ramblings

sometimes i pull on my toes
because i like the pop it makes.i like to think
another molecule of my being
is snapping into place.

(i’m usually wron g)

in the corner of my room
sits my grandmother’s chest,
draped with a scarf from my father.
a scarf he bought to keep me warm,
but the scarf was never intended to be worn,
and that’s okay—
it’s not my skin that needs protection.

my arms are colored with scars
haphazard as a child’s coloring book
from trying to set free the fire within,
from trying to look
beneath my skin.i try

to make every worda hallelujah, but
my lungs are full of water, and the clock doesn’t seem to care.
his hands barely move
so as not to intrude because,
isn’t that what we’re all afraid of?

i really should expand my diet of waffles and beer.

maybe i’ll add chocolate?

sooo, i’ve been trying to adjust to the time here, but i have no reason to wake up early because i have no friends with whom to interact, and walking around the city is only entertaining for so long. i’ll be glad when work starts. from my window i secretly look in upon the carefree life of teenagers playing soccer in the public space.

Oh so yesterday I was trying to make it to the offices. I conquered the bus ride (with a nice couples’ help), but then I had to walk a few blocks.
(Side note: the blocks here are not necessarily square, which makes it rather confusing.)
Anyway, I was walking down some city steps (brussels is on a hill, so there are multiple layers) and I see a woman around my age reading. So I stop to get directions. I told her the address. She said she wasn’t familiar with it, but that she would look it up. From then on, it was never, “You should take this street; then You make a right” etc, but “well, I think if We go this way, We might be getting close.” And so we followed her phone until we got close enough to ask someone else for directions, which she did bc I don’t speak French. Turns out we were only across the street. But the amazing thing to me is that she walked me, a stranger, all the way to my destination and consistently held the view that we were in it together. I don’t think she even realized.
i was encouraged.

i love you.

     traveling, especially abroad and alone, appeals to my sense of wanderlust and adventure, but it is simultaneously terribly difficult for me because i long for a sense of belonging and certainty, and being in a foreign country provides neither.  that being said, i apologize in advance for the possible number of annoying and frequent posts. even though wifi can’t really connect us, i like writing here because it makes me feel not so far away.
     i’m listening to explosions in the sky. my friend ike was the first person to introduce them to me, and then my friend carl shot a few of their songs my way, and in more recent times, marques and i like to fall asleep drifting in their melodic and rythmic tones.
     last time i was abroad my sister was with me, so that wasn’t so bad. the time before that i only loosely knew a few people so the homesickness was real bad the first two nights, but i quickly made a rare and deep connection with a fellow traveler. tonight is night two in brussels; hopefully this will follow the same trend, and each subsequent night will be less and less painful. i sent out an email update, and now i am obsessively checking my email in hopes for a moment of comfort through pixelized ink.
     one floor below and a few rooms over there is some kind of a band playing…either that or an extremely loud, sometimes off-beat radio. i opened the window and listened for a bit, of course i couldn’t understand a word they sang. the city is beautiful at night. crisp but strangely inviting. if i were a tad more brave and a handful more foolish, i would go walking, but alas, i am no longer naive enough to think that strangers (especially male strangers) can be trusted. (one of my favorite questions to ask people is to share a life lesson they learned the hard way. i ask not because i want to smirk at their misfortune or feel better about myself, but because i know that i have a tendency to figure out every lesson worth learning the hard way, and also because i like the opportunity for vulnerability and honesty that it provides.) anyway, all of that was to say that one life lesson i definitely learned the hard way, is that although it is safe to assume that everyone has goodness inside of them, it is not safe to assume they will act upon it. or, a different phrasing that provides a glimmer of hope: everyone is capable of atrocity. i say it provides a glimmer of hope because if i am inclined to believe in one extreme, it would follow the laws of consistency that i believe in the other, which is: everyone is capable of beauty. day and night. my boss once said to me, “you can’t have light without dark; you can’t have happiness without sadness; you can’t have war without peace—and you need not dwell on either.” she is a very wise woman whom i love dearly. i miss her. she ensured me that i would be fine, that she believed in me…as did my sister. oh i hope they are right.
   i don’t want to stop writing because that means i am left in the dark with myself, and i can already feel the ocean starting to rise.my love is killing me.
“it’s not your fault for being broken;
it’s your fault for choosing to stay.”
i am trying to choose healing.
i am trying to choose life and growth stability.
stay here with me, please.

if you want to write me a letter, i would really really love it. perhaps it will dull the ache. my address is:

now I’m homesick.
listening to awolnation,
saying some prayers,
and going to bed
before it starts to
bite.

I love you