On the cusp of metamorphosis.

I remember laying in bed when I was in my early to mid teens, my legs aching inexplicably. My mom explained to me that these were growing pains. I'm pretty tall so I had these a lot and they hurt like a bitch. There was nothing to do but lay there and endure.

I'm now realizing a parallel between those literal, physical pains, and the pain of loss. As I've gotten older I've started to realize that transformation and change are almost always uncomfortable. You invest yourself in whatever your current life is and you get comfortable with it. You mistake it for your SELF and what makes up YOU. And then one by one all of your attachments are inevitably ripped from you, or they disintegrate, or you make the choice to give them up, and lo and behold, you still exist.

Those things were not you. That job was not you, those habits were not you, that partnership that you felt so permanently ingrained in... not you. Ripping things that have been growing into you, out, is going to fucking hurt. It's like pulling out an impacted wisdom tooth, very much a part of your being but hurting too bad to keep in place.

Remember all of those times that you thought you'd die from the pain, whether emotional or physical? Well, there you sit! We're all stronger than we feel at any given moment. Trees battered by storms grow deeper roots.

Every feeling passes. Even the feeling of the wind being knocked out of your lungs every time you think a person's name, which has become so familiar over the past months or more. This is a universal, ubiquitous, and omnipresent experience, as much a part of being human as the need to sleep. Suffering inevitably follows attachment and we will keep learning these lessons until we realize that we own nothing, not even our bodies.

Weekend musings

There's a pulsing vibration filling up my entire body, if it were visible it would be luminous. It exists over communication with type and in person the volume's turned way up, and I am a live wire.
Personal space bubbles overlapping, I'm breathing in sparks, I am buzzing with energy, I could combust at any moment. In fact it's a wonder to me that I don't.
Being in the same mental space is all it takes, though sharing physical vicinity makes it almost too intense, like sitting a little too close to a camp fire and starting to feel the burn. This vibe is similar to but way beyond sexual excitement, though the two often overlap.

I'd like to use all of these blessed cyber platforms to communicate but I'd prefer real voices complete with body language, and I'd accept telepathy. Yes I believe telepathy is possible, and that it was happening before our interactions even existed. I believe we are bridging a continuum of time space here and interlocking souls regardless of whether they exist.
This connection is bigger than me. I am tapping into something ineffable and I don't completely believe I'm even a necessary component. I am a point of consciousness lighting up on the map at the same time as you, we are burning bright.
Intellect fails in understanding this. It's serious but the most laughable thing in the world. It's the most ease filled difficult situation, fraught with paradoxes yet insanely logical. I doubt motives all around including mine.
Something so powerful seems to beg careful scrutiny but at the same time I want to trust the pulse, because it makes me feel alive.... like cliff jumping into almost painfully cold water, like turning a corner too fast and almost flipping your vehicle, like challenging fate only to have it lash out at you and remind you what's up. Is something that turns up the volume on liveliness what should be trusted most? Ahhh natural highs.

Thoughts

Writing is exorcising demons. The nasty ones, and the nice ones too. Writing is purging your spirit of whatever filth or joy may be swirling around inside of it. Writing is catharsis, an inexplicable connection to something, a mode of expression both limited and limitless.

I read somewhere yesterday that in your head it's hard to tell what's going on but something about ink and paper brings out the truth. I find this to be startlingly true, though I prefer type since I can keep up with the flow of my thoughts much easier. You cannot allow yourself to lie when you dictate your own thoughts, and if you do it's difficult, it's painstaking, it feels wrong. It's not catharsis but fabrication and feels more like work than passion.

One could argue that fiction is fabrication but I don't believe that to be true. I think writers write to find out what they feel about something, factual or imaginary, and I think every character has a piece of the author within them.

There's "COPS" on in the lobby at my work and the remote's batteries died, so I'm being subjected to something terrible out of my control.

There's a woman(I struggle to call her this instead of "bitch") who comes into the bar my friends and I go to, and sits across the way from us, hating me. I've never met her, and looked up one night to see her giving me the most hate filled incredulous look I'd ever seen. It was truly striking, since this was the first time I'd ever laid eyes on her. I saw her again last night and she started adding snarky comments and eye rolling to the spiteful gazes, as if my very existence offends her at the deepest level. She wants so badly for me to feel badly, and she does not know anything about me other than what I look like. At first her attempts at inflicting pain worked a little bit, I was pissed, and puzzled. Now after seeing her a second time I try my best to laugh at this stupidity and I'm starting to succeed but it's just a reminder of how confusing life can be. How unnecessarily hateful people can be for no reason other than the fact that they are in pain, and do not like themselves. She cannot stand to be in her own skin. She goes out every 10 minutes to smoke cigarettes, I remember when I used to do that, it's a symptom of being constantly uncomfortable. Some people are truly impossible, nay, difficult to have compassion for. She sits there and looks so miserable, I won't let myself be infected with that misery.

Right now the woman that lives in the apartment complex across the street from the work desk I currently sit in is texting me and offering to bring me these pills that I am addicted to. I refuse to give in but regardless I will probably think about it for the rest of the day.

Right now my relationship is in a weird place, I'm unsure of whether it's going to work and that is an uncomfortable place to be, sorta like walking down a staircase in the dark and not knowing how many steps there are and whether you're going to trip and topple down. We get along fine but I still have a sense of something impending and I can't shake it.

