Part II

Well, that was fun.

Why is it such a pathetic thing to admit that you're vulnerable? Everyone feels that way, but I guess by stating that truth, it's exposing a weak spot. Well, I'm lonely. Some people are offended or disgusted by people who say these things, claiming they're whining for attention. I'm not whining for attention. I'm blogging because I just need a little love and I don't know what else to do. Who says I'm even asking for anything? Maybe I'm just expressing myself.

Obviously that's not the case, but you catch my drift. My heart hurts.

Mint Medley

Oh man, my heart is pounding so hard right now.
You have an opportunity to make me feel like such absolute crap - don't take it, please.

On one hand, I might be relieved if my suspicions are confirmed, though, because I can give up. Otherwise I stay on this highwire.

...yup. That's what I thought.

Fuck.

THIS IS ALL I WANT

Perspective

I don't care that I'm not super in love with a big awesome boyfriend.
I don't care that my future is scary and uncertain,
and I don't care that I'm lonely and I feel like shit.

Because, right now, I'm having so much fun posting incessant and excessive pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio on my tumblr.

That's right, check it out.

This Is So Secret

That I'm not even going to tell you what it is.
I think I'm sick.
That wasn't the secret.

But it's likely true.
Just like the secret.
Another secret? I want to change my name.
Another secret? I think I have a fever.
Another secret? I think I'm getting delirious.
Another secret? I forgot what I was gonna write as the answer to this one.
Another secret? I want to run away with the circus.
One last one?

Alright.



I'll tell you.



But you have to promise not to tell anyone.




And if you already know it, I don't owe you another one.

You're just going to have to be satisfied.

This is very personal.

And secret.

As secrets tend to be.




...I have always...

...secretly...

...wanted...
































to be free.

Fabulous Violence

You used to call me, 'lovely'.
Not some stranger.
And you used to feel the anguish I do now, every moment you weren't talking with me.

It is quite strange how things seem to spin counterclockwise.

When the distance was bearable, you missed me, but now it seems I'm been obliterated entirely from your light of sight... Of touch, of taste, of smell, of sound. It almost makes me want to laugh like a young, reckless girl... yet I am quieted by a deeper sense of understanding to come.

It seems I'm always being pulled away by time restraints. I dislike them, because they're the reason I lost you...

But seeing how things worked out, maybe it was a good thing I did. What is closure? It is an awkward and confusing chaos, wanting to hurt and heal. Kiss and kill, touch and harm.

Ah, yes... another paradox. Why am I even surprised?

Divine Timing

Today I woke up with but a vague outline of what I thought my day might look like, and a shadowy, intangible possibility. I opted to follow the latter and I believe it worked out rather beautifully, and I was undoubtedly backed up by the universal happenings. Or rather, I was given a brief glimpse of what could be to come, and I backed the universal happenings up (I wouldn't want to imply that I was leading in this little dance. I most definitely was not).

So my evening was wonderful.

Perhaps in this transition time and rebirth into a new person, I was looking for something - I've had fleeting images of exploring Vancouver and making new "hipster" friends, but branching off doesn't have to be so complicated and foreign. It can simply be following up on a long-since-laid plan and having a frickin' blast. These things, these meetings, all happen for a reason. Today's been extremely synchronized. From the purchase of my book (The Book of AWESOME) that I reluctantly decided against buying in the first store, but then found at 25% off at Shopper's Drug Mart) to the falling through of and filling in of social engagements.

I found out I like hockey, and coffee, and swearing, and John Lennon, and being inspired, and family, and people I can really talk to. Real people I can dance and laugh and eat with, and we get it. I really am thankful my life has taken such a recent, drastic turn. It wasn't smooth if you look too closely at it, but if you take a couple steps back, it all makes sense. It falls into place eventually, and next thing you know, you're at peace. You're at home.

Goodnight for now.

Rest

I am so tired. Not even, though. I'm expanding and contracting and it feels like I'm stretching but I can't stretch the antsies out of my muscles. Except instead of my muscles it's my spirit. I'm guessing it may have something to do with the full moon, and instead of being restless in the sense of wanting to run and dance and exert myself physically, all I want is to watch meaningless television shows or mediocre movies with a warm arm draped around my shoulders.

It has to be the right one, though. And at this point, there's only one that would feel 'right'.
I'm going to make a photo diary one day, and it's going to be explicit. I was thinking of making it into a legitimate project for reals. Also I want to maybe publish this blog someday... I'm not quite sure who would buy it, though. And a lot of it's really vague.

Anyways, gotta go - computer's dying.
I love you.

