"If it suddenly ended tomorrow..."

The moonlight is beautiful on the tide tonight. This evening's sky is mostly clear and sending a fantastic breeze across the beach to blow through the pavilion whose railing I'm perched upon. I can tell already that leaving is going to be difficult.

It's the girl out here alone who I think I love most. She's the one who won't let anything keep her from experiencing the wonders of the overlooked world coming at her in all its power. The one whose eyes seem to absorb starlight with a force stronger than the vacuum of space and somehow tuck it away for a later moment when they can give somebody a glimpse of the sparkle they missed on the night she collected it. And, sadly, she's the one nobody sees anymore.

This week I made a mistake. I commented in passing to a couple coworkers that if I were to check out in the next five years I'd be okay with it. They immediately dubbed this as the remark of a depressed and suicidal individual. One told me that every now and again I say something that worries them and this was such a case.

For me, it was yet another instance where I missed feeling that somebody in this world actually understood who I was. I'm so tired of people failing to look past who they think I am, who they hear I am or who they want me to be and, instead, seeing the person who's actually in front of them.

When I step back and look at where I am now, I truly cannot believe it. When I look back at my life to see how far I've come and how many wonderful stories dot its surface I wonder how I ever deserve the ease I was given. I have had an incredible life - every up and down of it. I was told that's only further reason to look forward to what's 10, 20, 30 years in the future. That if it's been great, it will continue to be so. That life doesn't start until 40.

I, however, know that the only thing I am guaranteed in life is the very moment I have right now. I may not get the next blink, breath or heartbeat.

And at this exact moment I know a number of incredible things to be true. I know I am loved and that I can love. I know I've touched and saved the lives of others simply by being who I am. I know I harbour no anger, grudges or regrets, and have a greater capacity for compassion and forgiveness than I would ever have believed possible. I know that what I see with my eyes isn't it, and that the one who created everything they take in with awe finally pulled me back to him where I belong. I know my family is well and I appreciate them in ways unparalleled at any other time in my life. I know I laugh or smile when I look at myself in the mirror because I like who she is and what's revealed in the glances reflecting back.

If I were to die five years from today I would have watched my brother graduate from college. I would have stood next to my sister on her wedding day leaking tears of joy from my eyes, and watched her become the doctor she has always wanted to be. I would have celebrated my parents' 30th anniversary and their 50th birthdays. I would have seen the end of a program that captures the imagination and helped get the next one ready to change what we call our world.

There is, in my opinion at least, a tremendous difference between being comfortable with the idea of death and actively seeking or wishing for it. Death is a part of life that cannot be run from and should not be run toward. I'm doing neither of those things, but I am realistic. The truth is that I have more confidence now, more belief that my road really does lead upward and that the future is bright, than I have at any other time in my life. If I have to go, is it so wrong to prefer it's on a high note?

Unfortunately my time isn't up yet. That means this mostly easy life I've enjoyed will get harder. I'll have to work through the upcoming bumps in the road that make me nervous. My limited vision will continue to have more that it misses behind me than it can make out in the clouds around the summit ahead. I'm not always sure I'm up to a challenge I know I don't want to fail. The other side says I'm not going to just make it; I'm going to get through it well and be more thankful for the experience than I could have imagined when I began.

I know it comes out as a train of flawed logic, and it does so because of a failure on my part to adequately communicate what it actually feels like. My "gift of words" can only go so far.

The time for concern has already come and gone. Depressed Bec doesn't lose her breath at the sight of golden highlights the sunset is casting onto large blue-purple clouds as she did driving from work tonight. She doesn't roll the windows down just to feel the rain or laugh as she throws her arms out to "fly" on the wind. She and her life are not perfect, but she is content. Isn't there anybody else left who knows what that feels like?

Captured At:2342

It was warm enough to be slightly uncomfortable as I walked behind the buildings this afternoon wearing jeans and a black hoodie. I was home early, having only put in five hours. This was partially because I was bored, partially because I was tired, and partially because once I realized the error of not paying my rent on time I wanted to rectify it as soon as possible.

They cut me a break on the late fee. "I'm not used to you being late," she said. "Yeah, me neither." Given the ups, downs, chaos, and travel since I first moved in, I'd say forgetting once in 26 months isn't bad. Not good, but still not bad.

Walking back I noticed the ducks had moved away from their pond and were looking at me expectantly. For a moment it felt like I was going in the wrong direction and should have been on my way to the park with Frisbee in hand for a few hours of wandering and playing as I used to do when I had friends.

As of late I think juggling has become my answer to not having people around. It still feels like playing, can be done inside or out, doesn't require a partner, and with how many tricks I have left to learn it will be a while until I'm bored of it. There's also a lack of seriousness to the act that I find appealing, perhaps because it lets me feel like I haven't lost the part of me that loves goofing off purely because I can.

I've come a long way over the course of my life. There are things I really want to hold onto. Others I'd prefer never to see again, and I've found that when they creep out unexpectedly I take it pretty hard.

