That dream place.

those dreams we had
when we thought of one another
You said we could meet there
in the dream place.
And try as I might
I never reached the place
we set out to meet.

And maybe that is why
we do not know one another
anymore
and you have gone away from me
to another place
far different
from our dream place

And childhood memories
I have with you
walking on my front porch
round and round
and the night
we played in your basement
and we tried to summon
spirits of one kind
or another.

Those plans we made
promised to follow
knowing all along
that we would not.
Maybe I mourn for them
or maybe just lost friends.

Now I think of you
less often than
I thought I would
more often than
I would like to.

And through all the
memories
spaces
and strange happenings
I just wanted to say

Thank you.

Now, my spoon is smooth.

I do not remember what I dreamed last night and that makes me sad. Stupid alarm clock.

I got some sand paper and I sanded my wooden spoon like the instructions said. Makes me feel a sense of accomplishment. In the hardware store today, I thought for sure someone would escort me out and point me toward the fabric store or something. Big scary men carrying lumber and other various men-things were going about and would look at me curiously. I guess the fact that I looked completely lost might have helped make matters worse. I so should have worn my bonnet and some petticoats. . .

I took a nap today. It was beautiful. Like I even needed a nap, but who cares? My dream from my nap is vague. The phone kept ringing and waking me up. I unplugged it. No, that's not what I dreamed, that's what happened. Anyway, something about it being easy to enter but not so to leave. And two people went with me. And it was down. In an elevator maybe. Down. Down.

Oh, homework. That's what I should be doing. Farewell, friend.

Attn: HST 112 Canceled due to: ILL

My HST 112 class was canceled due to illness. Although this is pretty awesome, I did not bring any other books with me today, so I cannot do homework here, and I must stay because my next class starts at 10. Oh well, guess I could do a little reading for history.

These keys make more noise than the keyboard at my house. It makes it sound like I am typing really fast. I should get one of these for my room, a vanity keyboard. No. I am uncomfortable. Everything is in the wrong place. The screen should be higher and chair should be lower. Wow, I am whining. I'll stop.

If I go home, I will have enough time to get there, watch my mom sleep for 15 minutes, and come back. What to do. . . what to do.

Well, I am pretty sure these computers are meant for educational uses. . .

I know! I can work on my natural gas project. Okay, well, I will most certainly write back later.

This pain is my art.

Feeling poetic today. It is a certain mood and emotion. A color that I cannot describe. But the deepest desire when I feel this way, is to be known. I will not hide this from you. I think that is what the radio show was talking about when they said intimacy. To completely know and be comfortable with another human being. I long for this. To be known. To know. I feel it like an ache in my muscles. It pulses through my fingers. This pain is my art. Behold it. Behold me.

To make you smile.

I want to say something beautiful.
I want to leave you speechless.
I want to make you smile.
I want to embrace happiness.
I want to embrace children.
I want to embrace you.
I want to see forever.
I want to be beautiful.
I want to worry less.
I want to smile always.
I want to sing out loud.
I want to make something.
I want to break something.
I want to love harder.
I want to be braver.
I want to spell better.
I want to learn everything.
I want to talk with you.
I want to fix you.
I want to touch someone.
I want someone to touch me.
I want to change someone for the better.
I want to be changed for the better.
I want to read more.
I want be more open.
I want to write more poetry.
I want to tell you this one thing.
I want you to say this one thing to me.

and at that,
I can think of nothing I want more.

Change is Good - especially when its tens and twenties.

Last night I dreamt you wrote me a letter that said everything I wanted to hear, again. And when I woke up, I was excited at the thought of it, at the thought of you, until I realized that it was only a dream. And I miss you even though I have never seen you, and that makes me feel foolish.

And I dreamt of the ocean. I have never seen the ocean before. I do not know what it sounds like or what it smells like, but I dreamt of it anyway. Try to find logic in dreams, I dare you.

And I dreamt of something else, oh yes, now I remember. I was alone in a dark house with too many windows. And there was a chaise lounge in the darkness. I looked out the window near the door, because I was waiting for someone, but they had not come for me. I was waiting alone in the darkness, and you came. And I could rest upon the lounge because in your presence, I knew the absence of fear. I was comforted just by you standing there, and the darkness left me. For although I wait for one who does not come for me, you come to me. Even in darkness and fear.

