Living in the gradient

Ruby Pipes

“Looking back” © Brandon, 2014. CC BY 2.0.

Rivers cut new channels into valleys. Minerals in drops of water pile on the ground to create stalagmites taller than I am. The sun pulls itself slowly over the horizon line and a new day creeps into existence. Then back out again.

We know everything takes process. One small thing connected to another, pushing us gradually in the corresponding direction. But I still find myself struggling to give credit to each little piece.

There’s point A and there’s point B. The line between? AB. Defined by its end points. Always. And if I can’t make it–guaranteed–from one point the other, I have a tendency to abandon mission.

What a toxic way of thinking.

There is no “finish” anyway, right? Not in earnest. Most important things will never be “complete”. Nothing is only accessible by following one specific…

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Our focus is the only thing that changes

Ruby Pipes

“making waves” © Elizabeth Donoghue, 2009. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

I get up and go to the gym. Climb onto an elliptical and put my headphones in. An hour of time three days a week where I don’t have to say anything, answer any questions, evaluate or receive feedback. Simpler than the three days I spend lifting. Concentrating on proper form: shoulders back, deep breath, hold, tight core, begin. On cardio days I don’t even really have to think. I zone out completely. Stare at the numbers on the display in front of me. Listen to my music, my breathing, my heartbeat. It’s freedom. But it toes the line of complacency.

When I have the option of getting in a groove I can lose my focus. My attention drifts to the TV set hanging from the ceiling in the gym. Before I know it my pace has…

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Pieces of Kyle and Me

Ruby Pipes

“shards of a past life” © jejoenjeM, 2007. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

The first apartment I ever had to myself was a tiny basement studio in Portland. The carpet was purple and the kitchen had red and white checkered linoleum. The walk-in closet had two stairs going up into it and was just big enough for a twin-sized bed and a dresser. Everything about that apartment was tiny and ridiculous. We called it The Dollhouse.

My upstairs neighbor was Kyle. I had just turned twenty-one when I moved in and he was forty-something. Fast friends. We’d hang out by the dumpster and smoke cigarettes every day. He’d come over to my place for beers. Watered my plants when I left town. When the weather was good we’d sit on the curb and drink booze until four in the morning. We talked about everything. I was his date…

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Explode

Ruby Pipes

“Light explosion” © Theophilos Papadopoulos, 2012. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

The breakdown was more
brutal than it usually is.

All screams and punches and sobbing.
A car crash disguised as a human being.

Weeks of sliding in.
Forty-five minutes of destruction.

Then I dressed and put my make up on.
Walked to work blasting rap music.

Just like that, a switch flipped.
Anger and frustration turned cool and purposeful.

I wonder if that’s how it feels
to be born.

Violently thrust into a new world
you’re not sure you’re ready for.

You can’t go back.
Jump in.

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Soften

Ruby Pipes

“soft landing” © ankakay, 2009. CC BY 2.0. I packed up my things at the coffee shop, rationing breaths. Used words sparingly. I’d reached the edge.

Kissed Mason and threw an, “I love you,” over my shoulder as I charged down the steps. Picked up momentum as I headed across the street, back toward our apartment. Counted cracks in the sidewalk, steps. Watched my feet dodge in and out of my line of vision. Held my breath. Clamored through the front door, made it to the elevator, lost it.

An hour later he opened the door and found me still laying on the floor. Catatonic. Dropped his bag and draped himself over me. I immediately started sobbing again.

That’s the world we’ve been living in.

As a writer, I felt I should be able to find words for it. The hot anger, the senseless desperation, the hopelessness. The ever-resurfacing frustration with…

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Love this

rate 10😊