Sunday, January 20, 2013

ahhhhhh!!! and lemons.

I would probably pay someone upwards of 50 bucks to have a transcript of the things Jacob (my 8-year-old student) and I say to each other when we are having our one-on-one conversations. The transcripts would probably look a little something like this...


Ms. Meghan: I can't understand you, Jacob. Can you tell me what's wrong using words?


Ms. Meghan: It's okay to be frustrated, Jacob. What's important is how we handle our frustration.


Ms. Meghan: You see, when you get older, you begin to realize that these little things don't matter as much. Sometimes people steal your marbles or your Matchbox cars and you just kinda gotta roll with the punches, kiddo.


Ms. Meghan: Appropriate response. I feel like freaking out a lot of the time, too.


Ms. Meghan: Are you feeling better, Jacob? Want to get a snack?

Jacob: There's this really spooky story about this ghost and this zombie and this cat and this spaceship.

Ms. Meghan: Oh yeah? Please stop picking your nose.

Jacob: (hisses) AHHHHHHHHH!!!

Ms. Meghan: (sighs) (checks Instagram on phone) Life is full of lemons, li'l guy.

I am the worst/best teacher.

Monday, January 14, 2013


"Art saved me; it got me through my depression and self-loathing, back to a place of innocence." -Jeanette Winterson

So much of me wants these words to be my own words.

But they just aren't. Not yet.

Friday, January 11, 2013


Sorrrrrrry for my wine/whine post from last night. It was pretty cruel. And a little too flighty. I feel completely flighty these days. Is this okay, though? To not be 100% in "reality"? What if I am in the midst of creating my own reality? There are layers out there in the universe of which we are unaware simply because we aren't paying attention. It's time for my attention to be turned on.

Everything is electric and magnetic. I feel a charge and a change coming.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

made up

Sometimes I wonder if people are waiting for me to fall in love.

It has happened. And it is probably not with you. And you and your ego will probably text me something cruel in order to save yourself and your ego (same thing) and that's just fine because my mind has been made up.

You aren't it.

You aren't him.

And so what.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013


"Be brave enough to break your own heart."

These are the words of the advice columnist Sugar (known in her everyday life as Ms. Cheryl Strayed). These are the words that have been on repeat in my fuzzy brain for the past 1 hour and 47 minutes and probably 36 seconds. These are the words that I must meditate on for a bit longer. Maybe another hour and 47 minutes longer? Or longer? Or shorter? Or who's got a stopwatch? Throw that piece of plastic away.

I want to reach that place where I am willing and perhaps even eager to break my own sweet sensitive defiantly beating heart. I let others break -- no, shatter -- it regularly without even putting up a fight. Why? Do I feel like I deserve it? Do I view this destruction as a sort of penance? What will it take for me to exercise my vocal cords and finally speak up? (Side note: Vocal cords resemble vaginas. I just googled it. Look for yourself. Marvel in the beauty!)

I am headed somewhere solely designed for me. My bones will settle this territory, my marrow will map the land. I will take your forehead into my small hands and kiss it for, no, not you, but for me.

I am about to annihilate my heart and it shall be sublime.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013


What I do is too often construed as diabolical. I almost want to swear that I am too innocent and naive to be such a threat, but that may not be entirely true. Still, 9 times out of 10 my intentions are pure. The one time they are "impure" is only because the impurity will, in my mind, eventually lead to a greater purity. Geeeee whiz, kiddos. I am finding it difficult to express these fleeting thoughts. Maybe they need not be expressed? Maybe they are fleeting for a reason.

There is so much beauty unraveling right before me. I do not know what or how or when or why I deserve this. Here it is, though. Here it is, coming at and through me with a force so mighty that I am knocked down. While I am down, I notice that at least I have a good view of the stars.

We should all lie on our backs more.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

canyon walls

I feel trapped where I am. Yes, we all know by now that I feel trapped emotionally, so I need not go into great detail there. I am thinking more about the physical. I feel disconnected from the land in every single way. I am inside all day at work and then I come "home" (I haven't had a home since I was little, so that is why I use quotations) to what is essentially, to me, a closet. I cannot see the mountains or the moon. The sun fails to filter through my window. Smog has replaced the sage.

There is mud and rock and sand out there that misses my touch. Is that very egotistical of me to say? Except there is no ego when it comes to the earth. The earth strips me of "me." The earth reminds the mass that I have labeled "me" that "I" am both insignificant and vitally important. I need to be reminded of this soon. I am desperate.

So maybe I'll pack up and leave. Or maybe I'll skip the packing part and just leave. I'm a romantic, and metamorphic rocks simply melt my heart.