Cornered

Rooms feel bigger lately, perhaps they are growing (or maybe I'm shrinking)

Church is one of the only places where people actually sit still, even if they're not listening

Let's build an empire and I'll write words that will grow from the ground

Life is split
like a line discovering cor-
ners

Identify, check-out

I feel obligated to write something today.

The past two days I've been running around changing all of my documents to my new name. License, passport, social security card, check card, credit card... It's all very annoying. I find it strange and slightly creepy that we are required to have so many forms of identification! Proof of citizenship, proof of this and that, proof that you actually DID get married, etc.

I did, however, get a library card today which I am pretty excited about. In an effort to save money, Rick and I decided we are going to try very hard to stop buying books and instead check them out from our local library. I like this idea, but I also really really like to buy books. In fact, I LOVE everything about buying, reading, and organizing books on shelves. Since most of our stuff is in storage at this point anyway, I think this new system will work out fine for now. I just have to get out of the habit of coveting books I can't keep...

rivers and wind

Mississippi Headwaters

Peace Pipe Vista, Itasca State Park

9.24.09

The honeymoon is almost over and the wind is catching the lake as if through a net, dragging it somewhere from the east down toward the shores of our property. Kabekona is not a big lake, but it has been known to claim small fishing boats, rafts full of air, and unsuspecting beach balls left behind in the excited flutter of small children. Tops of trees blink in the wind like light even though the sky is overcast. The leaves blush beside the new death of flower heads and yellowing ferns, oblivious to the squirrel chatter and the directionless, piercing loon cries. I rarely see September in the woods, but I like how honest it is, how it embraces the prospect of winter without letting summer slip too far too fast.

so far

I am home again: married, honeymooned, moved in, and so far I am without complaints.

More tomorrow, it's late.

a small victory

In the midst of everything that is going on, I managed to write most of a poem last night. I consider that a small victory. Granted, it was inspired by a swarm of gnats and a walk in the park from a couple weeks ago, but nonetheless, it's almost finished. I hope my creative energy keeps recharging itself over the next week and a half. I always write when I am at the cabin and it will be a good excercise for me to have such a quiet, limitless environment to work.

Currently sitting in the shade on a side street waiting for 1:00 o'clock to roll around. I ran some errands this morning and officially moved out of Caitlin's apartment (sad face). My car is full of bedding, wrapping paper, and my suitcase. Won't it be nice when I can stop bouncing around and have a place to call home?

Countdown

Two more days of work, three more days until the rehearsal, four more days until THE DAY, five more days until gifts and pizza, six days until we're at the cabin away from it all.

Right now I'm so overwhelmed with details and worrying about everything going right that I am most excited for our week up north. However, I know that once I get to put on the dress and experience all the love that is about to hit downtown St. Paul, I will be overjoyed!

ONE WEEK.

Journal Entry

This is the journal entry I wrote the day I was driving north to the cabin with my parents. This is the journal entry I wrote the day Rick asked me to marry him...

May 21, 2008

Driving to Kabekona with Mom and Dad in the Lego green van. McD's in Cambridge. You know we're getting north when the radio starts going fuzzy and the sun drops low in the sky - a seemingly simultaneous event. There's no traffic to speak of and the farms are like quiet little machines as we pass by, occasionally smelling of manure. Road trip. Reverse culture shock? Hardly. I feel like I am under a constant shifting - sleep-deprived after a full night of sleep - familiar but not familiar scenery - an impossible task of relaying the past four months under categories of "Favorite Things" "Most Interesting City" "Biggest Difference" "Things I Miss the Most" etc. I haven't cried once since arriving in the U.S. I've come close many times, but still feel strangely numb and strangely receptive. Need I be brave here too? Why do I feel just as lonely at night, surrounded by the smells and sounds of home? There might be frost tonight. The trees aren't fully bloomed and look a little shy in the sunshine.

On the Inside

You can only be sure of something if you're on the inside. You can only be sure of someone if you're on the inside.

Criteria for being inside:
-Share stories
-Laugh at inside jokes
-Communicate nonverbally
-Care less for people on the outside
-Bring the inside with you everywhere

Today is the first day of school for a lot of people. I am not in school anymore. I do not belong to an institution that has a mascot or a newspaper or a student senate. I no longer complain about all the reading I have or all the papers I need to write. I have an abundance of free time. Time. I am killing time right now. I have no one to answer to, no one to grade my performance, no one to make sure I attend.
I think I must be on the outside of a very strange inside joke.

what is enough?

Just saw 500 Days of Summer. I can't wait for the sequel: Eternal Autumn. (seriously, though, what a good movie)

I wrote this poem three years ago, but it reminded me of the movie. And, since I am exhausted and happy tonight, that's all I got.

Enough
I can live without you.
Oxygen will still flow into my lungs
and keep my blood warm.
The sky will not fall on my head
in tiny, starlit pieces
and the buildings will still stand
like modern day giants.
This new backdrop, though gray,
will still offer me some beauty,
some reasons to smile.
I could watch you drift away
like a season, like a tide,
until your face disappeared
as a sail on the horizon...
...I could.

(Living without you, though, just wouldn't be enough).

Love Poem #2

A hue my eyes have never seen
before, a door I never
thought to check,
a deck of cards
displayed before my heart
in suits of club and spade.
You wade through my affection
like a child long at play,
you hand me all the smallest parts
that heartache tried to hide.
The colors that I see inside
of me I see in you.
I want to give it all away
again, just give it up to you:
a home away from home
I'll stay, this visionary hue.

Love Poem #1

I can't avert my gaze.
This maze of right and wrong
winds faster than the clock,
to dock this ship
would be a foolish act
for luck has brought us here
my dear, you are the wind
against the sail, this high-flying
fairy tale of chance.
You took my hand and now
we dance beneath the rain -
no sign of letting up.
We move each other still,
the thrill has yet to fade.

I am looking back to the beginning of my relationship when love seemed as impossible to capture as it was to ignore. Now, my love is tangible and formed.

Loose Change

I am an attempt at language. Order and meter and rhythm tempt me.

I am pin-pricked and full of old words today.

Nervous Habit (2005)
Put me in your pocket when you go,
Tucked beside your keys
And leather wallet.
Leave me there, forgotten,
That you may rediscover what we had
Like a handful of loose change.
Let me be a weight against your body
Always there to kiss your nervous fingers
As they dig for some familiar comfort.
Put me in your pocket when you go
That we may ease this blow we've suffered
Saying goodbye.

MN is My State

Whenever I see the hoards of people that come to the Fair every year, it gives me a mild panic attack. I hate the traffic, the standing in line, and the high prices. However, the overall atmosphere is the best place I know of for people watching and pigging out on once-a-year varieties of food.

I think I am becoming more Minnesotan every day. I love our state.