on running away to join the circus

It wasn't as good as I hoped - hearing Simon's voice. I called him and left a message. He called me back. We talked and the conversation was ok but slightly uncomfortable, much like the last. What if I like the idea of you more than I like you? Don't I deserve to have someone who is crazy about me?

If I keep getting this strange vibe, forget it. I feel like I am wasting energy. I just don't get it. Why bother playing with my hair for hours? Holding me? Staying over? Leaving to move your car in the morning and coming back when it would have been easy to leave? Calling me the next day to say you had a good time? Writing long (and semi-impersonal) emails? Returning my call promptly, only to have a semi-impersonal and slightly boring conversation?

If it is because you feel bad, please stop. I have been and always will be fine. I am ready to fall in love, but not this way. Not like this.

sandcastles

Last night I had dinner at Jess and Trevor's. They made the most delicious food. I got a little tipsy and we talked and laughed. They really live in the hood, which made for some interesting entertainment as we sat on the back deck (overlooking a crack alley). There are few opportunities to watch these kinds of activities safely.

I am running a 10k tomorrow and I am nervous. It transports me back to summer camp time trials. It was torture. Funny I do it to myself willingly now.

I am potentially going out on two dates next week. One is a second date and the other a first. In the meantime, I have yet to respond back to Simon. I will either write him back or call him today. I am leaning toward the phonecall. I am tired of emailng, I think it would be good to hear his voice.

that girl

I have spent the last several days completely freaking out. Really! What the fuck? I am only now emerging. I mean, was that really necessary? The doubt was closing in, I emailed Simon, Simon didn't respond...for 2 days. That, my friends, was the trigger.

The truth is it is hard to know if this was a momentary lapse in sanity or if I am picking up on something. I guess only time will tell. It just sucks to be that girl that never puts herself out there and suddenly, I'm out there. The seatbelt doesn't work, the building is structurally unsound.

stop

One minute I am great. I am living my life, feeling good. The next minute I am drop-kicked by doubt. My extremities actually get cold. This feels terrible, almost to the point that I want to get out of this car at a stop sign. At a rolling stop even.

clearly going to explode

Like many dreams there was a plane crash, but this time instead of first hand, I was watching it on television. I had returned to my parents condo in Florida to get my cigarettes (?). The news showed a close shot of a half a jumbo jet careening across a street only to bounce off a building and ricochet into a gas station where it was clearly going to explode. The entire time you could see each individual passenger inside the half jet. I was crying and my mother kept trying to change the chanel.

when things were simple, they never were

I remember we were driving in Franny's Mom's enormous station wagon - it was the three of us and we were the centre of the world. The car was beige with wood panneling, and had a seat in the back which faced out. It was a mess. The apholstery was ripped and the engine groaned and choked. It was always a miniature celebration when it started, like wherever we were going was meant to be. We were stoned that night. I can't remember where we were going. Ren popped in our mix tape. Driving downtown we took Gladstone, and the car was really moving. It was picking up speed, heading to the famous sloped bump in the road. Anthrax and Public Enemy cheered us on, Bring the Noise. We belted out the lyrics. I was afraid for my life and the hash wasn't helping. Hitting the slope, the wagon lifted. The entire world was still for what felt like a full minute. We must have cleared 6 feet.

no accident

I have been transported back to grade six (oddly my most creative year). I have never been more prolific than I have of late. I have written a small amount here, but much I hesitate to post. For a variety of reasons really. Part of me thinks that to publish my poetry would diminish it. It seems I may have spent the last while in neutral space, only visible now in a backdrop of contrast. I keep spilling, I need to spill. It is more a necessity than an accident.

when the waves came

I dreamt of a clear warm shallow ocean. I was wading through, soaking in the sun when the waves came. They appeared out of nowhere and were enormous. They lifted me high, my stomach in my throat, returning me with suprising tenderness only to lift me again. With each swell came fear and with fear came exhilaration.

wincing

Doubt, don't you dare come near me right now. I am not interested in having you around. Your zombie presence is palpable. Any minute a ripped sleeved arm will smash through the window, grabbing and stretching. Move on to the next victim.

Let me relish in the flashbacks, wincing at each jolt of electricity. I wonder if it stems from the ovaries?

morning after

This morning I feel sexy. It was nice to have someone's hands in my hair. On very little sleep I am going out to meet my friends for lunch. I have to hop in the shower but a part of me is afraid I will wash it all away and it will have never happened.

open

Open sternum
Pelvic exam
Forgetting to flush
Still talking when the music stops
Public speaking
People reading my stuff