Caught up in memories
that make me smile
and rest, at ease, for just a moment,
a temporary break
from the chaos in my mind...
I reach out
for your hand
as if to say 'remember when'
then I remember
you're not there…
I want to call
Just to say
I’m still so very proud
Of who you are…
But there is no answer
on the other end,
And I know it’s not my place,
Not my void to fill…
So I sit here and write
These words I know
You’ll never read…
Just to remind you
That I’ll always be here
In the moment you
Reach out for me,
For something more familiar…
I will be here.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Wallpaper
“Yet the real miracle comes when you can look back at even the most painful experiences in your life and find the good that God has brought out of it.”
Some things will never be separated from the memories in my mind. But that’s ok; they become the wall paper of my past that eventually fades, peels off and is replaced with something new - something more fitting. And within the deepened layers are stories of me; the people I knew and the places I’ve been. It all makes up who I am. And it’s beautiful.
Some things will never be separated from the memories in my mind. But that’s ok; they become the wall paper of my past that eventually fades, peels off and is replaced with something new - something more fitting. And within the deepened layers are stories of me; the people I knew and the places I’ve been. It all makes up who I am. And it’s beautiful.
Word Experiment
I did this random word experiment where I just started to write down words or phrases that came to mind. This is the result:
Safety, passion, courage, dreams, seeing myself honestly, alone, fear, coward; all I really want to do is sleep away the pain.
I wasn’t sure what to make of this list, but then I began to look at each thought individually:
Safety is something I’ve searched for my entire life; that word may be more accurately defined as security. I’ve looked for it in all the wrong places and am finally realizing that it’s within myself that I become secure and experience a lasting safety. Passion is something that I’ve begun to unleash in my life as of late. In doing so I’ve found a courage within myself that I never knew I had. It’s exposing dreams I’ve simply forgotten about and helped me to define who I am. Through that process I’ve had to see myself honestly for who I am; that in turn has exposed the less attractive sides me. The parts of me that have been trapped in loneliness and fear, the coward inside of me who simply longs to sleep away the pain.
Safety, passion, courage, dreams, seeing myself honestly, alone, fear, coward; all I really want to do is sleep away the pain.
I wasn’t sure what to make of this list, but then I began to look at each thought individually:
Safety is something I’ve searched for my entire life; that word may be more accurately defined as security. I’ve looked for it in all the wrong places and am finally realizing that it’s within myself that I become secure and experience a lasting safety. Passion is something that I’ve begun to unleash in my life as of late. In doing so I’ve found a courage within myself that I never knew I had. It’s exposing dreams I’ve simply forgotten about and helped me to define who I am. Through that process I’ve had to see myself honestly for who I am; that in turn has exposed the less attractive sides me. The parts of me that have been trapped in loneliness and fear, the coward inside of me who simply longs to sleep away the pain.
Humiliating Foolishness
I’ve lived my life as if playing a game in which I attempt to see how many people’s expectations I can reach without exposing my true self. Through the years I’ve become less myself and more the sum total of everyone else’s opinion. It’s been said that “losing isn’t humbling unless you’re humble already; it’s humiliating.” I find this to be true as my many facades come crumbling down and I lose the game I’ve expended my life in playing. It is my own humiliating foolishness laid bare for all to see. And so I see myself for who I am and begin to embrace it honestly. It is now that I choose who I want to become. I will not lie about this journey; I am humbly honest about where I’ve been, where I am and where I want to go. This is the beginning of my life; this humiliating point at which I turn and look myself dead in the eyes and accept myself for who I truly am. Today I am alive for the very first time.
Secret Moments of Self-Reflection
“Though you grind a fool in a mortar, grinding him like a grain with a pestle, you will not remove his folly from him.” (Proverbs 27:22)
The truth is, I cannot change another person. They may act different to get my approval, but it’s a shallow adjustment that will undo itself over time. Unless someone has a genuine desire within themselves to change, they will remain as they are. I can’t blame myself for their foolishness and immaturity. As much as I try help them, to change them, to enable them to better themselves, it is not me who can ultimately move them.
As foolish as they may be, I am just as foolish to think I can make them otherwise. It is my own narcissistic way of controlling life. It’s also foolish of me to think that I can change someone, as if I myself do not need to change. It is in the secret moments of self-reflection that I find myself looking more like the foolishness I so despise in the other person. Maybe it is myself I am grinding like a grain with a pestle.
The truth is, I cannot change another person. They may act different to get my approval, but it’s a shallow adjustment that will undo itself over time. Unless someone has a genuine desire within themselves to change, they will remain as they are. I can’t blame myself for their foolishness and immaturity. As much as I try help them, to change them, to enable them to better themselves, it is not me who can ultimately move them.
As foolish as they may be, I am just as foolish to think I can make them otherwise. It is my own narcissistic way of controlling life. It’s also foolish of me to think that I can change someone, as if I myself do not need to change. It is in the secret moments of self-reflection that I find myself looking more like the foolishness I so despise in the other person. Maybe it is myself I am grinding like a grain with a pestle.
October Remembrance
Written: October 30, 2006
Eight years ago, to the day, we sat at the edge of the Palos Verdes cliffs. I was 16; he had just turned 17 the month prior. We had met in July of that year and although we had only known each other for three months, it felt like I had known him my whole life. And with a kiss we entered into a relationship that would, unknowingly, take us to places we’d never intended.
I can still feel the cool breeze sweeping through my hair like it did that night. I can hear the rhythmic crashing of waves at the shoreline. I can almost taste his lips on mine and feel his hand gently holding my face. And the words he said still roll around in my mind, “I don’t intend for this to be just another relationship. I don’t want it to be like a toy that you get as a little kid at Christmas time; you’re all excited about it when you first get it but then a month later it’s lost in the back of your closet and you forget it’s even there.”
It seemed from day one we both knew something was different about us and what we would become. Laying back on the blanket, staring at the clear, starry sky with my head resting gently on his chest, I felt more at home than I ever had. And I knew I never wanted to leave that place.
I came home that night wearing his sweater. My mom asked if it meant the same thing it would have when she came home as a teenager wearing my father’s sweater. She called it “going steady”. I laughed and after a while of defining terms like “dating”, “courting” and “going steady”, we finally agreed that, yes, it did mean the same thing. I don’t remember my mom ever being so excited for me.
Isn’t it strange how the end is so vastly separated from it’s beginning?
Eight years ago, to the day, we sat at the edge of the Palos Verdes cliffs. I was 16; he had just turned 17 the month prior. We had met in July of that year and although we had only known each other for three months, it felt like I had known him my whole life. And with a kiss we entered into a relationship that would, unknowingly, take us to places we’d never intended.
I can still feel the cool breeze sweeping through my hair like it did that night. I can hear the rhythmic crashing of waves at the shoreline. I can almost taste his lips on mine and feel his hand gently holding my face. And the words he said still roll around in my mind, “I don’t intend for this to be just another relationship. I don’t want it to be like a toy that you get as a little kid at Christmas time; you’re all excited about it when you first get it but then a month later it’s lost in the back of your closet and you forget it’s even there.”
It seemed from day one we both knew something was different about us and what we would become. Laying back on the blanket, staring at the clear, starry sky with my head resting gently on his chest, I felt more at home than I ever had. And I knew I never wanted to leave that place.
I came home that night wearing his sweater. My mom asked if it meant the same thing it would have when she came home as a teenager wearing my father’s sweater. She called it “going steady”. I laughed and after a while of defining terms like “dating”, “courting” and “going steady”, we finally agreed that, yes, it did mean the same thing. I don’t remember my mom ever being so excited for me.
Isn’t it strange how the end is so vastly separated from it’s beginning?
Poetic Rhythms
Written: October 23, 2006
I can see you flying away
But I can still hear your heart
Beating deep within my skull
Try to drown it out
And repair myself
I want to run away
But I’m just standing still
Watching you fly
As the sun reflects
I wonder
Are you happy?
Smile for me
Smile for anything
I can see you flying away
And it breaks my heart
But oh how I love to watch you fly
I can see you flying away
But I can still hear your heart
Beating deep within my skull
Try to drown it out
And repair myself
I want to run away
But I’m just standing still
Watching you fly
As the sun reflects
I wonder
Are you happy?
Smile for me
Smile for anything
I can see you flying away
And it breaks my heart
But oh how I love to watch you fly
A Revelation
Written: October 18, 2006
When I long for him and find myself desperately crying out for him, having to fight against chasing after him; it’s in those moments I must realize how misguided my heart is. He is my selfish and earthly-minded means of fulfilling, however temporarily, a very deep, possibly spiritual need. A need for genuine intimacy that manifests itself as loneliness. An intimacy that can only come from God. An intimacy that I’ve always found in physical, human-emotional relationships. I’ve never let God meet my need for intimacy because in reality, and practically speaking, I have no idea what that means, what that looks like, or how to do that.
When I long for him and find myself desperately crying out for him, having to fight against chasing after him; it’s in those moments I must realize how misguided my heart is. He is my selfish and earthly-minded means of fulfilling, however temporarily, a very deep, possibly spiritual need. A need for genuine intimacy that manifests itself as loneliness. An intimacy that can only come from God. An intimacy that I’ve always found in physical, human-emotional relationships. I’ve never let God meet my need for intimacy because in reality, and practically speaking, I have no idea what that means, what that looks like, or how to do that.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Simple Distraction
Boredom breeds unsettledness; a darkening restlessness that pushes and prods one to ill will of himself. Or herself, as the case may be. A severe dissatisfaction with one's current state of affairs. Though boredom itself is illusive when it comes to pin-pointing it as the cause of such contempt. There is no passion in boredom. And yet the frustration it fuels can manifest itself in a passionate way, thereby confusing those in which it comes in contact. Maybe it's not passion as much as it is aggression.
The ironic thing about boredom is that it can be cured in mere moments by the simplest of distractions, which can be good when it comes to small children, a long day at the office, or a sleepy Saturday afternoon. But what happens when boredom finds it's way into places like... your heart? When you're dealing with human beings and feelings, emotions, real people with whom you share a deep, meaningful connection?
Unfortunately, boredom is boredom, and it knows no bounds. What is now a heartfelt passion can subtly and slowly become heartfelt aggression, born out of a simple underlying frustration; a severe dissatisfaction with one's current state of affairs. And the cure remains; simple distraction.
The ironic thing about boredom is that it can be cured in mere moments by the simplest of distractions, which can be good when it comes to small children, a long day at the office, or a sleepy Saturday afternoon. But what happens when boredom finds it's way into places like... your heart? When you're dealing with human beings and feelings, emotions, real people with whom you share a deep, meaningful connection?
Unfortunately, boredom is boredom, and it knows no bounds. What is now a heartfelt passion can subtly and slowly become heartfelt aggression, born out of a simple underlying frustration; a severe dissatisfaction with one's current state of affairs. And the cure remains; simple distraction.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
A Conversation with Myself
Do you think you need extra things in life for it to be worth it?
I don't know, but a little excitement would be nice.
Yeah, I just don't like to be bored.
Is being bored the same thing as needing a little extra excitement?
I think if you're passionate about something, you're not usually bored.
True, but can you just be passionate about life? What's that mean?
It's generally not life itself, but a motive for life, that you're passionate about.
What is life 'supposed' to be like? Are there blue prints anywhere?
Am I a horrible person for wanting life to be good?
