you don't miss me when i'm with you.
i can tell.
you don't seek me out of the crowd.
you don't ask me questions to get to know me.
you don't share jokes with me.
but then i don't miss you when you're with me.
i have never missed you.
i know you know that.
why do you miss me?
you must have different versions of me:
one in real life and the other in your mind.
we are friends in your mind.
in my mind; in my real life
you are just a person.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Tomorrow is Set-ish
Dear God,
I don't know if I did this on purpose but now I'm not so worried about the impending school year. ...although the word 'impending' is ominous, generally applied to storms. Anyway, I mean, I don't have, like, a plan. I have back-up plans. I know, I know. A back-up plan requires an initial plan, but my initial plan isn't really a plan so much as a ploy- a scheme- though without the negative connotations of ploys and schemes.
(Honestly, can we have no secrets without ulterior motives?!)
I'm just, you know, ready.
Especially now that I have this short-term job. Thanks for that. I didn't think I'd get it. And I kind of don't know what to do with it. I mean, I know how to do the job, but I'm so surprised that I actually got a job-. It's surreal.
I've already made a list of books I plan on bringing with me.
Thank you, God, for your help. Thank you for your subtlety in my life. Thank you for not pounding on my head and heart. Thank you for just guiding me and nudging me, and for the occasional, "Seriously, Tine, go that way. There's no other way."
I'm not excited for the future, no, but at this point not-dreading it is a plus.
Thanks. Really.
Thanks for the creative ways in which you approach me, and my sisters, and parents, and extended family, and friends, and strangers. Thank you for being so...individual. For mixing justice with mercy, and equality with commodity.
Thank you for never fitting inside the box, and never letting your creation do the same.
Maybe I am a little excited.
Love you!
I don't know if I did this on purpose but now I'm not so worried about the impending school year. ...although the word 'impending' is ominous, generally applied to storms. Anyway, I mean, I don't have, like, a plan. I have back-up plans. I know, I know. A back-up plan requires an initial plan, but my initial plan isn't really a plan so much as a ploy- a scheme- though without the negative connotations of ploys and schemes.
(Honestly, can we have no secrets without ulterior motives?!)
I'm just, you know, ready.
Especially now that I have this short-term job. Thanks for that. I didn't think I'd get it. And I kind of don't know what to do with it. I mean, I know how to do the job, but I'm so surprised that I actually got a job-. It's surreal.
I've already made a list of books I plan on bringing with me.
Thank you, God, for your help. Thank you for your subtlety in my life. Thank you for not pounding on my head and heart. Thank you for just guiding me and nudging me, and for the occasional, "Seriously, Tine, go that way. There's no other way."
I'm not excited for the future, no, but at this point not-dreading it is a plus.
Thanks. Really.
Thanks for the creative ways in which you approach me, and my sisters, and parents, and extended family, and friends, and strangers. Thank you for being so...individual. For mixing justice with mercy, and equality with commodity.
Thank you for never fitting inside the box, and never letting your creation do the same.
Maybe I am a little excited.
Love you!
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Dear Vincent, "Dat is het."
Dear Vincent,
How are you? I hope you are well but something tells me otherwise.
I just wanted to let you know I am nothing like you.
Despite relating to your every piece of work I am not like you.
I could never be as sad or desperate or lonely as you. I blame my sanity. I know my limits. You were always limitless.
I could never be as brave or honest or scared as you. But I am too afraid of tragedy. Tragedy requires sacrifice, and I am too selfish to sacrifice. But I am learning from you. From what you did. You did so well. I am sorry that it is after death you are loved by more people than you can imagine!
Would fame have given you your parents' love? What if it wouldn't've been enough?
We're still not the same. I have my parents' love.
You wouldn't want to switch.
If I were you I would've succumbed.
If you were me...I might've been better as you. As you, I would've run.
But Vincent, u het ware.
What relentless pursuit. I could never be as obsessed as you. Never as passionate as you. Never as scared as you.
Vincent, you remind me not to be made null. The world's standards are fickle- I think your life is proof of that...het.
Dat is het. You always were.
Expect to hear from me soon, Justine.
How are you? I hope you are well but something tells me otherwise.
I just wanted to let you know I am nothing like you.
Despite relating to your every piece of work I am not like you.
I could never be as sad or desperate or lonely as you. I blame my sanity. I know my limits. You were always limitless.
I could never be as brave or honest or scared as you. But I am too afraid of tragedy. Tragedy requires sacrifice, and I am too selfish to sacrifice. But I am learning from you. From what you did. You did so well. I am sorry that it is after death you are loved by more people than you can imagine!
Would fame have given you your parents' love? What if it wouldn't've been enough?
We're still not the same. I have my parents' love.
You wouldn't want to switch.
If I were you I would've succumbed.
If you were me...I might've been better as you. As you, I would've run.
But Vincent, u het ware.
What relentless pursuit. I could never be as obsessed as you. Never as passionate as you. Never as scared as you.
Vincent, you remind me not to be made null. The world's standards are fickle- I think your life is proof of that...het.
Dat is het. You always were.
Expect to hear from me soon, Justine.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
I love you more than I-.
Dear God,
It's in all the movies and books and pamphlets and blogs and vlogs and accessories and t-shirts, but these past few days have taught me the value of saying "I love you" to those I love.
The other day I told my mother, "I love you," and she asked, "Where are you going?"
Why do I only say "I love you" when I'm leaving?
I guess "I love you" are nice last words, but what's to say last if I never mean what I say first?
I know that the worse things we say are easier to remember than the good things we say, but I still want to say more good things. I want people to know that I do think well of them; that I love them. There's no reason to say things that make people feel horrible.
"I love you."
"Where are you going?"
"No, I'm just saying. I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh, I love you, too!"
Let it be more usual to say "I love you" than "Goodbye".
So, I love you, God. Thank you.
I'm scared and kind of nervous, but indeed, love conquers all.
It's in all the movies and books and pamphlets and blogs and vlogs and accessories and t-shirts, but these past few days have taught me the value of saying "I love you" to those I love.
The other day I told my mother, "I love you," and she asked, "Where are you going?"
Why do I only say "I love you" when I'm leaving?
I guess "I love you" are nice last words, but what's to say last if I never mean what I say first?
I know that the worse things we say are easier to remember than the good things we say, but I still want to say more good things. I want people to know that I do think well of them; that I love them. There's no reason to say things that make people feel horrible.
"I love you."
"Where are you going?"
"No, I'm just saying. I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh, I love you, too!"
Let it be more usual to say "I love you" than "Goodbye".
So, I love you, God. Thank you.
I'm scared and kind of nervous, but indeed, love conquers all.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
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