"Good friends we've had, good friends we've lost..."

I'm set to go to work, but the sky has suddenly opened up. I've driven in bad storms before, but with a tornado watch in effect I think I'll delay my departure as much as possible.

Before I jump into the actual post that has been forming itself in my mind I have two random things unrelated to anything I seem to want to put down. The first is really stupid. I don't usually clasp my watch closed when I take it off, but last time I did I realized the diameter is only about an inch and a half. They took two and a half links out of it when I bought it and it still has it's moments of sliding around. I don't tend to think of myself as a small person, but it looks like a child could be wearing this thing. The second is also pretty stupid. As I looked around for a program that would do my pictures the way I want and couldn't find one the thought that came to mind was, "Or I could just write one." Hello! Earth to Bec! You couldn't write the code for a paper bag, let alone how to get out of it. Oh, that's right. Moving on...

Last night found me at the movies. As I waited outside I walked by the posters for what's out now and laughed to myself as I realized what I'd be seeing if different people were coming to meet me. The Jet Li one would have been a Nick film and, given that the last time there weren't any explosive movies out we saw King Arthur, Derek probably would have gone for the one that had the guy with the sword. I'd say the soccer movie and the one with the wedding cake stood equal chances of being chosen by Kylie. Then there was the Adam Sandler poster. I'm not sure if he bothers me because I actually don't like his brand of humor, or if I got tired of my dad making comments anytime he saw him do anything. Of course, thinking back to the greenhouse days - which are different from the garden shop days - Josh was very big on his CD and I can't say I thought it was all that wonderful.

Gareth was meeting me to see Madagascar. We always seem to end up at kids movies and I'm okay with that. It was alright, but nothing spectacular in my opinion. Aside from the penguins the one part I was most amused by was when they spoofed American Beauty, playing the music from the rose petals on the ceiling scene using steaks instead. I remember seeing American Beauty in the theater with Kylie years ago and she was certainly a bit disturbed. It's a very messed up film in a number of ways, but it's one I like a lot. I guess I just understand what it's saying.

Naturally this journey down the row of movie posters took me back to different people, places, and times. My human sphere of influence has dwindled to nearly nothing and will soon collapse on itself. That's a difficult thing to realize, but I also see that it doesn't change all that much.

One of the things I have great difficulty with is accepting the kindness of others. Though not always successful, I have always tried to be the sort of friend I would want to have because I knew what it was like to feel lost or stuck or alone with nowhere to go. I can see clearly where I became that person for several others along the way, but often it was one sided. I never considered that maybe they were able to be the same for me.

I could be wrong in this, but from experience I see that any unbalanced relationship is doomed. The person most often on the giving side gets tired. They feel unappreciated and unimportant as their actions become expected and the intent in which they're carried out is no longer acknowledged, if it ever was at all. In rarer cases the receiver sees they're not holding up their end, and may not be able to do so even if they wish they could. I can also say from experience that neither position is desirable.

I have called many people "friend" over the years knowing it wasn't quite an accurate statement. When I look back on those people the number of relationships I would call solid and a meeting of equals is small. Less than a handful of names come to mind, and most I'd need to consider further before I could commit them as fitting that scenario. I really haven't done so well.

Perhaps that's something important to keep in mind when the next person stumbles my way. I never go looking, but somehow I'm always found. That seems nearly impossible given the current state of my life, but stranger things have happened.

Though the sky still rumbles outside it seems the birds have slowly chased the rain away. I suppose now is as good a time as any to go out the door and start my second year with NASA. I had really hoped to have everything better under control by this point, but the fears I was fighting fourteen months ago are just as real today, if not moreso. That, however, is another train for another station.

Captured At: 719

When the mind resumes

There is slightly more activity in my head today, though I must admit I feel very worn down. My eyes protest function as if they haven't seen sleep for several days. I found physical challenges this morning in stairs, doors, a water bottle not even being used to its full potential, and even my keys. The few interactions I've had with people over the last twenty-four hours were marked by silence and a forced attempt on my part to show any sort of emotion or interest.

Those would be the effects. What's the underlying cause?

Given that I've been sinking for several weeks now it becomes difficult to see where the most recent line was crossed. Stumbling around my apartment this morning one word came to mind that seems to accurately sum everything up. Loss. I've experienced it in a variety of ways in just about every aspect of my life as of late. The optimist would say that's making room for better things to come, but I've never been one of those. I'd like to be, but as I've said several times before I don't see how that's possible knowing what I do of the world.

Truth be told, this theme came to me as I tossed over my most recent dream. There were two story lines running through it, and loss was clearly key in one of them. The other key was escape. The night before, though the circumstances were different, I'd been caught. Parts of both dreams are fuzzy and full of nonsense, but others are disturbingly sharp. I learned to write off the bizarre long ago, but I don't know what to do with the rest.

Hindsight shows me I can't completely write these things off as innocent wanderings anymore. I had one over a year ago that greatly confused me because what I was being asked to do in it didn't make any sense. I now believe I know what it was referring to, though the interaction hasn't faded with this completion and still comes to mind on a semi-regular basis. Several months ago I woke from a different dream very sure of the scenario it foreshadowed. I ran through every circumstance I could imagine which would make something that unlikely take place. None of those things happened, but something I had never considered did. When all was said and done the roles played out exactly as I had seen them.

I write those words and settle on the idea that I must be crazy. I must be twisting and stretching as I struggle to make sense of what's been happening in my life. There's no real meaning there.

Then again, the subconscious mind is mysterious. I've thought of this a number of times over the past few months as I noticed my frequent pairing of white and blue. Visually the colors compliment each other well, but symbolically they send different messages. White is often used to represent things like goodness, hope, and light. Blue carries a melancholy feeling with it and is often considered to be a color of great sadness and despair. As I went out the door Wednesday night it struck me as oddly fitting that I was clothed in blue from my top to my shoes.

