Missing You

Loving in absence is easy

painful, to be sure, but easy.

 

There’s none of that

shuffling of feet

fork scraping on empty plate

dirty bathroom sink

or too loud breathing in your sleep.

 

Loving from afar you see

beautiful eyes

remembered perfect times

when everything was ripe

in shades of nostalgia.

Well Hello

I’m nothing, as much as anyone else is nothing. I grew up in the bubble-like suburbs of Dallas, Texas. Somewhere inside me lurked a daring spirit craving bold hues, hot sands, towering heights, and the heady perfume of novelty, but you wouldn’t know it if you met me. I was a quiet, straight-A, chameleon of a kid, blending into my surroundings so as not to be noticed by my peers. I went to college and studied social work. Afterwards I worked at an Institution of the Well-Intentioned Perpetuation of Brokenness. I hated it and life became a complete disappointment. So, I packed my car to drive around the country indefinitely. I thought that since I didn’t want to be anywhere I might as well go everywhere. However, all that going somewhere made me realize I was going nowhere at all. As impulsively as I had left to try out vagabondry I decided to go home to live with my parents. Maybe there I could save some money to do….something, someday, somewhere.

 

The decision was really more about not having any idea what I was doing with my life, but knowing that I didn’t want to keep that habit up. I was sick of myself and sick of the self-indulgent sickness of selves/society of so many other post-college 20 something privileged kids. Excuse the generalization, but we are a generation of drifters in constant existential crisis torn between the desire to do something purposeful and the desire to just be happy in the present moment. It’s a debilitating dilemma. On one hand, we want to change the world and put all this potential to work. On the other, we just want to lie in a hammock and soak in the sunshine. And between the two sides sprawls our oversized brain (and our oversized debt), living out the conflict between the aesthetic and the ethical that Kierkegaard so wonderfully laid out in Either/Or. We should be called the Either/Or Generation instead of the Millennial Generation. I wish that was required reading in high school…OK, ending this tangent…

 

Anyway, here I am, sitting on my bed in my parents’ house, one year since that impulsive decision to return to the place we (the E/Oers) all pretend we will never go back to: the suburbs. This is what the nothing of me wants to write about, to process my year of suburban self-discovery. Maybe some unrelated poetry too. I will use a lot of “ands” and incorrectly placed commas, and other similar slips of bad form, mainly because I like to (my favorite poet is e e cummings so… (I also really like to use parentheses)) and also because I studied Social Work, not English. So.

First Post/ A Poem/ I like using slashes

The Benefit of Being Alone/Solitude

safe     space   to

incubate words

time to grow

sprout and root and seep

into themselves/

better to be unheard

than stumbling, drunk

off newness,

half-formed,

out of your mouth

babies sent flying

without wings/

thoughts of I developing

hands to reach

eyes to see

lungs to breathe

independent of

the opinion of

the hunter, Society/

better to be unknown

than shot down, dumb

ignorant of

the rifle’s aim

ringing the air in whispers

of clipped imagination/

in these lonely mountains

at least the birds fly free