Friday, January 9, 2009
Friday, December 12, 2008
this place is a prison and the first day of my life
The year is coming to a close and I am feeling so unbuttoned and exposed. I set myself out to see the world and as I have resolved many of the issues I was facing, new ones have piled themselves up. I was once told that everyone carried a box with them through out their lives. In this box they were allowed to store whatever they pleased. Everyone chose to put different things into their box and everyone chose to pack it in different ways. While some keep only their deepest secrets, privately tucked away, rarely to be re-opened, others shove every issue they ever face into every nook and cranny imaginable. You may have witnessed someone from afar toppling over from such a weight while others can only make you wonder how they walk as though aloft with no sense of instability. While some manage to deal with the things as they come others find themselves seeking help to balance all that they have. I think in the time that I learned that we all had a box it was right around the time in my life when I was so sure of myself and my foundation that I balanced that box with great tact and allowed everything to pile high, convinced that I could manage that one task till my dying days. I was told that I could not ignore all of the things I tossed aside forever and that one day my box would break and I would break with it.
I have long since then been defeated and broken but I am now learning that I want to treat my box as a nest. I will treasure each and every thing that I face as though it were an egg. I will nestle it deep and give it time to, oh I dont know...... do what eggs do. I will then address each and every egg when it has had enough time and is ready. Of course, my eggs are special, because some will surely take much, much, much longer than others. I know that I can maintain the balancing act for a long time but the crash that inevitably comes has left me with bruised knees and scars. I am going to try new tactics. One day I may even ask for help :)
That idea should develope further but at the moment that is all I have to say about that. On another note, I am waiting out an uncomfortable grip that life has put me in. I am holding out to see what the new year will bring and how this one will come to a close.
I have long since then been defeated and broken but I am now learning that I want to treat my box as a nest. I will treasure each and every thing that I face as though it were an egg. I will nestle it deep and give it time to, oh I dont know...... do what eggs do. I will then address each and every egg when it has had enough time and is ready. Of course, my eggs are special, because some will surely take much, much, much longer than others. I know that I can maintain the balancing act for a long time but the crash that inevitably comes has left me with bruised knees and scars. I am going to try new tactics. One day I may even ask for help :)
That idea should develope further but at the moment that is all I have to say about that. On another note, I am waiting out an uncomfortable grip that life has put me in. I am holding out to see what the new year will bring and how this one will come to a close.
Friday, December 5, 2008
máš krasného ptáka....
Here is a story: Tales of Travels; an ugly duckling meets a rusty spring.
In a land far away (or maybe not so far away at all depending on where you are, but that is how it always is with distances; you are always near or far or somewhere in between from something no matter where you are) one may stumble upon something unusual or maybe more normal than most things. Like many tales that exist in the world, this is a tale of love. It is a tale of adventure and unavoidable emotions. It is a tale of scandals and a sweet softness that one can only compare to the brush of a fingerprint to an earlobe. Like many tales that have been written and told before it, it is a tale of heartache and flushed cheeks alike. It is a tale of a sadness that will never be forgotten but it will shed a light that will never wither at the face of darkness.
In this land, however far away it may be from you, a rusty spring inhaled deeply, with all that his coils could stand, and released a slow, smooth stream of smoke. Smoking came easily at this stage in his life. There was no attention to be paid to the weight of the fag on his lips and there was no mind to be given to the toll it may or may not be taking on his well-being. Cigarettes and coffee, which often complement each other both on paper and in actuality, were part of the rusty spring’s existence. Even in the most refined of occasions he would look incomplete without one or both within range. If one were to watch him look at the world they would be lost in a gaze that carried an indescribable weight. It was filled with an unacknowledged sadness holding hands with a twinkle of wonder and inspiration. The rusty spring casually flicked the butt of his fag with a complete ignorance to the ground that embraced his being but one would forgive him because of a hidden hope that he will do something great with his life and therefore be redeemed. His walk was a mixture between that of an old cowboys’, painfully drawn out and almost unbearably calculated and hard to watch, and that of some primate, adding a fresh hop and lightness to the shoulders and toes. On this day, one could follow the rusty spring into his office. He will move as he moves on most days; from email to phone conversation, to consultation, to tinker toys, to the ends of his great abyss; the confinements of the life he willing chose because it was the only one laid before him by the generations before. The rusty spring was not unlike those in his life. Camaraderie was found among them at the bottom of each bottle and each freshly tapped beer. Friends were made circularly and everyone belonged. If anyone had anything to say about anyone else it was passed around the circles, but only behind backs of course. It was the common thread and only means of communication. Everyone knew everything about everyone but no one was known because nothing honest or truthful can ever be passed along in such a fashion.