Yesterday I snapped at one of my coworkers for something he meant as a joke. I've become very frustrated with how it seems that everything I do or say that doesn't fit whatever mold they've cast me into is immediately attributed to having been around somebody else too much. I angrily responded that I had a personality before I got there, I am my own person, and to say things like that totally discredits that fact. After he went out the door I told the remaining coworker that I knew I shouldn't have gotten like that, but what do they really know about who I am? He said they're learning, and that they know I'm a very private person. What I don't think they realize is that I feel like I have to be.

As I write this I have to wonder if it was really the telecon recap which seemed deserving of those sympathetic hugs, or if it provided a good excuse to extend some semblance of comfort on an obviously difficult afternoon. If I'm honest, I needed that and more.

Later that night as I stood in a parking lot with another coworker I recapped the explosion. He'd just told me I was a much better person than most around the place, and I was trying to prove him wrong while also pointing out that it's not about being better than anybody else. He still maintains that I'm a heck of a person. I'll admit that's nice to hear, but I also know that if I'm not careful I won't be. I have many great things going for me, all of which have the potential to go sour if I'm not paying attention.

Last night I drove home unhappy and believing I said too much. Today I felt distant from everybody in a way that I haven't for a long time. Funny how I bruised even though I'm the only one who did anything destructive.

But hey, I've got a whole three day weekend to recover and on Tuesday this will be long behind me. It's a beautiful thing.

Captured At:2312

special

Further proof that I am a strange bird indeed came on Sunday afternoon as Milo navigated his way north on US-1. Cars filled the spaces of a tiny launch often empty on my commute, and the water was busy with the activity of boaters enjoying the perks of a Floridian October. I couldn't fault them for their choice. It truly was a gorgeous day.

Yet instead of walking the beach or playing at the park as one would expect to find me doing on such an afternoon, instead of stripping down to a swimsuit and shorts to brown in the sun, I had covered myself in layers to combat the cold of an indoor ice rink.

While the world is showing unmistakable signs of autumn, it will be months before the masses trade their tank tops for sweatshirts and their water skis for skates. I'd never been skating here in the off season before and had never seen the place so empty.

It was wonderful.

I love watching the kids as they find their balance and struggle to maintain it. I remember my own initial slips and falls despite every confidence that I'd finally discovered the trick to keeping my butt off the ground. I see them with their little walkers and think of the silly burnt orange chair that helped a five year old me make laps around Center City for the first time.

I love watching the experienced skaters and the hockey players fluidly turning and crossing and reversing direction within a crowd of amateurs. They seem so graceful where I'm certain I look like a doof, and I wondered if little me ever appeared as if she knew what she was doing.

I thought again about that defining show where "the fall" took place, but this time what came to mind specifically was the closing. I don't remember how few of us there were - three maybe - who, at the end of the final night, had to go out and give flowers to some of the people we had in the show who I believe were professionals. They called the one guy's name and I skated out still in costume holding the bouquet, then handed it off, got a kiss on the cheek in return, and skated back.

As I write that paragraph I can see all sorts of scenes tied to the show - the gym floor where we practiced our routine off the ice, the locker room on show night, the waiting area once we were dressed, the view of the curtain from backstage, and those silly gold spray painted dog bones that sat on my shelf longer than I can now see any reason for.

This last part, though, I draw almost a complete blank. I don't remember practicing it or talking about it, I just remember walking toward the door to the ice with an adult and two others I didn't know, then being told to skate out, give the flowers to him, and skate back. But why was I chosen? What reason was there to set me apart and, out of an entire cast of performers, send me as one of three to thank our guests as they stood in the middle of the rink under the focus of the entire audience?

I'm not complaining, but when I stop and really think about events in my past - both distant and recent - I don't understand why I'm the privileged one. How have I been any more deserving than somebody else who wasn't afforded the chance? Why am I given so much that I never ask for and generally don't even consider?

I've been told that one day I'll learn to stop asking questions that begin with "why".

Tonight as I stood on the beach I reflected on some of the things I actually want the opportunity to do. I had driven home watching the bank clocks along US-1 pointing out how late it was and decided I could let myself go as long as I left at 11. I was the lone barefoot wanderer treading the drying sand and absorbing the moon colored satin as it danced back to the ocean with each disappearing wave. The sky was completely clear and illuminated by a newly risen Waning Gibbous which blotted out many of the stars.

It was an incredible visit. One minute I'd stand looking at the ocean, the next I was up to my calves in it and completely surrounded by warm water. Even the waves that didn't reach me blew enough of that warmth past on the breeze to remind me how at their mercy I really was. Such an amazing time to be outside, yet there was nobody else to see it. I guess it could be said I was the privileged one again, and at that moment I was glad it was me. Times like those remain priceless.

And then, when I wasn't paying attention to the roll coming at me, the wave broke and drenched the bottom two inches of my shorts. It was uncomfortable, but I laughed anyway as I took the hint and began walking back down the beach to return to my car. I don't know what prompted me to do it, but I pulled the flashlight out of my pocket as I went and shone it at my watch.

11pm.

All I could do was shake my head and laugh.

