A bit of this and that

I skipped town this afternoon to a remote happy location that I will not disclose because that would defeat the purpose of skipping town. randomly.

So now I sit in a tiny cosy kitchen that smells both of spicy meatballs and cinnamon Christmas candles. And as a form of self inventory-I'm giving in to the urge to write. At least a little.

I am thankful that Christmas is gone and with it the undue pressure to be deliriously happy. I am not unhappy for the most part. I however, seem acutely averse to being told how to feel. Not everybody can be sparkly on cue you know?

On that note, I apologize to all the people I instructed to have a merry Christmas--it was all the pressure you know, to be merry and stuff. What I really meant-was have a good Christmas whatever that means to you.

I have considered getting a tattoo over the last few days. That is part of the trouble with down time. First you regroup, recover from all the things life has done to you prior to your breather and then you start to go crazy. You try awful recipes and cause your family to order emergency Chinese, then you think of ways to permanently alter your skin. I am not getting one I have decided. For two reasons. No, my mother will not kill me. She has bigger problems than my potential stupidity.

First, I am indecisive. And you are not allowed to be indecisive when it comes to tattoos. You have to know that you know. It is not quite like ordering coffee...you can't just mumble some sleepy ideas to the barrister and walk out of the shop with a steaming cup of something delicious.

Maybe you can. But I am not taking that chance.

Also, I will not get a tattoo because I evolve too much. If this was the beginning of time and we were still monkeys and all that, I would be voted most likely to NOT be a monkey by the end of the day. Please be aware that I am not at all referring to my superior ability to advance....because if you know me at all you know that this is not the case. As far as monkeyness goes, I am completely regular, four legs, a tail....

Ok, maybe that was a bit much.

I am just saying though ordinary, I am extremely inconsistent about most things and even though I usually understand why I loved what I loved ten years or ten minutes ago...I can't get myself to think or feel the same way again.

In light of this evidence, I think you agree that it would be wiser if I didn't get a tattoo.

Having down time also led inevitably to introspection which I'm sure seems more innocuous than getting the ill advised tattoo, but I would (if I were important enough to make these kinds of decrees) suggest that introspection be put on the same list as alcohol and drugs and cigarettes and driving race cars.

The list of things that should be regulated by the government. Or whatever power tickles your fancy. As long as someone controlled how much, when and how we did it.

We mostly worry about being mugged, wrecking our cars, or falling off bridges and while these are understandably realistic worries, I am suddenly more concerned about our inner ability to self destruct. A few hours of unrestrained thought is enough to kill our dreams, break our own hearts.

I said all of that when I could have just said-If you can help it, don't visit your skeletons too often.

I otherwise wish you a generally pleasant break. I mean if a hangover or two slip in, thats okay just as long as you are content.

That's what it comes down to apparently.

That crazy inexplicable peace in spite and despite all.

I don't know when, but I will be back. I do not write a lot these days as you have probably already figured. Where I was standing was never really the question you see, it is easy to tell when you are on the outside looking in. The only thing that is fuzzy is just how far out you are. And then one day you just find your way, you find your magical crack in the wall and you are in. It was a beautiful and ugly day...the day I discovered that I love something else more than I love to write.

This little song well, it's for you/These lovely years, here with you/ and you, you make me run/ and you, you make me want to live/ for you.
-Fisher Lyrics. Song Title: You

The Way The Wind Blows

I wanted to talk. I wanted to say more than hello and goodbye. I wanted to say congratulations. I wanted to say that I know. I know that life is not black and white-we are all just shades of grey wandering along the vast continuum of our existence. Everything is in complex layers; people, life, situations...none of that is completely black and white. Some how we just have to find the shade of grey that smoothly blends with our soul or peel back slowly, one layer at a time to find the ultimate truth.

It is good to know that I was right about you. About your honor and your goodness. About that light inside of you that has survived dark battles, snow storms, windy nights.
I wanted to tell you that you have pulled through already. As unfair as it may sound, sometimes a single choice changes the course of our lives. The beautiful thing is that you have already made that choice.

But more than that, I wanted to listen. I wanted to hear the new found peace in your voice. I wanted to hear small insignificant details, important plans, exciting dreams...

I wanted (albeit momentarily) to be a part of now.

But I fit better in yesterday. I am the wind in your hair, stopping briefly to touch your skin before I go the other way.

I wanted to stop. To talk, To listen.

But I went the other way because that's the way the wind blows.

