Today I

wore plaid pants all day, and a silver warrior necklace. I vacuumed under the rug and I put away the last of my Christmas gifts. I cleared off the top shelf and dusted the mirror and sat on the kitchen counter sipping laced coffee. I slung a bright orange safety vest around my shoulders as I listened my most intuitive of friends tell me exactly what is right about the best part of who I am. I went snow blind and stopped my snow rage before the impotence crippled me. I can't change the way it's muffled my neighborhood and canceled my plans. So I sat on the piano bench for a while but instead of turning on the light, leaned forward and squinted at the letters and the notes. In the living room I pulled the long symbol afghan up to my chest and paged through the crumpled balls of paper that collect in my pockets and under my pillow. I ate chocolate chips straight out of the bag and stomped on a square of bubblewrap. I loved. I loved. I braced a mattress against the wall and I slipped a diamond ring over my middle finger because it's smooth and too big. I sat around a brown table with cheese and bread and good company and ate all the apples. I came in last and would have again if we'd played twice--I don't mind. I sat and listened and was rocked back and forth in a wooden rocker until my inner timer buzzed and home beckoned to me from the other side of the night. In my warm winter coat I slid with the wind across deserted roads for a few blocks--in not-boots. I was the only thing moving through those glittery sheets of snow. I wasn't too cold and I did not bite my nails, but I bit my lip, right at the corner where the lower joins the upper.

All day I could have been wearing a badge: This Is Who I Am and that would have fit precisely.

"I want to hear jazz with my eyes closed,
and dig my toes into the sand dancing.
I want to climb to the summit and yell and sleep under the stars.
I want to laugh my head off
and play marbles
and sleep in
and eat croissants in bed with butter and marmalade
and spill coffee and wear lace
and trip holding your hand because I am listening so closely."

-Sabrina Ward Harrison

passive resistance

I don't know what I mean by 'ident coming down tube!' but I wrote it earlier this week on a notepad on my desk. I even underlined it. It's ok. I'm perfectly willing to let that note hang in vague nonsensical limbo. One of my many talents is for letting-it-slide. Totally why, by the way, my socks have holes in them and I've broken your heart.

delete

I am not proud of myself today and it's probably going to get worse before the end. I fell into bed so suddenly last night that I forgot to set my alarm and did not take the hint when I woke late and disoriented. I should have driven to work, but instead I rushed around so I could walk, and I hated every step and the crusty ice forming on the edge of my scarf from the condensation of my breath. I felt feeble. And all day I have been snapping at the air and biting too close to the quick. An hour ago I went up to the vending machine to get myself some peanut butter M&Ms and I accidentally punched in the button for skittles and I HATE skittles. I am grumbling about having to walk home, grumbling about being out of groceries, being misunderstood, the flaws all over and inside of me, the color of my socks, the fuzziness of my brain, the timing of it all. Oh, April, how are you? I am... completely letting this day go to waste.

I'll take my contacts out and THAT'S IT

In an act of wanton rebellion, I am going to bed without brushing my teeth or washing my face tonight.

apogee

There was a vortex of awesome this evening, and I was in it. Cat on lap, story in head, sweet love in arms, cashews, clean feet, dear old friend/new friend, smile on face, stretchy black pants, elfin stealth, oranges, light brainwork, cleavage, and bright blue earrings.

willpower

I resolve to not spill coffee or tears on these new factory-second flannel sheets.

well then!

I think coming home to an eviction notice (I'm making that sound much more dramatic than it is) should put a cap on this week. Good GRIEF, this week. I would have said that I liked the way I ended it--with introspection and science fiction in a coffee shop and a huge white mug of coffee and then a few thumping, grinning hours in a dimly lit bar with my boyfriend up on stage being all... amazing, and then a forty minute ride home that was the most comfortable ever because my head was on his lap as he drove and we were listening to Styx. But that was before I came home to an email telling me our time here is ending and now I've woken up again, because that's perfect and also, hell.

parked

I inherited a fantastic desk chair from a beloved coworker when she retired two years ago. It's pretty widely coveted by the small stream of those who filter in and out of our office because it is just that much better than all the other assorted chairs around here. I am always thankful for its fantasticness, because it is, and it makes a lovely legacy. But today I am super extra heartily thankful. This is a very good morning for sitting.

