the frenemy

Isn't it sad that time is fleeting?
Every moment we have can be taken away in a flash.
That flicker of happiness or spark of deep and undiscriminating love
Snatched from our fingertips
Like a pendulum-swinging life rope just out of reach.
We try to hold on.

But what is the alternative?
Pause the instant and savor it forever...
An endless spoonful of your favorite dessert.
It knows no end or beginning.
It has no past or future.
We are perpetually stuck in that precious perfection
As Sisyphus pushed the rock up that boundless hill;
A punishment or a reward.

What then?
If flawlessness has peaked, what more is there?
What less?
Maybe time is not only our enemy but our friend-
It lashes out and steals our moment of bliss
But then forgives and chances us for more.
To experience a different sensation,
An unprecedented melange of butterflies and light.

As we struggle to keep these in our memory,
The photographs greying in our brains,
Remember that the hope of tomorrow's moments
Make timelessness unfavorable
And hold the transient unsequestered.

He lies next to me sleeping...
I am happy in this minute
Yet sad for the next.
Will he wake up differently?
Who can promise the sentiment of tomorrow?
None but time
Giving us another opportunity to love.
Live now, live hopefully.

-cmb 06.21.11

WRC 2011-2012 auditions

Yesterday commenced the Washington Redskins Cheerleaders tryouts for the 2011-2012 season. Actually, auditions began on Saturday, but the veterans (weird calling myself a veteran!) didn't have to go in until yesterday. Here is a picture of all of the returning veterans this year - my rookie class is 10-strong! :)

All of the girls who made it through the first two cuts on Saturday came yesterday and will also be performing at finals, vying for a one of the 40 spots on the team. At the Finals show this upcoming Sunday, everyone will be performing one of three dances, performing the same sideline routine, walking in the opening, and doing a bikini walk. It really is entertainment, folks!

This week, we will learn a total of three dances, a sideline routine, the opening, and perfect our swimsuit walk. I don't know if you've ever walked half naked in a bikini on a stage, but believe me, it is not easy - even if you look like Cindy Crawford. Tonight, we have a swimsuit photo shoot and practice, then practice the three days following. Contrary to popular belief, we do not just automatically break into dance in perfect unison like Glee or the Brady Bunch - we actually practice about four hours per night! So I urge you to come and support me and all the girls that have been working tirelessly on their fitness, look, and dance technique for the past few months. I will post more pictures as I take them this week!!

Me and Mini Me - my girl Maya made it to finals!
Fingers crossed for her :)


K-Bun & moi <3

i came to dance, dance, dance

I love dancing. If you don't know this about me, you probably don't know me at all. I guess you could say it defines me. I don't necessarily think it's a good thing to have a single verb define your entire being, but dancing is who I am. Sorry 'bout it.

Last night, I left Life Time Fitness (AKA Globo Gym or the Best Gym in the World) after a pretty phenomenal workout. I biked, ran, and lifted! Super! Tangent time: what is the best way to approach hotter-than-Hercules guys at the gym? Honestly, I generally don't notice fellow gym-goers because I am concentrating on my workout, but this guy is golden. Do I just go up and introduce myself? Or use a really corny line? Or a really witty line? HELP ME. Regardless... after I left the gym, the endorphins were buzzing and I really wanted to go out dancing. Is this so much to ask? Now Columbia, Maryland is not necessarily the most poppin' of suburban towns. Locally, DC is where the party is at, but since I customarily have to be in DC for rehearsals every weekend, I reserve that sophisticated, cow-tipping of a good time for Friday and Saturdays. But Union Jacks had a DJ and I was sure I would see half of my high school and surrounding high schools there (to my delight or dismay, debatable) - so I put on some high-waisted satin shorts (easy to get low in, duh), a belted cropped lace tee, 5-inch wedges, my free fedora, and went in for the kill. Riding solo toniiight.

Apparently walking into a bar alone as a young female is frowned upon and/or not socially acceptable. When someone asked who I came with, to which I happily responded, "Myself!", I received the strangest of looks! Dude, why can't you grasp I just came to dance? "I just want to stand in a circle around our pocketbooks and shoes and just - I just wanna dance! DANCE!" (props to Dane Cook for getting it so right - he truly gets women). So a friendly, redheaded bartender with whom I have become acquainted got my already sprightly demeanor and endorphin-swimming head rolling on a few Vanilla Gingers and a car bomb, the DJ pumped some jams, and it was time to go get jiggy.