The spring sat down, sloppily distributing his weight into the chair beneath him and allowed himself to take comfort from the table he now rested against. There would be music playing, which is not unlikely at whichever pub he may have chosen for the evening. Inhaled, exhaled, released in the shape of an O. The rusty spring looks up suddenly, he must have lost track of time, he gazes into a gaze that is familiar but unknown to him. An ugly duckling challenges him and his gaze openly and out loud. For a brief moment, but most likely longer, the future overwhelmed them equally. The sacrifices revealed themselves and the throbs of feelings were felt. They secretly lived a life together within those moments and it wasn’t shared with anyone. Within those moments they created their own circle that exceeded the limitations, the expectations, and the generations before them. They lived through the hard times, they held each other tight and walked hand and hand. They traveled lands down under and built a home. They fled for the sake of love and did so unabashedly. They watched each other through those moments grow old and saw it through to the end.
Everyone knows that springs and ducklings are never meant to be. Springs are made to get rusty and ducklings are made to fly. The gaze was lost. The rusty spring watched the duckling stand up to leave. There was a feeling of pain and a small window of opportunity to stop her before she reached the door, but he ignored all that was irrational and let her go. It ended before it started which is much better than starting something and realizing that all it can do is end.
In a land far away (or maybe not so far away at all depending on where you are, but that is how it always is with distances; you are always near or far or somewhere in between from something no matter where you are) one may stumble upon something unusual or maybe more normal than most things. Like many tales that exist in the world, this is a tale of love. It is a tale of adventure and unavoidable emotions. It is a tale of scandals and a sweet softness that one can only compare to the brush of a fingerprint to an earlobe. Like many tales that have been written and told before it, it is a tale of heartache and flushed cheeks alike. It is a tale of a sadness that will never be forgotten but it will shed a light that will never wither at the face of darkness.
In this land, however far away it may be from you, a rusty spring inhaled deeply, with all that his coils could stand, and released a slow, smooth stream of smoke. Smoking came easily at this stage in his life. There was no attention to be paid to the weight of the fag on his lips and there was no mind to be given to the toll it may or may not be taking on his well-being. Cigarettes and coffee, which often complement each other both on paper and in actuality, were part of the rusty spring’s existence. Even in the most refined of occasions he would look incomplete without one or both within range. If one were to watch him look at the world they would be lost in a gaze that carried an indescribable weight. It was filled with an unacknowledged sadness holding hands with a twinkle of wonder and inspiration. The rusty spring casually flicked the butt of his fag with a complete ignorance to the ground that embraced his being but one would forgive him because of a hidden hope that he will do something great with his life and therefore be redeemed. His walk was a mixture between that of an old cowboys’, painfully drawn out and almost unbearably calculated and hard to watch, and that of some primate, adding a fresh hop and lightness to the shoulders and toes. On this day, one could follow the rusty spring into his office. He will move as he moves on most days; from email to phone conversation, to consultation, to tinker toys, to the ends of his great abyss; the confinements of the life he willing chose because it was the only one laid before him by the generations before. The rusty spring was not unlike those in his life. Camaraderie was found among them at the bottom of each bottle and each freshly tapped beer. Friends were made circularly and everyone belonged. If anyone had anything to say about anyone else it was passed around the circles, but only behind backs of course. It was the common thread and only means of communication. Everyone knew everything about everyone but no one was known because nothing honest or truthful can ever be passed along in such a fashion.
