Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Pearls of Me

I wandered about and discovered bloggers casting pearls of themselves out in the open and decided to do the same...

I am: searching desperately for T

I think: life is too short

I know: very little

I want: something more

I have: long hair that's about to be cut

I dislike: Music that can’t be turned off on blogs and websites

I miss: CP

I feel: like gray clouds have taken up residence in my heart

I hear: Sarah McLachlan singing Blackbird

I smell: conditioner on my hair

I crave: the Atlantic Ocean

I usually: cook from scratch

I search: endlessly for that intangible something

I wonder: why

I regret: not following my dreams and gut instinct

I love: deeply

I care: about too much

I always: cry during touching songs, movies, life moments

I worry: whether there will ever be enough

I remember: way too much

I dance: with wild abandon when the mood strikes

I sing: every day

I don’t always: make my bed

I argue: for the heck of it

I write: every day, but not nearly enough

I lose: courage way too easily

I wish: I had more money

I listen: to everyone

I don’t understand: why

I can usually be found: writing in front of a computer

I am scared: that life will slip through my fingers

I need: to stop being a afraid

I forget: people’s names and numbers

I am happy: most of the time

Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Product of my Bummed-Outedness

The mean reds keep knocking on my door, leaving me befuddled.  Call it any name you a funk, the blues, or depression, we've all been there.  Yesterday I wrote my feelings down, then sent it to a friend. I hadn't intended to post it, but what the heck.  Life isn't all sunshine, blue skies, beaches and kites...sometimes it's raw, rotten and ridiculous.  So, as MJ called it, here's the product of my bummed outedness. 

Do you ever have those days when you feel like there’s nothing new under the gloom of a long winter? Everything beautiful has all ready been written. Every capture by a camera has all ready been viewed by millions? Every painting, poem, and grand novel has all ready been created. Searching for inspiration comes to a dead end that sends me back where I began, like a cable car at the end of the line. Turning in place, tail always trying to catch up with the head, never quite there, never quite good enough powers down on me during these bouts of doubt.

I read and I read and I read. I read blogs, I read books, I read magazines, I read emails, I read menus, signs, recipes, directions, and just words. Everywhere I look words cover the world in beauty and ugly phrases. Has it all been said? Is there anything new to say to a world filled with too many words all ready?

I write and then I write some more. I write about cat pee on a carpet and gardens and flowers and herbs and how to create that perfect wall d├ęcor with just right frames placed in just right patterns, all with the eye of a shadow artist.

I journal in a complaining whiny voice that exaggerates my frustrations with where I live and the present circumstances of a depressed area where standing in line waiting for the unemployment check takes precedence over anything else life has to offer. I write about an old wandering man in the town where I grew up. I blog about flowers, gardens, and anything that creeps into my head when sleep runs ahead of me laughing. I put my heart and soul on the page, but are my sufferings, transgressions, or joys any different from anyone else who lives an ordinary life? I can hear you say, “But it’s how you say it.” Perhaps so, but is it good enough? Is it enough to shed the skin that covers the heart just to become transparent to readers? Or to be truly unique, a voice heard among the masses of writers out there, must I commit suicide over and over… dying bit by bit as I write?

I wander about in an aimless search for something. I see photographs of smiling children looking more beautiful than angels. I see simple pleasures grace page after page, site after site turned into surreal moments that transcend simplicity. My fingers touch the monitor convinced that I can feel the velvet of the rose, but it’s a cold technical face that touches me back. I view shocking, sublime, and sensual in one quick click of the mouse. So if there’s all ready so much to see, does the world really need one more wannabe photographer who points and shoots? Today, the answer is no…the world will be quite content if I never pick up a camera again.

Perhaps silence is or should be the new “in” thing. Instead of constant visual feasts of words and pictures, I need silence and quiet reflection. Yet…I think too much. I get lost in my head. I’m afraid someday I’ll get so lost in there that I won’t find my way back out.