I don't like dancing with boys. First off, it gets awkward real quick especially if you're not drunk enough, they generally can't keep up, and then they ultimately think I'm trying to holler. Pass on all accounts. Dancing with girls can be slightly more appealing but then it kind of morphs into some lesbionic mesh of butt-jiggling and hair-tossing which kind of makes me want to vomit if I ever spend more than two solid minutes participating. So, what a relief that I came by myself - or even better, that there were two dancing-machine gay guys on site, Aqua Boogie and Frenchie! We partied like it was 1999. Dougie, cupid shuffle, pop lock & drop it. Me and the gays and the jams. Burning calories the fun way. Life was good.

I can't stop thinking about how great of a time I had last night, despite the fact I was in a mediocre bar in a family-oriented town and out by myself. On his way out, a tall and handsome stranger stopped me and said, "I'm leaving now, but I just wanted to let you know that it's a shame I didn't talk to you earlier, because you look like you have a lot of fun." I think that's an even better compliment than cajoling a girl's physical features or clothes or beauty! Granted, the characteristic "having fun" is not a difficult one to master, but it does seem comparable to proving the Pythagorean Theorem to some. You're in a bar! Have a good time! Let your hair down then proceed to whip your hair back and forth! No one is judging you. And if they are, then they obviously don't matter.

Going out alone is not always a bad thing. Do what YOU want to do. Meet new people. Project certainty in yourself and people will view you as poised, sure, and ...fun! I absolutely love social scenes with friends but sometimes, me? I just wanna dance.

fun & fundamental

Kenneth Josephson, 1988

I never understand why under "Favorite Books" on Facebook (obviously the only official way of listing your Favorite things), people purposefully write: "I don't read." Facetious or not, this is like standing on a rooftop in a crowd of all of your closest friends and obscure acquaintances and shouting, "I am ignorant!" If you don't read, you claim to not have enough time to read, or your reading selection is limited to Sports Illustrated and/or Cosmopolitan (don't get me wrong - there's a time and place for everything and I am NOT slandering the female "bible"), you probably shouldn't publicize this fact. At least list some generic novel you were required to read in your Honors 11th grade English class like The Great Gatsby or To Kill a Mockingbird. Even if you only quickly glanced over the CliffsNotes the period prior in order to pass the "pop" quiz.

I don't think being a so-called bookworm has ever been of a detriment to me. I began reading when I was three - my parents read to me every night and day and I could read all of the books on the Kindergarten shelf as soon as I began school at age four. Chapter books started that year. The weekly trip to the library resulted in large stacks of books that I would fly through effortlessly, a children's dictionary nearby in case there was a big word I didn't recognize. I was already lightyears ahead of my classmates but I suppose I never fully realized this continually developing margin until recently. At the bar, I will be drunk and rave about how I love reading and spelling and words and grammar. Probably a terrible topic in inebriation, but I can't say that anyone has ever been turned off by it. Believe it or not, most people enjoy speaking with seemingly smart people - weird, I know. Have you ever heard a guy say he wants to date a stupid, illiterate, ditzy, uneducated girl? I guess as long as she's a smokeshow.

In America, forty-two million adults are illiterate. Fifty million adults are limited to a 4th or 5th grade reading level or can only recognize a few printed words (Source: www.readfaster.com). To further this, the majority of people I know are in the midst of completing or have completed a secondary education. It's pretty difficult to get through college without reading. Yet most still struggle between the correct forms of your/you're or their/there/they're. HOW?! This is extremely disconcerting to me. Perhaps it's the informality of social media, but even if your coveted career is not a professional one, communicating well both in the written word and orally is of the utmost importance! If not anything else, these skills can be attained through reading. And actually paying attention when you read. Spelling, grammar, vocabulary - it's all there.

Even beyond the added credibility reading gives you, books can broaden our horizons. In the movie Pleasantville, all of the kids were in awe when words began appearing in the books and the library became the jumpoff. What lays outside of circular Main Street? Applicable to us, what lays yonder - away from the small, incestuous bubbles where we exist? Our world is limited to the events and people we encounter - believe it or not, things of note happen elsewhere. Whether fiction or non-fiction, reading extends our views, curtails geographical and cultural gaps, and tugs at the right-side of the brain, the place where childlike and boundless imagination live. Icksnay the narrow-mindedness of the old and welcome the well-roundedness of the new.

