Someday, she'll be there.

You'll Make for a Perfect Rainy Weekend

by Michael Steingas 

One morning I'll wake up and you'll be beside me:
snoring, hair a mess, sprawled on my side of the bed, hogging the covers.
I'll rub my eyes and glance at the clock...
then realize it's the weekend
and neither of us has anywhere to be.
Pulling back some blankets
I'll wrap my arm around your chest,
interlace my leg with yours,
and sleep for another hour.

Finally getting up, I'll look out the window
and watch raindrops slipping down the glass
as I turn on the coffeemaker
and pull two black mugs from the dishwasher.
More cream in yours, more sugar in mine
(though walking back to wake you
I'll forget which is which).

Selfishly I'll gently shake you out of sleep,
you'll squint your eyes at me
and curl up with your head in my lap.
The coffee will get cold
but we'll be plenty warm without it.

For her

A few lines taken from Andrea Gibson's Photograph.

"I hope the stars are kissing your cheeks tonight
I hope you finally found a way to quit smoking
I hope your lungs are open and breathing your life
I hope there's a kite in your hand
that's flying all the way up to orion
and you still got a thousand yards of string to let out
I hope you're smiling
like god is pulling at the corners of your mouth
cause I might be naked and lonely
shaking branches for bones
but I'm still time zones away
from who I was the day before we met."

I want some sunshine.

Chelsi and I broke up tonight. I don't feel the way I thought I would, and the release I felt when I first made the decision is absent. I don't really feel right now, except maybe a bit of negative energy. Maybe I just need sleep and serotonin.

I got a note from the deans tonight, explaining that I need to make another appointment with Linda B. Wondering what now? I talked to Dean M. Apparently they assumed I wasn't serious about quitting smoking and hadn't talked to Stan yet. Confused and slightly insulted (especially at the continued skepticism and slight sternness), I explained that I had had my first session last week and we're scheduled to meet every Thursday. I don't have to see LB now.

I'm tired. So tired. And empty. Done. Ready for change and sunshine. Where is the fucking sunshine? 

Awww, I love this:

It is marvellous to wake up together
by Elizabeth Bishop, a lesbian poet.

It is marvellous to wake up together
At the same minute; marvellous to hear
The rain begin suddenly all over the roof,
To feel the air suddenly clear
As if electricity had passed through it
From a black mesh of wires in the sky.
All over the roof the rain hisses,
And below, the light falling of kisses.
An electrical storm is coming or moving away;
It is the prickling air that wakes us up.
If lightning struck the house now, it would run
From the four blue china balls on top
Down the roof and down the rods all around us,
And we imagine dreamily
How the whole house caught in a bird-cage of lightning
Would be quite delightful rather than frightening;
And from the same simplified point of view
Of night and lying flat on one's back
All things might change equally easily,
Since always to warn us there must be these black
Electrical wires dangling. Without surprise
The world might change to something quite different,
As the air changes or the lightning comes without our blinking,
Change as the kisses are changing without our thinking.

Sometimes I wish had the courage, or perhaps just filthy soul, to lie. Especially if it fixed relationships with paint. Gorrilla glue is always so much more obvious, and you can see the cracks. You can't look away from the cracks. You fall between the cracks.

Encouragment

"Encountering sufferings will definitely contribute to the elevation of your spiritual practice, provided you are able to transform calamity and misfortune into the path." H.H. The 14th Dalai Lama

Look within. Be still.
Free from fear and attachment,
Know the sweet joy of living in the way.
Dhammapada, Words of the Buddha

If you live the sacred and despise the ordinary, you are still bobbing in the ocean of delusion. Zen Master Lin-Chi


Anything that is created must sooner or later die. Enlightenment is permanent because we have not produced it; we have merely discovered it.
Chogyam Trungpa

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part." St. Augustine

“You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”
David Harkins

Okay, so maybe this would all be considered "emo" or whatever. Whatever. I just need to remind myself that it's okay if she doesn't come back next year. It's okay if I still care about her and let those feelings grow. I don't need to instantly recoil. Like I said in another post, I need to enjoy life instead of always think about longevity. I'll take things in stride. I will love, if it comes to it, without fear--because the ending never negates the validity and beauty of the experience.

She's not coming back next year. I don't know how to deal with this information. I guess tonight was the last straw (although we both understood, she was still unsettled by Union's misconceptions and stance I suppose). How did I let myself become this attached? I wish I hadn't quit smoking. She wishes Union was more gay friendly. I wish I was somewhere far away, where my throat didn't feel so sore--a giant pebble lodged without hint of relief. I don't want to fall for her anymore. I want my eyes to stop getting red, and I convince them that it's not yet time to crack, break and leak out salty twin streams.

