2010 in a blog-shell

well, it's that time again. the point in the year where most americans scratch their heads and say"damn, is it done already?" yes, yes it is. and every year has gone faster than the year before. adults weren't kidding. and so, here i sit on my bed, facing a chilly december 31st morning. if only we were all so reflective for every day of our lives, cherishing it, examining it, being amazed. within the last month much has happened or perhaps i've been hyper aware. it's nice to think that i've made a conscious decision to set goals for myself and resolutions before the accepted jan. 1st deadline. this is a heoring feat for me and i'll bask in it for a moment...ahhh...

so 2010 in a blog-shell

January 2010:
The first of the year began with a hike down into Waipio valley. It was tough work on my recently healed left knee, but the ocean was beautiful. a voice re-emerged in my writing, one of longing and love. this voice made for some strong written pieces that would grace me later in the year. January was also a month of confusion. i worked at the hospital part time as a pharmacy technician. i had discovered a job i really, truly, didn't like. i had no passion for pharmacy work and it was difficult to function in this position without any real prior knowledge of pharamaceuticals. it was a challenge, but it paid well, really well, and i eventually got a system. meanwhile, i felt as though at the end of the day i had nothing more to give. i had reversed the roles; i was living to work.

February 2010:
this month brought a huge change. the pharmacy job was temporary and would only take me to the 5th of Feb. but i had been offered a spot on a six person training crew in southern CA starting Feb 1st. i jumped at the chance. i booked my flight (which i had to pay for up front and was do-able because of the money i made as a pharmacy tech) and left hawaii on jan 31. by the first of feb i was in a high altitude mountain town called idyllwild, just a little ways off the Pacific Crest trail in southern CA. i met up with my friend and fellow bear brooker who was also on the crew and we caught up on the few months that had gone by since Bear Brook. it felt good to wear my warm weather clothes again and to be drinking coffee independently in some place i didn't know. it was a beautiful scene. i felt like me again. the month was rough however. lots of disorganization between our organization and the PCT. we got some good projects done however, and i got in good hiking shape. we got snowed on during our 3 mile pack out of a canyon, but the high i felt after hiking was amazing. i cannot forget, that while i was there, i saw other bear brook alums who were on the PCT work crews. all in all, february consisted of conflicts and beautiful, beautiful scenes in nature. i felt revived. meanwhile i kept in good letter correspondence with someone back home.

March 2010:

the SCA leader program is wrapping up. more beautiful scenes, beer drinking in idyllwild and good music jamming the car. had a rock crush my middle finger. luckily that was the only injury i had from that crew. flew home in mid march. saw people at home. late birthday celebration with a friend. stayed at home for a while, but things weren't really working out. spent a good amount of time staying with a friend and doing her mom's yard for money. a strange time, my fear of fans was exposed and lots of other emotional issues and conflicts came to light. my writing thrived in my turmoil.

April 2010:

still struggling at home, trying to live with my father. comes to the point where i know i'll need to move out. i pack up all my things into boxes hoping to ship it to the mainland one day. meanwhile i am entertaining different jobs for the summer, all conservation crews. i decide to go with the SCA and do 3 crews back to back to back in Virginia. i am not excited about going to virginia. my birthday on the 21st. my friend takes me zip lining. i have a blast. april is still a time of emotional and mental turmoil.

May 2010:

i move in with my grandparents. things are much, much better. i have the space and solitude i need to write and be my own person. a big blow-up between a friend and myself. things are dark for a while, however, my attitude changes, i'm getting more positive and i start to get excited about Virginia. at the end of may i fly out for training in NY. we are at a camp just outside of Albany and it's beautiful up there. i get some good writing done especially because i am given the distance to think about everything that happened in hawaii since january. after the training i catch an amtrak up to vermont to re-unite with my friends from my SIT fiji program. we stay at a friend's ski house, drink wine and remember Fiji. we catch up on each other's very different, but very exciting lives. two live in NY city and one in Boston, the other floats around as much as i do. we spend lots of time talking and eating good food. at one point they want to camp out. i am not thrilled since i just camped out in march and will be living in a tent for 3 months but i go with it. in the end only one of the four come out to sleep in the tent, but i discover in the morning that she left in the night, not able to handle it and she took my shoes!