As I continue rolling forward down this line it occurs to me that amazing as a meeting of the minds is, how much more powerful would a meeting of subconscious minds be? Can such a thing actually happen? I can't say I know how it works, but I do believe it's possible. I'm also fairly certain a parting of those minds is infinitely more difficult.

::stops::
::looks around::
::blinks a few times::
::looks around again::
::blinks a few more times::

Please remain seated. Your vehicle will begin moving momentarily.

Thank you Disney World. Yes, that's exactly what it's like. I guess I'm stalled again.

Captured At: 932

It's strange to me how the times when I know exactly what I want to talk about also become the times when I have the least idea where to begin. Perhaps focus carries a greater sense of importance and a greater desire to make sure I get it right.

Tonight my thoughts are centered on my sister, who I love more than I could ever explain. For years people have looked at the two of us surprised that a pair of people so different could be related. Truth be told, in some important ways we're not all that unalike.

She invited me to have dinner with them at the house tonight and we got to spend several hours catching up on new things and remembering the old ones. Parallels were always drawn between us and the sisters Pinkowski. Also a year apart in age, the strong personality traits of Mom and Aunt Sandy could be mapped with frightening accuracy on Liz and I. One of the things that strikes me most is how much more like each other we became as we grew older, almost swapping parts of us in a way.

I look at my sister and there are so many things I wish I could do for her. We have our ups and downs as siblings do - far more than we did as children I might add - but in the end there isn't a thing I wouldn't do if she needed it. She is one of the most important people I have ever had in my life and I don't think I'll ever feel I've done enough. I want her to be happy and be able to grab hold of her dreams. I want the world to finally see her as the incredible person I know her to be.

As I drove from work this evening I decided my post for tonight was going to be lyrics, but had not settled on which. In conversation Liz mentioned a song I hadn't listened to for a while and I've decided to use it instead of any of the others I had considered. She said she's not sure why she likes it so much and she's not really sure what it means. I, on the other hand, think I understand. I've viewed it from a number of angles in the past year it has been out and I know it still has things to tell me.

Good songs are like that, though. Their message may change with time, but they never mean any less. The same can be said of good relationships I think, so tonight this one is for Liz.

For You
Barenaked Ladies
Everything to Everyone

I have set aside everything I love
I have saved everything else for you
I cannot decide what this doubt's made of
Though I thought over it through and through

And for every useless reason I know
There's a reason not to care
If I hide myself wherever I go
Am I ever really there?

Captured At:2327

Strangers

We sit together in an unfamiliar place. My eyes make the usual traces of discomfort along the table and ceiling as I nervously stir my water with a straw. I observe the colors around the room and how the lights behind my companion dip through a sheet of fabric strategically located above the other tables.

There's little to be said, though we do try. The words are hollow; a representation of what floats upon the surface of our lives never giving indication of the currents that relentlessly churn deeper within.

I'm no stranger to the pair of eyes casting slightly concerned glances in my direction. They have pierced me with both love and arrows, and I have played my part in making them do everything from dance to cry. I struggle to meet a face I have watched change with time and circumstances. It's a classic example of what everyone knows. Space changes people, putting up walls that never used to exist.

With a slight urging the gate cracks open. I acknowledge the cloud inside my head calling it exactly what it is. I casually touch on the few droplets I remember forming it and the puddles the pouring has created. The sun stays hidden as my knowledge is confirmed. There is nothing to be said. There is nothing to be done. It's just going to rain.

We part on that note. If I need someone? Yes, I'll remember, but action will not follow. A statement on that being my mistake issues one silent, powerful command. One more layer to the thickness of the wall.

Captured At:1136

Snapshot

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed facing a computer monitor I have rotated slightly to a more favorable position for where I am. In front of it a blue plastic glass cradles a red liquid consuming half of its capacity. The beat up, white keyboard I type on rests at an angle guaranteed to throw my right shoulder into spasm sometime in the near future. Every so often, in the corner of my eye, I catch a reflection of the screen bouncing through a watch that graced my wrist two months ago as if it had always been there.

I'm sitting in a pair of pajamas I've had since at least my senior year of high school. Giraffes parade the sleevless shirt around my equatorial region, quizzically eying a palm tree unsure who thought coconuts were their food of choice. A definition of the word "jungle" floats above them causing only more head shaking. The spots of these creatures have infected all clothing in the southern hemisphere. My feet, still trapped in the blue and white Asics that carried me around the park only an hour ago, are begging to be freed.

The blinds in my room are open, allowing what little light remains outside to creep its way in. My closet door is swung out behind me also contributing a slight glow to the space. In one hour it will all be dark. I have yet to buy a new light bulb. In the other room a pot of water rises to boiling temperatures that will soon prepare what passes as tonight's attempt at food.

It was clearly summer when I stepped out of my car this evening. The thickness of the air took me back to a time when the ending of the school year meant I had all the time I wanted to sleep and play. My nose barely managed to detect the scent of a grill at work as I slowly ascended the stairway to a dark, empty apartment. It's days like these that make me the most homesick. I can still see the view looking up my driveway, any combination of Dad, Liz, and Bryan waiting as I cross the street with a basketball that got away.

I think it was a mixture of the weather and a realization that sitting in my apartment alone tonight wasn't going to help the depression I've been stumbling through for the past few weeks that prompted my walk in the park. I used to get out there every weekend before the beach became my location of choice. Outside the break in the fence I normally enter through I was surprsied to find a turtle. He didn't pull his head in as I approached and it didn't take long to realize he was dead. I winced as I observed where the back corner of his shell had been torn open and averted my eyes. Perhaps that should be a lesson to me; even the hardest encasement won't necessarily protect you.

