you wanted something more than this

My husband is in one room and he hears the water running but he thinks it's someone taking a shower. I am in another room, with my daughter, watching a Jersey Shore episode I have DVR'd and saved to watch with her when she comes home on the weekend from college. We cannot explain why we love that show--we just do. We laugh about their accents and their hair and the ridiculous tans they get from tanning beds when the beach sits right outside their front door. I hear water at one point, but it is raining outside and so I shake my head and tell myself it's just rain. More time passes and I hear the sound of water again and I think to myself that something is not right, that it sounds as though it is raining INSIDE the house. I walk out of the room and I turn towards the sound of the water and discover it is coming from the bathroom. The toilet has overflowed and flooded everywhere.

I start screaming OMG but then I shift into clean-up mode. I am good in a crisis. I panic initially for a number of seconds, but then you can count on me to find a way out of whatever mess I am in with quiet and cool. You want me on your side because I can make you believe everything will be ok, that I can fix anything. My husband is just the opposite. He can be counted on to help, but he cannot give up on his raging against whatever mess we are in. He screams and he rages and he does not get that nothing he says will change the fact that we simply need to shut up and deal with what's in front of us. He makes whatever mess we're in a thousand times worse just because he cannot keep his mouth shut.

We spend the afternoon wet vacuuming up the excess water and attempting to dry the carpets with big, industrial sized fans. The entire time we are dealing with this mess, my husband is screaming his lungs out about everything. How he is sick of living this way, how hard he works and how much he hates living with the insanity of toilets overflowing, etc., etc., etc. He can turn the smallest thing into the biggest problem and the biggest problem into something much worse without even trying. In my head I am plotting how I will leave him even though I know I will never go anywhere. It helps to pretend there is a place I can go when madness is all around me.

That evening, after cleaning up all the toilet water we've been knee deep in all day, we head off to see the play Annie downtown. It is still raining outside--the freezing kind of rain that makes you think the whole world is crying, and our parking space is two blocks from the theater. We do not have an umbrella because I forgot to bring one and if I don't remember everything, then nothing gets remembered. We are drenched and so very miserable. I am heartsick about everything, mostly about being stuck in a life that sometimes feels like a trap I can't find my way out of, but then Annie comes on stage and starts singing The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow and I feel my own heart start floating back into its proper place from where it fell inside me.

Sometimes I am amazed at the level of dysfunction I've created for myself without even knowing I was creating it. I own it all, even the crazy, because it's all part of who I am.

the bearer of unconditional things

I know this is really strange, but every once in a while I go to my brother's flicker site and go through his pictures--a virtual stalker, if you will. I have two brothers who don't speak to me, who I have not seen in over 20 years. My one brother doesn't speak to me just because (really!). My other brother who doesn't speak to me, basically cut the whole family off and I was just collateral damage thrown into the mix because he severed ties with them. Even though I did nothing to him except love him, I got cut off, too. I've spent a lifetime trying to process this. I cannot tell you how it feels to be erased like that from someone's life because there are no words. I never talk about it to anyone because I don't know what to say. I know that a lot of my childhood years have been forgotten because of this.

I cannot remember so many things. My sister will ask me if I remember this or that and I have to tell her no. I try to remember, but I can't. I was literally erased from their lives, then I think my mind erased most things connected to them. I do remember my older brother being a know-it-all and I remember him playing the Elvis Costello song "Alison" over and over and over again. I remember this about my little brother: When he first started school, he cried and cried, and could not be consoled, so I would stand in line with him to take him to his class in the morning so that he would feel safe and stop all that crying. I have never been able to stand seeing little kids cry.

Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a trip down memory lane where I get all weepy over lost relationships because I'm at peace with my life at this point. What I wanted to write was that as I was going through my brother's Christmas flicker pictures, I noticed something weird. There were pictures of the inside of his house decorated for the holidays and what I noticed is that both my sister and my brother have almost 100% copied the way my parents furnish and decorate their home. They all have open beams on their ceilings. They have the same type of rug in the family room. Their kitchens are set up in identical ways. Their wooden tables all have a sheet of glass on top and a white doily runner between the wood and the glass. There are built in bookshelves in the family room of all their homes. Their fireplace mantles are adorned in similar fashions. When my parents started to collect a certain kind of expensive pottery, my sister went out and bought a ton of it herself. My mother has an extensive collection of Hummels and I noticed that my sister started collecting them as well. They all have the same type of curtains in the windows, too. Let me be clear, their homes are beautiful. But it's like this weird copycatville where they all seem compelled to be carbon copies of each other. I wonder what they think about when they visit each other. I'm guessing they think what good taste they all have since they all have the exact same taste.

I'm trying to figure out what this means because I think there has to be some reason why they both felt the need to replicate our parents home inside their own homes. I think it might have something to do with needing my parents approval and knowing that they would have it if they copied them. What else could it be? There's no hint of originality in either home that screams, THIS IS ME, I AM DIFFERENT FROM YOU.

I guess I just find it fascinating to know that there isn't anything in my home that resembles their homes. If I never moved away, I wonder if my home would mimic theirs. I wonder if I would reside in copycatville as well due to the pressure of living in the same area, or if I would have the courage to be the me that is different from them that I feel free to be because I am so far away.

Blue moon ringing in a New Year, 2010

There's an eclipsed Blue Moon tonight, so I am taking that as a sign that 2010 will be good.

2009 has been mostly wonderful. I am enormously blessed. I look forward to the promise that a new year brings and will do my best to honor my life here on earth. I will continue to seek the truth in all things and I will work to acquire the knowledge I need to help myself and my family navigate through this world. I will look for the divine everywhere and in everyone. I will strive to remain in the light.

Happy New Year!

May health, happiness and prosperity be yours.

the stars are brightly shining

I woke up Christmas morning with a sore throat. It's no wonder, really. My kids have been sick off and on for the past month and I could have picked up something from them. Or, it could have been from that woman I stood behind at the post office the other day. She coughed like a maniac without covering her mouth. She carried around a little plastic bottle all taped up with gray masking tape and about every few seconds she would spit into it. I tried not to think about it too much or look at her doing this because it was seriously grossing me out. I've never seen anything like it. Who carries around a little plastic bottle to spit into? The post office line was ridiculously long and as I was standing there all I could think was that this woman's germs were making a beeline into my air space at breakneck speed and I had no way to protect myself from the assault. Sure enough, I woke up to my throat feeling as though it was on fire. I've loaded up on vitamin C and took some colloidal silver to kill whatever bacteria has invaded my body and I'm already starting to feel better. Oh, and I pop Zicam dissolvable tablets as well. They always make my colds go away quicker.

I made a delicious meal, mostly using my grill. I've read several blog posts lately about people finding joy and peace in the kitchen and maybe there's something in the water because I seem to be finding that same sort of contentment when I'm cooking that I never felt before. I think a part of me has spent a great deal of time convincing myself that I'm not a good cook and will never be one. I assigned myself a label of mediocrity in the cooking department and was content to live down to that assessment. Then one day I got bored and tried new things and found that I can cook and I'm really good at it. I'm the type of person that likes to follow directions to the letter and so letting go of that rigidity has given me the freedom to subtract or add things or even totally make up my own recipes as I go along. All my life I've been aware that I place limits on myself that only hurt me. I'm learning to change the way I think about myself, giving myself permission to be more. It's like the sky is the limit if only I believe it. Better late than never, right?

I did not miss my extended family even once this year, so I am here to report that after 18 years, being away from loved ones gets easier. It's like I've totally accepted that this is my life and it's up to me to make the most of my time here. When I went outside tonight to turn on my Christmas lights, I looked up into the cold December night sky and sent my love and good wishes their way. I am with them always. They are always with me.

Merry Christmas

I tried something different this year. Instead of waiting until Christmas Eve to wrap all the presents, I started a couple of days ago and now, for the first time in forever, I am not hunched over on the floor somewhere with tape and wrapping paper and Christmas tags cursing whoever it was that thought it was a good idea to wrap presents in pretty colored paper. It feels glorious.

