Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Whatever, and I Don't Know
Humans are explorers by nature. It is ingrained into our very core to explore and search and wonder and question. From the earliest of times we have been pushing outward, exploring New Worlds and the Wild Wild West, plumbing the depths of the oceans and the vastness of the skies and outer reaches of space. We discover and create and build and question – always looking for more. It is our manifest destiny to continue to strive to “infinity and beyond!”
But we live in a world that has become increasingly small. Thousands of years of human exploration have led us to this place where we have 24-hour news cycles and camera phones and the ability to communicate instantaneously with someone on the other side of the planet. We can follow Twitter and Facebook for eyewitness accounts of protesting in Iran, Mapquest directions to an event, Google random trivia like “Who was the 15th U.S. President?” and “Can turkeys really drown in the rain?”, browse YouTube if we have a burning desire to watch a cat playing piano, download new music and television shows on itunes… the list continues. What used to be a three-month treacherous journey by ship or cross country trek by covered wagon is now a split second click of the mouse, push of a button. I can boot up my computer, blackberry, iphone, whatever and have the world, literally at my fingertips.
But all of this, all of this knowledge and all of this technology and all of this constant pleasure-on-demand leaves me with one question…
What’s next?
The fields and wide-open spaces are covered in strip malls, if we push any further West we’re going to fall into the ocean and I can’t walk two feet without tripping over someone… and their big ass Hummer.
When even the road less traveled is trampled and worn, where do we go?
I realize of course, that this Earth probably still has some pretty spectacular surprises in store for us, that there are still cures to be found and technological advancements to be made, that there are still possible worlds beyond the sights of our telescopes. There will always be new creations to be imagined and questions to be asked and pondered but sometimes that all just seems so… eh, whatever.
When I was younger I loved to play that computer game “Oregon Trail.” There was something so thrilling about loading up this fictional wagon and starting the trek westward across the computer screen. It was fun and exciting and dangerous. There was the risk of dying of cholera or snakebite or drowning while fording a river or running out of food or supplies. Now, I’m not saying that this children’s computer game somehow represents our human need for exploration. I’m willing to guess that most of us just enjoyed naming all the players after friends and seeing which one died first of typhoid. But the danger element, the wide-open space, traveling to something new, FINDING something new, chartering a new world, the unknown… that’s something worth getting up in the morning and pursuing.
Yeah, I know, I’m starting to sound like a spoiled little brat. Wah, wah, wah, poor me with all these options. Stupid options. I wish I could die of dysentery in a covered wagon. But here’s the thing: I see it all over the place. I have so many friends who are just sort of dog paddling around with no real vision of where to go next. We are a generation with nothing but options and we have no idea what to do with it all. There’s too much to choose from and I think we tend to get all caught up and tripped up and lost in the deciding.
I will switch jobs nine times over the course of a year, I will move around aimlessly, live with my parents, hang out with my friends and complain of boredom because yes, I can do anything – but what, WHAT is it that I want? Really WANT?
It’s sort of new, this deciding. Generations previous have had their lives mapped out from the day of their birth. You will take over the family business. You will marry well. You will bear children. You will work until the day you die because that’s your place in life. Birth, childhood, school, work, marriage, kids, grand kids, death. Ta-da. There you have it. The end.
But now we’ve come to this place in history where we don’t have our futures mapped out. I don’t have to get married and my father is not expected to give up our family cow for my dowry, I don’t have to protect the family name (although, I’m sure my parents would prefer I don’t totally shame it) and I don’t have to take over the family business. I can do or be or become or act any way that I desire. So…
Career? If I have to.
Marriage? Maybe. We’ll see what happens
Kids? Sure. I guess.
Whatever.
Jack Kerouac wrote, “I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” That’s it. I have nothing to offer the world by my own confusion and my restlessness. I’m confused and I’m bored and I think too much. Of course, of course I’m grateful for my lot in life. I realize what it means to have these kinds of options - I just don’t know what to do with them all and sometimes it’s so easy to hide away and not make the decision and just let myself fall into the trap of complacency.
So what do we do?
There are no answers. At least – I don’t have those answers. But here is what I know: Yes, the world has become small. Yes, it can seem sometimes that there are no roads “less traveled.” And no, we don’t need to travel by rickety covered wagon anymore. But we’re never going to wake up one morning and find that there’s noting left to care about, nothing left to work for and push at and fix and re-create and love and take care of on this planet. There’s always going to be something, even if we don’t have to brave fording a river to find it.
