the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
trying to make sense of it all ~ September 16, 2004 - 2:18 a.m. it's hard to say why i can't seem to bring myself to write. not here, not anywhere. I don't really know how to understand where i'm at lately. it's difficult to feel so utterly ordinary. i go to my job. i pay my bills. i check out a lot of movies from the library. i flirt with a boy who will never take me up on it. i clean my room. i scrub out the bathtub. i get in my car and drive, and drive. i know that i am much more than this. and yet i don't know what to do with it, here in this place. i have more than a moment of wondering what the hell it is i'm doing here. but then i always remember. i'm spending time with my parents, who i deeply enjoy these days. making sure that i won't feel i missed out on them when i finally do lose them. the way we all do, in the end. i'm being with my nephews as they grow big and strong and smart and wild. i'm being with my sister, in good times and bad. i'm being with karina, in ways i couldn't be when she was caring for her dying lover. i'm living in a beautiful old house i can afford, and knowing that i'm home. home in a way i haven't been in years. i'm learning how to deal with money the way grownups do, without missing payments or overdrawing my account. i'm paying back my mother. i'm getting access to doctors and trying to get myself well again, finally. i'm learning what it means to live in a city that knows me too well. i'm learning to talk to people who don't understand a word i say. and i'm attempting to learn how to thrive, here in this place which doesn't nourish my spirit. remembering that it's here, after all, i came from. for better or for worse. what it means to have roots. all of this i know. and also, that i don't belong here. that i never have. and that bafflement is somewhere at the heart of it, too. eight years old, in a summertime thunderstorm, running and jumping and laughing ecstatically the way i did, i found myself dropping to my knees in the alley and pleading with spirits of light and life as i called them even then, tears streaming with the rain down my face. take me back, i cried, take me back, i don't belong here. and yet here i am. by choice, even. there is work i have come here to do. and yet it is all i can do to write. even this, even here. so much inside of me, and all i can seem to do is be here, in this place. put one foot in front of the other. and try to make sense of it all.
(((rings))) |