...this is my philosophy

Funny how falling feels like flying, for a little while

2011-11-30T22:59:00.001-06:00

I don't like the term "falling asleep."

The "action" of becoming asleep, if it must be associated with an action, should be more like sinking, but sinking asleep sounds more ridiculous than falling asleep.

(I wonder what people said to the guy who first coined that phrase, falling asleep...but I digress...)

I was in bed attempting to sleep and got up to use the restroom. When I returned, I told my wife that I loved her. My wife, while asleep, said she loved me as well, only as if she couldn't open her mouth. She was a layer or two below the surface, slowly sinking into slumber but still able to interact with the conscious world.

Two more things...blogging from the iPhone blogger app sucks as the normally annoying rotating orientation isn't built into the functionality of this app and my hands are far too wide.

Second thing is that I miss writing. Quite a bit.

Replete with Caution

2010-11-04T23:39:00.002-05:00

I have a very finite set of carefully guarded moments, set in amber and preserved for eternity within my mind. This is said this the clarity of time, allowing for retrospective thought and appreciation for what existed that may never be again. Time passes, moments fade, but the perfect snapshots remain embedded in my subconscious. The looped reel of tape playing as I close my eyes before I give in to sleep.

She was playing with my hair as I laid in the grass. The stillness of everything was eerie and off putting. When everything is moving at normal speed, your mind compensates by focusing on everything at once, but when everything is absolutely motionless, the slightest movement sends ripples through the space and time. Like the pop of fireworks in the dead of night, she was my sole cause for attention. I can still see the sky between the trees, thin hazy clouds on a field of blue, and I would swear to heaven and earth that I can still feel her cold hands moving over my ears and through my hair. Her lips taste like spiced fruit, warm and strange, but it envelopes my thoughts and consciousness. Chills on my spine as I close my eyes and she runs her fingers down my face, over my eyelids, brushing my lashes and down my red cheeks. At such an age, it is hard for the mind to comprehend how perfect she and I and this was, but we laid in the grass, quiet and calm.

The smallest amount of time can form a person for life in such a way that those seconds can be pinpointed and recalled as turning points in life. From everything before and everything after. A consciousness kick, a flash of a camera, and the world has a whole new spectrum of black and white.

Living (in the shadows of giants)

2010-04-02T18:02:00.003-05:00

The chaos was home.

I could hear it coming blocks away, knowing soon the sound would envelop everything around me, pushing a cushion of air as it swept toward me. My headphones snug in my ears, I paused and pulled them out and waited. The commotion was increasing, people clamoring down the stairs to make the platform, students milling around on a school trip and the unwashed denizens of Chicago, the homeless and hopeless, panhandling and singing their songs loudly in hopes for change, a drink or a smoke. The strong smells of cologne and perfume mingled with the intense odors of urine and rotting food, sending newcomers into a sensory haze that would leave an impression far beyond that moment, but this was nothing new to me.

The train was upon us now. Baseball games in both directions left each side of the concrete tube packed with people pushing to get through the doors. I'd long ago marked the spot in my mind where the door hits, right across from the fourth bag in the Whole Foods sign was the second door of the fifth car, so I knew to stand there at the precipice of it all. The train pulled forward, sending it's current of air past us, a cold breeze of comfort on a sweltering day, and ends of my shoes inches from the edge to ensure I make it in the car first. The train slid to a halt, and the doors slid open, leaving little room to maneuver to the back end of the car. Three young boys playing loudly for two seats while their mother behind them on the single seat talked on her phone. I rolled my headphones around my ipod and slid it into my bag, as the largest ego boost you can get is to listen to some of the conversations that people have on the train. I stood against the door and listened as couples talked about the merits of Jersey Shore, a fat man talking hurriedly into his cell phone about getting his taxes finished in time, and the sorority girls planning their night.

The train stopped at Belmont, and I pushed my way through the crowded car and left the members of Cubs nation behind me. Sliding my sunglasses down onto my eyes, I walked across the platform to the waiting brown line train and took it the rest of the way home. This noise and chaos, my home and comfort. The people crowded in a car, my family. The filth and dirt of the city, my heart. If there is a heaven, it's got L tracks above it.

An Insurrection

2010-01-14T18:33:00.002-06:00

There was very little stopping the natural progression of events. Somewhere between a wash of pride and rage, I found myself loading the shotgun knowing that what I was going to do was morally damning, but the lengths at which anyone might blame me was so negligible that I had no fear of retribution. This went beyond me, this was for everyone who ever got turned away when they asked why the police stopped searching for their daughter or son. For all intents and purposes, I was righting the balance between Duke and myself, because he had gone too far, and because if I didn’t, it would validate his long standing belief that he could get away with damn near anything.

Duke had always been a bad seed, a dark smudge on an otherwise clean town. He found his way into a position of authority early on and then used it to wedge his influence wherever he wanted it. There had been rumors, spanning years back, that he’d been in the business of murder, but with no proof and no one willing to stand in his way, the bodies disappeared and the families silenced of protests. It wasn’t fair to anyone but Duke, and it’s not as if the entire town was unaware of what he did, but he managed to cheat his way through every election and get his elected office for another two years. The city of Mooreland, Oklahoma was without legal options to rid themselves of this cancer. It never struck me to look beyond what was legal and what was inevitably the only solution, until he forced my hand.

“I just want you to be careful,” I said over breakfast, “You know the things he’s capable of, and pissing him off isn’t going to help your cause.” She had been petitioning the city and state governments for hosts of clean water initiatives and for some ungodly reason Duke was the man she was directed to see.

“Why should he scare me?” she asked naïvely, “He’s a public official after all. He should have to answer to the people.” The fact that she spoke this so convincingly bothered me, because it was within the realm of possibility that she didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation.

“Don’t you read the papers? People disappear, and after a day of searching, police just stop, call it off. Do you ever wonder why?” She stared at me, blankly, as if there was no point to be found. “Duke has the police in his pocket, and he’s got something to do with these disappearances.”

“You’re ridiculous. I’m going to go meet with him and see if I can’t get him to talk about the water issue.” She stood and kissed my forehead as she walked to put her plate in the sink. “Anyway, I probably won’t get home till late because of work and then going down to city hall. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home. Don’t forget your umbrella today, the clouds are supposed to roll in tonight and rain like hell.”

I drove to work, listening to the radio talking about the storm, that there were farmers in three counties who were worried about their crops drowning in the flood. Everyone in the country hated certain types of weather, but in Oklahoma, everyone had good reason to fear the clouds. It seemed like everything threatened the stability of their crops, but the farmers kept on planting and kept on surviving every natural disaster sent their way. One summer, a drought sent this place in to a fury of panic, but these people have been working for generations on those fields and no matter the problems or obstacles, they just kept on farming, knowing that the weather is cyclical and that things will turn around given enough time.

The jobsite was around a mile outside of town, working on a new development that aimed at luring new businesses to the area, and eventually expand the town. Thriving in a bad economy was the goal. We had three buildings going up simultaneously, so there was no shortage of work for me. I kept busy, making sure that as the buildings progressed, they had the ability to withstand the nasty weather that normally passes through. I’d gotten a lot of praise for my work in drawing up the plans for the buildings, putting an underground system of tunnels between the buildings and a parking structure nearby. Closed circuit cameras lined the tunnels, adding peace of mind to future tenants.

Our day finished and I packed up the truck to head home, when Madison called my phone. “Jase…someone has been following me…” she stammered. I could hear her breathing heavily, almost frantic, “They’ve been following me wherever I’ve driven. I don’t want to drive home and let them know where we live. I called the police, and when they got here, they talked to the driver, and he said he didn’t know what I was talking about, but when they left…he, he just started following me again!”

“Okay, come by the job site and I’ll take you home. Don’t worry,” I assured her, “you’ll be fine. I love you. See you soon. Bye.” She hung up and I got into the truck and turned the key. The engine chugged, then quit. I tried again, and again it stalled. I gave it one more turn, and revved the engine and it rolled over and began to idle.

Now the storms in Oklahoma are one of a kind. The clouds tower through the sky, looming black masses that wipe out any trace of light in the sky, as well as any sense of comfort or safety. The weathermen weren’t wrong about that storm, I’d never seen clouds like those in the sky that night, and I’d never felt so anxious as I did when it rolled into Mooreland and brought the torrent of rain.

I waited an hour, watching the sky, waiting for Madison to come, getting more nervous by the minute. I called her phone, hoping she would answer and tell me that the man following her was gone and she decided to just drive home. After the first ring, her phone picked up, but all I could hear was shouting. Screaming. “No…! Let go! Put me do…” followed by the sound of a gunshot, followed by silence. The phone disconnected, leaving me in the rain, and severely panicked over what I’d just heard.

The rain was coming hard now, and I had to stay calm. Every sense was heightened, and my arms were covered in gooseflesh. I called her phone again, no answer. Another call, still no answer. I kept calling until it finally answered, and my stomach knotted itself in my throat. I tried to shout, but no sound came out. Through the phone I heard voices, none of them immediately recognizable. “You had to go and cause trouble…” said a deep, booming voice, “well I like to cause trouble too. You brought it on yourself…asking all them questions…no one cares about your water…”

And I knew it. Behind the talking, I could hear her labored breaths. She sounded like she was hyperventilating, constant breaths and whimpers of pain. “We’re gonna take you home…and make this go away…and there’s nothin’ you can do about it…how does that feel?” That bastard had my wife, and he was planning on killing her and anyone he was likely to find at my home. What he didn’t plan on was someone fighting back.

I turned onto my block and shut off the car at the corner. I could barely make out the cars on the block, but when a long black Oldsmobile rolled around the corner and drove to my driveway, I knew it was them. I reached into the backseat and found my old blue duffel bag, the short barreled shotgun inside wrapped inside two sweatshirts. My stomach started to turn, wondering if she was dead or if they left her alive so that they might snuff out her life in front of me. I cocked open the barrel and started loading large shells inside, knowing full well that if I came across what I was expecting, I wasn’t going to have the opportunity to rely on reason. I had sawed off half the barrel of the Remington hunting shotgun my grandpa had from his days of hunting, allowing me to conceal it without suspicion. She hated that I had that gun in the back of my old Dodge, convinced that it would be the death of us. Interesting sentiment, really, that she would be right in the end.

I raced low through the fields, running toward my property with my gun in my hands. I knew where I needed to go, because I had a feeling where they’d take her. We lived in an old farm house on a fairly nondescript street, so even without the rain, there were very few people who were apt to see anything happening. I reached the house, and sidled up against the siding, around the corner from the old cellar door. The water was pouring down my face as I knelt watching and waiting for them to go to the door. That’s for sure where they’d take her.

My heart was pounding, and felt as if my body would jettison it from my chest at any moment, the sound of rain creating chaos all around me. Deep breaths, I would get through this. I watched as two men carried a body bound in duct tape toward the door. They kicked the latch, breaking their way into my cellar. Quickly making their way inside, but neglecting to close the door, I waited, watching shadows in the reflected light move around the basement. I was at the precipice of death, watching as they took the tape off of her mouth. I almost expected to hear her say something, but instead, I heard BANG. One gunshot. BANG. Another. A loud thud as she landed against the wall. I clasped my mouth, tears welling in my eyes, washing down my face with the rain.

I saw their shadows move up the staircase to the first floor of the house. I ducked inside the cellar, almost falling through the opening to get to her. She had no pulse, and was bound at her hands and feet. I cried quietly there, my head pressed against her sopping wet body. I stood back up to get my bearings. Her blood, black as crude oil, seeped across the floor and against the soles of my boots. As I walked further, every step splashed her life around, the squelch of rubber echoing against the concrete walls over the sound of the driving rain. This wasn’t over, and it was better that she wasn’t alive to see this finished. She was a victim of sick circumstance that brought her life to the basement floor, but the finality of her death gave me the ability to bury whatever humanity I had left inside, and take to the matters at hand.

I heard crashing upstairs, knowing that they were attempting to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. I walked slowly up the wooden stairs, the din of crashing plates and pans falling to the ground masking any sound my feet made taking me ever closer to them. I reached the door, pushing it open very slightly, to see one of Duke’s thugs standing with his back to the door.

“Hey, are we taking any of this stuff with us?” he shouted to the other room where Duke was rummaging through drawers.

“If you find anything, shove it in your pockets,” I heard that booming voice yell back.

The rain was still pounding on the roof, making an already cacophonous house even moreso. I raised the barrel of the shotgun to the height of the man’s neck, and slowly pushed the door open. I heard nothing that followed, but the shotgun tore straight through, sending the man to the floor. I turned to see Duke’s face grow pale. He raised his arms in protest. I spent a shell through his left knee, sending him to the ground. My ears stopped ringing, to hear him screaming.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” I shouted, cocking the gun and shooting again, putting a hole in the floorboards where his hand was moments earlier. I kicked the gun out of the leather holster he had been wearing. “You think you’re a cowboy, and that no one will question?” His screaming continued, pulling at the rug as if trying to leave the room. “I’m standing up to you. You won’t hide this one. Not this time.” I rested the barrel of the shotgun against the base of his skull, pictured my wife dead and bound below us, and I squeezed the trigger.

Quiet

2009-06-22T21:41:00.003-05:00

Apparently, my iPod had enough.

I had been abusing it since the day I got it in 2007. I've gone through so many of them, that I still have the original wall charger (that uses a firewire cord) from my first ipod in 2004.

When Apple stopped providing the wall charger free of charge and made the firewire format persona-non-gratis, I thought I'd outsmarted Mr. Jobs by charging my ipod via the wall with my old one.

Three ipods later, (first one - broken. second one - lost. third one - stolen.) I got this one by talking a best buy salesman down in price so that I could afford to replace the one that got taken. I bought a hard plastic case for it so that the screen wouldn't crack (which it eventually did somehow).

Now it's not an understatement to say I have music playing all day. I have a small speaker in the kitchen, and one in the bathroom. I have another on my desk at work. I listen to my ipod on the train, on the bus and walking all over the city.

So when I took my ipod to work and started listening to Bob & Brian when I noticed that the battery was a little low. I plugged in the wall charger and plugged it into the ipod.

And that's when shit hit the fan.

It started freaking out. The screen went black, then back to the basic apple logo, followed by the one thing that no owner of any apple product wants to see...

That's right, a frowning ipod. That's what I saw on the face of my ipod. Five seconds later, it went away. Forever.

Now, it won't even boot to disk mode. I press and hold the main button and the menu button, and it won't even power on. I plug it into the computer, and nothing. I press and hold Play and the main button, and still nothing.

Now I won't lie, I've had my eye on the iPod Touch for a long time. Wi-Fi. Games. A great user interface. Games that would help me waste all my spare time. Everything I could want in an MP3 player.

But as my budget is very thin, I'm not in any place to replace an expensive piece of electronic equipment. I'm not dumb enough to put the credit card down on the counter and go back into debt.

I musicless I sit.

The Need

2009-06-06T22:15:00.003-05:00

Since moving to Chicago, I have seen a great many things.

I live in a place that people come to visit, that is constantly filled with tourists. Foreign couples with children in tow, focusing on the map as they walk past the Jay Pritzker Pavilion and over the BP Bridge over Columbus. They always seem more lost than they ought to, especially in a city with so much to experience, that getting lost is not a waste of time.

Right outside my window as I write this, I can hear the fireworks launching and exploding over Navy Pier. Every Wednesday and Saturday, I hear the sounds of summer in the sky as I relax and unwind from the day. People line up outside of my building on the bridge and against the railings to see the show and enjoy their nights.

The L system in Chicago, moving people through the city, keeping people mobile without the aide of a car. It's possible to get almost anywhere in the city relying solely on the public transit system. Even while I live downtown, I can quickly and easily make it to the home of what is deemed the best pizza in all of America within the hour.

The park system in the city is beyond belief. The Cloud Gate (the Bean), The Pritzker Pavilion, Lakeshore East Park (which invariably sits directly out of my window and twelve stories down), Millenium Park and Buckingham Fountain. These things give this city such character for such an urban landscape that adds charm that I find it hard to believe that other metropolitan could compare to.

But what I see far too often is the need. There is SO much need in the city. One can hardly step from their doorstep to the closest convenience store without running into someone shaking a cup for change, asking for food or donations. Most carry cardboard signs proclaiming hunger or other plights. Without exxageration, every time I pass a person in need, I get a lump in my throat. I have purchased more muffins, granola and iced tea for homeless people than I ever have for myself. I wish that there was more that I could do, for all of them.

Well now that I have a regular monday through friday job, I can volunteer with companies like Feeding America and The Inspiration Cafe, both amazing organizations built to help those who may be having trouble helping themselves.

I don't care why or how they ended up where they are, need is need. And there is so much of it...

Man at his breaking point

2009-04-13T17:24:00.003-05:00

There comes a real, distinct point where a man reaches his breaking point. Where even trying isn't getting the job done. Where the chips seem stacked against him, he sees no other option but to keep playing his cards. A man is not raised to quit. If things are difficult, it means that they're worth the work. A lot of doors will be slammed in his face before he can find one that he can push open.

A man does what he has to. When all prospects keep turning up in the wrong direction, he antes up again and refuses to give in. Desperation is real, but perseverance does more than keep a man on the road, it protects him from being kicked around by his circumstances. It allows him to see the line on the horizon, knowing that where he will be is better than where he is now.

A man is his own savior. He picks himself up by his bootstraps and gets going. Regardless of the reasons, a man takes rejection and uses it to push him further towards his goal. Commitment towards a better life for himself and his brood helps him realize that when he's not given the easy way, the hard one might give a better result.

A man takes no excuses. He accepts that people might give an off-handed excuse for their actions, but he is not fooled into believing. He knows his worth and value and accepts nothing less than what he strives to be. He doesn't waste his time with foolish things, only puts stock in things that resonate cleanly with himself and those around him.

A man does what he must

2009-04-13T16:11:00.003-05:00

(This was written In May of 2009 but never posted. Not sure why but it's not terrible...)

I came back Friday after a night shift to find my fiancee falling asleep to a movie. The room was clean, cleaner than it'd been in years. I tend to surround myself with the sentimental accumulation of baseball tickets, christmas cards, pictures and letters of people and places who I haven't seen in far too long. In my head, I keep these things close by because they remind me of who I am and where I've come from. Refusing to rely on my memory, I allow myself to return to that box and wade through each piece and return to where I was.

We spent the better part of the weekend going through everything I had compiled from my old apartment, making clean and rational decisions on what to keep and what to lose. At the first thought of throwing these things out made me cringe, but I've come to a place in my life where I have to evaluate what is really important. These papers are needless, and pictures sitting on my hard drives make it unnecessary. As we filled more bags with trash, I felt less tied down to what I had kept. Donating more than three bags of clothes, shoes and books, my space was less cluttered and more calm.

She reminded me that as we find our home soon, we'll be moving everything, and that superfluous items would just exist to frustrate us. We plan out apartment on a daily basis and regardless of the size and space, a clean start is needed.

Raison D'etre

2009-04-07T22:43:00.003-05:00

Baseball is much more than a sport to me.

Each year, the process is the same. Spring training is mildly exciting, filled with minor leaguers and non-roster camp invitees who take the field and try to win the hearts of the team in hopes of finding their way out of the minors and into the club houses. It's difficult to get excited about spring training because it doesn't quite feel real. It's akin to the pregame for the superbowl. It's long, drawn-out and a whole lot of talk that, for all intents and purposes, means absolutely nothing other than to try to get people in the mood.

And while I don't give much credit to the statistics or the wins and losses, it gets me back in the familiar groove I've set into my springs. Checking scores on the team websites as well as the hometown newspapers. Reading (and rereading) A Lefty's Legacy to take my mind to a time when the game was cherished and pure. Analyzing the schedule to find a road game to travel to.

These are my rites of spring. Precedence often falls to baseball in questions of what I might choose to spend an entire day or week on, enamored with the perfect swing and the look on a pitchers face as he watches his dream outing become a distant memory. The magic of the game is not lost on me, no. The child inside is still in love with the atmosphere of the ball park, each sense satisfied, and every moment electric.

In the past two years, baseball has become an essential part of my summer. Attending no less than 40 games in the 162-game season, all in hopes of what was an actualized dream last season, to play October baseball. I traveled to the (un)friendly confines of Wrigley Field in a home-made suit decorated in gold and navy. I flew to Boston with a old college friend to watch the Brewers get beaten handily by the Red Sox (and eat a fenway frank). I've collected more bobbleheads, bags, hats and t-shirts than one would ever consider necessary. Home or away, I am enthralled.

I write this wearing no less than three pieces of team apparel. I cursed aloud as they lost today, but knowing that soon, I will be knee to knee with another fan, watching nine innings of grown men who have found a way to let their childhood dream drive their life.

Weeks

2009-03-05T22:27:00.003-06:00

It's been a while since I've written last.

A lot of stuff has taken up the space on my plate, and I'm trying to get everything figured out.

I got engaged on February 22nd, and will be getting married on January 02, 2010. It wasn't as much of a surprise to us, and I think that's a good thing. We're both looking for jobs, and it sounds trite to say that things will be easier once that gets taken care of, but really, the thought of not having to job hunt any longer makes me smile.

I'll be heading down to Chicago to temp for a couple weeks, and hopefully longer. The company I'll be with is a very creative group of individuals, and I think that I've found an opportunity to get a foothold in the city, and I'm excited.

An author came into the bookstore this past week, and we got to talking about writing. I've got a couple stories written on my computer and I told him that I enjoy writing and aspire to get a book written some day. He told me that if I can get it together that I ought to send it to him and that he would send it on to an editor and publisher. You can actually see me on a video he had recorded at our store. (Link here)

It's been a crazy week or two, but I'm happy.

And she said yes

2009-02-23T12:56:00.002-06:00

On my mind.

2009-01-18T21:14:00.003-06:00

Things on my mind...

I'm greatly astounded at how organized she is. No, really, she has a list on her Outlook of tasks. Not just work tasks, but EVERYTHING she has to do. I'm talking making appointments, calling certain people, needing to find a new dentist. I've never been that organized, although I ought to be.
The reason I was thinking of the first thing on this list is because I was reading the issue of GQ from last month (the one with Jennifer Aniston on the cover wearing only a tie...), and they talked about just that. Writing out every last little detail of what you want and need to do, and then prioritizing it. It's not tough, just time consuming.
They also talked about "structured procrastination" which sounds like an oxymoron. The goal is to build momentum to the thing that you've been putting off. Say I need to exercise, but being lazy is so much more fun. I might clean a room, balance my checkbook, put in a load of laundry, and then go exercise. The point is that I've already started working on my list of things to do, and there is little excuse not to do it.
My brother turns 29 today. Jesus, when did we all get so old...
I am loving Skype. I am dating a woman who is living in another city, and while I may not get to be with her, I do get to see her face and hear her talk and laugh. I bought a little webcam a couple months back, and it's becoming one of the best purchases I've made in a long, long time.
On a similar note, it came to me yesterday that I will be living in Chicago in the near future. It was never really a reality to me that I'll be living in another city, far from my family home, and finally living where I always wanted. It's sort of a trippy thought...makes me smile a lot.
While working at the book store is easy and pretty fun, it's starting to eat away at me that I'm not in a career. I could do the bookstore-manager route, climb the ladder and make a living that way. But it's not me, no matter how good I may be at it. I don't see it as the best option to raise a family and build a life. I want a career, and I don't want to settle for less.
I am loving this winter. People around here hate it. They bitch about the cold, the whine about the snow, but I love it. Every time it snows, I think about it like the first time I remember watching it snow. I keep that childlike-wonder about winter, and everyone else ought to. I drive past the large snow hill in the cul-de-sac down the street, and I think about all the times I played on it with Parr and Ash when I was young.
My car is about 150 miles shy of 100,000 miles. On February 12th, I will have been driving my car for six years. Started leasing it in high school, and it's been a workhorse. I've driven 99,000 of those miles, and while I've worked through multiple sets of brakes, tires, a wheel, a mirror and dozens of car washes, it's always kept going. I'm going to be sad when I sell it, but I'll know that I put it through it's paces, and someone else can take it on next.

