Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you have some strong urge or desire to act where the morality is ambiguous and no matter how much you think about it it doesn’t become clearer? Then you finally do act on it and in your conscious mind you believe your intentions are altruistic, but you’re not quite sure what’s lurking in your subconsciousness. You suspect you’re not as unexpecting as you’ve convinced yourself you are, or as empathetic. But you still do it. You take the chance that the loving intentions overwhelm the selfish enough to come through.

It a leap that’s fricken scary and exhilarating, like releasing an adolescent lion bred in captivity into the wild. It’s out of your hands, free to do its work, but it may come back and hunt you.

I’m a week from closing on my first piece of real estate. I’m approaching 30, divorced and single, no kids, am making just enough to buy a 550 sq. ft. condo (and that’s stretching it a little), and haven’t thought much about preparing for retirement. At this age my mom had two kids, on her second marriage, owned house and was the sales manager of the business at which she worked. My dad had, I think, 4-going-on-5 kids, had been in the army, was married still, had two houses in Hawaii, and was well established in his career as a Sears repairman. It seems like they had so much more responsibility and investment at my age than I do at my age.

The thing is, I don’t want kids right now. I’m not ready for kids right now; there’s not even a prospective mother. Buying this condo has freaked me out a little. It means I need to stick around for a while. But I am less jittery about being in one place now. Much less so! Heck, I’ve been living in this apartment for 4 years already. I think I have figured out that it’s not commitment that freaks me out, it’s commitment when I have no room to flex. If it’s right, I can commit wholeheartedly.

I love where I am right now career-wise. I like the variety, and I like that I don’t have to “report” to anybody, and I like that I get to create and get to deal with people a little. I’m not sure how much longer I will sub as I am getting weary of not being able to build longer relationships, but the pros outweigh the cons right now. I will dance for the rest of my life, though, to some degree. That feels right.

I love that I am moving into a condo with an association that takes care of the building maintenance. I can still leave for touring and not have to think about mowing the lawn. I still have Pumpkin to find care for, but I know lots of cat lovers. I love that I will own it and that I am not throwing money away in rent. I love that it fits me.

I love that I am single because I can do a lot of stuff that I couldn’t do if I wasn’t. I still have responsibility for Pumpkin and bills and loans, but I am free to follow my volition. Yet, that’s what’s lacking, too. I want, eventually, to be responsible to someone and for someones. I really am, mostly, content with where I am, but if the right ship comes by, boy, I will leap from the pier.

I am much wiser than I was five years ago, but I still feel like a kid often. I still feel like I’ve yet to find my “place.” A home. Yes, yes, yes, that’s probably heavenly longing, but it’s also a longing to find residence outside of myself and in someone else.

Little by little I am investing myself so that hopefully someday I will be able to focus my energies on taking care of someone else because I’m being taken care of myself. Well, maybe I have thought of retirement more than I had believed I had. I don’t really care that much about the money part though. Never have. Right now I am saving up ideas and places and jokes and memories to share with my progeny and wife. Like I said, I need room to flex, but with trust that, like a muscle, I’m still attached.

… could save you now. I can’t believe this guy! What the…! There is a whole slew of these filling webspace!

Truly. Pitiful.

I just got some headshots for the first time in my life yesterday. I never needed them before, but this Choreographer’s Evening thing wants them (my piece Melisma made it in). The photographer, Paul Virtucio, is a friend and he is wonderful at encouraging. I feel stupid when I have to pose for pictures, especially if I have to be serious, but he gave me these little goals and attitudes to try on that distracted me enough to relax. He photographs a lot of the dance companies in the Twin Cities, too. So, here are the few I was mulling over. The one I eventually chose for the program is the first one in the second column. It came down to that one and the three in the last row. Tough decision. Unfortunately, the very last one is my favorite, but it was denied because, well… it’s a family show.

The other day I was teaching a class of sixth graders and they were working on a science project called “Whir and Ding.” It had their attention. Anyway, one kid broke out into “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” As he kept singing he started “clapping” other body parts and he seemed to particularly enjoy hitting his face. So, I started singing, ” If you’re stupid and you know it, clap your face.” Of course, this kid lit up and smacked his own face even more vehemently. Other kids laughed, and on the second round a few more kids joined in on the masochism. A few more verses and almost everybody in the class was participating, each finding immeasurable delight in smacking themselves. The funny thing is is that their focus on their projects was even more honed following this corporal distraction. Oh! And I can assure you, their faces surely showed it.

Today is the saddest day;
I left the ice cream out.

O, what a rotisserie chicken and a Dr. Pepper will do to the spirit!

Father, Father, Father. How do I get myself into these emotional messes? I let my focus get pulled off of You. I let myself worry. I obsess and turn ideas over and over in my head so furiously that I forget to trust You. I think I need to figure it out now. Relax. You are saying it now, I know. Breath. I know, I know. I forget so easily, though. I’m like a horse. I give you this stupid ultimatum, If You give me what I want, I’ll give you the reigns back. Dumb. Dumb! Forgive me. Help me lean into You again, remember my footing.

O God! I just want to scream that! O GOD! Sometimes I think You are punishing me. I hope. I hope You’re not like that. I’ll take that patience that You offer, but why do I feel like I have to unceasingly work for it? I thought this cup offer-flows! I know. You don’t have to tell me. I know. Why can’t You just come down and sit and talk with me on my bed before I go to sleep. Hold my hand and tell me that it will be all right? Why do I have to imagine it? I hate that. I feel like a conjuror sometimes. I would love just to feel the pressure of You just sitting there. Resting Your hand on my feet. I’d notice when You left to do Your other stuff, but I’d know You would be just in the other room. And if I called, You’d come. Why can’t it be like that? Yes, I know. Faith. Can you hear my groanings? You seem like an alien to me.

I want love, but I feel like Tantalus. What are You doing? What the heck!?! Yes, I am pitying myself. I should stop, but I fear if I do there will be no one. I know You have compassion, are the creator of it, but I’m in this dark pit. I almost wish I was getting hit with reeds or something to distract me, but nothing. I am exaggerating. It’s because I am American. Forgive me for my foulness. I know. I have a lot to be thankful for. I am! Oh, but why did you have to make me like this, with so much fricken emotion? No, I don’t want to be stoic, just balanced. Content. I think I am, then something passes in front of my eyes that I feel like I can’t live without, and I forget. Like a horse. Tame me, God. Whisper to me. Amen.

I’ve been reading some Pablo Neruda and all his works that I am able to read are translated from Spanish. If his words are able to affect me so when they are filtered through a translators mind, how much more would the original words affect me? I want to learn Spanish and learn it in depth.

(It would also be nice to understand and respond back to those people who break out into Spanish expecting me to know it.)

Here are a few of my favorites:

My Dog Has Died – This reminds me of what the Speaker for the Dead might write for his dog.

Come With Me, I Said, And No One Knew (VII)

Don’t Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day

Gentlemen Alone – I was speechless after reading this one.

I Carve Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You – I know this paradox.

Leaning Into The Afternoons – This should be made into a song. The imagery is beautiful!

Ode To The Artichoke – I love how this poem turns.

Saddest Poem – I have an affection for literature that is self-aware, as this poem is and Dave Egger’s A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is.

* an alternate translation of the same poem. I like it better sometimes, and worse at others.

Walking Around

And Because Love Battles – “To bread I do not ask to teach me
but only not to lack during every day of life.” Beautiful.

Fleas Interest Me So Much – Now I mind a little less being compared to a flea.

There are others, but I have just realized I’ve already suggested more than a few.