For the better part of a week I have been waiting for the words to come. The feelings were there with the music when sunlight and fruit juices mingled inside the apartment, and at the stoplight in Cocoa where I reminded myself that as long as I can savor the simple moments I’ll find some way to make it. Still, nothing came.

I searched for them as I received confirmation of being on the right track and found the tiny gems of wisdom and guidance that I needed with impeccable timing, yet something told me these revelations were mine alone. The page remained empty.

Words exited my mouth as Drops of Jupiter streaked unobserved drops of remembrance down a face browning with the crowd under the West Palm sun, and as I stood next to a man in uniform while gazing proudly at my nation’s flag with different eyes. None of these words were my own.

All of the peace, the amusement, the seriousness, the revelation and the wonder of eight days I had been thankful for disappeared in a single unexpected moment as I held onto him with silent tears running down my face. Nothing had been said, nothing had been done. It simply happened.

And in that moment it crossed my mind that sometimes you don’t realize how hard you’ve been fighting or how much you’ve been holding on to just so you can survive from one day to the next. That for all of the outward smiles and friendliness, the sadness can still sit there waiting its turn. That each day your desperate need for a comforting, genuine hug goes unmet silently takes its toll.

It isn’t conscious, but suddenly something tells you that it’s okay to be vulnerable because you’re with somebody for whom you don’t have to pretend. Next thing you notice your entire face has become damp with streaks and you don’t know when the flood of emotion began.

You know one thing with certainty and your entire being cries out to remind you of it. Whether right or wrong, you don’t want to be let go.

Captured At: 136

Never stop believing

We were standing outside the south exit of the church building when the loud smack of two objects colliding echoed through the parking lot and interrupted our conversation. Distracted, I began looking around for the source. A few paces toward the large bump now in front of the steps confirmed my initial classification of the object as a frog. My only guess as to where he had come from was “up”.

I expected him to jump away frightened as I approached, but he didn’t even move when I tapped him with my foot. My heart sank as I watched for breathing and realized nothing in this creature showed any sign of life. I asked him why he did it, adding that things couldn’t have been that bad. The frog remained motionless.

Naturally I was upset. I watched him laying there torn between wanting to go so I didn’t have to look anymore and wanting to stay because I didn’t know how to leave him behind. My mind began searching for meaning in this. What was it tied to? What was I supposed to see reflected as the scene ran its course?

I thought of the previous evening and how, much like the fatal leap of my amphibian friend, what initially seemed innocent enough had ended in disaster. I thought of the previous relationship and told myself to move on because that was as dead as the creature on the ground before me. I recalled the saying that begins, “You have to kiss a lot of frogs…” and envisioned him growing in a cartoon-like manner with a little crown appearing on his head as he transformed before my eyes. I hoped he wasn’t the specimen I was supposed to find. If so, it was too late.

And somewhere among that my thoughts mingled with pieces of a passage that had been underlined in the tiny bible I found on my desk one morning after a slightly frustrated conversation. If I had faith the size of a mustard seed? If I did I could make this thing come back…I’d just sort of tap him and he’d spring to life and hop off… Nothing will be impossible? Yeah, that’d be nice. Poor guy…

Still hoping something would change I poked at the frog a couple more times. I bounced around in an attempt to scare him away and waved my hands in front of his eyes to see if he followed them. Nothing.

“I wish he’d get up and hop away,” I said, now on my knees to be as close to eye level as possible.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“I know. But I can still pretend.”

He had become the topic of conversation I often returned to. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what splattered parts might be tucked beneath him, so I waived off the suggestion to scoop him up for disposal among the bushes. My eyes continued to look over the tiny lifeless body hoping that somehow I had been wrong.

About five minutes later I jumped as he suddenly took a small step to turn slightly away from me. His head was held up higher and his throat was throbbing rapidly. The mouth of my fellow alum nearly hit the ground at the impossibility. I was jubilant. My frog was alive!

Joyfully I shuffled along behind him as a guide to the nearest bushes telling him how happy I was that he had survived. I was grinning like a child, jumping and giddy with delight.

“You just made my night, buddy. You know that, right?”