Be honest, you want life to be really good; you want a perfect life.
I just want to be happy, I just want to be loved.
You stole those lyrics from a song. Come on, focus here.
What is it inside of me (inside all of us, really) that wants so badly to be wanted?
I don't know, but a little excitement would be nice.
Yeah, I just don't like to be bored.
Is being bored the same thing as needing a little extra excitement?
I think if you're passionate about something, you're not usually bored.
True, but can you just be passionate about life? What's that mean?
It's generally not life itself, but a motive for life, that you're passionate about.
What is life 'supposed' to be like? Are there blue prints anywhere?
Am I a horrible person for wanting life to be good?
Be honest, you want life to be really good; you want a perfect life.
I just want to be happy, I just want to be loved.
You stole those lyrics from a song. Come on, focus here.
What is it inside of me (inside all of us, really) that wants so badly to be wanted?
Note pad Scratches
Pride is a peculiar thing. It battles jealousy in the most ruthless of ways. In moments I feel that I'm unwilling to settle for second best, like it's a good thing. And then I realize it's only because I need to be told that I'm worth it, regardless of what place I come in.
And then, in other moments, I feel pride in who I am so much that it's obnoxious. Like how I honestly believe that I'm a good enough writer to string all these random note pad scratches into something that will shake your world in a radical way. Or at least in a way that makes some sort of sense.
Then all at once I'm hit with a humble spirit in which I beg for you to show me something new, teach me. I want to know why I feel so bored. Can you explain so I can understand? I've not always been this bored. This is the break I longed for.
And yet, this is my life, MY life; and I can make it what I want it to be... I just have to figure out what exactly I want it to be. Is that selfish? No. Because I am a person, with feelings, and I matter. Why do I feel like I'm trying to convince myself of that? It could be because I just stole that line from a movie. My own work is much more convincing.
But really, I don't understand most of life; like how I ended up at a random coffee shop in Long Beach, scribbling thoughts on an old freight Delivery note pad on my lunch break. Or how I just became aware of how close to 25 I am, while at the same time I feel like I'm still 15. How does that happen? I also don't understand how so much irresponsibility and personal indecisiveness has lead to a seemingly unconquerable mountain of debt in such an incredible short amount of time. If you had told me five years ago how things would really be right now, I would have laughed in your face; I would have never believed you. Why do I have a feeling that in another five years I will look back on today and say the exact same thing? I myself have no idea what I'm doing.
But I digress; I fear this is going no where.
And then, in other moments, I feel pride in who I am so much that it's obnoxious. Like how I honestly believe that I'm a good enough writer to string all these random note pad scratches into something that will shake your world in a radical way. Or at least in a way that makes some sort of sense.
Then all at once I'm hit with a humble spirit in which I beg for you to show me something new, teach me. I want to know why I feel so bored. Can you explain so I can understand? I've not always been this bored. This is the break I longed for.
And yet, this is my life, MY life; and I can make it what I want it to be... I just have to figure out what exactly I want it to be. Is that selfish? No. Because I am a person, with feelings, and I matter. Why do I feel like I'm trying to convince myself of that? It could be because I just stole that line from a movie. My own work is much more convincing.
But really, I don't understand most of life; like how I ended up at a random coffee shop in Long Beach, scribbling thoughts on an old freight Delivery note pad on my lunch break. Or how I just became aware of how close to 25 I am, while at the same time I feel like I'm still 15. How does that happen? I also don't understand how so much irresponsibility and personal indecisiveness has lead to a seemingly unconquerable mountain of debt in such an incredible short amount of time. If you had told me five years ago how things would really be right now, I would have laughed in your face; I would have never believed you. Why do I have a feeling that in another five years I will look back on today and say the exact same thing? I myself have no idea what I'm doing.
But I digress; I fear this is going no where.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Cycles of Time
They say that certain behaviors just cycle through from one generation to the next, to the next, to the next. You want to know what you'll look like in twenty years, take a good hard look at your parents.
What if your parents aren't there to look at? What if one or both of them left you, left each other? Does that mean you are doomed to do the same? Should you even try? What if you do try but find yourself falling into the same cycle over and over again?
My mom is a constant nag. She can shoot my dad down with just a look. I don't want to be like that. But I have found myself defaulting to that behavior time and time again. Fortunately I can recognize it and I do my best to correct it.
But what if I was unable to recognize it? What if I wasn't so aware of my behavior and couldn't see just how closely it had come to that of my mother?
I suppose the best we can do is look back, learn, and move forward. And for those who don't want to look back, for those who think they don't need to learn... cycle through, my friend.
What if your parents aren't there to look at? What if one or both of them left you, left each other? Does that mean you are doomed to do the same? Should you even try? What if you do try but find yourself falling into the same cycle over and over again?
My mom is a constant nag. She can shoot my dad down with just a look. I don't want to be like that. But I have found myself defaulting to that behavior time and time again. Fortunately I can recognize it and I do my best to correct it.
But what if I was unable to recognize it? What if I wasn't so aware of my behavior and couldn't see just how closely it had come to that of my mother?
I suppose the best we can do is look back, learn, and move forward. And for those who don't want to look back, for those who think they don't need to learn... cycle through, my friend.
Pain is there for a reason
I was watching "Grey's Anatomy" last night and they had a little girl on the show who had a disorder by which her body did not experience pain. I was thinking at first, "How nice would that be!?"
Since the girl couldn't feel pain, she thought she had super powers and would challenge people to hurt her. One little boy socked her in the stomach 50 times, once with a baseball bat. A bit freaked out by that story, the doctor runs a series of tests on her and finds that she has an incredible amount of internal bleeding.
They rush her into surgery and in all the frantic rush, the doctor utters a typically deep and piercing line, "She thought it was a super power to not feel anything, but pain is there for a reason."
Since then, that line has played over and over in my mind. "Pain is there for a reason." Pain, literally speaking, is the body's way of allerting the mind that something is wrong. Generally, it's so that we can take some sort of corrective action in efforts to not only fix the problem but to prevent it from becoming worse.
I think the same is true for emotional pain. Why do certain things hurt us so badly? Maybe it's our hearts way of allerting the mind to a deeper problem; something is wrong deep down inside and it needs to be dealt with. Emotional internal bleeding.
The initial symptoms are easy, but the diagnosis more difficult. Sometimes we have to put ourselves under the microscope and ex-ray the most hidden parts of who we are. Surgery is probably inevitable and recovery may prove to be the most challenging.
You could chose to live with the pain; decide that surgery and the complications that could arise (all the "what ifs") is just too great a risk. Or you can work through all that comes with tomorrow and resolve to live beyond the pain. You can't ignore the pain forever; eventually you are forced to make a decision.
It's never easy.
Since the girl couldn't feel pain, she thought she had super powers and would challenge people to hurt her. One little boy socked her in the stomach 50 times, once with a baseball bat. A bit freaked out by that story, the doctor runs a series of tests on her and finds that she has an incredible amount of internal bleeding.
They rush her into surgery and in all the frantic rush, the doctor utters a typically deep and piercing line, "She thought it was a super power to not feel anything, but pain is there for a reason."
Since then, that line has played over and over in my mind. "Pain is there for a reason." Pain, literally speaking, is the body's way of allerting the mind that something is wrong. Generally, it's so that we can take some sort of corrective action in efforts to not only fix the problem but to prevent it from becoming worse.
I think the same is true for emotional pain. Why do certain things hurt us so badly? Maybe it's our hearts way of allerting the mind to a deeper problem; something is wrong deep down inside and it needs to be dealt with. Emotional internal bleeding.
The initial symptoms are easy, but the diagnosis more difficult. Sometimes we have to put ourselves under the microscope and ex-ray the most hidden parts of who we are. Surgery is probably inevitable and recovery may prove to be the most challenging.
You could chose to live with the pain; decide that surgery and the complications that could arise (all the "what ifs") is just too great a risk. Or you can work through all that comes with tomorrow and resolve to live beyond the pain. You can't ignore the pain forever; eventually you are forced to make a decision.
It's never easy.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Great Expectations
Written: October 2, 2006
“You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?” declares the Lord Almighty, “because of my house, which remains in ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house.” Haggai 1:9
I have been asking, “Why, God, why do you always take it away?” With desperate anguish I would cry out to God with these questions. Questions that were more like accusations really. Like he took away something that was rightfully mine. Something I had “brought home”, you might say.
Well here is my answer. Very clear, very straight forward. God was not first in my life and he would not settle for being replaced or ignored. He will take all that I “bring home” until I finally turn my focus from self to him. I cannot run my own life apart from the one who gave me the very life I try to lead. I cannot be self-sufficient no matter how hard I try. He will not have it.
Oh and the expectations. I expect great things. I expect far too much from all the wrong things. It’s true; I expected much and it turned out to be so very little, so very empty. I cannot fill my life on my own and expect it to mean much when my life is apart from God. I have been far too busy with “my own house” while allowing God’s house to fall to ruin. And somehow in the midst of that I expected great things. It’s not surprising now to see why my life has been filled with one disappointment after another. The fault does not always lay “out there”.
Earlier in the same chapter it says to “give careful thought to your ways.” It says, “you have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it.” (vs. 6)
How very true that is of me. I try so hard to be something so great. To be good enough. And nothing much seems to come from it. I harvest little. I “eat and drink” my way through life. Consuming as much as I can; “living life to the fullest” I call it. Taking so much from so many. And yet somehow am never satisfied. It is never enough. I turn to the ways of this world for comfort, to keep warm from the cold storm raging inside of me. I clothe myself with whatever is convenient; friends, shopping, parties, drinking and all the empty lies that promise so much. And still nothing; no lasting comfort. I work and work and earn and earn and somehow always come up short. Money is so very fleeting. My life is a purse with holes in it.
It is at the bottom of this pit where I find myself alone. Hopeless, I think. Yet in the very moment that I give up, the moment I relinquish control because I’m just not good enough and can no longer hold it all together… in the quiet desperation of that moment I hear, “I am with you.”
“You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?” declares the Lord Almighty, “because of my house, which remains in ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house.” Haggai 1:9
I have been asking, “Why, God, why do you always take it away?” With desperate anguish I would cry out to God with these questions. Questions that were more like accusations really. Like he took away something that was rightfully mine. Something I had “brought home”, you might say.
Well here is my answer. Very clear, very straight forward. God was not first in my life and he would not settle for being replaced or ignored. He will take all that I “bring home” until I finally turn my focus from self to him. I cannot run my own life apart from the one who gave me the very life I try to lead. I cannot be self-sufficient no matter how hard I try. He will not have it.
Oh and the expectations. I expect great things. I expect far too much from all the wrong things. It’s true; I expected much and it turned out to be so very little, so very empty. I cannot fill my life on my own and expect it to mean much when my life is apart from God. I have been far too busy with “my own house” while allowing God’s house to fall to ruin. And somehow in the midst of that I expected great things. It’s not surprising now to see why my life has been filled with one disappointment after another. The fault does not always lay “out there”.
Earlier in the same chapter it says to “give careful thought to your ways.” It says, “you have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it.” (vs. 6)
How very true that is of me. I try so hard to be something so great. To be good enough. And nothing much seems to come from it. I harvest little. I “eat and drink” my way through life. Consuming as much as I can; “living life to the fullest” I call it. Taking so much from so many. And yet somehow am never satisfied. It is never enough. I turn to the ways of this world for comfort, to keep warm from the cold storm raging inside of me. I clothe myself with whatever is convenient; friends, shopping, parties, drinking and all the empty lies that promise so much. And still nothing; no lasting comfort. I work and work and earn and earn and somehow always come up short. Money is so very fleeting. My life is a purse with holes in it.
