Afternoon Naps

“Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.”
CoCo Chanel

I tried. I really did, but the nap won. #losing I was congratulating myself earlier, because I was getting through the day without any sense of melancholy. You see, today is the 9th anniversary of my sister's death. On this day, 9 years ago, my sister gave up on this world. Even this many years out, the pain of it stings like a [insert explicit word here]. But, today, I was doing good. Until that dagum nap! During my nap I had a dream. It went a little something like this:

My sister and I were headed out to the car. I had climbed into the passenger side, but she hadn't gotten in quite yet. As she was walking around to her side of the car, I heard her yelp. I looked up and there was a bear and a tiger circling the car. At first, I was frozen in fear. Then my brain went into overdrive thinking, "What can I do to help her?"

I could see that she was thinking too. She seemed as if she was going to run, but realized it would be in vain. I thought, "what if I rolled down the window and made a ruckus to get their attention off of her and on to me, so she could escape." I tried but the window didn't budge.

By some miracle of fate she made it over to the driver's side door. She tried it and found that it was locked. I got caught up in the seatbelt as I attempted to reach over and unlock it. By the time I had freed myself, the bear was right up on her. She was unharmed when I went to press the unlock button. I pressed the button and nothing happened.

I was eventually able to manually unlock the door, but the bear had gotten hold of her. I pushed open the door and grabbed her. She was caught in the vice of the bear. I was yanking her frantically to get her into the car. She was yelling. At one point, the bear loosened its grip enough that I was able to pull her into the car and she somehow managed to close the door. "Are you okay?!" I screamed. She was breathing heavily, but didn't say anything. Then I noticed she was bleeding profusely from her left side. It wasn't long after that that she lost conscious and slumped down into her seat.

I awoke with a start from my dream feeling extremely heavy. Dagum nap. It's hard because I know that no matter how long I live I will always carry some measure of guilt about my sister's death. Noone has to tell me the staples, "It's not your fault." "You shouldn't feel guilty" etc., etc. I know it all, and 90% of me believes it. Yet, I know that 10% will always remain to torture me.

I think about the last conversation I had with her. I heard the emptiness in her voice, and I remember weeping on my dorm room floor for her happiness. For her heart. I felt so helpless. Like my dream, I knew she was in trouble, but I couldn't seem to help her in time. The mind is a funny thing. It never forgets. It has the a perspicacity that surpasses our consciousness. And it reminds us of those things we try to bury deep down.

There is so much more than the obvious to unpack from that dream, but for for now I'll deal with the surface, and delve deeper when it's not so raw.

Part of me is grateful, for the 10%. I never want to forget. I never want to forget that there are people in this world that are hurting. I never want to forget that I can make a difference, even if its small. I never want to forget the promise I made to live this life abundantly to prove to her (and myself) that, though life can beat you down sometimes, we all have the tenacity to get back up again. I never want to forget...her.

I welcome this pain, but I still curse that dagum nap.

Introversion

I said I would share a poem each week from my poetry month writing exercise. Although, I haven't stayed as on track with that was I would have liked, I have a couple of pieces that I have written that I feel positive about. I have actually been havinga terrible case of writer's block, so maybe revisting some successes will help to get me back on track. This one (see below), I actually performed at an event! It may change with time, but for now let me introduce:

INTROVERSION

This is an intro to my version of the story,
Don’t mistake it for an allegory
Because I am nestled in these words
Tucked in the curves of all the Cs, Ds, and Ss
You won’t have it guess if this is the truth.

See, it started in my youth.
Actually, it started in the womb
In which I was entombed and forced out into this world
Everyone thought I was just a shy little girl,
But honestly,
I just didn’t want to be bothered
Because I was too busy authoring stories in my mind
To find the time to socialize with everyone

And I could carry on for hours
Devoured by the inner workings of my brain
Insanely creating worlds that only I could live in
Refusing to give in to social norms.
I had different forms of pleasure
That I treasured more than fitting in
And making friends was never my top priority
As the majority of my time was spent on imagination
Mental creations of multilayered scenarios
From the ethereal to the very depths of darkness
There was a sharpness in me that had me always slightly on edge

Teetering on the ledge of fantasy and lucidness
Always presenting an elusiveness that kept everyone at bay
Wondering why God made me this way
I really began to hate my introversion
Found it disturbing that I wasn’t quite like everyone else
And I hated myself for being so strange
But I couldn’t seem to change who I was inside
No matter how hard I tried,
I still found the greatest joy in aloneness