Two laps later I returned home to find a mailbox waiting with bills and birthday cards. It appears that for as much as I want to forget, others want to be sure I know they haven't. I can't say it makes much difference right now, but I suppose I should remember there are far worse things in this world than being loved. Everyone should be so lucky to suffer from it.

Captured At:1942

I have done a terrible job of getting to work on time this week. I've been ignoring both my alarm and the tint to the sunlight while pulling the covers over my head. As I ponder the necessity for a more normal pattern I realize that my life would consist of more free time if I weren't working and sleeping my days away. Truth be told, this concerns me because I know the extra hours would be spent sitting in my apartment looking around blankly as I wonder what to do with myself.

When I stopped at Quizno's on the way home from church last night I couldn't help but think back to visits at various local locations with people long gone. There are many things we fail to appreciate in life until we don't have them anymore. For me these memories confirmed what I always knew; chatting over a sandwich is a small but important pleasure not to be taken for granted.

Sometimes I wonder if part of the reason I was so good at finding these small things was so that I could share them. It's sad to see that in the past tense, but I'm really struggling here.

My life has changed and I'm unsure how to change with it. At the same time I'm seeing any number of things differently. Although I can understand reasons for potential encouragement that they're good I'm becoming unhappy with myself for them. I feel like I'm critical where I used to be accepting and that really bothers me.

Looking backward with this different, slightly judgmental set of eyes I see things I wish had never been part of my life. I'd ceased some of them before this realization. Others I have a different opinion on. Either way, I have no intention of going back.

Conventional wisdom points to the idea of living with no regrets, but I am not sure this is truly possible. Everybody has suffered loss and everybody has things they wish had happened differently. The key, I think, is not to live without them, but to live as if they're not there. This is not an easy task.

Mine, in both senses of the word, only seem to have increased. Or perhaps it's my awareness of the things I have done that has changed. I can see a case where a choice I made years ago that I said I wouldn't regret has caused a huge number of problems in my life since then. It was a bad decision made for all the wrong reasons, and in the long term others suffered as a result. I can also see where I feel I should have done a lot better with some things and again, as a result of my mistakes, others suffered.

I have no problem going down in flames, but I don't like catching others on fire as I do. I'll drop myself over the edge of the cliff, but I won't drag the others with me.

So now what? I find myself asking that question often. Knowledge is wasted if it isn’t used, but I have nowhere to apply it. If I can take the first step to get somewhere better the rest will follow. There’s just one problem. I don’t know where I’m standing and it’s still too dark to see where my feet can safely fall.

Captured At:1233

Reminder

I'm going to claim a minor victory in that I'll be asleep by eleven. At least, I hope I'm asleep by eleven.

I've just returned from Derek's. He had asked if I would come over tonight to see if I could get his computer going at a pace above crawling and, being the nice person I am, I said yes. I walked through his door to find him sitting on the couch. Once he noticed me he sang a slightly rushed "Happy Birthday" and directed me toward the table. I was told to make a wish before blowing out a scented candle sitting on a plate inside a ring of Oreos. I think that's the strangest "cake" I've ever had, but it was thoughtful of him and reminiscient of the slighty goofy kid I used to know.

He said he'd been sitting on his present for me for months; a small canvas with a painting of the Little Prince and the Fox that I regognized from my own wanderings in EPCOT a few weeks ago. Around the frame on the back he wrote a quote from the book:

"People have forgotten this truth," the Fox said. "But you musn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed."

That's a very powerful statment and there is a great deal of truth to it. I am responsible for much. I, too, must not forget.

Captured At:2230

Celebrate we will

If you had asked me anywhere in the last six months what the title of today's post would be I probably would have put money on it being a line from "Trip Around the Sun." More specifically, the third line. It would be a true statement, too. My twenty-third year was far from easy, but at the same time so much more spectacular than I ever could have imagined.

I hope when I look back on being "so twenty-three" I remember it as a year that I really lived. My eyes had never before been so wide and my emotions never so active. I spent my first year in the working world doing things people only dream of. I fought to let go of the past and finally learned to let go of myself. I visited new places and rediscovered old ones. I found fear of and faith in God. I experienced love, joy, pain, and loss like never before, and I learned how to cry again. I stood in a moment where I knew life could get no better and watched it slip away. I sunk so deep I didn't know where up was and still, somehow, managed not to drown. I hope when I look back I continue to thank God for every second of it.

I was never big on birthdays. I never liked to make a big deal out of mine and was just as happy ignoring them. This year, however, I have realized that today isn't for me so much as it's for the people who see value in each breath I take. They celebrate the tenth of June not because I demand or require the attention, but because my existence is meaningful to them.

Perhaps this means my twenty-fourth year is off to a good beginning. Today I have learned to let myself be loved.

Captured At:1737

"It's always understood by those who play the game..."

Florida's east coast is blanketed in grey, a side effect of the tropical storm navigating its way northward through the Gulf. A train rumbles in the distance providing a beat for wind chimes and a neighbour's buzz saw to fall in harmony with. Wind twists around every tree branch reminding them the worst of the season is yet to come.

From a second story balcony overlooking the parking lot a fresh combination of shampoo and body wash leaks into air. A few dry wisps of hair sweep in front of eyes slightly sqinting at the white sky. An earlier switching of laundry from washer to dryer provided the perfect clothes of convenience: a worn, white t-shirt advertising a local sports team and a pair of dark denim shorts that had steadily outgrown their owner since the last warm season ended.

Even with threats of storms to come the day is accompained by a calm to permeate the receptive. It removes any sense of urgency to address lists of built-up chores, calling them instead to close their eyes and feel the gentle kiss of magic in the wind.

Back on the balcony a series of memories from the day before make their rounds. "I hope you celebrate that day, the day you were first here," the sun had reminded. That was the only time it would show its face for the entire day. Still, its wishes had been granted by an unending trail of food and phone calls that brought high spirits and a stomach overflowing in protest.

