Double? Madness! (Cue 300 jokes)

It has been an introspective day for me. And I think it has been a long time coming.

My brain is constantly searching and thinking. It is rare that it is simply resting. In fact, I can't remember a time where it's been at rest, even while the other parts of my body fall into their natural comatose states every evening. I'm almost tempted, sometimes, to enter myself into a sleep study so that a very serious-looking scientist (wearing glasses and a lab coat, I imagine) can hook up electrical wires to my skull and monitor my brain waves. I want to know what goes on when I'm unconscious to this world and exploring the nightly, alternate universe. Even when I'm sleeping, I want to continue learning.

I don't quite know what I'm feeling. My initial reaction is to say that I'm numb, but then after some serious consideration, I don't think that's it. "Numb" implies some kind of sadness. An overwhelmed feeling. It's not a foreign feeling to me, not by any means. I used to use the analogy of standing underneath the shower head for long periods of time. You start off feeling every drop of water, then it spreads out until you feel one, cohesive stream and those droplets are no longer individual, and then there's nothing. Eventually, your skin goes numb to the feeling, and it's only when you hear the sound of the water swirling down the drain that you remember it's pouring over you.

But that's not what this feeling is.

I suppose I could call it apathy, but that, too, holds a negative connotation, and I really don't think this is a negative feeling. Part of me thinks that, perhaps, after an emotionally charged day, maybe this "flat-lining" is a kind of mental defense mechanism so that I don't short circuit.

Well, thank you, seemingly pragmatic part of me -- but I think you're wrong.

Underneath this -- we'll call it "acceptance" -- there is a general sense of hope. Of wonder. Of happiness. Which is why I know it's not feeling "numb" or "apathetic." I want more hours in the day so that I can spend them stretching my body and expanding my bones. I want more hours in the day so that I can spend them meditating and channeling the Universe. I want more hours in the day so that I have more reasons for which to be thankful for life.

That hardly sounds like numbness or apathy, right?

Somewhat unrelated, yet still tied in, I've decided what I want my third tattoo to be, to serve as a reminder of the lessons I've learned over the past few days. The lessons I've always known, deep down, but only realized and understood at this moment in time. It's a simple statement. It isn't especially poetic and, upon first listen or glance, it seems as obvious as a red light (or, in my case, a yellow one, reminding me to take life in the slow lane). But give it a moment to sink in. Let it infiltrate your mind. After you understand the clout of it, you'll understand why it's important.

Go make your next choice be your best choice.

Yes, it's taken from a song. And most would find that foolish. But I've been toying with the idea of getting this quote etched into my skin for a few months now. I've debated and wondered and scratched my head raw over it. But I know, now, that it's what I want. It's what I need.

I promise myself and the Universe that, from now on, every choice I make will be my best. Every time I'm presented with a choice, I have the opportunity to make my life a little more wonderful. To make this world a little happier. To spread light into someone else's life. To encourage someone else to search for their true happiness. Why on earth wouldn't I want to do that?

- May (you choose the right path).

Poetic Influence

I really need to start writing happier things.

The only problem with that is that I feel like I am most inspired to write when things are miserable. And that really bothers me. It's the Tortured Soul thing, I think. Angst and sadness are ultimate equalizers -- no matter your status, no matter your place along life's timeline, everyone has felt it. Everyone knows it. And everyone, to some degree, fears it. And I think that's why it attracts us. It's why we watch horror movies with the lights off or go on death-defying roller coasters. We're intrigued by that which scares us most. (Except if you're me and one of your biggest fears is clowns. Then, you avoid them like the freaking plague).

Sadness doesn't scare me anymore, though.

Well, I suppose that's not true. It scares me in so much that I am afraid of it consuming me. A little shedding of tears every so often isn't a bad thing. In fact, I think it's healthy and a requirement for staying balanced. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing, as they say. Plus, without bad things, we would never have any sort of gratitude for the good. So, getting sad every once in a while is something to be promoted. But I fear, sometimes, that if I let myself feel the healthy dose of sadness, I won't be able to come back out of it.