Pearls

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.

Red Wine? PSYCH IT'S CRANBERRY JOOS

Hi. I've gotta go to bed in more or less an hour ago, but what the eff, I feel like frolicking. Playfighting. Laughing. General revelry. Where do I find such things?

Big Bear

It's easy to forget just how hard it was to get here, or there, or wherever you are. So easy to forget how cold it was when you're warm, and how much it hurt before you were healed. Or numbed. Or happy. Sitting on a bus at 1:30AM, and I was wondering about your dreams. What little subconscious playground you might have been exploring. I wondered if you were snoring or hugging a second pillow to your rising and falling chest. If you were sighing in your sleep or drooling or mumbling. Then, walking down the hill, I marveled at the city lights. How something so "unnatural" can be so strikingly beautiful. It makes me reevaluate my definition of beautiful, and then my definition becomes, "Quit looking for the soul in the word in your head, and look for the soul in front of you." The beauty isn't in the way my logical ego attacks my feelings with negativity and reprimand. It's in the way the streetlights make the moist pavement shine and light my way home. My heart is whole. Searching for something, so I need to reel it back into me from time to time, but it is whole. Perhaps they mend seamlessly. Perhaps there is a seam, but that doesn't translate into "damaged" for me. There was that boy, two days ago, that inspired me. He inspired me with the instruments and colour and flower and his aura. It was almost as bright as his sweater, and it made my heart grin. I felt akin to him, for whatever reason. He was so into the flow of things, so connected. And I'll never see him again, but I bought a tie-dye shirt today, along with some other coloured clothes. He had a part in that, this inspiration to break free of gray. Goodnight. I'm tired from not dancing and feeling insecure.

Sweat

So this morning, I woke up and, before going on Facebook, went for a run.
It was pretty cool, smiling at the sun and feeling no traces of sadness whatsoever. For a while I was pushing myself to feel better and experiencing agony that I couldn't feel happy. I thought something was wrong. But it's not, and it can't be. Every little slip and stumble in my life has been so perfectly choreographed that I've done nothing but fall into a pile of feathers or a pair of arms... So it's going to be okay.

I feel like I'm going to faint any second, and that might just be because of the exercise. My whole body's very confused at that long-lost concept. I want to start going to the gym. Not that I have any bodily insecurities (Oh my gosh if I hear one more girl complain about how fat she is, unless she's sitting in one of those motorized scooters, I am going to flip a table of skinny girls), because I don't. I think that if you can use it to walk, you can use it to dance, and you can use it to laugh, your body is fine. Sexy, in fact. I think I may have derailed myself here...

I'd like to be able to dance for considerable periods of time, entirely enthusiastic, without my lungs or legs protesting. I'd like to be able to bike up a slight incline. I'd like to be able to vault things and jump things and climb things like my boy friends (no, not boyfriends, "boy-friends").
It's all just a matter of opening up a certain area of possibilities that my current physical state won't really support. Oh, and I want to learn how to longboard.

So many things, so little time... Well, not really. HULLO, SUMMER...
I think I'm going to have a shower pretty quickly. It's been a while.
Delicious.

Parallels

I want to write a novel. I know that I can, and I know that I have a bunch of stories and worlds and messages swirling around in my heart that I want to get printed on paper. So badly. I want to be the next Madeleine L'Engle, the next J.R.R Tolkien, the next J.K Rowling or C.S Lewis. I want some people to read my book and think I'm absolutely bonkers or on some kind of radical hallucinogen, and I want other people to read it and really get it on every level. I want my grandma to read it and say what she said about Harry Potter; "She was on drugs." How do I write this sort of thing? How do I write such an inwardly intricate, outwardly adventurous book? I want the next generation of "nerds" to be because of my book. I want people to say, "You read S. E. Thompson's book instead of going to the party?! What a loser." I want to have as many spiritual parallels as Star Wars. I want everyone to fall in love with my main character, but not in an Edward Cullen way. In an, "I feel strangely akin to this fictional character" way, the same kind of thing that makes you feel sad when the story's through, but you go on with your life with them following you in your mind, constantly reassuring you. "C'mon, you can totally write this math test. If I can fight a dragon with a kitchen knife, you can write this math test." And then the little nerd kid will puff up their chest and friggin' WRITE IT. Anyways, I have a bunch of stuff I want to do today, before I go to work. So I guess I'll talk to you later. I am both glad and somewhat nervous that this passion of mine has surfaced after incubating in my heart for a time. Now I am eager to write and succeed, but I can just tell that there will be more self-exploration in the writing process than I can fortell. And sometimes, that gets messy. I don't even care, though. Let's do this thing.

