pilot

ON MY MIND

"On my mind"? What, exactly, does that mean? Is something literally placed on top of my mind? Don't even ask me where I believe my mind is located. Fine, ask. Here's my answer: I have no clue. It could be a tiny pilot behind my eyes. It could be a speck of nothing inside of my left toe. It could be hidden in a box labeled "mind" buried somewhere in a vacant field. I just googled "vacant field" and apparently it is a band. I bet they suck. Kidding, who knows. But seriously, so many bands suck. You know what else sucks? Waking up with food poisoning! Okay, it might not be food poisoning, but it's close.

Teach! I'm going to finally go through with it. I swear. I am going to work towards getting certified and then if I end up teaching, I end up teaching. If not, I will at least have something to fall back on. I can't not teach - it has been on my mind consistently for almost a decade. Oh dear lord. I started college an entire decade ago. Oh my god god god. I am having a mini-meltdown right now. I am so so so old. What the hell have I been doing with my life these past ten years? Oh, that's right - just blossoming. Kidding, kidding. But not kidding. I am a late bloomer. I believe I went through all of my high school phases while in college. Now that I'm nearing 30, I am ready to enter my 20s! Here's to responsibility and careers and retirement plans and paid vacations and khaki pants from Eddie Bauer!

Earlier I spelled "pilot" about seven different ways until I remembered how to spell it correctly. Piolet. Piolit. Pilit. And so forth. Super sad, really. Feel superior! I am sometimes an idiot.

If you are beautiful, you terrify me.

I watched a Russian film last night called Shadows in Paradise. It was so good! It reminded me of every relationship I have ever had! Go watch it!

Speaking of relationships... Nah. Never mind. Don't wanna go there right now. I am so confused! All the time! Entering my 20s! Time for experimentation! (This coffee has turned against me suddenly. Who decides coffee and nausea go together? An idiot, that's who! But an idiot who has a good heart and means well and is just trying her best and started college a decade ago. That kind of an idiot.)

Maybe I should try to eat something. And sit outside. And read. And take a Valium. Thanks for being so beautiful and terrifying!

fifty-five facts

10 facts about my room
*there is a mysterious bloody mark on the door that i just noticed
*i have a special jewelry box on my floor full of special non-jewelry items
*it's crowded-n-cozy with books i'll never get around to reading
*i have a chicken mcnugget plastic toy on my shelf
*there are also doll heads on my shelf
*i have a couple of shelves dedicated to buddhist books
*my college degree is still in the envelope, placed on top of a shoe box on my floor
*there is tabasco sauce on my dresser (next to four cat paintings)
*i have three pieces of art by chris on my wall
*there are a million and a half used matches next to the tabasco sauce next to the four cat paintings

9 facts about my family
*we've got lots of snooty blood in us (we're french! we're german!)
*we had a dog for 14 (15? 16?) years named wolfgang that we still miss every single day
*instead of sitting around a table at dinner time, we sat around the tv watching the simpsons (which is totally awesome)
*i call my sister heather "sissy" and have my entire life; i doubt i'll ever call her heather
*speaking of names, i call my mom "mompsie" or "monny" and i tend to call my dad "johnny" (and i call myself a cab!)
*everyone in my family loves the holy hell out of books
*we are kinda sorta packrats (one word?) (two words?)
*we are assassins
*we're more of a rolling stones family as opposed to a beatles family

8 facts about my body
*i had jaundice when i was a babe
*it has stopped menstruating for months on two separate occasions
*it is a foreign land (at least to me) (but probably not to a few lucky souls)
*i have a birthmark on my upper left arm in the shape of hawaii
*i wake up with mysterious bruises and cuts often
*i have adorable moles on relatively racy parts of my body
*apparently i have a birthmark on my coochie, but i've never seen it (again, a foreign land!)
*it is chronically cold

7 facts about my childhood
*i had two cats that i named "bearded" and "graham cracker"
*i saved up five dollars when i was maybe 6-years-old so i could buy a teenage mutant ninja turtle
*my kindergarten teacher told me i didn't know how to skip
*i was in a shit ton of musicals
*i wrote, directed, and performed in a play about prom (i was maybe 9?)
*i never thought about getting married, a wedding, etc. i thought more about being famous.
*although i didn't think about marriage/wedded bliss, i was desperately in love with my best friend's brother for years

6 facts about my hometown
*apparently it used to be called "monkey town." i hope that's a racist reference.
*it holds a yearly festival called "strawberry days"
*oh, i guess it was actually called "battle creek," not "monkey town." why did i think it was called monkey town? what's in my pipe? not THAT pipe, pervs.
*there are no mormon chapels in town. psych. every other building is a chapel.
*it is home to the christa mcauliffe space education center! and purple turtle!
*there's a dumbass G on the mountain. let's claim mountains! nature is OURS! trademark it!

5 facts about my best friend(s)
*they are legit geniuses and in grad school right now
*laura and i lived in a purple room/womb together back in 2006. we even had bunkbeds.
*chris used to wear these salmon colored hospital scrubs all the time. in fact, i don't think he ever took them off. hey, chris! do you still wear those scrubs!
*laura was mistaken for a cabbage patch doll when she was a baby
*i believe we all graduated from college the same semester/year.

