mail

[it's been too many days, so i must write something. despite (because of?) the fact that there are several other things i ought to be doing. but i'm not sure what to write this morning.]

earlier this week i got a letter, written in script that is all too quickly becoming familiar on yellow legal paper that's doing the same, and finding that envelope in my mailbox made me just as excited as any of the other, much more formal correspondence i've been waiting on would have. i put it aside until the housework was done and it made me wash the dishes faster. everyone's advice is the same, which must mean it's right--even if it's not what i'm hoping to hear.

also this week, i finally found people who were willing to be biased with me. objective advice is all well and good, but what if all you really want is for someone to tell you to stay?

then, on friday afternoon, two more pieces of mail: one on glossy paper, one in a thin envelope, both with return addresses i'd been anticipating. the glossy one was an attempt to convince me that i want to go somewhere; the thin envelope was an attempt to convince me that other people want me to go somewhere.

(since when do acceptance letters arrive as a single sheet of paper in a standard envelope?)

i am deciding where i want to spend the next two years of my life. i won't say i've decided--there are too many other things i'm supposed to find out first. but right now...it would take a lot to change my mind.

it's an almost alien feeling of security and reassurance.

things i love about this city

everything, when the sun is shining.

the way the Cathedral stands out against a clear sky--night or day.

the cloud machines.

i have finally learned to see stars.

the Strip District.

yinz are a dialect island!!

knowing where to go on the bus (still learning, some).

Pamela's.

Fuel & Fuddle.

Antoon's.

PHI.

that feeling like sucking at softball is still good enough, as long as you have fun.

Schenley Plaza.

that place above Flagstaff Hill

the dinosaur playground.

the view from Mt. Washington.

wandering Downtown at Christmastime.

finally feeling like i belong somewhere.

the way the white stone buildings are lit at sunset.

the Carnegie Museums.

the bridge over Panther Hollow.

the train under my apartment.

getting lost and still knowing exactly where i am.

the Commons Room
"here is eternal spring. for you, the very stars of heaven are new."

how you can always find something beautiful when you're not looking for it.

my living declaration of independence.

feeling safe walking South Oakland, at any hour.

porch couches, god dammit!!

the Greek room.

the Austrian room.

the Armenian room.

pierogies!

fireworks.

the live-and-let-live mindset of everyone i've met.

knowing that i can call someone and always have a place to go.

summer.

an open letter....

...to whoever tacked a yellow ribbon to every tree on the Cathedral lawn:

you accomplished what you set out to do. you made me think about it. thanks for the reminder (although i didn't particularly need it).

it makes me sadder for my own future than for someone else's present.

-K

tonight / i bought / bubblebath.

hot water
glass of wine
(un)familiar book.

i take off my butch self
and put on somebody else's.

sweat-rivuled skin,
cold tile against my back
wishing for hers.

Thursday night alone feels strange.
my skin is softer than it's ever been,
and i want to show you.

i don't write poetry like this anymore
(for fear of getting caught).

once i get out,
i slip into the dress you told me to buy
because i looked good in it.
i put on my femme self.
i want nothing more
than to feel your hands across the part of my back left exposed
untie the straps that hold me in place.
["this is you knowing me."]
i love your hands.
(and i hope you know i can't just say this.)

i delight in the softness of you
and seek the hardness of you.
i want to find places in you that no one has ever touched
--that no one knew needed to be touched.

another change of clothes,
another gender,
another performance.
i put on my orange hoodie
my journeyman's attire
soft against my skin
[like i know you can be]--
it feels like Home.

i am a girl but not a Girl;
i was you at seventeen.
talking to you is like talking to myself;
you are the voice inside my head.

i want to know everything
and i already do.

[i want you to come with me.
i want to show them,
look what i found, what found me.
and you ask and i have no answer,
because it doesn't matter to me,
I see the whole You.
and i feel like neither name addresses you all.
i want you in that jacket that shows off your shoulders,
your hands firm and (un)sure in my own.
and when they ask I want to smile and answer,
"(s)he came with me."]

you are both and neither and more than the sum of your parts.


-----
19 march 2009
the kind of thing i always hesitate to post.

excuses & motivation

why i haven't written in 10 days:
-spring break, which i take as a vacation, and over which i prefer to remove myself from most of the internet (necessary 2:30am IM conversations notwithstanding).
-thesis defense, which is no longer eating my soul
-senior semester.

things i should (could?) be writing about:
-spring break, which i took as a vacation, and over which i wandered the city of Boston exploring places that might want me to call them home.
-thesis defense
[-questing]
-airports
-weather
-music
-crashing classes that don't belong to me
-h/Home.

adagio

i am all over the place spiritually right now.

last night, it all had to do with Barber's "Adagio for Strings." this is the saddest song ever, and last night i (unexpectedly) heard a beautiful electronica remix of it by Tiësto. it put me in a profoundly spiritual place--the song is deeply linked to a friend who recently died--and i kind of didn't get out of there.

i've been having weird dreams, too, and weird half-dreams (which i find i can remember even less than actual dreams, those strange thoughts that happen between sleep and waking), and frustrating tarot readings. and the conversations, oh, god, the conversations....

[i cannot continue to use my messed-up religious beliefs as an excuse not to grieve.]

i need to go away for a few days, to a place that feels more like Home to me than any place i have ever lived, to a place where i know i am safe no matter what happens, to think and recharge and hopefully make sense of some things. i'll be back at the end of the week.

last night i laid down on a merry-go-round in the park and the sky was spinning so fast and i thought how insignificant this all must look from God's-eye-view

note on the new title:

let me skip the road with you
i can dare myself, i can dare myself.
i'll put a pebble in my shoe
and watch me walk
i can walk and walk...
i shall call the pebble Dare
together we will talk about walking.
Dare shall be carried
and when we both have had enough
i will take him from my shoe, singing
"meet your new road"

-"By My Side"
from Godspell

passive activism

i love the kind of activism you can do by wearing ribbons:

"what's the white ribbon for?"
"to repeal proposition 8--they're hearing arguments on thursday."
"what's that?"
"the ban on gay marriage in california"

www.whiteknot.org