last glass...dusty buckets...parched e-lips...sponge...drip...drop

2003-06-17 - 10:09 a.m.: mocha rades

you know� as often as i tell myself that there's no easy answer� that there's no panacea or truth or *absolute victory* over uncertainty or doubt (at least not in this life)�. i still believe in it. it's hard for me to say that, because i don't�. but on some level� yeah. like i'm an educated donkey who *knows* that the carrot is dangling just enough out-of-reach that it's unachievable�even taking into account sneaky tricks of velocity and momentum and swinging strings�but who continues to run and stop and shake and shiver anyway.

i feel dumb.

it's the same with love. i know that it's unlikely that two people can entwine their minds, their identities�their souls?�until the twelfth of never without some serious side-effects� without giving up a sense of self� without sacrificing some freedom. but i still want it. not marriage. not a bond. not even fidelity. just� i don't know. energy. i want to believe that a connection is more than just a passing interest. i want to believe that we're all part of some infinite magnetic spectrum with levels of attraction that never break down�that nobody's ever lost�. that we belong to--are part of--a web of sorts. that we're nodes. that it's permanent. or maybe i don't. i don't know. maybe i'm just lazy or insecure and don't want to put any effort into justifying my existence through action. maybe i'm afraid that what i end up accomplishing with my life won't be enough to make the universe care about my death. maybe i'm scared. maybe i'm ridiculous.

or maybe i'm just looking for reasons to stop doubting my own emotions.

is that a sort of regression?

my middle little brother is graduating today. when i watched my biggest little brother graduate, i cried. not out loud� but the kind of silent crying that makes your face hot, your eyes pink and your nose wet. the kind of almost-dry crying that you do at the movies when you know it's not real, that there's nothing to be sad about, and that the person you're with will laugh at you and maybe doubt your masculinity if (s)he catches you. (and yes, i am a girl who worries about people doubting her masculinity. don't ask me how i achieved that fascinating complex.) i hope i feel that way tonight, because i think i need it. i think it's good for me. i think it puts things in perspective and makes me value childhood more. it reminds me of how i can care all-the-way when it counts, how much it hurts, and why people don't do it all the time.

this past weekend was poultry days again� in hindsight i wish i would've started a mud fight. the mud was perfect for it� wet enough to hit without hurting, solid enough to form into round balls that keep their shape when flung. people were muddy enough not to care. i wish. i wish i had. it would've been perfect. other things were perfect this weekend� like sleeping in my tent next to luscious with sleeping bags zipped open to the middle and no awkwardness except the random bumping of knees and elbows� like the chocolate mushrooms that des procured that maximized the carnival experience and made me feel lost� like the muddy layouts� like actually winning a game� like the sun coming out just in time� like the chocolate and powdered-sugar-sprinkled funnel cake� like watching tiny children throw forehands� like the long conversations with burglar and matt that reminded me of how easy it is to forget that we're all explorers� that we're all sensitive� that none of us feels exactly right, exactly appropriate� fit. that we all fumble for the right words. i loved realizing that. i don't ask many people to open up to me. i don't open up to many people. i should. it's awakening.

i also realized that i work best one-on-one. i should just avoid groups. they immobilize me.

but then� i learn so much while immobilized.

so it�s good. it's all good.

see you tomorrow