{ late night light: november 5, 2013 }

a quick note on my most recent (and most monumental) life change:

i have a computer.

for the first time in, oh, three years.

while this makes things like online banking and general correspondence much easier, i can already sense the impact on my expression. i can now post entries to this space when i'm actually feeling and thinking something, as opposed to when i'm at work, i'm overwrought, and i feel pressured to write, to put something (anything) down, to prove that i'm something more than what i feel like i am --- an overwrought, pressured, creatively stifled slave.

(god, i'm so dramatic.)

so here i am, feeling a light shining on the part of my brain that only comes alive at times like these, in the hours after a too-short night and an ever-long day and many moments spent with the slimmest ocean of tears rolling traitorously behind my eyelids.

i suspect there will be many more late-night entries like this, accompanied by the poor-quality photo booth selfie, typed swiftly while my latest song obsession plays on repeat like the tide of desolate, beautiful loneliness that presses into the edges of me when autumn comes.

welcome to late night light.

-------------------------------

i met anne lamott tonight. there was a gentle gathering of people in a building owned by an order of franciscan sisters to recognize the release of anne's latest book, stitches. she spoke for a few minutes, very haltingly at first, but before long her expansive speech patterns had mesmerized every person in the room.

she named, welcomed, and lamented pain. she talked about how the world today is a different world altogether than the one she knew as a child. she said things like,

we stitch each other up

and

rest is a spiritual act

and

there can be meaning without things making sense.

i stood in line afterward to have her personally address my copy of the book, which she'd already pre-signed. when i reached the front of the line, i knew what i wanted to say (you have no idea how timely this is, a huge part of my life has been shattered, i have lost something i cannot live without just like you said), but instead i knelt down beside this dreadlocked yoda-like woman with eyes that have seen so many things and said, "would you mind writing my name?"

immediately she spat out, "no, i only write my own name. well, fine, i'll do it. what's your name? but i'm pissed about it." so i spelled my name, which she scrawled above her pre-done signature almost dismissively, as if she had no patience for a girl making outrageous requests.

she hesitated for a second and then drew a rudimentary heart next to my name.

under the lights in that gymnasium, warmth flooded my soul.

i touched her wrist and threw back my head, and laughed.

-------------------------------

it's very inconvenient for some people

when you finally fall apart. don't believe the lie

that you ever really get over the losses in life

that are only barely survivable. 

{ anne lamott }