Sunday, October 19, 2014

In Continuation

It's been a while since you occupied significant real estate in my brain. My life now is dissimilar enough from my life then that I can make it through my day without having to retrace any steps I previously walked with you. I realize as I type that that it isn't actually true. There's the dinky print lab I work in, where you would come visit and mouth anatomy terms to yourself, reaching over silently to touch my hand without breaking eye contact or concentration on your lecture notes. I eat lunch at the food cart on 4th that we would go to and order chicken Pad Thai to split (I throw away the leftovers now). I sleep, easily and alone, in my bed. You used to be inseparable from these places, but now I go about my life and my habit of checking my chopsticks for splinters is mine, even though it used to be yours. I open the lab in the mornings without remembering our stolen make-out sessions when the room emptied. My pillows, they're just my pillows, I don't even remember what it feels like to have to share them.

It's been a while since I have laid awake, wondering what someone wonders and where they've been and how their arms feel. I used to fall in love a dozen times daily and smile warmly to myself when I saw couples kissing in the park. It's not quite that cute to me anymore. I tell myself there are other people in the world that will make me feel some version of what I felt with you, but so far you're the only one, and I'm forgetting you.

I haven't been hurt lately, but I haven't felt much else, either.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Hello my old heart, how have you been?

In due time, I'll write about the happenings of this past (most ridiculous/ wonderful) weekend. But for now, this song is consuming my every thought.





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Hello, my old heart 
How have you been? 
Are you still there inside my chest? 
I've been so worried 
You've been so still 
Barely beating at all 

Oh, don't leave me here alone 
Don't tell me that we've grown for having loved a little while 
Oh, I don't want to be alone 
I want to find a home and I want to share it with you 

Hello, my old heart 
It's been so long 
Since I've given you away 
And every day I add another stone 
To the walls I built around you 
To keep you safe 

Hello, my old heart 
How have you been? 
How is it, being locked away? 
Don't you worry 
In there, you're safe 
And it's true you'll never beat, but you'll never break 

Because nothing lasts forever 
Some things aren't meant to be 
But you'll never find the answers 
Until you set your old heart free

Friday, October 3, 2014

somewhere between then and now

Today is October third*. I walked outside at 9 am barefoot in running shorts and the air was warmer than my skin. I had bed head for the record books and a warm breeze caught the edge of my over-sized pajama shirt and it flapped against my braless body and I laughed for no reason other than it warranted more than a smile. At this time last year, I was throwing myself the pity party of the decade. I was staying in bed all day because the weather was too rainy and cold and symbolic of my mindset for me to handle. I thought about my future in terms of what (who) would not be present in it, instead of what I had the power to bring in to it.

This period – the past days, week, month – have been a song of redemption. I was prepared to handle the grumpy weather with high spirits, instead I'm eating lunch daily in the park, sweating in the sunshine, wondering (along with the rest of the city) if it's possible this Indian summer will just stretch on indefinitely, jump right over Christmas, keep us sunshiney-warm and bright all year. Right now, it feels possible.

I have found contentment in a truer way than I ever knew I could. I spent a year investing in myself and my family and my friendships more than I ever have, and now I'm just drowning in the simplest satisfaction. Somewhere between then and now, I found myself and holy shit, am I high on life. Anxiety has given way to understanding, acceptance, and trust in myself to take care of myself. My disposition is a creamy iced coffee, my life is a poem, my eyes are flowers, the world is a french-kiss between beauty and opportunity.

I dreamt a trail up to the sky
And my brothers built propellers
Just to see how far they'd fly













*I'm not logging in to Facebook today because I can't handle the eleventh-annual mass-posting of the Mean Girls meme. 


Friday, September 5, 2014

Shady's back.

