me on a plane

so this is christmas

christmas eve finds me in the airport.  i remember my trip home a few years ago found me frantically trying to finish homemade-heartfelt christmas letters and gifts for everyone.  i'm not that girl anymore.  last year all i wanted to do was take pictures.  this year, my camera is here, but stowed away.  no compulsive urge.  this year, i don't really know who i am or what i'm about.

the airport begs for us to make snapshot judgments of others.  encounters are fleeting but revealing.  in a single visual or audio instant, i can whittle down a person's existence to a single word or defining feature.  

WEALTHY.  JET-SETTER.  GAY.  MOTHER.  CHRISTIAN.  BOHEMIAN.  SOUTHERN.  BOYFRIEND.   TECHIE.  STUDENT.  

the thing is, the observation game quickly kicks back and make me wonder about my own word- my own boiled down identity.  this year, i find myself lacking.  i'm a thirty something sitting cross legged on the airport floor.  i am a woman, but not overly feminine.  i am not a mother or a wife.  i am a white middle class existence wearing the same target cardigan as a million+ other white middle class women.  i am wearing tall boots and jeggings and i am no one at all.

and here usually begins the existential crisis that surrounds visits to michigan. 

but this year- what if i just don't?  what if i just don't bother about it.  what if i stop caring to define or understand myself.  instead of seeking that warm place on the border of some identifying word, what if i just allow myself to exist in between.  uncomfortable, but unanchored.  undefined.  

somewhere in the sky- in between fitful sleep- with thoughts fixed on nothing- moving freely

that's where i'll be.

on the cusp

1.  robots are more and more ubiquitous.  for the record, i'd like to state that i am pro-robot.  a healthy dose of caution, but pro for certain.

2.  we did not visit this time around.  maybe there wasn't a time around.  maybe next time.  next time, i hope.

3.  all those girls quoting joni mitchell around this time of the year.  all those girls in their beautiful existential existences.

4.  a person so small and a world so alive.  a single smile stretches on and on when you've only been alive for six days.  i love that little buddy.  i'm glad about life.  potential.

5.  nervous and unsure.

semantics aside

Chaos in the middle and the door locked tight.  The trash is full.  The weight is over the limit.  So tangible, it may as well be real.

It may as well be real.

Clinton those words.
A semantic slur of deceptive intent.

the letter, the spirit
and a troubled heart
on defense.

An outlaw, no doubt.

glorious absurd

tis the season to buy yourself hair extensions online in a moment of temporary insanity.  it's the most wonderful time of the year.

also:

scandalous

11:13
and i'd already brushed my teeth
but now i find myself eating whole pickles
in bed

kitty kitty

like a cat
like a cat

sudden bursts of wild energy and here's why:
fear and/or joy

staring at phantom walls where a mirror used to be
a whole world of similar molds
dangerous and close

and calling calling calling
attention, please

and then in it -under it-
back up and lean in
kneading
kneading

some warm crawl space to disappear to when i can't see through
fears and phantoms

find me there,
behind the clothes.
find me.

rep resent

oh, hello.
thanksgiving break allowed me to slow down my pace a little and actually think.  i miss thinking.  sunday morning, i watched a few too many biographical documentaries about artists and i ended up feeling a little loopy.  and then there was the 9/11 doc that left me with some capital S serious questions- but that's for another time.  hopefully soon, maybe never.

i'd like to articulate a brief quandary that just popped into my head JUST now.  which is no longer now.  you get it.

So one one hand, there's that cliche "to do the same thing over and over and expect a different result is the definition of insanity."  It's been attributed to pretty much everyone- from ol' Benny Franklin to Einstein and probably Betty White for good measure.  It creeps up as hard evidence any time anyone wants to judge others for some sort of stagnation or stubbornness.

but then there's that pesky other hand.

Isn't doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result the cornerstone of all kinds of wonderful and seemingly sane things?  something like lifting weights.  they call them "reps" because they are REPETITIONS of the same thing and expecting a different result doesn't indicate insanity, but the persistence and discipline to work toward a healthier body.

or how about when your mom used to have to call your name 5 times before you would really be cognizant of her voice trying to get your attention?  that's not insanity- it's just recognizing the need to give people a chance to adjust in order to get a response or reaction from them.  (i guess it might feel like insanity from the mom's perspective).

anyway, i could go on and on with everyday examples that seem to suggest that choosing to repeat behavior and expecting a different result can be a very logical and sane course of action.

didn't Jesus Christ himself SUGGEST this kind of persistent behavior?  isn't there a parable that says in essence that if you bug God enough and show enough persistence, He'll eventually pay attention to you?  Persistence even in the face of no seeming results seems to be a requirement of a good disciple.

and we all know how sane the good holy book is.  all truth all the time.  said jesus.  or dionysus.  or zoroaster.  someone important.  at some time.