What is mine to give?

Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's spring. How could I not look out at the world that's fresh and green and new and not feel that gentle stir in my gut, like change is coming? Like change is here. I feel like I'm standing on the threshold of an identity crisis — again. How many times have I been here? Five? Ten? A dozen? Sometimes it's scary, but not this time. This time it's exhilarating. And also peaceful. At times, identity crisis has felt like painfully peeling back weather-worn layers to expose ratty scars, or like cutting out infected wounds. But this time it feels like discovery and adventure. It feels like new growth, like blossoming, like reaching out and stretching new muscles I never knew were there. In the timeline of my story, this is the part where I'm finally coming into my own as a human, as a woman, as a writer, as a creative, as an intellectual, as a spiritual, emotional, physical and sexual being. I feel powerful, but not in an awkward, abrasive way. I feel comfortable with myself, even as I'm grappling with what that means — to be myself. For years I've been digging and clawing at myself, asking over and over again, "Who am I?" All the while half-afraid of what I'd find. For the first time, that inner dialog has shifted and I find myself asking, "What is mine to give? What do I have to offer my friends and family, my world?" Yes, my world. Planet Earth belongs to me as much as I belong to it. I am the future of my world, and I have a responsibility to take care of it. Hell, I am the present of my world. I am not a girl. I am a woman, and for the first time that doesn't scare the shit out of me. For the first time I don't feel the urge to apologize or ask permission to be the woman I was created to be. For the first time I feel like I've earned the right to stand in the space I'm standing in, to own it and use it — not just for myself, but for the good of those around me. What does that mean? Hm. I have no idea, but I have this aching feeling I'm about to find out. It's weirdly bittersweet, actually. Like I've stepped out of young adulthood (big girl adolescence) and I'm looking back at my own shell. I can never go back, you know? To those moments of raw insecurity that I've worn like a blanket for so many years. I've hidden under that immaturity, convinced I had nothing to give; I could only take. I can look back and remember what those moments felt like. I can stand in my old footprints, but I can't peer into the future with fresh eyes like I once did. Because I'm standing here now, looking backwards and forward at the same time. For a long time I've felt like I was playing house with myself, pretending to be a woman. Then suddenly I woke up and realized I don't need to pretend anymore. I don't need to become a woman, or even be a woman. I am a woman. I'm not afraid of myself — of my spirituality, my intellect, my emotions or my sexuality. I no longer feel like they're all separate parts of me that circle each other like dogs in a dogfight, each bristling with teeth bared. I've called a truce, and I'm in the process of making peace with myself. I'm learning to trust myself, to respect the many facets of my being and to protect and cultivate each of them while still allowing them to live in unity — in harmony. I'm learning to be comfortable with the knowledge that I am strong enough to be vulnerable. I'm learning how to trust my intuition, how to listen to that inner voice and decipher its meaning. And I'm learning to forgive myself when I'm wrong. I'm learning how to sit with myself without hating the silence and wanting to escape my own skin. I'm learning to stop apologizing for my opinions, even when they're not popular. I don't need anyone's permission to use my own brain. I'm also learning that I don't need to keep my emotions on lockdown or cage my empathy in order to prove my intellect and my "strength." I'm learning the true meaning of strength, leadership and power. I'm learning that love is not a weakness; it's a powerful motivator, and it's something I am full of. It's what fuels my fascination. It motivates me to learn more, to understand more. My emotion is what drives me to seek logic and understanding, to make sense of the world. I can't have one without the other, and I refuse to apologize for that. And for the first time I feel like I don't have to. I can just be because I am. And that's a good feeling.

Dallas

I was enamored by your beauty, 

By the way your sleek glass walls sparkled in the Texas sun.

I wanted to bounce my shiny, new dreams down your mirrored hallways,

But we don’t have time for those kinds of childish games.

Here, we mainline success.

And it settles in like December in our bones. 

     If we could only get enough…

Porcelain people with big hair and painted smiles.

We waste our youth building paper lives.

Each of us, just another cold body, 

Navigating the flow of traffic that sucks us through your lonely heart, 

And pumps us out the other side.

Even God is silent,

As He gazes on this desolate city with vacant eyes.

The only truth I’ve found among your hollow walls,

Is that aching feeling that I came here for a reason,

     If I could only remember what it was…

Maybe if I go back to where I started,

Something will remind me.

But Dallas only knows one direction:
Forward.

Movie crashers

One of the best things about Lubbock is the Stars and Stripes Drive-In Theater. In Dallas the closest drive-in theater is the Galaxy Drive-In in Ennis (which is actually only a 40-minute drive, but no ever makes it out there because just leaving your neighborhood is a daring feat for most Dallasites). Whereas, the Stars and Stripes Drive-In Theater in Lubbock is an easy 7-minute drive from Tech campus — because that's all it takes to get out of town and get an eyeful of the wide open, star-spangled West Texas sky.

My friends and I were pretty boring in college, so some of our best memories happened at the drive-in. We'd go early to snag a good parking spot and then blast music from our cars and snack on whatever food or drinks we brought along. Usually we'd go in groups of five or more. There are three screens at Stars and Stripes, and moviegoers pay to watch two features. 

