Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Finding things in drawers and purses

I LOVE it when I find things that I have written a ways back and they are a-ha moments.

Recently I found a note I wrote to "My Future Love".  The date is interesting.  That's all you'll get.

But THIS I found in an email from March of 2010.  A beautiful and quirky and melodramatic (it wouldn't be mine otherwise, right?)  reminder of how far I have come. 

The size of the hole in my heart
Keeps changing and moving about
Its as big as the room we are in
Its sometimes bigger than my heart itself
A black hole hole that threatens to suck in
Anything that comes near enough to care
A vacuum of emotion
And infinite amount of pain
Bending space and time
To its will
I became accustomed to its chaos
And to its constant company
The hole made me whole
Then the size of the hole in my heart
Started to close slowly up one day
I felt like maybe I was losing myself
I was clamoring to keep the hole whole
But it was shrinking
I could do nothing
How was this happening?
Instead of losing myself
I was found
I had been inside the hole
The whole time
With only the pain to remind me
That I was really alive
Despite how I felt or wanted to be
Now the size of the hole in my heart
is not greater than the sum of the parts
I found myself happy today
And my chest gave a great throb
The world turn sideways for a moment
And the sickening sucking sound
From the hole in my heart
Ceased.
I am whole again.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

My new nirvana?

It seems to me that the public library is a fascinating place. A final frontier for manners. A quiet place of learning. A truly anachronistic entity in these times of virtual everything.
I have only recently, to my shame, introduced my children to it. How amazing it is to them. A big vaulted ceiling place FULL of books. two stories. Elevators. Computers. Kind and gentle people, a dying breed of their own, who politely tell you where you can find a book on muppet cookies or ninja dinosaurs or chakra healing. They will even take you there. And if you are 9 they will coach you thru the Dewey decimal system. (If you are 39 they will also.)

I went today only to return the kids last haul. But while in line found two books that I was instantly drawn to. And I am not drawn to books. Reading requires sitting still. This is not my forte. My forte is dirtying excessive numbers of dishes while I dance around the kitchen creating heavenly masterpieces of protein and starch.

One book is called "the other Wes Moore". It's about two boys named Wes Moore, born one year apart within a block of each other. One ends up in DC, the other in prison.

I haven't even read the book and I'm fascinated. It's about how the choices we make affect our path. And it's about how the choices we make affect our children's paths.

How close I came to making some choices that could have profoundly affected my children in negative ways. I have probably missed some that could have benefitted us all. But so far on this middle path we are ok. Just ok. Which I hope to improve soon.

So I approach the counter to do my checking in and checking out of books and it occurs to me that library people are so odd. Why? Because they are so professional and polished and precise and genteel. Some are socially a bit unpracticed. But so nice. Customer service for every bank in the country should be trained at the library.

I take out my kids' library cards. They have their own cards. What a cool thing when you're a kid. What a wondrous place is this library joint.

She scans their cards to check for outstanding books ("the backpack effect" is what I called it). "All clear!" she notes happily with an upward lilt in her voice. We share a tiny moment of victory together, me and freakishly friendly library lady, and she cheerily hands me my stack and informs me of my due dates.

I think the library makes me happy. It's like entering some other world. You leave behind the gritty horn honking email sending volume adjustable world of grumpiness and you enter this solitude of four walls that is filled with hundreds of years of words and knowledge and epiphanies and journeys and stories and pictures. It's like standing in a wrinkle of time and space.

I wonder what the other Kelly is doing?

The other cliff or Mandy?

I wonder what my journey looks like on a GPS map? I bet Dramamine is recommended. Notice the word 'drama' in there. Hmmm.

The library. My new nirvana.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Its coming!!!

People!!! Listen.  

I'm cookin something up.  My friends are helping me. Its gonna be very coooooool.   You want to be involved.  I need you to be involved.  Its gonna be really great!!

Get excited with me!  I know you don't know what I'm talking about yet...just do what I say!

Stay tuned!!

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

What Chapter am I on??

I did not write this. but I wish I had. Nonetheless, it is wise words that I remind myself of often.  I am not sure which chapter I am on.  Sometimes 3, sometimes 4. 





AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
BY PORTIA NELSON

Chapter 1

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit … but, my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter 4

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5

I walk down another street.