Merry Christmas from my house to yours. I wish you happiness, peace, light and love.

the lies she tells me

She lies about everything. Stupid lies. Insulting lies that make me want to suggest she work harder at coming up with something more believable when she cannot find the words to speak the truth. I ask her if she even cares about us because I think that she can't possibly care about people she lies to all the time so easily, with not so much as an inkling of guilt. And she replies, "that's an awful thing to say," turning the discussion away from her, pointing an accusatory finger back at me which is another thing she does to avoid answering questions honestly.

I want to take responsibility for the part I feel I must play in this, the part that makes her feel unsafe in telling the truth, even about the little things. I wonder where I went wrong, where I failed on my end. I think about this every time she lies and since she lies so much I'm thinking about it all the time. I've tried reacting with anger, compassion, and unconditional love but nothing ever changes--the lies just keep spilling and spilling out of her mouth and into the spaces of air that appear empty between us.

She lies about everything and I do not know what to do about it except not believe anything she says.

The center of everything

I am trying to burn down a pumpkin spiced candle that's almost at its end. I should probably just put it away already but I love the scent. It's raining outside--has been raining and cold most of the day. I ended up doing a little Christmas shopping today and bought some poinsettias for the house. I finally threw my pumpkins in the trash although what I wanted to do was toss them out back into the woods at the edge of our lawn so that they would rot and maybe the seeds would take root and sprout pumpkins next year but my husband said it would attract ants and apparently we don't want to attract a bunch of ants outside where they live anyway so in the trash they went.

I can't wait to run tomorrow since I wasn't able to run today. Sometimes I hate running so much I want to cry because of all the aches I end up having, but then I'll miss a day because of rain and all I can think about is running. I'm never sure whether I am running away from something or towards something--maybe a little of both. I do know that when I am out there, I forget about everything and that's a good thing when your head is always filled to bursting with thoughts that won't let you rest.

I received the most thoughtful, wonderful gift for my birthday--tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera and I can hardly wait until Saturday when we go. I had been quietly promoting this as a gift for a while amongst my family but no one seemed to get a clue so I gave up throwing out hints about a year ago. Then one day I was listening to the soundtrack and thinking to myself that I'd really like to go see it in person and the next day tickets arrived in the mail!! It was like magic. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself and I wasn't angry that I hadn't had the opportunity to go yet, I was simply thinking how great it would be to go. I didn't say a thing--I just had the thought in my head that I wanted to go and just like that, I am going!

In my dreams--the ones I manage to remember--I always have magical powers. I like thinking I'm learning to find the magic of my dreams when I'm awake.

Drop by drop

"Writing a journal means that facing your ocean, you are afraid to swim across it, so you attempt to drink it drop by drop."~George Sand


I've been watching the second season of HBO's In Treatment on demand and decided that there is an art to listening I had never noticed before and I wonder if maybe the only way to have access to that type of listening is to pay for it. I'm not being snarky here. It's just that no one I know listens the way the therapist on the show listens to his patients--with such care, such attention to detail, and such compassion. It is truly an art and something I would like to learn to do better, and have done better in regards to me.

~~~~~~~~~~

For the past couple of weeks I have been on an eating binge. I eat everything in sight--leftover Baby Ruth bars from Halloween, chips, pretzels--you name it and I eat it. I go to bed at night with a container of extra strength tropical fruit TUMS by my nightstand and chew those up like skittles to combat the indigestion brought on by these feeding frenzies, then I wake up the next day and do it all over again. I am never filled up. I am never filled up.

