Tick Tick Boom

I feel like everything has this clock attached. Every moment has this bomb... waiting and slamming each tick out into the world, no matter what it hits. When is it all going to go off? When does time stop... lately it feels like the clock is ticking faster. Like everything is moving at such a pace that if you don't really live every second, life is going to leave you without the opportunity to make it all up.

Every second, I am filled with an urgency I have never known before. Some undefinable need to be exactly what I am... only I don't know who and what that is supposed to be.

Unlike Any Other

I'm not going to pretend I understand anything. I mostly know that I just don't. I know that when I look at a person or situation I am only capable of seeing them from my own perspective. I can happily impose what I believe that they are on to them as I make notes, but the reality is that I just don't know what they are feeling. I don't know where they come from, I don't know the tally of their life experience. Life isn't that simple. No matter how much I wish it could be. I can long for things my whole life, but I can't force anyone to be anything that they are not. I can believe in right and wrong but there is no way for me to enforce others to follow my standards. For that matter, there isn't really any way for me to know that my moral compass isn't completely off in the first place.

I know what I believe in... for now. I know what I feel. I wish I could show people my point of view. I wish I could share my feelings, my heart, so that people could understand what it all means to me.

There is sometimes such a desperation inside of me that seems like it is just going to shatter me from the inside. It's like my instinctual self just knows how to be, but my imposed self is struggling with allowing for those things to happen. I want to understand what it means to feel free to be myself. However, I don't want to disenfranchise myself based on the strength of my emotions. I know they can be off putting. I am very aware that I am capable of, what some might deem, an overbearing affection. I do it out of fear you know. The fear of losing these people that are so precious to me. I hold on too tight sometimes... and I think it is mostly because I am authentically scared that they will walk away... and that I will lose them. And they mean too much, have been too great a piece of my life, for me to just give up.

I gave up my dad. Because I was afraid of who he was. Because I was afraid of who he wasn't. And sometimes I regret it. Because by giving him up so early, he exists as this idea... and no matter how hard I try, the reality of the man will never be there. I never saw it, so all I have is the looming nature of vague memories from a too short relationship marred by bitter unhappiness.

Sounds like...

Do you eve wake up and just think... this is not what I had planned? I feel like that happens a lot. And then it makes me wonder if I should forget about the plan or if I should get back to it. The whole concept of doing things that make you wish you were doing something else seems to defeat the purpose of doing them in the first place... doesn't it?

Crush

I think it's his smile. The way it takes over his whole countenance. The way I get excited to hear it in his voice. Even when I can't look into his handsome face. His voice fills with laughter. He makes it seem okay not to take life too seriously, as it is in my nature to do. So when we spend time together I am free. I would sit by the phone, just to hear from him. But he rarely makes me wait. It's nice.

Married

He asked me to marry him. Time and again. A joke that, let me just tell you, gets less funny with each proposal. It isn't that he isn't amazing. He truly is the most authentic person I know, and makes no apologies for it. But he doesn't mean it, and I'm good with that, but I don't want to hear the words unless there is meaning behind them. I love him, but not in the way I would need to if I was going to commit to a lifetime. He's always there, which is why I think he jokes with me about it. Because I don't think either one of us knows what to expect out of life if the other isn't available for those always necessary balance checks. He's a force in my life. He's always there. He isn't my true love.

I love weddings. I love what they represent. I think forever love is inexplicable and yet essential. My grandparents have it. And while I don't doubt that there have been ups and downs, when I see them together, when they are just living the life that they built, it is easy to see that they love each other. Fifty plus years later. I think it is as plain as that. If love can be described as plain. No. Love is not plain.

There is something about the notion of love that fixates people. Me included. Sometimes love is like the Tooth Fairy or Santa. It is this enigmatic concept that I can't quite make myself stop believing in, although I'm not sure I will known it. Again... or maybe in the first place. But then I see it. I see it in other people, my friends, my parents, my grandparents. And I know that there is a reason that people can't stop fixating on it.