We just have to remember to get up and LOOK for it.
So for now, I’m just me, running around in my own confusion, trying to find a way out, trying not to trip myself up in the process, trying to enjoy myself as much as possible while searching for my own, “infinity and beyond.”
World, here is my confusion, do with it what you will.
But we live in a world that has become increasingly small. Thousands of years of human exploration have led us to this place where we have 24-hour news cycles and camera phones and the ability to communicate instantaneously with someone on the other side of the planet. We can follow Twitter and Facebook for eyewitness accounts of protesting in Iran, Mapquest directions to an event, Google random trivia like “Who was the 15th U.S. President?” and “Can turkeys really drown in the rain?”, browse YouTube if we have a burning desire to watch a cat playing piano, download new music and television shows on itunes… the list continues. What used to be a three-month treacherous journey by ship or cross country trek by covered wagon is now a split second click of the mouse, push of a button. I can boot up my computer, blackberry, iphone, whatever and have the world, literally at my fingertips.
But all of this, all of this knowledge and all of this technology and all of this constant pleasure-on-demand leaves me with one question…
What’s next?
The fields and wide-open spaces are covered in strip malls, if we push any further West we’re going to fall into the ocean and I can’t walk two feet without tripping over someone… and their big ass Hummer.
When even the road less traveled is trampled and worn, where do we go?
I realize of course, that this Earth probably still has some pretty spectacular surprises in store for us, that there are still cures to be found and technological advancements to be made, that there are still possible worlds beyond the sights of our telescopes. There will always be new creations to be imagined and questions to be asked and pondered but sometimes that all just seems so… eh, whatever.
When I was younger I loved to play that computer game “Oregon Trail.” There was something so thrilling about loading up this fictional wagon and starting the trek westward across the computer screen. It was fun and exciting and dangerous. There was the risk of dying of cholera or snakebite or drowning while fording a river or running out of food or supplies. Now, I’m not saying that this children’s computer game somehow represents our human need for exploration. I’m willing to guess that most of us just enjoyed naming all the players after friends and seeing which one died first of typhoid. But the danger element, the wide-open space, traveling to something new, FINDING something new, chartering a new world, the unknown… that’s something worth getting up in the morning and pursuing.
Yeah, I know, I’m starting to sound like a spoiled little brat. Wah, wah, wah, poor me with all these options. Stupid options. I wish I could die of dysentery in a covered wagon. But here’s the thing: I see it all over the place. I have so many friends who are just sort of dog paddling around with no real vision of where to go next. We are a generation with nothing but options and we have no idea what to do with it all. There’s too much to choose from and I think we tend to get all caught up and tripped up and lost in the deciding.
I will switch jobs nine times over the course of a year, I will move around aimlessly, live with my parents, hang out with my friends and complain of boredom because yes, I can do anything – but what, WHAT is it that I want? Really WANT?
It’s sort of new, this deciding. Generations previous have had their lives mapped out from the day of their birth. You will take over the family business. You will marry well. You will bear children. You will work until the day you die because that’s your place in life. Birth, childhood, school, work, marriage, kids, grand kids, death. Ta-da. There you have it. The end.
But now we’ve come to this place in history where we don’t have our futures mapped out. I don’t have to get married and my father is not expected to give up our family cow for my dowry, I don’t have to protect the family name (although, I’m sure my parents would prefer I don’t totally shame it) and I don’t have to take over the family business. I can do or be or become or act any way that I desire. So…
Career? If I have to.
Marriage? Maybe. We’ll see what happens
Kids? Sure. I guess.
Whatever.
Jack Kerouac wrote, “I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” That’s it. I have nothing to offer the world by my own confusion and my restlessness. I’m confused and I’m bored and I think too much. Of course, of course I’m grateful for my lot in life. I realize what it means to have these kinds of options - I just don’t know what to do with them all and sometimes it’s so easy to hide away and not make the decision and just let myself fall into the trap of complacency.
So what do we do?
There are no answers. At least – I don’t have those answers. But here is what I know: Yes, the world has become small. Yes, it can seem sometimes that there are no roads “less traveled.” And no, we don’t need to travel by rickety covered wagon anymore. But we’re never going to wake up one morning and find that there’s noting left to care about, nothing left to work for and push at and fix and re-create and love and take care of on this planet. There’s always going to be something, even if we don’t have to brave fording a river to find it.
