Drowning

"I opened my eyes last night and saw you in the low light
Walking down by the bay, on the shore, staring up at the planes that aren’t there anymore

I was feeling the night grow old and you were looking so cold
like an introvert, I drew my over shirt
Around my arms and began to shiver violently before
You happened to look and see the tunnels all around me
Running into the dark underground
All the subways around create a great sound
To my motion fatigue: farewell
With your ear to a seashell
You can hear the waves in underwater caves
As if you actually were inside a saltwater room

Time together is just ever quite enough
When you and I are alone, I’ve never felt so at home
What will it take to make or break this hint of love?
Only time, only time
When we’re apart whatever are you thinking of?
If this is what I call home, why does it feel so alone?
So tell me darling, do you wish we’d fall in love?
All the time, all the time.


Can you believe that the crew has gone and they wouldn’t let me sign on
All my islands have sunk in the deep, and I can hardly relax or even oversleep
But I feel warm with your hand, in mine, when we walk along the shoreline
I guess we'll never know why sparrows love the snow
We’ll turn out all of the lights and set this ballroom aglow


So tell me darling, do you wish we’d fall in love?
Yea, All the time.
All the time.

Time together is just ever quite enough
When you and I are alone, I’ve never felt so at home
What will it take to make or break this hint of love?
*Only* time, only time
When we’re apart whatever are you thinking of?
If this is what I call home, why does it feel so alone?
So tell me darling, do you wish we’d fall in love?
All the time, all the time.

Time together is just ever quite enough
When we’re apart whatever are you thinking of?
What will it take to make or break this hint of love?
So tell me darling, do you wish we’d fall in love?
All the time

Oh, All the time"

"Saltwater Room" by Owl City


Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning here. I try to take a breath, but water pours into my lungs. It rushes in and I try to cough and splutter the water out, but more comes rushing in. The realization hits me that I won't be able to take another breath of air, ever again and I begin to asphyxiate, suffocate,

Die.

Lost in one moment, never moving forward, never moving back.

Stuck.

Suffocate. To overcome or extinguish; suppress.

What am I doing here?

Who am I? This is not me. I am not this person. I am more than this.

This is not meant for me and it never was.

What was the benefit of coming here? For me to come to a land that sweeps me off my feet aesthetically but asphyxiates any chances of actually being with that land?

What am I doing here?


This is a time of dreams and love making with the passions of life. This is a time to fall in love with the sky. With a tree. With Life itself.

This is a time to write stories and love family and find truth inside myself in spite of oppression and discouraging falsehoods.

This is not the time to sit and wait for someone to call me and tell me I got a job. This is not the time to wait and sit and wish I were doing something.

This is a time of doing. Of Action and Triumph and Wonder.




This is a time to fall in Love with Everything and Nothing.

Different and Yet, Always the Same

I keep my blog background filled with sun even though it's so dark here. I feel like I'm drowning in it. Yet I know that if I were by myself I would be able to temper the sadness sooner and more effectively. It's how I felt about Hawaii. I love being there, I just didn't care for who I was with. I watch over some kids and I hate it. I hate how people raise their kids, thinking to myself that I will not raise them in such a manner, that I know best. But I know that everyone is different, everyone makes mistakes, I could never be the perfect parent.

Yet I know the effects of a parent's mistake, I know how it changes everything in the child's life.

So I question whether or not to have children at all. And with these thoughts floating in my mind, the question begs to be asked.

Am I destined to travel the world, alone? To be in all these different places by myself with no one to share it with?

I want to be married, so desperately. But I know that my husband will get on my nerves most definitely. But am I supposed to hope that he does not get on my nerves as much as... say, my sister? Is that a given fact?

I want love. I want to be happy. Content. Joyous in the simple company of another soul.

I am not who I was. I am not where I used to be. And yet... I still feel the same in some ways.