The scenes come to an end as the wind momentarily dies down. There is nothing more anyone should be able to ask for. Despite that, something is still tangibly missing. This sense sits in the mind much like a bird's nest cradled among the limbs of nature's sky-reaching sentinels.

While these thoughts tumble around two children pad barefoot across the pavement stirring the lyrics bank, which produces words of a song whose sound fits well with the day. Theirs is an example to be followed. Leave your shoes, go out the door, and walk.

Captured At:1133

Lessons from a Wall Socket

"Pull a shirt from the closet, run the hairbrush through a few times, watch, keys, leave." I was a few small steps from not only getting out the door, but doing so early as well. That never happens. It didn't today either or else I wouldn't be sitting here now.

Somewhere in the middle of the routine I walked over to my bed, leaned forward, and landed on it perpendicular to the normal sleeping direction. My arms folded under my chin and my legs extended over the side, the flip flops on my feet precariously dangling about two feet off the ground. All motion halted in favor of staring at the wall.

There's a low outlet next to the closet. The top socket holds a night light that has given a dim blue glow to this room for about as long as I've been here, I think. This white panel faded into the wall leaving all of my attention on the empty one below it. I'm sure it was a trick of light reflection, but he caught my attention because it looked very much like he was crying. His face was frozen in a combination of surprise, grief, and denial.

I have always been very good at projecting emotion on inanimate objects. I'm fairly sure some would tell me this is a defense mechanism which allows me to distance feelings from myself. Others might be able to see it for more of what it actually is; empathy.

I wondered what could make this little socket so unhappy. Was it because all of the others he could see were being used and he wasn't? Did he feel inadequate or unwanted? Did he wonder why they had been chosen and he had not? Did he wonder if he'd ever get any use and fear his existence would serve no purpose?

Yes, it's not too hard to see that I can relate.

As I ran through this list I mentally went backwards and recalled that I have also always been very good at seeing faces where there aren't any. I don't mean visions of faces, but finding them in things as I look around. Usually when I trace them out for others they still think I'm mad.

Then there was lab for physics two - another class where my interactions with the person in charge differed greatly from the other students, but that's a different story for another day. I can't remember the experiment, though I'm fairly sure it had something to do with using electronic equipment. As the pieces we were given spread out before us I found myself slowly putting some together to create what looked like a person. How I saw that these unrelated objects could be made into arms, legs, a head, and a body is beyond me. Still, my lab partner and I enjoyed walking him around our work space. I don't remember taking him apart. If he returned to the lab instructor in pieces I'm almost positive it wasn't my doing; I wouldn't have had the heart to take his life.

What has bothered me most about things like this is that I have always claimed that I do not like people. It never made any sense that I could find the basic physical traits of humans in almost anything dispite those feelings.

Naturally this raises the question of what I see when I look at people. In the past the answer was "nothing". I would get frustrated watching behaviours I had an aversion to and was known for making a lot of sarcastic comments expressing that. I still greatly dislike dealing with crowds, but the human in a pack and the human on his own are entirely different animals.

One of the things that has recently happened is that I see children in people well past that age. Somehow I find myself subtracting years from the faces I'm looking at. This generally only happens with people I know well, but it's surprising to me.

What catches me off guard the most is encountering a person who somehow gets my attention in a way that makes me want to know about them on a much deeper level. The small woman standing next to me with the nervous voice and cross expression, the man standing before a room of people carrying out the duties of his position, the reserved woman sitting at the other end of the table who is hiding either a desire to cut loose or incredible pain. Who are they? What is it that made them that way? If they could share just one thing, what would it be?

It's a very strange moment when you realize something in your normal mode of operation has changed and you don't know when or why it happened. I have tried to accept it as positive, but I find I can make little sense of it all when I do stop to think.

Then again, can I make sense of the fact that I spent a good ten minutes penetrating the inner thoughts of an outlet on the wall? Maybe "why" isn't the only question to be asking. It provides answers for a wide range of practical things, but in my experience it's also the question that most frequently goes unanswered.

Captured At: 830

So glad I woke up early...

When 5am rolled around I began the same ritual I practice daily by resetting my alarm for an extra half an hour and climbing back into bed. Surprisingly this didn't take and I found myself moving by 515. I haven't made it in for 7am in a long time and was very proud of myself as I grabbed my things and headed for the door.

Somewhere in the east there was an intense orange glow. The sun was blinding, yet following on the west side of the river wasn't close enough. I took a departure from my normal route and drove up A1A wondering if a Monday morning had ever been so bright.

I passed places along the way that took me back. I could recall seeing the PAFB Officer's Club still smoldering after the fire. I remembered the feel of last August as I arrived my traditional five minutes late to the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People class I was sent to take at a Cocoa hotel, and how I'd spend my lunch breaks sitting by the beach wondering why I was the only one making the best of the opportunity to be outside. Passing the mini-golf place I could see the fence my ball had jumped the night we saw Angie for the last time before she left Florida for Texas.

Once in the office my mind drifted to when I began here a year go. My internet was down on both computers voiding any possibility of creating an illusion of productivity in the task vacuum I call my cubicle. I have gotten too good at looking busy.

Prevented from moving in any direction I did the only logical thing. I put my feet on the desk, pulled out the iPod, and waited until somebody else showed up who could tell me what to do. The songs played quietly through my ears for a little while until "Grey Street" came on. I adjusted the volume to drown out any other possible noise and was reminded just how powerful of a song it is. In my opinion there isn't a track on "Stand Up" that can touch it.

Today, in memory of the anticipation of July 2002, I give you "Grey Street".

Grey Street
Dave Matthews Band
Busted Stuff

Oh look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Staring out on to Grey Street

And it breaks her heart
Oh it breaks her heart
To grey

Captured At:1006

elbbab

Going out the door this morning was strange. I found myself delaying my departure to straighten things up a bit as if I were expecting company at some point. I actually went out the door thinking there was nothing in this place to offer and I should really go to the store. Very strange.