The spring sat down, sloppily distributing his weight into the chair beneath him and allowed himself to take comfort from the table he now rested against. There would be music playing, which is not unlikely at whichever pub he may have chosen for the evening. Inhaled, exhaled, released in the shape of an O. The rusty spring looks up suddenly, he must have lost track of time, he gazes into a gaze that is familiar but unknown to him. An ugly duckling challenges him and his gaze openly and out loud. For a brief moment, but most likely longer, the future overwhelmed them equally. The sacrifices revealed themselves and the throbs of feelings were felt. They secretly lived a life together within those moments and it wasn’t shared with anyone. Within those moments they created their own circle that exceeded the limitations, the expectations, and the generations before them. They lived through the hard times, they held each other tight and walked hand and hand. They traveled lands down under and built a home. They fled for the sake of love and did so unabashedly. They watched each other through those moments grow old and saw it through to the end.
Everyone knows that springs and ducklings are never meant to be. Springs are made to get rusty and ducklings are made to fly. The gaze was lost. The rusty spring watched the duckling stand up to leave. There was a feeling of pain and a small window of opportunity to stop her before she reached the door, but he ignored all that was irrational and let her go. It ended before it started which is much better than starting something and realizing that all it can do is end.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Turkey Resolutions
I am realizing now that I am going to struggle my way through the end of this year. Why? Because I don't listen to my mother and all that she tells me to do. If I did I would be much safer from the cruelties of the world and most likely in some state of ignorant bliss. I have begun to draft a list of things that will help next year be better....
1. Don't drink so much. Not because I drink excessively or anything but because without fail, whenever I drink, I make an ass out of myself or say irrevokable things (as many of us do, so I imagine).
2. Don't smoke so much. Again, not because I smoke too much but because I believe that one loves from their lungs. It is a choice to breath each and every breath and release it, just like love. Smoking is like saying, fuck love.
3. Don't kiss/love/get involved/make best friends with men that you cant futurize about/with. Not that I am involved with many married men but it is just a terrible idea and causes too much emotional confussion and pain.
4. Believe in the ability to do good things in the best interest of people and their hearts and selves. So, I can affect people but do I really want to shred them up and leave them just because I can and it is less painful for me?
5. If you do something wrong, apologize, don't turn it around on someone else. I blame rhetoric and the ability to debate through words as opposed truth. I find that I can generally win, but should I?
6. Explore hard and always give into the hunger for more. I am where I am because of the unwavering thirst to know and be known. I am miserable when I give into anything other than that.
7. Really work on the drama thing. I would like to say that I am less drama but good with words. That translates into: through words I can magnify the small amount of drama in my life to make it appear more interesting. I would like to be a little bit more plain and softened next year.
8. Keep on truckin'. Rough patches will smooth over so don't dwell. dont dwell. dont hold on too tight. dont hold your breath. when you do hold your breath. dont forget to gasp for air. dont let yourself be blinded. always run faster.
I am sure there is more but resolutions are a work in progress. I am trying to figure out where I want to go with this blog thing. I am not sure if what I am going through these days is really worth writing about. Not as in worth of being read but as in worth what I have to go through to filter out how I feel, who is reading, and what I actually want to put into words.
My grandmother hates the idea of me writing because everything she reads seems like it should be private..... if she only knew. I am now beginning to feel more aware what it means to make emotions public and I think that goes against my resolution number... 7. Overall the resolutions have all been heard before. We are all going through generally the same things we just choose different ways to learn our lessons. I may want to take a humble bow and learn my lessons more privately from now on.
Don't worry. If I actually do give this all up, I will provide a nicer bow out.
1. Don't drink so much. Not because I drink excessively or anything but because without fail, whenever I drink, I make an ass out of myself or say irrevokable things (as many of us do, so I imagine).
2. Don't smoke so much. Again, not because I smoke too much but because I believe that one loves from their lungs. It is a choice to breath each and every breath and release it, just like love. Smoking is like saying, fuck love.
3. Don't kiss/love/get involved/make best friends with men that you cant futurize about/with. Not that I am involved with many married men but it is just a terrible idea and causes too much emotional confussion and pain.
