Her apartment has a wooden fire escape off the kitchen. I love fire escapes. Always have. Romantic urban monkey bars, which I associate with anything but safety, especially when they’re wooden and painted with flammable enamel.

One morning, I went out on the fire escape for a cigarette. I wished I had some tea, but the stove was such that I would have had to light the pilot, and I didn’t want to risk setting fire to the house, because that would have been so horribly ungracious and yet something that would totally happen to me. Tealess, I sat on the steps, smoked my cigarette, and looked up at the sky.

The fire escape was structured in a way to provide a cubicle-tower, at once separate from and connected to the apartment building. There was no lateral view, other than the botanicals on the upstairs neighbor’s porch and whatever I could spy by looking in strangers’ windows. The fire escape stairs spiraled in downward angles towards the ground, and the only visible opening was a portal straight up from my platform to the sky.

It was a windy morning that whispered of rain. The kind of weather that turns the sky the color of bone, a white brighter than sunshine. White skies used to scare the fuck out of me; now I think they’re amazing.

A bird twittered out of sight, hinting of an outside world. A few drops rained on me with the gravity of solitude.

At that moment, I felt the drops resonate in my belly, and for a moment I let myself be weighed down with dread and loneliness. Then I shoved those feelings aside. Not because they’re invalid, but because I’ve learned that they are ruminative and destructive. Maybe if I was a poet who fed herself on melancholy, but I’m not quite at that point.

I’ve come to realize, recently, that loneliness is a choice. Loneliness can surface at any time, whether you’re in a relationship, among friends, or by yourself. Loneliness haunts us when we are forced to face ourselves. It’s necessary to do that, but it doesn’t have to make us as damned sad as we think it should.

Power and happiness stem from the ability to look objectively in the mirror. If you have difficulty facing yourself, you should think of why, and take care of it. Friends are great, lovers are great, but no one but yourself can lead you to solace.

Enough preaching.

So, out on the fire escape. I was in a wonderful city, and waiting for wonderful new friends to pick me up and take me out for a wonderful day. What was to dread? Why did the loneliness occur?

Oh, I know. I felt dread because I don’t know where I’ll be in a few months. Thus far, I’ve been accepted to one Drama Therapy program in Montreal, and to a Clinical Psychology program here in Chicago. I’m still waiting to hear about the results of my interview in San Francisco, the city which hosts my first choice. None of these possibilities are bad, but they are vast.

I’m DONE with letting that make me uneasy.

I hope for happiness, as realized by my potential. What is hope, but empty space? For that matter, what is potential?

I’m talking about pure hope, here. Not false hope. False hope is folly inspired by hubris. False hope is a carnivorous beast with sharp teeth and no conscience at all. Fuck that.

Hope, in its pure sense, is innocent. Like pure potential, pure hope is a capacity to be filled. Pure Hope and Pure Potential, as abstracts, are not lonely.

Way I see it; we are most powerful when we accept the fact that reality is both crueler and more malleable than we give it credit for being. We are at its mercy, and it simply doesn’t do any good to stress out about that. It also does no good to cling onto our pasts. The past is relevant, always, in that everyone’s past is a part of his/her story. But it’s a very heavy thing to tote along with you, because it gets bigger with every passing second. Best to assimilate and move one.

I pledge allegiance to genuine whimsy. I admit, I rape that word, “whimsy,” like it’s my own private beatitude. I don’t know how to simplify it other than to say that I love freedom.

I have a gentle spirit, a foul mouth, and a sympathy for the underdog. If you show me who you are, it’s more than likely that I’ll look at you softly forevermore. And it will be fun, so help me God.

I guess what I’m saying is, I know I’ll be okay. It doesn’t matter why or how. I’ll be okay.

Seems to me that we’re most powerful when we’re uncertain. When standing on a precipice, you can fall back, fall forward, or stay where you are. I am horribly uncertain right now, but please believe me when I say that I am so happy. I feel powerful.

Time to wrap it up:

What’s there to say? Hell, I finished my cigarette, and went to the beach with some friends. I think. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what day this mental masturbation pertains to.

Whatever. Maybe this is lazy, but …

Good night.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Arm-in-Arm Down Burgundy - 09.05.05

Motivated! - 08.25.05

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

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