letting the wind carry me to forge my own path(?!)

There's nothing like a 4am conversation with someone who loves you. Someone who can crack into your bones, a doctor of the marrow, and point to something new and beautiful. Gabi was telling me to watch Ugly Betty this week as there were certain themes that mirrored my own life, namely Betty holding onto something, someone too long. How she had to let them go for her--to let herself come back.

Gabi thinks that we have different life philosophies--that while I'm content to 'let things happen to me', she feels the need to create opportunities. I don't think her analysis is wrong--but then I think it good to be happy with whatever comes my way. A buddhist ideology, really. That no place is better than where we are in this moment. And, perhaps because of certain parental figures, i've just learned to make the best from the worst, so it doesn't bother me anymore but instead feels like second nature. She says I deserve better, but better than what? Better than me in this moment? Of course, I know what she means. But, I love--not knowing what happens tomorrow. I may flip to the last page of novels more often than I'd care to admit, but I wouldn't want to know what happens in the pages of my life. It's why I wish, generally, on my birthday to have a good year; I know I will.

I wonder, how much optimism plays into this idea of forging( How is it forgery can be so close yet so far from forging... I think Gabi is worried that I don't stand up for myself enough. She shouln't worry for that--I do. But, I can't be a bitch to people just for anger or vengance sake. At least, not longer than a week--it poisens me. And, them.

To deserve better. I don't think deserving plays into it--we hope. I hope for the best. If i find a hole in my life I fill it--find freelancing work, new friends, etc. But, I can't turn on someone who means me no harm. Instead, I must find new life and passion within me. I must care as much about me as I do for others. Make me new again.

I must "drive out a nail with a nail" --salvadorian proverb.

self-destructive behavior

I used to be a pretty self-rightous lady. I mean, I still am at times. And, mostly, I'm okay with this because I have equally high standards for myself. That said, i apoligize for never giving proper credence to self-destructive behaviors. Instead, I thought, well, its self-destructive, why don't they STOP.

Well, i'm pretty sure they would if they could. Be it they pick at their nails or keep making wrong friend or boy or girl choices...if they could, they would. Sometimes, i think it'd be better to go through this life Pavlov style--place a buzzer on my head--the way that in psychology they teach you that if a dog is shocked so many times he'll learn. Haven't I been shocked enough? I ask you. Yes, yes i have, I tell you. And yet.

A friend says, buddhistically, to let that thought in. Let it perculate and run out. But therein is the problem. Right now, i have enough thoughts to power a lighthouse, a windmill, a trip to spain via a small wooden canoe.

I'm pretty sure i'd rather go out via shock theraphy than drown in the ensuing flood.

highlights and interstices...

Sometimes I liken spring with yom kippur, the jewish holiday for forgiveness. Likely, it's because I've always felt that Yom Kippur falls at the wrong time of the year, so close to the barreness of winter. Who wants to be forgiven to only face the hardship of frozen earth?

Judiasm might disagree, that first day of springtime, to me, is akin to a wash of sunlight forgiving all of my wintry wrongs. I wonder if people in california realize how good they have it--but then--how can they? We forget how wonderful good weather is by September. There are so many opposites in the world, happiness begets sadness which begets happiness. Do people in warmer weather thus need less? Today, i felt like i needed my legs and nothing more, that i needed a patch of grass to lie and strech my arms wide and nothing more. But, then, I've always been easy to please.

I leant a book to a workmate, which I finally got back today after many months.

This is one of my all-time favorite poems and it's called Highlights and Interstices and it's by Jack Gilbert

We think of lifetimes as mostly the exceptional
and sorrows. Marriage we remember as the children,
vacations, and emergencies. The uncommon parts.
But the best is often when nothing is happening.
The way a mother picks up the child almost without
noticing and carried her across Waller Street
while talking with the other women. What if she could keep
all of that? Our lives happen between the memorable. I have lost
two thousand habitual breakfasts with Michiko. What i miss most about
her is that commonplace I can no longer remember.

I try to think of the commonplaces of this year--of how many hours I've spent at this chair and desk and I can't recall. It feels like hours falls from me the way one drops lose change into a parking meter. The way one pays dues. If only I could find a way to reconcile the everyday with the extraordinary. Or, feel happiness about the constant daily grind. The giddiness of spring will help, but what i love about this poem is the line about the mother scooping up the child. It's the perfect analogy because we've all seen that carefree moment but we all know that the child grows up too soon. And we--we move and find new desks and new jobs. I'm working on appreciating my health and also each individual experereince, mundane as it may seem as the time.

And right now--that means leaving the workplace early and catching some rays! wa-hoot-enn-anny!