It is at the bottom of this pit where I find myself alone. Hopeless, I think. Yet in the very moment that I give up, the moment I relinquish control because I’m just not good enough and can no longer hold it all together… in the quiet desperation of that moment I hear, “I am with you.”
The Turning Point
Written January 6, 2006
my thoughts wander quickly in many diverted directions the instant
pressure is applied to this.. my heart...
should i date him? what does that mean? why do i feel like it's a
fatal disease? what's at the core of this issue; that it's him? or
that it's committment?
the double edge sword, the big bad C word... committment.
i cried to god one night... "what is this!? am i just completely
wrecked?!" he answered no, "I am not wrecked"... and yet i felt like
"... but you have a long way to go sweetie..." was not too far behind.
oh the unsettlement in my soul... fear, i decide, is my problem.
quickly to which the spirit reminds me, "there is no fear in love,
real love casts out all fear..."
do i think he can love me? really love me? do i even know what that
looks like? do i think anyone can love me... really love me? is it
worth the chance?
they say when you fall off your bike for the first time, the best
thing you can do is get right back on again... because the longer you
wait, the more fear will build in your heart untill it paralyzes
you... and you never get back on the bike again.
it's happening to me... i've fallen off my bike, and i'm waiting...
waiting ... waiting... to get back on... and i am so afraid... it has
paralyzed the very core of my being to the end of getting rid of the
bike completely. i don't ever want to ride it again.
and yet - i fear being alone... not just being single for a while, or
even years... that is not what i fear. i fear being alone forever...
living the rest of my life as lonily as i am right now.
is it possible that my fear of commitment will keep me alone for the
rest of my life? is this god or is this fear? and how do i know? test
the spirits... and see. taste the lord... and see... but how?
would i be with him now because there is nothing else available? or do i write off my feelings for him because i am too afraid to be happy... to admit that i love someone again? totally and completely... even with the faults, which i see through and through... ???
fear - what exactly do i fear?
that i will give my all and it will not be enough ... again.
that i will crumble for good if this doesn't work out.
that i put way too much pressure on relationships and yet i don't know how not to and that will ruin everything.
that what we have will not compare to what i had...
that i will constantly compare what i have to what i had... and that
will ruin everything.
but i will never know... i'll never know what could have been if i
don't try. and i don't think that this cycle we're in will stop
spinning untill i say ok and give it a shot. it will be great or it
won't... but i'll know. and i'll have faced my fear and will be better because of it... single in the end or not.
and the mole hill becomes a mountain untill i remind myself that to be someone's girlfriend is not a committment to be their wife. i have to get that through my head.
my thoughts wander quickly in many diverted directions the instant
pressure is applied to this.. my heart...
should i date him? what does that mean? why do i feel like it's a
fatal disease? what's at the core of this issue; that it's him? or
that it's committment?
the double edge sword, the big bad C word... committment.
i cried to god one night... "what is this!? am i just completely
wrecked?!" he answered no, "I am not wrecked"... and yet i felt like
"... but you have a long way to go sweetie..." was not too far behind.
oh the unsettlement in my soul... fear, i decide, is my problem.
quickly to which the spirit reminds me, "there is no fear in love,
real love casts out all fear..."
do i think he can love me? really love me? do i even know what that
looks like? do i think anyone can love me... really love me? is it
worth the chance?
they say when you fall off your bike for the first time, the best
thing you can do is get right back on again... because the longer you
wait, the more fear will build in your heart untill it paralyzes
you... and you never get back on the bike again.
it's happening to me... i've fallen off my bike, and i'm waiting...
waiting ... waiting... to get back on... and i am so afraid... it has
paralyzed the very core of my being to the end of getting rid of the
bike completely. i don't ever want to ride it again.
and yet - i fear being alone... not just being single for a while, or
even years... that is not what i fear. i fear being alone forever...
living the rest of my life as lonily as i am right now.
is it possible that my fear of commitment will keep me alone for the
rest of my life? is this god or is this fear? and how do i know? test
the spirits... and see. taste the lord... and see... but how?
would i be with him now because there is nothing else available? or do i write off my feelings for him because i am too afraid to be happy... to admit that i love someone again? totally and completely... even with the faults, which i see through and through... ???
fear - what exactly do i fear?
that i will give my all and it will not be enough ... again.
that i will crumble for good if this doesn't work out.
that i put way too much pressure on relationships and yet i don't know how not to and that will ruin everything.
that what we have will not compare to what i had...
that i will constantly compare what i have to what i had... and that
will ruin everything.
but i will never know... i'll never know what could have been if i
don't try. and i don't think that this cycle we're in will stop
spinning untill i say ok and give it a shot. it will be great or it
won't... but i'll know. and i'll have faced my fear and will be better because of it... single in the end or not.
and the mole hill becomes a mountain untill i remind myself that to be someone's girlfriend is not a committment to be their wife. i have to get that through my head.
2005 Archives: The Week of Wrestling
So I've had all week off from work.
Prior to this week, I didn't care much about having it off. I actually didn't want it off. Too much work to do at the office and not enough to do at home. I was only taking the week off because it was given to me.
Now that the week is almost over, I don't want to go back. I've been amazingly lazy all week and quite frankly, I've enjoyed it immensely. I don't think I've gotten out of bed before 9am except one morning I went to Orange County to have breakfast with a friend. I've visited family and friends, gone shopping, read a new book and sat around in my pajamas in the middle of the day.
All this time off has allowed my mind to wander down an old and beaten path... one I have not taken for a while. It's one full of illusive questions with even more allusive answers... like what am I doing with my life? Am I happy where I'm at? How did I even get here and is this where I meant to end up? I begin to analyze my life from a birds eye view until my vision blurs and I fall asleep with heavy feelings of saddened angst - fearing the eroding emotions of extreme unsettlement.
In such a heavy sleep I dream of memories long since abandoned to reality's light. Ah, and I see clearly the things that once made me smile and held me captive to the ideal that life can be fulfilling and wholly satisfying if only I held fast to myself. As a child I obstinately declared that I would forever refuse to take a job out of sheer need and I would never work for the sake of acquiring money. I would never sacrifice that which made me happy for that which made me rich... or at least stable. Have I given up such stance? And so I wrestle with the "childish" passion that resides deep within my soul.
I awake to a new morning, laden with a bitter sweat smile of a quickly ending week that has lead me down a long and winding road of soul searching... no, more like wrestling... soul wrestling. Yes, that is accurate. However stated, I woke up today and realized that the week is almost up and reality is close at hand.
Panic. I quickly review my week in fast forward, desperately searching for any glimmer of a future hope, a tiny piece of wisdom to bring solace... nothing... not even a reassuring peace that simply wrestling with life has made me stronger. I fear it's made me weaker. And so I sit and stare out the window... waiting for life to wander by in hopes that I might call out and it will hear me, turn and see my downcast spirit and carry me into something new.
Prior to this week, I didn't care much about having it off. I actually didn't want it off. Too much work to do at the office and not enough to do at home. I was only taking the week off because it was given to me.
Now that the week is almost over, I don't want to go back. I've been amazingly lazy all week and quite frankly, I've enjoyed it immensely. I don't think I've gotten out of bed before 9am except one morning I went to Orange County to have breakfast with a friend. I've visited family and friends, gone shopping, read a new book and sat around in my pajamas in the middle of the day.
All this time off has allowed my mind to wander down an old and beaten path... one I have not taken for a while. It's one full of illusive questions with even more allusive answers... like what am I doing with my life? Am I happy where I'm at? How did I even get here and is this where I meant to end up? I begin to analyze my life from a birds eye view until my vision blurs and I fall asleep with heavy feelings of saddened angst - fearing the eroding emotions of extreme unsettlement.
In such a heavy sleep I dream of memories long since abandoned to reality's light. Ah, and I see clearly the things that once made me smile and held me captive to the ideal that life can be fulfilling and wholly satisfying if only I held fast to myself. As a child I obstinately declared that I would forever refuse to take a job out of sheer need and I would never work for the sake of acquiring money. I would never sacrifice that which made me happy for that which made me rich... or at least stable. Have I given up such stance? And so I wrestle with the "childish" passion that resides deep within my soul.
I awake to a new morning, laden with a bitter sweat smile of a quickly ending week that has lead me down a long and winding road of soul searching... no, more like wrestling... soul wrestling. Yes, that is accurate. However stated, I woke up today and realized that the week is almost up and reality is close at hand.
Panic. I quickly review my week in fast forward, desperately searching for any glimmer of a future hope, a tiny piece of wisdom to bring solace... nothing... not even a reassuring peace that simply wrestling with life has made me stronger. I fear it's made me weaker. And so I sit and stare out the window... waiting for life to wander by in hopes that I might call out and it will hear me, turn and see my downcast spirit and carry me into something new.
2005 Archives: Pink
I am a hopeless romantic.
And I realized this at my niece's fourth birthday party last weekend. It was a princess party and she, of course, was the princess. She had her frilly pink princess dress on with a hot pink tearra that said "Happy Birthday".
She is a gorgeous, beautiful little girl. Porcelain white skin, wavy blond hair and the biggest, bluest adorable eyes I've ever seen. She has a goofy, innocent laugh and a smile that can make the grouchiest old man grin.
We didn't play "pin the tail on the donkey" but instead played "place the star on Tinkerbell's wand". She loves Tinkerbell, who coincidental is also a cute little blond girl, except that she can fly and there is this magical air about her. Which, I suppose, is what draws any of us to her.
I was sitting across the table from my niece at lunch, just watching her. It made me smile ever so slightly and I chuckled a little bit at her silliness. She looked up at me, furrows her brow and with all the gusto a little girl can muster up she demands to know "What's so funny!?" Which, of course, made me laugh harder and smile wider.
There is something captivating in that little girl's world that races straight to my heart and locks me in. Is it her innocence? Her pure assurance of happiness? Her giddy laughter that knows no end?
And I began to think - where does that go? What happens to all that laughter? At what point did I put the silliness aside and declare life to be nothing more than a chore - a serious, straight faced chore?
"Auntie watch!" She exclaimed, interrupting my random train of deep, methodical questioning. It's really a form of self-torcher, these questions. I don't know why I do that to myself.
I looked up to see this little girl in her pink princess dress, hands placed purposefully on her hips, knees just slightly bent, shaking her butt in the air. And through the laughter she sings, "Shake your smarty pants! Shake, shake your smarty pants!"
I don't think I have laughed as hard as I laughed that day in a very long time. And driving home, on the loneliness of the open freeway, I realized that she has what I long for, what every girl longs for. The pure, hopeful, silliness that settles deep in the bottom of every girls heart. The purity that makes you believe in people simply because they are people and the human soul has value. The hopeful belief that life is not all bad and that dreams are seen through to fruition more often than not. The silliness that carries life on with meaning and joy and laughter.
And I realized this at my niece's fourth birthday party last weekend. It was a princess party and she, of course, was the princess. She had her frilly pink princess dress on with a hot pink tearra that said "Happy Birthday".
She is a gorgeous, beautiful little girl. Porcelain white skin, wavy blond hair and the biggest, bluest adorable eyes I've ever seen. She has a goofy, innocent laugh and a smile that can make the grouchiest old man grin.
