Notes from the Red Bird House

The face of Beauty has been in my mind for days. I see her then I don't. Imagine her, forget, then imagine her again. Iridescent and ephemeral, yet real and present, she lives in the world - works, loves, perseveres, hopes, dreams. This, of course, goes on in world far, far away from mine. Regardless, I am undaunted. Because right now, right at this very moment, I can see her. Or not. It is all of my choosing. And no matter what, no matter the day of the week, the amount of traffic on Hwy 71, or how tired I am, I always see her the same way - soft and smiling, her beauty mocking perfection. Then, without a doubt, I laugh and smile a shy, effortless smile. You see, our separate worlds are good enough for me, better than good in fact. I have no need for possession. I like the knowing and the realization. She is...many things, I'm sure...many things I will never know...but to me she Beauty (with a capital B) and that's all I will ever need from her.

I live with questions. I honestly prefer them. They're the mystery. The blind curve. The I-don't-know. Sometimes I think I want to know - who, when, what, how, where, why? Then I don't. There's something about being out here all alone without a parachute amid the uncertainty. And really, who says I need a parachute? No one. Because no one knows for sure. Will I finish grad school? Will I stay in Austin? Will I keep selling paint? Where will I meet her? Does she even exist? How long is my wrist going to hurt? Why is the 'check engine' light on in my car again? How long will I let my hair grow? When will she get better? Some big. Some small. Some open. Some closed. Some rhetorical. Still, the question always remains. It has to. Knowing the answer would change everything. Including the question. And the answer. I don't ask. I never have. What if I'd known? Would I have done what I did? Would I be here now? Would I have willingly signed up for what I sig...

She always seems to appear exactly when I need her. Today was a boring, trying, I-don't-want-to-be-here day. Until I saw her. She didn't have to say a word or smile. Her mere presence was enough for me. Honestly, it's probably best that she doesn't speak or smile. The mystique and distance are at least as attractive as she is. To me anyway. I'm sure others would love a smile or a conversation. I'm a whole lot simpler than that. She, just being there, is enough. So yes, today...  I'd told myself that if I went to the gym, I could do nothing for the rest of the day (as we can see that was a big, fat lie but it's one I tell myself often), so off I went. On the way, I remember thinking that of all days, this was a day for a hot chick. She alone could save the day. I didn't hold out much hope, because I knew it was Friday and for whatever reason I seldom see her on Fridays. As I walked in, I did my usual glance here and there. I didn't see her. Oh...

Yesterday at some point, I remember wishing for 'found time'. I think I was walking my dogs before leaving for school and I thought how nice it would be if class was cancelled. Up until that moment, I'd been looking forward to class so it wasn't like I was trying to avoid any kind of unpleasantness. I simply wanted something different than the expected, something unplanned for a change. Last night I wasn't so lucky. Tonight, however, I was. Rain all afternoon + outdoor tennis courts = cancelled tennis clinic = found time. Badda-boom, badda-bing. As much as I want to hit and need to hit, I'm good with the cancellation. In truth, I probably need a night just to myself more than my tennis game needs Mike McVay's ring-ring drills (even though my psyche really likes the ring-ring drills). This isn't a decision I'd ever make for myself, but I'm glad for it regardless. Ahhh.... I'm free. To do what? Christ. School work? Next week's reading? ...

I don't recall ever being this mentally tired. I'm sure I was at some point in college when school, tennis, work, and anorexia had a stranglehold on my life. I'm pretty sure I blocked it from memory for a reason. I sincerely wish I hadn't or I might have seen this coming. My life is about doing, being, striving. Now. It wasn't always this way. I spent most of my post-college and post-anorexia years doing absolutely nothing with purpose. I worked; worked a lot, but it rarely meant anything besides a paycheck and a way out of debt. It was fun at times but I seldom thought of it as anything more than a means to an end. 'We all gotta work, right?' sums up my existence in those years. I floated from job to job, city to city, and person to person. Things mattered but it was all more or less bullshit. I take full responsibility. Then one day something changed. Today, everything has purpose and I'm tired. Every moment of every day is occupied. If it's n...