Catching my breath

Sometimes I just have to take a few minutes to sort of catch my breath and figure out where I am with everything and, you know, calm the fuck down.

Like now.

I spent the day with friends, going to a couple of 4th of July parties, and at the end? I needed to breathe a little. So I am back at Ma’s place, on the back porch, in the dark, listening to folks blowing up the last of their fireworks. Looking up at the stars. Being glad for everything I can.

It was a good day, but this is a bittersweet time for me. I can spin it with as much positivity as I can, but not everything is good right now. That is OK. I will get through it. We’ll both be happier in the end, but it does take a toll. There is only so much smiling I really feel like doing right now.

So I am here. In the dark. Under the stars. Breathing. Looking up.

I don’t have all of the answers. Hardly any of them, actually, but I do know that it will be alright.

It will be because it always is.







An imaginary conversation about Steve Miller

You should totally write something about Steve Miller.

Steve Miller?

Like about Jet Airliner

Why would I write about that?

I love Jet Air Liner!

Well, I don’t have anything else to write about that isn’t depressing.

See?

What the fuck would I have to say about Steve Miller? I like his music well enough, I guess, but not enough to write about it. I shouldn’t be allowed to start drinking until I have written 400 words. I am uncreative after being plied with wine all evening.

You could always miss a day.

No I can’t. I need to make it until mid-July to make a whole year.

How do you come up with ideas? I don’t have 365 ideas.

Me either. That’s why I will end up writing about a conversation about not writing about Steve Miller.

It could be worse. You could be writing about ABBA.

That’s an awful thing to wish on me!

It wasn’t a wish. It was an attempt to force you into committing an act of gratitude.

Act of gratitude would be a good band name, or even blog title.

I am a little “over” gratitude as a topic.

That seems like a bad idea.

So, Steve Miller.

Fuck. What the fuck am I going to say?

I already told you–talk about “Jet Air Liner.”

No. I don’t even know the words!

You could skip a day.

I suppose Google could find song lyrics.

Oh good. I can’t wait to read it!

I am so screwed. Do you have Jet Air Liner on your iPod?

Of course!

You win.

Little things

I think I learned to
love the little things about him
because of all the big things
I could not love, no one could, it would be wrong to.
–Sharon Olds/Little Things

I must be fine
Because my heart’s still beating
–White Stripes/Fell In Love With A Girl

Sometimes I wonder where the dividing line is between big things and little things. Acceptable and unacceptable. I wonder where to draw the line between being patient and understanding, and being a doormat who never says what she needs. I wonder where to put the line between seeking my own happiness and being a selfish monster who only thinks of herself. I wonder where the line is between saying what I want and creating drama. I wonder when to hang on and keep trying, and when it is better for me to let go and move on from something or someone.

I always wonder.

Right now, of course, I wonder even more than usual. About people, about things, about places, about jobs. Everything is completely up in the air, which is really great in some ways. Everything is possible. Everything has potential.

Or I could stop juggling for a second and everything could crash. I am afraid some things already have.

Have they really? I wonder about that, too.

I had to do something that I would rather not have done. I think that I will be the only one really impacted by it, but because of the situation I really don’t know for sure. It is something I really would have rather not had to do at all. If I did have to, I would rather have done it more gracefully. But they wouldn’t give me enough..something.. to either avoid it entirely or do it in a better way. It wouldn’t have taken much from them. A conversation. A phone call. Just a few minutes. I really feel like I couldn’t have kept things the way they were without it being bad for me. So. I am left wondering if it could have been different. Better. If it was the right thing to do.

Of course, I also wonder if all wasn’t just a crutch for me anyway. Not real at all. I don’t think so. I may not ever be sure.

One thing I have always believed, although I wouldn’t vouch for the philosophical rationality of the belief, is that things turn out for the best. How I reconcile this with pesky details like free will, is another thing I wonder about.

Still. Maybe it’s just my luck, but it seems like even my most asinine choices seem to result in a beneficial (to me) result.

Or

Maybe I just see every change as positive once I have been through it…

Like I said, I do wonder.

If one more thing will make me pop. I wonder about that. It’s been well established that I do not have the healthiest coping skills in the world. I can survive anything. I do not doubt that. Can my brain and liver take it though?

Can I survive this all in a way that doesn’t make everything around me burn? Does the Phoenix have to burn to resurrect? Can’t there be a metamorphosis without this kind of collateral damage?

Does everyone have to be hurt?

That I really wonder about.