We didn't play "pin the tail on the donkey" but instead played "place the star on Tinkerbell's wand". She loves Tinkerbell, who coincidental is also a cute little blond girl, except that she can fly and there is this magical air about her. Which, I suppose, is what draws any of us to her.
I was sitting across the table from my niece at lunch, just watching her. It made me smile ever so slightly and I chuckled a little bit at her silliness. She looked up at me, furrows her brow and with all the gusto a little girl can muster up she demands to know "What's so funny!?" Which, of course, made me laugh harder and smile wider.
There is something captivating in that little girl's world that races straight to my heart and locks me in. Is it her innocence? Her pure assurance of happiness? Her giddy laughter that knows no end?
And I began to think - where does that go? What happens to all that laughter? At what point did I put the silliness aside and declare life to be nothing more than a chore - a serious, straight faced chore?
"Auntie watch!" She exclaimed, interrupting my random train of deep, methodical questioning. It's really a form of self-torcher, these questions. I don't know why I do that to myself.
I looked up to see this little girl in her pink princess dress, hands placed purposefully on her hips, knees just slightly bent, shaking her butt in the air. And through the laughter she sings, "Shake your smarty pants! Shake, shake your smarty pants!"
I don't think I have laughed as hard as I laughed that day in a very long time. And driving home, on the loneliness of the open freeway, I realized that she has what I long for, what every girl longs for. The pure, hopeful, silliness that settles deep in the bottom of every girls heart. The purity that makes you believe in people simply because they are people and the human soul has value. The hopeful belief that life is not all bad and that dreams are seen through to fruition more often than not. The silliness that carries life on with meaning and joy and laughter.
2005 Archives: Confessions of a Wonderful Childlike Happy
I admit it... sometimes, when I'm home by myself, and the lights are down low, and the radio is on, and no one is watching... I dance. I dance around the living room.
And I sing. I sing loud, as I dance around the living room. I sing loud - like no one is listening. I dance around - like no one is watching. And I do it all the time.
It makes me smile as few things can. It fills my heart with this strange, childlike, wonderful happy. And I am almost sure my eyes sparkle. Oh, and I laugh. I laugh outloud - at myself.
And I am happy.
And I sing. I sing loud, as I dance around the living room. I sing loud - like no one is listening. I dance around - like no one is watching. And I do it all the time.
It makes me smile as few things can. It fills my heart with this strange, childlike, wonderful happy. And I am almost sure my eyes sparkle. Oh, and I laugh. I laugh outloud - at myself.
And I am happy.
2005 Archives - TV: the bane of my existance
TV - the bane of my existance
Socialize? You mean with real human beings? Why? That would include confrontation and irritation and annoyance. Why put up with all that when I could just sit and watch people, effortlessly, on TV. I can cover all my emotional needs in one sitting - I need to be needed; Will & Grace needs me to watch so their ratings go up and they can stay on the air - I need to learn how to work together with other human beings; two words... reality TV... it's life, but on TV... without all the emotional damage of personal confrontation and irritation and annoyance. You get the picture. Why deal with real people and experience real community when I can just watch it from afar?
Let's be honest, shall we? People interfere with my self absorbed lifestyle. They encroach upon my territory and raise the other wise peaceful noise level. I prefer the sound of my own voice - reverberating off the shallow walls of my hollow life. I am selfish - I don't share. Socializing requires sharing - sharing space, sharing time, sharing conversations, sharing pieces of myself, my mind, my words. I am selfish with my words. I like to spend MY time contemplating MY words and thoughtfully, slowly, methodically placing each word in just the right place at just the right time so that it comes out just right - in MY mind.
I hate being rushed, put on the spot - it makes my brain freeze. My face gets all hot and my cheecks turn red... my throat tightens up, my palms get sweaty, my vision blurs... it's all I can do to remember the question at hand while I frantically search for an adequate answer. I don't need that - my blood pressure is high enough. People are a health hazard to me. I might be alergic. Seriously.
It's just safer to live through the TV - really.
Socialize? You mean with real human beings? Why? That would include confrontation and irritation and annoyance. Why put up with all that when I could just sit and watch people, effortlessly, on TV. I can cover all my emotional needs in one sitting - I need to be needed; Will & Grace needs me to watch so their ratings go up and they can stay on the air - I need to learn how to work together with other human beings; two words... reality TV... it's life, but on TV... without all the emotional damage of personal confrontation and irritation and annoyance. You get the picture. Why deal with real people and experience real community when I can just watch it from afar?
Let's be honest, shall we? People interfere with my self absorbed lifestyle. They encroach upon my territory and raise the other wise peaceful noise level. I prefer the sound of my own voice - reverberating off the shallow walls of my hollow life. I am selfish - I don't share. Socializing requires sharing - sharing space, sharing time, sharing conversations, sharing pieces of myself, my mind, my words. I am selfish with my words. I like to spend MY time contemplating MY words and thoughtfully, slowly, methodically placing each word in just the right place at just the right time so that it comes out just right - in MY mind.
I hate being rushed, put on the spot - it makes my brain freeze. My face gets all hot and my cheecks turn red... my throat tightens up, my palms get sweaty, my vision blurs... it's all I can do to remember the question at hand while I frantically search for an adequate answer. I don't need that - my blood pressure is high enough. People are a health hazard to me. I might be alergic. Seriously.
It's just safer to live through the TV - really.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Something about the seeds of time…
Losing your best friend is like blowing a hole through your abdomen; there becomes an obvious gaping emptiness in a critical part of your life. The human soul, however, is amazingly resilient. Somehow, rising up from the ashes are old friends, old loves, old passions that become like new to escort you through yet another era of time.
So easily can one be replaced with another that it demands to question the reason for one to have existed in the first place. And even more mysterious, the need for one to exist again. If indeed there be a lapse in time, during which one ceased to exist and yet was not replaced, what would happen then? Would the hole grow ever deeper, consuming all it could grasp except the one it truly needs?
So easily can one be replaced with another that it demands to question the reason for one to have existed in the first place. And even more mysterious, the need for one to exist again. If indeed there be a lapse in time, during which one ceased to exist and yet was not replaced, what would happen then? Would the hole grow ever deeper, consuming all it could grasp except the one it truly needs?
Become Anything
How does she feel
After the numbness wears away?
How does she smile
When the cause does not exist?
How does she, How does she?
How does he run
When his feet can’t find the path?
How does he crumble
When he can’t break into pieces?
How does he, how does he?
How do they cry
When they know nothing of expression?
How do they join
When they know nothing but disunity?
How do they, how do they?
She runs hard after one she knows
The only one who has always been there
That’s how she does, how she does anything
That’s he does, that’s how he does anything
It’s how they ever become, ever become anything.
After the numbness wears away?
How does she smile
When the cause does not exist?
How does she, How does she?
How does he run
When his feet can’t find the path?
How does he crumble
When he can’t break into pieces?
How does he, how does he?
How do they cry
When they know nothing of expression?
How do they join
When they know nothing but disunity?
How do they, how do they?
She runs hard after one she knows
The only one who has always been there
That’s how she does, how she does anything
That’s he does, that’s how he does anything
It’s how they ever become, ever become anything.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Bits And Pieces
It’s all apart of my day; bits and pieces of this roller coaster of a life I call mine.
***
Are any of us ever really ready? It takes time to realize your own dreams and lay claim to the direction of your life. But when you search and fight and finally find what’s hidden in the depths, it isn’t hard to finally be ready. Anchored by the foundation of life and knowing who you are in it, freedom sets a whole new course and it’s the most amazing thing ever.
***
Life, they say, goes through cycles. When it’s good, it’s great. When it’s not… well, eventually you get back to good. It just happens that way and that’s ok. Sometimes you need a break, you know? Breath a little.
***
Don’t rush me now; I’m in repair. I’m taking my time and slowly easing back into this whole thing. I have to own it. It is my battle to fight. We are all warriors, fighting for our souls. I’m just wounded right now. I’ll be ok. Eventually it gets back to good, remember?
***
Face it, friends, we Christians are not known to be thinkers. It is unfortunate, but so very true. And sometimes, the truth just needs to be spoken.
***
I think I think too much. I think.
***
This is taking entirely too long, and going in an entirely different direction than I was anticipating. My life has always been so planned, so structured. God, it would seem, likes to throw a curve ball or two my way just to remind me that my plans are completely ridiculous, sometimes even ludicrous. Usually such.
***
No one compares to the bath tub. .. That conversation needs not to be delved into. It was just on my mind.
***
Everyone has to do it their own way. And when it happens, it’s a beautiful thing. Work your way back to God. Back to life. But do it your way, on your terms. Because if it’s not yours, it never will be. God’s not in this for anyone else but you. Find it. Find him. And get back to life.
***
Work with me here.
***
Are any of us ever really ready? It takes time to realize your own dreams and lay claim to the direction of your life. But when you search and fight and finally find what’s hidden in the depths, it isn’t hard to finally be ready. Anchored by the foundation of life and knowing who you are in it, freedom sets a whole new course and it’s the most amazing thing ever.
***
Life, they say, goes through cycles. When it’s good, it’s great. When it’s not… well, eventually you get back to good. It just happens that way and that’s ok. Sometimes you need a break, you know? Breath a little.
***
Don’t rush me now; I’m in repair. I’m taking my time and slowly easing back into this whole thing. I have to own it. It is my battle to fight. We are all warriors, fighting for our souls. I’m just wounded right now. I’ll be ok. Eventually it gets back to good, remember?
***
Face it, friends, we Christians are not known to be thinkers. It is unfortunate, but so very true. And sometimes, the truth just needs to be spoken.
***
I think I think too much. I think.
***
This is taking entirely too long, and going in an entirely different direction than I was anticipating. My life has always been so planned, so structured. God, it would seem, likes to throw a curve ball or two my way just to remind me that my plans are completely ridiculous, sometimes even ludicrous. Usually such.
***
No one compares to the bath tub. .. That conversation needs not to be delved into. It was just on my mind.
***
Everyone has to do it their own way. And when it happens, it’s a beautiful thing. Work your way back to God. Back to life. But do it your way, on your terms. Because if it’s not yours, it never will be. God’s not in this for anyone else but you. Find it. Find him. And get back to life.
***
Work with me here.
