The city lights in Austin are seductive...
Her siren coaxes the inhibition buried deep beneath the surface of my morals. The skyline resembles christmas lights, tossed carelessly against the star-kissed backdrop that is the Texas sky. And just as soothing as a light's flicker against a pine, downtown Austin elicits a calmness in me that I have never felt before. Human nature? Call it whatever tickles your tongue. The songs of sixth street and south congress draw me from bed and into their bass filled bars; dress me in heels and silk or toss me to the streets in cutoffs and chucks - the scene is set for either. I have become hypnotized by the eclectic mix of electric music and LoneStar cans.
I came to this city to end my search for love. Fame. Success...all of the above. I came here hungry for change. I had exhausted all previous options of advancement in Phoenix - that city is dead to me. It was there that I found, and then lost, all of the pieces that I thought individualized me. It was there that I lost love, logic, and sanity. For the sake of saving the only thing I had left - my soul - I ran as far from the desert as my heart would take me. Like a stone, I tossed myself into the distance, skipped twice, and landed in Lady Bird Lake. The internal battle I was waging against myself very closely resembled teenage angst, I am well aware of this. But this war carried on nonetheless. Then, I found Austin.
It wouldn't be a stretch to say that I was looking for a honkey-tonk serenade to cure the apathy that became my life. Like all of those before me, I came to Austin to shed the skin of the boring, and lifeless person I had become. I don't know if it was the music, the beer, or the Texas sunsets - but Austin healed me. Taking my hand into hers, she filled me with the desire and the inspiration to tackle my life with verocity.
I have said it before, and I will say it again: Austin, you are my lover.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
oceanfront property in Arizona.
I love using adjectives - I love painting pictures with words for my readers to claim. I have the imagination of a child, and it usually works to my benefit :) I started the below piece as an exercise to use my creativity - there are so many places I can take this idea. Please enjoy what I have created so far, but know there is much more to come.
I look to the east, and catch the first rays of sunlight exploding from the horizon. The desert is beautiful when blanketed under the brilliance of the sun. Saguaros rise and scatter the earth, standing tall against the blue backdrop of morning. Their presence is breath taking; enormous, yet statuesque and magnificent. It is the kind of beauty that only residents of the desert have learned to appreciate. The valley is quiet, tranquil. The skies are bright, and painted with the orange hue of sunshine - cloudless, and clear. Night has slipped away, allowing this radiance of color to rent its space. The morning is crisp, and resonates through me. It is the start of a perfect day.
Further south, the city is waking. This morning is alive long before the first patron begins his dance with the snooze button. The occasional runner awakens the streets as he takes advantage of the early morning dew - it will be mid morning before the infamous 100 degree heat sets in. For now, the emptiness is comforting. Soon, the bustle of Monday morning traffic and crowded drive-thru coffee joints will consume the peacefulness of this day. From now until the last time card is punched, the blurred commotion of life in the city will dominate the attention of Arizona residents. It is in the hush of a late evening sunset, or stillness of the an early morning run that her beauty is found. It is here that the quirks of nature find solice and display the fruits of their charasmatic beauty.
The patchwork beauty of desert living is just that: individual and unique. And when sewn together these pieces create a larger scale elegance - clay infused earth meets a clear azure sky onset with the bursting brilliance of the sun. These elements of nature are separate, and defined, yet their distinct qualities collate into a beauty unmatched by any of creation of man. In her finest, and most desolate form, Arizona is beautiful and unique from any of the surrounding Southwestern states. The skies are bluer here; close your eyes, open your minds, and breathe.
I look to the east, and catch the first rays of sunlight exploding from the horizon. The desert is beautiful when blanketed under the brilliance of the sun. Saguaros rise and scatter the earth, standing tall against the blue backdrop of morning. Their presence is breath taking; enormous, yet statuesque and magnificent. It is the kind of beauty that only residents of the desert have learned to appreciate. The valley is quiet, tranquil. The skies are bright, and painted with the orange hue of sunshine - cloudless, and clear. Night has slipped away, allowing this radiance of color to rent its space. The morning is crisp, and resonates through me. It is the start of a perfect day.
