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HavensLane3689
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Name: Morgan
Interests: music(!), traveling, drawing, reading, writing, popcorn- stove top especially, movies, people, Jesus Christ, coffee shopping, photography, driving in Matil, becoming something sincerely and soley driven to praise my Maker...
Occupation: Other
Message: message me
Member Since:
4/29/2002
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| I have found a place underneath my stairway. There is a desk and a lamp and a box of colorfuls pens and markers. There is Antony singing in the background. Accompanied by a bottle of water, a cup of coffee, an apple cut into eight pieces and a jar of crunchy peanut butter, I sit nestled under the steps and behind the green curtain next to memoribillia that is better left stuffed awkwardly into cardboard boxes than to let breathe in the new apartment's quiet air.
I've already eaten four pieces of the apple and I've yet to make a picture of my new life with the words that I know. I want to tell you but its harder than I anticipated. Not because it isn't good, because it is. But its so new and overwhelming that I don't know with which detail to begin.
Would you like to know what it felt like to walk up the steps of the University of Pittsburgh library? The trees that stand in pretty lines out front have decided to shed their leaves early this year. Hearing the crunch below my shoes alludes to a much cooler and crisper time of year. There's a thrill laced into my stomach lining that cannot be quenched. The library is overwhelming to the senses upon first encounter. I have to manage it by taking in each facet at a time. Our tour guide, and new friend, Juju, takes us to a secret hallway. The hallway in itself is uneventful but it leads to this great hall of casts of famous architecture. It is, I believe, the second largest museum of casts in the world (Thank you Mr. Carnegie for believing in the "Social Gospel"). I am stunned and silent.
I am surrounded by people of love. I walk two doors down to get a cup of coffee or a bottle of juice and the smiles from behind the counter from an old friend or perhaps new ones make me feel at home. In between the coffee shop and "the coop" (apartment 2R- that's us) there is a green door. If you open it and walk up the stairs, there is an apartment on your left. Open the door and you'll see some favorite people or smell some food cooking or hear some music being played or see someone reading on the gold colored couch. These are my friends.
There's something addicting in this air but I want you all here. I want you to sit with your legs dangling off of a fire escape, three stories high, when the night is rolling in and the pirates win a game. Across the city skyline, you will see colorful fireworks illuminating the big city buildings. If you sit there, I hope you sit with someone you care about. Its the only way to do it. Leaning against the brick building is much softer with an arm around you to keep you safe.
All to say, I'm sorry for not returning your call or emailing you back right away. Please be patient with me. I'm trying to drink in all of what remains of these summer days in this foreign place. I've been blessed with the ideal job (www.unionproject.org) and a perfect roommate and new friends who love me without even knowing me. I'm making the most of each moment, or trying to.
What is left of my coffee is cold, my apple is gone and the water bottle is half full. But there you are. This is my life now. Everything is fresh. Everything feels new. My eyes are adjusting to this change of lens. The light feels different, more optimistic. Real life begins now.
Always,
Morgan
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1. Sixteen, maybe less- Iron & Wine/Calexico (In the Reins)
2. Crazy- Gnarls Barkley (St. Elsewhere) -that's for Jamin
3. Your Eyes- Aloha (Some Echoes)
4. Fidelity- Regina Spektor (Begin to Hope)
5. Jack the Ripper- Colin Meloy (Colin Meloy Sings Morrissey)
6. Rhythm- Page France (Come, I'm a lion)
7. Dynamite Walls- Hayden
8. Maybe you can Owe me- Architecture in Helsinki (In Case we Die)
9. Trees (A Hallway of Leaves- Sleeping at Last (Ghosts)
10. Fortress- Pinback | | |
| thank you to jonas for the proper smiths introduction. why the new obession? why is morrissey so sweet? because they have songs that say, ‘if a double decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die, and if a ten ton truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, the pleasure, the privilege is mine…’ and well, they ARE the smiths.
that is all. | | |
| The journey begins under the veil of black night sky. Armed with a thermos of coffee, bag of peanuts, and a previously popped bag of microwavable popcorn, I am ready to go. No sleep; just adrenaline.
I swing the door open and hit the lights. ‘Katie. Let's go.' She sits up straight on the couch, hair out of control and out of her mind. Minutes later, bags in the car, Katie safely seat belted, we are on our way.
Time: 3:50 AM
I've always been fascinated by airports. There's something so exciting about knowing that there are so many people coming and going.
Katie begins to wake up. Perhaps my enthusiasm is contagious. Perhaps it’s the well constructed mix of music that we are bobbing our heads to. Perhaps the Killers work some sort of early morning magic. But we are unstoppable.
We speak of love. We speak of life and how a moment, a millimeter change in direction, completely alters everything. Is it right? Is it wrong? Or is it just different?
By the time we reach the Metro Airport, a little bit of blue is creeping up the bottom of the sky. I pull up to the curb. Northwest Airlines.
