velvet

My days feel full, like they could burst at any second. This might also explain how I managed to completely lose track of time and forget (until now!) that I am leaving home in eleven short days. Eleven. One, one. Not enough time.

My bed isn't as cozy as I remembered it to be. My friends are ten times more wonderful than I remembered them to be (which means they're very, very wonderful). I don't care about much I can touch these days. Which is good, I know.

How long until our tummies stop turning and our nerves stop breaking? How long?

how say "I will remember?"

We are hosting two exchange students from Japan, and one exchange student from Korea. Today one of them asked me, "What is the meaning of the word 'miss,' like 'I miss you'?"

I tried to explain with hand gestures and what I'm sure came off as mentally disturbed facial expressions, and was shocked at how inadequate I was to explain its definition.

"Like, with your head (point) you remember, and your heart (clutch) you are hurting..."
"Err...like when you think, 'I wish he was here with me' or 'I wish I was home'"
---- "Joanne, what is the meaning of word 'wish'?"
(Crap).
"Like....dream. Hope. Uhh.. crap."
"Like...I want my home to be here. I want my love to be here."
---- "Oh, thank you Joanne. I think I understand. Now, what are you studying in college?"
"English and Philosophy."
---- "What is 'philosophy'?"

(to be continued.)

It's been quite the day. :)

goodnight moon

Some things are too beautiful to put into words.

I've found myself deleting the word "feel" and replacing it with "am", because that's what I usually mean, and am too scared to actually say.

I am free.

I am free.

I am free.

I am free.

I am free.

I am free.

breezes

It is refreshing and liberating to know that I am incapable of loving completely and truly.
The burden has been lifted.
We try so hard to know these things, to understand them,
when the only thing we can do is do them.
Love is not ours to give. So who are we to stand in its way?
Let Love do what it was always meant to do.

it's light outside

I know you want to stay in bed 
But it's light outside 
It's light outside 

So know I am going to stay right here 
Because you saved my life once 
You saved my life 


Thank goodness I didn't lose it forever. The theme of this week: MARVEL. (Not talking about the comic books here). Let's just marvel. At the beauty in the world, at the ugliness in the world, let us live fearlessly—dreams, hopes, ambitions and all, and if we come crashing down, let us embrace our pain and clench it tightly in our fists until there is nothing left to hold. Then, let us marvel more.


The other day I tried to be sad (I know, that sounds terrible—but sometimes I just need to feel. "Happy is the heart that still feels pain.") I struggled, a bit. Yes—that is exactly what you were: the unsettling comfort. I (we) are always reaching toward that familiar pain solely because it is familiar—never because it is what we want (let alone what we need). We want with our heads and not with our hearts.


Let me explain. I always thought it was the other way around; that our feelings were constantly in the way of what was right, what was sound in our heads. That our hearts were "getting in the way." I'm not so sure anymore. Looking back, I have realized that the things I "liked" were not the things I "wanted". I was so caught up in attraction—physically and emotionally—that I was ignoring my heart's truest desires, ignoring what I was really looking for. We too often mistake what we like for what we want. In some cases, we establish a mentality of rationale, something along the lines of "That is not what I want, but what I need." In some cases, we forget that what we need is exactly what we want. But we let what we "like" get in the way of what we really, truly want.


Live fearlessly. I spent this summer in a strange limbo, thinking in black and white for sanity's sake, thinking about my mistakes, my choices, the future, whatever else keeps all of us up at night. I spent so much time thinking that I wasn't feeling. I was standing perfectly still in a quicksand of thought, sinking deeper into contemplation until I lost sight of the surface. Then, I was brought back to life—I met someone who reminded me of what it meant to just marvel and let the world sweep you off your feet. Enough with the thinking, the plans, the worrying. Live fearlessly. And remember that fearless does not mean reckless, and cautious does not always mean in control.


Go. Go on. Marvel.

home

I forgot how much I loved this place! My orange walls and our glasses that are too tall!
The streets roar to life. Vibrance. Sun.
I forgot how much I loved this place.
It is so, so good to be home.

ah.

the electric slide

It's that time again—
when noises sound slower and my ears feel stuffed, like plane rides and being underwater;
when I remember you (all of you) and sit patiently, wincing in anticipation of that familiar sting of nostalgia—it won't come like it used to;
when I stare blankly at the other insomniacs around me, discarding social norms like the empty paper cups in my backseat.

I think I have made over twenty different beginnings of proofs for the same logic problem (could this be symbolic?) to no avail.

I know. You saying, "sleep on it" comes to mind. But when have I ever taken that advice?

My forearms felt a sudden chill, and for now I'll entertain thoughts of:
ghosts sidling out of my closet and sitting with me, like they always do at 2am;
a Seattle breeze, making its way south, missing me as much as I have missed it;
how someday I will be kept warm.