Buck up! Pull yourself up by the bootstraps! Stop complaining! Who do you think you are? What good does all this do? “Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it’s breaking,” sings Lyle Lovett. I’m not sure I can do that today.

MJ's response to my whining...
I read the product of your bummed-outed-ness. Wow. I suppose, if you're a writer, you would sometimes get to that point of thinking it's all been said before. I think that's why talented people go mad. Please don't go mad! Stay with me here! Did you feel better after writing it? I want you to know that your writing inspired me to go out and buy myself some flowers. I've never done that before. So your writing is important. That's proof. I'm sending a picture.
What a wonderful friend! Thank you!

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I Loved You

I loved you when my green eyes first met your brown ones. A singular moment caught between two people, held as the world halted in its orbit, and released when I lowered my eyes from your stark gaze.

I loved you when the joy of a new acquaintance turned into something extraordinary…a surprise, a shock, a stunning moment in a life.

I loved you when you made me laugh as we ate burgers and sipped beer from mugs, like two kids with newly found emotions wrapped in youthful excitement.

I loved you when the feather-light pressure of your hand on the small of my back, escorted me into rooms and into your life with confident belief in your presence.

I loved you when we melted over each other like quick silver, forming to every curve and filling each crevice with heart and soul.

I loved you as you slept, your arm slung over your face haphazard and handsome, my head on your chest listening to the rough beating beneath the strength and frailty of you.

I loved you when we walked a desolate beach, wind-blown and goose-bumped, watching the white-capped waves rush to meet us at the edge of our world of moments.

I loved you strumming your guitar, your voice echoing James Taylor as palm trees whipped beyond the walls and the wind keened a song of what’s to come.

I loved you when those three words whispered against my shoulder sent shivers coursing through my body finding the mark deep within my very being.

I loved you even when the words, “but not enough” fell from my lips, ragged and parched with the exquisite pain of knowing love and letting it go.

I loved you when your eyes filled with tears, while on your knees pleading for me to “…not wax indignant, but understand.”

I loved you like a quivering sparrow searching for spring while clinging to a branch covered with newly formed buds beneath frosty white, fragile and wistful.

I loved you, I lost you and I am better for it insists Lord Tennyson. I know now, that poet spoke a life truth. I survived the journey without you and I am a better person because...

I loved you

Thursday, February 4, 2010

A Dance before Bedtime

Some stories need no words.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Have You Ever...

I’m not a fan of award shows, but Elton John and Lady Gaga captured my attention and I ended up watching a good portion of the Grammys Sunday night. Besides the flamboyance of Sir Elton and Lady Gaga, I was completely enchanted by the performance of Pink, an artist I'm not familiar with. As Pink sang, Glitter in the Air, I was drawn into the melody and lyrics. Later, while in the dreamy state, just before sleep overtakes me, I pondered…

Have you ever…lain on your back and listened to the whir of hummingbird wings overhead while your little daughter lies next to you, her hand resting on your pregnant tummy

Have you ever… held a love so achingly deep that you thought it might slice you in half when he turned and walked out the door, only to discover your soul’s stronger than imagined

Have you ever…touched the velvet petals of a rose only to bruise it and watch the petals fall to the earth like broken angel wings

Have you ever…danced barefoot and alone on a beach as the moon rose full and creamy white, dappling the ocean

Have you ever…longed to pour yourself over someone until the mystery of you becomes immersed in him

Have you ever…jumped in a mud puddle just to watch the water splash out around you in a joyful dirty dance

Have you ever…floated with the music high above the concert hall, dipping with the falls and soaring with the rises

Have you ever…stood before ‘Sunflowers,’ weeping softly as the glory of the beauty envelopes you

Have you ever…held your child’s hand while tears race down his cheeks as he kissed a friend goodbye forever

Have you ever…tasted the ocean’s essence on your lips, the salty brine from wind blown destinations

Have you ever…laughed until your eyes squeezed out tears of mirth and your sides stitched

Have you ever…