4 facts about my parents
*they went to yellowstone on their honeymoon
*their anniversary is on flag day
*they are extremely good looking (and youthful!) people
*they are assassins

3 facts about my personality
*i am a perpetual loner
*give me anything/anyone and i will overanalyze it/them
*i observe. i know everything about you.

2 facts about my favorite things
*the russians might be the best
*the older they get, the better they smell

1 fact about the person you like
*he is an assassin

exquisite

Keyboard, you keep me at a distance. Screen, you censor what I could say. Pen and paper, I'll return to you.

When I return to the ink and notebook combo (it's a winning one, too - try it), I will write about yesterday. The past. The subtle (to our eyes) patterns on the thawing ice, the loss of balance on the rocks by the river, the cold hands placed on familiar skin for warmth. The holes filled with the unknown. The gathering of sticks to fish, the letting go of fears to catch the moment.

It would be effortless to wrap myself up in this world. In this world I feel effervescent, exposed, engaged in the delicacies that are the heartbeat of life - if only we'd listen.

I want to listen. I want to begin to listen; or maybe resume listening? Have I been on pause? Either way, there are exquisite corpses waiting to be resurrected.

So this is what I will write about when I return.

me mandala

Food hangovers are the worst.

Okay, that's a lie. There are worse hangovers. But I really dislike food hangovers. But I should remember that I am a fucking privileged white chick living in a great part of the United States and that I can afford to buy healthy food and eat it whenever I fucking want.

Goodness, the Spike brings out the f-bombs in me, now doesn't it? It does.

Lately I feel like I have been stuck stuck stuck in this cloudiness of me me me. Okay, so there's this mandala. And at the center of this mandala is me. And each circle radiating out is something/someone to protect ME. And the Me Mandala grows and grows and grows and I shrink and shrink and shrink into my own cloudy, critical, contradicting mind.

And that's all. There's probably a "solution" to this, right? I need to replace the "me" at the center with a "you," but also a "me" so that I don't forget about myself and put my own needs last. So does that mean I put an "us" at the center? Or maybe a "jesUS"? It should be me at the center with a perspective switch. I should switch from self-preservation to self-compassion and general compassion for all sentient beings. I really do believe in that shit (by "shit" I mean "compassionate living" - I have such soft language).

But I'll admit it. I'm struggling. I don't think I can feel complete compassion (complete compassion? is that a thing/possible?) where I'm at right now. I am talking about where I am at physically. I believe I need to go out there and experience a non-privileged white chick life where buying and eating healthy food is an extreme luxury and a distant memory. I want to give myself to others and listen. I want to care more than I do now. It's somewhere buried in me - or maybe it has never been planted? No, it has been planted. The seed of compassion is always there. Let's just fucking water that shit, shall we?!

return

I have started rereading (or maybe reading for the first time?) my blog, starting from the beginning. October of 2008. Meg: Same Girl, Same Problems, Same Long-Windedness, After All These Years: Now a Major Motion Picture.

What if my blog actually became a major motion picture? And after being manhandled and going through various revisions, it ended up as a buddy cop flick starring Adam Sandler and a Wayans brother? Or maybe a space western with an erotic twist at the end? What if all of this actually happens? You know what, it just might. Stranger things have been known to happen (such as frogs falling from the sky in Serbia in 2005 - LOOK IT UP!!!).

Here's something strange: Things are really really really quite good right now in my life. How and why and when and do I deserve this and can I fully enjoy it or should I be guarded a bit more and step back a little and be ever so cautious? I don't know. I don't want to be. I don't want to put up those infamous Meghan Walls (gonna trademark them). I don't want to have to have control, to have to have order and routine, to have to have keep saying "to have to have" (because it's starting to confuse me). I want to let go. I want to let all of it in. I want to get rid of the Meghan Walls®. "Tear down this wall, Mr. Gorbachev!" And of course by "Mr. Gorbachev" I mean "Ms. Wiemer."

Meghan, you are a lovely person. I wish you could see that more. I wish you would trust yourself. You were born with a wisdom that just needs to find its way back home. Allow this wisdom to penetrate and soak into your skin. Return to your bones.

And I love you.

great eastern sun

The inherent brilliance of us all just made me weep.

You are beautiful, you are magnetic, you are goodness.

Please please please know this. Know how much each of you mean to me. I will make you know. I want others to be my center; I want compassion to guide my life and my decisions.

We suffer and stumble and sink into sadness. We can stay there or we can see the sun rise and reside in that world.

Return to your roots. Rest in the peace that has always been with you - that IS you.

You are loved you are loved you are love.

Refusal

From my corner
I watch you build your house
from debris;
a receipt from Grandpa's whiskey,
Dad's lost stamp,
God's robe,
Godzilla's left foot.
You spot my love letter
and use the "forever yours."
The prayer flag will bring blessings.
But something is missing
to tie it all together.
A rope;
or at least a piece of it
to hang your history.
It's mine, too.
Your entire nest is mine,
but my feet are too big to take refuge.
Refuse my own blood, I'll join you,
solitary bird.
Threatened with extinction
our baptism
will set us free.
(And leave the nest behind,
it's nothing but the corner of the world.)