i want you to know

I want you to know that I don't dream of doing those things because I can't. There's too much for me to do here, too many people to help, and too many people I love that I can't let suffer.

I want you to know that I stay, not because I am not adventurous, but because I find adventure in the small, familiar places that form my home.

I hear of the great things that people do, of the magnificent sights I may never see, and think that perhaps you find me uninteresting, without dreams, perhaps without wonder for the greater world beyond.

And it pains me to think that might be the case, because, I'm sure if I were in your shoes, I would travel far and do things fearlessly...like dancing in Argentina, with my eyes closed to the world, diving into the sea, and climbing peaks in gusty winds.

I want you to understand that my thoughts are not plain. I am simply content to be where I am, with those I know. You are not more sophisticated than me, though, admittedly, I sometimes think that I don't compare. That perhaps my intellect does not hold up to things you know.

But I, too, know things that you don't know. I've seen things you've never seen, and will probably never see, things that people travel far and wide in order grasp. Well, they happened to me, everyday. These are not novel to me. The poor man building houses from nothing, communities coming together in the hot sun, laughing and forgetting their poverty. And yet you think I don't know, or that I am so unlike those who seek these situations out in order to become grounded. Don't forget that there's more to me. That these experiences were closer than you know. That I don't have to seek them out. That I lived close to it and spoke with them. The lessons are more a part of me than they are for those who can really only have a cursory glance at them.

So don't think I don't know, don't care, don't make a difference. I'm simply content, because these have grounded me and we've gone through it and have risen out of it.

under pressure

It's so weird. I realize that I haven't blogged in a while. I'm feeling the pressure. I feel like if I don't write something, I'll lose my readers. This, despite starting the blog not thinking anyonewould read it.

My life has just been busy. I'm saying goodbye to a lot of things, but other prospects are looking bright. Like, hopefully, a slightly challenging new job. Who knows, who knows what the future will bring. It's amazing what can happen in a short period of time, if you think about it. Where will I be a year from now? What will I be doing? What new plans will I be making?

A couple of my friends have been seeing some action on the dating scene. As for me, I haven't. Thankfully, I haven't been worrying about it. Maybe it's because he's coming home soon. But the feeling of expectation isn't really the same with regard to that anymore.

I'm also finding that I'm getting more and more comfortable with the idea of smiling at guys when I go out. I've actually done it and received smiles back. I have found myself eyeing guys, making eye contact, even! These sound like small things, but after the break-up, this is a noticeable change. I like it. I'm feeling more free, less scared, though a little bit hesitant.

Things can only get better. Hmmm...I wonder how many spelling and grammatical errors I have made so far. I won't be rereading this post before publishing, or after, for editing.

There it is. As I've typed. No looking back.

music for a rainy day

Chopin Nocturne Op. 9, No.1

For the first time in months, I felt like playing. I think it's the result of something a girl at practice said on the walk home. She loves to dance. She knows that there are people with ten times the technique she does, but it only makes her want to work harder.

I used to be that way. I would work and I would win. Well, not always, but most of the time. I was cocky. Well, maybe just more self-assured and confident in my abilities. But then things happened, and I lost motivation. My energy was spent thinking---deciphering puzzles and brain twisters.

Today, with the view of the rooftops and skyline that I love, and raindrops occasionally tapping on my window, I played. I haven't played that in a long time, having learned it 12 years ago. (Holy shit!) I've played it occasionally, grudgingly satisfying my mom's request to play it again.

My fingers, defying faded memory, hesitatingly touched the keys. Old lovers, reunited in a cloudy haze, recalling how to touch, where to touch. It was frustrating, wanting to satisfy myself, to hear the response I wanted to hear coaxed, enticed by my fingertips. My emotion imposed, creating emotions in sympathy.

It was far from perfect. I knew how to apply pressure to different parts, creating the sound I wanted, but overall, it was lackluster. I wasn't disappointed, because I enjoyed the moment and the mass of abstraction surrounding me. Certain notes cried out in heart-wrenching oscillations soothed by calm lullabies.

It's just frustrating not being able to satisfy what creation demands, and in turn being left unsated. Thankfully, today, this merely left me looking forward to the next time, a challenge mischievously smiling.