Wednesday, September 24, 2014

us.



the prickly feeling --
that death-defying --
over your head --
out from under what was once real life --
caught up in the wind --
soft like a breeze --
yet, heavy like a storm --
a dark abyss --
enraptured by a faint feeling of remembrance --
the nearly cosmic --
somewhat humiliating --
completely vulnerable --
nearly always intoxicating --
push and pull --
back and forth --
colored world by a once-was-stranger --
the moment before the fall --
the impact and resolution --

the can't catch my breath,
can't form my words,
can't sit, can't stand, can't live without feeling.

not all at once.
but in waves and in cycles.
in days and in weeks,
as the months turn like pages:
a book gaining substance of stories and of us.
us.

one year.
there you were -- once in a somewhat-long-ago dream that
was my reality.
there you were, and now here you are.
one year later.
here in this not-so-much-a-dream that is reality.

and my eye is caught by you,
and my words are filled with you,
and my heart is tied to you.
and, by-the-by, one year and we're still hoping for more.



it's a little love with a lot of time,
or a lot of love with so little time--so it seems--
but it works and it's us.
us.

one year of an us brings wonder into a life, let me tell you.



happy one year, my love.
happy one year to us.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

dear little blog of mine

i've been thinking of you often.

my absence has definitely proved that i am currently
a shitty blogger {not that i was ever really that good at this}
and that my priorities are not on the creative side {sigh}.

i'm trying to break the routine of

reading a novel for school
reading the bible for school
reading multiple books on the bible for school
occasionally reading a leisure book on a seemingly promiscuous piano teacher
reading an article or two a week for a bible/discipleship class
reading literature pertaining to greek mythology and plato and {wait for it} lysistrata...eek!
reading on the psychology and theology of marriage and family
reading essays in the writing center because i now volunteer there {yay!!!}
reading directions for essays that have to do with reading about all of the above
{with the exception of the seemingly promiscuous piano teacher}

and then ATTEMPTING to write little thoughts here and there so
that my creative-writer-satisfaction can briefly be met.

now, do you see the dilemma?
if i wasn't going to school for reading and writing
i would probably just quit so that i could do more/other reading and writing,
but because almost all i do is reading and writing,
i often times want to quit.


and so the cycle of wonderful, excruciating abuse continues.
at least papers are electronic so there's not so many paper cuts,
and at least books can't hit you back after you slam them shut out
of frustration time and time again.



besides all that, my life is blissfully and simply good.
all that is missing is the book sale in SF this weekend.

oh, my heart.