Talking to Myself

Oh, me. You must be crazy by the way you live. Your brain is consumed by little turns of phrase and every abstraction of The Family. Why, you wear dresses to illustrate your femininity, because to own a role gives you a place in a family. A traditional role, that is. However, you are content now as an observer. As an investigator of policy and as a critic of the tradition. Though you have been obsessed with tradition and rules since you were born. The more rigid, the more real. And yet, your life is not as disciplined as some. You have not made your bed in weeks, and at the moment you can not even type an appropriate conclusion.

Though there is one conclusion we can all enjoy:

Not Even True

Dear Friend ,

I am alone on an island . I am in the exact center of the island .

I can not bear to look at the water , because what then ? There are no boats .

I have a tent . I have a book .

I have this paper and this pen and your handkerchief .

I even have food . I have a lot of food .

Will you come ?

I lied about the water -- somedays I swim . I take long , long , long swims .

We could swim together . You do not swim well , I remember . I would help you .

You would learn quickly .

We would swim for hours and you would grow to be better than me .

We could read , too . My book is very good . You could bring your books , as well .

Don ‘ t worry . We would have visitors .

We would have whomever you wanted every day .

The only reason I don ‘ t have visitors now is because they look like you .

It makes me lonely for you .

But it is OK . The island is very pleasant . Even alone it is pleasant .

The sunset is beautiful . The birds make a lovely noise . And , at night , I sleep very soundly .

I know you won ‘ t come . You are busy and have a good job . It is OK .

I just want you to know -- I am alone on an island , waiting for you .

Yours Truly ,

A Close Friend

At Second Sight

It was a two person shift tonight at Za's. Yep, just me and the old manager. (Old, of course, meaning 25.) Two person shifts are always really slow, so the old manager thought it'd be great to ask me Important Questions. ("What is the root of all evil?" "If you had three bullets and no consequences who would you kill?") The first question, however, was so clichéd, so obvious, that I felt a little unsettled answering.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

No.

"How about second sight?"

No. I don't even know what that is.

"C'mon. You look. And then you look again. Instant love!" (My old manager is a little hyper. He's the one that will sleep when he is dead.)

No. The thing is, I believe that you can Fall In Love with someone at first sight, or in the shower, or tying your shoes, or as you both reach for the same breadstick or whatever, but that is irrelevant. Eh, who doesn't Fall In Love every day? Everyone is interesting and exciting and in my head and in novels they would all give me a perfectly charmed life and would always think that I smelled good and said cute, silly things. What are more relevant are those relationships that turn unconditional.

I know, I know, you're only supposed to unconditionally love your parents and your children, or something like that, but sometimes, with a few special people, we slip up. Sometimes you go from exclaiming over your shared interests to following the same patterns of thought without noticing it. Sometimes you cross a boundary, where you know there is no return. You can't go any farther with the person mentally, because you haven't even gone that far in your own head. And when you argue, it isn't particularly troublesome that you are both disregarding the other's feelings, because you are tied together, the future holds you both in the same net.

I've lost touch with a lot of friends, but there are some people that I know I'll always feel resting their hands on my shoulders. I know I'm probably too young to say this, but I know that sometimes the boundaries don't matter, the rules are forgotten, and there are some people you'll know forever.

No, I don't believe in love at second sight, but I do believe that I have a few soul mates.

Past White Future White Present Dark

What did you expect when you sat there dreamlike--white dress, white bathroom, window open? Sex was evident in the scene you created and you knew as you lay in the bathtub with water and lemon on your lips, in your hair and across your navel, that it was coming. But now, stomach churning in bed, you throw up. It is dark now. In the morning the sun and leaves will create shadows across his face, he’ll be a baby in the nook of your arm. The world will be perfect. Now, though. Now, beer and bile and all the food you could have eaten. Now it stains the carpet.

We Ourselves Flash and Yearn

The family is pro-Sandburg, Carl Sandburg for the kitten. Everyone cried yesterday. I walked home from the river down the wrong street, and the drunks all waved and catcalled. It must have been the shoes. Life, friends, is [not] boring.

I wish

I wish I wish I wish.

I have so much so much so much to be grateful for, but in bed I think of the lives of other nineteen year olds. How other nineteen year olds are partying at that moment, or sleeping to prepare for their Good Summer Jobs that Will Get Them Somewhere In Life (in the adult world), or studying, or worrying about real problems.

And then there is me.

I have a mini-part time job, and another mini-part time job that starts at the end of June. I want to volunteer desperately, but every place I volunteer to volunteer with wants me to be a full-time volunteer! Excuse me, but I need to eat too. I don't want to party all the time, and I somehow missed out on my chance for a Good Summer Job that Will Get Me Somewhere In Life, especially because I want to be a social worker and not a lawyer or something strange like that. I can't study because I don't have class because I can't afford it in the summer (too many loans), and ahhhhh! I'm worrying and I don't even have a brain tumor or an eviction notice. I'm going to die early because of all this unnecessary worrying!

Everyone reminisces about when they were young and carefree and how great their lives were. What am I doing wrong? Am I sleeping too much? My manager seems to think every teenager's problems stem from sleeping too much. He said he'll sleep when he's dead. Oh, world, I would love to always be awake, if only my life was as great as every middle=aged person's memories.

Of course, deep down, I think their memories are wrong.

Beautiful

I was riding my bike down the street, music was playing outside of a restaurant, and I thought, "I am going to write a blog post about this!" Of course, I have no idea what THIS is, and I feel kind of disgusting that I thought this, but more so I feel very sad that my memory has failed me once again. However, life is good because I have attractive pictures of my sisters on my computer.