oh. so that's where i left my petard. huh.

good lord, it's february.

i have spent much of today alone, in my usual home uniform (ancient concert t-shirt, jeans, chucks), with my hands folded in my lap. quietly. quietly. thinking. quietly.

i have spent a lot of time alone in the last three and a half years. i have spent a lot of time sleeping on couches. i lived out of suitcases until a week ago. i sleep best in my clothes. i listen to music more than i listen to conversation. i cook better than i eat. i write more than i read. i think better than i speak. but dude, i feel the shit out of everyone and everything.

what's next is now. today was supposed to be the day that the universe revealed itself, but by now, i should know better than to rely on the universe. and so, universe unyielding, i made some decisions. by decisions, i really mean that i have been listening to music like a ouija board, and i think i know now what is next. and by next, according to iTunes, next is Pablo Cassals and Dead Kennedys and Biz Markie. maybe i shouldn't let iTunes make all the decisions around here. hmm.

i spend a lot of time thinking about how to quantify abstractions. how to show happiness. how to eat satisfaction. how to wear self. how to call bullshit.

a friend wanted to hug me tonight. it was difficult. i don't like hugging. rather, i don't like being hugged. once i'm in, i'm in. but i don't like being hugged. i am clothed, always.

here's what i know: i am the same as i was at 5. here's what i know: i'm shy. here's what i know: if i stop moving, i sink. here's what i know: i am a shark.

here's what i know: it's going to be okay.

when i was 12, i won the district 26 spelling bee. on the spot, i fudged the spelling of the word "scythe", and i won (sorry, CJW). i won a horrible week at a horrible summer camp, where i had to stuff my own horrible mattress out of horrible hay to the dismay of my horrible allergies, and spread horrible margarine on horrible white bread toast. it sucked, but winning is sometimes important (to me). i feel like i've won, on some level. the prize might be shit, but i'm willing to accept it.

dear prize: don't be shit.

sincerely,

me

p.s. (this blog gets 1400 hits a month. who the hell are you people? comments? please?)

Enthusiasm, an Open Heart, and a Selective Memory

(that thing you always are, that thing you'll always be. again.)

I found unmailed letters, written by my mother.

On My Sixth Birthday

"I was so afraid that this year would change her, rob me of her headlong joy. It should be a lesson. She is as brave and intractable as ever. She reads as a fully literate person and will not print to prove it to them. Her birthday wish this year was that everybody be at her next birthday."

On My First Day of Grade One

[Brian P. was a boy that i was fixated on as a very young girl. after 2 solid years of HARD rejection, i gave up on boys altogether. i didn't develop another crush until late junior high, and didn't lose my virginity or get a boyfriend--in that order--until first year university. but the Brian P. story goes a long way to explain the way that i approach life; enthusiasm, an open heart, and a selective memory.]

[K] "started school today. After a summer of not missing school or Brian P., she was wildly impatient for the morning to pass and school to start. Spent the morning buying Snoopy pencil case, crayons and ruler at City Pharmacy. She couldn’t wait for school, wondering/hoping that Brian would be excited to see her. Completely forgetting that she had accepted that he hated her before school closed. She wanted me to walk her to school. More and more excited as the minutes passed, planning show and tell. She will take Scrabble Sensor and give everyone in the class a word. She has it all thought out.

At one point as she dressed, she called out “I’m really a big girl now, aren’t I?”. Walked her up, leaving at 10 to 1. When we came to the gates, she raced in forgetting all about me [and my baby brother]. Very few children were there, all appearing older. She drifted from one group to another. Stood outside the fence, unable to tear myself away, marveling at her enormous strength and bravery. Only then realizing that I’d taken [K] half an hour early. Watched her stand, alone, for a time.

[K] came home with word that school was terrific. Asked if Brian was happy to see her, she said no. He hated her. When she told him she was moving, he said, “Good”. And she didn’t even chase him or kiss him. She looked regretful, then in typical [K} bounce back said, “sometimes he does like me to chase him, you know”."

That Thing You Always Were, That Thing You'll Always Be

(i just got back from an extended trip to new york. it was so spectacular that i'm still processing it, but hope to find a way to articulate how great it was soon enough.)

Over the last-night dinner in SoHo (corn dogs from house-made hot dogs and Tecate, in case you were wondering), we had a discussion about the character traits that define us. These traits manifest themselves pretty early on, and they often do not change over time.

I walked very early, as a baby. Like, freaky early. I just stood up one day, stumbled a few steps, then ran. Expertly (albeit in one direction, in laps), for an hour. And then I tried to change direction. And then I fell. Hard. Apparently, I sat in silence for a bit, then howled with rage and embarrassment. I didn't stand again, let alone walk, until much later than is normal. But when I finally did, I never looked back.

That's me. In a nutshell.

I'm still walking.