Tuesday, January 19, 2010

parts of me are perfect

in the shower today i placed my hands up against the mint green tile on either side of the window. the hot water beat down my back and soaked through my hair. the steam rose in billows as cold air seeped in from under the curtain. i watched what i could see of the backyard fade through the panes as they collected moisture. i don't have what you would call a healthy relationship with my body. there are parts of it i like. parts of it i hide. and parts of it that do an awful lot for little to no appreciation. but today as my eyes wandered back from the window towards ritual i caught a glimpse of the inside of my upper left arm. and the beauty of it stopped me. the skin there is unmarked and without blemish. droplets of water collected on every inch of my arm and my pale skin almost shimmered. i have moments like this occasionally. when i can see the veins in the top of my right foot that meet at a small freckle just below my smallest toe. or my ears when i tuck my now much longer hair behind them. small parts of me that still seem so new. small parts of me that i'm finally allowing myself to call beautiful. i pray i can continue to make peace with my body and her parts. or at least learn to more often acknowledge beauty in myself when i see it.

rain on my window

days like today remind me of the months after you died. they were filled with rain soaked days and thunder storms. the gutters gave way under the weight of the flood and our driveway ran over with the streams it made. our small apartment fell silent on days when the wind blew the hardest and the rain fell relentlessly. i think we both thought of you a lot in those days, but words hurt when there is nothing left to say. it took a six pack and a late night under the awning for us to allow ourselves the tears and to speak your name. the rain fell steadily that day and we watched as the make-shift rivers of water made pools at our feet. we laughed at memories as we stained our cheeks and hugged each other when we couldn't hold ourselves up. i don't know if the rest is real or if i dreamt it or if it is some hodgepodge picture show from another night in the rain, but we kicked off our flip flops and jumped out into the storm. the tears on our cheeks mixed with the rain drops and we danced. steam rose from the pavement and i could feel summer seeping up from the ground. the shower soaked our hair and covered our bare legs with droplets. i felt like i could breath again. and i remember feeling so grateful.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

a truce

i didn't mean to start the nonsense of missing you again. but you've always made it hard not to miss...

your laughter. my fingers wrapped in yours. the innocence of warmth and company. a beat in my chest. and i sometimes marvel at how i lucky i am to have kept you.

you and i both know there are others. i can stand in one corner and take them all in. with laughter on my lips and a drink in one hand. unlike them i don't need to put my footprints in yours. i don't mind the dance we do in shadows. and i saw you watching when he asked for my number. i'll wait. i don't mind making new friends while you make up your mind. you always come around. our pride always melts. and when it's time to go. when the music stops. and when everyone goes their separate ways your eyes always find mine. pack up. crank a beat. watch the city lights move to the music. the light bends and swirls where dark alleys hide from it. and when we laugh for no reason i realize i'm in love with this place. with this time in my life. with these streets and your company. i like knowing that when the show is over. and our eyelids are heavy. we'll let ourselves be sweet to one another. and i won't fuss because i know i'll take you in any dose i can get. and nothing about this hurts because even i can see that the way you look at me. is the way i look at you.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

it came!

lomography diana f+. i'm looking forward to this.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

ok so fine.

i'll acknowledge the new year.

hi 2010. how are you. i guess it's neat that you're here. it's a little weird. but i'm sure we'll get to know each other quickly. i'm not gonna make you any promises or anything. about what a better, healthier, skinnier person i'm going to be. promises get broken. i don't like breaking things. unless i'm doing it on purpose. and then breaking things can be very fun. and freeing. anyhow. what i can tell you is a few things i'm contemplating and you can tell me what good ideas they sound like and we can dream up big plans, but we don't have to set anything in stone and that way neither of us are disappointed. i'm contemplating quitting smoking for my mom's birthday. it would make her happy. and i can't really shower her with gifts like i would if i could. her birthday is tomorrow. that isn't very far away and due to my rash decision making (how typical) i haven't really had time to adjust myself to the mindset of being a non-smoker. i'll probably be cranky. and cough up some pretty gnarly stuff. beyond that i don't currently have the desire to uncover the reasons i started smoking in the first place or held onto it so tightly for this many years. i essentially already know, but i'll get to that. once i get the goo out of my lungs, i'll get more of the goo out of my head. i'm also contemplating getting my papers organized. you know. bank statements. pay stubs. bills. debts. savings. etc. etc. real grown up stuff. i did that once for a little while. and it felt nice. so i'm playing with the idea of making it a habit or something. i bought one of those expanding paper organizing contraptions today. a step. honestly new year, i've got a lot i want to do. and am starting to. i just don't want to feel any pressure. life is so very sweet when i breathe. and let myself be just a little. instead of ripping my hair out over what i'm 'not doing.' i'm getting my camera. lomo diana f+. i'll think about starting one of the million photography projects in my head. i'll most likely continue to aimlessly browse thrift store picture frames for my hidden treasures. pictures of trees. and pictures of people i do not know. a wall of each. trees in my bedroom. strangers in the hall. i love what i have of the collections so far. i might walk more. and stop living in this body i don't recognize. but i would like to do it for me. and not a moment before i'm ready. but i'm ready. and as soon as there aren't four of us to one paycheck, i might stash some away to invest in other worthwhile things. i taught a customer's daughter how to make a mocha and how to make and activate whip cream the other day at work. it was the most enjoyable fifteen minutes of my day. i'm pretty sure i'll finish filling out the application to volunteer over at the alameda point collective. they have an opening for a tutor with some of their elementary aged homeless kids. i miss teaching. i miss learning from my students. they have a community garden. maybe i'll get my hands in the dirt again. that would be really nice. i just want this year to be memorable and not full of worrying about what it isn't. 2010 i want to let you be you. it'd be nice if you could let me be me and we could just go at whatever we're doing with purpose. laugh a lot. be spontaneous. love on people. create. you know. get where we're going, but have fun while we're at it. i just need to come at this lightheartedly. if i take you too seriously. well i might just explode.

a list of other things that i might do this year:

.keep my closet organized*
.give into the tattoo craving
.write a better story for myself
.contribute to other peoples' stories
.go back to school
.two words: road trip(s)
.two more words: smaller jeans
.write my grandparents letters
.keep in touch**
.read read read even more more more
.dream. design. and execute a mural. somewhere. anywhere.
.not beat myself up

*my mom sent me a neat closet organizer thingy. yep.
**i know. i know!


i am very weird.

i am especially weird when i am home alone.

i am home alone right now.