tomorrow is my flight. the sky is stark white but there is thunder and bright flashes of lightning every few minutes. the rain hasn't started yet- soon, though, im sure. every flash makes me look up in fright, the lightning breaking into my space and thoughts with, literally, a bolt. i am contemplating the wedding that will happen this weekend. thom is online and we discuss it for a bit, he says he loves irony and hates fancy weddings. i say i will make the most of it; secretly envious while outwardly criticizing the extravagance. He says to me 'that's my girl'. honestly, i really don't know what to expect. weddings always leave me with an odd feeling of detachment. everyone is extremely emotional and i wish sometimes i could read the true feelings that each person is carrying. and im extremely glad that they cant read mine, however visible it might be on my face.
im overcome. rather, i will be. ill have to let you know with what, exactly, later on.
so in the meantime, forward my messages, feed Ralph and keep the lightning at bay. i will be fighting a different intruder.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Friday, July 23, 2004
echoes
my eyes are scratchy and dull. im yawning every few seconds, but i still cant sleep. andrew gives me a link to a picture hes doodling on the web and the colors hes used are varying shades of blue, soothing like waves of water. it looks like picasso's swimming pool with an abstractly shaped dolphin swimming in it's depths. i am staring at it now, hoping to will myself to sleep.
its not working.
i yawn again.
this weekend andrew will be here along with debbie and cameron. i have cleaned up the house to make it respectable and even dusted (thats for camerons sake, hes allergic to dust. then again, arent we all?) i will probably vacuum tomorrow and clean off the table i inherited from my parents. i love this table that sits in my dining room, darkly polished and gleaming and well-used. its the same table i sat at when i was five, the same one that we joked around when i was 13, the same one that caught that famous upside down pizza and heard the argument that ensued, the same one that i lit (and emily) a candle on and left unattended when i was 21. the table bears a shallow slope still from the burn; i called it character, my mother didnt. it is simple to look at, made of mahogany and from el salvador. its length easily held the bodies of the seven of us, seated around it every night at 5. i look closely and i see the small indents from pencils pressed too hard against homework - dad showing me how to figure out math - and the wear in the finish from too many clean ups after dinner. i look even closer and i see myself as i was.
perhaps its time to add a new mark.
its not working.
i yawn again.
this weekend andrew will be here along with debbie and cameron. i have cleaned up the house to make it respectable and even dusted (thats for camerons sake, hes allergic to dust. then again, arent we all?) i will probably vacuum tomorrow and clean off the table i inherited from my parents. i love this table that sits in my dining room, darkly polished and gleaming and well-used. its the same table i sat at when i was five, the same one that we joked around when i was 13, the same one that caught that famous upside down pizza and heard the argument that ensued, the same one that i lit (and emily) a candle on and left unattended when i was 21. the table bears a shallow slope still from the burn; i called it character, my mother didnt. it is simple to look at, made of mahogany and from el salvador. its length easily held the bodies of the seven of us, seated around it every night at 5. i look closely and i see the small indents from pencils pressed too hard against homework - dad showing me how to figure out math - and the wear in the finish from too many clean ups after dinner. i look even closer and i see myself as i was.
perhaps its time to add a new mark.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
tell me again what you mean
when you let me fall
grew my own wings
now im as tall as the sky
when you let me drown
grew gills and fins
now im as deep as the sea
when you let me die
my spirit's free
theres nothing challenging me
- light
grew my own wings
now im as tall as the sky
when you let me drown
grew gills and fins
now im as deep as the sea
when you let me die
my spirit's free
theres nothing challenging me
- light
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
what i see outside my window
the frogs are singing tonight, especially loud and vivacious. they live in the swampy area outside my window and sometimes i see their neighbors, the fireflies, drifting around the air above them, as if they are party lights. they blink lazily back and forth, saying hello or goodbye or i love you. and i just watch.
when the sky is well-lit by the moon, i am also out there, among the trees. i sit on the tops of the swaying branches and wait.
when the sky is well-lit by the moon, i am also out there, among the trees. i sit on the tops of the swaying branches and wait.
