Ode to BFF

BFF


We have climbed not every mountain
but enough to know that we have the tools, the practice
to climb any (un)expected mole hill or everest
that looms in front of us, whether it be time zones or hurt.

You have taught me grace and how to talk, big and small.

You have been the eyewitness to all my bad dreams
and tapped me on the shoulder to let me know I can open my eyes again.

I gaze at the lake behind us and see how far we have come
from the pink and purple spiraled together sparkly bracelets
to hues of greens and yellows and reds that contrast and inform
eachother of their richness.

Crafting, watching romy and michelle's high school reunion,
praying, walking, running errands, coffee dates, lending books
and wisdom, laughing, and writing to you my new pen pal.

Ode to Activity Buddy

With you I am free
to theatre or museum.
swing or salsa.
Sip champagne
while blogging silently side by side.

We graced Edison's basement jazz
dressed up on a school night.
We Yoga'd with the best teachers and the worst.
We wrote our grad school essays at Panera Bread and other LA cafes with internet.
We quit our jobs and packed our rooms all in the same month.
We bicycled once down budlong to USC, ran around the track, jumped into the pacific ocean
We have journal'd at Coffee Bean listening to USCers tryin to act hardcore.
And sent smiles via icards.

I will miss you Activity Buddy, especially on those nights when life waits outside the door
& I need someone to elbow me to leave the house.
I will miss you and your laughter.

Gratitude and Odes

At work, on the street corner, on the television we find slander, complaining, greed. As an act of rebellion, or a cultivation of gratitude, I plan on contructing my next couple of blogging posts as Odes, singing praises. Here is my quickwrite ode to gratitude:

Gratitude, you golden thing. The sky is blue and I am breathing. In the garden this morning while my mother watered, I pruned the choyote. Some of its leaves were browning, drying and falling to the ground. What it needed, my mother commented, was a trellis, something to grow on. A lattice, a structure that its curly tendrils of new life could cling to and climb, higher and stronger. In my life as I grow, as a writer, as a worshipper of God, as daughter, sister and friend, I too need a trellis, something that helps support the space for new growth and further research. I think Gratitude can be that foundational thing. A pause of appreciation that I awoke this morning. A pause of appreciation for my clever body and this clever world I live in spinning on its axis and today is summer. An appreciation for my friends, an appreciation for the process of repentance, an appreciation for growth itself. An appreciation for past, future and present. All this appreciation, these pauses and exhales, allow me forward. Allow me here. Allow to be more worshipful, helpful and loving. Allows room for work, temperance, discipline. And to take note where I do not see the birds singing, the hardness of heart, that stumbling block to love. EARTHQUAKE!!!!

Inventory

Though I have been cubicle-free since July 11, 2008, I have been busy: packing, dusting, visiting, shipping boxes, dropping items at the goodwill and staples, running and jumping into the pacific ocean, surfing, yoga, ethiopian food, dropping off friends at the airport and other activities that have much to do with saying goodbye to Los Angeles, California. It's beauties, wonders and citizens. I have been sleeping on makeshift or stranger's beds as I nolonger have a home. Thus, I am tired. I am thirsty and hardly want to reach for the Nalgene bottle. (I also went surfing this morning and my muscles are tired).

My plan today after surfing was to reflect on life. Take a moment to breathe and capture my thoughts of current situation and upcoming change. Packing up boxes of clothes and books is necessary for moving across the country, but so is taking an inventory of my brain, thoughts, emotions and sentiments, fears and hopes.

My thoughts:
1) Tanya gave me boots that I can wear in the winter and I am thankful for the v fashionable, warm boots. Yeah. I wont have to buy them.
2) I am no longer making money. I need to start eating more peanut butter.
3) I am moving to Indiana. I keep repeating this phrase, hoping it will help me better understand this pending address change, but alas it does not. Even though Bloomington has been visited, Grad school, my life there, the culture, the surprises i can not expect are as mysterious as the day I was accepted to the writing program.
4) Should I get interim health insurance? The chances of me visiting the doctor, slim.
5) I need glasses.
6) What's my sister up to today?
7) I am hungry again.
8) Thank you God for vision, and gifts everyday. Like breath, friends, provision
9) I am worried about a friend who is no longer a friend really.
10) Scrabulous?

