Defining the Problem
By Wendy Cope

I can't forgive you. Even if I could
You wouldn't pardon me for seeing through you.
And yet I cannot cure myself of love
For what I thought you were before I knew you.

When You Are Old
By W.B. Yeats

When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved you beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in yuo,
And lvoed the sorrows of yuor changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how loved fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Confusion

I am standing in the middle
of Somewhere.
I don't know where I am.
I don't know what to do.
What am I feeling?
Is this right?
Am I wrong?
What are You trying to tell me?
What is he trying to tell me?
I'm so confused.
I have no one to guide me.
Do I need to worry?
Is this really important?
Look at the beauty around me.
Of people and trees and skies.
Of children and hills and breezes.
And still I yearn for an answer.
I want to know.
I want to hold something solid within my hands.
I want confidence.
Confidence.
Trust.
That I will be happy.

Cleansed

Bone tired exhausted
The good kind of tired
That makes you sleep hard
And wake up hungry.

I laid everything out on the court
Tonight
I'm not good
Just mediocre
But that doesn't matter
What matters is
Breath, Fast hot, hard
Sweat, trickling, beading on my lip
Body, moving, pounding, jumping, running, stretching
Exertion
is a good thing.

It's good to lose myself
Immersed
In this one moment
Not caring about homework
Impressing guys
Listening to friends' problems
Worrying about kids in Bible class
Just giving everything within me
A Chance
to just

let go

Headache

Blah
is the mood I feel right now.
Stay here in my little shell,
I am a little green turtle,
happily hidden away,
sheltered from everything.
I am an island,
Glad in my solitude,
Strong in my independence,
Learning to sparkle once again from my own means.
Sometimes I wish for other things,
Sometimes I wish for a change,
I long for new things
Yet I want to remain here
Safe in my ostracization.

Am I ready to wander away again?
Strong enough to venture out,
Alone.
Vulnerable.
Without my shell.

And that is why my head aches.
So there.

Weddings

Weddings. They're so beautiful. Things are just beginning -- a new flower just budding, filled with hope, potential, dreams, joy. There are new memories to be woven, new joys to be found. And that joy is so catching. Have you ever noticed how people cry at weddings though? Tears to show teh hurt that this change will have to bring.

I want a wedding. I want a simple, flowing white dress that's half-way decent, unlike lots of dresses now. I want to walk down a flower strewn pathway with shadowed with graceful, bending trees, maybe weeping willows. I want all the friends and family I love to be there, to share my joy. And I want to have that special friend to share my life with, to build a home with, to encourage, to be encouraged, to laugh with, to read and study with, to be with, to hold hands with. In some ways I can't wait.

And in some ways, I don't want any of it for a long, long time. Maybe I'll go back to that "boys are icky" philosophy like I had back in kindergarten. . .

Dreams

So I had two really weird dreams last night.

One was about Dustin (boy at school) and I had been chosen as top students or something to enter this contest. And I won. The entire thing (nationally and all). And there was this huge encyclopedia on my desk open to this 3 page article. . . all about me. Except there wasn't really a lot of truth to it, which was rather disappointing. It was entitled something like Mid-Century American or something. And then I was called to the office. and everything in the dream was in browns and khakis (sort of like a brown black and white).

And then there was another really weird dream. I dreamed that Robert Elliot and I were going out, which was really strange. Of course, he's a little strange. We were walking around talking about some weird African custom he had been reading about when he suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand. And he just went on talking, as if nothing had happened (which would be very much Robert). And then randomly he began to tickle me. Maybe he'd been talking to Chris. Who knows. Anyway, he met up with me at the front office of the second dream (this dream came first and then the encyclopedia dream).

Ostriches and Fruit Cake

Sometimes I hate communication. I want to avoid some things, some problems like last year's fruit cake. I want to be an ostrich. Sticking my head in the sand could work, at least for a little while. . .

ok maybe, not. But it was a thought

Change

Change.
It's hurtful.
Happy.
Good.
Strange.
New.
Exciting.
Frightening.
Exhausting.
Trecherous.

Inevitable.

And I'm just going to have to accept that fact.

Sometimes I wonder if I've done the right thing. I wonder if my heart can ache so badly if what I've done is for the best. I did not know I had so many tears inside of me. Even after I thought I'd stopped, more still came. From where? Where does my body store them? How? It's not as if I have a lot of excess fat in which to keep extra tears. . . My head says I've done the right thing. My heart still questions. My heart still doubts. But since when have feelings been reliable?

never never land

sometimes i get so confused. why does my life have to be this complicated? i want to go back to being a kid -- playing at recess and having 20 minutes of homework. wasn't life easier then? wasn't it more fun? i don't htink i even knew the meaning of the word stress! sometimes i really do wish for that. but then i also realize that i can enjoy life on a deeper level now, i can develop richer, more meaningful friendships and learn so much more with my more complicated life. but sometimes, sometimes, i'd like to visit never never land again.

