Monday, February 28, 2011


Me, lately.

On the whole I am fluid, entirely comfortable. I love my body, its accidents and unexpected strengths, the things that it can feel, does feel, the things it chases. Sex and wine, laughing as often as I can find a reason, waking up, deep, buried-in-blanket stretches, toes curled, or turning my head to see a friend smile. I love the way I look, I like to see my face in the morning, in the mirror, in pictures. I carry a little something, I've become vivid, I finally live in color.

My personality is that of a companion. I want to be the place in your life that you visit when you need to feel good, you should feel what I feel, you should meet the morning happy to be wearing your body. I'm shaking off, I've shaken off the gray, dead skin of things behind me that I can't change.

I still carve away negative influences and toxic friendships where I have to, but try it more tenderly. I don't want to change anybody. I only want to see them go, and sculpt in the meanwhile more perfect relations with the characters who've populated my story for years already. Then water and cultivate the newcomers, the 1-year, the 2-year, the men and women who still feel undiscovered and intriguing when I'm with them, but who I've learned enough of to be settled by. I dance as I need between depth, trust and frivolousness.

I approach my job with the deepest kind of gratitude. I don't know how to say it; it's my pal. My job and I, we're connected. Partners. It's a thing that brings me comfort, like a friend, and comes along on all my adventures, like a friend, and listens as I sort out what I've seen there, like a friend. It introduces me to things I'd never have known existed, like a friend.

For the first time I'm a part of my community, I involved myself by accident, and I can balance my days between privacy, passion, productivity and communication. I want for nothing. I have achieved. I have stood my ground. I have negotiated and compromised. And I'm alright, and I'm in love, and I'm still myself. I'm who I've always been. I've only learned better that it's a thoroughly satisfying thing to be.

Saturday, February 12, 2011


I am susceptible at 25 to lullaby.

The struggle for an internal rhythm has been long, dull and full of upsets. I want to sleep with the rest of the world. I want to rise with them, enjoy their sunlight, and be productive in the day. Effort, medication and wine have rarely helped me on my way, so what do I do? More often than not, I scrub the base boards at 2a.m., and write novellas closer to four, and finally fall, aware of what I'll be wasting, just as the sun comes up.

Until now. After years of nocturnal energy and restless, fitful blanket tangling, I've come up with a system that seems to hypnotize me piece by piece, smothering my heart rate into submission and putting together a theme show of calm things for my mind to look at, until it will accept looking at nothing, and let me go for eight hours.

As simple as it sounds, it's a playlist of songs. For as much as music has done in my life already, that I never thought to use it for this shows a distinct lack of creativity on my part. I'm sharing it, in case someone drifting through cyberspace may need inspiration for a similar project of their own.

Journey - Lights
Madonna - Rain
Enya - The First of Autumn
Alison Krauss & James Taylor - How's the World Treating You
Catherine Howe - Up North
Norah Jones - Don't Know Why
Vince Gill - Whenever You Come Around
Joni Mitchell - A Case of You
Dar Williams - We Learned the Sea
Kris Delmhorst - Hummingbird
Natalie Merchant - One Fine Day
Sade - Mermaid
Hans Zimmer - Inception Soundtrack: Time