Regardless

because when you're really sad, you make the people you love art. even when they are sad and do not want to talk to you. because they're their own person, and that's all that matters. and you can say, "ich liebe dich" as much as you want, but that's not how it works. so sometimes all you can do is make art. and listen to the birds. and think about other things. and love that person regardless.

June

There's a familiar story someone told me about you. It involved nothing that was true, but rhymed ever so slightly, and had a good moral. It reminded me of the big window in my living room that is so big that we could not find blinds that fit it. Just a perfect window, because the sun would come in and light up the whole house. And when it would rain, the sun would shine through the rain drops left on the glass. And you could see everything from that window. You could see the skyscrapers downtown, and even the house next door with a cat sitting on the roof who would hide under the awning when it would rain–such a curious cat. But that window, with all it's grandeur and beauty, scared me sometimes too. I worried the glass would break in a storm, and then nothing would fix it. How do you fix glass? You can't, you have to replace it. And that thought terrified me even more. My roommates have lived here longer, though. They said it's been broken before, but it just has been miraculously fixed. Not sure I believe them. But I like that window. A lot.

Curls

It's like being replaced, but when the wire is broken and the numbers won't punch in–it'll be like you never knew they were gone. UNTRUE! but she was pretty, I guess. not conventionally, at least. the curls were soft, but the static was out of control. but it's not like you can say anything, because, like, individuality and stuff. but it was nice that she tried. she tried to show it. she tried. but being replaced is hard, and no one should have to eat carrots alone.

O'Keefe

There are no rules–there is no point. WE made the rules so there would be a point. You feel loved, but it's not. It's not. No way. It's not.
I saw you in a dream...it wasn't a dream, was it.
Maybe I imagined you–like a water colour painting, so beautiful created. The lines and strokes, so perfect; so genius.
but even that isn't true. what lies I created in my head to hide. to find. to invoke. BUT WHY? To hide? To hide from what? To laugh? To cry? Already did those. check check and check. maybe it wasn't a good idea–maybe it was the best idea. I like it. I like you.

LIFE?

I don't know what to call you, post. Maybe it's called Life, because I hate it, too. Whatever. I was reading the newest post from the Hyperbole and A Half blog (Ya know, the ALL THE THINGS cartoon). Ya, well, pretty funny...also, too real. The author has a segment about her depression, and how life can sometimes feel like it is hopeless bullshit. "what if...the entire future," the comic begins, "is full of only horrible, boring things?" "That would be too many," she decides.

But I guess that's where I am struggling. I am seeking to find meaning in my work, writing, and other various activities to little or no avail. And, I mean, the only comfort I can find after a long day of being yelled at, is my bed. And maybe parks and rec.

But then I see other people doing so well. Being happy and enjoying life. I wonder if my life will ever be like that.

Someone I love dearly–just recently, actually–said to me that people had to be the reason for life...the reason we're alive. It just blew my mind. Here I am, trying to figure out what I'm doing with my life. Why I can't make a million dollars?! or write a damn article worth reading! Or even get one damn upvote on Reddit. But it's not about me. It's about other people. I love so many people. And I hurt a lot of people. I wish I didn't. I'm struggling today. And all this week, actually. Well, stay tuned. Maybe I'll figure something else out real soon. :)

Thursday

....the woman reached through the gate and threw her a one dollar bill.
the bill was wrinkled up, as though it had been through more pockets than its worth.
"Thanks," the girl said, in a calm manner and gave the woman a rare smile.
The woman looked at the girl, and smiled back.
"What's your favourite colour?"
The girl smiled and slowly pointed at the bright sunflower in her hair.
"Yellow!" She said.

