The Ramblings of A Muse

I relocated everything from this site to a new one, but I likely won’t be deleting this one just yet.  Check out the new place…

3Remain.wordpress.com

Today is a bit of an odd day.  Well, really, it’s been an odd week.

And it’s only Thursday.

Maybe I should be a bit more specific.  Today isn’t so much as odd, as much as my mind is all over the place and no where near work or anything now-related.  My on-off relationship with work is something that lends its self to brief spans of intense displeasure and frustration.  For the most part, I’m apathetic.  Thankful, don’t get me wrong – I’m quite thankful to have a job that pays well mostly pays the bills.  The point really isn’t about work anyway.  It’s the lapse of demand on my time that gives my mind permision to wander, and wander it does.  Today I was thinking about a few key characters from a few years ago.

I had someone in my a few years back who was pretty close to Best Friend status.  Actually, there were two.  One of them I met through acting, the other I met through a friend.  They both became incredibly important people in my life and were either responsible for, or at least witness to, some of the most life-defining moments I went through in my late teens/early twenties.  I loved each of them so very much.  The one I met through acting I lost when he got Married, and though I didn’t get it at the time, life has taught me exactly WHY that relationship needed to end.  The other one I’m really not sure why I lost, but I did – and overnight.  I’ve done some questionable things in this life and am highly aware of my own blunders…this one wasn’t as a result of one of them.  Both are missed more than they know, and even now should they re-appear, I know I’d gladly welcome them back into my life.

Like jobs, homes, and amber colored leaves, people too are somtimes only in our lives for a season.  The two I mentioned above I look back on with affection, and there are others I don’t remember so favorably.  It’s not about grudges or anger, it’s about trying to find the redemption even when there seems to be none.  There are only two in the past who fall into this category.  Even now, as I’m dreading a meeting regarding one of them on Sunday, I still hope there is something positive to be found in all this.  Otherwise…why?  Why did they happen to enter my life and forever leave it changed for at least the immediate worse, if not the thereafter merely salvagable?

I may never  know the answer, and I suppose simple trust in the Bigger Picture of it all may have to suffice.

I’ve spent the last few moments strumming my fingers across the keys, unsure where to start. My head is filled with so many thoughts, tangents, and potential sources of conversation. I feel like I’m in a room of helium filled balloons floating above my head, and each one’s string is just that tiny bit too high to grab a hold of.

I’ve been noticing a shift taking place over the last few months. Though, I’ll admit I’m not sure what the ratio of good to bad is in this shift, I know it’s leading me to some uncharted territory. In some ways it’s exciting, but in others it’s downright terrifying. Everything from my faith, relationships, livelihood, and views on society has been called into question and put through the ringer in ways I can’t put into words. I have noticed for the past few years that there’s a trend in my life – just about everything I look down on other people for or adamently say I will never do, near innevitably, turns out to be something I myself will encounter and have to face for myself. It’s the ultimate “walk in their shoes” to be faced with situations strikinly similar to those you’ve chastised and thought “well, OBVIOUSLY you’d…”…fill in the blanks. I’m discovering that life isn’t nearly so black and white, cut and dried, or universally…whatever.  It’s shades of everything in between, and seldom do we know nearly as much as we think we do.

I’m writing from work, and I’m honestly not sure exactly where this thing is going to go.  As usual, there’s plenty to write about, and as usual, I’m not sure how to organize it all.  Gotta start somewhere.

That’s a good place to start, actually.  The idea that you have to start somewhere.  I’ve recognized for longer than I’d like to admit that things aren’t how they should be in my life.  I’m not talking about situational nonsense that just happens to be a byproduct of living in a world that isn’t so perfect.  I’m talking about the consequences of my own actions which have led to a certain state of reality which I find less than pleasing.  It’s all well and good to be able to claim to be merely a victim of circumstance.  It’s another thing entirely to have to admit to yourself that things are the way they are for a reason: you did it.

The status of my life at the moment has very little to do with other people’s influence.  Sure, I’m dealing with the fall out of bull shit that comes from disappointments in various people and situations.  The bigger stuff though, is all my own creation.  My monster, if you will.  What I’ve realized is that something has to be done with the Monster.  As I said above…you have to start somewhere.

For me, that somewhere is actually several somewheres.  I have a relationship with an amazing guy which, for reasons that are NONE of his fault, needs to end.  He’s someone quite important to me and the relationship its self is amazing.  The problem is that we come from two very different backgrounds and belief systems.  In the long run, no matter how badly either of us may want it, the fact remains that unless one of us changes their basis for Faith the relationship can’t last.  It sucks.  But, as I said…it’s my own Monster.

So is my living situation.  I found this place on Craigs List, after searching for MONTHS to find something on the Rock Harbor website.  I knew that living with non-Christians could pose some moral conflicts when it comes to decisions on life-style.  I now live in what B has termed the “Porn Castle”.  I come home to my roommates having sex more often than not.  No, not with each other.  That would perhaps lessen the amount of incidents.  It’s my landlord and whichever chick he’s brought home, and my female roomate and her unofficial live-in boyfriend.  To each their own.  I just don’t want to have to hear it.  I don’t want to have to walk into my home and deal with it.  As of now, I need a new place for me and Asher, and…

That’s another head of the Monster.  Not Asher.  No, he’s still amazing.  I got him a friend, however, and she is slightly less than amazing.  She’s a cool little dog and extremely sweet.  I just don’t have the time to take care of all her new puppy nonsense.  She’s in need of a new home, and sooner rather than later.  We’ll see how that goes.

Lastly, at least for this little vignette, is the subject which really comes first.  God.  I went out to  Long Beach on Sunday to hang out with one of my former roommates.  We went to the Long Beach Project’s prayer walk and the whole time I couldn’t help but feel remarkably out of place.  Time was, I would have been fully involved and completely down for the event.  On this occassion…not so much.  I felt odd.  I wasn’t into it, and had nothing to say.  The hollow feeling is one I’ve grown frighteningly familliar with, but it’s one whos familliarity is unwelcome.  I can see that my own choices have brought on the distance.  Honestly,  I don’t know how to fix it.

There’s plenty I don’t know how to fix.  I wish I could fix every situation in my life in an instant, but I know I can’t.  I wish I could fix the life of the one from my now not-so-recent past, but I can’t.  The things that I do have control over, though, are the ones that I’m looking to deal with. I don’t know what to do with some of it, and even more unthinkable is to try to take on all of it as the entire Monster that it is.  The one I used to work with at the school last year is someone who has far more of my respect than he knows.  He wrote something about hope yesterday that really hit me.  I’m not going to ask to quote him, so sadly, I’ll just have to keep it to myself for the most part.  The main part was this

[I'm] so incredibly thankful that it wasn’t all left to my constantly failing and flailing sorry excuse for a rational or intelligent life.

My hope is in Jesus.

I think He may be the best choice to start somewhere.

I need to have a serious sit down with my computer and write about the past week/weekend/start-of-week since there is a great deal to write about.  At this moment, however, it’s late and cold and I want nothing more than to voice a bit of random nonsense before going to bed.  There’ll be the innevitable Year End Re-Cap upcoming anyway, and that’s much like Christmas Dinner – you better save room, cuz there’s gonna be lots of it.  Fair?