Further south, the city is waking. This morning is alive long before the first patron begins his dance with the snooze button. The occasional runner awakens the streets as he takes advantage of the early morning dew - it will be mid morning before the infamous 100 degree heat sets in. For now, the emptiness is comforting. Soon, the bustle of Monday morning traffic and crowded drive-thru coffee joints will consume the peacefulness of this day. From now until the last time card is punched, the blurred commotion of life in the city will dominate the attention of Arizona residents. It is in the hush of a late evening sunset, or stillness of the an early morning run that her beauty is found. It is here that the quirks of nature find solice and display the fruits of their charasmatic beauty.
The patchwork beauty of desert living is just that: individual and unique. And when sewn together these pieces create a larger scale elegance - clay infused earth meets a clear azure sky onset with the bursting brilliance of the sun. These elements of nature are separate, and defined, yet their distinct qualities collate into a beauty unmatched by any of creation of man. In her finest, and most desolate form, Arizona is beautiful and unique from any of the surrounding Southwestern states. The skies are bluer here; close your eyes, open your minds, and breathe.
Friday, June 11, 2010
butterflies.
I have spent my life chasing dreams. I build my life from fantasy; from childhood fairy tales to frivolous teenage years spent wishing on stars - imagination has become my business. It is the strongest aspect of my character.
When I was a little girl, I ran the alfalfa fields of my father's farm - chasing butterflies. Armed with a makeshift net I captured my beloved creatures and secured their captivity in a mason jars beside my bed. Over the course of the evening their wings would wilt and become powder at the base of these jars and though I understood death, I was never heartbroken over the demise of my beloved creatures. Their failure to survive in captivity only fed my understanding that the following day would bring more fluttering flies for me to chase. So I would wake up each morning and set off on another adventure to catch butterflies. After an afternoon under the running beneath the sun, I would place my new friends in clean mason jars and set them on the ground outside of our Tack shed. It was beneath this shaded building that I would bury the deceased from the previous day. Looking back, I see this practice as almost sacrificial. I was showing the living a flash of their awaiting future. I always wished that one, just one, would make it through the night; but even if one did, just one, I wouldn’t have stopped my hunt. One victory would not have ceased any of my future attempts at success, not then and certainly not now.
This imagination of mine runs rampant – I have built queens upon kings and constructed the success of my future from the fruit of my dreams. Though impulsive at times, and not necessarily known for making the best decisions, I have spent the last 24 years chasing butterflies. My fearlessness of the unknown, coupled with my unshakable optimism, has created a shield of invincibility between myself and failure. Though always an option, and sometimes an unavoidable outcome, I have never allowed the possibility of defeat to dampen my desire to succeed. There will always be another afternoon to chase ambition under the summer sun – dreaming doesn’t stop after a single success - it continues. What stops is the desire to dream, and the motivation to run.
When I was a little girl, I ran the alfalfa fields of my father's farm - chasing butterflies. Armed with a makeshift net I captured my beloved creatures and secured their captivity in a mason jars beside my bed. Over the course of the evening their wings would wilt and become powder at the base of these jars and though I understood death, I was never heartbroken over the demise of my beloved creatures. Their failure to survive in captivity only fed my understanding that the following day would bring more fluttering flies for me to chase. So I would wake up each morning and set off on another adventure to catch butterflies. After an afternoon under the running beneath the sun, I would place my new friends in clean mason jars and set them on the ground outside of our Tack shed. It was beneath this shaded building that I would bury the deceased from the previous day. Looking back, I see this practice as almost sacrificial. I was showing the living a flash of their awaiting future. I always wished that one, just one, would make it through the night; but even if one did, just one, I wouldn’t have stopped my hunt. One victory would not have ceased any of my future attempts at success, not then and certainly not now.
This imagination of mine runs rampant – I have built queens upon kings and constructed the success of my future from the fruit of my dreams. Though impulsive at times, and not necessarily known for making the best decisions, I have spent the last 24 years chasing butterflies. My fearlessness of the unknown, coupled with my unshakable optimism, has created a shield of invincibility between myself and failure. Though always an option, and sometimes an unavoidable outcome, I have never allowed the possibility of defeat to dampen my desire to succeed. There will always be another afternoon to chase ambition under the summer sun – dreaming doesn’t stop after a single success - it continues. What stops is the desire to dream, and the motivation to run.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
even lovers need a holiday.
