clumsy

- that's what she was. Clumsy. 

She wanted to help, but she was afraid. Afraid of failure, of her own weak foolishness. Afraid of people, afraid of their pain. Of vulnerability. Of hurting and being hurt, knowing and being known. Afraid of getting it wrong. Her fear would hold her back, halting, hesitating until the last possible moment - and finally, convicted, desperate, and flailing, she would splash abruptly in.

a series of unfortunate decisions

Looking back, I think the day's first mistake might have been my answering emails, checking facebook, and sitting around at breakfast instead of practicing cello before my lesson this morning. Or at least running through my assignment once or twice, you know, since I hadn't really practiced anything worth mentioning since last week's lesson.

(Don't look at me like that ... I had my reasons. Good ones. Like funerals and being out of state and helping clean up our yard after a massive storm.)

Turns out, though, that music teachers like their students to have practiced (or at least looked at) their songs between lessons. Interesting philosophy. Maybe I should try it out on my piano students. Yes, I have students.

fireflies are magic

His earnestness and childish enthusiasm caught me a little off guard. He was a child, but one of those children who act, generally, a little too old for their age, maybe a little too cynical. I suppose he came by it honestly enough.

But tonight, when I found him trotting around the kitchen just before bedtime, he immediately enjoined, "I caught six lightning bugs!"

"Oh, yeah?" I said, looking around vaguely for a jar. "Where are they?"

"I let them go in here!" he said happily.

Like the irresponsible non-parent I persist in being, I found this only momentarily unsettling. "What?" I said.

And in a more inquisitive tone, he replied in kind: "What?"

"That's just not exactly standard procedure," I said, following an instant's thoughtful pause.

three little thoughts

Whenever I open my checkbook to balance it, whenever I set out to update my perpetual stash of dreaded paperwork, whenever my eye wanders carelessly over to that pile of unsorted newsletters and bank statements on my over-loaded dresser ... something funny temporarily takes over my worldview. The only good thing I can think of to say about it is that it most certainly expands my capacity for enjoyment in life. Faced with any (or, occasionally, all) of the above-mentioned tasks, I am suddenly struck by the hitherto-unnoticed allure of almost innumerable other activities. Very nearly all other activities, as a matter of fact.

of one thing I am adamantly positive...

... and this is that I quite absolutely hate being alone at night, especially away from home. Being in my house with everyone else asleep does not count as "alone." Me and my Vue on the lonely highway, driving home from work at 11:30, most certainly does. Tonight was the last night of my (approximately) year-and-a-half-long, weekly job of cleaning the grain elevator offices in town, and it wasn't as bittersweet as some of my previous job-endings have been. The work was alright ... but I'm awfully glad to be home.

the least of these

We live in a fast, fast world. It's all at our fingertips, and the definition of "impossible" only shrinks - especially in America, with a standard of living so unbelievably high, and no social or religious caste system holding any of us irreversibly in check. There is truly very, very little that any of us literally couldn't do (within the realm of human possibility), if we wanted to badly enough.

Change your mind about what you want to make for dinner tonight? The grocery store is just down the street - they have everything, and you can probably afford at least a couple extra items. Want to learn to play basketball or saxophone, sew a dress, fix a car, build a house? Stardom isn't guaranteed, but if you apply yourself you can learn.

be kind. rewind. recycle. remember.

I feel a sort of inexplicable moral obligation to blog.
I feel what a long time it's been since I rhymed a rhythm.
I feel thoughts and joys and problems burgeoning near craziness.
And I feel absolutely disinclined to write anything original tonight.
So here's a re-post from my old blog, since, in spite of my current inability to corral my hordes of stampeding thoughts, this versification still expresses one of numerous topics battling for top position on the latest edition of Things On My Mind.


Last time I posted it, I called it "Skin Deep." It might need a new title. 


A city on a hilltop stood,
with gleaming walls all round;
and all within were fair and good-
but none remembered there, who should,
that sickness lurked within the wood
that did their walls surround.