Oh what the heck

Below the hello there was a lake of frozen feelings. Hard enough to skate on if one was daring. There in the bowels of her greeting she wanted so much more. She wanted to be more. She hated the feeling of knowing this was not summer vacation, this was in fact the rest of her life. She wanted a narrator, someone who read ahead. Someone who could connect the themes and let her know what genre she was living in. She saw three road kill today. The squirrel was decapitated. The raccoon surrendered to death in position of prayer and the bird still had his wing spread with the wish to fly.

Tonight was only one night. Tomorrow would be a new day. Tonight was only one night. Research, and investigation. Inspiration. Tomorrow there would be no more slacking. Tomorrow she would start. And she knew it was true. She knew it was true because more than she wanted she was holding a pen.

She had read about the heart of pride of King Hezekiah. She had mentioned church at work. She wanted her heart to be clean. She was tired of being American. So she called and left several thousand messages. Several thousands hellos. Several thousand lakes were born and several thousand dreams were rising to the surface. Air Condition Movie theatres. Diving into the pool or the ocean. Driving until she hit the border of the state or the country.

She had given away a pen today. A heavy pen that lit up in dark places. She gave to a man who said, oh that is a nice pen. It was indeed and it came with an ink refill. But she never used it so she knew she should give it away.

Typing inkless pages, she breathed. She breathed. She was not testing God's promise she was living it, despite her american tendancies that wanted to stay on the fence. With her feet of the ground so she wouldnt get muddy. She would wear sandals. Hop of the fence and know that God was with her. She wish she had remembered this earlier when she was at the church picnic. She wish this knowledge would dispell her of every fear and commonplace desire. That word itself felt as dangerous as fire. She, with her God's hand upon her, could. She plowed through the end of the novel, wiping away the tears so she could keep reading. The noise disappeared absorbed by the indian reservation being released from the page like a captive from jail. She wanted to write. So why was she going out?

Enough...

Understanding and its sees it on enough food
but im already billie holiday's face. I conversation on another touched.
to be eaten, experienced. to be persons breath. pretty much inhaled
hear it on the radio.
its the ache depth of handshake but really its
dinner, of not
and depth of not ache
a belly ache of have already enough movement
to have depth stars and roses. mostly its to be known. to be delightful. to be to the gym. I just ache. but I imagine it to be hardly running, there, heart, presley I dont come in, but towards the words, that tunnel, I see ache to be replaced with hug, the ache for release. its worth it. start running. chesire cats smile and I the dismal hopeless song door to gleaming grin. away to tunnel. as I stare a kind that I have. all the side of me say... just remember the ache with no light at the end of where I opened the opening of the tunnel wind in words to the elvis another ache. a different cynical/responsible/realistic of the song, achey brakey

Another post on making decisions.... i am starting to pick up a theme

Its amazing how much peace I have right now. In the agitated breathing of my indecision and moral dilemma I realized 3 things. 1) I was being over dramatic…. 2) I just needed to make a decision 3) everything would be fine either way. So I decided to stay on for 6 more months. Not because anybody told me it was a good idea, or because I didn’t want to let my boss down, but because in the pressure cooker of my own mind and heart after all the steam had evaporated, I wanted to. It was my choice. My adult decision. Sometimes you just have to make decisions and move forward. Not wibble wabble in the land of what ifs… because it aint helpful to agonize over the imagined landscape of what if, so I stopped. One of my coworker said to me, in six months I will still be young. Yes that is true. It’s a good feeling knowing that it is my decision which has led me to be here. It is a good feeling knowing there is an end date. I will start studying for my GREs this weekend.

I will pick up poetry magazines and start looking for Universities with MFA programs, but I really want to double major in Education. I wonder if I can do that.



