Picking it up again...

There are always a million different things going through my head.  Today it is that I am about three weeks shy of leaving this chapter of my life behind.  I met with my undergraduate mentor  from my anthropology degree yesterday.  It was a meeting that left me feeling restored and realigned.  I know that sounds odd.  I became so distracted by so many things popping up out of the sidelines in my life that I lost my way.  I lost touch with who I am.  After I spoke with her everything unnecessary fell away.  "You are an anthropologist," she told me, "it is in your heart." She struck a match in my brain, looked around and essentially said "what is this stuff?!" We agreed on so many things.  1.  I did not wasted my time with my Masters in communication.  2.  I now have a deeper and broader understanding of rhetoric.  3.  I am a loyal person.  4.  I am an observer who sees things most people do not.  5.  There are big things in my horizon.  6.  I have to realign myself.  We spoke of some very viable options and writing projects that would be a good use of time. 

Overcast mornings

Overcast mornings
Bright and sunny in the house
With love curled up in soft here
And the soft  tap of keyboards
Sunday mornings are perfect.

Porridge warm in bowls
Makes for a nice warm breakfast
I smile at my
Good fortune at all the love
Sunday mornings are perfect.

Warm tea swirled in mugs
The soft glow of homey lamps
Illuminate rooms
Spreading their light and warm touch
Sunday mornings are perfect.

Ink pens move silent
Across the yellow paper
With cat curled up too
Purring on the plush warm couch
Sunday mornings are perfect.

Looking forward to
A lovely day of walking
In the cold fall air
Looking for good atmosphere
Sundays are perfect.

Irony. 
To continue the saga concerning my attempts at a "Fresh Brewed Life".  I did begin to read the book.  I took its advice.  I bought a handsome leather bound journal and periodically pour myself into it.  It is becoming a regular part of my routine but occasionally the days slip by before I realize the ink from a past entry was dry for quite some time.  I digress, back to the book.  I listened to the words pouring from the pages my eyes gripping onto anything that may engolf and sweep away the sharp sting still clinging.  I had questions that needed answers and I was foolish enough to think that by analyzing a self help text I would uncover what I needed.  I spent hours a day reading and re-reading passages.  I participated in the guided journaling and during one entry it dawned on me what the process felt like... 

Homework.  In that very second, sitting at my dining room table still sleepy and comfy in pajamas and bath robe with my first cup of coffee and an open journal I was transported back into Mr. Sandler's second grade classroom.  The sterile smell of a man who had long ago forgotten how to have fun settled like a thick cloud of smog in my mind.  The yellow stained smile of a man who smoked too much grew vivid and the figure emerged holding out to me that damn manilla envelope full of worksheets that I hadan't completed during the week. 
*flash* The same second grade me sitting at my grandparents dining room table feet dangling away from the floor, head in my hands, eracer bits everywhere and tears in my eyes trying to finish worksheets that I cared nothing about became the next vivid memory to settle.  Question after question... "If Johnny has three apples and Suzy has four apples and Billy has eleven apples and John comes up and takes two of Billy's and three of Suzy's and all of Johnny's how many apples would he have?"  Who cares?  I was hungry and had no apples.
 *flash*  I was back in that horrible classroom writing a "journal entry" about a field trip we just took during which I was made to sit in the back of the bus again becuase I asked too many questions and pointed out too many things during the ride that no one else cared about.  Prompted journal entries take me back to that.  The first teacher who told me I was going on where in life.  What this all reminded me of was my intense hatred of homework...and apples.  Apples aside, homework always got in the way.  In the second grade it got in the way of me going on troll hunts with my grandfather and sister, impromptu horseback riding, or anything that didn't include sitting at that dining room table.  Homework is usually just busy work and I hate busy work.
 

