The Power of We

What if
We
As in,
You
And me
Were
In fact
"We"
Instead
of
Just you
And
Just me.

Think what we could do.

My Boyfriend: Bomb Diggity

(NOTE: This was written back in May 2012)

So far on this blog, my posts have consisted of rants, venting and complaints about my privileged life. Today, however, if the day that I post something positive.

I am enamored with my boyfriend.
He is so good to me. Though he's extremely laid back, he always gives me just the right amount of attention that I need.

The long distance makes quality time together even more precious, and I'm continually amazed at how our ability to carry a solid phone/Skype conversation for over an hour at a time.

He says good morning and goodnight to me every day, sprinkling his greetings with compliments and utter sweetness. He tells me I'm beautiful at least once every day (I mean, who's counting?).

He like math, and I like English. He likes Star Wars and I like art. He likes swimming and I like yoga. We're opposites in a lot of ways, but those things even out, and our personalities seem to effortlessly fit.

He makes me smile, a lot.

This might all be due to starry-eyed-new-relationship-wonder, and I may or may not be slightly twitter pated, but right now I don't care. I think this stage is healthy when there is actual substance to a relationship.

I think he's great, he thinks I'm great too.

I Like Your Hair: How I Decided My Name Wasn't Julius

People surprise you.

And when I say "you," I mean me. I not even going to pretend to speak metaphorically. Sometimes I think that I have people all figured out. That each one of them belongs in a designated box or folder in my mind, filed by a variety of characteristics; gender, religion, hair color, background, etc. And sometimes I believe that I am able to understand how people will function based upon past reactions or one of the previous characteristics. In some ways I build myself up to be God; believing in my abilities to predict the future and understanding the past with ease. I convince myself that I, one that has little experience in this world, and amongst people have the ability to know how they will react. I generate scenarios in my mind where people are thrown into situations, like gladiators in the Colosseum  and I, the great and powerful Caesar, will be able to know which player will win, or what beast they might overcome.

However, I am not Julius Cesar. And I do not understand people.

I work in an office as the front desk receptionist, eight hours a day, five days a week. If I'm not talking on the phone, I am usually helping and/or directing people to where they need to go and telling them who they need to talk to. Everyone that comes into the office has to pass by my desk. Its probably the best job for an extrovert.

Yesterday, one of the guys from Information Services came into the office to assist my boss with her computer. Printer problems, I suppose. Anyway, I had joked around with him before, teasing him about having a "first world problem," or something of that likeness before, and since then, we had developed a somewhat lighthearted relationship usually peppered with sarcasm or jokes. When I saw him walk in the front door and plop his elbows on my counter, I prepared myself to react to his expected sarcastic greeting. So, you can imagine my surprise when, instead of reprimanding me for the condition of the counter, he said, "Hey, you have nice hair today."

I was completely speechless. I couldn't even mutter "thank you," but only sat there, with my hands politely folded and my jaw, loose on it's hinges. He then smiled and walked over to another worker's desk, completely unaware of what he had just done.

Now, granted, I don't know this kid hardly at all. But I did believe (up until yesterday) that I had him figured out; that from here on, his behaviors would all be equal in demeanor and content of conversation. Oh, but how I was wrong. Once again, I believed I possessed the power to tell the future based upon what I knew to be reality. However, my reality is not necessarily always the true one. I believe you can never completely figure out a person. There will always be something, some aspect of their life that you will never know or understand. At times this can be frustrating, but also exciting. I suppose if everyone acted the way that I would continually guessed them to act, I wouldn't be fascinated by people anymore.

People will surprise you. But this is a good thing. 

Mourning Light

I do not think that I am a good writer.

That being said, I know that improvement is needed. Thus, I am writing on this blog, not necessarily for the enjoyment of others, but for my own personal gain. You might think this to be selfish, but I think of it as an outlet for self-improvement.

Today is the six year anniversary of the day my uncle committed suicide. Since then, every August 8^th has been a day of mourning in my family. Since he was my mom’s little brother, she, her sister and mother grieve the most.

I loved my uncle. As a talented musician, he was my earliest inspiration to play the guitar. When I was four, I begged my parents for a guitar. Unfortunately, my parents didn't have the money to buy a guitar for a four-year-old at the time. I was devastated. At least, as devastated as a small, barefooted blonde could be.

Then, on my thirteenth birthday, a large package came in the mail addressed to me. Once all the tape and packing peanuts where ripped off and all over the floor, the box revealed a brand new, deep red acoustic guitar. It was a thing of beauty. The ruby red finish gleamed in the florescent light of our living room. It smell of manufactured, plastic bliss. I ran my fingers over the taught strings. The sound that exuded melted my core. I was speechless. My parents, of course, knew that my uncle had saved up in order to spark my dream of becoming the next Joan Jett. They smiled, and my mom cried.

The guitar was faulty, however. The neck bowed, leaving it unplayable. When my uncle heard this, he apologized up and down, swearing he would buy me a new one.

That never happened.

