(untitled) exerpt 2

"You are like an eagle in a cage. You love your life with us, but there is another life you yearn for as well."

"What do you think I would do?"

"I think you would be writing, living in the city, reading your poetry at coffee houses. You wouldn't necessarily be with any one person, but you would have torrid flings now and again."

I'm not sure how I felt about his revelation. I was shocked, because he acts indifferent most of the time. I was shocked because I didn't acknowledge this about myself, yet it is true. It is something of which I am aware, but never fully brought into focus because it is a difficult thing to face. Wanting another life, a parallel life would mean that I don't want the life I have, and I do.

I think I should have felt relief with his statement, but I didn't. I felt angry. I felt as if he had this truth about me all this time and didn't share it. I found comfort in thinking he was oblivious to something I barely gave a passing glance. I also felt exposed. I wasn't trying to hide anything necessarily, but I thought I was better at masking what was going on in my head. I'd like to think I was putting on a good show. I guess I wasn't.

Yes, an eagle in a cage is what I am, I thought. So what now?

Now what indeed.

(untitled) exerpt 1

I am just beginning. My life that is. It is just starting. I have just figured out how to be me. Is this the by product of a middle aged crisis? Is there really such a thing as middle aged. I mean unless you know the day you are you going to die, how to do you determine what the midpoint of your life is? I am comfortable in my skin more days than not, I have confidence in what I do, occasional wisdom, and I am ready. To do what? Something. Something great, something not so great, who knows? And that was not a rhetorical question, I'm really asking, WHO KNOWS? Anyone out there have any clue? I need a clue. Do I just do what I'm doing? Work, raise kids, do laundry? I have been enjoying life more. The little things, the gatherings I used to so often avoid. I'm enjoying them, I think. Maybe I've just mastered the whole smile through it thing and I've learned to fool others so well, I'm fooling myself.

Where is it? The greatness? Where is it? I know it is somewhere around here. Somewhere I'm supposed to be. How do I get there? I mean, is the lesson at the end of this whole thing that the greatness is right here, right now, in front of my face. That the greatness is me or in the little things? There's no place like home Dorothy. I mean is that really it??? Some corn-ball conclusion embedded in every fairy tale a warning from those who seek greatness to those seeking? Oh, God, please don't tell me that this is true. I need to know that the sum total of what I am amounts more to being just me. But perhaps that is just greedy and unrealistic on my part. Who the hell am I? Why should greatness be mine? Why do I deserve such accolade? I'm just a worker bee like everyone else. Aren't' I? No. Because none of us are worker bees. We are all unique and amazing and have the greatness inches away from our grasp waiting to feel the pads of our fingers digging into it.

So what's taking so goddamn long?

In case you were wondering....

Happy Easter!!

xoxo

happy st. patty's

I get lost here, in this space.

I begin reading and writing and soon the walls fall away, sounds dissolve, and it is only me and this illuminated square. The screen pulls me into another world and I let it. It's my escape from who I am, and sometimes I find myself letting it consume me for days.

I've been trying to detox a bit, letting reality pull me where it may, and I find myself falling in love again with the world. I realized this Saturday night as I stood chest high amid Americana clad in clashing hues of green. Perhaps it was the rhythm of the drum, or whine of the bag pipe or the pride blaring across the young mens faces. I'm not sure. Something hit me, and i was glad to be there amongst it, and a little sorry I hadn't donned my own version of the kelly. Maybe next year.

sluts.

I didn't recognize you!

I get that a lot.

I am a forgettable person, apparently. I could sit next to you all basketball season and talk to you the whole time, and then when you see me at a school function you will look at me as if I have six heads when I say hello to you. You will try to smile and pretend to know me, but I know what you are thinking.. "Who the hell are you?" Then it will dawn on you, usually because you will see who my kids are or my husband who are much more memorable, and then you will rush up to me and say something like, "Oh my, did you change your hair color or something? I didn't recognize you! "

Um. No. I might have dyed my hair a shade darker, but I'm still me.

What's funny is that I have been the same forever. My hair is the same, my clothes are the same (pathetically so) and I have worn the same jewelry for years, earrings included (yea, I'm that lazy). So my only conclusion is that I am completely forgettable.

This is not something new, either. It has been happening to me my whole life. I even have a cousin who lives in town who walks right by me every time when I see him and I have to actually say, "hi.. it's me.. your cousin, Elle." Every. time.

When I was a teenager, I used to have a blond streak in my hair. It was my lame attempt at being punk. I wasn't fond of the streak, but it did serve a purpose, it made me memorable. I was known as the girl with the blond streak. I kept it for years for that reason.

Maybe I should bring back the blond streak...