The Passionate Side
When sky lines fall
I sit alone
To catch myself
And fall to sleep
Trying to beat the early rising light
Dogs barking, cars racing, sirens blaring,
It’s life, it’s loud
But it’s all outside
Broken behind these dirty windows
I try again to hide
He talks to me
Like he knows me
Because he sees me - every day
But I am not that girl
Please, just pass me by
Say it’s all a joke
I’ll force a laugh
And search for something else
To pass the time
Sweet, incessant hours
Wish to God I was blind
To forget the vivid outline
Of the tears I’ve seen
Falling down your face…
I have caught them, one by one
I sit alone
To catch myself
And fall to sleep
Trying to beat the early rising light
Dogs barking, cars racing, sirens blaring,
It’s life, it’s loud
But it’s all outside
Broken behind these dirty windows
I try again to hide
He talks to me
Like he knows me
Because he sees me - every day
But I am not that girl
Please, just pass me by
Say it’s all a joke
I’ll force a laugh
And search for something else
To pass the time
Sweet, incessant hours
Wish to God I was blind
To forget the vivid outline
Of the tears I’ve seen
Falling down your face…
I have caught them, one by one
Can't Escape This Love
Every day I am given a new hope
Though false at times
I am corrected from my own ways
He showers me with grace
Another chance I don’t deserve
It’s a breath he knows I’ll probably waste
A love he knows I may toss aside
Advice he gently gives, though he knows I’m not ready to hear
He tries anyway, he tries
And it gives me hope today
Because this I know
Will never change
Will never fade away
It won’t get old or tired
And as far as I run, it will always remain
(Sept06)
Though false at times
I am corrected from my own ways
He showers me with grace
Another chance I don’t deserve
It’s a breath he knows I’ll probably waste
A love he knows I may toss aside
Advice he gently gives, though he knows I’m not ready to hear
He tries anyway, he tries
And it gives me hope today
Because this I know
Will never change
Will never fade away
It won’t get old or tired
And as far as I run, it will always remain
(Sept06)
Monday, September 18, 2006
Final Contemplation
Life gets so complicated. People get distracted, people stop caring. Those who you thought stopped caring long ago somehow remind you that they still do. And we wonder… is it too late? Is it even enough? And what are we willing to risk in order to find out? We move on with our lives, not realizing everything it will cost us in the end; momentarily thinking that whatever the cost, it is worth it.
You believe in someone else more than you believe in yourself but all you get in return is a courtesy “thank you” as they walk away. So we begin to doubt… maybe it is too late. Maybe it’s just not enough. Maybe it was just too big of a risk.
And still, young hearts will believe at all odds. So after time has dampened the pain of loss, we find within ourselves the will to risk again. When called upon, we put it all on the line. We are big gamblers, you see. Ever longing to believe. Just believe.
Inevitably, life wins. There are always complications, distractions, loss of feeling. The stakes were raised high and I hesitated ever so subtly before letting go. It was quite the gamble, I must admit. And in my final contemplation, I’ve found not doubt but belief.
It is too late. It will never be enough. And I don’t think I have anything left to risk again.
(sept15)
You believe in someone else more than you believe in yourself but all you get in return is a courtesy “thank you” as they walk away. So we begin to doubt… maybe it is too late. Maybe it’s just not enough. Maybe it was just too big of a risk.
And still, young hearts will believe at all odds. So after time has dampened the pain of loss, we find within ourselves the will to risk again. When called upon, we put it all on the line. We are big gamblers, you see. Ever longing to believe. Just believe.
Inevitably, life wins. There are always complications, distractions, loss of feeling. The stakes were raised high and I hesitated ever so subtly before letting go. It was quite the gamble, I must admit. And in my final contemplation, I’ve found not doubt but belief.
It is too late. It will never be enough. And I don’t think I have anything left to risk again.
(sept15)
Feel It
September 13, 2006
Feel It
I long for life to be simple again. Just sit here with me; let’s lay back and count the stars, watch the airplanes fly ahead. Feel the cool of a night’s breeze, the slide of my hand against yours, and know that somehow the world is going to be okay. Such simplicity has always been my anchor, my great stabilizer. In it’s absence there is chaos; a confusion of trivial words and ancient memories, unable to escape the boundaries of my mind.
It is in the exact moment when my world gets flipped upside down and I have nothing left to hold on to, that I truly find who I am. Surrounded by … nothing. Nothing at all that matters, but suddenly feeling the weight of everything and everyone that has value inside of me. Collapsing naked on an empty floor, gripping nothing but the knowledge of how much you are worth, and the empty feeling of knowing that it’s never enough.
Feel It
I long for life to be simple again. Just sit here with me; let’s lay back and count the stars, watch the airplanes fly ahead. Feel the cool of a night’s breeze, the slide of my hand against yours, and know that somehow the world is going to be okay. Such simplicity has always been my anchor, my great stabilizer. In it’s absence there is chaos; a confusion of trivial words and ancient memories, unable to escape the boundaries of my mind.
It is in the exact moment when my world gets flipped upside down and I have nothing left to hold on to, that I truly find who I am. Surrounded by … nothing. Nothing at all that matters, but suddenly feeling the weight of everything and everyone that has value inside of me. Collapsing naked on an empty floor, gripping nothing but the knowledge of how much you are worth, and the empty feeling of knowing that it’s never enough.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Stop This Train
Stop this train, I want to get off and go home again. Life, it seems, moves all too fast for me. I jump on board so quickly. Set myself up in a cute little train car that, for a moment, feels like home. It’s comfortable there. Until one morning I open my eyes to look out the window and suddenly it’s all so unfamiliar. And I am alone. Please, stop this train, I want to get off and go home again.
“Hold on to whatever will get you through,” he sings in a tone that sends me back in time. I hate how music can do that to you.
“Just don’t forget to breath and you’ll be ok,” she knows what to say because she’s been there. And I, in turn, find comfort in her past sorrow. Strange how that works.
“I don’t trust myself loving you,” Wait. Stop right there. How does that make sense? Ah, our view of love becomes ever so skewed.
There are few defining moments in life. Like the point at which feelings of being completely lost turn into a realization that you know exactly who you are, where you are, where are not and ultimately, what you truly want. It’s a bittersweet moment when I settle into such knowledge and know that it’s still just slightly out of reach.
06.09.12
“Hold on to whatever will get you through,” he sings in a tone that sends me back in time. I hate how music can do that to you.
“Just don’t forget to breath and you’ll be ok,” she knows what to say because she’s been there. And I, in turn, find comfort in her past sorrow. Strange how that works.
“I don’t trust myself loving you,” Wait. Stop right there. How does that make sense? Ah, our view of love becomes ever so skewed.
There are few defining moments in life. Like the point at which feelings of being completely lost turn into a realization that you know exactly who you are, where you are, where are not and ultimately, what you truly want. It’s a bittersweet moment when I settle into such knowledge and know that it’s still just slightly out of reach.
06.09.12
Monday, September 11, 2006
People don't change
Sept 11, 2006
Someone once told me that people don’t change. I didn’t want to believe it at the time. But the thing is, it’s true regardless of whether or not I had decided to believe it then or finally accept it now.
Like truth, people don’t change, they just express themselves differently, revealing different aspects of themselves as they feel the time is right. Certainly my understanding of truth has changed over the years, but the truth itself has remained what it is.
It is what it is. We are who we are. And people don’t change.
Someone once told me that people don’t change. I didn’t want to believe it at the time. But the thing is, it’s true regardless of whether or not I had decided to believe it then or finally accept it now.
Like truth, people don’t change, they just express themselves differently, revealing different aspects of themselves as they feel the time is right. Certainly my understanding of truth has changed over the years, but the truth itself has remained what it is.
It is what it is. We are who we are. And people don’t change.
Life on my terms
I laid awake in bed last night, tossing and turning, listening to the incessant sounds of car horns and fire truck sirens. But it was not the noise that kept me awake. At least, not the noise coming from outside my window. It was the noise inside my head that I couldn’t mute no matter how hard I tried.
It seems I have this insatiable need to be unhappy. I take the greatest things in life and find all the minute negative specs, turning them into life threatening burgs that ravish any and all hope of ever feeling comfortable in my own happiness. The greatest man will never be enough; the best job will always be a chore; the most loyal friends will forever seem distant; and my life will never be my own.
Somewhere in the depths of the female psyche I believe resides an uncontrolled ability to ruin all that is good. It comes so amazingly natural to women that sometimes I think it’s more subconscious than not. Think about it; the first thing we notice about Mr. Right is everything that’s wrong with him. In our free time we find all the hardships in life, even the hypothetical ones, and mull them over in our brains like crack fiends. We can’t not do it. It’s in our genetic make up.
And to prove it to myself, I rented the entire sixth season of “Sex and the City”. (Nothing like cheap inspiration; only $4.99 a week). As I finished watching the fourth episode, I realized that it’s true; women have to knit-pick. It’s our subtle way of showing that we care. I don’t know how that makes sense in a women’s mind, but it does. It just does. But at some point, someone comes along who has the audacity to speak the truth straight to your face. And if you’re lucky enough, he’ll be your Mr. Right, regardless of all that is wrong.
And so, after a long, sleepless night and a three hour “Sex and the City” marathon, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can now allow myself to be happy. I am who I am, less the world’s expectations (mother’s included) and a job I never liked to begin with; I am who I am, and I love it.
September 5, 2006
It seems I have this insatiable need to be unhappy. I take the greatest things in life and find all the minute negative specs, turning them into life threatening burgs that ravish any and all hope of ever feeling comfortable in my own happiness. The greatest man will never be enough; the best job will always be a chore; the most loyal friends will forever seem distant; and my life will never be my own.
Somewhere in the depths of the female psyche I believe resides an uncontrolled ability to ruin all that is good. It comes so amazingly natural to women that sometimes I think it’s more subconscious than not. Think about it; the first thing we notice about Mr. Right is everything that’s wrong with him. In our free time we find all the hardships in life, even the hypothetical ones, and mull them over in our brains like crack fiends. We can’t not do it. It’s in our genetic make up.
And to prove it to myself, I rented the entire sixth season of “Sex and the City”. (Nothing like cheap inspiration; only $4.99 a week). As I finished watching the fourth episode, I realized that it’s true; women have to knit-pick. It’s our subtle way of showing that we care. I don’t know how that makes sense in a women’s mind, but it does. It just does. But at some point, someone comes along who has the audacity to speak the truth straight to your face. And if you’re lucky enough, he’ll be your Mr. Right, regardless of all that is wrong.
And so, after a long, sleepless night and a three hour “Sex and the City” marathon, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can now allow myself to be happy. I am who I am, less the world’s expectations (mother’s included) and a job I never liked to begin with; I am who I am, and I love it.
September 5, 2006
Grappling with Reality
June 19, 2006
(“Grappling with Reality”)
Again, I sit here at the coffee shop, frustrated with life, wondering when it became so difficult to be happy. All I want to do is write. But who can point to the gateway to that dream? It seems so far from where I am. I suppose I could pursue it more passionately. But I have before and never got very far.
And then I just get pissed off because I started out in college as an English major for this specific purpose. I was going to be a writer. But somewhere along the line I fell off course. Now I’m a business major at a school I never wanted to end up at, with no way of changing educational courses.
I was watching this tattoo TV show and this guy, the tattoo artist, was talking about all the people he tattooed and all the experiences he’s had as a tattoo artist. And the thought struck me, “Man, this guy loves what he does. This guy is sold out to life. He gets up every day and gets paid to do what he loves.”
How do I get there? How do I get up every day and get paid to do what I love to do?
I’m just a girl, chasing a dream.
(“Grappling with Reality”)
Again, I sit here at the coffee shop, frustrated with life, wondering when it became so difficult to be happy. All I want to do is write. But who can point to the gateway to that dream? It seems so far from where I am. I suppose I could pursue it more passionately. But I have before and never got very far.
And then I just get pissed off because I started out in college as an English major for this specific purpose. I was going to be a writer. But somewhere along the line I fell off course. Now I’m a business major at a school I never wanted to end up at, with no way of changing educational courses.
I was watching this tattoo TV show and this guy, the tattoo artist, was talking about all the people he tattooed and all the experiences he’s had as a tattoo artist. And the thought struck me, “Man, this guy loves what he does. This guy is sold out to life. He gets up every day and gets paid to do what he loves.”
How do I get there? How do I get up every day and get paid to do what I love to do?
