senseless

there are things to say, but i am tired. tired of being the girl things happen to. tired of being leaned upon. tired of waiting for the break in the clouds that doesn't come. tired. and i'm hating this sixth sense of mine - knowing the answers to things before the questions have been asked, but never the right things or the happy things. nature's way of preparing me for the onslaught, i suppose. still, i find it to be a pain in the ass, in the head, in my heart.

my mother has breast cancer. it's early and the tumor is slight, but still, there are questions that beg and long, long road ahead. this makes a few generations for us, and i wonder what this means for me. is there an altered gene somewhere and if so, which one - the gene for breast cancer or for bad luck? are they one and the same?

i've spent a great deal of my life rearranging to suit others - their schedules, their whims, their burdens. it's a choice i make, sometimes out of love, sometimes out of necessity. it requires a lot of me - patience, strength, faith - and it is not always to my benefit. it is not, a friend reminds me, who i am - it is something i do, something i'd pledged to do less of. still, old habits die hard and i suspect these next few months i will behave no differently, though i wonder how much more weight a girl, even one with freakish strength, can bear.

(my mood is dark, it would seem, despite the lightness of the day. too, i have a cold, with the attending rib-rattling cough, and i can feel my pulse in my head.)

with as many difficult choices as it seems there will be ahead, i think it's a good sign that i can at least see that far. who knows? maybe this is just the way it's supposed to be right now. (lucky me!) the universe will eventually perform its magic trick and an entirely new adventure will reveal itself; until then i write with wide hope and a loose wrist and live with the fury of misfortune and delight.

and if that doesn't work - there's always ice cream.

where i'd like to be tonight

no matter where i was today, i wanted to be someplace else.

i thought it had to do with being awake when i could have slept so much longer. i thought it had to do with driving so far to work when i'd like to live just a few minutes away. i thought it might have to do with being stuck inside the store on such a beautiful california day when i'd rather be at the beach.

at the very least, i thought i might be able to shake the feeling loose, once i made my escape and was on the way home.

i was wrong.

now that i'm here, there are a hundred other places i'd rather be:

drinking coffee and laughing -loudly- with tri
at a bar in newport beach, dancing - wild and silly and carefree - with em & m
at the jason mraz concert at the troubador in la (which sold out online before i could even log in.)
drinking hot chocolate and waiting in line for the matterhorn
hiding in a box and waiting to scare someone with amy
watching shannon sing 'goldfinger' at spotlight karaoke
anywhere with laurie t.
in a space of my own
november, 1983
asleep

in this moment, though, none of these things are possible. there are too many unknowns, too many things to say, things to settle, and it feels i'm miles away from any of the above.

how do i get there from here?

the truth about boys and girls

em. & m. ...

sitting and talking with the two of you, whether it's whispering over cake in the kitchen or shouting over the jukebox and cold, cold beer at the huddle, well, it's just about one of my favorite things about california. more than the weather. more than disneyland, even.

in your presence, i can almost see myself through your eyes - strong and beautiful and wise - and in those moments, i actually believe i'm close to becoming the person i've always wanted to be. i will never be able to thank you fully for this particular joy, but i will do my best to help you both find your way to that same place, wherever it may be for you.

your stories on friday night, hearing the pain and doubt and fear in your voices as you told those stories, opened some old wounds. i understand the struggle because i've been where you are and here's the truth of what i've learned (it's a wisdom hard earned, i assure you):

boys are stupid.


it's a lesson i wish i could go back and teach my younger self. the girl i was way back when ... the girl with the flat stomach. and hope.)

i understand what it is to love someone who won't or can't or doesn't love you the way you want him to love you, they way you 'need' him to love you. it's awkward and soul-crushing and completely avoidable. the truth is, we don't get 'burned' by men. we burn ourselves. we know what will hurt us and we reach out for it again and again because we're used to that particular pain and it's easier to take than looking for something new.

i want better than that for you. for all of us. (there's no reason we girls must be stupid, too.) so, look for something new!

it's okay to be afraid and to feel unloved ... it will happen a lot and will never last. there is a certain wild joy that comes from simply not going under. once the soul begins to awaken, there is no stopping it. it can be resisted. it can be denied. for a while. but 'awake' holds so much potential and delicious possibility - even as it can be a fearsome sort of thing, i think. it means taking responsibility instead of letting things happen. it means letting things happen when there is nothing that can be done.

and i won't tell you that it isn't painful as hell, and scary too, nurturing a life you want to live into being. it's harder than you think it will be, happier, too. i promise you that.

and in the midst, you will make mistakes and say the wrong things and ache with the constant newness of it all. and when you're unsteady or insecure, don't be afraid to reach for something to keep your balance. but try not to make it a boy. (and reaching out for support when you truly need some, you should know, doesn't make you weak, it just makes you wise. it also makes you feel better.)

i don't know if i help at all. i hope i do. and even if i don't ... at least today is a new day.