Captured At:2339

Comments exchanged between my traveling companions about cold hard bananas as we walked between taxicab and hotel room come to mind as I sit here peeling back the skin on my latest acquisition from the refrigerator. On any other day this would have been looked upon as a random and utterly pointless thought, but this afternoon it becomes a tiny point of reference in an ever increasing picture.

I am always amazed when I pause to consider the dissimilarity of our species; how the senses of any given number can absorb the same moment and be affected differently by it. I make a lot of generalizations about people - mostly negative, I admit - but the truth is that in my heart I'm longing to see the very best revealed in the individual and the body of humanity as a whole.

Subsets of the biological and psychological communities offer stacks of evidence that we're not as different from each other as we believe. They do a fantastic job of breaking down the physical and quantitative aspects of what and how people are, but beyond a certain level it seems to me they stumble at the why. They can tell me when my fingers and toes formed or how childhood teasing affected who I am today, but they can't tell me why I feel the world as I do. They can't tell me why I'm me instead of somebody else, or why any other pairing with the mind or body would cease to be her.

We are born with something more than the physical parts developed in the womb. Folded within this nebulosity of being are oft-inexplicable desires, which for me manifested themselves in nagging senses that have remained through every phase of my life. The possibility of fulfillment gives me a triumphant time to wait in hope for and, because I don't know how it will come within the framework of who I am, what my life is and the world I'm a resident of, it also provides a day to fear should they go unrealized.

I have to believe that everyone has these. That everyone aches when they see somebody else living what they feel they've been waiting their entire life for and it causes them to worry about not making the mark or being wrong. That's part of being human, isn't it?

Many believe my future is a bright one, which I should take as a positive sign that enough of what I feel is in me has spilled out so that others can see it. In the most general of terms I know what I want to do. I know what makes my eyes sparkle and sets my imagination on fire. Some go their whole lives without discovering what does that for them. For all the doubts in this world I have to believe that when my time comes I'll make it. I just wish I didn't feel like I was running out of time.

Captured At:1719

In May of 2002 I had just returned to North Carolina to pass what would end up being my last summer there. March and April had not been kind, but somehow I still had a few friends hanging around. Tonight, as I randomly poked around my unused yahoo mailbox, I discovered some questionnaires they sent me which I had filled out in boredom and forwarded as directed. I've decided to store them here and share them because they're an interesting snapshot of who I was almost 4.5 years ago. My language has definitely improved since then and some of these things are either no longer true or downright laughable. A little seriousness, a little sarcasm; it's me through and through. Enjoy!

~* Number One *~
1. IF YOU COULD BUILD YOUR HOUSE ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD IT BE? this is a toss up....it'd be cool to have it in the middle of nowhere like my grandparent's house with the mountains across the street, but i would miss the beach so much if I wasn't close to it......i'm spoiled in florida

2. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ARTICLE OF CLOTHING? I tend to wear a lot of florida tech stuff, but i'm big into being comfy

3. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE PHYSICAL FEATURE OF THE GENDER THAT YOU PURSUE? never really thought about it...

4. WHAT'S THE LAST CD THAT YOU BOUGHT? Jimmy Buffett's Far Side of the World, soon to be followed by DMB's Busted Stuff

5. WHERE'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO BE? on the beach at night or driving my car down an open road w/the music blaring and "singing" real loud

6. WHERE'S YOUR LEAST FAVORITE PLACE TO BE? the hospital on my birthday....not that I'd know anything about that

7. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO BE MASSAGED? again, never really thought about it...people who try and massage my shoulders make me jump in pain....although maybe that wouldn't happen if i let people massage them more....hmmmm......

8. WHAT'S MOST IMPORTANT, STRONG IN MIND OR STRONG IN BODY? strong in mind, although it helps to be strong in body so you can kick major ass when people don't agree with you :)

9. WHAT TIME DO YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? as late as possible

10. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW? normally i don't watch tv

11. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE KITCHEN APPLIANCE? the blender :D

12. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE CHILDHOOD MEMORY? i have far too many to pick a single one

13. WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH? friends, family, and my own stupidity

14. WHAT MAKES YOU REALLY ANGRY? when people fuck with my friends, and especially when they fuck with my sister........right now the bastard who gave me a C in layout and design is up there too though

15. IF YOU COULD PLAY ANY INSTRUMENT, WHAT WOULD IT BE? any of em,i wish i had musical talent..i wouldn't mind being able to sing either

16. FAVORITE RESTAURANT/CAFE/EATERY? i seem to end up at margaritaville orlando a whole lot

17. FAVORITE MUSICAL GROUP IN YOUR TEENS/EARLY TWENTIES? dmb...hands down...they just make me smile :)

18. IF THERE WAS A MOVIE MADE ABOUT YOU, WHAT CURRENT/FORMER HOLLYWOOD STAR WOULD PLAY YOU? the only person who could play me is me....i don't want some shitty actress trying to show people what my life is like

19. DO YOU BELIEVE IN AN AFTERLIFE? I dunno, can't see that far down the road

20. FAVORITE CHILDREN'S BOOK? anything dr. suess or the little prince (damn fine book if you haven't read it)

21. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? vacation

22. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE HOUSEHOLD CHORE? me? do household chores? Isn't that what I have liz for?? :P

23. IF YOU COULD HAVE ONE SUPER POWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE? i would have the power of rotating super powers that I could call upon as I needed/wanted them.

