Injustices

The systems are flawed. You can't take her away. She's ours now. We've welcomed her in. I deal with hard things in humor. In the past week, I've done this twice, and twice, it's been misunderstood. I deal with sad things in grumpiness. Sometimes I isolate myself. It seems easier to bear with The Killers and Balmorhea, curled in a circle on the bed or taking the neighbors' dog for a walk in the crisp air.

You can't take her away.

We race across the yard. She wins, of course. She promises me a picture, a bracelet.

The more you live, the more sadness there is. The more happiness and joy, too, but we tend to focus on the sad.

My Burt's bees chapstick is running out. My body decides at 10:23pm that now it wants some of that root beer.

I haven't had the chance to cry about it yet.

One week, it was the bad news of a friend, and now this. One thing after another and we have to cling to the joy in between. The donuts for breakfast, the walk with the dog, the family puppet show.

................................................................

Isaiah 9

I'm still writing poems about cauliflower.

I came here to write a story, but I wrote lists instead. Do you see the words I wrote in my notebook? purple, asylum, ice cream, universal. I hate good byes. When I am old, along with wearing purple, I will learn to paint. And I will paint oranges in wooden bowls illuminated by the sunlight. This day is supposed to be a feast. Full of sweet things and sturdy things, not sorrow. If I had girl I would name her Hazel because I think it is a strong name. I have poetry in my blood but I can’t get it out. I’m too afraid of what I’ll say. Or that it won’t sound like poetry at all. Or I’ll try too hard and it won’t sound like poetry at all.

How to (Not) Cook Cauliflower

The sun is setting. She sits in the grass under a most scraggly tree with ants crawling over her legs and children throwing dry grass in her hair. A man still mostly boy and his friend stands before her, tosses a bag of soggy cauliflower in her direction. A question for you, he says. How to cook this vegetable. Boil it, she says, not so hard. The translation takes far too long and the snickering far too much. You can help me. You can sit on the couch and watch the news and I will cook it. For you. The sun is setting, bringing relief from this hot July day. No, she says, half a laugh tucked between her teeth and panic simmering slightly under her skin. The sun is setting and it is time to go inside. She stands up as the man with the hat with his friend stomps off, dejected. The sun is setting. She takes confident strides towards the building with the four doors to unlock. A strong giggle rises in her throat to be let loose in the echo-ey stairwell, because what else is there but laughter? The sun is setting and the story is told and retold. Boil it, she says, it’s not so hard. Apparently there are connotations, euphemisms, Apparently cauliflower means less honorable things, as if going with him to cook his soggy cauliflower at night could ever be honorable. She has been taught to trust no man. It is wise advice. The last sun rays slip behind the horizon, laughter echoing this room. Because what else is there to do, but laugh?

i'm watching sparse snow flurries fall through the steam floating out of my black tea.
i'm listening to the new testament in dari.
i have no motivation.
for three hours i've sat here and i don't know what i've done. no motivation.
if only my assignment was finding words in dari.
but it's not.

All I have

All I have is honesty.

I value people more than doing my work.
(I always get the work done, at odd hours here and there.)

Oh,
so
many
thoughts
today!

I'm not angry!

I am not angry. I used to be quite angry a lot of the time. I do still, sometimes get angry. Sometimes I have a good reason and sometimes I do not.

But on the whole, I am not angry.

A LOT of people have made remarks about how they think I'm angry. I don't know if that is because I don't have a happy looking normal face, or because of something else. Maybe it is because I try to tame my exuberance because that is what people want, because if I didn't, people might be angry with me.

But I am going to try and throw all caution to the wind and let the bubbles out. Then people will surely think I am crazy, and maybe in love with them, but at least not angry.

Such a fine line, and I have no idea how to walk it.

Meyers-Briggs.

Meyers-Briggs. I think that if you are using the four personality letters to understand yourself better, then they're helpful. I think that if you are using them to understand other people better, that's completely wrong, awful, stop. Even if my four letters are the exact same as yours, we're going to have different personalities, and that is SUPER COOL!! 

I first took this personality test (assessment, do they rather call it?) in college. My letters didn't match up with the way other people saw me, and they were questioned. They're always questioned. For four years now, I've always ended up as a certain four letters. But every time I revealed them to other people, the people were incredulous and surprised.

So I started justifying myself. "Well, I'm like this..." or "I know it doesn't seem to match your expectations of this letter, but I always get it..."

Recently I've been buying into the lies that either A, the letters define me, or B, since I'm a quiet person I should enjoy being alone all the time, at home. These both sound irrational and stupid when I write them down. In fact, they are. But this is the reality of what people say.

Recently I re-discovered what I've known for quite some time, that I really enjoy being busy. I really enjoy being around people most of the time. (I also really enjoy being alone sometimes, but honestly, who doesn't?)

People put "quiet" in such a box. Stop doing that. In our society, we often treat quietness as something to be fixed or changed, but I have come to appreciate mine. Quiet becomes a problem when I'm not saying something that needs to be said, not sharing myself with a group, or being shy. But generally, I think it is really wise to listen more than I speak.

I don't really care if I'm an introvert or an extrovert. Again, if it helps me understand myself better, it's great. But don't try to understand me through these two simple letters. Quite honestly, I don't believe I'm either one. I can go weeks being alone and love it. I can go weeks being alone and hate it, and vice versa. It's dumb. Stop analyzing other people. That's not fair. Don't say to me, "You're an introvert, so..." Don't say to me, "I'm not extraverted like you." Stop. I know that sometimes, being with people rejuvenates me, and sometimes it drains me dry.

