Thoughts of a Transparent Mind

You know what I'm sayin'

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Look to the stars

I ran from my house, my landlord and his son were yelling again. I needed to get out, but I had to refuge. I was shaking as I pulled out of the driveway. Flying up the gravel road I gasped for air. I cranked to radio “Crazy Bitch” was playing, my song for the day. I stopped at the hiking trails in the Badlands with just enough daylight left to get lost in a crack in a butte. I sat smoking to calm my nerves. I looked at the moon; a thin slice of light growing brighter as the dusky hues fades. I sat there not thinking about anything, a rare occurrence for me. I stumbled through the black down the butte, concluding I had waited too long to make my way without several attempts at killing myself. I sat on the tank of my car, not wanting to leave, gazing up at the glittering curtain of night. I wanted to vanish in something mysterious and greater than my small life, bigger than the yelling and human emotion. I sat with that gaping awestruck look as the Leo constellation jumping out at me. Lying back; I relaxed and pondered how many other people might be doing this same thing. One of the law enforcement guys was headed home and stopped, “Beautiful night for stars,” he said. Idle chat was exchanged and I sat up to see him better through the dark. He paused and then whispers, “Wow, you are all sparkly, it’s your eyes.” I smiled, said “Have a good night.”, and want back to looking at the sky at he drove away. I was looking but not seeing, my thoughts drifting to a not so distance past; to the first time someone said that to me. It brought a smile to my lips and tears welled in my eyes. Trying to focus on anything but you, us, and what we had. I managed to pull my thoughts to other subjects, stupid stuff like grocery lists and chores. I gazed up at the diamond blanket above me one last time before forcing myself to return to my house. In that moment, I felt a loneliness I have never experienced before. I walked numb and tired into my house, striped off my clothes and crawled into bed. Unaware of my action, I twisted close to my body pillow. My leg thrown over it, in that way, my arm draped across it, my hand resting at it’s edge, my fingers curled around it, like it was a person. I drifted to that place somewhere between asleep and awake, the place where dreams live. There you were; holding me close, breathing slow and steady, asleep. Your mouth quivers a bit like I had witnessed many times before while I watch you sleep, feeling your heart beat. Thanking Gad for putting my next to you, feeling that I was the lucky woman alive, hoping it was all real and that it would never end. I awoke feeling sad and my eyes aches. My pillow was wet with tears, only then did I realize that I had been crying, probably all night. Question swiveled in my head: Does he think about me, about us; does it make him sad; does he even miss me? I dressed for work hoping it would be a busy day. I have this dull ache under my ribs, this swelling emptiness, and wash of loneliness tearing at my insides. I have fought back tears and lost the battle more than once today. I miss talking with you; I miss you being with me, making me feel calm, content and completely happy. I have good days and bad days, I wonder how you do it, no wonder you are depressed. I suppose a person accepts their misfortunes, morns their losses and tries to move on.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