Stories

So many stories roil in my mind all day. A word, a whisper of an idea and suddenly I see things happening, a story beginning to play out. Always it is only a sentence or two, only a ghost of a true story.

What am I supposed to do with them? Am I to chase after each one, coax the story out of each one? Are they all to be written, to be heard and read? Certainly, it is not so, some of them are not very promising.

So maybe I'm not supposed to go after each one. Maybe I'm to keep them all in my heart and in my mind, holding them until I can use them. Maybe they're just waiting to be mentioned in one grand story. Maybe all they want is to be what they are when they come to me, simple sentences and inclinations. So I listen, I feel and hold and keep. I don't know the true story waiting to be told. I don't know the grand story that's waiting for me somewhere. Maybe I'll find it one day.

Want (Love is Watching Someone Die, Who's Gonna Watch You Die?)

I want to create something lovely and dramatic and terrible. I want it to be horrible, because my works of art usually are terrible pieces of art. Usually, they're little tidbits of potential with all the grace of a fumbling, blindfolded child. But I'm tired of trying to make myself beautiful for other's eyes. I want to be beautiful for myself. For my own eyes, and who cares what people think. All I care about is my relationship with my Father in Heaven. I just want to be true and pure for Him. I want to make Him smile. I want life, full and true and beautiful and terrible. I want to share it with someone.

My sister and I... we're two halves of one whole. We make sense to each other. She took care of me for most of my life. She was my mother before she ever was my sister and she was my sister before she ever was my friend. Now, I can't describe how well I know her. I may not be much good for giving my opinion on matters concerning clothes. I may not be a regular source of creativity and ideas, but I understand her better than a whole ton of people. I don't really even know why she hangs out with me so much, why she loves me as much as any sister loved. We were talking a few nights back about that. About how much we're connected. How hard it'll be for us to find husbands who could be just as close to us individually. How hard it'll be for her to find someone who understood her as well as I do and how hard it'll be for me to find someone who understands me as well as she does. I told her that I had a hard time even finding friends because of it. That every time I went out with my friends that I felt like I could show only one part of me. I was always hiding a part of me, always trying to show them the side of me they wanted to see, the one that they would feel more comfortable around.

She told me that she doesn't look for people to understand her as I do. That she just looks for people she can have a good time with.

I don't know if I could do that. I don't know how to do that. It still feels like faking it. It still feels like I'm some awkward child. Like I'll never be socially inclined. How can I be like my peers? They make their fears and troubles, loves and passions come and go. Each one a rush of exhilaration and adrenaline. Darting in and out of existence like mist. They bury their feelings so quickly, shed them like a second skin, molted and peeling. I feel like my skin is peeling, flaking away, dying to be shed and yet somehow it still clings to my every movement. How can I have one carefree evening? I try so hard sometimes, I let go. But still, there are moments within those nights when everything crashes in on me. And on the nights I succeed in dashing fears and tossing anxieties to the winds, I regret it later. I think about what was said and done and I wish I hadn't.

So what do I do, now? I'm so tired of just showing the side of that's safe. The side that everyone wants to see. I want to say what comes into my head and not look around in embarrassment afterward. I want to say what I want to say. Not what I'm supposed to say. I'm tired of it. I'm so frustrated about this. I don't want to be fake to myself. I don't want to be one person with my friends and someone else with my family. I want to be who I am all the time. I'm tired of staying up late to read books in the quiet of the night just because then the real world drops away and the one in my mind, in the pages, can be even more real to me. I'm tired of censoring myself for the benefit of others. I'm tired of holding back, of not asking questions when I want to, of pretending I feel the same about something when I really don't have an opinion.

I'm tired of not wanting to offend someone. I'm tired of faking it. I'm so frustrated, so drained, so totally and inexorably done with faking it. I'm tired of feeling nothing just so then I can pretend to feel exactly the same about whatever it is someone is talking to me about.

Does any of that make sense?

Basically, I want to not be afraid of having an opinion.

