Without surgery

My feminism will never trump my uterus.

M83

We stood, surrounded by a hundred other bodies, whose faces we couldn’t even see. We stood almost shoulder to shoulder, though you were slightly more in front, and it was the closest we had been in months, yet it didn’t feel familiar. I couldn’t help but look at your face, a face I adored for so long, glowing warmly with pink and purple lights, and for the first time, I didn’t recognize you. 

I watched as you wiped away thick tears that streamed gently from the corners of your eyes, and I didn’t even wonder if they were for me anymore. I felt my hand rise, as if to lend some sort of comforting gesture, but it went on past your shoulder and, along with the rest of my body, gently floated up past the sea of people. I looked down and saw you still standing there and you turned and noticed I was gone, but you didn’t worry. Instead, you looked up and saw me going away, and we just stared at each other. 

I went into the rafters and through the ceiling, and you were still wiping tears away; those heavy tears that contained everything-hopes, dreams, fears, passion, regret-from a previous life that we once shared, and I began to cry too, because we both knew that with those falling tears was the end of our road together. As I floated away, you became less and less familiar until I couldn’t even tell you apart from the others, I went up so high that we couldn’t even remember each other anymore, and I went on, streaming through the air and through the clouds. 

You left that place that night, and through wet eyelashes looked up to a thousand, identical stars.

Public Safety Theory: A Deeper Look into Who Gets Ticketed and the Real Reason They Got It (1/25/12)

The school requires all students, faculty, staff, etc. to get parking stickers to put on the front windshield of their vehicle. There’s a little ID code on the sticker and they are color coded. They tell you who you are and what you mean to the school. Your rank. Your identification.

When the student or staff  receives a parking ticket, we assume it is for a traffic violation of some sort; “you don’t belong here, you belong there.” They pinch our skin (ridiculous fines), and send us on our way. But what if it’s something more?

The ticket then doesn’t have something to do with something we do on campus, but rather, what they’ve caught us doing off campus. We see them creeping around town sometimes. Scooting around, late at night, after the show at The Majestic, in neighborhoods, at the drive-thrus. They’ve also got their spies. Residential spies. The little orange ticket is no longer, “you don’t belong here,” it is now, “I know what you’ve been doing.” They’ve got you. They know who you are, where you live, what classes you’re taking. What car you drive. 

Thoughts on Fast Food (12/7/11)

Fast food is a prime example of people's low standards and lack of self respect. Fast food establishments get away with the bare minimum, which is something we have been taught our whole lives is not something to strive for, but something to excel far beyond.

It is a short term high for a longer lasting depression of our population's general health, which ends up fighting against us. Doesn't the short term fix also go against our fathers' wisdom? Give a man a fish, feed him once, teach him how, etc. etc.

"Fast." "Food." We demand immediate attention. Barbaric demand for fuel. This is not something I feel is important to spend time on. Just a general category in which I do not have any regulations on what I put in my body, or blink an eye at what my body actually needs. I obviously do not value the quality of my "nutrition," as I clearly value speed over nutrients. A word I say to my dog when telling him he did well. ("Do not reward yourself with food. You are not a dog"). When a girl is "fast" she is considered a hussy. Spelled backwards is "doof," (say that out loud).

If we all claim to "love" food, why do we so obviously not care about food? Holding it to high standards like we do with music, movies, art, grades, performance, etc.

An example of laziness. Unwilling to even leave the car to pick up your bag of useless, low grade "energy," or even attempt to take the extra steps to make your poorly nutrition life style more active.

Streaming together through oceans of warm colors that float through our transparent bodies. We gently glide through ribbon mirrors as the sun is eternally setting in the west, lighting our nostalgic paths with waves of overwhelming emotion, which drives us to search for a connection beyond these bruised knees and weary eyes.

My warm skin longs for its perfect other half, impatiently waiting while the sounds from another's lungs are sent through the air, being inhaled by us all while we surf through the reverberations of each other's heart beats.

Our eyes lock, but our mouths don't move, because there's no use for words when your souls are so intertwined that you can't even tell where your life begins or ends, because you have never lived without the other soul wholly connected to yours.

I closed my eyes, and in that moment the gaslight of my double calender summer went out with a cold breath. I could see and feel things that the baby boom generation never knew existed, but such pretty wisdom doesn't come without the complete package of the broken hearts of the romantic era.

Every night we head into the darkness, through glossy eyes, in an attempt to find unending redemption and unconditional love, but the only success we find is in the communion between two broken hearts in their attempt to mend each other.