The Place We Did Go

I take you to a place of beauty and wonderment, a place I swore, as a child, I would leave never to return. I wanted more than anything to get out, but it took my leaving to realize how much I love it. I gained appreciation for a place that I never before called home until I was miles away. This place is a part of me now and when I am not there, my heart yearns to go back. Join me now on a journey through my vivid memory of my town.
Welcome to Wall, population 825, a speck on the map down Interstate 90. Wall is a typical small town, everyone knows everyone and it’s safe and sheltered. However, I only mention the town to give a geographical relationship to the place in my mind. This place in on the outskirts of town, protecting it and providing the young people with entertainment. It is not that the town is not important or beautiful, but it’s just a town with houses, businesses, and streets like any other.
To start this wonderful adventure I find myself at the beginning of a short stretch of dust and gravel. Resting at what seems to be the edge of the earth, or maybe the middle of it, the grasslands meet the badlands. It is a hidden secret treasure only the town is aware of. I am not talking about the Badland National Park structures. The ones I speak of were lost to the park cut off by the interstate. It is an ocean far from any coast, as the grasses roll in the wind like waves.
Stepping onto the gravel, half circle parking area of the old rifle range, we have arrives. The earth glitters with debris of abandoned shell casings and shards of glass form the shattered bottles of midnight parties. Empty beer boxes litter the ground. Disgusting I know, but without the rubble this place would not have the character and atmosphere it does. Round poles sticking out of the ground form a border where the gravel stops. Two feet into the grass sits eight rectangular cement slabs, each bracing a table used as a shooting support stand. The tabletops make great seats, tables, and paper. Many initials are carved into the gray painted wood, each telling a tale of someone who has been there. The range is a small oval area of grass that covers the ground to the bottom of the badlands that surrounds it. The structure forms a three-quarter circle that shields the area like rib bones around a heart.
To the south is nothing but grassy plains and endless blue sky as far as the eye can see. I lay on the ground and roll in the soft buffalo grass watching carefully for cactus that grows sporadically. The prairie glows with wild flowers and firegrass. Gazing across it at ground level is like looking at a patchwork quilt of greens, yellows, oranges, browns, whites, and purples. The wind carries the rich smell of sweet clove and sage. At night the view changes into blackness so dark, it is frightening. Without moonlight there is nothingness where grasslands were. The only light that shows are the stream of lights on the interstate just on the horizon.
Turning now to the east, the sun peeks over the edge of the horizon exploding over the badlands wall, bathing the sky in pinks and oranges. The rays of light start to dance across every crack and crevass of the massive clay structures. The painted hills of brilliant purples, reds, pinks, and yellows greet the day almost sparkling. The colors shift with the sun’s passing over top of them throughout the day. Some of the badlands are rolling hills with rounded tops; while others are high jagged crags pointing to the sky. Still, others end in flat grassy plateaus. Each dune, hill and mountain-like formation has a personality all its own. It is as if each houses an ancient secret: one of long hard nomadic journeys made by the Plains Indians; another of the ocean waters that used to cover them; or of new life watching the homesteads develop and fall. The tale of modern teenagers out for late night drunken parties is what stands out the most. It is the secret that has scarred this place with noticeable tire tracks and party favors.
The western view is more clay badlands and the road you came in on. That does not sound very exciting, but just wait until dusk. The sky dims down to a wash of vibrant purples and reds, painting the heavens in such a way words can not do it justice. On nights during a new moon the west is the only light source, over the wall shooting straight into the night are the lights of town. They are not beams, but a halo hanging still above the crags, giving off an eerie glow.
Most of my nights were spent laying on the tabletops looking up at the stars. The night sky is like a massive curtain studded with diamonds. There is not one spot that is not covered in stars. On nights of a full moon, I would just sit out there talking and looking at the land in the low romantic light. The sound of silence fills your ears. It is so peaceful that it is easy to collect you thoughts or get lost in memories. The wind dances about you caressing your skin and it feels softer than any lotions could. Life seems to stand still out there at the range; a person has no responsibilities. Moving alone is a task hard to do because you are stunned in amazement of the beauty here. Many late summer nights were spent out at the range. At times the air hangs so still, it seems to hold you motionless within it. Other times you are showered with a slow rain tickling down, seemingly turning the badlands to wet cement.
Returning to my car, I glance back to the place, the wind rustles the grass as if to say good-bye. I travel back up the dirt road and into the limits of town. Everyone is sleeping as I retire to my house. The children are still dreaming of leaving this place, to move on to bigger and better places, where everyone does not know you and they do not care what you are doing. Responsibilities return to me as reality sets in. I only have three hours before I have to go to work. This is Wall, a quiet, quaint, little town with its gemstone beauty nestled deep on its outskirts, waiting for visitors to come and lose themselves there.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

New Perspective and Old Memories

** warning may be offensive to some persons, but understand I have my reasons **

I gained a new perspective today of a girl, I never really knew or avoided for reason I keep to myself. For all intensive purposes I will refer to her as the enemy. I do not hate her, though our personalities clash and we do not have much to say to one another. I recently found that the enemy is a tortured, frustrated soul wrapped in an attractive package with a gleaming smile and bubbly personality that guy trip over. I discovered something real and insecure hidden behind the exterior of confident happiness. She was immediately cast into a new light, one of understanding and sympathy.
It was a tale of love and grown-up decisions. That first scared moment when your body says yes, but your mind says no, and you love the person so much you just want to be with him completely. The internal struggle begins, if I do this what do I become? What if we do not work out in the end? The morals scream so loud to be heard over the carnal desires, it is hard to think straight. You panic, the guilt sets in, and then the tears roll down uncontrollably. Am I really ready to do this, indulge in a world where innocence is gone. To let go and give the one gift you can not take back. You run away. The battle continues until you give in.
The enemy drudge up that memory for me. She also showed how completely human she truely is. In my mind there became an increasing secret tolerance. I want to hug her and let her know that despite the awkward fumbling of a first time experience, innocence does not define you. Having a connection with him, though maybe only special for a short time, does not make you dirty or wrong. To help her see that she is not alone, that this war has raged in the depths of every moral-bond person, with that nimph fighting to break free.
Life is about choices, choices you should commit to fully without regret. Regret only breeds bad feeling and self hate. Know that in the end if it does not work out, innocence was not lost for nothing, it was an experience. True, it will hurt but without the pain we can not appreciate the pleasure. It will happen when you are ready, it is a big step but it does not mean you are a slut for wanting it.
Here is to the enemy may she one day find peace within herself and her decisions, as I have.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