Time: 5:25 AM
This is your stop, Katie.
There is a white charter bus in front of me. Three boys appear from its doorway and begin to unload suitcases from underneath. They are all marked with bright orange tags. They are all dark brown or green or black except one lonely hot pink suitcase. Kids begin to pour out of the bus. I keep my eye on the pink suitcase until it is found by the tall, brown haired girl with glasses. She stands patiently, quietly waiting for everyone else to recognize their own names in the monotonous sea of dark luggage. I wonder where they are going. Perhaps it is an 8th grade class trip. Maybe they are going to Washington DC like Katie did. It is her first time back but she won't be seeing the FBI building or the Lincoln Memorial. She has more important things to do, I am sure of it.
There is a couple saying goodbye behind me. He is wearing bright red flannel pants. I am watching them embrace in my mirror while munching on popcorn kernels as if I'm watching a tearful departure scene from a movie. All of the good ones say goodbye sometime.
Katie finds her way back to the car to give me the thumbs up and handshake. I wish good luck, I think. Or perhaps, safe flying. I kind of wish that I was going somewhere this early. I easily imagine the smell of an airplane, the taste of the pre-packaged turkey sandwiches, and the way the window feels cool when I push my forehead against it to watch what I know of the world disappear. I miss the early morning flight, falling asleep while awkwardly positioned in the barely tilt-able chairs, and waking up in a new place. I want to fly.
But instead, I urge Matilda's nose back into flow of traffic. I wave goodbye to Katie, the kids, and the couple. Neutral Milk Hotel accompanies me on the empty four-lane stretch of road. Just over the edge is the runway. The blue lights glow in meticulous lines, matching the sky in hue. To my right, I see hints of orange. What a perfect time of day to drive.
It’s too early to call anyone to keep me company so I pour myself a miniature cup of coffee and savor the alone time. I decide that I will name all of my animals after characters in books. Hopefully Oskar is first. I try to determine what kind of animal could go by Holden. I come up with nothing (I am determined, however).
I consider it a blessing that I didn't grow up on Old Plank Road. It must be a very aged and lonely place.
I am catching glimpses of brazen orange sun in my rearview mirror. It illuminates the motor city skyline, but I keep driving the opposite direction. The shades of gold and purple that trail my car reminds of a different time, a different place, under the setting sun floating comfortably in between the mist on Lake Michigan. There was no beginning or end to the color. It was all around us. We had raced our cars, side by side up to Pentwater to make sure we made it in time. And we did. And it was perfect.
The top of my car is breaking through the edges of low clouds, fog that has just risen slightly. There is a lake that I've never seen on my right. It’s quiet and pristine. I see no houses but in the distance, there is a man in a small boat with his fishing rod and hat.
I must remember to tell Sean of how the stretch from Fowlerville to my exit was a flurry of red winged black birds. If I counted, they probably would have numbered into the twenties. Each one reminded me of bird watching with my grandma when I was younger. I always wanted to see a Red Breasted Grosbeak. Its page was marked in my Audubon Society Guide to Birds book. The binoculars that I had gotten for Christmas in third grade were heavy around my neck. I mainly saw robins and blue jays. Cardinals were Grandma's favorite, but only the boy ones. The girl ones weren't so brightly colored and looked quite ordinary.
Time: 6:59 AM
I am so close to home. I roll the windows down and breathe the cool morning air. The adventure is very close to over.
Time: 7:06 AM
Now I will fall asleep as the light makes itself a home across my tired shoulder blades through the cracks in the blinds. The day has already broken and I was a witness.
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| I relaxed my back against the striped pillow and stretched my legs across the matching comforter. My eyes traced the edges of the room but I did not see anything. My mind was moving rapidly, attempting to sort out truth. I was hoping that the answer i was looking for would stand up in the blue bleachers in the very corner of my mind and heart and yell 'Its me! I am the right choice! I am the best stone to step on, best hand hold to grip, the brightest light to dispel the gray.' But instead the truth was just an elusive shadow. Sometimes I think that truth is a shape shifter, appearing in many forms but you never really know if it is what it seems.
I was confused, conflicted. I was recognizing the change in relationships that have led me to feel unstable and insecure. Alone, on my couch, I argued with myself over the cause of relationships failing. I couldn't bring myself to understand that they may not be failing or at least, I may not be the cause. I'd been feeding myself lies that I needed to meet people's expectations, and thus spent more time trying to figure out what was expected of me so that I could be that, then just being who I am.
The only truth that I could find came to me this morning, after suffering through a few hours of vicious mind games. It was the liaison between my head and my heart. It was the conqueror of the confusion.
The pages fell open in my lap to II Samuel 22. David's song of deliverance resonated with this heart that began to say, 'yes! yes! this is it! this is truth! the only truth worth pursuing!'
A smile curled on my lips. Only when I release my fingers that grip so tightly to what I think is so important, do I recognize the truth and find peace. | | |
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