As was to be expected at the first stop, Milo got an oil change and Bec got scolded. The guy who usually takes care of him is now asking if he needs to call once a month to make sure I'm not neglecting my vehicle. I know I've said this before, but it's funny to me how people have adopted Milo. Having followed my parents' advice he's been driven almost exclusively by me, yet others are about as attached to him as I am. I've been told I have to get a "Milo" plate when my final Florida registration goes through; that he won't be the same without it.

I bought myself a new printer today. Did I need one? No, not really. A random purchase like that isn't normal for me at all. Then again, I have a lot of memories on my computer that I'd like to see find their way into this scrapbook I'm working on just in case. I suppose that's justification enough in my mind. The test photo I used (and I haven't gotten much past that point) was the sunset over the river with the tree in the foreground and the pier stretching into the distance. I'm not sure why, but printing added something to it. I'm actually more pleased with it now than I was when I saw the results on the screen.

At the craft store today I decided that what I was looking to put together didn't need all of the extra garbage I could have picked up. I left the store with a book, paper, and glue. If I want more than pictures I'll draw on my younger self for wisdom as to the best usage of markers and construction paper. She's very well educated in this area.

My Linux box and I spent some quality time today as I crossed my fingers and went digging for data on my old drive. I won't go into the bizarre hardware configuration of my tower that made this a little tricker than it should have been, but I would like to thank the Knoppix people for providing a simple solution that allowed me to retrieve what I hadn't been able to rescue when I first suspected the machine was going to fail.

I'm now torn between putting my efforts into adding the old pictures to the site or continuing with the mess sprawled around my entire living room. My bedroom is a disaster now too due to all of the hardware shifting and an unsuccessful quest for a box of markers I'm sure to find once I buy a new one.

It's been nice revisting some of the memories brought about by my tasks today. For as much as I wish were different and as much as I need to change, if I were to not wake up tomorrow I'd want the people who care about me to know that I had a good life and am truly thankful for each second I shared with them.

I have decided to include a picture tonight that I've always liked. It's from St. Patrick's day 2000. Yes, that is my dorm room door.

I took a short break to run out and have just gotten back. It is beautiful out tonight. I wish I had friends; I'd be on the beach for sure. You know, I had always believed that if you could find pleasure in the small things in life you had something nobody could take from you. I guess I know better now. I lost the ability to do a simple thing that once kept the light glowing behind my eyes at the same time everything else got away from me.

As I say this some words my mother once wrote me in a letter come to mind. I'll take that perspective to heart tonight and repeat what I was saying before I disappeared out the door.

If it all ended this instant I would go knowing my life had been better than I ever dreamed it could be. Thank you stars.

Captured At:2001

"How can you tell how it used to be when there's
Nothing left to see..."

It has been a long time since I deliberately turned on a television set thinking, "I wonder if there's anything on". Doing this last night was especially surprising given what a disaster trying to find something to watch with Derek the other night had been. It wasn't his fault; somewhere along the way I became far too sensitive, and even the things that I normally wouldn't have had a problem with carried storylines that were unhelpful.

Last night's exploration of the limited channels my TV receives landed me on a program about Zeugma and the archeological dig frantically taking place before Turkey's newest dam would back up the Euphrates and leave it all under water. I can't say I was entirely interested, but I figured it was safe enough and continued to watch.

Slowly my level of interest increased. I wondered what it was like to know that the walls you were brushing layers of dirt from hadn't been seen by anyone in two thousand years. The scientists walked through the ancient sewer system they had found and were able to explain how the house they were excavating had been destroyed. I found myself growing more curious about the people who had lived there. Did they ever think a time would come when their city would be deserted and later lost to the world?

An old thought returned to me and I became curious again about what we in this century are leaving behind. What would it tell those in the future about life now? What would last? How would parts of our world be destroyed in such a way that they, too, would vanish until some one came to painstakingly chisel the dirt away?

That point in my questioning is when they discovered the mosaic floors of the villa. I sat on my own floor with my mouth open in wonder, watching the pictures slowly come to life. They told stories from Greek mythology and suddenly these people of the past didn't seem so far away anymore.

Through a careful process the floors were removed and saved, but so much more was lost when the river backed up. It was painful to watch as the old city was covered, walls of more recent homes collapsed into the water, and trees began to drown. My imagination took me back to the villa, watching it slowly flood until there was nothing more to be seen. I felt a great deal of sympathy for the scientists who had spent a small part of their life uncovering mysteries they would never get the chance to solve. I wonder if they see the city in their sleep, dreaming of the history they might have shared with the world.

Contrary to my initial thought this program had been no safer than the other disturbing or heartbreaking things that clog the television sets of millions. Not for me. I think it will be a while before a TV show lights up my living room again.

Captured At: 838

Head of Household

I tried to be a good daughter by calling home to wish my dad a happy Father’s Day only to have Mom inform me that he was out golfing. I’m not quite sure how he expected to hear from his children that way, but the important thing is that he’s enjoying himself. Then again, whenever he’s asked how he played he almost always responds with the same one word answer in his customary disgusted tone. “Lousy.”

Back when we lived in New York Dad had a golf league he’d play in on Friday’s during the summer. I remember going with him one year, driving the golf cart into holes, narrowly escaping large trees, and finding amusement in the ball washers they had along the course. He’d also take us with him when he’d play softball. We’d watch him run happily to his position in the outfield to do what seemed like nothing other than stand around. It was more than worth it to him; he seemed to love catching fly balls on the rare occasions they happened. Many of the guys on his team and the opposing teams were people he’d grown up with at a time when children played baseball in the street instead of on an Xbox.