So.  Share time, a la Me.

This past weekend was rather significant.  I ran into someone of noted importance who I haven’t seen in months – an experience both welcome and mildly painful.  More on that one later, I’m sure.

I also adopted another puppy.  She’s a Pekingnese (but isn’t a good one, in that she doesn’t have a super flat (and ugly) face) and I named her Palin.  Yes, there’s a silent Sarah in front of it.

Yesterday I decided to quit pansying around and share a tiny glimpse of my feelings towards the one from October.  No, it wasn’t very nice.  No, it didn’t go over well.  No, he doesn’t get it.  Yes, I’m annoyed that he STILL DOESN’T GET IT.

Tomorrow is New Years…a day which used to be my favorite of the year.  This year, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I miss at least 4.75 people terribly right now.  And it’s not cool.

God is still God.  Thank God.

I came across this on the page of someone I once knew quite well.  I’m not sure exactly where he found it, but I liked it enough to think it worthy of sharing.

The Invitation

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

The past two days have been rather interesting.  There hasn’t been anything earth shatteringly important or life alteringly relevant – at least nothing that has a direct impact on the state of MY life.  I only clarify because yesterday contained an event which indeed changes the course of the life of someone very close to me.

Yesterday I was one of three people who helped orchestrate the proposal of a close friend of mine to his girlfriend of a few months.  No, that last piece of information isn’t the focus of where I’m going with this – it’s sadly only a mention used to better finish off the though with a more appealing sentence structure.  This friend is someone who has been a very important character in my life since sophomore year in high school.  I like the fiance since she seems to be a good person as well as a sweet girl.  I am indeed happy for them and wish them the best.  It’ll be fun to walk this road with them.  Sort of.

That’s where we transition from useless pieces of information to the heavier and sometimes overly personal side of things.  After the proposal went down, there was of course the excited chatter that followed.  There were inevitable re-caps from individual perspectives on the event, and memories on all sides dating back moments to years prior.  Somewhere amidst the voiced appreciation for our efforts, planning, and execution of the event, my now-engaged-friend said something along the lines of “…and of course I’ll be around to do the same for you two when you guys get engaged”.  For a moment, I wondered if he was referring to two of us as a joint idea, since we had indeed been an item for over a year nearly five years ago.  Thankfully, it was soon implied that the offer was for the two of us separately with whoever we ended up with.

And that’s when things went tumbling down hill.

The subject of engagement, marriage, and babies has been something overwhelmingly present of late.  Everyone I was in youth group with at church is now married if not married with children.  Most of my high school friends are in the same boat.  It’s still strange to realize that we really are at that age – that elusive “grown up” phase we all strove for in high school is where we have managed to land smack dab in the middle of now.  When did that happen, exactly?

Granted, I chose a rather unique route out of high school and from there forged my way through the road less traveled far far away from the ‘normal’ realm of those my age.  My growing up wasn’t normal.  Now, my grown up status isn’t so abnormal, just different than I would have pictured a decade ago.  I didn’t think things would be like this, that’s for sure.  At the same time, I didn’t firmly decide they would be anything different than this.

I never really hoped for anything specific as I was growing up.  The only real thing I wanted was that single life long relationship and a home of my own.  Sounds cheesy, cliche, and perhaps mundane to some, but to me it was the important things in life.  That was then, though, and since then I only allowed myself to mentally go there in fits and starts rather than to focus on the notion as a realistic dream.  I’ve mentioned the mentality before, so to some it won’t come as any surprise that the reason behind this lack of aim is a fear of hope.  Having been proposed to by the wrong person in the most heinus of circumstances at 17, been the subject of ring shopping for someone else at 19, then thinking I’d actually met the right one and been nearly engaged at 21…only to be completely abused by the first, become the ex of the second (my call), and then been broken (at the time) by the third…the fantasy has given way to more of a ‘yeah right’ mentality.  Well, the ‘yeah right’ is a way of keeping the dream at arms distance as that feels much safer than allowing it to become a legitimate hope.

As I said: hope is a four letter word.

After today’s Christmas Eve service at church, I find my self still holding hope at a fearful arms distance.  The service today was great, as usual, and the message was wrapped around the idea that Jesus was sent to bring us Hope.  Obviously, there’s more to it than that, but it was the general theme of the evening.  To be honest, my mind was miles away and a year ago, and my heart was barely touched by what should have been rather moving.  Yesterday’s proposal…today’s hope…neither shake the cold that’s been wrapping its self around me like a cruel cloak for the last few months.

I can say what I know to be true: that Jesus really is our source of hope, and that all things are in His ever-capable hands.  I can go on about how I have no need to worry or fear the future because He has known every moment of my life before I took my first breath.  I could give many an inspiring and well worded theory on love, life, and God and the wonder of it all.   I could.  I have.  My penchant for honesty, however, dictates that I forego what is probably more appealing in favor for what is well, honest.

The reality is, I may know better, but I still fear.  I may see things for what good they are for others, but I still hurt for my own past.  I know God is in control, but I still doubt for my future.  I may know right from wrong and logic from the irrational, but my heart still chooses what it can’t have.  It is incredibly frustrating to have a head and heart at war with each other within the same body.  It’s frustrating, and tiring.

It’s Christmas Eve, and my house is silent.  It’s unwelcome, but fitting.

Ah, the Holidays. I hate the term, really. It’s not the idea of a Holiday Season which I’m not so keen on, it’s the fact that we’re forced to tame Christmas down to a ambiguously PC (politically correct), blanket labeled, collection of weeks which happen to contain a religious holiday or two. It’s annoying, really. What’s Easter going to be? I don’t even have anything clever for that nonsense.

Anyway, if I’m remembering right, last year I wasn’t too stoked about the whole Christmas thing either. Situations were different, so that may have had something to do with it. Last years’ December was full of ups and downs and moment-to-moment volitile interactions and circumstances. There were many good times, though. The one I was with showered me with gifts, small and not so small, and together we had some really amazing times. Of course, he was the recipient of the most costly Christmas gift I think I’ve EVER purchased…but I’m pretty sure it was worth it. This time of year has me doing replays in my head of events from last, and though there is a bit of conflict, the overall feeling is something of a loss. I do miss what was. Not in it’s incarnation, granted, but still. This is the subject which teeters precariously on the verge of danger as there are eyes which seek this out with a purpose surpasing mere curiosity. Whatever is written here on that subject, I know doesn’t stay here. Hence, I get to stay silent.

This year things are quite different. My Christmas budget won’t be nearly as high as there isn’t a key recipient to be concerned about. There isn’t the twisted abnormality of what was last year, either. But still…this year isn’t so festive and joyous. I’m settling into the new job (which at some point I’ll probably go into a bit more, as it’s completely different than what I was doing for the 12 months prior.) and doing the same at the new house. Holidays are strange when they’re not spent in close proximity to loved ones. I’m not hugely far away from the family, but they’re not on my doorstep either. My house isn’t decorated for Christmas in the slightest – the only token gesture is my mini christmas tree sitting on my dresser…and it’s seriously miniature, we’re talking less than a foot tall. I have to remind myself that Christmas is indeed around the corner.

