how hard we tried

something happened today 

so surreal 

some sort of attempt at understanding 

and something understood

i am so sad.

another dream:

i found myself signed up to do another year with NET ministries. for some reason, i was already in minnesota, and it was the first week of training where we do activities and they put us on teams. on the outside, i was going through the motions, but inside i was so disoriented. what was i doing there? i didn't belong there anymore. i'm an atheist, for christ's sake. how did i find myself here signed up for another year of work for a cause i didn't believe in? there was just this overwhelming feeling like this wasn't a place where i belonged or wanted to be anymore. apparently i had signed up for another year, but i just couldn't feel good about going through with it. i'd outgrown it. everyone around was excited and happy about all the activities, and all i could think was "how do i get back to california? how am i supposed to get back to my life?" i was trying to figure out a way to tell the supervisors that i just didn't belong there anymore. somehow, i had my car with me at the training. rather than tell anyone, i got in my car and drove away. no more thoughts of "what are they going to do without me on the team?" or "but i signed up for a year..." i just knew i needed to get back to california. i was driving on a dirt road surrounded by greenery. i stopped off to look at a map and was trying to decide if i was supposed to fly back on an airplane (but then how would i get my car back to use?) or to try to drive the whole way back by myself (so exhausting and so uncertain). while i was standing on the side of the road a car full of some girls pulled over. i don't know what they were doing, but i explained my situation and asked for help. they were really giggly and distracted. i asked if one of them could give me their phone number so that i could call if i got lost, and one started to tell me a number but stammered, and i could tell she was lying to me- giving me a false number. i quickly ended the conversation and started climbing through the woods a little to see if i could figure out where i was. -my subconscious is working overtime, it seems, to help me make sense of things while i sleep. so much about belonging. so much about finding myself in a familiar place that i no longer feel good about investing in-

from a dream:

A flower is a poem about the death of a seed.

look

This city is full of crying women.

in the summertime

ok ok ok
how do i do this?
something about wandering
and crying "Margaret"
on a green hill.
something about making good art
or getting back to myself
(self?  where have i been, then?)
finding a new here when
home is not home---
belong to the city
to myself
to every single second-
catch up to my sense
i won't be long
feel feel feel
haunted
the dull ache looms
(i've been here before)
i've never been here before
i don't want firsts that come with lasts
i want a way i want a stay i want a knowing and a clear want returned

(i know what zeppelin song your feet are moving to
i know a lot of things
but i don't know what to do
when every single day isn't reason enough to stay
and i can't wait for garden walks
with feet afraid of planting)

the -how- remains
was how to stay
now how to go
and still remain
somewhere
in the
present

tense

gratitude

photography is by far the best form of cure-all i could ever conjure.  
it helps to detach and it helps to engage. 
it is distance and intimacy. 
everything.

safety

there are situations or moments or discoveries or realizations that change everything...
they forever alter the way you see your past.
there is a before that and and after that
and the before seems like some
other life lived by some
other person in a
much safer
place.

quantum mechanics

"You see, we can never know with any kind of certainty how an atom will behave naturally.  Because the very instant that we look at an atom, we alter it.  The very act of looking is never a passive thing.  It has an effect.  In fact, physicists tell us that reality, at its deepest level, is the response of the observer." 

-Being Erica   

any other

a poem found and felt
something about a sob
releasing a sob on some ordinary day

i wrote down the title
to return to it later

but today i looked and it wasn't there
the source is all wrong
and i don't remember anything \
except a vague feeling of it

and that something
like this
can be lost
is so sad to me

today

devastation

stings

and the questions arise
like hiccups that surprise
or a snore that wakes you up

am i?
why?

and for a day you'll be in a daze
and concentrate on the leaning in
brace yourself for some fall

the freedom of falling
will surprise you again

find yourself standing, midsleep

the blur of some dream

fresh enough

to sting when

rejected.

