honey

i.
honey -
on the tip of my tongue it lingers
honey -
how was your day?

I want to wrap you up and around between my arms with my legs squeezing you tight hoping to make you feel the warmth that's swelling from my chest and I want to call you
honey

ii.
honey -
but we're not quite there
honey -
so I bite it back

Speaking to me softly thoughts swirling around this way and that wondering do you don't you will you won't you but I won't let myself linger because I could get stuck in your words of
honey

iii.
I think that you could love me so sweetly
like honey
but I'm scared to ask you to try

A Series of Non Sequiturial Thoughts: pt. II

There have been so many things that I've been wanting to, needing to, write about, but I just haven't quite been able to do it, and everything is now bubbling, bubbling under the surface and slowly leaking in and out of my mind and I can't stop dwelling on so many different thoughts and feelings and so here it now leads to another series of non sequiturial thoughts.

I'm so torn about who I am and what I believe and how I feel; there are so many contradictions and inconsistencies and paradoxes swirling inside of me, I can't make sense of anything. I am so confident yet so insecure at the same time, I feel so worthy and worthless in the same breath, I feel so hopeful and hopeless all at once, I'm running out of breath just running around in my own head.

I'm still wondering if non sequiturial is even a word and finding it strange that we can convince ourselves that a word is a word by repeating it over and over again until the very idea of it not being a word becomes absurd, just as it is the same with all of the other delusions in our lives that we convince ourselves are reality -- repetition remains key, to perfection and likewise to destruction.

I went a little delirious last weekend and I'm glad that I have a fever to blame it on because I look back at that broken, crying mess and think, "Who is that?" I don't recognize that girl who laid in bed crying over a disillusioned view of a boy, but I guess that was me and I guess I have to come to terms with it sooner or later.

Coming back to work was rough after a week and half of time off but I unknowingly gave myself an attitude check and came to the realization that there was much too much pride in my mind and I thought, "Wow, I need to really humble myself right now." And I did and instantly - my day was turned around and I've spent the past three days in the best mental mindset that I've experienced at work in the past six months.

I'm still just trying to be a good person and I just want someone as good as you to see something good in me, but I won't let you turn loving me into your own personal martyrdom.

I keep feeling like I'm drowning, momentarily, here and there, but I'm able to come up for air just enough to not drift away, but it's so exhausting that I just want to feel like I have someone on my team, something looking after me and leading me along.

I can't even imagine what this coming year will bring but I'm doing my best, I'm doing my very best to be my very best and so I'm keeping my eyes and my heart open wide and I just hope that you'll be with me, alongside me to talk me through it and maybe we can go through it together and maybe, maybe I'll soon be able to stop rambling and just -- breathe.

Sleep

I either lose sleep
for you
or
because of you.

- Kayla Hollatz, "Slumber"

Faith

Faith is better understood as a verb than as a noun, as a process than as a possession. It is on-again-off-again rather than once-and-for-all. Faith is not being sure where you're going, but going anyway. A journey without maps. Tillich said that doubt isn't the opposite of faith; it is an element of faith.

- Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC

Sad Song

Sing me a sad song to keep the melancholy at bay, sing me a sad song to make me wish you would stay.

Good

I just want to be a good person. I'm not quite sure what that means, but I think it means being there for those who need you (even when, especially when, they don't tell you), engaging with and including those who are 'beneath' you,  being present, being attentive, being accepting, being open, being free. I don't really know what being 'good' entails, but all I know is I just want to be a good person.

You

I want to spill all my secrets to you. I want to tell you all the things I've never told a soul. I want to tell you everything I'm feeling, everything I'm scared of, everything I'm thinking of in this moment. I want to stay in bed with you and exchange stupid jokes and life lessons in the same breath. I want you to pry into my heart and my soul, I want you to be there, I want you to ask all the things that no one's asked me before, and I want you take me for what I am and what I'm not.

Love Surrounds

I think I'm finally realizing how much love surrounds me. In my grandmother's tearful prayers, I see love. In my friends' telephone conversations as I commute home from work, I see love. In my brother's ever-ready loans, I see love. In my dog's eager, ever-playful eyes, I see love. In my former manager's comments, I see love. In my solitude, when a text of well-wishing comes to the screen, I see love. In my mother's calls, no matter how many times I ignore them, I see love. In my best friend's understanding gaze, I see love.

I am just now realizing how much love surrounds me. And I am so, so grateful.

I hope that I can express my gratitude, sooner or later.

Coming "Home"

I'm trying to figure out why coming to Sacramento always inevitably ends with me feeling like shit.

Hump Day

What a terrible week.

The Art of Racing in the Rain

After spending the afternoon in Seattle, drinking coffee and sending emails, meandering through Pike Place Market, I stopped by Half Price Books in Tukwila on the way home. I don’t remember the last time I recreationally read, and especially finished, a novel (though many valiant attempts were made, but the starting proved to be much easier than the finishing), so I browsed the aisles aimlessly, just waiting for something to catch my eye.

En Entendant Godot crossed my path, a French version of the beloved Garfield, both securing a place in my hands, but I kept on. And then, from the corner of my eye, the top of a dog’s head peeked out. The Art of Racing in the Rain. By the title, I would never give it a second glance, but why the dog on the cover? My curiosity piqued, I opened the front flap.

“Enzo knows he is different from other dogs: a philosopher with a nearly human soul (and an obsession with opposable thumbs), he has educated himself by watching television extensively, and by listening very closely to the words of his master, Denny Swift, an up-and-coming race car driver.”

A novel told from the perspective of a dog. I needed nothing else. (Not to mention it was a mere $2.00 – a steal!)

The Art of Racing in the Rain is the most heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, dog-loving book that I have ever read. The tears began on page 4 and the flood gates were released by page 317. The novel begins with Enzo, our narrating canine, knowing that he is about to die – and wanting to. The following chapters are written in retrospect, following the lives of Denny and his family, but through Enzo’s eyes. 

Now, for those of you that are heartless dog-detesters, this novel is not for you. You simply wouldn’t understand. But for any and all dog-lovers, this is a must read. It will make you appreciate your canine companion so much more and will provide you with a warm, soul-cleansing cry.

The Art of Racing in the Rain. Two paws up.

Now excuse me while I mull over pictures of my Ellie and wallow in my melancholy.

Here

I may be unemployed, I may be living with my grandparents, I may have a single friend, but it doesn't matter. At least I am here. Finally, I am here.