Books can make you laugh out loud, they can make you silently cry. They can make you think until your mind turns raw, or make you cringe until your heart explodes. They can fill you with wonderment from otherworldly desires, or curiosity from the unknown - your cup can never be full. They will fill your every day speech with adverbs and adjectives that make a dream of conversing with you. The English language is one of the largest in the world - about 1,022,000 words and consistently growing - yet in every day language, 1/3 of our vocabulary is limited to 22 words... 22 = 1/3 of 1,022,000?! That's some fugged up math.

Language is our every day. Embrace and appreciate its essence and necessity. Go read a fuckin' book.


An abbreviated list of some favorites:

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
Bright Shiny Morning by James Frey
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo/The Girl Who Played with Fire/The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson
How to Be Single by Liz Tucillo
On The Road by Jack Kerouac
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
About a Boy by Nick Hornby
The Street Lawyer by John Grisham
Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella

I could ramble on forever but won't for brevity's sake... please leave me some titles of your beloved books!

wanted: spontaneity!

I need somewhere to go this week. WRC tryouts begin on Sunday for me and I need to stop thinking about dieting and being skinny and get away. I also need something to occupy my mind other than my fruitless job hunt. Ultra is in Miami this weekend and I can't go. :( Everyone and their grandma is going. So I will visit you! Yes, you. This week! Tell me where to go. Give me something to gush about and excite me. I am easily excitable.

My world is better without walls. I will take advantage of my "unemployment" and fly freely. An adventure is not desired, it is necessary.

like the moon

I meet him at the bar.
His opening line is something awful but I make fun of him and laugh and he's hooked.
Or am I hooked?
I buy shots for my friends but they're far away.
So I take shots with him.
His friends think I'm legit for buying him a drink.
We talk throughout the entire night.
The music plays, we flirt and giggle and talk.
I dish it out and he toughs it out and reciprocates.
Are we really connecting?
Lustful.
The conversation is endless and intriguing.
No awkward pauses.
Witty banter and thoughtful opinions.
It takes two to tango.
I study his handsome face.
His smile implies true happiness.
His style isn't forced.
Three hours later and the bar is closing.
Time flies when you're having fun.
He asks for my pager number and AIM screen name in jest.
I give him my phone number.
He showers me with compliments, saying they're all from the heart.
I blush and say I don't believe him.
I really do.
He gets down on one knee and pretends to propose.
We kiss in the streets and his friends cheer.
My friends have all left me.
Thanks - and thanks.
Looks like I'm staying at his place.
The stipulation is no sex.
He obeys.
We enjoy a make out session and snuggle.
I wake up and he's left to hand write directions for me cause my phone is broken.
What a gem.
We walk together and get coffee.
He pays for it, just as he paid for my beverages last night.
How chivalrous.
Or was it an investment?
Conversation in sobriety is even better than drunk conversation.
It's because it's exactly the same.
That tells you something good.
He kisses me goodbye.
We walk around the park the next day and chat.
He tells me a funny stories and says there's more substance to him than people imagine.
He kisses me goodbye.
He leaves town.
Why do the best ones always live far away?
He tells me to come visit.
He ignores me.
He contacts me sporadically.
I feel like I'm walking on eggshells.
Do I text?
Do I call?
I don't like playing games.
So I don't.
I never feel like this.
I hate feeling like this.
Vulnerable.
Why say you'll call when you won't?
Maybe I'm used to being in control with boys, not men.
His sense of humor seems to have faded with each added mile between us.
What happened to those bright moments?
Is alcohol really all that it took?
My mind darts back and forth.
If a guy likes you, he will make time to see you.
Never be naive again.
Words are just that.
Feed me fallacies, it's easy.
Men are only after one thing.
Even if they say it's from the heart.
From the bottom of his heart, he wants to have sex with you.
I'm glad I'm newly celibate.
I guess I'm a tease.
He could be anyone.
I could be anyone.
Like the moon, the glittering glows then wanes.
Special is tough to find.
Don't go looking.

operation WRC tryouts

Here is a little sample of WRC prep classes from the class that our very own Abby taught. That's Emerald, me, and Marisa from left to right in the beginning. Come out to FedEx Field to take classes with the cheerleaders - auditions begin Saturday, March 26!! We start with some snippets, then a warm-up, pirouettes, kickline, across the floor technique, and learn a new dance every class. Off to take Sabrina's class tonight... wooweee!! Get ready for some booty poppin'.

