Random Writing from journals, Waiting for or riding buses

I wrote a blog post earlier. It disappeared and I was sad.

Here is something else instead.

Write every day a lot if you can. This is how you become a writer. Stephen King says so too in his book about writing called, On Writing.

He says, “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut.” (p.139)

So here are some things I wrote in years past while waiting for or riding various buses.

Waiting for the bus. You took me to the ferry. Dropped me off with a kiss. Forgotten Promise. Batik stained sun, sky stretched through clouds. Download. Compute. Receive. React. What once was there seems somehow gone. My heart aches for forgiveness and acceptance. You said something like you’d call me sometime later… See me in the unforeseeable future. Why can’t I listen? I don’t want to hear. Attached to heartache. Attached to the feeling sorrow makes. Hüzün– they called it; Orhan Pamuk called it hüzün in Istanbul.

I sat awake in the bed last night, chanting, ‘I’m alone, I’m alone, I’m alone.’ It’s true. There is a vast chasm between us and I’m wondering if that girl wasn’t right when she said, “all you can do is lean in.” Beating myself up for adding more confusion to fire. Found myself in thoughts drifting towards some forgotten past, a simple, hopeful future. 

The siezure of my brain, belly, heart won’t cease.

Now that newness has faded and you have discovered that once was silver is now just plastic coating, chrome, or perhaps stainless steel. But not silver and certainly not gold. Not ever gold. Heart broke.

Got to break this cycle. I am at a loss. A stand still. Frozen.

Locked into the place beside your arms and chest and heart. 10 more minutes and nothing to say…

Ok and here’s another…

Waiting for the 564 outside at the bus terminal in Bellevue, WA.

Today was good, but messy. I felt a mess rolling into work 5 mins late – even though I left my house at 11:52 AM to catch the bus, which I did, thank God. The 180. Then the 150. (Which I still don’t think was the right bus but it got me to downtown.) then the 554 – which only goes to Issaquah every other run in the afternoons – note to self.

I finally got on the 554 to Issaquah 20 mins later and held it mostly together – meaning I took deep breaths and only cried a little.

I promise I’m a fully functional adult human.
Give me another chance, please? Don’t can me for this just cause I didn’t get there in time.

nine more minutes.

this table is tippy
the coffee hot
and fresh
      Served by cute guys at the Coffee
Shop.
      Today is not anything new
    or different.
I’m just late.
55 cents only buys the smallest cup of coffee but served by cute guys with smiles. That makes it all the worthwhile. Oh yes, and the quote on the cup:

“Insensitivity makes arrogance ugly; empathy is what makes humility beautiful”
-Renford Reese

All the mountains were out today – Rainier, Baker, Olympics, Cascades. As tears were falling down my face, the bus moving across the I-90 bridge, over the water – Rainier on my right, Baker on my left – I thought, ‘Funny I’ve climbed two mountains, yet I can’t manage to make it to work on time.’ Shit.

I swore a lot today.

“Cigarettes? Got 50 cents?” A grown man asks me. “Nope, sorry” I look up and say. And I really am. It’s like we are all struggling. I know I am.
Man, that blackbird just took a huge poop. Glad it wasn’t on me. Yeah, things could always be worse – birds could be pooping on my head or something. Man. Yeah, today is okay. Today is a good day.
More later, gotta catch that bus!

Yay. One more.

Communting/Pretending

And then I enterd a phase of life called communting/pretending. Mostly pretending. Like pretending I had enough money to afford a home of my own. Pretending I was okay being single. Pretending I was satisfied being a daycare worker even though I worked hard to earn a college degree and expected more from myself. Pretending I was doing just fine in WA although my friends and family all seemed so stupid-far away and the rain never seemed to stop for longer than two days.

I pretended everything. A vivid imagination helped. That and memory of childhood stories – especially Beauty and the Beast (since we listen to the music five days a week at work), and Peter Pan. The story of Peter Pan has come in exceptional handiness in regards to food. If you’ve seen the movie, remember the scene where they imagine food so well it appears. It’s so vivid and real, they even get in a food fight! Well, with a little creativity, applesauce with 1/4 tsp. lemonade drink mix, generous helping of cinnamon and a dash of nutmeg becomes apple pie.

Don’t get me started about the creative things you can do with top ramen and pretend about it. My most recent one I’m calling “ramen-yetti,” a mix of ramen noodles and tomato sauce with some seasoning on top. Then there’s also all kinds of pretending about rice and beans for days on end. Just this morning I’m pretending I have some decadent french toast with warm maple syrup, even though it’s just a broken rice cake. And I’m pretending my coffee is the best because at least I even have coffee. I’m as blessed as I can possibly be and thankful all the more to God, for all that he has given me.

And even though I’m just on the bus commuting to work – I’m eating my pretend french toast, drinking my pretend best coffee in the world, on my way to pretend Paris or some other equally grand and daring adventure! Hooray for commuting/pretending!

That’s all for now. Thank you, God, that you are giving me this time to seek you, to heal, to give, and to grieve. That has to have been the most inadequate prayer ever. Forgive me for that also. With peace, and with love,

~kayla

P.S. (see, told you I love p.s.es!) Here’s a nice thought to end on since my post wasn’t very God-focused or inspiring towards the Divine. It’s all about you, Jesus, you’re love endures forever. And I need you so. And love you evermore.