Long Day...

So, I didn't really cut my hair, but I am seriously going to cut my hair in a few weeks, and so I'm preparing some of my friends for the shock (namely, you, and you, and you, and you). I love my long-curly-sometimes-straight hair, but as with many things in my life right now, there are going to be some changes. There have been several internal struggles with elements of my goings-on, with my thoughts, with my sleep patterns, dreams, walks along California sidewalks, but still I'm here doing as I do on a normal basis. There's been a lot more "alone" time lately, as I do like it. But. What I need is a place to put all my hopes and dreams. How does one describe the emotion that rushes through your body when you really want something because it adds creativity to you? Maybe it revises what you previously thought about yourself. Maybe what you previously thought about your own complexity or your own simplicity. Or maybe it just causes you to stare deeply at something in wonder and you like that. Maybe it is the romantic in me. I'm not romantic in every sense of the word. I think I lost the idea that there is one man for every woman, that every time a door closes, a window opens. But, there is the simple truth of how little control we have on our environment also affects our ability to make choices about what we do. For instance, I may not be able to change how someone feels about something I've said, but I can always provide the output I think is the most appropriate and sometimes one's attitude is the most important thing. I'm counting on my attitude to pull me through this strange week, even stranger month, and even more bizarre year I'm having. God works in mysterious ways and I do think there is ulitimately a plan that covers the whole context of one's life, but I won't be able to see the entire blueprint, so I have to live each day a little at a time. And maybe stare at that space a bit longer until I can figure out how it really affects me, individual, language and art lover, writer, traveler.

Get Your Own...

These are some thoughts from a German American poet. I don't want to say much more than that.

air and light and time and space



"–you know, I’ve either had a family, a job,

something has always been in the

way

but now

I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this

place, a large studio, you should see the space and

the light.

for the first time in my life I’m going to have

a place and the time to

create."



no baby, if you’re going to create

you’re going to create whether you work

16 hours a day in a coal mine

or

you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children

while you’re on

welfare,

you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown

away,

you’re going to create blind

crippled

demented,

you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your

back while

the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,

flood and fire.



baby, air and light and time and space

have nothing to do with it

and don’t create anything

except maybe a longer life to find

new excuses

for.



© Charles Bukowski, Black Sparrow Press

Turquoise

It has been a long time coming. For all of you who are my readers, I'm sorry it has been so long, but I simply am exhausted from coming home. Ever since my plane landed in Orange Country from London, exactly a month ago today, I've been swimming in the wonder of Europe, even though I'm not anywhere but here in the United States. It is difficult to describe how one can be so changed from just a few days out of their life, but time is another dimension, right? Perhaps not measured in hours, but measured by quality. My quality of life in England, France, Netherlands, Deutschland, and Italia was so drastically different and merveilleux (wonderful) that it has in fact, affected every single day I have been "home"! C'est increyable! My time has been in some ways, very, very morose, because despite being so happy that I had the opportunity to see and do so many activities, and absorb special experiences, I cannot seem to put as much motivation together for my daily responsibilities at work and my downtime is spent soothing my broken heart. Because...my heart aches to be in a country I don't understand, where each moment I'm learning and feeling and doing something that inspires each part of myself. My creativity in some ways is just pouring out of me because of how discontented I am, and yet I'm also so deliriously happy because I have these moments which speak to me each day about how lucky I am to be alive. I cannot even begin to place this into words that make the kind of sense I want. I know these sentences are fragmented and displaced. Yet I cannot help myself. I am drowning. And happy. And sad.

Look into her eyes.