Writing Blind

You know that feeling...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 18 Aug 2012 23:27:00 +0000

when you walk into a dark room and you see yourself in the mirror and you think it's a ghost only it's just plain old you but it's been so long since you really looked at yourself that you didn't recognize your own face and the hair on the back of your neck stands up all tingly and you're like "holy shit, who's that"? Yeah, I just got that.

choose

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 19 Dec 2006 19:28:00 +0000

On television, they're running the same ad, over and over. Come see the Greatest Show on Earth! I haven't been to one in years but I still remember the feeling of panic and fear and excitement the circus used to bring.

When I was little, we used to go to a ragtag little show set up in the parking lot of a flea market. Three red and yellow tents, creased and faded, worn through in places. Paint-chipped wagons, the letters faded from too many shows, too many towns. It wasn't much but to us, to a bunch of poor kids who didn't know any better, the circus was a treat.

It was always the same, the ringleader in red coat and black top hat, mouthing words I don't remember at a crowd of indistinguishable faces. Bodies squeezed onto cheap wooden bleachers, the smell of slightly stale popcorn and the crunch of peanut shells under my feet. Hands and face sticky from too much cotton candy, waiting anxiously for the lights to drop.

The elephants were always first, a train of tails and trunks, skin like old newspapers, faded and mottled gray. They moved through their routine with a kind of dull grace, the same slow, lumbering steps over and over. Once, I rode on the back of one, terrified at the feel of muscle and bone shifting beneath me. I was afraid of them, afraid of their size, at what moved in their eyes. Now when I see the elephants I feel only sadness for them and I wonder if they remember, if they know, what it was to be wild.

The lions came next, roaring over the noise of the crowd, each waiting their turn to demonstrate their ferosity. The lion tamers followed behind, cracking their whips and shouting out commands. Inevitably, one of them was brave enough to place their head in the lion's mouth, sending oohs and aahs through the crowd. I never understood it, was never impressed by it. My idea of bravery, of courage, was and still is something different.

There were the fire-eaters and the sword swallowers, testing the limits of their bodies, choking on the taste of fire and ash and steel. The clowns, with their permanent smiles and plastic flowers pinned to their lapels. The tiny car which managed, impossibly, to hold them all. I have a friend my age who is still afraid of clowns. I used to think this was silly but maybe he's right not to trust something whose smile is always painted on.

My favorites were the trapeze artists, those beautiful girls with their glittering costumes and wide smiles. The ones who dazzled the crowd with their beauty and the way they flew through the air, weightless shadows. They were always the stars, the ones who received the longest and loudest applause. I wanted to be one of them, to know what it was to live in the spotlight, to be the most loved. They were always so much more glamorous than the tightrope walkers. The trapeze is about timing and reflexes and showy movements. The tightrope is different. It's about concentration, focus, balance. It's about learning to trust the person on the other end and knowing that there is still a chance you could fall. I was never impressed by the ones who worked without a net. It seemed foolish to me, to risk so much. Now I see that a net doesn't always guarantee safety and that there are risks worth taking.

And now I'm here, waiting on the platform, the crowd below a single moving blur. The choice is mine, the tightrope or the trapeze. I can fly into nothing and fall safely in the net or I can step out into open air with only my own faith to catch me. I choose the highwire. My trust is in the rope, this body, you. I'm still finding my balance, still choosing my steps. I can, will, make it to the other side. Cross your fingers, hold your breath, don't look down. Keep your eyes on me, I'm almost there.

chance

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 15 Dec 2006 17:25:00 +0000

From my journal, a week after I wrote this:

Sitting here, people-watching, wondering what their stories are. There are a lot of women here, some alone, some in twos and threes. Where are their boyfriends, husbands, lovers? Where is mine, for that matter? All of us people, all of us here, together in this place and yet we don't connect. There are glances exchanged, smiles, nods, but no words. We keep to ourselves, to what's familiar, not allowing ourselves the possibility of what if? What if destiny was at the next table only we missed it because we were too afraid to say hello? Maybe it's unreasonable to think so but maybe not. I have to hold out hope that there is someone out there for me, that there is someone I'm meant to love and be loved by. And more than love. I want more than just someone to pass the time with, more than just someone to fill up the empty space. I won't settle for that, I won't settle for an ordinary kind of love. I want the stars and the moon, the sky and the earth, and everything in between.

