Sleeping Lady

I awoke from a dream
with dried tears in my eyes
You found another muse
a woman wrong for you
but good to you.

It wasn't that in the dream
you were still mine.
Or that the times were happy.
Or that I knew the woman,
in her boundless beauty,
or that the kiss was a cheat.

It was the light in your eyes
The way you explained your excitement.
You admitted you enjoyed it.

And I knew I lost again
And the distance continued to grow wider between us
You, wrapped in the red-died lips of another.
Me, asleep. 

Applesauce Text

Even though I know I shouldn't, I do.
I text.
My curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I feel just so...
Lonely.

The text is sent. Something silly with momentary meaning.
It doesn't matter what I say, just something to let him know I'm thinking of him.

Or let me feel less lonely.

Now it is just about waiting for the return text.

It comes.

The same type of empty reply we both are accustomed to expect.
But a way to communicate, nevertheless.

I miss you.

That is all we can muster.
Our hearts have been churned to an applesauce consistency.
Thick, mushy.

Our appetite is briefly satiated.

Moving Day

Some relationships come to a close with possessions being thrown out the window or the door. Some end with simply leaving what you had and starting again, including physical possessions. The pots and pans, the beloved red spatula, the stockpot used more by the party whose possession it was not.

These things are just that. Things. Plastic, mostly. Replaceable, yet functional. Possessions worth getting used to and now gone. The house feels less compound energy. The house feels empty of others. It is now just me. With possessions infused by others, but not theirs. Mine.

It’s the last satisfaction, perhaps, of taking back a possession deemed to be yours. The final takeback of any such emotion, or personal energy that might belong to you, not them. Something that, by possession, is yours, and so you must take it back. Except for the shitty things. The things no one really wants but just hides in the back cupboard. Instead of throwing it out, it will sit there longer – years probably – before it is considered again.

That shit should go too.

Chance Man

How many chances do you get? And how many chances do you give? Is one more chance a chance for one, or a chance for both? And who knows when the next chance should be given, until it’s too late.

Solomon was my never-ending chance man.

Perhaps chances are exactly what we are looking for in a mate. Perhaps we are all striving to just be the best person we can be. We set a goal a day.

Meditate.

Clean the bathroom.

Read an article.

Exercise.

Cook.

But every day we did something else that was not on the list, causing us to not do the one thing that really needed to be done. Then, that catapults into another thing. A trigger leading back to an old alley of the brain, the person you once were. There are familiar doors and laughter beyond them, but the streets are silent. No one is out to meet you because at some point, you stopped coming around.

-->

Then it is when you realize that something about the new life, the new alley, with a brighter sky and colors of doors and happiness has led you back to a previous chapter. Not gone and not forgotten.

Thoughts on the Planning Commission

Decisions are hard and Robert’s Rules of Order are harder.

When does one person’s property rights outweigh the other? How are communities protected to ensure the nature of their community is retained? You fight for it.

You fight for what you believe in. You say whatever you need to say, you write whatever you need to write. You stand up for whatever it is that you believe in. And you move on. Sometimes you will win. And sometimes you will lose.

Sometimes I will be more articulate than other times. Sometimes I will wonder if my head is connected to my body. If I’m alive, I can be sure it is.

I walked in tonight to lights on. Everything was the same way I left it, except my suitcase was in the middle of the floor, his open, contents askew against the wall. He on couch, asleep.

Nothing moved since I left that morning, except the note I left him on the mirror. “welcome home, my love” xoxo

My half drunk cup of tea remained on the counter – a paperweight for an article on how to compose your marriage to restore love. A spoon left on the counter from the honey, an empty glass left there too. The folded sheets left on the ground, needing to be put away, still there, with the remote on top of it. That wasn’t where I left it. The blinds of the full side windows still drawn up.

“Hello!” I yell from the outside downstairs door.

“Hello,” I answer softer to myself.

Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad. My mantra walking up the stairs to the impending scene I know awaits me. 

I took off my jewelry as he laid on the couch snoring. I was tired after a long day of school, catching up from a weekend in Portland and a late meeting from the planning commission. I was excited to see him again, since we last met in Portland. He’d been gone almost two weeks and I was looking forward to having him home.

The commission meeting was a contentious one. A poor man who bought an ill-fated property for him and his 19 dogs – and a NIMBY neighborhood who didn’t take the opportunity to actually talk to him before protesting his desires. They attacked him all night while he articulately and with integrity explained his plans. Alas, the commission denied him the permit, with my vote the lone in support. It was a long meeting, but I was proud of myself, and eager to brag to my biggest fan about one of the best public speeches I thought I had ever made.