June 2010:

the beginning of june i was picked up in Vermont by my friends from New Hampshire. i said good-bye to my fiji friends. i probably won't see them for another 2 years. spent some time in burlington then back to bear brook where one of my friends works. beautiful to be back in NH!!! felt so good for my soul. we even had a small writer's bloc and went on a good hike! i was on cloud nine. then off to VA. so hot down there i immediately change into shorts and am taken to Lefty's for a delicious panini. my boses are very nice and very accommodating. i spend the first night at one of my bosses apartment and her fiance works for SCA. we chat a while and they are very cool. i'm feeling at home already. pick up my co-leader the next day. we are a good match for one another and get along nicely. he has good taste in music and experience with high schoolers. i follow his lead. our kids are good and some are very sweet. i really got attached to them (though i was mad when they went the wrong way on the AT and we thought we lost them!). we had lots of fun and i hadn't laughed so much in a while. epic walks back from the worksite chatting with my co-leader...lovely. ps. bob the weasle

July 2010:

another crew and another co-leader. took me a while to adjust to him, but once i did, i fell in love (not actually, but you know). our crew was WONDERFUL! these kids were different from crew one but i loved each one, truly. they did great work, really quality stuff and we had so much fun chatting in the cars at night and contradancing in roanoke or swimming in the new. oh, and i cannot forget all the photos atop mcaffee's knob! what a wonderful crew. i was very sad to see them leave. ps. tie dye!

August 2010:

yet another crew and another co-leader. back country this time so much more planning and things were hectic at first. i loved this crew too! so different from the other two but so wonderful. lots of rock work and they picked up on it right away! the bucking ponies we were called and we were, AWESOME! these kids had so much energy. from rock water bars to hiking to waterfalls, to ice cream in damascus to poison ivy and rubbing alcohol, to night swimming in the new and the 800 steps of the coal mine. these kids were great and i was very very sad to see my summer had ended so quickly. the summer, i can say, was the highlight of my year.

September 2010:

i don't want to fly home. i decide to fly to CA to visit a friend there. it's a fun time, i saw san fran for the first time and experienced some of the beautiful beaches and lighthouses of northern cali. i LOVED the redwoods and just bumming around marin county. long drives in beautiful warm weather and great farmer's markets. then took a train up the coast of CA and OR to visit another friend who was just moving into her new apartment in Portland. great gallery with sorenson's "new westerns" on display. made me cry. lots of good writing done on her stoop. then flew to AK to visit my pregnant and lovely aunty and her family. Alaska was divine!! i really enjoyed myself. took my uncle's mountain bike out almost everyday and rode the rocky road through the huge spruce pines. my soul rekindled again. beautiful month! end of September i left to work on a trail crew in PA. things were rough at first. i didn't like the work or the crew. i wanted to go home. but i didn't want to ruin my ties with SCA.

October 2010:

still in PA with the trail crew. things are better. i really connect with the guys and we go to the bar, drink beers and watch football. i start to really enjoy football. we all deal with our pains together and everyone agrees that some people are just difficult to deal with. in the end i have some pretty fun, pretty cool guy friends. we also get alot of the north country trail built. also i get to re-unite with two highschoolers in the Pittsburgh area. we have a blast!! it was so nice seeing them again! unbelievable. then i go home for 5 days. see my folks. it's relaxing. then i fly out from HI to AZ where my next trail crew is. immediately i like this crew and the desert is way better than i thought it would be.

November 2010:

on trail crew in AZ, getting a really good work out. we hike about 8 miles a day just going to and from work. we see all sorts of wild life and have so much fun with one another. we spend most of our days off in tucson which is a very neat place. go to the all souls parade and it is crazy! and fun! and full of costumes and music and lights and there are fireworks and acrobats doing aerial routines! so many beautiful sun rises and sun sets. i can't even describe. such a high point in the year. also i tried rock climbing for the first time and i am hooked. then flew back to hawaii in time for thanksgiving. my aunt and the new baby were there so i got to see my baby cousin! another highlight! and i moved all my boxes over to my grandparents house at that time. started looking for jobs immediately, just walking into places and inquiring.