The flashes through the less than appealing memories of years past happened so quickly.  I understand now what people mean when they say their life flashed before their eyes and my flash was just a little blip.  Long story short I never finished the book.  My progress through the literature of "Fresh Brewed Life " was interupted by, well, life: persueing my graduate degree, the tutoring, and something new.  I got preoccupied by my job, a new job...at Starbucks.  I will allow a moment for the irony of the situation to set in.  I set the busy work aside and set off to do something else.  My fresh brewed life would start out every day by brewing fresh coffee and selling it to other wayward journey takers who are finding their way through the world.  Mainly it's just U of M students.  But that's okay.  This is still the beginning...


The beginning of closing one chapter and discovering another.  I choose the word discovering because life is nothing like a book.  Comparing life to a book implies that it is nice and neat with bound pages, neatly draw illustrations and the chapters are all neatly labled and following directly after one another the way the ought to.  But you and I , dear friend, know that life is more or less of an easter egg hunt where the eggs containing the chapters of our lives and what is to come next are camouflaged as rocks, bits of seaweed, newpapers in rubbish bins, etc all within an obstacle course resembling something of demlititarized zones abbutting the little house on the prarie but right now I am in Starbucks.  I am working in Starbucks allowing my fresh brewed life to unfold itself through the decisions I make and the people I interact with.  For example, a while ago I decided to apply fora Graduate Teaching Assistantship and just recieved word that I got it.  A new chapter?  Do chapters overlap?  Why not?

Tomorrow

Well, tomorrow is going to be the beginning of a bit of an adventure.   A quest for a fresh brewed life if you will.  Me, my mind and a cup of pressed black coffee will be on our way through a spiritual and physical journey with the goal of getting it together.  Operation Willis is under way.  I am 23 years old.  And my life is not what I wanted it to be at this point; that much I have come to understand. 

A couple weeks ago I finally took a good long look in the mirror.  Granted, at the time, I just woke up after a night of drinking a third of  a fifth of rum, a bottle of wine and at least one beer all followed by a horrific and satisfying round of crying.  Not the heavy, bawling, sobbing, weepy, annoying stuff that you see in television programs.  I am not a housewife nor do I live in Jersey Shore.  I simply drank and then laid down and let the tears rolled out of my eyes and down the sides of my face, past my ears and onto my pillow.  A couple hours must have passed before I finally drifted off.  And that next morning I confronted myself in the mirror.  The mirror is the most brutally honest creation that has ever graced mankind with its presence.  The sight, to say in the least, wasn't pretty but it was real and heartbreaking.  I have never looked like that in my life; dark circles, pale, miserably tired eyes, a stomach that hated me for not putting anything substantial into for days and, worse of all, the streaks.  There were streaks where the tears had been sliding from the corners of my eyes down onto my pillow.  I let someone make me feel like this.  It was my fault.  I trusted someone.  I let them lie to me.  Something about me made it impossible for them to tell me the truth and when they did it wasn't to my face.  You won't get hurt if you don't pout yourself on the line.  And I did.  And I got hurt.  That was clear in the reflection.  A reflection that I will never forget.

But tomorrow I will begin to "Live Free or Die Hard".  I don't know if you go the Willis reference or not.  Operation Fresh Brewed didn't really seem fitting foe what I am going to accomplish though I am use the book "Fresh Brewed Life" as a tool to aid me in this journey.  I am going to take that sad broken individual that I saw gazing back at me from the mirror that morning and clean her up.  That process began over spring break and will continue probably forever.  I have let myself go and now it is time to gather the pieces and put this hot mess of a puzzle back together again.  Getting back into the water was my first step (I am an avid swimmer).  That much I have accomplished.  Cleaning my house was my second step.  This was also accomplished.  Getting all caught up on work.  That I am still working on.  Keeping myself active and getting back into shape physically, mentally and emotionally is also something I am working on.  Mentally I am doing fine.  It is the emotional and physical part that will be a challenge but I am already seeing improvements on both fronts. 

But for tonight I am going to wrap myself up in my Florida sheets and comfy blankets drenched in Forever Sunshine and drift off into a sober slumber and awake tomorrow putting one foot in front of the other. 
God help the person who tries to knock me down.

