its in the numbers

in a matter of one hour and twenty-five minutes (a time span in which i spoke zero words, walked seventeen city blocks and was not listening to my ipod) i had four people, strangers at that, tell me that i was one of the following:

- ugly

- rude

- a jerk

- the meanest

remember, zero words came from my mouth. in that time, i went to the public library where a man, tall, odorous and black, stood smoking a cigarette blowing his exhaust directly at the walkway, told me first that he, "loved me and would like to love me elsewhere." then, since i did not respond (because, honestly, how do you?), he told me i was "f%^&#g ugly and should smile when people talk to me."

nice.

a man being ticketed for what i can only assume was public drunkenness, or something to that affect, told me, not the cop giving him a citation, that i was "a damn rude girl." i crossed between him and the cop, nodding to the police man, implying "excuse me" who said, "sure."

classy.

then, a sad looking, extremely large woman sat on my stoop, smoking, spitting, coughing and drunk. i have never seen her before and hope never to again. i was dropping off my library books to go for a walk and was told, by this whale on my porch, that i "shouldn't be so damn rude, slammin' doors and being a jerk."

alice, who has recently returned from a hospital visit with a better attitude and a little more skip in her step on the stoop, told me, out of the damn blue (which, by the way, is a non-topical point here since the sun apparently never ever ever comes out), that i, sydney schalit, was "the meanest neighbor" ever.

welcome home.


what a day.

picture perfect

under a red umbrella life is pretty sweet... rose colored indeed

fall colors, winter weather: greetings from Washington.

there is a better

i've been having dreams of Ryan, sitting on porches, walking through woods, cooking in an unknown kitchen. i've even dreamt of sleeping beside him - that was the entirety of the dream. sleeping.

i had the infinite pleasure of chatting with him, with Cahill and with my brother today - a good day in any measure. three men who see a good in me that i don't know of. who see a beauty that isn't surface.

there is a better me somewhere in all of this heartache, heartbreak, soul shake. i hope when i find it, become it, evolve to it, there is someone there to love it.

i miss Ryan. i miss my best friend, Ryan. i can't believe that this is where i am, three years later, alone in a cold floored but warm aired apartment, sheltered from the insatiable rains of the pacific northwest, far from my sweet friends and no closer to my self. missing my parents, my happiness, my man.

regret fills me every morning and weighs my stomach down, making the already arduous task of waking up for an unfulfilling day that much more of a struggle. regret. Cahill noted today that without the things we regret, we'd never learn a damn thing. i really hate it when he is right.
sure, i could have just not gotten on that bus in bamako; i could have just been more patient with my medications; i could have handled everything differently; i should have started the painful relationship with Fisher's mother differently and simply gone on with my life, with or without her blessings;  i could have embraced my surroundings and enjoyed where i was when i was there; sure. but what else, Cahill so poignantly noted, would i have stubbornly plowed through? where would i be?


there is a better me.

hey fool. have you seen heaven? it's down there, somewhere.

a day in the awfus

http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/cat-vs-printer-translated

take silence and respect it:

take the time to sit, listen and own this.