The Mist at the Summit [Turning 30, Part 2]

The summit mist drowned me in thrilling uncertainty, climbing to my own sense of uncharted territory, unable to see the steps that led me there.  The Stairway to Hheaven climb in Oahu is a crazy, disjointed maze of danger, but the thrill is second to nothing I've ever experienced before.


Every step, on that steep, uncertain path is a victory.

There was a point along the crater ridge at the top, when the cloud we sat within thinned and I could see the pin-sized houses in the valley below, I thought to myself, this is it, this is how I'm going to die.  And suddenly all my anxieties dissolved.  Nothing was more important than that moment, and that was enough to get me to the next step.  And the one after.  And the one that finally led to solid ground below.

This next decade is going to test all the uncertain steps to reclaiming myself and fully grasping who I'm supposed to become.

One thing I've realized, though, is I need to stop trying to full myself into thinking I don't wear my heart on my sleeve.  And that the path ahead is supposed to be easy or laid out before me.  Or that the ground is level.

Or that the next step isn't some kind of fall.

The Ballad of the Paper Rose

I arrived in Texas with bad, bad heartache.  The terrible brick wall of realizations that we all go through.  Like many things in my life now, I'm trying to reel back in the ghosts of my Pandora's box I released in the blur of college.  This one, though a remnant of college was an important one to not only reel in but to help dissolve.

That man, the one with the paper rose, who told me everything is going to be okay and that the rose will be for someone who deserved it... I think his prophecy is something I'm ready to allow to come true.  I think his story has concluded.

His name is Jeremy.

Please Don't Disappear [Turning 30, Part I]

I stood there, bathed in the unholy glow of fluorescent lighting.  The rhythmic drip of the kitchen faucet entranced me, paralyzed by the things in my head.  The dishes in that sink, the wash of light.  It's such a sobering, regular feeling being here, hungry, not hungry, not really knowing what's needed and not feeling allowed to want.

There's freedom in truth, and I think a deep part of Mike wanted me to find out that I was not afforded it in plain sight.  I can't get the mail and the gift wrap out of my head, knowing that I won't be in that place again, and feeling the comfort and sense of passion he made me feel.  He woke me up here in this place I chiseled a home from.  Taught me how to open up and fall, how to rebuild myself and how to not care about anyone who tried to show me how.  He gave me a voice.

And THAT is the highest brand of seduction.

I wish i wasn't always in need of such... rescue.  But saying goodbye afforded me another truth: that I in fact can save myself.  I'm looking forward to making you a memory.  And you'll never hear me sing.

Falling in love, should never mean falling behind. Little by little less and less: I dont write much about you at all...but i think thats because you made me happy.  Im trying to prepare for when it all has to go away.

I wish.

A little less.

Current Music: Colin Hay - "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You"