When I wrote this, I didn't know that an empty chair would change everything. I didn't know that I would find myself happier than I've ever been. I didn't know that I would begin to believe in soul mates. I didn't know what real passion was or what it felt like to laugh nonstop. I didn't know that it was possible to care about someone more than yourself. I didn't know what I was capable of. I didn't know there was you.

I believe in fate, in karma, in destiny. I believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe, now, in taking chances. I believe in possibility, and in finding what you want in the place you least expect it. And most of all I believe, again, in love.

one

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 04:22:00 +0000

I am two weeks into this new place, this new life. It was not as hard as I thought it'd be, to pick up and move, to go it alone. Every day, I make this space more and more mine, more and more a home. I am streamlining, simplifying, discarding those things that aren't important. I thought I would be lonely here but it hasn't been. I thought I was leaving love behind but it's followed me here; it's simply changed shape.

A few weeks ago, we began the task of dividing up our things. We started with the furniture, each of us saying what we wanted or didn't want. The only thing I really wanted were the books, hundreds of them crammed onto six different cases. These were, are, more important to me than the furniture, the pots and pans. We sat in the living room surrounded by movies and cds, holding each one up and saying what about this? The whole time I kept thinking, I can't believe we're doing this. After seven years together, seven years of collecting and building and merging, it took only a couple of hours to divide and become separate again.

And now I'm here, freedom and fear and loneliness and excitement all mixed into one. There are no rules here unless I decide to make them. I am alone but not lonely, living this life for one. Cooking for one, shopping for one, doing laundry for one. I was already used to sleeping alone but now I do it without the comfort of a familiar body in the next room. There is no one to depend on, no one to do the things that need to be done. There is only me but surprisingly, this is enough. For now, this one is enough.

Goodbye for now

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 20 Oct 2006 19:39:00 +0000

I've been thinking about it for a while and I've decided that for right now, my head and my heart are just not into blogging, or writing for that matter. My life is changing, becoming something else, and I am happily caught up in it. This space has taken a backseat to the real world for once and I'm trying to enjoy every second of it. That being said, I won't be updating the blog for a while. Thanks to everyone who stopped by here from time and I've enjoyed reading your words as well. Hopefully I'll see you all again when things settle down a bit. But until then, and because I love you, I'll leave you with this.

What?!?!?!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 18 Oct 2006 04:04:00 +0000

I go away for one day and Lynn shuts down her blog. Sweet Jesus, what is the world coming to?

Because some days I feel like this

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 15 Oct 2006 19:41:00 +0000

It's Friday the 13th, people

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 13 Oct 2006 14:58:00 +0000

Better watch out for these guys....

Click the bunnies for Friday the 13th-related mayhem

Has anyone seen my blogroll?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 11 Oct 2006 14:49:00 +0000

Just wondering.....

Moving on

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 10 Oct 2006 15:40:00 +0000

In April, my relationship of seven years ended. I didn't talk about it at the time because there really wasn't much to say. We just stopped loving each other at some point and there wasn't much we could do about it. We'd been living together for six years, a fairly comfortable arrangement that continued after we broke up, mostly for financial reasons. My friends couldn't understand how we did this, how we stayed under the same roof with all that shared history. Isn't it awkward? they asked and I always said no. No, it's the same as living with anyone else, only we know each other, we trust each other.

Last night, we had the talk. The one about moving out, moving on. I knew it was coming, we both knew it was coming. It couldn't last forever. Eventually, one of us would meet someone who would be worth the effort, worth the trouble of finding a new space to be. He told me about the girl he's been seeing for the past two months. I knew about her already, I just hadn't said anything. I told him I was happy for him, for them, and I meant it. Then he started to cry. How did this happen? he said and I couldn't tell him. I don't have the answer for why. We let it burn down around our ears because both of us were too afraid to run into the fire and see if there was anything worth saving. I told him it was no one's fault, that it couldn't have turned out any other way. And then he said this, which broke my heart: I don't remember anything before you.