I often wonder if that's a normal thought for people who've had their ankles chained by depression in the past. I guess it's like an alcoholic, always afraid that s/he is going to fall victim to the enticing allure of a beer or a glass of wine. And I don't think it's letting one's self feel those things as it is not being able to stop. Having a beer with dinner isn't a big deal, but it's the gluttonous consumption of beer after beer after beer that alcoholics fear, I think. At least, that's what I imagine. And that's how I feel with sadness. I'm not afraid of letting some angst out if it strikes, but I'm afraid of not being able to shake it once the poetic flow has finished.

That being said, it does make for some good creative juice.

When my dad was in the hospital a few weeks ago, I felt like all my senses were incredibly heightened. I was so detached from my body that I almost felt omniscient. Like I could be in all places at all times. It was one of the strangest feelings I've ever experienced, and not one I really ever want to have again, but it made for some interesting writing. Here's my favorite piece (which is weird to think, that I like something enough to call it a favorite) that I wrote over those few days:

--------------

021010

it seems ridiculous to think
that there is a whole
world outside of these
poorly decorated
(my god, who chose
these works of "art?")
walls. businessmen and
women go about their
days: "did i wear the right
tie?" "do these shoes
match my skirt?" "what
will i get for dinner
tonight?"

and i am confined. i
avoid eye contact, but
my other senses are
heightened. a young
girl chews the gummy
worms that her mother
bought her because she
wouldn't stop crying in
the drug store. i can
hear every movement of
her jaw and every snap
of her saliva as she consumes
those soured creatures.
a man, waiting for
his wife to be released
(he silently prays
for good news) taps
his empty water cup
against the wooden
arm rest of these worn
down benches. the
receptionist finds a
routine in filing his
paperwork: stamp, fold,
staple, rustle, file. his
routine is interrupted
with passing doctors;
interns trying their
hardest to look like
they know what they're
doing; visitors unsure of
where to go but knowing
they've got a lot of
paperwork to sign.

how does the world
carry on outside of these
walls? doesn't it know
that everything hangs
on a thread? that one
slip of the scalpel will
change it all?

everyone here, tied by
something that no one
else knows, yet we
all understand:

let him be okay.
let her live. let him
make it through another
night. please, we haven't
said goodbye.

yet the world keeps
spinning, the world
keeps moving
and, prisoners of this
god-forsaken space, we
are no longer in it.

--------------

On that note, I think I am going to make a conscious effort to write at least one happy thing a day. I used to keep a gratitude journal, if any of you (... hello? Anyone out there? *tap tap* This thing on?) remember. I used to write down at least one thing for which to be grateful, each and every day. I think I need to start that up again. I'm trying to get back into my healthier, spiritual habits. I've been feeling out of touch for a while, and I need to reconnect.

So, here are my resolutions for the rest of the year (three months late isn't too bad, right?):

1. Start up/restart the Gratitude Journal.
2. Do at least a 1/2 hour of yoga, every single day, even if I'm exhausted.
3. Under absolutely NO circumstances am I to eat fast food. Ever.
4. Look for healthy alternatives to the things I eat.
5. Get some raw food/vegetarian cookbooks and try to make at least one entree a week.
6. Meditate for 15 minutes every day. Repeat as necessary.
7. No more coffee! Tea is all right (it's the Brit in me).
8. Try to cut back on snacking. It has always been my downfall.
9. Find a Buddhist temple and actually attend some kind of gathering.
10. Pick a date, pick a destination, and save up for a trip I've always wanted to go on.

Ten things, but I think they're all doable.

It's never too late to start over, right?

- May (you be determined to live a happy life).

Bi-Polar.

No, really. Sometimes I think I am.