"The power in a relationship lies with the person that cares the least."
I seem to only know how to write about love - it has been a major topic of interest to me as of late. I am sure that I sound crazy, rambling on about nonsense - thoughts dribbling from my fingertips without censorship or any sort of fine editing. (In my defence, this blog is, and always will be, a steady stream of consciousness. You have been warned.) I am starting to believe that my obsession with the topic stems from inexperience; those that don't do, teach. Those that don't know how to love, bitch about it. I will be the first to admit that my knowledge on the topic is somewhat limited; I used to believe that I knew it all. But, I don't. I don't know a damn thing about love. The tactics, and playbook I have used to wage war with this phenomenon have proven themselves obsolete. I have made many mistakes, and misjuged many facades of character. And I haven't learned a lot, but I know this much: when you give away your heart, you are left with nothing.
I have tried to play the game. I have tried to act coy, and cool, and dismissive - but the outcome of such action does nothing more than create this pathetic cycle of dysfunction. The roles of power switches from person to person, like chess. Check, check, checkmate? When the towel is thrown in, why can't it just be OVER? No, instead we pick up the towel and whip it around like an idiot leaving welts on everyone the surrounds. Including ourselves. (I say we, and our, and us like I am talking about some secret society of cutters. When in fact, I am referring to myself and my obvious love of emotional abuse.)Of course we, I, feel shitty. It is a self created asylum! In my experience, the only real moment of sanity, and clarity, comes when you can successfully eliminate the love from your life. I often preach, "it is easier to be angry than it is to be hurt." While the world may accuse you of having a weak and unforgiving character, I think that before you can rise above - anything, especially heartbreak - you have to find happiness in yourself. And if that means deleting people and memories from you life, then so be it.
However, I have never been able to successfully delete anything from my life. I can go through the motions, and pretend to be tough - but at the end of the day, I never really forget anything. I rant, and scream, and throw insults around to anyone that will listen; and then I find myself alone and feeling guilty for behaving like a child. In my attempt to align my pawns, I fail. I am an awful chess player, and a shitty actor. "Get out of my life" is what I say, repeatedly, but "I wish you the best" is what I mean - "....with me." So I give up. And defeat is never bittersweet; it is the seed of craziness.
Whenever I rant, I never make sense.
I seem to only know how to write about love - it has been a major topic of interest to me as of late. I am sure that I sound crazy, rambling on about nonsense - thoughts dribbling from my fingertips without censorship or any sort of fine editing. (In my defence, this blog is, and always will be, a steady stream of consciousness. You have been warned.) I am starting to believe that my obsession with the topic stems from inexperience; those that don't do, teach. Those that don't know how to love, bitch about it. I will be the first to admit that my knowledge on the topic is somewhat limited; I used to believe that I knew it all. But, I don't. I don't know a damn thing about love. The tactics, and playbook I have used to wage war with this phenomenon have proven themselves obsolete. I have made many mistakes, and misjuged many facades of character. And I haven't learned a lot, but I know this much: when you give away your heart, you are left with nothing.
I have tried to play the game. I have tried to act coy, and cool, and dismissive - but the outcome of such action does nothing more than create this pathetic cycle of dysfunction. The roles of power switches from person to person, like chess. Check, check, checkmate? When the towel is thrown in, why can't it just be OVER? No, instead we pick up the towel and whip it around like an idiot leaving welts on everyone the surrounds. Including ourselves. (I say we, and our, and us like I am talking about some secret society of cutters. When in fact, I am referring to myself and my obvious love of emotional abuse.)Of course we, I, feel shitty. It is a self created asylum! In my experience, the only real moment of sanity, and clarity, comes when you can successfully eliminate the love from your life. I often preach, "it is easier to be angry than it is to be hurt." While the world may accuse you of having a weak and unforgiving character, I think that before you can rise above - anything, especially heartbreak - you have to find happiness in yourself. And if that means deleting people and memories from you life, then so be it.