Dad would play baseball in the street with us too. There, or the back yard. He was usually up for a game of Around the World and beating him was a rare but highly satisfying occurrence, even if it was only because we got two shots before the chance instead of one. He coached me in basketball for years. I seemed to think I could get away with things because he was in charge, but he was very quick to squash that idea anytime it arose.

I remember learning to ride my bike without training wheels and not knowing he’d let go of the back. When we were very little he’d sing as he pushed Liz and I on the swings and give us rides round the house on his shoulders. He was also a fan of “Munchkin Sandwiches”, which involved chasing us all down and piling us on top of each other just because he could. He’d tape things for us that were on TV after we went to bed, and sometimes when we heard the sound of popcorn at night it was shortly followed by footsteps on the stairs bringing little bowls and glasses of Kool-Aid.

There are a lot of attributes I have that I know came from my father. He was always active at church and in the community. Even as children we’d get involved in the things he was doing, volunteering to help Rotary bag oranges and grapefruits on a winter Saturday or run children’s games at the annual Republican picnic. The crazy schedule I lived with my final years of college is a clear sign this sort of involvement and dedication is in my blood. Dad seemed to know everybody though I never knew him to have close friends. I have found I am very much the same way.

On the other side of the coin is the fighting. Most girls get into arguments with their fathers about who they’re dating and why they’re out past curfew. He never had to deal with any of that with me, yet there was plenty for us to butt heads about. He was very particular about how things should be done, believing he had all the right answers. I was stubborn, defiant, and challenged him frequently. It was not a good match.

As you get older you tend to learn things about your parents you didn’t know. You start to understand people more and apply this within your family as well. I’ve come to realize that Dad had wonderful intentions; he just didn’t always convey that in the most effective way. He saw the potential each of his children possessed and wanted to see them reach it. He had mistakes from his own life he didn’t want to see us make. For has tough as he was on us he was also very tough on himself.

That’s not to say I don’t yell back anymore or now agree that he does have all the answers, but I honestly believe he did the best he knew how. I was lucky to grow up in a home where both of my parents believed in things like honestly, fairness, integrity, accountability, hard work, kindness to others, respect, and doing the right thing. They encouraged us to be leaders and raised us in a way that set us apart from the pack. I’m thankful they took an active role in our lives and supported the choices we made the best they could. I’m glad they had things they wouldn’t let us watch or listen to, saving us from the poison we would see destroy so many.

Thanks to my mom and dad I walk a different road than most people I’ve met in my life. It’s a hard one to travel, but I’ve been on it for so long that trying to turn another way cannot be done without an incredible amount of resistance. Sometimes my feet hit the dirt slower than others, but I know I was pointed in a good direction. I also know that if I trip somewhere along the way they’ll help me back up. I couldn’t ask for more.

Captured At:1819

However small...

Every indication has been given that I am highly effective once in motion, building more momentum than a snowball increasing in size as it rolls down the hill after an unlucky cartoon character. It has also been demonstrated that with the proper application of determination, and in the absence of any unforeseen circumstances beyond my control, the end goal is almost guaranteed to be accomplished successfully. While both of these are positive traits to have, the crucial third piece of this sequence is missing. Where does it begin?

Initiative, to me, is a very simple concept that can be extremely difficult to execute. When in a role where others are dependent on me to provide direction and get things moving, or when finding myself where help is needed, I can sprint off the line with the best of them. It’s on the other side, when looking at what needs to be done for me that I fail. Somehow applying my efforts to myself seems less important.

The reality of life is that most people aren’t working for anybody else; that if you don’t try to help yourself, chances are nobody else is going to either. This often puts me in a difficult position. Even if I don’t know where they lie I do have ambitions, however I am unwilling to run over others in the process. I try very hard to vocalize that when I raise my concerns, but people hear what they want and not necessarily what you’ve actually said. I can only hope that somewhere along the way the message gets through.

I have found that when I see one of my many flaws having a broad negative impact I start working out how to change. Recently it has become clear that my inability to take initiative for myself will be severely detrimental to any growth I hope to achieve. Something must be done.

Today I walked next door and approached somebody completely different regarding my lack of knowledge about what the real story is with life post the one year mark at my job. I have voiced my feelings about what I’m doing (or not doing as the case may be). The impression I get from the people in control is that they want me to stay. The message from everybody else says I should and need to go. What will happen now remains to be seen, but I consider it my positive step for today.

Yesterday’s was that I kept moving and didn’t let myself go back to bed to sleep the pain away. I ate some leftover pizza, called home, and resumed my picture project. I stayed up later than I should have, but that only further proved that it wasn’t sleep I had needed. Saturday I finally did some things I had been putting off. Tomorrow’s step has yet to be determined, but my hope is that if I can find one good thing to do for myself each day life will look a little better. I won’t be of any use to anyone else until it does.

Captured At:1403

Let the record show that on this day I was at my desk at 530am. Nobody else will be in the office for hours.

I think I'll go find the sunrise. :)

Captured At: 559

"...by a hand that's touched me..."

The clouds while I was driving in this morning were incredible. To the east they covered the sky almost completely, leaving one illuminated gap for the sun to break through in a wide, directed beam. To the west different shapes and colors layered over each other and what little blue sky could be seen behind them. I have always liked the clouds in Florida, some of the most spectacular formations I've seen having been here at the cape. Nature is amazing. :)

Clouds seem to be a good way to connect the dots of yesterday. There were many as I set out to find the sunrise, but I proceeded to the launch pad regardless. From 255' I watched a small patch of pink that disappeared long before shedding a soft white glow upon the water. I spent nearly all of that time in conversation with the person doing bird watch from that level.

Once back on the ground I was handed a small piece of paper with his name and phone number before I started walking down the mound. I accepted a ride offered by someone in a van only because the rain starting to come down wasn't going to agree with the white shirt I had on, returned to Milo, and headed back to my office.