I can point to a multitude of things for the reason: hormones, amount of sleep (or, usually, lack thereof), my typically fickle, scattered, Gemini nature. It's no surprise that I'll often point to the latter of the three. While I don't think that life and decisions can be made or altered based on how the constellations are arranged, I do think they help explain things we can't otherwise understand.

There's an astrology book that my grandma has in her house. It used to belong to her closest, dearest friend, Alice (after whom I get half of my full name), who was very much into astrology and things. It goes through each Zodiac sign, then breaks it down further into, for example, Gemini Man, Gemini Woman, Gemini Child, Gemini Employee, Gemini Boss. There may be another category or two tossed in there, but you get the idea.

I was attracted to the book, initially, because of the plastic, textured cover my Aunt Alice had put over it. I remember skimming the bookshelves and my eye immediately falling upon the red and black swirls. It was almost a paisley pattern. And then I became more interested in what the book was saying. I remember reading the Gemini child and feeling like, for once, someone actually understood me. Right down to the very suggestion of having a wrist-leash (yes, I was that kid in the mall). Things suddenly made sense. No wonder I was still exhausted after sleeping -- my brain never shuts off because I'm always thinking, always inquisitive, always pondering and reflecting. I find it's still true to this day. I could sleep for days but still feel mentally drained. Things related to the vocal chords and communication come naturally to me -- well, that certainly makes sense as Mercury is my ruling planet, otherwise known as Hermes, messenger to the gods. We're writers, speakers, talkers, chat-your-ear-off-ers. All of the above, and then some.

We're destined to live a life of searching. Geminis are air signs, as all zodiac signs are linked to some kind of natural element. Scorpio and Pisces, for example, are water signs. Capricorns are earth signs. And so on. Anyway, just as air is constantly moving, constantly finding new directions and new ways in which to get from place to place, so do Geminis. And I often feel that way, that I'm fated to live a life of curiosity. A life of wonderment.

Sometimes, it's frustrating. Sometimes, I want to have my life planned out. I want to know that I'll be doing Job A for the rest of my life. Things would be, I think, simpler in a lot of ways if that were the case. At the same time, I know how I get when I find myself stuck in a routine. This is also something that the book mentions. Routines drive me crazy. And when I say crazy, I mean sheer lunacy. The idea of doing the same thing every single day, with no variation, depresses me just with the thought. And, if that routine is combined with a stifling oppression of creativity, you might as well chuck me in a pine box and bury me. I won't be able to last longer than a breath in that kind of environment.

But I didn't write this to get hung up on Zodiacs. I wrote this to talk about my changing moods. There is a tie-in, that Geminis are Twins. In other words, we can go from happy to sad seemingly without reason. And while I'd love to constantly point the finger at the sparkling configurations overhead, I know that the responsibility does not lie with them. I think it's simply who I am.

I need to learn to better control my moods. Figure out when they happen, what triggers them, how to make them change (if it's a bad sort of mood, that is). I need to find my way back to how I was last summer. I need to cry every day not because I'm sad, but because I'm overcome with joy. I need to find that balance and peace with the universe and the unknown.

I had the Om put at the base of my neck in the hopes of opening and calling upon my Vishuddha chakra (turns positives into negatives, sees every experience as something to be learned, opens up creativity, etc.) .. It seemed to have worked for a little while. And then I think I started ignoring it, started falling back into my old ways.

Well, I'm done with it. I'm done with all of the garbage that I had gotten rid of last year. This is a fresh start. I've another day, another gift with which I can do whatever I please. I have the freedom of deciding who I want to be and where I want to be it. I can do something spectacular, something beautiful, something kind and compassionate, every single day of my life. And I want to. I want to do all of those things.

It's about time I started.

- May (you stop looking for excuses).

Downers.

I've tried to keep this blog uplifting, not only for others, but for myself. To serve as a reminder of all of the wonderful things which I have been lucky enough to have been a witness to over the past year. I think a part of me knew that, at some point, I would lose that optimistic outlook on life and would need a reminder as to why I should work to keep it.