So, I started to own this part of who I am
Stopped condemning myself for who I ought to be
And caring of what people thought of me
That’s when I found that I was free to live in harmony
You see,
I can be disarmingly charming when I’m not so packed into a box
And I finally got some social stock and capital
Realizing that actual friends love you, even when you’re "weird"
Your conscious can be clear because they love your quirks
They don’t think that you’re a jerk,
They “get” that you’re an introvert
And they learn to make it work,
Because that
That’s what friends do
Shoot, some of them are introverts too so they really understand
And don’t demand that you change they way that you were made

So I stopped being jaded about it.
No longer doubted that it was a gift from God
That I was odd, but blessed with creativity
The ability to create solar systems with words
I could craft a whole universe in my head alone
And that…
That’s a sign of the throne,
Because God created mankind in His own image
Who am I to pillage his creation with criticism?
Or have cynicism about how he has formed me
And transformed this personality for His glory
And this…
Well, this is just the intro to my version of the story.

GMLRC 2011

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."
~E.E. Cummings

I had a conversation with someone the other day that got me thinking. Just a year ago I was in KY finishing up my time at Asbury, and I was in such a different place in life then (literally and figuratively). By the end of my time there, unhappiness my primary feeling. Partly due to my environment, but mostly because I felt like I had lost myself in so many ways. This past year has been a journey of rediscovery. Some of it has been good, some bad, and I have made mistakes, but I have also had beautiful moments too.

I feel like joy is coursing through my veins once again.

I always bemoan my time in KY, but honestly, I am grateful for it. It was, up to this point, both the best and worst period of my life. God changed my heart in magnificent ways. I didn't realize how much I had grown until I had a chance to be removed from it.

I have recently acquired a new friend, who reminds me constantly of where I have come from. (Its no one that reads this blog - at least not to my knowledge). First, let me say that I care greatly for this person (in case anything that follows seems to suggest otherwise). They are so much like me. It is part of what makes or friendship work. However, part of what makes our friendship difficult is that they are too much like I used to be. Have you ever had this experience? It is so weird how you can "get" someone, but also know that they are on a dangerous pathway because you have traveled it ahead of them.

I am going to resist my tendency to "analyze" someone else and focus on the only person I have the power to change, me. While I have made some changes for the better, I, as I mentioned before, have also lost some important parts of me. Like a recovering amnesiac, fragments of myself have been returning to me. For the most part that has been happening organically. Part of the Get My Life Right Campaign 2011 [GMLRC 2011] (this is the title of my new phase of life) is being more intentional about rediscovering, discovering, and claiming and reclaiming my authentic self.

Eh...

So, it's Tuesday and I am feeling an internal pressure to write this post. I am trying to stay disciplined with a least a post a week. I know once I start to miss one week, 1 will become 2 then 2 --> 3 and so on. So, yeah.

I made the decision this weekend not to go back to Atlanta for at least 3 weeks. There are several reasons for this:

1)Economics: seriously at $50 a tank, traveling back and forth to Atlanta is depleting my funds (and with an upcoming trip to KY and the surprise $600 in summer fees I had not accounted for, I am teetering on financial irresponsibility). Can't have roomie side-eyeing me when I can't pay the rent.

2)Finishing strong: Whenever I run a race, even if I feel dead tired at the end I try to sprint to the finish. This was ingrained in me from my swimming days (its amazing how much that little dash at the end made in results). I need to finish the semester strong. This semester, although it was emotionally better, I was not a very good student :( (going to ATL most weekends doesn't help either). I did not enter this PhD journey with visions of coasting through. So, I stay in Athens to "sprint" to the end.

3)Simplicity: Saying "I need to get my life right" and doing it are two different things. I have been very periphrastic in my approach to actual change. Instead of taking care of some of those things that I needed to in my (physical and emotional) life, I have been running away from them to Atlanta. I'll take the next three weeks to address some of those things (potential blog fodder?)

Oh yeah, and my 30 in 30 is not going very well. I could potentially buckle down and catch up. The original plan was to write a new poem everyday, but yeah... I may take some time this weekend to devote to creative endeavors.

Whimsical Wednesday

What a week!

"But, Ginny, it's only Wednesday," you say.

Well, I am counting the past seven days and it has been nothing short of a roller coaster. From upsetting conversations, disappointments, and forgetfulness to amazing dancing, incredible poetry, and enchanting friends that took the time to connect with me and back again. I feel exhausted. Then, this morning, I took particular umbrage with a classmate and it was just the last straw that sent me over to (what roomie calls) the dark side of the abyss. I took a round trip ride on the struggle bus, for sure!

The second half of the day went considerably better. Spending time with Gloria helped to bring me back to optimism. I am so grateful for friends! However, I have definitely got to get my life right. Maybe Andre was on to something, I may need a personal assistant. Any takers? I can't pay, except in gratitude bucks and hugs. But, what's payment when the happiness of a friend is at stake, right?