Elation

I am elated. I am on top of the world. . . or at least I'm on the top of my world. My schedule is falling into place, I've done my homework and my studying. I no longer feel the weight of pressing assignments on my chest. I can breathe -- free and easy once again. How wonderful life is some nights!

Stand Still

There are some days when I just want time to stand still.
I want to savor the moment,
Drinking in the sweetness of laughter,
Talking,
Friendship.
Enjoy life.
Not have to worry about writing an essay over The Scarlet Letter
or what theme "The Crucible" has.
Wouldn't it be splendid to be able to come home
and not have to worry about what's due tomorrow?
Or that test I should study for?
Wouldn't it be splendid to think
"why don't I just make supper?"
"visit htat little kid from church?"
"write my gran a letter?"
and yet, I do this work instead.
And I try to do the other as well.
Which sometimes works,
And sometimes just makes me very tired.

Counting Good Deeds

It seems really annoying, almost, to me that we have this numbering/counting of whatever people have done during the week or whatever on Sunday nights -- the little sheets filled out and turned in in the little box so that we can tally the phonecalls made, cards written, etc. Let's count and see how wonderful we all are, why don't we? There just seems to be something wrong with that. Does God only count our good deeds if we write them down to turn them in to be tallied like good little boys and girls? Isn't this going against everything they taught us in Sunday school?

sleepless for you

Sleepless.
Nothing at all to hear except the occasional dull roar of the highway.
The house is dark.
The moon sheds her sweet silver light into the bedroom,
illuminating only shadows and imagination.
My thoughts swarm,
swim,
tangle,
explode.

Why must I think of you?

Everything and Nothing

There are some days when I want to do everything. I want to be everywhere. I am strong, out-going, intelligent, funny. I could skip to the moon and be back in time for dinner and then wash the dishes afterwards.

And there are some days when all I want to do is sit. Soak in the world around and sit motionless, dreaming, thinking my own private thoughts in my own private world. I want nothing to do with people, school, work. I want only to gaze off in the distance, wondering what God has in store for me.

I love Simon and Garfunkel. . .

KATHY'S SONG
Paul Simon - 1965

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I

guide me

There are so many opportunities around me.
So many doors opened
And windows cracked.
Sometimes it's hard to know where to turn,
When to jump,
How to land.
What's wrong?
What's right?
Is there an in-between?
Can I have everything?
Or close?
Guide me,
O Thou Great Jehovah.

why

It's so hard sometimes to want things
And have to wait.
To see others with that very thing.
Why does everything come easily?
Why do they take everything for granted?
Why can I not have that?
Why?
I don't have a car. . .
Not enough money
I can't play soccer or run this weekend. . .
I hurt my knee
I don't have a boyfriend. . .
The one I want hasn't asked. . .
And I'm half-scared he will. . .

But don't I have a house?
Food? Clothes?
Don't I have a healthy body?
Can't I walk? See? Hear? Breathe?
Don't I have so many friends?

Patience, child, patience.

Generation Gap

There is an enormous generation gap at church. We have plenty of old grannies, the kind who pat your hand for ten minutes, shaking, and tell you what a beautiful little girl you are. And you have given up long ago trying to argue with them . . . about being a little girl . . . about being beautiful . . . about being sweet. . . they always win
Then there are suddenly lots of young married couples, fresh out of college.
And of course there are the college kids themselves.
But there are no "baby-boomers" per-say. None of the middle-aged people, who would have children my age. There's one -- possibly two -- couples with children five or so years younger than I. But there's only so much conversation one can have with a seventh grader.
And so I'm faced with
a. not having any friends
b. not having any friends my age
And of course, any sane person would pick the latter. But there's only so much that I can relate to with those grannies.
And I wonder. With those college kids. If I were in their place, would I want to be friends with some silly sixteen-year-old?

groggy blahness

some mornings i wake up and i just can't get going. is there a way to jumpstart a person? i can't stand coffee so that won't work. and i'm not allowed carbonated beverages so i can't even drink a coke for the caffeine. and so i just drag throughout the day, never quite waking up to be myself. To function. To carry out daily tasks. To laugh and think and talk. all i feel is groggy blahness.

changing friends

Friends
stretch out
in all directions
new and old
the minor acquaintance, lab partners in chemistry kind
and the kind that i run next to, both of us with lungs bursting
and then those that
i can actually have a real conversation with
there is some sort of connection
communication
a sense of humor
some glimmer of intelligence
not often found in a high school
and sometimes they are a wonderful cushion
all comfort and safety and giggles --
at least for the girls
but then there are moments
moments
when they drift
even the closest
and move towards others
am i losing you?
how did i miss you?
why?
why this expanse of
emptiness
between us?
why the awkward pauses?
how could silence once have been rich
with the warmth of our friendship
and now
only uncomfortable?
what happened?
have you changed?
or is it me?
have i been the one
to change
to grow
to stretch

towards another horizon?