Una Cuchara Bellisima

Remember to Wake

Ho-hum, 

the time has come,

to bed you go,

away!

dreams will seep

into your sleep

to bed you go,

away!

to far away lands

only you understand,

to bed you go,

to bed you go,

but only the night to stay!

Weird. I've never written a children's poem before.

What's this?

The whole wild world

in a silver spoon?

a speck of sun

an edge of earth

and a mottled drop of moon?

Weird, weird. But good. Maybe this means I really will be able to write a good children's story by May? (hopefully before so that my sister has time to illustrate it?)

I've had some kind of day.

You know what? That first poem is iambic. Holy cow. I just wrote in meter. 

This morning I woke up all depressed. Angst was stamped on my forehead.

Then I got angry. Angry at the whole world. Strange.

Then I ate three oranges.

I spilled my heart to two glorious friends and lay in bed for hours.

Then I realized how hilarious everything is.

The guy next to me in martial arts today asked if I was a ballerina.

My legs hurt fit to rain. That's good, though. That means I did well today.

I've decided I'm going to the rec to practice kicks every day. I intend to pwn Keegan. I bet I lose the will power to do that in two days. We'll see, shall we?

So then Laura gave me a STONE--amazing?? Yes! I love stones so much. This one fits comfortably in my palm, is black with a grey spiral in the middle.

And then I got a package from Jacob. I sprinted to get it, smiling. A random guy saw me and jumped, cocked his head at me... and smiled back. I said "Hello!" as if he was my best friend and bolted through the door.

When I got the package I smelled the box. I love paper and cardboard. And later I would learn this box was handled by mailpeople all the way from Greece.

In the box, several amazing articles... including... a SPOON!

A spoon which happens to be the perfect size for a certain perfect stone...

A spoon full of universe.

I was talking to Jacob about Universe Soup. We decided it isn't good to eat. I think one shouldn't exceed a spoonful in a day... it's a lot to take in.

"Everything is only as it is"

When you pass under a tree, look up as you walk. There's nothing like it.

I'll Give You the Stamp

“What are you so constantly writing on over there?” my Dad asked. I decided to be honest.

    “Just a… story I’m working on.”

    “Is it for school, or just for fun?”

    “Just because I felt compelled to write it,” I said, not wanting to say “The magician in my head wants me to” Can you imagine what he would say to that? Neither can I.

“Okay. You feel compelled to write it. Why don’t you feel compelled to publish it?”

“Well…” I laughed. “You don’t just publish things…”

He told me I’d never get published if I don’t send stuff in.

“I’ve read your stuff, and I liked it. I enjoyed reading it, and other people would, too. And. Just the fact that you finish writing them is something. That’s the hard part.” He paused. “So send ‘em in, okay?” He said, nudging one finger on my chin. “Heck, I’ll give you the stamp. Or you could send ‘em by email,” I smiled broadly. “Then all you need’s this finger.”

    There it is again… my dad telling me I can write. Telling me I could get published and make money. Does this mean… that my whole family supports me?

    My grandma just made a face at Dad behind his back and smiled at me.

    So I sat, typing the latest scene about the magician. Dad sat at my feet, leaning against my leg. I let him. I would normally flinch away. He startled me by tickling my toes, and I laughed. He played with my toes like I was five and still thought toes were the most amazing things in the world…

    Toes are pretty amazing, actually.

Earlier today, he told me I could always come home. He said "If we're livin' in a cardboard box under a bridge, I'll go get another box"

I hugged my father back for the first time today in I don't know how long. At least... 5 years. Twice, I hugged him. Only twice, and not the way I would hug a friend or my mother, but I did it. It was difficult... but I'm glad... it's a start.

    I want to let him back into my life. I’m not giving up on him. Our world views will probably always differ, but maybe someday I’ll like the word father.

You know, I wrote that... and then later, I remembered why I disliked him so much. Having to crack his neck and walk on his back... hearing him belittle my mother... rant about the Democrats...

Yeah. It's going to be a while.

But I'm still not giving up.

This is to You (Yes, You)

"Under the Lamppost"

I love you
Like I love falling asleep
Like breathing, slow and deep.
I love you like I love silver spoons,
Like the feeling of soon,
and my favorite tune.
I love you like I love the sunrise
And a thousand dandelions scattered all across the sky.
I love you like I love balconies
And staircases
Puzzled and laughing faces.
I love you like midnight calls,
Roofs,
And curving walls.
I love you like I love strawberries
Like I believe in ghosts and faeries
Like golden dust
And that sensation when I first slip into a swimming pool.
I love you like I love to swing
And like I love to sing.
I love you like laundry
Warm and dry
Folding you in my arms
And breathing your scent.
I love you like I love books
And all your mystery
All the words you give to me
I love you like I love ants
Ants, I could watch for hours.
I love you like I love clouds
And rain
Sunflowers,
And windowpanes.
I love you like I love sidewalks
And drawings in colored chalk.
I love you like I love the glow of afternoon
And like that rare white ring around the moon.
I love you like sand
Flowing through my fingers
To be picked up again.
I love you like mismatched socks
like I love pebbles, stones, and rocks
I love you like a thousand falling water drops.
I love you like I love to wake
With every breath I take,
I love you for love’s sake,
I love you like the shadows of flying birds
And I love you with all my words.

I am Strong

When we spar in tae kwon do, somehow I always end up going last. Almost like Master Kim doesn't want me to spar. I don't know why he doesn't just pair me with the 130 lb guy instead of these bigger guys, telling them "light contact." Today, he almost had two people who'd already gone go again.
"Sir?" I said, raising my hand. "I haven't gone yet."

"I know," he said, looking around the room.

"I'll fight you on my knees," the guy next to me said.

