Clif Bars and Battlescars

God, do I love this feeling.

I'm very slowly coming down from the high of talking to someone you didn't know you'd missed.
It's not the complicated kind of miss, either, that makes you feel sad and caught up in the past while yearning for the future so you can see them again. It's a very nice, very simple feeling.

'I am so happy to hear your voice again.'

In addition to that, I feel super duper healed. These last months (or, last year) haven't been all painful, of course not, but the sad times were raw and the angry times really knew how to surge and disrupt me. I was battered by wind and words and absences and it's only ceasing to matter around now.

It's easy to see where it all comes from, too. My life was calm, and then it became this chaotic uproar of growing up and falling in love and I put so much of myself into it that when it all fell from the pedestal, I shattered too. How dramatic, yeah? Well, it's true. This last year I've been so broken, but that's not really a bad thing. It's a great thing. In sadness, I've had to venture inward to figure out what was what and what was wrong. When you start investigating yourself for bugs and broken parts, you're inevitably going to learn exactly what it is that makes you tick.

For me, it took a while. I could tell you though, without hesitating, if you asked me.

I also stumbled upon this vast deposit of passion that I didn't know was in there, and when I woke the beast, she was pretty mad. The only thing that was really going on for me was a loss, and the passion just jumped right on that bandwagon... That's where the anger was. Anyways, once I learned how to forgive and redirect that, I'm brand spankin' new. Well hell, I'm 19, so I have not doubt that this will happen a couple more times, but I feel pretty solid.

Every time I have some sort of experiential epiphany, I feel like a completely different person, and I am. I doubt this has made sense any of the 50 million times I've said it, but I don't feel like a different Sarah, I just feel... more. More myself. It's fuckin' lovely.

I decided to write a blog post because I feel as though I always turn to my blog when I'm feeling angsty and depressed. More often than not, I just use this as a way to express myself - understandably so. It's like a journal, but with the added challenge of owning your words. I'm saying extremely personal things here, and, though I doubt anyone reads this, there is that possibility. I like open. I like honest. So, here I am.

I should be off to bed now - work tomorrow morning, and I've yet to brush my teeth. Naughty.

Goodnight lovely world, with your goods and bads, your ups and downs, your rights and wrongs.
Goodnight to all of your polar opposites, and to everything in between.

<3

Revert to Reverb

I can't stop thinking about you. Sometimes, I don't try very hard to, mind you.
There's still the fire in my belly, and I think it's left over from that time I tried to clean me of the imprint you left - the painful, leftover kind - not the wonderful experience we had together, kind.

This will likely pass within a week or couple days, but right now I just really miss you. I'm not even really mad anymore because that feels like part of the past - in every right, you should be part of the past, too, but I have dreams sometimes in which you are my present and future. It's bizarre.

The strangest thing about all of this is: I'm alright. More than alright, I am so happy with my life, and who I am as a person. I've reached a new level of fulfillment and have so much motivation and ambition and potential that I'm always moving. I haven't fallen on my bum to cry about anything in a long, long while. It's a beautiful feeling, getting into the flow. This emotion, this remembrance, is part of it. A friendship that wasn't really a friendship that got intense and tangled, and then separated as abruptly as it was thrown together - condensed and contained into two separate people and two separate lives. Still so far apart, but in sync with the paths we may be on - exploding from the cocoon in a flurry of transformation and transcendence. In our ways, yes; in our own ways. Always individual, but so connected. Maybe that's what I feel.

I am not sad. This is not sad, anymore, but it's anticipation that one day we might get to dance circles around each other again. As strange as we may be to each other now, as scary as this all may be, you've gotta admit. It was fucking awesome.

Nothing but love, I send to you. The rest of my emotions are my business to sort.

Claws and Flaws

My life is taking a drastic turn towards the different and renewed.

Perhaps I've been wanting this for a while - not to say that my life has ever been stagnant or unmoving - that may have been my perception at the time, but the flow of time is like water cascading downwards. Now I sit in the dark of my living room with my cat on my lap, alone for the first time in what seems like weeks. I am tempted to feel sad, but I just feel calm.

I have learned so much in my life. How can this be, when I am aware of only a portion of what I do not yet know? I know general facts, how to check the oil in a car, and some specific and bizarre facts with which I doubt anyone would be bothered.

I feel so human today.
I don't often feel reptilian or amphibian, mind you, but today I experienced physical pain and happiness and loneliness and the very real need for affection. It's quite interesting how there is a general stigma against wanting to be in contact with others. It's humbling, the way we can't exist unless we exist beyond ourselves. There would be no purpose, otherwise. And as Mr. Smith stresses in the Matrix trilogy - purpose is integral to existence.

I want to be so many things. There are little hints that float about inside me that could easily be transformed into practiced movement and sound. I want to become a DJ, a street artist, a free-runner, a drummer, a dancer, a singer, counselor, a preacher, a rapper, a mother, a wife, a child. I am all of these things, somewhere. Some don't exist to the outside world, yet. However the potential is there, and it is real. The potential could be so gripping and valuable if we could see or use it.

Skinny Dipping

I had quite a productive day today, I think.
I wrote and mailed, along with a DVD of my drawings, musings and music, my letter to Chris Lowell. I left my dress with a seamstress so she could fix it, I learned about the cleanse my mum is on and will set an appointment with my naturopath for Monday, and then we went to the beach.

I was a bit sad at first, because the tide was in and I thought it would be too cold to swim.
We went to Crescent, however, and it was quite warm. I waded into the water with my bathing suit and tie-dye shirt on (I'm shy) and walked quite far out. It was so beautiful at dusk... Every movement I made created a ripple that reflected the light of the setting sun. It was like being on a different plane - God was smiling at me from the pinks and oranges of the horizon, and the water was warm and comforting. People were watching me - a child even yelled, "Girl! You'll sink!" So I turn and shouted, "I can swim." And his mother laughed.

I was out there for a while before I decided to take my bathing suit off - I could hear the people on the beach, but couldn't see them at this point. I figured they wouldn't be able to see me, either. I tied my suit and shirt around my right ankle and began to play in the tiny waves.

After about a half hour, I put my clothing back on and began to swim back. It was getting cold, and darker. About halfway back I turned around and saw something pop up out of the water - a person, I thought? It bobbed back down and then up again with the agility of a seal, and I was both frightened and in awe. It had been watching me, and now she knew I was leaving.
I got back to the shore and my mum said she had come over to me from elsewhere before watching me play in the waves - this is a heart warming sign. I asked for joy yesterday, and tonight the incarnation of joy and playfullness came to watch me dive in and out of the water. So much love. I pray that I feel it with my heart instead of simply knowing with my head that it is a beautiful thing.

Thank you for tonight. <3

Black Beetles

Why does it bother me so much when people kill moths?

Let's explore this, gently. Sidenote: It's quarter to three in the morning.

Bugs aren't big. Insects and arachnids tend to be quite small, but for some reason there is a general stigma about them that deems them less valuable than other living creatures. It could also be due to the fact that they're just so easy to kill and wipe up and get rid of, but here are my reasons for not doing so.

The value of something does not lie in how much of that something there is. A large tub of margarine does not cost more than a small diamond - the monetary value lies in the rarity and purpose of the object. Something like margarine is intended for everyday use - to be ingested, digested, excreted, and then you use and buy more. A diamond wedding ring is often a once in a lifetime purchase which symbolizes the intention of love and union. Something so small can mean so much more.

The ease with which we do things does not determine the moral alignment of the action. As a stronger being, I could kill a rabbit or cat with some amount of ease. I could shoplift, I could lie, I could run my mouth off at people instead of intentionally speaking from only love, and it would be easy. Being angry is easy, being sad, being selfish - but does that make it okay?
There is a common and well-known opinion that "The right thing isn't always the easy thing." Perhaps this is true, and from my own life experience, I would say that it is. Quite often, taking the action that would leave my heart at ease and my conscience pleased requires a great deal of courage and determination. Maybe you would derive the same answer from your own experience.

And last, I face the concept of souls. Some people honestly believe that only humans possess them, and soulless beings are easily disposable. Think what you may, I am not here to change you. The semantics aren't important in this case; regardless of whether or not you believe insects have souls, they are an integral part of any ecosystem in which they are involved. Honeybees nurture the beautiful flowers that are so heavily incorporated into our culture, and spiders keep populations of other insects down. Everything has a sacred balance, and I'm pretty sure God knew what he was doing when he put this place together. Maybe we're only here for a short while, but I think we should learn from it what we can.

No, the ecosystem likely won't collapse if you take a newspaper to that spider on the bathroom floor. That's not my point. My point is that it upsets me when I hear, "It's just a moth." No, it is a moth. It's living out it's purpose like I am living out mine, and I believe it should be given the option to do that - even if that simply involves surviving.

***


The reason I got so upset tonight wasn't because the moth was attacked. I got upset because I felt mocked and scolded for wanting to keep the bug alive. It makes my heart hurt when any creature dies, and of all the opinions one could respect even if it isn't one of your own, I'd think that would be easy. Fighting boys makes me unhappy, too, because I obviously can't match their strength. I essentially felt helpless and injured, so I went for a walk and cried to a beetle.

I know that not everyone in this life will understand me or my little quirks. That's become apparent since I've felt comfortable enough with myself to show it to anyone... One thing I learned tonight, though, is that sometimes you have to explain (even to the people you love so dearly) what's going on in your heart.

Coping Mechanism

I am human.
I am fragile, I am emotional, I am vulnerable.

I can be hurt and scarred and discouraged, depending on your tactics.
I may open up to you in love, and then you can cut deeper.
If you let me get used to you, I will dream of you for months.

