stuff that has happened. stuff that is happening.
i am so enchanted with my school. my phone is lost, i stepped on a broken glass on my porch, i work full time and go to school full time. i work for whole foods? i live in an amazing huge house with a yard full of weeds and scratched wood floors. there's always someone home and we all hang out together and eat in the kitchen. i walk down pearl street with my managers at one in the morning on a tuesday blowing raspberries at passers-by. i write letters in my head. i never send them. i think often of things i need to do, i forget that thinking is not the same as doing. i wake up at six in the morning to harvest calendula. i scrape crushed red aphids and sticky sap out from under my fingernails. i "raise too much qi" and black out in my first t'ai chi class. i pine. i shuffle boxes back and forth in my room but never actually finish unpacking. i find myself ready for more, ready to start living it all instead of just learning about it. again. i'm serious. i know what fucking broad-leafed plaintain looks like. i remember when i didn't but that was years ago. i'm farther along this journey than ever.obviously. i know what i want to do but i still don't know how. anyway. i read The Stand and have a series of post-apocalypse dreams that make me wish it would happen, until one night where i dream that i'm in boulder, and its snowing, and us few survivors have gotten some things back on line... i suddenly realize that i have a cell phone, that i can call fort collins because at the end it all fell apart and i never actually knew if all of my loved ones are dead... i call my sister, my mom has left a message crying and crying about how terrible it is that my sister was found dead in a friends car with one hand hanging out the window. they're all dead. and then i wake up crying and realize that its not all roses. it's time to make a change because as much as people talk about earth's fever burning off the disease of humans, they just don't realize what that would be like. i am on the cusp. we are. anyway. i go to fort collins, which is a minefield, which reflects the fact that remembering my past is no longer safely unarmed. i think of this as i cruise the empty road, i never have to check the speed limit, my body begins to follow routes that lead to rotted and burned bridges. i roll my eyes across the room as the Brigitte Mars, mother of Sunflower Sparkle Mars and Rainbeau Harmony Mars, reads to us out of the Urantia book, tells us with a straight face about the races of extraterrestrials that founded earth. i never really can complain. i think of you. i make calls and jot notes and shuffle appointments. i wait. i open my mouth, insert my foot. repeat steps one and two. i daydream.