I call myself the Brett Favre of blogging. I call myself that because nobody else will, because nobody cares about me as much as I do. I'm twenty-one now, and this blog that started as a joke in the library with my friend Kaidden when I was nineteen (I haven't seen you in forever, Kaidden. Do you still read this? I miss you. I'm going to call you. Or at least snap chat you soon. This is love in the digital age, babe.) is now somewhat of an archive of some of my most embarrassing/ pathetic/ important/ wonderful thoughts in my time since that day. I've fallen off the horse, so to speak, because I was a perfect storm of lazy and embarrassed and uninteresting for a few months there. However, I've been feeling the urge to make sense of my thoughts through writing lately, and so I've decided to come out of retirement. Maybe, we will see. Also I'm just trying to be Maggie, but so is everyone else.

I spend a lot of time memorizing quotes by dead people

Here's a half-constructed thought that apparently got cut off in the interest of getting drunk while wearing a shirt that said "MARIJUANA" on it in Puff Paint. I figured I'd press publish tonight so we can all collectively wonder where the hell I was going with this.

------------------------------
Oct 31 2013:

I've been thinking a lot lately about things I spend time doing that I don't like to do. Allow me to over-explain:

Last year, I took a letterpress workshop and when we had to choose a short quote or saying to typeset and print, I chose the quote "If you don't like what you're doing, then don't do it" by Ray Bradbury. At the time, it seemed so relevant and obvious and duh and I liked it a lot, because I felt it rang true on many different levels. There's the obvious: if you don't like that you are biting your nails, stop biting them. If you don't like studying business, then study something else. Seize your own happiness, conduct your own train of life, a third metaphor about a boat or something, etc. Then there is the next level of meaning, which is about morality: If you disagree with something that you are doing, if something feels wrong, if you don't like it, then stop doing it. If it feels wrong to lie to your parents, stop doing it. I believe whole-heartedly in this, which reminds me of another quote, by Abraham Lincoln: "When I do good, I feel good, and when I do bad, I feel bad, and that's my religion."

(Of course, these are all quotes I've heard from professors or teachers or you know, the internet, so who knows if these old dead guys actually said these things. The Ray Bradbury one, actually, I have confidence in because, you know, he wrote it in a book.)

I digress:
I do a lot of things I don't want to do. I also do a lot of things that I shouldn't do because I want to.  Obviously, there is not a single person in the world who never does a single thing they don't want to do. Even RiFF RAFF has to go to the dentist sometimes!

I just realized how terrible of an example that was because RiFF RAFF has gold teeth. Excuse my absent-mindedness, I am going as lil Debbie for halloween tonight and I guess I just have Jody on the brain.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Wow this girl sucks.

Maybe it's a bit forward to post this on a blog that I know at least three people read (baby steps, ya'll).  But I'm going to do it anyway, for a lot of reasons.  Because this blog is ultimately for myself, not to entertain those of you nice enough to care what I have to say.  Because I think that sometimes people assume I'm all cat pictures (true) and jokes (not true). Because the truth is, I have felt terrible before and I have felt like things would never get better and every single time I've felt that way, I've gotten better. I wrote this at one of those times, and I'm posting it now, when I'm better, to remind future, broken me that I'll be okay.  I wrote this to try and convince myself I was better, which I clearly wasn't because I sat down and wrote this thing that an okay person wouldn't write.  So I'm writing now, as an okay person, as a sort-of jklol you weren't really but you will be see? Hope.

I feel embarrassed and unsure about publicizing just how dramatic I was, because truthfully a lot of people probably know exactly what (whom) this is about.  I just want to clarify that another one of my reasons is that I want it to not be a thing to share actual feelings and emotions.  People feel things and experience things and sometimes, it does a lot more to share the meaningful, embarrassing, sad, sad, sad things than it does to share cat pictures. I guess what I'm trying to say is I've always been impressed by those I-don't-need-no-man-(or-romantic-partner-of-any-gender-identity) women (people? should I carry on with the political correctness?) and sometimes I try to pretend I am one. But usually… and it is absolutely KILLING me to admit this right now, it's that embarrassing for me… actually, almost always I have a love interest. And the only way I've ever successfully gotten over a love interest is when the next one comes in to the picture. I'm working on it, I swear, but right now, as my feelings are feelin' pretty tender in the wake of my most recent disappointment, it's nice to know how thoroughly OVER the very unimpressive individual I wrote this about originally. It's also a nice kick in the butt to stop being sad because BLECH who wants to read/ listen to that bullshit? Barf, honestly. Baaaaarff. Without further ado, I present Debbie from the past's saga of love and loss (it's not really a saga just saying and also sorry because this definitely qualifies as further ado.):


"I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am getting better. I can come home, and lay down, and fall asleep happy even though you don’t want me. 