If you change, I will sense the brokenness of whatever was there, and I will mourn.
My memories will haunt me, comforting me and causing me anxiety.

After a while, though
Once I have spent long enough crying, and long enough bleeding,
I will sit up from the floor.

And all of the words that turned from warm to cutting when I found out they were empty,
They will shout loud from within my mind.
And the pain in my heart will reach a deafening roar, before it transforms
And in one split second
The world turns upside down.

There is a pause. A space in which there is nothing to fill
We're just hanging from a thread, you and I, in nothing.

Time slowly restarts
The thread snaps, has snapped long ago
And you're gone, lost far in the wrinkles and folds of what once was.
Your words start to whisper, again, but I thread a needle with them
And I begin to sew songs to show and tell to the world

I will tell them of the love before the loss, and how wonderful it was
The feeling of waking up in the morning, excited to live
The feeling of sharing in someone, wholeheartedly, loving who they were and are and will be
The feeling of aching to fuel their dream, to satisfy their heart
And the feeling of telling this person all of these things through the contact of eyes and skin.

I will tell them of the loss after the love, and how it was like the earth was torn from the sun
How I thought of you,
How I thought I needed you,
How I thought my life would be empty since you had left.
That is a logical thought, for someone who thought you were her future.
I will tell them to notice the past tense
And notice that I don't need you
That my life is so full it is bursting, and there is no room for you any longer
Simply because you don't want to be in it.

You have hurt me and broken me, left me feeling empty, but it was all an illusion.
All of that pain and sorrow is now inconsequential, but you have left me with one permanent gem.

Despite the months of feeling terrible, and despite the fact that our happiness was short-lived
Despite the anger and hate that I felt so shortly ago, and so shortly in itself
Despite the letters you said you'd send and never did,
And despite my last desperate attempts at salvaging this...

I have learned one thing.
And though I could have learned it by watching Moulin Rouge, I learned it with my soul.
I learned it with every little tiny piece of my heart, and I learned it with hours and weeks
I learned it with every emotion I ever felt towards you.
I learned it with happiness, excitement, nervousness, rage, jealousy, melancholy, and peace
I learned this.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return."

For that is all that matters.

If I Know You

So much movement... Some painful, some wonderful... Most of it's painful at first before it turns bittersweet and then comfortable. Like a blanket that is at first is cold, it grows warm with my body heat and I get used to the idea. I want to be able to look the world in it's big, magnificent eyes without bursting. My skin must be thick.

Blood

I surrender and give myself to sleep and thirst and God.
I am distracted from the uncertainties of the future by the past and the present, and you know what is a comforting thought? I will never have to deal with the fogginess and fear of the future. By the time it gets to me, it will have transformed into a much more tangible and malleable substace: The present.

Maybe I should stop freaking out and keep things simple for myself.
Hope, love, trust, faith. These things are my basis, and the rest are interchangeable.
Relationships will come and teach and go and then teach more, and that knowledge will melt into and graft onto my soul-essence.

My little ether fingers are reaching and whining for Mum... For now I will satiate my thirst and see what they need.

Purple Shoes

Yesterday, I had an interesting encounter with a pair of shoes.

To preface this, last winter, my best friend bought me a pair of purple shoes. I wore them through the snow and emotional rollercoaster that became of the last months of that year and the first months of the next. The colour was a constant in a coupling, a physical manifestiation of like minds, like hearts, like goals. Like interests, like passions. The two pairs of purple shoes were indicatiors, like a sign saying, "These two people, though they don't yet know it, have a journey to embark on." And, young that we are or were, we careened down the path that we chose for ourselves.
I saw the same pair, unbroken soles, at Value Village. I put them on, raving the whole time about how I loved these shoes, and how nostalgic they made me. They looked the same on my feet as they once did, but everything from my ankles up looked and felt different.
"Get them, then, if you love them so much!" My friend said.
I looked down at the shoes, then took them off.
"I just feel like I'm done with them." I said.
Is that what it's going to be like?

Now I'm sitting here, missing quite a few people. A pretty significant portion of my life has been spent missing people, and from this I have realized something. I have realized that I have changed. I have become an almost completely different person than I was when they were here. I have grown internally, and I am not the only one who does such a thing. Sometimes people change so subtly that you don't notice any different until someone lets some wisdom slip, or reacts differently to a commonplace situation. Some changes, though, can rock people. Some dynamics don't work anymore, because the fragile little cogs that used to be present in the both of you simply aren't there anymore. They've broken off to reveal a smooth surface, and therefore there is distance.

Maybe that's what's going on, but there is no way for me to tell, at least for a time.
I've gotten quite a few of those strange feelings lately, and I'm quite assured it's just processing. I'm probably due for a blast of fresh air, and yoga tonight will help. I should go shower, now, and prepare for my Downtown adventure. I pray that my rampant emotion flow through me neatly, instead of spilling over into a situation that could be what I've been hoping for.

I want to learn to fight and freerun and sing.

Health

Documenting this feeling instead of sinking into it.

It's too warm. It's too quiet. It's too lonely.
Instead of this, though, I could recognize potential. The silence could be filled, the heat embraced. How many worthwhile things are done by oneself? That's probably debateable.
What could I do right now, and how would it better me as a person?
Culturally, I could expand myself by reading a book or watching Daniel Tosh on the comedy channel. I'm drawn to the latter, though the former, would, undoubtedly be more engaging. Maybe the show would make me laugh, or maybe it's just a way of waiting for something worthwhile to happen to me instead of actually doing something worthwhile. Maybe I'll just go to sleep.

Pyrotechnics

Hello, reader.

Tonight's an interesting one. I feel as though I've had similar experiences and been left feeling similar emotions at the end of the night. Let's contrast this year with last, shall we?

Last year, my friends were new. They were shiny and mysterious because I hadn't worn them in or been worn in, in a sense. I was naive, focused and flighty. I didn't pay attention to the fireworks, as we lay on the blanket facing the ocean. There was someone and something far more interesting laying to my left. Afterwards, I walked through the city light-hearted and barefoot.

This year, they are familiar. Warm and safe, like family. Not akin to family, but family itself. I am grounded, grown and curious. I paid attention to the fireworks, this time, though I also learned a very important lesson that I will perhaps take with me for the rest of my life. I have encountered these situations before, and I highly doubt I'm the only one - this time, though, it wasn't going to let me getting away with ignoring it. I was overwhelmed by a strange feeling, almost as if I were torn or confused, but not quite. I learned that, though emotional ties may be severed, intentionally or not so, adoration simply does not fade.

There is difference, for me, between actively caring for someone - making a habit of thinking about them, hoping they're happy, wanting to spend time with them - and surrendering to your path. I have let go of what was being moved from my life. With a bit of a fight, I do admit, but after enough time passed to balm my burning heart, I have settled. I have begun to burn with a different kind of fiery love, and I am satisfied with that. My life is full - I am complete, yet a work in progress. My point is that, in addition to this satisfaction and pacified state, I feel similar feelings to those I did before I surrendered my active love. These feelings, though, do not carry a bittersweet or anxious need to hold the butterfly, so to speak. I will not draw nearer to the beautiful light, for fear I will scare it away. I had my dance, my game, my time with this energy. It came to an end and that's fine - my heart is unchained, but my breath is still taken from me sometimes.

Walking downtown, I found myself feeling vulnerable and fearful. I wanted to snuggle into the safest thing I could find, but I didn't, for fear or rejection or general awkwardness. I wish I could communicate the genuine sentiment behind my actions, for they could easily be misread. I do not ask for affection, commitment or anything else. It doesn't need to be scary or weird or over thought, it's quite a simple gesture. If I were a man, I would love to shelter those feeling fragile. Heck, I do it anyway. I may be built thin, but intention and love can stand for much.

I have so much appreciation for the people in my life. My friends, my family, my strangers. Yes, my strangers. At least once a day, I look at someone and am struck by how beautiful or kind they are. Some people just have such a bright light around them that it makes me chuckle, because they don't even know. They could just be sitting across the table from me, talking about my professional endeavors (or, lack thereof) and all of the love they send to people, all of the hard work they do, all of the prayers they say, they're all floating around, looking at me, smiling and showing off on that person's behalf.

"Look here," they say. "I am beautiful and I don't even know it."

So I smile, I nod, and I continue the conversation.
Prayer has been lovely lately. Today on the skytrain I was praying lightly, when in the distance, I saw this enormous concrete wall in some empty lot with the words, "I LOVE YOU" spray painted on it. I laughed and smiled and wanted to put my hand to my heart.

Another time, I woke, but found myself not wanting to get out of bed. I turned on the radio with a distant sense that something inside me was welling up, about to burst. I didn't realize how sad I felt until "The Light Is You" by Said the Whale began playing, and I knew that song was for me. I began sobbing, like that time a busker was singing Bob Marley when I was feeling the worst I ever have. I can be lifted by song when I am heavy with sorrow, and God always knows just what to say.

Love is powerful.
Goodnight.

How Many Looks

If I were still upset and longing and all that stuff, I'd ask the dramatic, rhetorical question;
"Where are you? :'( "

It's a good feeling, though, having that sentence in the conditional. Because I'm not.

I've learned over the past fourteen years of my life that people change. People change and leave and some will float in and out of your life. Sometimes you don't want them to leave - and sometimes you do. Having a breath of fresh air when one person leaves is quite the contrast when the absence of another makes you suffocate.

I think the most important thing that these experiences and attendance sheets have taught me is that there is always an imprint. Sometimes it's a scar, and other times it's the faintest little outline of someone's lips on your cheek. It can burn and it can sear or it can make everything seem like a Claritin commercial.