It wasn’t too long after that, we received a phone call while on vacation in Arkansas. It was a beautiful morning. The sun beams shone through the blinds and you could hear the distant mourning doves nesting in the pines. But these things are not what woke me. Suddenly, I heard a scream from the downstairs. At first, I thought there was something wrong with my baby cousin, who was born with extreme disfigurements and harsh medical issues. Instead, I recognized my mother’s voice, wailing with extreme fear and agony.

She had received a call saying my Uncle Lance had committed suicide.

I remember it all very vividly. My mother, crawling into bed with me and sobbing. I was fifteen and here I was holding my own mother like she held me when I was a child.

Many people debate on what motivated my uncle to do what he did.  At first, my theory was that he was framed. Someone must have murdered him for his business and made it appeared as if he had taken his own life.

The truth of the matter is that Lance didn’t see any other way out. He had exhausted not only his options, but his heart and soul as well. I believe he felt that people would be better off without him, whether dead or alive.

However, the devil deceived him. He was loved by many and is now missed by many more. He was a good person by all means; caring, loving and considerate of other. I’ll never forget my curly haired uncle, who quietly loved him like his own. 

Passion

if my life
be reduced
to one thing
then let it be

    passion

not love
or hope
charity
or intellect
bit even hateful
or lonely

for I am
all of these
and yet
none of them
if I am not

     passion

          - Stuart K Polzin

I've noticed that since I've been in a relationship, my blog has suffered from neglect.

Saying that, I believe that writing comes from the soul. But I also believe the soul's most influential instigator of expression is despair. Now that I have virtually nothing to complain, bitch, or whine about I have discovered that my life is missing the element of writing. Creativity if you will. Van Gogh did, in fact cut off his ear due to depression and Kurt Cobain wrote most of his hit songs while under the influence of heroin and narcotics.

I need to find a way to remedy this situation without inducing a state of anguish.

Maybe I'm Crazy

I used to think that I was a pretty laid back person. However, within the last 24 hours I have begun to think differently. 

It all started when my male friend decided not to text me for about 6 1/2 hours yesterday. Yes, 6 1/2 hours. I kept count. For the first five hours though, I didn't think much of it. I thought he might be busy, signing up for classes, buying books, visiting with friends, whatever. But when it got to be pretty late at night, my mind started to panic. What if he got in a car wreck? What if he talked to me parents and now he's scared of me?! What if he doesn't like me anymore?! What if, what if, what if...

I'll admit it. I went so far as to call my parents. I called to make sure he didn't call them, that my dad didn't scare him off. But he didn't call. My parents told me to stop being needy. 

For the next hour or so, my mind raced and I became tired and irritated. I asked myself why he might be so selfish as to not text me all day. I thought of scenarios when he had ignored me before and maybe this was just a habit. 

However, at about midnight, he texted me saying goodnight and that he missed me. I felt horrible. I think I need to work on my neediness... 

Maybe I'm crazy. I wish I wasn't. 

"It just... happened."

I never understood what people meant when they said "It just happened."

You know, such as when a friend comes up to you and proclaims that she slept with that kid in biology and is confused as to how the act took place and what caused it. Or when you're watching a sappy chick flick and Sandra Bullock's bestie asks how she fell in love with Brad Pitt overnight and she responds with, "It just... happened."

I can now empathize with this peculiar phenomenon.

What is your tale of woe?

Keep.

Laughs, grins, teeth, lips,

They keep reappearing.

Always cheering,

This sunken face of mine

Never seeming fine. 

Embraces, smiles, a kiss,

Each unique

Constantly cheek to cheek

With it's own way

Of keeping me at bay

Ships, sails, hats, wine,

Leaving, always leaving.

Keeping my lungs heaving

Each tic, becomes a toc

As you march down the dock.

Really?

I consider myself a very "real" person. In fact, the second best compliment I've ever received was from a dear friend my senior year of high school, and he said, "Friend, I think you are the most real person I've ever met." At first, I was slightly confused over my elation simply because usually a woman is not so excited about such a compliment. Usually the ideal is, "You are so pretty," or "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met." However, hearing this gave me more confidence in myself than any flattery I'd ever received.

This little anecdote brings me to my primary query: Why can't people just be real with each other? I mean, yes, there is social protocol, insecurity and hidden fears to tackle, but is masking your emotions better than exposing them to these elements? Is it really better to avoid social embarrassment than to openly accept it? I feel like the answers differ to these questions. However, I believe that in the majority of instances, it is more beneficial to good, strong relationships for truth and acceptance to take the place of lies and superficiality. I admit, I do not always follow this myself, and many times I am over taken by the wave of anxiety that floods my true feelings. However, when the levee breaks.. let's just say you don't want to be present.

Remember, everyone feels the same. That's the way He created us to be. Each one of us possesses insecurities that we attempt to colorfully mask with sarcasm, bitterness or even a gentle smile. Get rid of the mask. I can see right through it.

Marriage. Marriage is what brings me to blog, today.

Even though I am not considered "old" quite yet, sometimes I feel it. My bones ache on a daily basis, I find myself passing up sweets for granola, I shake my fist at 'melding kids' for driving to fast on the highway, and it seems that a vast majority of my friends are engaging in matrimony.