I’m just a girl, chasing a dream.
Thoughts on Church and Christianity
July 4, 2006
Thoughts on Church and Christianity
I’m tired of church. It’s just a game to me. I don’t like pretending to be someone I’m not; and that’s all I do around here (at church, in my job). Who I am is someone who doesn’t give a fuck about the church right now. I am someone who believes in God, believes in the Christ of the Bible and everything else that makes me Christian. But I am a sinner like anyone else, I fall short, most of the time knowingly doing what is wrong.
And yet I’m not sure the last part of that is even true. Sure, there are things I do that I know are wrong and right now I just don’t care enough to not do them. But the majority of things I do, which are perceived as being traditionally “wrong”, I don’t believe to be biblically wrong; drinking, smoking, cussing. I can back that up biblically, but I’ll spare the theology because, quite frankly, I don’t actually believe that it matters all that much. My theology won’t save me. Or you for that matter.
I have found that my theology isn’t all too popular in many churches and although theology won’t save anyone, it is critical to (apparently) align with that of the church to stay in good standings. I have also found that my theology is usually taken as immaturity. Maybe if I stay in the church long enough I will begin to think as they think, do as they do, and that, in turn, will be the redemption of my immaturity. It is maturity to be like them.
Ironically, I’ve been in church all my life, twenty four years. And it is those collective years which has brought me to this very point, of what I fear to be some kind of spiritual break down.
I have had this wrestling in my soul since the beginning of the year and it just won’t go away. It would seem, from the upper church class Christian perspective that I am falling away, “backsliding”. But I don’t think I am. I think I’m just tired of faking it. I’m tired of pretending that things are good when they are not, because if things are good then I must be doing alright with God. I’m tired of pretending like I always WANT to follow God and his rules, because anything else would be blasphemy.
I’m tired of selling out to someone else’s vision, someone else’s dreams and ideals, what someone else thinks God’s plan is. I think the only solution to this rumbling in my heart is to break away; to wrestle with it on my own, to find what it is that disturbs me so deeply. It’s a quiet calling in the back of my mind that no matter how hard I try, I cannot ignore. Maybe it’s Satan, pulling me away. Maybe it’s the still, soft whisper of God, quietly calling me to him. Calling just me, as I am, to figure this out.
Thoughts on Church and Christianity
I’m tired of church. It’s just a game to me. I don’t like pretending to be someone I’m not; and that’s all I do around here (at church, in my job). Who I am is someone who doesn’t give a fuck about the church right now. I am someone who believes in God, believes in the Christ of the Bible and everything else that makes me Christian. But I am a sinner like anyone else, I fall short, most of the time knowingly doing what is wrong.
And yet I’m not sure the last part of that is even true. Sure, there are things I do that I know are wrong and right now I just don’t care enough to not do them. But the majority of things I do, which are perceived as being traditionally “wrong”, I don’t believe to be biblically wrong; drinking, smoking, cussing. I can back that up biblically, but I’ll spare the theology because, quite frankly, I don’t actually believe that it matters all that much. My theology won’t save me. Or you for that matter.
I have found that my theology isn’t all too popular in many churches and although theology won’t save anyone, it is critical to (apparently) align with that of the church to stay in good standings. I have also found that my theology is usually taken as immaturity. Maybe if I stay in the church long enough I will begin to think as they think, do as they do, and that, in turn, will be the redemption of my immaturity. It is maturity to be like them.
Ironically, I’ve been in church all my life, twenty four years. And it is those collective years which has brought me to this very point, of what I fear to be some kind of spiritual break down.
I have had this wrestling in my soul since the beginning of the year and it just won’t go away. It would seem, from the upper church class Christian perspective that I am falling away, “backsliding”. But I don’t think I am. I think I’m just tired of faking it. I’m tired of pretending that things are good when they are not, because if things are good then I must be doing alright with God. I’m tired of pretending like I always WANT to follow God and his rules, because anything else would be blasphemy.
I’m tired of selling out to someone else’s vision, someone else’s dreams and ideals, what someone else thinks God’s plan is. I think the only solution to this rumbling in my heart is to break away; to wrestle with it on my own, to find what it is that disturbs me so deeply. It’s a quiet calling in the back of my mind that no matter how hard I try, I cannot ignore. Maybe it’s Satan, pulling me away. Maybe it’s the still, soft whisper of God, quietly calling me to him. Calling just me, as I am, to figure this out.
My Alabama Farm
I grew up on a small farm in Alabama. That's not true, actually. I just couldn't figure out how to start this, so I made something up.
I titled this right away, which I don't normally do. I usually just start writing and then come up with a clever title to fit whatever randomness I had tossed together and called a blog (like "Chronic Eye Twitch"... that was one of my better ones).
But I knew right away what I wanted to write about. I know exactly what to write about and what to title it, but I can't figure out how to say it. How do you write about life when it's good? When you find yourself sitting in contentment, gazing out the window at all the people rushing by, sipping coffee and listening to a melody that seems to sing the exact tune that is playing in my heart. How do you say that sometimes life is just good? I guess I just did.
But how do you talk about life being good when there are those living lives that feel anything but good? I don't have a formula to hand out; here, do this and that and watch life become good. I've tried every formula there is; they don't work.
One could argue that life is what you make it, and to a very limited degree, I'd agree with that. But what woman asked for her husband to walk away? What child decided that his father would leave and never come back? What daughter would ask her mother to be absent in the darkest hours? Life, it seems, deals itself out to you sometimes. It's not always what you make it.
My life has dealt out many unwanted twists and turns, and I'd like to say that I'm thankful for all of them because they've made me a better person. But really, I'm not that good. I didn't ask for the bad times any more than I created the good times.
I didn't ask for my dad to be completely absent my whole life or for my mom to crush every dream I've ever had. I didn't ask to be uprooted from my home and moved to LA in high school. I didn't ask my fiance to lie to me, showboat with every girl but me and then laugh in my face as I walked away. I didn't ask to live in a shack and eat one bag of chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I never asked for any of it.
Sometimes I fought back. Sometimes I held my head high and walked across the battlefield with dignity. And sometimes I crawled. Sometimes I ran right back to the hand that held me down, crumbled under adversity and laid helpless. It's not a struggle that I rose out of victorious. It's life and I have lived it one day at a time, just like everyone else.
And so I find myself asking, "How did I get here?" How did I end up in a place where I feel loved, intrigued by life itself, excited about what the day may hold? I don't know. But today, and maybe just for today, I can say that sometimes, life is just good.
I titled this right away, which I don't normally do. I usually just start writing and then come up with a clever title to fit whatever randomness I had tossed together and called a blog (like "Chronic Eye Twitch"... that was one of my better ones).
But I knew right away what I wanted to write about. I know exactly what to write about and what to title it, but I can't figure out how to say it. How do you write about life when it's good? When you find yourself sitting in contentment, gazing out the window at all the people rushing by, sipping coffee and listening to a melody that seems to sing the exact tune that is playing in my heart. How do you say that sometimes life is just good? I guess I just did.
But how do you talk about life being good when there are those living lives that feel anything but good? I don't have a formula to hand out; here, do this and that and watch life become good. I've tried every formula there is; they don't work.
One could argue that life is what you make it, and to a very limited degree, I'd agree with that. But what woman asked for her husband to walk away? What child decided that his father would leave and never come back? What daughter would ask her mother to be absent in the darkest hours? Life, it seems, deals itself out to you sometimes. It's not always what you make it.
My life has dealt out many unwanted twists and turns, and I'd like to say that I'm thankful for all of them because they've made me a better person. But really, I'm not that good. I didn't ask for the bad times any more than I created the good times.
I didn't ask for my dad to be completely absent my whole life or for my mom to crush every dream I've ever had. I didn't ask to be uprooted from my home and moved to LA in high school. I didn't ask my fiance to lie to me, showboat with every girl but me and then laugh in my face as I walked away. I didn't ask to live in a shack and eat one bag of chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I never asked for any of it.
Sometimes I fought back. Sometimes I held my head high and walked across the battlefield with dignity. And sometimes I crawled. Sometimes I ran right back to the hand that held me down, crumbled under adversity and laid helpless. It's not a struggle that I rose out of victorious. It's life and I have lived it one day at a time, just like everyone else.
And so I find myself asking, "How did I get here?" How did I end up in a place where I feel loved, intrigued by life itself, excited about what the day may hold? I don't know. But today, and maybe just for today, I can say that sometimes, life is just good.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Finding my niche... Episode two
Let's be honest, confrontation has never been my strong suit. But lately, I've begun to delve deep into the confrontational facet of my personal relationships. My roommate and best friend is much like myself in the sense that we are primarily private people with too much pride and ego to call anyone on anything even remotely negative for fear that we, in return, may be called out as well. At first, this seemed to play to our advantage as roommates and created an extremely non-confrontational, peaceful environment. Over the years, however, the lack of communication that has resulted actually built up tension and planted seeds of question in both our minds over where we really stood in light of the other.
A lost cause? The possibility entered my mind but with a little uncomfortable effort, I managed to discard such a thought. For some unknown reason, we began to speak truth into each others lives and though awkward as it was momentarily, it turns out that this humble confrontational spirit actually builds friendship and trust. Calling for a little compromise here and added effort there, things get better at home every day.
That all sounds very "sit-com", you know… the world's problems solved in thirty minutes flat with a big smiling happy ending. But it's a far cry from easy. Have you ever found yourself so high up the ladder of pride that it was embarrassing to ask for help down, but there was no other way? I practically fell off the highest rung of the ladder because, though I noticed out of the blue just how high up I had climbed, I still wouldn't ask anyone to help me down.
Though this might be the world's most negative self-talk, I've got to admit, I feel like a complete loser. For years I've lived with the same person and maybe, maybe twice I've vacuumed the floors. I've lived in our current apartment for almost a year and I've honestly never cleaned the bathroom floors, not even once. The shower? The toilets? All I do is use them, never held a cleaning product even close to them. My boyfriend stays the weekend and I let my roommate clean up after him. Granted it's her brother (which is comical in and of itself) but really, I honestly feel it's my responsibility, which I ungratefully pass on to her every time.
At the end of the day, where do I stand? I've promised to do more, to do my share… and I still fail horribly. I took the trash out once since then and still haven't vacuumed. A tragic pitfall of my own selfishness and laziness, laid bare for all to see.
A lost cause? The possibility entered my mind but with a little uncomfortable effort, I managed to discard such a thought. For some unknown reason, we began to speak truth into each others lives and though awkward as it was momentarily, it turns out that this humble confrontational spirit actually builds friendship and trust. Calling for a little compromise here and added effort there, things get better at home every day.
That all sounds very "sit-com", you know… the world's problems solved in thirty minutes flat with a big smiling happy ending. But it's a far cry from easy. Have you ever found yourself so high up the ladder of pride that it was embarrassing to ask for help down, but there was no other way? I practically fell off the highest rung of the ladder because, though I noticed out of the blue just how high up I had climbed, I still wouldn't ask anyone to help me down.
Though this might be the world's most negative self-talk, I've got to admit, I feel like a complete loser. For years I've lived with the same person and maybe, maybe twice I've vacuumed the floors. I've lived in our current apartment for almost a year and I've honestly never cleaned the bathroom floors, not even once. The shower? The toilets? All I do is use them, never held a cleaning product even close to them. My boyfriend stays the weekend and I let my roommate clean up after him. Granted it's her brother (which is comical in and of itself) but really, I honestly feel it's my responsibility, which I ungratefully pass on to her every time.