Honestly, I have known people who have ruined my life, and the imprint they left was the most important. It starts out as a deep wound that heals wrong, and for years I felt like a nervous dog. It's hard to get close to people, and even harder to speak up for oneself when they decide to get close anyway. Then something switches, and maybe it's a someone. Maybe someone sees you as you are, and they fall in love with you for everything. They tell you you're beautiful and you know that they mean it - especially since you picked your nose in front of them and don't wear makeup.

That kind of love can heal those wounds. Even when that person removes themselves so abruptly that it causes another cut.

That love that healed you remains - even though that someone has probably fucked off forever, it doesn't matter. Sure. I'll miss them. But friendship and family love has the same effect. Time doesn't matter. Grudges don't matter. Petty little human emotions don't matter - all that matters is that we matter to each other.

Thunder

I'm bored. And in describing the rest of me, I'm going to try to describe all of the emotions I'm feeling. I sometimes focus on the negative, yes.

I'm sleepy. I'm a bit disappointed and lonely and angry. I feel like my life is so very molten, which isn't a bad thing; I'm just hesitant to flow away from one landmark when the next is so very elusive. I should try to remember than water doesn't pause or falter.

Time, like water, keeps going. I made a choice a long time ago to try and keep my face above it by inhaling and laying on my back instead of fighting for the things I feel like I've lost. I trust. I know that my life is going to be so much more than it is now. I will always have memories and experiences that have marked me forever - and tearing myself away from them has lately been a challenge. My heart is entirely my own, now, but I'm still struck by the fleeting feeling of wanting to smile and look at those I once felt strongly for. It seems I push people away - everyone I've gotten emotionally engaged with has virtually dropped off of the face of the Earth once we've agreed to go our separate ways. Maybe it's beneficial. I know in some cases it definitely is, otherwise moving on would be a trifle difficult.
However, I don't know how I feel about having a tendency to make people crave distance. It's an odd thing to be thirsty for, or at least my ego would like to think so.

So here I am. This is where I've been placed. I could be anywhere in the world right now, with anyone, doing anything, but this is where I have been put, or chosen to be, or happen to be. It's never an accident, these things. My isolation could seem as inconsequential as a dropped penny, or as coincidental as two dogs wagging their tails, but I know better than that.

To be molten is to be dynamic, and to be dynamic is to change. How better to do that than to remove oneself, or, be removed, from everything that has lately been a constant? The only thing I have brought with me into this new environment is me. That makes me wonder what kind of tools I have on my belt that make me useful. What desires have I brought with me? Aspirations? Thoughts, morals, prejudices? What do I carry?

It's not easy. There are at least two people I want to shove and say, "So, where the fuck have you been?" And another three or four that make me want to slip some Xanax into their coffee. I'm so sensitive that I can't be around some things, and some things make me so angry.
The instigation is an accusation that I needn't plead guilty to, though.
Like water off a duck.

Maybe it's because it's night time, or because I must be hormonally charged, but I'm awfully melancholy. And I know that a lot of people would blame that on my being female, and that makes me want to shank people. Seriously. I'm really sick of gender roles, because I feel like once I started paying attention to them, they get more and more present and concentrated every day. It's not about rights or being able to wear pants - it's dealing with a misconception in the collective consciousness of the world. These things start with truth, before they're struck with an imbalance. Then it topples into chaos, and he were are - prancing merrily through a field of neuroses, singing misguided tunes. I'm fun today, eh?

On a happier note, I love the beach. Especially when the tide is out. I may ditch humans for a while, and commune with nature, God, you know the drill. Maybe I'll find myself out there.

Monroe

I don't even really know what to talk about... I just know that I wanted to write something.
I wish the washing machine wasn't broken... That's going to suck, later.

Today was definitely interesting... Things always are when you're getting new holes in your body. And seeing Harry Potter.

...I don't want to write anymore.

Bluberry'd

Oh my, the past 48 hours have done me some good.
Getting away was nice, especially with a good friend. It makes me realize that even though I really feel quite isolated, sometimes, I'm not alone. Bedtime giggles are the most hilarious thing.
I crawled into bed to nap, but I haven't. I needed to get something off my chest, and now I'm making peace with the fact that the information is out there. Swirling inside my head and heart, there's no way for it to affect anyone but me. Now that I've told the truth, I can sit back and let things unfold as they may. For better or worse, it is out of my hands for now.

Man, I really have to get cracking on that DVD. I don't know what else to put on it... I have probably another week before the deadline's getting too close. I just want it to be good.

Tie-Dyed

I feel fine, right now.
I'm extra sleepy because of the beer, but I'm okay.
It's probably pretty evident to whoever has been reading my blog that I've been going through a bit of a rough time, and it's true. I have been, and I hope that my expression of frustration and pain hasn't come across as pleas for attention or simple whining. If it seems annoying or excessive, by all means you are invited to ignore my blog entirely. Quite honestly, I use this space to talk mostly for my own benefit. I know that the people in my life, if they care about what's going on with me, will ask. I basically just write to get things off my chest.

I feel like I've done just that, lately. After a few weeks of feeling like absolute shit and obsessing over things that are simultaneously in the past and in the present, I'm feeling pretty okay. My memories will not leave me, but I will no longer use the term "haunt" to describe what they do to me. Sometimes, things suck. That's how it is. People change and they're impossible to change back to their factory settings. But you know what else is imperative to know? It's not all about them. There are billions of people in this world, constantly changing. You're one of them. I'm one of them. And why should I feel like I have to be the same person with the same feelings for my little changelings? You've gotta roll with the punches, evaluate and re-evaluate. Just because someone was once worthy of your time and tears doesn't mean they are now. It works the other way too, just so you don't think I'm bitter; just because someone was once given a respectable and deserved social berth doesn't mean they should be alone forever. People wake up, people fall asleep. Parts of us die and are reborn every fraction of a second, and if we get caught up in retaining an unhealthy protocol, we are being restricted.

I've been getting into music lately, because I'm followed an impulse to go to the library. I rented a few movies and a large stack of CDs. From this, only more interest has come.

This next part is unrelated.
I biked home at 2AM this morning. It was so peaceful, with the dim lights only slightly warming what would have been a very desolate atmosphere. I was a little frightened and torn between my instinct to get home and the desire to linger and appreciate the beauty of the silence. I found myself wishing I could experience a night time bike ride like that with a guy. Not just a guy though, but the person that I can feel in my heart. His physical features keep shifting in my mind's eye, but that is not yet important. I feel like I know this person, and the way we would talk to each other. Hopefully I'll know him when I meet him, because it's pretty inevitable.
I'd like to make a habit of that, if it doesn't mess up my sleep pattern too much... Early morning bike rides, I mean.

I'm tired. Goodnight.

Ache Me

Another rough patch. Yussss.
I want to get to the point in my life where I actually revel in my sadness and angst, knowing that even though things suck, it's only because they're gonna get a lot better really fast.
Today, I can't even muster the positivity to turn the light on. Consequently, I'm sitting in bed, in the dark, talking about how things suck. My God, I'm pathetic. This would be really funny to me if I weren't so heart-achy... I'm even listening to Coldplay. There's a weight in my throat and chest, though, that's weighing me down from laughing.

I want to be lifted - it's been so long that this has been hurting and I want to be okay. I can see it: what I would look like if I weren't as holey as Swiss cheese... There's an image of me in my mind, and she's gliding through this patch with ease. Peacefully, she's accepting of all the things she feels and is faced with. Maybe I'll eat and then try that on for size. I want to be more like my cat, in the sense that, by default, she is smiling. How do I get rid of just wanting to cry?

Hey, hey.

I laugh in the face of your hasty decisions and deeply-rooted jokes. They did not sway me today, though I thought they could sway me well. I didn't think I would recover.
Is it possible to, simultaneously, fixate and not give a fuck at the same time?

People are split into parts. Not halves, as some would dictate, but parts. Facets: timeless and infinite. Representative of many things. Parts of them, maybe. For every impulse or glance or fleeting desire, there lies a separate version of yourself. Billions, correct? More than that. Countless versions of who you thought to be one entity. Now, for every one of these infinite selves, a past, a present, and a future... Not to mention everything in between. Fractions of time and space and feeling.

I missed all of someone, a while ago. If you think about how many people I was missing by missing one whole person, you can likely imagine how heavy my heart was. Now, I have discovered something: I did not miss that one whole person, just a fraction. Whether it is a fraction of me or him is yet to be determined. I could easily be missing myself, right now. Rightly so, I seem to be on vacation. Or maybe something less frivolous, I don't like to imagine myself skipping out on me for a colada and some oiled men. Maybe I'm buried under the silt of my eighteen years, patiently waiting to be unburied. I'm close now, though... Like I can see the dust of my breath rising as I dig myself out from above with my bare hands.

My cat is smiling. Cats smile a lot. I wonder what they know that I don't that inspires them to be so content all the time, simply snoozing and stretching and smiling. Even when I am just laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, I am not smiling. Maybe I should be. They're in on some joke or savvy to some truth that has them fundamentally content. It's as if it's their default emotion... Unless they're hungry or frightened or irritated, they are happy. Me, I'm different. My default emotion is probably wide-eyed patience.

There is always something coming to guide me by the hand. I get scared and panicked sometimes, because it's as though my future becomes this gray, soupy blob of chaotic nonsense. If I don't have a direct course, I sink into what can only be defined as the grays. The blues are too luminous, too serene to describe the feeling. Gray is as background and removed as a dried spoonful of oatmeal under the fridge, where no one can even want to pay attention to it.
Depressing, no? Existential oatmeal... Ooh, that has meme potential. Don't tell anyone.