The struggles never end, you just have to keep going.

These are the tests we undergo in maintaining our peace of mind. When we think we've found it something will come up to shake us up and make us doubt it. It is how we consciously decide to deal with things. Reacting out of habit is easy, consciousness takes work and it's a job I am going to undertake.

weird poems midday

Whirlwind of apocalypse
sunsets bleeding through
to reveal what's at the center of you
Internal refuge or eternal slumber
if you're brave enough
to embark down under
Bow and crawl
let them nail your hands
Share a smile with yourself
as they shout their demands
Those who go red with shame and rage
won't read the invisible ink
written on this page

Surrealist Mumbo Jumbo

I forgot the importance of fiction. I had forgotten that important messages and lessons can be gleaned in the most unexpected of ways. I've been failing to remember that nothing is inherently good or bad except that thinking makes it so. I've been hesitating, suspended in limbo. I've been limiting myself to rules and regulations, acting like rearranging the furniture on the porch is going to make the inside of the house more organized. I've been selective with which friends I want to be around, failing to remember that when you know how to listen, everyone is the guru. I have not kept in mind that any time I encounter someone, even one I have known for years, I am encountering a new entity. To assume I "know" them is pure foolishness.

I've been worshiping expectations, and worshiping this funk, unwittingly.

I've been puzzling over the order, progress, and speed of things, while completely forgetting that life is not linear. It all happens at once and BOOM, flowers can have eyes. I can dance and sing. I can decide not to be a painter. I can write poems and blog entries that do not make sense and forgo the impulse to go searching for or assigning meaning to them. What I assign does not matter. I AM. I can fear that I'm losing my mind and not care one way or another. I can live a completely ordinary life or make a habit of hitch hiking.

I can stop editing myself, I can START turning that search beam inward. I can also extract answers out of the depths and crevasses of my being and be unafraid of what comes out.

I can unlearn.

free write

Leaves start being tinged with rouge, orange, and liquid gold. They drift to the ground as if hinting at the approaching snow, making way for bareness, for refuge seeking, hibernation, and rebirth. We begrudgingly loop scarves around our necks as if a grudge against what the sky is doing matters any.

Where are the new and strange people with stories to tell?
I'd like to rewrite my own stories, and to strike a creative goldmine.

I hope to be wandering out in the woods one day and trip over a branch to find myself submerged in a stream of creative consciousness that will carry me wherever it wants to.

Maybe it'll pour me out into a cathedral of sound where the challenge is not to find chords that complement each other, but single out a melody from the myriad of endless perfectly paired notes.
I'll look up to see swirling colors on the roof and the question will not be what to paint, but how quickly I can get my hands on a brush to dip in that ceiling and begin.

Upon walking out my surroundings will be moving. I will have to join them to prevent getting motion sickness, and the question will not be of what movements will look best together but doing what my body is crying out for me to do.
I will walk right past the bar because who in their right mind would choose to go sit in a dark room when there is such wonder to behold in staying in motion?

Recent travels and lessons.

            A few days ago I got back from a week long California trip. We literally got off the flight, got home at 9pm, went out with some friends(one who was passing through our city on her way to Colorado) and spontaneously decided to drive 8 hours to Denver the following Friday morning. I was already stuffed to the brim with new experiences and just wanted to rest at home and practice cello having missed an entire week of practice, but my boyfriend was so excited about the idea that I agreed to it.

Once I got there I didn't regret it at all...

There are quite a few lessons and realizations I've gleaned from that entire travelling experience. Upon arriving home from the separate Colorado trip, I started coming down with the flu. This is the result of not sleeping enough while being away from home, and starting to get careless about what I put into my body during the second half of the trip. I knew I needed some rest after California but I pressed on anyway, and I paid for it.

When we returned Sunday, I spent the entire day in bed sleeping with my significant other bringing me minced garlic to swallow, raw honey, and vegetable broth to drink, in between the sleep. My body forced me to rest and get some nutrients in me since I had pretty much been neglecting to do so. The intelligence of the body is truly astounding and if you neglect to take care of it, it will force you to rest.


In California, I had a falling out with a really close friend of mine. Close enough to have matching symbol tattoos signifying our friendship. Though she was rude to me and rude to Luke one of the nights over a petty incident, that isn't the main reason here. I've felt it coming on for a while.
When we would talk on the phone after 6 months of not hearing each other's voices. I would be sitting in my backyard pondering or writing about something, have her call me, voice various concerns going on in her life, and realize that we have a lot less in common than we used to. My concerns are different, what I want to focus on is different, the way I view life and myself is different, to the point of clashing. I suspected all of this and only had it confirmed and solidified after spending a couple days with her. So the lesson there is a tried and true one that many people know, people change and grow apart. Sometimes it's more painful to stay in a relationship/friendship than it is to part ways.

Returning from this trip and getting back to my trusty work desk, where I currently write this entry from, I've come to the conclusion that after being in new places for a while and returning to your old life, it's the perfect time to discard old habits or acquire new ones. Basically it's a good time to start fresh and decide who you want to be, because you've been taken out of your routine.

Another lesson, will power and risk gets you places.