I laid in bed last night, thinking about all the years we were together, everything that was good and bad. I cried, for us and for myself. I didn't cry when it ended, I didn't let myself feel anything about it. It surprised me, how much it really hurt. And now all I can think is, what is wrong with me? Why couldn't I do this? Why was it so easy to walk away from someone I had loved for so long? There are so many questions that I will never have the answers to. In the end, I know this is best, for both of us. We couldn't make each other happy because we weren't happy with ourselves. This is another thing to add to the list, another thing to let go of. I failed, us and myself. I failed but I've learned from it. This is the best I, any of us, can do.

Things I am trying to give up to the universe

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 09 Oct 2006 14:21:00 +0000

1. Bad relationships, bad friendships. Why is it that the worse the relationship, the more you want to hold on?

2. Wanting/trying to change people. This doesn't work. It's impossible for anyone to live up to someone else's idea of what they should be.

3. Worrying. About everything. The older I get, the more it occurs to me how little control we have over things in the long run. Everything happens for a reason, just sometimes not for the ones you want them to.

4. The fear of being alone. I am 28 years old. Hopefully, I have a lot of living still ahead of me. The fact that I may have to do it alone scares the hell out of me.

5. The way I feel everything to the nth degree. It's all or nothing with me, there is no in-between and this is not always a good thing.

6. Insecurity. On most days, I hate the person I am. I see so many flaws and I project that onto everyone else. This does not make me a fun person to be around. I want to change that but I'm not sure how.

7. My mother. She drives me crazy, has been doing it pretty much all my life. I'm afraid to have kids because I don't want to be like her.

8. Being afraid that I'm wasting my life, that I'm not doing the things I should be. That I'll be one of those people who never lived up to their potential. The fear that I am living up to my potential and that it isn't much.

9. Worrying about the way I look. I've lost 30 pounds in three months because I stopped eating. I look great. I feel like hell. Not much of a trade-off there.

10. Disappointment. There is still good in this world somewhere. I just have to take the time to look for it.

So, what's on your list?

Why?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 08 Oct 2006 15:44:00 +0000

What the hell is the world coming to?

My new philosophy

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 07 Oct 2006 20:19:00 +0000

....courtesy of xkcd

(Thanks to Michele and That Girl for the link)

Well

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 07 Oct 2006 02:52:00 +0000

September, finally, is over. September was not a good month for me. It was, in fact, the month that kicked me in the teeth, in more ways than one. There were low points: my uncle died suddenly of a heart attack. He was 41. I am still trying to deal with it but one day, when I can, I'll tell you about him. I went home for the wake and spent two days fighting with my mother. Everything with her has to be dramatic, sometimes to the point of embarrassment. It dawned on me that no matter what happens, we will always be this way with one another. Maybe all mothers are like this but I don't think so. I found out that my father has been sick since July, pain in his chest and trouble breathing. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him and I can barely speak to him. There is too much guilt, on both our parts. I haven't been able to write. Not even a grocery list. I don't know if this is a temporary thing. I'm worried that it may not be.

There were good things, small things that made it bearable. While I was home, I got to see mountains again, something I hadn't seen in years. They were comforting, familiar. They reminded me that at least once, there was someplace I belonged. I spent time with my family, people I hadn't seen in 2, 5, 20 years. I saw my cousins, children I used to play with, get dirty with, fight with, all grown up. I saw my aunts and uncles (my mother is one of ten) and all of them, all of them, told me how much they loved me. I needed that. I think being away from them so long, I'd forgotten it but they hadn't. I had a birthday yesterday, another year closer to thirty. I am determined to make the best of it, being 28. I think I may just be hitting my stride. I met someone new, when I least expected it. It's different this time, I'm not so afraid of losing myself again. He holds my hand all the time, everywhere. I like this. It's nice, having someone to hold on to.

