same days forever

Originally written November 2018.

Nothing about it is really novel. I’m grateful. Not in that everyday thanksgiving applause for the soothing appreciables around me. It’s a cryptic thanks that I can barely hold onto because I have to face ugly authenticity to keep it in my grasp.

I’ve justified actions in my life. I’ve leaned into my will, creating unexpected life curves. I felt strong navigating the wrong worlds where my weaknesses were magnified. Foreboding joy, my inevitable curse.

It happened so slowly I didn’t know I was broken. I knew my relationships were twisted. I’d been to therapy and forgiven others. Much harder to forgive me. And more—to know me,—and why? To claim authenticity as my deepest desire, but…

…the duplicity. The juxtaposition of my desires, values and the truth of my decisions, life products.

After I changed everything I got lost for a while. I didn’t trust anyone, especially me. I tried new community endeavors that fulfilled me for a time, and then I stopped. I pulled away.

I took full responsibility and self assessment. I still got mad at blameful stories. I trembled with powerlessness and paranoia. But I faced it. I discovered the roots of issues in me dug into thicker, deeper roots. Ideas bloom. Some need to die or be in someone else’s garden.

I have learned things, but I have mainly learned that I need to learn more. I live for myself now, and I desperately try to focus on my daughter. It’s rare I can remember specifics about those years because it pains me that I lost time slaving my mind away for what didn’t ever add back to my life’s value.

That’s what I mean by cryptic gratitude. I used to be very open and carefree. Now I don’t let many people in. I am careful. I ask questions instead of share my story first. I test the waters and evaluate a person’s motives and value system. I judge on my perceptions when I didn’t before. I used to have a very enthusiastic way of connecting information in ideas, places, and people. That’s become more latent since I don’t go out as much and has been replaced with more analytical skills from reading and watching content.

I guess I’m possibly more well-rounded. Maybe boring. I’m always evaluating. Whoever I am, I’m different now. That’s what I’ve noticed lately.


i’m really digging my new job. i’m working for managers who are positive, full of knowledge and willing to share. i have coworkers who have gone above and beyond in lending me help in my first week. i have some experience in what i’m doing, enough to carry principles i’ve learned to where i’m at today. i can smile knowing that my previous career choices have ultimately prepared me for a wonderful today.

i wish i could do justice to a description of how cool the albany herald building is. there are fabulous nooks and crannies with departments hidden away inside. and it’s all tucked away under the remnants of a very vintage department store persona. this organization’s supportive culture and this building’s stunning physique have struck a familiar chord in who i am. finding a match has never felt so good.

everyone says i’m looking happier these days. i guess it’s hard to hide. my life feels like one big sigh of relief. i don’t have to fake feeling confident about myself, my career, my friendships, my art, my community involvement. i hate to sound like a braggart, but i am happy–something i haven’t felt in a while.

i feel like thanking everyone who has taken the time to believe in me. thank you for standing by me as i sacrificed my life to a difficult job for a year and a half. thank you for encouraging me when new opportunities presented their face. and thank you for loving me enough to stick around. for as many sunny day friends have made their exit from my world, i have a group of valuable people who really know how to clutch an umbrella. ultimately, thank you, Lord, for bringing me the people, the job, the talents. i’m more grateful than can be expressed even in the best of cliches.

i gave of myself last year in ways i will never be able to properly pen, and i’d like to believe that now i’m receiving return on my investment. and what a beautiful ROI this is. happy friday.

i’m tired of wasting moments talking about the tragedy of wasting moments.

Monday, November 12, 2007

it’s small today. this is definitely a brain vomit. i thought it; i wrote it.
you won’t understand half of it. it’s intentional–because you can’t.
but i write it in hopes that you will, because isn’t that the point?

break ups are silly, until it’s your own turn.
it’s hard to love someone, but simultaneously know that it is the end.
there comes a point when tomorrow is yesterday,
and the cynical sarcasm isn’t enough to keep things together.
the outwardly-projected illusion of “us” isn’t worth the reality of every internal brick i’ve laid in my walls.
i feel sour.
i feel like that ugly black banana everyone scoffs at in the grocery store,
but i’m ok with that.
at least that pitiful little banana peacefully sits there NOT remembering how it got to be so smooshed up.
you can wipe the slobber off of your chin at the fact that i’m airing my dirty little
laundry out for all to read, but who would keep me from it? who wouldn’t listen?
you see, i am not mad at him. i mad at me. i cannot control him, but i can control me.
and i am exhausted from the concept of regret. who even knows what it is?
to wish you hadn’t done something is to wish you weren’t
who you are today–how can one be so terribly ungrateful?
i find myself disappointed in my weak moments, but without them,
how could i really know the Lord? it is in my strongest times that i let God ride shotgun.
i would even say i look forward to these holes in life, because i always find
myself seeing something instead of just seeing.
seeing instead of seeing,
yes i said it, and, no, i’m not insane–because there is a difference.
bananas in the grocery store. yeah, turn me yellow to black.
i’ll buy these hide and seek dresses. do you think it can fix the inside, though?
or is that what you were aiming to do, dear father?
oh wait, or did you do it, because i could have sworn you said it was my fault.
oh you did? oh, i’m troubled, eh, granny? speak up, i can’t hear through the
stutters fumbling out of your mouth from onset of your crazy pills.
don’t touch me, don’t try me. i won’t respect you, because i’ve been a player
on this gameboard for an aching lifetime, and who has the compass pointing to right?
one right in a deck of wrong? it surely seems not. when will i ever know?
i know. i’m hilarious. invite me over to tell you some jokes.
you’ll get a good work out. (obviously, i’m cocky, too.)
but do you know why i am the way i am? i haven’t always been
crazy, lets jam out in the car, say what i want to, insanely outgoing
Nope, not always.
See, I spent a lot of time growing up feeling sorry for myself.
feeling sorry for myself because i was the fat 200lb. middle schooler.
having pity parties because i was a nerd, a naive little nothing,
for all the “injustice” in my life, for all the things everyone “did to me.”
well, who gives a flying crap? i got tired of being that person.
no one is capable of doing anything to me that i don’t let them.
how sinfully stupid to sit around and feel bad for nothing.
it’s an exhausting way to live.
and when i finally let go of all of it, knock, knock:
surprise, its me! this is who was there.
i laugh at myself, and many things around me–i’m easily cynical, because i’ve seen a lot.
i find joy in the most awkward situations. i get pretty deep about things, and i need to lighten up alot.
i find compassion in the hardest places, but i am also plagued with selfishness enough to miss the opportunity.
i find endurance in the scariest times, but many times, i break down in the dumbest places,
which even gives me a headache trying to figure out why.
i try to stay so on the surface of life sometimes, living in the trivialities of routine and habit.
i like that side of me, but there is another really scary, broken and deep side of me that i like to bury many days.
and you, of all people, brought this on. No, not you, You. and you know, but not you.
or maybe it was several instances, who knows.
You don’t, but thank you. But then again, no.
You are a subjectless subject subjecting yourself.
I would give you many titles, but how could i when i can’t write a line.
I see all of you, but i haven’t seen your face.
But isn’t that the most powerful thing?
i’m so full of riddles, but do they have joyful answers? i’m looking for them