it’s not that i don’t love you

it’s just that i’ve had other places to spend my focus.

glove portraits, for one

saving the world

“you can’t save the world,” he said

but even though he has years of experience

of wisdom

of life, that i cannot compete with

i couldn’t help but think to myself in response,

“why not?”

where in the world is carmen san diego

i used to play “where in the world is carmen san diego?” on a regular basis. it was a fun game, and i used a really old edition of the world almanac to figure out where csd had run off to with the crown jewels of france or the maltese falcon, or whatever artifact it was that she had managed to snag.  every time you deduced where ol’ carmen had scampered off to and managed to fly yourself there, you’d look around the town and instantly know if you were on the right track based on the responses of the people you’d run into. these people would either be perplexed by your inquiries regarding the renegade carmen or would say “oh yes, we saw a woman with crazy hair and a large coat discussing how much she liked vodka” {to which you were to figure out she was headed to russia next}.  there was something comforting about these responses. you were instantly aware of if you had taken the right path or not. why can’t real life have that sort of comfort? that sort of roadmark? any time someone wanted to tell me that i was going the right direction would be divine. well, maybe not divine. maybe it would make me feel like i do when i watch old episodes of “boy meets world.” but maybe sometimes you need that.

guest room

 

my favorite part about a guest room is having an alarm clock. for some reason, this gadget provides the ultimate sense of comfort for me. it is hard to feel homey and situated with red or green numbers staring defiantly out at me, always centering me with the hour and minute of the day. no amount of molding, of deliberately soothing wall color, of down pillows, or of empty dressers can compare to an alarm clock. a lamp with different brightness settings can hold its own, but still remains firmly in second place. 

i hope one day to have a guest room of my own, a place where i can attempt to give another a sense of belonging where they do not actually belong {as opposed to the futon in my living room, which is all i have to offer a guest these days}. i’m thinking white christmas lights are a must, along with the previously discussed alarm clock. and definitely a cedar chest, full of board games, old calculators, photo albums, a handmade quilt, sunscreen, a deck of cards, a half full bottle of american honey, and hopefully someone’s old diary. having something to prowl through when you’re a guest is the best! there should also be a book case that is stocked with at least some books that would be of interest to a guest. so often i am stuck in a room full of books that look horribly boring. college text books from the 70′s or giant coffee table books that were not cool enough to make the coffee table cut. oh, and dvds!!! maybe all sports themed, {greatest 49ers football highlights from the 1980′s, miracle, the first season of friday night lights, the mighty ducks, ladybug}, and definitely some classic romantic comedies {four weddings and a funeral, when harry met sally}, and holiday flicks {it’s a wonderful life, die hard} so as to appeal to everyone and no one all at once. strange knickknacks would be sporadically placed on the shelves, odds and ends from my childhood that have nowhere else to go. i’m wondering if wall decorations are in order. is it possible to decorate a guest room without making it feel like a hotel or like an extension of myself? is black and white photography hip, or impersonal? 

guest rooms are essential. having somewhere to escape to, and being able to offer a place of refuge are two of the most important things a human can have in their back pocket. 

in due time, i suppose.

we all fall up

i love:

reading in the morning, sparkling cider, seeing the milky way, noticing discreetly excited smiles, discussing radio broadcasts, pirate cat radio, adding grilled mushrooms to soup, eric’s “thought-o-the-day,” hostessing favors from whitney, researching and piecing together a paper, dr. horrible’s sing along blog, hearing k’s ideas on life while we run ridiculously hilly trails, advice from my mom’s best friend, participating in triathlons, anyone participating in triathlons, reading in waiting rooms, unexpected phone calls, indoor soccer with the buffalo girl’s team, playing defense, assisting in soccer, sports psychology, blush champagne, collaborating with simone to categorize groups of things, sleeping in tents, sharing a sleeping bag, national treasure, conversations that take place in rivers, looking at the possibility of new spaces, finding potential in unlikely places, macaroons, nectarines from the farmer’s market, riding my bike to work, secret rendezvous, sunglasses, anytime kassie tells a story, being in the oregon alumni association, having questions answered, going to the airport, not actually knowing someone, the rivercats, letters from past me, remembering sparkmatch, anytime tami is involved, realizing likely outcomes of situations so as not to be surprised by them, reading between the lines, heather’s good news, snuggle-texts, bowling, the verbal tip, eating dinner with renee, having a dress pinned to be altered, daytime movies, dancing to secret sauce, raggamuffin’s high-knees dance, steph’s enthusiasm for hayward, inspiring myself, white russians while packing, whales, reading before bed…

canary

that sound of moistened lips 
pressing together
and tongue grazing gently
but firmly
through the tiny grooves of teeth
are little more 
than the sweet nothing sounds 
of me 
attempting to swallow the canary 
{flock of yellow feathers and all 
bones crunched down to bite-sized pieces
beak nibbled to bits
gulping down those pointy toes
beady eyes}
and leave no trace of a smirk in my smile
before you turn around
to walk back 
over my threshold

universal blackout

light from billions of years away  is visible when twilight dissolves into night {only distance lets us see the past with clarity} but what happens if all that light goes out?  a universal blackout  each star flickering  faltering finally succumbing to nothingness a dark pit where bright once ruled would there be silence {in the same way as an earthly loss of power when ceiling fans and refrigerators stop their constant hum} or would there be supernovaly noise  as celestial bodies lose their joy in existing is the universe still the universe without light racing through the dark matter?  we’re lucky that we have pg&e to restore our luminescent expectations.