The Aftersmoke

Smoke fills the nostrils with each breath. Fire cannot be seen. But it has to be somewhere to cause eyes to sting this way. It is widespread. It doesn't seem to matter how far it feels you travel. It just hangs there, heavily in the air. It feels like it is foreshadowing an ominous event instead of following one. Or perhaps it is only there for me. To represent the sheer confusion and smoke in my mind as I prod fires that have long since burned out.

It doesn't seem to matter how long ago the fires burned out. I seem to always feel compelled to wander back and see if I can spark anything. I grasp at every straw, hoping it will be the one. And when it isn't I abandon I til the next compulsion.

I can rationalize it all but the truth is it never leaves me making s'mores. It just leaves me feeling even colder than I was before. I wish I could just have a sense of finality when each fire runs its course and finally fades out to nothing. But I can't. So I will probably be breathing in the smoky air for a long time.

It Took Two

My eyes shot open. It was sudden. But nothing had happened. And it was not like opening them gave me sight. The lights were off. I was supposed to be trying to sleep. I wanted to sleep. But it hit like a bolt of lightening to the face. Except nothing had occurred. Besides one simple thought process. But apparently it was enough. I felt for a moment that you could have been someone I could have been happy with. I would write could but I dont even remember the last time I saw you. And the last time we spoke was before I left and I didnt change my plans for you. And I wont ever regret that.

I had forgotten so much. Likely purposely. But somehow tonight the memories decided to pour back. I first thought of that valentines day. I think it may actually be the only valentines day I have ever had a date. I was supposed to work and last minute I didnt. So you took me to a Monster Truck Rally. And you used to make me bets on everything, but somehow either way I would end up winning without actually having to do better than you on any of the exams. Like the time you had to watch It Takes Two. You were so unimpressed but secretly loved it. And your little nieces and nephews. I forgot how much I loved your family. And your truck. And those creepy frozen mice you would chase me with, they were the worst. It all has come rushing back so fast. I used to pretend we never existed because I was so angry. You were a douche that one time and it seemed to overshadow everything else. Even though so long after we used to just sit and talk on the phone about nothing when we werent even in the same country. I truly had forgotten it all.

I cant get over that intial moment of shock as my eyes shot open. What ridiculous thoughts. There is nothing there. It was lifetimes ago. But somehow I can see that condescending look you would give me while using a nickname you so avidly stuck with. I feel confused. Our paths very likely may never cross again. So I have no comprehension as to why tonight I cant seem to sleep and you magically have set up camp in a mind so exhausted it has no will to battle you out.

It took two of us to be such a disaster back then. But the truth is it was a really great disaster. And we both needed what came after it all. Somehow I want my reaching out to grasp something. To just clear out these relentless thoughts that make no sense. And perhaps these sentences will be the enema needed to wash you out, back to wherever you have lain dormant for so long. I cant help but to miss you tonight. But I want that missing to fade if it leads to nothing. i cant have longings that are fruitless. I know far too well where that leaves me. So why my mind has found you I do not know, but I hope it unfinds you soon.

Won't You Hold Me Now,I Will Not Bend, I Will Not Break

It was so many years ago now. Your friend didn't understand why you liked me because I came off so brash. Insensitive. Sarcastic. You tried to explain that I wasn't like that. And that I was shockingly vulnerable and soft, especially when night fell and fatigue would set in. In that sense not much has changed. I mean you have now been married for years and I know nothing of your life. It was a really long time ago. The world was different then. But I suppose some things never change.

The fatigue has set in. Earlier than it should in someone my age. But this has become routine. Along with the almost constant nausea. And as much as during the day I attempt wit and a strong front, when the evening hits I want nothing more than someone to hold me now. To hold me like they realize how much I feel weak and vulnerable I feel but at the same time in the way that they know I will never break.

I think the truth is I just want someone to hold me. Someone to be there at the end of days that feel long and somehow drain every last electrolyte from within. I want that warmth and strength that only another human can provide. Something beyond the power of each living breath. Perhaps if I feigned vulnerability and softness during normal hours it would be a more natural happening, but I cant help but to save such emotions for times of weakness. So wont you hold me now.

