30th

Oct. 9th, 2011 04:28 pm
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Not gonna lie, it's not the best birthday I've ever had.

In a way, though, that's okay.  I was planning (long before this) to do something fancy, a big party or something, because that's supposedly what you do when your physical body has reached this arbitrarily significant number of years of age.  To be honest, it's almost better this way, because I'm not sure many of my friends would have come, and then I would have felt disappointed, somehow, like I'd failed to mark this "milestone" appropriately.  

Instead, something far more significant has happened, something far deeper and more life-changing.  It's that thing on which I should focus now, instead of assigning such morbid significance to turning 30.  It's not the number of years, it's the stage in life.  

Of course, the fact that my dad is gone is such a huge thing--something so much more terrifying and at the same time inspiring than checking off three decades.  Terrifying, because it brings into sharper focus everything that I haven't done.  In a way, I'm at the worst point so far in my life: I am more broke than I've ever been, yet with more debt that I've ever had.  I haven't written anything.  I have no job and no career, no place to live except sponging off of my mom, no working car, no immediate and attainable goals.  My dad is gone, and I'm not in a position to be of very much help to my mom.  At the same time, it's the depth from which everything has to change.  Either everything will, or nothing will, and of course the latter seems so much more possible and horrible.

I can feel the pattern of depression already dragging at me--the lack of impulse to do anything productive, the panic at how insurmountable all problems seem.  The easy, if dreadful, consistency of doing nothing.  The exhaustion, even after twelve hours of sleep.

Logically, I'm a believer in the Universe helping those who help themselves, but sometimes I just want to give in, breathe and not think, surrender myself and hope for some kind of divinity.

Today, I feel caught somewhere between the two.  It's not the manic feeling of starting fifty projects at once, but it's not entirely the profound hopelessness that I will never achieve anything.  It's more the despondent, but calm, realization that I have to achieve something, and that that something might be so much smaller and so much more insignificant than I'd ever wanted.
noli_me_tangere: (empty)
In the end, love
   is the only language
breathed in quiet rooms
      to the time of oxygen, the shuttered eye
  looking down the halls of record
      the soft mystery
                 of the moving lips.

Past all the questions, the tales,
           the un-answers,
  past all of the shouting to storybook gods
       and the lists of the saints
          standing shoulder to shoulder
 through childhood memories,

In the faintness of echoes in the tubes
        or the swift shuttle of eyes beneath the lids,
   the twitch of electricity in the fingers
       and all of our fingers miming
     some animal instinct of solidarity,
         some panting struggle to let go,

When crowded around the narrow stage,
       all of the sentences of yesterday await,
          thronging for their turn before the curtain,
    turning, voiceless,
         watching the shadows silently,
      the dimming lights before their debut

 With the flicker of many wings,
          rising soft from a thicket of words
     leaving the dew upon the branch,
  and becoming small amid the sky
      but flashing, in the light there, brilliant
              they fly one by one away -

in the still time.
  into the eternity of the expired breath.
    Now it is a hollow, human thing -
created to hold infinities, an open, blank book,
    the letters fled, the gulf unimaginable.
           The speed of light.

In the end,
   it blooms, the easiest thing upon the silent tongue,
          these wordless moments are your gardens,
                                 your monuments,
               they are all that must be known:
 In the end, love

    In the end,
love is the only language


          you need.

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