Come on!

I have a kite and I won't be happy until I fly it. Okay, that's overstating the matter.. I'm already pretty happy, but I know what would make me happier.

Ice cream.

And flying my kite.

Transparent

It was snack time and blueberries were migrating from tabletop to floor to shoe. Gross. And I can't remember what I was annoyed with (constant din of tiny people, "Don't put the serving spoon in your mouth" again and again and again, screeching from kids who want something they don't have yet, or whatever) but I was annoyed. And trying so hard to keep my voice gentle. Anyway, I got the broom to mitigate the blueberry chaos, while determining to keep my frustration to myself.


Let's back up. It was 10:30am and this had been a rough day already-- that morning I found out:
that a leave request for my trip this summer had been denied
and
a parent had requested a meeting with the teachers and supervisor because she thought her kid wasn't safe in our classroom. (p.s. she's safe)


And I'm pms'y. So already, on a scale from one to pissy, I'm about a six. And snack time easily boosted me to an eight.

So okay, there I was trying to sweep up the berries from the floor and a little girl turned toward me, looking a little concerned, and asked "Teacher Amanda, do you like being a teacher?"


Crap. I'm see-through.

I sort of side-stepped and told her that I love all my kid friends. I do love them. And the people I work with are amazing to me. But on a day like this the rest of the job feels like steep hills and scooping water out of a holey boat.

Anyway. I'm see-through.

Pieces

March 26, 2006

You know the sort of shots taken in movies of people who ride trains or walk under trees. A mottled, piecey, clippy sort of succession of shots of the person's face with sun blotched on it. That's what it is. Always sun spilling through something, bathing faces in spots and sections. And eyes are squinted and turned upward, dreamy and tired, aimlessness and drifting. Yeah, that's what it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kwjn8YaaB1Q

stuff

Wow, I hate horse movies. The horse always dies, or it's mother dies, or it makes me think it's going to die but then doesn't... which is almost worse than actually dying because it turns into some kind of emotional acrobatics. Up, down, almost falling, stomach dropping, last minute save. Not for me. And sad dog movies and widow movies and lost children ones too. It feels like someone has walked up to my feelings and said "Hey, come with me, beautiful." And the next thing I know I'm crying. And all my money's gone. Nope, I'll sit down for a good story. One without manipulation, and I'm happy to watch. But keep your horses to yourself.

Found

So I've been working on this for a while and it's finally feeling at least blog-ready. I'll probably keep tweaking, but this is it for now...

I once knew a girl who never rested. Her eyes were see-through and leaky, and her mouth was tight. I walked with her. And even though we only talked the few moments before she slept, I knew her thoughts. Like screaming neon signs, some of them were. The rest were threadbare. Two gears; blaring and faded.

GET AWAY FROM ME

Where's my voice

I'M TOO TIRED

Help

LOOK AWAY

Take me home

DON'T TOUCH ME

Let me sleep

IS THIS IT

She was an uncovered nerve. How do you rest when everything pricks. Everything pricks. So I tried to be small and still, but my stillness made it worse. In the quiet she went gray. And with nothing to say, she turned on music and danced in angled jerks. Throwing herself around the room, falling and rising. Some watched, others joined in, and a few tried to be her partners.

Those who watched never stayed for long. It was too terrible to see.
Those who joined in made for a crowd, and she'd leave to find any empty room.
And her partners became too bruised to last a whole song.

One morning, while I sat with her sleeping near my feet, I heard something new. New felt good. It could have been anything, as long as it was new. It sounded like a gentle whistle. And my heart beat faster. Hearing something gentle was like finally breathing. Sitting on the tippy edge of a deep, deep well had been our days. We sat in the dark, staring into the dark, feeling nothing with our feet. And now something else was here. And it was good.

This sound grew, not louder, but bigger and warmer. I could see a flush in her skin, even while she slept. Oh if she only knew about this something calling to us. She would disappear. Or explode. Either way, I was standing right in between afraid and captivated. But it was too good to run from.

And then, without stirring, she opened her eyes, and I braced myself. As this good hung in the air around us, she lay still and waited. She never waited. Waiting rubbed her skin raw because it offered no distraction. But in this space she waited.

We waited. And I hoped with all my muscles and blood and skin that it wouldn’t go away. We waited. And it was so good. Just being with this sweet warmth made my lungs grow bigger.

And then a wonder.

Hands began to reach. And I don’t know whether they were mine or hers, but this Good answered us with a swelling to meet every inch of our outsides and insides both. I could feel the heat of knowing eyes. There was exhaling and inhaling and folding up and stretching out. There was becoming. Pain was being discovered and uncovered, and covered by grace and by justice. Covered and seen and met and loved. The wounds remained, but we were not alone and we were being rescued. A crumpled form became easy lines became something true. And we stood up on new legs, ready to be with Him.

This girl who never rested held hands with love. And there was rest.

And I was one again. Beckoned by compassion. Fused by Truth.

Yikes...

I'm having new-blogger's-anxiety. I've been blogging on xanga for the past five years, but I've been thinking lately that my voice has changed enough to warrant a brand new blog in a brand new blog zip code. And now I'm having new blogger's remorse.

Yeah, weird.

Weird enough that I'm gonna try to skip right past that to the reason I'm here. I've got new stuff to say and old stuff to re-say, so if some of it sounds familiar to you (the one or two people who still read me... mom) that's because it is. I just think it enough to say it twice.

So I used to be here.

And now I'm here. We'll see how this goes...