A detour or two.

I'm writing from the comfort of a bed that is not my own but is at least in my house in the room I inhabited from age seven probably to age fifteen. It seems so much smaller now.

This blog thing has turned into the monster I was afraid it would: a distraction from real writing and a glorified egocentric journal because merely writing assumes that people want to read. It just seems presumptuous. But this has also become a form of therapy, this half-bred offspring of journal meets moleskin. In fact, I have so gotten in the habit of writing that I have started to carry a notebook. I make notes. I am more aware of the simple things in life like weather patterns or the bathroom stall in the Colorado Springs airport that I have used now 4 times. Yes 4. The exact same stall. It's starting to evoke a sense of nostalgia. Though I guess I'm losing the point here, which is that this monster of a blog is maybe profiting me nevertheless. In summary, I have a love/hate relationship with it. Love/hate; now isn't that a new trend for me?

So I am home. Not for good. And I wonder if that makes me love it all the more. Sometimes I think I just like leaving home so I can fly back over the mountains, through the clouds and over the great salt lake and feel my breath catch in my chest as everything I love most becomes physically accessible again. I wrote more about this in my infamous notebook so I'll spare you. I actually want to rewind a few days to write about Wednesday night.

So Monday during Alex's guitar lessons Emma and I took a stroll and passed by this quaint little shop, Black Cat Books.

I wanted to go in but Emma needed to find a bathroom. If there is one thing I have learned about kids it is that they lose bladder control at the very moment it becomes most inconvenient. Luckily walking past I saw an announcement for a workshop on Wednesday, "Publish Your Book". Now, I don't have a book to publish. I just explained that. Or maybe I didn't. Anyway, this blog I hold partly responsible for the absence of a book. But that is just me passing the buck to a nonentity. All the same, I thought you know it couldn't hurt to see the end from the beginning. So I planned to check out said workshop.


I made the 25 minute drive which became 40 minutes because of traffic. And I started late. And hungry. So needless to say I was stressed and to stave off the stress I summoned excitement. So by the time I arrive I'm super pumped up. It started to rain when I got there so I ran down the streets so as to avoid getting too wet. What with the wind and the running my hat went flying off. Which got a good laugh from café goers as well as from me. I enter the bookshop only to find that the author giving the workshop left because no one showed up on time. So I had gotten ready, put off my phone call to Peru as well as my run and not to mention my dinner, for nothing. I couldn't just turn around so I wondered to the downstairs of the bookstore. It was totally empty and I wandered in revelry though perhaps wander is not totally accurate. More like shuffled; the place was small. I even sat down for 15 minutes and jotted down some things in my notebook. Feeling better, I find a stack of Brian Andreas goodness in the form of Storypeople.

I first discovered Storypeople during my 2006 graduation present to me trip to Seattle. I had actually been thinking about them a few weeks back while trying to think of things that made me happy. I had copied and pasted so many of the quotes and Word somehow annihilate d the document. It was just one of those days that I kept striking out. Seriously. But these funky pictures, scuptures and quotes make me smile. And if I am going to take up gigabites I should be using it to spread goodness. So here are some of my favorite "Stories". They make me feel like being a kid and hope and laugh and maybe sigh. And honestly, I think Brian Andreas must have been spying on me because I swear there are things here I've said word for nearly-almost word. It's a funny feeling, the suspicion that the story of your life was written by someone else. But a comforting one. Because it means that you're not as alone as you once suspected.

So thank you Brian Andreas. Thank you thingsnotworkingoutasplanned. After all.
Enjoy. Enjoy. En joie. Oui, c'est ca.



When I grow UP, I want to remember that I always wanted to be about a thousand different things & one lifetime didn't seem nearly enough. When I grow up, I hope it's at the very end when it doesn't matter anymore anyway.

I can imagine it working out perfectly, I said. I can't, she said & I said no wonder you're so stressed.

They came to sit & dangle their feet off the edge of the world & after awhile they forgot everything but the good & true things they would do someday.

We had gone far enough together to listen easily in the quiet spaces.

It took me a long time, she said, to stop confusing safety with love.

I mainly want someone to tell me I'm right & then pay me, he said. Is that too much to ask? & I said as long as you're living in a dream world, you might as well make it work for you.

I only do this until I get dizzy & then I lay down on my back & watch the clouds, she said. It sounds simple but you won't believe how many people forget the second part.

This is a giant block of whatever is most difficult for you to carry & trust me on this, you'll carry it more times than you can count until you decide that's exactly what you want to do most & then it won't weigh a thing anymore.

I'm not sure if there's one right place I'm supposed to be, he said, but I know a couple of wrong places I'd give a second try in a heartbeat.

the real problem with details is there's so many of them

If you're right & I'm not, I'm going to be hell to live with, she said. So, you better think about that next time you want to be right.

When I first met him, I knew in a moment I would have to spend the next few days re-arranging my mind so there'd be room for him to stay.

What are the rules? I said & she said, Do exactly what I want whenever I want, make no demands of me whatsoever & love me forever, no questions asked & I said, how do you win? & she said, you don't understand. I'm the only one who wins & then she laughed & clapped her hands. Isn't it a great game? she said.

Tied together by stuff too difficult to explain to someone new

If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you.

I saw them standing there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart.

I try & walk a line between terror & ecstasy, she said & then she shook her head. You'd be amazed at the people who avoid me for no good reason, other than that.

I think my life would be easier, she said, if I could just get my selves to agree on something.

When I was younger I used to keep all the stuff I had in my pockets. There were a lot of rocks & little shiny things. As I got older it got to be too much to carry & I couldn't remember why I kept it anyway so I finally got rid of it. Now, I make lists

this is a picture of the future & you'll notice that there's a lot of blank space because people haven't made up their minds about it & the future doesn't have a lot of time for that kind of indecisiveness

It's taken me a long time to get here, he said, so I don't really care if it's wrong.

Why is the world so confusing? he said & I said it's only confusing if you believe it has to make sense & he looked at me & shook his head. I can't believe they let just anyone have children, he said.

If there is any secret to this life I live, this is it: the sound of what cannot be seen sings within everything that can. & there is nothing more to it than that.