To cappacino in my shoes

twisting, gaining, growing, changing
life is one big contortion act
i find i am numb
but for the squishing in my flops
i am so self aware finding i do not care
hoping for a better place
realizing that i am already there
i am 23 today
torn between growing up and not wanting to
here's to purple hair and new tattoos
i do not want responsiblities
but guilt sets in and i must be the
grown up person i should be

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Reality

Yesterday I attended a wedding. I wish the couple well, but that is a side note. Last night I found myself forced to return to the past. Ideal conversations about former classmates, seeing the first boy I thought I loved, being welcomed back to a family that at one time was my second home. Things I have not thought about in months, perhaps years. As I turned to leave I was filled with sorrow, I fought to hold back tears. I wish the night ended here but, NO, in the parking lot I was stopped in my departure by one of my high school play things. He had that look in his eyes, he asked if we could "talk", his subtle way of saying wanna make out. Needless to say I was not amused but I could not be rude and dismiss him without an attempt at an explaination. The words "Come on it will be like high school again", made my skin crawl and my muscles tense. As I pleaded for him to get out of the car, he tried to hold my hand causing my whole body to tingle. I quickly withdrew and looked out the window. He attempted futher advances all of which I fended off. My voice began to quiver as I begged him to leave. My mind reeled and my stomached turned, it took effort not to vomit. My past began to haunt me, not just in my mind, but right in front of me. The tears welded up in my eyes and it grew hard to breathe. I retreated inside myself, hiding behind the walls I have consturcted. He told me that he would go and slowly left. I took off as fast as I could put the car in gear. It was only then I realized that I have avoided so many memories in reality because I wanted to, not because I had simply forgotten. All of my past was pulled to the front of my mind. As I drove on the backroads to town, I cried, not simply shedding tears but practicely bawling. Being treated like a whore, makes a person feel worthless. I could still feel his hand holding mine, and it made me angry. It has been so long since I felt the touch of intimate intentions. Anger and fear raged inside me, because I longed for it for the first time in over a year. I have tried so hard to behave myself and besides what is the point if it will go nowhere in the end. I am done with that game, I truly want a real relationship, eventhough it scares me so much.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Ever wonder if it would be

Have you ever found yourself looking back on your life and the lives of the people you know and wonder if it would be different. Would it be different if you made a different choice, passed on an opportunity, said no to a potential. I know life is full of choices and you have to make the one that seems right for you, but do you ever look back and wonder what if. What if I had not been distracted (would I have made it to state or gotten those lines right). If I had decided to never pick up the phone and call, would you have, would anyone have? Did I make the best choice in returning here to a place with little to do and even fewer to talk to? Will I find something great in a new place.? I went to a few weddings already this year and I wonder what if she had said no. A friend is having difficulties in resisting tempations of a returning old flame meer weeks before exchanging vows with another women, I guess he is wondering if it would be different. I ran into an old friend a few days ago, he has children now but I wonder is he truly happy for as we stood there talking, a look came to his face. It seem to say I wonder if it would be different if I had only been with you. I made an offer, a promise of sorts, to another friend that we would get out of here one day live together and help each other. He is a dad now too and one day he said I thought you were going to get me out of this place. I wonder if he really meant it or if he was simply wonder if it would be different. I am not saying that it would be better. Different is not always better, it is simply different. I wonder a lot if I had made different choices if I would be a differentperson. Strange how the thought that one small decision, that at the time seemed so insignificant, might have made your life different.

Friday, January 21, 2005

Does anyone really know?

Does anyone really know what a friend is suppose to be, I mean a true friend? I always thought it was someone who was there not only when they need someone but also when you need someone. Is a friend suppose to be loyal and true to their word and defend you no matter how ridiculous you are? Isn't a friendship a two way street, what one people gives is returned equally? Or is there to be no expectation of what a friend is and what you get from a person is what you get and you should simply accept it. I do not know, I thought I knew once what a friend was to be, but looking back in most friendships someone got the raw end of the deal. If anyone out there can answer better I am open to hearing it.

Does anyone really know?