overWHELMED

I HAVE LOST MY GODDAMN MIND. Exhibit A: just finished a sudden and uncontrollable crying jag brought on by a hunger pang and impossible selfish wants. Exhibit B: THE WORLD IS MADE OF JELLO. AH, FUCK. Witness a battle between me and my hormones and WATCH ME LOSE. I fail once again at pattern recognition. I have no idea what or where I am, I just know that my whole ME hurts and even though I know I am off base by miles I really, really despise myself right now. I KNOW. I want to find my balance again because my floodings and failings and emptiness is NOT A BIG DEAL BUT OH MY GOD IT IS A BIG DEAL. See. I started writing this thinking, well, the forward processing really generally does a lot to reset my equilibrium, but I’m totally refusing to let it today. I BLAME THE HORMONES. I AM REALLY SORRY ABOUT MY CAPS LOCK ABUSE BUT IT’S HOW I FEEL. You’re lucky the FEELINGS are only assaulting your eyes and not YOUR WHOLE BODY the way they are with me right now.

***

I always feel like I need to temper these windows of ridiculous with a disclaimer. I'm fine. Of course I'm fine. I'm just finding the world temporarily impossible to explain and my head impossible to keep facing forward. And I do know how to take care of myself--I know what I need and have enough at my disposal to provide it for myself. I still do have enough of a backbone to keep myself myself. So I'll spend this evening investing in me-hood and will make it to tomorrow morning just a little bit lighter for the emptiness of my tear ducts.

3.5 miles

I am tempted by imaginary wine and altogether-too-real peanut butter cake.

pork bone juice

this evening my aunt told me i was gorgeous, on a day that i feel overstuffed and absent. i'd managed to lose one half of my favorite go-to pair of earrings by the time i was home from work and i'd managed to bleed a hangnail all over my yellow sheets. so being called gorgeous was a bit of a freak accident, i think, a bit of a brick in the middle of the road.

had me some pon hoss today. a family in my dad's church butchered a hog and gave my parents a... loaf... of pon hoss. it's the boiled down juice from pork bones thickened with cornmeal, poured into pans, chilled, and then sliced up and fried. it was not disgusting but don't be surprised if it never shows up in my stomach again.

at a rehearsal tonight i kicked off my shoes and sat cross-legged in my seat and this may be the reason why i sounded weak and sinking. weak, and sinking, but i can play the fast parts. weak, and sinking, but i get that music.

i think of myself as independent, but i have evidently learned how to be completely not the last few months. i am washed over with need and trying to feel steady and strong, but damnit, i no longer want to be.

how I am invincible

I once told someone that if I end up dying on my bike, you can bet that my last words were 'I'm alive.' That's almost certainly still true because there's nothing like it for fixing an aimless Monday on the right track. My point is, when I woke this morning I was determined to not go to bed tonight feeling like a failure, and to start the day off my bike and I hit the road at a sprint and didn't come back for an hour and a half. I was wholly alive all morning, and I've stayed so. The blood in my veins today has been loud enough to block out everything but the kind of life I get from cresting a hard-earned hill and stretching my arms out at my sides as I coast down the other side.

the sunrise this morning

I'm trying to think of an appropriate way to say,
now totally is the time
and what I get is this:
the sunrise this morning was livid.
Could have been heaven or hell.
I prefer the former. Because
if it was hell that is
SO much less
of a validation
of waking from a night
of peaceful sleep.

pathos

Yesterday I kept turning away, but today I am looking head on at the photos on the news sites, listening with watery eyes to the radio. Health-guilt, safety-guilt, hope-guilt aches through me. Twice I moved to donate money online before I realized I can't today--my bank account is frozen because it was stolen from me by someone five states away. I can probably live for seven days on the $7 in my wallet, and if I can't, I am far from left in the cold. I can borrow and I can cash the check I'm carrying around and this is such a LITTLE problem. It is so little.
There was a mallard smashed in the middle of the road this morning. Smashed. It was the green of the neck, twisted back on itself, that first distinguished it from any other wrecked animal. Its beak was crushed. I hate the thought of beauty destroyed. I hate the thought of the last seconds of disorientation. I hate the thought of flying too low.
Today is the first day in ten that I'm not wearing long underwear and that's why the sweater is wrapped around my knees. I'm sitting at my desk listening to news reports with my head and heart going in circles. I'm distracted. I'm on the verge of weeping. And I'll be saying one-word prayers all day.

