14 sept 2000 | back | archive | forward | girl | sign | e-mail

it is 11pm, and i am still shaking. i just met sabrina ward harrison--artist, writer, girl. she read from her book and signed copies and spoke from her heart. at one point, i saw her left foot lift off the ground like a flamingo, like she couldn't stand still. but she stood there, and she was radiant. striking, really. i sat there in awe not because she was someone who seemed to have all the answers, but because she wasn't afraid to admit that she didn't.

she's just like me, i felt.

and now i understand what people are thinking and feeling when they write to let me know they hear themselves in my words, that sometimes they feel like they are staring at their own reflection. every person is rare and intricate and amazing, and yet there are so many common themes that resonate in our lives.

i even met sabrina's mom, who reminds me of my own mother, so beautiful and graceful and gracious.

and all of this makes me want to do everything at once: call my mom, write my grandma, write a novel, climb a mountain, learn to sew, paint and photograph, kiss a boy, giggle out loud, sing a song, take a nap and dream amazing dreams.

in a way, i want to do it all, and i want to do it now, but then again, i know that there is so much time and that each moment has its purpose, its beauty, its truth and being as such should not be taken lightly, but cherished.

like now.

green jade ring on my left hand the taste of vanilla espresso milk the sound of sting and steamed milk foaming outside cars pass in the dark. right now. ink. still wet on the page.