Burning wood and maple sugar candy.

This is odd. I smell burning wood, but I do not. I hold the scent of it in my mind right now and it is most comforting. My days with Katy smell like burning wood and taste like maple sugar candy. And these things are comforting. I feel so in place when I am standing near a fire. Something stirs within me when I cook over the fire, watch someone else cook over the fire. And something new when I ate out of the wooden bowl for the first time. Familiar and longed for. And right now I would be content to sit near a fire with loved ones. I want to cook something and feed someone and make them happy by doing so. I want to take care of someone. And I want to wear more clothes. I always feel so naked in regular clothes after wearing my pioneer clothes. They just feel right. But my outfit is not complete, so I feel naked in those too. And maybe I do not want to dress that way everyday, but I do enjoy it. Part of me longs for the past, part of me longs for today, and part of me longs for the future. And I cannot reconcile the pieces. I was pleased today. Ahh, satisfaction. I want to go back. And the fair at new Boston was much more fulfilling then the renaissance festival. Because the Ren. Fest. felt like. . . play time maybe. And the fair at new Boston felt real.

God help you to understand this twisted soul.

And yet, I want to smell the wood burning again. I want for the bitter smoke to burn my eyes and the too harsh heat to offend my skin. And spend a night by the fire with you.

In some places.

You left me here
with this feeling
I'm feeling
alone.

Honestly
and openly
I came to you.

Bruised and
wounded
I was.

And maybe
you healed me
in some places.

And maybe
you hurt me
too.

All things considered
(which I have done thoroughly)
I know irrevocably

that I might have
loved you.

My Good Sir

I felt that way today
as I gazed upon you,
unattainable one,
and my heart
shivered at it.

I believe it was the National Anthem.

Maybe I could sing for you again today,
like the time I sang in that room
hoping you could here me
and you snuck up behind me
to listen.
Except this time,
I could look into your eyes.

And I would sing the sweetest of songs,
if it would make you happy again,
because all I ever wanted
was to see you that way.

And oh, if my lips were but made
for your happiness
it would well please me,
just to please you.

For, it brings me no end of joy
when you take pleasure
in me.

No Banality Here.

I am now the proud owner of a wooden spoon, a wooden bowl, a clay mug, a hand-woven basket, and Dr. Something or others Miracle Medicine. Apparently, it cures all sorts of ailments from dysentery, worms, baldness, old-age, depression, and spinsterhood. Katy and I got some so that we could find husbands. You know, if I don't marry by 22, I will be a spinster and no one will want me. And since I do not have a large dowry and I cannot pull a plow, I will have to make it up in other places by using Dr. Whoevers Miracle Medicine. Of course, the rich lace merchant said we could become poor lace makers if all else fails. Any single men out there of good breeding and caliber looking for a wife? I can almost cook and clean and sew. Good, strong Irish blood runs in these veins, makes for fine sons, I'd say.

Anyway, back in this century, I went to the fabric store and got some black dye for my sheets. Oh, and I went in my pioneer outfit, petticoats, shift, bodice, bonnet and all. Yes, I got some strange looks. Yes, I enjoyed it. Maybe I am a reincarnated pioneer or something. Anyway, I would love to do that more often. I did go to goodwill in my corset once. It was fun until some strange man started talking to me and asked if he could touch it. Creepy. *Cringe* He then proceeded to tell me how to lace myself into one without assistance. It sounded like he had had lots of experience doing it.

Well, I should go start the dye process, could take awhile.

Matter-To be of importance.

I don't know
what you want this to be,
but I know
I don't like it.

Sitting here
with you so near to me
I just know
that I like it.

But then,
I'm alone again
and I don't remember
how much I liked it.

I wrote you poetry
but it doesn't even matter.
No, it does not even matter
because you know every word I think.
You know the inside of me.
You could quote myself to me.
But it doesn't even matter.
No, it does not even matter.

Because, you take the best of me
and make it better.
And you take the worst of me
and swallow it whole.

And I say things like
Nevermind
or
Not this time
or
Later, I promise, later.

And you wait.
And you wait for me.
As I run.
As I run from you.