24. IF YOU HAVE A TATTOO, WHAT IS IT? You think some one with my pain tolerance is going to have a tatoo?? Give me a break!

25. WHO WAS YOUR FIRST LOVE--AND AT WHAT AGE? n/a

26. THE SONG YOU WISH YOU HAD WRITTEN? either "row row row your boat" or "i'm a little teapot" the royalties from those would make me so rich it's not even funny :P

27. DO YOU PREFER CATS OR DOGS? my cat makes me sneeze :(

28. WHAT'S IN THE TRUNK OF YOUR CAR? the guy I wacked last night....it's been rainy, so i haven't been able to dispose of him properly yet

29. OF THE PEOPLE WHO WILL RECEIVE THIS, WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Samantha, b/c she's the only one who did last time

30. OF THE PEOPLE WHO WILL RECEIVE THIS, WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Everybody. Why the hell is this important anyway?

31. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DAY? Any day when I'm happy

32. USING ONLY ONE WORD, DESCRIBE YOURSELF. I'd like to think there's a little more to me than can be summed up in one word....everybody knows something different

33. SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS.
well....if I didn't send it back to them, does it really matter?? Besides, it just makes you have try and find something nice to say about some one who sent you an obnoxious piece of junk mail.

~* Number Two *~
------------------GENERAL INFO------------------
* Starting Time: 1342
* Date: 5.18
* Name On Birth Certificate: Rebecca Ann ****
* Nicknames: Most frequently bec, also known as bequita (loquita) and "she who walketh at low altitudes" >:0
* Birthday: 6.10
* School: FL Tech
* Location: Melbourne, Florida
* E-mail: ****@yahoo.com, ****@fit.edu
* Color of eyes: brown
* Hair: brown
* Brothers/Sisters: yep
* Who do you live with: It's summer, so I'm home w/my parents, Liz, Bryan, Moo, and my cat who makes me sick
* Bed time: Don't have one, although if I was smart I would
------------------HAVE YOU EVER------------------
* Ever been so drunk you blacked out: nope
* Missed school because it was raining: a class or two maybe, but not the entire day; calling liz for a ride when it's pouring out is fun too :P
* Put a body part on fire for amusement? I'm not /that/ foolish
* Been in a car accident: not if running over that deer doesn't count; on a sidenote: every time I get in a car w/derek I think he's gonna kill me...as Karoline once told me "red means brakes!"
* Been hurt emotionally: anyone who answers "no" to this needs to spend a day in the real world
* Kept a secret from everyone: I'm sure I have at one point or another; I can be rather introverted
* Had an imaginary friend: yup...I was pretty popular among the invisble crowd even though I never fit in to well....
* Wanted to hook up with a friend: hasn't everyone?
* Cried during a Movie: nope
* Had a crush on a teacher: nope
* Ever thought an animated character was Hot ????: Simba in the Lion King! Growl! :P (ask a stupid question.....)
* Had a New Kids on the Block tape: nope
* Been on stage: fucking up the parking spot drawing last year comes to mind...
* Cut your hair: me personally? no. But I pay some one else to.
* Been sarcastic: never!
------------------FAVORITES------------------
* Shampoo: whatever's in my shower
* soap: whatever's next to the shampoo
* Color: purple - but I'm talking the cool dark mysterious kind, not the bright girly pastel kind
* Day/Night: Night. Beach. No contest.
* Summer/Winter: "I gotta go where it's warm!"
* On-line smiley: The huge ass grinny face....or the one w/the x for his mouth - right ky? ;)
* Lace or satin: leaning towards satin
* Cartoon Characters: Tale Spin! Rescue Rangers! Snorks! Care bears! All those good 80s cartoons!
* Fave Ice Cream: something fruity...the nice people at the ice cream place here let me do black raspberry w/rainbow sherbet....although the other night it was mint chocolate chip w/an oreo :)
* Fave Subject: are we talking school or what? Be more specific damnit!
* Fave Drink: non alcoholic: iced tea...i'm an addict
alcoholic: "but where I go I hope there's RUM!" or 'rita :)
* Fave person to talk to online: anybody who IMs me...I like killing time
------------------ RIGHT NOW------------------
* Wearing: soccer shorts and my orientation t-shirt from last year
* Hair is: in a ponytail b/c i was too lazy to brush it
* I'm feeling: "Don't you touch me!"
* Eating: nothing
* Drinking: nothing
* Thinkin bout: "oh, what to think about"
*listening to: my ceiling fan
* Talking to: those imaginary friends we discussed before
* Watching: just finished Ocean's Eleven
-----IN THE LAST 24 HRS------------------
* Cried: nope
* Worn a skirt: hell no!
* Met someone New: I wish
* Cleaned your room: why don't you come here and see the answer to that one yourself....then I'd have something to do :P
* Done laundry: it's on the list.....who are you, my mother?
* Drove a car: yup....had to pick bryan up from seeing star wars
---------------DO YOU BELIEVE IN------------------
* Yourself: more and more every day
* Your friends: some more than others
* Santa Claus: if I say yes can I have something cool for christmas?
* Tooth Fairy: talk to me about this after my wisdom teeth are out
* Destiny/Fate: to some degree I suppose
* angels: not sure
* Ghosts: not really, yet for some reason I'm still a chickenshit
* UFO's: i saw one once....my friend and i got off that beach pretty damn quick
-----------------FRIENDS AND LIFE------------------
* Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend: nope
* Like anyone?: No. Now go away!
* Who have u known the longest out of youre friends?: all my friends, or just the ones who got this? **note the typo. It should be "your" not "youre"...keebler? did you write this?
* Who's the loudest: they all have their moments
* Who's the shyest: definitely me :P
* Who's the weirdest: once again, they all have their moments
* Who do you go to for advice: depends what I need advice on
* Who do you cry with: nobody...if I have to cry I'd rather do it alone
* When you cried the most: when I left my house in NY for the last time
* What's the best feeling in the world: complete and total happiness- those moments when you have no cares, you're at peace, and feel like everything is right with the world
* Worst Feeling: i'm really bad with pain of any kind
* Who will respond to this email fastest: prolly yahoo telling me I have some one's address wrong
* Who did you send this to who won't respond: I'm honestly not expecting a response from anyone
* Who sent this 2 u: lisita banana
* Do you want all your friends to do this: yes, or I will disown you.
* Finish time: 1407

