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.

Apr 18, 2013

Es geht.

it's hard to lay in bed like this and not end up feeling a little fragile.  fragile in more ways than one, not simply physically...  though maybe it is the fact of my current physical fragility that has me thinking such sad and flowery thoughts today?  i am all romance and strife on the inside.  i am Unrequited This and Unrequited That.  i twist the yarn around my hook and sigh.  sigh sigh sigh.

thank god for the trusty greyhound by my side.  :)

my friend alex came by today with some groceries for me.  coffee, cream, vodka.  the basics.  she hung out with me all afternoon and made me laugh even though it hurts.  she's such a wonderful person and friend.  she lives a good 6 or 7 cities away and yet she still made the drive out to oakland to show me some love and care.  it cheered me up somethin wonderful, is what.  it's easy to start feeling isolated and alone when it comes to this type of injury.  the cure is brutal: stay in bed, don't move, don't sneeze.  that's all that can be done about this.  and i'm following the rules because a big part of me is holding out hope that i won't have to cancel my trip.  the eternal optimist.  it's unlikely that i'll still be able to go to NY.  i need to be able to walk around (for MILES AND MILES), dance, drink and be dumb, not to mention sit in an airplane for 6 hours.  there's no way i could do it in my current condition.  the plane ride itself would make me want to die.  sheer torture.  i can't even sit at my own kitchen table right now.  i can stand and i can lay.  that's it.

ready for the dramatics?

so of course i've rolled around to thinking about my life at this point and what the fuck i'm doing with it.  i'm objective...  i see the goodness of studying a different language, going to work, making art, writing and taking pictures...  but somehow i feel like i'm not doing enough.  i have this 22 page poemy-ish thing that needs to be edited and i haven't touched it in weeks.  i basically have no clue where to begin so i ignore it.  i focus on things i DO know how to conquer-  drawing and crochet, whining on my blog.  i'm beating around the bush.  what i really want in this moment of pain is for someone to take care of me.  i want my mother to sweep in, in all her curls and lipstick, and make me soup.  i want a knowing hand to brush my hair away from my forehead.  i want to be given permission to be weak, to be in need, and to have it not feel shameful and embarrassing.

that's what was so nice about alex's visit today.  she just took care of these little things for me and didn't seem to mind at all.  she wouldn't even take any money from me.  somewhere along the line, i got very accustomed to relying only upon myself that i no longer know how to respond to certain forms of kindness.  i'm good at extending those forms of care but have no clue how to feel or behave when i'm on the receiving end.  it just doesn't happen that much.  but maybe i don't allow it??? i very rarely ask for help.  i feel ashamed when i need it.  i feel like i should be able to handle anything and everything that comes my way, at each and every turn.  i'm tough. 

but i'm only tough because i've had to be.  and to be honest, sometimes it really sucks.  sometimes, it's a very lonely road.  still, i don't know how to shake my false belief that to ask for help is an embarrassment.   i don't know how to rely on another person.  i don't trust that another person is strong enough to carry my heavy heart and not drop it... but nor should a person be expected to be.  isn't my heart MY responsibility?  isn't my life MY responsibility? 

it isn't that i don't trust people, it's that i feel very unsafe being dependent upon another human being.  for anything. 

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