If I could, I would. trust that.

She just wanted to be alone. As awful as she knew it sounded, it was true. When she lay there thoughtfully, the same idea played again and again. She lay in bed, wondering about the meaning of life and about all the opportunities that lay within her reach and she knew, she was fulfilled. Had she possibly had the greatest love of her life and more memories than she could truthfully ever need or was it a sad case of lost hopefulness in which she felt like Alice through the hole; a young, lost girl in the midst of finding the meaning of life, but was she choosing to stay in her life, a life as made-up as the importance of the science of dinosaurs which she validly claimed was a waste of a subject in school? As were most, for that matter. What was she living for? Over and over without ever reaching a conclusion, but not feeling desperation in those moments, instead she was sedated with a strong sense of calm in which she tried to ignore any outside influences that so abrasively conflicted with the serenity of thinking about everything and also absolutely nothing. 

The roundness of her thoughts might have indeed been causing more anxiety than she cared to acknowledge, however she doubted it. She knew that in civilization, in hers at least, the ability to be a "team-player or a "socialite" was extremely important, but how could one participate in a culture where one felt no more connected to the activities than one did while witnessing two complete strangers embrace? Not only was she heavily conflicted with her own realization of separateness and her own aloneness, but she also had the awful weight of humiliation that one might experience when being observed while being the observer in such an intimate moment as mentioned above. 

She knew it was all about perspective, perhaps yet another reason for the inner-struggle she housed while dealing with these years of silence. What would happen, she wondered, if she pulled herself out of the reach of those who have claimed to care and those who she knew truly did? She had come close to something similar before. Not quite suicidal in her thoughts, perhaps close, but not being one for absolutes it was not likely that she would ever pull the triigger or tie the rope and pull the knot. She wasn't suicidal, just a great relier on quiet, peace and thoughtfulnees, things which never came easily with the obtrusion of people, those from the ones who claimed to love her most.

Maybe, she wondered, the problem is not who loved her, but who she chose to love. Something similar had been said years before but she ignored the advice. She felt devastated by the cruel words too much to acknowledge their validity. In fairness, no one likes to admit their faults, specifically when it is one that happens sub-consciously. It is vastly different to being told that you chew too loudly and to know that a small alteration of jaw strength or saliva intake could be modified and therefore cure your annoying habit than to be told that the way you love is faulty; that something as innate and internal as your beating organ could also be the thing plaguing you and ostracizing you from the whole of society and all that it's members may have to offer you.

What then? What can one hope for in a case as desolate as that? In fact, she had appeased herself with any number of scenarios.

A Combination, really.

How does it sound when you're heart is the only thing to speak?

Not your mind or your desires?

I hear the sound each day and it sounds like rambling.

Not the kind that relaxes you, 

Not the running of a stream, just a little bit off beat.

So today I listened to myself. 

To what my heart had to say 

and then I listened to the phrasing,

why did my mouth put it out that way?

I didn't mean to hurt you and I never wanted to mislead.

While you think that I misled you and you think that I'm confusing,

I sit back in agreement because who knows what really happening?

I said some things I thought I meant

but looking back I see,

I represented a part of me that I wanted you to see,

but in that portrayal I left off another piece.

So you see I wasn't lying,

I just wasn't giving you all of me. 

My thoughts now are to change that, but I'll keep that to myself.

The truth, well people claim is, 

there is no real changing anyway.

So I'm stuck being me and deceiving those I meet.

It looks a lonely road ahead of me, 

until my heart and mouth and mind can finally agree. 

What would I change?

No more false words that appease you,

no more rambling for fun. 

No more thoughtless remarks that hurt you

all those niceties are done.

I spend my time trying to be sweet and calm and smart and funny.

The truth is, I feel those things, they somewhere reside in me.

However when I push them out, they lack genuinity.

They show the face of a card that perhaps one expects to see. 

As in a deck of cards, I'll show what a player likes, usually. 

But if I never show my weaker pair, a 2 or 3 of spades,

how will the winner ever win if he already holds the aces?

What are the reasons you are living for?

What is the thought that wakes with you at the start of the day?
The thing at the morning that pulls you through even when there is so much else going on?
How do you face the day when more than everything is going less than even a little bit your way?

How do you feel when there is nothing to hold on to, take that one thing away.
Look at your life without a point, no center you are absolutely drawn to.
how does it feel to be so lost, yet free, in this way?

We go where we please because there is no way to tell how off or on we might be.
We look for correction, suggestions, learning a right way or not,
but most of all we are looking for what others of you have seem to already got.

So Far.

After some thinking and a few suggestions, I have decided to put up a piece of the newest book I am working on. As you can easily see I have minimal followers on this blog and while I am thankful for the three of you, and it may be a blessing in the end, I also really want to get published and would appreciate the opinions of large quantities of people. So if you know other people, I'd love for you to send them this way :) I'm trying to figure out how my ideas/words come across to people other than myself, so even if only you read this, it would be a great help!!! Any advice or comments are welcome. Thank  you <3

7 Life Lessons I Learned While Cleaning Potatoes. (the name is in limbo, but it is also the original). 

by jennifer webb

Number one- Every accomplishment usually has a very humble beginning. 