As great as certain company would be (and I think maybe only two people know what I’m referring to) I’m cool with the fact that I’m in the place I’m in. This season will likely come and pass with little lasting significance, but that also is just fine by me. No, by no means am I a depressive Humbug. I’ll join in the festivities. The holidays Christmas Season is one I hope to enjoy as it should be, but this year has been so odd… Whenever we come to the close of a passing year I’m hyper-aware of what the last year has held. This past one…it’s pretty ridiculous. There’s a few who are missed more than they know, and circumstances prevent anything from being done about that. Thre’s a couple off the top of my head who aren’t quite so missed, but that’s par for the course of life. It’s not about the people or gifts or activities, anyhow.

I could get all sappy and cliche here, but I think I’ll pass.

There’s so many words that flood my mind when I try to put thought to page. This time, they will not have nearly the freedom they usually have, as I am writting this from my phone. On this ocassion, I suppose I must be selective.

I’m here in the silence, but it’s hardly quiet. My mind won’t shut up, but neither will something much deeper. It’s hard to find a good way to accurately express everything I’d want to…and even if I could, I join the silence thinking it far better to remain in kind.

Everything my mind would wish to say is far more than trivial. As much as I want to be able to freely voice some of it, I know it wouldn’t stop there merely with words. Our actions have a direct and sometimes irreversible effect on those around us. Speaking what the heart is wrestling with can become something much bigger than mere sentences.

Besides that, the heart is a funny thing. It pursues what it will regardless of the hosts best intentions. It has a will and a fire of it’s own that defies logic and reason in search for it’s want. I have a love hate relationship with this concept. That shouldn’t need explaining.

Words don’t do justice for what the silence wants to keep. The mind never stops wandering when the heart is left in wanting. Not poetic, nor eloquent. But this isn’t meant to be a profound grand production. It is merely a snapshot.

I have the best friends, I really do.  I’ve heard from so many of them asking how both my mother and I are doing, and it’s greatly appreciated.  Anything I have to write should probably remain out of the public eye, so I’ll just share a picture or two from Saturday morning.

Also, check through the last month or so’s postings if you feel so inclined – I’ve added some pictures to some and edited a few.

Asher Puppy - 6 months old

Perfect Saturday

I should be asleep, but I’m near cerain I will be calling in sick tomorrow morning, anyhow.  I have been fighting whatever it is the kids have for a few days now, and that combined with the need to be with the family has pretty much cemented my status.  Today was an odd day.  I spent the majority of it distracted by the situation of my mother being in the hospital.  I had requested permission to have my phone on me for the day from my boss, and had luckily been granted the go-ahead.  I was grateful for her permission as there were a flood of texts of encouragement and well wishes from friends that came in through the morning.  The question of wisdom came in when I received the update from my Dad – nearly two hours after she was supposed to be out of the OR.  They couldn’t do what they had wanted, and her problem was not fixed.

Thankfully, it is not life threatening, but still the news affected me.  I did separate from the job for a few minutes, but really any sort of break was out of the question.  It is upsetting to once again have no relief for my mom’s health issues.  When is enough enough?

What I would write here is probably more than I have the drive to go into at the moment.  I’m drained.  On an up note, I was blessed to have had an amazing day yesterday in San Diego and a great night tonight with someone who’s been around for the better part of 10 years.  We have our history, but he is one of the most honest, loyal, loving, and overall amazing guys I know.  To still have his friendship after all these years (and times of nonsense), I am truly blessed.

Taken off the San Diego shore

I’ve sat here debating about whether to write or not for the last twenty minutes.  I’m far too ADD to have done nothing BUT debate, but it was a while ago that I opened this window on the computer with the intention of putting thought to page.  Thing is, when I walked into my room I had one train of thought, and then a moment after settling in I had a completely different one.  On an emotional note, I went from upset to angry.  Then I went from angry, to amused, to sad, to conflicted, to amused, and then back to upset.  No matter what other stimuli there may be, the biggest one is the situation in my head when I walked into the room in desperate need for an outlet.

Tomorrow morning my mom goes in for heart surgery.

I received a bitchy phone call from my brother this evening, criticizing my care for my mother (or perceived lack there of) and endured what ended up being a fifteen minute conversation about his view of me.  Honestly, it didn’t bother me.  That’s the interesting thing, really.  It should have bothered me but instead I felt nothing.  When people base their opinions of another souly on their own one-sided and inaccurate perceptions, then they merely look like a dumb ass when they play their hand of empty garbage.  Anyone who has an issue with me or something I’ve done I welcome to take it up directly with me, because if they’re going to have an opinion it better be well informed from accurate information.  Negative prejudices mean nothing when they come from a miss-guided/bias/un-respectable source.

What did bother me about this evening was the fact that no one told me the severity of the procedure to take place tomorrow.  My dad has been minimizing it from the start and my mother makes no mention of anything health related ever, so I had trusted what I was told and refused to stress about it or make it out to be a big deal.  Now I’m told something quite different, and it both scares me and pisses me off.

I could go on for a while, but I’m exhuasted.  Sleep hasn’t been so stellar of late, and I also don’t feel well.

I cheated in the whole “one post per day” thing…because this post I just deleted the content of and what follows is completely different.  It’s previous incarnation was annoyingly borderline passive-aggressive.  No bueno.

But I did just have one of the best Saturdays ever.  Woke early, went to Laguna Beach with a couple girl friends and Asher, had breakfast on PCH, and took a walk on the beach.  It’s amazing to note at this point in life I am surrounded by such amazing women to call friends.

At The Key Club

Friday evening was spent with one of my co-workers then one of my former roommates.  Saturday morning was these two and then Saturday night was another girl friend of mine’s band playing out in Rancho.  For me, the concept of having friends that AREN’T male has been a learned experience – and one I am so thankful God forced me to do.

So, today I went to the AT&T store to get a new phone since mine’s up for upgrade and it’s been a bit of a punk lately.  I love my phone, I do.  It’s a Sony Ericsson and it’s been amazing to me for nearly two years.  But, sadly, our relationship needed to end.

I’m sorry, phone.  It’s not you, it’s me…and my new iPhone.

Because I keep my silence, doesn’t mean I don’t fight screaming

Just as I seek and wonder, I still search for the meaning

I look to read between between the lines

Between the space between you and I

I battle myself, my logic, my pride

But at the end of the day I wonder why

Before my eyes I can plainly see

Exactly your heart as it’s fixed upon me

For the knowledge to mean something

Everything I’ve known must mean nothing

So I remain where I am and continue to hide

Despite what I want, my hands are still tied

I tend to be remarkably seasonal.  I think it’s a family trait, sadly, as one of my elder brothers is the same way.  Basically, life is stellar for us and ours during the spring and summer…then it takes a nose dive into crapville mid-fall to winter time.  I’m not sure why this is really, but it’s something I’ve noticed to be true for the past few years.  Another symptom of this tragic tendency is the restlessness that begins building near the end of summer and continues through the new year.  This year is no exception to either observation.

