Friday, June 26, 2009

What Love Isn't....

rude, unkind, or demanding. I know I'm selfish. A friend said today, "a bit of selfishness is a good thing." I stroke men's egos all day long at work, I don't want to have to do it in my off time. If I show up, cook for you, crease your pants, cook you a meal, or buy you a book, I'm there. Stop asking. If I introduce you to my kids, it means something. It means a lot in fact. I wouldn't introduce you if you weren't significant. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for a relationship. I like my life. I like my work. I love this weather and today after work I'm going to buy a cookie sheet and eat chocolate.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Today Was A Beautiful Day

I had an amazing is a powerful drug that keeps one high, even from a distance. The sound of a voice, the power of the timbre, the laughter that comes from connection. Have you ever had love like this in your life? I used to think I knew what love was...I've even been in love a time or two. But this, this is crazy I can't stand it, makes me want more, call me, hold me, touch me, laugh with me crazy. The first time every time.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

I wish....

....someone was here tonight. It was one of those days at work...suicidal guy, guy withdrawing from morphine, inept staff, guy who is out smoking crack and needs assistance...I love my job. What I would love in addition is to have someone to fill back up what I give out at work. But, that doesn't happen because when I get home, there's nothing left to give. And it's only sometimes that I want someone here...and I guess relationships require more commitment than that. But right now, some company, some good dinner and just someone to hold would be fantastic. I love my hair being rubbed, and my a good strong hug. I love silently sitting on the couch close to each other. I love wine in the garden...I love walks on the ocean. I want to do the work I do in Seattle and live with the Taylors in Gearhart. I guess I can't have it all.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Just Like That

Just like that, it began. Just like that, it ends. Anything ignited that quickly, by it's very nature, must burn out just as quickly. Consumed until there is nothing left but ashes. Back to reality, my imagination stifled, my feet held in place by gravity, my mind wanting escape, my heart unable to break because it was never whole. I removed the armor for moment, let it be shined up a bit and now have to decide: do I want to put it back on or do I want to remain vulnerable and exposed? Vulnerable and exposed leaves me open to pain. The armor prevents love from penetrating.

Everyone possesses an armor. Yours may be drugs, alcohol, your kids, your mate, your work. That thing we use in order to protect us from being exposed, to not reveal too much, say too much. Mine: work...if I just keep busy you won't be able to catch up to me and I won't slow down enough to let you get too close. I want to though. Just like that. Just that simple. I want you to SEE me - your eyes are like light exposing my picture that is as yet undeveloped. My fear: you'll see a blurry picture and toss it into the pile of negatives. I need the chemicals...I need the light...I need the exposure. Without it I will not develop. That requires too much work, too much time, too much effort. So there you go moving on to the next project. Because someone, or some things, or some time has done the hard work before you and that project is already art. You're not committed enough, strong enough, sure enough of yourself to keep working the project. It's more complicated than you thought. It makes you have to do some work on your own exposure. It makes you have to tweak a bit of your own life's project. And you can't...because you think you don't need to.

I just keep picking the wrong exposure. I'm committed to the process, to the alchemy of my life.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

My writing....

has all been focused elsewhere. All my thoughts, unedited, poured out on paper and mailed away. I can't revisit it, re-read, edit or change it. It's out there, in His hands being studied. He is making a study of my dichotomous life, calling out my bullshit, polishing my armor. The process is loving, kind and painful. No one has ever cared like this before. I've never loved like this before. It's new, raw, committed, honest. I miss this venue of writing, but I've got nothing left to say.