I broke up with my boyfriend of a year and a half about a year and a half ago (oh, the irony). When we ended our very serious relationship, I truly believed that I would be the first to bounce back. After all, I was the "strong" one in the relationship, and I was the one that was breaking up with HIM. However, irony decided to kick me in the pants about six months later when I learned that he got a new girlfriend. WHAT?! The confidence I once had in my flirtatious abilities completely left. Gone. Buh bye. I soon discovered that I happen to be amazingly awkward around the opposite sex, usually substituting creepiness for flirtation. And the saga continues.

However, though I am single, I am generally happy. I do complain quite a bit about seeing relationship statuses change due to a ring coming into the mix. I really am satisfied with being single, though. It gives me the ability to travel anywhere I want:) And I feel like it gives me a chance to be dependent on myself and become a better person for (hopefully) the future "Mr. Right." So, I say 'mazel tov' to all of my friends who are shopping for dresses and suits! Just make sure I get an invite ;)

I am like a peanut can.

You know, those cans of "peanuts" that were continually offered to you  in grade school on April Fool's Day? The ones that seemed like innocents canisters containing salty nuts, but when opened, you were utterly exasperated to discover plastic snakes being catapulted at you face. It gets you every time. Doesn't it?

Well, this evening I would like to compare myself to one of those poignant pranks. I am one of those types of people who subconsciously bottles things up deep, deep into my inner most being, inside a cage that has too many locks to count and no keys to relieve them of their duties. It is here that the stresses of my life go to rest for only short moments in my very short life. It is here that the spontaneous combustion occurs, and some how, some way, the locks, chains and weldings are broken, only to release these demons that have been longing for emotions to feed off of. It is here that the gremlins begin to eat away at any feeling they can reach, and it is here that the damn will breech. The dam will breech and the river will flow. The waves will run to where only God knows. And it is here where these wretches, these imps, take control of the last feeling I possess.

So what I am to do, but surprise every one of you? With an explosion of snakes in your face?

Can't Someone Just Get Me Out of Here?

I really hate it when you think you are completely over someone, but then stand in their presence and discover that you're not. The flood of reasons why they are so delightful begin to pour into the crevices of your mind. And then, only then, do you realize how much you enjoyed their smile, laugh and silly personality. And you do not enjoy the way they try to make eye contact with you, which merely seems like a mockery to your current status. You laugh at all their silly jokes, but then quickly look away as if you were laughing at the air and how funny it is that we breathe it. Yes, I hate it when his parents ask you about your life, but he inquires not one question about your life after you've completely embarrassed yourself by exposing your vulnerability. Or he acts as if nothing has happened. That is what I hate.

Of course, I am phlegmatic, and above all, hate confrontation.

True Friendship

SONNET 73

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
   This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
   To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

                                        - Our Dear Friend Shakespeare

The Unsung Sonnet

Ah, my lonesome love
Let us come together and meet
No matter where the greet
Is it fate that draws us near?
Or the divine hand
That leads us to this foreign land?

Ah, my lonesome love
Let us run away with each other
Forgetting father and mother.
Will we ever be alike again?
Two lovers striving for perfection
May end in lacking affection.

Ah, my lonesome love
Let us forget and embrace
And forgive ourselves in grace.
Can we not simply live
And dismiss the world from our minds?
Lest we forever remain blind.
                       - R

Sometimes I wish I could just be secksy.

Oh What A World This Life Could Be

So, it turns out that my life is not as tumultuous as I first perceived it to be. Which is great right?! Thankfully, I am NOT failing any of my classes! Which is quite amazing, if I do say so myself.

However, do you ever feel like you could be doing something so much better with you life? Lately, I've felt this way. I feel like I become too headstrong about meaningless things such as clothing, Facebook, my weight, men, and even my blog... I feel like I could be doing something so much more meaningful with this short time I have. I need to "go do," as Jonsi would say. But what am I going to do? How can I make a difference in this vast wheat field when I am merely one grain? I need inspiration. Because this just won't do.

I guess I'll have to stew over this... speaking of which, I'm hungry.

Sad Silly Stories of My Sort of Sad, Silly Satirical Soul

Within past month or two I feel as if I have gone through hell and back again. Literally. My grandmother, whom I was very close to, passed away, my uncle passed away last Wednesday, I have not been doing well in any of my classes, I flunked a Biology test, I just received the "just friends" talk, discovered that money is the worst thing to have between a loving family and the crowning bright red cherry on top of this melting sundae is the fact that I feel apathetic towards the most important thing in my life.
Needless to say, I've been stressed. However, I know that everyone goes through these awful experiences. Heck, there are people out there that don't have ANYTHING. Therefore, through this mess I've decided to be thankful for what I have (even though it might be slightly crappy). Being thankful and at least slightly optimistic, in my opinion, is far better than stewing in my own stress and selfishness.
Hopefully, the sun will come up soon.

Uncle Dale Died Today of a Massive Heart Attack.

I'm upset. Nay, devastatingly upset. I feel as if things just suck right now.

I'm so upset that I can't even write anything on my blog that wouldn't be profane or inappropriate.

I hate it when people die.