The restlessness has been there for a few months.  There’s been an overall dissatisfaction with my position in life at the moment and that leads to me being tempted to flee to any manner of avalible options.  I enjoy changes of scenery, and I crave the freedom of fresh starts.  The idea of going to another state (did that a couple summers ago…didn’t really end up the way I’d planned) or heading back home to England is remarkably appealing for the sake of leaving all the nonsense in Southern California behind.  Obviously, you can’t run from your problems, or in this case frustrations.  I’m not a runner, anyhow.  That said…things certainly are changing.

Fear hit me for the first time this morning after I turned in my letter of resignation to my boss at work.  This may come as a surprise for anyone who’s known me or been following here for a while, as all evidence likely indicates my love for my current job.  It completely true – I love my job.  I adore working where I do and I find endless opportunities for learning on a day to day basis.  Nothing is ever the same, it’s always interesting, and I love the people I work with.  The sad fact is, however, that my current circumstances require me to find a job with more to offer by way of finances.  I hoped it would never get to that point, but with the need to move due to the baby (and Asher, also) and the desire to not be living on such a paycheck to paycheck basis, I’ve been looking quietly for a while for something new.  I found it, and I’m excited…but I’m also incredibly sad.  Add to that the above mentioned fear.

Everything is changing.  Within the month I’ll have a new job and a new home.  The new home is something I settled on over the weekend and confirmed yesterday – the same day I took the new job.  It’s awesome that everything is falling into place, but it’s also scary.  I said a few months ago that I was looking forward to the times ahead because they could literally take me anywhere.   I was right, as it turns out.  I’m heading in a direction I didn’t expect, but one I’m glad to be headed down.  Oh, and I also got my acceptance letter for my Communications in Entertainment and Media major through CSUF in Irvine.  Life sure is picking up speed.  Looks like it’s going to be a pretty cool ride, though.

Considering what I do for a living and the kinds of mindsets I work with, it really shouldn’t be such a surprise when I encounter a way of thinking so drastically different than my own.  Even beyond work, there’s been many unique circumstances I have lived in and through which have brought me to a place of being (in most aspects of life) quite a well rounded individual.  I’m not closed minded in that I’ll listen and do my best to understand another person’s perspective.  Of course, that certainly does not guarantee me conceding to their position, but it does open the mind up to potential new opportunities for learning.

In most situations where I encounter a difference of opinion, there’s at most an element of irritation or or a frustration that the other isn’t giving my viewpoint nearly the kind of consideration I may give theirs.  Even these little snags in psychological equilibrium are short lived and rarely carry on to mean anything.  The exception to this rule usually coincides with the first statement of the above paragraph.  It’s times when I am knocked sideways and taken aback that my insides start to tussle and I don’t quite know what to do with myself.

I’ve alluded to relationship issues lately, but with little detail to flesh it out.  I’ve avoided spelling it out for a few reasons; first, I try to keep specific personal details involving another person out of the public forum; second, I am well aware of certain people who view this and will either be hurt by what is said (him),  or will assume they know what and who I am talking about and be pissed/hurt/incredulous/ridiculous about it (her), even though more than likely their assumptions are incorrect both in subject and content; third, the situations mentioned aren’t necessarily about the same person or persons from blog to blog.  No, there’s isn’t a harem of random characters, but there are different kinds of relationships – all of which have to do with different people.

The reason for mentioning this tonight is due to my wrestling with my perspective and his on a number of interactions we have had recently.  I struggle between seeing things my way – meaning that my wishes should be respected and not ignored in favor of his (I’m not a “my way” person…but in this circumstance, both parties involved should have equal say), and seeing things his – we’re both similar and have similar tendencies, so of course I’d want what he wants.  Nope.

I began this blog a bit earlier and have since conversed with a mutual friend of ours to sort through some of this ish.  At this point, what I’m looking at is how I would feel about things if he wasn’t who he was – if there wasn’t a pre-existing relationship (any sort of relationship, really).  This stance puts things into perspective…and it’s not such a stellar light to see someone in, sadly.  How much do we excuse away of the ones we care about simply because we’re unwilling to see things for what they are?  If what we live through was happening to someone else, what would we advise them to do?

There’s that sadness, again.

It looks like the pieces are falling into place, though there’s still a  fear that it’ll all fall out from underneath me.  Home situation.  Work situation.  School situation.  They’re all coming together, it would seem.

God is good.

I should be sleeping right now.  I know, however, that if I attempt to go unconscious the effort will be futile as my head won’t shut the hell up.  Head, heart, same difference.  The problem I’m having right now is trying to figure out what the heck it is that’s making me feel so on edge.

It may well be the fact that the coming week has a few days worth mention in it.  There’s an interview, there’s a couple fun days at work, there’s the anxiety of trying to perform above par in a new aspect of work, add to that the knowledge that we’re approaching the end of another month…

…and that leads us to another possibility.  I’m still trying to find a new location.  Granted, the effort has been limited by the resources I have chosen to stick to.  The next place I try to call home has to be a certain kind of environment…and that’s not me being picky for the sake of being picky.  I’m realistic.  I know my self well enough to know what would be a good environment for me and what wouldn’t.  Add to that the need to find something that will be suitable for Asher as well – and things are a bit challenging.  So, I guess that could be it.

My mom’s home from the hospital, so that’s not it.  She went in due to passing out with a couple seizures involved.  Doctors kept her over night for testing…turns out she has something wrong with her heart.  We already knew this, but up until this point it hadn’t really reared its ugly head.  She has a follow up appointment with the cardiologist next week.  She says she feels fine, so that for the moment is good enough for me.

I had a conversation this afternoon with my eldest brother.  I told him a bit of what my week had looked like…leaving out the specifics of certain events but he knows me well enough to get the picture, I’m sure.  I told him about wednesday night – about being pissed off at a phone call I got, then set off by the knowledge that my best friend, her father, and my ex-boyfriend were going to be visiting the one from my recent past.  She had told me about the approaching visit so that I wouldn’t find out later and be upset.  In all honesty, the fact that they were going to his home with Bikers for Christ since he had been injured in a motorcycle accident, really wasn’t a big deal to me.  I was thankful that people I loved could potentially be used by God in his life.  For some reason though, the reality of two people who (in very different ways, obviously) have been closer to me than most would be visiting this one…it got to me.  I couldn’t identify why at the time…which led me to go straight over to my parents in hopes of processing things through and figuring it out…which led to a counter productive conversation and me leaving upset.  Wednesday sucked.  I told my brother about it, and then went through my feelings on the issue, added to my feelings about another character in my life…but that one is a completely different story.

