The Fall

I almost tripped and
fell
Into a life that wasn't
mine,

an era filled with
work
and endless hours of
sun.

That's not the life that I want to
live,
a place with no
hope

of returning to the past,
of returning to the present,
of carrying on to better
things.

My Future Husband

Dear Readers,
I can't wait until I have a husband (if ever). Yes, I know what you're thinking (Kelsey!): "Why are you thinking about marriage, especially when you don't even have a boyfriend". Alternately, you could have thought: "You don't need a man in your life". And I believe you are right. In every respect, especially since I don't see a man in my future. But there is also something intrinsically imprinted within me that desires someone who is so close that I can tell them anything about me and they will respect it and value it and try within their power to make everything right. And I want that, that closeness and proximity that comes with a spouse.

And yes, I know its not a fairy tale, and I know that there are times when my (insubstantial) husband will not want to listen and vice versa. But there is some part of me that wants to let a person who loves me for all my faults and lackings come into my life and listen to all of the ways in which I fall to my faults and deal with my lackings.

I guess I'll have to settle for a cat. Or a very understanding roommate.

Why awkwardness is a detriment to society

1. Awkwardness leaves no closure. You sit there and wonder what that comment could have meant, what the other person thought about that awkward silence, if you are friends or not, ect.

2. Awkwardness makes friendship hard. I could never be close with someone who is always awkward because it would stress me out a lot. There is point where awkwardness has to dissolve or the friendship won't catalyze.

3. Awkwardness leaves you in relationship nebulous. Are you friends? Are you not?

4. Awkwardness is a barrier to true conversation. It sucks it dry and leaves a bunch of long pauses in its wake.

5. Awkwardness always occurs with someone you would rather not be awkward with.

6. Awkwardness leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

7. Awkwardness is so traumatic, there are some people who resort to using useless hand signals to designate the awkward moment, thus aggravating the already awkward situation.

8. Awkwardness is why there can never be world peace.

9. Awkwardness is the reason I don't have a 4.0 gpa.

10. Awkwardness will never die. And that sucks.

Meh!

Dear Readers,
Sorry, but I just had to write about this. A guy who I want to get to know better just asked if I wanted to play volleyball later this afternoon. Poo! I can't!

Meh!

Oh well, I like to swim anyway, and I brought my suit and towel today so maybe I'll just take my time and lay out a little and read before I get into the water. That sounds good, especially after a long day of staring at a computer screen, trying to keep myself occupied....oops, phone! Got to run!

The Dilemma

Dear Readers,
I've been experiencing symptoms. Yes, I know, its horrible and I wish they would just go away, but I have to face the facts and just admit that my legs are numb and that I have a hard time just balancing when I stand, not to mention doing more athletic things like run! Meh!

I just feel so anchored down by this stupid disease. I remember being thankful when I got the diagnosis because it explained a lot of things, why I didn't feel energetic (ever) and my balance issues. But, this is getting more and more annoying. I have a huge weight on my shoulders of keeping stress down, which is totally stressing me out!

I want to go to Yosemite so badly, but I know that my desire to hike will remain unfulfilled - I'll have to sit at the campground and read. And I get paid for sitting and reading here already. I guess I just have a decision to make, but the stress of that is putting me off, so maybe I'll wait another day or two before I decide what the hell I'm going to do.

Sorry dear readers, this post was more of a rant than anything, but sometimes I just gotta let it all out.

Crystalization

My newest poem:

How can you sit there
calmly
and talk on about the red wine you
spilled on my favorite purple shirt,

or the plants you have been growing
in the faded white boxes
that I have seen you clutch to your chest
as if they were your children?

I sit here, a wreck at the sight of your
messy hair and stained t-shirt that
wouldn't even be sold at a thrift store.
We gave you a name, a code that I

say lovingly whenever I'm pretending
that I'm angry at your constant presence,
and the way you saunter back into my
life like I was put on hold for you at

the grocery store. You don't know any of it,
the sleepless nights, the haunting dreams
where you are out of my reach
and glad to be there.

So I keep it inside, like a bottled memory of
coke that fizzes when opened.
And still I sit here, a nervous wreck, and wait for you
to reappear the next day with your

white boxes and stained shirt
so we can continue the conversation of
your project, and my love for you
that I can see slipping through my

fingers as the summer nights
grow colder and the sky gradually
fades into
night.

The Never-Ending Paper

Dear Readers,
AHHHHH! I'm sure this has happened to everyone who has written a long essay - it just won't end! Unfortunately, due to a series of events beyond my control, I ended up taking an incomplete in one of my classes. While it was a God-send at the time (6 extra weeks to finish up any homework that I didn't complete in the semester), I have been plodding away at this essay, chipping away piece by piece, sentence by sentence the page limit. I have 8 pages; I need 10.

I don't think I've written a harder essay in my life. Hopefully I won't ever have to again.

Dear Readers,
This is an unusual post for me. I decided when I started this blog that I would put out each post with a purpose, and this is what I have tried to accomplish with each post. Each has a resolution, a point on which I've focused or a note of hope to end on. Which is where I've differentiated in this post: I have no point, just a bunch of feelings wadded up inside me like a discarded rag.

I focus way too much on the past. I find this much easier than focusing on the future, because the future is an uncertain gray space in my mind; the past is vivid. I find myself going over things I could have done better in the past, those moments when I should have (or shouldn't have) said something, the things I wish I could erase and rewrite in my own colorful language. Then I find myself wishing I could rewrite myself. There are moments when I want to be the shy wallflower sitting in the corner or the first one to make an impression. I wish I had more imagination, less social restrains, and a bigger sense of my own impact on those around me.

So, no, I don't have a moral for this story; but I'm finding out that life doesn't have a moral to its story. So, that's the moral for today: no moral.