~~~~~~~~~~

There is an angel tree filled with requests by children at the grocery store where I shop. The other day I stood there and read the little wishes and I almost started crying because I wanted to scoop them all up and be the person who filled all those wishes but I know my husband would flip out if I did such a thing. Instead I think I will take an angel every time I go and fill that wish from now until Christmas. I have been blessed with much and it makes me happy to share--especially with children who remind me to be ever hopeful of just about everything.

``````````````````````

Weekends get a little stressful around here. I want a break from the same old, same old and want to be free to do what I want to do and yet my adult children seem only to think of my life in terms of what I can do for them. It's all so predictable and annoying and I do not know of a way to complain about it that gets my point across for more than 5 minutes. I do not want to be that parent who wishes her children would just hurry up and leave but I find myself becoming her more and more--especially on the weekends. It's a fight to keep my newly found serenity and it worries me that I feel serenity most strongly when I am by myself.

``````````````````

I have hated running the past two weeks. It's a struggle to get myself out the door, not because I hate being outside but because I dread running the same paths and hearing the same music. I started to think about how many miles I have run in the last 21 weeks of religious exercise and it feels like a million. I am running up and down streets and around cul de sacs--like a lab rat stuck in a maze. So I'm thinking about changing up my scenery by going somewhere new. And I bought some new sneakers to have something new and shiny to motivate me not to give up. You should hear the pep talks I give myself each morning. This is what I say: "You can't give up. You have to keep trying. Remember how good you feel afterwards. Don't be that person who can't stick to things for more than just a short while." This is a dangerous time for me. I always know when I am about to take a little break from exercising that will last 6 months or more and I am determined not to let that happen. I'll keep you posted.

~~~~~~~~

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving. I've got pies to bake and a turkey to cook correctly so that I don't give my family food poisoning. This is always a worry of my husband's even though no one has ever gotten food poisoning from food I have prepared in over 20 years. Still, each year I get cautioned that I must prepare the turkey correctly. This year he has also suggested that perhaps instead of potentially poisoning everyone with turkey, maybe I should just make meatloaf and mashed potatoes instead. It promises to be another interesting holiday in my corner of the world.

the easy kill

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


On the day of my birthday, I did not get a call from my parents. I kept checking the phone thinking I would miss their call when I went out for a run, when I stepped out to get the mail, while I was in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. I was watching TV in bed that night with my phone beside me, and I decided I needed to check the recent call list one last time just to make sure I didn't miss their call, but there was no listing with their name and number beside it. There was no missing call. It was in that moment that I was able to step out of myself and see how pathetic the whole situation was. I see myself waiting for the call. I see myself accepting no call will come.

I like to think about life as a journey of lessons learned, so I tried to figure out what the lesson of this could be. Was it that the world did not end just because I did not get a call from them on the one day of the year that is mine? Was it that a phone call, or lack thereof, should not be mistaken for love or lack thereof? Was the lesson that expectations of others are futile--even the simplest of things--because expectations inevitably lead to disappointments? Who knows. I'm sure I don't.

I tried to imagine the thought process that went into them not calling me because it is important that I understand why. Did they make a conscious choice to let the day pass without a word to me or did I slip their mind altogether? I will not lie: neither choice feels acceptable. Understanding eludes me.

A pattern of mine that I've been trying to break is the one where I lock all the unacceptable things inside my head where I tell myself not to think about them. It's a safety mechanism of mine that I've taken up because people have not always been careful of my heart and I know I'll be unwaveringly vigilant. I've learned, though, that the feelings tied to all the unacceptable things do not go away just because I choose not think about them.

Instead, I've been trying to deal with the feelings as they come--to honor the feelings, good and bad, that come from my journey. I used to think it was best to lock everything bad away because I was afraid thinking those thoughts would kill me, but they didn't. In case you haven't noticed, I can be quite theatrical at times. I thought the feelings would paralyze me and render me unable to move forward. But then I stopped being afraid to feel my own emotions, and learned I am stronger than I think I am. Hidden, unexamined, unfelt feelings are more poisonous than allowing myself to feel them. I can cry the sadness out of me and then move on.

