calendar girl

"...and that sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words." faulkner

I think this is all meant to be about how i feel about the world at any given time, so i cannot apologize for the frivolousness of this blog at all. And I won't.

Right now, I am happy. I know this is often subject to change, but even when I am sad these days I am happy just to be alive and sad. And I know it will pass, and blah blah blah, but right now I am just happy. I am grateful for my flowers, and my farm stand, and my love, and my allergies. I am grateful for white peaches, and portulacca, and orchids. My wedding will be full of tiger lilies and orchids. I have to get married in late june. Anyway.
I am grateful for sunshine and yoga and my boring little town. I am grateful that the person I spend the most time with is a seventy one year old woman named Fran. I am grateful that I have the time to not know what I am doing with my life, and I am rolling around in my confusion joyously. What a crime it is to not live joyously, i think, the worst crime. I am grateful that I feel old at nineteen and that I have lived well enough to both learn and forget the words to explain how i feel about things. I am grateful for sheep and farms and sunsets, and bee hives, and water color paints. I am grateful for you, in every way possible.

all the good that won't come out of us

So my life has come down to a forgettable amount of insignificant things. The majority of my days take place in a flower shack in a tiny town, where I observe the most fascinating relationships. And i think, do we look like that? Cow eyes, me, the moon? No, it's not right. I should want this forever and ever sort of thing, I should want him around, with me all the time.
But, no, this is what i want: I want pristine, endless days, where it always feels like the sun is rising. Where we drink coffee all day and eat nothing but food that is weightless and our memories don't bring us down, way back down to nothing.
I've gotten my apologies, and I've gotten my rewards. And now I feel like I'm finally in this place where nothing is messed up, and I can't enjoy it, because I'm too busy messing something else up. I don't live in the real world. I don't want to, I never want to live in the world where a million other people are walking in and out of my space and traipsing all over me with their mislead notions and desperate pleas for approval. I wish they would all stop, actually, because I really do love people, and I know that I have a fiendish capacity for love that has landed me in the most complicated of situations, tangled up in what should be and what is, for all time. I can't say sorry, really, because what sin is rooted by an overabundance of love? And how could you ever apologize for it?
The thing is, small is fucking beautiful, right? And I am fine with my life the way it is now, but there is still something bugging me that I can't ignore, that I could never. I don't know what it is, but I know that I'm laying on the floor of my room right now in my empty house in westchester new york and I am thinking about being somewhere else. Always thinking about being somewhere else, and why is it that I never want to be exactly where I am? Maybe I did, once, but maybe only because i know for certain that that place was fleeting and that to stay was an impossibility, thus I wanted it. Every time i think I have it all sorted out, something else just comes, rising to the surface.

I think I just need to go to the beach.