"the horror of unlove"

I have taken to writing a lot in my journal and then putting the sentences in which I felt like I finally nailed down what I was trying to say on here. Maybe I shouldn't. I am feeling so overwhelmed with the way that everyone else thinks and expects the world to work and the way I expect it to. I am tired of being expected to handle these situations in the same way everyone else does. I don't want to, I don't even like how other people handle things. Or don't handle things. I don't want to feel like I am missing something, ever, because when things are gone, they are gone and baby, you can't get them back (especially if you don't notice they are missing). I don't just "move on" the same way other people do, closing one door and opening another. It is all so fluid that it is just not that simple and I don't WANT it to be that simple, I don't want to segment my life in that way. This is not assuming that everyone should be this way, but it is how I want to be, and I just want everyone to understand this, rather than tell me I should be doing things differently.

I see the big picture and note that it is too big to look at it all, but also I will try. How it all fits together. I strongly believe that our various relationships with people are what shape us, are the only things that shape us, and that letting these people slip through the cracks is dangerous. I am a memory box. I am something that is always changing but always the same. I can't think of the proper way to explain it but it is so obvious to me that this is true of all of us, whether or not we choose to be aware of it. I want to KNOW people. It is the easiest way to love them. and when it comes down to it, that is all I want to do really, is love people. Everyone is assuming that I am resisting the change, that I am trying to keep it from happening. I am just trying to make sure that I am aware that it is happening, and that it means something. I want to make sure I understand this so that I do not wake up one day and realize that a million changes have happened and that I can't remember them all and to make sure that I am never to distant from myself, all of myselves.

Everything is important, and nothing matters.

Part of me will never find comfort in the fact that people get lost in the shuffle because I don't think it is something that we should be comfortable with. I will take comfort in my uneasiness with the whole ordeal.

Redbird

"Savannah: write something beautiful about all this. You will. You can. I can tell it's coming. And if I'm still kicking I'll read every word." DJD

It never ceases to amaze and excited me that DJD not only knows about the this tiny wonder of a place I am lucky enough to call home but that he also has been here and understands it, and it's importance to me, after just a day.

It's redbird time, and it doesn't matter that I have been freaking out or panicking because I am home for the warmest shows of the season, with people who have watched me grow up and who know me well.

To wild homes we go, to wild homes we return to, baby.

Why Heather is More Desirable Than Say, Me

(According to the General Population)
WHY HEATHER IS MORE DESIRABLE THAN SAY, ME (According to the General Population)

Heather has a bangin' body
but also
a bodacious bong,
that resembles
the most perfect pair
of breasts.

Heather's got thighs
the size of Texas
but they're not
quite as conservative
and knee-caps as smooth
as freshly churned butter.

I've got elbows
rough as a cats tongue
and breasts so small
even babies
turn their heads away.

Heather consoles me,
reminding me that I am blessed
with an awkward beauty
and because I lack her
valiant vertebrae
I pretend to believe
this is a compliment.

When push comes to shove
and lust comes to love
Heather is always
given priority.





OK, the edits are getting a little worse each time, and this doesn't say what I want it to say, which is that while I am jealous of Heather's hotness, I also don't really want to be desired and objectified the way she so often is. DON'T GOT TIME, 10 poems due in 3 hours, SHIT.

Decadent Panties

Winter strikes Heather fertile;
even her jeans aren't able
to keep all of her eggs
in one basket.

She wakes up to icy windows
decorated with the same lacy pattern
as her underwear,
and notes grimly
that this season has no sense
of privacy.

Inconceivably, Heather hates children
but wants the warmth
of something in her womb
to keep her from turning frigid.

She gives one last lonely glance
out the window
before wrestling into her jeans and mumbling
another broken vow of abstinence.

Winter strikes Heather fertile;
there are too many beds
in this city for just one girl,
but she will try filling them anyways.

Talking and articulating my heart numerous times a day even if it is exhausting because we are all in strange transitional periods and I think the best way for us to handle them is to talk about them and the best way to love each other is to talk about it. Not too much, but enough that we have a good understanding of each other. These new friends are becoming so important so quickly and for once I feel like I fostered relationships on my own, not through friend mooching. I am learning to trust that even though we have not known each other for that long we will stay connected and that if we don't it will still be fine. I have a lot of trouble accepting this, the fact that people do get lost in the shuffle. I am so worried about replacing people, even though they are not so worried.

