Friday, March 27, 2009

.:Jesus don't cry, you can rely on me honey:.

me: little gideon of wisdom, what do you have for me today?
gideon: i am bursting with wisdom.
me: give me some of that. i'll take anything today.
gideon: It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.
The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face.
me: this is the worst fortune cookie i've ever gotten.
coincidentally, also the best. :)

gotta love the canadian-born chinese pastors.
i love this.
i needed it today.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

.:The band's singing Hallelujiah, you are gone:.

What is it about rainy mornings that I enjoy so much? Perhaps it could be that it puts me in a contemplative state for the remainder of the day, but I also rather admire the light. The light is still there, but it is pretty hidden by the precipitation-pregnant clouds, so one only knows there is light because we can see, yet we cannot see the light itself. This could be one of my favorite parts of a rainy day, but only one of the many.

I just turned on "Trav'lin' Light" by Miss Billie, and I must admit, it puts me in a melancholic, romantic mood for that love that just won't let me go.

I'm going to a barbecue later and I am so excited to eat with people outside that I am making so many things to bring. For a while now, I've had this strong desire to go on a picnic, and this is the closest thing I've come to, so I'm pulling out all the stops.
1. Melon and Mango Salsa (with cilantro and red onion) with Blue Corn and White Corn Chips
2. Honey and Lime Sweet Potato Salad
3. Honeydew, Blackberry, Lime, and Mint Salad

SavannahRed loves salad. What can I say? Can't wait until 7 pm!

Saturday, March 21, 2009

.:No one can ever find you:.

Warning: Kind of an emo post. Beware.

This week has been amazing for so many reasons, one I will not list so as not to jinx my life, but much of it was seeing all of the incredible artists and musicians put themselves out here for SXSW. It has been so inspiring to me, and last night, I was so moved to write. I haven't written in years - years - and I've been wanting to write a lot lately, but never had the inspiration. I wrote about Nathan.

So, here's what I came up with. It didn't make me cry on the outside.
(Try reading it while listening to the 2nd track on Ray LaMontagne's "Til the Sun Turns Black")

The day, it was quiet
except for the hum of the engine
No doubt there was a lot on your mind
but I fear you didn't say it for some reason
Over and over the dunes and whatever below
Somewhere you had been for far too long
Somewhere you still did not know

The faces you see in every turn
on the streets
in houses
Each glance leaves a burn
in your heart
for theirs
For you were there for them
just as much as me
and all of us here
And it was not them
who took you
Or who broke you

It took a few days for me to feel your fire blaze out
In fact, I still do not believe in what I read
Or what I saw
Or how your mother cried
Or how your brother held me
Or the tattoos of "Esse Quam Videri"
Or the fact I will never see you or hear you

Friday, March 13, 2009

.:I'm not looking for the rest of your life I just want another chance to live:.

It has been raining for a few days here, and I love it. I feel like I need this weather because it's the kind of mood that several friends and I have been in lately, so it's as if this is the universe's perfect response to our brokenheartedness. While this is true, some of us have been laughing together again in a way that we have realized we have missed. It's nice to come back to that. I have missed genuine laughter in my life, it seems.

I'm sitting at Summer Moon on South 1st, which is right across the street from where I will be moving in just over a month. I can almost see my patio from where I am seated. I have a very calm feeling about it today, and that's the first time I've felt peace more than nostalgia. I'm already detaching myself from the East side, and it makes me somewhat remorseful. I love my neighborhood so much, but I must do this for financial reasons. I just hope my friends don't forget about me.

Friend, don't forget about me, ok?

Saturday, March 7, 2009

.:I'm wearing my footsteps into this floor. Someday I won't live here anymore:.

.:And someone will wonder who lived here before and went on their way:.

Patty Griffin. I love you. You know exactly what to say and when to say it.

Mom came this week to help me find a new place to live. It came down to 2 places, and it was one of the hardest decisions we have made in a very long time. I was a nervous wreck about everything - EVERYTHING - until we made a decision. I was nervous about things I've never been nervous about before.

The fact about everything is that I'm growing up. It scares me a little bit, but only because I hate that responsibility that seems to weigh so much, but I have to deal with it. I wish that some things didn't come with such weight, honestly, like finding a place to live. I don't want to make a huge mistake and there are so many factors that contribute to that decision that I didn't know what to choose over the other. Basically, it came down to a financial decision. It's a good decision, especially now, but I just hope that down the road, in a year or 2, that I can take the opportunities I encounter and not suffer for it. That's the goal. We'll see how it goes.

Another good thing that came from this visit is that my mother and I see a little more eye-to-eye now, and that is refreshing. She questioned her ability as a mother when I told her where I wanted to live and I didn't understand that or explain myself until we were crying at the lunch table. Then, she questioned her ability as a provider (in many ways) and I didn't really understand that either until we were crying at the dinner table. It has been quite an emotional week for us, but her plane is taking off right now, and I know she's happy with me and my decisions. I can't ask for more than that right now. She's a really great mother. I hope I can be even half the woman she has been to me one day.

I truly love the woman who gave me life.