Is there anything more frustrating than putting hours of work into writing and then losing it? I don't think so. And I just lost a week.
So so so fucking pissed.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
My Brain
is full of ambient music and underwater breathing. It is swimming and searching and curling and unfurling. It is lifting and soaring as drops of water curve downward and splash in an ocean of sparkling jade. It is surrounded by wind as I am lifted inexorably upward, supported by graceful hands. If joy were magic it would breathe under my skin. My brain is glistening with broken fragments of memories that are not mine, all drawn into the vortex at the center: the storm where I am suspended by everything that is arrestingly lovely and I reach my hand out to grasp the hurtling pieces as they fall and I see that they are right. They are that which has lived before and that I let live again within me. My brain is magical; the hand that holds this world is magical.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Why I Have a New Tattoo
After my first tattoo, I never thought I would get another one. I've always had strong feelings about them; for me it was impossible to consider getting one that didn't have substantial meaning. My first choice of tattoo was a pair of wings, something I'd always wanted. When I try to explain it to people, I don't always have the courage to tell them the full reason. I have wings and the words "Sola Fide" in between. It means "Only Faith." The reason that I got this message paired with the angel wings was because I wanted to remind myself that I was capable of anything-- capable of the impossible, as long as I had faith in myself.
I have been haunted by dreams of flying all my life, dreams that are more like memories than some afterimages my subconscious baked up. I'm not trying to be new-agey, but I believe my dreams are significant, especially the ones that play like movies and have elements with no bearing on the waking world. My dreams are where I straddle the line between reality and the world from whence my stories come. They are truly special, and my tattoo symbolizes that secret part of me that I will hopefully reveal in time. I never thought I would get another tattoo.
But then my brother came to me and wanted to get something together. I fought with the idea a bit, not knowing if I could find something that encompasses me the way that my wings do. It might be silly to put so much serious thought into something like a tattoo, but I do have to have it forever. I guess it's not too much to ask that it be significant and eternal.
The more I thought about it, the more scared and nervous I became. Would I choose the right thing? Would I regret my decision? How would I do with the pain I vividly remembered being enough to make me never want to go through it again? I was nervous all the way up until the day we were to get them, and then I had a thought.
On the drive on the way there, I thought about my relationship with my brother. Not everyone is lucky to have such a bond with their sibling. This is not to say that my brother and I didn't fight or still don't-- we did and still do. But I think the difference is that I always knew the value of my brother, even when we were children.
I wasn't one of those kids that wished to be an only child. I loved my brother, even when he was small and cute and everyone thought he was cuter than me. I'm sure I had my jealous outbursts, but I honestly adored him as much as everyone else did, so that made it easier to forgive him when we fought. From the very beginning, we were partners in crime; adventurers who walked the same forest paths and children who faced the same nightmares. I always thought it was odd that my friends didn't see their siblings the same way. Didn't they know a brother is like a built-in best friend?
My brother was my playmate, and because he was a boy I had to learn to play baseball and football and wrestling. Who else was he going to practice on? In return, he tolerated my plays and music video directing as patiently as possible. We had a good arrangement, and even though we didn't always see eye to eye, we knew it was better make up and have someone to play with.
But I have to mention, even though it is difficult, that I have always thought the main reason we appreciated each other so much was because of what we did not have. There were times when people in our lives were not dependable, and that's when having him counted the most. I knew that even when my life was chaotic, I could always depend on my brother to be there and to understand. I have said before that there is no one that knows what it is like to be me the way he does. He has seen the same ugliness as me, and has tried like me to find something positive in it.
When we were older we made the pact that we would always support each other to our family, even if we secretly disagreed with each other's choices. This has come in handy more than you could guess. Knowing that there is always someone there to get your back-- that is true love. My relationship with my brother was the first time I really understood what "unconditional" meant.
My brother is a great person, and thinking about how much we have been through convinced me that this tattoo wasn't a bad idea. Every time I see it I feel like it represents what we have gone through together, and what we have won. I like to think that we are successes; that like our mother we exceeded people's expectations.
I don't mind having that idea memorialized in ink forever. Not one bit.
I have been haunted by dreams of flying all my life, dreams that are more like memories than some afterimages my subconscious baked up. I'm not trying to be new-agey, but I believe my dreams are significant, especially the ones that play like movies and have elements with no bearing on the waking world. My dreams are where I straddle the line between reality and the world from whence my stories come. They are truly special, and my tattoo symbolizes that secret part of me that I will hopefully reveal in time. I never thought I would get another tattoo.
But then my brother came to me and wanted to get something together. I fought with the idea a bit, not knowing if I could find something that encompasses me the way that my wings do. It might be silly to put so much serious thought into something like a tattoo, but I do have to have it forever. I guess it's not too much to ask that it be significant and eternal.
The more I thought about it, the more scared and nervous I became. Would I choose the right thing? Would I regret my decision? How would I do with the pain I vividly remembered being enough to make me never want to go through it again? I was nervous all the way up until the day we were to get them, and then I had a thought.
On the drive on the way there, I thought about my relationship with my brother. Not everyone is lucky to have such a bond with their sibling. This is not to say that my brother and I didn't fight or still don't-- we did and still do. But I think the difference is that I always knew the value of my brother, even when we were children.
I wasn't one of those kids that wished to be an only child. I loved my brother, even when he was small and cute and everyone thought he was cuter than me. I'm sure I had my jealous outbursts, but I honestly adored him as much as everyone else did, so that made it easier to forgive him when we fought. From the very beginning, we were partners in crime; adventurers who walked the same forest paths and children who faced the same nightmares. I always thought it was odd that my friends didn't see their siblings the same way. Didn't they know a brother is like a built-in best friend?
My brother was my playmate, and because he was a boy I had to learn to play baseball and football and wrestling. Who else was he going to practice on? In return, he tolerated my plays and music video directing as patiently as possible. We had a good arrangement, and even though we didn't always see eye to eye, we knew it was better make up and have someone to play with.
But I have to mention, even though it is difficult, that I have always thought the main reason we appreciated each other so much was because of what we did not have. There were times when people in our lives were not dependable, and that's when having him counted the most. I knew that even when my life was chaotic, I could always depend on my brother to be there and to understand. I have said before that there is no one that knows what it is like to be me the way he does. He has seen the same ugliness as me, and has tried like me to find something positive in it.
When we were older we made the pact that we would always support each other to our family, even if we secretly disagreed with each other's choices. This has come in handy more than you could guess. Knowing that there is always someone there to get your back-- that is true love. My relationship with my brother was the first time I really understood what "unconditional" meant.
My brother is a great person, and thinking about how much we have been through convinced me that this tattoo wasn't a bad idea. Every time I see it I feel like it represents what we have gone through together, and what we have won. I like to think that we are successes; that like our mother we exceeded people's expectations.
I don't mind having that idea memorialized in ink forever. Not one bit.
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