Awkward Allegory

He had an unfortunate affinity for metal.

Oh, it wasn't as if he wanted it--he'd just been born that way. Metallic things were attracted to him. It was as if there were a thousand tiny magnets beckoning under his skin, a homing beacon for lost bits of metal. He never asked for it--it just happened. But he thought the pieces were unique and beautiful in their own way. and for the longest time, he didn't realize how different he was.

As he got older, he began to notice that there weren't very many people who walked around with shiny bits and pieces hanging from their arms. At first, he felt a little special, and proud that he was different from all but a few other individuals. People complimented him on his ability to carry around so many pieces of metal. The problem was that, while they all said how good he was to do so, nobody ever offered to take some of it off and carry it themselves. They always looked relieved as they walked away, leaving him alone with his metal.

And he got tired of carrying the full weight of the metal pieces. They were heavy, and they took time and effort to work around. At the end of especially long and crowded days, he was exhausted by dragging them after him. However, when he tried to get rid of them, to separate them from himself and become his own person, it was a painful process, and they invariably found their way back.

So he walked around with all of these shiny metal pieces hugging his skin. Now, when people would look at them and say, "How nice!", he just gritted his teeth and wished with all of his heart that things were different.

Dear John

Dear John,

I'm leaving. By the time you get this, I'll already be gone.

I feel terrible doing this to you. I feel even worse because I'm breaking a promise I made to you in good faith--several, in fact. I wish it didn't have to be this way, so suddenly and unexpected, but there's really no choice. It just does.

By this point, you've probably got my engagement ring back in your pocket, and my finger is empty. That was the first promise I broke--I can't marry you. I know I said--but I can't. You understand, don't you? I hope so, so very badly that you do. You were so sweet and strong the night you asked me--I can still almost see your face, John. Maybe someday, mine might fade from your memory. I can't lie to you, I hate that thought. I want you to remember me like that, when we were happy and in love--not like this. Not like me leaving you.

And I am leaving. I can't stay but another moment or two--then I have to go. I know you; at this point you're probably frantic and panicked and dearest, I am so sorry. I know you would follow me if you could, but--I don't want you to. I want you to stay, and live your life, and just be happy. You might wonder how I can possibly say that when I'm saying goodbye like this; but you can. I pray you'll find somebody else, someday, who loves you as much as I do. And John, I love you more than life and death. I always have, from the first autumn I saw you. It's just not enough to keep me here. I wish it was.

Do you remember the hammock under the double oak? That's where we made that last promise--the last one I'm breaking today, very soon now, I think. I told you I'd always be here, as long as you were too. Don't hate me for lying to you, dearest. I didn't know this would happen. And I fought so hard against it; but in the end, I don't think I'm strong enough to stay. And I can't ask you to forgive me for not holding to my end of our pact. I can't ask you to forgive me for leaving you forever. I can't ask you to forgive me for dying like this.  

My moment is over, John. I love you. Remember me.

--Kirra

Both

She stifled a curse and jerked backwards for a moment, balancing on the edge of the drop, eyes locked on the ledge to her left. The snake also flinched, but he didn't loosen his coils on the warm rock as he eyed her from several feet away.

She recovered and scowled at him, irritated that he had frightened her and wishing he would slither away and bother someone else. He glared back, affronted that she had disturbed his sunbathing and hoping she would move on quickly. Neither one was willing to go.

After a few moments, he cautiously relaxed his muscular body, deciding that the girl wasn't a problem yet. She gingerly let the tension flow from her shoulders, allowing that the snake wasn't going to attack her at the moment.

She wanted to sit on the rock above the ledge he was curled on. He wanted to stay in the sun and soak up the last rays of the day. After a long hesitation, she continued to climb and settled on the rock above him. He continued to hug the stone and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Without a word, they agreed to see what would happen.

They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, not speaking, simply watching the day end. He felt like the stone was warmer because she was on it. She felt like the evening was less empty with him below her.

They both liked knowing the other was there.

Grace Note

I almost died yesterday. Again. Sheesh.

(I'm going to tell this story, JG, and you absolutely shouldn't read it again because you were there and I know you're still freaking out, and I'm going to tell what happened, and you're not going to like it...)

We went swing dancing at Ryan's house this past evening. Ryan is a new acquaintance who is rapidly becoming a new friend, and he has an amazing big living room with a hardwood floor, and his mother is lovely. But that's besides the point.