For most of my adult life, I have felt somewhat disconnected from people, and I think the roots of this disconnection go all the way back to my beginning. There was a lack of nurturing I experienced--not in any way connected to having food, clothing, and shelter--that left me feeling apart from the rest of the world. I find this difficult to explain. It's like being on the outside looking in all the time. It's needing to watch other families and relationships to learn what it's like to behave like a normal family/person because it doesn't come naturally. It's guarding your heart always, because that is what makes you feel safe in this world.

When something happens to remind me where I come from, I feel stuck and angry and sad all at once. I have to sit in those emotions and feel them and they feel awful. I think if only I was a better person--THEN I'm sure they would have remembered to call me--which is ridiculous. I don't want to have to be better to be remembered. I just want to be who I am.

Sometimes I feel so alone in this world--that my ties to the people I love are so tenuous--that if severed--I would simply float away, telling myself not to look back, because I would know instinctively that those on the ground would not be looking up to see where I might be going.

I have been mourning the relationship I have with my parents for most of my life. It feels like this: I have everything except what they did not give me, and what they did not give me is everything I'll ever want.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*This happened a number of weeks ago and I wrote this immediately afterwards, however, I wasn't really able to post it until now because I felt so horrible. I'm pretty much over it now. Time heals what reason cannot.

another me

I have the window opened a little more than a crack, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke is snaking its way into the room. I imagine our neighbor next door standing on her deck out back to keep the smell of smoke out of her house and away from her little boy. Growing up, my father smoked like a mad man. There are pictures of him, at thirteen years old, sneaking a smoke in the back of a building somewhere. When we were little, and would go through old photographs, my siblings and I couldn't get over how bad he must have been to be smoking at thirteen. We couldn't even imagine.

Our house smelled like smoke--the curtains, the furniture, our clothes--everything. When my father turned forty, his mother was diagnosed with lung cancer--from being a smoker her entire life. Her ugly, painful death from this disease made my father give up smoking. He simply stopped one day and never smoked again.

Although I've never been a smoker, there are times I get the urge to buy myself a pack of cigarettes. It's the strangest thing. I imagine myself in some secluded spot, sneaking a cigarette or two then coming back to a life where that's not something I would ever do in a million years.

Not stopping

"One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eye."~The Little Prince


I waited all morning and half the afternoon for the rain to die down to a drizzle so that I could go outside and do my run. This blog is becoming monotonous--I run, and I talk about running but I can't help it--it's what makes me happy and feel at peace. This was the second day this week that rain was trying to take away my fun. I was impatient for it to be gone. But then I went out there with a hat on and a SWEATSHIRT! and my music in my ears and I ran. I loved everything about the drizzle hitting my face, keeping me cool. I loved the clouds in the sky and the trees turning beautiful fall colors and the stream of water rushing down the street beside me. I feel closest to God--with the divine greatness of the universe--when I am outdoors. I never, ever in my whole life took the time to look around and really appreciate all the natural beauty around me, so it's like I am making up for lost time.

I spent the last couple of weeks getting my house in shape for a visit from my in-laws and then at the very last minute they decided that the trip was just too long to make. At first I was like---huh? But then I remembered how miserable I feel when I am in a car for endless hours--how my body aches and how bored to death I feel. And I thought about how they're so much older and shouldn't have to do anything they don't want to do and then I was ok with it. It's not like getting angry would have changed things anyway so I didn't bother wasting the energy. My house is looking spotless and organized, so in a way, I am thankful for the little push to get things in order.

Believe it or not, I think about writing here a lot, although it's clear that I do not actually come here and write very often. There really isn't much going on in my life that's interesting from the outside looking in. I've been going through some internal changes that are difficult to articulate. All I know is that I have searched tirelessly for truth and peace and God---and after all the searching, I found them all inside me. I was looking outside when I should have been looking within. I'm rejecting fear and choosing love. As much as possible, I am trying to send out into the world good energies so that good energies come back to me and it's working. I am being pleasantly surprised by the power I have that I did not know I had. I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life. My life is truly what I make it.