And that's my list.

Nape

2009-01-14T20:09:00.002-06:00

I think of her whenever I see subtitles on a movie.

She turns them on, always has, because her brother is deaf, and she's just accustomed to having it on.

Ever since I've met her, she always wanted it on when we watched a movie. It seemed odd at first, someone who didn't need them on, but I obliged because I didn't care and whatever made her happy.

Now I can hardly watch a movie without turning them on.

I fear that we often take for granted what is most common around us. What we see every day becomes just regular. When we aren't given the option to see someone like you'd want to, it seems impossible, to me, to take it as just another part of my life. It gives my life shape.

I miss her though, quite a lot sometimes.

I would rearrange my life, and change for you

2009-01-09T00:11:00.003-06:00

Amory taped up the last box, scribbled the word "Kitchen" on the side. He knew, deep down, that he wouldn't be needing that box for a while. It was hard to pack up his entire world into brown cardboard boxes and duffel bags, but there were more important things to consider.

The truck was already loaded with most of the furniture, and he could see the snow starting to coat the cover he'd bought for the bed. "Thank God for that," he thought. The last thing he needed was all of his stuff getting ruined before he'd even left the little no-name town. His pack of cigarettes sat on the floor next to the door, a single grit inside. He was supposed to quit, but there was something about that last smoke that called out to him. She was hundreds of miles away, and after all he was leaving his old life behind for her.

He felt for his lighter in his pocket, the zippo he'd gotten when he was 14, a memento of his first adult vice. That lighter had been with Amory through everything he'd gone through, almost the only static piece of his life. Grabbing his empty soft pack and putting on his wool coat, he walked down the stairs and put the cigarette behind his ear, remembering every little detail; how the wall was marred from his bed frame when he moved in years before, the music from the neighbor directly below him, and the way he felt the first time he had left his apartment.

It was a place he wanted to remember forever. Madison had come through his life, stirred up the dust and caused a lot of problems before leaving suddenly. He remembered the weeklong parties with friends, and watching the snow fall from his window. Most of all, though, he remembered how through everything, she was there for him. And now, when it was their time, he would be there for her. There were so many mornings where he woke up with her next to him, pulled tightly under the covers, looking as beautiful as she ever was, almost smiling. Amory would always wake up earlier, and feel his stomach jump knowing that she chose to be there next to him.

A loud knock from the door pulled him out of his daydream. Jacob was at the door, and from the looks of it had been waiting a while. "Sorry, dude, I was just thinking about this place..." Amory trailed off into a mumble.
"No problem, I'll just take this," Jacob reached and took the cigarette, put it between his lips and lit it before Amory could say a word. He wasn't upset, just another instance of fate taking things out of his control and handling them. "You know, moving all this shit was hard enough, you owe me more than a cigarette."
"Here," he said, reaching into his coat pocket, "Here's a fifty. I found it in one of my old books, and I do owe you gas money." Amory was grateful to him, he'd been his closest friend over the past few years, always willing to help him when he was in a jam. Rarely asking for anything in return, and always quick with a joke when he was feeling down.
"Jesus...thanks bro. I wasn't really expecting you to give me something."
"I don't really need it, I've got everything set up already, and I did owe you."
"Well...thanks. You nervous about the move?"
"Not that I could do anything about it now, but no." He felt confident in saying it, there wasn't a worry in him about this.
"Well, I can't say I didn't think about yelling at you, but then I figured you have your shit together. You're not dumb, and to do this, you'd have to be sure about it." His cigarette was down to the filter and he flicked it into the snow. "Plus, she is pretty hot."

They talked and laughed and said their goodbye. He knew that Jacob wanted him to stay in town, but when Amory had his mind made up, there was no stopping him. All one could do was try to steer him in the right direction. Jacob gave him one last hand shake and walked off to his car. The snow was still coming down, and the lights looked like bright halos in the sky. Everything about this place made him happy, but he knew, honestly knew, that where he was going would make him happier.

The phone shook in his pocket. She wanted to tell him good night before she fell asleep. She was cute like that, never letting a day go by without letting him know that he was on her mind.

He felt good, but more important, he felt like he had a purpose. She gave him a purpose.

pack the old love letters up

2008-11-23T22:56:00.002-06:00

The old Dodge truck rumbled as he pulled up to the diner. Inside, an assortment of tired faces and waitresses, busy with newspapers and breakfast plates. Oliver leaned back in the seat, watching the snow slowly land on the windshield. The voice on the radio was coarse and heavy, saying that the interstate was shut down due to multiple accidents, that the snow had all but brought all means of Ollie making it back home before dawn to a standstill.

"200 miles," he said to himself, "And I'm stuck here in Davenport." He turned the key in the ignition, making the cab shake and then come to a halt. Through watery eyes, he watched as a man and a woman walk through the doors, arms linked. The woman stopped and looked up, opening her mouth and letting snow fall on her tongue. The man watched her, laughed a bit and brought her against him and held her tightly. Oliver wiped his eyes, thinking of Liza, wishing to be anywhere but in a parking lot in Iowa. His breath was cloudy in the cab of the truck, so he got out, his boots crunching on the hardened shell of snow on the pavement. The man and woman walked carefully down the steps to their car, and as Oliver passed, he could smell her perfume. A small feeling of home warmed him inside, and he walked inside.

The diner was warm, the sweet smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the air, forks and knives scraping plates through muddled sounds of conversation. The counter had two seats open, and Oliver took off his coat and scarf, folding them up and putting them on the stool next to his seat. The waitress walked slowly to where he had sat, pouring the black coffee into his tan mug. "Two eggs, over easy. Wheat toast. Bacon. And maybe...a glass of orange juice." The waitress scribbled on her pad as he spoke, his words barely audible, but she turned and put the pencil behind her ear and walked towards the kitchen.

He suddenly found himself feeling confined by everything he had with him. He took off his watch and his necklace, putting them in his pocket. However, his engagement ring stayed where it was on his finger. He ran his nail on the engraved design in the silver, letting it catch at every change of direction. The waitress sat the plates on the counter in front of him, pinning the bill on the menu. Oliver was too wrapped up in thinking about her to care that his food was ready and sitting steaming before him.

"When you want to be with someone," a voice said, "It's hard to want to be away, for any reason." For the most part, Oliver was a private person. He liked to sit and eavesdrop on the world, but not let anyone do the same to him. "So where is she?" the older gentleman sitting next to him asked. His gray hair swept to the side, reminded him of his grandfather in pictures he'd seen of him when he was younger.

"She's...she's at home waiting for me." He stammered, knowing that he was far more alone than he ever wanted to be right then. "I had to drive out here for a friend who'd found himself in a mess, and here we are." He dropped another cube of sugar into his coffee, and stirred it slowly. "You know, it wasn't always like this." The man laughed, tapping his left hand on his plate, letting his wedding ring clink loudly. "I was never one for wanting something just because of someone else, but she..." Oliver paused long, taking a long drawn sip from the coffee. "She makes me want, so much that I can't explain. I want so much that I can barely stand to be from her."

The man ate a bite of his sandwich, crumbs falling to his lap on his napkin. His eyes, blue and busy thinking, as if forming the perfect advice. "You can't help but want what is truly good for you. Marriage after 41 years...long years, good years. You can't help but learn that it's not a you, but an 'us'. A 'we'. You're going to struggle sometimes. You're not going to understand most of the time." He smiled, his cheeks rising and the creases showing on his face. "But it's a hell of a ride. People are going to tell you that you did things wrong, that you could have done more, you could have gone further, but that's just talk. Not everyone is so lucky to understand that the moment you want to put someone before yourself," he turned and looked Oliver in the eyes, "is the moment you need to cherish and keep. Don't let it go, don't be afraid. Embrace it."

The man turned back to his food, finishing the last remnants and putting his money on the counter. "Don't wonder what might have been. It'll kill you. Good luck." He stood up, put on his brown suede coat and wrapped his scarf tight around his neck and walked out into the cold. Oliver finished his food quickly, feeling a sense of momentum of spirit inside him. He put his money on the counter, finished his coffee, and walked back out to the truck where his phone sat. A missed call blinked on the screen, opening the lid and pressing send, Amory's voice came on loudly.

"Ollie, I saw 80 is shut down and so is part of 88, but if you take 61 north to 30, you can get on past where the block is. I know you're probably still sitting in Dav, but go home you idiot." Oliver smiled, and hit end, flipping the phone to send an email before he left.

"Liza, I'll be home soon. I miss you terribly. xoxo Ollie."

Unemployment is actually a lot of work...

2008-11-19T23:48:00.004-06:00

I've been trying to write like crazy lately, but it's just not working.

I'll get two or three sentences in, sometimes even a long paragraph, and then completely lose any motivation or story I had in mind, and then I'll just delete it and move on.

I even get good story starters going while I'm at the bookstore. All that time standing around doing nothing, I've got lots of time to jot down ideas, but it's all coming out terribly.

So I'll keep trying, see what comes about...

Casablanca

2008-11-05T20:04:00.002-06:00

Moving is always a chore. It's never as organized as you wish it would be, and it always takes much longer than it should.

That being said, sometimes you stumble upon things that you forgot were there, that you put away a long time ago because it wasn't the right time to be looking at it. You'll pull the box out of the closet and open the lid and see your past.

I pulled down that box tonight. I saw a lot of pictures, a ticket from a baseball game I went to with a very good friend, birthday cards from a surprise party someone special threw for me.

I kept flipping through everything in the box, getting a little bit back with each item. I guess I sort of...forgot...everything in that box. I just put it away because I couldn't handle to look at it all and think about everything that went with it.

But tonight, I didn't stand a chance. I didn't have a choice.

Making a list

2008-10-26T02:05:00.001-05:00

I played along, because it's funny how far your life can get out of hand when you're not constantly keeping track of what's happening. People grow and change and sometimes move on and sometimes don't. I found myself so far back that when I found out, it was stop me in my tracks, right there on the spot.

I woke up from a really awful dream. One of those where you've found yourself tangled in the flat sheet. The window was open, and the drapes were blowing in. I always liked when the room was cold while I slept. Occasionally it gave me a shock when I'd move slightly and feel the cold spot, but it made the warmth so much better. It was beyond rare for me to have bad dreams, in fact I could count on one hand the number of times I'd woken up from bad dreams. This was bad. I'd been in a plane crash, and the cabin was filling with water. I couldn't get out of my seat, and the last thing I saw before I woke up was terror in her eyes as she moved away from me.

I rolled over, and for some reason I expected to feel her there, but of course she wasn't. It had been years since she had laid there, and for some reason I still woke up some nights, thinking she'd be there, tightly under the big down comforter. It was an awful way to wake up, but as time went on, those instances became few and far between. I'd hear through friends that she was doing well. From time to time, I would consider calling her to see how she was, but it was quite apparent early on that when we stayed in touch, we went back to our old habits, so I'd let the urge pass.

And then this dream happened.

I just wanted to find out where she was, that she was okay, as if the dream was somehow real. I didn't need to find her number, it came back to me the moment I reached for my phone. I sent her a message, "I had a dream...I hope you're well..." I rolled back into my bed, putting my phone under my pillow, and I waited, hoping to hear it vibrate, shaking me back to my senses. I had fallen asleep before the phone began to shake. Once. Twice. A third. If it had stopped at this, I'd know it was a text message. A fourth vibration. A fifth. I remembered what I was waiting for, and reached for my phone. I opened the face and pushed send. I set it slowly on my head and put my head back down to the pillow.

"You had a dream?" Her voice flowed across the phone, and I was right back to where I was three years ago. "It's 4:30, and you had a dream?" I smiled. I felt like a kid again, so smitten with that voice on the other line. I still say nothing, quietly humming that I had. "I hope...I hope you know that I've wanted...to call." At this, I can't help but pull myself down against the mattress and restrain excitement from my voice. I didn't want her to know I felt the same, that what she said was exactly what I wanted to hear.

"I dreamed I lost you again..."

Sometimes, the world gives you exactly what you've been wanting. You're not given every correct opportunity and lots of good things leave your life before you have any real chance of appreciating them. I always wanted to find these moments in my life, these brief shining moments of possibility, and dig my fingers into them so that they can't leave me as quickly as they did before.

And now...now I'm thinking of digging in.

What happened to bulletproof weeks?

2008-10-18T14:37:00.002-05:00

It's just hard to know I can never go back.

Click

2008-10-11T00:31:00.003-05:00

The click of the camera was really the only sound David wanted to hear. With every click, he imagined where in his apartment he would hang the soon to be printed photograph. The city drove on around him, with all the noise one would expect to hear on a busy day. A fire engine swept past, lights reflecting on the glass of the buildings. A second. A third. All with lights swirling and sirens screaming.

Click, the reflection of a crowded city street with every head in the same direction. All of them, straining to see further down the street, hoping to see where the noise would head. What caught his attention wasn't the noise, but the fact that businessmen, women with children, three kids on skateboards, a man walking his dog, everyone stopped. There wasn't a single person or thing who didn't stop and stare as these trucks went past.

Click, the fountain at the end of the street with the clouds seeming to circle around it, as if it were it's focal point. As quickly as the trucks had come and gone, the crowd was again just individuals. They were no longer one mass, back to their worries, back to everything they had to concern themselves with. However, for that one brief moment, they were the sum of their parts. One large curiosity.

Click, a woman checking her watch as her purse slips from her hand. David did not care to see where the trucks were heading. After the world trade center coming down, he had told himself he would not watch where the sirens went. The world surely hangs in balance where the sirens go, and David wanted to never see the world fall apart again, what was out of his control. He would walk on, taking his pictures on his old camera.

Click, a hug between a man and a woman. A hug that said more than most words could. David felt as though they had been lost from each other for years, the way she held him against her. Her lips tightened into an almost, but still closer to holding back tears. She loved him, without question David knew she did. He knew how it felt, to have that hug, it took him back to that picture of her that he kept in his memory.

Click, grass rising between slabs of concrete. The city had few signs of nature, cold concrete and steel, but nature would not be kept out. It would push up, no matter the opposition, through the rock and pavement. It persevered. Nature, as David always thought, cannot be stopped. It may be slowed, it may be greatly impeded, but no matter the lengths at which humans try, nothing can stop what God intended to be.

Click, an old man with his grandson on the fountain's lip. The years between them were great, the things the old man had seen through his life were undeniable, and the child with so much innocence. What was clear to David was that the child gave the old man youth, faith that while age gains on everyone, there is still a beginning that we may bear witness to, and we are responsible for shaping. The old man was ready for this task, David felt.

Through Tree-Lined Streets

2008-10-06T23:59:00.005-05:00

Through tree-lined streets, I walk in autumn air

Leaves of gold, ruby and cream, cresting curbs,
seasoning the somber concrete with hue.

My hands, warm buried deep in flannel pockets
While the cold thin atmosphere seizes my lungs,
as nature dies her beautiful death.

This annual walk, one last goodbye, carries on
with muted mind, on bated breath, to catch,
every sound, with width and breadth abound.

The world plays a varied melody, every sound a part
But for too frenzied a pace, this human race,
to hear its siren song.

And now, when all is seen, and sought is found
Another season, mourned at its needed end,
apparent most of all on tree-lined streets in autumn air.

In memory of the dearly departed

2008-09-17T01:32:00.003-05:00

On September 16, 2008, my grandfather Gilbert Miner, passed away due to complications of a heart attack. My family is really broken up about it, and I'll be heading down to Ohio to attend the wake and funeral. I'll be back on Monday morning.

Rest in peace.

~Ryan

I summon you to appear, my love

2008-09-10T23:56:00.004-05:00

I started learning guitar years ago. It's been seven or eight years, but I've still not mastered it in the manner I want to. I can read tabs and play songs if they're basic enough, but some songs are still way beyond my abilities.

I hear songs like this, and I instantly feel compelled to pick up my old acoustic guitar and look up the tabs and play it. Most songs on the radio today are all looped tracks and so bogged down with multiple guitars, that when I see stuff like this, it makes me happy.

The Black Cab Sessions take artists and they drive them around in the back of a black cab (in the UK) and play a song in one take. It's great. Check out their site here.

That's about all.

I don't want to miss you anymore

2008-08-29T00:01:00.003-05:00

I was accustomed to stay late at work, past my normal work hours, and far beyond the normal building hours. It was never anything urgent, things I could put off for the following day, but I didn't like going home, knowing there was work on my desk. The cleaning crew would be finished with the office rather quick, so the silence was heavy once it hit seven in the evening. The silence never bothered me too much, but every so often, I would turn on some music to fill the void.

The pictures on my desk and book case were mostly happy moments, family and friends. Picnics, birthdays in the park, days at the beach, we all looked so...young. There were days where I'd miss those days, I would sort of get lost in the memories and when I was through, more than an hour would have passed. It wasn't good for productivity, and it certainly wasn't healthy, but I told myself that it was nice taking a little mental vacation back.

But when the power went out, my stomach turned. It was about nine, and the street lights were the only thing allowing me to see. I began to pray that there were emergency lights in the stairwells. As I was on the 17th floor, the stairwell was my only avenue of escape due to the elevators stalled in their shafts. "Why couldn't I take the night off? Why did I feel the need to say here again?" I kept kicking myself for continuing to stay late, night after night. I didn't want to go sit in my empty apartment. Carissa was still in Boulder for work, so I had no reason to go home, other than to walk Crash, but he was never happier than a late night walk. Our big black lab had taken to my sleep schedule, and acclimated to when I would come home.

My heart was pounding faster now, and I was somewhat frozen in my desk chair, hoping that the lights would come back on. I took a final sip of the whiskey sitting on my desk, and got up and walked around my office. "I wonder...what caused this...the street lights are on...couldn't be the power grid...", I thought. Out the window across the suite, I saw the lights in all the offices and the street lights out. The grid on the other side must have crashed. "Shit..." The street lights outside my window went out as if flicked by a switch. I was now bathed in darkness.

Once again, I was seven years old. My older brother enjoyed teasing me, doing what most older brothers do. One of the most frequent methods of torment was to scare me. He would chase me down into my parent's basement, through the long hallways, passing open doorways to rooms filled with boxes and old mementos, set aside and forgot until some later date. It was here that he instilled in me a fear that I would carry with me for the rest of my life. I would end up running into the room that was rarely used or even walked into, we wouldn't even use this room to play hide and seek, and he would close the door and sprint back to the stairs, shutting off the lights as he went, and laughing as he closed the door and locked it. I had poor spatial reasoning and was never able to find the switch to turn on the lights. I would freeze up in the pure darkness, my imagination of all sorts of dangerous and horrible things lurking around me.

In my day to day life, it would never really bother me, in fact it rarely came up. I set up my life in such a way that I was never confined in darkness. I'd set up my apartment so that a source of light was never more than an arms length away. Sometimes walking through the parking lot to my car would give me a shiver and goosebumps, but I'd shake it off and get in the car quickly. At this moment, all I wanted to do was be outside in my car.

I felt in the dark for my bag, next to my credenza, and put my planner and binder inside. I felt around, not knowing how I would get out. The stairwell was right outside our suite, but I had never taken it before, and had no idea where it came out down on the first floor. I felt my way to my door, and navigated towards the door to the hall, and as I stepped outside, I locked the door. I opened the stairwell door, hoping that I would keep a close count to what floor I was on. My hands were shaking and I could barely breathe as I made my way down the first flight of stairs.

And then the reason for the power outage became clear. The noise began slowly, like the sound of thunder or a passing airplane. The walls started moving, vibrating faster and faster. What was a little sweat was now a deluge as my fight or flight response sent me almost tumbling down the stairs. I had reached the first platform between floors, realizing that every other level was a floor, I began jumping down each set of steps, touching once or twice per set. I was trying my hardest to count quickly as I hit each descending level. "8...7...6...was that 5 or 6...SHIT"

Now I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned inside my chest and my throat tightened. Bee stings caused this to happen, but never fear, this was new. "2...1, oh God let this be it." My keys tight in my hand, the feeling of the teeth cutting into my palm, the wet feeling of blood running down my arm. I opened the door and began to hammer the lock button of my key fob. Mercifully, I could see a pair of headlights flash once, then twice. My car was sitting outside, about 50 yards away now. The shaking was getting harder, and the noise of objects falling filled the air. Sprinting, I hit the glass door and pushed the handle that let me out into the cool night air.

My parents always made my brother come get me. I was never brave enough to try to find my way out, and would just sit in the dark. Freezing up and sitting down was always my first reaction when I was scared. The lights would turn back on and I would look up and slowly figure that I could get back up and leave. The door would open and he would be standing there, telling me to get up and stop being a baby. He'd walk back upstairs, and I slowly crept back up and to my room, the safety of my room.

One big breath...then a second...and now I was gasping, wheezing laying on the pavement. The ground quaked beneath me, and I scrambled again to my feet, climbing into my car. I began to drive away from the office, to the open part of the parking lot where I was sure nothing could fall onto me. My phone in my pocket began to shake, Carissa calling, asking where I was, if I was okay. She saw on the news that a 9.2 earthquake was hitting San Francisco and whether or not it was getting to where I was in Davis. "Yeah...it hit here. I got out of the office in the dark..." She didn't say a whole lot, I could hear her trying to think. "I'm going to go home and check on Crash." I began to drive forward, as the light post to the side of my car began to fall towards me...

Come Winter

2008-08-27T23:59:00.005-05:00

I want fall and winter to be here.

I'm so absurdly sick of summer. Most people love the warmer months, but I couldn't be more ready for cold weather.

The reason I love fall and winter?

Playoffs (this year more than any other year). My dream of watching a baseball game, at the ball park, on my birthday. As my birthday falls on October 10th, and I live in a town where the baseball team hasn't made the playoffs since before I was born, odds have always been slim that I'd get to see it. This year, THIS YEAR, it's possible.
Football, football and more football. There's nothing better than waking up on Saturday, watching college football and knowing that Sunday is also filled with football. Badgers and Packers dominate my weekends.
The ambient temperature in my apartment. I'm not sure what it is about this apartment, but it has been no cooler than 85 degrees Fahrenheit since May. Windows open, fans on, even opening the door to create a cross wind did no good. It's as if my neighbor one floor below has his heat on. There have been days where my apartment is in the high 90s, even as the temperature outside is in the high 70s. I wish I were exaggerating. I am not.
This high temperature makes it awfully difficult to sleep. I love sleeping in a cold room. I have a thick down comforter and thick blankets because in the winter I keep a fan on and a window cracked. This heat? Killing me. And waking up next to someone in a cold room? Even better.
Family holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas are two of the best days of the year, mainly because you get to lay around and relax with those you love.
Winter clothes. Scarves, hats, and thick wool coats. I just love it.

So can we please put summer to rest and bring on the cooler temperatures? Thanks.
So please, can the summer months please go away? I've had quite enough of these high temperatures.

Ship in a bottle set sail

2008-08-20T17:37:00.004-05:00

I've always been intrigued by nature.

