Kikki for one (midterms for my Jesus Year. )

Maybe it is a ritual, the river of sadness floods and after another week survived and sometime sparkled, I am awash with dissatisfaction, and nothing will do. My mind shreds each possibility of the nights entertainment, until I am naked weeping and delivering my sufferings to my Universal Benefactor. The story goes something like this; I do not know why I am still here, I do not know how I am to help if this is a place that does not know what to do with me, I can no longer stand the marveling distant "pat on the back"  it is haunting to be more intimate with strangers able to understand their quiet inner prism of desires effortlessly, and only to find comfort in the comfort I bring to others which is only in the deepest throws of random insertions that i can never predict. The mind numbing waiting I have done, and still time keeps on, jailed am I. And  then my heart flutters and I am refreshed, the river has been restored. I wonder, is that is why I have this life? because I am so quick to heal, so quick to forget, forgive or farewell?

I often lose connection to my words, struggle to make the time for my own musings, so well entertained by external impressions and chasing the purpose and the random insertions, but today I am recommitted to the process. I am humbled to be so indulgent in my own inner workings and to expose them here, although one could say it is once again my predilection for intimacy with strangers but this space was created as an expression of my desire to dig deeper into the process of transformation and I find that I am only cured by my own honesty, and I am relieved of the burden of brainswim and clogged intentions.

This year has been a exhibition of failures and pardons, and though I stand recklessly poised to continue in failed attempts at coupling, coding, earning, I will soldier on. Oh yeah that is why I'm here the inevitable rally.

Last month I did the Monsanto protest and it was elating, at some point I chimed in my voice mixing with others as we took to the mall and then up into traffic, fearless and solid in purpose, often met with confusion by the bystanders and occasionally solidarity. There is so much to be done so much to fight for, and I wondered if I am ever allowed to slump from exhaustion as things seem so far from divine meaning.

These broken wheels of government and corporate influence. I have nothing to hide, please listen to the calls from my mother as she worries about my health and we battle over her justifications and my cold assertions and our inevitable laughter over the uselessness of it all.  Please listen to the student loan people once again having lost the paperwork and needing something else from me to prove I am not able to slice off my survival to the bank of no mercy. I wonder why students are treated as criminals and given the least representation yet the criminal corporate culture or just plain criminals are given more financing than a student could ever compare to. Sort through my emails to companies that are looking for someone not quite as dynamic as me.

So what is the point of this postcard from my fortress of solitude? I am bored with my rallying and the carrot, yet there is no relief and I will forget my struggle after the slut high subsides and I am back to the wheel to grind, I am here still here quietly carving into a dream and strangely I know that you are too.