Basically, the way I see the world is that people are stupid. We just are. We do bad things unintentionally. We do bad things on purpose. There are too many people doing bad things knowingly. There are people out there doing amazing things out there, taking care of other people. Taking care of the Earth. I want to go out there and do good things with purpose.

I'm realizing that the Evil I fight everyday... it'll always be there. I thought that maybe, one day it wouldn't be there. That it'll only be for a little while that I'll have to struggle. That maybe, if I'm good enough in this life, I could gain a day with out Evil.

But that's not going to happen. I'll never have a day without Evil on my back in this life. I'll just get better at fighting. My muscles will get better and stronger at beating it down.

I'm also realizing, that although I'm wanting to fight the death of the Earth, it's going to happen anyway. Why fight for something that's dying. Why fight when I know, eventually, because of the prophecies Evil will be beaten forever. Why fight for a people who will never... never find truth? Why fight for a lost cause?


I don't want to kill the Earth. I don't want to kill my home. I don't want to give up on my siblings. I don't want to. I don't want it. I don't. I will not have that blood on my hands. I won't be responsible for the death of such a glorious, wonderful thing. Something that was made for me, something that was given to me to govern righteously and with compassion. I will not let it die in pain and agony.

I will stand up and fight this. I will fight the dark, and I will win. Every day. Every step will be one of color and Light. I will fight the Dark within and Dark without. Shame will not slide its icy finger down my back again. I will not hold hands with doubt any longer.

The anger will leave me soon. I will stand for truth and goodness and beauty. I will find my way. I will find whatever avenue it is that will let me fight against this Darkness that hides in the shadows and gallivants in the day as truth. I will find the way that has been chosen for me to fight.

And one day, I will stand victorious alongside my Brothers and Sisters and we will give a great cry of Love and Light and Truth. And no one will stand against us.

I will be Free.

I will not be alone.

Sunlight

Maybe there was something to all those words about waking up with the sun.

I woke up before the sun climbed into my little crescent of the valley.

I like that word: Crescent.

I like it because it has a secret in it. You type it out and there's that secret "c" that you can barely hear when you whisper it.

Crescent.

Anyway.

I love my cat. I love my house, I love the big fat windows. We have horrid lighting in these apartments, all of the windows face south or north, none of them in direct line with the sun.

But the windows themselves, the amount of light that creeps into the south-facing window during the morning is magnificent. I love the view, too. It's all bare branched trees and mountains, albeit the fat building across the parking lot. I still haven't decided what color that building is. It's a golden tan without that brown tint that's in most bricks. It's almost unnatural, really.

Anyway.

I love how the sun rises. It's like a secret delight. You don't really notice how much it truly moves until you think how dark the room used to be. It's such a steady change, this unchangeable force bringing light into the room, the house, the life of whoever is there to notice it.



I realized recently just how majestic our mountains are. Now that I have glasses to see them, I can see how truly... true they are.

They are untouched majesty and.... power. I just love how no matter where you go in Provo, you look up and BAM. True untainted proof of God and mercy and justice. True, natural all moving justice and grace.



Gosh, I'm feeling good today.
It must've been the sunrise.

It was like a sunrise in my heart.

"Do you know this song's for you?
My heart goes out to hurt you feel inside
Do you know this song's for you?
My heart goes out to hurt you feel

I was brought up through the ashes
Like a phoenix birthing wings
And I will fight for my disasters
I will take the flight of kings
And if your life is ever torched
Or if you know the pain I sing
Then will you sing with me this chorus
And we will cut through people's hearts and free them"


Gosh that sun is gorgeous. Sigh I'm coming down from that ecstatic joy I had a few moments ago.




I'm becoming more comfortable with myself and my doubts and fears, my sins and repressions.

Sigh.

Oh, I think my ride is here.

Ope, nope.




Sometimes I feel so old.
And not the old that everyone thinks about, but the other type. The ancient type.

You see, sometimes, I feel so infinite.