Have I ever been in love? Maybe. There have been times when I felt as though something special was starting with someone I cared for. The thing is, believing in love means that I have to also be willing to feel heartbreak. That concept is one that I don't have to analyze. And thinking about that experience, heartbreak, reminds me that there is really no question that I have been in love. But now that I am not there anymore, in love, I am sure that love is something that doesn't go away. It stays with me, in some form or another. That is the thing that amazes me most about love. It is an energy, so it never dies, it just sort of shifts.

And so, like the fools that have gone before me, I fixate. Potentially having just written nothing new. But hey, I do what I want, right?? I will fall again I suppose. Requited or un, the feeling is pretty much worth it. Not so much with heartbreak. I could do without that for a while. Seems like that part is really easy to remember... or just hard to forget. I would be just fine forgetting that part. (Not really though, even that broken feeling has serious merit.)

Forgetting

Sometimes I forget.

We all do I think.

I forget that other people share the feelings that I bury. I forget to reach out when I am hurting because it is too hard to look outside of myself long enough to realize that others are hurting too.

The funny thing about being sad, feeling lost, feeling hurt, is that the more I feel that way, the more isolated I allow myself to become. It takes concentrated effort on my part to find myself again inside of those thoughts.

I am fairly certain that I have missed out on really knowing some amazing people simply by not seeing them until it was too late to break through.

I'm taking a second chance. I want to know you. Really know you.

I love you to my bff. You know who you are. You are the best person I know and you deserve the world. 100%. Don't doubt it. Ever. Think about yourself for a while. It isn't wrong to say "I am the most important person in my life."

I hate it when people leave. When they can just walk away. When the personality, the person that they really are, is ripped out of my life. I'm not talking strictly death. I'm talking loss. Which is a different beast. Breaking up...with a friend, a lover, a stranger who made you smile... All of it leaves a mark... Each one very distinct. No matter how small. I hate the feeling that things are not simply what they seem. The veils that we are all so used to wearing, that make us all strangers to one another. I wish our veils could be removed. I can envision myself walking through life, ripping veils off of unwitting passersby. Surprise! I would say, and every face would tell me exactly who I was talking to... without agenda or pretense or lies. I just wish our faces reflected who we really were... and not who others wanted us to be. Who we wanted to be... for others. I don't mean I want to know the contents of your soul. I don't even want to know the contents of your thoughts in the moment. I just want to look at you and be able to see who you are. It's so complicated. I want it all I guess. The truth, the lies. The hidden little quirks and the mysteries. Can I look at you and see your naked self... without, you know... seeing your naked self? Maybe every word of this is more reflective of what I do... who I am, than it is of whoever is reading. Maybe everyone else really is showing me who they are... maybe I've just refused to really look. I wish I could say exactly what I feel. Without fear, without regret. Don't get it twisted; I say plenty of very honest things. But so often, too often, I want to say something that will make people think and I feel that I can't. At least not without concealing it in humor. While I love to make people laugh, I really wish that people could see how amazing everything is. Not sweet, not nice, just how amazing... without the sting of cynicism. Even when I know that the world is handing people harsh realities and bitter unkindness the mere function of it all is this amazing thing.I consider myself a person of faith. I do. I know what it means to sit at the feet of something greater than you and cry... because I know my place... because I don't know it at all. Even when I can't find the fit. I belong in this bizarre and jumbled mess. I do. Not because I have found my place, but more because I haven't. I'm not sure that I believe in destiny... mostly because I firmly believe in choice, responsibility, and thoughtfulness. But I do know that I believe in what I can't see... and hopefully I am doing it justice.

theinbetween

Read the lines
Not what they say
What they don't
What they can't.
I dream of places I used to be
run from where I am
I hide
and seek
and hide again
Dream with me
I begged him
Pleaded for what I knew
needed to be true
and then I woke
My dream is for peace
of mind
of heart
Quietly regaining all these things
that I thought lost
and maybe they are.
Maybe that is my lesson
to learn
to teach
that life is not what we dream
but what we live
I have lived running
from what I thought
to what I think
Instead of what is
what is...