Knowing today that the visit would be happening diverted my thoughts in that direction and I almost wished I could be a fly on the wall to see that interraction.  I know my ex, and I know how amazing he is, but I also know that when he first met this guy he hated him – and with decent enough reason.  The fact that he’s changed can only be a God thing.  Then my best friend…that one is also interesting.  I remember sitting on his (the guy to be visited) bed one night when I had the place to myself (he was out of town) and telling her the whole story of how things had gotten to the point they were…and I remember the hurt that she felt because I’d kept her in the dark and pushed her away while it all was happening.  It was fear that had made me do it.  Fear and shame, that is.  Her feelings at the time I think were mixed towards him, but after the whole thing ended I’m pretty sure they firmly planted themselves on one side of the fence.  Up until this, that is.  Again…I’m curious.

There’s still a lot up in the air for me.  The timing of everything going on seems to be so incredibly jacked up and all wrong.  My brother reminded me of his own situation and the timing of his relationship.  He helped put some things in perspective.

He also helped me to identify something which I had yet to be able to do.  I’ve been trying to figure out why I do things which I know will hurt me.  I go into situations which I know are bad, or I do things which I know will be damaging…and I had no clue why.  I’m no idiot, but I have made some pretty craptacular choices.  He said “You need to stop trying to punish yourself for things that God already has covered”.  Wow.  He’s right.  I am my own worst critic.  I hold myself to impossible standards, and subsequently fall short.  When he said what he did…something resonated within me and I saw things in a completely different light.

Today was constructive, as it turns out.  Even though I’m still feeling antsy and restless.

The above is likely as disjointed as I feel.  Eh.  Only seems appropriate to let it remain as such.

There are moments in life which defy words.  For whatever reason, the combination of letters and consequent nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs and any other part of speech strung together to create a meaningful thought (unlike this sentence) just can’t convey what the person is experiencing.  I say experiencing because it’s not necissarily a though, feeling, or state of being.  So what’s left?  That’s what I’m getting at…things that words just can’t justify.

I’m in a place which isn’t all that remarkable, gotta say.  This weekend has been amazing, and odd, and in some ways life changing (really, every moment we have in life is life changing as it steers our lives by the choices we make) but all around…indescribable.  Saturday night should have been epic.  I went to Newport to see Phil Wickham in concert.  I’ve adored his music for the past year or two and am blown away by the gift God has blessed him with.  Basically, the night was a worship experience and it should have been amazing…like standing on a rock just off shore as a wave crashes in front of you and you feel the cool mist of the ocean spray – just a drop of the raw power and majesty of God’s creation.  Yes.  There have been nights of musical enjoyment which equate to such lofty words.

Phil was amazing.  Absolutely brilliant.  The songs themselves were perfect, each performed better than an album can possibly represent.  I sat directly in front of the stage, letting the lyrics and music do their magic…only they didn’t.  That’s the odd place I’m talking about.  A completely blank, open, and…I don’t know, space.  I was beyond confused.  Here I am, desiring nothing more than to worship and…nothing.  Unusual to say the least.

Remember…Phil was amazing.  Really superb.  My issue has nothing to do with him.

And yet, it triggered something in me.  That night my head wouldn’t shut up with lyrics from that evening, and even this morning I awoke with the same soundtrack.  It’s like when you run upstairs to do something and the minute you do you forget what you were there for?  The analogy its self is pretty irrelevant, as it’s the feeling of not being able to pick out the exact prick of thought which is just on the tip of your awareness…but not.  There’s something.  I know there’s something, and I don’t know what it is.

Even church this morning was a blank status.  They even played “Your Love Is Strong” – my FAVORITE Jon Foreman song…nothing.  After the service there were three people who, one after the other, shared some sort of word or picture they’d had for me.  Usually, when these hit accurately, I cry like a baby.  Today, all of them were accurate, all of them were relevant, and all of them should have reduced me to tears.  None did.  And that was incredibly odd.

Then as the day went by I still found myself rather blank (redundant, but it’s the best descriptive word I can come up with at the moment) and lacking the ability to effectively communicate whatever it was that I was experiencing.  Then tonight, I made my way to Rock Harbor, but this time wasn’t so blank.  I had knowledge that there were to be two of six possible characters which could affect me in some way, shape, or form.  I almost didn’t go simply because I knew the effort of seeking them out would be such a big distraction.  I did end up going, as it turns out, and I did run into those two I knew would be there.  Nothing.  In their case, that’s a good thing, as one has been mentioned WAY too many times in blogs past.  The music was great.  The teaching was relevant and sound.  I did my usual trip to the cross…and blank.

I’m honestly not sure what the deal is, but I do have a bit of a guess.  In the past I have let my emotions govern the way I see God.  I’m happy, so God is good.  I’m sad, so God is absent.  Or both of those in reverse.  This season is a lesson in faith.  To have faith when the emotions don’t back it up.  To believe even when the evidence I would like to see isn’t there.  To trust, even when everything is so unsure.  I over analyze everything (possibly even today) and one thing I’ve noticed lately is that all my brain activity and abundance of thoughts forms a really convenient baracade around the heart issue – my heart.  My thoughts, feelings, desires, whatever, all matter to God.  The thing is, I’ve walled up around so many people that He has been put in that mix.  I rationalize my faith – I don’t just let go and risk to believe that God is God, and he adores me.  Maybe that’s the point.  Maybe it’s not.

The blank isn’t quite as bleak as it was before, but it’s still there.  Honestly, I should find it a relief to not have such clutter in my usually over-active head.  I would like to be relieved, but it’s so unfamiliar that I find it hard to do so.  I keep thinking “what’s wrong?!” instead of just letting it go.

Maybe that’s it – risking enough to let go.

Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die:

1. Play a song I wrote on the guitar

2. Visit Australia, Italy, and Jerusalem

3. Vacation in Bora Bora

4. Love.  Truly, madly, deeply.

5. Make a difference in the world

6. Raise a child (after #4, plus a wedding)

7. Dance naked on a beach in the rain.

Seven Things I CAN Do:

1. Write

2. Laugh often

3. Love my loved ones

4. Be artsy

5. Listen

6. Learn

7. Make the best cookies ever

Seven Things I CANNOT Do:

1. Make up my mind

2. Tolerate arrogance or prejudice

3. Say no to chocolate

4. Pretend that I like running.  I don’t.

5. Not help if I can.

6. Live without God

7. Finish stories I start – I get distracted then think of something better.

Seven Things That Attract Me To Guys:

1. Confidence

2. Love of God

3. Eyes and what’s behind them

4. Talent

5. Their heart.  Integrity.

6. Their sense of humor

7. Drive or ambition

Seven Things I Say Most Often:

1. Really?

2. This is nonsense.

3. Seriously?

4. That’s inappropriate.

5. ASHER!

6. Ridiculousness.

7. Right.

Seven Celebrity Crushes:

1. Orlando Bloom

2. Johnny Depp

3. Clive Owen

4. Matthew Macfadyen

5. Vin Diesel

6. Colin Farrell

7. (The guy that I’m sure I’ll remember as soon as this is posted, but for now I forget)

Seven People Who I Think Should Do This:

1. Scott

2. Kyndra

3. Phil

4. Sarah

5. Amanda

6. Steven

7. Jenn (but she already did)

I realized this evening that I left out part of what I had planned on writing earlier this afternoon. Well, planned on is probably a bit misleading. I had a tangent of thought which was heading in another direction but got sideswiped by another rogue tangent which came out on top. So…here we are now.