Oh, that's funny. Yeah. That's really funny. I know I'm small, okay?

So the guy who gives me a ride seriously fought me on his knees. Could you insult me more, please? And you know what's worse? He still had the advantage. I still didn't do that well.

And somehow, I was still nice to him.

I wished I was black belt Brittany. Not for the belt, but for the strength of will. She would have rolled her eyes and said "Get off your knees and fight like a man--unless you're scared."

I said calmly, mid-spar, "You know, this would be a lot easier if you stood up."

He finally did. And of course, I still didn't do that well. I got a few kicks... but he was just faster and stronger. At least he didn't let me win.

I thanked him sincerely afterward, but I felt so defeated... that crushed my spirit.

I couldn't believe Master Kim allowed that.

After class, my whole body shaking, I wished I was fast and strong. My kicks are good. My stretches have only gotten better--I'm nearly doing the splits all the way to the ground. I keep my kicks high and strong throughout workouts. But I'm small.

Small.

I feel small.

I miss my aikido instructor. He never babied me. He would have said "You're a woman. You can take it." and he was right.

I am a woman, and I am strong, and I can take it.

I say that, but I don't feel it. I feel weak and small and tired. I feel defeated and I just want to die. To be honest. And I was so nice to him. What a jerk.

I wish I could tell them how far I've come.

But what to do?

Keep going to class. Keep learning. Keep fighting. Keep my feet from touching the floor.

Maybe I can't beat them in a fight. Maybe I'll never be able to. Maybe I wouldn't actually be able to defend myself if I needed to. But I must try. I must fight. Because I am a woman. Women are strong.

And you are strong, too. Remember it.

I Want to Trade Techniques with You

I just wrote a paper in 45 minutes.

Wow.

Things are looking up. I believe I made a good B or A on my logic test, and I'm sure I made an A on my poetry midterm. I've got two papers ready to turn in for fiction...

Things are looking up.

In tae kwon do today, when we all paired up, Master Kim went down the line to check and make sure we were matched well. When he came to me and Brittany, he said "You are very good together."

I think that's true, but I think it would be true of anyone she worked with; she's an amazing teacher and student. During hapkido/self-defense, we trade techniques, and it's so much fun.

It's a handshake, good aikido.

I really need to see The Karate Kid, the old ones and the new one. I think I'll absolutely love it. Aikido applies to everything.

I'm feeling pulled toward God. I feel it when Terri and I "listen to the lights dance." (< those are her beautiful words.) I've felt distanced from God and pushed away (by what, I don't know. Many things). I think I need to reach Him with music. I need to sing. I need to learn a song on Ukuhaley and bring her to church, sing for the Jesus who spoke to me.

Kamsamida, everyone. I couldn't do this without all of you.

A Poet is a Dangerous Creature

Look out, now, I'm learning how the poets do!

Calloo, callay!!

I'm in the State right now. That feeling... but loosely. Like some gauzy garment gradually growing...

I just realized, what I want to say constitutes a spoiler. As maddening as it is, I have to keep it to myself. I'll tell you the other things.

Somewhere near the middle-ish end of the movie, the film burned. We all thought it was part of the movie at first, until we saw it more clearly, the sepia fading to black at the edges, to a black screen. Crackling.

So I took the interim to attempt to describe this feeling. This is what I wrote: "That familiar uneasiness... feeling... outside myself."

The world is vast and clear to me. I see everything. If I could focus, I would tell you the most amazing things. I would find words to describe colors you've never seen--and I haven't either.

Ambient. Yes. I feel ambient.

"I feel like there's this whole world of possibilities and I can't stop them." -Nichole. Huh. You feel like me.

"It's four in the morning. Thoughts don't exist." -Jacob

Imagine it! The world without a thought!! Or is that how everything is? What is a thought?

Nichole was ultra hyper afterward. She danced and sang in the backseat. I, between her and Grace, was swept up in the wave of hysteria. We did more ridiculous dance moves than I knew existed.

I saw our window full of Christmas lights from the outside for the first time. It's so beautiful, more beautiful than I can tell you. It's hope and love and so many good things. Why don't I sit out and look at it?

We laughed in the stairwell. Blatant, maniacal laughter, echoing and reaching above the trees.

They Call Them Movies

I'm remembering far away days,

the way the thousand images play,

Not one alike and all the same,

The key to a thousand far away days.

What should I do? Is this psychosis? Is it just me? Is it everyone? It's so interesting. I kept searching for my magician... I'm always searching for him now. That absence, that loss... I miss him so much. This is interesting. Is it bad? Is it harmful? Yes... I know it is... and I miss him all the same.

How strange it is to be anything at all.

Crowds

I went to my first college basketball game tonight. A friend wanted to go and had no one to go with, so I went, and I actually liked it. I don't want to repeat it, but I was happy to be there.

It was a women's game, so it wasn't packed the way a men's game might be, my friend told me. Tickets were a dollar if you paid. Tech vs. Baylor, and Baylor was winning by a good 20 points by the 2nd period.

It was funny. I kept accidentally clapping for the wrong team. I just find it exciting when someone scores.

Something unexpected happened--there was a fight on the court. My friend says that's really rare in basketball. A Tech girl fouled a Baylor girl, and the Baylor girl swung around punched her in the face.

Of course, the crowd went into an absolute frenzy.

I wish the magician had come with me. He didn't say a thing. At that moment, I felt... an absence.

I wonder... if he would have said anything anyway... He's been meaning to tell me something about crowds for a long time. Why not then, when the room was a cacophony of shouting, angry red faces, people booing and threatening as if the punch had landed on their own noses? Why not then?

I'm not sure what to think. It's good, but it's bad.

I miss him.

I have so much more to say, but I think I can sleep now. Goodnight.