For those in Boston–my heart is there

I sat down today, my mind brimming with hope and excitement for the future–I have many ideas and outlets that I want to have a go at! But as I read about the bombings at the Boston marathon, my heart began to sink further and further. The videos and messages that people were uploading and sending put my heart into a tail spin. The picture is still unclear of why anyone would think to harm people while they were trying to achieve the goal of finishing a marathon–for some, maybe even a bucket list item. Now, it will forever be shrouded by the memories of smoke, blood, and terror. My heart goes out to all those effected. My runner's heart beats for you; you are not alone.

for you

yours is a love i will always hold close
for you are mine, and so dearly loved most
i wait for the waves to come awake me,
and replace those senses completely.
but they never come, o' love of mine.
so my heart beats, beats, beats, beats, beats.

Meow Meow

you stay with me when my eyes are filled with tears,
you listen intently
you do not judge my clothing choices.
I hope you feel better, my darling kitteh.

Monday.

I sink...
I hear the scratching of the revolutions
nothing else matters anymore.
Only this.

I like purple, she said.
He didn't look up; he didn't notice. He only looked off into the abyss.
But it didn't matter anyway.
She looked into the abyss too.
Sure is pretty.

Little Friend

Little Friend, Little Friend, what are you doing?
–flying around making such a ruckus and commotion.
your little wings make tiny pops as you collide
with the glass that will always keep me confined.

Little Friend, Little Friend, where are you going?
–do you not love me? I promise to love you forever and keep you warm.
Do not go outside, where it is ugly and will cause you harm!
Where cold will devour you,
encase you,
and squander you.

Little Friend, Little Friend, it is okay.
–I will not force you to stay.
Your wings have taken their final crack,
and have left the glass with a final pop.

Little Friend, Little Friend, you are already gone
–but, I hope you visit often instead of none.
I will miss your red shell,
and await your appearance in Spring.





For my ladybug friend.

The Opposites

I'm not supposed to be sad. Because it is the opposite of happy. But then why do people cry when they laugh too hard? I think being sad is important. It makes you appreciate what you love and have. It makes you want to change, and be better. It makes you want to be happy. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to cry. It's okay. There's a time for everything. And I'm sad. But I will be happy. I want to be.

A right reason to write

My brain has blocked out everything,
all I can do is write.

I write because I see you,
my words become an image.
It's the only image I have left,
My brain has blocked out everything

I write I write I write
I write because I am there.
I write because it isn't
Then nothing is there.
I write because I see arms around my slender waist.
I write because I see you smile
I hear your voice.
I write because I don't have to
I write because I want to

I write the colours in the sky
I write the red
I write the green
I write the chords
I write the words
I write because you are there–
Smiling bright!
I write because it is right
I write because I see the kiss
I write because I see the hand reaching
I write because there is no pain...this time
I write because I am not alone.
I write because I am alone...this time.

I write because I love
but i can't remember if it's a verb or noun.
I can't remember anything.
I can only write.

I've pillowed you so many times this week,
Close eyes, open, close again, forget and fall asleep.
The dark seeks dark

Coca Cola Thoughts

where do you look for love? what do you do when it stings? where do you go when you're completely lost? why did that potato chip taste like pastrami? why are people mean to those they love? why are people ungrateful? why am i stuck? how do I do this? what do i do if i can't do this? how do i make this fear go away? how do i pretend? how do i get the courage? is it okay to be a coward? how do i feel okay? who do you turn to when there's nowhere to go? will this pain cease?

...is what I ask my coca cola every day.

I don't know. Monday?

I was going to write a rant about how stupid the Grammys are, but I found this and find it more positive, and, well, awesome. I wish I had Neil Gaiman for my graphic novels class in college. :P

Airport Monday

Apparently there's a theme to all of my blog posts. But...this:


1. I love airports.
2. I love airplanes
3. This song reminds me of my flight home and just feeling lost and scared, but then looking out the window and seeing TCF field and crying with happiness.

Not all who wander are lost, right?

British Night

British pub, music, cider, food. What could be better? And, I might be biased, well, incredibly biased, but, British music is the best. And an entire night of British music was just what the doctor ordered.