In thinking about my relationships, I feel like I need to adjust a statement I made in a previous blog. I mentioned having only one real regret which I would go back and change if I could. Then today, I mentioned the expression of love which I learned last summer, and left out the other aspects which I’ve learned along the way. This, among other things, led me to remember what a good friend of mine told me a few years back. She said that she didn’t believe that there was really only ONE person for someone to be with in their lifetime. I was aghast, but she went on to explain what she meant. She expressing an idea that there are different people for different seasons in our lives. As far as marriage goes, yes, we both believe there should only be one. But along the way, the idea that any relationship prior to “The One” doesn’t have to be classified as a mistake, or the “wrong” one. They were the right ones – for that time.

There have been many seasons in my life, and a handful or less characters of mention to go along with them. Looking back chronologically, there was one which taught me how to have a ‘normal’ relationship, there was the longest relationship wherein I learned a lot about myself and life. The one I loved enough to marry taught me that I was capable of such love – something I had previously thought impossible. Even the bad memories attached can’t overshadow the good of that relationship. Last summer, I learned what love with restraint looked like, and what affection through affirmation rather than lust could be like. That led me to the most recent chapter…

And I realized that I can’t shove it off in the regret column. There are some of my most painful memories within that time…but there are also some incredible memories and lessons as well. I look back with mixed emotion, and it can fall to either end of the spectrum depending on the day…but all that is being muted to a more manageable reflection.

The ones who I have shared my life with along the way have taught me much. They may not have been “the one”, but they were indeed the ones for the season. Three are married now, one’s spoken for, and the other…well, it’s anyone’s guess. I am thankful they chose to share a portion of their lives with me.

I have to leave in less than 20 minutes to drop off Asher at my parents before driving out to Huntington Beach for soccer tonight, but thought I’d take a minute to write and add a picture or two of the previously mentioned Asher.

Asher

He’s been a major adjustment…now having to worry about being home at certain times and how much time I spend away from home. Like having a child. A four legged child.

WordPress took too long to upload. Time’s up.

For more pictures of Ash, go here

“Let us consider that wonderful sign [of the resurrection] which takes place in Eastern lands, that is, in Arabia and the countries round about. There is a certain bird which is called a phoenix. This is the only one of its kind, and lives five hundred years. And when the time of its dissolution draws near that it must die, it builds itself a nest of frankincense, and myrrh, and other spices, into which, when the time is fulfilled, it enters and dies. But as the flesh decays a certain kind of worm is produced, which, being nourished by the juices of the dead bird, brings forth feathers. Then, when it has acquired strength, it takes up that nest in which are the bones of its parent, and bearing these it passes from the land of Arabia into Egypt, to the city called Heliopolis. And, in open day, flying in the sight of all men, it places them on the altar of the sun, and having done this, hastens back to its former abode. The priests then inspect the registers of the dates, and find that it has returned exactly as the five hundredth year was completed.”

Destruction. Re-birth. Rising from the ashes…Every 500 Years.

There’s far too much that I either could, should, or merely want to write about. Three or four topics jump at me to start with…and there’s more, I’m certain. So…I guess what I’m saying is this thing could get interesting. Or. Not. Depends on your point of view, I suppose.

Things in life are pretty eventful at the moment. There is so much that I have been blessed with. A new chapter in life, new place, a break from work, new puppy…and that’s just the situational up side of things. In the grand scheme of things, I’m incredibly blessed. I was given an amazing family – phenomenal parents and two brothers who aren’t too shabby as well. I live in Orange County, and as much as I bitch about the materialistic bull shit which seems to govern this place, in reality I can’t complain. That one I really don’t need to expand upon. Then there’s me…I’m not exactly sub par. Acknowledging anything positive about myself is something completely new to me. Just giving myself the credit of being intelligent, trustworthy, something other than boring, perhaps above average looking, and maybe overall a decent human being is something foreign. I have several theories as to why this is, but maybe that’s for another time.

The other side of mildly eventful is the side I was more tempted to open this with. I forced myself to begin with the positives because when it comes to negatives…well, there’s a decent amount of stress on my plate.

I turn 24 on Saturday. I admitted to my mother today that I’m really not looking forward to my birthday in the slightest. In fact, to be honest, part of me would rather it wasn’t the ninth of August in three days. A large part of me hardly wants to celebrate this past year. Bury it 12 feet under, perhaps, but hardly look back in thanksgiving over its existence. I’ve learned so much in the past twelve months…but for once in my life I can’t look back and see past the pain and honestly say that the end justified the means. A lot of what I did and was done is unjustifiable. One of the pieces of my conversation with my mom today included me stating that “there is no way around it – this past year and all its crap happened and nothing can change that”. This reality isn’t something I dwell on, but as a point of reflection approaches, I dread the day and what it could potential lead to.

Birthdays are one of those occasions which hold the potential for joy as well as pain. They set the stage for hope and expectation – two postures which can either lead to intense satisfaction or deep disappointment. Yes, there is land in between…but as someone who fears hope like an inmate fears the showers, the hesitation for looking forward to the event in question becomes the prodominent mindset. Lets see…last few birthdays…

21 was awesome, though there was certainly the sadness of spending it sans significant other. 22 was probably the most painful ever. I’d just come home from Georgia having left half of me 2200 miles away…and he chose THAT day to declare himself officially single and moved on to someone new. My reaction wasn’t so positive. 23 was cool considering my roommates throwing a surprise shindig at our place with a few friends. Very cool…but there was a marked silence from the person I was seeing at the time. Within the week whatever was…wasn’t. It sounds like I base the scale of birthday bliss on relationship status, but really that’s not the case. Single or taken is of little relevance. It just has turned out that the dramatic nonsense of imploding relationships have crescendoed around my annual turning of age. Craptacular, indeed.

This year…what I want and what will happen may well be worlds apart.

No, I’m not in a woe is me mood. Just thinking about things. Realizing that having the puppy is a lot like getting pregnant in high school. As much as you may love the kid – perhaps the timing could have been better. He’s a lot of work and responsibility. Add him to the mountain of ever increasing bills…such as moving out, the puppy himself, car problems, MORE CAR PROBLEMS (car is currently in the shop…again) and medical bills which have found their way to my custody instead of my insurance. Sweet. And the weekly cost of staying sane via monday appointments. Damn it. I can hold Asher (the puppy) all I want – problem is, he doesn’t hug back.

Sigh. It’s late. I do need, among other things, sleep. To be continued.

It’s like Where’s Waldo…only, it’s Where’s Natalie

It is warm here. The gentle breeze from the fan above me softly touches my bare face, shoulders, and arms, giving a slight refreshing coolness while allowing the warmth of the comforter to remain. It has been a long day – one filled with many moments of happiness, a few of hilarity, but all with the backdrop of peace. A quiet contentment has managed to fill my being and still the continuous writhing within. It has been over much time, though many stages, and lately taken on a new form of concern, but all the while it has filled my head with a fog so dense that nothing can be seen past the preoccupation of what could be. Now, in this moment, I find myself resting in stillness and basking in the glow of a day that has burned bright.