<3

Never mind

Well, not that anyone really cares (with the exception of my one follower), my life has come crashing down around me.  That which I thought was a source of stability was an unfortunate fallacy in my life.  I was looking for a wall, something which I could lean and rely upon, someone that could provide witness for my life and I could do the same for.  I wish I had known that I was looking for such an individual when I was in the thick fog that clouded my proverbial judgement.  I was under the impression that my temporary stilt exhibited these qualities.  In short, to quote the spice girls, i am still "looking for a man, not a boy who thinks he can".  If you do not fulfill this requirement you need not apply.  I am tired and weary of morons, cowards and those who "aren't ready" for me yet. 

My name is Virginia and I am an amazing individual not to be taken as a joke.  I am a specialist in communications and the study of the human race.  I swim six hours a week on average and wish to go sky diving. I will hike the full Appalachian Trail.  I will run an ultra marathon.  I have stared down death for both myself and others with a survival rate of 100% and have a a very low tolerance for nothing with the severe exception of bullshit.  I am amazing and will meet my equivalency...eventually.  I hope.  Challenge presented. 

Very soon I will go back to my regular posts of poetry and riddles.  Some from back logs and journals some new and spur of the moment.  Good night and sleep well.    

24 Hours Later...

Well, yesterday started off on the rough side but thankfully due to some amazing friends and the power of communication I believe that a lot of tangled ropes have been laid out straight.  And I am feeling a whole lot better than I did.  Long story short: an epilogue is in the works and I can have my tea and toast without having an anxiety attack.

Oh buddy, the truth from the recently more rested brokenhearted

The unfortunate truth about my situation, as provided by last night's (or this day's very early morning), is that I am not entirely sure about what is going on.   Am I broken up over unfortunate realizations of someone else?  Yes.  Does most of this come from a certain element of confusion that I am not sure I have any control over?  Yes.  Will I forever remain brokenhearted?  Buddy, I hope not because none of this is settling well with me. 

I am an individual who loves to be in love and hates the world when it is all over.  Ay, there's the rub and main source of my frustration...is it all over?  I have no clue.  Do I want it to be?  Hell no!  And as a scholar of communication I am trying very hard not to over analyze anything that happens.  This is not easy in the slightest.  And yes I know what you're thinking because I have thought it too.  "This happens to everyone"  "If it is meant to happen it will happen"  "Its something you just have to work through"  "Is it really worth your time?"  I realize all of this.  But when you think you finally found a guy who isn't an asshole and is available and he chooses you to be his girlfriend it makes you one of the happiest people in the world.  All of the time before what ever this is that we have going on now I was happier than I have ever been. 

But what does this mean in my day to day life?  Under it all I am not happy.  There are glimpses of happiness throughout my day.  Its as though my life has just been all flipped around.  Instead of generally being happy all the time with moments of the not so joyful nature it is reversed.  Now I can't see that I have a text or a phone call without panicking first and smiling later.  My first thought is "Is this going to be bad news".  I use to smile, every time, no matter how bad my day was.  I can't get that back and it is so very unfortunate.  (And that children is why you always do those things face to face and never digitally).  In other facets of my life I have either put them on hold, given up, don't care or they remain fairly untainted except by my, what I hope to be temporary, mental state.  My motivation in course work is a day by day battle. I'm either highly enthused (which I take advantage of) or depressingly unmotivated.

My mantra:  Everything happens for a reason.   Time will show it.
My dilemma: I'm not a patient person.  I try to be but its hard.  Especially when I knew things were so good and that briefly I was happy with another person who seemed to be happy too. 

And now even my cat won't have anything to do with me because I had to give him his ear drops..."Dobby, I thought we were over this whole ear mite thing.  Sorry bud."  Oh, he really isn't happy.

Well, things will get sorted out and now, for now, I will just have to make the best of a rather unpleasant situation.

