something beautiful

When asked what he thought was beautiful he stated simply, "Imperfections." He went on to define those as flaws- things like cracks in the sidewalk or stretch marks. He finds those beautiful. It struck me as odd, simply because those two things are not what would strike me as attractive.
It’s nice to look at the crack for what it is and for what it could be. . .that maybe it’s the one place a flower could grow- that it’s the one detail in the endlessness of cement that catches your eye- that it’s the one spot that allows life to poke through and flourish- that its very presence and uniqueness is a break from monotony- that a crack may be what allows us to see the beauty in being human.
Alas, I agree- there IS beauty to be found and experienced that is hidden beneath the generics of life and can ONLY be seen through life’s imperfections. . .
I’m still workin on the stretch marks though. . .

convinced

i'm convinced that as humans, if we go too far we never come back.

and by that, i mean this. . .when you make a judgment about someone and cut them out of your life, it’s not too far before you have no recourse to salvage anything and that makes me sad.

cuz even if one day you realize the wrong done to you didn’t merit the reaction it got from you, you can’t do anything about it because you’ve already spent so much time convincing yourself you’re justified in this matter and it would take way too much energy to try and repair what you obliterated.

i may have damaged the friendship, but you killed it. go ahead, ride this one out for the next few years. . .seems like your other issue was losing steam anyhow. . .i understand.

insecure

It always amazes me how quickly insecurity can rear its ugly head and consumes all confidence. . .
And it's not the typical insecurity where people unsubtly seek for a compliment via rebuttal, but I mean the overwhelming fear and all consuming anxiety that we will be found to be unpleasant and unattractive to the core by someone whom we wish would see us otherwise.
As if we could deceive them into thinking that we're something we're not. . .we continue to hope no one calls us on our crap. You avoid pictures because you don't want memories of what you look like, you despise mirrors because it shows the reflection of how repulsive you truly are.
It's a sick cycle. . .we fear the truth but almost half wish someone would speak it, as if validating our repulsiveness would actually free us of it. . .you feel fragile at any rate. . .broken if they find you unattractive and a fraud if they find you attractive. . .where does this battle come from?!?!
And then you get aggravated with yourself because of your insecurity. . .it's unfounded and irrational. . .finally, you surface from your self-inflicted drowning session and realize that voicing your concerns have relegated you to the shallow end of society.

Yeah. . .

I'm that girl.
I've always been that girl that falls for the guy that doesn't see her. I hang around in the background, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I'm okay with being in limbo. As if somehow waiting around long enough to be noticed will get me where I want to be. . .like if I pay my dues, it will pay off in the end.
I've never understood, and therefore have never mastered, the art of being friends with guys. I appreciate them, I do. . .but then somewhere in the realm of the subconscious, I cross that invisible line and am thrust into this all out war between my head and my heart. I start out with the best of intentions of just being friends, but then being a romantic to the core, I change. I don't know if it's because I get to know them and like them, because it doesn't happen with every guy that I know, or if it's due to the fact that they are taking the time to get to know me and I feel secure. I just don't know anymore.
I love being known. I want to be known. I want to be sought after and cared for so when I reach out to care for them, I know I'm not wasting my time and energy on another dead end. I'm tired of getting involved, of showing a piece of my heart only to have it smashed.
For once in my life, I want to fall and be okay when I land.
For some reason, in spite of being riddled with doubt and fear, I am unable to stop my incessant hope from pushing through all the layers of years of hurt and pain. My heart is my own, yes, but for some reason and against all odds, it beats on and continues to wait in limbo for that one who will take the risk and call me his own.

Shedding

After what seems like a lifetime of living in the dark shadow of "not-knowing", you wake up and lift your head. And wiping the muck of idealism from your face you realize there ARE shades of grey. That no one is going to come along and make another 'play nice.' You learn that you are responsible for your happiness and discover that you can be content with meager possessions.
You understand that just because you love someone doesn't mean they'll ever love you back. What other people think of you doesn't matter nearly as much as what you believe about yourself. And you accept there will always be those asses in your life and you can do nothing to change them. You stop wasting your breath on meaningless conversation and you stop wasting your heart on empty love. You learn that boundaries aren't forts and the difference between the protection and isolation of yourself. You find what you're willing to compromise on and maintain yourself. Love doesn't mean control but is actually a big risk that requires massive sacrifice. You finally realize that if someone is mean to you, it really has nothing to do with you, but rather a reflection of the simple fact they can't stand themselves. You grow and realize you are happy and loved. That reading really is enriching. That each day really does matter because you learn something everyday. Nothing will be even close to complete or satisfactory in this life. Religion is the establishment that breaks God's heart. We really are all the same. It occurs to you that those days when you're waiting for 'life to begin' really IS your life- so deal with it. That it's the lulls in between the spikes that makes the spikes so exhilarating. When the day is done you really have no one to answer to other than yourself and God. You shape your own worldview and determine what is important to you and you alone. That planning for the future doesn't keep you from living in the moment. You see that everyone has baggage and everyone thinks theirs is the worst. You find that you aren't the only jaded person who can be cynical and then strangely optimistic. And you learn that flaws are really nothing more than beauty marks because although you can't change what has shaped you, you can change what it has shaped you into.

