what’s been occupying my time since Wednesday evening in pennsylvania.
in Loved Ones, Thoughts and Feelings
as birth, birth center, black marker, boughs of holly, brand new baby, center, drinking, golden hour, grilled cheese sandwich, house, peanut, pennsylvania countryside, recording, recording music, show, singing christmas carols, sister, tape, time, tiny piano
*visiting my friend’s brand new baby at the birth center*singing christmas carols*attending my nieces’ play*singing at a house show*baking loaves (and loaves!) of bread*wrapping presents with my sister*drawing pictures*making cards*recording music*lots of yoga*eating (drinking?) a peanut butter milkshake*receiving oddly wonderful gifts–i.e.: an old school walkman, complete with large headphones and a real cassette tape with the words, big beats, tiny piano scrawled across it in black marker and also, opening up a box of chocolate covered edamame*reuniting with some friends for life*hearing someone tell me, “If I ever ran into the people who’ve been unkind to you, I’d deck ‘em! And NOT with boughs of holly, either.”*eating a grilled cheese sandwich across the table from a friend I don’t see often enough* telling as many people as I can to have a merry christmas*gazing at the tree–so brightly lit, like it’s trying to get my attention (and it worked)*playing the ukulele*wishing I could give a present to every person I know, just about*loving the pennsylvania countryside, especially during that golden hour when the light is waning*getting laughed at by an elderly female stranger because my shirt and pants don’t match (yeah, I know; I did it on purpose)*missing Latshaw-WEST, cause it’s not the same, not nearly the same, without them*feeling like smiling more often than not lately*still crying sometimes, but realizing that it’s often like a summer storm; the clouds roll in quickly, and just as quickly roll out*wearing dresses and boots*reading stories–real stories!–that have nothing whatsoever to do with me, a refreshing change from self-anlaytical books, I must say*actually, truly, NO REALLY! I AM! looking forward to tomorrow, to Christmas, smiling a little thinking about it, even, so–ain’t that something?
Ain’t that something, indeed.
I will no longer judge the frogs.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Thoughts and Feelings
as boiling pot, dangerous temperatures, fact, frog, love, nick of time, pillow, recording music, Shane, something, sweeter sound
Shane is drumming.
Pat is engineering.
I am sitting on a pillow.
And collectively? We are recording music.
Oh man, I’m working hard; I’ll let you know how the pillow sounds with these particular microphones.
On to something else now. Like frogs. Particularly, how they get boiled
alive sometimes, not even realizing that the water they’re in have reached dangerous temperatures until it’s too late. I’ve always heard about that situation and wondered how the frog could be so oblivious. So out of touch with his reality.
But then suddenly I was the frog, and well, now I sort of understand. Because it wasn’t always like that, you know. It wasn’t always so hot and this-is-gonna-boil-me-alive-if-I-stay-any-longer.
But then again, was it?
I don’t really know if he ever loved me. In fact, when I’ve asked him about this, he’s said that he loved me “in the way he knew how.” I don’t know why he had to specify it like that. I know that he didn’t make those specifications with the person he gave himself to. I think “the way I knew how” must indicate something lesser; I think it must mean not very much or at least not the kind that is made of indestructible stuff.
I do know that it’s not the kind of love that is love; how can it be?
But the thing is, I tried my very best to love him. I did love him. And although I am tempted to call it a waste–and nauseated at the thought of it, even–I don’t know that you can ever call truly and wholly loving someone a waste. Love betters a heart. Even if it goes disregarded and scorned, I have to believe that where love has been, there is a sweeter sound and feel because of it.
But now.
Now I’m the frog who managed to jump out of that boiling pot just in the nick of time and I cannot believe how beautiful the world is now that I’m not dying from the inside. I can hardly believe how it feels to know there’s room for something good and real and true in my life.
And I’m not gonna be so hard on the poor frogs anymore. In fact, I’m gonna be getting therapy and I should find out where those frogs have their support groups.
Cause I could totally compare notes with them.