The point is that we were practicing arial swing, which involves a lot of flips. I'm all for that--I love dancing passionately, and I would kill to be able to pull these wild moves with as much grace as I've seen other people do.

Anyhow, there was something Reed and I were going to try. It involves the girl standing in front of the guy, braced on his hands. She bounces high on her toes and does a back roll over his shoulder, landing on her feet behind him while still keeping hold of his hands. Foolproof, right? I've even done it before, in gymnastics. But I was  a little worried, so I called over two of my friends (who shall remain nameless) to spot me.

This is where I messed up, and I take full responsibility for this. I'm so used to spotting and safety stuff that I forgot to specify how--and where--and when they were supposed to do so. I just gave vague directions on where they should stand, so I wouldn't kick them, and got ready to rock. I took another practice bounce, and then jumped up, rolled back, and tucked.

I'm still not sure what actually happened. I think that the friend who was behind me was confused about what I was doing and where I was going. I do know that I rolled over the back of Reed's shoulder, parallel to the floor with my legs tucked to my chest, and was about to straighten them and land. It was going beautifully. Then, my friend grabbed my feet.

My backward roll reversed, and I crashed down into the floor on my face, still mostly tucked. I should have kept a hold on Reed's hands, but I let go to try and catch myself. I wasn't quick enough.

I did turn my head. I was fast enough for that. So, instead of a broken nose, the side of my face took most of the impact. That, a little on my hands, and some on my right knee. My leg didn't bruise, though, and since I bruise when someone sneezes on me, that should tell you how much force my neck took. (As I sit here, I'm trying to work it out--sore as heck.)

I did cry. I tried not to, but I did. Just for a moment, laying there on my back with the three of them looking down at me, and freaking out in my head because I had an awful flashback to last spring break, after the snowmobile had crashed and I was sprawled on the ice, completely alone in the dark, and I thought I had died. I thought my back was broken and I was so afraid. And that's what I remembered. Also, it didn't help that I could feel grit between my teeth. Just a tiny chip out, but that scared me too. It took me a while to calm down. But I did.

So, they got me ice, and after a few minutes I was ok. I didn't really think about what had happened. Besides, it was too lovely of a night not to dance more. Nearly becoming a quad besides the point, it was one of the most fun Saturday nights I've had.

That was yesterday--since then, I've had headaches pretty badly, on and off, come and go. There's a knot on the side of my head and the faintest bruising on one cheekbone, but not enough to notice. My toes are slightly blistered from the dancing. There are good things, too; I found somebody whose rhythm perfectly, perfectly matches my own. I danced with another person who I thought hated me, and found out that he's really pretty fun when he wants to be--we might even end this year on a note of grace. I taught another boy how to--as he put it--stop dancing like a robot, and I saw a beautiful full moon on a perfect night.

I'm still trying not to consider my own mortality. I greatly dislike reminders that I possess such a thing. That, and my head really hurts, so I've been pretty grumpy all day. If any of you have crossed my path and I snapped, I'm sorry.

But, truly, thank God.

PG 20, this time

Hmmmm.....

What do five girls do, at 10:00 pm on a Friday night of the fullest and largest moon we'll have for the next twenty years?

Nothing that involves clothing, apparently.

So, I just went through and erased the story I'd written, because it's too risque for the general public. I'm not even sure about this version; and if it is, I'm sorry. If someone's salvation is at stake, let me know and I'll...take it into consideration. But yes, we went skinny-dipping in Harrison Bay about an hour ago. It was cold, it was hilarious, and it was scary. My girls are straight up [edited out], and I'm sorry if that offends any of you; except that I'm not, because they are. Straight up.

At the first place we stopped, we had to keep driving around and shining our headlights to drive away this lovey-doodle couple that was cluttering up our perfect let's-be-publicly-indecent cove. Down at the water, finally, we realized that there were big lights across the way, and we could hear voices somewhere, and there was some big fish jumping around out in the water. But we dropped and discarded, joined hands, and ran out to do a quick, shivery dunk. Oh, it was very quick.