Captured At:2255

There's a disappointing number of items on the list of stuff I have failed to do this weekend. Taking the time to write is one of them. My apologies to the handful of you out there who have been looking for something new. I do see you, and I haven't forgotten.

One day I'll stop saying I need to make some changes and actually do it. This has far broader application than just a weblog and is always more difficult than I tell myself. I guess, as always, I have much to think about. Honestly, though, the more I think the less I'm inclined to say.

Life's not feeling as easy as I'd like today. Thankfully there's tremendous promise in tomorrow. Make the most of it when it comes. I know I'll be trying to do the same. G'night.

Captured At:2340

One of the more interesting points of Monday's normal hours was a remark from a coworker that he'd googled me. This act revealed what I'm sure was fascinating new information, including a video of the very event that brought me to NASA's attention. When I finally asked him why he'd conducted the search his response caught me a bit off guard. "Because I wanted to find your webpage," he said. "I want to know what the real Rebecca is like." He would not be the last to express that sentiment before the day was through.

How does one take something like that? Is such interest flattering or offensive? What does it say about the person encountered daily - in this case me - that leads one to assume there must be a "real" to discover? I've been turning this one over for days and I still can't quite figure out how it makes me feel.

There's certainly hypocrisy inherent in a reaction like that though. How many times have I expressed curiosity about what the people I know are like outside of the context in which I usually interact with them? Much like life can only be fully experienced through a series of ups and downs, true knowledge of a person can only come from witnessing the mosaic of thought, fear, value, emotion and action that composes each one of us. Such a question is only natural when the absence of one is obvious, isn't it?

So what if somebody asked outright who the real me is? What would I tell them? Would the answer depend on who was asking, or would it be the same regardless? Do I even have a real answer to give?

I'd like to think I provide that answer in how I try to live but, again, when that's only experienced in a limited capacity I guess I can understand why the puzzle would be missing some pieces. Maybe he's another one of whom I should ask the question of who they believe I am. The last answer was far kinder than I deserve.

~*~*~
I began writing this as I waited for Milo to get some new breaks this afternoon. There are a number of ideas that didn't make it into the post, some of which were touched upon elsewhere later this evening. It's always amazing to me when I see things fall in line unexpectedly like that.

Also amazing was the way the ground lit up as I stood in the Wal-Mart parking lot after hearing the radio say we had liftoff of the Delta II for the STEREO mission. It intensified in brightness and looked like it was coming right at me as it ascended. I watched the first booster segments fall away, then the next, and then watched until the remainder of the vehicle disappeared. And somewhere in there I called my Dad to tell him we'd launched just for him in honor of his birthday. It was the fourth time I'd talked to him since this morning, and every one of them I was smiling when it ended. It's a good memory to have. I'm more than okay waving the day good-by with that.

Captured At:2341

The Trick is in the Treat...

If I'm honest, I can't take credit for the idea. We were talking after our wandering and Halloween somehow came up, perhaps triggered by a phone call from his wife about their younger granddaughter's indecisiveness regarding her costume. It looked like it was to be the first year in a while where I wouldn't be carving a pumpkin. The idea of sitting home alone doing it seemed far too depressing.

"Well, why don't you just do it here," he asked. "With everything you've told me it sounds like the sort of thing you'd do."

There are some things which I will do without much convincing. This was one of them. Two nights later I was purchasing supplies and plotting, wondering who my partner would become when the next day arrived.

When lunch time rolled around Thursday I made a stop at my car before arriving in the lunch room with pumpkin in hand. I spread out the newspaper and began cutting off the top. They laughed, made faces and comments about how gross the goo looked, and probably thought I was out of my mind. After I finished scooping out the first I set it aside and began on the second. I also found my carving buddy.