you're ready to make all kinds of new mistakes, new friends, new flights, new enemies and new revelations as to why it's good to be alive. the most important thing to remember is to embrace everything with enthusiasm and respect. a wrong turn, a bad review, a difficult relationship ... well, it's never the end of the world. there's nothing good music, duct tape or a letter from a friend can't fix. life is good like that.

and with the two of you in mine, life is quite good, indeed.

fucking february

february is a wretched, wretched month, indeed. no good can come of it. i have grown weary of its bounty of hardship and illness and death. how can 29 days seem so long? (i'm not entirely certain the extra day this year isn't just to spite me!) i am ready for this month to end.

in its short run, february has delivered death and heartache, parking tickets and projectile vomiting, but still, it couldn't resist taking one last run at me, delivering my last straw on this, the final day, of this god forsaken month ... my paycheck is wrong. to the tune of $500 wrong. no small thing, $500. of course, with the run of events, i should be lucky i was paid at all. still. february cannot end fast enough.

only two more hours.

come on, march! you can do it! big money, no whammies!!

where's the fairy godmother when you need her?

i think i understand, a little, how cinderella must have felt in those hours after the clock struck twelve. how, in the early morning after the ball, having awakened to life's delicious possibilities, catching a glimpse of happiness up ahead and running as fast as she could to keep up with it, the wheels came off the pumpkin. she was back, too soon, to real life, the past striking out at the potential (but by no means negating it).

i know, because last night was my first 'girls night' out in california. it was nothing i'd expected and everything i could have wanted. lovely new girlfriends, boy scouts and laughter; hand warmers, big words and oddly pleasureable conversations ... and somewhere in the midst, there were cocktails, a corn dog and lots and lots of dancing (can there ever be enough?).

but with morning came the inevitable blast of reality, the wheels - literally- coming off the pumpkin and shattering any ideas i had about the day. (no matter how freakishly strong i may be, i am no match for lug nuts secured by pneumatic drill.)

it's helping me remember, though, that even when the days rock me in too many ways, everything i live my way into will be exactly what i need for my strength in my future. i can never know what lies ahead and it's the 'not knowing' that is the real adventure.

i'm pretty sure my story is going to be a good one. a happy beginning with no end in sight.

(p.s. emilie and meg - thank you! you sure know how to show a girl a good time.)

a soggy valentine

hello (she says sweetly).

i was hoping to bring you a bit of the coast, all dressed up in its thursday best, but it is not to be. the day has been one of clouds and cold and my favorite kind of rain - the kind that blows in sideways and seems to fall upwards. it has been a good day for sleeping in, snuggling with the cat and dreaming the day away. and that is precisely what chutney and i have done.

it seems slightly incongruous, though, that it should be so blustery outside; it is, after all, valentine's day. the 'dreaded' for some, though never for me. and while i prefer my declarations of love to be more spontaneous and creative than this day normally allows, i do enjoy the idea that there is a place on the calendar set aside to remind us to revel in our affairs of the heart - of every sort - celebrating all the delicious and infinite ways two people can fit together.

so, maybe this is a good day for rain coming at me sideways and upways and swirling about, messing up my perfect hair and making my feet cold. that's what love is supposed to do, isn't it? surprise us and envelope us and soak us to the bone.

i believe in big love. i do. right down to the gooey center of me. (i am not the badass i pretend to be.) with my rose colored glasses, half-full as always, i marvel at the strange luck that brings people together. how is it that we are borne into this family, welcomed by these friends, adopted by that pet, desired by any lover? under our ignorance and along side our real lives, i wonder if there isn't some mindless certainty, humming blithely along, ensuring we'll come together. maybe it's just dumb luck.

doesn't matter.

all i know is that i'm grateful for whatever brand of evolutionary magic has brought me to these people in this place at this time. (my letters are heroic attempts at conveying a gratitude that is impossible for me to voice.)

of course, it isn't only lightning-bolt love i'm talking about ... you know, the kind where electricity passes between two people, charging the air and lighting them up from the inside. it's also friends, near and far, checking in and holding your hand, even if it's only over the phone. it's a song, written by a stranger who somehow knows you completely and has set you to music. it's the cat in your lap trying to type on the computer, too, all the while purring in your ear. and, maybe most importantly, it's recognizing glimpses of the girl you thought you'd be, pulling her close and finding a way to make her stay.

i don't know what the future holds for me. for any of us. but i'm going to stand in the middle of it all and let the rain fall where it will. i will leave no puddle unsplashed.

happy valentine's day to you, dear friends. go get wet.

one more day

have you met leroy shakespeare? maybe you know him as 'roy' or 'big boy.' he loves boxes and making bread in your lap and hiding from strangers. he meows so small and loves so big. he is my oldest friend. and tomorrow is his last day on earth.

i am heading to texas in the wee hours of the morning to be there to celebrate it. i can't bear not to be there as he begins to leave his life.

we'll have some milk, i think. and take a nap. and sit with sophie and elvis and john and do nothing special. just being there will be enough. as if there could ever be enough.