woke up with that odd feeling on my shoulders again... only this time it was heavier. so heavy in fact that it took some doing and a whole bunch of time to talk myself in to getting out of bed today. but i finally placed where this odd mood is coming from-
for the past 4 1/2 years, i have moved, consistent as clockwork, every year and a half. that mark is upon me- the time when the upheaval starts. my bones must remember it and are reminding me to prepare myself. only this time there is no upheaval on the horizon, no tragedy to wrestle with, no massive problem that needs to be managed. it's just my training kicking in, telling me to brace myself against the storm. but it's all clear and bright and easy here. there's no dangerous weather, at least none that i can see or smell or sense. there is no great turmoil brewing. now that i've placed it, i feel a bit better. it's just my strange, internal, deceptive clock ticking away in my ear as i sleep and i wake up with its dread in my hair and disillusionment crushed across my eyes and all the bad, bad, bad of the world sinking in to my pores. it's not a fun way to begin the day... especially for a person like me who always (almost always) wakes up happy and talkative and ready to explore and play and laugh. yes, i am one of those types who is happy to open their eyes and see sunshine. i am part of that happy tribe that most of the world's population seems to be horribly annoyed by. i've always been this way, even as a child. especially as a child. i've always believed that, in spite of its many horrors, the world is good and open and here to be enjoyed and marvelled at- its grasses are to be danced in and turn cartwheels on and to watch children play and chase insects. i've always noticed how it never rains on sunday... it might be dreary and it might rain at night, but for the life of me i can't ever remember it raining on a sunday... maybe that's just a california thing.
these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.
thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.
my artist website is here.
my artist website is here.