GLEE

I have decided that life would unequivocally be better if people were required to sing and dance in a musical like fashion. And I don't care if they have no talent or are battling some debilitating ailment that prevents them from dancing... You would feel better if you were singing about it! I can't help but sit in my meetings at work and wonder if the great engineering and budgetary quandaries that come up during each and every meeting would not be resolved in a more time effective manner if people were required to make every argument in the form of a single verse and chorus. If you think I'm kidding you don't know me very well. I have these wonderful daydreams where I dance my way to the elevator and then in the middle of my meetings I wander into the fantasy that I am standing on the conference room table in full view of KSC and Marshall just singing! Maybe throw in a little tap number for posterity sake. I think that we would all feel better if the quiet minute writer just stood up every once in a while and belted out some wondrously off key version of OKLAHOMA or anything from Hairspray. Be honest... if you saw it, you would laugh, and your day would be at least 10% better.

Rehab... No I'm not Amy Winehouse

Rehab...
Do you ever wonder what makes it work for some people and not for others? Do you think that some people are predisposed to addictive behaviors? Do you think that there is a certain kind of person who is better able to cope with all that addiction entails? I know that my dad failed at rehab several times... (I just typed has and then had to delete it... the change of tense is so weird, I wonder how long it will really take for me to adjust. It's already been several months, but I am not sure it will all be real until I go to where he is, where he will always be.)... I wonder if, as he came closer to the end, he ever felt as though his life had been wasted. Not that I would have him change things... because those are wasted thoughts and I have life, as do my two half sisters, because of the choices he made. But really, the whole thing is so infuriating sometimes. Why in the world would you give up your whole life so you could drink? I mean why wasn't he stronger? Why wasn't he braver or more effectual as a human being? I know it sounds judgmental, but it just makes me feel like I come from this weak loser of a man. How do you look up to your father when you can’t respect him? How do you love someone… how do you stop hating someone… when it is eating you up on the inside? Is that my addiction… I mean maybe addiction manifests itself in me in my inability to forgive him. Forgive most people their transgressions. Not for him, but for myself. I feel like it will only be beneficial to let go of the resentment, rage, and feelings of abandonment. And there are days when I feel like I am there, but then I hear a story or see someone do something that reminds me so much of what he did and it is all I can do to stop myself from just losing it. I need to maintain these feelings because it keeps me aware of what life can deal out. But by maintaining these feelings, by allowing them to reside inside my mind, I really wonder if I am missing what life can give.

I often wonder if I am too concerned with the motives of others to truly allow them to show me who they are. More often than not, unless someone has really managed to stand the test of time, I assume that people in general are going to fail me. Think about it, most people operate out of a sense of self preservation. It isn’t something I begrudge. It is just something that I have to guard against, because there has been an overwhelming amount of loss in my life, even before he died. It’s been a lot. And no, I have not experienced the kind of pain that so many have. I know this. It try to maintain that perspective, but I won’t lie, feelings are sort of a relatively based deal. I’m at a broken nose… whereas there are people who deal with the full body cast… I get that. I’m not trying to whine. I just need to know that there are people who feel and care first… and worry about themselves as a secondary point. It takes a lot, and I don’t claim to be there for everyone I meet, but to those I love, well I hope they have no doubts about what they mean and what I would do for them. I’m still learning, but I hope that the people that come first to me know exactly where they stand.

I never get sick of thunderstorms. Never. When the rain pelts hard against the window panes and the sky gets lit up from midnight to mid-day. And the thunder.... when the thunder shakes everything in the room. Like the whole place shudders, a cold chill in the humid night. It's sort of like I can believe that there is more than... well more than I thought... when I see those kinds of storms. Nature is sort of amazing. When I really pay attention to it... Especially when I am back home looking out at the woods of Livingston Mountain. The green changes everything. The clean air. The sky. All of it is perfect in this indescribable way.