And though it pains me to do so, I have to post something that's less than happy. Less than bright. Less than hopeful.

This feeling terrifies me. It strips me of all of the defenses I have come to know. My clay army is but a pile of broken pottery, useless and meaningless. This feeling is one that I haven't felt in a few years, and the fact that I feel it creeping back into my life scares me. Petrifies me. I don't want it. I wanted to be rid of it forever. But the more I step away, the more it follows. It is as though I am leaving a perpetual trail of inedible bread crumbs that root to the ground behind me, forever to be a guide for an ambush.

This is guerrilla warfare, and the enemy is myself.

The worst part is that I can remember it all. I can remember the feeling of gazing at speeding cars longingly, wishing for nothing more than a strong gust of wind to push me towards them. I can remember my hand shaking on the banister as I walked down the stairs in my dorm, just in case I should "lose my footing" and find myself at the bottom much quicker than I had anticipated. I remember contemplating the dosage of Advil that would leave me numb, perhaps more, and wondering who would find me once I had gone.

And then I remember the feelings of hope I felt. I remember the simple beauty and pleasure of letting the sun warm my skin and flush my cheeks. I remember caring for myself and for my body, and wanting only to fill it with nutrition and health. I remember being too excited to fall asleep because there was so much to see in this beautiful world. I remember the tears that flowed from the overwhelming happiness I felt bubbling in my chest.

I remember it all.

And now I struggle with who I am, where I've been, where to go. Am I the girl who wishes for sleep because it hurts less than being awake? Or am I the girl who can hardly stay still because she itches to explore and live her life?

I don't know.

I don't know who I am. Who I'm supposed to be. Am I supposed to be anyone, for that matter? Or are these limitations ones I place on myself because I know not what else to do?

They make compasses for lost travellers, stranded in the woods. They always point north.

Please, someone. Anyone.

Let me get there.

- May (you search for your answers).

Tune-age.

Do I even need to explain this one?

--------------------

Someday I'm gonna go out to the country.
I'll drive 'til the highway ends,
Chasing after picture perfect sunsets
To take away my breath.
I'm tired of living in the city.
The world's got me tied on a string.
Wanderlust has overcome me.
Like Lewis and Clark, I'll dream.
There's a million different ways to go,
Only God can know where I will call my home.

Love lead me on
Where no one else has gone.
Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me on.

The open road can be so lonely.
I'm longing for someone to love.
If only I could share my new surroundings,
Open the doors above.
There's a million different ways to go,
Only God can know where I will call my home.

Love lead me on
Where no one else has gone.
Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me on.

Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me home.

--------------------

I realize, in retrospect, that there's a heavy religious theme in this song. I also realize, after listening to more of The Afters (and looking at the Genre column in my iTunes that I casually ignored before), that they're a Christian band.

If anyone reading this (yes, I'm talking about you, lone reader ..) knows me, though, he or she will know that religion isn't really my thing.

Regardless of their religious affiliation, I dig their sound. They remind me a bit of Snow Patrol with the softer side of Something Corporate with a dash of The Hereafter and .. maybe the melancholy aspect of Coldplay. The lead singer's voice reminds me of someone else, but I can't pinpoint who. Anyway, they're good. Check out their most popular song, "Beautiful Love." It's one of my favorites. The acoustic version is wonderful!

As for the song above, I simply meant it for the latter part of that first verse, about wanderlust.

That may be my new-old favorite word. Wanderlust.

Wanderlust. Wanderlust. Wanderlust.

It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

- May (you search for deeper meaning).

Catch Up.

I've been thinking about a lot of things lately. Sometimes they're mundane and non-sensical, sometimes they're fleeting and amusing, sometimes they're sad and dreary, sometimes they're angry. I've had a myriad of different emotions constantly swirling around in my head, like an uncontrollable cyclone.