Still, I miss you… at least, I think that’s the right word. There should be another one that means I think about what we had and I am sad, but I don’t think I would go back. I see the light and I am pedaling fiercely toward the day where you won’t cross my mind, even once, good or bad.  I want you to be a part of my life, and I want to remember the good things fondly, but I would love one day where I don’t feel in my chest for a few seconds like someone has placed hot tea precariously close to the side of the table and I am reaching for it and realizing half-way through that it will be me reaching to save it that will knock it over. And then either the hot steam or just the embarrassment burns my eyes and I have to blink a little bit more so nobody knows I’m thinking about you. I’m not supposed to, I’m not allowed to. But your shoulders, they’re hard to forget. And the hopeless love I fell in to, it’s not wearing away so easily. 

Sometimes, I avoid remembering even the happy things because I can’t help but think that you were faking it the whole time, too nice to tell me to stop following you around all the time.  Other times, I look at all of the pictures I’ve taken of you. At the zoo, riding your bike, eating sandwiches, walking in the park blocks… there are too many. And then, I look at the two pictures I have of us together, both forced. And I realize that’s a pretty good metaphor for what our relationship was, because I know you don’t have any pictures of me."

Thursday, December 12, 2013

What Fall Quarter Has Taught Me/ Why I Am Trying to Be More Like The Sun

Sunrises are better than sunsets.

It's a choice to witness the beginning of a new day, a luxury that laziness has robbed me of most of my life. I saw more sunrises in the past ten weeks than I have ever in my life. In the beginning of October I moaned and groaned at the cold dark of my room when the alarm went off at 6. It's unnatural, I whined, to force my eyes open when there's nothing to see. But I grew a sense of camaraderie with the sun, who showed up proud and unafraid each morning and didn't even get to sleep until 9 on Wednesdays and Fridays, like I did.

Sunrises have a way of filling the whole sky, from east to west and up, up, up... in a way sunsets could never dream. A sunrise illuminates every window, puddle and dreary morning eye with the fluffiest, most accepting light. The sun always shines its very best light for those who chose to wake up first and witness it. A good sunrise sets the stage for a good day. Seeing the orange-pink-purple reflections on the river as my bus crosses the Hawthorne Bridge has caused me to reconsider my own pessimism on more than one occasion. Despite all that I've read and researched and been taught to cause me to believe otherwise, I find it hard to argue with the fact that sunrises are sometimes excessively, unnecessarily, heart-wrenchingly beautiful; that each day starts anew with the loveliest warmth on even the coldest days for a reason, and that it isn't all for naught, and that maybe I should give it all a bit more of myself. Everything. Every relationship and interaction and class and mindless project deserves more than I'm giving it, the Universe deserves a bigger slice of my consciousness, you know? I see the tiny purple cars crossing the giant purple bridge silhouetted against an orange-yellow-red layered parfait of a sunrise, and suddenly everything seems to have a bit more meaning behind it.

Sunrises are better than sunsets because they begin a day that could be any day at all, a day that could change the course of my week or year or life, or a day that I happen across $5 and have coffee with an old friend and it's unseasonably warm. Sunsets end days that have already happened, that are set in stone in their mediocrity and unimportance... and even the good ones, with the coffee and the smiles and the warmth, they probably started with a way better sunrise.

Sunrises start in the dark and end in the light. Sunsets mean you have to close your book and wrap your scarf a bit tighter and start thinking about tomorrow... but with a sunrise, today is just barely still tomorrow, right now, yet to happen and happening all at once.