The expression on my supervisor's face as he walked into the lunch room and discovered the activity in progress was priceless. Another coworker stuck his head around the corner and immediately broke into laughter at the scene. He told me later it wasn't amusement that triggered the response so much as the realization that knowing me it fit.

I determined that under the circumstances the appropriate thing to carve into that orange spheroid was our organization's logo. I went to the creator for assistance while my partner began work on his design. The rest of the division slowly migrated toward our 1pm meeting as he finished while I, on the other hand, was just about to pick up my tools.

As we carried our pumpkins in progress through the hallway we caught the attention of a woman wearing a business suit who was focused on her blackberry. She seemed mildly amused and said she wanted to see them when they were done. As we walked away I turned to the other guy and asked, "Who was that, and how important is she?" He had no idea.

I spent the entire division meeting carving that logo into my pumpkin. When I finally finished and held it up most of the group seemed impressed. Some were also envious that I had actually accomplished something in the meeting while, for them, it was over an hour of their life they'd never get back.

It was next decided that the proper home for my creation was our directorate's main office next door in HQ. I made a personal delivery. Again, most thought it was great.

"You have too much time on your hands."
"Nah. I did it in [our] division meeting." This was met with laughter from the commenter. The deputy director didn't seem sure whether to be amused or disappointed until I rattled off a list of what had been covered. "See? I can multi-task," I said.

Before I left one insisted that we take my picture with it. I complied, and then rushed back to the golf cart to get "home" in time for my 3pm telecon.

And the one who inspired the idea? He responded to the picture saying it came out great. My laughing coworker echoed that sentiment again today. In reference to a discussion with another, I still maintain that carving your organization's logo into a pumpkin doesn't make you a geek at all. It's called "team spirit" and there isn't a person I passed in the hallway who didn't laugh or smile when they realized what I was carrying. Thursday came and went with no time to really stop, but thanks to my silly pumpkin escapade I grinned like an idiot through it just the same. Chalk up one more silly move that was definitely worth it.

Captured At:2344

"Suddenly I become part of the past..."

But it is her world. It's all her world if she'd only look from the right direction.

There are two trash bags in her hands as she bounds down the stairs in a pair of faded oversized jeans and a red t-shirt advertising a band whose every note she used to hang on. As she walks toward the dumpster something in the wind hits her.

The real me is prone to cry at the whisper of a breeze, and only through the most practiced control does she not succumb to it.

What is it about this breeze? Where is it taking her? She suddenly recalls being asked about the boundary between real space and cyberspace. She thinks her response was that there wasn't one, but she can't remember and makes a note to look it up when she gets home.

The road she travels carries her around the outside of more buildings. She looks toward the back side of her own and notices the flock of assorted ducks and geese clustered in a familiar place. Momentarily she considers returning home for bread to feed them, but instead chooses to continue on.

The ducks are always there at this time. They're not the same ducks. They can't be. But there will always be ducks there.

She crosses the usual stretch of grass between roadway and sidewalk with outer perspectives crowding her mind. She knows what she looks like from behind, from the side, coming around the bush, and the speck she suddenly becomes as one zooms out from her to take in the entire world.

Across the street a group of scavengers stands eagerly around a carcass she can't identify. She remembers the turtle with the fractured shell she'd once found on a similar walk. She doesn't want to look at the newly deceased, yet can't avert her eyes. It's ripped open from the bottom part of the belly, but isn't the gooey mess she had expected. What she sees looks most like a zipper pulled open to allow the alpha's head inside for another bite of his meal.

She crosses between the volleyball courts and begins following the road counterclockwise. Whatever the trigger, her mind suddenly sets itself in high motion.

Time. There is no time. It's something we've invented as a way to understand and communicate what we experience. And we set the definition based on us. On our world and how it moved. A day in the time it takes the earth to turn, hours from the sun's position in the sky. A second to us means nothing to anything else in the universe. How was a day defined before the sun and the earth came to be? What constant was it based upon? And if our day isn't truly a day at all, then a year isn't a year, a billion years isn't a billion years. We've defined everything with respect to us as if we're the only things in existence and we have no way of knowing that we're right. When I show up five minutes after everybody else I'm considered late, but who's to say the clock they're using is correct and mine is not? It's only that they follow the accepted measure; an invention with which we're all forced to comply. The ducks don't know anything of time. They wake up with the sun, swim, look for food when they're hungry, sleep when they're tired. It's only people that are obsessed with time.

Ahead a tractor brings a load of children in costume back to their families gathered at a group of tables. One little girl in a pink dress has her arms stretched out and is spinning. A little boy wearing part of a Ninja Turtle costume rides small circles on his bike and another girl in street clothes uses the wooden fence as a balance beam. In each she sees herself and smiles.

I'm always going to be watching somebody else's children.

Their celebration of the holiday takes her back to days of costume parades around the elementary school; inside on rainy days, outside on the nice ones.