It's nothing I'm not used to.

One of the strongest thoughts I've had is how influential one's state of mind is on one's physical health. Through no one's fault but my own, I was struggling with some personal issues that are now starting to resolve themselves, but it brought my mood down quite a bit. I had fallen off the vegetarian wagon and stopped eating as healthy as I had for the majority of last year; I stopped my daily coconut water + Vitamineral Green combination; I was fighting with family members more often; I was finding myself sinking in the quicksand of my identity crisis that I had managed to deal with for a while. All of these things led to me feeling down on myself.

When I was eating right, meditating and yoga-ing on a daily basis, I can't even tell you when I got sick. Over a large span of time. My immune system was perky and doing well and fighting the good fight. As soon as my mood started slipping, my sinuses explode and my nose gets clogged. In other words, my body rebelled to the bad decisions I was making.

Okay, okay, Body. I get the hint. I promise. I made those New Year's Resolutions for a reason. I promise I'll stick with them. Please, can't we get along like we used to?

Anyway, it's just another little reminder of how interconnected things really are in the universe, in the world, in our lives, and in our bodies.

Symbiotic.

Another thought I've had was wondering where I'm going to end up.

I like the freedom and I like the ability to leave it up to chance (though, really, let's be honest .. is anything really accidental?). I like being able to say, "I don't know where I'll be, but I hope I like it."

I like being able to have grand dreams of waking up on a beach in San Diego, going out for a surfing lesson (years after my first lesson, I will still be too afraid of standing on the board), catching some grub at a Vegan and/or Raw Food cafe, and relaxing my weekends away with friends, some beer, and maybe a communal cook-out.

Simultaneously, I like being able to have the same grand dreams, only in England, trotting down the stairs from my East London flat, walking to the Tube, and hitting up the Victoria and Albert or the Tate Modern, sharing a few shouts at the local with some mates, and coming home to my faithful retired greyhound.

I like being able to have both of those visions in my head, without any sort of competition between the two. Without any real obligation to either of them, even. I like having them both floating about in my cranial space.

But, at the same time, I kind of wish I had something more solid. Sometimes, I wish I could answer with conviction when someone asks me, "So, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?" or "Where do you see yourself in five years?" My usual answer is, "I want to be happy," to both of those. And while I think that's adequate (albeit vague), sometimes I wish I had a little something more to fall back upon.

Sometimes, I don't think I'm destined to really stick around one place for too long. I've already spent close to 23 years living in New York, with a few travels here and there. I can feel my palms starting to itch, my legs starting to quiver, my breath starting to quicken.

I feel like I'm on the brink of something big.

I don't know what it is.

But I'm excited to find out.

- May (you never lose your thirst for discovery).

Unknown Space

Slightly delirious from Nyquil. Feeling sleepy, feverish, stuffed, but somehow content. These drugs must be stronger than I thought.

Too many thoughts were racing through my already cluttered mind as I drove home from work today. Pieces of poems that have yet to be written were the most prominent. I managed to remember the opening lines of this one throughout the twenty minutes spent in the car and this is what I came up with. (As with yesterday's post, the link to download will be at the end).

-------------------------

"Unknown Space"

somewhere between

what he sees
and
what she cannot(will not?)

lies the squandered, the suppressed.

bulging hips and
dimpled thighs,

crooked this
and
off-center
that;

every flaw for which she
holds
herself somehow accountable;

every reason for which she
feels she deserves
far less than those with

hips that curve like country roads
and thighs as smooth as satin,

those with
hearts that pull like gravity
and smiles that silently serenade.

she saw it,
once,
the beauty by which he swears.

well,
she will tell you that she thinks she saw it.

perhaps
she saw it.

well,
it’s really, very unlikely that she saw it.

nothing more than imagination:
interesting,
adventurous,
inviting,
exhilarating,

but, at the end of it all,
non-existent.