We just have to remember to get up and LOOK for it.
So for now, I’m just me, running around in my own confusion, trying to find a way out, trying not to trip myself up in the process, trying to enjoy myself as much as possible while searching for my own, “infinity and beyond.”
World, here is my confusion, do with it what you will.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The Butterfly Circus
If you have 20 minutes, please watch this film. It's absolutely lovely. I cried.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Greatest of These
In the beginning there was a place.
And in this place there were some people.
And these people had a story.
XOXOXO
The morning dew clings to blades of pale yellow grass,
begins to slide slowly off leaves as the day warms.
Wispy pink clouds are light on the horizon
– illuminated by the steadily rising sun.
The air is crisp, biting cold red-noses, as they walk
slowly up the sidewalk of that familiar street,
Their hands, wrinkled, clasped tightly between them.
His breathing is heavy.
Her knees are sore with aching pain.
They are quiet.
There is only the sound of a songbird calling to a mate
high in a tree above them.
XOXOXO
The television screen flickers silently,
casting a strange blue glow about the darkened room
as the clock in the corner reads a bright green 1:09 a.m.
A brown tabby cat is nestled onto a cushion in the corner,
its ears flickering at any sudden noise.
The girls are curled up on either end of the sofa,
clad in pajamas and wrapped in warm fleece blankets.
Their eyes burn with exhaustion and grow heavy but they do not sleep.
They talk and talk and talk as the minutes tick by.
A chorus of giggles startles the night.
The cat perks up in alert, looks around the room sleepily,
Then falls asleep once again.
XOXOXO
The long shadows of dusk begin to fall over the yard.
A window is illuminated by a warm yellow light.
They sit around the table, leaning back in chairs,
Smiling.
Children giggle and make faces.
Steam curls in lazy circles over the top of mismatched coffee mugs.
A half empty glass of milk is accidentally over turned
and the sound of laughter echoes out over the ever-darkening day.
XOXOXO
Tulle and lace flutter carelessly
as a soft breeze stirs the warm summer day.
White lilies, so carefully arranged, nod in response.
Everyone waits anxiously, murmuring in hushed tones
To the soft melody of a single violin.
He waits for her, his skin already sticky with the salty sea air,
his hair tussled lightly, his feet bare in the soft sand.
She walks toward him, practically shaking with excitement,
Her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Their hands meet, fingers twining together as the waves continue
to sweep across the shore in a steady crash… crash… crash…
XOXOXO
The room is filled with the soft murmur of voices,
the low hum and beep of machines.
A light glows overhead, fluorescent and harsh.
A pair of eyes strain to open in this too bright, new world
and then flutter shut once again.
She watches carefully and a tired smile eases onto her face
as she smoothes her finger over soft skin.
Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.
She shifts the bundle in her arms, leans back against the pillow.
The child stirs – a tiny fist waving in the air – and then settles again.
XOXOXO
And the place was made good
And the people were made good
And the story was forever.
And in this place there were some people.
And these people had a story.
XOXOXO
The morning dew clings to blades of pale yellow grass,
begins to slide slowly off leaves as the day warms.
Wispy pink clouds are light on the horizon
– illuminated by the steadily rising sun.
The air is crisp, biting cold red-noses, as they walk
slowly up the sidewalk of that familiar street,
Their hands, wrinkled, clasped tightly between them.
His breathing is heavy.
Her knees are sore with aching pain.
They are quiet.
There is only the sound of a songbird calling to a mate
high in a tree above them.
XOXOXO
The television screen flickers silently,
casting a strange blue glow about the darkened room
as the clock in the corner reads a bright green 1:09 a.m.
A brown tabby cat is nestled onto a cushion in the corner,
its ears flickering at any sudden noise.
The girls are curled up on either end of the sofa,
clad in pajamas and wrapped in warm fleece blankets.
Their eyes burn with exhaustion and grow heavy but they do not sleep.
They talk and talk and talk as the minutes tick by.
A chorus of giggles startles the night.
The cat perks up in alert, looks around the room sleepily,
Then falls asleep once again.
XOXOXO
The long shadows of dusk begin to fall over the yard.
A window is illuminated by a warm yellow light.
They sit around the table, leaning back in chairs,
Smiling.
Children giggle and make faces.
Steam curls in lazy circles over the top of mismatched coffee mugs.
A half empty glass of milk is accidentally over turned
and the sound of laughter echoes out over the ever-darkening day.