these days

I am breathing so much better. All the way down my lungs.

poisoned

I'm running on roughly a six-to-one ratio of good to oh god, I am such a failure. Had an almost-absolutely wonderful day today. Really, really good. But am stuck in the latter from now until I fall asleep. I can be such a coward. I am SO sorry.

vanity

I look good today. There's definitely some cause and effect in play here, and I'm grateful that I got the cause in in time. It is welcome, and it is almost a balance to the fact that I don't feel as well as I look. Hey. At least I am standing tall.

weak

Sometimes my body lets me down. Or anyway, throws up a bit of a roadblock. Did so tonight. Again. For what seems like the hundredth time.
I wasn't alone this evening when I faltered and my mind flew out and started screaming, picking, panicking. I could tell the difference between crying into my pillow and crying onto a strong shoulder and quite recommend the latter. But being comforted--and in the best possible way--isn't the same as being cured, and showing vulnerability, no matter how simply, will never be easy for me.
My eyes are red and I'm awake way past my bedtime. I am more tempted than I have ever been to call in sick to work tomorrow. There would be an air of legitimacy to it, after all.
I feel like I WILL be ok. But it may not be soon. And I'm afraid that way into the future I'll remember how this failing felt and it will make me distrustful and wary. If you see me dipping into that paranoia, stop me and remind me that I am just fine and tell me you love me and if I cry just let me for a few minutes before you wipe away my tears.

I am content

So many reasons why. Like of the big bowl of cottage cheese I just ate. I effing love cottage cheese. I also love oatmeal, unsalted pretzels, and plain cheerios, and I don't even care that this makes me sound boring.

I'm listening to a recording of a Haydn Mass I was a part of a month ago. I'm pleased. I think I have a little bit of bite in my sound. A good tartness. Maybe some spice. I like this. It balances out my love of cottage cheese.

This week I feel love. Sweet messages and notes and friendly jokes. And I feel it physically as well. S tucked me in last night and kissed me goodnight and turned off the light as he left. When my alarm rang seven hours later I hadn't shifted from the snug cocoon he'd gathered around me. I still smelled a bit of leather on my arms.

it'll take me ten minutes to dig out in the morning

Even though I think it should, I guess adding one more blanket to my bed won't increase my comfort or warmth level exponentially and honestly I'm not even that cold, but tonight I am layering on blanket number five and no lie: it's HELPING.

vestige

You're not the only one who's been seeing shadows of an alternate self. I have, too. For a whole afternoon the other day I could see myself sitting just where I was, but a little to the right. And I could read the thoughts crossing the me-shadow's face (I'm even more transparent in my head) and could tell that she was working hard to keep from balling her hands into fists and pounding them on her thighs. Caught a glimpse of the it-could-have-been me at a community band concert tonight, too. There would have been no one waiting for her in the audience, no voice saying 'I am so proud of you,' no witness to the neat collection of kudos and thanks that I always forget immediately when I'm alone. And she would have left quickly and shivered home, tried to keep her eyes open and wondered just how many more times of this she has left in her. It wasn't. I wasn't. I was full color instead of gray, and I was playing the music for specific souls out in the audience and I was uplifted and comforted and in company I saw practicing my repetitions of 'thank you!!' and 'you're welcome!' and 'I'm glad you enjoyed it' as less of a chore than I usually do. I was chauffeured home and curled up on my side in the passenger seat and halfway home I realized I'd lost her again--I'd banished the ghost of the it-could-have-been, and when I looked out the dark glass I could only see one reflection.

this blue moon

I guess you hope you'll learn something when you leave and then come back. Might find something new on the highway or in your dreams on the first night home. I learned in a reaffirming way that I knew what I was doing when I chose the people I want to love. I learned that there is mitigating power in being Not Alone and maybe it's better that I wasn't able--wasn't willing--to give into temptation and burst into tears. I wanted to cry long, nonsensical sobs because I came and I left and because of the color of the sky and because of who I was when I was fifteen and the comforting hand on my leg and the symphony leaking out through it all but I didn't need to.
Beyond that I suppose I've learned again how to nibble around the edges and count down from 250 to 1 and how to lean on your shoulder in time to the beat and bless myself for my luck and do what I can, whatever I can, to get past and through the bewildering aspects of unconditional love.