Saturday, April 16, 2011

I Swear This Is Positive

I just got off of a long, debilitating train ride, the kind that sucks people in. In this tiny train, life was slow, but it never stood still, and the piped-in music from the other cars were jarring and overly loquacious, a hundred different angry people speaking at the same time. In this tiny train, you ever really only have one thought. No one loves you, even if they say they do.

They make you wear shades in there, so that everything you can see outside radiates with a blood-red sheen, so that everything's depressing and unfair. The air is dry inside, and you feel eternally dirty, and there are books scattered all over the place, but they are books without endings, page sixty-fours through page one-eightys.

But this post is really about the trip back. If the slow train brought you to a wrong place, the sad truth is you can't just get off and then get on the fast one. Things happen to you, and the things that happen to you don't really go away. The shades for instance. Trade that in too fast for a new one and your eyes will bleed. Understand your eyes, they haven't been seeing the light for some time.

But that's okay. The point is you are making that trip. The point is there are hundreds of you. The point is there are thousands now, who are already there.

So relax. You'll get there. We can run. Let me join you.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Bawal Daw Huminga

Don't know who's making the rules around here. Things, quite suddenly, feel right.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

First Month Down

Well, everything worth saying has been written down anyways, so no point rewording reworded recipes for success from self-help books.

But this, what it means to me, one month down and the amazing thing is things have been going great at work and while I am frightfully honored at being part of this circus I still feel strangely inadequate.

I feel like Zohan. You should get that.

This is my landscape now: hands buried in the brown, murky waters and clean pebbles, looking out at the endless horizon knowing the way is hard but that my feet can take it.

I feel better now, whole. And red-hot unstoppable.