I'll never get this life thing down to a science.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is sitting on my bookshelf, pressed tightly against The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

An hour ago, Jordan* posted a quote from Wallflower on his facebook page. I find the world's dancing, twisting, looping, tangled up humor quite interesting.

Kalvin, the only person I've ever loved, gave me Wallflower while we were still dating. The only other person I've been so utterly crazy about was Alanna (which is slightly ridiculous if you compare longevity of each relationship). I still haven't returned her copy of Unbearable Lightness. She placed the worn pages in my hand before flying off to El Salvidor for a summer spent building walls. It's not that I want to keep the text. It's a great novel, but I'd rather she take her books** back and return my orange-splashed painting. When relationships end, it becomes harder to get rid of whatever the other person gave you.

She, along with Kalvin, stay on my shelf. Perched. Looking down. The books are a photograph of twins formed from contrasting and inverted colors. Yet, Alanna's books don't just look--they touch (or punch?). She's still around, and enough time hasn't passed yet to make that fact irrelevant (unlike Kalivn). Often I wish she'd take back her memories, or at least the visual reminders of them.

I read somewhere that humans naturally search for and find connections where there are none. Of course, I see connections leading from Jordan's post as if they legitimately exist (I don't know that they're necessarily ironic, but I feel the same affects as if it were ironic humor). Here is a picture of how my mind is connecting ideas and events:

(Realized I liked girls -->) Jordan (gay) --> Kalvin (love) --> figure out I'm gay --> Alanna --> Jordan's quote --> Kalvin's book --> Alanna's book --> continue cycle.

And while these memories sometimes float to the surface of my thoughts, I wouldn't return to either Kalvin or Alanna. I'm happy. I don't often think of either of them. Some days, however, I see connections between events in my past that I can't ignore. I'm dropped, plopped and pushed back into the past with dates and feelings swirling like the vegan hot chocolate I'm about to make.

Now that I've expelled my thoughts, I bet I'll stop thinking about everything I wrote as soon as I hit "publish post." Once I express a (negative) feeling, it typically dissolves more rapidly than some chemistry experiment. Then again, what do I know about chemistry?

*I dated Jordan (very, very briefly) when I was thirteen or fourteen, and is the second guy I've been romantically connected to that's come out as gay once we matured.


**I also have her vegan cookbook.

meaningless.

Your eyes are white
Round drops of snow
Like I drop her name
In casual conversation
Because I hate the way you
Ask
“Are you going to banquet?”
As if it means
“Do you have a boyfriend?
And I wonder if the whiteness
Is really blindness
(no, my facebook relationship status is not a joke mr.—fill in the blank—)
But then he asks
And I tell
And the vice president of student services
(don’t I pay your bills?)
Wants me to know that
She knows gasp
That I’m gay
so I pull out my
anger
backtalk
piece
peace
nod and say
“Yes, ma-am—-we won't act like a couple in public.
No, we won't sit too close.
Of course sex should be kept for marriage”
But I wonder if she realizes that’ll take a move to Iowa
And well
Union College
Isn’t in Iowa.
And I bet
Even in Iowa
the whites of their eyes
Would still be showing.

"I have learned kindess from the unkind"

I've learned that the truth spoken does not always mean honesty.

I've learned that the person said to be the most jealous can be the one with the most decency.

I've learned "we talked" does not always mean "communicate with words."

I've learned allowing myself to like someone when warning flags flare is still a bad idea.

I've learned bathroom stalls paint pictures like heartbruises.

I've learned it doesn't really matter.

Last night, I walked in on the girl I was seeing screwing around with someone else in the bathroom--after a week (and night) of convincing me she "likes me way more than her." Way to go miss "Oh yeah, I'm definitely a one-girl kind of girl." You should have been named Gabby Deveoux.

On a positive note, the person she was messing around with (who supposedly disliked me) came to talk to me, apologized, etc. Major (to use a sexist term for lack of a better one) balls. Have to say I respect her more than the girl I actually liked/trusted.

Now that it's morning and I've gotten sleep, I'm not distraught about it...well, as distraught anyway.

Paint me a picture with hollowed out bones
dripping with blue, mimicking tears left
untouched in my eyes.
Ask me what I love about you,
ask me.
I can hear only the silence
whispering like muffled kisses.
Zip.
I wonder why Silence has pants
and what she's doing with legs
twisted 'round yours
in a lonesome bathroom stall.
Lies can put on such a prettier smile,
too bad you broke the mirage in my eyes.
Too bad you left your lips in another girl's pocket.

fuck women.