And he had. When I least expected it, just as my innocent hope seemed to have run out, the move I nearly forgot I had been watching for was finally made. There has to be a lesson in that somewhere…

Captured At:2345

Had I been properly outfitted I think this evening would have found me on some beach beneath a clear sky gently highlighted by the full moon. Walking down the sidewalk from my sister's apartment and rounding the corner to reveal the parking lot always strikes me in a very specific way. It seems to physically transport me into the past until the reality center in my brain slowly pulls me back into the now.

At this exact time two years ago I was pulling an all-nighter to prepare for the move into that apartment. A combination of emails, IMs, phone calls and food runs provided distractions from a task I was forcing myself to get through out of necessity, not desire. I kept a list of rediscovered treasures as I worked, each of which had a story reaching into the college life I had concluded nearly two weeks before. In many ways it was a trying time, and yet there was also something wonderful about the innocence and potential of it all. Among the uncertainty and chaos something in me was truly happy. Today's world is slightly more settled, yet also dimmer in places where I most valued the glow.

Last year I was working my tail off building hours to spend with my family when they arrived. As my eyes soaked in the photos accenting posts from that trip I could again believe I wasn't in today. I looked into the blue of captured sky thinking that I needed to go somewhere because I wanted to take pictures, and reminded myself that I have plenty of upcoming wandering potentially capable of granting that wish. Something inside of me asked who I was taking them for and, while I couldn't come up with a specific answer, I knew it wasn't solely for me. I wanted to share.

The time goes by so quickly and yet those distinct feelings never quite change.

With a single cell phone on speaker in the middle of us tonight's calls felt like family teleconferences. Our conversations have shifted from coursework and classmates to occupations and wedding plans, yet we can still laugh together as if we're kids without a worry in the world. It reinforces my belief that I truly was given a wonderful family to be part of - a family that will only grow and change as we continue to age. It's life, and it truly is beautiful.

I write those last seven words and something in me wants to cry. Amazingly, I accept that. I feel far more than I would generally admit to the world that I do. If it paid any attention it would know this already, and it took an unexpected face in the crowd to remind me of a fact I had successfully suppressed after years of practice. Sometimes I still believe that if I were to look into it I wouldn't have to say a word; that it would understand everything I'm choosing not to say out of a desire to put myself aside. If I don't say it I can pretend it's not there. And yet, somehow, I wouldn't be the only one who knew.

Captured At: 200

Repeat after me: Must use powers for good, not evil...

Tonight I decided I should finally do that 4 hour course I opted for before I get another letter saying I've wasted my election as happend with my previous speeding ticket. As should be no surprise, I took it online. For any unfamiliar with how those work, there's a time requirement for each section and you can't advance to the next one until the timer in the corner has reached 0:00.

It's the timer that caught my attention. It didn't seem to count down one second at a time, it would decrease by two or three. Compared to my system clock it was slightly behind. Being the naturally curious creature I am I wondered what would happen if I adjusted the time on my laptop. I advanced it one hour, applied it, and was immediately logged out of the traffic school site due to inactivity.

"Great, now I've done it," I thought. So I signed back in and, much to my surprise, the timer was at 0:00. I was free to proceed to the next section after less than 10 minutes.

Next thing I did was tell somebody. I'd make a terrible hacker...

"So is it bad that I found out how to crash the online driver course and get through the chapters way ahead of time?"
"Dude! Yes."

We agreed that the software testing teacher back at school would be proud.

And somewhere out there maybe somebody would be proud to know that taking advantage of the course's poor design to zip through it felt dishonest. Once I knew there was a cheat I didn't use it again, though I do have to admit there was a sense of accomplishment in the initial discovery. Not just because it worked, but because I had spontaneously generated a theory to test.

I love to see my mind working and bringing me to unexpected things. It felt nice to be challenged, even for the two minutes the exercise lasted. Nothing seems to spark me like that anymore and I genuinely miss it. I don't want the story of my life to be one of wasted potential. Despite all of my "success" thus far I've squandered so much. I'm still young and foolish enough to believe that I could do anything, and with that comes a terrible lack of direction because I know everything is possible.

Perhaps my greatest challenge is in beginning.

Captured At:2353

Letter for a Friend

Once Jason Mraz's "Song for a Friend" reached the top of the playlist I gave up on juggling my way around the living room and decided to sit down and write. I had been meaning to all day, so I guess that was my cue.

