Wednesday, August 23, 2006

i'm quite sure i'm in the wrong song

my desk is empty except for my computer and streaks of dust previsouly hidden by pens, papers, and the usual clutter of feeling at home. my walls are empty, there's boxes stacked in the hall... everything is suddenly uncomfortable in this familiar place.

soon my boxes and pictures will be in different closets and on different walls. i'll add a new key to my key ring and have a mailbox and an electric bill with my name on it. i'll fall asleep to a different ceiling and different sounds.

i hate this part of it all because it doesn't feel right. there's something eerie and distant about the transition. i welcome the change, but i dread the barage of boxes up three flights of stairs. i fear the pause before the new place feels like home.

i despise the misery of this suspended state. but eventually, the change is worth it all.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

the turning of the first leaf

today i saw the first burst of orange in a sea of green leaves. i gasped at the abrupt shift in color. it's mid-august and still 80° and humid... are we ready for the change? the seasonal change is inevitable. whether you like it or not, those leaves are going from green to orange to brown in no time. whether we are afraid of it or not, a change occurs.

like seasons, love shows it's first signs abruptly, but will there be a change? 9 times out of 10, no. nothing will change. a sprig of oak leaves could stay orange forever while the rest of the tree stays the same. and this is because we are afraid. i used to wonder if we were afraid to give into love, afraid to let that feeling overtake us and change us.

it's mid-august and already the first chilly breeze has blown off the ocean. i enjoy summer but i can't wait for the fall. i hate the moments between but relish the anticipation, like love. but do we dread the reality? the few hours of marked bliss before utter agony sets in. this is the reality of love. and perhaps life in general.

there isn't a cloud in the sky and the infinite blue is daunting. perfection rests even in the smell of low tide.

something has got to give. we fear change yet things have already changed. even since yesterday. even since the turning of the first leaf. even since the last thing you said.

i love this time of day. i love this place, this moment. and i'm not afraid to love anymore.

Monday, August 14, 2006

ode to lunching in a small town

after an unusually tumultuous lunch today, i decided this lifestyle of venturing into a world of a small town everyday deserves tribute.

used to seeking solitude, this was a day for being bold and I seated myself right in the center of everything: the post office, the banks, the boutiques, and an exceptionally noisy parade of large utility trucks, soccer moms piloting vehicles of rivaled size, and balding men in Lexuses (which- pahleez- if it where an aston martin -or had more hair- i might be remotely impressed with this deliberate peacocking).

I made this brave attempt at an intellectually stimulating, low-calorie, public performance on perhaps the windiest day of the year. so what really happened was a wasted effort of appearing apprised of current events as i spent a divided effort between trying to read my newspaper- which would have served better amast- and making a similarly embarassing attempt to carefully consume my veggie wrap- which ended in a disatrous explosion of red peppers and onions into my lap of crumpled newsprint.

Next time I shall forego the triumph in bravery and settle for the quiet greenery of the park, where the creepy old man will watch my calculated slices into a tomato and mozzarella salad and so rudely intrude on the delight to my taste buds with his wheezy puffs on a cheap smelling cigarette. park benches are lonely islands which offer no privacy- only observed solitude.

perhaps in public we are more apt to disappear into the choas as we pen our thoughts- a parade of tumultuous words- under the shade of a shared tree.

Monday, August 07, 2006

the open window lets the rain in

i am a chameleon, isn't everyone in some way? chameleons don't change their color based soley on the color or texture of their surroundings. in fact, the change is made according to mood, light and temperature. but doesn't each chameleon have a true color? would that one true color be brought out by the most favorable of conditions?

i believe so. and i believe that in our ambiguous chameleon-human condition, our true colors are brought out best by only our most truely favored "conditions".

63°. clear. waxing gibbous. waxing poetic. conditions are favorable, indeed.

Saturday, August 05, 2006

saturday. 6:42 pm. one moment in that minute.

every person on this earth has a different approach to life. different personalities, motives, objectives, likes, dislikes, opinions, ideas, hopes, habits, expectations, disappointments, memories, realities ... it's a wonder anyone can get along, can connect. a moment two people's souls can touch through our monstrous barriers of communication is like the sun breaking through the trees. the late day beams inbetween for a brief moment is a flicker of truth. this music, this ray of light in your eyes for this passing second is real and something happens. one moment of one day of many meaningless days: something real, something true takes place, and there is hope.