vicariously

re-posted from my Facebook notes (15 October 2012). i have a lot of poems that are sitting unread and un-criticized- would you like to have a turn at them?

----

simple math.

simple truth.

there is no reason why 1+1 can't equal 2.

but as i stand here,

driven mad up the wall,

i think of all the possibilities waiting for me outside the front door.

i only need to step out and it could be raining or sunny--

all that in the midst of my shallow humdrum!

in the midst of my shallow humdrum

i remember that all

around

the 

world

people are living,

earning their deaths.

they are making, creating

paintings,

books,

music,

sculptures,

chocolate,

homes,

and jewelry--

and in all the humdrum of my life

i cannot forget that this hour is not an eternity

and one day i will be living...

well, i am living!

there is a beat in my chest!

but am i earning my death?

will the dash between my DOB and DOD be full of stories?

especially full of privileged stories that none but my closest friends ought to hear?

(else they were already there with me!)

will the dash between my DOB and DOD be more like

a square-ten inch block?

part ii-

will i live for those who cannot?

who, not forgetting to earn death,

were given death too early,

and missed the chance to lengthen the dash between their most important days?

will i live for those who cannot?

who, stuck behind the bolted door,

ignored the key in their pockets,

and missed the chance to remember that one hour is not an eternity?

that by their lives others could have lived,

because others wish desperately for their lives,

wishing after your mediocrity,

thinking it the life of a celebrity!-

but were too busy scratching at their clothes, patched and dirty,

to notice others' nakedness, depressed and unhealthy.

will i live for those who cannot?

and will i meet them in streets?

and when they ask me what 1+1 equals

will i say '2',

or give them 2?

OR!- will i take that 1 and add it to 2,

making three,

and give them three meals they daren't foresee?!

will i- 

rich in heart,

rich in mind,

rich in body-

give all i have to others?-

poor in heart,

poor in mind, 

poor in body.

will i show them that math, while true,

can do them no good,

until i can first remind them

that they can live?

for if life is what you make it,

i suppose you could make it rock,

but

if life is what you make it

then i will make it,

and give it to others

who do not know they possess their own tools in their own hands.

i will live for those who cannot.

even behind this dusty cash register.

"i can help whoever is next!"

Blind Spot: I'm a Coward.

I have this horrible fear of being greatly disliked by people I admire: celebrity or non-celebrity; friend or enemy, I am probably terrified of disappointing you. 

We've talked and talked and talked, getting to know each other pretty well, when suddenly we come to a slight disagreement, or a hot topic, or a minor offense and I will probably back down faster than a squirrel underneath a car wheel. Unless the disagreement/topic/offense concerns anything literary, I'll probably go down fighting you, but morally or politically, I am pretty wishy-washy. 

No, I don't sleep around or go around murdering people, but I will think so hard about what my opinion should be that I won't allow myself to make one.

I tinker. I don't complete.

Last night I discovered how self-conscious I am about the ideas I entertain. I don't really like sharing them because, frankly, ideas/beliefs, really shouldn't be as fickle as this: a young woman's heart. I have no problem sharing my emotions--everyone knows those are pretty fickle, due to a liberal amount of hormones--but ideas!- ideas are supposed to be stronger! Ideas are supposed to be solid! Ideas are supposed to be firmer; supposed to uphold the fickle emotions, which would explain why I often qualify any verbalized belief with: "Not that I've really this through-. This is an undeveloped opinion but..."

Strike you as confident, because it doesn't strike me as confident.

Sometimes I'm so afraid to be right. When am I right? The people I admire would even admit that they aren't right all the time, so how could I ever say that I'm right?! I'm sure behind every 'right' statement is a blind spot. I must be missing something I have yet to think through. I'll have to take a few more days to develop my ideas. My beliefs.

But then I never get around to developing them.

I'm spineless. I'm afraid to have an opinion. 

I blog; have Facebook and am afraid to have an opinion. 

I'm not looking for the perfect idea. In fact, I get frustrated when someone's a know-it-all. Besides, who likes know-it-alls?! No one, that's who.

But, I guess, kind of like walking, I got'a crawl and trip a few times before I can really keep a steady pace. I might have to jog, might have to run, might have to stop altogether; but really. It's all about developing. Really, it's all about wanting to continue developing. 

Ah, I can't be afraid to share my ideas/beliefs with you.

God did not make me to be a coward! 

Maybe not always Live. Laugh. Love. but sometimes Bolder. Kinder.

It takes guts to be bold and kind. Anyone can be bold. Pray that I might also be kind.