on the edge of so much bigness

I am looking out the window, past the taxidermy bird I rented from the library, at the steeple with the weather vane turning slowly.

The things I've stepped on lately have stuck onto the soles of my shoes and made my walks from class to class sticky and heavy... and I don't know how to describe to you why this has been one of the most pivotal sets of 10 days I have ever passed through.

I read 30 pages of a book and, as a result, need to decide whether I want to have children.


I'm back into the rush of the strange and contradicting lifestyle of a student. 
High and winged questions
?
the definition of Success
the values of responsibility versus risk
what true Investment means, and whether investing has something to do with money
what it means to be poor, and if there is a role for the poor
rather than simply a place for the poor
(the ill have a place, but not a role.)
?
High and winged questions pass through my mind

my mind
-- a subway station where passengers never arrive anywhere, but only accumulate, annoyed
haha. a constipated subway station

All the while, I am a fry cook of assignments.  read 130 pages check study for japanese quiz check socialize check two page paper check

pulse

check

Trust in Where You Are

remember the music
festival we went
t(w)o

summers ago?

we sat but couldn't
listen, distracted
by the other's silence.
you handed me
a AA battery
and I held it
(I didn't know if there was any
life left in it.)

you did not know
I had just come from
breaking apart and starting to heal
(in the way that you only can in
the arms of a stranger
beneath
a red striped tent)
from
some advice I was lent
from
a guitar wearing a girl
(and the skirt I was wearing was sprinkled
with

the stuff that leaks out

when you find
you're not supposed to be fixed,
just loved.
you realize
you're not supposed to fix,
just love.)

you had handed me
a AA battery,
I don't know if there's any more
life left in
it
sits in a box up high
next to dust animals and
some ribbon.

Reason #127 I need to be committed into white padded rooms:

Sometime last year, I stalked this guy's facebook because I thought he seemed cool.  (barely knew eachother, friend of a friend kind of thing.) I saw he had a girlfriend, and I clicked on her page because she had an interesting profile pic.  She seemed to have a sense of humor kin to mine, and a blogspot blog, so I checked it out and was hooked immediately.  Since then, I follow her blog every couple weeks and her writing is always genuine, inspiring, and fun in a way that I'd like to write someday.  They just seem like such a quirky, cool couple... going strong for about a year and a half.

I hadn't checked on her blog for some months.  Then today, I noticed that his profile no longer has a "in a relationship with" status... and I freaked out.  I looked through his wall history to make sure they were still together and that they had just chosen to omit a relationship status declaration.

(Now, I know you're all on the edge of your seats, so I'll just tell you that I'm fairly certain they are still together.)

I actually went through emotions of panic, targetless anger, and sympathy for a couple I have barely even formally met and who would not know who I was if I walked up to them and said hello.


Who does that?  Maybe I need to watch more tv or something.

h's and a's

His laugh was far better than
seeing successive
h's and a's.

Someone please take me to where I can see

stars.

Please Come Again Later

I'm all sold out.
I've just sold out
and won't be restocked for a while.
I'm afraid the only things left on the shelves
are scatter-plot words on
half-baked thoughts.
Enough to stir
(almost) my stagnant sea.

I don't know how to deal with waiting, so I write.

I watch the IV drip.  Her face still looks so beautiful.  My dad stands and shifts in the doorway, not in the room, not out of the room, while my mom slides her finger across her phone screen. 

I can tell by my dad's eyes that he's desperate.  There's nothing he can do to fix things.  There's nothing he can do to be well-prepared; we don't know anything yet.
 I zero in on her bifocal glasses, lying on the beside table, and in them I can see distorted lights and tubes.  I think about what a good photo this would make.  I don't know how to deal with waiting.  None of us do.

Finally, a nurse comes in that my dad can grill for information.  He proceeds to question her about magnesium and blood sugar, testing her knowledge and adequacy.

I wish Stephanie was here.


I've never seen her so weak.  Just Sunday, we were all eating homemade fried chicken and mashed potatoes together at her house in Worthington.  Aunts and uncles from the new england states were in town, so we did it up right, the Jackson family way: eat tons of food, talk about politics, and then everyone falls asleep on couches.
My dad is deploying to Iraq after this summer, so my aunt insisted on taking pictures of my dad with his three brothers.
 Grandma was feeling a little weak that day so she didn't go outside to join them.  I stood on the porch with her and put my hand on her fragile shoulder as we watched the four middle-aged men goof off in front of the camera like rambunctious 12-year-olds.
"You raised some pretty good boys, Grandma."
Her mouth quivered a little bit before she spoke, "Yeah," she paused.  "None of them have ever ended up in jail. 'Least that I know of."
I smirked and chuckled under my breath.

She's a breast cancer survivor, and an amazing cook.  She's obsessed with Elvis, and she doesn't know what the internet is.

She is now a list of numbers on a white board. 73. 128/43. 18. I don't understand what they mean.

Will I ever be able to enter a hospital without "What Sarah Said" playing in the background like a Scrubs episode?  I half-expect Carla or J.D. to walk down the hall.

Her face still looks so beautiful.  She's not just a person, she's the glue that keeps the whole family together.  In her own, quiet, dry-humored way, she's the heart that connects us all; the central hub we all return to.

For some reason, it doesn't feel right to pray for everything to instantly be good again.  It doesn't feel right to ask for this all to poof away.  The only prayer I can pray honestly is,
"God, fill up her room.  Be there with her, and hold her hand.  Hold us too, cause we don't know what's happening."