normal tears.

[i’m just a post machine… and i don’t work for nobody but you.]

Not too long ago, I wrote in my journal, recounting my day…

“The tragedy of the loss of my verbal and emotional eloquence took me over and I opened my eyes to just how lost I was.  Drowned in the mediocrity of day to day nothingness.  Sitting in the sand on the bottom of that ocean is a hard place to discover you have no air in your lungs.”

It’s a cycle, I guess.  Being caught in the middle of self pity and intentional cultural/social deprivation is something that happens… to me… maybe just me… but definitely me.

And every time I swear I’m done with it when I recognize it.  I swear I’ll find beauty at every turn.  I swear I’ll embrace life for all her nasty curves and gorgeous scowls.

I swear I’ll warm up, starting from the heart.  Melting everything from the inside out… so it flows out through the fingertips and evacuates before it begins it’s regular pumping.

And I’ll begin to find the beauty.  My normal tears.

Like when watching this gorgeous birthday surprise for one European bus driver…

And it reminding me to stop being so effing selfish.  To remember that even if you drink enough to make everything spin, it’s not revolving around you.  [it’s a good trick, though.]

Talking with my mom about hopes, dreams, Europe, love, life, excitement inside.  [oh, there it is.]

Watching The Red Balloon… finally…

I very much recommend it to anyone… all of you.  Especially those who have streaming Netflix.  It’s on instant play and it’s under a half hour.  Gorgeous.  Simple.  Funny.  Beautiful.  I can’t believe I haven’t watched it before now.

You can also find it on the YouTube machine… in three parts…

Get excited.

And then I watched this…

…even more excited about potential Europe.  [LOVE.]

[catch your breath.]


[fill your lungs.]

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