iamdew

I took a nap earlier so I’m not sleepy. Actually, I think I am woke because my mind is running with too much unprocessed information. I want something but I’m not completely sure what it is.

I lost me somewhere along the way. Not sure which way but I know part of me has been censored. Part of me has been bound and as those straps unravel I find myself wondering why I chose to lose me? Not sure that made sense but I get it.

I can’t fix you.

A message to myself more than from.

I was standing in the middle of snow this night. The snow was a pretty black that shimmered violet in the sunlight. I embraced a solitude that warmed me, inside out. No melting, I felt the palms of sand tick away as I moved toward the night. Wandering, I fetch calm. What I feel beneath my feet sinks, this night. Sun goes down, change comes up. I see you. I see us. Evaporation of soft black snow shimmering white in the moonlight and a twinkle. In the eye of the beholder, given rights to return and a smile that shimmers golden, like the sand trikling through the shaky palm of a retired false-giver. A retired general of her own design and no path makes sense to these steps. These steps. These steps. Sun up, spirits down. Change is inevitable, she said. They said. I stutter. Sand stone ground, cracks in the midst of confusion, seasons change and we play catch up to figure. Back peddle like focus, sand storms rage inside and I watch the world around me unravel. Like secrets in a soul too bogged down to understand that nothing changes, really. Nothing changes. Really? Nothing moves, really. But us and time and how we adapt. Riddle me this, said rationale, if I make my footsteps fit into the potholes will I walk like my path has a plan? Will I walk, like I know? Will I walk? Chaos stretches from the sky covered in shimmering confusion saying find your fear and embrace it. The world wasn’t meant to make sense, it was sensed to be made and you…you…you…you find solace in potholes discovered from melting snow that call out to you with purpose.

Walk that walk.

I sat in this room with students and graduate and preofessional and found my place. Journalism has never occurred to me as being my calling. I’m far too emotional for nonfiction but at least today, I left that room thinking it’s an option. I am a work in progress.

I’m a listener. I listen much better than I speak and that’s saying something. Today I held tight, let the ideas bounce around inside, formulate themselves, and I look forward to giving them heaping helpings of milk so they can grow to be big and strong and monolithic in there idealism. It’s not that I chose not to speak, its that I had nothing to say. I enjoy the process of learning. Learning people, learning ideas, learning processes and today I learned. I learned that there really are environments where opinions and theories are fostered and nurtured. I learned there are people looking for more than a paycheck but a cause. I learned that customer service is not going to be my razor blade but simply the breadsticks to tide me over til my appetizers come.

Bon apetit.