Visit www.redskins.com/cheerleaders for more information on tryouts! :)

my first spring time laundry list

Reasons I love Spring:

1. Spring represents rebirth, the renaissance of the seasons, the recreation of life. Give your starry, dreary eyes a face lift!
2. The robin perched on the tree outside of my window.
3. Flowy dresses and sheer backless shirts, high-waisted belts and light jackets, cork wedges and gladiator sandals.
4. Cherry blossoms and the Jefferson Memorial.
   
5. Walking everywhere. Tennis. Running outside. Baseball season.
   
6. A groundhog is the accepted expert on its arrival.
7. Hot boys with muscular arms in Rainbows and backwards Polo hats. Hot boys with crooked smiles in RVCA tees and classic Vans. Hot boys with piercing eyes in V-necks and Sperrys. Hot boys.
   
8. Daydreaming and reading classic novels on my picnic blanket at the park - accompanied by my good friends, le vin et le fromage (Moscato and Brie, duh).
   
9. Drinking outside at bars. Dining outside at restaurants. Being outside.
   
10. It is now acceptable to start planning your first boating trip of the year. The blossoming prelude to summer.
    

So, my dearest Spring, please arrive as quickly as possible. We've already adjusted for Daylight Savings where we had to "spring ahead" and lose an hour of drinking time at 2am. And smiling at random strangers without the weather to justify my joyfulness is really making me seem like a creep. Which everyone should do, by the way - a currency of smiles trumps that of dollar bills any day. Mind the gap and bridge the gap.

Some pieces from Free People that I must have in my wardrobe for spring.
Weightless clothing is the next best thing to being naked, right?
www.freepeople.com

we'll all fleet on okay

There was Kevin. He could make me laugh without even trying - that's the best kind of hysterical. And then there was Bradley. He went in and out of my life with intrigue; I don't think I ever fully knew who he was but that was part of the mystery - a girl loves a good contrivance. And David - a man who was going places with his strong jaw and stronger mind but I ruined that faster than you can say dating. Chris with the long hair but he has it short now. We hung with his iguana and then it was over. Anthony was my favorite in Miami. He loved the calves I hate so much and we played basketball in the short southern Florida rains. Brussels, Belgium is where I met Vincent. His English was worse than my French so we communicated in Frenglish and pantomime and coy smiles - his French mixtape comes out of the dust for that one song.

My best friend at Saratoga was named Stephanie. She sat on the counter like a frog and did her makeup in the mirror and her eyes were like a cat's but the bluest. In San Francisco, Liz and Sydney. They were beautiful dancers and took that beauty with them everywhere they went. In elementary school, Autumn and I were inseparable. We dressed up like Sailor Moon and sold lemonade on the street. Nikki came and went in one year but the puerility of our jokes is a reminder to never lose my youth.

Everything is fleeting. People, like moments or objects, come into your life without intention and exit without avail. There are three types of people in the world. The ones you don't need and never will, the ones you need for a brief glimpse of time, and the ones you need forever and always regardless of how often you speak with them or see them - time is of no matter to these ones. It is up to us, as we are the creators of our fates, to distinguish the difference in necessity. Sometimes it is simple to eliminate a person from our lives, just as sometimes it is simple to definitively declare that a specific person should be in our lives. But most of the time, deciding is difficult. So we put that person on the back burner, awaiting a later decision. It is then that the person floats in or out, like water drifting between buoys. Only after that person has disappeared from your every day affairs that you realize how much he is needed, or realize that she has left tiny stamps on your soul, to influence and change your future to that tiniest degree.

I visited Sam this past week for a few days, and though we haven't seen each other in over a year, it was like we haven't skipped a beat. Or Sara, with whom I'll catch up every few months or so and divulge all of my secrets. Brooke and I were perpetually together for four years straight and her absence now is a reminder of the helplessly good times we shared and will continue to share. Maria, with her logical brain and quick puns, she keeps me sane and puts it all into perspective - we are in control of how we react. And the sisters I am gaining in my teammates. I cannot name them all here, such as I cannot name all the brightest stars in the sky.

