times are rough. there is no way to describe in great, flowery detail what is truly going on inside my heart. in one feeble attempt, the sum of my exhaustive emotions in one word equates to this...frick.

when you trust, you are disppointed. but why? why do the ones we love/care deeply for/have established rapport with let us down so frequently and horribly? why does human emotion screw so much with the trust we've built up so tentatively?

i don't know what it is about me that brings out the baser, animalistic, lust-driven tendencies in people. why do men want me like this? i don't like it. i don't like it one bit. but it happens... again, and again, and again. and it's exhausting and distasteful.

for the seven thousandth time, methinks i'm going insane.

to a beautiful girl-


calm down
deep breaths
and get yourself dressed instead of running around and pulling on your threads and breaking yourself up.


if it's a broken part, replace it.
if it's a broken arm, then brace it.
if it's a broken heart, then face it.


and hold your own, know your name, and go your own way and everything will be fine.

are the details in the fabric the things that make you panic?
are your thoughts results of static cling?
is it mother nature's sewing machine?
are all the things that make you blow... hell, no reason, go on and scream.
if you're shocked it's just the fault of faulty manufacturing.

everything will be fine.
everything in no time at all.
hearts will hold.



i feel like you're an island of reality in an ocean of diarrhea.

the past few days have hit me in dizzying rapid succession. i spent the morning in reflection and replayed the chaos of the past three nights in a strange fashion. kind of, half narrative, half analysis.
i went ___ (wow, really? why?)
i said ___ (to whom? i should apologize.)
i did ___ (how embarassing!)
this isn't the first time i've wanted to wrap myself up and disintegrate. it has become clear to me that i need to give up the juice. maybe not permanently, but until i've learned how to function without it. i've dedicated the next twelve nights to sobriety. anyone who has known me the past two or three months realizes how grandiose of a challenge i have put before myself.
for a second i found comfort in that, while i may have given up alchohol i still have this vice, and that one, and that one. so i'll be okay, right? perhaps the real crusade should be to give up all vices. i mean, that seems to be at the root of all issues.
over the years i've managed to collect a lot of dust. i've always felt like there was an undeniable sense of irreparability to my damage; that it's steadfast, unchanging, and here with me forever. i'm not actually diluted enough to believe that, but sometimes it seems easier to cover broken glass than dispose of it properly. it was always simpler to resort to self destruction than get to understand the core of the issue.
i say twelve days because i'm leaving for new york on the 21st, and would like to enjoy a few glasses of wine with my old friends while catching up. i only hope i won't find myself on the brink.
no more cutting already broken glass.

can we please be friends?
can you please try to see past all my crap?
let's hike in the rain.
let's devour a cheap bottle of shiraz, just the two of us.
i'll fill you in on all the secrets you've missed. [as long as i can sit cross-legged across from you and NOT have to struggle edgewise to get a word in.]
we can just sit there on the porch, wine glasses in hand, catching up in tones barely above a whisper.
you'll enlighten me.

and, after two months, that heated fight about nothing that ends our friendship [again] for another three to four months.
i crave it.

i've always kind of wished people could carry pieces of themselves around in, say, a fanny pack. everything we've ever said or done or experienced in the past could be right there, held in only by a zipper. and when it came time to indulge one another we could do so in just one fell swoop. no minor trivialities of "getting the ball rolling." just unzip, there it is; we'd start fresh from there. no apologies or explainations. no painful recollections of all the horrifying things your psychotic ex-boyfriend did to turn you into the maladjusted weirdo that you are now. how much easier would it be if she could say, "there was this one time when..." and he could interupt and say "i know" and mean it?

the Oregon man, Lawrence Egan, who was found frozen to death a week ago was a war veteran. now, i am not by any stretch of the imagination, placing higher value on a veteran than any of the rest of us. i am, however, concerned and believe everyone should know the true identity of this man who was left to die in the snow. aside from the fact that Egan served this country for two decades, he earned 9 awards during his service, and also earned a master's degree from the university of oregon.

he was turned away from many housing projects because of "sobriety requirements." and was found december 17th, frozen to death in 20 degree weather.

it is so easy to comfort ourselves with, "at least he's in a better place." what isn't easy is to truly explore how we as society can be more compassionate and make this life on earth a better place for those trying to survive on the streets, or in poverty. i believe no one who serves this country with such faithfulness should be left to live on the street regardless of mental illness, alcoholism, or any other misfortune.

it seems these days you can't walk more than two blocks on the streets of portland without being asked for change. i used to turn away from those, until one day about two months ago i saw a former co-worker of mine on the street corner, he had obviously not had the luxury of a shower in a while, and i could tell he was in desperate need of a winter jacket, and his sweatshirt, which i assumed should be white was stained brown with dirt. i was lucky to avoid eye contact, thinking i was doing him a favor by saving him from some sort of embarrassment. now thinking back, i'm sure he would have gladly accepted my dollar in exchange for the slight twinge of embarrassment.

THIS IS A MAN, a person, a human who had a family, children, and job, a car, a dream. i do not know and i was too scared to inquire how his life had led him to poverty and begging for change on the street corner. but i KNEW this person. and i walked by and hid my face with my bag of goodies i had just purchased from nordstrom, and kept walking. and while somehow it may fit into God's will that this man is living on the street, does my turning my head align with God's will for my life? i don't think so.

and now, i give when i can. but i'm not perfect, and there are times when i feel justified in taking my five dollars to starbucks to buy a pastry and hot chocolate instead of giving it to the person on the street who i ASSUME is going to take it and run to the liquor store. and we feel it is our right to drive our $60,000 cars and take twice annual trips to far off places. and i'm not saying that's bad, and if you have worked hard and can afford those things, that's wonderful! but how about skipping out on the coach bag for your wife's anniversary present, or the big screen tv you just have to have in time for the super bowl and try giving to those standing, or kneeling, or laying under blankets on the street corners RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

to live a life of the spirit is to live a life of compassion, of generosity, of love, of kindness, etc. etc. etc. and i believe that what i have and what i earn is NOT mine, but God's and i am here to share what the world would consider "mine." i want to leave this life vindicated, not being the one to say "AT LEAST he's in a better place," but being able to say "i helped make life on earth a better place."

it is my hope that during this season and beyond we might reach out to those who truly need our help. by denying the need of one man, we deny all men. give up ONE christmas present for your children and give a winter coat to a child who NEEDS it more than your seven year old NEEDS a cell phone, or an iPod, or a Wii, or a tv for their bedroom, or a car that they can't drive for eight more years.

let's start thinking clearly.