I would wear my sweaters and curl up to watch Jaws

These mornings my heart falls over inside, as it has done almost everyday since I've returned home from Paraguay because Paraguay and a million other things that have happened this summer have pulled my heart out into the open. Where it is immediately affected by what is going on in the world. And it falls over from joy, pain, laughter, love, and surprise all the time.

But these mornings it falls over because the air is cool and I wear my sweaters and break out my oversized sweater slippers and curl up in the hammock and read like I would when I was sixteen, summer mornings lying on the couch at home with the wind blowing those long drapes.

Sunday night we had a discussion on the front porch of Hot Chocolate House. Apparently some philosopherorother proposed that women do not think in words, they (words) are a construct of men and that women have just subscribed to communicate verbally in the language of men. Because we (women) do that kind of thing, I guess (here I make a weird, inexplicable face). That's probably a simplification of what he was saying, and whatever it is, it's a simplification of something. There is something that is more than words and that's what I think in. 
But words, they go straight to my heart (that falls over all the time now).

I used to worry about having my heart in the open because I have a tendency to expend myself so much in loving everything that maybe I could get worn out and use up all my love and things wouldn't be special anymore. I stopped worrying about that a year or two ago, I've never run out of anything. But. But some words stay safe. I made the decision a long time ago that there are a few things that I will keep treasured and hidden and special for just that final one relationship that my secret romantic self hopes is in my future. I promised myself that I would never share my favorite love poems with any male outside of that...ugh...marriage. That may sound trite, if I weren't me and I were reading this I would roll my eyes and gag, but you read Neruda or Borges and tell me if you find trite dribble. You don't. That is all. I have told you what is in my secret, sacred corner of my heart that is now mostly completely open for the world.

an age for an age for you to stop talking to me, addended again

I wore my helmet bicycle helmet today.

I realized as I was riding (helmet-less) to the grocery store that I have reached the point in my life where I care very little about how nerdy, odd, uncool, etc I look to other people. It's like I'm a fifty-year-old twenty-two-year-old. But face it, I am unescapably who I am, so I've decided to jump headlong into me. And my parents would really like it. And I'm really nervous about brain damage....
So instead of going: home, g-store, friend's hiz; I stopped home again and wore my helmet to friend's. But then a list of predicaments came up. Do I wear my helmet when I ride up to campus? Or when I go bike riding with friends? Is there safety in bike riding numbers? As a helmet wearer am I supposed to stand strong and wear my helmet at all biking times so that others will be less embarrassed to wear theirs? Am I really going to get into an accident? Should I get a pocket protecter?
If I start wearing a helmet can I really be choosy about when I wear it or not? It's not like me being a vegetarian which usually centers on me not wanting to eat meat but me needing to eat what people feed me to keep from getting a headache. Unless my helmet starts giving me a headache, which would be entirely possible with my head...
I don't know about this... I just keep repeating "brain damage, brain damage, brain damage, brain damage" to remind me why I would wear a helmet. Because it seems to be my biggest fear. Second only to chalk. So second biggest fear.

Or third.
I would hate to be trapped to someone for eternity who would turn to me at different junctures in our life and say, "You go into galleries that aren't hip?" or "I hate those pointy shoes and when girls wear scarves around their necks or have belts around their waists." Waste you. I feel like wearing a helmet will cut down on those people in my life.

In some other news, in case you're still reading, I got a seven page letter from someone in Denmark yesterday who said he thinks about me sometimes when he sees the boats come into harbor or when he meets a Norweigan fisherman.

It's always nice to be told that.

Blah, how did that all end up relating back to men?

ADDENDS:
Now I've been doing some reading. I'm stuck on the helmet fence. Apparently, when you do wear a helmet drivers give you less room as they pass you, increasing your risk of collision.

This is definitely true though, “When people try cycling, they nearly always say it changes the way they treat other road users when they get back in their cars.” That actually makes me frustrated and wish that everyone would do some bicycling time.

Any thoughts, anyone? anyone? Bueller?