i know i mentioned this before....but i love me some metric. enjoy.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
....
That everything's inevitable.
That fate is whatever has already happened.
The brain, which is as elemental, as sane, as the rest of the processing universe is.
In this world, I am the surest thing.
Scrunched-up arms, folded legs, lovely destitute eyes.
Please insert your spare coins.
I am filling them up.
Please insert your spare vision, your vigor, your vim.
But yet, I am a vatic one.
As vatic as the Vatican.
In the temper and the tantrum, in the well-kept arboretum
I am waiting, like an animal,
For poetry.
-Katy Lederer
That fate is whatever has already happened.
The brain, which is as elemental, as sane, as the rest of the processing universe is.
In this world, I am the surest thing.
Scrunched-up arms, folded legs, lovely destitute eyes.
Please insert your spare coins.
I am filling them up.
Please insert your spare vision, your vigor, your vim.
But yet, I am a vatic one.
As vatic as the Vatican.
In the temper and the tantrum, in the well-kept arboretum
I am waiting, like an animal,
For poetry.
-Katy Lederer
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
somewhere on a wednesday
there was a loose string on her sweater. she tugged it free and slowly wrapped it around her finger. around and around. tightly. she watched her fingertip turn purple. released the little thread tourniquet and watched the color spread back to peachy. she did it again.
at least i have blood in my veins, she thought.
earlier, when she was in the shower she noticed that her tears got lost in the gentle spray of water. they were the same tepid temperature. it was like they weren't there at all...so really, what was the point.
when she drives she has the urge to quickly turn the wheel into the center median. she imagines her car cartwheeling down the empty freeway. she wonders if she would lose consciousness immediately or would she feel each flip, each crunch, each break. she imagines it being silent. like the silence that follows fire alarms and gunshots.
she has lost track of time again. she only notices because a stranger asks for the hour.
it is now, she thinks. no wait.....now, it is now. but, no....that was then. she wonders if she could sit in one spot and count each second of the day. then she would be aware of each present moment. announcing it and therefore living in the now. is that how it is done?
the guy at the counter likes her hair, her eyes, her skin. but she thinks he probably only likes her because she isn't his. they always like everything until they have it. such a cruel fact, she thinks. we never want what we have.
she will never have anything so she loves everyone....or is it she will never love anyone so she can have everything? she can never remember which. but she is sure it is the answer.
she walks on the grass. how long has it been the same season? there are eleven birds in one tree. next to the bird tree is the plum tree in full bloom. tiny white flower pompoms that smell of honey. they weren't there yesterday. suddenly and unexpectedly, she laughs. how quietly everything can change. she hopes to be as sneaky as the plum tree.
at least i have blood in my veins, she thought.
earlier, when she was in the shower she noticed that her tears got lost in the gentle spray of water. they were the same tepid temperature. it was like they weren't there at all...so really, what was the point.
when she drives she has the urge to quickly turn the wheel into the center median. she imagines her car cartwheeling down the empty freeway. she wonders if she would lose consciousness immediately or would she feel each flip, each crunch, each break. she imagines it being silent. like the silence that follows fire alarms and gunshots.
she has lost track of time again. she only notices because a stranger asks for the hour.
it is now, she thinks. no wait.....now, it is now. but, no....that was then. she wonders if she could sit in one spot and count each second of the day. then she would be aware of each present moment. announcing it and therefore living in the now. is that how it is done?
the guy at the counter likes her hair, her eyes, her skin. but she thinks he probably only likes her because she isn't his. they always like everything until they have it. such a cruel fact, she thinks. we never want what we have.
she will never have anything so she loves everyone....or is it she will never love anyone so she can have everything? she can never remember which. but she is sure it is the answer.
she walks on the grass. how long has it been the same season? there are eleven birds in one tree. next to the bird tree is the plum tree in full bloom. tiny white flower pompoms that smell of honey. they weren't there yesterday. suddenly and unexpectedly, she laughs. how quietly everything can change. she hopes to be as sneaky as the plum tree.