Put on by Jake Rudh, a DJ at the Current, I <3 UK (A Night of UK sounds from the 60s to today) was an evening of mismatched British music spun together spanning the decades and sub-genres. And from Manchester to London, every inch of Britain was represented–there was Bowie, the Beatles, the Animals, the Cure, the Smiths, Depeche Mode, the Stones, and, yes, even the Spice Girls. But what perhaps was the most fun was seeing the various generation's faces lighting up when the music they grew up with was played. My personal favourites were dancing to the Animals, as I imagined myself as a youngster growing up in the 60s, and going to concerts and hearing Eric Burdon's voice. Even dancing to the Smiths was wild. It was like I became Morrissey. And I too was a tall, long-legged Mancunian. SO GREAT.

Cheers!

Glitter Glitter

Normally, I would dread a snowy evening. And, at first, I did. As I walked the usual 10 minute walk to my car, I slipped and slided trying to catch my balance. But when I looked more closely at the snow, it lightened my heart just a little bit. It was glittery–like sequins on a dress. It was so spectacular. I thought God must be having a disco night in heaven, or something. It gave me the strength to sit at a nearby coffee shop and think. Although it really hurts, I'm glad for today.

Here's to enjoying glitter snow and lattes:

I must admit my knowledge of Brian Eno is limited. And, I'm ashamed. But, I remember listening to this song in June and feeling the stress of life melt. Now as I listen to it there is a thick coating of ice outside, and a feeling of hopelessness pings in my lungs, I still listen and feel the stress melt away. Maybe everything will be okay.

Maybe.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0jqPvpn3sY

A Dear Friend

As I sat and counted 5s, a man approached me. Usually there are a few people who are not thwarted by the closed gate, and often ask for trivial things. This man, I recognized. He wore a dark trucker baseball hat, a white shirt, and a leather jacket. His glasses are what stuck out to me the most–they were aviators that framed his somewhat square face perfectly. His white beard and mustache masked a curious look.
"Aren't you the girl who wears the yellow flower?" he said.
"Yes, I am."I said. Still trying to place him.
"What are you doing over here? Don't you work at the other hospital? We miss you over there."
I smiled a bit as I remembered him and our various chats about life and fishing and weather.
"Oh, yeah..." I start to say. "I'm over here now."
"Oh, okay. Well, it was good to see you!"
And just as quickly as he appeared he was gone.
I felt a tiny jerk inside of my stomach that I thought would develop into tears. But instead a smile grew on my face. Life can hurt and be unexpected, but life can be lovely as well.

Of this I am certain, of this I am sure

No one knows what is wrong with me, they peek and glance;
They wonder why I am stuck in such an awful trance.
They would never guess, the reason for someone so young and so sweet
to shower tiny tears upon the street

But I know why, of course I know why
There is an easy answer, so straight and so wry.
If I tell you, will you promise not to shout?
Will you not roll your eyes and cause such a bout?

I will tell you because it is my heart.

My heart is so broken,
of this I am certain, of this I am sure,
What once was sweet and made so pure;
Has turned to pain and dread
But my love for you, will never shrink and will never die, of course
of this I am certain, of this I am sure.
of this I am certain, of this I am sure.

I Carry Your Heart

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)”
e.e. cummings

my cat is sad
no one else in her family is a cat
we are all human except for her
she is excluded from most things
and no one tells her why
she just wants to play
and be loved
she looks at us with wonder
and disappointment
she says hello i am a cat what is my existence
what is that/ why it and not me/ please can you look at me and love me too
can i have some of your food please i'm sorry i don't like my food much
do you want to play with my toys? this one is my favourite
do you like me
are we sisters
why didn't i grow up
why am i so small
can you help me be happy
where are you going



notbyme

I hear the noise–the deafening noise. I cover my ears, but it doesn't matter.
I close my eyes and try to pretend;
I remember lying in your red bed.
You would put on a record and lie next to me.
You turn to me,
that's all.