One time a group of five of us went together. We wanted to watch the first feature on one screen and the second feature on a different screen. Guests aren't allowed to switch screens, so we took two cars and parked them in different theaters. 

Well of course after the first showing, we were tired of being cramped into one car, craning our necks to see around each other, so we decided to move both cars to the second showing. Three of the girls walked over to the car already parked in the second theater, and me and my bestie stayed in my car and drove it to the other screen. 

We had barely gotten inside the opening to the other screen when an employee came running up to us, waving a flashlight frantically. He told us we weren't allowed to switch screens. We were going to have to leave, he said — and not just the theater; we were being booted out of the drive-in altogether. I apologized profusely and told him I'd leave immediately. Satisfied, the employee started walking away.

My friend looked at me. "Too bad we have to leave," she said, disappointed, but I was still watching the employee walk away from us. He walked out the entrance to the theater and turned the corner, out of sight. 

I snickered. "Oh we're not leaving," I said. Before my friend had time to react, I kicked the car into reverse, slammed down the accelerator and quickly maneuvered backwards through a line of cars parked side by side in the darkness. As soon as I saw an available space, I whipped inside and killed the engine. Seconds later the same employee came running by, scanning the drivers with his flashlight. We busted out laughing and ducked down, sure we were about to get caught. 

But then we didn't. Flashlight Guy just kept running down the line of parked cars, shining his flashlight into every car he passed. He eventually gave up the search, and my friend and I shared another laugh and settled in to enjoy the flick. The best part is that that's the night we saw Remember Me, which is still one of my favorite movies to this day. 

So thank you, Flashlight Guy, for sucking at your job and failing to throw us out of the drive-in.

Remember the time.

I measured the seconds by the times your unseeing eyes flicked over me,
And the hours by the conversations we never had. 
I numbered the days by the TV shows we watched to distract ourselves,
And the weeks by the sermons we heard, side by side.
I counted the months by the growing pile of magazines on your table,
And the year by the dull ache in my lonely heart. 

Word play.

Your soul, it is the cynosure.

I’m lost in my affinity.

Your voice, a lilting song to me,

I hold my breath to hear you speak.

The shift, it moves first through my blood,

Into the heart that deeply loves.

First timorous, with trepid jolts,

The shudder that becomes a flood,

The spark, the flame that starts a fire.

Your body is the warmth I seek.

The flush that’s spreading from your smile.

I melt in your propinquity.

I want.

I want to travel the open highways of your mind,
    And get lost on the backroads.

I want to draw from the deepest part of your well,
    And taste the bitterness of your almost forgotten tears on my lips.

I want to wander through the shadowlands,
To temp the fires that burn in the night.
    I'll take my chances with the ghosts of your past.

I want to cover you like a blanket,
To wrap myself around you and hold you until our bones graft together —
   ragged and crooked with old age.

I want to kiss your skin with my skin,
Like a thousand tiny conversations.

I want to look into your eyes,
And see the fine print stamped on your soul —
Words that tell me who you are,
    Words that unlock the secret passageways of your mind.

I want to know the you that you love to be,
The secret part of you that hovers in the fringes —
Always watchful,
Always thoughtful.
I want to know what that you dreamt about when he was young and life was new.

I want to chip away the ragged edges,
And peel back the delicate layers.
I want to spend hours pouring through the boxes that house your mental chaos,
Boxes that are color-coded and labeled neatly.

I want I find the back room,
Where the files in the corner are messy and unorganized.
I want to put my fingerprints in the dust on their cases,
    Like "Brittany was here."

I want to find the stretch marks from when God grew you.
I want to kiss those ragged scars —
    Some fading,
    Some pink and new —
And say, "Good job, God."

[personality test]

•You thought
•You understood me
•And when
•I surprised you
•You took
•Me out of my box
•And put
•Me in another

The narcissist

I once loved a man
made of ice and stone,
who loved me for my flesh,
my blood and my bone.
He loved me to have,
but never to hold,
and if eyes are a window
to a stone man's soul,
then even his heart
was like a black hole.
He believed deep down
he had a heart like mine —
steady like a metronome,
pumping in time —
but if you are what you do,
he was only a mime,
going through the motions
in a grand disguise,
begging for applause
from audience eyes.

Once upon a December.

It’s like December in your soul.

And here am I,

Searching for the fire

That once burned in your eyes.

But I find only the reflection of my breath

Curling in the cold, damp air.

Like the sunless sky.

Because you’re cold inside.

Why are you so cold inside?

There’s a hollow clinking in your bones

As I’m trying to light a match,

But there’s no oxygen

To catch.

And my fingers,

They can’t grasp

The matchbox

Or the match.

One-liners

With fascination I trace the delicate lines of your palm, searching for our future in those worn out intersections. 

---

I don't care what anybody says, there's unspeakable beauty in an endless sky. Restless hearts like mine can get addicted to the uninhibited confidence it exudes, even in its most naked form.

---

We walked like sheep to slaughter, smiling through slitted eyes to whet their hunger, through a place so hopeless it even smelled like darkness. Ready for a heart to heartless.