Originally Published, (Feb, 2007)

We could pretend for a moment that you already know me. You already understand the curve of my face, and the slight tilt of my right eye. You know that I yawn when I’m nervous and that for no lack of trying, I am not graceful, nor svelte.

Maybe you’ll notice the faded sparkle left from earlier dreams of grandeur, or my smile at a stranger when I silently wonder what they are battling internally. We sit together daily, side by side- perhaps you and even I- and we blatantly judge each other, only to desperately claim we do not.

You can judge me.

There’s a picture on my computer of a girl with arms out-stretched, and she is running along the ocean. It’s almost as if she’s meeting it for the first time- although, she’s been to many oceans before. She’s young, with her hair half-hazardly pulled back; her hair follows her like the tail of a kite. You’ll imagine that she’s thinking what every human being thinks when seeing the ocean and waves- in their grace and power. If I put myself in that girl’s place, I wonder if I would go out to where the water meets the sand- and if I would wade. I wonder if some sort of symbolic baptismal-like event might occur, maybe everything I was could have been washed back to the beginning of it all. My sins and my shortcomings, my fears and doubts would mix with the salt and the currant and they would become- Nothing. Who would I be without the very things that plague me- without constantly wanting to fix and scrape myself of everything I cannot help, but be?

I want difference, I want revolution- and I want so very much the freedom of the wind on my bare arms, and nothing to fear but not having enough time to run along shoreline. I don’t care if an entire ocean could never hold everything I have, but I like the thought of the infinite abandon of being barefoot, at six and seeing your parent’s admiration for exactly what you were.

You are reading the very something I have been thinking about. You are changing it all, by letting my words flow through you, maybe, (too much to ask?) even affecting you- and you are my revolution.

Im not going to promise that reading this is going to change your life, but I do promise that as you sit and read this- you will change mine.