temporary
Posted on July 28, 2008 - Filed Under Uncategorized
in the prime tanning time (10-2 according to my mother) i was laying outside in the field for doing such things. beneath: two towels, the greenest grass, tiny curious spiders. above: stretching upandupandup sky, the shadows of growing leafy things, my eyes. relaxed, they watched for the moutains, the bluegreen mysterymountains that came instead of the horizon, were the horizon. they had no names, only images of grinding time like growing bones, their marrow pulsing inside, feverish for sky. each blink was a snapshot capturing now to save it for the later i still cannot see or suppose.
in the untimely heat that came in may, i sought out bodies of water with a red head i knew because her hair went with the heat inside and out. she was barefoot, i was not but soon followed her example. we sat on the edge of the liquid and spoke few words (skyscrapers, lottery tickets, roller coasters, the unknown). i swallowed the sparkles off the water, pushed the bobbing boats into my pockets, looked and looked and looked, knowing the familiarity would fade.
in the end of an enigmatic summer, i said my goodbyes, mostly without tears i think because i only remember two. the first was to my lover i didn’t think i’d love and the second to my best friend, technically in september after everyone else had gone. we looked at each other after four years and i couldn’t cry. my mind was elsewhere, probably with the tears i had shed and i looked across the state line and remembering canollis and shopping with my mother while my heart got his wisdom teeth taken out and i wondered where i would find walking shoes and the strength to go.
the skipped goodbye came in between the ones with blurred futures and it was clear. i stayed while others left and it embittered me, speeding like bruised flesh from head to heart where it stayed and shouted dangerous dares. it’s quiet now. it cannot live in sweetness, however short.
it’s better to go and have hope, than to stay and know better
a bit of blather
Posted on June 24, 2008 - Filed Under Uncategorized
how do you ever know you made the right choice?
i’m here and i’m lonely and my job fell through. my boss hasn’t paid me for my training and he won’t give me a schedule -told me so to my face- and won’t call to say when i can work again, so i’m giving up and hoping he didn’t waste too much of my time for me to get another job soon. i’m going out tomorrow to try for the library or the little bookstore or other things like that where they’ll give me a real schedule.
i talked with anne and julie tonight on the phone for a little while and it was good and bad and made me realize how far away summer is from here. they were playing pool somewhere near akron and i was watching sex and the city with andrew, like i do every night. sometimes i go out on the porch at night with a book and a notebook and my ipod and just enjoy being outside, but mostly i stay in. i make pilgrimages to the library to return books and get new ones and mostly i stay inside. i’ve learned how to “online window shop” and i text people and i think.
tonight’s episode wasn’t much different than any other nights - four single girls out on the town together. but tonight it hurt. i miss girls and my guys and just being with a group of people. i miss girls nights with kayla and movie nights in jameson’s basement with the three j’s and talking on my porch on broadway with em or charles and going for sushi and long talks with kendra and indian with maria and going to the movies and having coffee on thursdays with katie and sam and hottubbing with nicole. i just miss. i miss.
i’m coming home this weekend for nicole’s wedding. we’re driving up on friday night, staying with his parents, going to the wedding on saturday, staying with my mom, having lunch with both sets of parents on sunday and then leaving. it’ll go by and break my heart so fast and then june will be over and only two more months til i pack up and move again - this time without kayla and sam to stay up til 2 am with me, writing obscenities on the boxes in sharpee. i’ll be in rochester -minus one boyfriend, plus a few amazing friends and a new college- far, far, farther from home and missing. breaking my heart again.
on the way to planned parenthood today i was talking to andrew about how i wished there were more good relationships in between 15 and now, just so i could feel like i lived more and took my time. everyone’s getting married, having children. i love andrew, but we’re so young and it’s been two years already.
two years.
i can’t believe it’s been that long already. i used to be 17 and ready to live in boston and be a writer on the commons, free among artists like me who yearned for something to put into the world. now boston feels like an ex boyfriend who wrenches me with floods of good memories interwoven with the bad and that was over a year ago i left. i never saw myself here, yet here i am. for better or for worse.
i may spend the summer jobless, unachored and drifting between sanfordville road and the library by day, driving in sunglasses and laughter with andrew to middletown, goshen, florida, monroe, by nights and weekends, counting down the days until someone visits or we go home and i don’t know how i feel about that yet.
i just know lonely and confused and quiet, hoping.
A Long Time (typical)
Posted on June 19, 2008 - Filed Under Journal
I haven’t written anything here in a long, long time. My bad
To be honest, there’s been quite a bit going on, but I expect most people are filled in on those things, so whatever. Liz and I have moved to Warwick, NY and are now approaching three full weeks of living here. Everything is going pretty well, a number of bumps associated with the significant changes, but overall pretty well.
