ode to an effect
Sometimes at the end of months that have impacted me a great deal, I try to qualify how exactly I was for the duration of my stay with them. I use F. Scott's Fitzgerald's old variables: pursuing, pursued, busy, and tired. I write my own equations.
Erin in July = {[Pursuing/Pursued] - Busy} * (Tired)^31
Because you see, Erin in July experienced a new thing. Her intent to pursue was compromised by her feeling of being pursued but not affected by any particular business, though exacerbated by fatigue that increased exponentially each day of the month.
I don't know how else to say it, but I do have some advice: Don't try writing poetry when you are in an Ani DiFranco-listening phase. Nothing measures up to the quality of her angst.
We all need our fair share of being loved; we all need our fair share of being told we are loved; we all need our fair share of being told how much we're loved; we all need our fair share of being loved by strangers; we all need our fair share of being disappointed in those we love; and we all need our fair share of loving those we disappoint. The trouble is, life understands better than we think what is "fair" - if we take fair to mean "deserved," not "desirable."
What I miss more than anything is feeling that things are easy even when they are hard, and feeling that things are certain even when they are not. What I need is to see the effect of my cause, and what I need to understand is the cause that elicited that effect.
My existence is an ode to that effect, that consequence I have yet to imagine.
My cause is an ode to this one, that consequence I imagined first.
And my questions make an ode to both: Can they overlap? Will they?
Erin in July = {[Pursuing/Pursued] - Busy} * (Tired)^31
Because you see, Erin in July experienced a new thing. Her intent to pursue was compromised by her feeling of being pursued but not affected by any particular business, though exacerbated by fatigue that increased exponentially each day of the month.
I don't know how else to say it, but I do have some advice: Don't try writing poetry when you are in an Ani DiFranco-listening phase. Nothing measures up to the quality of her angst.
We all need our fair share of being loved; we all need our fair share of being told we are loved; we all need our fair share of being told how much we're loved; we all need our fair share of being loved by strangers; we all need our fair share of being disappointed in those we love; and we all need our fair share of loving those we disappoint. The trouble is, life understands better than we think what is "fair" - if we take fair to mean "deserved," not "desirable."
What I miss more than anything is feeling that things are easy even when they are hard, and feeling that things are certain even when they are not. What I need is to see the effect of my cause, and what I need to understand is the cause that elicited that effect.
My existence is an ode to that effect, that consequence I have yet to imagine.
My cause is an ode to this one, that consequence I imagined first.
And my questions make an ode to both: Can they overlap? Will they?