<3 

The truth

I don't know what to do or how to act.
The only thing dampening my pillow are the tears.
Tears from the fears.
Stemming from the age old  questions  like
what the hell happened?
The days go by slowly
as though I were existing in the life
of someone who chooses never to live. 
What am I suppose to do?
What is there left to give
to someone who doesn't know what they want?

Its cold outside, wind rattling windows
snow suffocating the ground
which is only waiting for the spring.
At least the earth moves forward
though I may feel tired and look gaunt.
Gaunt because the mixed messages taunt. 
This is the dilemma.
I need to rest my weary eyes.
But something might be broken somewhere
there is pain.
In the fashion of my toddler days
I cry and throw a fit
but in the silence of my own space.
Still the same are the old ways.

I don't like it.
Its not fair.
That once I was happier
once when my mind was elsewhere.
But I have a secret
one that ya may never know.
Grade school talent show bow. 
Sorry bud, not giving it up here.
No way, no how.
I just write and cry myself to sleep.

Hurt

Well, the short story is that I am sad.  The long story is that I will be okay.  I was finally happy on my own. Then I realized I was happier with you.  Now, for a while, I wont be happy at all.  The truth is that I understand and the harsh reality is that I don't want to. 

A period of healing and learning should follow every relationship so it can open a better door into the next.  I am tired of opening doors.  One day I just want to walk through one and see the world, not a mirage in an empty room that has fooled me.  Issue: when do you know what it is?  When you bump into the wall that leads to the next door.  I know I'm not going to find it by sitting on the floor with tears in my eyes.  But what if I get up find it?  What if its not there and you were it?  Either way I feel as though I'm probably going to be heart broken for a while.  So, I'm just going to sit here a little longer. 

   

The New Year

Well, here it is.  The first day of the New Year.  I am sitting in my relatives home nestled in the country side of Ohio.  I went for a run this morning and it was beautiful.  There was so much wind whipping my loose bit of hair around my face and forcing the trees to perform delicate dances.  It cut through the chilled air clearing it of the old year and Wiping the surface of the little ponds and the lake...a whole new freshness has settled.  I love old stories and new beginnings.  In reflection I had an amazing 2011!  I loved every minute of it; full of adventure and travel.  This year I look forward to not knowing what is coming.  I have goals, of course, but there is an element of mystery that is lingering that I very much love.  It started today and it started well: my run, yoga, silence, family, warmth, love.
I cannot wait fo rlife to keep unfolding.  I look forward to writing more, continuing my schooling, seeing my love, discovering and keeping it all together.  I hope you have a wonderful start to the year! 
Keep moving forward,
Love,
Virginia 

Tiny Little Boat

Alumni Row Fall 2011

Alumni Row Fall 2011

Just another beautiful day in the neighborhood

Practice: amazing grace

Practice: grey days

Some adventures of 2011

Hiking in Albania July 2011

Disney Magic Moment May 2011

Group from Albania Study Abroad Course

Four awesome character attendants!

Jason and Me- Fish Lake Fall 2011

Albania

Me and the Boss Man!  Mickey Mouse!!!!!!

Las Vegas Lights

Dim the lights in Las Vegas baby

'cause all my boys are going going gone.

A lifetime ago they played among those stars

now they sing and dance above them.

The rain goes tap tap tap

on the window pane

and my body moves in rhythm

to the Start of the Blues.

Notes wrap around me,

their voices fill the air,

a smile lands on my lips

I know 'cause I can feel it there.

My dreams are on parade

and champagne sparkles in my glass;

all the world is shining.

And although, I know,

those lights may not dim for me,

baby, I will dance my way through the stars

where we will all laugh and join in

the party maybe just maybe.

India Picture – Travel Photo – National Geographic Photo of the Day

India Picture – Travel Photo – National Geographic Photo of the Day

The way back...and spider cannibalism.

