An Exercise

Today I did an exercise with 130 other people
We walked around a room in silence and looked at each other.

My first reaction was a self conscious reaction
How did my make up look?
Did I have food in my teeth?

My second reaction was a shallow reaction
Their hair was fumbled, and their beard too scruffy

My third reaction was peaceful
I became okay with looking at people
because I could look at people

I didn't have words to create meaning, I just had people
who had lines on their faces, scars on their chests,
and teeth in their rose colored mouths.

I shared a new found understanding of what beautiful really was,
and what it means to say that we are all individually unique

I hope to one day color my face with lines of stories well told
Dimples so worn in they sag
Scars visible from my fortunate mistakes
and teeth so individual they shine

I want to be that.

Excuse me

Please excuse the following post.

This post is for me in five days, or two months, or six years down the road. I decide. 

You little fucker. 

Here you are six years after you started this damn thing, still writing at Starbucks. 

Haven't you realized that if you just became a gold card member you would get free chai every two weeks? 

Haven't you realized that going to Starbucks at 3pm on a Sunday is the worst idea ever! There are always no seats, and it's crowded as hell. Learn something! 

Girl, you are crazy! Remember that time you jumped out of a plane, and then did it again two months later? 

Girl,  remember that time you said stick that needle into my body and ink me? Leanne read mom's journal entries, and we laughed at the boys that called her. Leanne held your hand and you squeezed so hard. You can't take any pain. Pain scares the shit out of you. You scare yourself out of experiences just because of pain. Change that. 

Girl, smack that smirk off of your face. Remember that letter you found the other day that said open January 1, 2009? You laughed your ass off because you wrote this hilarious letter to yourself when you were 14. It said you should either be married or living in Europe. Boy did you have great dreams, and boy did you get married. Maybe one too many times. Or maybe not one enough times. Who the hell knows. 

Girl, I hope you grew the hell up. Stopped dreaming of a what if, or a could have been, and start living in reality. Take a look at your life and figure out what is real, what is not, what is obtainable, what is your passion, what is important. 

Girl, remember that time you walked out on your then love and called your sister with tears down your face screaming "I can't do this anymore!" She walked you in and out of your hard times. Don't forget that. 

Girl, remember that time you looked at Leanne and told her you were going to do x,y, and z? Remember when she hugged you crying because you did x,y, and z? She told you good job for actually sticking to your guns, for not giving a shit about the always listening, and for being the daughter she lost. Girl, you better remember that. 

Girl, you better remember to love yourself the way that others love you.

Girl, you better remember to keep writing. One day I expect notebooks filled, a book of poems covered with your most inspirational and disgusting moments, notes taken in the margins of your favorite books, and a long list of people who loved to read your writing. 

Meg, I expect a lot. Remember, remember. Just be. So it goes. 

Today I laid on top of my moms grave and listened.
The sun shined darkening my pale face
and the cars were distant and faint

The clouds danced and skipped across
the long blue sky
and the autumn leaves cracked
as they bounced across the sidewalk.

All was right with the world today.

Mary Ann's Callus

There are times when I wonder
how my life would be
if I thought of things differently.

If I didn't believe in God
If I thought alcohol was a friend
If I could focus just on me.

Life has so many rotten ups and downs.

It's like the time I saw Mary Ann swinging
from those monkey bars.
She swung so hard
she rocked back and forth and back and forth

Her hands sweat with pain as the green paint
stripped her hands from those cold hearted bars time and time again.
Mary Ann's sweet callus's bled like the juices of a pomegranate
But Mary Ann kept swinging
up and down up and down
till her callus's grew harder than
bones some men mistake as honesty.

She moved up and down and up and down

Because I am a poet and a person
sometimes my views change and sometimes I make mistakes.
Like the time I had zero sympathy for my loved one
when they needed me most and I ran and hid in the shower
before my maker
naked and alone.

But what if I didn't believe in my maker
and I enjoyed life as it is
took each punch from the wind with a whiff of joy
and pounced back with a glass of red wine
on a white simple porch dreaming of my future

Instead of avoiding it. 

The DIfferance

Today there is a differance between being
committed and happy.

Commitment is
 "I have to."
"My duty."
"My fear of the unknown."

Happiness if freedom
self expression
bliss.

Today I can't decide if I am committed or happy

I can't figure out if i'm the most selfish person
on the entire fucking planet
or if i'm just realizing the mistakes that i've made
and almost can't bare to live with them any more

but i'm committed.

Where do you draw the line between
freedom, self expression, and bliss compared
to "I have to"?

It's miserable

What sucks is that the things you used to love no
longer have meaning in your life.
They're not there anymore.

But i'm committed.

October 4, 2013

October 4th passed rather quickly this year. Usually I spend the day in doors and crying, thinking about what could have been, and trying to remember. This year I had interviews, errands, a ginormous load of laundry, and a night well spent with my husband.

October 4th is my mom's birthday. This year she would have been 56 years young. This year I didn't cry. With everything that had been going on in my life lately, my mom's death of almost 20 years ago sadly fell on my back burner. My sweet and precious aunt Leanne called me on the 4th and pronounced that my brothers and I should send balloons up to my mom with special messages on them the following day.

On the 5th, my brothers and their families, Leanne and her husband Jeff, and Ollie and I met up at the Redwood cemetery. The children ran in continuous circles and devoured my M&M cookies. The rest of us joked hugged, remembered, and shared our smiles with the camera. It was a beautiful day to remember mom's legacy. Although far away, I know that she is saying "Hi." to Kelly, and taking care of Peter.
 
Although loosing my mother was by far one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. I know that without a doubt there is a purpose to all things that happen on this earth.

 

I remember when the things I say I love actually brought me passion
Now I can't seem to open the boxes and boxes of books the line the walls
of my guest bedroom.
All I can feel are the pages screaming "CHEATER!"
"You cheated on us with things that teach you nothing!"

Now I don' t feel any passion.
Hardly anything makes me feel it.
I feel like I hardly feel anything.