My bed has a heavy feather comforter. Keeps me warm in the winter, and it's nice to lay on top of in the summer. My pillows, too, are feather and soft.

I walked back into my room a while back and saw the edge of a feather sticking out. This was not unusual to see, as feathers have a habit of making their way out, often times scratching me. Most of the time, the feathers that come out of my bedding are white, and don't stand out, and make it difficult to find against the white cotton fabric.

For some reason, this stood out, even from a fair distance away. I pinched it slowly from the comforter, expecting a plain-looking white feather. Instead, and to my enjoyment, I found a colorful one, changing colors as I turned it in the evening sun. It's moments like this, that I turn something so fundamental in my fingers and have it seemingly change before my eyes, that I really do believe in something higher.

And I believe that we take the somewhat fundamental for granted. We've been raised seeing these things, and we just see it as nothing unique. But I contend that we look at things from too broad a scope, as if everything is the same. We see the world as a grouping of objects. Everything becomes a classification, as if we know everything there is to know about these. We take the wonder and mystique out of the world, and what's truer is that everything is amazing, if we look at it by itself.

And if something as small as a cloud can hide something as grand as the sun, we ought to stop, and take a second look.

Two am and I'm still awake.

2008-08-02T12:47:00.003-05:00

Most of the time, you never intend to reminisce.

A song or a movie or something laying on the floor can bring back memories you once wanted to forget.

And it's never the bad memories that come flooding back first. It's always the mornings spent in bed. The short road trips. The nights listening to music.

The only respite comes from the realization that the good times weren't the reason you're left reminiscing.

But it's hard to believe, sometimes, that things are actually over. Some people you carry with you, for as long as you are who you are. Even if you don't want them to be, they're part of who you are.

So we go along, living our lives, pretending like it doesn't exist.

But it does.

Taking on water, hard to see, I won't always be alone

2008-07-29T22:08:00.005-05:00

Cath had bailed on me, saying her plans had changed, that she was going to meet some of her friends at a festival downtown. I said nothing and let her walk on. This wasn't atypical, yet I was still annoyed that I wasn't good enough to keep plans with. No matter, I thought, I would just go and sit on the lake for a few hours. All of the fishing gear sat where I had left it when I came back from my last trip. I moved it all down to my jeep, took the roof and doors off, and headed down the gravel driveway towards the main road that took me to the dock.

I drove down to the docks and walked out to the fishing boat, tied up between bigger and nicer boats. It always made me laugh that it doesn't really matter what the boat looks like, as long as it keeps me out of the water. A warm day, a couple beers and some fishing in the sun sounded like perfection. I got in, untied the boat, and motored out.While the rocking of the boat occasionally made me sick, but with the heat, I was going to feel just fine. There were very few boats on the water, strange on such a day, but I welcomed the peace and quiet. I had been looking forward to a well-needed tan, and a good day to myself.

My boat rocked back and forth, rising and falling with each movement of the water. The sun felt amazing on my bare shoulders, and I could feel my hair warming. I shut off the engine, and cracked open a beer. I cast my line into the water, and mounted it into the rod holder on the side of the boat. My firm belief that fishing is not about fishing, but enjoying the silence and calm that you get, both inside and outside, just from being on the water. The bait sat out for ten minutes or so without a bite, so I reeled back in, and cast out on the other side. Another fifteen minutes passed, no bite. I recast, moving the mount to the front of the boat, and laid down to get some son and just watch clouds move across the sky. I had no intention of falling asleep, but it wasn't long before I did.

The dream was strange, but the same one I'd been having repeatedly. I was in a huge city, surrounded my hundreds, maybe thousands of people. I was lost, completely and hopelessly, and no one spoke my language. In fact, the language that they spoke wasn't even anything I'd ever heard. The buildings were stone, Gothic and gorgeous, spanning high into the air. I was in a situation where I normally would have worried, unprepared for any of this, but I just kept walking, smiling, taking it all in.

What struck me the most about the dream was how real everything was. The way that most people listen for strange noises in their car, I was acutely aware of the sounds my boots made on the stone walkways, the sound of children talking to their mother in excited and dulcet tones. I just listened to everything that my ear could take in. I kept walking on, recognizing certain buildings, hotels and restaurants, as if they were picked up and transplanted from home. Softly, a hand reaches and pulls on my arm from behind, I slowly turn to see whose face it is, hopefully one I recognize, but I never see it. The sun is too bright, and my eyes can't adjust enough in time, and then I wake up.

I woke up slowly, the sound of the water lapping against the side of the boat was somewhat rhythmic, but without any given pattern. My cooler was still flush with ice and drinks, and while sipping from the corona bottle, I took a single ice cube and rubbed it on my head, letting the cold water run down my now red face and neck. I cast out to the water one last time, savoring the sound of the line somewhat squealing over the reel.

As the line laid onto the water, it looked like a crack in the reflection of the sky. I let it sit and finished my beer, and as I felt a nibble on the line, I jerked the rod back to hook the fish. It put up little fight and came in quickly. The small and bright orange fish with vivid blue flashes twisted and fought as I took the hook out of it's mouth and tossed it back into the water.

The sun had started to set over the water. I always became nostalgic at this time of the evening, so I righted the boat and motored back towards the dock. By this time, there was only two or three kayaks on the water, slowly skimming across the lake. As I finally made it back into the Jeep, I check my messages. Cath had called about ten minutes after I had gotten onto the water, saying her friends changed her plans and wanted to see if I still wanted to do something with the day.

I laughed to myself, that I already did something with my day, and it was her loss to leave me behind.

I watch your life play out in pictures from afar

2008-07-20T02:12:00.002-05:00

I love driving in the rain.

Fast.

I don't know why, and it's surely unsafe, but the feeling I have in my stomach and in my heart when I move quickly and gracefully through stagnant traffic on the interstate when the rain is pouring makes me feel different.

And I like different.

Sometimes, I don't like the way I feel. Some nights, I just want to forget what I've been doing or what I've been. The rain beading off my windshield and the sound of the water on my roof takes me away. I don't worry about anything when I'm driving in the rain.

I just am.

week

2008-07-19T12:54:00.000-05:00

I woke up wednesday morning with a very very bad pain in my abdomen. It felt like really really bad gas, so I brushed it off and figured it would go away. I went to work, and ended up laying down every 20 minutes with how much pain i was in. I decided that I wasn't going to get much work done in my condition, so I left work around one, hoping that if I went home and went to sleep, I'd wake up and the gas would have passed. Much to my chagrin, I couldn't get to sleep, and at around six, I called my ex who happens to be a nurse at Froedert. I described my symptoms, and while she told me that she couldn't diagnose me, she told me to get to the nearest hospital (which happened to be Froedert). I'm not really a doctor person, and I will usually go to great lengths to avoid going to the hospital.

I wasn't about to drive myself, so I called around and got my friend Jane to drive me. I got there, and after running blood tests and pressing on my appendix (to which I yelled loudly each time), immediately told me that I had a "classic case" of appendicitis. My brother was the first to arrive, and I got to talk to him one-on-one which is pretty rare. The rest of my family came by, and I met with all the people who would be working on my appendix.

At one point, I asked the physician's assistant to confirm that once I got my room upstairs, that I'd have a hot young nurse to give me a sponge bath. She didn't find it so funny, and just said "This ain't the movies." I also had the chaplain stop down and say a prayer. I realize an appendectomy is pretty routine, but I'd never had surgery. In fact, the last time I'd stayed overnight in a hospital was when I was born.

The nurse who showed my parents where I would be staying before and after the surgery told me that odds are, I would be staying in the hospital until probably Friday or Saturday. I didn't know what to expect with this, but it seemed awfully long to me, but who was I to question. They told me that I was third or fourth in line for surgery and that I would be going in early Thursday morning. They had loaded me up with morphine, so I didn't really care.

So apparently it was a lot worse than they thought because they moved me ahead of everyone else on the surgery schedule and wheeled me into the operating room. I spoke to a couple surgeons, and they gave me something that would make me sleepy, but would not knock me out. I closed my eyes and opened them back up, and everyone who was previously around me was now nowhere to be found. A nurse happened to be walking by, and I asked if it was already over, and she laughed and told me it was. I laid there for another 30 minutes before they wheeled me back to my room. My parents had been waiting for me there (despite the fact that my dad had been going since 3:30 am the previous morning). I gave them both a hug and told them to go home and get some sleep.

Woke up in the morning, serious pain because I hadn't had any painkillers in a while. We went through that regiment a couple times, and then the nurse decided to give me oxycodone in pill form rather than IV morphine. This, as it turns out, was a very bad idea. It made my stomach feel worse than when I actually had appendicitis, all I could do was roll around and want to die. The nurse apologized and sent a doctor up to give me something else. They put it into my IV and I went right to sleep.

I woke up around 1, and I called down for a sandwich, got dressed and did a little walking. After all the discharge paperwork, they told me I was free to go.

Three or four days my ass.

10 and 2 is the lonliest sight

2008-07-07T23:24:00.000-05:00

There's something calming about a thunderstorm. It's strange that when it's the most chaotic outside, everything inside seems just a little more still. My drapes were floating, sinking and rippling with the wind blowing through my apartment. The tv was silent, moving pictures of a baseball game filling the room with light. My glass sitting heavy in my hand, ice clinking the side as I turned it in my hand. The dark liquor was slowly fading into the cloudy liquid above it. My sips were long and drawn, letting the ice chill my lips.

The lightning struck near outside, thunder echoing through the room. The sound of the rain pounding the roof made me smile. I could feel my drink begin to affect me, my eyes slowly closing and opening again. I wrapped a strand of her hair around my finger, watching her eyes following the pictures across the screen. I'd always thought she was pretty, and in the electric glow, she looked amazing. I let the hair fall softly from my fingers, running my hand against her head, and lifting another lock. She smiled, closing her eyes and looking like she might fall asleep. I finished my drink, my hand now covered in cool condensation, I ran a finger down her head and over her cheek. "Thank you," she said quietly.

And this is what I love about my life, watching lightning streak across the sky between the cloth, and all I need is this girl, this drink, and a little smile.

She got up and walked into my bedroom, and laid on top of the comforter as the fan cooled her down. I walked out onto the balcony to have a smoke, occasionally feeling the rain drip off the overhang. The smoke rose up the length of the cigarette, before rising and dissipating into the air. I finished it quickly, dropping it to the rain soaked ground below, and walking in and laying down next to her. She opened her eyes, and smiled at me.

"Don't go..."

simple as something that nobody knows

2008-06-22T01:47:00.001-05:00

sunday morning around 1 am.

i saw it tonight.

and i guess it's just wishful thinking.

but i hoped it was you.

i really, really did.

If it kills me...

2008-06-01T00:19:00.003-05:00

The world is a scary place, she used to tell me. That the moment you step out the door, you've already started some monumental chain of events that will lead you to places you might not like to go. I tried to tell her, when she got in that way, that it was worth the risk, because so many great things come out of chancing the odds of loss.

Harry's gone, but it's not like he chose to leave.

so I pack my old guitar, move on down the road

2008-05-11T22:21:00.002-05:00

So every day, without question, I come across a thought that I think I should write in here. I keep going about my day, and it never gets written.

But I'm pretty sure it's not a big loss. I don't ever really think anything I have to write is that important, but go figure, eventually I am bound to write it down.

I've started realizing that I enjoy being an island sometimes, just sort of taking advantage of the silence and time to myself. There were points where I was really unhappy not having someone with me all the time, but it's okay to be alone.

I'm also enjoying the "smitten" factor of life. We all know what that means, so let's leave it be. :o)

So here we go.

I went home for Mother's day, saw my parents and my sister and her boyfriend. I'm not saying going home is always enjoyable, but sometimes I really do like going home. I notice myself having a lot of the same mannerisms as my parents, and it makes me laugh. I don't often find myself having similar actions or vocal mannerisms, but every time I rest my arm above my head in a strange way and look over and see my dad doing the same thing, I just laugh.

...and that's about it.

peccadillo

2008-02-17T16:34:00.002-06:00

the weird thing about life is that if you don't like where yours is at, all you have to do is get up and change it.

stop sitting. start doing.

i fall into this frequently, finding myself unsettled by the things in my life, i often sit and let the anger seep in. i blind myself to the fact that the thing that i have the most control over in this world is my life.

so i bought the ticket. i'm taking the ride. this is only the beginning.

Thicker than water

2008-02-07T19:55:00.000-06:00

The sun beat down on my chest as I laid on the beach. I had found a strip of sand a few miles from my apartment in Kaua'i. It was weird that I had never found it, I'd walked past the walkway that led to it, but never chose to walk down that path. I suppose not many others had found their way back through it because of the thick palm plants lining both sides of the rock slabs. I had grown tired of going to the north shore, because Hanalei Bay and Ke'e beaches drew way too many tourists with their kids. Kealia was always beautiful, with the bluest water you'd ever seen, but it drew all the boogie boarders. Some days, I just wanted to go and watch the waves rather than listen to everyone, so when found Mahaulepu, I was in heaven. The occasional fisherman will walk by and cast out, but more or less, it is the epitome of peace.

I learned to surf at Hanalei, just another tourist. I started on the tiny waves, and slowly found my balance to keep myself up. I had gotten into watching surf movies, clips of people riding with really chill music playing. It was great background for anything I might have been doing, and it made me want to ride. Most days, my lunch break involved driving down to Kekaha and paddling out and riding two or three strong waves every day. I worked a few extra hours each night to take longer lunches.

When I lived back in Minnesota, I remember loving the winters. The snowboarding, just moving fast down the hill. I loved feeling the pseudo-control, knowing that realistically, I was just along for the ride with that board. My job transferred me to the sunny shores of Hawai'i, and nothing was ever the same. The first day I got there, I bought a rack for my Jeep and a longboard. It didn't matter that I hadn't learned to surf, some things, you just know you have to do and have to have in your life. The learning comes second.

I remember the first time I crashed on a wave. I didn't see it coming at all, and I didn't think I had taken a big enough breath, so I panicked, and started to freak out, and then it hit me. I just needed to stop, relax, and follow my board to the surface. I felt my leg strap jerking upwards, so I went up, and i could feel the warm air on my cheeks and in my lungs. It made me realize that in your life, most times, you have someone or something that will show you the quickest way up, even when you're panicking.

Which brings me back to the beach. As much as I loved surfing, I loved laying on the sand more. Watching the foam wash up and soak in the the shore and back down. I'd never been able to tan, but the more I went out, the darker I got. She would join me, most times, and let her skin tan, watching the clouds. She would meet me out when I went to surf, just to sit on the dock if I went to Hanalei. She wasn't an indoor girl, which made me wonder how she had ended up in the Midwest with me, but when I told her I was moving to the middle of the ocean, she put down her magazine, sort of squinted her eyes, and said, "Don't you mean...we? As in, we are moving to Hawai'i?"

I had been scared to ask her to come, because I'd always been afraid of rejection. I'd clamp up and lose my mind if I thought it was coming, but that's why she was good for me. She was always there to punch me in the arm, and call me an idiot when I started to worry, which was all I really wanted. When she used the word we, I guess I stopped worrying. If she really wanted to include herself with me, I should give her the respect of her knowing what was best for her, and that she found it was me.

But the waves released me. It's like...being in the middle of a hurricane, the sound of water in every direction, and only one way out. I got over my claustrophobia really quickly when the waves started to roll over me. I would let it wash me in sometimes, to the shore, and Kate and I would light a bonfire, and sit and talk. I'd bring my guitar down and just strum melodies while she'd sing words along with anything that I happened to play. There weren't bad nights there. It's not to say we never fought or I never did anything dumb to upset her, but I think she knew that I always wanted to make her happy and she forgave me my mistakes and I looked past hers.

And when she hugged me, well, it got me past whatever I might have been working on in my head. I got caught up with work sometimes, and I would come home stressed, and she would always be there to hug me. It wasn't a short hug, but one of those where a person might have pulled away, she would shift her arms and hold me tighter in a different way. It gets me a little choked up to think about it, but there wasn't anything that her hug couldn't solve for me.

So there I laid, on that beach, with that fair skinned girl with the freckles on her face. The birds soaring through the wind, rising up and down, trying to push through the gusts. They say life is about a balance. Well, I've found it.

words on the back of a post card

2008-02-07T17:10:00.001-06:00

Kate stepped through the apartment door, letting her keys hang in the lock as she stepped through and shook off her coat. The snow fell from her hair, to her shoulders, to the hardwood floor. She quickly hung up her coat and closed the door, still forgetting her keys on the other side of the door. The snow had been coming down steadily since the early morning hours, and the city was now buried under a good thick layer of snow. She pulled her boots off, and then slowly unbuttoned her pants, watching me play my guitar on the long sofa, and smiling. Slipping them off, she noticed a grin crossing my face as I watched her pull each smooth freckled leg from the denim.

“What? The bottoms are wet! I don’t want to step on them with my socks!” she said, and she bit the side of her lip and raised her eyebrows. She knew what she was doing, she always did. Walking to the bedroom, she stuck out her butt and told me not to get any ideas.

What she didn’t know was that I had already packed a bag for her. She was never spontaneous, always planning things out months in advance, where as I loved to just pick up and get out of wherever I was. I hung the guitar back on the wall and walked to the door. I pulled the keys from the lock and hung them on the mirror, along with her pants to dry. I had already put the bags in the Jeep, so she was completely unawares of my plans.

“How was your day?” she shouted from the bedroom, “What are we doing for dinner?” this I did not expect. I thought I would have a harder time finding a reason to get her into the car, but she gave me a perfect opening. “We’re going out. I made reservations…” I said back, “…in New York,” I whispered. She was going to flip when she found out what I was doing.

It reminded me of when we started dating. I was sure that I would rub off on her, but to no avail, she kept her compulsive need to plan. I told her that she’d have to accommodate my sporadic trips and she told me that I’d have to accommodate her urge to keep things in order. We challenged each other, every day, and I loved it. She would visit me for weekends here and there, in the beginning, and eventually it never felt enough to me, not to see her every day. Our first real date, two years back, was a two-hour trip north, and she loved it. She saw in me what she was afraid to be, afraid to see in her life. She was a leveling force in my life, something to hold me steady when I couldn’t keep myself in one place.

She changed into a dress, and I laughed at her. The eternal girly girl, and she made me fall for her every time she walked out of that bedroom. I grabbed her round the waist and lifted her and kissed her hard. Her feet hit the floor again, and I told her that I’d pull the Jeep around. Grabbing my scarf, she wrapped it around my neck and pulled me down to eye level and kissed me, gently resting her forehead against mine, and told me she loved me. “I love you too.” And all I could think was that this was much too easy for me to get her on this trip.

I put on my coat and walked outside. The snow was slowly stopping, and I brushed off my windows and headlights. Everything was in the back under the screen so she couldn’t see it. Kate was waiting on the stoop, putting her hands out catching the flakes here and there in her hands, watching it melt on her skin. The snow looked beautiful contrasting her brown hair. Her freckles were clear on her cheeks, smiling at me as I looked over at her from the seat. I reached over and pushed the door open for her to get in.

The thing about Kate is that she fell asleep easily, especially after a day of work. I rested my hand on her knees as she drifted off to sleep. New York was only seven hours away, and she’d surely sleep the whole way. By the time we did end up making it to New York, she was still fast asleep. I had called ahead and the hotel had our room set, food ready for us on the table. I woke her up and told her we were here, that dinner waited inside. She looked confused, but got out and walked on inside.

“Amory, wait…where are we…where did we go?” I told her that she’d be out for quite a while as I led her to our suite. I refused to tell her where we were, but we sat and began to eat. Later that evening, crawling into bed, she told me that she really wanted to know where we were, and I assured her that she would know in the morning. I kissed her closed eyes, and told her that it didn’t matter where we were, but that we were there together. That we weren’t busy running everywhere, trying to get things done. That all that mattered was that she was laying next to me.

i'm wishing you weren't only in my head

2008-02-07T17:08:00.000-06:00

the depression seeps in way too quietly to be noticed sometimes. occasionally pushing itself in underneath an otherwise happy existance and it sits. and it waits. it waits for moments in which your busy life pauses and hiccups. those hiccups can unleash an unbridled torrent like a blizzard in a quiet night. this...this was one of those hiccups, and i'm not sure i've even started breathing again.

it wasn't the quiet house. it wasn't the fact that she wasn't there, or that i had nothing to do. all of those things, they just added to the noise that was my life. i guess it was just the moment i realized i wasn't needed, that sent me over the edge. i wasn't anyone's necessity, and it left me wanting for more. i wasn't unhappy, but there were things that ruined me.

i wanted the faith of a child, to believe without question in the things i've been told. it had been so long that everything made me nervous and made me wonder about the validity and honesty of everyone and everything in my life.

i went and laid in the snow. the night wasn't bitter cold, and i just wanted to feel something, anything outside of this typical life. i walked down Adler for about a mile, watching families in each house, watching kids build their snowmen and people digging out their cars. everyone had something to do, some purpose for the day. i felt adrift, just wandering when i wanted to have a reason. i took 72nd to the dead end, and walked through the empty park. trails left by sleds and childs feet woven through the trees and playground equipment. the sun had long gone down, but there was a pink aura to the sky and clouds, as if somewhere light was reflecting off all the snow. the majesty of it all gave me pause, and i watched my breath steam from my lips and into the air. i was thankful that i had worn my boots, as i noticed that most of all my feet felt especially warm and dry. i started walking again, looking closely at everything around me. i felt like i was seven years old again, feeling that urge to climb into a tree and sit on a limb. to just swing my legs over the side and feel that fear of falling.

i walked towards a patch of ground that looked like it hadn't been trodden through, and just fell backwards onto it. it gave way at first, but quickly packed below me and gave me a soft place to lay. the snow kept falling, slowly coating my face in a thin cool layer of water. i tried not to think about her, what she might be doing, and if i was on her mind like she was on mine. thoughts like that were useless and caused me more issues than it solved. i could hear a neighbor playing with her dog zeus. minutes passed and i just laid in calm silence, only to feel the cold wet tongue of what i came to conclude was zeus. the brown chocolate lab puppy was jumping up and down in the snow, panting in excitement, his tail brushing the snow behind him from side to side.

"Zeus! No!" the girl laughed. she watched as the dog licked my wet cheeks, and yipped at me, as if asking me to play. the girl stood there, looking at me with happy eyes. i'd seen her driving past occasionally, always seeming to be smiling. "I'm Emaline. I've seen you around..."

"Yeah, I live over in those apartments," i gestured back towards whence i came, "I'm Amory. It looks like your puppy found a new friend." she laughed as i stood up and shook like a dog after a bath to get the snow off. "Or maybe I did." she asked what i was doing laying in the middle of a snowy field, "Clearing my head...I dunno really, just...being." she didn't ask anything more about it, as if she understood what i meant. she walked over towards the swings, brushing one off and sitting down as zeus ran below her, nipping at her as the seat went back and forth. i slowly wandered over, watching the snow she kicked up in front and behind her, giving way to clouds of sparkling powder.

"So...Amory...What are you doing tonight?" she asked, not making eye contact, seeming flirtatious without being overtly so, "I thought about taking Zeus for a walk...thought maybe you'd like to, you know, be while walking around." i laughed at her, it had been so long since i'd been flirted with by a total stranger.

