Spontaneous urges

I have this incredible urge to go to the sea
or, in the midwest's case
Lake Michigan
with the wind blowing and the waves crashing
and blue water, meeting the blue sky, at the unknowable, blue horizon.
I want to jump in my car right now
and just go.

Either that
or I want to sit on a porch
in the rainy darkness
on a swinging bench
or a chair tipped back
feet on the rail
a drink on the floor
a book ignored on my lap
protected
but surrounded
and just listen to the rain.

Why the guys at Two Wheel Tango are now on my list of cool people

-They fixed my bike rack while I waited at no charge.
-They put on new hardware (to replace what the other bike shop broke) at no charge.
-They tightened my breaks just because they were a bit loose (again, at no charge).
-They sympathized with my flying bike bags problem and helped brainstorm some solutions.
-They told me where I could find the bike lock that I wanted that they were currently out of but would be getting in soon.
-They tried to find a light bracket to replace the one that the other bike shop lost, and when they were unable to do so recommended a cheaper but more versatile light.
-They went online while I was there and helped me find bike routes that go from Ann Arbor to Ypsi, AND gave me a list of website and locations where I could pick up free maps.
-They engaged me in a conversation involving creative things that could be dipped in pudding or yogurt and taste excellent.
-They didn't treat me as a less worthwhile customer just because I'm a girl who rides a bike, rather than a pro biker.

So props to Two Wheel Tango. Despite being harder to get to by bike, you are now my one and only bike shop.

eyes open

My goal is to keep my eyes open
see the hidden details
the beautiful, the ironic, the rare
the unseen.
I catch glimpses
on walks and rides
and want to share.
somehow it seems important, for these silly details to be known
appreciated for the wonder that they hold.
if stephen king's writing is telepathy, of course,
then perhaps the image is immortality.

If only I were a photographer.

words spoken

Where did I lose my ability to use the spoken word?
verbal articulation of self is sometimes harder than climbing a vertical wall
very often the wall seems easier.

maybe it requires a pushing, receptive ear.

Cold

I'm tired of being cold.
I'm tired of the thoughts and words I want to express being frozen inside my head and heart
and the utterances that do escape being flat, cooled by disconnect, that was never my intention.
I'm tired of being given the cold shoulder
and the world's chill being unbuffered by warmth.
I'm tired of being cold, and...
anyway.

Tomorrow's a new day. Maybe the sun will bring warmth, change.
I hope.

Tell me a story

Something imaginative, unique.
Something from a world believable
for those who believe in dreams.
Bring together the most outlandish of life's tangents
and wrap them up in a wild, tangled ride
that still has me thinking of these characters, these adventures,
as I drift off to sleep.

A day of uncertainty

The weather couldn't make up it's mind today.
I'm not sure if it was a symptom of all the uncertainty swirling around, or the cause.
Four seasons slammed in rapid, random succession into the span of ten minutes, and repeated.
Mirroring the cacophony going on inside my head.
Sparkling eyes and strong arms.
Where is home?
Creative spaces.
What is possible?
Conversation.
Am I kidding myself?
Birthday present for a six-year-old.
Dream of a front porch.
One job, two jobs, three jobs, half jobs.
Wish for adventure. Laughter.
Chuckling at a joke from yesterday.
To-do list.
Fantasy of spontaneous whisks of playing hooky.
How big a risk dare I take?
Desire to curl up. Desire to run.
What to plant? What to weed?
Crossroads, small and large, small in the grand scheme I suppose.
Where to go? When to stay?
How do I say...
... everything.

Excuses

I find myself making excuses for trying to do something nice.
Justify running an errand for someone because I was going to visit a friend anyway,
and justify dropping by to visit a friend because I was in the area on an errand.
I'll make you a quilt because I need to practice sewing with that material anyway.
I'll bake you cookies because I needed to make something for work anyway.
anyway. anyway.
Or some other lame excuse.
Why is there embarrassment for simply wanting to do something for someone else? I am not seeking martyrdom or out for saint status with this question. Really, I just want to know, why do I seek an excuse?