Where is love?! Somewhere. Apparently it is as perennial as the grass. Desiderata told me that... I don't know what perennial means, but it seems fitting. I'd like a well paying job, soon... I've got to figure out how to make my dreams come true. Sounds drastic, but my dreams don't involve castles or princes or dragons (though I'm lying about them not involving dragons).
Mostly they just involve a VW Cabriolet and the open road to Boston. The post script on my dream involves a positive response and acceptance to my letter that I'm going to send to my favorite actor, Chris Lowell. I am so very tired... At least my words are flowing. That's nice.

Bruises and Band

I think it's just one of those days.
One of those days you just don't want to get out of bed in the morning, because you don't want to go to work. Then you do. And it's fine, but you nearly fall asleep in brief.
You get a few conversations in, no sign ups. More people ignore you than usual, or shake their heads at your profession because you're interrupting their lives. As little as you feel sorry for them, you secretly wish you could have the freedom to just meander, carefree, as they seem to. You know that's not true, but that's how it looks.
You think often about your poor posture, and all the things at which you want to become skilled. You think about how much money it would take for lessons. Your shoulders slump again.
You think about a guy you used to know with a certain posture problem.
Your shoulders slump further with the weight of the memory.
You get fired an hour later.

You come home, are whisked away to someone's house, and they're very sweet. An hour and a half later, you bike home. Improperly. Get corrected. Don't take it well.
Cry. Open windows, listen to rain. Light candles. Chill the fuck out.

I would say I'm back where I started, but I'm not. Probably about 600 dollars for the richer with a sunburn and some Bo Burnham tickets. I have ambition, now. Thirst, now. Drive, now.
But I'm idle after tomorrow.
Hah, who am I kidding?

Regenerate

Oh hi there.
I'm going to keep this short, because my leg is cramping and I have a limited amount of hours before I'm going to be at brief. Also, my cat is demanding my attention.

I think I'm back. I'm hesitant, because these things can sometimes come in bursts. However, I feel calm and sore and here. Does that make sense? I went for a run yesterday, and it felt so good. I was pushing through the things I ran away from previously, to their soundtrack. Today, I'm sore. I'm also stronger. I think there's some symbolism in there, for you English majors.

Maybe I don't have everything figured out, and I still miss you, and I wish you would talk to me, and I don't ever want to see you again (I'm talking to different people here, by the way), and some of you I'm indifferent to. Some I've forgiven, and some I'm trying really hard to. I wish some had never left, because sometimes I wish I could write songs about other things. But you are, essentially, besides the point.

Hello, nice to meet you. I like biking and running and I'm going to try bikram yoga soon. I like talking to people, and I'm good at it sometimes. I like to write songs, and sing. I'm good at it sometimes. I'm good at drawing some things, and at expressing myself. I'm pretty good at feeling emotions instead of bottling them up. I like cats and dogs and books, and boys, though they drive me crazy, also intrigue me to no end. I've never been able to get too close to one for too long, but that's okay. I've yet to do my field research.
I love my family, and I want to do so many things. Right now I'm hoping to raise money for a car so I can drive to Boston for my birthday. I might end up going by myself, and it'll be two weeks.

Right now, though, I'm going to try to talk to my friend once more, and then I'm going to sleep. I'm pretty tired. Love you night night.

Capo on the Ground

I think I'm laughing at myself.
I'm a funny lady, that's for sure - the way I continue to give people chances to give me something they haven't even got anymore. Why do I have another tab open, waiting?

Because I don't easily give up hope, I suppose. The thought makes me want to cry, but I know there is a possibility that this can all go away with one brief exchange. I wanted closure. I don't mean to sound melodramatic, but noone really reads this anyway. I've slipped into this irrational state, but that's because the loose ends are tripping me up. I want this finished, because all I can think about is when it can continue. I don't want that, it kills me.

Why am I always outsourcing? I'd love more than anything to be able to see myself as I am, but I have such trouble. I want to be and be able to do so many things that I criticize and distract myself. It's as if I need someone to balance me out, to weigh me down with love and affection. Otherwise I'll just float away and dissipate into this identity-void creature.

I look around my room and I see so much colour. So many indications of life and passion. If I were to walk into this room, unknowing of who lived here, I'd think she was a pretty cool person. A Star Wars poster of the later cast rocking out onstage, two Christmas wreaths, collages of herself and family... So much heart has been put up and displayed on these walls, and I'm still looking for something. I've left myself all of these clues, right in front of me - I look past them every day and they're continually in my face.

Am I afraid of what I might find? ...Why?
I asked for, I ache for so much. I just want peace and joy, instead of always working for something. I feel really lost, I guess, because something is tugging at my soul and I'm blind as to where it's coming from. I pray for the strength in my heart to know my path. I also pray for the strength to follow it, even if I can't see the ground beneath my feet.

I want so many things. I've wanted things before - they come to me. Then I want more things. What am I building?

Welcome to the Overwhelm

My heart twists, thinking of when I'll get to hug you again.
I had a dream you were standing in front of me, and the relief I felt woke me up.
You're like an itch I just can't scratch.

My Life is My Own

Tonight, I belong to the heat that is borderline uncomfortable. I belong to the soothing sound of my mother's furious typing, and of the pizza baking behind me in the oven.

I belong to the knowledge that I have a certain amount of power - a certain ability to make things happen. I don't know why this is so mind blowing for me, but the feeling that I can create long-lasting and worthwhile memories is soothing. I'm going to buy two tickets for Bo Burnham's show in Boston, tomorrow. The second is going to a person yet undecided... A weeklong roadtrip will likely be necessary to attend the show. I don't mind... Hopefully I'll be able to drive down myself, or I'll have to pick someone to come with me. Four pages of Google maps directions and a case of mixed CDs sounds good to me... And the camera. Always the camera.

I don't know why I've been so obsessed with celebrities lately. It's not because they're celebrities, but it's because I'm lonely and they're right in front of me, on my television or computer screen. The other day I came to the conclusion that it's stupid, a certain kind of attention they get. It's all the, "OMGZ You're SO AMAZING. Will you marry me?! I want to bear your offspring from my vajazzle'd ladyparts!"
Realistically, say you married the celebrity of your choice. For a while, I'm sure it would be like a dream come true, but then you'd get to know them. They'd become a person, instead of a patented and sold identity, and you'd have to deal with the multi-faceted glory of holy matrimony, in which you have been bound with a stranger.

Maybe Johnny Depp likes to smear Cheez Whiz on everything, no matter how long and hard you slaved in your thirty million dollar kitchen. Even if it's caviar. Even if it's penguin babies. Woud you still adore him because he wore eyeline in PotC?

And maybe Leonardo DiCaprio has a foot fetish. He wants you to put on nylons with the toes cut off, and just suck your feet. He won't touch you anywhere else, he'll just wipe his saliva all over your toes with his tongue. Unsatisfying? Maybe. True? Probably not.

My point (which I have strayed from), is that these people are not gods. They are people, too, and they all are likely deserving of the praise they get for their talent. Yes, they're good looking, yes, they're admirable... But there are other people who are just as deserving of attention, and the only reason they aren't getting it is because they are invisible to you. They are in a different city or country, busy with their lives and not being plastered on billboards or projected onto silver screens. These people are just as valuable.
YOU are just as valuable.

I don't want this to sound hypocritical, but it may. This next part, however, is what led me to this realization.

This last little while, I admit I've been internet-stalking Chris Lowell, who played Piz on Veronica Mars. He's obviously done other work, but that's where I saw him first, and Rogers Video doesn't carry the movie Graduation. Moving right along. I've been watching interviews and videos of his band play, and I must say that I have a bit of a crush on what I know of him. It's impossible for me to have any good idea of who he is, since we've never met, and it's pretty irrational to believe we'll ever have any kind of relationship (platonic, romantic, professional, etc) since he has no idea I exist. Aside from my rampant hopelessness, I think he's a really person. He loves to travel (spontaneously, I might add, which is my dream life incarnate), he's a spirited musician, he's a hilarious actor and amiable person (in interviews), and he's a passionate photographer. He would be a pretty bitchin' person to have in my life, especially at this time.

Anyways, now that I've gushed, fan-girl style, I want to try to prove to you that I am not a fan girl. I am not a fan girl because my name is Sarah, and while I acknowledge that Chris Lowell is probably a righteous dude, I am also pretty cool. Fangirl style is, "Chris! I would have sex with you! You are the best!" And they don't even pretend they have anything to offer the receiving party (except sexual acts and maybe sometimes baked goods). I, however, am going to write Chris a letter (don't laugh at me) briefly praising his widely broadcast-ed abilities, and then I'll follow up with, "this is what I can do". Maybe he'll get something out of it, if he reads it. Maybe he'll overlook it entirely and go on with his life - I don't blame him. As hard as I try to get his attention, he might not give any fucks whatsoever. That's just how it is when you don't know someone, and she seems to be one of thousands of girls who love you with all their less-than-threes. That's just how she goes.

So I guess for now, I'll just try to ingest some pizza. My throat is swollen due to some rebellious tonsils, and that makes peristalsis both challenging and painful. I think I just wanted to write this blog post because I'm feeling like I have a bit more of a sense of self. That part's pretty cool.

The Matrix Methods

I need to learn Italian. Immediately.
My neighbour is an elderly Italian woman, and she has, twice now, tried to get my mum over for tea. She speaks no English, but teared up and hugged her. My heart is exploding.

I Think I Need To Be More Vague Sometimes.

Look, -------> a distraction! <---------

^^^^^^^^^
Yes. Watch all 5 parts.

