confessions from angeldelphia

confession: i practice a “make the best of” attitude and assume that every situation has gifts to offer me especially when non-preferred situations arrive. then i make an easter egg hunt game of looking for the gifts of every situation. yesterday’s gift of sitting in a middle seat (i prefer the aisle seat) on a long airplane flight home was the book of poetry my seatmate was reading that i read over his shoulder. yes, i am the annoying seatmate who reads over one’s shoulder—that situation is for someone else to apply their “make the best of” attitude and easter egg hunt for the gifts.

confession: four months after moving i have five more boxes to unpack. i’m at a standstill because i’ve run out of closet space. winter clothes take up more room than summer clothes, buildings built in 1909 weren’t big on closets, and i’m opposed to buying giant wooden wardrobes for clothes (like a 1909 resident would have). i don’t want to be one of those people who stores stuff under beds because that’s where the monsters live. my childhood self struck a deal with the monsters under my bed that if i always kept the space underneath my bed clear for them that they would stay under the bed and wouldn’t attack me while i slept. my honorable agreement with the childhood monsters can’t be compromised, won’t be broken, and the monsters aren’t re-negotiating.

confession: while working at the desktop, i’ll ask papi to bring me a tissue for my runny nose because i don’t want to interrupt my work to get up. two minutes after handing me a tissue, i’ll get out of my chair to get my own chocolate. yup, priorities–work ahead of snot running out my nose; chocolate ahead of working.

confession: i’d handwrite more letters if i liked my handwriting more. i used to love my handwriting because i had beautiful handwriting. my handwriting has become sloppier over the decades. i only notice my terrible handwriting while penning a love letter. i don’t think the recipient cares or notices the declining state of my handwriting, but i do. i want my pretty handwriting back…and my youthful joints (especially my young knees).

confession: i’m debating the pros and cons of joining a dating site for the purpose of seeking platonic creative spirited gorgeous friend dates. i know it’s a bad idea but sometimes bad ideas bring great adventures…and (incoming justification) i’m only looking to make one or two friends.

confession: there’s never enough time to do all the things i want to do while doing all the nothing i’d rather do. my nothingness is more rewarding than most somethings most of the time.

confession: a few weeks ago i pulled an alarm clock from a box that was running on austin time. i haven’t been able to bring myself to reset that clock to philadelphia time. when i forget that clock is on austin time, i feel like i have an extra hour. i need that extra hour everyday.

confession: six nights ago a deejay christened me “angeldelphia” as my deejay name (or slam poetry pseudonym, same-same).

confession: last thursday night i sat in a room filled with people i love watching someone i love do what he loves most. the next day i cried because that room is found in austin and i don’t know if i’ll ever experience that community of love anywhere else. i don’t want to live in austin anymore but i want to spend as many nights for the rest of my life in rooms filled with people i love witnessing someone i love do what that one loves most.







About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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