To Write Love on Her Arms

This may not wash off easily...but that is the point.

To write love on her arms is an ongoing anti-suicide, depression and self-harm movement that I learned about from a bumper sticker and then from Facebook.

I am not completely sure how the movement works but I believe in the idea that love mends broken things.

So I will be joining the masses of people writing LOVE on their skin this weekend.

When the ink finally washes off, I pray that LOVE will remain, and that we continue to see through every unkind life circumstance to the truth about ourselves-our beauty, value and inherent strength.

Dear Diary,

I have perfected the art of walking along the cobblestone on river street in six inch heels. Be proud.

Went to the RMH dinner cruise tonight, and it was cold and beautiful. The river looks so much better at night than it does in the daylight. Savannah is strange and somewhat multi-cultured, and it has grown on me in pretty much the same way sushi has. I can't help but appreciate how much this tiny coastal city has allowed me to grow, and when I look back one day ( I always do)-Savannah memories will elicit many a wistful smile.

Denniece is moving back to Covington in December and I feel like these last few weeks with her are fleeting. I am not prepared to have her faraway, but I am grateful, immensely grateful for having experienced the kind of friendship that makes separation hard.

I know I am brooding a little tonight; brooding at the universe's amazing ability to smile upon me even when she is being a narcissistic little witch.

**quote from the kind voice in my head**: The good thing about remembering your mistakes is that you get to be thankful for not being in that place anymore. Gratitude trumps regret, gives meaning to Amazing Grace.

I would quote the not so kind voice in my head but what good would that add to the world?

goodnight then.

For a precious brief moment, I found clarity. I rose above heartache, loss, shame, rejection, betrayal,and confusion and saw the beauty of imperfection. Wholesomely I appreciated being human and vulnerable. In waves, the pain will come and go. Sometimes I will miss you more than I can bear, sometimes I will be distracted by life’s mundane things-laundry, homework, a friend’s birthday party… it is true-sometimes I will not remember you. And it is this mixed bowl; the good days, the not-so- good and the can’t get out of bed because I miss your face days…that reminds me that I am alive. It reminds me to take every chance I get to smile, to appreciate every good laugh…to let myself cry when I need to, to be generous with my hugs and with my love…

Yes, to love with all my heart, with holding none for another day. Because now we both know that we don’t always get another day.

A Dozen Yellow Daisies

One of the best pieces of advice (why do they call them pieces anyway?) I ever got is very simple-learn how to take a break.

I am just really not good at that.

I have missed you. Honestly.

I immerse myself completely in the things that seem critical at the moment, but there is a tiny, tiny bit of me that doesn't seem to forget about writing...being here, talking to you-telling you about the stale sandwich I ate for lunch, 5 o'clock traffic and my passionate views on nail polish.

The last few months have been hard, I've been a bit of a mobile train wreck. Tell your children (if you have any) to be careful, to watch out for the self destruct button. Because it is not so much what other people do to us as it is what we do to ourselves. Sometimes you break your own heart.

It is almost November now, my hair is messy; outside,the leaves have changed colors and the temperatures have dropped enough to warrant apple cider. Inside of me, the waves lap gently at the shore each time taking a few grains of yesterday's sand.

On my desk sit a dozen yellow daisies.

The Simple Truth

Angry rain drops eventually stopped pelting my window making me realize how very quiet it was. I l got up from the desk, tore my self away from the pictures I was editing and peeked outside. The sky, clearing after the summer storm, seemed friendly, almost inviting.

I left the window, went to the kitchen to refill on coffee and slipped out to the balcony. A gentle moist wind blew in my direction ruffling my already messy hair. I took slow deliberate breaths enjoying the nothingness that surrounded me. It was then that I realized that the tight heaviness, the invisible weight I was feeling was neither stress nor chronic fatigue nor any of the excuses I usually give for any physical discomfort. I was finally on vacation and had time to do the things that make me smile. I had also had plenty of sleep, several fantastic morning runs and the subsequent long steamy showers. I knew then that the weight I couldn't shake was you. All of life's loud noises had faded out to reveal the simple truth about how badly I miss you. I stood out there for a while, in quiet acceptance...finally admitting my vulnerability partly to myself, but mostly to the wind. And then came the inevitable tears;tears held back for as many months as reasons finally slid down the sides of my face dropping out of sight like delayed drops of rain. In the distance, the tops of trees smiled at me, like big soft green cotton balls.