Foolish Heart

Is it July already? My, this time last year I was sitting at home, writing in my diary about a boy. What's changed? Not much, apparently. I just spent the last forty-five minutes or so writing about a boy.

Mind you this time, it was on a computer. Modernized.
Different situation, similar feelings of fondness and longing. Shall we move on? Yes, PLEASE.

I feel as though there is a balloon, semi-inflated, in the right side of my throat. One tonsil has decided to oppose me, whereas the other has remained quite docile. I picture them as a pair of siblings, one of which decides to act out. I shouldn't be surprised. I don't take very good care of myself. Where is my life going? Man, I do not know. For the next few days, it's going to sit it's ass on the couch that's less than 20 feet away from me, and wait for my glands to deflate and continue existing as usual. During this time, I'm quite certain I'll be faced with quite a few challenging and overwhelming psychological, emotional, and spiritual challenged. In silence, the baggage presents itself. Always with a twinge of nausea (or that could just be the Clavacin).

So I will marinate in teas and pills and sorrow until I feel better. I simply pray to God that someone is there to pull me abruptly to my feet. I am so easy to get down, in this time of transition. If only I could find my footing, I could walk anywhere and know who I am. Even the slightest change in scenery seems enough to send me tumbling straight onto my ass.

My poor, poor ass.

And, for the love of Bob Ross, when will my heart quit yearning for things beyond boundaries? It's not the fact that these things are forbidden, because my affection to the subject is rightly felt and deserved. But to express myself with kisses and comfortingly laid hands - it is in my very nature! Yet I find myself reduced to mumbling and blushing and sometimes, tears. When out of the line of fire, I set myself to memories that induce pining. Imagine - pining! The very thought is enough to send me to a stack of romantic comedies coated in chocolate, simply to make a further mockery of myself. I can hardly stand the thought of the action, 'pining', but what am I doing right now? Is that not the definition of 'pining'? Constantly sending thoughts, reaching out to someone who is focused elsewhere? Escaping to memories when there was no distance between these two (entirely fictional and theoretical) people? It could be seen as pathetic, sad. Then again, certain parts of me could be seen as pathetic, or sad.

My official statement, however, is that I am a victim! A victim of feelings that make me warm when I am cold, despite my yearnings. A victim of feelings that paint my sunny days with silver and gold, and a victim of feelings that, in themselves, are praises to God.

Despite my pain... Despite the costs and the woes... Is the ability to love not beautiful in itself?

In my ill state, I will let this thought ease my mind before sleep. Instead of thinking about that which makes me ache, I will say this.

"I can love."

Glass Jars

The only thing worse than self-pity is silent, underground self-pity that manifests on a subconscious level. I am so incredibly sick of walking around with my head held low, wondering why I have to be stuck with these seasonal feelings of worthlessness, why I have to be stuck missing people who couldn't give a flying fuck about me, and why I have to be stuck with such a watered-down and inconsistent sense of self.

I'm just going to be completely honest with where I'm at right now - who the fuck am I? I've been consciously observing this for the past week or so. Some days I feel really good about the words that come out of my mouth and the way I relate to people. I felt awesome on Friday night, because I didn't let any of my insecurities get in the way of what I wanted to say to people or who I wanted to hug. I felt awesome. Yesterday, I felt less so. It's like I had stepped out for the night, and my body had to act alone, but it can't focus on relating to people or loving on them... My cells have to multiply, worry about phagocytosis, eat one another, etc etc. My body isn't too great at Sarah-world relations, in most respects. I wasn't grounded, I guess.

I woke up this morning and lay in bed, circling all the things I feel like I'm dragging behind me, through the sand. It's like I have these fabric bags on strings, tied to my arms and knees and feet, and they're weighing me down so I can't run.
One of the bags is work. Is this what I should be doing? Can I do it? Can I continue to do this for enough time to save up traveling money, or would a more low-key job be better? I may be more comfortable serving people in a restaurant or something. I took the knife to that string, though: Maybe. But now is not the time to tell. Working at a restaurant or something would be like chickening out. Canvassing is pushing my boundaries, for sure, but isn't that what I want? I don't understand how I expect to hide for 6 months, and then throw myself into Southeast Asia or India. Working in Vancouver, I'm building my resistance to the noise, and the negative human interaction, and even the city fumes.

As for the rest of my fabric bags, perhaps some will remain for a time. It is more difficult to cut the ties when someone has left an imprint on your heart... Perhaps for now I will just keep my blade poised to cut. When the time is right, I will not hesitate.

I was internet stalking Christopher Lowell yesterday... he's an amazing person, from what I can tell. He's a spontaneous traveler, a passionate musician, and a soulful photographer. On top of that, he's quirky, witty, and a talented actor. What an interesting person he would be to have in my life. After a long while of chasing him through web domains and youtube clips, it hit me; instead of being obsessed and lost in the character of this person, why not let him inspire me? That's truly the reason I thirst for connection with these people that I long to meet. I resonate with some aspect of their personality. Who knows, maybe someday I'll meet Christopher Lowell and we'll have a conversation. But instead of being blank and gushing to him how awesome he is for having all of these adventures, why wouldn't I want to volley back some of my own?

Celebrity crushes are tricky. It's hard to simply ignore these people, and it's even harder not to idolize them. I have to work to convince myself that people like him exist, far from the pedestal of fame. I hope they come into my life. Expending focused energy on someone who is inaccessible is exhausting and fruitless.

I know what the next step is, I can feel it hot on my brain.

Teach Me How To

I feel fine.
It's unfamiliar, this feeling of balance. I'm quite often a rollercoaster - riding the wave of a good conversation or dance into indifference, only to be thrown off kilter by a spark of jealousy or longing.
Right now, though, I feel good. Tonight was great. I had some good talks and saw the people I love, conquered some fears without realizing, and accomplished my two goals. Not that I went into the evening with a to-do list, but I was given the two opportunities I had hoped for. They were similar and equally (if in different respects) meaningful.
In addition, Matchstick Men is a bumpin' movie.
On top of all this, I got to come home to a warm house, a clean room (because I was just oh so productive today), and then, just when I thought the day was done, my mom comes downstairs saying she had just found the drawing I left her. I had totally forgotten about it.
Spreading and expressing love is wonderful. As long as it's done honestly and evenly, I think it will keep me alert in this way. I need to meet and love myself, and I think we had our first date tonight. I like her.

Anyways, my cat is puncturing my left thigh because she loves me so much. Gotta jet.
Much love, and sweet dreams <3

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily live
I don't have much money, but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do
You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is, what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

And you can tell everybody that this is your song



I really should return my library books.
Something is different now... I know, a lot of things are different. Yesterday, I thought it would be hard to look at anyone else and feel what I feel now. It isn't easy, and it may be a while. I feel like my life is leaking out into the world to root in things unknown. Who am I? I don't know. There are very few things I'm sure of. I know that I love animals and they fascinate me. As I'm writing this, my cat is laying on my lap, purring like an idling car, staring up at me with her Cleopatra eyes. I'm listening to the Veronica Mars soundtrack. I know that love songs make me ache and that I should probably be asleep right now. What makes me feel alive? When do I feel free?

I feel free when I'm singing. I'd like to buy a proper guitar... I feel alive when I kiss, when I hug, and when I run. When I think about soaking in the sun so much that it leaks from my skin at night. I feel alive when I make people laugh and when I dance and pray. I feel free when I don't even remember what insecurity is - when I climb trees, when I hang upside down. When I push past my boundaries. When I know exactly where God is and what God is doing - when coincidences seem, instead of random, like a fondly left clue. I feel free and alive when it begins pouring rain outside, or when I relish the sight of fresh, clean snow. When the feeling of my body is not just background noise, when riveting emotion or stimulus demands my attention. I feel alive when my heart pounds, and I realize I can't let the person in front of me walk away. When the words come out of my mouth despite the dryness of my tongue or the shaking of my hands.
I feel free when there is no shame or hesitation in my honesty... I feel alive when I say 'I love you', and mean it with all of my heart. When I notice subtle little cues that reciprocate my love.

I feel free and alive knowing that my future will not be the void I fear. I feel safe knowing that, as it moves steadily and inevitably into the present, it will be full of adventure and colour.
Dragon tattoo, hm?

Your Song

I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind...

I just watched an episode of Veronica Mars, and Piz straight up kisses Veronica. My heart exploded, I'm actually effected by this. It so helplessly reminiscent of grade seven, when I'd listen to a love song and become so inspired that I would conclude I was in love with whoever, and that I should run to their house and tell them.

What I didn't realize, was that I would not have gotten the anticipated response. A grade seven boy who had just been told he's loved would likely not kiss me and hold me and vow to be my lover and protector. He's say, "Uhm... I think that's weird..." and canter awkwardly away.
Maybe one day, I'll grow up enough to properly estimate who will receive me as I expect.

I wonder if I'm the only one who feels like the world is so big and messy. It's bothering me, I feel congested. Maybe it's just this corner of my room - my tv was here before I rearranged things. Nothing makes sense... I'm just listening to Keane, thinking about how messy the world is. Messy and big. Man, it's sunny outside.

Addressed to the Rest

Okay boys, listen up.

You're all so interesting. I cannot address you by name, so I choose to take a blatantly artsy and vague approach and address you all as one entity. I've been weighed down lately by all colours of emotion - some positive, some negative, most foggy. It's time to get it out and pray that none of anybody ever forever knows who I'm talking about. Keep in mind, though, if you must attempt to decipher who I'm talking to and/or about: I have met many males. Some experiences may echo of others, so be hesitant to jump to conclusions. I may not be praising or razing who you think I am.