Have a nice day

I got up this morning as usual and prepared to go for a run. It was sprinkling just a little bit so I decided that I'd do a little housework and wait to see if it cleared. Around 9:00 AM, someone rings my front doorbell and starts knocking on the door. I peeked out the blinds and saw a 20 something male standing there kind of shuffling around. I know I shouldn't have opened the door, but I did and he immediately went into some spiel about his mother being in a bad accident and how he needed gas and/or money for gas so that he could go to the hospital to see his dying mother. He was crying and very dramatic about the whole thing. He told me he owned a pressure washing business and that if I gave him gas or gas money to go see his dying mother, that he'd be happy to come back and pressure wash my house and driveway. I told him that wasn't necessary because at this point, all I really wanted to do was get rid of him because he made me nervous with all his shuffling around. He also had really bad teeth--they were black and this gloomy gray color and they kind of freaked me out. I immediately chastised myself for being judgmental and told him I'd check in my garage to see if we had any gas. I closed the door and locked it as quick as lightening.

In the back of my head, I knew that I wanted to tell him straight up to just go away, but I've been trying to find my sense of compassion towards other human beings again. And I've been working hard at removing fear from my life because when I stopped to think about all the things I fear, I found the list was pretty endless. I hated knowing that a lot of my life has been defined by fears that simply stole away time I could have used being happy and productive. There is so much to be afraid of and I think our society plays on those fears so that they can push through agendas that do not benefit any of us. Lately, my mind has been filled with fears about our disastrous financial situation, and the swine flu fear mongering seems to escalate by the minute. It's just endless and I decided I did not want to participate in all that fear anymore so when I feel the panic rising, I retrain my brain to calm myself down about whatever it is that is making me feel scared. I've been very successful at stamping out fears over which I ultimately have no control, and as a reward, I feel much happier.

So when I closed the door on the jittery man out front--even though a part of me sensed something wasn't right--I decided I'd give him money because I tried to think how I would feel if I was alone in the world and I needed to get somewhere and I didn't have any money to buy gas. I thought it wouldn't hurt me to give him money and whatever gas I had in the gas can in the garage because I have enough of both and could get more any time I wanted more. When you're blessed with riches, it costs nothing to give some away--I truly believe that. I tried to see past his exterior into his spirit where I know goodness lies in all of us, and decided I could trust this person I did not know for more than 3 minutes.

As I was digging out my wallet, my son, who was home at the time, came out of his room and asked me what I was doing so I told him the story. He informed me that a cop was out front and, of course, started in on the "don't ever open the door for anyone" lecture as if I was the child and he was the parent. The cop rings our doorbell and asked us if we knew this man and we told him no and I recounted the tale he had told me just moments before. He said he'd been called by some other neighbors and that he was going to look into the background of this fellow.

Long story short, Mr. jittery-black-teeth-money/gas-solicitor was lying. Apparently he's some sort of druggie/dealer. Pretty soon police cruiser number two arrives, then police cruiser number three. It was quite a show. They handcuffed him and hauled him off to jail!

All I could think about today was how these rotten, lying scumbag people ruin things for everyone because they make you harden your heart, they make you suspicious, they make you not want to trust anyone, or do nice things. I was thinking what must go through the mind of someone like that to come onto private property and blatantly lie to scam money to buy drugs. In a million years, I cannot imagine myself in a scenario like that and for that, I am grateful. Still, I feel ridiculous that I chose to believe him, that my kindness is a weakness that other people see as an opportunity to take advantage of.

There is never a dull moment in this neighborhood. I could toss out all the TV's we own and just sit by the windows and be entertained both day and night. I couldn't make up half this stuff even if I tried. I look around me and there's so much dysfunction, so much moral depravity I can hardly stand it. It's hard feeling like you're the only normal person in a world full of whackos.

The earth turns, the sun burns

