A Grain of Salt

When I was a little girl, I made up my mind I would marry someone successful. Even at the age of 9 I knew. But success can't be measured by what is or isn't in your wallet or the number of Facebook friends you have. Success comes from passion. And I'm not talking about what comes from a bottle of whipped cream, but the priceless kind, the one that you're born with. And if you're lucky, really lucky, that little seed of passion grows and grows and sprouts into something more.

10 years later, I did it. I found him. I lay my head down on my pillow knowing I can cross it off my life's To Do list. I can see the passion in his eyes, and the thirst that grows deep inside him for more - for independence and adulthood. I see a man that I can trust. I close my eyes and fall backward. I feel the warm wind from behind as he magically appears and catches me before the earth beneath me gives way and I fall into eternity.

Success, I have found thee.

But every road has its bumps. So what if the shortest route has a few along the way? What if it has hidden monsters and one way doors that lead to oblivion? What if every 1 in 200 people who take the same route fall off the face of the earth without a word? What if you draw the short straw and never make it home? Who will pay for those crimes? What then?

Who's the selfish one here, the greedy one? Is it me?

Fake Smiles and False Hope

I used to think insecurity was to blame, but now I see that the whole damn social code is a disease. America isn't number one by selling cars or bottling wine, America is a "service" country. And when it comes to judgement day, the biggest fool is he who doesn't have at least 12 teeth showing when he smiles, the biggest idiot is the one who doesn't have a scripted list of meaningless things to say when he's forced to make small talk. When did pretending become so popular? I swear the next time I go shopping and someone asks me how I'm doing, I'm going to tell them the truth. None of that "fine, thank you" bullshit that seems to always roll off the tongue.

I wish to God people said what they felt. I wish that after a 45 minute interview, the man or woman before you had the courage to tell you the truth instead of sending you an email. I wish women wouldn't wear so much blush. I wish men wouldn't drink to pretend that they are happy.

I'm going to paraphrase Thoreau here. Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness, give me truth. If I could have any superpower in the world, it would be this iridescent wisdom.

There is nothing profound or poetic in these words. I am lost.

Men, Money, and Manic Depression

I want to say I've changed. I want to say I'm a different person. But my soul hasn't aged a day. And my heart is as big as ever. I'm working so hard, harder than I ever have, and every day I thank God for the strength.

This is what I do: I endure.

I want so much from this world, but I'm coming to terms with whatever reality this is I lead. I'm making a list of things I want to do differently when I'm older, when I'm a wife, when I'm a mother. I endure today by dreaming of tomorrow, the weekend, the coming years. I'm going to med school. I'm going to med school. I'm going to med school. If I say it enough, will I convince myself? I am so so afraid, I can't sleep at night. I am so so afraid, I can't bear to admit it. My thoughts are disjointed. I am alone.

Sometimes the world is in color. Sometimes it gets drenched in secret thoughts I can't display. Sometimes I can't breathe.

I look to the sky for answers. I look up when I feel down, when my insides have been completely torn and the air in my lungs has exasperated. What do I see, you ask? An imaginary rainbow, proof of the relentless faith in myself, in us. Next year this time, things will be different. You and I will have changed. Tears, love, agony, and one last chance at a dream. At redemption. 
 

originally written June 13, 2010

Armenia 2009: "Send a Ray of Hope - for a New Way"

For the record, the summer of 2009 was the best 3 months of my entire life. .