4. Believe in the ability to do good things in the best interest of people and their hearts and selves. So, I can affect people but do I really want to shred them up and leave them just because I can and it is less painful for me?
5. If you do something wrong, apologize, don't turn it around on someone else. I blame rhetoric and the ability to debate through words as opposed truth. I find that I can generally win, but should I?
6. Explore hard and always give into the hunger for more. I am where I am because of the unwavering thirst to know and be known. I am miserable when I give into anything other than that.
7. Really work on the drama thing. I would like to say that I am less drama but good with words. That translates into: through words I can magnify the small amount of drama in my life to make it appear more interesting. I would like to be a little bit more plain and softened next year.
8. Keep on truckin'. Rough patches will smooth over so don't dwell. dont dwell. dont hold on too tight. dont hold your breath. when you do hold your breath. dont forget to gasp for air. dont let yourself be blinded. always run faster.
I am sure there is more but resolutions are a work in progress. I am trying to figure out where I want to go with this blog thing. I am not sure if what I am going through these days is really worth writing about. Not as in worth of being read but as in worth what I have to go through to filter out how I feel, who is reading, and what I actually want to put into words.
My grandmother hates the idea of me writing because everything she reads seems like it should be private..... if she only knew. I am now beginning to feel more aware what it means to make emotions public and I think that goes against my resolution number... 7. Overall the resolutions have all been heard before. We are all going through generally the same things we just choose different ways to learn our lessons. I may want to take a humble bow and learn my lessons more privately from now on.
Don't worry. If I actually do give this all up, I will provide a nicer bow out.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
welding and dancing by the pane of glass
I read that people are advised to try a "peaceful mind exercise" if they are struggling going to bed at night. After tossing and turning or slipping out of drug-like experiences of sleep I have started to do the exact opposite of mind-easing meditations. I have found on multiple occasions that bringing myself out of my bed and dancing like a crazy woman in the darkness is my only resolve. Streaks of moonlight and stripes from streetlamps chase my bare legs and belly through the slats of the blinds. I am painted and dicernable only through movement. I listen to the most riling music and motion inspiring jigs that I can find on my i-pod and rock my body as though I never wanted tomorrow to come.
and the stress, and the thoughts, and the unease, and all that comes with facing the cieling as night draws deeper into itself........ it washes away.
It slips off the sides of my hips as they sway into some imaginative figure with power and purpose. It bounces away as I lollygag with such determination in the darkness. One would never know it from listening at the door that there was even a mouse (which there is). The pads of my feet as they two-step and shuffle about make nothing but smothered sounds against the hard linoleum floors. Not until my breath overpowers the air that I am blending with my body would one know that somthing is stiring and overflowing within my little room.
And what do I do before that? I weld. I put on my blue workers uniform, a strap on the multiple layers of leather to protect my gut, arms, and anything else that might be exposed to the orange glow that I have come to love, and I bind metal to metal, mask over face. I have given up on any other sort of romance or love because so far it is the only one that I can actually make something out of. Of course it is nothing to know that I am the first woman to weld at UNEX and that I am damn good at it for my first time.
and the stress, and the thoughts, and the unease, and all that comes with facing the cieling as night draws deeper into itself........ it washes away.
It slips off the sides of my hips as they sway into some imaginative figure with power and purpose. It bounces away as I lollygag with such determination in the darkness. One would never know it from listening at the door that there was even a mouse (which there is). The pads of my feet as they two-step and shuffle about make nothing but smothered sounds against the hard linoleum floors. Not until my breath overpowers the air that I am blending with my body would one know that somthing is stiring and overflowing within my little room.