All this to say, don't analyze me. Don't assume four letters describe me.

Really

It's 11:15 and the latest I've stayed up in quite awhile. I really like that.

I really like that my friend Beezy and I giggled. giggled. harder than I've giggled in quite awhile.

I really like that I edited more than thirty pages tonight (that's a lot).

I really like the opportunity to interact with lots of different cultures every day.

I really liked skyping with my sister today.

I really like this house.

I really like winter.

I really like going grocery shopping with people I love.

I really like pop music.

I really like that I'm on a roll. (Not so much anymore, because it hit 11 and now I'm pooped. But I'm hoping the roll continues when I wake up at 7:30.)

I really like that I've started waking up at 7:30.

I really like that I've decided to get medical help for my chronic headaches. Since eighth grade, so I think it's finally time. eeps.

I really like that my headache DID finally GO AWAY today! Which is MIRACULOUS. That does NOT happen to me. I really like that we think it's sinuses, and I can currently breathe through both nostrils! (not stellar, but air flow!)

bedtime for bonzo
sweet dreams :)

Thoughts for my brothers

These are my thoughts, and I am not going to justify them. There are always exceptions, I am usually not always 100% right, there are always motives I have that are wrong and motives others have that are noble. There are at least two sides to most stories. So, that is my justification.

Brothers, I want to be valued because I am a woman, your sister. I also want to be valued because I am a human being.

If you want to love me well, don’t just offer to walk me home at night, offer to walk me home in the morning, because you value who I am and because you want to know how I am doing, just because. If you want to love me well, don’t just be protective when you feel you have to be, or hold the door to be honorable. I appreciate those things very much. But what I appreciate more is when you affirm me with your words, when you affirm me with the action of walking over to me and asking me how I am doing—and then listening to my response. When you ask me questions and answer my questions, then I will feel better about letting you spend your time walking me home at night. Then, I will feel that I am not a burden, not a way to feel good about yourself. Then, I will understand that you are my brother.

You are respectful towards women’s bodies. I appreciate that very much. But if you want to love me well, simply respecting and protecting my body is not enough. I ask that you would be respectful to my soul.

I came into myself in a refugee camp in Hungary. The men were not respectful in the “American” way at all, at the beginning. And yet, by the end of my time there, I felt more respected by those men in that culture than I had ever felt in America. It wasn’t a perfect respect, and it was different, and it was conditional, and I can’t really explain it well, but there it was.

I can't speak for other women, but I just want to suggest that maybe maybe, asking a good question or listening or sharing an answer yourself might be a better way to love us than physical protection. 

I want to love you well, too. How can I do that? How can I respect your soul?

super bass never gets old.

yeah.

Ways God is Kind to Me

Recently I’ve been feeling very trapped in this country, on this side of the ocean. This morning I got to skype with my friend in Asia, and though talking to her fans the already large fire in my heart to leave, it was an absolute delight to SEE her and hear her voice and her stories. J

Then I got hot chocolate and a donut with my other friend, and she gave me some ideas, things perhaps God is teaching me, perhaps.

Late afternoon I just did not want to be alone, and after griping at God for a few minutes I asked my friend if I could come over for a cup of tea. She was available, quite thankfully and the tea was delicious, as was her company and being able to be open with her.

When I left my house to walk to her apartment (just for reference it took me about half an hour to get there) it was raining. I almost went back inside to get my raincoat, but then I decided to trust that when I came out of my friend’s apartment to walk back, it would be snowing.

IT WAS! And she drove me home, and we ate spaghetti and watched Duck Dynasty and enjoyed the presence of friends and roommates.  

It always kind of surprises me how absolutely KIND God is to me even though I complain and am so impatient most of the time. Golly.

And then I took a solitary walk in the SNOW and it was GLORIOUS. 

Leap Poem

It hasn't been workshopped. Hey, maybe I won't even turn this one in-- because, I like it.

Untitled, as of yet.

I am running south
because I forgot your name
I forgot the way you
said good morning.
I forgot how sunlight reflects
off barbed wire,
how the bus smells.

Can we pretend this library
is a Munich cathedral,
and dance in the streets
and eat dolma for lunch
and real milktea?

I'm suffocating.


_____________________________________________________________

we respect the guest

the quest

the least of these among us

and the tea.

we respect the tea

the reading of your Book

the story of your world,

your God.

we respect the guest

the quest for faith

for things that stay

that do not fade

the quest for such things

the least of these

your Book.

we respect the guest

your quest

for things that do not fade

or stray or grey-

to gaze upon the face

of your Beloved.

be loved.

and stay,

and do not say a word

you do not stand behind

your world will grow in guests

on their quests for the things that do not stop

that do not start

that do not stray from the truth

that you’ve made

that you’re made for

for your God and His Book

and this tea,

the least of these,

and the guest.

choose to live in freedom.
choose to not live in fear.

eleven.four.

We walk
into the sunrise
into the cloudy sky
on a Monday morning
with deer
with bright leaves
and tall grass
and this wind
that wisps softly into my hair
into my ears
and laughs into my heart.

November Third

My early morning is cloaked in secrets,
of a soul's contentment in the sunshine
but not because of the sunshine.

We take communion in silence.
We sing loud, out of key and it
is the sort of choir I like best.
We pray in goosebumps and aching feet.

We beat the rugs together on the porch.

becoming free.
free-ing.
jubilee.