September may have knocked me down but I'm not out. Not yet. To October, I say welcome, and bring it. Bring it. I'm ready.

Hello

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 06 Oct 2006 13:47:00 +0000

To those of you who continue to check on me here, thank you. I'll be back soon. I just need a couple of more days to get my head straight.

Thank you

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 29 Sep 2006 13:47:00 +0000

To everyone who offered their thoughts and prayers over the last few days, thank you. Unfortunately, we needed a miracle and we didn't get one. But thank you all, again,

A favor

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 26 Sep 2006 03:43:00 +0000

To anyone who happens to read this blog in the next few days: If you believe in any sort of god, send me a prayer. My family and I would appreciate it.

I'm not dead.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 18 Sep 2006 13:43:00 +0000

I'm just really busy. To everyone who keeps checking back here for something new, I know I'm disappointing you but it won't last much longer, I promise. In the meantime, you can play with this.

What I need more of right now....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 15 Sep 2006 13:55:00 +0000

Poetry Thursday

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 14 Sep 2006 02:39:00 +0000

Continuing with the theme of fall...

September Midnights
by Sara Teasdale

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.

In the air

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 03:25:00 +0000

Summer is over. It won't be official for another week or so but the signs are there; it's undeniable. This morning, I got out of bed, shivering against the chill that crept in overnight. I pulled on jeans over legs that have lived in the sunlight for the past six months, not caring that my tan has already begun to fade. I walked outside and a strange wind was blowing, lifting my hair up off my neck. The light was different too, the shadows in different places. The air felt charged, electric; notice that the change had already begun.

When I was little, the trees told us when summer was over. We watched them go from green to red, orange, yellow; brilliant starbursts of color. Eventually, they faded to brown and fell, one by one, until the trees were bare. My cousins and I would rake them into piles and then run towards them, waiting until the last second to jump. In that brief moment before we landed, there was sheer joy.

We spent hours this way, building piles and then destroying them, the leaves working their way into our hair, down our shirts. I loved the sound they made, a sharp crackle, and their crisp, faintly sweet scent. Eventually, my granny would drag us out and then set fire to our handiwork. We would stand watching, listening to the leaves hiss and pop until there was nothing left but smoke and ash. We never thought of the trees, who shed their beauty so quickly, never wondered if they mourned the loss.

The trees here are different. There are no seasons here, only degrees of heat. The trees don't register the change and so they remain stupidly, faithfully green. Autumn, to them, is a brief moment, a pause between the heat of summer and the gray skies of winter. Only the pine trees know something is different, their thin needles fading, stiff and brown. This is the time of year when I miss the mountains most, when they look as if they're on fire, burning with color.

What fall used to mean: plaid skirts and wool tights; Halloween and hay rides; picking apples with my mother; walnuts dropping like rocks against the tin roof of our house; the sound of shotguns announcing the beginning of hunting season; chopping wood and canning vegetables; sealing up the windows in advance of the long winter ahead.

Now it means sleeping with the windows open. It means windblown cheeks and chapped lips. It means the state fair, corn dogs and cotton candy. It means hot apple cider and new boots and finding the perfect pair of jeans. It means learning to be alone, learning to enjoy the pleasure of my company.

I'm not sorry to see the summer go. There is only the future for me now; there is no looking back. A change is coming; it's in the air. And I am running towards it, eyes open, ready to jump.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 11 Sep 2006 05:11:00 +0000

I remember waking up that morning, turning on the TV, and seeing the same thing on every channel. There was black smoke against a perfect blue sky, bits of white floating down to the street. The scream of sirens in the background, cutting through the quiet at 9:30 on a beautiful Tuesday morning.

I remember Tom Brokaw saying that two planes had hit the World Trade Center. That there were more planes, one in Washington, one in Pennsylvania. My boyfriend called me from work to ask if I was watching. What's going on? I said, but I knew. This could not have been an accident.

