A false sum of the parts.

re⋅frain [ri-freyn] 

1.	a phrase or verse recurring at intervals in a song or poem, esp. at the end of each stanza;

2.	to abstain from an impulse to say or do something.

. . .

Facebook asked me what was on my mind today. I had 3 answers.

Lyndsi Shae...

* doesn't know why she's beginning every morning with a computer class. Gross. Gross. Gross.
* is cold and grey today.
* wants to choose something drastic and reckless.

. . .

WHY DRASTIC AND RECKLESS?

Because I want to get out of the grey.

Because I am feeling something that shakes up my world,

something which is not manifest through my groggy-walk-to-school.

or anything else I will do today.
But I feel its weight regardless,
and I want it to SHOW.

Today I told facebook this quote was on my mind,

It's from Henry Van Dyke, but Kaylie showed it to me.

"Time is too slow for those who WAIT, 

too swift for those who FEAR, 

too long for those who GRIEVE, 

too short for those who REJOICE, 

but for those who LOVE, 

time is eternity."

Remember the thing that is shaking up my world?

 It's loving.

It's a complicated loving.

And when this kind of love causes

the waiting, the fearing, the grieving, and the rejoicing...

time passes with conflict, contradiction, and confusion.

That's the problem.

I want to BE this love I'm feeling. 
I want to create from it, for it.

But I can't today.

It's a long story.

In the mean time, what can I do instead?

Because if I continue to do nothing,
if I keep all this loving without knowing how to move forward,
I may combust. 

Choices I've considered so far...

Painting something as tall as me. Driving to the ocean. Plane ticket to New Zealand. Taking a lap around the block with no pants and loud yelling. Getting Married. Going to live with Katie. Getting Married to Katie. All New Clothes. Just screaming about stuff. Running running running up the mountain. Pilgrimage to ______. Dying my hair something ugly. Ripping stacks and stacks of paper. Swimming across shallow, freezin Utah Lake. Meeting 50 new people.

Nothing is enough.
Because these choices stem from a restlessness,
from the side-effects of waiting, fearing, grieving, and rejoicing.
And I don't want to act on those.
I want to act on their origin, on the loving.

But I can't right now.
It's still a long story.

Instead I will go grocery shopping and to the bank. I will add/drop classes and write 3 letters and getmyharddrivebackedupandmycellphoneupdatedandpaymyrentandandbuymybooksandunpackmyluggageand

makesomedinnerandtellbrooklynwhathappenedandprintoutasyllabusandtakeanothershowerandexcerise and
PUSH BACK 

against what could otherwise keep me 

solitary and confined on this blanket 

for the rest of the day.

I will fight the sinking of stagnant water, the aching refrain of stillness and indecision.

In the mean time, I am ticking.
Ticking towards the day when this refrain from action,
this repetition of the unknown,
is resolved.
I hear it even now,
a ticking too slow
too swift
too long
and too short.
Can you feel it?
When time passes inside of loving,
it ticks with the weight of eternity.