don't let the sun go down on me

Woke up to John Mayer, decided that wasn't the best way to start my day.
Now, Elton John and an omelet.

sobe.... SoBe... So. Be.

A little loopy, a little crazed.
I feel good again.
Like I always have,
because I don't need to sleep
at times people tell me,
and I like the night,
in a good way
I like me at night,
alone with the world and the stars,
and together with all the other
night-lovers.
I am blessed to be surrounded
by people who feel,
who thrive on knowing,
empathizing, (loving),
exploring
the human condition,
and all its wonder and majesty.
People who know that we are nothing,
but also that we are more loved than we could ever imagine.
Freedom.

blindness

Find us a trap door, find us a plane 
Tell the survivors help is on the way 
I was a blindfold, never complained 
All the survivors singing in the rain 
I was the one with the world at my feet


Great song by Metric, reminded me of all the times I thought I had to carry my own burden, that I had to do it all on my own. 
"I was the one with the world at my feet."
We are not our own heroes. We are not our own. We fight for what we can, but in the end, grace is the only thing that can truly save us.
"Life is going to blow at times. Jesus is greater than it all. He is greater than it all. You know that means? We get to dance because we are free."  - Allyssa
I could not have put it any better than my best friend did. We get to dance because we are free!

these arms won't hold your swollen heart

these arms can't hold your swollen heart,
but how i wish they could.
our arms won't hold our swollen hearts,
but hands much stronger would.

i used to hope that my embrace
could calm each trembling bone,
but that was ne're my task to face;
my love is not my own.

we'll never mend with lids shut tight,
so please, unhinge your eyes.
and leave the darkness for the light,
to break those gnawing ties.

these arms can't hold your swollen heart,
so now, just hold it still.
our arms won't hold our swollen hearts,
but hands much stronger will.

peanut man

I went back to the old place, I found my heart again (not that I had lost it, but it had stay buried beneath efforts to stay content for awhile). Passion, heart, ganas, whatever you want to call it—is more reliable than you would think. (Gut, on the other hand, is not.) Instincts are not always impulses. We are not stalwart creatures, we were not built to last. But our hearts? Strong beyond measure.

I must remember to seek out discomfort, to throw myself into the fire, to be unafraid, to cry and laugh as often as possible. People are always telling us to "play it safe." To ensure survival of who we are, who we might be. I disagree. Simply surviving, my friends, is no way to live.

blurry stripes

This one's not about saying anything, but rather me writing in hopes of having something to say. I am a little frightened, a little frozen. I am almost settling into being stuck—which I know is not real, and certainly not eternal, but feels like it nonetheless. I want to be shaken back into sleep. Back, to where I was before.

wet streets and dizzy feet

Today my friend told me to spray perfume on the back of my neck instead of above my collarbone because then people can smell it when they hug me.

Pretty good idea.

Hugs are important, after all.