It's one of those songs with a feel that hooked me instantly, and once I heard the opening words "Well you're magic he said," all I could think about was how you used to tell me that all the time. The parallels didn't stop there, but the song would still be beautiful to me even if they had. Mostly it takes me back to last summer, though there are dots I can connect directly to other times. Good tune; I recommend it.

Boston was both a good trip and a difficult one for all of the expected reasons. I'm terrible at being 25, though when I said that to [0] he told me he thinks it's great that I'm the way I am. When I look around it's obvious I'm not like many. The first day I caught the T by myself I threw the iPod in my pocket to blend in with the natives. Even without the bright green jacket I stuck out; I was the only one in the whole car smiling, tapping my foot, and bobbing along happily enjoying every second of the ride. I know it's that girl who you and many others I've known have loved so much. Truth be told, I like her a lot too. I'm always amazed when I stop to notice just how much she shines.

I was mentioning Milo to a pair of co-workers the other day in exchange for laughter. So I have an active imagination. So what? What's wrong with that? I'm told "nothing". [1] made another statement I always trace back to you: that I love life. I said I try, and that I don't care if people think I'm crazy for that. She says there's a lot they could learn from me there. [10] showed up unexpectedly and told me before he left to keep up the email; that my perspective on the world is important to people like him. It was good to know I haven't been a pest with my two or three brief messages, but I don't entirely understand what he meant. What perspective do you think I'm showing that he's so interested in? What constitutes a "person like [him]"? Maybe I'll get the courage to ask.

Maybe.

Those things are what I was thinking about as I drove home last night. I had the window down and my hand was riding wind currents in sync with "Curbside Prophet" even as it began to rain. I decided that I can't explain to people how I see things. I can only show them by living it. Getting stung by 55mph rain drops was another one of those moments that reminds me of who I am. I have you to thank for helping me truly recognize her for what she is: precious. Loved, and precious.

I think I may have finally made some progress in explaining the sources of my frustration at work. It seems every time I have tried to get them to understand where my problem is I have failed miserably. As we talked during my evaluation [0] seemed to finally get it, and he's now on the list of people who have said we're similar and how much I sound like them. Perhaps we all reach this impasse and finally conquering it is another rite of passage. Consensus may say most won't get there for another 10 years, but I'm here now. I wish you could help me with this one too, but I know it's mine.

When I finally do get through it's going to be incredible. I'm glad I'm not settling - as I promised I wouldn't - but it's rough going.

I randomly went back to an old email today and found a paragraph I had written that blew me away. To save you the trouble of digging it up, here it is:

"You know, at the end of the day I think changing things for the better is what I really want to have done. I want to have made a positive contribution in my time here. Sometimes, despite how often I wonder why anyone would bring children into today's world, I think that the real idea behind that is if you teach them right, they too can go out and make a difference to a few more people. We really can't change the world, but we can certainly help change how others perceive it. I truly believe that if you successfully touch another life for the better your own life, no matter how difficult it may have been, has not been without value. Your time has not been wasted."

I'm pretty sure "World on Fire" had come on in the background as I reached that point in the message and I was just overwhelmed. I always did love the way I wrote to you; nothing was too difficult to explain and somehow the best always came out. Anyone who can see things like that has to have something good inside of them, and it gave me hope that, for all of the frustration, I'm nowhere near being a lost cause.

And maybe that's the underlying thread capable of tying together every thought whose retention I've been struggling to see the reason for. I can be confident that I have a lot to offer the world around me, and I must be patient until the moment comes for me to make an impact.

This is slightly morbid, but sometimes I wonder if I'm going to be one of those people whose - significance for lack of a better word - isn't truly seen until after they're gone. It's a strange way to think, I know, but it somehow seems to make sense when I consider that I may never actually see my contribution.

Yes, I really must be crazy. All owners of a great mind are. ;)

It should be no surprise that the hours have zipped past me in composing this. I hope it finds you well and enjoying life in every color of the rainbow. Take care of yourself and know that, as always, I am sending nothing but the very best thoughts in your direction. Dream something wonderful tonight, okay?

~Rebecca

Captured At:2133