If I Gave You My Number, Would It Still Be The Same?

I cant help but to wonder. About everything. About imaginary things. About conversations that will never happen. About people I didnt even know existed until seven seconds ago. My mind runs rampant. It is like a wild horse running through the forest, untamable by the white man. Being white is a downer hey. But this isnt about how white I am. I just cant help the thoughts.

It seems like everything throws me on a tangent. I am amazed I actually get anything done in the day because of it. I just wonder about ships. And christmas songs. And why I dont sit down and spend more time reading about dinosaurs. And why with my glasses I see so poorly when its the same prescription as my contacts. And how I can see someone dozens of times and suddenly actually see them for the first time. I get lost wondering about others futures and about the stars and how the clouds are so intriguing. I just am so distractable.

That is what it all comes down to. Perhaps I am just looking for a distraction. I dont even feel bad admitting it. I suppose I recently find myself particularly avoidant of anything that seems real. I suppose I just feel that recently my life has been one car crash after another. Basically a constant flow of pile ups. And as much as I could say I wasnt ever hurt, I entirely was. I keep thinking things might be real when they are more imaginary than the monsters in my closet. They are so temporary but somehow I see it too late. It isnt until the airbags hit that I realize my delayed reaction time. So I cant help but wonder what if I gave you my number. I dont even know if I mean this specifically or not. I cant tell. I just know that as I sat there last night re-reading my journals from my time here I had so many questions unanswered and so much love that didnt last. How different could it all have been? How much would be changed if I just was more of who I want to be? What would happen if I had just saved you from drowning, would you promise never to leave? Maybe it's time for me to start thinking less and acting more.

Maybe you dont love me but you'll grow to love me even  more.

I Know Your Sad Even Though You Say That Your Not

Those aren't the words I thought I was about to write about. I suppose the whole song has lyrics worth writing paragraphs about. I am almost certain I have previously used several lines from it before actually. So when I actually opened the page to start laying down words I was surprised at the thought process that was actually occurring in my mind.

I had thought about sending a courtesy email the past few days. I hadn't though. I suppose it was my mind preparing me to receive an email. At least it wasn't preempted by a night full of tearful and fearful dreams like it usually is. I wasn't surprised though when I found it in my inbox during one of my middle of the night wake ups. I ignored it for a few hours, til it was a wake up closer to really waking up.

The words were meaningless. Just words. Sentences. I felt nothing. They seemed insignificant. I can honestly say I don't know what was behind them. Was it venting? Or just a release? Or an attempt at connecting? You should know by now the meaning was lost on me. It was lost so long ago. I suppose an obligatory response will be required. But the truth is I want you to recognize how sad and lonely you are. I want you to see the pain you created and the mistakes you made. I want you to see it so you can go back to who you were. But that might be beyond the scope of real life. You may not admit you are sad but I know you are.

Lion Heart

I feel that is my goal. To have a heart like a lion. I want to be less calloused. More sincere. Kinder. Less judgmental.  Everyone knows I lack a filter. Thoughts become words before I even realize they are thoughts. If I had a band I would call it Lion Heart. I wish I had a band. I would play keyboard, triangle and tambourine. I just feel that lions are brave beyond belief but also so tender, loving, nurturing. It sounds incorrect but in a way I dont want to lose myself in this endeavor. I appreciate my sarcasm, ability to banter and the absurd things that I hear coming from my mouth. I enjoy shock and awe. I like forcing people to an edge creating thoughts from nothing. But deep down I want it all to be backed by a purer heart. I want to let go of the unnecessary spite and anger I so easily find dwelling in my caves. I want to be so much more. To feel more alive. To make a real difference. I want a lion heart.

A Sense of Heat I Couldn't Bare to Touch

It has begun again. It never really ended though. It had now been multiple years since I have slept through the night. I don't even know what it feels like to wake up rested. But somehow it is back to the worst sense of it all. I don't mind the nightmares if they just come, wake me, and go. At least at some point I feel like I have slept. This is back to it taking ages for me to fall asleep, regardless of how tired I am and what I take. And then it never feels like I fall asleep, ever. It is like closing my eyes but being able to open them at any time. Like I am pretending to sleep to pass the time. The time passes with unconventional dreams. It is like reality but never happy, just twisted situations. Ones where I always fail. And it is almost as if I can just open my eyes at any time and take a break from it as it isn't real sleep. But the second I close them again the scenario unpauses and it all begins again. A painful, cyclical pattern that refuses to be broken. And it is all for no reason. There is no explanation. So here I am, avoiding sleep, because being awake yet sleepy seems better than trying to force myself into a sleep that wont occur.