Monday, April 27, 2009
the struggle
Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
-Iris Murdoch
i once compared believing in love to believing in god.
believing in something you can't really see. can't really prove. you have all these books, all this art, poems, novels. so many words to explain something that, in the end, is a concept you either believe in, or don't. you either feel it, or don't.
i remember wondering what love would feel like. would i know? is it obvious? will i hear music?
is it like how you know when an egg is boiled or how long to knead dough? will i just know?
it can be that simple, but it isn't. yes i just knew, but doubts are everywhere. yes, it is perfect, but in all it's flaws.
is that it? is it an evolving concept? does love mean one thing now, a different thing then, and something else tomorrow?
i watch my child capture bug after bug. she names them and secures them in jars. loves them and talks about them endlessly. one by one they die, she dumps them in the yard and she finds a new one.
not to sound bleak, but, is it just in our human nature to love and destroy and repeat?
is the trick in marriage to love, crash, cry, re-evaluate, psycho-analyze, love, crash, repeat?
i know there are no answers and i know the important thing is simply the want. the discussion. the value. the believing.
also....
i think about this a lot: in this culture we don't like any weakness. we do not talk about the ugly side of everything beautiful. and it is there!! i remember being pregnant and saying "no one ever tells you this part!".....because no one does. we talk about our perfect lives, our perfect children and our wonderful marriages. but nothing is ever easy and perfect! sometimes i post very honest things on here...and it is hard. it exposes those unwanted feelings...the vulnerability of being (gasp) flawed, weak, unsure, imperfect. but, i do it because i feel it is important to acknowledge the struggle. and anyone who tells me they don't struggle....is lying....or i need to be on the drug they are on.
-Iris Murdoch
i once compared believing in love to believing in god.
believing in something you can't really see. can't really prove. you have all these books, all this art, poems, novels. so many words to explain something that, in the end, is a concept you either believe in, or don't. you either feel it, or don't.
i remember wondering what love would feel like. would i know? is it obvious? will i hear music?
is it like how you know when an egg is boiled or how long to knead dough? will i just know?
it can be that simple, but it isn't. yes i just knew, but doubts are everywhere. yes, it is perfect, but in all it's flaws.
is that it? is it an evolving concept? does love mean one thing now, a different thing then, and something else tomorrow?
i watch my child capture bug after bug. she names them and secures them in jars. loves them and talks about them endlessly. one by one they die, she dumps them in the yard and she finds a new one.
not to sound bleak, but, is it just in our human nature to love and destroy and repeat?
is the trick in marriage to love, crash, cry, re-evaluate, psycho-analyze, love, crash, repeat?
i know there are no answers and i know the important thing is simply the want. the discussion. the value. the believing.
also....
i think about this a lot: in this culture we don't like any weakness. we do not talk about the ugly side of everything beautiful. and it is there!! i remember being pregnant and saying "no one ever tells you this part!".....because no one does. we talk about our perfect lives, our perfect children and our wonderful marriages. but nothing is ever easy and perfect! sometimes i post very honest things on here...and it is hard. it exposes those unwanted feelings...the vulnerability of being (gasp) flawed, weak, unsure, imperfect. but, i do it because i feel it is important to acknowledge the struggle. and anyone who tells me they don't struggle....is lying....or i need to be on the drug they are on.
sew cool
i sew want this. i would sew love it. it is sew super rad awesome.
i sew wish i knew how to sew.
i wish this sewing machine came with a grandma to give me little loving instructions. i wish i could special order a grandma. she would also know how to knit. and she would be very patient with me. and she would call me "dear" and "sweetie" and we would bake things like bread and casseroles and bundt cakes. we would quilt and talk about love and life and how time changes everything. we would drink tea every afternoon and she would speak in phrases like "when life gives you lemons...." or "what doesn't kill you...." or "you just got to roll with the....." and i would say "oh grandma" and roll my eyes like she is so out of touch. but then i would realize that life really can be simplified into phrases. i would appreciate my special order grandma and all her little sayings. she is like a prophet. she would tell me that a good stew and a stiff drink can fix any marital troubles.
that would be sew cool.
i sew wish i knew how to sew.
i wish this sewing machine came with a grandma to give me little loving instructions. i wish i could special order a grandma. she would also know how to knit. and she would be very patient with me. and she would call me "dear" and "sweetie" and we would bake things like bread and casseroles and bundt cakes. we would quilt and talk about love and life and how time changes everything. we would drink tea every afternoon and she would speak in phrases like "when life gives you lemons...." or "what doesn't kill you...." or "you just got to roll with the....." and i would say "oh grandma" and roll my eyes like she is so out of touch. but then i would realize that life really can be simplified into phrases. i would appreciate my special order grandma and all her little sayings. she is like a prophet. she would tell me that a good stew and a stiff drink can fix any marital troubles.
that would be sew cool.
monday
i remember crating her as a puppy so this would not happen. i think i failed.
spreading weeds looks so artsy.
spring! (i think that shirt is too small for her)
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