What makes the present the present? The instant I claim to be in it I've already lost it and left it behind. There is no real division. The past is just as much with me as this second. As this footstep. And now that footstep is in the past, but it's no less with me than it was at the moment I took it. It's no less with me than the future. But humans can't see that third dimension. We'd know the future as clearly as the past with the right vision. Foresight would be 20/20 too. Most people would hate that idea. I don't think we want to believe everything is already determined for us because it challenges our belief that we have control. But the future has already happened.

And as this thought process continues, the world begins to blur. Her thoughts now include mental narration of the present as it melts into the past.

Her footsteps fell in and out with the beat. All divisions had been erased. A breeze went by and as she continued to walk she was simultaneously freeing her bike from the shed after the last snow had melted and watching her dad put the heavy winter cover on the pool for protection from the upcoming weather. She could feel the trail of herself she was leaving around the lake, each a snapshot of where she had been and where she would soon be again. She could see herself merging with the ones ahead as if she'd left them behind on one lap and collected them on the second.

When she got home she began writing everything she had seen. The very words that came out were the ones she formed in her head as she circled the lake. She's written everything yet she's still writing; unsure what's to come next because it hasn't happened yet, but knowing the page will fill with more as she continues forward.

Sometimes her mind is still. She sings along with the tune cycling endlessly through her headphones, sometimes visibly. She stops walking as life strikes her, turning her hands and examining them unsure what she's looking for as she does. As she begins the second lap a flock of birds evacuates their trees.

How do the birds not crash into each other when they do that? If you told a room full of people to get up and move they'd be crowding, pushing, and bumping into each other. But you never see the birds collide in midair.

In her imagination she can see two little black birds falling to the ground in a cartoon-like manner after one has crashed into the other. It's almost comical.

She stopped as a stronger breeze blew and almost pretended to fly on it. She could see the door they'd walked out of the night before when the winds had picked up and she had stopped with her arms out, leaning forward to see how long the gust could support her for before she fell. "You can fly." He'd been laughing when he said it. And then another memory of him came back. "I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust you with anything."

How many times have people said that to me?

The sight of a Frisbee golf basket just past the small wooden bridge brings more images. The band in the amphitheater is now loud enough to hear over the music. "Don't blame me, my vote didn't count" reads one of the bumper stickers. Her memory plays a clip of somebody saying that when 9/11 happened people were glad Gore wasn't in the white house.

Why do I have that effect? What makes me deserving of that? Sure I generally try to conduct myself in a trustworthy manner, but I'm human. One day I'm going to fail and have somebody wondering how they could have ever been so foolish as to trust me just like I do with everybody else.

"Does it bother you when I say that? It does, doesn't it? It bothers you when people tell you they trust you because you know you can't reciprocate." "Now that one I'll have to think about. It's rare somebody tells me something about me I haven't considered before, so I'll definitely have to think more on that." Maybe she was being pushed again now.

She imagines her webpage displayed before her with the song she's listening to presented in the appropriate box. And somehow she can imagine her lurker amassing a collection of music that has appeared there just to hear what it is the girl is being influenced by or to check for hidden meaning. It's a malicious act done to reinforce what a horrible, ungodly and foolish child she is; one to be hated and never trusted. And yet it's an act of concern from one more who was taken in and saw something, but who would never permit them self to be more than a distant observer under the circumstances. She can see the face and wonders what sort of explanation would be given upon discovery of the music stash.

The past never quite leaves us, does it? We're all still tied together whether we want to be or not.

My head feels like I've strained it. Like I've used parts of it in different ways. "When I'm focusing on doing something with my left hand I can feel it in my head. It's kinda weird. I know I must sound crazy, but I don't know how else to explain it." He really must have thought I was nuts.

She looks at the tables around the lake and can imagine herself sitting at any one of them. She can see her form walking around the pond on many occasions, sometimes alone and others paired. They're all there, walking together like ghosts deviating only slightly from the normal course unaware that the others exist next to or overlapping them.

The park is emptying out. Ahead she can see a man with a dog coming through the trees. Her imagination runs off again painting another scene she knows will never be real.

With every step more and more layers of time piled upon her. More visions of self and others, of seasons and places. It was getting to be too much.

She stopped at the mailbox on the way home. It was junk, as always. When she finally got home she flopped face down on the couch. Now I just have to actually do that so I can write it.

Her steps became slower and unsteady. Anyone watching her wobble toward the sand would have assumed her to be intoxicated. She paused on the sidewalk unsure her judgment of distance between cars would be accurate enough to cross. She finds an opening and makes it, still feeling slightly disoriented. She then notices she has stumbled astonishingly close to one of the black birds from the trip in who is sitting on the nearest post. They lock eyes for a moment, each waiting for the other to make a move to harm them. She finally resumes her walk home.

As she balanced herself enough to walk along the curb she was there any number of times before doing the same. She was kid doing it in other places. She was in Disney World watching a little girl doing it as her sister asked, "Remember when it used to be cool to do that?" "It is cool to do that. I still do."

Trudging through the grass she picked up another scent. She was outside her college cafeteria. What year was it? Who was she with? She must have been a freshman, yet a friend who didn't arrive until years later came to mind.