December 2010:

went into a book shop, it is also a pride store. dropped off a resume. started talking to the owner and asked if i could help with PFLAG. next thing i know i'm involved with PFLAG and they offered me a part time job in their two stores, the book shop and a scuba and dive shop. i'm thrilled. i went stand up paddle boarding for the first time and have been working there since the middle of the month. i also file for some money on the side and hope to help with some PFLAG grant writing in January. i started "the artist's way" creativity program on the first of dec and have been going strong with that. i'm doing lots of writing and submitted to one competition already. my boss also wants me to start up a creative writing group as well, so hopefully that will happen in the new year!

wow what a year, what a great, great year! happy new year to all my readers...i need to rush off to work now :)

the sawyer

(a piece found in the rubble of past pieces...circa 2009, NH)

i approach slowly
not to be confused with timidly
but calculated.
i draw in the details,
put the mystery together,
heal to toe, toe to crown.

the weight of my body
measures the terrain between us.
i check the sky,
how much has changed with decreased distance!
i pull myself closer, eyeing all that surrounds you,
my sight open to all the dangers
of those who surround you.
i come close enough to touch you
but pull back my hand
"not yet"

i circle around you
my breath whispering across your core
i admire you from this angle and that
stare at you and ask silent questions:
"will you hurt me?"
"where will you go when you leave?"
"how will this end?"

i put my arms around you to get a better feel
my gaze grows up you,
my thoughts bore into you.
"i'm sorry" i say as i release you.
you buckle and crash,
then lay silent, beautiful, large.
i draw lines across you, weeping
and take you home in pieces.

13 rainbows

there is a rainbow kissing the pacific
diving into the pacific 
erupting from the pacific 
yelling and drowning in the pacific
whispering upward like smoke, from the pacific.
there is a rainbow moored to the center of the universe, waving as a ribbon of light through the fleshy pacific
painted on my window and behind it, is painted the pacific
that has dissolved into the pacific
that translates sky into the pacific.
the result of light and water sex spilling into the pacific.
there a rainbow imagined in the cones and rods of these eyes deeper and more blue than the pacific.
bigger than the pacific
that will swallow the pacific.

a morning page

a storm is coming. i can tell you this not because of the heavy grey skies, bellies pregnant and bowing down to me in points, not because of the dense quiet of this morning, whose only interruptions are one solitary voice of a tiny kokee frog and the rush and chug of automobiles. no, i can tell you a storm is coming because i heard it on tv and on the radio and from the neighbors. flooding. that's what they expect. and we've been preparing for it for three days now. not a drop has fallen. yet, it feels as if the world is holding it's breath, waiting, waiting for the deluge.

of course, one could extrapolate and say that this storm is anything representing great change in our environment. there is always the proverbial calm before the storm. i think back to any moment where there was silence, a lull, the wind stops long enough for you to gather up the pieces of yourself and hold on for dear life.

how metaphors are there for living? personally, i think the waiting for the storm might be worse than the actual storm. the thinking about, the wondering, the fantasizing. all the what could bes but nothing that is. perhaps i'm just impatient.

the lingering lyric

"tell me someday if we talk, are you afraid of being haunted"

this line is lingering in my low-lighted mind like lost lovers. the repetition, the echo, the ghostly hollow of still-borne affections laying prone in these forgotten hollers, fall into me like shards of snow. i put us here, in this romantic landscape although we've never seen snow. not together. but if there is any place for death, it would be here, in some blissfully noplace vale, and we, two, crouched by an icy river, not feeling the numbing cold, but smiling with chapped lips at the poetry of it all.

that's the problem with poets. all beauty and no sense. it's just a lyric but the words reverberate in my pulse as the only syllables worth living for. how perfectly and poetically dramatic. but there is no us, no icy river, no terrible curse or symphony composed heartbreak. you do not exist. this lost comes from someplace else. i hired you to play in this macabre scene because there is something real here, something i can't touch because i don't want to, perhaps it's too sharp or too vague or too rough or too fragile, perhaps it's too close, too close, even for me. this line drums in my ears constantly. there is something i must set out into the world, over and over again until i have embraced the reality. i want something prettier than myself, i want something darker than my lonliness, i want a scene so steeped in tragedy that the whole world will weep. why? because this is what it feels like, this line, "tell me someday if we talk, are you afraid of being haunted". the reality feels more like the poetry, and the everyday experience of life is deeper than what's in front of us. of course, and so, crouching next to you, you without a face, with cold hands, the eyes of an icy river, being with you in a hushed holler deep within me, is the reality. in this line, i exist in a more full understanding of time. here, typing, here heart pounding, eyes darting, here, holding your hand, here, remembering.

