Browsing Tag

art of disappearing

Self Image, Things I Have Lost Along The Way, Vulnerability, writing

Mutha.

January 17, 2014

It is my great great honor to be published in Mutha Magazine!

mutha-magazine-logo

Here’s an excerpt…

Last night I remembered something a friend send to me, something to the effect of “Mirrors aren’t for reminding yourself who you are. Trust yourself. Mirrors are for checking if you have shit in your teeth.”

So I’d slip back into my past as a way to preserve myself. I know I existed back then. I shall go back and live there.

I’d end up with an ex-boyfriend standing in the snow watching it turn yellow with pee. There. I’ve not disappeared. I can see myself in snow. I can smell piss. I can feel the cold. I am alive.

How much we do to survive. The lengths we will go to not disappear.

I think a lot about what people do to survive in the world and how easy it is to judge them for it.

“She dropped out of such a good school and with such a promising future. She took a job at a restaurant and stayed there for over ten years with that education. She is with an ex-boyfriend that can’t even look her in the eye.”

Survival, all of it.

Click here to read the rest. I would be oh-so-flippin’-happy.
Guest Posts, poetry

The Art of Disappearing.

June 9, 2012

This poem is exactly how I have been feeling lately. My friend sent it to me and said it made her think of me.

Synchronicity.

It’s everywhere.

Read it and feel it. It’s that good.

The Art of Disappearing

When they say Don’t I know you?

say no.

When they invite you to the party

remember what parties are like

before answering.

Someone telling you in a loud voice

they once wrote a poem.

Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.

Then reply.

 

If they say We should get together

say why?

 

It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.

You’re trying to remember something

too important to forget.

Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.

Tell them you have a new project.

It will never be finished.

 

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store

nod briefly and become a cabbage.

When someone you haven’t seen in ten years

appears at the door,

don’t start singing him all your new songs.

You will never catch up.

 

Walk around feeling like a leaf.

Know you could tumble any second.

Then decide what to do with your time.

 

– Naomi Shihab Nye