"I guess I could do that." i swished off the snow on the swing next to hers and sat down. zeus lept over and put his huge labrador paws on my legs. i rubbed the snow off his nose and he sneezed, shaking his body into the snow. we got up and started walking out of the park. it was weird, talking to a stranger, and reminiscing at the same time, slowly letting someone into my world that i never expected and letting them see into some of the events that made me who i was. i walked her back to her house, telling her that i enjoyed meeting her, and that if i saw her again, i would be sure to stop and talk. she told me that she would enjoy that. i walked down the street towards my apartment building, smiling from the experience i just had.

i got back into my apartment, and kicked off my shoes and laid down on the couch. i guess the best purpose is to be someone else's nice surprise. as i was thinking of that, my phone began to vibrate, and i saw that i'd gotten a message from her. "i was wondering if i was on your mind like you've been on mine?" i could always count on kate to make me feel like there was someone made just for me.

all this feel strange and untrue, and i won't spend a minute, without you

2008-01-28T21:27:00.000-06:00

it's tough to have faith sometimes. we're so often put into extremely uncertain and unsettling situations, that we lose touch with our ability to believe that things will work out for the best. it's not fun, it's not pretty, and it sure isn't easy.

i want to say that it's always worth it, but that's a lie. it's not. most times, it's just going to cause you frustration. it's going to drive you crazy and make you wish you hadn't. but i implore you, have faith in that which you deem worthy of your time, your effort and your emotion. these things are the only things that matter in life. you must find the fine line between wants and needs; love and infatuation; happiness and temporary elation. find this line, and you should be able to judge what each of these is worth, what they are worthy of.

and you're going to be let down. and not just once, but again and again, you will be put into positions where these things will be used, drained, ignored, trampled on, and thrown away. the reason you should have faith when you know you shouldn't, is because when you have faith in the right things, it'll all seem worth it. you'll realize that you can lose your pride, your money, your popularity, your friends, and most importantly, your faith. all things can be renewed, and faith most of all. you, often times, cannot renew your opportunities. so when you get the opportunities to do things more than once to try to make good on your previous mistakes, you had better make damn sure you put your heart, your soul, and your faith into it with everything you've got.

because sometimes, happiness doesn't come around three times...

you give me something

2008-01-27T14:42:00.000-06:00

i was never afraid of being alone.

it was never my first choice, to not have someone with me most of the time, but i was never one to stand on my morals or my beliefs so that i would have someone with me.

The airplane was rocking, ever so gently from one side to the other. my dramamine kept me from getting sick from the motion, but i was more sick from worry or intent. i was about to see her for the first time in probably seven or eight years. i got like that sometimes, even instances where i shouldn't have been afraid, i still had that nervous feeling in my guts. she was my first college relationship, and something about her had always made me feel awkward, like i wasn't good enough for her.

she'd called me, from out of nowhere, and nothing was ever really the same. it was like i'd gone back in time and gotten to relive the old days. she talked about her family and all the things she'd done since she moved out there. i didn't really talk much, i never was one to spend much time talking on the phone. it was just awkward to me talking on the phone. most of my abilities to converse with people came from body language. i was content to just listen to her speak, the inflections in her voice, rising and falling with the mood of her conversation.

i got on the plane, half out of being an impulsive person and half because i'd been dying to reconnect to my past. she, apparently, was soul searching too, and found it wise call me, knowing that i'd always been someone who could easily be persuaded to come back to what was familiar. i guess she was right, because within the week, i'd bought the plane ticket for the flight to LA, not knowing exactly what i was getting myself into.

i always hated flying, since i got my first real job that required me to fly places. my boss liked to tell me stories about people she knew that had been or died in plane crashes. between the stories and the ear pain, i never looked forward to getting on planes, until now. we started our descent into LAX, and my stomach started doing somersaults. would she still look like she did back then? what would we talk about? would she still see me the way she used to? all these things kept running through my mind as the plane touched the runway.

i gathered my bags and slowly walked up the aisle towards the door, each step seeming harder to make than the last. i walked through the terminal and toward the bag check, and i saw her standing, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail. she was facing the other direction, so i had a short chance to compose myself, but it didn't last long before she turned around and saw me standing there.

and it all came flooding back. it was weird at first, knowing that so much had to have changed since we'd stopped seeing each other, but it's not exaggeration to say that it was like the old days. i laughed at all the old mannerisms i'd forgotten she had and she laughed when i started singing in her car. we were teenagers again, smiling and laughing, happy because we were happy to be with one another. i hadn't been to california since i was five years old, so she decided to take me sightseeing. i had taken two weeks off of work just in case i spent more than just the weekend, so she drove me down to san diego and we walked through the zoo and saw the animals. the following day we drove back up to san francisco and san jose to see the old sights and where i was raised. we stayed at a hotel right off baker beach, and woke up to the ocean breeze flowing through the room.

it wasn't more than a few months before i was packing up my stuff and moving out west. we found a flat big enough to fit both of our stuff and my dog. sometimes, the most unexpected turn of events can change your life in the most positive ways.

i know the rules, but the rules do not know me.

2008-01-21T15:42:00.000-06:00

my fingers moved quickly from string to string, catching each one just long enough to ring it quietly. i could feel each wrap of the steel thread under the calluses on my fingertips, letting them press and mold into my skin. i began to sing in a deep and graveled tone, my words easy and simple as not to distract from the complexity of the music.

the dais was dimly lit, but it stood to be the brightest light in the room, and under regular circumstance, i'd have been incredibly afraid to sit there and play for the people who might come in. this, however, was not regular circumstance. i just wanted to get the song out of me, and the people were just there. they had set a stool with a mic for me, and i walked up and took my seat. no one was really paying any attention, which paid me benefit of a sense of calm. it was late in the evening when i finally situated myself to start playing. each song was new to me, as if i'd never heard it before it came out of my guitar.

i was playing on autopilot, as if i was sitting in my apartment by myself. i was thinking about my first guitar, the black body with it's auburn hues around the edges. i was 17, hell bent on freedom and had no will for rebellion, so i got a guitar. it was the stereotypical thing for a kid my age to do, but i was happy to do it. years passed and i bought and sold three or four other guitars, but i never sold that first one. it reminded me of her. it wasn't perfect. it sounded bad sometimes, but it was always there, waiting for me to use it again.

a few hours passed, people came and went indiscriminately. i was still busy reviewing a lot of past events that might have influenced me here. i'd been told so many times that i couldn't sing that i just stopped caring. i felt good playing, so i played on. it wasn't till college that i really learned my love for it. once the summer came, i was left as the only person in my building. i was able to play all hours of the day and night. most nights that summer were clear, and i took the screen out of the windows and sat on the ledge playing out into the warm air. times where the storms rolled in, i just went out for a walk to remind me of the old days with friends and girls and times of introspection.

i got off the stage with my guitar slung over my shoulder and walked out the side door. i lit a cigarette and sat down with my instrument next to me. i loved the night air after i performed, feeling cold on my tired hands and arms. i put my guitar back in my trunk, closed it, and sat on top of it. the stars were bright tonight, and i wondered where she was, and why she left when she did, but life seems to take people from us when it sees fit, and brings them back to us when you need them the most.

save you from your old ways

2008-01-20T22:36:00.000-06:00

"You're different, you know," I started, talking against the top of her head. She was having trouble sleeping, so she was tossing and turning to make the blankets lay right or the pillow feel right. She finally rolled over and put her head on my chest and tapped her fingers on my arm. "You're...wait, I want to get this right." I needed to stop and get my thoughts together. This was all so new that I didn't want to ruin it before it really started.

"I'm a jealous person. I'm nervous, and more often than not, I'd be scared as hell of what you might do. I normally think that I'll be lied to, cheated on, ran from and abandoned before anything really takes shape." She stopped tapping her fingers. "I'd never found a reason to think otherwise. And then there was Kate." I figured I'd be honest about myself to make a point what she did to me. The room was lightly blue from the moon through the shades, and I couldn't help but just keep talking.

"I don't know what it is about you, but I just don't worry. It's like I don't have to force things with you. I don't need to worry about you judging me about anything." She took a breath before stopping me.

"Am, I'm trouble. I'm difficult." I laughed at her and squeezed her. "I am! It's not always going to be fun dealing with me you know."

"Since when is life supposed to always be fun, simple and easy? We're going to fight a lot. No question. You're not the only one who is stubborn, but I'll never say something I don't mean. You make me ignore...myself." She waited, not because she wanted me to say more, but because she knew that I had more to say. "And when you find someone who can make you get out of your head, the way you do to me, I figure you should hold onto that person."

I thought of the old days. Frequently giving no second thought to any given personal relationship in my life. I'd been kicked in the shins, metaphorically speaking, so many times that the bruises were permanent, and I might as well get used to it. I'd burned, and been burned by Kate previously. Four years of petty fighting interspersed with short bursts of passion and friendship created something special, if not chaotic and unpredictable. She made me grow up twice, which played a great deal in my life and how my mind changed. I always thought that if you get pushed away, you shouldn't try to come back. That people who push others away only see others as objects. People aren't animals, and you can only be shut out in the cold so long before there's no home left to go back to.

And it's not true. They're not always shallow and cold, but afraid of what might come next. I learned that you have to back up out of the frame sometimes without leaving the picture completely. It takes faith, love and a whole lot of patience, but when it came to Kate, it was always worth it.

"Am, I hate that I wasted two years fighting with this, admitting that you're right. That you're the right one. I hate it and I wish I'd just stopped being stupid and gotten over it. I was scared of you, us, the whole damn thing, and you, you just knew it all along. Why did I wait two years?"

"It makes no difference, because you can't change the way things are meant to be. Call it fate, whatever, but the fact that it's finally right, should be enough to make up for all the time we never had. Two years have passed, you're right. But you're laying in bed with me, now. What's done is done." She pushed herself up and kissed me, tears in her eyes. She settled back down into the feather comforter and laid her head against my chest again. I could feel her wet cheeks as she listened to my heart beating, our breath slowly shifting into sync.

discovery

2008-01-16T11:46:00.000-06:00

As I walked further into the woods, the more it seemed that I would never get out. It wasn’t a worrisome feeling, just one of being completely absorbed into the surroundings. Everything was magnified in my senses. The snow crunching under my boots, creating fault lines through the undisturbed snow, as if a leaf or a twig would cause it to break. Geese flying overhead, I could see each pair of wings beating in almost perfect unison. The smell of the snow and the trees, everything seemed to heighten my senses. The pack seemed to get heavier as I wandered on, and thought that I should set up camp at the next clearing I came to.

I went out there to get away from everything, well, almost everything. My life seemed to hit a rut, where every day was the same as the day before, and I wanted to break the trend, at least for a day or a week or a month. I packed my thick clothing, a small hiking tent and sleeping bag, and a fire starter. Despite the snow, I was sure I could find dry wood to make a fire. As the pine needles fell off the ground and died, they became more adequate kindling. As I walked, I broke off dead branches and cut heavier limbs that would sustain a fire for most of the night.

“Why are you going out there?” she asked me, “Isn’t it too cold to go camping?” I laughed and told her that it wasn’t, that I would be fine. She was the one thing I wasn’t running away from right now. When I once feared commitment, Andi seemed to take that away from me. I was comfortable and happy knowing that I was with her and only her. It was a safe haven for me from the stresses of our daily lives, knowing that we could return to it and collapse into our bed and talk and laugh and everything was finished for the day. I suppose she was one of the things that I knew would be there when I came back.

I reached a clearing in the trees and sat down on a fallen tree. Assimilation into nature was awkward at first. I began to take notice of every small detail or change, as one would while driving a car and hearing a small repetitive noise. I wanted to be closely in tune with the world, and here I was. I guess I wanted to go and try to regain what identity I had lost since falling into the routine. I hardly recognized myself as the person I used to be. I didn’t have fun like I used to, and there wasn’t “look forward to” moments like I had.

I set up the tent, tying the top supports to nearby trees as the frozen ground refused my attempts to drive a stake into the dirt. I cleared an area for the fire, and built a small pile of branches in the middle, laying the kindling underneath. The sun was starting to go down, so I could gather my bearings about which direction was north in case I felt the need to get out of there, I could just run east. According to the map, running dead-east would take me to the road, and my car was parked at a lodge right off the main thoroughfare. My phone began to buzz, startling me as I had forgotten that even brought it with me.

“I miss you”. Andi liked to send me short little messages, just to let me know she was thinking about me. I may have been miles and miles away, but it felt like home. All I could think about was our bed, and her. I smiled and sent one back, “I’m crazy for you”. I started the fire and watched the flames lick higher and higher into the pieces of wood. My best childhood memories were from sitting around a campfire, listening to the wood crack and spit and shift. I closed my eyes and went back to those times, when everything was simple, and the expectations for my life were so limited that nothing I did was wrong or short sighted. The phone buzzed again.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

perceptive inequity

2008-01-15T00:24:00.001-06:00

the wind outside the house howled. it never really scared me, knowing that tornadoes whipped through this area at least three or four times every season. i guess it was just because nothing bad ever really happened to me because of it. our family through the years knew other families whose houses were ripped apart or damaged from debris. they always just picked up, rebuilt and stayed where they were. home was home, tornado or no tornado.

but today was different. the animals were nowhere to be found, this part was normal, but they were gone far before the thunderheads pushed in. i went outside and moved both cars into the garage, moved all our loose potted plants, lawn furniture and garden tools inside. we learned the hard way a few years back, when our pineapple plant that we had forgotten to bring in had been lifted and put through the big back picture window. the deck was empty, along with the porch.

i sat in the living room, sipping my beer and watching the weather warnings roll across the bottom of the screen. two tornadoes touched down in the county to the east, one in the north, one in the west. it wasn't really looking too good for us, but i took another drink, and grabbed the flashlights and walked down into the basement. she was already in the back room, the extra tv flashing reruns of mash and night court. the baseball game was beyond rain delay, so we were left with late 80's throwback shows. "Think it'll hit us this time?" she tried to act nonchalant, but she was obviously bothered by the chance of losing the house.

"Can't do much about it, now can we?" i kissed the crown of her head, "We'll be fine regardless. The house was built so the basement won't collapse in." Sam, our golden lab was laying under the table in the corner along with deuce, Andi's cat. i couldn't believe she named it that, since i suggested it because i hate cats. i walked back upstairs and opened the big oak door and let the wind flow through the house. she kept the house in such a way that there was nothing to be blown around by the wind, so i just stood there, being pushed back from the door, and watching the pitch black clouds confiscate what was left of the clear sky. getting nervous downstairs, Andi started to tap on the ceiling with her broom where she knew i was standing. she always seemed to know where i'd be at moments like this.

"David, I have a weird feeling about this storm," she paused and buried her face into the blankets in her lap. she loved the rain, but when the sirens started to pitch and whine through the air, she was not comfortable. she'd taken to organizing all the boxes of old keepsakes and momentos that we'd never found an adequate place for in the new house. our old apartment seemed so quaint that everything we'd accumulated over the six years there just seemed like an amalgamation of old life and new life. so every storm, she'd push her way through the sealed containers, all clearly labeled, and reassess what might be ready to be brought back.

i walked back upstairs to finalize the checklist in my head about what i needed to bring down, when i saw it through the window. my throat seemed to close up as the house about three blocks down the avenue was in the midst of losing it's entire roof, and the cyclone passing next to it. i began running, closing the front and back doors, pulling the basement door shut and locking it. i almost fell down the stairs and tried to compose myself as she looked up from what was probably her third container. i quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the back room and shut the reinforced door. the tv had been blaring the emergency signal so we had turned off the tv. she had turned on some classical music in the background, but she quickly silenced it.

we waited. and waited. it was the epitome of the calm before the chaos. any second, in my mind, the ceiling would begin to shake and the noise would be unbearable. when we built the house, we made sure to have the floor between the main level and the basement fortified so that it wouldn't fall in on us, but Andi still never trusted it. every time we were here for the same reason, she was wrapping her arms around my waist and holding me for dear life. normally i'd laugh and tell her it was okay, but like i said, this time, today, was different.

and it began. the sound of breaking glass and loud thuds made her hold tighter. my imagination running rampant picturing what was hitting what. it just seemed to keep going, but nothing moved. our walls, our ceiling, not even the pictures on the walls shook even an inch.the duality of the motionless noise was destroying me. the sound reminded me of old rock concerts i'd ended up at, standing next to the speaker. you can hear everything, but to say that you knew what you were hearing was the most extreme exaggeration.

and it stopped. there was no gradual decrescendo, just an abrupt end of noise. she slowly unwrapped her hands from my waist, rose from the big blue chair we were in, and walked towards the door. Sam and Deuce were still in the corner, unmoving. Andi looked at me, hoping i'd go upstairs first and see what happened. i kissed her forehead and walked through the basement and up the stairs. as i walked out of the stairwell, broken glass coated the tile floor. our windows were all shattered, broken window molding throughout the first level. our kitchen and coffee tables were all overturned, but thing seemed broken. i walked up stairs to find the same situation with the windows. i looked outside to see the blue skies again.

trees uprooted covered the streets. shingles and fence posts everywhere. as i walked outside, i noticed that we'd lost a shutter or two, a fair amount of shingles off of the roof, but we remained virtually untouched. i called to Andi, and she came running up the stairs to see the damage. she was always one to see the fair side of the coin, accepting that much worse could have fallen upon us, and broken windows were the best case scenario. our neighbors slowly came out of their houses, tears in their eyes, and disappointment on their faces. homes without roofs, cars missing from driveways and yards now distorted and destroyed.

it was moments like that, moments of sheer devastation in the lives of those around us that we could really look at ourselves and realize that while our world looks bad, sometimes we should step outside and see what everyone else has to try to deal with. Andi, walking back from next door, reached up and ran her hands through my hair and pulled me down and kissed me. "Let's get to work."

down two flights of stairs, it waits...

2007-12-28T00:58:00.000-06:00

I had been sitting, staring out the window as the snow started to fall. My mind was never blank, always turning, refreshing old ideas and loves that had past and not yet faded away. The stereo clicked on, and the music started to play quietly. "It takes a crane to build a crane...", and it sent me spinning back again...

I don't know how it started, and I know less of how it evolved, but I do know that it was such a relief from the cumbersome moments of dealing with classes, finals, and basically everything my life had put in front of me. She had this...tendency I guess you'd call it, but that's what it was...this tendency to bite half her lip and look at things, as if trying to see it change, so that maybe she might understand it in a new way. It ruined me, and while it sounds so conceited and self-fulfilling, it's the truest thing I can say about anyone I've ever met. I see that lip being bitten, I see the eyes, flecks of gold and sparks of light making me ache inside for something that I've never had. Cliche as anything can be, sure, but who cares. Love is cliche, life is irrational, get over it. It's that kind of sickening, sticky love shit that makes you wishful when you don't have it yet, appreciative when you do, and angry when you don't have it anymore. So I reassess...

"...it takes two floors, to make a story..."

She would sigh a lot. It was always the way to reach me, to make me nuts because rather than say that she had something on her mind or wanted to talk about something, she would...sigh. The funny thing about it...was that I never got annoyed by the sigh. Everyone will tell you that the things you find cute will always be your downfall, but honestly, it never happened. She'd sigh, I'd put my hands through her hair and ask her to talk. She'd laugh and start on whatever it was, but it was never a struggle. She never put up a fight to hide what was on her mind, and I loved it. Not saying we didn't have our all-out, knock-down drag-outs, but it was never stalled by saying nothing was wrong. Like a band-aid, right to the core.

"...it takes an egg to make a hen, it takes a hen to make an egg, there is no end to what i'm saying..."

When I moved away, we stopped talking, but every time it snowed, I thought of her. It was painful in a way that most people can't describe or usually just brush off and try to move on from, but I choose not to move on from this feeling. I reveled in this feeling, because for that first moment of snow, I get to think about what I had and how really defining it was in my life. It was one of my first post-individualistic traditions, to walk in the snow, with someone who was trying to get their life molded correctly. The first time we walked in the rain was...curious, and the snow walk was only moreso. I learned so much from those two first-walks, both about myself and about her.

"La la la la la la la life is wonderful..."

She was living a state away, and we hadn't talked in so long, but she was still on my mind. And the snow started and I missed her. I wanted a smoke, just because it gave me something to do with my hands, and I wanted to feel different. I felt destructive, damaged and sad, because I was missing something. Everyone would call me stupid, because it's not a real reason to do something like that, but I guess that imagined criticism made me want to do it more. I'd thrown my pack away months ago, vowing not to start again. I was just angry that my dream the night before was so real and that she wasn't anywhere closer.

"La la la la la la la life comes full circle..."

My phone rang. I didn't bother to look who it was, but I hit the speaker phone and said hello, all I heard was..."I had a dream the other night..."

There's nothing like a first snowfall.

you fall away...

2007-11-24T00:12:00.000-06:00

The car wasn’t going that fast, but I suppose that’s a hindsight sort of conclusion. The truck in the other lane didn’t care that we weren’t going that fast, but it stayed steadfast as it tore through our car like a bullet through a body.

The road had been icy, and there wasn’t any avoiding this. We had no reason to think the heavy dodge would slide on the road, but the ice was there, and so were we. The driver in the cab of the semi looked horrified as we careened into his lane, and when his brakes failed to slow him down, it was just a matter of going along for the ride.

I don’t blame the man for what happened, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t wish with all of my heart and soul that it hadn’t. It ripped my life apart. It took my child. It took my wife. That truck, well it took everything.

We were on the way home from Jack’s football practice, discussing what we’d have for dinner. We’d been fighting about it, as most families do, but it was the last thing that I ever heard from him. They say that when your life changes like that, everything sort of slows down, but this was like a movie on fast forward. I can't remember everything, but there are some things that I cannot forget...

The smoke in the air was thick, and all I could hear was labored breathing and footsteps around me. I wondered what had happened; everything was so quick, like the blink of an eye. One moment we’re arguing, and the next, just the sound of breathing, choking, wheezing. I caught my senses and tried to push myself off the broken glass and blood-red pavement, but my arms just folded underneath my weight. I rolled onto my back, and stared at the bright sun breaking through the smoke rising from the pieces of twisted metal and fabric. I shouted for Madison and Jack, but there was no reply.

When I got out of the hospital, they took me to what was left of my car. The heap of metal and plastic looked like some sort of impressionist art sculpture, some sort of braided knot that looked impossibly complex, but that somehow I remained from such a thing, I cannot imagine. They say that a piece of glass lodged into an artery, which kept me from bleeding to death, but the others were not so fortunate.

You know, the destruction of a life is so quick and instantaneous sometimes that I couldn’t fathom that it would ever happen to me. I remember the day I met her. I remember the day he was born. I remember the first kiss. I remember the first steps. These things, they’ll haunt me for years. I learned to walk, but I didn’t care to. I had nowhere to walk. I was empty, with memories to remind me of what I had taken away from me.

I met the driver of the truck. He survived. His truck was bent and dented, but no worse for the wear. Early 40’s. Wife and kids at home. Driving to pay the bills, and he just drove down the wrong street at the wrong time. I don’t hate him. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just bad timing. I wanted to blame someone, or something, but rationally, there was nothing and no one to blame. It would be much too easy to point the finger at the vessel of fate, but we were just two people who crossed paths in the worst of circumstances.

The doctors salvaged what they could, donated organs, saved lives. I sort-of knew when I woke up in the bed that they were gone. It’s that dread feeling when you know you’ve woken up late. You don’t need to look at the clock. You just know. I would have told the doctors to use them anyway. My injuries were laborious, and the recovery process was beyond painful. Learning to walk. Learning to use my hands again. The slate was wiped clean, and I had to start from nothing.