I watched as the smoke grew thicker, heavier. I saw the faces of people trapped in the towers, framed in the windows, desperate for help. I saw the ones who wouldn't wait, the ones who must have known that help wasn't coming. I wanted to reach out my hands and catch them, to bring them back to the safety of solid ground.

I remember the sound as the south tower began to collapse, a cloud of steel and concrete and glass. It was as if someone had taken hold of the building and was tearing it in two. That was when I started to cry, when I knew that I was witnessing death and there was no way to stop it. I remember screaming why why why at the television and wondering where God was at that moment.

On the street people huddled together, watching, horrified and helpless. I remember the woman who screamed "They're jumping!", the young man who shouted into the camera that we were getting what we deserved. The way they held each other, sobbing on the shoulders of strangers, united in confusion, fear, grief. I remember their faces as they ran from the cloud of debris, the way it settled over the city, blocking out the light. How afterwards, they wandered the streets like ghosts, covered in smoke and dust and ash. And then the firemen raising the flag, a show of faith and strength in the midst of chaos.

This is what I remember. This is what I can't, won't forget. Think of them today, the ones who were lost. Say a prayer for those who were left behind. Remember.

Remember.

To tell the truth

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 09 Sep 2006 06:21:00 +0000

Well, after reading your responses to this post, I'm not sure whether to be disturbed or amused. Jason and Firstcitybook were the only two who got the right answers. Please report to the DJ booth to claim your prize.

1. This is a lie. I never played varsity softball, jv softball, dodgeball, kickball, or any of the above in high school or pretty much ever. I'm much more of an indoor sort of girl.

2. This is, unfortunately, true. I don't know what it is about those books, maybe it's all the heaving bosoms and men wearing codpieces but they are my secret shame.

3. This is also true. I remember that the purse was purple but I'm not sure what ever happened to it. In high school, I stole anything that wasn't nailed down, from makeup to street signs. (Once I stole a car, but that doesn't really count.) And yes, sometimes when I'm in Target or Wal-Mart, I'm tempted to do it again, just to see if I could get away with it.

4. This is a lie. There was an incident in a bar but I've never been in a fight in my life. I'm terribly afraid of pain and when I get hurt, I cry like a baby. Not very tough at all.

5. This is true, and I know that there are skeptics out there who will say I'm lying. But the truth is, I've never even smoked a cigarette. I once got a contact high at a concert when some twelve-year-olds were passing a joint in the row in front of me. Mostly, it made me sleepy. I am so not a badass.

Okay, now what should we play next? Anyone up for Truth or Dare?

Secrets and lies

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 07 Sep 2006 23:01:00 +0000

Although I'm enjoying this break from blogging, (so much so that I'm considering making it permanent) I thought I'd come out of hibernation just for today and play a little game with you since Flood is MIA this week. The way it works is, I'll give you five statements about myself and you try to guess which three are true and which two are false. I'm actually borrowing this idea from Fringes, who borrowed it from Chad, who has a new story up at juked, by the way.

Here goes:

1) I played varsity softball in high school.

2) I secretly love those historical romance novels, where the women are constantly having their bodices torn to shreds in the pursuit of um...romance.

3) In seventh grade, I stole a purse from one of the most popular girls in school. In high school, I graduated to shoplifting. Even now, I still have the urge to steal things sometimes.

4) I once got into a fistfight with a girl who I thought was flirting with my boyfriend. I sprained my wrist and had to wear a cast for a week.

5) I've never experimented with any kind of drugs.

I consider myself to be a fairly accomplished liar so we'll see what good detectives you are. Leave your guesses in comments and feel free to tell a few secrets and lies of your own.

A brief pause

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 04 Sep 2006 05:46:00 +0000

Just a brief note for the five of you who read this: I'm completely getting my ass kicked at work and will most likely be off the blog for this week. If you don't see me in comments at your place, it doesn't mean I don't love you or think your every word is simply brilliant. It's just that I'm on a strict schedule of working, drinking, and sleeping right now and I'm not sure when it's going to let up. But at least I might have some good stories to tell when I get back.