I wish I could see them

I wish I could paint my words in the air, have them shimmer before me until I understand what to keep or dispel. I wish to dance in the flames of my passionate speeches, to reconstruct and edit my outbursts.

I wish to know my mind as you see it, to discover the secrets unknown to me. To watch the cadence of my compassion, to ebb the haste of my anger.

Here we are in the midst of our verbal vibrations, forgetting what was spoken, being told what others remember...wading in a pool of invisible but sometimes permanent sounds that resonate, revive, or utterly destroy others and ourselves.

I wish I could see them, as they stay with me or stay with you forever. I wish I could choose them - a visual marker before they're released, so I could paint our lives with beautiful words and edit myself when I'm ugly inside.

Instead, I get and you get my raw moments, and insecure slips, my overly devoted love language, and biting sarcasm. Dependant only on my mind, which is often impatient and hasty, and only sometimes knows when to shut up. Oh I wish, so much, I could see them...

words

words are a shield, a sword, a tonic, and a poison. Not just outwardly, but directed inward as well. We are the sum of our thoughts, our inwardly reflected voice...

If we are lost, broken, depressed, or apathetic, our inner voice will keep us there until we change our self speak. We guide ourselves ultimately, into success or failure.
For example, if we do not value ourselves, we may enter a cycle of dependance, unable to satisfy the need for confirmation. We will seek it from the world, but the confirmation we receive from others will be a temporary high. It will pass us by like summer rain giving temporary life, but the voice, your voice, will always return to consume you.
   The opposing end of this spectrum is equally destructive. To think oneself beyond fault is equivalent to mental blindness. You become unable to grow in philosophy, in character, or in logic. Growth requires constant examination of your thoughts and actions. Your words become a wall against personal growth.

   Whether spoken or thought, words are just sounds, nothing more.  They are syllables, letters, vibrations. Patterned wave translations of electrical impulses in the physical sense. These waves carry life, love, and war - external or internal. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the emotions we convey in them.
   Words, in my uneducated opinion, were created to give meaning to our emotions. Words then created a way to have thought, for all thought is self speak. As a result, our emotions are able to be manipulated by words, because words were born from our emotions. We cannot process words and actions as separate entities from how we feel. They are directly evaluated by allowing them to bring their patterns into our emotional center, and we react to the reaction they cause in us. (Keep in mind, this applies to self talk as well, which is communicated both in word-thought and undefined emotions.) There is no key to freedom from anger, depression, etc, except to change our own inner dialogue. You are the key to escaping your own hell. You are the key to your own freedom.

  Words - the sons of emotion; fathers of thought; the translation of our soul's vibrations.

my blind experience #texas

I was touring the capital with my dad,,and we stopped at the office of education cafeteria. I grabbed a low calorie cranberry drink and walnuts (that I ended up sharing with the squirrels), and my dad got Japanese peanuts and a coke zero. When we got to the register, the elderly man asked, "What're you having?" I instinctively gathered our stuff and said "just this." He immediately rebutted with " you'll have to tell me - I can't see." I hadn't been looking at the man, but I immediately felt a sense of awe as I realized my cashier was blind. I didn't miss a beat as I rattled off my little gathering of items, and he told me my charges. I handed him a ten and told him "this is a ten." He took me at my word and gave me my change. I was awestruck. He trusted me. He literally blindly trusted me. Because this is Texas, and your word is your bond. I have never ever experienced something like that. I wish society were worthy of such a thing as blind cashiers. That we could all be good and honest, and loving of one another without selfishness. That impacted me in such a deep way. I want to love, and to trust, and to be kind, and true. And I try to be. I hope we're all trying to be. Because a society where the blind can ring you up and give you change, is the kind of society I want to live in.

#survival

me: I'm driving to san Diego!!
Family: *gasp!!!!* you'll never make it!!!

5 hours later.....

Me: Why did the sun set so fast??! I'm still in the mountains!!! Why are these people speeding?! There's no light!! Wait! Must.Follow.Humans!!

Meanwhile, next to me, my nana clings to her belt with one hand and the door with the other. She can sense my anxiety - flooding through my pores, rolling off my skin in tidal waves of invisible chemical doom....my aunt tries to point out pretty rock formations, our eyes see only the road ahead. To look away is certain death. O_O

....

But we made it!! ^_^ 

     As our time here unravels, I have begun to learn certain streets, to accept weird Indian war cries in the night, and to regret not bringing hair tools.

Without a straightener, my hair has lost a sense of civility and now freely expresses it's rebellion in awkwardly curling tufts of glorious disgrace.

 To top it all off, it's impossible to avoid tanning! I swear, it's like fifty shades of brown up in here! #FarmerTan

    I love being here though, just being near the ocean is So great! We haven't actually gone to the beach yet, my greatnana needed surgery, so we've been keeping watch. Actually, the closest I've come to the water was a horrifying drive last night from the hospital, down a street with no streetlamps,  soul-swallowing pitch darkness, no turns, no traffic, and no end in sight.....I think I felt my heart shudder it's way up to my throat lol. Eventually I turned on GPS and we all breathed again when I found civilization.

A major plus on this trip has been the realization that I can make it to California on one tank of gas. $27 to fill and my baby will get me home! ;) knowing this now, I'm soooo gonna travel more often. <3 I didn't even get tired on the trip - I love driving! anywho, that's all for now. More tales of survival to come I'm sure. Ciao! ;)

How do I stop feeling?

There's never been a moment more horrifying in my life than the gasping pleading of a suffocating man that I cannot help. Every desperate clawing of his lungs to inhale shred through me like a serrated edge. His eyes were solid fear, and I'm afraid I will hear his dying voice begging me to help him in my dreams. My coworker and a resident are holding him up, trying to calm him, to try regulating his breathing, and I am on the phone with an operator. The woman's voice on the phone is a line of sanity I cling to, when all I want to do is scream. The EMT are on their way.

Panic, he tries to stand, like a final leap before he collapses. voices, they're trying to get him to respond. I repeat the operator's instructions, trying not to shout. Thrusts! count! 30....check response!....Again!....Again! The voice on the phone demands an AED and I drop the receiver to find it. I apply the pads as they pull away his clothes. Blue lips, the cold of his skin on my hands, dead lungs. Can't think now, must only Do. No shock advised. I flee away to the phone and inform her, my co-worker continues the thrusts. The AED analyzes again, still no shock advised. The operator's panic shakes my already slender emotional grasp. Time wades through cement. We switch. Hands together, quick thrusts. 30. and 30. EMT arrive and I fall away to a corner to watch - can't fall apart right now, I'm in charge here, have to be strong, accept shock and ignore pain...

10 minutes. Their AED machine sends a jolt through his body. The dead flop of his limbs, the sound of bare skin hitting the tile, I don't know how to feel. Oh Death, here is your sting after all. Life, why do you flee?

25 minutes. They've loaded him into the ambulance, and we are left in the stillness of our own shock. My coworker asks me if I think we could have done something different, if there was more. No, we did what we were trained to do. It's 4am. Neither of us cries, but we suffer together in silence.

Where my heart was, there is only a deep heaviness, a hollow that seems to go on past my body and reach into another realm beyond me. I write a brief report, send the emails, and numbly manage to get through the rest of the night. Then, I came home and wept in my mother's arms. I managed to rest a couple hours after that, but in the silence I could only relive it, over and over...so now I'm writing this in hopes that I can escape the moment. It feels so flat to apologize, so empty...but we couldn't save you, it was beyond us, please forgive us.