At the mailbox she tosses away a handful of campaign ads, then makes a stop at her car to retrieve a few items she'd forgotten the night before. Upon entering the apartment she locks the door behind her, puts them on the table, and lays down in the middle of the floor with knees bent, arms over her head, and eyes closed. Again she can imagine herself as viewed from a number of angles. There are pictures, and the memory of each takes her somewhere else. She tries to block them out.

She could feel the ground moving. As a kid she always believed she could feel the world spinning if she'd lie still enough, but breathing always seemed to change the direction. She held her breath in memory. Explosions of sensation pulsed through her legs, almost in time with the music. Her ears hurt at how loud it suddenly seemed.

She slowly turns down the volume as the song comes to an end, then shuts it off and lays still. There are sounds she can't place. Whirrs and tones and buzzes that seem foreign. It's almost unbearably loud.

She looked around the room. Something felt strange. It was like she was waiting for something - for some one - but she had no idea if they were supposed to be knocking on the door, ringing the phone, or coming around the corner. She looked at the ceiling. The fan split in two then blurred back together. Her spine cracked as she pulled herself upright and looked at her reflection in the TV. Again she saw in it a world she liked the look of better than the one she was in. It had always been that way. If only that world were hers.

But it is her world. It's all her world if she'd only look from the right direction.

When she walks to her laptop those are the first words she writes. She wants to remember them. The rest of the story unfolds before her playing back memories of the visit out of sequence and forcing her to reconstruct hours. After the only truly new thought writing had brought about, she turns to discover a magic shade of pale pink through the blinds behind her. She walks outside to view the sunset from the balcony and discovers it has gotten colder. Suddenly it's autumn again - a season of memories in greater volume than she had previously recognized. And at this whisper of a breeze, she does cry.

With damp eyes she walked back to resume writing where she had left off.

The past never quite leaves us, does it? We're all still tied together whether we want to be or not.

Captured At:2017

"She's got legs, you idiot!"

I'm sitting here watching "The Little Mermaid", which I've only just now managed to crack open after buying it a week ago. It's at the scene where Ursula's head comes through the image of Prince Eric as she's talking Ariel into becoming human. I always did find that amusing.

When this movie first came out I don't think there are many girls between the ages of 5 and 10 who didn't want to be Ariel. Who didn't play mermaids in a pool with their friends or think they could sing just like her. I can remember being on a friend's swing set as we tried to convince the others that we could hit all the notes and sing better than they could. I don't know how many times our parents took us to watch it in the theater, but I do recall how excited we were the day my dad came home from work with our very own copy on VHS.

And then there was the "Under the Sea" parody my cousin and I made up. "Under the ice, under the ice. Darling it's better where you wear a sweater, isn't that nice?"

I didn't say it was good.

What I can't figure out just now is why Ariel never found some paper and a pen to communicate with. Clearly she knew how to write; otherwise she couldn't have signed her life away to the evil overweight squid I would later compare my fifth grade homeroom teacher to.

I can see it now...

"Eric -

Bad news is I'm a mermaid. Good news is I traded my gorgeous voice for this sexy pair of legs so I could come find you. Even though we've only spent about 3 minutes of film time together I am so madly in love with you that I just can't bear to live under the ocean and never see you again. All you have to do is kiss me like it's the last time you'll ever touch a girl and I'll get my voice back to prove it. Please, do this one thing for me and I promise I'll make your dreams come true once the credits start rolling. (Have to respect that G rating. Sorry.)

Yours,
Ariel.

PS. Daddy blew up your birthday statue. You owe him one."

That would have made for one short movie.

Also on the list of things I never thought to wonder about as a kid:

How did she get a handle on walking so quickly? At first she stumbles a bit, but within two scenes she's prancing around in a big poofy dress. As if that weren't enough to mess her up, you know she's got to be wearing heels under that thing. How the heck is that possible? I've been walking for decades and I'm still not convinced I won't trip and kill myself in those silver beauties I'll have for the wedding.

Next - and maybe this is just a continuity issue - why did King Triton have a crown on his head when he came back if the sea witch had taken it after turning him into a newt? Okay, so it wasn't a newt. It was some pathetic plant thing. But he got better...

Most importantly, why the heck was Triton letting his daughter get married at 16? What on earth does a child that age know about relationships? She thinks he's cute and he thinks she has a pretty voice. Well that's fantastic. If that doesn't make for marriage material I don't know what does. ::rolls eyes:: It's not like they've ever even had a real conversation with each other. WTF, mate? Seriously.

Suddenly I'm thankful I don't live in a time or place that would have made me subject to an arranged marriage. Being with me was enough of a challenge for the few guys I thought I wanted; imagine what it would be like with one I didn't. Yikes!

So now the show is done, the popcorn's gone, and the kool-aid glass is empty. Thus concludes tonight's walk down memory lane. Unlike something along the lines of "Cars" or "Monster's Inc." this movie was clearly made just for kids. I don't remember getting that feeling back when I was one, so perhaps I shouldn't have been so harsh about "Brother Bear". Still, I haven't seen this much cheese outside of a blue Kraft box in a long time.

Maybe that's the solution. Less weapons, more cheese, and the world would be a better place. Hey, a girl can dream, right?

Captured At: 058