Logical decision-making

Is it crazy to make major decisions on the basis of occasional moments? On the basis of one other person's comment or perspective? On the basis of wild hopes?
Sometimes (not always, but sometimes) it only takes one word of encouragement for me to make the leap.

My skin is thirsty

and not just for water.

Right now

I really want to go climb a tree. Just be outside, pull myself up away from the world and sit among the branches and leaves. Maybe even read a book.

Searching

I find myself searching, constantly. While driving (or showering) my mind is racing. Online I flit from one website to the next, looking for something, but I don't know what. In grocery stores and farmers markets I blink and double-take at faces, haircuts, voices I may know, searching for... something. familiarity. beauty. something.
Everything seems to be constantly tumbling forward. Always moving. Always looking to see what's next. Joni's carousel is speeding up.

There are times, however, when the moment holds still; the beam shooting forward from sunrise to sunset seems to freeze and bubble out, and in those moments, life happens. My mind is not necessarily driving forward, but instead looking around, and enjoying everything that point in time has to offer, whether it's a second or a day.
The question is, what is this magic ingredient that has the ability to slow time, and transcend to-do lists? I'm not entirely sure, but I had a thought today (while driving nonetheless).
I think it's stories.
A friend regaling a group with the tale of a recent adventure. The radio narrating the experiences of everyday humans and super-humans. A book or film born from fact, fiction, imagination. In those moments, when a story is being told, I'm no longer being whisked away by the drive to tomorrow.
The same is true for the creation of stories, memories. When life is truly an adventure worth remembering, be it good work or good play, I never seem to be worrying about the clock.

What strange, spiraled revelations for a girl who, once upon a time, was suppose to be a writer.

Perfection

There's a line in "The Last Samurai" where one of the main characters talks about the pursuit of perfection.
"The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life."
And later, upon his last breath, he has a realization.
"They are all perfect."
In all of my organizational tasks, whether it's creating a database, or writing a letter, I strive for perfection (strive for, even if it's not achievable, it still sets the bar high, right?). People can't believe that I'll make final documents go back for edits to add a comma, or that I'll painstakingly double-check the timing on each slide of a powerpoint presentation. A little polish in the name of excellence.

But that's work. Perfection in life, that's different.

I love the perfect imperfections.

The slightly crooked corners of a handmade quilt.
The "deformed" glass in a cafeteria.
The pieces of wood, bits of string, clothespins, washers that end up in my pockets and, for no reason in particular, I can't bear to discard.
The quirks, stories, awkwardness and confidence, enthusiasm and calm, scars and talents of people that make them, them. unique. individual. human. If it were not for this cacophony of eccentricity, these blossoms deemed imperfect by one person's measuring stick, the vibrancy of life would be empty. The tree would be bare.


Here's to the perfect imperfections. May we see and love them all for the value they possess.

Guam

Sometimes I'm disturbed by how little I know.
Take Guam for example.
Did you know that the entire population of this U.S. territory is about the size of Ann Arbor on a football Saturday? I didn't.

I need to learn more.

Irony--chocolate flavored

Once again the sugar roller-coaster is back, meaning that, once again, I need to put my sweetness intake in check. So, in order to distract myself from the intense allure of chocolate and ice cream when the last sugar crash drew near, I distracted myself as best I could...

...and when to go see Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

A desire to be more spontaneous--oh rats

Right now
more than anything
I want to go outside
and start walking
I don't care where to, or for how long, but I just want to walk
run
dance
laugh
scream
cry
I don't care. I just want to be out there
in the dark.

And then the catch
which so often happens with my brilliant spontaneity
fear, thought, and planning roll in
and keep me sitting
here.

*

There are nights
when I say screw you world,
I will let not you win with fear
and I run the streets
and take back the night.

And then too often there are the other nights
when the transportive walk home puts that tiny knot in the pit of my stomach
and tightens every sense to attention
as I plan my route
look over my shoulder
banish the wish to walk for hours in any direction
because I know I must have a plan to get back on my own
safe.

Why can't I just run to where the sidewalk ends
not have to rig my own safety net
and just know that someone will be there
and it will not be fear.