me

it's me wandering about
looking around
it's me wondering
where i should be
it's me thinking about this
for too long
it's me holding things
and rearranging
it's me reading words
getting lost in the story
it's me wanting to be
here and somewhere else
it's me walking
on the sidewalks
it's me working
but my mind keeps wandering
it's me procrastinating
needing to finish
it's me being late
and wishing for difference
it's me listening to music
to escape
it's me as a city girl
trying to figure it all out.

list four

morning
sounds
wondering
birds
talking
washing
faucets
footsteps
barking
laughing
breezy
thoughts
typing
parking
closing
opening
steaming
whistling
singing
showering
leaving
returning

spring

finally, it's here. the best time of the year and the most beautiful time in the city. lots to do and see- summer music, eating outside, walking through the alleyways (so much better than taking the sidewalks which can be pretty crowded sometimes and they're all so different), sitting on the balcony, watching all the wonderful gardens bloom into life. i'm happy here, mostly, although i miss my friends the most and wish i could wave a magic wand and bring them all downtown.  i've connected with a few people since being back but since i'm not here all the time, it's tricky to meet with different schedules. but, it's okay really as i don't mind running around by myself, riding my bike or my longboard. hmmm, it's a new city thing- finding just a little bit of courage to ride her on the sidewalks but i will. i will. i'll just just keep telling myself that. oh and another neat city thing- watching fireworks out on my little balcony from the big stadium nearby after a baseball game. i forgot about that special little city thing until just now.

too long

it's hard to believe it's been since last september since i've tried to make sense of my jumble-y thoughts. then, i had just moved back to my city place- again- for the second time- and it seems i felt somewhere in the middle of two lives, two loves perhaps.  while it's been almost six months since i've written, that feeling really hasn't changed too much but i'm learning to make peace with it.  it never gets easier, leaving the familiar small place but learning to be alone without being lonely in the city gets a tiny bit easier i suppose as time goes on. i often have to remind myself that i seem to feel a little more gray in the winter and make extra efforts to feel connected somehow to wherever i am really.
spring is my favorite time and it is coming soon and i'll be able to open windows, feel the warm sun and breeze and know,  just a little bit more, that everything will be ok. there is a big tree just outside my window on the third floor. in winter, when all of its leaves are gone, i can see the early afternoon sunset and the shadows on the roof lines. when the spring comes and the summer follows, the tree is full with new leaves, filling my window view with green and beckoning me to come outside. maybe i am realizing that both are beautiful in their own way- changing of the seasons in the city and some thoughts too.

between

sometimes i feel as though i'm between.  not really inbetween because i'm not in the middle. just between- city and small town, woods and buildings, unknown and familiar, challenges and comfort, freedom and responsibility.  i travel back and forth every day to the small town where i once lived and it is there where i work, see friends, share love, take pictures of the fields and feel at home and then to the city where i live, learn about myself, take time to think, read, make art, enjoy the culture and feel at home. it's almost like i live two lives, each filling a place in me, satisfying different needs.  some of those are obvious, on the surface and easily defined yet some are unknown. in time though, i think they'll become clear. i suppose if i can be patient enough i'll realize them even if i'm between a small town girl and a city girl.

list three

green leaves
stone fireplace
window doors
paintings of strangers
purring
lots and
lots and
lots of books
reading
writing
thinking
swimming
well water
peninsula pools
guest beds
basement
woodsy ravine
birds
spiders
snakes
underwater
nature sounds
the outside world does not exist at this moment

woods

i've always known that i love the feeling trees in the woods give though i can't quite describe it.  most people i know have a special love for the beach- i guess living on the east coast inspires one towards the sand and water- and while i grew up going to the beach often, its pull never quite won and so i frequently notice puzzled looks when people find out that i've spent the entire summer without going.  during the time i have spent there, i find myself longing for the lush green of the leaves and the shade of the trees despite being just as happy reading in the sun or working in the garden. i have been staying in the house of some friends just north of the small town to which i frequently refer, that sits in the middle of the woods and by that i mean that no neighbors can be seen and the driveway stretches for a third of a mile. it is very green. and woodsy. and dark at night. and filled with animal sounds. and not like the city at all. i find myself vacillating between loneliness and contentment but have yet to feel the restlessness that comes when i'm away from the woods or at the very least something green. i went to visit my little city place the other day to check on it and will be returning there soon. while i'll be glad to return to my studio in the city and a little less clutter, i think i'll miss the woods. maybe more than i think.

listening

the city has a certain quiet that's not at all like the quiet of the small town that i've been playing tag with for the last couple of years. i suppose one expects quiet in the places far removed from urban spots and so it doesn't seem unsettling or strange or more-than-it-should-be-quiet there. but i'm sitting here now in my little city place and it's not very late, although it is a monday, and it's distractingly quiet. like i want to play some music or pop in a movie but that seems so invasive. i can hear the sound of the fan that constantly runs in my bedroom but nothing else. it's almost deafening. the quiet. i need to make peace with it if i'm going to stay here. expect the unexpected. maybe i'm just tired or losing it a little or missing my small town just a little and so the quiet that is usually ignored is much more vocal to this city girl who's just trying to listen.