I decided not to be hateful to the man who walks his dogs and won't say hello to me when I say hi to him. All summer long, I've been ignoring him whenever I see him. It takes a lot of effort to ignore someone who is right across the street hanging onto a dog that is barking wildly and struggling mightily to cross the street and sniff me out. I need to believe that there is goodness in everyone. Whether this is a foolish belief or not remains to be seen. I saw him today and said hello. He said hello back. Progress.

This morning was a gift. The air was just a little bit cool here and that's the first time in forever that I have not been met with a wall of heat the moment I step outdoors. A shadow of the moon was still up in the sky, so was the sun, and so were the clouds. I wished I could be up there, too, floating on a cloud or something, sipping a drink with lots of ice. Sometimes the earth feels too crowded with people and stuff. In my dreams, I can fly. If only.

Everything is going well here. My youngest seems to be adjusting to college life and we are adjusting to life without her here all the time. Every day it's a new drama at the school--tonight it was a fire in her dorm. She proudly stated that she remembered to take her cell phone and her favorite blanket when the alarm went off in the building. No mention of the $2,000 laptop, though. Priorities, I guess.

Anyway, I want to say that I've been busy being happy, because that's what's true.

who i am, who i'm not, who i want to be

My summer has been a whirlwind of activity and now we're getting ready for our youngest to go off to college. It's such an exciting time for her and I'm so happy to be a part of it. I'm not sad in the least--I'm thrilled for her. It is not enough to say I wish the world for her. My dreams for her are limitless. I forget about being negative when I'm around my children. They have always been my hope for bigger and better things. In my deepest heart, I know that what I get from them is more than what I have given to them. The list is endless. Not surprisingly, the list begins and ends with love.

One of the pleasures of running every day is that I turn a glorious shade of bronze just by trekking through my neighborhood. I think exposure to the sun has been demonized by medical professionals to the point of ridiculousness and I'm sure that's mostly because sunshine cannot be bottled and sold at exorbitant prices to the masses. The sun has always felt so healing to me and maybe that's because my body instinctively knows how good it is for me. My blistered, aching feet are wounds I curse and cherish simultaneously. They remind me I am alive. They keep me in the moment.

I am not sure why I haven't been writing as much lately. Partly it has to do with me trying to come to terms with this life of mine. I've been on a quest for truth in everything and have found that you cannot find the truth if truth is not inside you. This has proved difficult because I'm a keeper of secrets. I can bury secrets deep inside the vault of my soul and forget about them. Occasionally, I will take them out in the dead of the night but never long enough to sort anything out. I ask myself what it is that I am afraid of and I answer that I am afraid I will fall apart if I dare to stare down the secrets/truths about myself that feel impossible to come to terms with. I think I do not have the time to fall apart when I've got real life to deal with and so I keep putting this showdown off till another day. I think the sun will continue to shine and time will continue to march on, but there are days I'm not convinced of it. There is truth inside me that I need to set free, that I need to face without fear so that I can find the truth in everything.

Rule breakers

(another shitty person story)


I had picked up about 25-30 items at the grocery store last night. I walked up to one line and saw that there were two people ahead of me with their carts filled to the brim so I wandered down to another lane and started to unload my stuff. I was halfway through unloading (I was bending over my cart picking a couple of yogurts up) when this woman comes up behind me and shouts, "WELL, I GUESS THIS ISN'T A 15 ITEMS OR LESS LINE ANYMORE!!!" then she stomped off in a huff. It was at that moment that I happened to glance up to see that I had wandered (unknowingly) into a 15 items or less line. I seriously did not even notice the sign hanging from the ceiling (also, not that this is an excuse, but these stores all have different item limits--some say 10 some say 15 some say 25--I clearly had more than 15 items, but they were yogurts and gatorades and some canned goods--and checking out would have been quick). Apparently this is a death row offense as far as some people are concerned. The woman behind the indignant bitch said jokingly, "ooooooooo, you're such a rule breaker!" I told her that WOW, I would have moved if she had just acted like a normal person, but she assumed that I was conspiring to make all the 15-items-and-less-people wait behind me on purpose when I didn't even realize I was in one of those stupid lines. OMG, people are really trying my patience lately!

I was incensed for most of my trip home, but then a good song came on the radio and I let it go. I mean, if the biggest problem that woman has in life is ME making a mistake and unloading too many items at the checkout, then she has nothing to complain about, and if MY biggest problem is a nasty old bitch griping about a silly mistake that I would have been glad to rectify if she had simply been normal, then my life is quite excellent indeed.