Colour My Words.

What I'm Jammin' To. 2

What I'm Jammin' To.

Our Interrupted Uninterrupted Time Together.

…a huge-ass blog title, and other stories. Just kidding. But not really.

This won't be anything ground-breaking or thought provoking. If you're human and you're older than 18 that's all the life experience you need to understand that nothing truly belongs to you. And that's what this is all about. Not the air you breathe, or that kiss from that boy on the fifth grade, not your fat kitty, or crummy apartment you live in. Nobody cares if you paid for it. And I certainly hope you didn't pay for that fifth grade kiss. 

The month of May showed it's sneaky self around the corner recently, caught me a little off-guard and now I realized I'm looking at the next few weeks the way I looked at the last few pages of the Divergent series: a mixture resting between what-the-fuck and a deer in headlights, battling with the uneasiness of starting a new chapter in the book of my life. For those who don't know, I'm moving to Syracuse, NY around late June to begin my master's degree in Magazine, Newspaper, and Online Journalism for the Newhouse School of Syracuse University. And although the prevailing emotion has been excitement, the underlying reality is that I'm overwhelmed, a little scared, and can-somebody-just-press-pause-please?

My hardest challenge so far has been telling my heart to be still at every recent farewell and promise of "I'll see you this week", and "we're hanging out on thursday, right?" I'm still trying to make peace with this time not being mine to give, this uninterrupted time together that we used to have, that certainty that even if I can't be present for today I'll still be here next week, next month, next year,... is slipping. Our seemingly distant future, that taboo and obscure black hole of life after college, isn't so black and holey anymore. It's gotten clearer, the edges noticeable like a slowly rising sunrise. The discussions over exams, and finals, and the transition into our young-adult lives that brought us together is now pestered by the daunting realization that we've all been set free. Our cage has been propped open and like convicts we're stuck wondering "where do we go now?" Now we're more than just kids in the same period of life, stagnant, and waiting. If anything we've hit those speed-boosters only found in video games. Our surroundings now feeling more like a painting in motion, all blurred lines and movement. 

I remember that when I was in high school, I used to become upset when my girl friends would start dating new boys and spend all the beginning weeks with them beating through all the newness. Suddenly there was no time for the usual sleepovers, or movie theater marathons after school, or gossipy phone calls late at night. I felt like there was no time for me. And as a person that thrives on giving and receiving quality time, this was by far my biggest peeve. And a scary one at that because I like the nuances. I like knowing the details, discussing what kind of coffee you had this morning, whether you went out for a run, or the latest that creepy guy/girl texted you last night. I like the familiarity, the notion that the next time I see you we don't have to talk because the next thing you could ask me is what color underwear I'm wearing and who-the-hell-cares kinda thing. Our time: uninterrupted by moves across the country, by duties, by certainties.

And granted, a little more life experiences, boy-dramas, and full-time jobs later I understand that life as we know it isn't always possible. And that we belong to everyone,  and at the same time to no one. We belong to things we don't want to belong to sometimes, like meetings, and 9-5's, chemistry exams, and tub scrubs. And we belong to things we can't bear ever leaving. Like that time we sang songs riding in the car late at night, or the whole summer we had of beach-bumming our way through Puerto Rico. Our childhood bedroom, the shoes with holes, the laugh that ripped us apart. Yet, as we feel our horizons expanding, we understand one thing: That to love is to set free. It is to want for that person what they want for themselves.  Although it is, more often than not, easier said than done. However, in the midst of these times I've found that relationships, when nurtured properly, have a steady amount of fuel to go on. And that they change shapes, and they look a little different, and that it's OK not to now whether you slept five hours last night or not; to not know absolutely everything about each other anymore. You'd be surprised at how wonderful it can be to discover one another anew.

But boy, am I going to miss that. I don't know if I'm ready for all the newness, for the lack of coffee dates with my best friend, or a garbage disposal. For living with the ghost of Hy-Vee behind my eye lids, or that upbeat little old man that greeted me every morning I went in to buy myself a Larabar. How about my missing washer/dryer in unit, or knowing who to call to pick me up from the airport? I can't remember when our responsibilities became bigger than ourselves. I can't remember when our uninterrupted time became interrupted, but I remember this, and I want you to remember this too...

There isn't a better gift than to be free. 

And "you can always find me, if you ever want again" - John Mayer

 

With Wings.

I woke up from a dream

in which

we burst open plume-gates of feathers.

Their forsaken little remnants

falling like promise against the covers.

And we

did what we could.

Like we always did.

 

I had limbs

but you had limbs, too.

You reached high, but

my two little feet

never served to lift me

as high off the ground

quite like you.

 

We had it all before we had nothing.

We had no roof, only ears.

Only thread, and time, and fears.

And flight.

 

So therein I stood.

I tossed you these plumes.

I gave you my barrenness.

You stitched me to bloom.

 

And I walk in a field with wings.

 

*This poem was inspired by a sweet little reunion I had with a friend last week where we made it a point to choose a random line, from a random song, and end a poem with it. You know, just trying to keep our creative juices flowing. So we casually spent the night going through some of our favorites artist and looking up lyrics. Upon coming across Amy Stroup's With Wings, we were sold. She is one of my favorites. The perfect artist for a rainy day. Give her a listen! And check out my friend's version at Words We Walk In.

 

Lyrics: Be.

"When nightmares come, keep you awake, baby close your eyes, I'll take the weight. But I won't speak, I will refrain. And be the song, just be the song.

-Be The Song, Foy Vance

 

'Cause we never wanted to be lusty or lewd
Nor tethered to prudish strings
And we never wanted to be jealously tuned
Nor withered into ugly things

But we can't take back
What is done, what is past
So fellas, lay down your spears

-Trusty And True, Damien Rice

 

Be what you be,
In all that you are
Be what you be,
In all that you are
Oh, be what you be,
In all that you are
Are, in all that you are. 

Be What You Be- Angus Stone

 

The storm is coming but I don't mind.
People are dying, I close my blinds.
All that I know is I'm breathing now.

I want to change the world, instead I sleep.
I want to believe in more than you and me.
But all that I know is I'm breathing.

-Keep Breathing, Ingrid Michaelson

 

  Now cars are passing and birds are laughing as

trees are holding up the sky in the window

 do they feel it, have they seen it grow

 have they been watching us, do they know?

 Will you always be my love?

-Always Be, Holley Maher

 

 

Lyrics: Fear

So some say love is a burning thing
That it makes a fiery ring
All that I know love as a caging thing
Just a killer come to call from some awful dream
And all you folks, you come to see
You just to stand there in the glass looking at me
But my heart is wild, and my bones are steel
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free

-Song For Zula, Phosphorescent

 

I’m afraid of what might happen if
Together we build a wall
Cause the only kind of love that never gets built
Is the only kind of love that never falls

-The Boy Who Never- Landon Pigg 

 

So glide away on soapy heels
And promise not to promise anymore
And if you come around again
then I will take the chain from off the door 

-The Chain, Ingrid Michaelson

 

Well I have brittle bones it seems
I bite my tongue and torch my dreams
Have a little voice to speak with
And a mind of thoughts and secrecy
Things cannot be reversed, we learn from the times we are cursed
Things cannot be reversed, learn from the ones we fear the worst

-Candles, Daughter

 

I want to play ‒ don't wait ‒ forms in the hideaway
I want to get on with getting on with things
I want to run in fields, paint the kitchen, and love someone
And I can't do any of that here, can I?

First train home, I've got to get on it.
First train home, I've got to get on it.

-First Train Home, Imogen Heap