A poem, posted after playing too much Oregon Trail

Disclaimer: the f-word and unpleasant subject matter are lurking.


"Alannah"

Once, I swore
to myself and my mother
that I would never end up
like you.
No repeats of three years ago,
the blasts that very nearly
brought blood-bonds to
shards, sharp glass slicing
the metaphorical hands that fed.
Community college drop out,
no ziplock bags of cloy-smelling weed
for prying younger cousins to find.
I wonder now how much you paid,
gone in an instant when we
threw it away.
I blame you for my fear of sex.
Beautiful, unwanted child carried to full-term,
swollen belly sequined and white.

No. I wouldn't. Couldn't.

But last month I ran away,
only for the night,
to get the fuck out--
and I thought of you,
realized that my decisions
were well on their way
to echoing yours.

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A trail of thoughts, like breadcrumbs

A confession: On Wednesday I did something really stupid.

Today I realize that living life is just a matter of staying standing even when you want to curl up into a tiny ball and cry and wait til everything goes away. But it won't. And sometimes you indulge in getting into that fetal position, wishing things back to how they were, but it eventually passes and you stand up, brush yourself off, and go on. Because that's what humans do. And maybe we're stupid and stubborn, but you kind of have to admire it.

I also realize that I want to help anyone in anyway I can. But that I can't most of the time, and it frustrates and saddens me.

I'm also quite addicted to this song, so you should listen to it because it is pretty:

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Brag brag brag. :D

Yesterday I was feeling pretty crappy, just sitting in the library that is a giant concrete box of echoes. So I blogged about it. And then I had a meeting with my poetry professor to go over my poetry portfolio, and it was awesome because of this:

In 20 years of teaching this class, I must say you are one of the best (easily in the top 5%). Let me know if you want a letter of rec. for a teaching assistantship. That is the poetry professor in me speaking. The lit professor in me says your brutal honesty will take you to some deep areas of compassion for self and others if you refuse to look away when the intensity gets too bright.

And this:

In some of your poems, like this one, there is an amazing haunting voice. I encourage you to send your best out for publication if you want.

Awwwwww, yeah. 'Kay, done bragging. ^_^

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I know I said "pretty well" but this is what I meant

I find myself feeling despondent, nostalgic, and otherwise unmotivated recently. As you can imagine, it sucks. I can't afford to feel like this right now, and I shouldn't, but... meh. Even my writing's suffering. I haven't written in earnest in a while. It feels like I'm atrophying, creatively, socially, intellectually. It's not a good feeling. Especially with an application and a creative portfolio due soon to the school I'm hoping to transfer to. I don't even know if I am going to. Then where does that leave me? Still here. I don't want to be here. There's just too much here, both amazing and awful. Too many memories and habits. Too many familiarities. I'm all for familiarity, but I'm getting bored and complacent and so, so tired. I want out.

I'm not about to delude myself into over-romaticizing leaving San Diego. I know whatever problems I have to deal with, whatever internal processes I have, those come with me. It's not a miraculous tabula rasa; those are over-rated anyway. But a change of scenery, a change of pace, new people... I don't know. Maybe I am over-romanticizing.

I feel stuck.

But change is scary. Yeah, I know that. It really, really is. Why affect the status quo when you're nicely settled, especially if you don't have to? Why, indeed. That's something else I'm struggling with right now, and sometimes it scares me to death. I have a hard time falling asleep because my brain keeps tossing around solutions and loopholes and caveats to a deceptively simple problem. Guh. I hate relationships, romantic and otherwise. At least, I do right now. People are so complicated. So much hangs on the line.

Ugh. Sorry about the ranty. I just needed to get that out somewhere. Here is a pretty picture for your trouble. :)

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I miss this.

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Letters I'll Never Send - #2

(I'm not sure how I feel about this being my 200th post, but there you have it. This is the edited version of an actual hand-written letter I wrote earlier today.)

Dear T.,

I'm pretty sure you don't read this thing, so here I am posting it. Just like I'm pretty sure the first copy won't find its way into your mailbox. I've forgotten your address for the time being, anyway, though I'm sure I have it somewhere.

I suppose I could be writing to the people behind the card and letter I've received over the past week, but this is more important to me right now.

I miss you.

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. It disappoints me that we don't talk as much as we once did, or even could. To be entirely honest with you, which is my aim, I'm afraid. I'm afraid that something will slip out in conversation, and then it will be too late to erase, or go back, or even to think things through one last time. I could say to forget about it, but that doesn't mean you will. I know I wouldn't.

I'm also afraid of the ramifications. I know we're not as close as we used to be, but our friendship is still important to me. The memory of it all... well, I wouldn't be able to handle it if everything fell apart because of me.

So I'm writing this letter. I thought about going back and writing it in the notebooks, but that didn't seem like such a good idea after all. No sense in disturbing the past with the burdens of the present.

Though I suspect, in hindsight, that what I'm mulling over in my head is tied into the past just as much as it belongs to the now. I remember things we said, did, things we wrote. I told you everything, or very nearly. You were mine.

And then you weren't.

Back then, I never figured myself a jealous person. It's almost amusing, how wrong I was at the time.

But then again, what did I know about anything, prepossessing high schooler that I was?

So we drifted, but I carried on. I had other things to worry about--that year was hell. I trust you remember. And then it was finally over, and we drifted apart even more, though this time due to circumstances beyond our control. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Then something changed, another link in a long chain of events. Funny how it works out that way.

I've changed. You've changed, I can tell when we talk. Not very much, but it's there all the same.

So I find myself in a bit of a predicament. Okay, a big predicament, though one I'm used to, so that's a good thing. Even if it doesn't make it any less annoying or pressing.

I'm not sure what it is that I want to do.

I'm not sure if I want to just leave things the way they were, or if I should press forward. Or if I should stay in this limbo, hoping it goes away. Though I've been reminded recently that it rarely goes away, whatever the problem happens to be. It rarely goes away if I pretend everything is fine. It only gets worse.

I'm over-thinking this, aren't I? Well, you know me... It's a bad habit.

Anyway, I better end this here before I start rambling again. I hope you're doing well.

Love always,
L.

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