13 months later, I regained all function that I had before the accident. The pictures still hang in the hallways. Smiling faces. Baby photos with cake smeared on his face. It hurts every time I walk down that hall. I thought to take them down, but all I would do is think of them, so I left them up. I could have given up, and I wanted to, but it wasn’t going to happen like that. I was not to lose my family and then let it destroy me too.

I’ve found solace in an unlikely place. Anthony, the driver of the truck, has become something of a friend to me, taken a real role in my life. It turns out that when that truck hit my car, our lives weren’t the only ones affected. Anthony made it his goal to try to make right what he felt he made wrong. I tell him repeatedly that he didn’t do this, and that it was a freak thing, but he just keeps going.

The first night he showed up at the hospital, it scared me. I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but soon I accepted it. It was at least comforting to see him sitting there, not expecting anything from me. We didn’t talk at first, just sat and watched old reruns of mash and cheers. I’d make small talk sometimes, avoiding the complete obvious, but it was a way to take our minds off the discomfort we both had. Mostly, he just sat and kept me company, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I guess that a good thing can come from a bad thing. The source and essential cause of the destruction of my life could become the sole thing to renew my faith. I’ve an extended family. His family has somewhat become my family. Alex will be nine this year. Spitting image of his father, and while I feel jealous, I overcome. We don’t talk about what happened unless it’s to make the following point.

Grief is a dangerous thing. It can make you ignore your potential and cloud your judgment. When your life is destroyed, in shambles, and you think you’ve lost everything, your saving grace may be your ability to look beyond the events and see the substance waiting for you on the other side of grief.

Space in this room, has turned on me.

2007-11-14T23:50:00.000-06:00

she put her feet on my dashboard, and smiled at me. she cocked her head to the side, and played with one of her blonde strands of hair and watched me drive.

"stop that" i told her sternly.

"what?" she laughed

"you're distracting me. i can't watch the road if i know you're looking at me. you make me nervous." i said quickly, trying not to grin.

it was true. when i knew she was looking at me, i could feel myself blush. i always did when she was around me. i could feel myself get warmer, and it made me nervous.

"you're cute," she said rubbing my shoulder, "it's okay." her smile was infectious, and soon she had me laughing. she was everything i shouldn't want. but that didn't matter because she was exactly what i wanted, and it drove me nuts.

and she knew it. she knew she was under my skin, and i had an idea that i was under hers, but i never knew exactly how far. she tapped her feet on the cold gray dash along to the music playing.

"i used to tap dance!" she blurted out, and quickly realized what she had said. "i mean, it wasn't like 'ta-da-da-da-da-ta-da-da-da-a'," pantomiming jazz hands. i swerved from laughing so hard.

maybe that's what love is. laughing till it hurts, because you see a lot of you in them.

you don't end until you give in

2007-10-21T00:35:00.000-05:00

it's like that feeling you get, when you're instants away from crying. that tight feeling in your nose and up into your eyes. and it feels like for an instant, you have the choice of letting all out or holding it in for another moment.

that metallic taste of blood coated my tongue as i laid on the pavement. it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, to have the warm sensation of blood in my mouth and throat. i had nosebleeds a lot as a kid, many while i was sleeping. i would wake up and feel that openness from my nose to my throat, and that half-sweet metallic taste. no matter how i brushed my teeth, that taste never really went away.

the thought of dying passed through my head as i heard the sirens in the distance. i thought about all the things i'd never done. the book i never wrote. the trips i'd never taken, the mountains i'd never climbed. i thought about my father, and how it was always awkward in a sense, but it was always evident that he cared. i thought about all the times i'd just given in to what other people wanted me to do. all the times i knew things were wrong or that i was making a bad decision, i convinced myself that it didn't matter, that i always had the opportunity to make the right one next time.

and here i was, realizing that i wouldn't have the opportunity to make another bad decision. the guy who hit me was long gone, but i could still smell the exhaust from his car. i couldn't move my left arm or either leg. the sirens were getting closer, but it didn't seem to be getting to me any quicker. i started trying to put myself into another time, another thought.

two things struck me. i remember the early days, when i was depressed. when i was suicidal over everything i was sure was wrong in my life. i remembered what it felt like to want to die, and how i would think about it constantly. it came and past, and i never went through with it. i had tried, once, but never did it. the other was the day of my college graduation. i went to that day because of how happy i was with everything. it was the image of my efforts and accomplishments, and it made me realize how everything i'd put into my life had finally been worth something. i remember the looks on my parents faces when i saw them afterwards, while i was in my cap and gown. i'd never felt that way in my life, and i feared that i never would again.

but it hit me, as i laid there and it began to rain, that i didn't want to die. i've always believed that if you really truly have given up on life, and that you do not want it, your very life will leave you. i had that feeling once, i thought, but this was not it. all i could think about was their faces on that day. i thought about my friends, the people who have shaped my life, the ones who on a daily basis touched me and moved me to be a better person. those people gave me that feeling, that love. and it gave me that feeling in my nose. the one right before you cry.

Nothing you can know that can't be known

2007-09-25T21:50:00.000-05:00

The stairs were cold on my bare feet. October seemed colder than I remembered, and the house was particularly so. I'd lost interest in trying to sleep, after hours of laying watching the clock turn, I had to get out of bed and walk around. It's maddening to know that I would regret this lack later tomorrow by falling asleep in my office.

The moon was shining bright into the back yard, shimmering in the small puddles formed in the crooked and misshapen sidewalk. As the wind blew, ripples moved across their surfaces, and I felt mesmerized watching the waves of moonlight. It was stuff like this that made me ignore my nagging sense of insomnia. I was able to just let it all go and stare off into something beautiful.

Madison wouldn't know that I hadn't slept all night. Chances were likely that she would wake up feeling rested, thinking I'd done the same, but the reality was that I was sleeping less and less, and taking midnight walks around our house. I don't remember it, but my family used to tell me that I would walk in my sleep a lot. They would frequently find me walking around the first floor of our house, just wandering around. Some mornings, they would come down the stairs and find
me staring off into space. I wouldn't ever say how long I had been there, or what I was doing, but I would come out of it and pretend like I hadn't been there. I was probably too young to really remember doing it, but now more than ever it makes sense.

Our bedroom was always halfway to cold, with the ceiling fan spinning year round. Madison curled underneath the heavy comforter, her dark hair pulled back behind her. She was always so peaceful when she slept, never really moving or making any noise. I would wake her up sometimes, talking out my dreams in my sleep. She'd run her hands through my hair and pull herself up against me, and falling back asleep. I crawled back into bed and slowly nudged her with my back until her hand instinctively reached over top of me and pulled her towards me. I smiled a little bit, and my eye lids began to droop as I fell deep into sleep.

take me back

2007-09-22T22:59:00.000-05:00

some things, some people, can really take you back.

i experienced it twice today, as in feelings i haven't felt in a long while. what was so special about it was that i was not trying to reach this feeling. i wasn't attempting to reminisce or to reach a time and place where things were better. i was just doing what i normally do, and the moment came upon me.

i felt young again today, driving with a friend from college from a movie we'd seen. we had things to talk about, and it wasn't deep conversation, but it made me feel so young again. i felt like i was back in high school, energetic to go to concerts and hang out with friends. we were radio djs in school and we'd met through our school jobs, but i knew almost instantly that we'd be good friends. as we drove i mentioned things that i wanted to do that i'd never done, and it made me want to make a life list, a list of things i want to do before i die.

i felt deep today, like i hadn't felt since high school. as i sit and write this, a movie that held a special place in my young life runs. it wasn't that the movie was good, no, it was the fact that it was a talking point between katie and i. it may sound dumb, but it was our staple movie, something to watch when there was nothing to watch. something to cite when something funny happened. i don't really understand, but it took me back to thinking of that first relationship. of who we were and thought we were, it made me wonder exactly what things would be like if we'd continued on as we had planned.

i do think it's sort of important to have those moments. it makes you take stock of where you've been and where you are in your life.

here's a time for us to let go

2007-07-14T21:50:00.000-05:00

I miss winter. I know people in Wisconsin cherish these few days where we aren't forced into parkas, hats and gloves, but if I had a choice, I'd look out my window right now and see a blanket of white beauty. Then again, if I had my way, I'd have her laying here in bed, curled up against me while the music plays. It was always winter nights that I remembered most clearly with her, that we would come in from a walk, covered in a thin coat of frost and condensation. Cold and rosy-cheeked, she always made me smile in that moment. There would be an old movie on tv, and we would take off our wet clothes, open a bottle of wine and climb under the warm featherbed.

Summer nights were never really bad, we took walks and slept under the stars on her balcony, letting the morning sun wake us up in out sleeping bag, but winter nights made me feel special, like no matter how cold it was outside, we had each other to keep warm. Thunderstorms made me feel almost the same way, that outside our four walls, there was chaos, but she was safe in my arms.

I'm just thankful for the time I had with her while things were good and easy. It all spun far out of my control, but I guess that's just how it works. There are days where I'm not quite sure I've moved on completely, but I know that I need to let go.

i will wait for you in baton rouge

2007-07-02T22:50:00.000-05:00

the road seemed to wind more than i remember, but it had been a year since i'd traversed this rough road, and a lot of things had changed. my family had moved 600 miles away and so had the girl i thought i loved. it was hard to believe that a year had taken almost everyone away from me, but then again, a year's worth of change can also be had in 24 hours. the sun was at the point of twilight orange that doesn't quite blind you and casts everything in a warm summer hue. the road continued to wind, and the light went from one side of the windshield to the other and back again, making me smile. this was my favorite moment of the day, with night setting in and everything beautiful.

"Baby, why are we coming all the way out here?" and there was Emaline. Em was someone i had met through a friend, and she was absolutely everything. when i met her, i had a lot of things going on in my life, but it just made me blind to it all.

"Hey, you'll see, okay? You'll like it, promise." there was a place i liked to go to watch the sunset. it was a few miles from my childhood home, but about 60 miles or so from my home. i hadn't been there since before i was in college, and i was feeling nostalgic with the woman i hoped to someday be nostalgic about.

"Okay...I'll trust you."

"I love you...in this light." christ, what was wrong with me? i could feel myself blushing, but i could hear her giggle, which meant she knew that i meant. needless to say, i did this kind of thing a lot. i took the final curve and pulled up to the top of bakers hill. Em just looked sort of puzzled as i pulled off the road onto the gravel. she didn't know what this was to me or why i had brought her here, but that didn't really matter because i did. the blanket was in the trunk wrapped around the chilled bottle of red wine, and i pulled it out and walked across the street. she began to smile as she put it all together. she walked over to where i laid the blanket.

"Amory, this is sweet." the sun was still above the horizon as i poured the wine into the glasses. i felt amazing, this beautiful girl sitting here with me, her long legs stretching out, leaning back on her slim tan arms. 24 hours ago, i was so confused about my life. the offer to pick up and move 2500 miles was tempting, but to make this move in six months was a monumental opportunity and yet incredibly gut wrenching. and having Emaline move in with me had been an easy decision, but now it was more complicated because of David and his feelings for her.

"Yeah, well...you're pretty sweet yourself. Sort of crazy, in a cute way, but sweet." she flicked me on the forehead, like i always did when we laid in bed and she would say something coy or sarcastic. it was our way to say that we accepted the awkward moments because it was like peeling away another layer of privacy that we were once so afraid to share, that we could be personal and poke at each other without being afraid of either of us getting upset.
the sun was about halfway below the horizon, and she leaned over and kissed me. i felt perfect again, one of the few times i had felt so since i lost everyone. i pulled her closer to me, and she scratched the back of my head.

"How long have you been coming here?" i wasn't going to tell her how i found this place, how i found it once when driving with Madison in high school. how Imogen never wanted to come out and sit and just watch the sunset. how every time i lost something out of my life, a friend, relative or relationship, i went out to baker's hill and watched the sun go down. i felt so small and insignificant to everything in the world, and that my problems were sort of meaningless compared to everything else out in the world. baker's hill was my view of the universe, my hill, my apex, and my place i went to talk to God.

when Joey died, i came and asked God why. He always answered the same way, an amazing sunset and this feeling in my chest like you can't stop the inevitable. the sun always sets, even when you don't want it to get dark yet. the answer i got from God was that you have to accept the things you can't change, and enjoy the things you have while you have them.

"Since high school. I haven't been here in probably seven years or so. I used to come here to talk to God, whenever I lost my faith. Church wasn't enough for me, I had to see Him out here." she kept running her fingers through my hair as i explained how important this all was to me. i finished talking, and the sun finally slipped behind the final line in the horizon. i knew she understood, that places like this can play a huge part in a life. she kissed me again, and we got up, packed up the blanket and bottle, and began the long drive home. i felt like God gave me another hill, and she liked to play with my hair.

and all i can taste is champagne

2007-06-27T22:19:00.000-05:00

i laid there on the bed, watching the blades on the ceiling fan spin. it always caught my eyes on warm nights like this, the white blades moving rhythmically. i couldn't sleep, the heat absolutely filled the bedroom and covered our skin in a think coat of sweat. she never had trouble falling asleep, with the smell from the flowers outside the picture window next to the bed. her trouble was staying asleep. every hour and a half or so, she would wake up, look at the clock, sigh and fall back asleep. i'll admit that talking in my sleep didn't help matters much, but nevertheless she just kept waking and falling asleep.

after an hour of trying to sleep, i went out to the porch and sat up on the railing. i remember the early days of dating her, where coming home from sleeping in her bed, i could still smell her on my clothes. i would leave one or two shirts unwashed sitting in my room that i had worn there. it wasn't that they weren't clean, it was that they made me smile after a long day at work. whenever i missed her, i could pick up that shirt and smell her next to me. she never knew about it, but that was what always got me through the weeks she was gone on business.

she started to stir under the thin sheet, her bare leg slowly moved out from underneath. her hand moved to where i usually lay, and she pushed herself up and looked around the room squinting. sliding slowly out of the bed, she walked over to where i was sitting, her naked body seemed to glow in the moonlight. every time she walked up to me, it made me smile to realize that she was almost as tall as i was. she turned around to lean up against me, pulling my arms around her chest. i moved the hair to the other side of her neck and slowly kissed up her neck to her jaw. i stopped and started telling her everything on my mind, about how i loved her brown eyes, even the little red spark in the right one. how she made it hard to leave for work every morning, and how every day at work i looked at my phone just hoping she would call. she laughed embarrassed, and pulled me down from the railing and back into the bed.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

2007-06-09T13:58:00.000-05:00

The room was still spinning when she walked in and sat down on the bed. The shades were drawn so that the harsh light of day wouldn't spill in and cause my head to hurt more than it already did. She looked at me for a moment and then focused elsewhere in the dark.
"You know," I said silently, "It's very...very difficult to move on when I dream of you so frequently. I wake up mornings, still with these dreams in my head, of me wiping tears from your cheek or holding you to my chest. And I wake up and I realize that it wasn't real."
She still said nothing, just sitting quietly. I continued on, knowing I wasn't doing myself any good.
"I know that we can't be. I know it because of the things we have both done and said, but it doesn't stop me from wanting you. Every time I think of you, like a stab in the chest, it makes me nostalgic for what I thought I had and how I want it back. But I know I can't, so every day I try to put you out of my mind. I try to let go and tell myself the reasons for why I need to let you go. Most days, I succeed. Some days, I do not."
Her hand raised and lowered, as if she was about to put hers on mine, and then she stopped. She stood up, looked at me one last time, and let herself out of my apartment.

Thunder

2007-06-07T23:02:00.000-05:00

The sound of thunder always excited me. It was never really something that I was afraid of, but it gave me a rush. The sound made me want to go outside and watch the storm, see the lightning shoot from the sky, and just feel a part of it all. The weathermen had been saying all day about the horrible storms moving in, but all day and most of the evening stayed clear. Around eight, everything turned a pale shade of yellow, and it gave a really ominous feeling. I went to bed thinking that the storm wasn't going to hit after all. The layers of sounds ricocheted through the room, the light from the strike had barely left the sky before the echo hit. It began loudly, but quickly lowered and then rose again, like a car revving it's engine. It built for a second, leading to an earsplitting crash.

2007-05-23T22:35:00.000-05:00

I have a lot of new things in my life...

but there is something big still missing. I know the things I've lost, and the things I've never had, and I want some certainties back in my life. I guess graduating changed a lot of things in my life, and I'm not sure that I like it.

so I kick, push, coast...

when i drink, i, just get so damned depressed

2007-04-21T02:18:00.000-05:00

The tattoos stood out on her peach-hued skin in a way that shocked me. I loved the fact that she had them, the flowers wrapping gently around her toned and slender arm. She was sexy in a way that I never knew existed before, and I'd swear my life changed the first moment I saw her.
She told me once that she hadn't gotten the flowers to rebel against her family, that it was just something that she wanted and didn't feel that she had to keep herself from doing.
"A lot of people want to get them," she told me one night as we lay in bed while I traced the lines, "they just don't because they worry what other people are going to think. They make me happy, they're beautiful, and that's...well, that's enough."
I envied her ability to not care what other people thought of her. I wore a tight undershirt when I had to wear a white dress shirt so that the cross on my chest wouldn't show through, but she wore those flowers like she was born with them blossoming from her body.
She reached for the bottle of wine, and poured the remaining fluid into her glass. We weren't high class, just two lovers laying in bed watching some black and white movie from the 40's. Bogart was making some woman swoon, but all I could think about was how this was my exact idea of a romanticized life.
I could look around our bedroom and see all the things that we filled our lives with. The bookshelf with torn, beat up books that we'd collected from various thrift shops. A lot of Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the rest of the romantics, along with books by Nietzsche, Kant and Mill that would keep us up discussing idea after idea until we couldn't keep our eyes open any longer. The guitar in the corner, covered in scratches, and worn from where my arm rubbed the top of the body. Artwork on the walls, some abstract, but others copies of Van Gogh and Monet warmed the room against the candlelight and shadows. The desk covered in stacks of papers and half written novels.
And she was my dream. There is no other way it could ever be said, but she knew how to stay with me when I needed it, and knew when to let me sit and stew. She wasn't the typical girl on the street, and wasn't supermodel pretty, but she was sexy as hell and beautiful to a point that no other woman could match. Occasionally, I'd wake up spooked from a dream, and have trouble falling back to sleep. I'd take those moments to look at her and thank God for that person next to me.
She painted and I wrote. Of course, I didn't trust my life upon writing my fiction, but she trusted everything to her painting. Following her dreams didn't scare her, and consequences of failure wouldn't stop her from trying to reach that picture in her head of where she wanted to be in life. Her days were spent filling canvas and pages with her life. Some were vivid, seeming to shine and fill the room with color, while others were drawings that were made up of a series of lines, as Seurat used dots. She would smirk and tell me to be quiet when I would go on over a drawing or painting.
"Have you ever read some of the stories you've written? The way you feel about my art," she smiled, "is how I feel about your words. It's cliche when a person sees a movie and says that it's exactly like their life, but believe me when I say this," and at this she stood up and ran a hand on my face, "you write life. You write real life, and you make it seem worth holding on to even when things are hard. Relate is an understatement for what I do to your stories. I live them, and I see you in every single line, every word, every single letter. I draw pretty pictures...you...you write life."
When I graduated from college, I was 22 years old and writing was the one thing I'd taught myself how to do. I worked for an agency that sent me all over the world, and I used it to push my words into a realm that I wasn't able to reach before. I knew how to touch people deep down, and secretly loved it knowing that I made people relate to this figment of my imagination. That I could create life. Magnificent. Utterly and absolutely magnificent.
We lived comfortably enough, for us at least. She sold her paintings regularly, and was shown in galleries four times over the course of eight months. She would smile when I would tell someone, but she never averted her gaze when they looked at her. This I found absolutely stunning about her, that she was never embarrassed for her accomplishments. Most people blush and look at their shoes as if the correct responses were written on the floor, but she would smile confidently and thank them for their compliments. I loved her confidence, because it wasn't cocky. She would downplay her work to me, but when others would comment, she would accept it.
"I think people get weird when people give positive comments 'cause they don't think that they did something worth their compliment. Sure, there are the arrogant pricks that smile and let it go to their heads, but I know I did something well, and I also know that they liked it, so why be embarrassed?" This was the girl who chose to love me.
She flicked my ear to tell me that the movie ended and that I had been daydreaming for some time. I sipped the wine out of the cup on the table next to me, and then slid down into the bed. The white feather comforter sitting heavily on top of me, she set her glass down and slid down next to me.
"Am, what were you thinking about?" she asked, running a finger on my nose.
"...You."

Quiet in the grasp of dusk and summer

2007-03-18T23:27:00.000-05:00

56 days, and I shall lose my home, by force of choice. I won't have this college to call my home anymore. I've spent four years here. Four long and toiled years, I have been here in this small town, with this small cast of characters that I have come to know as my family. I have my parents and relatives as my family, but it's different here.

I walked up Barney Street, and I slipped into nostalgia again. It's been happening much more often than it should, but I cherish it every time it comes for soon enough, I won't have these moments that push me down the sliding slope into memory. It was a 45 degree day, not cold, but not warm, and it reminded me of late fall. I saw the tree swaying in the wind, it's leafless limbs moving to and fro and reminding me of my first year here. I would walk down East Ave, towards the union just to walk back and forth. It was still new to me, the feeling of being in college. Something about the trees in the yard of Sneeden, and how they moved in the wind. I remember the first cool breezy day. I put on my khaki shorts and my University of Minnesota sweatshirt, and I felt like a college kid. I felt like that guy in the brochures for any college. It made me feel alive.

But now, now I felt a certain sense of sadness that I would soon leave this place. I ashed my cigarette lightly and watched them float away in the wind. I remember when I learned how to smoke differently. I watched Cool Hand Luke, and how he held his cigarette in his hand, somewhat cupping it from the wind. I had always been an awkward smoker, not really sure of how to hold my hand when I did it, but when I changed how I held the cigarette, I didn't feel so awkward. I remember the nights spent out back of North, smoking with Luke and Matt, just shooting the shit and talking about our days and stories about what we thought and did. Those guys, I felt like someone to them. Like I was a brother, someone they could talk to, come to, just be around and be happy with. These men, they made me no promises and no expectations of me. They were just my brothers.

I found out through these past four years that the people who often swear their honestly to you, are the people who are most often to break it. People will often lie to make it easy on themselves, lie to make it harder on you, and I also found that no matter how hard you try, you will tread on someone in a way that you will look back and regret. I have, and I do. There is a period in the past four years that if I could go back and change, I would in an instant. I would do it and never think twice because I know I made the wrong choice. I know I cannot go back, but deep down, I wish I could. I've had dreams of what I would do different, but I always wake up in regret. In that moment, I saw her as an option. I did not see her as a person who may have loved me, or been attracted to me. She was just the girl who met me due to a series of extenuating circumstances, and I was lucky enough to have her for that time. I was dumb enough to give her up because of a temporary temptation that I had wanted for a long time. And while the satisfaction I felt for that month and a half was amazing, it wasn't right.

I've grown up a lot. I've found out my parents are much smarter than I ever gave them credit for. My father, a wonderful and selfless man. My mother, a constant source of care and encouragement. Being away from home allowed me the distance to see what they really were to me, and that they raised me in a way that I am proud to be. I run into many people who I wonder how they were raised, but I never have to wonder if people question that about me. The definition of family is broad and doesn't do any justice to the family I have come to gain here at school. I've gained the respect of men who I emulate. I've gained the affection of women who I, at some points, would say that I did not deserve.