reflectione

time for a good ole dose of refletione (accent mark not included)

today i strolled in on the first day of exams in harem pants full of cat hair.  my classroom is nearly packed away into the little rathole of a closet in the back, and i just can't wrap my mind around where the school year seemed to go.  there were days that dragged, but overall- what?  am i so checked out that i spend my work days mentally elsewhere?  do i lack investment or am i just getting better at my job?

a few weeks ago i entertained the idea of trying to align the universe so as to not have to come back for one last year at the high school.  the whole god thing was really difficult to stomach this year, and i'd rather go out seinfeld style than with a yeats whimper.

while i'm still open to the possibility to NEVER EVER RETURNING, i think i'm also getting to a place where i can gladly accept one more year.  another year of basically brainless consistent paychecks & insurance without the burden of night classes might just be the adult thing to do.

either way- feeling excited about the summer and whatever comes after.

***

on a different note- tomorrow starts a renewed round of paleo living.  i just can't pretend i'm wearing these harem pants for fashion reasons anymore.  it's because they have ELASTIC WAISTBANDS that do not leave marks on my stomach and thighs when i take them off (like all of my other used-to-be-comfortable pants).  i seriously can't wear any of my jeans right now without being ridiculously distracted by discomfort.  also, i think my knee caps are getting saggy.  is that a thing?  really?  i blame my german fibers.

so.... change gonna come.

goodbye free potato chips in the faculty room (a battle i've already waged today... and triumphed)
goodbye Diet Coke (what *-*)
goodbye bag of really good chocolates left on my desk by an anonymous student (still locked in a stare-down)
goodbye ranch avocado dip in the little baggies in the salads with hormone pumped bacon that i tell myself is healthy
goodbye everything packaged and boxed and immediately gratifying.
goodbye.

hello raging betch that i will be while my body adjusts to healthy living
hello omeletes every single day forevermore
hello pushing myself through a teensy bit more than just 10 minutes of the yoga video on hulu

& ultimately

hello to a longer and better quality life.

a part

in this very small apartment
(two rooms, a kitchen, a bath)
there are so many places to be

on a far end of the bed
in the shower for an hour
at the window, looking out
behind your own eyes
in the bathroom, staring into your reflection
behind a wall of unsaid words
behind a screen

in this very small apartment
there are so many ways to be

far apart

confirmed

1.  It is possible to make up miracles.  I did it, once.  In the height of my middle school faith zeal, I made up a miracle at my eighth grade confirmation.  What I remember about the actual sacrament I mostly "recall" through pictures. I sang in a group of other awkward middle schoolers and I wore a beige blouse/floor length skirt get-ups that I surely got form one one of those mom stores in the mall.  My acne ridden face was framed by single tightly curled spirals- one on each side- and when I opened my mouth my smile was blinding.  I'm pretty sure that my braces required twice as much metal as any other braces I've ever seen on anyone.  Seriously, enough to set off detectors.

That is all I remember about the ceremony.

But I have really clear memory of a post-sacrament conversation with my mom.  It was a time of raging faith for both of us, and I just really soaked in the way she seemed to admire my rich connection with the Lord.

I remember feeling so DESPERATE to have something wonderfully spiritual to share... some deep epiphany that this holy sacrament had delivered on invisible holy spirit wings.  According to the Bible, the disciples got so jazzed up when the little flames from heaven came to rest on them that people in the streets thought they were DRUNK.  they were inspired in a way that i longed to be.  I felt like it should have changed me, somehow.  Like the first day you wear a bra to school, or the first time you puff on a cigarette.  I wanted that "there's no going back, things are different now" feeling.  But the problem was, things weren't different.  I felt like I had nothing interesting to share with my mom about the sacrament.

And so I made up a miracle.  I told her that when I went up to be anointed with the oil, I smelled roses.  For those of you unfamiliar with the invisible and supernatural, an untraceable smell of roses often signifies the presence of the invisible virgin mary (that, or st. therese.  one of the invisible ladies.)  I remember saying it, and then saying it again, and then elaborating on it a little bit.  Every time I said it out loud, it felt a little more like it might have happened.  Maybe it had smelled of roses, really, and I just hadn't really realized it.

