Saturday

I believe there is no magic in my life, because I have no faith in anything. I close my eyes and all I see is darkness. There are three orbs, swirling around each other, like a giant atom. Each one flashing images like crystal balls. Underneath is a large deep bowl, cracked and broken, draining its contents onto the darkened floor. My broken heart, unable to hold a feeling or a hope..

I never hear voices or callings. Not the way some people say they do. Not even in the way other people say they do. I am neither faithful nor crazy. I simply don’t hear anything. I don’t feel anything. I have no direction. I have no guidance. I make foolhardy decisions because I don’t know what else to do.

I had heard a story once of a religious man feeling a pain, behind his ribs, real pain that seized him. And then nothing. He couldn’t explain it, but he suddenly no longer believed in God. The faith just shut off, like switching off the blasting television. Just silence. He ended up going on a personal journey, to find himself, to renew his faith. In the end, he completed his journey, returning home, never having found his faith.

It is not to say that I don’t want to believe in something. I want to believe in something so deeply. But the more I reach down, the more I feel nothing. There is no magic in my life. There is only me. Every decision is me. Every success is because I worked. Every failing is my own mess up. I can only hold myself accountable.

And it terrifies me to feel so completely alone as I do…

Super Moon

In honor of the Super Moon.

A little bit time consuming, but quite enjoyable if you’ve got the time.

The first is a reading of Italo Calvino’s “The Distance from the Moon” from his collection Cosmicomics, read by Liev Schreiber, and presented during a segment of Radiolab.

 

The second is the Pixar short it reminded me of, called La Luna. (video plays mirrored)

Woke up with a burning throat and a runny nose. Unsurprisingly, found my car dead and just walked to work in the cold dark. Before even hitting the floor, was pulled aside and it was professionally implied to me that I need to step up my work performance.

I was seething with a burning throat. I felt my spirit dying and my anger growing. 
I walked back out to the floor after my lunch break, my throat so swollen I could barely swallow my food, and having seriously considered the feasability of putting in my 2 weeks. I took a seat next to a snoozing patient. I rub her shoulder gently til her eyes open and ask if she wants to use the restroom. Her eyebrows crunch up, but she nods. Patiently, I help her to her feet and escort her to her room. I congratulate her when she makes it. I sit on her bed across from her and wait for her. When she’s done, I ask if she wants to take a walk. She says she does. We walk slowly around the chairs and down the short hallway. I tell her she’s doing really well. She looks up at me and smiles. “You’re the best worker,” she tells me, and for the first time today, I smile too.

To everyone who made it special. I had admittedly been nervous about my birthday, thinking that no birthday could top my 30th in the level of love and happiness i felt, especially after the year i had. But i was proven wrong. From the birthday love and wishes on facebook, to the wonderful card from my coworkers, to the odd night full of smiles.. To everyone who showed up and reminded me that i am seen, you have filled this wounded heart with so much love. Thank you all.

I am who I am

This last year has been bad, the worst. I entered my third decade of life and I’ve hated every minute of it. I have never been faced with so many challenges to my life and personal identity. I’ve never questioned my own self so much, and felt as though I’d lost so much along the way. I’m 30 and I feel like I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing. I’m 30 and I’ve never felt so lonely. But the truth in my heart, is I am who I am. Long ago I came to terms with the fact that I’m not cookie cutter. I do things my own way. And that not everybody is going to accept that, and that’s okay. I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to make others happy, that I’m not happy myself. And I’ve let people make me feel ashamed of myself. March to the beat of my own drum? The truth is, I don’t hear a drum. I bask in the sound of my own silence. And I like it. And I’m going to be okay. I’m going to have more bad years, and I’m going to have great years. In two days, my year from hell will be over, and I survived it. Today, while waiting for my coffee, late in the morning, the woman behind the counter looked at me, and told me she was proud of me. And that was all I needed. In two days, I’m going to turn 31, and I’m going to have the best year..

The little things that remind you you’re pretty, as you’re walking home from work. When a dude hits the breaks and backs up so you can cross in the crosswalk, then whistles as you pass by. I may have been uncomfortably close to campus, but I’ll take it.