tell me someday if we talk, are you afraid of being haunted. and i'll tell you that i am haunted. i used to think that i spoke this line, this was mine to ask of another. but the more i hear it, the more i know, it's me. this line haunts me. but what am i afraid of?

balance

every morning
i practice:
find the balance
of a cup of coffee on the bed
it's not easy
to find the balance
don't shake too much
don't do anything rash
remain calm
don't lunge for it
coo to it softly
a little pressure from your palm
have it slide down the white sheets
slowly,
into your trembling hands.

there's a fine line between want and need
to balance this cup
is to risk the cleanliness of my white, white sheets
and so it is with people,
a balancing act
don't let the cup spill over
not too much
just enough of this and that
of want and need
and be willing
to risk your white, white composure
for this
love,
for this
balance.

the mute

"today is the beginning of your new life"

i scoff. what's that supposed to mean? i don't really know, but the words feel good against my body. in the shower i give a speech and the soap, is speechless. it's best to give speeches in the shower because all your mistakes are washed away instantly. too bad all of life weren't like that, or rather, i had the ability to imagine the figurative metaphor. but this isn't me. i feel my way through my living, visualization isn't enough, i must feel the clean, the washing away of unwanted parts, see the dirt running from my body like cockaroaches from the light. you might say i'm a feeler. some people think their way through life. i'll bet the thinkers have a lot less scrapes and scratches and bruises, but then again, they probably have more headaches.

"today is the beginning of your new life". that line is supposed to make me feel better about being here, make me forget that i have absolutely no clue how i got here, or why i am cursed. it's not easy being surrounded by people all day and night, wanting to communicate with them, dying for it. but instead, they ignore you, call you dumb, can barely look at you. i hate people sometimes, i hate people for being so blind and so lazy and so damn afraid of me. afraid of me!? i might be missing a few parts, but i'm in no way missing a heart or a mind. i'm just alive as anyone else. i'm just as present. and perhaps this is the curse.

sometimes i try to hate God because i must live this horrid shred of a life. i try to hate Him because He won't let me die. it's not that uncommon of a wish to die, and it's not that difficult to do, but He won't do it. He tells me i should be thankful i was rescued, thankful that someone forced my catatonic fingers 'round a pen and taught me to write, thankful that i'm here, now, relieving some pressure from my mind. and i am thankful to my teachers, the ones brave enough to touch me, the ones strong enough to move my traumatized body to make words, to give me the ability to communicate. my God, it's a mad house in there, in this highly pressurized chamber of my mind.

but everyone suffers, i know because i feel them. and although i hate people but i can't help getting to know them. people trust you with so many secrets when you're mute. you could never tell, even if your body ached for it. yes, i could write it i suppose, but no one would believe me. i have only one arm and no nose. clearly i am a bad person, clearly i am deformed, clearly i should be avoided. unless of course you are on a bus and you just can't bare to keep it in anymore. you have AIDS. you look at me, now we are in this together. me and my disappearing face and you and your disappearing body.

most times i don't even let on that i can write. there's no point. no one asks me how i am doing, how i am feeling. i am a wall and you throw your sorrows against me. and i think i hate you, but even now, i cannot write it in a convincing stroke. i want to believe it to protect myself. why care for those that do not care for you? i am an outcast, yet i know the most about you. this is my madness. i feel too much. i cannot help it. i would like for someone to utter to me once, "thank you" or even, as impossible as it is, "i love you" and i would like to have the tongue to tell, just once, "you are welcome" and "i love you too".

the set-up: a true story

work in progress: this is the story of the day my parents and i were set-up while looking at used car.

we were looking at a mazda four door car. it was about the right price and the gentleman on the phone sounded older and asian. now, i try not to be prejudice but if i'm about to compliment an age group and an ethnicity, then that sort of makes being prejudice okay right? well, deal with it, i'm about to stereotype, (a little foreshadowing, the speaker will get what she deserves in this little tale of stereotyping and karma, so just hang tight). this gentleman had the soft, broken english voice of an older chinese man, which to me translated to: a good driver. let me explain. the elderly are a dicy group. they can either be wonderful drivers in the sense that they move quite slow and often don't leave the house and even when they do leave their homes, it's usually not during rush hour because they don't work. however, on the other hand, some elderly drivers are speeders, unable to properly gage how much pressure they are putting on the pedal (this isn't 'Nam, no one's going to get you if you're a bit slow), or perhaps they move too slow, afraid to be driving in this fast paced, maddening world. in addition, their eyesight is usually poor and their reaction time, well, let's just say a car doesn't turn quite the ol' horse and buggy used to. i was banking on this gentleman being like the former, a cautious, stay-at-home type. what encouraged me to this conclusion was his supposed ethnicity, Chinese. the asians know how to take care of things, i mean look at that rock wall they put up a while ago, the great wall of China, that thing has lasted...not like Berlin...but i digress again. the Chinese take pride in things they own, an ox, a chicken, a wife, a car. therefore, i concluded, this vehicle must be in good shape if a little, old, Chinese man is the owner.

