there, in the open.

in

i've not been feeling beautiful.

of late, i've not been feeling beautiful.

it has something to do with an out-of-sorts-in-my-own-skin issue.

you know the feeling, don't you? you must?

you don't? oh, lucky, lucky you.

and beauty is a funny thing--a fickle mistress, if you will. she has little to do with the knowing you're beautiful, and almost everything to do with feeling you are.

because all the evidence in the world could stockpile against you: men staring on the train, lovely guys in your own life who pull you close, push your hair behind your ear.

and objectively you understand. that others perceive you as such. as beautiful. and you're grateful for that. really. you know how lucky you are. but dammit, you just don't feel it. so there exists a discord, a disharmony.

and such is the disharmony that neither ryan gosling or portugal. the man's john gourley (ma {that's "my" with a funny accent} soup du jour) could walk right up, take you in their arms, whisper into your ear that they've never before scooped up a stranger, but they saw you and were overcome.

and it wouldn't make a lick of difference. not a lick.
























(okay, well, maybe a lick. i mean, hello. ).

but you know what i mean, don't you? you gain three pounds and suddenly you're bigger than you've ever been (lie! but that's how it feels). and those three pounds signal dull skin and hair in need of a trim and you do all the right things and you take long baths to calm yourself, but you wake morning after morning (for a month, or some brief, but seemingly interminable amount of time) and you think, still? because you know, even before climbing out of bed, you know that you're not yet yourself again. you're you at your worst (lie! lie! but such is the pull of the mind).

last wednesday, was it wednesday? oh heck, it doesn't matter and if it does, well then i'm starting to tell stories like my father and that's the beginning of the end...okay. so. sometime last week i went out with my girlfriend, ashlea, after work. she was meeting up with her lovely boyfriend john and his friends. and i wasn't feeling beautiful and i wasn't dressed appropriately, but heck. that's life. and i know that often to come out of it, you have to head into it, whatever it is. so i waited for ashlea outside the C train at 50th street. i was speaking on the phone when another man approached the station, on his phone, and lingered there for a moment before heading down. 

and now, when i say this man rivaled the ryan gosling, john gourley level of ability-to-raise-my-blood-pressure, you'll have to believe me. his hair was a bit too long, blonde, and curling at the edges. he was like tom brady, but not so pretty. a new york hipster-grunge-tom-brady. oh, that doesn't sound good? oh no. believe me when i say it was. it was. good. 

so there we were, both on our phones, outside of the station. both poised to head downtown. and i gave him the eye. kind of. (usually when i think i've given a guy the eye, they don't get it). but i gave him my-version-of-the-eye and he looked for a minute and then continued on. and i felt really good about it. about the manner and length of his look's reciprocity. 

so as he moved to the steps to head into the mouth of the subway, i turned to give myself a metaphorical pat on the back, and happened to look down.

at my bra.

my exposed bra.

my oh-your-top-button-came-undone-so-your-bra-is-out bra. 

hmph. 

well. that's life. 

and it's worth a good laugh.

and turns out, nothing makes me feel so beautiful as a good laugh, especially when it's at myself. 





(photo credits unknown.
if you do know, pass the info my way.
they are not mine, do not belong to me.)

in







As a woman I have no country.
As a woman I want no country.
As a woman, my country is the whole world.

Virginia Woolf

on figuring out what to do in this life.

in , ,

i get an idea. something to write about. and i let it gestate. move it around a bit. allow it to breathe.  think about it. don't. expose it to light. and then, when the the need of it becomes so immediate, when the pocket of space in which it lives, calls out, i answer. pen to paper. and through me it moves.

the thing is, that sliver of time--that sliver in which the moment is right, well, it doesn't often last long. and it certainly doesn't wait. doesn't allow me time to move through my own pockets of apathy or sadness.

and so sometimes the ideas--the very things that once lined my skin--move up and out. and i am left. alone. that's when loneliness really settles in. not when the words fail, but when they pass through unacknowledged. when i fail the words.

the terrain is shifting. the terrain of my life is shifting. and it's terrifying. terrifying because it's suddenly upon me and terrifying because it's been so long in coming. but mostly terrifying because there's a sense that if i'm not careful i'll miss this moment--this glorious sliver of time--and the ground will settle and i'll be left. standing still. same spot. my feet tethered to a place i can no longer call my own.

i've never been able to lie to myself. that's one thing i've just not been able to do.

i have spent the three years since juilliard searching for meaning. trying to figure out why i went to a school for four years to study a thing i couldn't bring myself to do after graduation. looking for a reason as to why others went on to success when i could barely get out of bed in the morning.

i have wasted hours upon hours trying to connect unconnectable dots. reading the morse code of the moles on my arms and hands. attempting meaning in a void. i have stood in restaurants and department stores and wondered when was it--when was the exact moment that i veered off course. where was the first hint of failure. at what point did i fail the expectations of others? of myself?

why was i given a talent, a gift and then unable to use it?

i am not a terribly religious person. well, that's not entirely true of course, but my religion is no longer that of my childhood. the manner in which i pray has changed, it is more impromptu, off the cuff, in the middle and on the move.

and the most consistent prayer, the most demanding wish i have arced up to the heavens these three years has been this: show me the path. please, just illuminate the way.

and now as i sit here and write this (write) i can laugh and say of course it was unfolding! and of course it continues! how silly was i to doubt.  but, you see, i am human.

it took illumination after illumination for me to stop and listen. i can trace the first one back two years. but it is only now, in the past few months, that it seem so clear, the message so abundant--little pieces of it abutting each other.  so crystallized.

now i can almost look back and pin-point, oh yes, that makes sense and oh, yes, that had to happen that way, and oh, well, that'll be terribly helpful.

the thing is, this thing that i feel i'm meant to do--this thing pressing up against my gut, i've never done it before and i'm quite certain, there's a good chance, i won't know how to do it. and this push and pull between absolute certainty and absolute doubt has me standing still, afraid to dive into the sliver. afraid the sliver will pass.

but the push and pull is also the belief in the divine versus my own, small and pitying self-doubt.

and who am i do deny that something larger is at play? and i use that verb--play--carefully, because isn't that much of what this life is--what it's meant to be? aren't we meant to play and explore and do the very things we think we cannot?

back to blogging this week. i do promise that.

in



oh, hello there.

were you wondering where i went off to?

me too.

me. too.

i can't tell you where i've been. because, well honestly, i haven't a clue. {all i know is it was somewhere else (in that strange, ethereal land of brain mush)}.

i've been feeling this emptiness, this hollowness building within me.

it is neither sad nor lonely, it simply is.

space. it is space.

the making of room for something else--for whatever it is that's about to come. because it surely does feel like something's coming. and that's a little terrifying because there's a sense that if i'm not brave enough--open enough, it'll pass by me--instead of through me.

and i surely do need it to pass through me.

ya know?