I’ve really enjoyed working so far, especially due to the fact that it’s what I’ve wanted to do forever. I basically get to program and design applications, and get paid while doing so. It’s perfect.
Payday is coming up tomorrow, and I’m quite excited about that.
No baby. No problem. (Rantvegas)
Posted on June 18, 2008 - Filed Under Uncategorized
Since when did everyone get so judgmental when it comes to the decision to NOT have kids?
I remember high school when girls would get pregnant and all the whispers in the hall would turn towards her belly, her relationship with the father or supposed father, her due date, her promiscuity, whether or not she would finish school. Two years out of CBNA and now everyone wants to have children.
Laura Woods is due in October. Colin King’s twins are due shortly after. Jess Goralski is due in the late fall I believe. Nicole Goodwin (soon to be Renelick!) is pregnant, but I forget her due date. And those are only the ones I know of. Not to mention all who have already given birth.
Don’t get me wrong. If you want to have children, if that’s a dream of yours, that’s wonderful. I know so many people who have been made so much happier after having children and so many people for whom kids are in the future, and who are excited for that future.
But when the nurse at Planned Parenthood is taken aback when I tell her I never plan on having children, it seems like something is wrong.
It’s true. I don’t want to be a mother.
I’ve heard that I’ll change my mind as I get older and my “biological clock” starts ticking. I’ve heard that it’s selfish of me to not want kids. I’ve been greeted with embarrassed silence, or been told that I would make a wonderful mother and that everyone has doubts about their parenting skills.
It’s not that. Really, it isn’t.
When I get older, I plan on writing for a living and I don’t want to work around children in the house. It’s hard enough for me to work around a spouse! Whenever I get interrupted during a train of thought, it’s like someone slapped me. I take it personally and sometimes lash out. Shame on me, but, knowing this about myself, I don’t want to subject a child to that. Also, Andrew’s line of work could take us anywhere, and we could be moving often, also not good for a child.
And I don’t think parenting skills have anything to do with it. Looking at my parents, looking at many parents out there shows that being a potential good parent has nothing to do with whether or not people have kids. I have friends who are abused, physically and emotionally, neglected, and unwanted. Maybe I would be a good parent, but any doubts I have about this statement (short temper, lack of mothering instincts, lack of patience, etc.) aren’t what’s keeping me from offspring.
The closest thing to it would be selfishness, but I don’t see it that way. I want to be able to travel, to not be tied down to a specific location for anything. I want to go out whenever I want, do whatever I want, see the world. I want to drink whenever I want and however much I want. I don’t want to be responsible if I don’t want to be. I want to make mistakes. In short, I only want to think about myself and my own needs.
Maybe that’s selfish, maybe not.
In my opinion, I only get one life and I want to live it to the fullest. I’m sure everyone feels that way. For some, living to the fullest includes children. For me, it doesn’t. I don’t want to be strapped to a family. It’s surprising enough to me that I’ve already found a husband and I’m limiting my ties to him and him only (friends don’t count because friends can span distances like nuclear family cannot).
Basically I’m sick of being judged for a choice that isn’t harming anyone, that isn’t even wrong. Maybe I’ll change my mind later, and then you can say “told you so,” but for now, consider my womb empty.
alone
Posted on June 14, 2008 - Filed Under Uncategorized
The way I planned it, rain only touches my fingertips.
The complicated smell of earth and wet wood infiltrates.
The gray sky is sponge painted in careful swirls.
The growing things are too green with hope.
The rain (pain) is patiently quiet,
background noise,
but growing louder.
Where am I?
Posted on June 11, 2008 - Filed Under Uncategorized
The tears crash familiar to make salty tide pools between my breasts,
in the curve of my collarbone,
down my arms,
into my mouth where the memories swim,
unable to breathe the strangeness of the air.
The cracked whiteness of the ceiling lets the uncertainty in,
marring would-be smoothness with black rivers,
gray mountain ranges,
erratic and thirsty veins departed from my certain body.
A place near the top of my ribcage aches
as emaciated breaths leave me to join their sister winds,
anxious exhalations that depart too hot,
spicily twanging my throat and tongue dissonantly
and gone too quick to puzzle out a note.
The hot near-silence is heavy with fatigue and confusion,
so much blood pouring snake-like from a miscarrying woman.
Alone in it,
I choose my silences,
letting eyes wander instead.
They always find the circle of the ceiling fan,
curving so quick there is no separation of motion,
no blades pushing invisibility around,
but one motionless movement,
mirroring my dazedly shallow breaths.
In, out, around.