Sunday, July 18, 2004
cowlicks can save you
i often wonder why i don't talk more. there are some people that can really ramble on and on, not really saying anything of great import or interest. its possible that i just need to learn how to be like that - a human soundbox, oblivious to my surroundings, there to create noise, and just possibly, entertain.
in the past, i have been urged to talk more, that im too private and i ought to be more open. and occasionally, i feel the urge to do that, to let a friend or a random someone know a part of me or some piece of thought that i haven't shared before. once i tried several times to say my beliefs on a matter and each time was interrupted by others around me presuming to know what i was trying to say. stupidly, i thought that i would never try to speak to that person again.
its not that i feel what i have to say is more important than what others speak... im just looking for the respect i give others when i listen to them. the first thing being that i do listen, i actually think about what that person is saying, and i appreciate that they chose to share it with me. to the boy with the cowlick, thanks for really hearing me.
now, if you just want to talk about old ladies in bikinis, i can thoughtfully ignore you.
hope you had a pleasant, nap-filled Sunday.
in the past, i have been urged to talk more, that im too private and i ought to be more open. and occasionally, i feel the urge to do that, to let a friend or a random someone know a part of me or some piece of thought that i haven't shared before. once i tried several times to say my beliefs on a matter and each time was interrupted by others around me presuming to know what i was trying to say. stupidly, i thought that i would never try to speak to that person again.
its not that i feel what i have to say is more important than what others speak... im just looking for the respect i give others when i listen to them. the first thing being that i do listen, i actually think about what that person is saying, and i appreciate that they chose to share it with me. to the boy with the cowlick, thanks for really hearing me.
now, if you just want to talk about old ladies in bikinis, i can thoughtfully ignore you.
hope you had a pleasant, nap-filled Sunday.
Saturday, July 17, 2004
today, like all days
im really not sure exactly how i want to use this blog. do i post personal information, the stuff fantastic letters to my sisters are made of? or do i publish my writings, or my ramblings, as I call them, and hope that readers can make sense of them?
if i get any readers, that is.
i think i will just pretend that this a new little brown notebook, like the one that i currently idle away time with, lying on the scratchy rug in my living room. (debbie, you will be glad to know that rug has been banished) too bad there isn’t a place here for me to add those abstract sketches that i do on the margins of my paper journals. those always seem to make the page so much more complete.
next week i am visiting san diego for a cousin’s wedding and meeting up with various family members from around the country. i have several hugs waiting for my sister, melissa and her small family, comprised of one husband, nat, and one little nephew, ezra. boy will they have a hard time getting away from me. in addition to that squirmy, book-loving blondie named ezra, there’s zeph, my other nephew. hes just about 6 months old and loves to bounce. he has a terrific grip with those tiny fingers of his and a delightful little laugh. he visited with his mommy, my other sister emily and her husband chris last week. i cant say what it is that i feel whenever i see my nephews. love seems to simple of a word for the chest-tightening, eye-watering feeling that i experience. especially when i see what wonderful moms my sisters have become. how did that happen, i think to myself? was it something they have always had or does that ability come along with the baby itself? emily has this great way of teaching zeph something in most everything they do and melissa has taught ezra how to say all of our names, no small feat for a 20 month old.
*sigh* in lots of ways my sisters are beyond me. for me, there is not much else.
btw, capitals are foreboding and will not be allowed. until next time...
if i get any readers, that is.
i think i will just pretend that this a new little brown notebook, like the one that i currently idle away time with, lying on the scratchy rug in my living room. (debbie, you will be glad to know that rug has been banished) too bad there isn’t a place here for me to add those abstract sketches that i do on the margins of my paper journals. those always seem to make the page so much more complete.
next week i am visiting san diego for a cousin’s wedding and meeting up with various family members from around the country. i have several hugs waiting for my sister, melissa and her small family, comprised of one husband, nat, and one little nephew, ezra. boy will they have a hard time getting away from me. in addition to that squirmy, book-loving blondie named ezra, there’s zeph, my other nephew. hes just about 6 months old and loves to bounce. he has a terrific grip with those tiny fingers of his and a delightful little laugh. he visited with his mommy, my other sister emily and her husband chris last week. i cant say what it is that i feel whenever i see my nephews. love seems to simple of a word for the chest-tightening, eye-watering feeling that i experience. especially when i see what wonderful moms my sisters have become. how did that happen, i think to myself? was it something they have always had or does that ability come along with the baby itself? emily has this great way of teaching zeph something in most everything they do and melissa has taught ezra how to say all of our names, no small feat for a 20 month old.
*sigh* in lots of ways my sisters are beyond me. for me, there is not much else.
btw, capitals are foreboding and will not be allowed. until next time...
Friday, July 16, 2004
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