How do we know when to let go and hold on? Some are good, but some are just that much better. And ultimately, the better will manifest in the best of myself.

the just friends ship

The question always remains – can a guy and girl be strictly friends? Throughout my years (which, by the way, do not at all make me wise or knowledgeable), I have come to a few conclusions. A girl and guy CAN be strictly friends only under a few circumstances:

1. BOTH are in relationships with other parties
2. The time frame of the friendship is temporary - not BFFAEAE so to speak
3. There is something that one finds inherently unattractive in the other; one or both don't have to necessarily be ugly, just not appealing to the other
   

If one of these conditions is not met, the guy and girl will hook up. Or date. Or get married and have kids and divorced and continue the cycle. Or live happily ever after – to be charmingly optimistic. The worst option is that one will TRY to hook up with the other, and in turn “ruin” the friendship. The interesting question to me is: if that happens, and the two continue to be friends, is that friendship fake or forced? If one is interested and finds some sort of unrequited lust in the other, are they still “just friends?”

Take my friend “Fish” for example. We’ve been friends since literally the sixth grade – friends for 12+ years. That’s literally half of my lifetime! So you can understand why I thought we were literally “just friends” (that's a lot of "literally")… he’s like a lovable brother! Recently, Fish and I have been meeting up at Starbucks/any other café to get coffee or tea together. He always makes me laugh, I do a pretty good job of reciprocating, and we chat about life, plans, boys/girls, nothing at all… essentially just shoot the shit. It’s nice to have someone with whom to be “just friends,” especially of the opposite sex so you can ask him his viewpoint on certain issues and guilelessly assume that his opinion speaks for the entire male race. Obviously.

Now, refer to the rules listed above. Neither of us is in a relationship currently. We’ve been friends for a long time. I think Fish is super attractive, he dresses well (snowboarder, Sevens and R&R, tight sneaks and tight tees, fashionable stoner, urban prep… all in one. That’s a mouthful), and he is my type (except a little on the Napoleon side if ya know what I mean). I could just never view him in that respect! Ever. Eek! And he seemingly finds me attractive for whatever reason that may be. So, according to the aforementioned rules, I was undoubtedly foolish to think we could continue our “justfriendship” without any speed bumps.

About a day or two before he was about to go under the knife for knee surgery, he was complaining about his six-month celibacy and how it needed to end before he lost all mobility in his knee. My advice was to go get some, do yo thang, boy! Trust me, I am all about getting some – sex is natural, listen to Hugh Hefner and just appreciate and stare – even better if another party or three is involved. But, next thing I know, Fish is asking me if I want to be the lucky party! HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE, TIME OUT, PAUSE. “It was worth a shot,” he said. Then all of a sudden, he gets upset with me when I don’t immediately text him back, gets peeved when I don’t call him when HE told me to, and wants to chill in and watch movies and drink wine together at night? Excuse me, when did our FRIENDship turn into a RELATIONship? No jumping ships here, sailor. Stay on your own boat.

After this fiasco and I (again) CLEARLY communicated we were “just friends,” things went back to “normal.” Except now, I know what’s in his mind and I feel like I’m faking a friendship with him. I know as soon as he finds a girl to occupy his mind, it will most likely go away, but I am as of now unsure how to act. One of my fortes is definitely call-outs and making awkward situations even more awkward so as to really just do the reverse, but I can also act completely normal once a situation has been made awkward. Did that even make sense? Nonetheless, awkward situations are my specialty. But it feels as if the friendship is now ruined, tainted, a fallacy. The tension is just a little more tangible.

What must one do to maintain a strict friendship with the opposite sex? This is extremely narcissistic and terrible to say but I’ll say it anyway – I can literally think of only ONE male friend of mine who I know would never, never hook up with me if the right timing and opportunity appeared. The exception to the exception. Is this true for everyone? How do I throw the rules out the window? I enjoy the camaraderie and easygoing qualities of male friendship, but how do I keep it that way? If anyone has the answer – tell me now. Maybe I will implant a third eyeball or something. Or maybe I should just accept it - just ask Ryan Reynolds in Just Friends or Patrick Dempsey in Made of Honor. The worst.

recap: dc jazz & tap festival

This past weekend was the 25^th Annual DC Jazz & Tap Festival in NOVA. We had dress/tech rehearsal on Friday night until about 10pm (come on, really?) and then two shows – one on Saturday evening and one Sunday afternoon. Aside from spending time with my fellow CMP company members (shout out Ashley, Sarah, Lauren, Gina, Lucetta, Cayla, Starr – you guys made the weekend worthwhile!), I was able to somewhat renew my bunhead status and become more aware of the youth dance scene in the DC area. I used to be well-informed on this microcosmic world since I was a part of it (I mean, I wore a bun in my hair to school every day from 3^rd through 8^th grade… social suicide at its finest), but since my last performance of this caliber was approximately my senior year of high school (six years ago!! I’m ancient), it was interesting, to say the least, to make note of the current happenings and progressiveness of dance for tweens and teens… Yes, we were one of the only adult companies at the Festival. Ehhh moving on.

