constantly. Dear friends, i gave blood and then the escalator was broken and i drank a lot of water but it wasn't nearly enough so i am kind of out of it. i had ice cream, though. when i get it into my head that i want ice cream, that's all i can think about until my want is fulfilled. pathetic.
here is a poem my lovely friend m.w. wrote for me:
i mean who are we to say there's any harm in picking flowers from the Bellevue yard? Or to say it is not beautiful or okay to ask for things in life. Like letters from people you love. Or candy canes in Christmas, thank you notes and goodbyes. This poem itself is a letter but it is also a memory of everything a person can bring with them, and be. The memories that can't be tossed aside like magazines next to a hospital bed where one girl lies on her back looking up at the ceiling and searching for wonder.
(postscript: i left some flowers for my roomie. she read part of _The City of Falling Angels_ to me. i never did finish that book. a.b.)
So i want to write to someone who has inspired me but i fall so far short of the standards she holds us to that i don't know what to say.
i could not give you a number for how many children in New York City are homeless or parentless or sick or going to bed without hugs.
Adults too, for that matter.
And it hurts to be reminded that all those times i thought my heart was breaking for myself, it needed to be breaking for others. (i have a heart strung together with duct tape at this point. That duct tape can do anything). i write a lot in this blog but i don't actually do that much.
Not sure how to face my hypocrisy head-on. i need a different life, i don't know if this is where it starts. Somehow i don't feel useful when i'm volunteering.
Okay so everyone knows i am a human, and thus, a bitch. i mean, i feel ENTITLED after i put in a certain amount of work and want. i want to have someone say "well-deserved. it's a great story"! i want to have 18 of the people i love tell me congratulations on facebook! i want a boyfriend!!!!!!!!!!!!
That's all. As i say my prayers for the starving children and prisoners and chronically ill and poor and sad tonight, i will of course remember myself and my record refusal to get up off my ass and serve soup at a homeless shelter or something.
love, hugs and kisses (for real, not ironic) amy
p.s. rewatching the fourth season of _the wire_. fuuuuuuuuck that's a good show.