my articles are in front of me because somewhere, a tree has died.
a tree lives somewhere because i have not yet pressed print.

either as a tree or as a page, the thing screams 'Life!!'
but as a tree, it screams it so much louder.
and yet, we know only our own language, and so we must cut down the tree and translate it's message into grossly simplied code that in the end, points us in exactly the same direction: towards the forest.

Insight Vs. Compromise

You decide.

The thought that is to be judged is as follows:

Why have I tied myself to the idea that there is only one path to one destiny that I have to find if I am to find happiness?

What a limiting, scary, unimaginative, faithless idea!
Ridiculous.
I need to change it, pronto.

25 years old, and this is the only mathematics I know how to prove (to a highly exclusive audience of one):

The perfect sum -

1 + 1 = ∞

Once in a while - Madeleine Peyroux

From bad luck
I'm walking away
I'm not getting stuck
I'm not gonna stay
To good things
I'm moving ahead
I'm tired of dying
I'm living instead

Once in a while I'll wake up
Wondering why we gave up
But once in a while
Comes and it fades away

The sun's up and lighting the sky
I never could see it
It just passed me by
Good things keep moving along
I'm not looking backward
For something that's gone

Once in a while I'll wake up
Wondering why we gave up
But once and a while
Comes and fades away

I don't know what love is
I'm selfish and lazy
And when I get scared
I can act like I'm crazy

When I think of your kisses
I'm still gonna smile
I'm still gonna miss you
Once in a while
Once in a while

Once in a while I'll wake up
Wondering why we gave up
But once in a while
Comes and it fades away

Good things keep moving ahead
I'm tired of dying
I'm living instead.

---

Amen.

The Pattern That Connects

It was a terrible idea, wasn't it, to try and explain the whole universe in a blog?
I can't even keep my world well ordered, and I want to tie together all of creation?

Ambitious, presumptious, arrogant little sparkplug.

Valentines Day

He buys me presents, and writes me a card.
I have never received either on Valentines day.

I get him a bottle of Disaronno.

We kiss.

Firsts, firsts.

---

And on another, completely different note, cliche as it might sound: I am now entirely and totally in love with Sailing to Philadelphia. It tugs at something inside me and I can't help but turn and look.

Ghosts

and my attempt to lay them to rest...

----
Here's what I did:
I wished for it.
I started it,
I ended it,
I WORKED at it,
I wrote: the emails, the texts, the loveletters.

But it was not meant to be.
The death sentence was on my birth certificate.

And no one can fight either.

And does everything always have to be such a struggle? Always?
I got tired. Deathly tired. So I quit.
Did he take over then, stay when I told him to go?
No.
And so -
Nearly three years since that tortured phonecall longdistance, and many many long nights later, it's over.

Finished.
If I have made the right decision, God, keep we walking forwards.
If it's the wrong one, God, forgive me, and keep me walking forwards.
----

Peace.

Come on. Peace.
----

A shameful dirty secret:
I have stolen one item of clothing from the launderette.
(No, I am not saying what it was)

In my defense;
It was lying on the floor, unclaimed.
Perhaps it was a relic from a break up or a death or a failure or a forgetfulness or perhaps it was just unloved.
Perhaps she didn't notice it was missing until well after she went to her room and unpacked her laundry bag (which, for students, can be anything from a couple of hours to a couple of months after doing the actual laundry).
Either way, I decided that she did not care to have it back.

Also in my defense -
It was a one off, on impulse.

I have been stolen from thrice, and I went to reclaim my dropped items within 30 minutes each time, but they were gone.

You give a little, you take a little.
Sue me.

Two ideas I used to love as a child, but haven't about that much until now;
------

We are dreaming, and soon we will wake up. And the most real-seeming things will vanish and dissolve.

---

God exists. Or many Gods.
And we live in one tiny insignificant corner of some tiny insignificant part of their world. A breeze blows through their window, and our universe implodes. We have no time to think but if we could, we would be shocked at the scale of the catastrophe.
At other times, maybe a dust particle in their room shifts positition and a falling comet changes course and a tiny green planet breathes a sigh of relief, shocked at the scale of the blessing they've been granted.
The Gods, in the meanwhile, continue living their own lives. They don't know about us, and if they did they would be unimpressed. They do things on a bigger scale up there.
---

Both not so original, I know. But both would make me smile.

I believe!
I believe!
I B.E..L.I.E.V.E. and I talk to him or It or Her or them all. the. time.
When I see stars. When I see mist. When I see rain. When I see my father. When I am kissing. When I want to be kissing, and can't. When I'm lonely. When I read. When I am silent. When I am dancing. When I see a lover. When I want a lover.

All. The. Time.

I believe!
So what?

Nonsense, don't bother

If at the end of my life, I am in a room exactly like this, will it be so bad?
(This is a superficial thought, I am not existentially alarmed about being alone, I know there are bigger problems in the world than my patheticness, don't worry.)

This what my moment looks like:
A warm pink light in my room. A fat grey cat. Posters on the wall. I'm alright, I'm alright, I've been lonely before. There are stars liting up the sky outside. I have to go out for a smoke, and who's going to stop me?! I'm alright, I'm alright, I've been lonely before...
Will it be so bad, if it's exactly like this?
No, not so bad at all.
Not so bad at all.
I'm alright, I'm alright, I've been lonely before.

--
Italicised = I'm alright by Madeline Peyroux. Have a listen, she's wonderful.

Who is the great love of my life?
Let's face it, darling.
It's Just Me.

--

Of all the loves past and future, not one has gone as deep as my own desire to fly. And only I can do that.
Friends and lovers and great loves and small; None of them can do more than present cliffs high enough to leap from. The greater the love, the higher the ledge from which to leap.
Who, though, will force me to fall and fly?
Only me.

There. is. no. greater. love. than my own pact with myself: Keep climbing, keep falling, keep on flying.
I minister that.
Who can heal me through the exquisite pain of crashing against rocks and realizing: I don't have to do this, I have wings.
Me. I do that.

Thank goodness.

Decisions, Decisions.

Is the act of having children an expression of radical hope?
And therefore, if I decide not to...
What am I saying about my views on life? On possibility?

- I am a hopeful, positive person.
- I don't think we're going to make it.
- At a fundamental level, I don't think we've figured out how best to be the best humans we can be.

This moment in time feels to me like the farewell party. Joyous, (for those who will make the last exit), filled with light and colour and sound and chaos... because we won't be here tomorrow to look each other in the eye... so we might as well go crazy. Fuck around with all manner of strangeness.

I'm not going to bring any children into this mess.