I am truly exhausted, in a new way. I just keep saying everything out loud even though it doesn't quite make sense because that is the only way for me to make sense of it. I spend too much time thinking about how I am feeling and the last few days I feel like I am drowning in my own feelings and I feel a little bit crazy. I am so tired of articulating but also feel like it is too important and like I am running out of time to explain it to everyone. I will write letters and I will be so happy to see everyone who is still here when I get back.

Sarah and I talked for an hour on the computer, me in the library, panicking, wiping snot on my sweatshirt, she in a coffee shop in Seattle trying to make me feel a little better. I have never been more terrified of what is coming next, but at the same time, I have never had so many wonderful people to talk to about it. Today my friends and I talked about how it seems like everyone is in crisis. But we are old enough to talk about it without it being strange and I think that there is something incredibly hopeful and beautiful about that.

Sarah tells me my heart is different and when we say this we don't mean better or worst, we just mean different. I think she is right. I am trying so hard to root myself before I leave, so hard to root myself all the time. Most everyone else is ready to get out of here, and afraid of being tied down and getting stuck, but I am afraid that if I'm not I might just float away altogether. Everyone keeps talking about leaving. I am scared that I will come back and no one will be here and I will feel like a ghost. Sarah says to look at everything as different eras. I place too much importance on everything, it is exhausting. I always expect people to love the same way I love, and they don't and they shouldn't and I am learning that they don't'/won't and that it's O.K. I keep having the most honest conversations with everyone and it keeps surprising me.

I am a follower. What is most important to me is to be around people I love and in my head following them is equivalent to following my happiness. And I know that is not the same for other people. And I don't think it should be. I know that I could be happy anywhere, and have been happy everywhere I've been so far (which is not so many places). I know the more places I go the worst the nostalgia will get but I will learn to reconcile or at least learn to reconcile with the fact that I can't reconcile. I trust that it will all work out and I trust that there are a million ways to be happy and that I will be, always.

There are too many great people in the world. I want to fit all of them in my pocket. And I want to fit in all of their pockets.

Today I found sympathy for Heather and it changed things. I am starting to worry that Heather is becoming too much of a real person while simultaneously enjoying it.

the nature of things, and things of that nature

It is winter and winter is supposed to feel slow and honey like, but it feels fast. Too fast for my liking. There are too many lovely people here, and they keep seeming to get lovelier, but I have to leave. This makes me sad, but also relieved, because I've gotten myself entangled in some messes and I need to get out of here. And there are too many bypasses and too much too clean water and too much of everything here. I need to be somewhere with a little more heart.

It is winter and I am going to love things too much and it is going to sting but it is well worth it. Redbird week is almost here and when I remember, it doesn't even matter that things are messy because I will be home in the warmth of folk-music love. Time to shake these blues baby, winter won't wait for you.

I am editing poems for my final portfolio for creative writing, thought I'd post 'em.
Pantoum, yo

Family Heirlooms

My most prominent feature is desperation
and I've been told I wear it beautifully.
It was passed down to me from my grandmother
along with her wedding dress

which I've been told I wear beautifully.
This morning I woke with such lush longings
they were passed down to me from my grandmother
when we passed each other sleep-walking.

This morning I woke with such lush longings,
your sullen fingers grazed my prayer-less palms
when we passed each other sleep-walking
but you wouldn't meet my eye.

Your sullen fingers grazed my prayer-less palms
which were passed down to me from my grandmother,
you wouldn't meet my eye
too distracted by my most prominent feature, desperation.

Winter arrived just in time to greet the newest Welch. And this weekend has brought a lovely amount of snow. There is a winter feeling I get, that I can not explain, but it is the most lovely, warm sort of feeling there is. But this winter it is mixed with another sort of heart-exhaustion feeling and my body can't seem to be able to find a way for these two to fit together so I just feel constantly over-whelmed, but in a strangely calm way. I want to do the right thing and I don't know what that is. I am running out of time.

It is winter and all I want to do is love things,but it just isn't that simple. Or maybe, it is.