Like I'm doing something that has been done, or was almost done, or was denied so many times that I'm just walking in a path that I've always known.

And it's not a bad feeling or a caged feeling or anything like that

It's more like a comfort, a reassurance.

Like; I've done this before, I've always done this and I'm where I'm meant to be as I always have been. I choose my path but I've already chosen it, it's all past and future and present, but that's okay because I know that either way, I'll be taken care of and I'll be cared for. Because I am who I am and that's amazing. I am who I am because I am someone bright and wonderful and I have a potential like none other known. I will be who I am meant to be and everything will work out as it has done and will continue doing.


It's quite an amazing feeling, actually.

Anywho, I should get going. Be true.

Feelings

I've been having a craving lately.

So much has been words and imagination in my mind.

I want to create things now.

I want to take things in my hands and make something.

I want to make a mural.

Of everything I've seen.

Even as I write these words, I know it's not the write medium. I want a fat sharpie. A big black one and one of a bright color, red or yellow or orange. I want to color a huge poster board with paint and words and images that I've taken and shared and hated and loved and seen the potential. I have to do this. I have to.

It's wanting to come out of me. Out of my fingers and toes and eyes and ears, pouring out of me like nothing else before it. I need to buy some paint.

Secret Veiled Vestal Virgin

I've been feeling a lot of things lately.

But one has been prevailing.


One that may over take all that I feel and do and see.


One that makes me weak and want to cry.


I feel as though Satan may have found the perfect angle at tearing me down to his sadistic level.

And the sad thing is that there may be a half truth in it, in what he says.


He says that I'm inadequate. Inadequate and mediocre. In everything I do, I find that I feel half as good as I can be.

That in everything I do I could be so much better if only I put more work into it.

But I can't put more work into it.

My body is such that I can't.


And I feel as though I am over exaggerating my own weakness.
That I'm not really as fragile as I feel.


But I'm afraid.

I'm afraid to test my strength when so much of it is needed in my school work and school always finds a way to rid me of all my energy.

And yet I cannot do well in school without finding how much strength I have.

Something isn't right. Something isn't working.


I can ignore it. Oh, can I ignore it.

But while I do, I end up doing nothing. I am absolutely not productive at all. I feed my mind with words and worlds and laughs and voices and music.

So many things that don't exist otherwise.

I want to cry with the wanting of it.

My life is a string of moments.

When you look at them all together it is an ugly mess of misshapen things.

Things that you would not want to see ever again.

Things that I have done, but mostly things I have not done.


And then there are these bright shining moments.

But I never made these things happen.

God blessed me with all of my happy moments.

None of them were of my making.

I am ashamed that they were gifts instead of things that I strove to gain.

How can I do Him any good when I am filled with such apathy?

An apathy that lurks beneath the surface of all I do.

I am so talented at pushing things out of my mind.

But they are all the wrong things to ignore.

They are all the things that should occupy my mind the most.


I am so empty.

Light and Change

She sits so complacently in the sunlight. She's been my companion through so much.


So much is changing. Truly changing this time.


It's not an illusion.


Everything changes.


Everything stays the same between us.


I know the love between us is stronger than ever now.


Sisters and Mothers.

Life seems like a great tapestry with each thread a moment in the day. A heart that beats on and on into the dark.

How will I ever find my way home again?

It's been so long and I'm worried that I've lost my way.

But then a hand extends, a heart opens and I find peace again in their reassurance.

How will I live without them? How will I go on and stay strong enough?

How do I show them? How do I tell them how grateful I am for the strength they show and give me every day?


They've taught me so much.


To love and live.


To see and change.


To be strong and see what's inside of me without seeing only what I choose to see.


They tell me things, and I drink them up like I never did before.


They are my strength.




They are my family.

Seeing the Truth

I wanted so much to run away last night. To run away into the fast flow of the future. But I can't. Mom taught me to see again. My mind, my heart taught me to look, to search, to find. All of those things that make life so beautiful and wondrous. But Mom is teaching me to see and find things that are not so gorgeous in the way I'm used to. She's teaching me to see the truth in myself.