nothing more than thoughts
in passing trains
that have an omniscient destination
except to the man wearing the hat.

trust,
says he.

i do,
says she.

in every form
in every action,
she tells the truth.

trust was always easy for her,

especially when faced with his
blackened pools through which she could see
only light,
only good,
only wonder(she wonders what they saw in her).

but struggle still
remains.

pull her(won’t he touch her?)close
and listen to the off-kilter beating
of what was once an unbroken heart.

steady her head
as she shakes it.

kiss her brow
as it furrows.

bite her lips
as they fall.

she will believe him,
eventually.

someday(please, have patience),
she will find herself
staring from his eyes,

and she will understand.

-------------------------

Here's the Pages file and here's the MS Word file.

- May (you remember to nurture your spirit).

Adoption

I know it's been months. Many things have happened between then and now. Some were wonderful (many, most were wonderful), some were bad. Either way, life goes on and I am still here.

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of my adoption. I always write something around this time, usually poetry, and this year is no exception. I wrote two; one is rather sad, one is more accepting.

The spacing won't come out properly here, so I'm including a link to download the files at the end (there are two versions of each: one is a Pages document for all you iWork users, the other is a Microsoft Word document for everyone else).

----------------------

“January 15th”

one would figure.
in any other situation, it would
be more than(though
maybe just enough)adequate. one would

figure that something closely resembling
ELEVEN MILLION minutes(yes, you did,
indeed,
read that correctly)would give one(or two,
maybe three or four, if

you were daring)direction.

if not
direction,
then at least enough time to
hunt
down and locate a poorly-drawn map.

but these roads are many.
these roads are dimly lit(sometimes not at all).

dead ends are perpetual. i turn and walk yet
somehow end up back to where this involuntary

journey began. always back to her.

always in search of
HER.
i do not know her name. i do not know her face.
i do not remember the sweet words she may have sung
when my heart was not yet capable of gratitude(how

i curse it to this
very
moment).

i always imagine gazing into dark, dark eyes,
red-rimmed,
trying their hardest to avoid my own.

did i look at you, knowing they would soon
forget(how i wish i didn’t
forget)?

did they promise loyalty in return for yours?

how i wish i could have begged;
i would have pleaded, “my heart will be yours

if you keep me but a moment longer.” but i would
have promised you the moon if it
meant that you would love me.

do you love me now? from
across the
distant(so very
distant)sea?

our world, once together, now separated
by a pool of the Universe’s saline sadness.

there is no map to you.
i do not know where(who, what, why)i am.

PLEASE.

keep me but a moment longer;
i promise i will love you as i tried to eleven million minutes ago,
i promise i will remember,
i promise i will smile,

if you would only promise
to guide me back

to you.


----------------------

"January 15th, Part 2"

every thought
look
melody
question:
a boat

in which i am held captive,
in which i have

no c h o i c e but to

float

back to you.

accusations of false information(because
i am ultimately untrustworthy)from
mouths too

god damn

ignorant to fully
comprehend this from that,
those from these;

they are the worst and they are frequent.
they are the titantic of all vessels:

impossible
to ignore.
impossible
to forget.

tragic.
devastating.
but
somehow
beautiful.

i have started to believe that you are nothing

more
than something i have conjured(many things
are elusive fabrications)in this tangled web-mind
i have been bles(burdened)sed with.

yet logic and the universe tell me
that you must have

existed,

even if only for a moment.

i will

exhale my
breath,

pour out my
love,
bleed my eyes
dry,

so that each may fill a tiny
paper
boat;

i will

set each on a sheet of liquid glass,
salty and unclean and unknown
beyond
these shores of home;

and pray that they will find you,
pray that you will see them,

pray that you will know,
pray that you will remember(do these thoughts

haunt you when you wake?),


and learn
to let

you go.

----------------------

And, as promised, here is the link to download to see the proper spacing and formatting and things: poetry folder at box.net.

- May (you expect the unexpected, always).