Saturday, March 26, 2011

Duct Tape: A Conscious Stream

sometimes there are those moments, you know

the ones where I stop laughing for a moment
and remember that my heart is
[while not completely broken]
still cracked.
and I resent that those moments are attached
to being attached
because all I've worked to do
is loosen the shackles.
and God knows I'm free.

and I think it's in the veins of the human condition, you know
being wounded.
the human condition is humans
examining their condition
their wounded condition

and happiness
happiness happens
when that exam yields smiles.
when that exam yields sun


when that exam yields relationships with those who examine
those who piece together your shards of glass house
when you're sick of braving cuts.

the human condition is meeting those who come equipped
with hazmat suits
rubber gloves
duct tape.

Friday, March 25, 2011


Heya, playa!

I am mostly through with my Spring Break. Philadelphia and Boston were fun. The most fun was always knowing that I was in the middle of a plan that I helped create and make work. I feel older and older every day--older in a way that matters. Not older in a way that floats on by, the way we understand that a current carries debris. I'm floating along this current of time in a way that makes me wish the shore were closer. I reach for the coast, simultaneously calling out in fear and saluting with a grin. I am on the fast track to my own life. It's a leeeeeetle too fast. But it's my own life.

Today was my birthday. It had ups and downs. I was disappointed about as often as I expected, and happily surprised more often than I expected. I wished I were home, and I was glad that I got to spend one away from home, just to see what it's like. I guess that's what this brain developing stage is like... doing things just to see what they're like. Responsibly, of course. For me, at least.

This was the first birthday in five years that I didn't hear from Andrew on. Those five years, from here on out, will become a smaller and smaller percentage of my life.

I think I'm excited to get a tattoo because I'm excited to put a feeling to the pain I've grown used to. The slight, refreshing pain of a salty breeze along an open wound. The breeze means I'm on the water, but the open wound means I've been hurt. If it weren't for the open wound, I wouldn't find my place on the water such a priority, for I wouldn't demand its healing properties.

I'll trade perfect health for my place on the water.

The next dilemma: to build or not to build a home on this waterfront?

No matter what, I'll need vacation homes elsewhere.