Surprises

I met someone... AT UNION COLLEGE. Yeah, I didn't expect it either. We had briefly met the beginning of the year, but a mutual friend did us a huge favor and coordinated a re-introduction. I'm all giddy, because...well a) she's awesome and b) she goes to Union.

Enter, my hesitation (stage left).

Are we attracted to each other simply because of the setting (aka, nobody else at Union we could be interested in)? If we met randomly downtown, would we still be as interested? Even if we would not have naturally gravitated towards each other elsewhere, is that necessarily bad? Does this mean a potentially successful relationship is doomed?

I'm not sure, but I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. I need stop over thinking this (and life in general) and just say que se ra, se ra--whatever will be, will be.

Despite my mild confusion and questions, I got sidetracked during Rhetoric class with thoughts of her.

Lips. Smile.
Flashes of identical white stones
polished to a sterling gleam
Do you clean them with purity
found in an open mind?
I never saw vices that looked
so much like virtues
as we sit on the box
our souls used to sleep in.
My fingers are pieces of tangled rope
drawing conclusions from the tilt
of your head.
What does it mean to be
the only apples on a tree?
The names and offenses screamed
by whispering leaves
leave bruises on our skin.
We find shelter in the unlikeliest of places
watching smoke drift like
possibilities through
our parted lips.

I was twenty (and I don't even know you)

Nineteen
by Tegan and Sara

I felt you in my legs
Before I even met you
And when I layed beside you
For the first time
I told you
I feel you in my heart,
And I don't even know you
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
I was nineteen
(call me)
I felt you in my life
Before I ever thought to
Felt the need to lay down
Beside you
And tell you I feel you in my heart,
And I don't even know you
And now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
I was nineteen
(call me)
I was nineteen
(call me)
Flew home,
Back to where we met
Stayed inside I was so upset
I cooked up a plan,
So good except
I was all alone
You were all I had
Love you
You were all mine
Love me
I was yours right
I was yours right
I was nineteen
(call me)
I was nineteen
(call me)

Chop, chop, chop

It's so funny how society automatically links (non/conforming to) gender roles with sexual orientation. The three (gender role, gender identity, sexual orientation) are all completely different and unique entities--they do not correlate.

I cut my hair on Saturday, and now sport a fauxhawk/betty boop head (depending on styling). Within 24 hours, I had a girl ask for my number and a friend ask "Hannah, do you like girls or boys more?"

It made me laugh. A lot.
Okay, I'm still sort of chuckling.

www.fmylife.com

I will never dazzle like a hundred thousand stars.
An aura borealis will engulf our lonely bodies
and blind the ocean of your eyes.
I'll become invisible as the colors cavort
like belly-dancers in the sky.









_______________________________
Emptiness touches the cold crevices of of my soul
As fire flows down and fills my lungs
Why is it loneliest when you lie beside me?
________________________________










Sometimes left over chocolate and silent teddy bears just don't cut it.
Ha, so I just re-read the last line of the last stupid poem-thing (whatever those two tangle of words happen to be). That was pretty much my relationship with Kalvin. Maybe I just get stuck in ruts, or get comfortable with feeling unwanted. I am a Taurus, after all.

love post. valentines day come late?

I'm currently listening to a podcast that talks about love. The first part was a depressing bit about a couple's "how we met" story. I wondered why the heck my friend sent this link to me. Lovey-dovey stories just depress me right now.

Then a story about platonic love came up--a story about friendship between two eight-year-old little girls. Listening to the interview, I discovered these two had actually been born male and identify as female. Now I know why my friend sent me this. Anyone who knows me at all, knows I love learning about and discussing gender and sexuality identity issues. Anyway, I've heard transgender adults explain how they always felt "different" as children and/or identified as the opposite sex--but I've never heard from children themselves who feel that way. It was fascinating.

On a not-so-fascinating note. I'm happier not thinking or talking about people I like. I just get depressed. And I think maybe it doesn't make others too happy either. I should become a nun or somehing. Become married to my cause for peace and social justice. I don't think peace and social justice would keep me warm at night, though.

I met someone tonight. Well, re-met. Got to know. Fell for.

Geez, I'm pathetic. And I love it. And, of course, they're pretty much unavailable. At least I found a new friend. A freaking amazing, fantastic, intriguing, damn good looking friend. Yes, please.

You're like that tornado in the Wizard of Oz, sweeping up everything in your path.