She loved it.  And I loved that she loved it.  I was like an acne ridden God, drunk on desperation and delusion.

2.  Tonight I took pictures at a confirmation.  At the last minute, it was determined that there would be not one, but two lines of teenagers being confirmed, and so my job became infinitely more... impossible.  But tonight I made a different kind of miracle happen.  I entered the only kind of prayer I've known for the last few years:  artistic flow.  You should have seen me.  It's like I had two sets of eyes and ninja speed and infinite stamina.  Standing up in front of the altar, I was the center of that world for awhile.  I was memorializing the moment.  I was giving bored parents something to watch and talk about.  I was the deliverer of meaning and distraction and I, like some versions of the Lord, was completely oblivious and indifferent to the sea of eyes that looked upon me.

As soon as I stepped away from the flow, I realized that the inevitable had happened.  As my photography gigs have gotten bigger, I've noticed that one unfortunate thing has remained the same.  No matter HOW calm and collected I feel mentally, my body's rush of adrenaline produces this foul, onion based stench that is just truly alarming.  No amount of doctor's strength deodorant  scrupulously applied has prevented this phenomenon.  There must be a way.  I do believe.  But tonight, I was the grown woman in the sacristy, where holy and deeply spiritual rituals are prepared, rubbing hand soap on my armpits.

Smells like holy spirit.

dislike

F is for False.

comps is for competent

Remember when I was writing my comps essay & all of a sudden I started using words like "bygone" and "stymied"?  Who was that person?

mantra

question more
make a religion of asking
sacred curiosity
unfettered mind
untethered movements
to go
to stay
to choose deliberately
is freedom
lay down that burden and
replace it with more questions.
what is?
what can be?

to love

what an odd thing
to love
amidst tumult
a quiet admiration

near and far

composition

that old tightness in my chest
familiar core waver
shaking double vision

the why and the how
why would
how could
why should
how can i

and the will

"i do and i will"

don't do
do i do if it doesn't
if i don't will it ever

will myself
to composure

This is 30

rented This is 40 and am watching it for the second time in one day.  i just really love it so much.  it does a good job of capturing weird ways that adult insecurities and hostilities manifest themselves.  it makes me feel comforted and weird at the same time.  life.  only one.  this is me at 30.

it's not the next decade that freaks me out... it's the three that follow
completely impossible to imagine

multiple discourses

1.  after a strange week in Boston, a man supposedly responsible was taken away alive (though reporters seem confused as to how he survived so much gunfire) and there is cheering in the streets.  now is the chance for everyone to get their stories together.  now it is time for multiple discourses to compete for attention, ultimately resulting in "the truth" and "what really happened."
2.  i am so thankful for protective services- people who do good work to protect innocent lives, often at the cost of their own.
3.  The Place Beyond the Pines was unnerving.  it was a stark reminder that even the best intended people on the "right" side of the law are still human and flawed and susceptible to error.
4.  my brother made the cut for the special forces this week.  i have such conflicted feelings.
5.  technology is so fast.  already, images and memes are assembled and passed about what happened moments ago in Boston.  it is fascinating to live in a world where we are such active contributors in creating the art and language and reality of our collective experience.  postmodernism.
6.  i can hardly handle any more mandatory faith formation meetings.  i become really hostile.  so often, the speakers resort to open condescension of atheism, often demonizing all atheists in one fell swoop.  today the man was ridiculously dismissive of stephen hawking (both the man and his work), and then went on to spout  manipulated, biased, ridiculous nonsense in an effort to provide evidence for the existence of god.  i always scribble pages and pages of frustrated responses to ridiculous breaches of logic made during these talks, intending to blog in detail later.  but, as has happened every time before, i come home and go to blog and feel like recreating the mess is just a waste of time and space.  angry, though.  it makes me angry.  i feel like it is an attack on reason and basic intellect.  i really need to look for other work... life is too short to subject myself to that sort of nonsense if there are better options.
7.  one gem, though:  "you have to work really hard to be an atheist- there is so much to deny."  um...
8.  speaking of working hard:  by this time in 2 weeks i will have finished taking my comps exam.  i will be free in a whole new way.  i have big plans for that freedom.
9.  thank you, buffalo exchange, thank you.
10.  happiness is created by chemical reactions in your body.
11.  possible sources- infinite
12.  like multiverses
13.  some song
14.  am i afraid of death?  no.  i don't even know what it means.
15.  reality is spun.