In more positive/ sappy news... I have had relationships on the brain lately. Although, school keeps me somewhat busy (except when I am being an uber-slacker SMH), I feel I have more free time now than I had when I was working full-time. I never really had much time to seriously think of dating then, because I knew I couldn't devote much to a relationship. I think having more time on my hands and coming across some pretty cool people since my return to GA, has shifted my focus a bit. Though I am still a terrible commitment-o-phobe, I am opening up to the possibility of companionship. All that being said, it is important to know what you want before traveling down that road. I mean, relationships are hard enough, right?

So, with this post I am going to satisfy two (well, 1 and a half, really) goals of mine. One of my 101 goals is to make a list of what I am looking for/what is important to me in a relationship. Part of that is delineating the things I would like to have in a mate. Also, my plan is to share a poem each week from my 30 in 30/ 1 poem a day for National Poetry month exercise. So, here is a poem I wrote about my future mate. WARNING: This is extra sappy and written whimsically, which is not a poetry style I usually adopt, but this was more for fun than art. Its hallmark, syrupy sweet. Sometimes, you have to not take yourself so seriously! Anyhow, here it is:

BLUEPRINT

A guy that loves fiction, has good diction, and a conviction to change the world
Could easily become the addiction of this girl
There are so many things that I want
(And a few that I need)
Sometimes it’s hard to heed distinguishing between the two
If I only knew, perhaps I would have seen him by now
But I wait patiently and wonder how
Our paths will collide
Or, if he’s already by my side, how he’ll be revealed
In what manner will our fates be sealed?
I catch glimpses of him in passersby and friends
But below is a rough blueprint of him:

I imagine he’ll have a great sense of humor,
Curiosity that grows like a tumor, and the ability to be deep
Now, he can’t be TOO cheap…
But I hope he’s a little frugal

I hope he has an imagination that he lets run wild,
And is willing to share his feelings every once in awhile
I wouldn’t be opposed if he had great style,
But I don’t require it
Or even strongly desire it

Just PLEASE, please let him match
Not be too afraid to attach
And/or be willing to work through his “stuff”
I’m pretty sure that’s not asking too much!
I hope he loves to touch and be affectionate,
Is a good listener, dependable, and extremely patient
I hope he loves to travel so we can trot the globe
And doesn't try to call my Snuggie a robe

I hope he can appreciate the tapestry of humanity
It’d also be really nice if he wasn’t prone to insanity,
Oh, and if he had a particular love for art
He will already have a special place in my heart
I hope he’s adventurous, but smart about danger
I hope he has passion, but can control his anger
And you know what they say about a man that can dance
And what that can do to improve the romance

I really hope he trusts in something bigger than himself
Is willing to be humble and admit when he needs help
I hope he also has a healthy self-esteem
And the go-get-itness to follow his dreams
Now this may be shallow, but he needs to be attractive
And he’d really win my heart if he was somewhat active
Not just physically, but mentally in addition
And when it comes to mistakes, he’ll give himself permission
To be human.

Finally, more than anything, he has to “get” me
Until the day I have him, I will wait patiently

Okay, maybe anxiously!

Dance, Pray, Write...

...and not necessarily in that order.

"A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language." - W. H. Auden

It's the beginning of National Poetry Month and I am taking on the challenge of writing a new poem each day (I got this idea from Deveata) good, bad, and/or ugly. I have a feeling it will be more of the latter two than anything else, but it will be a good challenge. Over the past 7 or 8 months I have been falling in love with poetry all over again. At one point in my life, it had become too much about releasing negative emotions. While there will still be some of that, (poetic therapy is one of the best kinds of therapy) I am doing it more as a dedicated linguaphile than an emo girl these days (lol).

Today is also April Fool's Day, which is in so many ways appropriate for me. Sometimes, I am baffled how I can be so smart and so stupid at the same time. Actually, I won't say that I am stupid, but naive to a fault may be more appropriate. But you know the old adage: Fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me. In my youth (yes, I know I am still young) I had some shame on me moments. However, in my wiser days I have learned that once is enough. Doesn't make the shame on you moments easier, but it makes the healing go a lot quicker.

Anyhow, greener pastures and what not...

In about an hour or so, I will be off to salsa the night away. I am looking forward to seeing my salsa family (they are really starting to feel like that lately and I love it).

I had a really good conversation with someone today and he helped me refocus on the importance of prayer (in a very round about way). So, I think this month I will also commit to a more prayerful lifestyle. Lord knows (pun intended) I have been inconsistent, at best, in this area.

So here's too a good month, despite the showers.