And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
â€” Joni Mitchell
This is what reading my archives does to me. Inspires me, that’s what.
Thoughts that go through my head:
1. She’s a damn good writer. Why doesn’t she write more? Where’s that fucking book she promised? (oh hey, I did write this one)
2. Seriously, where is the damn book? The other book?
3. Aha! A Category titled Rants. I shall make use of that one.
4. The Way Back Machine goes all the way to here. The beginning.
5. Shit. I didn’t leave my problems back in 2012 or whatever.
Okay, that last one is a bitch. That’s why I’m here today, to reconcile the sad fact that despite the passage of six years I’m still the same [read: gloriously fucked-up, insecure, self-judging, wants-to-be-awesome] person I was in 2008.
Yes, I HAVE LEARNED A LOT (so long and thanks, terminal cancer, for all the fish). I know about relating and relationships, things I did not know six years ago. I have listening skillz (though my beloved might disagree at times). I have conflict skillz (likewise). I have tantric sex skillz (yes really). I am older, wiser, thinner, yoga-ier.
But my basic drive to feel the goddamned world and to feel like I’m a part of it, not just as an onlooker, is still with me, This is my battle.
I want to TASTE LIFE.
I want to suck it in as if it IS life, as if my breath is the air and my heartbeat is the hum and buzz of a quiet summer afternoon. I want to speak my truth to crowds. I want to feel the simmered hush of expectation and witness quiet epiphanies as I speak. I am here to give voice to something. I am here, dammit.
There is a thick plate glass wall between me and IT, the IT of whole-hearted life that I think is possible. That I see other people living. I want to smash that window with my superhero-strong hammer fist, leap through, and land gracefully and softly on feline paws shouting TA-DA! I AM HERE!
So, whatever. Rip the mask off. Like a band-aid, one quick go and you get through the pain really fast. That’s my next step.