I've also lost a lot. I lost a fraternity. I lost a family set. A fair majority of those men I once stood with, recited the Star and Crescent with, are no longer my family. I did not lose them to death or disease, but indifference and petty squabbles. Means and reasons that would make most people laugh, but I have lost those men, those men I once swore I would not lose. And I took a piece of each of them with me, the best part of each that I could find, as I hope that they took me with them.

And as I stood on that corner, taking the final drag on my cigarette, I realized that four years goes too fast, and that there are many moments to cherish and some to forget. I rumpled up the empty package, threw it in a garbage can nearby, and walked up Charles street towards the union. I passed a student being given a tour. A tall, brown-haired boy walking with his parents, and I silently wished for him every moment I was able to experience here. My time here is done, but I can only hope his will begin soon.

Long live the car crash hearts

2007-03-16T08:29:00.000-05:00

My dreams had been making it more enjoyable to sleep than it was to be awake. For about a week, each night's dream was more profound than the next. I would wake up each morning, still believing what I had dreamed was real.

I found myself walking down the sidewalk over a bridge as traffic passed below me. My cigarette was down to the filter, so I dropped it, crushed it with my foot and pulled out the pack to have another. David was in front of me, talking to his ex-girlfriend. She had decided that she didn't need to be with him anymore, and yet here she was, calling him to see what he was doing. He was always in a constant issue with her, because she wanted to be with him, and he wasn't letting that happen again. David would come back to the house at all hours of the night, swearing about how he went back for some reason. We knew he was over her, but he was probably just missing the comfort of that body next to him at night. Finally one day he came back laughing, telling us that he told her about the smokes and the other women he'd been seeing. Apparently, it made her angry enough to stop talking to him for a while, but not enough to make her completely let go.

Jon was next to me, talking about philosophy. He had just finished watching some Akira Kurosawa flick, Yojimbo, and he was talking about Rashomon and how we all perceive reality differently, while we all might see the same stuff. I loved talking to this guy because he was one of the smartest people I know and yet, I never got bored when he was talking. Half of the time, what he talked about was over my head, but he always slowed down and explained things out. There were so many nights back in college that we would sit around with six or seven other people and have deep, long-winded discussions until the sun would come up. I don't remember much of college, but those were probably the moments that taught me how to think more analytically and to slow my thoughts down and set up my line before I tried to put them to words. It helped me through classes, run-ins with professors, my law classes at MU, and it helped me win cases.

David hung up his phone, and threw it across the pavement, it skidded under a car and bounced against the curb. We all laughed, because it wasn't the first time talking to her made him do stuff like that. We didn't really blame him. During their relationship, he spent more time defending her to his parents, his friends, her friends, and just about everyone that she managed to irk than he spent being happy with her. "Man, fuck that girl," was all he would say as he laid down to reach under the car to retrieve his phone. "So what are you guys doing tonight?" I told him I had to be to court in the morning, but I was up for a run to JG's for a pizza. Jon agreed. It was still so weird to think that I was a practicing lawyer, and I was responsible for making sure justice was served, or something close enough to it anyway.

When two am rolled around and the joint was closing, we started our walk home, and I realized that I was finally happy with where my life was.

this is what we're up against...

2007-02-24T15:48:00.000-06:00

authors note: i found this recently, and...i don't know what else to say. it's not fiction, but it's not exactly fact. written october 2005.

The past had been looming around, constantly reminding me of what I once had. It wasn't that I missed it, or that I would have it back, but it wouldn't let me forget what was in my past. She often liked to talk about it, but she didn't know what it made me feel inside. Every night, as she kissed me and told me she loved me, I would smile, but frequently remember the nights that others did the same thing. And this is what we're up against.

She said she was afraid to be in love. The word made her shutter and shake her head. She didn't want things to change from fun to serious, relaxing to comfortable, exciting to common. She told me that it wasn't that she didn't want to be in "it" (or so she would call it), but that she was worried that it would just cause pain. It wasn't the first time I was told this, so I didn't expect to change her mind. Realistically, she was worried more for me than for her. She had a tendancy to be unfaithful, and didn't want that four letter word to add more pain to any possible wound. She never understood that while putting a feeling to a word is nothing more than a human creation, and whether or not we said it, the feeling was indeed there between us.

Time passed, we felt so much but said so little. She was to me what I was to her, and we were happy. We were together for all the reasons that two people should be together. We were similar enough that we related, but different enough that where there was a weakness, the other added their strength. Trust built, faith grew, and it wasn't boring. She said she had changed, and I believed her. The other people in my life however, did not. They stayed who they were, acted as though the world was still theirs to be had, and that I was just another piece to play. And then she came back...

She came out of my past, someone who I'd put away because I'd dealt through so much wasted time with them that I knew they couldn't put it away.

when you have nothing, you've got the most to gain...

2007-02-24T01:14:00.000-06:00

We live, and die, by the grace of God alone. Our will and chance are given to us once in life, and what we take from those are purely up to us, but they cannot be duplicated by any means man will ever know...

Her brown eyes opened wide as she stretched her long slender body upwards. It was snowing harder now, and there was no point in Madison trying to leave to drive back to her apartment. She always said that she was uncomfortable sleeping anywhere other than her bed. She would wake up in the middle of the night and forget exactly where she was. I would run my hands through her dark auburn hair and tell her to go back to sleep and she eventually would realize that it was long before dawn and fall back to sleep. It was weird for me the first few nights she woke up worried, but then I just acclimated to the regularity of it.
"Amory, it's snowing harder now," she said, with a concerned pitch in her voice, "do you think it's safe to drive?" I smiled, because I was lucky that it was coming down so heavily that the roads didn't permit easy or safe driving. I shook my head, and she sat down on my bed seeming to pout. The street lamps outside my window shone sepia-tone light through the snow, and it made me so much happier that she was here with me. I just laid on top of the feather pad, feeling the ends of the feathers scratch my bare back, and listened to the blues playing from my speakers while CNN was running muted on the television. She finally turned to look at me, wondering what I was doing or thinking, so she slowly slid down next to me, laying her head on my chest looking up at me. As she scratched my chest, I laughed and ran my hands down her back feeling the skin between her shoulder blades shiver as the goose bumps spread down her body. "Tell me what you remember Am. Something happy." She enjoyed reminiscing more than anything, and I began to tell her about the times we spent in front of a crackling fireplace, watching it turn and change. We would spend complete nights talking about life, beliefs, family, friends, loves, fears, and our darkest secrets. I would rest my hand on her chest, watching it rise and fall with her breath, and I would fall in love with her more every night I had with her.

Day broke, and the sun was reflecting off of the now breathtaking virgin snow. She was still asleep, and I rose and put the cork in the empty bottle of wine. It was still extremely warm in my apartment, so I turned on the ceiling fan to circulate the air. The cinnamon rolls were in the fridge, so I put them in the oven so she would wake to the smell while I took a shower. The water felt amazing, slightly cooler than the air around it, and I let it flow down my face. There was really nothing like a cool shower after a warm night in, and I finished and walked out to where she sat with the cinnamon rolls on the table. As I kissed her forehead, she laughed and wrapped her arms around my still wet stomach.

Few moments in the life of a young man rival the feeling he gets when everything is flawless. They are recounted in the darkest points in his life, and stood upon in the bright ones. Those times are truly given by grace of God alone.

This American Life

2007-02-23T23:35:00.000-06:00

I would like people to do something for me, and I was put onto this fairly out of coincidence from a best friend of mine told me to listen. I listened to, and cried during, the "Last Words" post.

I'm putting the cart before the horse. This American Life is a podcast from Chicago Public Radio where they read stories, either fictional or real, and they strike you in ways you don't expect. I find myself wanting to send in some of my stories so that maybe they might find it worth putting on.

The website is here

Please read, and enjoy. I will continue writing, and I've taken a few requests lately that I should read my stories out loud and record them for listening. I've started to consider it...

2007-02-17T02:02:00.000-06:00

i hate how two am can make a person with so much to be happy about feel so lonely. no real explanation, just a weird series of moments cause such a paradigm shift, and i can't get my mind off of things.

...

it had been about six months since the funeral, and i was still in minneapolis. winters in minnesota are brutal, but i had adjusted. i was at the office late and it was that time of night where it was finally silent out, but you secretly wished for noise, to know that you're not alone. my work was finished, and i walked into the lobby of the building. i lit my cigarette, and then stepped outside. everything was so crisp, and the snow was blowing through the air like glitter from a tin. i crossed the street and made my way up 43rd towards lincoln where my car was parked. i had some of my most profound revelations while walking to some meaningless place with a cigarette in my hand, and the only thing that possessed my thoughts was the fact that i kept myself at such a distance from everyone at every chance. most people hated being alone, sitting by themselves, but not me. i could sit by myself and keep myself entertained for as long as i needed to. but not tonight.

the engine turned over and sat in idle as i let it heat up. six months david had been dead. six months. the sad part, in my eyes, was that nothing in my life changed. sure, i thought about him in situations that i thought he would get a kick out of, but for the most part, my life was still on it's course. as i drove home, i thought about death a lot, how one death can affect so many people, but as time passes, memories fade. lives have to keep going, so they do.

i walked up my stairs and pulled my shirt over my head and threw it on the floor next to the bureau and dropped my pants next to them. i crawled into bed, feeling the small scratches of the feathers that were slowly making their way out of the comforter. i layed my head down on the pillow and looked at her face. she had heard me come in, and she was feigning sleep. i slowly slid forward, cupping my hand behind her neck, and kissed her on the forehead and whispered that i loved her. leaning back, i waited for her to pull herself close to me. her arms slowly rose out of the covers and she rubbed them on the back of my head, moving her warm, smooth body against me. "i love you too..." she said quietly.

"madison?"
"yes am?"
i struggled for words. i knew what i wanted to say. i wanted to tell her that i was incredibly happy that i hadn't lost her. i wanted to tell her how she made me feel when she ran her fingers through my hair. i wanted her to know that every time she kissed me and bit my lip, i got the goosebumps. i wanted to say it all, but it was too late in the night for such conversations. "i'm glad you're here...goodnight love." she opened her eyes, and there was just enough light from the moon to see her smile at me. she knew what i was thinking as she always did, but she also knew to just let it rest. she kissed me, and gently bit my lip.

"goodnight"

If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks

2007-02-10T01:48:00.000-06:00

The clouds were slowly shifting across the sky, and soon it would cover the sun and leave the landscape a morbid shade of gray. We had gathered on the lawn, all sitting in white wooden slatted chairs. No one really talking, people just silently held each others hands. A smaller blonde woman in the front row began to cry, silently at first, and then louder. An older gentleman slowly walked up and sat down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and bringing her close to him. It was one of those days where you'd expect a funeral to be happening, where there is that feeling in the air, somewhere between rain and sadness. The last of the observers arrived and took their seats…

I'd never been to a funeral. I had been afraid of the thought of dying since I was little. When I was just a child, I would lay awake at night on occasion and wonder what there was beyond this. There is always an end to everything, and eventually, the world will end, and if there is a heaven, no more souls shall enter. What of that moment then? It would scare me unnecessarily as I was too young for such thoughts. The thought of dying still bothered me in some fashion, but I regarded it as something that happened with high reverence and custom, and that there was nothing more after that.

When my roommate called me at the office to tell me about a message on our answering machine, I thought it would be something about Danielle canceling our plans for the theatre tonight. Mike held the phone up to the recorder and I listened as David's mother whispered that he had passed. She sobbed between words, but composed herself enough to tell me where it happened and where everyone was. Mike's voice came back over the line, seemingly screaming because I had been listening hard to the whispering. "What are you going to do?" he asked me with a mouthful of food. "I've got to go see him...everyone..." I said goodbye and hung up the phone. I packed up my bag and sent out an email to the staff letting them know I would be gone for a few days. It was early April, and the air was surprisingly warm for this time of year. I’d been avoiding going home for a long time, mainly because I’ve been avoiding her.

…The clouds now covered the sun, and everything was depressing. No one was comfortable on the lawn that day, as a warm Massachusetts spring was causing everyone to wish for a cooling rain. It would have been fitting for the occasion, as the environment would have mimicked the mood. I stood slowly and began pacing, making my way next to the casket, and stood in front of the podium. It’s true that you never know exactly what you should say until the exact moment you are required to say it. I had been trying to write a fitting eulogy for this man who I never had the chance to say goodbye to. All I could think of while sitting with a pen swinging in my hand in the past two days was what David would have wanted to say to all these people, if he would have had the chance. The question of how he would have said goodbye resonated in my mind…

I pulled up in front of her building. I’d kept in touch with a few people, David included, since I’d moved to Minneapolis, and I kept an updated address and phone list in my planner in case I needed to get a hold of anyone. So when I pulled into town and hers was the closest building off the freeway, that’s where I stopped. The button for her apartment just read Wagner, and when she answered over the intercom, I knew Madison would be shocked to hear me. As I told her it was me, there was a long pause followed by a buzz at the door. The latch clicked open and I made my way up the stairs. Her door was plain with a knocker above the peephole. As I reached to lift the brass handle, the door opened a crack and footsteps sounded from inside. I pushed my way into what was probably the nicest apartment I’d ever seen. As I walked down the hall, there were framed pictures of her and her family and friends. It threw me back almost instantly.

She was always beautiful, a sort of natural beauty that was masked by make-up. When we were kids, she’d say that she was so awkward and ugly that it was impossible that I fell in love with her. I would laugh and tell her that it was always possible. Our lives had crossed in such interesting and fleeting moments that once we crossed for a longer period of time, it was a given that we would have gotten involved. She was everything that I thought a person should have in order to be a good friend. She was always reliable, honest and devoutly kind to everyone she met. What drew me to her once we got to know each other was that she wasn’t afraid to be herself in any situation. She was socially awkward when she got nervous, and her voice would raise and lower unintentionally and if you didn’t listen for it, you’d miss it completely and never know she was feeling uneasy. But above all else, she was like no one else I’d ever met before or there after.

…I cleared my throat, and the microphone picked it up and echoed it across the spread of tombstones and statues. I smiled out of embarrassment, and for a brief instant, I felt okay. I didn’t feel uneasy, or afraid to speak. I pictured David sitting in the front row, watching me. Back in high school, we was always the most attentive person in classes, watching his professors as if he was waiting for them to spill some secret for turning lead to gold. So when I pictured him watching me ready myself to speak, I started to chuckle to myself. “David was…” I paused, “intimidating. Sure, he was less than six foot tall, couldn’t have weighed more than 150 pounds. And yet, I’m willing to bet that every time he stood toe to toe with anyone here, he had respect. Everything I remember of David is funny and painful all at once.” I started playing back in my mind all the times we’d gotten high or skipped class. That wasn’t exactly appropriate for this gathering, so I continued. “I remember every late night at Webbs. I remember the night he told me he…had cancer. We were sitting around a table playing cards, and he had been acting funny all night. I didn’t give it much thought because it was David, and he would act sort of weird sometimes…”

“So you came back…” she said as her eyes followed me around the room. I was too nervous to sit, and I knew that when I looked into those eyes, it was over. “Yeah, uh…you know, David passed and his family asked if I’d give the eulogy because we grew up together.” She stopped talking and I kept looking at all the pictures and mementos on the walls and shelves that filled the rooms. One in particular, a ceramic fish statuette, came from when we were 13 and did a show in town together. Mine was still at my parent’s house, sitting on their bookcase, but she kept hers out so that she might look at it from time to time. I slowly turned to make some anecdote about it, and before I could, her voice began. “That fish always reminds me of you,” she said loudly, in that nervous voice. She was unaware of the inflection, but I caught it just as I always did. I picked up the figurine and walked to the couch where she was sitting, “Do you remember that summer Amory?” She looked at me waiting for my response. “Yeah…it was probably the summer that changed my life. I met…everyone that summer. I met you that summer.” She put her hand on my shoulder and began to rub it like she used to. “I’ve missed you, Madison.”

When I left Somerset for college, I was ready to get out of there and find myself somewhere else entirely. She told me that we’d always be friends, and at the time, I told her we’d never talk again. I was upset and wanted her to disappear. Not disappear in the sense of everyone else, but disappear from my life. The sooner she was out of my mind and out of my life, the sooner I would get over what happened between us. She laughed at my unpleasant comments and told me that she would wait it out. Every now and again, she would call me, but I would feign interest and tell her I was busy and couldn’t see her. I wasn’t angry, I was merely protecting myself from falling for her again. David always laughed at me, said I was too soft, and that I would let her back in my life eventually. The guy was always right about those sorts of things. He could read me like a book, and I couldn’t stand it. Our mothers gave birth to us within four days of each other, and we’d always known each other. Every time there was a tragedy in either life, the other was there to help put the pieces back together. And now I’d found myself with a tragedy that involved him, but he wasn’t there to help me.

“I only saw him cry once. It was when he caught sight of his parents crying about what the doctors told them,” I said, choking back emotion, “And he was never afraid. He knew what the odds of survival were. He told me that it was slim, but he wasn’t going to be sad about it. He was going to be himself, and live his life.” I wiped a tear from my cheek, “And when he lost his hair, he told us that he was pissed because he wanted to sport a mohawk at his college graduation.” People sort of chuckled, but it was still uneasy. “I want everyone to think about David right now. Think about what he would tell you to do right now if he was here.” As the words left my lips, it lightly began to rain. I lifted my umbrella above my head and microphone, and said, “David’s life was filled with love and laughter. He’d be upset if everyone here was so sad when you thought about him. Learn from him, touch every life with which you come into contact. Cancer may have taken David from us, but it doesn’t change that he’s changed our lives. I’ve thousands of stories from the twenty some odd years we spent as best friends. Some embarrassing, some funny, and some that would bring tears to your eyes. But instead of telling those stories, I’d rather you write some stories of your own and send them to Mrs. and Mr. Blaine. I’m sure they’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

There wasn’t any noise above the sound of the rain hitting the chairs and stage. As people slowly made their way to the casket, over a hundred hands reached out and touched the lid. They started to speak out loud their memories of David. People began to cry as others spoke, and I knew that David was still impacting the lives of those around him.

As I drove Madison back to her apartment, we parked in front of her building. “Would it be wrong if I asked you to come upstairs, to talk?” She played with her hands as she waited for me to respond, “You don’t…have to, Am. I was just…” I cut her off, “I’d love to.”

somewhere along in the bitterness

2007-02-08T08:12:00.000-06:00

we all suffer losses. some are small and make us think differently about someone or something. and some are large and make us question the very meaning of our life and existence. we ask why some things are brought into our lives only for us to lose them later, but ist's a matter of accepting those losses and looking at them in a different manner than before.

because basically, we're all losing something all the time. it's the moment we put such value of holding onto something that we reuin exactly what made us get it in the first place. there is a flurry of reasons we tell ourselves that something is right for us, but when it comes to it, we're all just scared of what is on the other side of that decision. we ignore others when they tell us not to do something, and we know what we do isn't right, but we keep doing it anyway. because so many times we'd rather have something concrete than something unknown.

and when we finally do make that choice, we die a little inside. not because what we had made us whole, but because we chose to voluntarily lose. you'll eventually realize there is a process, and that you will step through them one at a time. you'll scream, you'll cry, you'll wish things could end differently. this is where a lot of us get stuck and we can't get past that step. once you do, there is forgiveness. there is release.

we've all got those demons we try to hide from the outside world. even the people closest to us sometimes have no real concept of what is going on in our lives because we choose not to let them see it. we're so afraid that we'll be judged for the decisions and problems that we push those people away. the issue is found when we truly need another person and they aren't there because too much time was spent pushing them out. and that is a dangerous moment.

it reaches a level that you have trouble comprehending. because you don't want to be one of those people, that everyone knows has problems. what you don't know is that getting that help is so much more important than people knowing you've got issues. no one wants to look weak, but we all are. we're all weak and powerless on levels that we're afraid to admit.

when you do reach that point, the one of stability and acceptance, that's when you can finally let the grief go. you don't need to hold on to it anymore because it will do nothing but hold you back from achieving what you want. it's run it's course and you can move on.

be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle ~ Philo Apocryphon

my heart is the worst kind of weapon

2007-01-20T01:11:00.000-06:00

Your mind creates perfection. There really is no such thing, but in your mind, you can find it in a person or thing. When you do this, they become nothing more than a piece of glass. Something clear and somewhat blank. Thr problem with creating perfection is that the moment you do it, your eyes twist and contort, and you begin to look for the fractures. You will search until you find that small fissure, and you will push yourself into that to widen it, and the perfection will quickly crack and spread, causing more change.

See, there is no use in looking at something for just it's positives, because then you invite the cynic to seek out any negative and turn it into a breaking point. All through life, everything will have that positive and negative. It's just a matter of finding that balance.

In my mind, I have an image of perfection. I have the photograph in my mind that I exemplified as a perfect moment in time, but realistically, things around it were so incredibly imperfect that I only cause more problems for myself by pinning that single solitary frame as my perfect moment. Our eyes closed, heads on pillows, and to the eye, there was nothing more than just two contented people laying next to each other. The faces seemed to trace each other, seeming to fit together in just the right spots where no other face possibly could. And that's why it was so perfect. Why I had placed so much into this, because it seemed too unreal not to be the real thing.

It wasn't. No part of it was. There was no perfection in reality, I just created it. My paradigms shifted to allow myself to see something that wasn't there, and I allowed myself to piece together something that was all together incorrect. It's not a simple matter of imagining something you see in front of you is without fault. It's the stubborn belief. It's the unending argument and defense against everything that tells you otherwise that it's not right. And yes, sometimes it is true that when everyone tells you it's wrong, that maybe it's only right for you. That much is true, but it's only some of the time. The other side of the coin is that everyone is right and that you won't allow yourself to take another perspective or stance because you're simply too afraid to be wrong.

Being wrong, and accepting the fact, is quite possibly the best way to grow. To change yourself and change your mind into something better. It is possible, I believe, for people to change for the better. I know because I've seen it and I've done it. Even people who will refuse at all costs to be wrong will admit error to change themselves. Whether it's for themselves, someone else, or just for the sake of change, it's an amazing process that must be witnessed over time. There are a lot of non-believers out in the world, who will tell you that people don't change, but they say that because they've never seen it happen. They close their minds to the concept and cannot fathom someone changing who they are, deep down.