In an effort to acknowledge that not all people, more precisely, that most people have trouble identifying the real meanings behind my words and stories, I feel that the term "accomplishment" might need more explaining, especially since we are supposed to be discussing potatoes.  Well, cooking can be a chore. You may be tired or sick and all you really want to do is have a good meal appear before your eyes, maybe after a blink and a head nod, I Dream of Genie style. Unfortunately, and I mean that with all my own sorrows, this is not a magical life we live in, at least not where meals materialize based on wishful thinking. However, there is a runner-up, or we have a close second, whichever phrase you feel more comfortable with. Potatoes. So simple, so filling, so versatile. Recently, while I was discussing the idea for this book, a person, whose opinion matters to me, asked, "So, why potatoes?" I guess I've never thought that way, hence the reason that they have the center stage on this, my first attempt at substantiation in the world of literature, that I otherwise thought impenetrable by me. With a little more reflection, I decided that I feel an affinity for potatoes. We, the potato family and I, both have rough, but stable beginnings, some people consider us nutritious while others can only view us negatively and above all, we are both easy^1. No, you didn't misread that, I actually just wrote that I am easy like a potato. This distance is actually Grand Canyons away from the ease of a Sunday morning. How so then, you must be wondering. Well, for that, you must also keep reading.

So, what do you think?

Submission

My point is short and quick,

I wonder who I am.

Not soul defining or Earth-enriching,

a woman or a man?

You see, I see the same as you,

your haunting eyes now directed at my legs.

Look freely, as you please,

and tell me how you find me.

Because, apparently, I have penis separation anxiety-

although a period and vagina have seemed quite enough for me. 

The problem here, you wonder too,

is where does that leave me?

Because I think and work and play 

but to motherhood I feel dismay.

If my place is not the bed or in the kitchen

and my hair is always lacking in attention,

does that a man make me 

or am I simply categorized as "lazy?"

* Let's just jump right in there, shall we? I wasn't planning on this, but it is what came out over my coffee this morning (erh...afternoon)... I'm not sure that the title works with such a limited poem, but it is an interesting idea if you really consider all of its many definitions and applications. My favorite being that writing this poem was only my SUBmission. The larger mission is still to be discussed ;) I hope you have not been disturbed by your journey into my thought-processes...

In the mid-sections.

This is more difficult than I thought it might be. On one hand, I can obviously write anything I'd like to. I can pretend the whole world has forgotten me and pour out my soul onto these pages(?). Alternatively, I feel the pressure of a thousand eyes and can't get Julie and Julia out of my mind. I've decided just to write.. whatever may be, will be; seize the day; I'm sick of sitting here going some lines forward, only to go forty words back. 

Onwards. 

SO, I have a few books I'm in the process of reading. As a back story, I've just moved to Sonoma County and am literally running away from the boredom that is looming. It seriously is an ominous force that I see hovering in the midst of my mid-day activities. In fight mode, I've surrounded myself with books, ingredients, bleach, and some other way exciting cleaning objects. So far, so good. That is, until my roomie became MIA for what will amount to ten days :/ The privacy to walk directly from the bathroom to my bedroom, robed (or not), is nice, but I could do without. (If you are reading, COME HOME!). Anyways, books. 

One Writer's Beginnings by Eudora Welty

It is a humble book. If this was a self-analysis, I would make a whole bunch of conclusions, but really, that's only fun for me. Instead, I'll share the best piece of advice that Eudora has given me so far. It inspired me to begin this blog and to keep plugging away at novels I sometimes want to give up on. Apparently lifted from one of her memorable novels, Sanford and Merton, the quote is, "If we would be great, we must first learn to be good." You may, of course, translate this in your soul's own language, but for me, it screamed longevity. Going the distance, what have you. I'm terrible at beginning a writing project and giving up once I've lost sight somewhere in the middle. Not so good in terms of taking writing seriously as a profession...
One more shining piece of enlightenment from this book? Sorry, like I said, I'm only in the middle.

There's more, anyways.

Deepak Chopra's Poemas de Amor de Rumi


Love. Even if I don't understand all the words, I get the meaning. Besides, something about the passionate red cover with the blooming rose at it's center and the appeal of its being in another language... I just feel sexy reading it. Ha! Well, I do... Can't say it has given me any great advice though. It provides me with something similar and that is hope. You see, I have decided to kick up the gear and continue on with my Spanish education. At the very least, it gives me an hour's worth of vrooooom! Take solar panels, for example, they are placed in visual spots, usually, in order to capture the sun. They take what is already available to them and make it work for the benefit of others. I am not the panels, I am the owner of those panels. I possess a commodity (las poemas) that explains, for me, that I am concerned with the betterment, er enrichment, of my life. I don't own any solar panels, but if they make you feel as cool as learning Spanish, I'd like some.

I'll leave you with my favorite so far. Try it out on your lover, maybe you'll find a whole new meaning of rewarding.
The poem is called, "Ven A Mi" (page 31) <--- just in case you want the whole poem.
My favorite part:

ven, ven conmigo
y juntos viviremos
rodeados de estrellas*

has estado oculto mucho tiempo
vagando a la deriva
en el mar de mi amor.*


Well, anyways, it inspired me to write my own.
I figured that was the best way to practice.
Here goes.


En el pais de los amantes
yo soy tuyos.
Pero yo soy Americano tambien.
Vivo en mi ciudad,
mientras que mi corazon,
vive en el cielo.


It might not be Rumi's, but it's mine, in Spanish, so, me gusta mucho :)


I'm off to start the day. This was a nice way to drink my coffee though. I hope for many more occurrences, some perhaps a little deeper. Enjoy your day too. My advice: Find some way to make yourself feel sexy. We can handle it.