The Other Side Of The Frame

Outwardly I have always tended to exude more of a cool independent picture. Someone that needs no one. Strong enough to handle anything. The world at my feet. A face that can stand alone. How often do we actually let people see what is behind it all though? I dont often. Except for those few people that have seen all sides I try to keep up the picture that would sit in a frame.

The truth is I am bored of being independent and alone. I want to have someone to share these obscure new bands I find filling my ears. I want the smell of freshly baked cookies to warm someone else's insides. I want to plan my life with more than just what I think in mind. And as  much as I like to pretend I dont like dress up or attention I so badly want a wedding. I know it is all coming out because of massive insecurity and watching every person I love filling that finger with a ring and laying claim to another human. But regardless of their lives, I just want that for me. And when I see little babies and children of course I stare. I dont want a kid today. I am not that crazy. But I want a home with a fireplace and a library and a bearskin rug and a kitchen full of cookies and a backyard for future children. I want that grown up life of love. I want more than just a job that pays the  bills.

So maybe my impending interviews wont fill the void I am feeling. I wanted to believe the anxiety I have been feeling is just about trying to get a real grown up job. But I think that is wrong. I think it is because I am so incredibly scared I wont meet the one. And I know that the older I get the more I know exactly what I want which is just making it seem even  more impossible. And it makes me want to stop caring about the stupid things I think I need in a relationship but then I dont want to compromise because I refuse to be with someone that isnt right. I know divorce too well and that will not be me. So maybe I just need to try and be more patient. Or maybe I just need an arranged marriage.

This Place Has Become To Stagnant

My head isnt in the game. If this was baseball I would be the kid in the outfield looking for four leaf clovers, completely oblivious to the fact that a ball was coming hurtling toward my head. I am not sure why. I need a change.  I need something drastic and exciting. Something poorly thought out. I need to be woken up. To rise out of this complacency. I just need to get out of the boredom that has arisen in my head. Or perhaps it is just out of the fatigue that has taken over. Either way, I need something. And sooner rather than later, before I start missing opportunities. I wish Tyra would come give me a crazy makeover.

Stars: The North

Blue Vinyl. How could I resist? I am a therapeutic shopper. I have no problem admitting it. It isnt the best outlet but I suppose it could be worse. Heroin would be worse. So would binge eating. So I may not be doped up or fat but I am poor from this. Now that I think about it poor seems better than the two alternatives I first imagined. I suppose it isnt that bad. Plus I have a new record.

I am so overwhelmed by life. And as I realized that and wondered where to turn I realized that is basically why I have this. So I can write whatever I want. And I am sure in a few days I will look back and read this and think of dramatic this all is in my head. But if I dont write it now I will have nothing to look back on and laugh at my insecurity and immaturity, so here I go.

Life is knocking on my door. Or more like banging on my window while I try and sleep. It expects so much. It wants decisions made. I dont feel ready to make those decisions. I just started applying because I knew I had to get the snowball started before it all melted. So I started. I wasnt expecting in 48 hours to have heard back about three plausibilities. Maybe I will have options. Options are good. But am I ready to make a decision? Do I even know what country to be in for the next year? Does it matter what I think? Will I make a choice and then be forced to go back on my word due to outside influences? And will reality be that I end up with nothing? Maybe these are platters of false hope being served up to my naivety.  There is so little I know. And so many questions. More than I can imagine answers for. And amidst it all I realize I just feel so under the weather. I wish Mrs Minnetta was here. The I could at least go in her flying car and skip out on life for a day or two. Or was it every other friday? It has been awhile. I think the best option is to put the blue vinyl on and finish that captivating book you lent me. I shall have to peruse your library again, I am impressed.

