Jillian's Face Project

Okay it's really hard for me to post pictures of myself that are not polished, but I love the ones that Jillian did so much that I had to copy her and post my own. I love the idea of showing something online that is hard to show - challenging yourself to share less selectivly. I love the idea of being real - and this idea, is SO very real.

So here is my first week. Funky, gnarly and authentically me.

Wrapping Presents

I love this wrapping paper. I've also decided to get some plain white paper this year - glossy if possible, and just use blue and silver ribbons.. or maybe red and silver. Oooooh that would be pretty. Or brown shipping paper with red... oooooh.

Feelin' the crazy.

Last night I sat in my truck and watched an old woman as she stood by her window holding a framed photograph. I saw her stroke it. I saw tears rolling down her face. I saw her draw the photo so lovingly against herself before she placed it back in the window sill and walk away slowly. I saw something private that I shouldn't have saw... yet, I did. And I love that I did. I love that I got to witness something so beautiful & pure. Love. The kind of love that drives someone to caress a photo when they think no one is looking.

I finally understand crazy people. At least, some variations of crazy. I'm not saying that I think I am... because I'm not... but I do get how the mind could go astray from the norm without a lot of provocation outside normal life events. When people started to die on me, there was always so many more people left to make me feel safe and loved. One by one, they went away. I no longer feel safe or loved. I feel alone. And my brain has a hard time with that sometimes. I want to go knock on that woman's door and know her, and hug her. I want to bake her cookies. I want to buy her presents. I want to love her, and be there for her...

like my grandma would have wanted me to be there for her... if she were alive. like my mom would have wanted me to be there for her... if she were alive.

But she's not my grandma, and she's not my mom. She's just a stranger, and I am a stranger to her.

There are so many lonely people, and connections so rare. I don't want to become crazy or weird but damn do I UNDERSTAND it. It's so hard to be okay when nothing feels okay, when everything is just fucking wrong. It's hard to be okay when everything is so far gone.

Slow Freeze

the wind whistles cold
chilling me to the bone
and i wrap my coat tight
but the cold doesn't go away
and i wear my scarf tight
and the cold still does not cease
and i wear my mittens, hat, and wolly socks
and still it doesn't touch
the frigid cold that has
slowly crept inside of me

i remember when the cold
was a contrast that made me shiver
and i remember when the warmth
was more than simply reverie

fragmented memories i blink away
especially the ones
that remind me of the comforts
i can no longer find
flickering and smoldering
or red-hot & torrid
or sweet as the summer sun
a warming to the core kinda warm

and i think about a bonfire
and how it always goes out eventually
when everyone has wandered off or passed out
and i think about the wood stove
consuming the wood so voraciously
without a thought for the forest
and i think about the candle wax
and how even that
hardens so cold on my skin

and even when i
shake it all off
and step towards the fire
so many memories are there rushing in
to help me back up fast
and prevent myself from thawing
more and more memories
are feeding the wind that keeps
my slow freeze going strong