This morning was full of anticipation for what would come. I was excited to return to the school and see the kids and various staff which have become so familiar to me. I was looking forward to the early afternoon and the unique outing I was scheduled to take part in. More than this, I was looking forward to seeing life in a different light…one where love was the mission statement and sorrow was a thing of the past. A grand statement for one who, but a week ago, was still stuck in the muddled and confusing waters of a beautifully broken relationship. Well, to be accurate, it wasn’t the relationship that was broken. As I tell anyone who asks me or insinuates that the other person involved was the source of pain and stress, it was not the relationship between him and I which was broken. That part was beautiful and wonderful and taught me so much about both love and myself. It was the circumstances and a horde of variables which were the source of the problem. Never the less, after a few soul purgings and the reading of some much needed words, I had finally found a level of peace that has been missing for a while.

This morning the guy I work with was in rare form. He was in a good mood, as was I. our rapport was awesome and something the kids could feed into as well. Though the kids had their moments (quite a few in my Teacher’s absence) we had a decent day with them and each other. My co-worker even had to admit his disapproval of my early departure for the day. I told them I had an appointment at 2 in the afternoon. This was a true statement, but was left misleading on purpose. I did have an appointment – an appointment with a group of friends at Disneyland’s Club 33. For those who are unaware, Club 33 is a hidden restaurant within Disneyland. It’s patrons are the elite who’s membership per year is well into the tens of thousands, and the club its self has a waiting list for membership of approximately 14 years (really). Bottom line: if you’re not a member or affiliated with one, you don’t get on the list – regardless of who you are (yes, even celebrities are turned away). And if you’re not on the list, you certainly aren’t getting in. The rules about this place and the code of conduct are ridiculous as well. So how did I manage to gain the invitation? A friend of mine’s mothers’ company has the privilege, and once every five years the family is granted entry to the club. This year, the mother is retiring, so we had a moderately sized party in the restaurant.

Gotta admit, it’s pretty cool to walk up to the unmarked door next to a simple “33″ placard to the right of the entry, lift the metal cover of the intercom, and let the people inside know you’re there and on the list. Then, as people around loiter, you and your party are escorted through the door and into the lobby. The atmosphere is not what I expected – not quite as ornate or plush as I thought it would be. The food was excellent – I had the halibut and lobster, and both the appetizer display and desserts were quite enjoyable. The problem is that I’ve spent the last four months being spoiled with excellent food. Between The Melting Pot, and New Orleans there has been an abundance of REALLY amazing food. So, I did feel a bit jaded when the remainder of the group did the appropriate “ooh!” and “Ahh!” and I thought to myself – “sure, it’s good. But the duck salad in New Orleans was better. And the lobster we cooked at home came pretty close too…”. Wow. Sad, isn’t it? Overall, I think it’s the status thing that holds the appeal for most people. It’s the ability to say, “Oh, you went to the Blue Bayou, I was at Club 33 with Tom Hanks and Madonna.” Or something like that. Yes, it even holds a mild portion of bragging rights for yours truly.

My error in all this was the decision of foot ware. This may sound asinine. The problem became the planning of costume change between work (think jeans I don’t care about, casual top, and beat up Diesel tennis shoes) and the acceptable attire required for the Club (Stupidly costly jeans, a comfortable but classy blue top, and heels). The restaurant requires that no flip flops, tennis shoes, or otherwise casual foot ware be worn. This left me with few options, and sadly my choice of wooden heels with leather straps turned out to be a really great idea for lunch but a terrible choice for spending the remainder of the day gallivanting around Disneyland. The end result is blisters on the tops AND bottoms of my feet. So lame.

But despite the pain and the problematic choice of clothing, the day was very cool. The club was a really unique experience and the rest of the day was spent with friends having fun in the amusement parks (part of the perks of membership to the club is guests dining receive the park hopper pass for both Disneyland and California Adventure). Another interesting note was that I left the park alone.

That sounds like a non-event, in fact to most it probably would be. For me, though, it was something slightly more meaningful than that. I left shortly after ten with the remainder of my group staying behind for the rest of the evening. What this meant was the trip from Autopia, through the crowd controlled mass of people watching the fireworks, winding through damn near half the park, the trip down Main Street, out the entrance, through Downtown Disney, on the tram, across the monstrosity of a building they call a parking structure, and to my awaiting van – all this done solo. I’m a girl (obviously) and not just a girl, a girl who used to be afraid of the dark, of crowds, afraid of the possibility of an unfortunate incident that could easily occur with a solo girl in the dark in a crowd…who winds up walking alone through the abandoned parking structure. I did find it odd that the males in my group did not insist on escorting me through such circumstances, but at the same time I was glad they did not. It gave me chance to do the journey alone…that is, physically alone.

I’ve spent a large part of the last few years allowing my safety and security to be directly tied to whichever male was at my side at the time. Though I do enjoy the feeling of being the smaller female being protected by a larger male, there does come a time when you have to be able to be self sufficient and go it alone. I came to this conclusion last night, and thus was more than happy to make the trip by myself…with the full awareness that I was protected by Something much bigger than anything that could possibly come up against me.

The best part of the last week or so has been that re-connection with my relationship with God. Between actually picking up my bible again (though, it’s a brand new one – the Amplified Translation…LOVE it) and constantly re-training my thought patterns away from myself and my nonsense to Him, things have been remarkably different. Along with this shift is the realization and acceptance that my solo status will likely not be short lived. A wordy way of saying, I expect to be alone for a while.

While shopping not too long ago (and many times prior) I noticed repeatedly that everything I looked at as a potential purchase was weighed against who would like it and what affect that would have. Of course lately it was aimed at the one who was close to me, and even more recently to a few select characters who’s approval seems remarkably important. This realization is nothing new. I’ve noticed it before, and as before, I sadly admitted that a great deal of my identity has been shaped by those around me – mostly men. Everything from my taste in music, to cars, to clothing and pastimes has morphed and chameleoned to whoever was on my radar at the time.

The most recent relationship wasn’t quite this way. We had enough in common and enough that complimented each other to where the vast majority of my identity remained unchanged. I did have the freedom to like and dislike what I wanted, because I liked and disliked some of what mattered to him. In the past it has been a combination of weakness of identity and a people-pleasing mentality that has caused me to change for the sake of another. I’ve written about all this before, so this idea probably doesn’t need to be voiced any further.

I guess the point is that my solo status is necessary. Any thoughts of potential what not are banished the moment they enter my head. It’s also important to note that by no means would I be ready to start something at this point. It’s FAR too soon and he meant FAR too much to move on that easily. This blog, I feel has been a cluster of tangents with little to tie the ideas together. Hopefully, the all do not follow in kind.

Ah, the aftertaste. That feeling, that sensation that seems so achingly familiar but while its familiarity brings some sort of comfort, it’s presence brings an equal feeling of nausea and gut wrenching fear. Like eating the same food or drinking the same drink that you did before the last time you vomited. Something that could quite possibly turn out differently, but that your subconscious rebels against due to previous questionable experiences.

