All fun and games
Until someone gets arrested
Gets a stroke
Cancer from the monkey virus
Playing dumb
Got no luxury of thinking time
When you’re in survival mode
We wanna go somewhere together
Starting small
Go big or go home.

Moving On

I think something has finally hit home over the past few days. I’m dating a younger man, and I’m very attracted to his optimism and heart. I’ve had a couple very long relationships in which someone’s past was weighing them down every day.

A conversation last night with a friend reminded me that some people just don’t deal with their issues, so they continue to experience problems and trouble for much longer than a person should.

Said a recent boyfriend regarding his last serious relationship: “She dumped me, and I have no idea why.”

In individuals with stunted growth, there is an inability to face the truth/reality of a problematic situation. They seek to avoid suffering the mental processing of why things went badly, and the inevitable changes that will bring, perhaps still reeling from the trauma of the last change.

If you don’t know why your last relationship ended, or why you were fired, it is YOUR responsibility to find out or craft a narrative that places proper responsibility for bad outcomes, while keeping intact a paradigm that involves you thriving in relationships moving forward.

A relationship advice piece I read recently said that one way to tell if you’re dating someone great is that they know why their last relationship ended.

This is important.

Because if you’re stuck in the “I’m not sure why girls don’t like me” train of thought, there is no hope for change. You’ve falsely assumed the worst about yourself: that you are unlovable, or undeserving. And neither of those stories are attractive, so your destiny becomes a self-fulfilled tragedy.

Goodnight NYC

To your loud, filthy subways
And the art and musicians that call them home
Goodnight to the kid in the crop top, two-tone afro
Who wants to be the greatest
And makes sure you know it
With the stickers of himself he plasters on the walls
Goodnight to the wildlife
The too-friendly squirrels and rats
And birds hovering near my plate
Goodnight to the museums
Where inspiration is guaranteed
And the pizza, and the hot dogs
And the coffee
Goodnight to your warm breezes
And safe streets
Where cops politely tell panhandlers to move on
And ask if you need a map
Goodnight to the shopkeepers and their curtesy
Everyone trying to keep up with the rents
Goodnight to lady liberty and all you stand for
My love of country is now more complete

Daily reflections again, prep for NYC

As I recalled my 365-day poetry challenge back in 2009/2010 for my new boyfriend, it reminded me of the utility of journaling daily. My friend Diane brought up patterns recently, and journaling helps you to reflect and recognize patterns of thinking and action that, if not recorded, might go easily forgotten.

I’m leaving for NYC in about 4 hours. It will be my first time there, and it feels like a really big milestone for me. I feel like it is the one crucial part of our country that I have not yet explored (secondarily Chicago and Boston). So a part of me feels like my connection to America will feel more complete with this journey. Deep down, I’m a home-lover. And this country is very strongly my home. I also think visiting this city will help test my newly-stretched boundaries of what being a newcomer feels like. When I first came to San Francisco, the buildings were so tall and uninviting, the people distant and unreachable. The city really intimidated me. Years later, I regularly climb to its peaks with strangers and look down at the tiny buildings and wonder how I ever managed to feel so small and isolated. NY will certainly test that again, and I’m looking forward to it :-)

Write tonight

Tonight I want to be a spinster
I wanna weave words
Into magic blankets
Cover us both with them
Create a world where only beauty and art exist

Our dream fort

I want to write a song that makes your soul dance
I want to be a part of the unfolding
A beacon for the lost
A curator of knowledge and truth

The wise old woman
Who sits in the town square
And points you in the right direction
Or offers you a shoulder to cry on
Or ears to listen

This brief life is a strange little ride
Consciousness poured into funny-looking vessels
Hoping that our mutation adds something to the mix
Forgetting we are One in many

So I’m gonna write tonight
I’m tired of reading
Inspire myself
Spread my wings and fly