But we weren't quite done. At the second place we stopped (more open but less public), two of the girls took their courage into their hands and took off at top speed out into the lake, headed for deeper water...except, about forty feet out, they realized that the water lapping around their knees just wasn't going to get any deeper. I was right behind them, and Bec was behind me, and we're finally just standing there in the moonlight, looking at each other helplessly, because there just isn't enough water. And we're...just standing there. In the moonlight. Looking at each other. Helplessly. No water. Oh. Dear.

And then...

"Car!" And four girls hit the water and mostly vanish.

I'm too tired to laugh, but if I had the energy, I'd be chortling at a pretty merry pace. We dodged headlights during the whole walk back to the car, sneaking along from shadow to shadow, hunching down in the scanty shadows like little mushrooms whenever a vehicle would go by, jumping when night birds would suddenly flutter out of the bushes--it was  epic. Not quite as epic as the last chronicle that I recorded on here, where water and boys were involved, but quite satisfying in its own way.

The best part was Almo shielding Bec with a massive umbrella so we could get her back into the apartment without Campus Safety realizing that our State of the Union was most likely illegal in 17 different countries.

*laughing now*

It's a good night to end on, before Bec heads back home to WV. It was awesome.

Traveling...not.

Today...is perfect.

This day feels good enough to be spent somewhere like this (see above). Unfortunately, I'm somewhere like this (see below). Except right now, it's brown.

I feel like I should be having church somewhere like this.

Instead, I'll be spending my Sabbath morning in the Church of the Holy Organ.

Not here....

Here.

No, not here either...no mountains for me...

Or here...

Or even here.

Just this.

Shoot.

2:38 am

I woke up in the pitch blackness with a thousand screaming Japanese voices in my head.

I'm not trying to be melodramatic. I'm just saying that I dreamed (and I'm still trying, so hard, to convince myself it was just a dream) of towering waves and horrendous rushing mountains of water. Cars and houses and people and no place to escape.

And running, running as fast as I could, and there was no flying in this dream--I had no idea I was dreaming, which is the worst part--just running and that awful feeling I've described before; where your mind realizes that you're dead, it's just that your body doesn't know it yet.

I finally began to understand that I was asleep, and I fought my way out of the nightmare. But I couldn't make the screaming from all those voices stop.

I woke up shaking. I very nearly woke Amanda up just so I could be absolutely sure she was still alive. But I could hear her breathing, so I came out here and wrote this instead. The adrenaline is dying down now, so I think I'm going to try to go back to sleep.

I know I can't do anything for those people. There is so much grief here.

It was the Driver in the Car with the Cheese Stick

Becca is here for the weekend. I feel like I've got little rivulets of joy and contentment just splashing off of me--that's how much more complete my life is when she's around.

We dragged a heap of mattresses out into the living room of Poplar 8, the night she got here, and a handful of us crashed there with the remnants of our late-night, spur-of-the-moment Sonic run scattered around us in easy reach. Food is good. Food with friends is glorious.

Actually, not all of it made it home. I had front seat and Cassie was driving, and I had the marinara  in one hand, my drink in the other, and the mozarella sticks sort of wedged between my arm and my chest. All of a sudden, as we're talking about what fun we have when we never plan anything but just make it up as we go--Annalisa decides to prove our collective point by screaming, "Turn here! Quick!" Which Cassie did. The whole car shrieks, everything shifts, tires squeal, and my mozarella sticks fly out of the box to disappear into the dark oblivion of the car. Everybody is laughing and screaming and I'm yelling, "Where are my cheese sticks? What just happened? Where are my cheese sticks?"

We never did find them all. I'm convinced of it.

I forget sometimes just how much fun college is.

Advice

Let me tell ya,
Bein' happy ain't no
Stroll through daisies
It's hard
Work no matter how you go
Well, maybe half a'that
Might be stubborness
And I would know!
But contentment, now,
I can't see how you'd mess
That one up, if it comes--
It's not like you can
Make it up, or will it, so--
Just gotta accept it.
I'm tellin' ya, ain't nothin'
Better found
No matter how far ya go
If ya find it, stick close
As to a lake
In a wildfire.
You grab at it, it'll be gone
Trust me, I know!
Just enjoy it
Let it come with you
Wander the world with  you, so
Ain't like that's a chore
'Cept if you treat it like happiness
And try to work it
Force it
That contentment will be
Nigh worried to death
Howsoever, you leave it be, so
It'll stay put
For somethin'like that just is--
And it's somethin', let me tell ya.