Nothing ever changes til it stops.
out in it
Posted on June 10, 2008 - Filed Under Uncategorized
the indifferent stillness of summers in their heated dark times draws me out of the man-made coolness into the naturaleza:
yellow lights staring calmly out from stranger houses where i
imagine broad-faced glasses filled with strawberry wine
someone told me I ought to picnic with it, kiss
you with it that made my mouth sticky sweet,
nectar in a seductively petaled flower
breathy urgent grass sweats under my feet as I couple with it,
flora to my fauna, still pale skin on green skin that pushes
fervently up even in the night, growing supplely and slow from
the patient sun’s breast-milk under the bruised and waiting sky
I see the moon and think of you, puttering,
enclosed in the whitewashed walls as I write in the
heat, of the sultry silent heat fragrant with needyour hair grows wild as the grass grows
my eyes watch steady as the windows watch
and the stillness dips into us both, pulling
between
the stupid in-between time ~ tales from the fuckfunk
Posted on May 20, 2008 - Filed Under Uncategorized
never thought i’d say this, but i want to get out of here as soon as possible. not because i want to get away from the people here, but because this has gone on too long. i feel like leaving is so close that i think about it nearly all the time, but it’s far enough away to torture me.
i don’t think people realize i’m going. 12 days people and i’m gone. i have plans all this week, through sunday. after that, there’s only 6 more days. SIX. and it seems like not all of my friends want to spend time with me before i go.
i see pictures on facebook of people hanging out in rochester and they make me sad.
i want andrew to come home. i feel like i’m going through a break up for fuck’s sake.
i haven’t cried yet, but it’s coming. don’t be surprised if it happens with you.
i want manhattan and warwick and rochester and not to feel so easily forgettable…
The Loose Ends
Posted on May 15, 2008 - Filed Under Journal
Remember that episode of Sex and the City when Carrie decides to go to Paris because she’s afraid of losing The Russian? I’m not blond or a sex columnist and he’s not a Russian artist, but I’m going with him so as not to lose him.
I said last night that my life is about more than him (my job, my friends, my familiarities) and I’m worried now. I know that going to Rochester isn’t about Andrew, but going to Warwick is. Going to Warwick is only about him.
I know that committed relationships are about sacrifice. I’ve got to sacrifice my summer for him so that I can be with him while he lives out part of his dream. I’m so proud of him for being able to do this and I know that leaving will open up a whole new part of my life, the adult part that takes me away from my childhood and into adulthood, as scary as that may be.
It is scary.
I wish I had the summer to say goodbye, not sixteen days.
Fifteen, it’s past midnight.
All my bags are(n’t) packed
Posted on May 14, 2008 - Filed Under Journal
I’m looking in the mirror and my highlights are halfway down my head, just like I predicted they’d be when I got my hair dyed in September. Only they don’t look trashy or fake or lazy, like I ran out of money and/or desire to keep dyeing my hair. They’ve faded to a sparkling golden bronze shimmer I like to look for.
I hope this is like that.
I won’t start packing because I don’t believe I have to. I’ve lived in this little apartment for nine months. My mess is all over the floors. I remember it empty, but it was so long ago that Andrew and I scrubbed the floors on our hands and knees, putting our love into the wood and tile to make it ours.
We slept in my bed the first time after going shopping at Shaws in the middle of the night after work, tired from trips back and forth to the Volvo to bring in the bags of frozen food and produce. Wrapping our arms around each other to find comfort in the newness, we slept and waited for the first morning to take away the first night.
It’s mine now and I can’t make it empty again.
The days are passing sooner than I can count them. The last time I counted, I had twenty days. Today I have fifteen. I wake up, go to work, come home, shower, dress, go out with friends, come home, sleep. The routine pushes me through the days too quickly to protest. The first feels like the end of the world.
I don’t know what Warwick looks like, aside from the pictures Andrew posted. I don’t know where our apartment is, or the grocery store, or the library. I don’t have a job yet. June, July and August loom vaguely before me, like those pages of blurry dots and swirls you stare at in the hopes of making them into 3-D images.
I’m going to cry.
Whenever I see someone for the last time, I’m going to sob. In their arms, in the car on the way home, in bed with Andrew that night. I don’t know how to leave the people whose secrets I’ve kept. Who I’ve cuddled with while watching movies. Who I’ve sat up and talked with late at night. Who I’ve cried to. Who I’ve given advice to and consoled. Who I’ve laughed with. Who I’ve broken laws with. Who I’ve made pinky promises with. Who I’ve grown to love. Who I’ve grown up with.
It’s just too hard.
But in the end I know myself and I know I’m strangling here. New Hampshire is no longer new and cannot hold me. Portsmouth seems mellow and Boston seems small. I need bigger cities, towns that are quaint in new ways. I need to push myself. Otherwise I’m going to be one of those people who graduates high school and never leaves a 20 mile radius of the house they grew up in.
I won’t do that.
I’m so much bigger than this.
