Thursday, January 16, 2014


I think about maybe being a ghost a lot.
Like in that movie with Nicole Kidman and those little kids who were allergic to light.
Are people really allergic to light?
What if I am haunting someone now?
Do you think they would be scared of what I do? Do you think they would like how I arranged the furniture, and do you think they would also notice that the little guy who lives on top of my fridge spins around so that he's always looking toward the front door? No matter how many times I put him back, he is vigilant.
I hope I don't scare the ghosts who are alive. I hate that part in that movie where you finally see that they are dead. It seems more scary than it needs to. Maybe its okay to be a ghost for a little while. At least they have one another and that beautiful old house to haunt.

I live alone now for the first time in my life.
It has been a month.
I sometimes get nervous that I don't see any person for entire days at a time, and I get scared that nobody sees me either. I'm not really anxious about it, but I notice it. It's like a toothache before it gets serious. Just sort of... there.
Sort of dull.
Sometimes less sharp. Sometimes more.
I take pictures of myself.
Usually they are sort of humiliating, but I like them. I hope I delete them.
There are a few things that I am doing always now. I am taking the pictures, and I am reading again. I hang up all of my clothes and clean my floors, and my dishes are always clean, never left in the sink.
I make my bed every day.
It isn't for someone else.
And it feels good.

I prayed, so far, only once this calendar year.
I have always liked when people say "calendar year."
We are 17 days in. I might do it again. I might not. Someone told me recently that they miss God, and I think that maybe I do too. I try to remember that when I bake the bread every week. I try to make a place for God to come back to me in my heart.

I brush my teeth now better than I ever have in my recollection. My teeth always feel weird.
Maybe things will change.
Change is sometimes the only thing that I think will save us. It's the certain constant in the universe. Nothing else. Not death. Not taxes. That's stupid. Change is the master. Change is hope. Maybe that's what all of that religion has been trying so hard to tell me: become better, become bigger, become more, become stronger, become kinder, become more gentle, become more pliable, become more forgiving. Become, become, become. It's so scary, change, but its the thing that is hopeful. I was caught the other day thinking, "No matter what, someday, all of this will be different."
I just want to be able to allow it.