Six huge suitcases, three carry-on bags, three purses, and a list of things I should have packed:

1. Cameron, duh

2. Socks

3. Bug spray, lots of it

4. Laptop

5. Books to read

6. Clothes that don't fit or I don't want to be given away

7. Toilet paper that won't make your ass cry

8. Rubber boots

9. Dad's old cellphone and SIM

10. A washing machine :(

11. Lambie

12. Towels

13. Hairbrush

14. Scissors

15. Salt and pepper shakers

-

They killed it. And I don't know if it was the way they joked about it, or the fact that it was so small, or how this whole country seems to have no conscious, but it broke my heart. "It's just a stupid rabbit" they all said, "it's no big deal." And I'm no animal rights activist. I see and feel things differently from where I stand, I've always known this, but today it's like I'm walking though fog.
-

My head hurts; I lay on the couch to gather my thoughts. And suddenly the ground is shaking and my head is spinning. Neighbors must be vacuuming, I think. But scattered screams tell me I'm wrong. I'm on the 12th floor and you don't vacuum hardwood floors anyway. As I say a silent prayer, I feel the earthquake weaken.
-

It took us three hours to get there, in which we complained the whole way. And suddenly I can't breath. Symphony of Stones is what they call it, but to me, Garden of Eden is more like it. Pictures are worthless here. Want to know what it's like? Look through a window into my heart. Absolutely breathtaking. I think of my parents: how can you leave this beauty for a place as vanilla as Dallas?
-

Since we are on the subject, I want you to know something. In your 18 years of life, there has been no girl that has loved you as much as I have, the way I have. I swear to God it's true. So unconditional and selfless and pure. And any girl who cares any less doesn't deserve your attention. I hope to God the next time you find a girl like that, you feel the same way for her, that you give her a chance. I hope to God you won't let her slip away.
-

A road built in one night. Some rich guy kicked the bucket, and they had to drive his body through a poor village. Unacceptable, right? So in one night they built an entire new road, a whole new route, just for him. Because here, money gets you everywhere. Not smarts, not looks, just money.
-

Tonight marks 49 days. I wake and close my eyes to paint your image in my mind. And as I bring you back to me, I smile like it's Christmas morning. To this day I'm stunned by your beauty. But this particular morning, 49 days later, I can't remember the exact curve of your jaw. And this one detail drives me crazy. I see everything but this crystal clear, yet suddenly none of it matters. I hate myself for forgetting, for letting myself forget, and the guilt is overwhelming. I let the tears come. Whoever said time makes everything better is a fool. Time is just an enemy in disguise.
-

We open the gates to find you both waiting with open arms. I drop my suitcase and fly to you. And in harmony we smile and laugh and cry. But when I open my eyes, I see that I am mistaken. There is no one here to greet us, to bless us and love us unconditionally. My soul is orphaned, and I feel your absence like never before.
-

It's our first night in the mountains and I'm knee deep in mud; it's as though I've gone back in time. Eight goddamn days since I've heard your voice. I can't sleep like this; I'm a prisoner in my own mind. No phone, no running water, no electricity. Only mice, snakes, and bees in this goddamn "village" to keep us company through the night. This can't possibly be 2009, it just can't.
-

It's 4am and we are at the hospital. Her eyes are purple and blue and bandages cover half her face. I am exhausted, but I couldn't sleep if my life depended on it. I admire her courage. How is it that I'm the older one, yet I'm always learning from her?
-

God knows when I will come back again, when I can afford to. I can't speak, I'm on the verge of crumbling. I think to myself that I need one last good look, a memory to put in a velvet box and store away in my heart. And as I turn to leave, I see her tears, her sorrow. There's no escaping it, my heart begins to ache.

originally written August 19, 2009

The Great Calamity

Last night I dreamed of a massacre.

Visions of life violently fleeting away.

As I sleep in my own bed, I see

A house built without a foundation,

Each room giving way to an apocalypse.

The grim, fateful steps come from every direction,

Where there is no escaping, only expecting.

Stars shoot across the black sky,

While souls take flight in silence, in vain.

Grasping the cold hands of this reality, and

At the same time, kissing this crippling affinity.

Close your eyes dear, and wait for the bittersweet end.

Pray like your a believer,

with arms outstretched like branches in the focus of winter.

An appalling array; a distorted design.

Soon the sun shall mourn like spring rain,

For tonight, the moon has betrayed us.

It's not a dream, it's reality.

Never Again.

April 24, 1915

originally written May 31, 2009