However, I have never been able to successfully delete anything from my life. I can go through the motions, and pretend to be tough - but at the end of the day, I never really forget anything. I rant, and scream, and throw insults around to anyone that will listen; and then I find myself alone and feeling guilty for behaving like a child. In my attempt to align my pawns, I fail. I am an awful chess player, and a shitty actor. "Get out of my life" is what I say, repeatedly, but "I wish you the best" is what I mean - "....with me." So I give up. And defeat is never bittersweet; it is the seed of craziness.
Whenever I rant, I never make sense.
Friday, February 19, 2010
misguided girl, you'll be the heroin of my book
I awoke to this thought: How many times does a person let you down before you give up the ghost? (It doesn't take a psych degree to decipher my rambling) the ghost is, is what? Its hanging on to imaginary hope - the person in question was designed to disappoint. His (or her) brief moments of half hearted sincerity and kindness are nothing more than character flaws. They're the traits that rarely surface, as the arrogance and apathy are so prominent. So why is he(she) so desirable? Why is this apple so sought after? One could argue that the good hidden beneath the armor or arrogance is worth the work, or that the fun shared is unlike any other fun to be had with any other person. But truly, that is all bullshit. It is nonsense, not to mention, very dumb and naïve to believe that this inexcusable behavior can be tolerated, or even deserved! It is foolish to think that true, lasting love can flourish from such a toxic foundation. Its like building a nursery next to a nuclear power plant. Over time, radiation will deform and eventually, kill. Continued disappointment is a slow killing poison, it cripples and leaves you questioning your own intentions and morale. Over time, exposure to such a person, such an unattainable and desired person, will ripe your heart out and leave your chest cavity to fill up with meaningless one night stands and relationships that lead to nowhere. Regardless of your own kindness, patience, and willingness to love - despite your attempts to pull a prince from a toad - his form remains. It was never you, but always him. Its a wicked right of passage that presents itself at the most inopportune times. I suppose to really understand love, and appreciate its valor, one has to overcome the obstacle of the "completely wrong guy(or girl)". He is the one that tests your loyalty (even though he is not worthy of such trust), your commitment, and your ability to forgive (a thousand times too many). Battling his shitty selfish attitude builds patience and boundary - you learn what you will, and certainly will not, put up with. And after this battle of the sexes, human decency and kindness become the most important traits sought after in a partner. You don't need, or deserve, a lover that has trademarked disappointment; you don't love someone that doesn't return the favor.
So beyond this epiphany - what comes next? Realization can be tough; it isn't easy pulling your heart back together and letting go of a lover. Rejection of the heart is brutal, and almost always results in anger. The wrong guy is like heroin; he is catastrophic and highly addictive. You peddle away your savings (ignore friends, family, and instinct) just to feel some kind of cliched rush. The whole thing is just awful, predictable, but necessary. Because at some point, you'll wake up and see the bigger picture. You will be out trapsing around in the new found independence - you deleted his name from your cell and his face from your memory (as well as cleared your iPod and the photos from facebook) - and its when you're not looking for love that your previous suffering makes sense. Because you'll find some new love interest, that makes you laugh in that nervous sort of way. And his willingness to love will blindside you. According to him(or her), you're incredible. You forget whats-his-face and the bullshit attempt at love. (Thank God) The flirtation probably won't last, but it teaches one thing: you deserve, and can have, better.
So beyond this epiphany - what comes next? Realization can be tough; it isn't easy pulling your heart back together and letting go of a lover. Rejection of the heart is brutal, and almost always results in anger. The wrong guy is like heroin; he is catastrophic and highly addictive. You peddle away your savings (ignore friends, family, and instinct) just to feel some kind of cliched rush. The whole thing is just awful, predictable, but necessary. Because at some point, you'll wake up and see the bigger picture. You will be out trapsing around in the new found independence - you deleted his name from your cell and his face from your memory (as well as cleared your iPod and the photos from facebook) - and its when you're not looking for love that your previous suffering makes sense. Because you'll find some new love interest, that makes you laugh in that nervous sort of way. And his willingness to love will blindside you. According to him(or her), you're incredible. You forget whats-his-face and the bullshit attempt at love. (Thank God) The flirtation probably won't last, but it teaches one thing: you deserve, and can have, better.
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