Gift

It was strange. If they had noticed--but then, it was surprising, really, how rarely this occurred--they probably wouldn't have gone beyond a cursory glance. She wasn't extraordinary, by anyone's standards. Her face was mostly unremarkable, and she was short and slight enough to slip by largely ignored.

And then again, it wasn't something you could notice, really--more like the absence of something to be remarked on. It is always harder to see something that isn't really there.

But if they had noticed--they would have heard the silence. It was tangible thing, that quiet, full of awareness and intent. It was steady and listening, curious and thoughtful. She carried it with her. Even her booted feet, striding along effortlessly, wending a sure path through every crowd, made absolutely no tread on the sidewalk.

Once in a great while, this stillness would brush past an individual and lift the hair on the back of his neck. He would start, and turn, and wonder for a moment what had happened. Once in a great while, she would be looking over her shoulder, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before she disappeared into the crowd like a quiet ghost.

If anyone had noticed.

Caught

Heartbreak.

Have you ever actually felt your heart break?

When tears fall on leather, they look like blood.

Slice of life

I make lists.

Not extensively, you know. Just when I need to make order out of chaos (which can be lovely, but only under certain circumstances). It helps, when I'm sitting on that uncomfortable lifeguard seat at 6:07 am, wishing that the next hour would simply vanish, to have a piece of paper to scrawl down things I must accomplish that day, random song lyrics, lines to new poems, sketches...

Incidentally, I do watch the people. I swear I do. I watch them swim back and forth, back and forth, baaaaccckkk aaannndddd fooorrrtttthhhh....which is why I scrawl. It keeps my mind going and keeps me awake.

I realized that a lot of the things I want to accomplish this year can't just be crammed into a short, succint list. They're complicated. Complex. Simple. Mindbendingly hard. Elementary. Irritating. Frightening. New.

I did try, you know. I tried to get a hard grip on time and not let it slip past me. Somehow, I suppose, I thought that if I fought hard enough, I could slow it until I stopped it in its tracks. For a few precious seconds, once, I thought I'd turned it back. It's a funny thing, is time--once the grip slips, it snaps right back where it was, like a rubber band. I'm good at fighting to keep what's important to me. But I can't win this one.

So right now I'm feeling a bit like I've been cut loose and I'm drifting. It's a relief to not be trying so hard, and at the same time, I can't really relax because everything is moving faster and faster. As long as I'm taking the analogy this way, you know exactly what would be at the end of this hypothetical river. It would be loud, and long, and splashing with mist and spray. Crazy, eh?

Letting go is really, really hard. Yes?

So mote it be

Yeah...this picture doesn't even need an explanation.

So be lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience.

--Liz Gilbert, Eat Pray Love.

Just because I can't see the end of it.

If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn't lead anywhere.
--Frank Howard Clark



Because it's a good reminder.


If you are afraid of loneliness, do not marry.
--Anton Checkov

Because I should have been born a hundred years ago.

A ship in harbor is safe--but that is not what ships are for.
--John Shedd.

Just look at the opposites in this picture.

In utter loneliness the writer tries to explain the inexplicable.
--John Steinbeck

Because this is the best comic EVER.

Thirty was so strange for me. I've really had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult.
--C. S. Lewis

This is the start of a perfect day.

You can't have a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me.
--C. S. Lewis

Just BECAUSE.

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
--Ingrid Bergman

Because cats are fascinatingly moody and unpredictable.

A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere.
--Groucho Marx

Because it is an aesthetically pleasing picture.

Now, bring me that horizon.
--Jack Sparrow

In other news, I have started a list of 100 Things I Want to Cook Before I Die. Not DO before I die; that's an entirely different list altogether. But just cook. Preferably with many people I love very close in the vicinity.
Also, I just got a box filled with the most delicious letter, and book, and map of the brachial plexus--and the most scandalous ruffled item of clothing that I will ever wear in public--all gifts that made my day/week/life. All from my sister-that-is-not-a-sister-who-might-as-well-be. Because she's just that cool. And I could tell you more about it but I'm just that selfish--it's mine. :-D

Out

Desperate
Eyes grimly shut and lips
Pressed into a thin line
Stubbornly holding back
The walls
Of loud voices and good
Intentions and constant noise
The cacaphony of souls
In a small house
For days...and days...
And days
Struggling to preserve
Peace
Within a desperate need
For space.

let me out.