Mona Lisa

Interesting, isn't it, the way brokenness builds. Up and down and on top of. Prepositional decay.

I realized today the way the depth of my heartbreak reflected the depth of the love that caused it. I knew the deal; give away as much of my heart as I was willing to risk breaking. I signed the deal with a forever-sort-of-blood, and repurposing forever-sort-of-blood is painful. But I am happy that I gave freely. I struggle to reign in the no-matter-what love I'd committed. If this had happened under other circumstances, the kind I hoped for for too long, I would have loved forever. Srsly. Isn't that scary? Instead, I landed on the Candyland square that slides me back three squares--next go around I'll turn left at the fork.

I know I keep hammering the same subject. Forgive me; the same subject keeps hammering me.

Chin Up, Heads up

I was considering starting a new blog and only telling certain people where it was... starting over with a clean writing slate to start my new life slate. But I consider that quitting.

I choose instead to refuse to overlook the fact that I was remarkably happy for a long time. I was happy because I was so in love I couldn't understand it. I was happy because I loved well and was loved well. I learned what it takes to know somebody, and I learned what it means to be known. This is more of a stamp on me than all of you; I need to air out the truth before I bury it in bitterness. If I bury it, rain will wash its shield away, and I'm sick and tired of standing in the rain.

He doesn't want me. He doesn't love me. I'm not what's best for him. I thought I knew best and I didn't. There is doubtlessly someone better for me. Though I'll have to see it to believe it, there is someone better for him. (hahah, classic spin on that, eh? whatevs, it's the truth, yo.) I don't love him anymore. We are not headed in the same direction. We will not get married, we will not have children, and we will not see our children have children. I need new associations for my favorite music, and I need a new perfume. This month and a half was torturous, and I'd like some cussin sunshine, already. My happiness has been wearing a raincoat, and it's time to break out the minidress. Hoots and hollers accepted.

[Pandora's current needle in my voodoo life: "Walking With A Ghost" - Tegan and Sara. never fails.]

I need to stop questioning if my feelings are feelings or coping mechanisms. Everything's a damn coping mechanism, and everything's a damn feeling. Let's cope and feel and cope some more. I can simultaneously cope and feel, and I intend to. I will not find new space for my thoughts because my thoughts go here. He'll always know where to find them, and that's unnerving, but at this point, I feel most unnerved when I'm not unnerved.

Before you pat yourself on the back for seeing through me, remember that this transparency isn't invisible (ooooh). This is an entry here in this blog because I need it to be. Cliches are only cliches because they meant enough to be overused until the imaginary threshold of significance voted them off the Island of Profundity. Well this is my blog, and I'm sunbathing on a personalized Island of Profundity. You might not care to join me, but you're welcome regardless. You might have to kayak over from yours, but I'll be waiting with Scrabble and rum punch.

Cheers.

Really, Mumford?

I'm a fan of self-articulated thought, but I'm needing to borrow Marcus Mumford's more and more frequently. It's a bit of a battle because I know I'm not the only one listening, but I might still be the only one thinking.

When I sing White Blank Page, there's no Little Lion Man echo. There's no Hold On to What You Believe echo. There is only the echo of my hopes, the hollow ring of stones cast into a stream that could have led home but leads nowhere instead.

There is only the echo of my strength stretched thin as the chance of a moon-sighting in Midtown, as thin as the bow that plays a weeping violin. There is only the echo of my deliberate wishes falling flat on lost ears, my thorough speculation spinning and spinning like my head from week to week.

I've noticed I write less when I'm happy. Maybe moments worth savoring are too majestic, too precious to immediately boil down to type. I sit instead in the rays of smiles around me, focusing not on the translation of joy into text, but the translation of joy into hope.

I translate hope and the lack of it into text because thinking alone is even worse than sitting alone. It's even worse than dreaming alone. Don't get me started on hoping alone.

(Pandora just shot White Blank Page at me, bee tee dubs. Shot is a good verb.)

These big words--think, dream, hope, wish, love--they hit the page with no force, yes? They are overused. Empty, even?

Au contrare, doll. They are overused because they are not understood. They are overused because their spectrums of interpretation are as speckled as a Pollock painting; each burst of color is relative, but subjectivity does not detract from existence. These big words are big enough to churn minds and hold souls, and those reaches are vast enough to keep exploring.

