself. We can recognize the uniqueness of our relationship by saying fuck you to all the labels and seeing it for what it is. Then when you touch me I’ll take it for what it is, I won’t put prescribed meaning behind it. And when I want to kiss you, dear friend, or stop looking at you, lover, then you can know that it is not merely an empty ritual; something I think I’m supposed to do... It comes from me, to you –a true relationship. Messy, and beautiful, and real. Like us.

Friday, September 22, 2006

6:08 pm dark room, lenny sleeping behind me, swollen figure from achingly womanly process, blue jeans declaring the shape of my legs

I haven’t written in forever, so here I am, to reflect now.

Every time I’ve sat down to write, I haven’t known what to say. Why do I write...

To sort out my thoughts,

to give something to you,

so that I feel like my life matters enough to put down in words that last longer than a second

So many thoughts are going through my head… all thought, all emotion, I whip self from one extreme to the other (and more often somewhere in between)

There’s this desire in me when I write to make everything beautiful – I want to express the beauty in me, it’s not that I want to make the world ‘seem more beautiful’ – it is this beautiful. Beautiful starts to look funny after too many repetitions on the screen. In life though… give me every piece of Beauty you have to offer, give me warm skin, the flecks in your eyes, shared laughter, old friend reunions, concrete on bare feet. Jennifer Rasmussen. Beautiful.

It feels like I’ve been surfing for a few weeks – trying to keep my balance on a smooth, treacherous, familiar and unknowable surface, leaning way back and sometimes fore, focused intently on the rushing water right in front of me, somehow knowing I won’t fall off…

My joy has tipped to the bright side, just enough to make me love life when it gets down to it. Thank you, Lenny for prompting me to think about it.

Ok, ok. Enough with the metaphors. Something concrete would be nice, no? I’ll be here at Otterbein until a bit after Thanksgiving, and then I’ll be coming back to Oregon to stay (for a while.) I’m done here.

I’ll never be done acting, god forbid.

But I needed something else – don’t want to base my life on what I’ve taken from what they have to offer here. Vague, I know. I’m not leaving because I hate it here. I merely suspect that I could be happier and physically and mentally more stable somewhere else. The Peace Corps is on my mind, and time with friends who challenge me and remind me why it’s good to be alive. I may finish college someday, maybe next year, maybe not at all. I’m going to spend some time at my parents’ house, taking long walks and exploring Oregon as a natural Candyland. Hell yeah! And lots of thinking, as always. That house is not home, however, so I won’t stay long. From there… we’ll see.

There are so many ideas of this place in my head, some of which are not at all pleasant, some that I’ll think of with joy for a long time, all of which are now a part of me. For that reason I’ll truly cherish all of them.

I carry all of this with me into every moment, modifying lessons and redefining memories and gaining both, all for the sake of experiencing each minute in a way that only I can… I’m grateful.