I absolutely cannot believe you. Something obviously happened, maybe some chemical reaction or misunderstood message, but I can't even describe this as anger. The only thing that's rippling through me as I think of you is a longing to understand what happened that made you forget - we were such good friends, you and I. I know nobody said 'forever' but it's such a shame that it turned out to be a silent lie. I guess you're just the same kind of person that I can be... And now I know how it feels, being so helpless and confused. But the people I do this to move on faster than I am right now.
And I love you. I know I've never been able to say it to your face because sometimes it's hard to look you in the eyes. I'm not sure exactly why, but it's just so personal. Looking into your eyes is the equivalent of kissing someone - it's a level of intimacy that I can't bear a lot of the time, knowing what I know. It was like falling, that time you held my hand.
I can't thank you enough for being such a jerk to me. I was young, and I should be mad at you for taking advantage of how impressionable and in love I was, but I won't. You were young, too, and I'd rather have you teach me by making me cry a few times than having someone else teach me by being the wrong husband. You were like a training ground, and though I still hold a fascination with you, I feel pity for you. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I feel like I've grown up since we were fourteen, but I can't confidently say the same of you. How can I know, though? I don't know you anymore anyways.
I want you back.. It's not logical or noble or respectable and I can't help but judge myself for being weak. I should reflect, renew, and move on. I should accept that the future is going to flood my life with new places, people... But here and now, I want to run to you. I want to kiss you and tell you how indispensable you are to my heart and life.
What's stopping me?
Time, distance, logic.
So instead, I'll write love letters to you that you will never read. I already have a drawer full, and I don't even know if you're curious. It wouldn't help either way. I won't be free of this until I want to be, I know that - and I'm conflicted because I do and I don't. Over the next little while I will completely change as a person, but I'll still be Sarah. I wonder if these little flags with your name on it will remain in my left ventricle or not... Right now, I don't want to fall out of it. So I'll just deal with the weight of keeping all of this to myself.

You know why?
A) Because it's best
B) Because you ignore me anyways, and
C) Because we haven't talked in three years.

This is why I'm such an angsty little girl.

Take Me To The Riot

So ridiculous... This is what I was afraid of.
I know I can't see or type straight
But
Whatever.
It's someone's birthday.
I love her.
I want a multigrain bun.
Grilled cheese mmm
Shoulders mmm

Sugar and Spice

Well, isn't this lovely?

I'm inclined to hope and believe that everything will seem calmer in the morning. However, at this precise moment, the silt at the bottom of this raging river is a bit blinding. What else is there to do but sleep, Sarah? Well, I can write, regardless of who reads.

Never did I think I would be on the other end of a Holden, having just begun resting after one confession. Never did I think I would have all of these ties to people to whom I thought I wouldn't... And it's like there are two strings between us, and I wanted to cut mine first, and am so insanely hurt that I didn't get to. Or maybe I'm just hurt that it was cut at all.
And then there's the judgment, and the roughness, and the clashing of heads and opinions and egos and my room is such a mess, which indicates that my heart is such a mess-
Honestly, the only thing I want right now is to incubate in a dream cocoon, where I can process everything I've cracked open and spilled out in the last few weeks. I want to integrate, compress after the expansion before I expand again. It's not useful to fill myself with projects, then get all messy with glitter and glue before breaking out the pipe cleaners.
It'll just be an even bigger mess.

How can I say these things to people? I don't want to be told what to do, where to go, what to say. I don't want to be spun by different people in different directions. Maybe that's why, so often, being left alone feels like the safest and best option. Because I am so frustrated with people telling me to do what they think is best - when all I want is love. That's it. I know that that will guide me to where and who I'm supposed to be.

Not selfish love. I am not to be taken or changed by anyone and I admit that I'm angry. Forgiveness flows through me, but my hackles are still raised. This isn't how this should be.

I want to start fresh, and I have faith that I will be granted that. Quite a few of the things I love have crumbled into barrier, pain and loss.

Where are you?

Prayer Flags

Life's kinda funny sometimes.
I feel the need to censor myself, like I've told someone I'm only one facet of myself, and it's necessary to play that role. It's like whittling myself into one shape, when I am not meant to be one little piece of pine. I'm meant to be entire, shapeshifting forests of light and colour.

I'm listening to that high-pitched ring that silence sometimes has. I'm listening to it and reminding myself that yes, this silence belongs to me, but it isn't everywhere. Sometimes I feel like this is the only room in the world that exists, I am the only person, and silence is the only sound.

In this city though, somewhere, someone is laughing. Someone is crying, someone is saying 'I love you', and someone is petting a cat. And, maybe, someone is thinking about me.

When I think about all the times I've sat in my room, in my silence, thinking about someone... It seems strange to me that they weren't aware of it. I guess it's impossible to tell how much someone actually dedicated their energy to you unless there's proof... That should be obvious, I guess. It would be, to most people who aren't philosofaded all the time.

Maybe I'll make a row of jars with Sanskrit names on them (to keep the names a secret) and put one of those little paper stars in the jar every time I think about that person. Some of the jars would be overflowing with those little stars, and I think that would be a good thing. I would only put a star in the jar if it were a loving thought, like the ones I have before I go to sleep, about hugging the ones I love. That's what comforts me. And imagine being someone, and being shown your own over flowing jar. I think that, depending on who you are, you'd either be creeped out or extremely touched. It depends what the other person is asking from you, I guess. There is no fear involved with love sans expectation. Just love.

Today was my last appointment with my favorite naturopath, and I'm a weird kind of sad. I'm very appreciative the experience, and it's not like I'm romantically disappointed (he's married and I've always known that)... Because it's not an orthodox crush. I suppose it was simply because I haven't known a man's energy like that before... And that's what I was attracted to. Maybe I find one someday that isn't already betrothed. That would be nice... I'm going to miss him.

I had a nap earlier, and had a dream about Logan Echolls from Veronica Mars. I don't know why he was in my head, since the two men I have a crushshshsh on from that show are Deputy Leo D'Amato and Troy Vandergraff (Sean Ashton mmm), and I'm sure it speaks to my bad-boy complex. Yes, it is there. After all these years, I'm still working through it in my subconscious. Wonderful. At least I'm processing it in my dreams instead of pursuing certain boys because I find disrespect sexy... I'm so glad I'm past that. I don't know why it takes so long for some women (myself included, though I'm sure the title of 'girl' is much more fitting) to realize that being treated like shit isn't exactly what you want in a relationship. There are better things, believe it or not.

Big sighs. I'm broke. Quite, actually, and it's a bit of a bummer. I would like a full time job so I can travel later in life... Or maybe I could take out a student loan and start school again. What direction do I head in, honestly? I do want to travel and gain life experience before I start heading in a certain career direction... I don't believe it would be wise to pick something without ever having traveled overseas. How can I expect to make a well-rounded and informed decision about my future if I've never left my hometown for more than seven days?

I'll talk to Claire and Rosemary. That'll be my starting point, but... In the meantime, I will fall into dreamy dreams.

Long Claws

You know what?
Maybe I'm done with being sad. Maybe, somewhere deep and secret, I'm still hurt, yes.
But I am done missing the people who don't miss me.
Why should I fight for you, huh? I have for so long, and gotten nothing. I'll move on, like you, and try not to care if you miss me later or not.

For the longest time, I've feared being alone, and was saddened by the fact that people kept subjecting me to solitude. Life carried them away from me on every level.

So I'll sit here, listening to the Shins and not wanting to see your smile. I would cuss at you if I thought it was how I actually felt, but this is a process. Sadness, to anger, to peace. I look forward to the peace bit, but for now I will move quickly.

Anklets and Angles

Tonight was good.
If I could change anything, though... it would be this urge to see Hannah Montana: The Movie because Lucas Till is in it. I don't know what it is with me, but I totally have a thing for Havok. In case you didn't realize, I saw XMen: First Class this evening. It was awesome.
I just can't shake these superhuman crushes. Oh well, I'm sure it'll subside in a day.

Errm.

Priscilla Ahn

Once I was a little girl, alone in my little world
Who dreamed of a little home for me
I played pretend between the trees,
And fed my house guests bark and leaves
And slept in my little bed of green.

I had a dream,
I could fly from the highest wing
I had a dream

Long walks in the dark,
Through woods grown behind the park
I ask God who I'm supposed to be
The stars smiled down on me
God answered in silent reverie
I said a prayer, and fell asleep

I had a dream,
I could fly from the highest wing
I had a dream

Today I don't feel heavy.
I still feel broken and weak, but I was able to smile today because I know this is simply a remodeling. He told me so himself. I have so many guardian angels. I have the tiger, dog, dragon and gargoyles who guard me as I sleep;
The archangel in my dreams who was trapped in a room with me - and every time he spoke to me, the agents killed him. But he kept coming back to listen.
The busker at the station who sang Bob Marley at exactly the right moment... My naturopath, the woman at Tim Hortons who called me sweetie.

Then there's one more. Don't doubt that you know who you are. You always know. You just don't want to admit it, Earth Angel.

I think it would do me some good to go dancing and sweat some of this stuff out... I just don't know if my heart can take it.

Thank you, God. I thought I had fallen back into a void, but I only now have realized that you've lifted me up... and it is the Earth that has fallen away from me.

Goodnight.

Cat's Eye

In my dreams, lately, I have been spending a lot of time crying and bleeding.

Last night I cut my thumb at a party, but the dark red blood was flowing and falling from my hand at a rate that scared me. My lifeblood could not be contained or supressed by the thin cloth of my shirt. I bled on the floor and on the people who were fighting to get me bandaged.