Things I'm Happy About

A 5.5H shift today that I don't have to leave for until 3

A dinner at Denny's to celebrate the birthday of my best friend

Seeing a big chunk of the people I love on a weeknight, which I don't normally get to do

The cat on my lap, who knew exactly where to sit to comfort my cramps

Beautiful dreams of a beach: running so fast that I could jump and fly for a second, before falling like a piece of paper into a group of gulls, who caught me with their beating wings

This video

Having the time to draw because I made a hasty decision I was confident in

Not knowing what the day will bring

Food

***********

Veiled Coincidences

I like waking up an hour and a half before my alarm goes off, realizing I won't be able to make it to work. Now, that could be played off as sarcasm, and despite my initial intent for it to be so, maybe it's not.

Maybe it's not so bad, being lazy and in pain. Especially when the pain is comparatively gentle and it leads me to wonder what's different. What allows me to be so free now, instead of having to endure the oh so familiar fight-and-release that happens each time? Perhaps it was a prayer I said yesterday. I pray each time, true, but I believe I've worked my way up to meaning it with every part of my physical and spiritual body when I ask. Yes I'm still achy and have to take it easy, but of course this is going to cause some discomfort... I'm not yet at a place when I can be constant and stable in my emotions and physical states. I'll get there, I can feel it on the horizon.

Now, the Latin word 'Alia' has been presented to my eyes twice today. It was interesting that my first encounter with it, this morning, was when I was searching for it in my mind. It was hiding somewhere in the back and I had half of it in front of me, yet it wouldn't materialize in my consciousness. Then, it was said to me, and I felt disappointed that I hadn't been able to dig it out of my memory in the first place. Thinking little of this, I went upstairs to the computer. Next to which I see a piece of paper with a list of names on it - the first being "Valerie Alia".

Interesting. Returning downstairs to my rehabilitation nest, I drew the word next to a tree of what may have been like a bunch of natural electrical wire, if that makes sense. Vines with a potent life force running through, was what I had in mind... Then, I read 1 Corinthians, equipped with my coloured pens. Another thing that came to my attention - as I was attempting to write "Valerie" (and even again, this second time) I accidentally (hah) wrote "Valeria" which is the name of my next door neighbour. She's elderly and Italian, I believe, and I always notice her pacing on the sidewalk in front of her house, accompanied by her cat (who, actually, had a spat with my own through the window this morning).

Intriguing, indeed. I'd always sort of felt called to make some sort of connection with her, but I am timid to present myself to her without a purpose. Perhaps I'll leave her flowers or something, but you mustn't tell her it's me... I also must refrain from sympathizing with the assumptions I make about her. I assume she must be lonely, and thus, sad, but who am I to make those judgements? Perhaps she has found all the things I'm looking for and found all the things I don't even know I'm looking for yet. Perhaps she's more fulfilled than I will ever be, and is simply pacing the sidewalk with her cat, blessing every little thing she sees. When I started writing this post, I was writing with a question... I think I've just tapped out an answer, too. Don't you love it when that happens?
Tulips. I'll leave tulips and a string of painted chesnuts.

Foundation

My heart knows better than to worry. FEELS better than to worry.
Que sera, sera. Soon this will all simply be but a blip of memory, flawlessly integrated.

I've Been So Blue

Part One.

The living room seems dark, but not empty. All of the people and love and shouts and celebrations linger, but you'd never even know. It all just looks like hardwood, trinkets and loveseat. You don't know who has sat there, or what they've meant to the clumsiness in the kitchen. You don't know the sheer volume of love in that room the day the streamers went up and the giftwrap came off. I feel like I want to document these beautiful things, and keep them somewhere so I can always remember and value them.

But then they'd lose some of the magic, wouldn't they? These lovely things are so fleeting and delicate, and we shed tears for them. We cry over losses and feel such pain and anguish when those tiny moments of our lives dance from us, through time. But look at yourself. Who are you now versus who you were then? Are you not entirely changed? Has the magic and the love and the happiness, along with the fear and anger and regret changed you? I am different now. I am closer.

And maybe hope seems like such an unfriendly concept to me because it inspires letting go. And it feels so good to finally relax that clenched fist and flow with the river instead of fighting it... Yet I find myself not wanting to. In letting go, am I losing you? Am I losing what could be?

OH MISS MAGNOOOOLIAAAAHHHHHHHH
I sincerely hope today doesn't kick my ass because that's been happening a lot lately

Empty Jars

Oh.
That's why.
Well what the fuck