Seeing the truth is harder than seeing the beauty sometimes.

And a part of me doesn't want to see the truth. A part of me wants to turn away. Wants to ignore what Mom says and jump ahead into the future and all that could lie ahead of me.

But I know what would happen if I leaped before I ran.

I would lose so much.

And so many people would be affected by it, even if I didn't know.

So I'll have to learn to sit and learn quietly in mind and spirit.

Oh heart, how will we not leap?

How will we not try to fly?

Somehow.


I'll learn.



I'll learn to see the truth.

Today

Today I found out that the same friend who might have leukemia has decided that she's lesbian. I don't know if it's just for her girlfriend, and I'm happy for her, but I'm also a little sad. I'm glad she's found support, finally. And I'm glad she's willing to accept help, but something about the situation is making me sad. I think lesbian and gays are cute, a lot of times cuter than other straight couples.

Maybe it's because her heart is too weak to withstand leukemia treatment. Maybe it's because if it doesn't work out between her and her girlfriend, and my friend dies... She'll never know. Maybe it's because if she doesn't die, she'll be heading down a path I can't call her back from and she won't be able to hear anyone for a long time probably.

Maybe it's because, no matter what happens, I'll be losing a friend that I had hoped would come back. I had hoped that she would see the immense strength I see in her.

That she would see the source of that strength.

And be thankful to the right source for every breath she has in her.

I had hoped that she could know.

But she may never do that now.

And now all I can hope for is that she has amazing teachers later in her life, or in the next, whichever comes first.

Passenger Seat

I think I've already posted about this song, but I just listened to it for the first time in a long time and I fell in love with it again.

"I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

"Do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.

When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride
When you need directions then I'll be the guide
For all time.
For all time."

Girl of Color

I am a girl of color. I love color. It is everywhere and I am it. It is all around us and it can change how we see everything.

When you're reading, color defines the landscape in your mind. The writer gives you a thing, say the ocean. An image pops into your head. Hopefully it's a big blue-green wet thing. But then the writer continues to tell you that the low summer sun blazes through the waves, lighting them up from behind. Making the world before you a swath of aquamarine gold.

Now doesn't that change things? Doesn't that fill you up with emotion?

This is why I love color.

This is why I am a girl of color.

This is why I love taking black and white photos.

Surprised?

Maybe not.


I love going out and taking black and white photos.


I'm creating something.


It's like writing a story. You're trying to translate this glorious world in your head into words. Defining it, giving it shape and texture.


When you take a photo, it's the same process. You're trying to take this world of color before and translating it into a world of grays, whites, and blacks.


But I like taking photos better than writing. I didn't think I would ever say that, but it's true.


For some reason, writing is harder. I think it's because finding the right word is harder than finding the right angle.


There are so many words, so many ways of putting them together, but there are only a certain number of minutes before the lighting leaves you.


I think I like photography because it keeps me here. It hones me in, and I'm getting good at it. Ceramics can ground me and get me rooted, but it's harder to translate. I don't remember the rules.

Photography is different. We connect. I can translate it easier because, while I've only written for a little while, and I've only mucked about with clay for a few months, and I've only sung for a few years, I've been seeing my whole life. I've always been surrounded by things to see and evoke emotions with that sight. So now that I have a camera in my hand, I can translate. As long as I know the rules in photography I can translate so much. So much of all the things that have entranced me all my life, so then they can entrance people who see my photos. And even though I'm not incredible, I know that with more work and practice, I can get to the point where someone looks at my photo, someone like me, and they can be moved just as I have been moved by so many other photos.


I want entrance people.

I want to translate all of the glorious things I see and feel so others can be moved.

So others can gasp and feel the world open up before their eyes.

So others can feel the love and light of this world brighten inside them.


So others can feel their souls again.