I cried, too. Someone, a girl, saw me as beautiful and brought me to a toy store that didn't exist as part of a celebration for her niece. The girl chose a stuffed rabbit. The image of her surrendering love to the toy made me burst into tears and run.

There was another dream, when a madman realized he had control over the elements - they obeyed because his heart was in harmony with them. He showed this to his friends, to their joy. Fellow 'superheroes'... and when someone came to him in fear, telling him what he was doing was wrong, he caged the man in twigs so he would calm.

So now - back in my body and somewhat exhausted from the sleeping, I laugh internally at myself. My hair is wavy and wild, my guards are down and I'm wearing a Snuggie improperly. I would like to get my blood tests done today, however I feel vulnerable. Though I want to be alone, I don't want to face a prodding needle without someone there. I'll stay home.
I don't want to see anyone today.

Backlight

I fell for you, and that's when I knew

The vision of your loveliness

I hope and I pray

That maybe someday

I'll be the vision of your happiness

This isn't how I wanted this to end, but I know this is the right thing. I'm so torn. And I could be talking about any one of quite a few things right now, but I think it applies to all of them. Tonight made me realize something, and it's that I shouldn't ever hastily assume I am done with something.

I thought I was done with the neck craning and coy laughing and flicking my eyes to and from you. Or the rise and fall in my chest. I had assumed I was all level-headed and hearted but I was quite wrong indeed... So wrong that I think I'm going to be sad tonight. No complaints either way, I'll just get a good sleep.

Wow, I am quite sad. I'm not too surprised. I don't think I should continue typing while this is bubbling up... I'll end up sounding frightfully melodramatic, and this is just a phase.

Bombarded

Everyone's growing up so fast
Use your big boy words, or you won't be heard
Noone pays any mind to the child of you in my memories.

Now you sport a rugged goatee
But I remember when you just loved to play frisbee
In that orange sweater of yours, in the park.
Do we lose the time for such frivolous games?
Or do our interests change?

I can't say I miss the insensitivity of a teenage boy, exploring his influence on girls
But you don't talk to me anymore and I wonder why
You weren't so careful with your words
And affection

Maybe it's better this way,
This time, this change
However I can't help but remember that day
I wore your friends sweater...
The jealousy in your voice was exhilarating when you said the words,
"Why is she wearing that? It's yours, right?"
And the sneer you gave the both of us.

I had no interest in his teen-boy musk,
but I found what I was looking for
When you e-mailed me later that day.

"I think I like you", it said.

2 Cups of Coffee

You can't have me.
And I don't say this in a defensive way or as though I'm drawing away in fear - I am noone's to have. I won't give myself to you to change, to break, to paint. I am naked in this world and I will not hide behind the clothes you tell me to wear.

I will not objectify myself.
You make me feel like I owe you something, like you deserve to touch me and look at me with those hungry eyes. You are disrespectful to me as a woman and as a person - you understand not what I am. I am not a toy or a vessel for you to unleash yourself. I will tame you with my stern words of the back of my hand should you step too near. I will not hesitate to defend what is mine and what is sacred.

I will not give myself to you.
Many a time my mind plays games and wants to take part of you in - but this leads me to redirect your pain into my heart. It is not my place to feel what is yours to feel, and it does not belong to me. It helps noone, what I do. Compassion is different than sympathy, and sympathy is only harmful when the emotions of others bleed into mine. I have barriers, and they are strengthening with each day.

I will not be quieted or stilled;
Now, more than ever, I choose to flourish and pad lightly through the streets of this world. There is so much to see, and so much waiting for me to touch it. I want to be one with these things. I want to travel, I want to write, I want to love.

I'm about to leave the nest.

Conan

I feel like I'm mourning a loss.
I can say that I suppose I am, but it is a healthy one, and before anyone jumps to any assumptions, I suppose I should explain.

I've been feeling quite heavily bombarded by my memories and energetic baggage. Particularly with the males that have been in my life - memories and precise details of our encounters will resurface and painful echoes will sound through my chest. It is in these moments that I realize I am not through with them. Though most of them are out of my life, or pay no mind to me, or even miss me terribly - I mourn them. That doesn't have to be a sad thing, however, for it is not my duty to carry them with me. These last few days, I've been reiterating my own boundaries as a person, and not primarily as an empath. Not to sound as though I don't care about people; I can be compassionate to the point of harming my own self, which, in the end, is not an adequate or appropriate practice for anyone. How can I continually help people if I am depleted?

There is a fine balance in cultivation and compassion. Now, I am (as always, it may seem) going through another period of transition. We did some practices at the workshop I went to that focused on clearing out energies of past lovers (even though 'lover' meant 'sexual partner', I still gained something from the experience) and it felt nice. The difficult part of where I am now, though, is that my energies are expanding and desiring and searching... Not for a counterpart, but for more clarity in myself.

The other day I couldn't get out of bed. It was a brief spell of depression, nothing to worry about, but I realized I didn't know how to be happy. I started asking myself, "What is the point? How do I do anything if I don't know what brings me joy?"
And a friend of mine answered, "You have to find out!"

So maybe that's what I'll search for. I'm trying not to write for the audience I know I have, because I don't want any of my opinions or experiences to be misconstrued or taken out of context... I am at a place right now where I feel strong. My expectations of the future have no control over me, and I am still doing some deep emotional work.

On top of all this, I am so grateful for all the love in my life. It's difficult, I find, to prune this plant. As much as it might be easier to let the plant grow wild and untamed, such growth cannot last. It is not sustainable. To trim here and there, and to tie it to a little stick, will cause the plant to grow healthy, and with a straight stem. My, I am so good at being vague... As the gardener in this metaphor of mine, I must accept the responsibility of cutting and clearing the parts that are out of control. As guilty as I may feel, I challenge myself to trust in my intuition. It has not misled me before. I know that I have the potential to be a graceful and loving groundskeeper, should I speak from my heart.

I wish love and light to anyone who reads this. Even in my darkest moments, I know there is light. This is the nature of duality and the paradox of life. It is sometimes from the muddiest ground that the most beautiful flowers blossom.

Ah, to be a petal on the wind.

Quasi-Chrystilline

"It's funny how the name can change, about the time you find you're sick of sayin' it."
-Eureka


Reality, whatever that world means to you, is unimaginible from inside these confines. I'm trying to speak of it in a way that will encompass it, envelope it. How is this possible? I find it difficult to swathe something in words as though I'm taking a step back to examine it. There is no space to step back into, while trying to describe infinity.

Everything and nothing matters. There is a hair tie to my left, and a phone to my right.
I am seemingly disconnected from them - they are not integral in my body and soul, and I do not require them to live out my divine trajectory on this plane.
Simultaneously, I am connected to them through potential.
I could easily reach to my left and interact with the hair tie - move my hand in a way that slides the object up, around my right wrist, so it is a part of what I choose to wear. If I were to select it, it could be a part of me, and I could use it to wind my hair up in a gathering on the back of my head. I would feel different. The tension on the roots of my hair would affect me physically.

I could reach to my right and grab the phone - punch the plastic buttons to access another person's words. Easily, I could connect with another soul in that way - verbally - through this tangible item.

So am I truly disconnected from them? One could argue that I am disconnected until I choose to integrate with them - I do not know for certain that this is the case. Is the potential a part of me, or is it a third party noun, entirely? I cannot say. I do not know.

Maybe I could argue, though, that this entire reality isn't made up of separate entities. That would mean that, if one dies off or ceases to exist, this reality is incomplete. Like a puzzle with a missing piece, this reality would be forever flawed.

Maybe it is only our bodies that cause us to label things, segregate things. If it were not for our cognitive processes, we would not decipher "hair tie" or "telephone". We would simply see shifting, fluid colours and shapes. We would not walk or talk or pick things up with our hands, but we, too, would exist as intangible. As solely spiritual, and not materialistic.

Though there are negative aspects to being such physical creatures, there is wisdom in us. Our bodies are vessels for tides of emotion and thought flow. We relate to each other with these bodies - they give us a solid home for all of our energies as we explore the world. It is a safe haven to protect our souls.

I'm a Wife in Watercolours

St. Vincent
Sondre Lerche
Johnny Stimson
Eddie Spaghetti
Davila 666
Boy & Bear
Architecture in Helsinki

NeoCitr-Ass

Just kidding, it's not that bad. Excuse my small injection of childishness.

My, I do have some issue relaxing, don't I? My brain constantly whirs, planning out the best and worst possible outcomes of a potential situation in which I might be in, possibly, some undetermined span of time. I try to keep the roots of my tree dug deep into the soil, I do, but the wind is strong and I am tempted by the shape shifters.

I know this feeling well - the "about to embark upon an adventure" thrill and fear. I feel this way about most parts of my life at the moment. It's hard, sometimes, to refrain from looking back, and I admit that I do steal a glimpse once in a while. I wonder if there's something wrong with the way my heart feels a tug at the memories I tried to forget.

ANGST

I cleaned the kitchen today. I was asked to, but I don't know if I was expected to do it. I wonder what it means. I wonder what it means that I put two tiny little braids in my hair and made an effort to dress myself in actual, presentable clothes (mind you they are all either men's and or second hand but fuck you it's a Zelda shirt). Something inside me is healthy. Something inside me is breathing and ready to wake up... After such a long incubation, there is only a thin film to break through. The timing, though, is important. I need to know I can fly.

It's exhilarating and frustrating at the same time, knowing that I am a bud, bursting to bloom, aching to flourish as the sun caresses my petals. It's such a sweet sensation when I've remained in the darkness for so long. Another rebirth is coming, I can feel it, and I pray I start to unfurl this very second.