But he was asleep on the couch, like usual.

-->

And nothing waited for me but a stack of homework and a blank page to write it out.

Sad News Post

This week was a tough week for me. Another death in my close circle, this time a co-worker's son committed suicide. Our office is only four people, and me and my co-worker are the only two full time. I have a lot of differences with this co-worker. In fact, my entire experience working for him and the project has been the launch to my thesis work, so far.

This was the third death in exactly one week, putting "life and things" into perspective. It's a weird place to be to grieve - an arm length away from being close enough to do something that just doesn't seem out of place by my presence. My heart hurts so badly.

Why do we do what we do? Why is this research so important? Why is getting another degree so important? What does it matter if I know the theories of communication?

Maybe none of it matters...And maybe it does.

Maybe if I know about how to reach someone who is struggling with their life, I could save them. Maybe if I showed a little more compassion and depth, someone would know that their life is worth living.

Why do people commit suicide? What other living thing does this? As humans, we have the ability to just...end it. Finale. So final.

This week has been a little difficult staying focused on just one research question. I think maybe that is a struggle for all researchers - and as you can see - certainly a struggle of mine. In an instant, the world can change and that one question that seemed so important, now feels trumped by something more...personal...meaningful...important.

I'm not giving up, just a bit deflated for this entry. 

Sweet movie dreams.

The first time I was on the left. This time, I was on the right. The first time, he tucked his head into mine that was looking forward. It was a sneak of a kiss, but one that was warmly welcomed with an enormous rush of adrenline.

The second time was equally thrilling, but in the movie theatre we were crouched down in the chairs, hiding a bit from the rest of the world, and more involved in each other than in the movie. There seemed to be others there, and it seemed to be a group of gay, male friends. There were about six or seven of them around us, while we pretended to listen.

Saturday Muse

Shapes, squares, circles, 

all there 

branches and twigs cast shadows in the light

blue sky reigns

snow 

sits

quietly

on thick, brown evergreen trees

   twenty feet high

High as me

   watching from inside, admiring the day

and staying inside

to bake

and dream of going outside

once I am fed

Have you ever been given advice that you take so to heart that it ends up consuming you? That the actual thing you were advised not to do is what had manifested?

Like: "Clean your dishes as you go when you cook."

Yeah.

The Voice

There is a time in every person's life when they find their voice. They hear themselves and like it or not, they understand the solid truths that make up their core being.

It's an interesting process, this finding of voice. It's something that during a busy day, surrounded by smart, vibrant people with bright ideas and influence can get swept into their thoughts. It's easy for one to listen to the news and read the paper and contemplate what the words actually mean, and what the story is actually about. It takes time and thought to find the voice, the one, unique, vibration of sound.

But that's not the end of it.

There hopefully isn't an end.

Because once a person finds their voice. Once they can sit alone, in silence, without distractions and without influences, and open their hearts, they hear their own voice. Small at first, like a weakness in the dark, far away.

Like a small child at the end of a muddy tunnel, scared and cold, but alive and thankful. The child walks toward you, and as he becomes more familiar with the sounds of the distant drips, the damp smell of vegetative waste rotting beneath his feet, he becomes aware and comfortable with the environment. Once he walks into the light, you see it is but a small man with a deep, strong voice, filled with character.

It makes sense, then, when the darkness melts away, that what's left behind is a stronger image of self, and a stronger will of desire to find the voice to make a difference.

How to Make A Beautiful Life

a birthday card from my parents:

Reflections For a Daughter

On Her Birthday

Love yourself.

MAKE PEACE with who you are

and where you are

at this moment in time.

Listen to your heart.

If you can't hear what it's saying

in this noisy world,

MAKE TIME for yourself.

Enjoy your own company.

Let your mind wander among the stars.

Try.

Take chances.

MAKE MISTAKES.

Life can be messy

and confusing at times,

but it's also full of surprises.

The next rock in your path

might be a stepping stone.

Be happy.

When you don't have what you want,

want what you have.

MAKE DO.

That's a well - kept secret of contentment.

There aren't any shortcuts to tomorrow.

You have to MAKE YOUR OWN WAY.

To know where you're going

is only part of it.

You need to know where you've been too.

And if you ever get lost, don't worry.

The people who love you will find you.

Count on it.

Life isn't days and years.

It's what you do with time

and with all the goodness and grace

that's inside you.

MAKE A BEAUTIFUL LIFE...

The kind of life

you deserve.

- Hallmark

"Oh my goodness this card just screamed "Mindy" to me! We love you so much! Have a great day! Wish we were there!!!

Mom and Tom

The love of generosity and friends overwhelms me. Thank you for a very special birthday.