when we arrived in downtown Hilo, the car was parked outside a demolition repair shop which, ironically, was fairly dilapidated. bad sign number one. however, since we drove an hour and a half to see this vehicle, i thought we should at least give it a shot. we walked around the car. it looked a bit run down, grime covering the body of the vehicle, but then again, i expected that from something quoted at under 2000.00. what was definitely more dirty than the vehicle was the suspicious specimen crossing the street next to us. perhaps we would not have noticed him if he wasn't staring so hard at us like some two-bit psychic trying to bend a spoon. furthermore, it appeared that this man hadn't seen a shower in sometime and considering that he came out of the bushes to cross the street only to re-enter into bushes on the other side, i felt like i was living the first couple minutes of a CSI episode. this man would be the harbinger for a set of ever queerer characters to enter this little story.

not more than thirty seconds passed since the bush man crossed the street, when we heard a slurring cry, "eh! eh! car!" except the 'r' wasn't really pronounced so it sounded like some loony bird was on the loose. "eh! eh! cah! cah!" and sure enough, it was one strange bird. a dented and rusted green mini van choked and huffed up to us. this vehicle looked like it had been involved in some extreme mini-van battles, a gladiator of the motor vehicle world, and it had lost, by a lot. the driver was in, if it can be believed, worse condition than the van. she stuck her head out the window, folds of skin cascading down her neck like layers of hot carmel on a carmel apple, and make-up so thick, she looked like a clown with two black eyes. she wore a low cut top that revealed too much of the wrinkled, spot covered pythons one may have called "boobs" about 15 years ago. "eh! you like da cah?" it took me a moment to process what she was saying, perhaps because i felt sucked into the vacuous space that was her wide open mouth. you see, teeth are the polite white picket fence guarding the cavernous opening of the mouth which ultimately leads to your mushy, personal insides. but this woman's fence, that is to say, her teeth, were mostly non-existent. perhaps they were taken by the state, in an effort to reclaim the entire real estate of her face which she had, in her time of obvious hard living, abused and failed to pay the proper taxes of acceptable social hygiene. whatever the case, there was one thing i was certain of, i felt dubious about this entire situation.

she repeated her question, "you like da cah?"
"yes, yes we want to look at the car" all this time i thought, "this woman does not look like what i imagined a little old Chinese man would look like".
"i selling dis cah for my boss".
"okay, well we want to test drive it" my dad chimed in.
"oh you like drive da cah?" i certainly wasn't to pay for something i didn't test drive which i assumed was fairly obvious.
"you follow me to my bosses house and we get da papahs"
"why don't we stay with the car?"
"i gotta get da key dat's why. you follow me to my bosses house. we get key, den drive cah".
i looked down at the woman's hands and she is clutching a bottle of pills. "we'll stay here and wait". bad sign number two.

the woman drove off and my dad turned to my mother and i and told us, "get in our truck, roll up the windows and lock the doors". to be honest, i usually find my dad to be overly paranoid and hostile, however seeing the woman's death grip on that bottle of pills, i could actually understand his concern. we were about to get into the car when we saw a medium sized black man crossing the street. now, let me pause here because i don't want to be conveyed as a racist; i am merely reporting the facts. this was a BLACK man. i know this because in Hawaii, especially on the Big Island, black people are like griffins, you don't see them everyday, and if you do see one, you take notice, it could be ten years before you see a different griffin. so when i say this man was black, i mean, he was black and what makes a black person stick out more than being compared to a griffin? expecting him to be Chinese. yes, this man, we found out was the owner of the elderly, Chinese man voice we heard on the phone a mere two hours ago. all my perceptions raced to me, each one smacking me like a overzealous nun at a Catholic school.

