June 18, 2011

• Day 17: Not on xanga

  I present the good me on xanga.

  Darn it.

  Because there is a LINK from the World Renewal page to it.

  Because my parents read it

  Relatives

  Older, wiser people.

  Who look at me and say “you know Rachel, that might not be appropriate.”

  I go and hide somewhere familiar when this happens.

  Like when I taught the girls “moda folka” which means a model seal in Portuguese.

  I shouldn’t have done that.

  Like when I complain about having to do things or

  Sink into impressing people or

  Write egotistical “please look at me” things

  Or worse.

  When people really think I have it all together.

   

  My God, I know nothing.
  Must I experience every little thing
  Before I understand anything?
  And then
  Is it just waiting to be proved wrong again?

   

  I feel bad about liking songs that are not called Christian or

  Enjoying books by Anne Lamott who enjoys putting bad words into her books

  I feel bad about wanting things I know I shouldn’t have

  Or spending $20 on a journal when there are so many starving kids. 

  I feel bad about liking Fight Club and being bewildered at the great big world

  About liking people who are bad more than people who are good

  Or thinking they make more sense.

  I don’t want to be stuck here

  In a set of rules

  But I am scared.

  I don’t want to fall into the other side of the ditch either

  Tattooing is so permanent

   

  I don’t want to do something just because I have the opportunity.

  I want to see what is there before me
  Make a choice and

  Go after it with no regrets.

  I want to make the opportunity

  To hear the voice of God and never falter until I have reached it.

  I read the story of the Widow’s mite

  Holding in her hand all the money she had

  Watching it slide down into the box

  Locked away forever
  And then walking away
  Empty.
  I want to be a person who lives

  Not one who writes about those who live.

   

  I write the best after I’ve messed up

  Done something wrong

  Wasted time or money or energy or something that isn’t mine to waste.

  The moments around repentance hold brilliance.

  I like other people’s problems so much

  Because it makes me forget

  I have so many of my own

   

  Nothing more original to write.

  Are there even combinations of words that have never been used?

  Maybe I don’t have to be brilliant—I just need an audience.

  Will you slip away if I am silent?

  Please stay

  Until I have learned to stop pretending I can entertain you

   

  I don’t want to be found out

  Because then people ask questions.

  When people ask questions they have no time for answers and

  You have to sit there listening.

  Or do you?

  Your brain is free

  Free to fly to all the places the person in front of you is telling you not to go.

   

  I used to think secrets were for sinners

  For those who were too scared to live in the truth.

  Then I got blasted by secrets, full in the face

  They hurt so badly

  I couldn’t understand them

  They weren’t even mine

  But they hurt

  Now I hold secrets in many relationships

  Most of it is simply not mine to tell

   

  But I still want it simple

  Say what pops in your head. Whatever moment it pops in there.

  Share what you want, what you don’t want

  What bothers you

  What makes you happy.

  Unfiltered.

  They are not ready

  Neither am I

  Not on xanga

  • 1:01 am
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