I want to work. I want to make money and make people laugh. I want to write a book and write a play and write meaningful letters to leave on your porch as a nice, stalker-love-note.
I feel so much potential inside of me - I am struck by fear that this is projection, but I know that these possibilities are fluttering about my head in a crown of cosmic butterflies.

So. Much. Possibility.

I want to stay clear and clean so my inner intuitive and healer and warrior and all my different skins can breathe and speak to me when they need to. I want, I feel, I need, I hear.

Let's shine our shoes and get on with this wild ride.

Koala

It's funny, coming to the realization that I'm not over this. I thought I was, really.
But I had forgotten the voice and the inside jokes and the face.

Fucking seriously?

It's like something that was roughly patched on the left side of my ribcage was just blown wide open by a gust of icy wind. I'm not going to cry or anything, but fuck.
I am okay. I'm going to be even more okay but right now I still miss it.
I chalked the whole experience up to be something that wasn't too well-thought through and something that ended up hurting me... But it was no mistake.

Relentless Syllables

The words are shouting at me, they want to be let out!

I want to know your face, like the top of the trees know to stretch and touch the wind and sky.

I want to know the rumble of your voice as subtle vibrations in my bones

And I want to know the stimulus of your fingertips like the silt knows the current of a stream.

I have no idea who I'm writing to. I don't know if that really matters that much, though.

Wake Up Call

Waking up before noon isn't orthodox, while I'm unemployed. I have an interview on Saturday though, so maybe my unemployment won't last long. Maybe. If it goes well, which I hope it does. I think a video game store would be a bitchin' place to work - the perfect place for the little nerd in me to flourish and kick some ass.

Already my mind is racing ahead to maybe moving out (potentially also due to an emotionally-charged conversation I had with my mom yesterday) and getting a huge dog or whatever.
But they don't do so well in small apartments.

I don't know what I'll get up to today. I should probably eat, I'm getting cranky. I have plans at 7, but that might only take an hour or so... I don't even know, bro. We'll see where I go.

Answered

This is a repost of something I wrote a while ago. I think it's the "Mission Statement" I've been looking for. I was basically floating when I wrote this.

************************************************

I want to create you.
I want to mold you and mend you and focus on the intricate little threads that make up your multi-faceted and multi-functional beauty. I want to take pride and take part in the creation of your glory and the light it will shine on my brothers and sisters - I want to make you fun and free. I want you to be unstoppable and I want you to be happy and whole. I want to forget that I am your reason so that you may stand on your own and breathe your halo.

I want to love you.
I want to find you without looking for you, and I want to be knocked off my feet. I want to marvel at you and how you exploded from within my confining expectations. I want to blush at the things you say with and without your words. I want to feel the fire I've heard echoes of, bouncing off the walls of other peoples' lives. I want to think I'm ready and I want to realize I'm wrong when you're here. I hear you in my heart when I'm about to fall asleep, and I want you to hear the beacon I'm becoming for you. I want to celebrate with you. I want you to be my passion.

I want to transform you.
I want to love you as you are, first and foremost, and then turn you into what you ache to be. I want to remake you, remodel you so you resemble the whispers and dreams that flit about your sly smile. I want to focus on each square inch of skin and cubed inch of flesh and listen to what it wants to be. I want to make those tiny dreams come true.

I want to blow your minds.
I want to burst out of my cocoon in such a colorful flurry of life that you guys won't know what's hit you. I want to make you smile. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you think and feel and ache for more of life, more of experience, more of potential. I want to wake you up like a bucket of cold water. I want you to do the same to me without even realizing it. I want to connect and never disappear, because that's why we're here. We're together in this and that's the whole point. I want to meet you. I want to know you.

Let's light this fire.

Chlorine

It's more difficult to sleep with the sounds of life above and around you. It's difficult not to get frustrated, too, but it is not my place to stifle the trajectories of their will. I'll just stfu and write a post that hardly makes sense to those outside my brain. What else have I ever been known to do?

I don't know why I feel melancholy today. It's only mild. I could chalk it up to a lack of direction or drive, because I know that these things are present in my life right now... I could chalk it up to the fact that I want and fear something with equal energies, which causes a bit of a black hole... There are quite a few things that could account for this sunken feeling that, once again, makes me feel vulnerable.

I have no qualms with being so. I think that there are far too many people who resist the human state of vulnerability due to a paralyzing fear of being hurt, but, chances are, if you don't open up and expose a little bit of yourself to others, how can you be sure you're actually making a true connection? My point is that maybe it's worth it.

And I wish I could program my thoughts. They tend to run rampant, often far away into the future, and instead of listening to my heart (which tends to lead me to the places my mind foretells and gets super stoked about), it's like I go comatose in the present and travel far into the future, dancing in illusion. I wrote a little note about this kind of daydreaming on my iPod touch on the way to work. This weekend was a good weekend for writing, and I kind of snicker at the fact that I get these bursts of inspiration at the most inconvenient times. I've grown pretty used to it now (grown expectant of the unexpected?), so that may be why a lot of people are confused about how mellow I can be most of the time, and why I'm sensitive to pattern.

In my few months off school, when I didn't have a job (or basically any commitments whatsoever), I feel like I just sort of morphed into this half-human, half-sprite form. I wasn't hardened by any outside experience, but I danced and played in my little world of books and music and thought. I surrounded myself with friends, yes, but I found myself in my own company quite a bit of the time. I didn't mind it. And perhaps I knew myself better, then... Or knew that self better, anyhow. I'm pretty different now, and I'm sort of afraid I'm going to fall into another void.

It's not so scary, really. I've endured some pretty rough experiences in my "down-time" which may surprise some people. It's not really that easy to not do anything. If I don't have a schedule, or someplace to be or someone to meet, I'm virtually forced to take a closer look at myself. When I'm always on the go with work or thinking about school, my mind is preoccupied with the present and the future, but very rarely the past. In my reclusive times, it was the past that snuck through and sat with me on my couch as I stared, in a meditative state, at the ceiling.

Some of my most painful memories came and sat on my chest, making tears prick in my eyes. When that happens, there's nothing I can do but process them. It feels kind of nice, actually, when I'm finished. I basically relive it until I realize, "Yeah, that was stupid. That was a really dumb choice I made, but it led me to a better place in the end, and I'll never be that same brand of naive again." And it doesn't even seem so bad. Put in perspective, a lot of the worst moments of my life weren't as scarring as I thought they were... Embarrassment was always the predominant emotion in them. Fear wasn't. Insecurity, mostly.

Life happened, too, though to most people I'm sure it seemed like I was attempting to avoid it. "Just messin' around," I'm sure they thought. I have never done more personal or spiritual work than that time I spent alone. And maybe that's what I need to do again, now. I don't want to make a decision just yet - it's been barely two days since my lifestyle has changed again, and I haven't yet gotten into the flow of it. My life just sort of presents me with these opportunities or shuts down others that wouldn't be too beneficial. I guess the hardest part is knowing what to do when it seems like nothing is happening. Or, only one thing is happening, and due to the other voids in my life, I fixate. I do think I'm getting better, but my heart wants something, and my head tries to do the rest of me a favour by coming up with these elite plans and visions of what it would be like if my wish were to manifest... As I said before, this just leads to an endless loop of "What ifs" and "I wants" and "Why can'ts". And it sucks. Because I'm missing the awesome that's in the present.

I really do want to write a book. I've, of course, mentioned that I really want to write the next LotR books - the books that will have an enormous band of nerd followers. Keep in mind I use the word "nerd" not as an insult, but as a classification of a group of people who know how to let their minds explore. Star Wars was a hugely 'nerdy' film, but if you were to watch it with me, I could basically tell you from which religion a lot of the main quotes are from. It's a receivable parallel to spirituality that a lot of people have trouble interacting with because of the heavy stigma attached to it. It's strange to me, sometimes. Everything and nothing is strange to me. I feel like an alien.

Wow, I've written quite a bit more than I thought I would. I think I'd like someone to talk to, instead of exploding all of these feelings and whatnot into the internet. As an outlet, it's nice, but I want someone to share with. That's been one of my repeated daydreams or fantasies, if you will. Talks about the real and the honest and the simple, as well as talks of the surreal and the mysterious and the complicated. Then after that, I want to play some video games, make some food, and fall asleep.

It's such a tricky thing, vulnerability. As soon as I admit to myself that I'd like a companion, I am bombarded by fear and insecurity again. I used to not pay mind to social convention and rules about physical contact, I just let it flow. If someone needs comforting, give their shoulder a squeeze. If you want to communicate something without words, lean your head on their shoulder. Now it's as if I'm trying to calculate what would and wouldn't be acceptable - what would be intrusive or unwanted, and what would be well received. Is there any way to tell? I would have to sit down with every single person in my life and go over a computer-printed list of interactions with three boxes next to each. "Is hugging acceptable?" Then I'd have to check 'Yes', 'No', or 'Sometimes'.

Fuck 'No' and 'Sometimes', hugs are rad.

You see what I mean? Or, I could just chill the fuck out and let it flow. Intuition is a wonderful and powerful thing, if I'd just let it do it's thing instead of stifling it with my mind. Man, this is where all of this is coming from, isn't it? I think way too much. I'm so congested sometimes. I really think I might need a little while to tune back in. But how do I do that? And why am I already exhausted at the thought?

Because you're weary and caught up in the intellectual.

Yes, I know. But what do I do?

You just proved my point with the "I know". Why do you have to do anything?

My mother's voice is forever programmed into my spirit. I don't want to say head, because that doesn't even begin to cover the impact she's made on me.

Man, I really am a total hippie.