Everything is going to be okay. I just need to get my head above water long enough to regain my breath before I get pulled under again.

My Extravagance

Patient: (detouring from my questions, flips his paper open) "I saw the craziest thing, pen of the year, $4500! Who would pay that much? My pen is $1300 now but I got it for $800, I wouldnt have paid $1300 for it, thats too much. (patient pulls out fancy pen)

Me: ( looks at pen using to write in patients chart) "I found my pen on the ground somewhere."

I didnt know people ever spent that much money on things like pens. I have my certain pens I do love, they cost less than $1.00 a piece. And sometimes I just use the pens I find. Okay, that is most of the time. How little I fit into that mans world. I cant even imagine it. 

Lately I have imagined what being grown up is like. To have my own house. To buy things like couches and bookshelves. I want to have a library. It would be full of records and books and it would have a fireplace and a grizzly bear skin rug. It would be the best room ever. As much as I will never understand paying $800 for a pen, I kinda want to reach a point where I have grown up things.

Choosing My Own Adventure Book

Perhaps it is a power struggle. Like the wolf analogy. They are battling inside but I wouldn't say this is the typical good vs evil struggle. It seems more like a here or there. Both have pros and cons. Both appear to have an army behind them. Yet neither seem to want to say its up to me. It makes me want to just move somewhere new all together. I know how to settle in and make a home for myself. And let's fade it, I like freedom. Some could call it procrastination but I would rather call it living my life. Maybe the wolves should battle each other and leave me out of it. I don't want their influence. I want to make my own choice. And I will. So spare me the dramatics of why your place is best for me. I am old and grown up and whatever choice I make will be good and that's what matters. Thank you all for caring but this isn't a choose my adventures for me sort of thing, it's a book where I will choose them and probably get turned around heaps but I am okay with that.

A Little Self Discovered Neurosis

I may be neurotic. I didn't even realize it til now. This is what happens when I have excessive public transit time and forget my book on my bedside table. It just evaded my memory at the right time. So here I am, staring at the cement that encloses this part of the busway, listening to my friend t.swift. She probably reads this so I thought I better holla at her. So as I sit and stare I find myself thinking, not about anything but about everything. When do I do this when I remember my books? I don't. At least not enough. No wonder sometimes I feel scattered. I need more quiet, alone, thinking time. And by alone I just mean alone in my head. I wish my inner monologue took vacations more often. That would simplify this all.

So back to the bus sitting. Somehow it crossed my mind that I might be neurotic. Possibly because I realized I am listening to t.swift this week because I listened to Kanye sooo much last week, including my run, so I feel an inner desire to balance it out. And somehow with their whole public drama ordeal they seem to counteract each other on my musical weigh scales. It's like how I feel guilty listening to songs that appear over represented on my iTunes. Or how I hate having to sit somewhere different. I like the same place on the bus, or at a desk or a table. I like routine. I like personal space and cannot comprehend how others feel the need to invade these beautifully ordered things. Humans are not orderly enough for me sometimes. Or maybe I am just a bit neurotic and need to learn to step away from my preciseness in some things.

58.31 With A Full Bladder

The clothes are changed. The laces are tied. The headphones are placed in. The watch is looking for a satellite to track me. It is never until a km or few has passed that I remember the important things. Like taking my inhaler or drinking water. I always get home in one piece though so it seems as if they dont matter. So I continue on. However, since this was for a time I thought I should prepare. I drank water and vitamin water and took my inhalers. I regret it. I had to pee from the starting line up until two hours later when I finally found my way home. I understand dehydration  but I definitely wont pre drink my water before future escapades.

This isnt really about bladder control. I am not sure what it is about. I think I just want to acknowledge I managed to start and finish something. This week I have been so down and out. Not in a depressed or sad way though. I just feel so out of control in regards to my health. And the deja vu of it scares me. The whole weekend has been me trying to find energy to do anything and sleeping as much as possible hopped up on painkillers. How am I supposed to be prepared for tomorrow when I cant even stay awake? I fear that I am going into this week even more tired than I would have been without a weekend. Lets hope I can sleep now and wake up early to study, or tomorrow may not bring the success I felt this morning as my feet pounded the pavement.