pleah For some reason this blog has recently become a place for whiners, i.e. me, to come and do their deal. I don't like writing whinny things and I don't like reading them so that will stop promptly.

Life is so freakin nuanced. Sometimes I can point out the 101 things that I love about my current life and in the same breath feel completely swallowed by the weight of my world. Most recently my time has been spent wrestling with the following-
+ I would love to leave the country without a return ticket, but I can't imagine living a day without Gus. He is literally my emotional assistance animal and while I could find someone I trust to watch him, he actually enhances the value of each day. I like who I am more with my dog. But I really want to see Nepal.
+ I love dancing (duh) but don't know how much. It's hard to sort out your loves into "love-less" and "love-more" and "love-first". Do I love it enough to sacrifice relationships for? Do I love it enough to justify working a job I hate so that I can enjoy that love? Do I love it more than I love my other loves? It seems trivial until you find yourself having to make lists of what you value in life, and you can't even do that.
+ Moving has become so regular that I can't imagine life in one place. All friends are always new, roads are always new, jobs are always new, and I can always say " I just got here" (great when avoiding responsibility or trying to start up a conversation!). I do miss having casual deep friends though and not having to explain myself.
+ Vegan pumpkin pie is to die for. Bananas in the filling, coconut milk in the whip=amazing. Although 4 pieces may have been too many. Thanks nice lady cookie friend!
+ In the past 4 months I have experienced being a minority. In my silly little life this has happened very few times but now it's normal, and weird. I don't know how to feel about this; happy, mad, uneasy, free, bad, etc. Examples in the last 3 days: only white girl in the shoe store, only English speaker in the bank, only straight girl at the Halloween party, only degree holder at the show, only financially independent dancer on the scene....I want my children to be minorities sooner than in their 20's that way they know it's ok to be alone in something and to respect others who hold that spot often. Does this sound weird?
+ I love sleeping and scrubbing. I would go to bed at 8 every night if I could and use the most rough, exfoliating, invigorating soap out there all over my body every shower if I thought I could do that without loosing both my social life and my skin.

I think it's marvelous how fog sets so low, so close to the ground, so that those who want to venture above it, can, and in return get to experience the god-like view. Cloud tops like cushions. Night  ¶ 10:00 PM 6 Comments

  Ascendance It rained. Rained and rained until the streets flowed like rivers and the trees bowed like paupers to the king. The trails lost their footing and rocks slid down the path to find a new resting place until the next big gush. I didn't think much about it; so isolated under my big red roof in this muggy adobe house. The white stucco walls keep the solidified wetness out and I am just left with the pitter patter and the sensation of moisture upon my ears and on my skin. But I really notice what has happened when I hit the hills. Nothing is the same on the same old path...no leaf left unmoved and not bird left unsung. It's still so dark from the passing storm that the crickets chirp in confusion and the frogs croak at noon. Just like my taste buds, my nose is drawn to life by the pure dampness of my surroundings. Eucalyptus, fir, lavendar, blossoms, dirt, earth, balsam and vetivere all rush inside me. A prick on my side lets me know I am alive and the bee stuck in my skin reminds me of the passing summer. It's gone. Summer, sunshine, and that chunk of life I tossed to the wind. The skin on my ribs begins to swell in response to the venom and I feel warm. Rain, warmth, and the opposing cold. I feel asleep in this weird other world. Everything looks the same but nothing is...only I am the same. Constant, walking, always trying to change but never really feeling the rain. It's time to flow, move. Even if the pace is a trickle...just like the droplets on my window. They may go ever so slow but at least the get somewhere. Rain on me.

Moving again. Not sure when or where. Just know it is going to happen soon. Will I ever stop? Probably not!  ¶ 8:40 PM 4 Comments

  Flowering Old Spirit

The feel of his spirit was too old for most people to understand & when he walked by they would look up & say O, the sun went behind a cloud, or, the moon must be full & so he walked for a long time by himself with no one to talk to. I really do have lots to say...just not the desire to say it and this time. ha

  ¶ 8:39 PM 0 Comments