finding it's way out...
07/26/2002 08:31 p.m.
This is not really a journal... it's not really a poem... it's just something trying to find it's way out:

When I was young
I found a little red wagon.
The name on the side
read "Radio Flyer"
and I was in love.
I carried that thing
everywhere I went,
pulled it until the
wheels rattled when they rolled;
the paint chipped;
the handle shook;
and still it was my pride a joy...
Until the day
that Bobby said
I was too old to play with toys --
he was a pretty boy --
and I gave that wagon away.

Well, it's been a long time
since I felt young
but love and freedom can
bring that alive again.
All the Bobbies in the world
sing in my head these days...
I'm too old to hang on
to silly things
and silly dreams
but this feels real to me.
See, my heart's attached
to a music man,
and he can soothe my soul.
When I hear his rhythm
through that speaker loud
I smile because I know
my "Radio Flyer" came back to me
all shiny and brand new,
better than I remember,
better than I could dream,
and this time there's no letting go.

I am currently Reflective
I am listening to Cool stuff by a good friend

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Hmmmmmm
07/10/2002 08:52 p.m.
Why must I have those meloncholy days? Today is better. I am blessed. How dare I complain anyway? Ok, so I don't know everything. So what? I know enough to be able to say that I have a good life. Even though I didn't want to be at this stage or this age or both at the same time... are you still with me >> I am happy for today, for this moment, for everything I do have. Even in my poor decision making, God has worked my life out to good. You should believe in miracles. I am one. And so are you.
I am currently Better
I am listening to Jars of Clay

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Hello, world
07/09/2002 11:56 p.m.
OK... so here I am. I'm not so sure about writing in this public place for all the world to see. Poems are one thing, but this journal business is something else. No mask of powerful words organized in some meaningful way to symbolize something about this life. Just me. Just my messed up head and heart jumbled together here rambling on. I don't even know where to begin except to say that I'm afraid this site may end up being my therapy. That's frightening. I guess that makes you my doctors -- at least you are reading me for free. You are likely to find some disturbing things here if I keep this up. Then again, I may just chikcen out and fire you before we even get started. My usual tactic for living is avoidance. Flee. Run away. Hide. Oh, if you only knew. But for today, I am still a mystery. The sordid tale I tell may remain my secret for a later novel deal, as a friend once suggested! I'm laughing now. Smiling. I have a young friend who longs for adventure and newness and openness. I am yearning for the simplicity of my childhood. How did things get so complicated so quickly? How can I possibly be 28 years old already? I miss the little girl I used to be. She was so strong and fearless. And now there's all this doubt and worry. When did I become such a shell of myself? Which incident was it that brought me here? And how do I overcome it? I've played Landslide about forty times today. The line that echoes is: "I don't know." That pretty much sums it all up. I think it was Frost who, in his old age and infinite wisdom, said he could summarize everything he learned about life in three words: "It goes on." Amen, brother Frost, but where is it going? Where am I going?
I am currently Disillusioned
I am listening to Stevie Nicks -

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