hostility toward monotony

I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote this down.  I have no memory of context in the dream, but I was DEFINITELY ranting these words:

What's new?
Nothing.
Same same same
& then you die &
they put a - on your gravestone
where your life used to be
to represent the
all encompassing sameness of
your everyday existence.
A big blank.

What the heck goes ON in my subconscious while i sleep?  Seriously.
But truthfully, someone must have written something about the symbolic meaning of the - at some point...

found poetry

library books

contain rebellious, scribbled notes

of inspired minds

for a moment after i found this, i felt like i was in The Da Vinci Code, deciphering a cryptic and life altering message.  i was not.

up above the world so high

text:  Happy Easter!  He is Risen!
tempting response:  where is he?

true terror is glimpsing your former self

during Teach for America training, they did a lot to move [well meaning but incredibly] sheltered people like me into a greater awareness of the struggles and realities of, well, the other 84% of the country/world.  This week I was reaching into my teaching archives and unearthed a gem of a worksheet from a workshop called "Unpacking Privilege".  We were first supposed to fill in the boxes with how we identified, and then prioritize them 1-12 in order of how closely we related that category to our sense of identity.  Here is a glimpse of mine then and now:

	2006	2013
Race/Ethnicity	White	White
Gender	Female	Female
Religion	Catholic	Atheist
Socio-Economic Status/Class	Middle Class	Middle Class
Sexual Orientation	Straight	Straight (fluid?)
Country of Origin/Geography	USA	USA
Language	English	English
Physical Ability	Fully Able	Fully Able
Intellectual Ability	High Ability	High Ability
Political Affiliation	Republican (conservative)	No affiliation
Age	23	30
Level of Education	College graduate	Nearly completed MA

So there's that.

What really makes my skin crawl is the order that I prioritized them then/now.  I don't even know who that girl was and I'm sad and mad that she spent 23 years of her existence so sheltered and unaware.  The true terror comes from realizing that you could be saying that about yourself again in 7 years in ways you can't anticipate.

Here were/are my identity priorities:

2006	2013
Religion: Catholic	Gender:  Female  *
Intellectual Ability:  High Ability	Religion:  Atheist**
Republican (conservative)	Socio-Economic Status:  Middle Class
Level of Education: College graduate	Age:  30***
Gender: Female	Intellectual Ability:  High
Age: 23	Sexual Orientation:  Straight (fluid)****
Socio-Economic Status: Middle Class	Race/Ethnicity:  White
Sexual Orientation: Straight	Education:  MA
Race/Ethnicity: White	Physical Ability:  Fully able*****
Physical Ability:  Fully Able	Language:  English
Language:  English	Political Affiliation:  no affiliation
Country of Origin:  USA	Country: USA******

*gender and religion are really interchangeable in 1^st and 2^nd spots

** I remember little about filling this out the first time, except the feeling of not wanting others to see my answers.  I knew that my religious and political views made me a minority in that crowd.  Now,  I remain in the minority with my atheism, and politics have fallen off the radar.  I don’t think I ever was really that invested in them… but I was definitely dating someone who identified as Republican. 

*** Age used to hover in the middle because I thought my youth would prevent anyone from taking me seriously.  Now it climbs even higher on the list… for similar reasons.

****  Someday we won’t even be talking about sexual orientation in the same way.  College classes and experience and a number of factors have lifted that shelter.

***** although I do have a bunion and a weird foot thing

****** I have no idea what it means to be American except for what it is not.   I do not have a patriotic bone in my body, and I am growing rapidly opposed to war and other atrocities that I associate with being “a true American”