Suffering 9/26/2012

            Why does life have to be so brutal? I mean I understand that you need to know the bad to ever dream of appreciating the good. But what of the people who already appreciate the good? The ones who know how to live and live freely. The people who truly can and do give without expecting anything in return. These are not the people to take from. These are the people to give to, to reward. 
            I've seen too many of my friends suffer. And yes, their suffering may not compare to the poor and oppressed in unstable countries such as Tibet, but it's still suffering. Where it lies on the scale of relativity is irrelevant. There are too many of us who are cheated by life. I don't know why I said "us" because I don't think I've been that low yet...well perhaps once or twice...
            Life is beautiful. It's a circle. With it's sines and cosines. But the people who are in love with this always seem to be the ones robbed of it. And while I agree that this builds strength. I don't always agree with the necessity of it. 
            This surfaces the question, "is there really any meaning, any path in life or are we just a bit of flotsam in the sea, floating around, willy nilly, living our life to the luck of the draw. Life is not fair. Life is not equal and this very concept is so difficult for us as humans to comprehend and accept. We're constantly asking "Why me?" or "Why them? They (don't) deserve it." The thing to do is understand this fact fully. Life is not fair, it never can be and so never will be. It's the people who have the strength to embrace it anyway that are the successful ones.

Loose Ends 9/12/2012

Packing.
Preparing to go back to a place I once was.
A place I had just left.
I hadn't even had time to unpack properly.
I sift through the clothes left in the boxes;
untouched for three months. 

Dust arises, I sneeze.
I find a warm knit sweater
that I love and place it in one pile;
A shirt someone had given me that I know I'll never wear,
I place it in the other.

Odd.
Deciding year after year what to take
and what to leave behind.
Every year it changes.
Style, size, comfort; it all changes.

I pull out a pair of old jeans,
my favorite ones.
They looked terrible,
but when I put them on I felt beautiful.
I had held onto these through each packing, each unpacking.
They had almost come to define me.

Smilingly, I start folding them for the "take" pile, and stop.

There's a rip. 
I hadn't noticed it before. 
But it's there, plain as day. 
I scramble to find a needle and thread to tie up the loose ends.
Or a patch to tame the frayed area. 

It can't be.
I've had them for so long.
They're a part of me.
How do I leave them behind?

Distressed, I attempt to wear the jeans with the rip.
Perhaps if I had tried enough I could fool myself.

A moment of clarity. 
One. But it was enough.
I pulled off the jeans, folded them neatly,
and placed them with the ugly shirt. 

I sighed, a tinge of remorse in my movement.
The jeans had served me well,
but they had tied me down for years.
I knew I couldn't let them define me anymore.
Some loose ends aren't worth tying. 

I Sliced My Finger on a Serrated Knife in Santa Cruz. 9/10/2012

I sliced my finger on a serrated knife in Santa Cruz.
         I bled a lot.
         My platelets were shot.
         Those looks I got!
         I haven't forgot.
I sliced my finger on a serrated knife in Santa Cruz.

I hit my knee riding a rainbow skateboard in Isla Vista.
         The fall to the ground
          unleashed such a sound.
         With no one around 
          help couldn't be found.
I hit my knee riding a rainbow skateboard in Isla Vista.

I burnt my hand with a hot cake pan in La Quinta.
         It left such a scar
         my complexion was marred.
         In the shape of a star 
         When seen from afar. 
I burnt my hand with a hot cake pan in La Quinta.

I bruised my toe with high heeled shoes in Huntington Beach.
         The spot was all black,
         like I had been attacked.
         And when I came back
         my nail had cracked.
I bruised my toe with high heeled shoes in Hungtington Beach.

I sliced my finger on a serrated knife in Santa Cruz.
I hit my knee riding a rainbow skateboard in Isla Vista.
I burnt my hand with a hot cake pan in La Quinta.
I bruised my toe with high heeled shoes in Huntington Beach.
And it hurt.