On another note, big hope is gonna go ahead and sit in my back seat for a while. That's where my ejector seat is.

God is good God is good God is good God is good God is good. And I am better off.

Megatron = Tron in IMAX 3D

No, I haven't seen it, but you know that made you chuckle or groan or both. What I have seen is a greater visual periphery when my eyes widen at the quality of the Tron soundtrack. Srsly.

***

"Did you ever think you knew everything?
Did you ever think you had it all figured out?
Ooh, baby, baby, you know things can change
When someone loves you with no doubt"

-Sheryl Crow, "Summer Day"

***

Well I slid back down the hill, but honestly, I'm sick of climbing. I know that whatever's waiting at the top is good, so I'm choosing to chill in the shade. I'm in no rush.

It's amazing how much wisdom and awareness are connected to each other. I feel larger than life right now, and that's wholly because I know I've only been offered a crumb of the wisdom God has for me. It seems I'm accepting it in supersaturated doses right now, but I think I'll take a wee break from the search. Melodie told me God woke her up with a word specifically for me--that God sees me as righteous and faithful and knows what I need to do even though I don't. I'd like to be still and know for a little while... I've been running and hoping to know for so long. It's starting to make my heart skip beats again.

Ron said on Sunday that when David says in Psalms, "Bless the Lord, O my soul," he is not only praising God, but commanding his soul to do so because it isn't easy, but it's necessary. That's exactly how I feel.

***

You know how people say music changes their lives? And how about 87.2% of the time, you know it's a cliche? I won't go so far as to say that music has changed my life all on its own, but I'm starting to grow convinced of God's hand in what's playing on Pandora and the radio when I choose to listen to them. I swear, there are messages for me in there. Which is cool with me, because I pray for them :)

P.S. Tayler Moosa, if you're reading this, I'm completely game for one of those shake-your-head-at-me lunches. You got my numba.

***

I'm planning two tattoos. We may even stretch so far as to call them tattwos. BAHA

5 Day countdown to Holy Baby Immanuel Jesus Manger Day! weehaw

"This is all I'm capable of right now."

There is so much to learn from Pretty Woman.

****

But then she
Tried to kiss me
And I said Don't Bother
You know we don't really love one another
And there's no use
In burning out this flame
Oh but then things changed in a way I couldn't predict
She said I love you and it suddenly clicked
That she was only saying what she wanted me to hear
And I said
Please don't lie to me Mary
And I said
Please don't lie to me Mary

- "Mary," Noah and the Whale

***

In these bodies we will live
In these bodies we will die
where you invest your love
you invest your life.

- "Awake My Soul," Mumford & Sons

**

I'm working on a poem right now that I'm gonna memorize and then perform, slam-style!
I'm also in the mood to associate new favorite music with new favorite people, so if you know of someone who's in the market for a mix CD, drop their name like a buttered jar of pennies. [HAHA]

*

Three more days
Girl you know I will be right there by your side, baby
Three more days
Girl you know I will be right there by your side, baby

I know it's wrong to leave you so alone
I know it's wrong to be so far from home
I've just got to getcha this good job done
So I can bring it on home to you
So I can bring it on home to you

- "Three More Days," - Ray LaMontagne

musical chairs with your exit signs

this has so much of my heart in it, I watched it a few times to absorb it all. it's brilliant, so I hope you'll do the same.



this poem is subtitled (Hope is Not a Course of Action).
and don't you know, I wish I could argue.

but if taking action means leaving hope, then I'll make the trade.

God is good God is good God is good, darling.
God is good God is good God is good.

Sharp

hunker down, child
the earth at your heels
digs for answers, calling
your head to sky
tears to ground
head to sky
tearing the sky

wings stretch wider
than the smile God weeps for taking
heels push further
than the wounds I wish were faking
love goes deeper
than the leaps and bounds we're making

don't let the world bend your wings
don't let the fear play your strings
don't let the dark steal your dreams

you and I, girl, we hold the fire
don't-let-Satan-blow-it-out
don't-let-people-throw-you-down
don't-let-heartbreak-say-you're-found

the earth will bend
spring up around you
like pieces to mend
and I'll be there to see you again,
my lovely friend
to see you again, my friend.