"those that burn with thirst...

Sometimes it's hard to figure out what's wrong. As a female, that's a pretty regular part of life. It could just be one of those days. It could be one of those days that occur every 28 days. It could be a lack of sleep...it could just be that Hollywood keeps making all those sentimental movies for a dime a dozen and we just can't help ourselves but indulge...

It's been hard, really hard, for me to realize, and admit, that I'm really just...sick.

Not sick clinically. I say "sick" in a really abstract, metaphysical, maybe even sort of metaphorical, way. Like, I am the way I am because something else - something not me, something that no one could have controlled or executed or changed or stopped - came and blindsided me. Knocked me so hard I didn't know what to do. Just sat for a long time, dizzy.

I mean, it's normal to try and over-do life, get stressed out, feel sort of dissatisfied and slightly edgey or unhappy at times, right? I just can't shake it. I don't know.

I live in a pretty cute neighborhood. At night sometimes I'll go running and notice all the cute houses with their interesting porch-lights, patio furniture, plants, small gardens...etc. Sometimes their windows are bare enough for me to see inside and notice their decorating techniques - drapes, window hangings, lamps, throws and pillows and couches, or plane bareness. I see all of this aesthetic beauty and yet, for some reason, I don't feel...good. I don't feel pleasure from it. I feel sick. I feel...fear. I feel like I need to compete. I feel like I need to criticize. I feel like noticing how each house in the neighborhood is just a little too close to every other house. I feel like sighing and commenting on how avant garde and cool everyone in Austin tries to be. Keep Austin Weird. I feel like reassuring myself that my house will be completely perfect someday, without all those cracks on the porch steps, without the peeling paint, without overgrown patches of grass. I'll paint the trim nicer. I'll tear down that stupid fence. I'll make something out of you yet.

Can somebody please say "O-C-D"?

Lately I've been trying to grow plants. I planted a few wildflower seedlings and they've been springing up on my windowsill, to my utter delight. I don't know what it is that's so great about taking care of plants. It's easy. You water, provide sunlight, and watch. It always works. There's no puzzling complexities to work through, no tough conversations to be had, nothing needs to be forgiven. If it won't grow, or if it dies, that's ok. There's always another plant. I don't have to ask any questions about why, or how could you, or what do I do from here?

I watched a home movie tonight. Summer 1994. Boy, I was an ugly duckling of a kid. Not like my cute little sister. Somehow she was always radiant. But we both had the worst hair ever. Her teeth were actually pretty grotesque, too...but despite this she was really cute. There was one pretty great scene where my dad pre-empted the general concept surrounding reality television. "Lay back down and watch TV again, Mandy," he said. "I want to capture 'How Amanda Spent Her Summer Vacation.'" I had gotten up and started to take immediate interest in the camera. "Pause it for a second! I wanna see it! Stop the tape! I wanna see it! Stop the tape!" The camera turned and left the room, ignoring my cries, and entered the kitchen where my big sis was shouting, "What?"

"I'm not TALKING to you!!!"

"Mom, she doesn't want a shake - she's saying tape! She's talking about video tape!" and begins to storm out the door to head to Dairy Queen. "I thought she was saying she wanted a shake!" returns mom. Dad follows with the camera outside, and this time I'm at his tail, "Stop the tape!" I get in front of the camera and beg. "Stop it! Let me see it! Please?!"

Dad narrates, with no unnecessary emotion, "This is reality."

"I KNOW! It's got the red light on! STOP the TAPE!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills

Till the landslide took it down." -fleetwood mac

I miss my dad. Enough to want to stop breathing sometimes. Enough to weep uncontrollably at any given moment...turning on the computer, hanging the curtains, getting ready for a shower. It's been a regular part of my life for the last two months.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I used to think my big problem in life, this permeating sense of dissatisfaction, was due to the fact that I just wasn't righteous or moral enough. I hadn't figured out how to be motivated enough to please God and be disciplined and read all the books that are supposed to show you how to make yourself, life and the world better. I just needed to try harder. And I was going to change the world. I was going to fix everybody, fix everything that was wrong.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I got my way in that video. The next scene cuts to me holding the camera up at my dad, capturing the essence of him drinking a cream soda. There was a lot on that tape... lots of shouting and loudness and dog-barking and sister-tormenting and dancing in underwear and uncontrollable laughter and kid-dom and totally foolish gratuitousness. And it was so, so very short.

This is reality.

I'll be Ok. It's getting so much better every day. Air is easier to breathe...the freedom and wonder of kid-dom is returning - without judgment or moralizing, without anxiety, without the urge to change myself or someone else, or someone else's porch light. I'm growing up. The ugly duckling teeth grew in a bit crooked but adjustments are being made. It's Ok to cry and not no what else to do. It's all coming out.

"those that burn with thirst

shall lift their glass."