It was as more clouds moved in last night for a thunderstorm that Derek and I sat on my porch talking about the aforementioned trip to the pad and my social inadequacies. He said he does back flips when he gets a number and that I should call this guy; that if a best friend/ex-boyfriend is giving me the go ahead I should listen. I won’t.

I hate when people I've met once give me their phone number because I know I'm not going to call them. It doesn’t happen often and mostly it's guys, but I have one somewhere from a girl I met during orientation who never heard from me again. I have a hard enough time calling my close friends and family, why would anyone expect me to be keen on the idea of bothering somebody I don’t even know?

When it comes to developing working relationships with people I think I do okay. It’s building the more personal ones that give me a lot of trouble and, when it comes to that, “terrible” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I never went looking for anyone. Everybody I’ve called a friend found me. Every guy who has ever directly asked me out has been turned down, and relationships with the few boyfriends I have had were clumsily and somewhat thoughtlessly stumbled into. My track record is pretty bad.

Looking back on my limited relationships as I found myself doing on Sunday I become very sad. There’s so much there I don’t like and so much I never should have let happen. There are so many places where I didn’t think, and at the same time those are all the places where I didn’t know enough to really do so. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what to do.

I wish somebody had told me.

Realizing all of this is good, but also very painful. My eyes flooded with tears as the pieces slowly came together. There isn’t a single one of them I did right. They were wrong and broken long before they ended. I don’t know how I didn’t see that. The important thing is that I do now; that I know what a real relationship is supposed to be and won’t allow myself to settle for anything less.

I generally avoid questions on it, but that’s what this ring on my left hand is really about. The story of its origin isn’t one I’m ready to tell, but as I sat turning it over between thumbs and index fingers the message carried by each stone pierced through me. In that moment I truly believed and understood what I had only known before. I finally saw what the eyes that gave it to me had. My vision will never be quite the same again.

Captured At: 948

"The Dreaming Tree" is currently coming to an end in my headphones. Much like "Grey Street", which I posted the lyrics to not too long ago, the song is very powerful. Every time I have heard it over the last few weeks I thought about posting on it, but it's a sad song and I wanted to make sure it didn't hit the page on a low day.

Although I've been listening to more BNL than anything else this week, today I have decided to share the DMB lyrics anyway. They, too, run circles around the stuff on "Stand Up" before it can even get off the line.

The Dreaming Tree
Dave Matthews Band
Before These Crowded Streets

Standing here
The old man said to me
"Long before these crowded streets
Here stood my dreaming tree"
Below it he would sit
For hours at a time
Now progress takes away
What forever took to find
And now he's falling hard
He feels the falling dark
How he longs to be
Beneath his dreaming tree
Conquered fear to climb
A moment froze in time
When the girl who first he kissed
Promised him she'd be his
Remembered mother's words
There beneath the tree
"No matter what the world
You'll always be my baby"
Mommy come quick
The dreaming tree has died
The air is growing thick
A fear he cannot hide
The dreaming tree has died

Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Save me please
Take me back

Captured At:1501

Rain Down...

It is pouring outside! I'm soaked! How awesome is that?? ::grins::

As I drove out of the parking lot tonight I could see all of the people behind the glass doors who didn't want to brave the storm. I, on the other hand, rushed into it. I returned to my car splashing through the puddles, twirling with my arms out and tipping my head back to try to catch raindrops in my mouth, and laughing. This was repeated between my car and the steps when I got home.

I do believe playing in the rain becomes my positive step for June 22. Up until that moment I hadn't figured out what it would be for today, but for some reason getting myself soaked completely lit me up inside. I'm still smiling. :D

Captured At:2054

Postlet #5-624

I would like to state for the record that I am feeling surprisingly crummy today. Positive steps... What the heck was I thinking with that garbage?

Less than desirable attitude aside, I think I watched the most amazing rainbow I have ever seen in my life on the way home. It started out so dim that I'm willing to bet at least 98% of the other drivers on the road didn't even notice it was there. By the time I got closer to the house it was a huge, brilliant arch that spanned the entire eastern sky. What's even more amazing is that an hour and a half later, as I drove from the house to my apartment, it was still visible. It wasn't as bright and many sections were missing, but it hadn't vanished completely. In fact, the remaining piece that touched the earth was bolder and stronger than when I knew for sure that my eyes hadn't been playing tricks on me.

What I saw of the sunset was also too spectacular for words. Some of the darker purple clouds looked like something out of a painting and the sun itself was blinding.

It rained all day, and after hours of waiting for the pouring to stop that was the reward. I would say it was worth the rain, no question. There is certainly a metaphor for life hidden in there, but tonight I'm choosing to not coax it out. I think I'll put my pajamas on, play with the dogs a bit, and call it quits for today.

Captured At:2139

Enlightenment, or lack thereof

I have just returned from the house after sharing conversation, naptime, dinner, and a few hours of Food Network/TLC with Liz and TJ. When I walked into my apartment carrying my bags it struck me as odd to be home even though I had only been gone one night. I realized I haven't spent a night away from this place since I visited my family in March. In some ways I was sad to be back because it meant a return to the lonely existence I have come to recognize as my life. In theory going to see people should make it better, but I am at the point where on the rare occasions I do it almost has the opposite effect.

Tonight's offering from my fortune cookie read, "You are the guiding star of his existence". I could not have written something more irrelevant and less helpful if I had tried. I looked at Liz and inquired who "he" was because I sure as heck didn't know. What is that supposed to mean anyway? I place it right up there with "If you're hungry have another fortune cookie" on the "Yeah, thanks for that" list. It's a good thing the answers to the world's problems aren't supposed to be found in those edible containers. Anyone seriously looking to a cookie to fix their life is toast.

