The Writing on my Walls

I would describe my general mood today as manic. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and it felt like spring. I took an extra long time on my way between buildings because of it. But as soon as I passed within the confines of the great indoors, a humming sound started between my ears. I simply couldn't concentrate on anything without great effort. I managed to get some work done but by the time I left my second job at 4, I was sure that people could see my physically shaking. I am still unsure as to whether it was cabin fever, unbalanced blood sugar, or a mild panic attack. The walk home served to sooth me a little and my nerves finally stopped jangling when I turned to my favorite fix: food. Aw the healing power of eating, my greatest pleasure and personal downfall...

As I sat and contemplated the thoughts that had been swirling cacophonously through my head all day, I was struck by the sudden urge to write them down, to render them in words and pictures and fix them somewhere so they could no longer bash themselves against the sides of my brain. I looked around me, but being in a rather unfamiliar apartment since I was house sitting, I found no outward trace of art supplies. I picked up a pen and quickly jotted a phrase on my hand. I stared at it blankly, transfixed by my internal thoughts becoming a part of my outward being. Then the pen became a flurry of activity as I wrote and drew on my palm, my wrist, up me left arm, and across my breasts. It slowed as my mind quieted and I went to the mirror to admire my work. The canvas swirled with graffiti that followed my curves and caressed the intimate skin of my underarm. My thoughts breathed slowly as my chest rose and fell.

I stood in the shower and watched the trails of ink melt their way down my body. It strikes me that for once I was sure that my insides matched my outsides. I had exposed the very core of my being and etched it on the wall for the world to briefly observe. In recording my deepest secrets, regrets, fears, and longings I admitted them not only to myself but to the universe as well who I am sure knew them all along but listened patiently anyways just to be supportive.

I want to be a writer, I want to change the world.

I want to write a book but I fear that I have nothing to say that would interest the masses. Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty to say, and I personally find it profound and inspiring and moving and interesting and important but I wonder if it will be relevant to anyone else. I want to say things that will captivate people, inspire them, move them, and maybe even spark a desire to change within them. I want to spread the word about the state of the environment in such a way that people will listen. I want to press upon them the dire state of existence and then offer them hope within their own actions and the actions of the thoughtful, the caring, the determined, and the brave. I want to remind them that they can make a difference, that the little things can make a difference. It took a thousand individual actions to bring us to the current state of affairs and it will take a thousand individual steps if we hope to turn back again. But how can I say that, who am I to say that? And where will I find the words to change the world? I feel that they exist within me but I cannot quite reach them yet. Perhaps I must wait for the world to bring them out of me. And so I wait with my fingers poised above the keys for my muse.

Well kiddoes...

I am just in from a night of socializing. And just when I thought I had lost the ability to socialize with random strangers, my skills rematerialized full strength. I had a good time, met some cool people, and played some wicked shuffle board. I even thought I might have made a connection with a guy or two until the one mentioned something about his girlfriend in California and the other dropped that he was 34 and seemed rather distant after he heard I was 22. Sigh... Someday perhaps. I really am ok with being single on the whole. It would just be nice to be validated by some attention in that department by as unbiased party... But I am young and have the whole world open to me. Look out Earth! I plan to make some marks in my time dwelling here. If that means I have to make marks that are the width of a single person instead of double-sized grooves than so be it. Better yet, I know I can count on my awesome friends to back me and together we will create crowd-sized gouges through the fleshy surface that is our current existence. Like molding playdough. We will taste its salty deliciousness before the day is done. And then we will leave it exposed to the air and let it harden into shapes of our liking. And upon presentation of said sculpture to our mothers, they will rave about it and put it up on the ledge for all to see. And we will be proud. And maybe a little inebriated (I know I am...)

Anyhow, have a lovely evening. Congrats to those of you who have found someone to be warm and snuggly with this night. To the rest of us: it will come in time, for now I am sending:

~huggles