XOXOXO
Tulle and lace flutter carelessly
as a soft breeze stirs the warm summer day.
White lilies, so carefully arranged, nod in response.
Everyone waits anxiously, murmuring in hushed tones
To the soft melody of a single violin.
He waits for her, his skin already sticky with the salty sea air,
his hair tussled lightly, his feet bare in the soft sand.
She walks toward him, practically shaking with excitement,
Her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Their hands meet, fingers twining together as the waves continue
to sweep across the shore in a steady crash… crash… crash…
XOXOXO
The room is filled with the soft murmur of voices,
the low hum and beep of machines.
A light glows overhead, fluorescent and harsh.
A pair of eyes strain to open in this too bright, new world
and then flutter shut once again.
She watches carefully and a tired smile eases onto her face
as she smoothes her finger over soft skin.
Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.
She shifts the bundle in her arms, leans back against the pillow.
The child stirs – a tiny fist waving in the air – and then settles again.
XOXOXO
And the place was made good
And the people were made good
And the story was forever.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I Love Music
Age: 26
01. One of the earliest songs you can remember listening to:
Downtown- Petula Clark
02. Song from the artist you last saw live:
Hum Hallelujah – Fall Out Boy
03. Song you currently can’t get out of your head:
Somebody to Love - Queen
04. Song by someone who is dead:
What is Life - George Harrison
05. Song you discovered from a film or TV show:
I Hear the Bells – Mike Doughty
01. One of the earliest songs you can remember listening to:
Downtown- Petula Clark
02. Song from the artist you last saw live:
Hum Hallelujah – Fall Out Boy
03. Song you currently can’t get out of your head:
Somebody to Love - Queen
04. Song by someone who is dead:
What is Life - George Harrison
05. Song you discovered from a film or TV show:
I Hear the Bells – Mike Doughty
Monday, October 12, 2009
My Words
My voice is lost. I can’t speak.
The words are there on my mind in practiced rhythm, but speech falters.
Syllables get caught up on my tongue,
rolling over each other in a stuttering (repeating, repeating) mess.
I lose my thoughts and a deep red spreads up my cheeks
as I’m thrown into a twisting and churning sea of babbling nonsense.
I am strange, voiceless.
I cannot say what I mean so I don’t say anything at all and it’s quiet,
deafening quiet until ideas and hurts and passions and pains and answers
build and build and build
and there’s nowhere left to go but tearing out through my lungs
in one rebellious cry of sound and fury.
A loud cacophonous clatter of sounds and words and empty phrases
floating in empty space, meaning nothing, saying nothing.
They are lost. My voice is lost. There is nothing left to say.
The world isn’t listening anyway.
**
But here. Here there is release.
Here on this page, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, I write.
In a clack, clack, clack, scratch, scratch, scratch, I write.
Words spill, splash, pour from me, onto the page.
Words, words, words released and running free,
stampeding from my mind, fingertips, every pore,
a force of glorious energy that wraps around me in cozy warmth,
fills the page with me in a soundless scream.
All at once I can be strange and awkward and stuttering,
say what I mean, mean what I say,
talk in circles and round and round until it makes complete nonsensical sense of this,
this beautiful mess of words and verbs and question marks.
Formed from thought, like clay, molded and laced and pieced together,
sentences take shape, paragraphs and pages, pages telling a story,
winding, weaving together in a vibrant tapestry of vision, concept, imagination.
A reckless abandon of flowing consciousness.
Where at last, at last
my voice can speak.
Here, here are my words.
The words are there on my mind in practiced rhythm, but speech falters.
Syllables get caught up on my tongue,
rolling over each other in a stuttering (repeating, repeating) mess.
I lose my thoughts and a deep red spreads up my cheeks
as I’m thrown into a twisting and churning sea of babbling nonsense.
I am strange, voiceless.
I cannot say what I mean so I don’t say anything at all and it’s quiet,
deafening quiet until ideas and hurts and passions and pains and answers
build and build and build
and there’s nowhere left to go but tearing out through my lungs
in one rebellious cry of sound and fury.
A loud cacophonous clatter of sounds and words and empty phrases
floating in empty space, meaning nothing, saying nothing.
They are lost. My voice is lost. There is nothing left to say.
The world isn’t listening anyway.
**
But here. Here there is release.
Here on this page, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, I write.
In a clack, clack, clack, scratch, scratch, scratch, I write.
Words spill, splash, pour from me, onto the page.