So for the next big decision I have to make let’s make a list of the things I have learned:

1. Don’t do what other people think is right, you need to know its right by your own conscience.
2. I need time to internally process, say it out loud to someone who is a good non-judgmental listener, and then have a couple of days to within myself live with my decision before I make it public.
3. Don’t be ruled by fear. God has got my back. Even if I make a so-called “wrong decision” it will be redeemable. Put your hand to the plow and don’t look back as some one once said.
4. I am sure there is more. But that is it for now.

adult a dolt

be warned this is another quickwrite with no ideas or premeditiated metaphors. I am sitting on the couch in a completely uncomfortable way. My special needs computer has won the right to be comfortable or else he will not work. so stay awake a little longer computer. it is almost 7 am on saturday morning after a long week of being an adult. scrubbing carpet, making decisions, and more decisions and more decisions. and enjoying the consquences, clean carpet, 6 more months at blue cross and a large headache. i went bar hopping last night. It was aiight. But I dont know how my coworkers make a regular habit of it. its like recess, but not as fun and you play the same game every time you go out to play, and its not a very fun game. But its fun enough, and there is promise of unexpected times, and compared to cubicles its glorious. But i think its the mud pie in the c.s. lewis mud pie/day at the beach analogy...i.e. the child who would rather stay in the slum making mud pies, than go to sea shore because he dont know what the sea shore is. have you ever smelled the mud in the slums. not something I like to make a habit of.

A friend recently told me that in adjusting to new cultures there are 4 stages and i dont remember them all, something like, honey moon, laughter, ?, adapted. I think bars are for the people especially in the laughter stage as they are trying to adjust to the culture of adultism. !!ha my ex-boyfriends still living with me. !!ha i hate my life, my job, my girlfriend, my lack of girlfriend, i am tired, i am drunk!!! hahahahaha and every one is laughing and there really is no punch line and i laugh a long, but i kind of feel slightly embarrassed for them/us and want to turn and look the other way. I will not notice your double chin when you laugh, I will laugh instead of thinking about how pathetic your life is and that you can't even say sentences straight because you are a terrible drunk. Karl Marx said that religion is the opiate of the masses, but i think he is wrong. I think opium is the opiate of the masses, and by opium i do mean alcohol because its much easier to get. Alcohol after work, Value Bucks and the "peer excellence award" during work and the masses stay happy and subdued and it becomes a doltish routine.

My shoes make my feet smell. I have never been the smelly foot girl before. Shhh don't tell anyone. Just turn and look the other way.

I will have to go to the beach very soon.

Another friend of mine told me that if i can not hear from god right now just keep moving/living forward remembering and doing the last thing God told me. I feel like the last two things I have heard from God are: everythings going to be okay and I will not leave you, with the sense that the door is open for me to go exploring.

I have my flashlight, my rope, my hiking boots and my blanky. I am ready for an adventure. Right after this headache goes away. I should go back to sleep.

Please...quickwrite, no delete, plowing into the future

It's ironic that my blog is green and about Alessandra being in the city. There is no green here except for the house on Kenwood painted an ungly highlighter green, the candle i bought for my friend and the undead parts of the palm trees. A helicopter is circling again. I titled my blog please because i am begging you. you who my blog, my internet my typing fingers to come up with an answer. Am i being too metaphorical. It will not really cost me my soul to stay at blue cross for another six months but i feel like i am selling out, but i dont know what to do. i dont know where to go and what to be. i need to apply to grad school and that takes time but what if there is a temporary happiness out there between now and grad school called working at a garden store or something. I have learned the tricks i know how to survive, i know which cubicles to visit for chocolate, the dart board, i know how to flirt wtih the guy five cubivles to the right not because i like him or he likes me but because we have something in common. We know this job sucks. But what if December comes and i find a nother handful of good reasons to stay at blue cross. Oh god throw up. I am not a lifer. This frase has been repeating in my head. i dotn have to be poetical about it. just because i stay for another six months doesnt mean i will end up as a souless ghoul clammoring away on my keyboard at age 45 with three kids whose name i can't remember because i am work all day (i would no longer be in a cube mind you, a corner office). ahha i dont know if that was meant to be a scream or laugh or which one is more appropraite. but can you please. the you who doesnt exist the easy answer you the you who knows what to do can you just give me an answer. I think back to formulas other ways i have made decisions, and none of them have prepared me for this moment when i have secure and unahppy job and goal of being some where else and need for action now. i had planned to go to travel europe in the summer, when i decided it was not a good time to go to france. but then i was afraid it wouldnt happen if i didnt act now so i bought a plane ticket that day and france ended well. My life is in flux the state of flowing and changing. my life. my tenth grade english teacher said that all writers are trying to put a pin in flux. By writing they have captured one moment and while the river is flowing crazy and way around that pin, the pin is pinned down in their writing. so if that is true this flux moment is now here forever in my writing. its not going any where but it is still here. and i still dont know waht to do. My roommates are in strange places and they are no longer roommates but friends. My toilet is fixed, the green stain is gone from the carpet (oh yes more green in LA). there is a filing cabinet in pieces in my living room. it is empty. i look for jobs on craigslist and i dont have the qualifications for the ones i want. why did i not majore in journalism. I have to find the downtown news. i need to ask them for a job. I need to go on my road trip. i need to find a new apartment. i need to spend money and pay bills and be an american. (threw my dinner of black beans up with taht comment). Here I am a leave floating down the river of flux. floating because i am not moving with a will of my own. my indecision has rendered my from paddling down or up stream. down the river because the time it is ticking. The blog was autosaved at 8.30 and now it is 8.33. I still have no answer typing fingers. I will make a pro and con list.