Some girls from Iridescent in our masks and trenches... tizzy.

With guest artist, the amazing Rasta Thomas. Lauren loved it.

First off, let me start off by expressing how magical it was performing on the stage again. Sure, dancing for the Redskins gives me a broad spectrum of fans and a huge football field as my stage – and I absolutely LOVE it – but I undoubtedly miss the glare of the lights, the intrigue of the blackness of the house, the ease of the marley floor, the flutter of heartbeat that millisecond before you emerge from the wings, and the hairpins and hairnets. Yes, I said it – I miss my bun. CMP’s adult company only performed one piece in the festival – Iridescent choreographed by Eddie Garcia, a noted choreographer who is best known for touring with Michael Jackson. Only performing one dance was definitely a tease; therefore, I can’t wait for our show at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater on Saturday, May 14. You should definitely come see us. Even if you have no knowledge of dance, the performance will be full of rapture and will appeal to the most ignorant of eyes – sick (now I mean SICKASSSHIT) hip hop, layered contemporary, polished jazz, something for everyone. Plus you can put on your Cultured Hat for a day and enjoy a nice evening at the theater. Cultured = cool, cool = girls like you; transitive property: cultured = girls like you.

www.capitolmovement.org

Back to the Jazz & Tap Festival. Don’t get me wrong – some of the dances were extremely dynamic and well-choreographed. But most of the dances didn’t fascinate me at all. One piece contained contemporary, jazz, tap, and pointe! I was entirely confused the whole time –blurring all of the lines between types of dance is very progressive and forward, but blurring between four completely different types of dance just takes away from each individual art form and results in a blah grey mess. Some of the pieces were over seven minutes long. I can understand if the length of the piece is due to specified movements, but seven minutes of anti-climatic, perpetual moves to anti-climatic, perpetual music is really just too much. Where is the concept when blending ballet, modern, and jazz?! First the pirouette is turned out, then it’s turned in 45 seconds later? Lines are all well and good but where is the origination of those lines? Dance is a personal and musical expression through each individual muscle… which in turn results in technical perfection. If you can express no passion in your choreography or dancing, you’re better off sitting in the audience, thanks. This newfound discovery of youth studio dance in the now was seriously disconcerting. Maybe I expect more because I expected more of myself at that age, but grow a pair! Take your spotlight with purpose!

Now, let me rave about the greats. Nicole Klett’s choreography is amazing – I marvel at her inspiration and innovation. Michael Hibbs, a 17-year-old student from Fairfax, was not only incredible and fervent, but also diverse! I absolutely love true performers and he was one of the only stand-outs I noticed at the Festival… Other than our very own Pre-Professional CMP company of course – those girls are fierce! Many of the tappers' precision of sound was impeccable - rhythm tap has come a long way, evidently. Now I am no dance critic, merely a subjective viewer who has danced for the past 18 years of her life. But I know a thing or two about passion and more importantly… why we do it. Just watch me ;)

the winds are my walls

I've searched Crayola boxes and paint palettes
worldwide and have yet to find
the blue of the sky so pure and clear,
unprecedented in its openness,
acceptance. The eye to the universe -
it is a limitless telescope,
a cerulean invitation to the unknown.
Look up, look up into infinity.

I've stopped to smell the roses and daffodils,
the orchids' sweet scent climbing
into my brain. The sharp hint of grass
evokes times of baseball in the summer
and dew-soaked romps,
sprightly and sensual. Uninhibited beauty is only
what you are reminded of in its perception.
Look down, look down into memories.



I've sailed the ocean through, glared uncomprehendingly
into the depths of doom, layers of life.
Poseidon cares not about the (in)significance of
yesterday or the brand of your ware - prejudice
is not in his vocabulary. The power
of the sea humbles us, equalizes, more than
war and peace, love and hate.
Look out, look out into divinity.

The winds are my walls -
The stars are my canopy -
The roots are my floors -
in which I flutter, seamless,
under which I lie, faceup,
upon which I dance, passionate.
Nature is us, so it is palpable that
when we look around us, we truly
look into, look into ourselves.

(and who I want to be.)

-cmb