Well, I made it back to Ohio from Florida and have been back for a little over a week.  I didn't end up getting a car but I was able to road trip back with a girl that lived across the hall from me.  It was awesome.  Turns out that we use to race against each other in college; oh the irony.  Let me tell you about the kind of people we are...on the way North we relaxed in the grass at a rest stop in Georgia, memorized the presidents in order by number and randomly shouted out numbers to pop quiz each other, almost ended up sleeping in the car in a parking lot in Corbin Kentucky (we managed to get into the country in; score!) and read aloud from a book called "homework for grown ups".  It was great.  We are also now contemplating writing a children's book together 'cause we both have some great ideas.  So, in short the ride back was quite an adventure!  After a few days of being home I finally made it out to a family member's property to go fishing.  Not having the heart to bait a hook I opted to take out the canoe on their lake.  I am truly blessed to have such an awesome family.  But the point is that I flipped the canoe over to take it out on the water and of course after being turned down for so long it was full of miniature life such as ants, those little rolly polly lots of legs bugs and spiders.  I am not bothered by any of this so I get what I can of them safely on the shore and then set out on the water.  There were of course all sorts of mini life still working their way out of under the seats of the canoe and I noticed that there was a dead spider that fell out of somewhere and I remember thinking "Awe, poor little guy...thus is the course of life I guess".  So, I continued to make my little circles and figure eights and other meditative motions through the water.  Finally, I sat and put the paddle across the gunwales in front of me so I could observe my family on shore fishing and running around.  My cousin's children who are two, five and six were fishing with my cousin's fiance...well, the littlest thought he was fishing, he had a little baby fishing pole with no line hook or sinker, which was adorable.  My Aunt was in the gazebo rocking back and forth on the swing.  My mom and sister were fishing and my cousin (who trains fighters and such) was helping them fish.  My uncle was inside the house, probably relaxing, drinking wine and watching some sort of sports game.  Everyone was happy and I could still feel the camp fire on my skin and its smell imbibed in my clothes.  Everything about that one moment in that little green canoe was perfect.  Something has to give right? I glanced down into my little canoe which delivered to me my moment of perfection and saw a rather horrific and perfectly natural scene, the circle of life if you will.  The little spider that I thought was playing dead was being paralyzed, drug and later devoured by a bigger black spider, I was devastated into just sitting there.  What was I suppose to do?  I have been known to jump into pools to save moths stuck on the surface of the water.   Part of me wished that I would have kept my gaze on the shore.  But the part of me that saw this brutal act of reality, however natural it is, as a reminder that elsewhere in the world not everyone is as blessed as I am.  Was I suppose to see it?  I have been meditating on both moments since they happened.  Not everyone gets that fleeting moment of seeing love.  Some people only know spiders.  Would that spider have lived if I had not gone out in the canoe? Maybe.  I still felt bad.  But if I didn't take out the canoe I would not have witnessed those moments of peace that I did.  In my family a scene like this needs to be cherished.  I am still thinking about it and pondering it.  Both the love and the spiders.  I mean it wasn't an act of hate, the one spider eating the other, it was just the bitter reality of life.  No matter how small it is that bitterness is still a part of life on some scale.  On that day it was a subtle reminder from nature that was greatly outdone by the love on the shore.  I hope to have many more days where I only witness it in this fashion.

Love, Life and Light~ Hamsa

Color Wheels and Cupcakes

Another poem for the little ones...


The color wheel don't mean a thing to cupcakes:


Use your mind little one.
What do you see?
Purple elephants
and bright blue honey bees.
Cats can talk
and walk through walls.
That way you know you're never alone.
Your art work is famous
and hangs in great big halls.
The grass may be a rainbow
and there are fairies with butterfly wings.
Use your imagination little one
and realize the color wheel don't mean a thing.
In that place no one can tell you no
and everything exists.
Most of it you can bring to life
and you can discard the rest.
People may tell you no.
Elephants aren't purple
and honey bees can't be blue.
So they tell the color blind man he is wrong
and order him a list of things to do.
Why should he be wrong
just because he sees
things a little differently?
But be there little one, one day, 
to remind him of creativity.
Tell him what you see.
In a cookie cutter world
be a cupcake with sprinkles on top.
Royalty of your own little land.
Let the cookies be boring.
Just see what you see
and know that it is yours, 
the world in the palm of your hand.
Know that we love you
and support all that you do.
No matter what happens.
Any time you are down or feeling a little blue
we'll have a party on our cupcake stand
and worry not little one 
we support the purple elephants too.