cons
======
I am afraid that if i stay it is because i am afraid to take risks and quit my job before i have a new one
I am afraid that if i stay i might stay forever. (hell no, that wouldnt happen)
i am afraid i am missing out on the better life. Where is that better life?
I am afraid that if i stay i will become a lover of money.
If i hear that girl bitch for one more day about her cooking, her husband and every other sorry life detail i am going to scream.

pros
------
everything is changing in my life right now, maybe its okay to keep my job for antoehr sixe months
it makes sense to keep my job while looking for a new one, or applying to grad school
i like some of the people i work with
downtown is convenient
having a job is nice and i like paying my bills and being able to give money to good causes.


I cant tell which list is stronger, heavier, will last longer. is more like bounty and less like that other brand.

I wish i had a dad who could give advice.

I am listening.

money

The soul breathes in daisies and breathes out seeds for planting.

This requires sunshine, water and a few lightning strikes every couple of years.

Money breathes in your soul and exhales lacey cigarette smoke.

This requires fluorescent lights, coffee and a few lucky numbers.



Money sucked in by his finger for fancy lunches with younger girls made her divorce him.

He is in a lounge chair at a sleezy hotel in Marina Del Rey and 10,000 dollars in debt

Rum and coke and little skirts are costly. But at least he is still smiling.



Another pair of them lost their soul somewhere back in fifth grade when no one helped him read

And no one read her diary where she confessed to a multitude of sins she had not yet committed.

They’ve been leaning on each other for morality but ended up with a joint income tax and cell phone bills in each others name.

And this one claims communication with the soul, the powers that be, finds herself in the agitated wash cycle at the laundry mat.

Her hair curling in every direction. She breathes in daisies and exhales smoke. She’s been spoiled by the ergonomic conditions

But daily reads the newspaper with throat full of suffocating screams and tears in her eyes.



In the place where there’s more graffiti than bank accounts, money is still a god. But out of reach like the Bel Air homes.

14 year old boy down the street wants to wash my car for money so he can get his game on with the girl at his school

That he only attends between suspension and visiting his mother in the hospital.

That’s why I said no to the car dealer down the street and take the bus



to work?

Running away/escape

Running away/escape

Claustrophia and bacon

Tussle gabbing gossip

I hate her and I eat lunch with her

My stomach hurls the stories she drips

from her mouth on the receiver her earwax bleeding

down out onto the keyboard.

She complains about the amount of work

she has to do. I complain about the amount of words

she has to speak.

But sometimes she gives me strawberries.

I am easily bought.

I am a cowboy riding into the sunset, my horse’s feet catch

on the telephone and computer cords, fax machines and aerosol cans of desk cleaner.

But we’re making progress.

Little green mosters made it to the news.

I want to escape the pants I am in. They are ugly and so are my shoes.

The streams of consciousness are escaping my unediting fingers.

My mouth is silenced. I will write.

From the corner of my I catch the freeway.

It silence and the printer is roaring complaints of torn pieces of paper.

My lips do not even breathe.

The chocolate milk is making me sick and I need to escape.

Global worming into my ears the complainer begins complaining again.

She is teamed with the company itchbay.

They word their clients their lives to death.

I need to escape this landscape of fancy lunches and of debt and hopelessness of families eaten alive by little green monsters.

You can not love two masters.

The clock. Your time. My time. My boss has not said hello to me. They better hire someone soon.

I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over.

Paula Cole has escaped Dawson’s Creek on reruns and has entered my head, hair army pits and all.

Cynthia is shouting into the phone again to the broker who can not hear anything.

We all ask ourselves how we got here and how we are going to escape until we stop asking.

I put a reminder in outlook so I wouldn’t forget to keep asking those questions that demand action or they turn you to rust.