Words, words, words released and running free,
stampeding from my mind, fingertips, every pore,
a force of glorious energy that wraps around me in cozy warmth,
fills the page with me in a soundless scream.
All at once I can be strange and awkward and stuttering,
say what I mean, mean what I say,
talk in circles and round and round until it makes complete nonsensical sense of this,
this beautiful mess of words and verbs and question marks.
Formed from thought, like clay, molded and laced and pieced together,
sentences take shape, paragraphs and pages, pages telling a story,
winding, weaving together in a vibrant tapestry of vision, concept, imagination.
A reckless abandon of flowing consciousness.
Where at last, at last
my voice can speak.
Here, here are my words.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
A Toast to My Favorite Fictional Couple, ( in Which I Take Television Much Too Seriously)
And I think that we are one of those couples with a long story, when people ask how they found each other. I will see her every now and then, and... Maybe one year she'll be with somebody, and the next year, I'll be with somebody, and it's gonna take a long time... And then it's perfect. I'm in no rush. - Michael Scott, The Office, Season 5
See, I tend to live vicariously through television. I realize this borders on pathetic but I swear I'm not some crazy lady living alone with nine-hundred cats and newspapers stacked to the ceiling. (Only PART of that is true ). I do have a life but I also do LOVE television. I always have. I love the serialized plot lines and the wacky background characters and the weekly heartaches and hilarity. I love the cliffhangers and the tear-jerking series finales and special episodes. And most of all, I love the escape from reality. When I want to know what it’s like to be deserted on a freaky island that is skipping through time I can turn on LOST. If I want to get caught up in the intensity of high school football in a small town in Texas I watch Friday Night Lights. If I want to remind myself why I need to be thanking my frickin’ lucky stars that I’m not a woman in the sixties there's Mad Men. And if I want to experience an office environment ten times more interesting than my own, I watch The Office. With the simple click of a remote I am somewhere new.
In real life so many of these characters and situations would be obnoxious or irritating but on television, they are endearing. We can laugh at the peculiarities of a Sheldon Cooper and the womanizing ways of a Barney Stinsen. We can appreciate the brooding arrogance of a Tim Riggins and root for an evil-doer like Benjamin Linus. In television we are taken on a journey into the lives of these characters, we come to know them and their ambitions and wants and desires, their loves and repulsions and quirks. When written well - these characters come ALIVE.
I am so easily drawn into to the lives and worlds of these fictional beings. I cheer them on and want them to win that football game and find a way off the island and figure out who the bad guy is and win the election and find Earth and save the patient. And most of all, because I am an utter sap, I want them to get the guy or get the girl and find that happy ending. I adore watching love stories unfold, watching two characters meet and fall in love – again, maybe I’m living vicariously. But it’s fun to imagine a guy standing outside my window with a boom box over his head playing “In Your Eyes.” It’s nice to imagine there are guys out there who would buy you a wall or take you sailing for the summer, fly around the world to be with you when you've been hurt, bring you back to life even if it means never touching you again, profess his love in the middle of a parking lot or drive between two New York airports to tell you not to leave for Paris. It's over the top and saccharine and schmultzy... but I love it all the same.
From my earliest television watching days I have found 
myself sucked into these romantic plots, obsessing over the "will-they-won't-they" story lines. Cory and Topanga (he kissed Linda Cardellini at the ski lodge! Her parents moved! He proposed at graduation!), Joey and Pacey ( Stupid Dawson! Sidenote: the picture to the right will never not make me laugh. I include it because I can) and on through the years with Josh and Donna, Logan and Veronica, Tim and Dawn, Ned and Chuck, Starbuck and Apollo and of course, the ever adorable office sweethearts, Jim and Pam.
myself sucked into these romantic plots, obsessing over the "will-they-won't-they" story lines. Cory and Topanga (he kissed Linda Cardellini at the ski lodge! Her parents moved! He proposed at graduation!), Joey and Pacey ( Stupid Dawson! Sidenote: the picture to the right will never not make me laugh. I include it because I can) and on through the years with Josh and Donna, Logan and Veronica, Tim and Dawn, Ned and Chuck, Starbuck and Apollo and of course, the ever adorable office sweethearts, Jim and Pam.The very first episode I watched of The Office instantly drew me into the Jim and Pam storyline. It was Season Two’s Booze Cruise, an episode that remains to this day, one of my all-time favorite episodes of the show. In that agonizingly silent moment on the boat deck - the lights on the horizon glowing behind them, the cold January breeze blowing through their hair, looking so much like they wanted each other - I was hooked.
