Last year, while going through my healing process staying with Sarah and Jef in Orlando, I told Sarah, “I’ve made so many guys better men for other girls. I’m so tired of it. It’s time I got a guy that someone else has made a better man for me.”
Driving this morning, the song Yellow by Coldplay came on the radio and I started to cry. This song is one of my favorite songs, despite Coldplay’s decline after their first album. It’s tied to so many memories (I remember the night about 10 years ago, I was so upset over something that I drove around aimlessly, ending up driving from LA to Vegas just to turn around and drive back again…10 hours round trip…listening to David Gray’s White Ladder and Coldplay’s Parachutes). Music has often expressed my emotions when I didn’t have words to. The song brought too many emotions to the surface and my cup spilled.
Then I remembered the poem I wrote about dreaming in yellow, and how last night’s dream was about how our entire world existed inside the equivalent of a puddle.
Instructions came in loud and clear. There are rules. And in life–every test, every battle, every game, has rules. Sometimes you stop questioning who made the rules, and you say, I trust it. I trust that if I follow the rules, I will get exactly what I want. And so you follow the rules.
In my dream last night, I found a whole city covered by a thunderstorm sky and rainbow. I could walk freely in that city, as myself. The thing that people loved, was that I was their size, a normal girl, but if I reached up my hand, it would grow and touch the sky. Like a giant hand reaching out and touching the surface of water, rippling the sky and rainbow. This world was just a drop of water and we were safe in it. People would cry, hug me, instant family, so grateful, the greatest miracle they’d hoped for, to witness that the sky was not untouchable. It was just illusion. And this was everything I’d ever wanted in life. Just to give those people that.
I don’t know why you would want it this way. But I can understand why you would need it this way.
Saturdays used to be sources of huge anxiety. Saturday morning Chinese school. I was always feeling overwhelmed. It was hard. I didn’t enjoy it. I used to dread it so much my parents finally stopped making me go.
Then Saturday became our day of worship. The whole family went to the gym. This I liked.
This Saturday will be a very good day.
Went to my Aunt Jodie’s house and she showed us Edison’s kindergarten report card. Everything was excellent except the cryptic handwritten note from the teacher under the behavior section:
Needs to make better choices.
First of all, that’s not constructive at all. “What does that even mean?” I asked my aunt. She said that was what she wanted to ask me. She said she asked Edison and he had no idea what he was supposed to improve.
When I told B, he laughed. That can be said for most guys in their 20’s, he said.
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About Me:
experimental stream of consciousness writer who may or may not be a liar. sanest person you've ever met but i'll look you in the eyes like a computer eating magnets. what i don't know about you, i'll make up. and you'll still love me because you don't know where i went that moment you swore i disappeared. my moods chase the seasons and i hear it makes an interesting read. i like smelling good.