Don’t rust my friend. Escape the snatches of the little green monsters.

The Servant Partners Internship is over

and I have made a list of the 10 things I am thankful for from it:

Top 10 Things I am greatful for (in no particular order)

1. My roommates. These three girls, all so very different than me and from eachother have taught me so much. They have supported me when i have been down and i have had the joy of being there for them when they have needed a friend. COmmunity is certainly a blessing.
2. Damion. He is a 14 year old boy who lives down the street. Full of life, rap, beats, opinions. He has welcomed me and my housemates into his life and it has been great to know him and his struggles. High school isnt working out so well for him. pls pray that he would persevere and graduate someday.
3. Thursday Night dinners. Every Thursday we invite neighbors and friends to our house for dinner. Joy would cook and we would all eat and celebrate life and fun. I learned a lot about serving and loving and being hospitable during this time.
4. SP leadership. I have learned a lot from them in their humble wisdom
5. God's Grace. Without it I wouldn't be here still.
6. The LATIMES.com keeping me informed on some of the going ons in the hood.
7. My friend Nam who also works a desk job and we email eachother from work about poetry and stuff (he was in my senior seminar at UCSC back in 05 and we have kept intouch via email). He helps me stay motivated to keep writing.
8. Learning to speak up. I believe part of this two year process has been a process of me learning to speak up, speak out, speak. It is good to use your voice.
9. The F Dash. This is a 25cent bus ride from my neighborhood to my work that runs on the "you'll get there when you get there schedule". I am usually the only white person on it. I like walking to the bus stop and praying for all the kids walking to highschool. In some ways, i feel like the walk and bus ride is warm embrace making me part of the neighborhood.
10. Gold's Gym a half a block from my work. I was a member for a little over a year and so were two of my housemates. We would go to gym in the crazy early morning. and then go to starbucks afterwards. It was also fun and a memory i will always treasure.
11. That God meets us both in and outside the box.

Acciuel

"Come in. Sit Down. In this big comfy chair. There is hot tea. A blanket. All the ingredients for comfort. Pull up a foot rest. Here is the newspaper . Please make yourself at home." The Alessandra-in-the-City motions its reader. "Feel free to leave comments. The house keeper likes to read them."

Finishing Well

I have been in christian circles for too long. I can not remember if the phrase finishing well is christian slang or biblical or just a phrase for use of the common english speaker.

But anyways, it is a principle that applies across the board. I want to tell you a story.

A couple days before my grandpa was checked the hospital for the last time, I was unemployed and he offered to pay me to help him make an Excel Spreadsheet of all his files, etc. We sat together in the odor of sickness, he was feeble, he legs barely working. He had started using a cane that day. The next day it was a wheelchair and after that he would never walk again. I amazed him with my Excel prowess and he genuinely wanted to know how to use the functions, and type this in here and that in there. He was an eager, dedicated learner until the very end. We made some progress and he gave me money and I wanted to refuse it. But he told me no. but i argued, I had too much fun for it to be a job. He told me jobs should be good times and insisted that I take the money.

I think that some people give up. They say, I only have a few more weeks living in this apartment with these roommates, I will stop living in the now and dream about the future. Or they say, I have given my two weeks notice, I no longer care if I keep my files in order. Or they say, I am moving soon, I no longer care about my neighbors so I will stop saying Hi to them. Or maybe they say, I am 78 years old, I am sick, I may not live very long, I will stop trying to learn new things, I am too old for new tricks.

Finishing poorly is very tempting. Laziness and daydreams of greener pastures are sweet and addictive candy.

A candy that will rot your teeth and your insides. Maybe thats a little dramatic. But maybe it is not. But it makes me think of Ani DiFranco song that references old people cursing at the walls and pulling out all there stuffing.

I don't want that to be me. I want to finish well at my current job, with my current housemates, with my current neighbors. While it might all be for naught. (My grandpa never used Excel again), it will be for integrity, for keeping my brain juices alive and circulating. If I can finish well now at age 24 in a small thing like quitting my job, perhaps I will have built up stamina for finishing well in the final sense of the phrase. I don't mean to be moribund.

But so many doors are closing but its not quite time for new ones to open. Closing doors is an exhausting business, but so is walking into new ones.

Therefore I am going to go to sleep now.

Good Night, Blog. Good night, Helicopter circling above.