The smell of chlorine is gone, and I think:
the floors were thirsty—parched, in fact—and at the sight of water, lapped it up frantically;
somewhere out there someone is swimming in the ocean, fighting waves with eyes squinted shut and legs rippling furiously through the ocean;
I am sure someone is doing the same thing as me, in some 24 hour Starbucks somewhere, smelling chlorine and wondering. Hm.

My life is thrilling, no? Watching Starbucks employees mop the floors, procrastinating on my take-home final, and trying (pathetically) to feel something thrilling when my body is aching for rest.

But, whatever. I'll be fine. (See "warrior, warrior.")

warrior, warrior

I am tired of turning left.
The chill in my bones has finally subsided.
It is no longer a matter of head and heart,
but of my aching feet.
I will press my soles into the earth,
feel it crumble beneath me,
and wear my calluses like stories,
leaning forward into the fury of the wind,
until the throbbing in my heels no longer pains.
And when my heart is weary,
I will keep my eyes on the horizon,
and pound into the pavement.
I am a warrior,
and I will set the world on fire.

sleep spindles

I think I choose to stay awake most of the time in desperate attempts to avoid my dreams. That damn subconscious. I don't know whether it's timing, or me finally letting reality slap me in the face, but the older I get, the quicker my hope rises and falls, I don't know what that is, I don't know what it is. I guess it's just not supposed to happen this way. I think you are still stuck with ideas and ideal people, and maybe I wasn't enough mystery for you, enough silent allure. I wish you saw the sparks in my eyes for yourself. I'm ready to come home and leave the fog behind.

tummy grumblings

It's foggy here, and cold. Nonetheless,  today I woke up and vowed to chase sunbeams with all I've got, and rest peacefully in the shade when need be. I've declared a vow of patience with you, for you; you are worth it. And I couldn't be happier waiting.

"You'll shine like gold in the air of summer."

a red sleeping bag

How terrible—I've realized I'm much more eloquent when I'm unhappy.

I don't think there is anything you could say or do to make me not want to know you, which is terrifying and exciting and 100000 things at once. [You cradle sunsets in your arms, after all] After so many failed attempts to stop smiling and to instead be wary, guarded, cautious, etc. I can't help anything anymore, and I'm sorry for the clichés but half the time I think in clichés anyway—the world could stop here and now and I would be happy, not having done anything but stare into your irises and see all the beauty of Creation staring back. Is that too dramatic? Too stupid? Hopefully not, because I'm dead serious. [When you're you, I'm me at my best.]

You've changed my life. Thanks.

noah's hot coffee

several things:
1) nothing is automatic, i've got another 500 miles to go, let's hide postcards in the glove compartment
2) i don't think it's ever been in me, i do not know how to stay mad and sometimes need to
3) everything is in everyone and the more i write the more i hate it
4) i love your smile. i just love it.
5) here's to fires and chardonnay, and hoping for the best.

comets

I must learn to write outside of myself.

john cusack

Say Anything!

Say what you need to say.

I want you to want me!

If I fell...

Are you lonesome tonight?

Everybody wants to be loved.

Let's get together and feel alright.

this one will be a little rougher

I have ten million things on my mind, like why In-N-Out puts Bible verses in places no one will find them, like who the hell was robert frost and what makes a good poet, what makes a good haiku? i could write about snow in seventeen syllables and use clever adjectives does that make me an excellent haikuist? how are any of us famous anyway? like this: eating and sleeping. seems real simple when its not. see, you eat less you're liked more but there's a certain line where youre not, and youre just not. and sleepings alright, no one really cares about your dreams, only bout who youre dreaming next to. and then there's you, you weird, robotic soldier who never dreamed. i don't know. finding me has been such a journey, and i can say with real confidence that i'll be able to smile when i see you without crying an hour later. im a crier, so what. because i mean it and meaning it is better than not crying at all when you wanna, and not crying is good in certain places like courtrooms but not where i live, never where i live. its strange how often i think of you and i barely know you and i wonder if you like picnics or if you'd understand what i meant by 'the greatest thing you'll ever learn...' some famous sailor once said something like, 'be afraid if your dreams have come true because then you have dreamed too little.' babe, im terrified. because youre the dream that no one's supposed to have, but everyone does, and maybe youre too good for me [not in that self-pitying way, but in that you-know-how-to-be-alone-and-maybe-i-don't way] but all i want to do is hold your hand and talk. i want to chase the daylight with you and climb buildings and laugh, like how i do with them and not with that them but the good them, the kind that would like you, the kind that you would like. they say when youve found your soulmate you just know, but ive wasted too much time knowing and not enough time trusting—i think youve figured that one out though. like that one poet's piece about misspellings and bad handwriting, when v's become k's its alright because then all youre saying is 'i want to live you' and you know, right now that makes more sense than the alternative. because i do want to live You with you, because You's the only thing that's ever mattered and i've always known and never wanted to; thank you for showing me the world again. Thank you, and You.

if i could write you a song

You are always taking care of me. Just when I thought I would never feel this way again.
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You.