Like love. Or something like it.

There’s that feeling, that sensation that you’re being affected in a new and yet familiar way and as much as it is exciting and has the potential to make you high, there’s the residual fear that it’ll end up just like last time. And last time wasn’t fun, exactly. Really the fear isn’t love its self, it’s losing it. Or never having it in the first place. It’s knowing that another human beings presence or lack there of has a direct impact on your emotional and psychological state. Even more threatening is that they seem to have a direct route to your heart – something you’ve taken great pains to lock up behind a labyrinth of walls and a few guard towers. And they may have no idea, no clue that a simple phone call brightens your day. That a hug makes the rest of the static dim enough to catch your breath – while taking that breath away in the same moment. And they make you write sappy blogs too.

And yet there’s still that fear. Knowing that the absolute uncertainty that surrounds the situation is something that soon will not diminish, in fact it promises to remain for a least the time being. But something tells you that hanging on just may be worth the wait.

We’ll see.

“You are everything I want, ‘Cuz you are everything I’m not.” – Taking Back Sunday

This lyric (from the song “Make Damn Sure”) was brought to my attention by Erin at work. We were talking about various men in our lives and I mentioned that my mother is completely baffled by the people I have brought home in recent years. Not that there is anything necessarily wrong with them, but there is a distinct quality that they all have which she finds completely confusing: they’re nothing like me. Her observation is one that many other people around me share. The latest incarnation of my other half was a perfect example. Rough, military background, from the south, somewhat antisocial, quiet, and generally not the kind of guy that would stereotypically be matched with someone like me. Of course, I never heard anything of my friend’s misgivings until AFTER the relationship ended. But even so, as much as I see their point, I don’t necessarily agree with them.

What other people see as important in a match between two people isn’t always something that I see to be imperative. In fact, the typical things that others would require be identical are the things that I would rather see be different. Besides the core stuff (i.e. God, family, intelligence, sense of humor, communication, values…Etc.) everything else such as occupation, style, hobbies, appearance, music taste, thought process, personality…different up to opposite is preferable. I don’t think that identical equals complimentary. I spend enough time in my own head without needing to hear the exact same crap voiced by someone else. I like someone who can keep me interested, someone who can keep me guessing, keep me enthralled, and damn it someone who’s just as off as I am only perhaps in a different way.

One of the women in my life said something that I took offense to at first, but after hearing the explanation reluctantly embraced. She said something along the lines of “you’re going to be a difficult one to marry”. I looked at her funny thinking “wow, thanks”. She continued by saying “What I mean is, you’re beautiful. You’re intelligent, you’re deep, but you’re incredibly misunderstood. You’re weird, but in the best of ways.” At this point I was about ready to kick any dream of marital bliss to the curb. She then added, “I don’t think you are meant to be single, but whoever you marry is going to have to be quite something in order to keep up with you.” I think at this point I explained that this was something I had considered before and thought I had found the solution to in my latest ex-boyfriend. Given his background in the Marine Corps I figured he could put up with just about anything, including odd ball me, without being the least bit surprised or phased. She said that wasn’t the point. She said “whoever it is will love you BECAUSE of your weirdness, not in SPITE of it. He’ll look at you and be like ‘you’re so odd, but I LOVE you because of it’”. And that is the quality that remains elusive.

Earlier this year I thought that I had this kind of love. Turns out that wasn’t the case, and because of everything that took place I find myself thinking that there must be something wrong with me. There must be something incredibly not okay that made this person tell me one thing and then take it back a short time later. For the first time, I had let someone get to me – I had let him know ME in all facets, both good and bad. In the end, it felt like rejection of the worst possible kind. I’ve had breakups before and in the past it hasn’t been such a big thing to me. Maybe it’s because I was the one doing the breaking, but I think most likely it was because I didn’t invest all of myself in the relationship. It is significantly more heartbreaking to be rejected for what you are as opposed to something you’re not. It’s devastating. Having said that, despite the pain, I think the outcome is worth it. It taught me first and foremost that I was capable of love – something I didn’t think possible up until that point. I also learned what I do and do not want out of life and the people who could play a role in it.

But that’s another blog entirely.

I’m not sure why I just went into the past garbage in the paragraph above. Just something I’ve been thinking about lately. I think the whole point of this blog is merely to voice what I’ve been processing, for a while now, but in the last few days especially about me and potential others. I’m not desperate. I’m not trying to make things happen which are not at the moment happening. I’ve dealt with the aftermath of the summer and all the crap that brought with it. I’m not really looking for a relationship at this particular moment. If the right one came along, obviously I would consider it…but until that time I’m ok being alone. It sucks. It’s no fun to watch people go through engagements, marriage, and the birth of new babies and all the while wish it was you in their place. I miss the affection of the taken-status. I crave it at times. At the same time, I see the pain that would inevitably come from making the same bad decision twice (or five times or six…). So with that in mind, I’ll wait.

Something remarkable happened today. Well, yesterday and today. (and technically since it’s past midnight it would be yesterday and the day before…) There’s been something lacking in me since roughly the end of June; something that I almost thought I felt fleetingly but really haven’t experienced fully since the day it died over three months ago. But yesterday evening…Somewhere between dinner, car rides, looking at various weaponry, boxing gloves and photos – I felt what I’ve been missing: Joy. Pure, innocent, and un-tainted happiness.

I felt the same thing tonight while being bounced and jarred around in the cab of a truck, off-roading in Silverado Canyon. It was completely dark everywhere else but directly in front of us. As we were racing around the mountains, in pitch darkness, I looked to the side of us and saw the lights of the city shining below. It was gorgeous. We stopped briefly to appreciate the view from within the truck before setting off again. With little conversation going on (concentration of the driver is key in instances like this) I was left only to the thoughts in my head. I realized that I had let myself relax, despite the movement of the vehicle. I consciously let go of the door and let myself just enjoy the ride. I wasn’t afraid of the obvious danger of our escapade because I trusted who I was with. But more than that, I trusted the One I couldn’t even see beside me: God.

Letting go of what little control I had in that situation, and setting my wellbeing as well as that of my companions in His hands was just a minor representation of a much larger picture. Allowing God to take over and setting everything, from day to day decisions to hopes for the future to even HAVING a future, in his utterly capable hands brings more of a sense of peace that I’ve felt in a while. That peace silences the worries that steal the joy of life.

I remember smiling to myself and realizing something quite new: I am so in love with life. I love having the amazing family that God has blessed me with. I love the people he has placed in my life for such a time as this. I love that I am living in a beautiful state (regardless of the traffic) where I can go to the beach in the morning and go off roading in the mountains at night. I have all I need for daily life. I love that I am alive and able to take my next breath. I am blessed beyond measure. Of course there are things I would hope for for the future which are not currently accurate about the present – but even the things I would like to see change are not so terrible. Learning to love the beautiful awfulness of life is like a slap in the face to the one who would seek to steal our joy. And that, also, makes me smile. God is so amazing – and He’s slowly replacing all that was lost even better than before it was stolen.

This summer a part of me died. I see now something I couldn’t believe would ever be true – there really is life after death.