I wanted to cry. The first half of my day was like a mediaeval torture device slowly pealing bloodied layers of skin away from my body. Typically, I can get a handle on stressful situations. Today however? Not a chance. Campus Conversations was two days late (with a boss already unhappy with my performance), ClockTower was one day late (first time won't make distribution deadline all year), and my Lifeglow article for Christian Record Services was one day late. Then there's the piles of overdue Institutional Development and upcoming Intro to Graphic Arts homework that I haven't even started yet. I also flaked on a committee meeting for the Malawi project because I thought it was tomorrow morning, not today.

All of those things aren't what pushed me off the edge, though. It was lack of water. No, I wasn't thirsty--but I suppose my skin was. I wanted a damn shower. You can deprive me of sleep, give me too much to do, watch me fail at life and meeting deadlines--just please let me have a scorching hot shower and bit of eye makeup.

By 3:30, I was ready to shoot someone (like myself). Instead, I got everything finished up, skipped Reporting, and took one of the most fantastic showers of my life. Okay, every shower becomes the most fantastic shower of my life--work with me here. Anyway, after slipping into my favorite gray dress, I went to the mailroom. My sister had sent me chocolates and Special K with Berries cereal. Completely made up for my rotten day.

From there, it was grand semi-picnic and Black Market adventures with Sierra. I bought two new amazing, fantastic dresses (I had some store credit from bringing my own clothes in to trade).

STOP.

How the hell did my blog go to "dear diary, this is what I did today" when I wanted to blog about my instant-gratification nature, hedonistic self, and the interesting movie I watched tonight?

I'm toned down, I suppose. I'll tone everything down. I've toned you down--I still tell everyone what a nice person you are.

WHOA.

Why am I suddenly directing my blog at people of my past? Silly me.

I'll just leave this with two thoughts. A) I'm glad I stayed in my room tonight, and didn't go outside to play. B) Even if Better than Chocolate is cliche and campy, it made me happy inside. My new favorite quote: Soft centers, hard centers. I like ALL the chocolates in the box.

Ha. Hmmm. I love chocolate. I wish I hadn't left the ones Meg gave me in the CT office.

South Street Plaza Adventures

Sometimes I get shy--especially when it comes to good-looking strangers looking at me. Sometimes I avoid eye contact and have minor "what should I do?" panick attacks. I never, ever offer them my phone number.

Unless, of course, they happen to be an interesting boy with long hair working at Open Harvest. I don't even know his name. Interesting facts? I can at least supply a few of those. He's been a vegetarian since he was five, vegan for the last three weeks and longboards.

I doubt he'll call, and almost don't want him to. Sometimes hiding behind shyness is so much easier than saying hello.

(I still can't believe I gave him my phone number. Can I blame it on the fantastic blue skies and energizing air? Better than drugs.)

"Girl put that record on, play my favorite song" (or something like that)

Despite having a very lovely day downtown with Michael (Chipotle, The Spindle, A Novel Idea, The Black Market/The Public, and Meadowlark. Yay!), I have three major complaints right now.

1) The "Love is Blue: Great Songs of the '60s" record set I bought today from The Spindle contains some fantastic songs (Ode to Billie Joe, for example). Unfortunately, it only contains the music from those songs. No fun words about jumping off the Tallahatchie bridge :-(

2) LIGHTS! I'm not asking for a camera or even action (welllll), but can't we do something about these bright ceiling fixtures? The kitchen and the laundry rooms' lights are always being left on. To what point and purpose? I mean, besides to annoy me and waste lots of energy of course.

Haha, actually it doesn't even make me mad--I'm just in a ranting mood for some reason. It does kind of bother me in a "I wish people realized how much they could do just by flipping the switch" way, but not so much in an "arrrrg" way.

3) I don't remember. It must not be that important (not that anything I ever write about is important though). Oh yeahh, that everything (and by everything, I mean Bread & Cup) is closed on Sundays.

Okay, enough ranting. I'm actually in a good mood so I'll gush instead. Three current non-complaints:

1) Even though the records I forked out my measly moneys for have no words, the music is very relaxing. I like it.

2) Meeting new people is fantastic! So remember that hot guy I mentioned in my last post? I officially met him today when Michael and I stopped by The Public (which is inside The Black Market). Now it's official that we're friends--facebook told me so. He's freaking rad (even if he does have a fiance, lol)! The world needs more radtastic people who have (veggie) sushi on Sundays :-p I also met a lady (a regular at Meadowlark) who is going to teach me to crochet :-)

3) I think I'm going to TRY to make a shoulderbag out of TOMS flags. I'm not sure how well that will work. I'm hoping Jesse will let me kife some out some TOMS boxes, otherwise I doubt two flags will go very far.