3 quick writes on discreet topics

4.18
Sit. Wait. Wish. I have been sitting all day almost. Waiting all day almost. And Wishing all day, most certainly. The day seems longer when that thing in beneath your ribs is beating and you can feel it and its in your ears and its in the cubicle walls and its in the blinking of the clock and its in the whirring of the computers and moan of the printer and opening and closing of doors. Sit. Wait. Wish. Pray. That is what I do all day. I woke up this way, but I was not born this way. Why is this always about me. Because I am me and I am all I know my POV and what I ate for lunch and how I am estranged and how I do not look forward to going home and how I am tired. And the library books I owe the library and the checks I owe old friends. And friends makes me think of health insurance which makes me think of Michael Moore which makes me think of CEOs in yachts smiling which a doctors number in their pocket on speed dial. Most of my co-workers hate the doctors and never go unless something is bleeding that wont stop bleeding with a bandaid. And that heart beat is back smoothing out the edges of a face, wanting to collapse in someone’s arms, put the bookshelf back together again. I have never seen it whole. But I must sit. And wait. Waiting is harder than expected. Waiting less glorifying that doing, but often more the better choice. Waiting is what I have been doing my whole life a girl once told me. I am waiting for one foot to move forward when I am walking. I am waiting for one person to be the person. I am waiting waiting. But what about the sunsets you see between footsteps and the people you meet between handshakes. Wishing. Half hearted complaints of a better life. If that is wishing I don’t want it. If wishing is hope than I want three tablespoons of it in my morning coffee instead of 1.
4.27

3.15
City skyline at night makes me want to say “winsome smile”. But that is a cliché. but it is true as those tall-manmade building sparkle in the night sky and smog I am won over. I forget the symbol of wealth that they are. I forgot the symbol of oppression that they are. For a moment they are just beautiful. And I feel like everything is going to be okay. But the hunger in my stomach reminds me that the concrete, if it had a heartbeat would not be beating for fairness, or concern, but for greed and for power. Cupidity makes the window shine. Pride and self-reliance keep the walls from crumbling on the weight of themselves. There are living breathing bodies in these buildings at night: the janitors and the workaholics smile at each other but usually do not speak the same language. 9/11 reminded us of how the living breathing bodies are fragile no matter their portfolio or resume. I am driving through this place of darkness because it is night and though LA glows from afar the streetlamps don’t reach into the streets where the sidewalks are uneven and dirty. I am being judgmental of the people who are slaving away. The sweatshops are sweaty but the CEOs feel just as trapped? He fingers his collar of his shirt, rubbing his neck flab. What will we do with this place? Build trolleys and houses, re-zone the streets, and get more cops. But still I am reminded that no fire in the wall of a city is there without the lords knowing. This city is still here because God is gracious to the women in heels doing power point presentations. To the bike messengers with their side satchels. To me typing here. To him worrying there. The lord is kind. And the buildings are a toothy smile. Sincere and obvious with their 90 angles.
3.25

Okay 3.01
Faith faith faith faith is it the thing with feathers is invisible to the naked eye is it what keeps my heart below my ribcage moving though I know not what my aorta is or hemoglobin is. I misspelled aorta on the first try and I deleted it. Does that make you loose faith in my ability to quickwrite without self censor ship. I want to get the GREs over already and I have faith that I will do OKAY but what if I don’t. Faith makes me think of Mother Teresa and how I am still trying to watch that move about her. Faith makes me think about if I am faithful or not and to what and to what not. I am wearing the shirt that I drank too much sangria in. M is wearing a yellow shirt that is very similar. Yellow. That is. What color is faith. I think it might be sky blue on certain days when you are in Kansas and there is a lot of wind and no smog or cell phone messing up the air. Faith is believing in things yet not seen but knowing that one day you will see them. I do not have faith in humanity alone. Nor the LAUSD. I have faith in possibility when God is up in that mix and God is in more places than I can count. M was telling me about his faith the other. Does faith twinkle the sound on my cell phone that alerts me to a new text message. Our world is not so different from harry potters. But the good is a lot gooder and evil more simplistic. I need more gas in my car and I did not have the faith in goodwill towards (wo)men to stop last night after 10pm in my neighborhood. Faith Faith Fiat Fiat means let there be (I believe) and that is very similar to faith. Amen means so be it which is very similar to Fiat. All of these things makes me think of banana slugs which makes me think of fog and snow which makes me think of how complicated the natural world is which makes me think how complex the invisible emotional world is which makes me think there must be a God a kind and caring God because for heavens sake I have faith that I am here for a greater purpose than to process health insurance renewals and only God could provide me with a purpose greater than that because everything else without God kind of feels like paperwork. Have you ever tried to say I love you and mean it. Ube Caritas et amor. the phone rings and its 3.11