These were two characters that were so achingly normal amidst an office of chaos and crazy, the eyes through which we saw the hijinks of Dunder Mifflin Scranton unfold. I can look at characters like Michael and Dwight and say, "man, I KNOW someone just like that." But with Jim
and Pam I can say, "I've BEEN there. I KNOW that feeling." They resonate with the audience because so much of their story is the same story we know in our own lives. Terrible bosses, annoying co-workers, failed ambitions, lack of direction, suffocating relationships, unrequited feelings. It's universal. Jim's struggle with his feelings for the engaged Pam seemed to so simply epitomize the feeling of unrequited love that I believe most of us feel at one point or another in our lives. I rooted him on and watched with bated breath (in between the laughs) every week, wondering what would happen because, man, I've BEEN there.And now, after four seasons, we've watched them take this rewarding and satisfying and 
frustrating journey through her engagement to Roy and Jim’s sojourn to Stanford and subsequent return, his relationship with the purse girl and Karen, teapots and secrets and fabric softener and games of jinx, an assault attempt, a job interview in New York, art school, that guy from Mad Men, long distance phone calls and misunderstandings, the Dundies, Michael’s “dangling participle,” a failed proposal, promotions and new companies and pranks, a night at the Schrute Farms Bed and Breakfast, a rain-soaked proposal and a surprise pregnancy. From the ache of unrequited love and parking lot confessions to the incandescent happiness of 
finding that one person, that one person that makes this whole thing worth it - I have loved watching this journey. These two characters are not perfect by any means but they are perfect with, and for each other.
frustrating journey through her engagement to Roy and Jim’s sojourn to Stanford and subsequent return, his relationship with the purse girl and Karen, teapots and secrets and fabric softener and games of jinx, an assault attempt, a job interview in New York, art school, that guy from Mad Men, long distance phone calls and misunderstandings, the Dundies, Michael’s “dangling participle,” a failed proposal, promotions and new companies and pranks, a night at the Schrute Farms Bed and Breakfast, a rain-soaked proposal and a surprise pregnancy. From the ache of unrequited love and parking lot confessions to the incandescent happiness of 
finding that one person, that one person that makes this whole thing worth it - I have loved watching this journey. These two characters are not perfect by any means but they are perfect with, and for each other.It is a testament to the lovely acting abilites of Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski, I suppose, that this relationship feels so real and organic. They have both killed some of the hallmark scenes of this relationship ( i.e. the parking lot confession of love) and I cannot even begin to imagine any different actors in those roles. The fact that neither Fischer nor Krasinski have even been nominated for Emmys is a complete travesty, a travesty I say.
And as a sidenote: I bow to the writers for not sticking Jim and Pam through a series of ridiculous breaking up and getting back together fiascoes. As much as I loved Ross and Rachel, by the time Friends went off the air, I didn’t care much about their on-again/off-again/on-again/off-again relationship. So Office writers, my hat off to you for never letting Jim utter the words, “We were on a break.”
So to the cast and crew, to the writers, and to Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski, I give my heartfelt gratitude for creativing such a lovely show and a couple that I can fall in love with and finally say to...
Happy Wedding Day Jim and Pam!
Thank you for six years of stories and laughter and entertainment... may your fictional lives be blessed.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Why
words without names
characters without faces
from the deepest cracks
of all I know
an idea
a spark
nothing…
nothing…
nothing…
lost
forever lost
with all these words
these faceless nameless words
the pain
gut wrenching searing pain
reaching where I do not want to reach
scratching the unscratchable
I didn’t know was there
a soul pouring out
screaming screaming screaming
laughing
oh the wonderful ceaseless joy of those inky scrawls
simplicity
flow
tumbling rolling thinking towards…
nothing…
nothing…
nothing…
everything
Butterflies
lightness sudden melting weakness
a flipping flopping fluttering wave under my ribs
brief feather light touch brushing smooth skin
inhale deep sweet air fills my lungs
heart pounding blood in veins pulsing rushing in ears
smile eyes lighting up the bubble of laughter
consuming warmth down tips of toes fingers clenched
knees tremble
words (you know) voice words words words
a pink spreads up my cheeks betrays
up through the roots of hair on fire burning
thought unbidden a secret a dream whisper close
eyes closed exhale
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