Little Eyes and Small Steps

I am creating a gift for my friend who is getting ready to have a baby.  I am putting together a little booklet of fun small poems, illustrations, etc.


Here are the first two:


Lullabies for Little Eyes


Full was our day
so we sing our lullabies
for little eyes
so that they may slowly close
and rest their minds.
A gentle wind blows
and brings to mind exactly
what the day was like.
Busy breakfast
busy snacks and little adventures
busy as bees
sometimes like the stormy seas.
We went here
and we flew there
and sometimes we just sat to know that we be.
So as you see little eyes
you need the lullabies
so we can all go about our busy way
with each other day after day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Small Steps


Blink baby blink,
little eyes focus.
The first small steps to seeing.


Seeing the crayons in the box.


Scribble baby scribble,
holding the crayon in little hands.
The first small steps to moving.


Moving arms and moving legs.


Crawl baby crawl,
you, little one are getting strong.
The first small steps to standing.


Standing your ground,
hearing the sounds.


Listen baby listen,
soon enough little one the sun will rise
and you'll open your eyes.
Feet will hit the floor,
off you'll go,
taking small steps no more.

Prayers of Night

Double shift over,
late in the evening
and apron tied behind her back.
Stove is warm
hot soup simmers
a colorful melody
brings blissful therapy
the rich spices in the air.
A moon hanging in the sky
stars held up on invisible strings
the meal is on but now for the ones she loves.
Their fortunate ignorant laughter
spills onto the coloring pages
of purple giraffes and tye dyed lions
while the voice on the television 
brings more ill news.
Shutdowns, the deaf leading the blind.
Soup is in the bowl
bread is on the table
flat lived in and clothes slightly out of touch
but school seems to be going well and they have friends.
Its the best she can do for now
the careworn warmed by the happy youth
'cause they know no pain
as long as the blue stays blue
and the red stays red
to them its all the same.
Tree branches still for climbing
the sun still brings smiles 
and lunches still at school
skinned knees and boogey men; 
their only worries.
Their mother's perfect timing
band aids and hot soup to clear away
everyone's little troubles.
Television off for the night
kids tucked in bed.
Her prayers that tomorrow he will make things right
and the light flickers off to another restless sleep.  

March

They've had enough,
the crowd marched by,
in their numbers a message to send.
Violence no more,
Rape never again.
Leader speaking, calling
for people to unite
and take back the night.
Followers doing their job well.
Emotions run high
through hot spring air
hinting at the heat of summer.
Wind carries their voices
into the distance.
The music from the band
a warm welcome back.
I witness from the fountain
Cheers and internal satisfaction.
Passion on Her face.
It makes Her feel like it truly matters.
The movement will go beyond the night.
The wind carrying it on.
Somewhere there is a man who batters.
He will get what is coming to him
and deserve it too.
One day she'll hear the voices
and take it no longer.
The day will dim
and she will lead the crowd
like the one that marched tonight.
Voices will be heard again.
3/24/2011

Firecracker Cores

He loved his roman candles,
Jack shambled after them.
And I after him
a lifetime later.
We all shamble after each other.
Its a strange sort of dance.
Pushing, pulling, daring to see who can do more.
Much left up to chance.
Bright lights
and wandering minds
we're firecrackers at the core.
A common thread
we're seeking to roam
not knowing what we're looking for.
Truth for sure,
the passion is in our heart.
There we've always grown.
A greater ideology.
Having it all out,
making it all count,
the best that we can.
I guess that is what we're living for.