So while, I was hoping for deeper thinking, I can't seem to scrape up against the inside of my heart and get a reading of the feelings. Present focusedness is good sometimes, but I wonder if i ought to prepare more for the move. I dont know how besides buying glasses, making a decision about insurance, packing and sending things. The tangible. I am happy to be driving to Indiana, perhaps that four day road trip, actually seeing the mileage and paying the exorbinant gas prices will help me and my soul transition to the midwest, to grad school, to a new greener (literally there are trees and grass in IN) chapter of my life.

Purging

Makes me think of bulemic girls and library inventories. But also of splinters in my heart and unworn clothes in my closet. As i am leaving this apartment and this Los Angeles I am leaving behind the Pacific Ocean. It will not fit in my pocket. I am also leaving a trail of history: ethernet cords and routers, the black tank top that never fit, blankets that I never knew where they came from. A jar of Guava jelly, half used. The dvd player, curtains and curtain rods. Measuring tape for Malika, chair and couch for Janice. Recyclables sorted into the studious carts of homeless men addicted to glass bottles and the things that come within. Trash for the dumpster, the mountain not lived on in the country except by the rats and birds. Divide my life into seven my new assignment and I will leave that paper behind perhaps by match and flame. Some day I will be purged my bones and muscles left behind as new wonder and garden grows, to the heavens and brightness my soul will go and all the nitty gritty details, the sweeping, the empty pens, the unread books, the html i never learned the stools i searched so long and hard for will be fragments of life, shreds of eternity available and probably forgotten like a tattoo is not permanent in reality eternal. Tomorrow is streetcleaning.

New Look

I am in transition and therefore so is my blog. The thing I am going to miss the most when I move to Bloomington, Indiana is diving into the pacific ocean. The ocean holds me. Rocks me. Tosses me. Picks me up and pushes me. The ocean teaches me, reminds me I am small and powerless and loved.

The Opening and Closing of Doors

I have walked out of the 5th floor of the 801 Figueroa tower for the last time and with I have left behind:
-cubicles
-the desire to wear makeup everyday
-a lot of people i had gotten to know and love over the last three years,
-a 6:30 alarm set every morning,
-the desire for happy hour,
-my logon ID,
-several nicknames,
-and a lot of beauracracy.

I have opened the door to: dressing like a college student, sleeping in until 7:30, doing wonderful things between the hours of 8 and 5, like visiting my grandma for lunch, going to the getty villa, trying to meditate and cleaning my kitchen.

Life is good. I make the sign of the cross as I am driving down the 405 South and there is no traffic because it is noon. I am thankful for life.

Amen.

Parallel Universe

9 AM The strangest feeling… I am back to work after taking Monday off, and I call Kevin on some missing info. He says, great to have you back. And for a minute, a looong minute that is still lingering, I think to myself, its good to be back. I am the queen of this non-sense. This cubicle and inbox is my kingdom. I excel in this small known territory of uninteresting information, and i get paid good money to sit on my swivel-chair throne. I am going to miss this feeling of being good at what I do, of working well with crazy sales rep man, of getting a nice fat paycheck (to me its fat, I realize in the grand American dream scheme its not), and as I am re-scanning the GBA, I think to myself maybe I can extend my leave date. I quickly shake my head (in muted terror), hoping to shake the feeling. Must trust in God to provide the money I will need, must make clean break with this boyfriend blue cross, for his sake and for mine. No more lingering, no more teasing. I must leave now.
....

2 AM
Any strings of fuzzy feelings have been thoroughly cleaned out.
Get me out of this cubicle!