But it doesn't even matter.
No, it does not even matter to you.

Only I matter.
Only I matter to you.

Good Day, Ma Lady.

So I saw all manner of Lords, Ladies, Gypsies, Belly dancers, Pirates, Vikings, Swordsmen, Elves, Fairies, and just nasty today. I wanted to be a Lady, wearing hoop skirts and all, but I am pretty sure that I would be a commoner. I did get to wear my corset today. That was very nice. My corset makes me feel pretty. But, I did start feeling a little sick toward the end of the day. I think that might have been a combination of corset, black velvet skirt, shift, sun, and lack of food. Anyway, I feel just fine now in my cool bedroom in my pajamas.

My glasses are really dirty. This is very distracting. I will go clean them.

Wow, its like I am not even wearing glasses. So, I guess the world isn't covered in random streaks.

I mostly just like the clothes. I wouldn't really want to go back in time or anything. I would just want to wear the pretty dresses around all the time.

I must have slept well last night because I don't remember my dream. No, that's not it. I did not sleep well at all. I remember my dreams when I wake up before the alarm; today, I did not. I guess that when I am awakened by the alarm, it is just too sudden a transition from sleeping to waking. I do not dream when people sleep with me either. I mean, when I sleep in the same room with other people like on vacations, sleep-over, staying all night and such. I do not sleep deeply because I am always aware of the other persons presence, unless I am really comfortable around the other person, like Ashley. Does anyone know me better than you?

My mom would say that she does. She knows what I do, how I behave, what my routines are, my favorite foods, movies, ect. But, I do not tell her why I do this or that, or how I feel about this or that. Well, I don't know. We have spells when we sit up all night talking about stuff, when I feel safe enough to tell her something. Then, inevitably so goes and tells someone else what I said. And I get so mad. She says, " I only told grandma" Well, if I wanted to tell grandma, I would go talk to her myself. Broken confidence. And that is why these spells are so far between.

I was going to tell you how I was about trusting someone again once trust has been broken, but I do not even know. My mother is my only example, and everything is different with her. I don't like her very much sometimes, maybe as often as not, but I love her very, very much.

I keep getting distracted from what I am writing. Everything I have written is fragmented and incomplete. Just a reflection of my thought process, I suppose.

Excitement again tomorrow too. Fair at New Boston. I hope to buy something pretty.

Im going to do some other stuff and post again later, I think. I need to roll this new thing around in my head for a bit.

This house after us.

I am going to go pick up Emilie from school in a few minutes. I wanted to write for those few minutes.

Even as I tell you who I am, my very self changes, because who I was would never tell you so openly. I could never tell you all about me anyway. There is so much of myself I am blind to.

That new curtain is so long it pools on the floor.

Whoever lives in this house after us is going to have a time trying to paint over this black paint I have all over the place. Ha ha.

Today I was thinking about LAOIS for some reason in the middle of EDT 181. Funny stuff. I certainly wasn't engrossed in our discussion on vectors. Did I not learn that junior year of high school? Meh.

And I saw Rob Lehman and Katie Amburgey today. That was nice, I guess. Yeah, it was. Made me miss Rachel. That's why I thought about LAOIS. That was all Rachel.

I am procrastinating so bad right now.

I cannot wait to see Katy again.

Note to self: Take Camera tonight.

Anyway, time to go get the baby. Well, shes four, but shes always going to be one of the babies to me. Emile and Elisabeth, the joy of my heart.

But I faded.

My learning through service class really got me thinking today. We are going to work with hope house this semester as our service. Anyway, Becca, our teacher person, (she is a grad student) was saying that she would be interested in starting a drive to get some of the homeless there registered to vote. I asked her if you could register to vote with no permanent address, and she did not know. I started thinking, how do they get a job with no address? Who would hire them? It seems like such a vicious cycle.

I was in the grocery store the other day and I stood there in the aisle, food everywhere I looked, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and I thought, people are starving to death. Could not we all sacrifice some of this selection and abundance to save the lives of others? Probably not.

And I just feel so responsible. There are people living in my own community who do not know where their next meal will come from. They do not know where they will sleep or what they will do tomorrow or next week. And I complain about gas prices. It just burdens my heart with the responsibility of it all: DO SOMETHING!