Maybe I'm just an optimist, but the world looks brighter through rose colored glasses...

i think you know what i'm getting at

2007-01-10T21:31:00.000-06:00

i wrote this a while ago, but i found it and i need to keep it more fresh in my mind.

there will be times in your life, when you want to give up. when you want to call it quits, say no more, and just let it all go. there will be hard moments followed by harder moments, followed by what you think are impossible feats that will require impossible strength. they are not impossible. in fact, nothing is impossible.

giving up is but saying that all efforts have been exhausted, that you are no longer able to pursue the endevor or push ahead. and sometimes, calling it quits is the only logical decision, but life is not about making logical decisions. it's about following your heart, getting your life destroyed, piecing it back together, and getting it destroyed again. and life is not unlike a china vase, that eventually you cannot glue the pieces back together, and even if you can, it never looks quite the same or how you wanted it to be.

but somehow, you continue to piece it together, step back and look at the life you rebuilt, and somehow, it's okay because you've managed to lose everything and come back with something. you keep walking, you take your knocks with a raised chin and clenched jaw, you smile at the good points, and you refuse to falter in the heavy moments. you learn not to take for granted the things you have in your life, and you learn not to regret any decision, because as you breathe, those decisions made you into who you are. it's not only your decisions, but the decisions of those around you and how you let them affect you. you are changed dramatically by the most minute things around you, and it creates something spectacular of a persona.

and you can't expect an apology for the way people feel. it's insensitive, callow, and unforgiving. you would never feel the compulsion to apologize for your devout honesty, and you cannot choose how you feel sometimes. all you can ask is that those around you tread with the same compassion that you have in your heart. never demand an explination for how someone feels, because they face enormous pressures and choices in their lives, the same as you. love is a dangerous thing that everyone wants and that everyone fears. you cannot expect love to be easy, or convenient, or even happy all the time. but love exists, because you can feel it deep down in your gut. it can cause you enormous pain, like an ulcer eating away at you from inside out, or it can lift you up and make you feel alive, like butterflies in your stomach right before your first kiss. one moment can change a life, and i can promise you this, that eventually, your life will come down to a single moment, and in that moment, everything you know will shift and change, and you can only pray that you don't fall.

it's like the man who asked how to carve an elephant out of a slab of granite. you just chip away all the parts that don't look like an elephant. and thats all life is. you chip away, you lose, you shape, you smooth out, and eventually you reach the point where you'll know changing it would ruin it. where even one more brush stroke would blank the canvas. when that point is reached, it's tangible. there's no question, it's more physically existent than anyone or anything in this world.

be happy, and let that be enough.

in your honor

2006-12-04T20:45:00.000-06:00

My car was starting to heat up as the snow began falling steadily harder. The powdery clumps fell one by one onto my windshield, only to melt an instant later. The street lamp looked as if it was surrounded by thousands of pure white moths, gathering around a flame. I could still see my breath, but my ears and hands were regaining feeling as I put my coffee mug into the cup holder. The seat was comfortable, and I started to stare out the window. I was thinking about times when the snow meant I was going to see her soon. It was a relaxing feeling, but it gave me butterflies in my stomach as I pictured her walking through the flakes falling. She was so beautiful then, and I’m sure she still was.

Always so careful, wrapping the scarf around her pale white neck, and pulling the gloves tightly so that they came under the sleeves of her down jacket. Her eyes sparkled every time it began to snow, and it made me want to hold her forever. She would smile, and grab my arm to pull me towards the window. I would hold out, being stubborn to keep doing whatever it was that I was doing, but eventually, she would start to run her hands through my hair, and I would lean over onto the bed and stare out the window with her. She would laugh and tell me things from her childhood. It wasn’t always happy, but she always kept a good spirit about it, because this was her season. She was not going to let sad memories ruin what was perfect and all together wonderful about the world.

We would step outside her building, and look up, letting every possible snowflake hit her bright red cheeks. Majestic was the word she used for it. “It’s just magical, there’s nothing else anywhere ever like this, and you have to appreciate it, Amory.” She’d catch herself getting too serious, and wave her arm to move snow in my direction. Running from me, I would just watch her and smile because I knew in that moment, she was perfect, like the snow. She was mine in that moment forever, and I didn’t need anything more than that in my life. She had no thought of tomorrow or the next day or year while she was in the storm, just of what was swirling around her. She was twenty something, but had the wonderment of a child, smiling and watching the steam rise as she exhaled. I would walk slowly down the steps, wrapping my black and grey scarf around my neck and pulling my hat over my ears. She would run up and hug me tightly, rubbing her head against my chest and telling me that she loved this weather and loved that I was there with her.

I came back to my senses, my car piping hot and the snow was falling thicker. I opened the window a crack and let some snow float inside. They landed on my wool jacket and melted quickly. I realized it had been about two years since I’d talked to her, and it made me want to see her, but knowing I couldn’t broke my heart.

in your arizona room

2006-11-21T23:42:00.000-06:00

It was unusually warm for November, and it wasn't often that Wisconsin saw such a tepid day in such a month. So when I got the chance to take a drive during work, I had no real qualms about going. The roads weren't filled, but there were enough drivers to call it traffic. I passed a police officer and pulled up to the stop light.

And I saw two lives change in that instant. The truck coming up next to me started to press on his brakes late. I couldn't blame him, because the police in this town found any reason to issue a citation, and if he had just kept driving, he would have made it through the yellow light easily. I saw his face tighten up and his car jerked twice, and a third time to finally stop, just inches over the white line. No more than half a second passed before my peripheral vision sparked with the sight of another truck coming up quickly. I knew what was about to happen, it wasn't a surprise, but I watched with halted anticipation. It wasn't that I wanted it to happen, but I might as well take a close look at something that every one goes through at one time or another. One of the more traumatic experiences a person can have on a daily basis.

The second truck slammed on it's brakes, but not quickly enough. For all I know, time may have slowed. I looked over at the driver and passenger of the second truck, and the girl no more than 17, looked as if she had just the breath snatched from her lipstick laden lips. The passenger put her hands towards the dash, pushing as hard as she could as the truck hit the back of the first, forcing it through the intersection and sending shards of metal and plastic sliding across the pavement.

The police officer pulled around and parked itself behind the truck that got hit. The girl, now crying while the passenger covered her mouth, slowly pulled through the light and moved to the side of the road behind the police cruiser.

Life is never constant. The slightest change in one person's actions, the fear of something that doesn't really warrant a response, can really set off a reaction that touches everyone around that catalyst. You can't expect others to react the same way you might, all you can do is relax, and try not to make that rash decision out of a fearful moment.

belief is a beautiul armor

2006-11-10T19:40:00.000-06:00

"it's snowing outside. did you see it?" she asked quietly
"of course i did." she always got sentimental when it snowed. undoubtedly, every year during the first pleasent snow, she would call me.
"do you remember walking down the street, and watching the snow fall around us?"
"yeah, i guess i do." i said, taking a drag on my cigarette. jess always insisted that we take a walk during the first snow. it all started three years ago when we met. we ran in the rain and swore we'd always stay with each other. we were so new to this place and the rain seemed to be something we both shared from before. people were running from the union to their buildings, but not jess and i. we stayed outside, walking and running from side to side, just taking it all in. she ran to me and wrapped her cold wet body against mine and squeezed me tightly. i kissed her on the top of the head and we ran inside. we took off our clothes and put them in the dryer and sat down to watch the rain fall. she sat against me, "Even if we hate each other someday," she said to me, still dripping from the storm, "We'll always be connected."

times changed, people changed, feelings changed. she moved on from me, and i, from her. i didn't feel bad about it, it wasn't my place to feel bad. i didn't expect to be with her forever, and she didn't expect to be with me. which brings me back to the current moment.

the smoke came out of my mouth in spurts. "i'm just wondering, jess, why you're calling me right now."
"well," she said sadly, "i guess i just like to look back at how good things were."
"so do i, but let's be honest with each other, for the first time in our lives. we can't go back there, to that, to what we were. i'm not saying you want to, and i'm not saying i want to either, but i defy you to tell me it doesn't hurt you to think about it. i dare you to tell me honestly that you don't wish somewhere deep down inside you, that things had ended differently. if you say it doesn't hurt, then you're lying to me and you're lying to yourself."
"amory, i was just thinking about the good times is all. i wasn't provoking!" at this point, i could hear the sound of her breaths becoming shorter. she was getting upset and was about to cry and i knew that it was because i reacted like that.
"look, do you remember the rain?" i said quietly, letting her process my question. she would know exactly what rain i was speaking of, and it would calm her down. "do you remember how young and naive we were about everything that year? we were perfect in that moment, you know?"
"yeah..." she sniffled hard, but giggled a little bit, "we were."

untitled

2006-09-16T22:35:00.000-05:00

I seem to assume that college is often the same for everyone. We all do about the same stuff, follow the same format, and end up on the other side just about the same way.

I remember sitting on the couch, staring at the bookshelf next to the television. It wasn't anything special or important, but for some reason, at that moment I felt like it was permanent for me, and for her. Like nothing was ever going to change. We would keep doing the same things, day after day, and everything that was around us was going to stay the same. Things slowly started to fade, and I realized the impermanence of it all, in the sense of that it was hers. But in another means, it was permanent, in me and in everyone.

Because I found myself, just the other day staring at the bookshelf that sits between the two desks. I stared at it in the same manner that I stared at the bookshelf that sat next to the television. Like years from now, I would still be sitting there, and that bookshelf would still be there, with the same stats book, and spanish language novels sitting there. I'm not sure why I felt the need to ponder about it, but it seems so odd to me, that I do this everywhere I go. There seems to be something in the scenery that exists to everyone, but to me it exists just a little bit more.

It's somewhat of a symbol of my memory, like something that forces me to reminisce with something or about someone that I've put away in my mind somewhere. It's just a stupid bookshelf, but it's something that connects me with my past.

please come back home

2006-09-05T23:29:00.000-05:00

i kissed her goodnight and he hugged me awkwardly. laughing we said goodbye and walked our different ways. it was one of those nights where it was warm enough not to feel cold, but just cool enough where a sweatshirt would have felt nice against my arms. as i passed the union, i thought about the days i spent doing things here. the time spent sitting on the lawn with friends between classes. there were days on end that i would sit out behind my dorm and smoke a pack with a matt, kev, or luke, and just relax and talk.

i remembered walking on the stone wall that held up the hill on the back side of the dorm, my sophomore year. it was back when i was good friends with natalie and we were walking to a party with a few of her friends. we stopped there and sat on the wall while kara talked about how she wanted to go lay in the road. we picked her up and walked her back to her dorm room.

i remember the fights i've had here. there was a big one in the overflow lot late one night. i made a bad decision, and i felt like i couldn't back out of it, and it caused some major shit. there were some dorm fights, screaming matches my freshman year with someone i didn't want to lose, someone i didn't want to give up on. it was scary, my first college crush moving on from me, and i didn't know what to do. and there was the home depot parking lot, where i had to deal with some pretty heavy stuff, but i got through it.

i remember the love and friendship. the flower bed by north was the first connection. it's not what it used to be to me, but it will always be the place where i really changed for someone. the late nights taking walks and talking about life and fears. sitting outside on the picnic bench that night made me want to stay sitting there forever, you know? like we could just ignore everything and just stay there. i remember the times that you did things for me. when you made me smile, and we sat up eating junk food at two am. you looked so beautiful, and you still do.

i remember the brothers i've found and lost. the fraternity was a big part of my life, and i miss the guys i used to share my life with, i really do. no matter how much i've grown away from them, or how much has happened, i'll always hold that positive image in my mind of the day we were all pledged in. it's crazy how much can really change in a year. but every single guy that i was in it with should know that i'm still here, and that even though things have gotten twisted and thrown out of whack, i still miss everyone.

by time i finished day dreaming, i was back at my apartment.

Read your books, but stay out late some nights

2006-08-19T20:06:00.000-05:00

This summer marked a lot of things for me. I guess it's hard to really quantify exactly how much everything has really affected me. I was never the hardest working person around. I always did just what it took to get by and little more. I didn't often think ahead into the next season, and I'm realizing every day that I'm glad that I'm not who I used to be.

I look around me at my work, and realize that one person can do a lot. Sure, it may not be the most important job anyone has ever had, but when I get there, I treat it like it is. I see the difference between myself and others there, and it makes me angry at times, that others treat the job as just a place to be and to get paid while I work my hardest. Things changed dramatically in the department when I got there, my boss told me the other day. He said that if it weren't for me, the department wouldn't have achieved a lot of the accomplishments and recognitions that it had. He apologized that I didn't get the credit that I likely deserved, but that it was tough to put into words what I was really responsible.

My first official interview for an internship went exceedingly well. I had purchased my very first suit two days prior, and invested a very large sum of money into it. I walked into the room with the Vice President of Public Relations, feeling nervous, but for the most part, feeling very confident. We spoke and talked about the job, and my past and a number of other things. I am excited to hear back from them soon, and I feel like I might have a decent chance of getting it. Lets hope so...

I met a large group of Sarah's friends, and I went to the Michigan dunes with them. It was relaxing for the most part, but in another way, it was comforting. It was a genuine sense of acceptance from people with whom I'd shared no major moments of similarity or friendship. We had fun and did things that my friends from home never do. My old friends from home were so judgmental of everything, and the group I went to the dunes with didn't.

I also caught up with an old friend over a ponza rotta. Scott was a brother of mine in a fraternity that was started at Carroll, and we hadn't really had a good chance to talk since the spring semester happened. We talked about everything involving friends and relationships and shared a lot of laughs. I feel like I'm going to attempt to renew some relationships with some friends that I lost last year. It's more important than ever to make sure I'm still in touch and appreciative of the friends I currently have in my life.

I also learned that a little extra space isn't such a terrible thing. It breeds self reliance and freedom, but at the end of the day, I still miss her.

took a plane to boston

2006-08-16T01:41:00.000-05:00

I believe a healthy life is comprised of a ample amount of self worth and drive. It's what makes us get up in the morning and go to work, or go on blind dates, or to pursue someone or something that we want or need.

I also try to live my life by a few short and sweet philosophies, one being that if I deserve something, and I want it bad enough, then I should go out and get it. No questions, no excuses. If I didn't get something I wanted, then I didn't work hard enough for it. I didn't try with everything I had, and I didn't want it bad enough. Complaining about what you don't have doesn't get you anywhere but onto a last nerve. It's hopeless to wish for things unless you have the compulsion to do what it takes to get them.

I got a phone call tonight from someone who was a big part of my life years ago. I was a different person then, and I've grown up a lot since. She had caused me a considerable amount of pain, and I moved on and put it behind me. Now, she is going through that same pain, and I can't find it in me to feel sorry for her. We all need to go through pain, it's a part of life. Long story short, she wants someone back, but won't do anything to get him. And I feel no pity. No sadness. No sorrow. I will not feel bad for her. It's just not in me.

Our emotions cloud everything we do. Everyone chooses their mood. I am angry sometimes, and when I get to the climax of my anger, I tell myself that I know I could be happy if I just chose to be, and that I choose to be angry. Usually I get over it, but staying angry sometimes is healthier than just moving on immediately. Some of our most clear and concise and passionate thoughts come out of anger, and most everything else is just painted lies and thoughts that we can't help but hide and cover. It is a common trait in the world that people worry what others will do if we say or do the wrong thing. The world does not embrace true honesty like it should. Feelings will be hurt. Hearts will be broken. People will be offended, but eventually, our thick skins will allow us to be honest with ourselves and others. Being considerate in some aspects and moments is wonderful and useful. However, when the driving emotion and ensuing thoughts are held in, we are talking a lot and saying very little.

So much changes from day to day. I'm in the process of trying to get an internship anywhere, and I used to just lay around and bitch that I needed one, but I didn't really do anything about trying to get one. And one day, someone important to me held my hand (figuratively) and got me started. She helped me find names, numbers, companies, internships. She pushes me every day to search for something better, and I don't really know where I'd be if I didn't get that first step from her. Thursday I have an interview with a public relations firm downtown, because I called the company at just the right time. Because she called me 20 minutes before hand and told me that I should.

We all need a helping hand sometimes, but it's vital that we don't rely solely on someone to help up out of a rough situation or to help us into a new phase of life. People need to accept more responsibility for their situations and their futures. Everywhere I turn, I see people saying things about fate that I don't really comprehend. Fate is some force that guides people through life, along some path filled with only shades of gray with no absolutes, and that no matter their actions, they are predestined to reach some end result. It is possibly smarter to say that all people have a fate, but they control it. You can be positive and proactive, and improve it, or you can be negative and lethargic and let it deteriorate. Fate is not a true force unless considered as a goal or reason to do things.

We set our fate on the wall like a dart board, but it's up to us how hard we throw at it.

i sound like a gatorade commercial

2006-08-05T01:40:00.000-05:00

it's what i call a michael jordan moment.

something in your day happens, and it does something to you inside. it makes you lose it and invariably all you can do is jump towards the sky pumping your fist like you just sunk the game winning three pointer.

and you walk away from it all like it didn't affect you for the split second aftermath. after that, you can't help but jump and dance and shout and smile.

it's not always easy, but sometimes, you gotta shoot that ball, take that shot, and risk the loss.

but it's worth it. i promise

some inspiration

2006-07-27T21:47:00.000-05:00

I love it when you walk outside on a sunny day, and it begins to rain. It's like a little unpredictability right in the middle of the common. And you never expect it, but when it happens, I can't help but smile a little. I love the rain in general. Thunderstorms make me happy because it's chaos and it's loud and it's uncontrollable. If it starts to hail, you can't do anything but stand under something and keep yourself safe.

Life is a lot like those sunny days with rain. Everything can be going along normally, and then something happens that you would never expect to happen. Maybe it's good. Maybe it's bad. But in the end, all you can do is sit back and realize that you're not in total control of everything, and that the chaos will find it's way into your everyday life. The problem comes when you can't get over the moments that you don't expect, and your life becomes a series of actions to prevent those little occurrences. It's silly how much time we all spend trying to protect ourselves from the unexpected, but still we forge ahead, ever toiling away in fear of something terrible happening tomorrow.

The changes we face on a daily basis are important, and even the most minute things can spin everything another direction. Occasionally, it's the absence of change that makes things troublesome, and that can make things complicated. Don't worry about what someone will think or do if you say something. The people who you keep close to you are not going to hold it against you forever. This is not to say that they don't get upset with you, but it is to say that they stick with you for a reason, through the happy and the sad. Be thankful to those people who put up with your little ticks and idiosyncrasies, because they love you for everything that you are.

And you would be surprised to see how many people appreciate the little things that others do for them. Whether they say it or not, everyone owes a debt of gratitude to someone. No one ever gets anywhere in life without someone to lean on at times, someone to push them at others, and someone to love them when they need it most. It has been said that no man is truly an island, and I believe it. I look back at the people who have come and gone in my life, and I can't say enough about those who were there exactly when I needed them the most.

I've lost a lot of people in my life, as everyone does from time to time. No one really ever holds on to the same people for very long periods of time unless it is something exceptional. Brothers, relationships, and distant acquaintences came into my life and passed through, leaving me with memories that I can't put away all together. I miss everyone for certain things they brought to my life, but the people in my life right now are some of the most important people I'll ever know. They influence my life every single day, and while cliche, I would not be the same without them.

So I keep my head up, letting the small things that come day by day come at me. I handle them well (or so I think), and I try to smile every day. If you can't be happy every day, life becomes much too long and agonizing. Take the time to step back and breathe deep, and take count of the things, roles, and people in your life. Smile because there's always someone, somewhere, who matters to you. And in turn, take joy in the fact that somewhere, there is someone who is smiling because you matter to them.

showtime

2006-07-10T13:20:00.000-05:00

As a very early birthday present, Sarah bought us tickets to go see three of my favorite bands. Augustana opened, Goo Goo Dolls played a set, and then Counting Crows headlined. I'd been wanting to see Counting Crows for a really long time, so this was an amazing gift. As we were getting ready to leave, it started to rain. It wasn't raining hard, per say, but the rain drops were huge and loud. As we were driving there, the rain started coming down harder. It reached the point where the visibility was getting worse and people were pulled on the sides of the roads. Besides the rain, people we stopped under bridges because of the hail. Eventually, we got there and parked and got into the park as the rain stopped coming down...or so we thought.

We got into the ampitheater, not knowing if our seats were under the roof or not, and found that they weren't. Oh well, right? We sat down as the rain started lightly and we moved to the lowest level of the uncovered area where the rain wasn't hitting. After about ten minutes, it started raining harder and hailing again. Long story short, think hurricane, and you're close to what we were sitting in.

Regardless, the show was awesome. That's all.

2006-07-05T21:52:00.000-05:00

it's been a long time since i've gotten around to writing

mainly, the reason is the lack of internet access at my disposal, so i haven't really been too concerned with writing

realistically, once i get a more constant and reliable source of internet, i'll write again.

"Oh it's biblical how fucked my sleep can be"

2006-06-09T20:32:00.000-05:00

The car was hot, and she was late showing up. I told her I would meet her outside the hotel after she got out of her job, but she was still nowhere to be found. I'd been waiting there for nearly twenty minutes, and I was wishing it was a little cooler on this warm June, but it was no matter. My headache was not going away, and I was getting tired. My sleep the night before was uncomfortable and restless because my dreams were unusually painful. What was worse was that about three times throughout the night, she woke up and rolled over and rubbed my back as she fell back asleep. Each time she fell back asleep, the nightmare started again. I started to flip through my cds as she pulled up and shut off her car. She got out and quickly got into the passanger seat.

     "Amory, you look awful. What's up?"
     "Honestly, I've never slept so badly in my life. Lets go get lunch." I pulled out and started to tell her about it.

     "The dream was hazy now, but certain points were still present in the forefront of my mind. It was one of those dreams that crosses the boundaries between reality and fiction. I wonder sometimes whether the influence to the dreams is brought through the outside, or the other way around."
     "What do you mean?"
     "You know how sometimes people will ask you if you can feel pain in your dreams? Well sometimes you'll feel cold in your dream, but in reality, your body is cold and your dream reflects how you body is. Or, your body changes due to the conditions in your dream."
     "Okay, Am, too deep. Just what was your dream about?"
     "Well for some reason I was at my house with friends, and inside the house was a tattoo parlor, but the air was fridgid dispite the fact that it was June. Someone said something wrong, and someone pulled a gun. The air was so cold that my head was aching. At this point, I felt cold like you'd feel it while you're awake, and my head throbbed like a real migraine. Somewhere along the line, I fell to the floor in pain and was shot in the head."
     "Jesus..."
     "Yeah, well the moment I got shot, it was like all my pain went away. My head stopped throbbing, and it was like someone slowly poured cool water over my temples." She looked at me awkwardly and slowly laughed.
     "Okay, well just relax, you'll get to sleep well tonight"

I'd always wondered what dreams meant to the person having them. Between remote urges and compulsions, it causes one to wonder whether the dreams mean anything at all. When a body goes cold in the middle of the night, does the dream reflect, or do the conditions in the dream fool the brain into changing the conditions of the body to reflect said dreams. It's tough to know for sure because dreams are entirely too fleeting for memory to hold the situations to be related.

Any thoughts?

between the lines of fear and blame

2006-05-23T20:28:00.000-05:00

she was calling my phone again. i hesitated because she had just hung up on me two minutes earlier in a rage. the room adjacent to me was empty and dark, so i stepped inside and kicked the door stop up. leaning against the counter, i flipped open my phone and put it up to my face expecting silence. at first i heard nothing other than my own voice asking her to talk, but then silently in the background there was something. it was like a whisper and heavy breathing, but there were no words, only gentle sobs. i couldn't do anything but wait and feel awful for just walking away without saying goodbye. the entire time i'd been dating her, i refused to walk away angry or upset. life is never predictable, i told her the first time i wouldn't leave until we were okay, and that you never know what is coming tomorrow. we'd fight it out and then hug and leave. there were always days where i wanted to just get up and leave without a word, but my anger was never enough to push me out that door. for some reason, however, on this morning, i couldn't stand to stay in the room with her.

i had to punch into work in six minutes, and she wouldn't speak. the only words that would come over the phone were, "i thought you would come back..." and sobs. i wanted to tell her that i'd be there in four minutes and say forget my job and let it go, but i couldn't do it. there were nights where i'd lay there and think about her because i couldn't think about anything else. i would tell myself that no matter what was wrong in my life, she was there. now all i could do was worry that things like this would rip it all apart. i quietly apologized and told her i was sorry and that i would see her later after my shift. i said goodbye and hung up my phone. i slowly punched in my number on the machine, and walked out of the break room. i couldn't think of anything except for the fact that she was in bed crying because i let my temper get the best of me. i tried to brush it off, but it wasn't happening. i sat down to my desk, shuffling papers and starting the computer. something clicked inside me, and i just didn't care about work. i picked up my jacket and jogged out the door after punching my numbers back into the clock. in three minutes i was walking into her building. i didn't lock her door as i left, so i walked back in quietly. she was still in bed and facing the wall. i slowly took off my shirt and climbed into bed and put my arm around her.

