Real life

weave… then breathe… your storylines


It’s hot as hell in Columbus these days. Well, i suppose that’s a bit of an exaggeration AND assumption. If there is a hell, it’s likely hotter (or cooler) depending on who you ask.

i digress.

It’s fucking hot.

So… it is no surprise that this bat was not terribly happy to find herself walking out in the muggy air last night, but there i was.

At one point, i picked up a follower… i could hear him behind me… and he did that thing that men do when they are aware that women fear them… he kept back, bless his heart. i did what women often do when they are a bit afraid and i did not look back. Why do we do that? i counted the footsteps, and hearing just one set… i decided to keep to the middle of the street in the pools of light and i became much more aware of my surroundings… Unsettled just a bit.

Finally, when i saw someone on a porch, i slowed my roll and allowed him to catch up. He was young, smoking a cigarette (i smelled it before i smelled him). He reminded me of some of my cousins – rough ’round the edges and world weary. Just then, i spotted a crumpled dollar bill on the road in front of me. He was neck and neck with me now. i scooped it up, stopping and then i asked him… just feet away now… “Hey, you need a buck? i just found it laying in the street”

You would have thought i gave him a twenty. He asked, “you sure?” and i said “yup, i don’t really need it” and he smiled and took it from my hand. He and i stopped then for just a few moments to exchange a few sentence fragments. He told me that he never finds anything but trash. He said i had good luck. He said thanks and he strolled on ahead of me then.

He’ll probably put it towards more cigarettes and i really couldn’t care less. i felt like giving it to him… it wasn’t mine or his… just laying there in the dark street. What made me happy wasn’t the stupid buck, it was this: i spoke to him. i try to make connections with people… people need connections… but in this world where fear has become a commodity like milk and eggs, we tend to not connect as much.

After i got home, i pulled up a few pics i snapped with my phone and i thought… perhaps i should have been more afraid to go walking at night. Maybe i should have avoided speaking to this young man. But i wasn’t so terribly frightened at all. Vigilant, yes. Scared? Not so much. i’m writing my own story these days, informed by very smart folks who love and respect me. i am most often safe and sane. i always engage in consensual activities. Sometimes? i take calculated risks and am aware of consequences. Still…  i’m finding fewer and fewer things that truly frighten me. The story i’m writing is not a horror story full of pain or terror, but there are still scary moments.

i’m more afraid of the upcoming 5k. That’s why i found myself out walking last night. i am building up distance for that. i’ve been walking daily but in much smaller increments, but now? It’s a THING. i don’t know if i’m fearful of failure or of success.

i think it’s more about success, actually.

If i can’t do this, no big whoop. i try again. Hell, i’m happy to be able to WALK… and without a cane!

Ah, but if i do this… if i actually make it the whole way?

If i can do this, then i’ll want to do more.

If i can do this, i’ll wonder why i waited so long… if i babied my ankle too much.

Still, as i sit here typing this morning, the ankle is unhappy – not horribly so – but it is challenging.

Perhaps this is just my time to do it, that’s all. It sure as hell is my time to try.

And, as Master once told me, “Fear is not very useful here.”

Sometimes the songs i include in my blog are pertinent to the post. Other times? Not so much. i kept thinking about this song as i walked last night. Yes, it was night. No, i wasn’t wearing sunglasses. i liked the notion of “weaving” and then “breathing” storylines, though. That’s what i’m doing, i guess. i’m writing this story and breathing life into it. i dig that.

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