But on a happier note, I do like this learning through service class. It is only one credit hour. We meet two hours a week so class will be over October 14. That means that after October 14th I will get out of school at 10 o'clock on Monday, Wednesday, Friday! I think that is so awesome. Of course, I do not want to wish away a month and a half, but still.

Oh, and we should have referrals by then, and I will know when I get to meet Caitlynn or however its spelled.

And I think Jon should be out of basic training by then. Maybe. But I do not want to talk much about that, if you do not already know. We'll see. I never know if people are sincere when they tell me things. I am.

Now I am all sad and full of anxiety. I need to move away from this line of thought.

Okay so. . . tomorrow I am staying all night at Ashelys with Elisabeth and Emilie and I am going to give everyone pedicures. That will be fun. Maybe I can go buy some facial masks and we can just have a spa night.

Linda has her surgery Friday. Pray for her if you pray. Send her positive energy or good thoughts or something. I am worried.

I finally figured out how to put a picture on my profile, I was so excited! Apparently when a website has a link for "support" or "help" it is there for help and support. Heh.

I found an old fragment of a poem I started to write on June 17. I can't decide whether or not to finish it.

This is who I used to be,
(but I faded along with the pink
In that t-shirt I always wore)


But, I am not the same person I was when I wrote that.


I was driving home from Ashleys (or your) house today and I listened to 93.3 WAKW. Its Christian radio. Anyway, I tuned in in the middle of a talk show. The focus of the show was intimacy in marriage. The guy (whose name I do not know) said that in todays culture, intimacy is confused with sex, and they are not the same thing. Intimacy is being able to be completely real, honest, figuratively naked, with the person you are married to. They talked about how all people have this base desire, and how we try to fill it with other things. They said that it is difficult and scary to be intimate with another person, especially today, when marriage's are so completely temporary, and that people open up to one another only to have the relationship dissolve and be hurt. Then, in future relationships this past hurt makes people recoil from the very thing their soul desires.

That last line is what hit me. "You then recoil from the very thing your soul desires." And this had nothing to do with male/female relationships for me. This is what I have been doing with my relationship with God. I recoil from the very thing I desire. I cannot be whole without God. I cannot be happy without God. But. . . there is something. I keep recoiling, running, turning away. Everytime. I remember how I felt at that mercyme concert, at spirit song, at SOS. I have felt the presence of God (please do not roll your eyes at me at this point) and then I leave those places and I am here in my room, and I feel so abandoned.


And how can He love me? He, who knows my every misstep, my flaws, my mistakes. How can He see all this and love me still? How can You? And I mess up everytime. I fail everytime. And still You are there, saying You still love me. I cannot fathom a love that big.


And I look at the sky, because that is the biggest thing I know. And You say you are bigger than that. This makes me feel so small, so insignificant. You say you clothe even the flowers in the field. And I think when I pray, I am not the only one talking to You.


Here I am, so full of doubt. And some days, I know without a doubt, You exist. And then, I doubt myself. If I do not believe in you, why do I talk to you?


And I heard a song, Missing Person by Michael W. Smith today.


Missing Person

music by Michael W. Smith and Wayne Kirkpatrick


Another question in me
One for the powers that be
It's got me thrown
And so I put on my poker face
And try to figure it out
This undeniable doubt
A common occurrence
Feeling so out of place


Guarded and cynical now
Can't help but wondering how
My heart evolved into
A rock beating inside of me
So I reel
Such a stoic ordeal
Where's that feeling that I don't feel


Chorus:
There was a boy who had the faith to move a mountain
And like a child he would believe without a reason
Without a trace, he disappeared into the void and
I've been searchin' for that missing person


Under a lavender moon
So many thoughts consume me
Who dimmed that glowing light
That once burned so bright in me
Is this a radical phase
A problematical age
That keeps me running
From all that I used to be


Is there a way to return
Is there a way to unlearn
That carnal knowledge
That's chipping away at my soul
I've been gone too long


Will I ever find my way home

He used to want to try to walk the straight and narrow
He had a fire and he could feel it in the marrow
It's been a long time and I haven't seen him lately
but I've been searchin' for that missing person.


And I was like, wow. Just wow.


Oh, well, I guess I have said enough for tonight.