my dad signaled for us to get in the car and drive to a different location. he would stay and test drive the car. we left and parked around the corner. "i think we just got cased" my mother said. "a total set-up" i replied. even ashton kutcher couldn't be that convincing, rather, this was a real life scam. we sat thinking through the whole scene. of course someone would case a used car. people come with cash on hand all the time for these sorts of deals. it's expected. i had cash on hand. i started to wonder about my dad and this man. we had tried to call the seller when we first arrived and he said he would be over in five minutes. only after the woman in the mini-van left did he suddenly come walking across the street from the same area as the gawking man who came out of the bushes.

as i was processing all this, we saw dad walk up to the truck. "let's go" he said.
"so i'm guessing it's a no go with that car"
"that whole thing just really creeped me out"
"yeah, i think it was a set-up"
his voice elevated, "hell yeah it was a set up. i tried to get out of the car and found out that the driver side door was locked. i couldn't unlock it. you can only unlock it from the outside. i was stuck in there. the seller had to get out and unlock the door for me". he paused, "i mean, what kind of car unlocks only from the outside?"
we looked at each other. bad sign number three.

open palm resistance

an open palm resistance
flush to my cheek
do i rejoice or weep?
when you put yourself here
what do you mean?
how do you mean?
this presence on my face
this hand gripped 'round my heart
are you holding
or are you holding?
who can explain
an open palm resistance?
then again,
who can explain you?

december 1...a proclamation

december is here once again. i find myself, like many others, raising my hands and shoulders asking the timeless question, "where did the time go?" how silly. like i could have conserved it, like i could have shaved a few seconds here and stored up a few seconds there and somehow stopped the rotation of the world and the revolution of our existence. how silly. and yet, i look at the calender, flip up another page to reveal a wintery landscape that has no actual relevance to Hawaii, but whose white symbolism tells me another year is fading out into untraceable light. gone. and how? and how.

i've got plans for december and i am reclaiming the end. i will not wait for january to begin again. it starts today. december 1st. each day, a new blog entry. i feel like a giddy young girl in her first week of her first relationship. isn't it grand? isn't it beautiful? isn't writing perfect? i smile, my metaphorical dimples filling with sunlight steeped in ignorance. but there you have it. i'm admitting it to the world (or, at least, whoever reads this blog) that i am a writer and i will be a better one yet. i'm in this for the long haul. til death do us part.

loosening the knot

my finger nails are much too long. i lodge the tip of my tongue underneath one. this comformts me, surrounded in tightness by my own hardened, calcium mass. i feel the pressure of this thin edge confronting the thick and morphing muscle of my tongue. "what does a tongue know about survival?" my finger nail quips. "a tongue which is nothing more than a pompous romeo, making love to language, day in and day out, and calling these flicks and rolls and musclely miming of meaning a purpose!" i meet the pressure of the fingernail with more pressure from my tongue. both have a purpose, though so seemingly different they are in apparence and apparent function. and yet, how nicely they fit, the perfect amount of tension such that the tongue is contained as it ought not to be and the fingernail, lifted up is taken from it's security like it ought not to be. and so, i begin to slowly and deliberately open myself up.

i can parse myself into the tiniest pieces, smaller even than the atom. i can stack my thoughts like the most elegant glass beads, each sphere, cell-like and diaphanous, complicated only by the flush of self consciousness, anger, regret, pride and above all, love. i string myself along a line imperceptible such that when you look at me, truly look at me, you'll think i'm nothing more than a mass of colorful beads, spilling over myself and recollecting as best i can. you might even mistake me for waterdroplets silenced and shaped into a figure somewhat resembling a person. and perhaps you are correct. i am many pieces and yet i am one. how can this be? most days i am one. shedding light as i go, i sweat colors and feelings and impacts that often no one sees, the shine of my beads pass with their reflections. these days i am many pieces but i only notice that i am one. but when i get to thinking about myself, i start to loosen the knot. this awareness is something i like to call the hiccup in the cataclsym. i like staying in this place, turning over each bead of myself and thinking, "now isn't that one exotic?" how strangely magical the self can be.

and in the magical there is the mystery. the mystery for me has always been love. perhaps this is the case for most people but i don't dare speak for the masses. to me, love IS the cataclysm, the powerful surge that sends the beads of my being flying across the vast realm of logic, colors and emotions flung everywhere like the artwork of a toddler. forget the many pieces idea, i am only one. one post waiting for it's bird. forget the calm introspection. surely love is the cataclysm of the heart.