And what do I do before that? I weld. I put on my blue workers uniform, a strap on the multiple layers of leather to protect my gut, arms, and anything else that might be exposed to the orange glow that I have come to love, and I bind metal to metal, mask over face. I have given up on any other sort of romance or love because so far it is the only one that I can actually make something out of. Of course it is nothing to know that I am the first woman to weld at UNEX and that I am damn good at it for my first time.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Twine Unwinding
This week has been of emotional highs and lows. The stress of being stationary is pushing me from all directions. It is the raw truth of the matter; if you stay in one place, make yourself known, come to know others, you are making a commitment to deal with whatever comes to the table. It is hard to know about yourself that under a certain light you are wonderful with people, love them, and love getting to know them, and as that light transforms so do you. In the slightest difference of shade you want to run and hide and not deal with people at all. The wise ones tell you that boundries are to be learned but even in the most insightful moments I think to myself "Why do I have to have boundries? People should know what they are getting into all on their own and whether or not I have boundries does not decide whether or not they hold their own".
I am tired of the place that I am in and am wondering how I got to a place where I feel stuck. Is leaving tomorrow as easy as I am allowing it to be in my mind? I have learned by now, always have an escape plan. If you dig yourself into a hole you at some point have to figure out how to dig yourself out of it. I need to learn to throw a long enough rope from the top before I get to deep to leap out. Next time I will remember this period of my life and force myself to provide a way out from the maze. Paper trails or something.
The wind is blowing today. It may just take me away with it.
Monday, November 3, 2008
červený mlýn
Something like Tolkien's "cellar door", červený mlýn just sounds beautiful to me. Aside from that I have nothing much to say about red mills.
The pads of my feet are hitting the pavement with less weight and more purpose. A lofty something or other has taken hold of me and whispered sweet nothings into my ears. I am feeling a sensation that one can only feel before something is going to happen in their life. Spending a weekend in Prague with Patrick was refreshing. It was nice to speak with little force or concentration for long periods of time. I had forgotton what it meant to talk freely and fluidly with someone who knows about where you come from. There was no explaining about badass happenings because we both just knew that they happened where we come from. There was no forcing conversations and filtering them. There was laughter, and romping, and cheersing, and haircutting, and singing, and long walks through the streets. I was much more frightened of seeing someone from home than I should have been but Patrick was the perfect person to relieve that.
I am anxiously and almost drunkenly suffering through this day. I am so ready to be proud of being an American when Obama takes his rightfully desereved spot in the White House. Aside from the fact that I was out all night making company with the rims of glasses and partaking in potentially scandaless activities, this new feeling of giddy and anxt has much to do with the election. Things are happening around the world and it feels good to be able to feel it.
I would love nothing more than to go dancing. At this moment I would do anything to be at Blevins Junior High or back at a Splash Dance nervously waiting to be asked to dance by Nathan Minatta. Which never happened by the way, he was much too cool for me. Anyways, the point is, I feel silly and young and I would love to go to a dance.
This is officially the worst post I have ever written and I am sorry for exposing you to such drabble. I will do better next time.
The pads of my feet are hitting the pavement with less weight and more purpose. A lofty something or other has taken hold of me and whispered sweet nothings into my ears. I am feeling a sensation that one can only feel before something is going to happen in their life. Spending a weekend in Prague with Patrick was refreshing. It was nice to speak with little force or concentration for long periods of time. I had forgotton what it meant to talk freely and fluidly with someone who knows about where you come from. There was no explaining about badass happenings because we both just knew that they happened where we come from. There was no forcing conversations and filtering them. There was laughter, and romping, and cheersing, and haircutting, and singing, and long walks through the streets. I was much more frightened of seeing someone from home than I should have been but Patrick was the perfect person to relieve that.
I am anxiously and almost drunkenly suffering through this day. I am so ready to be proud of being an American when Obama takes his rightfully desereved spot in the White House. Aside from the fact that I was out all night making company with the rims of glasses and partaking in potentially scandaless activities, this new feeling of giddy and anxt has much to do with the election. Things are happening around the world and it feels good to be able to feel it.
I would love nothing more than to go dancing. At this moment I would do anything to be at Blevins Junior High or back at a Splash Dance nervously waiting to be asked to dance by Nathan Minatta. Which never happened by the way, he was much too cool for me. Anyways, the point is, I feel silly and young and I would love to go to a dance.
This is officially the worst post I have ever written and I am sorry for exposing you to such drabble. I will do better next time.
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