this beating.

okay…
hello?
is someone drumming on my skull
or deep within my rib cage
because it hurts in there
bad
and i can’t decide if i want
towering ceilings
or cured cement floors
or if i’d prefer carpet
and plushness
and other sorts of niceties that come with things like yards
grass
flowers
and places to walk.
but then i’d be cookie-cutter
and i don’t like cookies.
i prefer truffles
and icing – but not cake
and i enjoy flowers more
when they are in a vase
on a table
looking both out of place and at home.
so, drummer, stop drumming please
because my heart feels like it is going to
E
X
P
L
O
D
E


Soon.

warmth.

i sat there for awhile
basking in the ray that simply found me
alone in my car
thinking about boxes
and signatures
and other adult matters

i was driving
fast
with slight swerves
and teary eyes
and a hollow feeling
in the pit of my stomach

i'd been thinking about god
and light
and love
and how it had been a really long time
since i'd heard from him
or felt the sort of peace
that surpasses all understanding

i was listening to iron and wine —
crying and singing
and sobbing some, too
which made me wonder if my eye makeup was making a mess
of my face

i was a mile from work
where I would park my car
and do one final mirror-check —
for out of place mascara
or tear stains
…maybe both

but as i sat at that red light
i didn’t notice the man on the corner
with “help feed a homeless vet” written on cardboard
i know he was there. he always is
but today, i looked up —
at a dreary sky
and at puffy clouds that seemed content to remain
in their lofty home
and as i cried and sang
“so let the sun rise bring hope where it once was forgotten”
the clouds made a little window
and poured sunlight
enough to warm my face.

how you find me.

someone found my blog today by googling "forcing my wife to kiss my feet."

ha.

really?

This is a photo of a sign in another town in another state. But there is one just like it on my way to work. I pass it every day. Hitting a worker is bad. Bad. But seriously, maybe it should say, "If you hit a worker." The way it reads is like a command, "Hit a worker." Maybe it's the copywriter in me coming to the surface, but this sign is just not working for me.

And also, I'd think that if one were driving on the highway at speeds close to (or above) 70 mph, and hit a worker, they'd actually kill a worker. Isn't that manslaughter? As far as I know, that's a heftier fine than $10,000 and a lost license. Anyway, I understand that the powers that be feel the need to warn drivers not to hit workers, but isn't that common sense?

love this.

credit: aaron kraten

irony

i got a new chair at work. i thought it would revolutionize my life.
it hasn't.

i can't figure out how to position it so that it gives my back proper support. and it seems too big for my frame. but i'd been coveting one of these chairs for the last year and a half. now, it so doesn't seem worth it.

go figure.

today

when did this happen to me -
this ache.
the one that creeps up my throat
tightening it until
it forces tears
that i didn't know
were there beneath a surface that on most days
looks well-put-together
and sunny.

but not today.
today, i can't fake it.
because i can't stop the flow
of salt and water
and the way that it's forced me to remove my contacts
so early
and to wear my glasses
that make me feel clumsy and awkward
and like the child i was when i first got them.

today my eyes hurt
the whites are red
and the green isn't so sparkly.

today it hurts to exist.
and to think
and to remember
and to wonder how i'll ever
move this ache
to a place deep in the ground
where i can cover it with rocks and soil and seeds for grass
and rebirth and forgiveness and healing

i know i will someday
but not today.
today, i wear black.

jean regret (or, buyers remorse)

i've purchased three pair of designer jeans in my life. each was an exciting additions to my wardrobe. each was purchased in 2006. when i bought them, i loved each and every one of them equally. i brought them home and hung them up with a glow and a smile and a joy that i didn't know money could buy. i was going to take good care of them - washing them only on the delicate cycle. never drying them. ironing when needed. i was going to wear them with the finest, most flattering shoes and tops and i was going to do my best to give each of them the same amount of attention. see, i'm not a fan of playing favorites.

but a recent trip to the depths of my closet and back shed some light on my empty promises. i've nearly worn the life out of one pair of dark-washed sevens. i've been seen matching them with t-shirts and sweaters and under dresses and with hoodies and heels and flip-flops and this one pair of diesels that i should really wear more often.

but the other two pair of jeans have basically just hung out in the closet visiting with the greenish blue pants from Old Navy that I knew were a mistake the first day I wore them. They probably swap stories of neglect with the brown pair of rocket dogs that pinch my toe in the wrong place and with my Mizzou jacket that only gets worn on the rare occasion that MU is having a good season.

they are money on a hanger. money i wish i hadn't spent. because the light blue sevens just don't seem as perfect as my favorite pair. they're hemmed a bit too high. none of my shoes seem to work with them, and on days when i'm not feeling (or looking) particularly thin, they don't flatter me at all.

and the citizen's - the slightly less expensive designer duds - hang there, too. because they just seem to clingy in places they shouldn't be and after a few hours of sporting them, they stretch out to all hell and i look a wreck.

really, my closet is full of a lot of mistakes. but i can't seem to get rid of any of them. so they all just live there - among headbands and the fuel belt i bought for running that ended up being too big. with that wool sweater that i hold onto in the event that i would ever move to alaska and with boxes and boxes of photos and memories and my first grade home folder. and somehow, no matter how little i've looked at, put on or been proud of some of the inhabitants of my closet, they all tell part of my story. and when i look at them, i remember who i was when i bought them - and who i am now.

this dance.

the flames danced
on the water
but i was unchanged

maybe i was looking for something bigger
or louder

i at least imagined it being more spectacular
if it was to set our creek on fire.

oh, the opera was nice
and so was the dancing
and the wine tents
although next time, i wish they wouldn’t run out of chardonnay

they were slightly unprepared
but i wasn’t —
in my baby blue bag i carried sandals
incase my red and white polka dotted heels
caused trauma my feet could no longer stand

and i imagined the hike back to the car
after i’d had enough of the flames
would be long and hot

but it wasn’t

it felt short
too short
like most of the time i spend lately
with the company i keep

some things i know...

1. storms always sound worse than they actually are. unless it sounds like an approaching train, there probably won't be a tornado.

2. next time i am jolted out of bed by said storm, i should just roll over and go back to sleep.

3. the third floor is never a safe place to be during a dangerous storm.

4. i live on the third floor.

5. there is nothing i can do about where i live and worrying never solved anything.

6. on nights when a storm is approaching, i enjoy nothing more than a cool, crisp glass of white wine to help lull me to sleep.

7. i've also recently discovered whole food's brand baked crunchy "Cheetos." i love them and have been known to eat them right before bed.

8. if i haven't run very much, i don't sleep as well.

9. if i don't put pressure on myself to run run run, i enjoy it more.

10. humidity sucks ass. so does insomnia.

11. i just wrote "ass" on this post, and it felt good.

for the cause.

last weekend i went to an art showing to support my friend ben. this is a picture of us taken at the event.

five artists displayed their work and proceeds went to benefit a brain cancer research fundraising effort that culminates each year with a race called Head for the Cure. you can find it here. the race is on sunday. i'm not telling you what to do, but i thought i'd spread the word about a good cause and a fun 5K.