At the end of the day, where do I stand? I've promised to do more, to do my share… and I still fail horribly. I took the trash out once since then and still haven't vacuumed. A tragic pitfall of my own selfishness and laziness, laid bare for all to see.
Finding my niche... Just the beginning
I've been reading alot about diversity lately; the unique gifts and abilities God gives us, the diversity that creates, and the beautiful way unity is created when we come together with our differences. Ironically, it's not the coming together that I don't get, but the diversity. I can't wrap my mind around what it means to be uniquely different and, on an intensely personal level, what that looks like for me. Not only am I uniquely different as an individual, but those things which make me unique are the very things which God has called me to excel at, to exploit for the betterment of mankind, to embrace as the focus and niche of my life.
I have spent the better part of this year wrestling with this very concept and feebly attempting to come up with a picture, a mere sketch, of what this really looks like for me; a 24 year old, single, college student with a full time job, living on her own in Redondo Beach. How does this play out in my job, at my home, in my relationships, in my schooling, my future? Searching desperately for a little focus in my life, I've begun to process through the written word what my niche might look like.
I have spent the better part of this year wrestling with this very concept and feebly attempting to come up with a picture, a mere sketch, of what this really looks like for me; a 24 year old, single, college student with a full time job, living on her own in Redondo Beach. How does this play out in my job, at my home, in my relationships, in my schooling, my future? Searching desperately for a little focus in my life, I've begun to process through the written word what my niche might look like.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Guilty Until Proven Innocent
When I was growing up, any time I did anything wrong and was confronted by my mom about it, regardless of our conversation, it was always followed by a distance between us. She would pull away for a short time, I felt, as her way of saying, I am disappointed in you and because of what youve done, now you deserve to be alone, and she would withdraw; withholding communication, love and any real connection. Eventually, later that evening or a day or two later, she would come around and things would be fine again- as if nothing had happened.
In the brief time we did spend talking prior to her pulling away, she would always tell me how disappointed she was in me and disappointed that I had done whatever it was. She usually ask me why Id done it and proceed to tell me that there was no real excuse for doing it, that I knew better and shouldnt do it again. Never once did she say she understood how I felt or why I did what I did. Never once did she tell me stories of her own disobedience as a child or try to connect with me on any level. It was like she had this incredible standard of perfection that she expected me to reach all of the time and in the moments that I missed it; I had not just fallen short, I had failed her and I had failed as a human being. It was never something to learn from; it was something to be ashamed of and never ever do again. It was never a good try and youll get em next time. It was failure and you will do perfect from here on out or we will repeat this cycle of disappointment, withdrawal, abandonment
Today Ive noticed within myself that as an adult my biggest fear is disappointment; being disappointed by other people and being a disappointment to other people. I dont know how to allow myself or other people to mess up.
When faced with times when someone else has fallen short and disappointed me, I become my mother I am quick to let them know that they let me down. Then I shut down and want to withdraw. And when I eventually come back around, I dont want to talk about it I dont know how. I just want things to go back to normal.
When faced with times that I have disappointed others, I run into a shell as a defense mechanism because I am so terribly afraid that they are only going to express their disappointment and abandon me. So I shut down and act like nothing is a big deal to me because it hurts too much to open myself up to someone who is going to tell me that Im a disappointment and then leave me, abandoned and alone, worthless until I can prove myself otherwise in time.
This fear also lends to my tendency to be a perfectionist. I try so hard to prove myself so that I can feel a sense of value and worth. I put all my energy into my work so that I have something to point to and say, Look! I am good at this! I did something well I am not a failure!
I have always felt that in my life I do not succeed, I just simply do not fail.
In the brief time we did spend talking prior to her pulling away, she would always tell me how disappointed she was in me and disappointed that I had done whatever it was. She usually ask me why Id done it and proceed to tell me that there was no real excuse for doing it, that I knew better and shouldnt do it again. Never once did she say she understood how I felt or why I did what I did. Never once did she tell me stories of her own disobedience as a child or try to connect with me on any level. It was like she had this incredible standard of perfection that she expected me to reach all of the time and in the moments that I missed it; I had not just fallen short, I had failed her and I had failed as a human being. It was never something to learn from; it was something to be ashamed of and never ever do again. It was never a good try and youll get em next time. It was failure and you will do perfect from here on out or we will repeat this cycle of disappointment, withdrawal, abandonment
Today Ive noticed within myself that as an adult my biggest fear is disappointment; being disappointed by other people and being a disappointment to other people. I dont know how to allow myself or other people to mess up.
When faced with times when someone else has fallen short and disappointed me, I become my mother I am quick to let them know that they let me down. Then I shut down and want to withdraw. And when I eventually come back around, I dont want to talk about it I dont know how. I just want things to go back to normal.
When faced with times that I have disappointed others, I run into a shell as a defense mechanism because I am so terribly afraid that they are only going to express their disappointment and abandon me. So I shut down and act like nothing is a big deal to me because it hurts too much to open myself up to someone who is going to tell me that Im a disappointment and then leave me, abandoned and alone, worthless until I can prove myself otherwise in time.
This fear also lends to my tendency to be a perfectionist. I try so hard to prove myself so that I can feel a sense of value and worth. I put all my energy into my work so that I have something to point to and say, Look! I am good at this! I did something well I am not a failure!
I have always felt that in my life I do not succeed, I just simply do not fail.
Naked In Front of the Masses
The one thing that has always held me back in life is fear; the fear that I will try something unfamiliar, something I dont thoroughly know how to do, and that I will fail at it.
I have been that way even as a young child. My mom told me that one time we went to an amusement park as a family and I saw a ride that I wanted to go on. So we got in line and after a while of standing there, I decided I didnt want to go on the ride after all. So we stepped out of line and watched as my brother and father continued on to the ride.
As we were waiting for my brother and father to finish the ride, I asked my mom, What happens when you get to the front of the line? She explained that they would seat us on the ride together. So I asked, Then what happens when the ride is over? How do we get back here? After she explained the whole process of getting on, riding and exiting the roller coaster, I decided that I did actually want to ride it. So we got back in line and went on the ride together.
The only thing in that instance that made me get out of line in the first place was a fear of the unknown. I didnt know how it worked or everything that would happen along the way, so I opted not to go on it at all. I also wouldnt admit in that moment that I was afraid. I questioned everything until I felt one hundred percent safe and then went forward.
When I was in the eighth grade I wanted to try out for tennis. Before I would try out or even pick up a racket, I read everything I possibly could about the game of tennis so that I would know exactly what I was doing when I went out there. I had never played tennis before in my life; but I would never let that show when I played and I sure wasnt going to just learn from experience. I researched and methodically thought out every step before I went on to the court. The ironic thing is that I knew, this being jr. high tennis, that they would teach everyone everything they needed to know as a part of the tryouts. Even still, I would know it all before they could teach me; I would not look like a fool.
Deep inside myself I have a desire, a passion, to do so much; to try so many things. But I dont ever let myself because I am so scared. I take the conservative route, save myself the embarrassment of failure and refuse to even attempt the unknown; I wont even admit to wanting to do it. To actually admit that I want something or to try something but am too scared; that is so embarrassing.
The one thing in all of this that is most perplexing to me is; where did this deep seeded sense of fear come from? Because I have always been this way.
I have been that way even as a young child. My mom told me that one time we went to an amusement park as a family and I saw a ride that I wanted to go on. So we got in line and after a while of standing there, I decided I didnt want to go on the ride after all. So we stepped out of line and watched as my brother and father continued on to the ride.
As we were waiting for my brother and father to finish the ride, I asked my mom, What happens when you get to the front of the line? She explained that they would seat us on the ride together. So I asked, Then what happens when the ride is over? How do we get back here? After she explained the whole process of getting on, riding and exiting the roller coaster, I decided that I did actually want to ride it. So we got back in line and went on the ride together.
The only thing in that instance that made me get out of line in the first place was a fear of the unknown. I didnt know how it worked or everything that would happen along the way, so I opted not to go on it at all. I also wouldnt admit in that moment that I was afraid. I questioned everything until I felt one hundred percent safe and then went forward.
When I was in the eighth grade I wanted to try out for tennis. Before I would try out or even pick up a racket, I read everything I possibly could about the game of tennis so that I would know exactly what I was doing when I went out there. I had never played tennis before in my life; but I would never let that show when I played and I sure wasnt going to just learn from experience. I researched and methodically thought out every step before I went on to the court. The ironic thing is that I knew, this being jr. high tennis, that they would teach everyone everything they needed to know as a part of the tryouts. Even still, I would know it all before they could teach me; I would not look like a fool.
Deep inside myself I have a desire, a passion, to do so much; to try so many things. But I dont ever let myself because I am so scared. I take the conservative route, save myself the embarrassment of failure and refuse to even attempt the unknown; I wont even admit to wanting to do it. To actually admit that I want something or to try something but am too scared; that is so embarrassing.
The one thing in all of this that is most perplexing to me is; where did this deep seeded sense of fear come from? Because I have always been this way.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
I Watched Him Fall Apart at the Coffee Shop
They rush in and out so quickly - a staunch contrast to my passive watching. I wonder if they are happy. Do they like where they are at in life? Do they feel a hallowed loneliness? Or are they in love with the life they have? And how did they get there?
I sat behind this guy in the coffee shop today. But before I settled in that seat I noticed him watching me as I came in; noticed him watching every girl that came in, actually. I quickly scanned the shop for an empty table and as my luck would have it, the only available place was a table right next to his. I waited around awkwardly for my drink, hoping someone would leave before I had to sit next to him. But no one budged. So I took it; I turned the seat just enough so I was facing away from him. It didnt help. Finally the couple sitting behind him left and I raced to their table. Not much for a smooth transition, but I didnt seem to care at the time.
Sitting more comfortably at the back table, something about him caught my attention. He was a clean cut, business looking man sitting there with his lap top, talking on his cell phone. He spoke loudly in the phone about this report and that report and the stupid girl at the front office. I noticed his black slacks didnt match well with his brown dress shoes, although they were nicely polished. And his white button up shirt and burgundy pull over sweater made him seem older than Im sure he really was. He kept fidgeting and looking over his shoulder, staring out the window as if waiting for something that never came.
I had just about managed to pull my focus away from him when he began a new conversation on the phone, this time with what I can only assume was his wife or maybe a girlfriend. It wasnt too hard to tell that the person on the other side of the phone was upset. He kept talking about business and how it would always be there. Then he said something that has been stuck in my head ever since. He said, "You know, right now Im the black sheep at the office because Im not working 50 to 60 hours a week, ok?" Apparently he didnt get the response he was looking for because shortly thereafter he said I have to go and hung up the phone. He sat there shaking his head for a minute and then picked up the phone again. "Well talk about this later, ok?"
It made me sad to sit there and witness this random guy totally struggling; obviously torn between a job that took all he had and a girl who needed more. Its a battle we fight in this life and I couldnt help but sit there and wonder how any of us ever make it through.
I think you just have to get to a point when you realize that its what you want, despite the things that come along with it. You find at the deepest depths of your heart, a longing and love for another person that is there no matter what. And then its not so hard to love, to trust. Because you know they really will be there at the end of the day, when the smoke clears. Its who you want thats all it is.