Just Breathe

You ever get sick of hearing yourself talk and your thoughts run around your head? I think the only thing that makes the nausea worse is by writing the thoughts down, for some reason they seem permanent; they've been written and now they're established and visible by many. In reality, my life, love and thoughts are fluid. They are constantly changing- I can go around and around on an issue only to find myself back where I started. Writing is cathartic, that's for sure. But in a way it's impairing as well- yes, I get frustrated, and then I bounce back. I wake up to find my life isn't what I thought I would be like and so I vent. But then, life evens out, things are okay and the drama I was so literally consumed by has passed and I realize life is good.
Life is good.

why do the ones who have nothing to say. . .

always speak the loudest?!?!?!

having grown up in the south, i've heard a lot of crazy sayings that most people in the rest of the world would not know what they meant- but i've never been one to misuse it. i work with this lady who, when she speaks sometimes, it's like a competition to confuse the rest of us with her 'southern' jargon. in reality, it makes no sense, and i'm convinced she makes it up as she goes. but above everything else, i think what aggravates me most is the fact that in one second flat she can go from a light southern drawl to back-woods louisiana southern talk. she does it on the phone, when defending herself, in conversation. . .really, it's just not necessary.
yes, i do admit, my accent does come out sometimes, mostly when i'm embarassed or tired, but never do i flaunt it. a true southern accent is something that is rare and beautiful. it's a lilt of music, a pleasure to hear, something that draws you in and then this blowhard comes in and the wonderful music of an accent is drowned out by clashing cymbals and seagull cries.

i just don't know. . .

is it the romantic in me or the idealist that enables me to fall in love with ideas? i've been all over the board. . .in love with people, cities, friends, occupations. . .and then all of a sudden it's over with. not necessarily because of any trauma or obstacle, it's just gone. sometimes i have to wonder if it's better to be oblivious than it is to be over-aware.
i dream big and my heart and mind race to see it through- that's generally when reality comes in with a big swipe of the hand and knocks me off my feet and onto my keester. the reality of it is, he's not acting if he were interested- which in my case and for my senses, i need to say that he's not interested. that stops my heart/mind before it gets off the ground. it's kinda hard to get swept off your feet if they're off the ground all the time. . .

. . .

i hate it when there is a block. regardless if it's self-imposed by not processing or if it's legitimately unable to be articulated, i hate it. it's been too long since i last wrote, so much life has passed by, so many ideas simultaneously slamming into the forefront of my mind that i can't get a sentence in edgewise.
too many people talking, too many thoughts converging. . .
i sit among the empty thoughts and am pummeled by the ones that don't have the audacity to stand up and present themselves.
it's chaos at its apex, it's maddening at times. . .
i'm exhausted by the interminable questions, the unquieted fears, the unimaginable pain. . .the roar of my mind is deafening.
i laugh at who i think i've become, so quick to judge others, to ridicule myself. . .
another cycle begins. . .another question surfaces. . .once more the noise crescendos, drowning out all reason and once again solitude eludes me.

the weirdest thing ever

it was the summer of 2000, i had just found perhaps the single greatest band and they were coming to stay at my parents place on the beach before heading back on the road.
one day, right before the sun was setting, i was on the beach and found this rope...the rope went into the water...i tried tugging on it to see if it would come out, but was unable to unearth the beast. i called over a few of the band members to help me and they were just as unsuccessful. we quickly realized the only way to figure out what it was, was to follow it into the gulf. so we did. the guys took turns diving down to try and undig it because at this point, we still had no clue was it was attached to. as we took a break and tread water a stingray decided to join us, swimming around us and between us...kind of spooky really when it's dusk and the sharks come around. after awhile and still with no luck trying to uncover or guess what the rope was attached to, the stingray ran into one of the guys which spooked all of us so badly that we all scampered back to the shore like little girls. (which kinda worked for me cuz i am one...) anyhow, back on the shore we realized that whoever was holding the rope had dropped it in the sudden retreat...we tried to find it again...it was lost forever...

personally, i think it was the plug to the ocean...good thing we weren't able to pull it out!

my pithy tribute to an amazing man. . .

have you ever met someone that you automatically feel like you've known you're entire life? his presence puts your heart at rest? you see, i met this guy once a long time ago. . .

he makes me feel alive. he makes me feel beautiful. he makes me feel feminine and safe. he makes me feel like i could say the weirdest thing imaginable and he wouldn't walk away. he makes me want to believe that i might possibly BE beautiful!

i miss him. . .a lot and it makes me terribly sad to think that he's gone. my heart hurts physically and my mind can't fathom what this means in reality. i can't call anymore when life gets rough? no more naps in front of the fire place? no more late night conversations smoking in front of the fire? no more camping in seward?

nobody can take your place. there's been no one that knows the inside of the trenches we've seen better than you and i. you transcended my heart and spoke into my soul. you spoke my language in love, in music, in life.

i miss you more than words can say, deeper than the most eloquent poet can describe. . .all i'm left with is. . .

i miss you

...

who would have thought the road i was once on would lead up to this corner of the earth....God never ceases to amaze me with His beauty and deliberate attempts to recapture my heart....He haunts me and has let me find Him up here....He is wild, so wild....