It should be no surprise I found myself looking up while I walked outside and drove home tonight. As I adjusted Milo's momentum to accomodate the lights on Wickham I thought of the beach and, again, how much I miss it. Surely there must be somebody else out there who wishes they had somebody who would keep them company for a little while as they enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the peace that comes when the world disappears. I cannot be the only one with this problem, so where are the others? How come we don't seem to be locating each other?

I have spent months now living the life I always thought I would have. When I looked ahead and saw it I found nothing to make me want to move forward and "grow up" so to speak. Being in it I have found it to be every bit as unappealing as I believed. If I don't like the life I have, what is the life I want?

I thought I knew; I almost had it, but clearly there is something else planned for me. I really wish I knew what that was. I am so tired of being told there is a great destination for a journey I fail to see any sign of making progress on. Am I even moving? Though I've been toasted in the sun and soaked by clouds of every possible size the scenery hasn't changed. Every step I try to make continues to leave me standing still. I didn't think that was the way it was supposed to work. But who am I, really? What could I possibly know?

Captured At:2203

"Only things worth living for
Innocence and Magic
Amen."

Children don’t think in terms of square feet or acres. They can create an entire universe on a small patch of lawn treating each repeated pace as if it reveals something their eyes have never seen before. My universe was the neighbourhood I rode circles around on a bicycle with a yellow banana seat and plastic pieces on the wheel spokes that made noise as I pedaled as fast as my legs would allow. My world existed within a forest I was determined to explore every inch of and my imagination was limitless.

I still cannot assign a size to the land, but I see it as it always was. It began behind number 26, where my friends lived, and stretched half way around the block. Dirt trails connected the pavement of four different neighbourhoods that could each claim a partial border with my uncharted land of adventure.

Along one of these trails a bird and squirrel had been buried by less than a handful of children slowly making their way through elementary school. I thought I was doing something kind by removing one of nature’s furry creatures from the road. Moments after I dumped him into an orange plastic pumpkin one of the older kids stopped on his bicycle telling us we were going to die because we had touched a dead animal.

We survived. Shows what he knew.

Years later I could still locate the place alongside the bike path where we returned this animal to the earth. It wasn’t far from the hole we played in and had dubbed the “giant bird’s nest”. When the autumn came it would fill with leaves that we would sit and laugh in. We dressed in sneakers, sweat pants, and light jackets completely unphased by the dropping temperatures. There was joy to be found in every season.

As my age slowly outgrew a single digit I ventured farther “discovering” streams and paths I could locate as easily as the rooms in my house. Sometimes I would take people with me and they would get scared, convinced that I had gotten us lost and we would never see our families again. Ryan and I would play with Ewoks or sit atop fallen trees with no doubt in our minds we had mounted Falkor the luckdragon for an aerial tour of my universe and beyond.

Children also don’t think in terms of the end. They don’t realize their friend has left them for the last time. They exit a cover of trees squinting at the sunlight with no idea the land will never delight in their cheerful shouts again.

My failure to return to the woods wasn’t a conscious decision, but after life took Ryan and I in different directions I seldom returned. I haven’t seen those trees in over five years. I haven’t navigated the grounds in even longer. Sometimes I wish I had, but there is nothing that last walk would have shown me that I did not already know.

Somewhere among leaves and fallen branches the spirits of two children with their entire lives ahead of them dance in scattered sunlight, their laughter carried on the wind. They are safe and have what no person can take away, yet I continue to miss them with all of my heart.

Captured At:1506

Welcome

The real world. It’s a foreign concept people speak of when you are young that, before you know it, you’re being given frequent sarcastic welcomes to. I do not know at which age that stops as I have not reached it yet, and I’m forced to call into question what exactly this reality they speak of is based on. As a clan of creatures biased in our perceptions and limited in our understanding how can we claim to know what “the real world” actually is? Do we even have a firm enough grasp on “real” to assign it as an adjective, especially to something so large and complex?

Often I find myself writing and realize that the expression I have just applied does not make sense even though it is commonly used and accepted. When pulling it apart fails to yield a result I can comprehend I generally toss it aside and find another way. I have come to challenge the language I use and “the real world” is simply the latest victim.

The idea of the real world contrasts dreams and fantasies of happy endings, peace, and perfection. It’s where people are selfish, inconsiderate, uncooperative, violent, and mischievous. There isn’t always a happy medium and not every problem has a desirable solution. To be quite honest I cannot say I care much for the place at all.

But here I am.

Every conversation I have had indicates that the concerns I express are more than valid. While it is good to know I am not being unreasonable in my observations I also greatly dislike the idea that my words carry enough weight to shoot somebody down. I hate feeling destructive. I also have everything to gain by allowing them to continue flying, but I’m looking out for something greater than myself. If I don’t speak up and it suffers in the end then I have failed.

Sometimes things need to be said that people simply do not want to say. I worry often when I do this, trying my best to make sure my remarks are both thought out and justified. It’s not easy to look at your leader and tell them their priorities are not as they should be. It’s not easy to very specifically say that what is happening under them is unacceptable. Fortunately these comments appeared to be received in the nature they were intended; not as malicious criticism, but genuine concern.

It’s not extracurricular activities or hobbies I’m dealing with anymore. It’s people’s lives. I do not have control to make the actual decisions, but no action I take can be executed carelessly. I often get laughed at when I say it, but the importance of “must use powers for good, not evil” cannot be overlooked. In the real world there are consequences for everything.

Here I am.

Also floating within my mind this morning is something very “real world” that I have no part in. My knowledge is limited, my influence nonexistent, my empathy and compassion overflowing. As I find myself struggling to figure out what I would do I have to thank God for the choices I have never had to make and hope my good fortune in this respect continues. It’s these times that make me miss my family the most, but I am also painfully aware that my physical presence changes nothing. This, like so many things, is completely out of my control. All I can do is send every good thought, wait, and hope.

I am.

Captured At:1227