I sat behind this guy in the coffee shop today. But before I settled in that seat I noticed him watching me as I came in; noticed him watching every girl that came in, actually. I quickly scanned the shop for an empty table and as my luck would have it, the only available place was a table right next to his. I waited around awkwardly for my drink, hoping someone would leave before I had to sit next to him. But no one budged. So I took it; I turned the seat just enough so I was facing away from him. It didnt help. Finally the couple sitting behind him left and I raced to their table. Not much for a smooth transition, but I didnt seem to care at the time.
Sitting more comfortably at the back table, something about him caught my attention. He was a clean cut, business looking man sitting there with his lap top, talking on his cell phone. He spoke loudly in the phone about this report and that report and the stupid girl at the front office. I noticed his black slacks didnt match well with his brown dress shoes, although they were nicely polished. And his white button up shirt and burgundy pull over sweater made him seem older than Im sure he really was. He kept fidgeting and looking over his shoulder, staring out the window as if waiting for something that never came.
I had just about managed to pull my focus away from him when he began a new conversation on the phone, this time with what I can only assume was his wife or maybe a girlfriend. It wasnt too hard to tell that the person on the other side of the phone was upset. He kept talking about business and how it would always be there. Then he said something that has been stuck in my head ever since. He said, "You know, right now Im the black sheep at the office because Im not working 50 to 60 hours a week, ok?" Apparently he didnt get the response he was looking for because shortly thereafter he said I have to go and hung up the phone. He sat there shaking his head for a minute and then picked up the phone again. "Well talk about this later, ok?"
It made me sad to sit there and witness this random guy totally struggling; obviously torn between a job that took all he had and a girl who needed more. Its a battle we fight in this life and I couldnt help but sit there and wonder how any of us ever make it through.
I think you just have to get to a point when you realize that its what you want, despite the things that come along with it. You find at the deepest depths of your heart, a longing and love for another person that is there no matter what. And then its not so hard to love, to trust. Because you know they really will be there at the end of the day, when the smoke clears. Its who you want thats all it is.
Confessions of a Broken and Dejected Girlfriend
I recently had lunch with a close friend of mine. We sat there psycho-analyzing our personalities criticizing the little idiosyncrasies we have in our relationships with our significant others, why we do those things and the like. In a matter of three hours at a small table in the back of Red Robin, I surmounted that I have been the most selfish, demanding, critical, unappeasable, inflexible girlfriend that I could possibly be. And what's worse is that I realized shortly thereafter that in all those things, I have become the spitting image of my mother. It was such a shocking epiphany that I almost lost my lunch right there at the table. Okay, maybe not, but it was a grotesque realization nonetheless.
My ex lives about 30 minutes away and every weekend he drives out to my house. Never once have I offered to drive to his house. As a matter of fact, he asked me to once and I said no because it was raining and I didn't want to drive my car on the freeway in the rain. In all of that, he never complained about having to drive out to see me every single week. Talk about an underlying sense of frustration. I can only imagine how that has built up inside of him.
He happens to have an affinity for relatively expensive items, which I conversely view as an irresponsible waste of money. I've always felt justified in my stance over such things. While I'm not condoning the impulsive large purchases that cause life-long dept, I am realizing that I've been extremely hypocritical as I find myself spending money on things like pedicures, manicures, shoes I don't need, an unnecessarily large collection of purses and spending more than I'd like to admit on Starbucks every month.
Not only have I been hypocritical, but I've been absolutely wretched in the way I respond to his desires. We went out to dinner with another couple who are close mutual friends not too long ago. After dinner we went to Best Buy so I could buy the CD I've been wanting for weeks. As we walked around the store we noticed a new interactive video game that was like the old "Dance Dance Revolution" but with a guitar and no dancing (a much better combination if you ask me). Right away it became obvious to all of us that he wanted to buy it. Of course my knee-jerk reaction was a horridly disapproving look that shot him down faster than a motorcycle can turn him on (which by the way is pretty fast). I didn't even know how much the dumb thing cost but I protested right away, telling him that if he bought it there was no way he'd play it at my house. Could I have been a worse friend at that point? Yes, the answer is yes I dragged him over to the CD isle, grabbed the CD I wanted and proceeded to the check out line.
And in the most recent turn of events, the guy who has been crazy about me for years (according to a close mutual friend, I might add) has suddenly begun to retract; needing time and space to settle into his new job and think things through. I was shocked, to say the least. However, in retrospect, it's not surprising that this twist shook me enough to make me topple from the highest rung on that ladder I spoke of earlier. I've come to realize that I'm the most horrid, selfish, ridiculously prideful person I know. I feel bad for the poor guy, honestly putting up with me for so long.
I was eating with that same couple who witnessed the Best Buy episode just the other day, but this time it was just me and them. Right in the middle of dinner I realized, and consequently exclaimed out loud, "I should have told him buy that guitar game!" The shocked look on their faces didn't deter me from continuing on my rant, "And not just that, but I should have told him to buy it and we'd play it together at my place and we'd have fun, too. Why couldn't I just let him buy it? I even liked the dumb thing! Why couldn't I just say that!?"
"Everything is clearer in retrospect", was my friend's response. And all I could do was sit quietly in agreement. I usually pride myself on the ability to grow out of hardship and overcome the places I've fallen short. But I have to admit, I've never known regret quite the way I do now.
My ex lives about 30 minutes away and every weekend he drives out to my house. Never once have I offered to drive to his house. As a matter of fact, he asked me to once and I said no because it was raining and I didn't want to drive my car on the freeway in the rain. In all of that, he never complained about having to drive out to see me every single week. Talk about an underlying sense of frustration. I can only imagine how that has built up inside of him.
He happens to have an affinity for relatively expensive items, which I conversely view as an irresponsible waste of money. I've always felt justified in my stance over such things. While I'm not condoning the impulsive large purchases that cause life-long dept, I am realizing that I've been extremely hypocritical as I find myself spending money on things like pedicures, manicures, shoes I don't need, an unnecessarily large collection of purses and spending more than I'd like to admit on Starbucks every month.
Not only have I been hypocritical, but I've been absolutely wretched in the way I respond to his desires. We went out to dinner with another couple who are close mutual friends not too long ago. After dinner we went to Best Buy so I could buy the CD I've been wanting for weeks. As we walked around the store we noticed a new interactive video game that was like the old "Dance Dance Revolution" but with a guitar and no dancing (a much better combination if you ask me). Right away it became obvious to all of us that he wanted to buy it. Of course my knee-jerk reaction was a horridly disapproving look that shot him down faster than a motorcycle can turn him on (which by the way is pretty fast). I didn't even know how much the dumb thing cost but I protested right away, telling him that if he bought it there was no way he'd play it at my house. Could I have been a worse friend at that point? Yes, the answer is yes I dragged him over to the CD isle, grabbed the CD I wanted and proceeded to the check out line.
And in the most recent turn of events, the guy who has been crazy about me for years (according to a close mutual friend, I might add) has suddenly begun to retract; needing time and space to settle into his new job and think things through. I was shocked, to say the least. However, in retrospect, it's not surprising that this twist shook me enough to make me topple from the highest rung on that ladder I spoke of earlier. I've come to realize that I'm the most horrid, selfish, ridiculously prideful person I know. I feel bad for the poor guy, honestly putting up with me for so long.
I was eating with that same couple who witnessed the Best Buy episode just the other day, but this time it was just me and them. Right in the middle of dinner I realized, and consequently exclaimed out loud, "I should have told him buy that guitar game!" The shocked look on their faces didn't deter me from continuing on my rant, "And not just that, but I should have told him to buy it and we'd play it together at my place and we'd have fun, too. Why couldn't I just let him buy it? I even liked the dumb thing! Why couldn't I just say that!?"
"Everything is clearer in retrospect", was my friend's response. And all I could do was sit quietly in agreement. I usually pride myself on the ability to grow out of hardship and overcome the places I've fallen short. But I have to admit, I've never known regret quite the way I do now.
I Found Myself In A Coffee Shop
I went to Borders last night; bought a magazine and some coffee. The girl at the register looked down at the magazine entitled "The Writer" and asked, "Are you a writer?"
I admit, I was caught a little off guard; both at the fact that she would assume I must be a writer because of the magazine I was purchasing (if it was called "The Big Rig Driver" would she ask if I drove big rigs?) and because of the pointed question itself. So I thought to myself, "Am I a writer?" I halted that line of thought as I noticed her staring at me, waiting for an answer.
"Well, I try." I said.
"Yeah, me too." She replied.
I suppose none of this would matter except that the very reason I went to the book store was to sit in the coffee shop and ponder what in the world I was doing with my life and why I had seemingly abandoned all that ever meant anything to me.
All my life I've wanted to be a writer. I have journals dating as far back as... well, far back. I've been writing since I was old enough to hold a pencil and form letters on a page. No one taught me, I just did it. My greatest memory of high school was the creative writing class I took my sophomore year. And though that was almost nine years ago, when I think about the times in my life that mean anything to me, that one always comes up. When I graduated high school, I couldn't figure out what to do with my life and had no cause to go to college, until someone encouraged me to pursue my dream without worry of what the world thought. So I started college as an English major so I could write.
Now I'm 24 and have transferred to a university as a Business major and all I have to show as a decent manuscript is this blog? What happened? How did I end up here? At what point did I decide to give up? And how did I not notice? Those are the questions I pondered as I sat there in that coffee shop. I'd like to say I left that night with answers, but all I found were more questions.
How is it that the very lines which define our being, are the ones we try so hard to erase?
When do we decide to disengage the ones who help us breath?
What makes us give up hope in the very things which defined the hope of who we are?
Why do we trade the essence of ourselves for the picture of who we're not?
What do you do when you look up and see how far away from yourself you are?
How do you get back?
I admit, I was caught a little off guard; both at the fact that she would assume I must be a writer because of the magazine I was purchasing (if it was called "The Big Rig Driver" would she ask if I drove big rigs?) and because of the pointed question itself. So I thought to myself, "Am I a writer?" I halted that line of thought as I noticed her staring at me, waiting for an answer.
"Well, I try." I said.
"Yeah, me too." She replied.
I suppose none of this would matter except that the very reason I went to the book store was to sit in the coffee shop and ponder what in the world I was doing with my life and why I had seemingly abandoned all that ever meant anything to me.
All my life I've wanted to be a writer. I have journals dating as far back as... well, far back. I've been writing since I was old enough to hold a pencil and form letters on a page. No one taught me, I just did it. My greatest memory of high school was the creative writing class I took my sophomore year. And though that was almost nine years ago, when I think about the times in my life that mean anything to me, that one always comes up. When I graduated high school, I couldn't figure out what to do with my life and had no cause to go to college, until someone encouraged me to pursue my dream without worry of what the world thought. So I started college as an English major so I could write.
Now I'm 24 and have transferred to a university as a Business major and all I have to show as a decent manuscript is this blog? What happened? How did I end up here? At what point did I decide to give up? And how did I not notice? Those are the questions I pondered as I sat there in that coffee shop. I'd like to say I left that night with answers, but all I found were more questions.
How is it that the very lines which define our being, are the ones we try so hard to erase?
When do we decide to disengage the ones who help us breath?
What makes us give up hope in the very things which defined the hope of who we are?
Why do we trade the essence of ourselves for the picture of who we're not?
What do you do when you look up and see how far away from yourself you are?
How do you get back?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)