"i'm sorry...i never should have..." i whispered in her ear.
"you know, i was told once that you know you love someone," she said through sniffles, "when you don't want to picture youself without them. when you'd do anything for them. when the good times make the bad times unimportant."
"i know, sweetheart." she tucked over mine and pushed herself against me.
"please, don't do that again. because i never understood love before. i never had someone who i couldn't live without. who i wanted to live for. but now that i do, i don't want to lose it."

swimming into the omen

2006-05-17T19:49:00.000-05:00

I learned that right before you die, the world changes and it becomes the most clear, bright, and vibrant moments of your life. There is no explaining how or why, but with every color you see, your life slowly shifts away from your control.

The hallway was exactly the same as it was everytime I'd walked down it before, but for some reason, everything was changing. The window showed a brilliant oak tree glowing in the amber sunlight. my eye sight slowly seemed to focus in on that tree and everything behind it seemed to move backwards and the tree shifted into the foreground. I walked out the beige door leading to the staircase and I looked down the center and watched myself go around lower and lower. It was dark except for once I got to the door, the small window encased in the upper part of the door seemed to shoot the sunlight against the wall. It didn't fill the stairwell like you would expect it to, but just directed straight to the wall.

I got into my car and buckled my seat belt and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. The beads of water on my windshield refracted every bit of light into my car and shone brighter than I'd ever seen. The clouds were broken from the storm earlier in the day, and the sky was bright blue. I pushed my sunglasses higher on my nose and sped off onto the freeway. I was still amazed at everything I was seeing, each passing car reflecting that sunlight into my windows, every cloud breaking with light. I felt like I was just watching all this happen, every single second that passed was like a glorious movie sequence, carefully crafted to look like perfection in some work of art.

The freeway curved to the right slowly for about a mile and I was now facing something else. The clouds in front of me were dark and stormy, seeming to melt onto the earth below. Slowly, the sun was now coming through the back window, lighting up my car. The clouds were getting larger and closer, and lightning began to slide through the sky. And this was no different than the way the sun was shining. The light from the bolts were brighter and clearer than anything I'd seen in even my dreams. I was still in no control, but I wasn't freaking out. I was just ready to accept everything that was coming to me, and the sun from the back, and lightning in front of me filled my car with light, and suddenly...

everything became dark

the bridges you burnt along the way

2006-05-14T23:46:00.000-05:00

I was passing through the tollways the other day, and at three different tolls, I paid for the person behind me. Nothing big, probably an extra 2 or 3 dollars, but it's one of those things that can make someone's day. It's not like it saved those random drivers a lot of money or anything, but it's one of those nice little surprises that i think everyone loves.

I think karma is a self induced situation. I think that if you do something kind or something good, and you feel that you deserve something good or you are living a good life, your mindset is going to bring you into a better place.

And the opposite is true as well. If you have a guilty or worried conscious, you're more likely bound to run into something to scratch that guilty mind. I am not implying that people cause themselves to come to a good or bad situation. I am only saying that in some situations, a persons reaction can cause themselves either good or bad results.

So there is an acceptance of certain things. Liars lie, cheaters cheat, thieves steal. People will not change how they are, and you can only accept the lone fact that when people say they don't care about you, yet continue to talk; and hate; and fear; the truth is, that you have become their reason to exist.

hit the ground and fall

2006-05-09T22:20:00.000-05:00

i remember waking up next to her in the middle of the night. it was one of those nights where no matter how many fans you had on, or how many windows you had open, your skin stuck to every surface it came into contact with. my leg was twitching against the hard matress and it was starting to ache. she was sound asleep, her dark hair matted on the pillow, and i kissed her gently on the temple. the beads of sweat on her forehead were beginning to collect, so i slowly rolled out of bed. the hardwood floors in the bedroom creaked and groaned as i walked to the bathroom. the window next to the shower was cloudy, and as i pushed it open, the night air flowed into the bathroom giving me gooseflesh. she had a nice set of towels sitting on top in the closet, and underneath were the old ratty washclothes that had been used and worn. i turned the faucet on gently, letting the cool water soak the cloth.

i remember when we moved in, and the first night we slept there. it was early july and neither of us had ever had our own house. it was like our own little piece of freedom and i'd never been so excited. she had been looking into houses forever, constantly looking through websites at houses in the area, and looking at what she wanted in it. it made no real difference to me what it had in it, as long as she was happy with it. we'd finally got all our boxes moved into the rooms, and we collaped onto the four post bed. the radio softly played in the background, and i smiled. sh cozied up against me and ran her hand on my chest. "So, you like the house?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, it's everything I've ever wanted, just like you."

i wrung out the washcloth and walked back into the room, letting each step creak the boards. she rolled over expecting to find my body, but found an empty space. she opened her eyes and saw me walking towards the bed with the washcloth in my hand. i crawled back in bed and gently ran it across her forehead. she sighed loudly and leaned up and kissed me.

"I love you. Thank you baby."

she rested her hands on my chest and went back to sleep. as for me, i just smiled and ran my hands through her hair.

sad eyes

2006-05-03T21:16:00.000-05:00

the girl with the sad eyes came around again. it had been a long time since i'd really gotten a chance to see her, so it was a nice experience. i noticed small things about her that i never really noticed before.

when she gets bored or distracted, she likes to reach her arms behind her head and play with her hair. she constantly runs her hands through the blonde strands and lets it fall to her neck. she constantly does this without realizing it, and smiles when she notices me laughing.

and i'm so easily distracted that i can't possibly focus on any one thing that i'm supposed to be doing. there are so many other things going on, that the big things seem trivial, the important things petty, and the imminent things relaxed.

i do think that i shouldn't be in that mindset, but honestly, i think i'm better off feeling that way. i don't want to start worrying about things that are either out of my scope of control or too complex to try to handle. it only makes my days longer, harder, more stress ridden, and all in all worse.

and as for the girl with the sad eyes, her smile makes up for them.

a day gone tomorrow

2006-04-26T01:09:00.000-05:00

we, as people, hold way too much hope for the future and way too much reverence for the past. the problem with this is that the past was just yesterday's today. it's no different than today, this very moment, and it's no different than tomorrow. the only real difference is that we can reflect on the choices we made, and there inlies our failing. we reflect too much upon choices that were spur of the moment and nothing more than a fleeting second in a world full of fleeting seconds. we say that hindsight is 20/20, and this is just another pointing out that we look back to our misgivings and wrong directions.

do we use that hindsight to affect the decisions of today and tomorrow? we say we do, but i'd never believe it. because the decisions you make today will be the same, regardless of your past. it's not a matter of destiny or predestination, it's a matter of human nature and fact. people believe that you change your actions based on past mistakes, but we so rarely change anything due to the past. if anything, we more often change our actions in the present moment because our fear of the impending future. we hope to mold tomorrow by what we do today, but realistically, it's nothing more than what yesterday is to today.

we work so diligently for a payoff that is always a flip of the calendar away, and when it comes, we don't take it for what we thought it was, but we take it as a "learning experience" but it's nothing more than the result of how you are and your actions. because once that payoff is reached, we don't revel in it. we don't enjoy it. we immediately look two pages ahead and see what may be coming up that we must work for. it's like reading a novel, and skipping ahead just to see how it turns out. rediculous notions of living for today when all we seem to do is live for tomorrow.

and i'm the same. i go to bed every night and close my eyes, and whisper to myself these words:

"Tomorrow is going to be a good day. Regardless of what happens, tomorrow will be good."

and when i wake up, i tell myself the same thing, and it usually somewhat does keep my outlook more positive, and keeps me looking at the day as a whole and not as the sum of it's parts. it's synergy at it's finest, and i won't tell you that i don't reflect on my past. i reflect every day on every mistake i've made in my memorable past. it's not possible for me not to. what is possible however, is to not let my past dictate my present.

my life today will not be governed by what i did yesterday, or what i will do tomorrow for that matter. i will not live in spite of mistakes or live in fear of my next step. take pleasure in every moment. smile with every step. if you want to be upset, be upset, don't hold it in, or be afraid of anger. let it out and feel every ounce of that emotion that rises inside you. but don't let it overflow you or control you. aim it. focus it into something worth that emotion.

everything we hold inside can change everything outside of us. we have so much power in our emotions, all we must remember is not to be afraid of what they can do. let to their own accord, emotions can destroy lives and ruin everything. but focused, they can serve a purpose greater than anything else. they change lives for the good and bad.

and life is about change. live for today. don't regret. don't placate yourself for your future. it's not worth it, and it'll only make you unhappy today and restless and regretful tomorrow.

my advice is packed in small punches that you need not take or understand or want. i don't care, because it means something to me. it changes my life every day, just like those around me. the people i keep around me refelct my emotions. sarah is my happy emotion, she reflects what is inside me when i'm happy because i found that in her, and i love it. and there are so many people that reflect each emotion inside me, and i love it all. they change me every day, in my outlook on life and matters of conventional wisdom.

never feel guilty for doing what you feel like doing, because all you're doing is trying to live up to someone elses expectations and failing. live up to your expectations, and be happy. thats all that matters.

still hope we're gonna find our way home

2006-04-19T01:33:00.000-05:00

i've got so much to say, but never quite enough time, or so it seems to me, to get it all said. so i try to cut parts out and leave some behind and get to the point of everything, but its never quite enough. so i leave it behind and realize that not everyone is going to like you and not everyone will hate you either. it's a game of chances, first impressions and all. you can't ever know who will come into your life if the right stars align. it's not fate either. if a person you are meant to be with happened to pass you buy, and you never know it. i'm not sure if i believe in fate. i'm not sure that i believe that everything happens for a reason. are you sure that kids got cancer for a reason? are you sure that if a child dies, there will be a good reason.

it's just hard to understand it all sometimes. why some things happen to some people, and some things happen to others.

i've been lucky. there are many people worse off than me, and there are also people who are doing a lot better than me. but i can't complain.

i sat staring at the clock. it kept blinking on and on, continually passing time. i sat there upset and unsure, while just watching the minutes drip away. i couldn't tell why i was just sitting, worrying. "There's nothing wrong..." i kept telling myself, but i couldn't stop analyzing everything that had happened earlier in the day. i just wanted to start over, just find something to take my mind off of everything, but it wasn't working. so i called her.

"i was thinking about you. i don't really have anything to say, but...i was just sitting here and you crossed my mind."
"umm...are you okay? because you usually only call like this when something is wrong."
"yeah, i'm fine, i dunno, i need to stop overthinking everything."
"so stop thinking. okay? i love you. go to sleep. i'll see you in the morning."

i hung up the phone, and layed back onto my bed. the light of cars driving down the street cast shadows across the ceiling. my shirt was starting to bother me, so i climbed out of my loft, and pulled my shirt off from my back. the window was shut, so i pulled it open and let the air flow inside. a dog across the street barked loudly, and the sound of crickets filled the room. i climbed back up the ladder, and layed down on my back with my hands behind my head. i stopped thinking about how i fight so much with her, and started thinking about how she makes me smile when she does something silly, or how she runs her hands over my head until i get the shivers. i thought about the time when she met my family for the first time, and how they loved her. it made me so confident in myself and in us.

i remembered days at home, laying in bed and watching baseball on the old television in my room. i would just lay in my boxers and let the air from outside blow through the room. i would get up and put on a pair of old cut up shorts and mow the lawn, and then lay down on it, and listen to the game on the radio while murphy would run around the yard and eventually lie down next to me with his head on my chest. i would go inside and make a sandwich and lay down on the couch and nap the rest of the day away.

i was startled by the noise from below the bed. marissa was taking off her jeans and shirt and started climbing up the ladder. i rolled on my side towards the ladder and smiled. she saw that i was awake, and smiled at me. her eyes squinted and she looked so wonderful in the light of the moon. she climbed the rest of the way up and layed down next to me. i put one arm over her shoulder and the other on her head, running my fingers through her hair.

"why did you come over?"
"because i knew it'd make you stop worrying. so go to sleep."

she kissed me, and rolled back over and we both fell asleep. i love this girl

i found something today

2006-04-08T23:03:00.000-05:00

I found this on my computer today, and i never posted it. i wrote it while in a van to naples.

i saw the sun rise over georgia this morning, and i was never so happy to be anywhere then right there. i don't know half these people. i met them no more than 48 hours ago, and yet, i've come to love their presence.

it's not easy for me to just jump into situations which cause me to interact with a large number of people who i don't know, and i'm sharing a van with 14 other people who are completely new to me. many of them are friends from before, and at times i feel like an outsider to the group, but it doesn't matter, because i know that they accept me here.

and it's a little after one am, and it's been a long day. i've driven about seven or so hours in the past 24, and i'm exhausted. we are on the way down to naples florida to finish off building houses for habitat. on one level, i got into this because i needed service hours for Kappa Sigma, but the drive itself convinced me that there's more than just "service hours" at stake here. there are lives of needy families that are depending on us, and the things that we do are going to affect people.

i gave up on driving for now because i felt that if i kept trying, i would likely doze off and possibly crash. the last thing i need to do is be self centered and too proud to admit that i was too tired to drive.

what i want to do after college probably includes the peace corps, and traveling the world, and writing, and living my life to as far as it will take me. i want to see germany. i want to sit on a gondola in italy. i want to find the love of my life and let her share all of that with me.

i feel as though no matter how much i write or try, it won't make a difference in the real world. that if i tried to write a book, what chance would i really have of anyone outside my personal sphere paying money to read it. it just doesn't seem possible to me. it doesn't mean that i'm not going to, because i will, i just don't feel as though it's going to do a difference.

oh i do believe...

2006-03-27T23:14:00.000-06:00

the rain started falling slowly, just drip by drip as if from a leak somewhere above. it was the kind of rain that was only followed by a down pour. the air was stagnant and heavy, and i wanted to get out quickly. the news was reporting that a tornado touched down in the county just west, and it reminded me a lot of growing up as a child. i remember numerous times being shuffled down to the basement to hide in the back bedroom in case anything hit our house. my mom would worry and cry and worry some more, and we would just sit and wait. my father was always out at the fire station or out on a rescue call. once we heard the garage door open and close, we knew he'd come home and we were probably safe to come upstairs. i was never worried like she was, but there was still that ache deep down that told you that something could happen at any moment, and nothing was truly safe.

i went to my window and looked out. pitch black sky and the occasional rumble of thunder. my heart was racing a bit, and i grabbed my old worn unc hat and walked out the door. going down the stairs, i ran into the latino woman and her children coming inside. they greeted me in a language which i could neither recognize nor understand, but i smiled and nodded at her. i pushed open the glass door and stepped outside under the awning. the wind was warm, but still held a chill that made my arms shake and gave me gooseflesh. people were quickly running by, hoping to make it inside their building before the rain came harder. a thickly built man walked by slowly, as if he didn't even notice the weather around him. and then it happened.

lightning struck somewhere far off in the distance, but it gave off enough light to show the sky for what it was that no one could see. the thunderheads were towering and seemed to go on forever in all different shapes and masses. the entire sky held so much power and destruction but shrowded by darkness, no one was the wiser beyond the calm rain. i ran back upstairs, and put murphy on a leash and brought him outside so that he wouldn't need to leave the apartment during the storm. he just trotted along, but his ears were perked as if listening to a bell off in the distance. he went to the nearest tree and lifted his leg and did his business, sat down on the concrete, and looked up at me as if to say that something big was coming.

"you said it boy. come on, lets get back inside..."

he ran up the stairs, tripping over himself to get to the door that wouldn't be open until i climbed the way up. i opened the door, and he bounded in and onto the couch by the window. i walked across and sat on the sill and watched as the rain began to pound onto the street outside. i lifted my legs up onto the window sill completely and sat, breathing in the warm rain air, waiting for the chaos and the calm.

clouds bring the f stop blues

2006-03-18T23:30:00.000-06:00

i am nothing special. i am just an ordinary guy in a typical time in life, but recently i've faced a couple extraordinary events, and they've changed the way my life runs. i am not saying that they were good things or bad things, just changes. my life goes on and on, never stopping, only pausing briefly in passing glimpses or limping hits that cause me to fall and stumble. eventually, i stand again, and walk some more, until life pauses to let me see what is behind the scenes

till it pauses again...

other shoe

2006-03-14T03:34:00.000-06:00

there will be times in your life, when you want to give up. when you want to call it quits, say no more, and just let it all go. there will be hard moments followed by harder moments, followed by what you think are impossible feats that will require impossible strength. they are not impossible. in fact, nothing is impossible.

giving up is but saying that all efforts have been exhausted, that you are no longer able to pursue the endevor or push ahead. and sometimes, calling it quits is the only logical decision, but life is not about making logical decisions. it's about following your heart, getting your life destroyed, piecing it back together, and getting it destroyed again. and life is not unlike a china vase, that eventually you cannot glue the pieces back together, and even if you can, it never looks quite the same or how you wanted it to be.

but somehow, you continue to piece it together, step back and look at the life you rebuilt, and somehow, it's okay because you've managed to lose everything and come back with something. you keep walking, you take your knocks with a raised chin and clenched jaw, you smile at the good points, and you refuse to falter in the heavy moments. you learn not to take for granted the things you have in your life, and you learn not to regret any decision, because as you breathe, those decisions made you into who you are. it's not only your decisions, but the decisions of those around you and how you let them affect you. you are changed dramatically by the most minute things around you, and it creates something spectacular of a persona.

and you can't expect an apology for the way people feel. it's insensitive, callow, and unforgiving. you would never feel the compulsion to apologize for your devout honesty, and you cannot choose how you feel sometimes. all you can ask is that those around you tread with the same compassion that you have in your heart. never demand an explination for how someone feels, because they face enormous pressures and choices in their lives, the same as you. love is a dangerous thing that everyone wants and that everyone fears. you cannot expect love to be easy, or convenient, or even happy all the time. but love exists, because you can feel it deep down in your gut. it can cause you enormous pain, like an ulcer eating away at you from inside out, or it can lift you up and make you feel alive, like butterflies in your stomach right before your first kiss. one moment can change a life, and i can promise you this, that eventually, your life will come down to a single moment, and in that moment, everything you know will shift and change, and you can only pray that you don't fall.

it's like the man who asked how to carve an elephant out of a slab of granite. you just chip away all the parts that don't look like an elephant. and thats all life is. you chip away, you lose, you shape, you smooth out, and eventually you reach the point where you'll know changing it would ruin it. where even one more brush stroke would blank the canvas. when that point is reached, it's tangible. there's no question, it's more physically existent than anyone or anything in this world.

be happy, and let that be enough.

one goes out, one goes in

2006-03-13T22:03:00.000-06:00

the clouds were slowly shifting across the blue sky, and the board underneath me was slowly rising and falling with the wake of the water. i could feel the sun beginning to darken my skin, leaving me sore and hot. the cool tropical air was blowing, kicking up the waves enough that i might catch a wave if i waited long enough. patience was never my strong suit, and i rolled onto my back and watched the sky. it was nice to know i was in this paradise, but i wasn't as happy as i thought i would be. i could hear daniel paddling up behind me, and i gave him a slow wave hello. "What's up daniel?"
"Nothin Am, just waiting for the waves to come. You alright man?"
"I suppose, I dunno, just thinking about stuff."
"I know what you're thinkin about, and she's not worth it man."
"Yeah, easier to say than believe. Everything in me knows she's not right, but there's...there's something about her man."
"Well I hope she's worth your pain, cause it's pretty clear that you're in it." i knew he was right, but i couldn't explain why i kept dealing with it. it was like i wasn't in control. all i could do was try to control the other stuff in my life, and trying to be happy with her. not that it was working out so well, but i hoped that eventually it would. the water began to rise and fall faster, and i got a feeling deep down in my stomach, like something was coming that i couldn't put my hands on. i rolled over and got on my chest and began to paddle out deeper. the wind was starting to blow harder now, and i spotted my chance to catch a wave. i reached my spot and turned around and began to paddle hard back as the water rose quickly under my half flooded board. i jumped up to my feet, and shifted my weight to keep my balance under me. the water was cresting behind me, and i started ripping my board left on the wave, watching the foam grow and rise. it started to crest higher, and the curl formed above my head. i lowered myself and rode underneath, and that was the moment i felt something in me change. it was like i was out of my body, just watching it happen. the pipe was raining on me, and i felt free almost. like i wasn't worrying about crashing, and i wasn't worrying about what was waiting for me on the shore, or the problems in my life. it was just me, my board, and the wave that surrounded me. that was the entire world, and there was nothing holding me down. i wasn't in control of the wave, but i felt like i was a part of it. i rode the surf till it died down and i jumped off my board and dove into the water. my hands split the water, and i swam up to the surface. the sun felt warmer, the water brighter, the sky clearer. everything felt better, and i couldn't put my finger on it, but i didn't care. what will be, will be, and you can't expect for more than that.

this is how a heart breaks

2006-02-28T12:09:00.000-06:00

“So we found out my husband has cancer,” she said in passing, dropping off orange buckets.
“I’m so sorry.” My face drooped. I could feel it get longer for the sorrow I know she was feeling
“I try to pretend like it’s not real while I’m at work, and when I’m at home...” she trails off. I want to hug her. I want to tell her that it’ll be okay, that they are doing amazing things with cancer research. I want to help her somehow, but I can’t.
“We’re going to take him to Cancer Treatment Center of America in Illinois,” she says, smiling. She is trying hard to be strong, but it is an act of bravado that even I can see through, “My son is coming home on Monday.”
“That’ll be good.” I can actually see the tears well up in her eyes, but somehow she holds them back. She pushes her thin silver hair back off of her face and makes herself busy with menial tasks in the general area. I sit back on the stool, unsure of what to do. I can hardly think of anything when she walks slowly back to where I’m sitting and begins speaking again.
“The doctor said it’s inoperable, and that he’s got six months. And that doctor didn’t tell him. He only told me, he left me to tell my kids and him. So,” she starts to speak slower at this point with a slightly higher pitch in her voice, “I had to call my son and daughter and tell them that their father is dying, and then I had to tell him. I hate that doctor.” She looks at her shoes and starts to kick at the dirt and dust that has accumulated on the floor since it had been swept last.
“Do you want a hug?” I ask quietly.
“No…no, I don’t want to start crying again. Thanks though.”
“Okay…Just keep the faith, and I’ll keep you in my prayers,” I tell her while looking at something to my left. I couldn’t help but look away for fear that I might start to lose my composure. These words seem to raise her chin a bit.
“Thanks…” and she picked up a box and began to walk off to another part of the store. There was so much more I wanted to say, wanted to do, but I could do nothing but sit there and watch her walk away, with the weight of it all on her shoulders. I closed my eyes tightly and spoke to her, as if she was standing before me.
“Do not be sad,” I whispered, “You are not alone, you are not the only person going through this pain. Find solace in the fact that others have been where you are now…” I realize the triteness of my words, because no solace is derived from such thoughts, knowing that others have been in this pain. No solace is ever going to be readily available, that she has to go through this all knowing there will likely be no happy outcome. I stood up, brushed the dirt off of my shirt, sipped at my water, and ran my hands through my short hair. Life continues on...

falling asleep to the sound of sirens

2006-02-14T14:11:00.000-06:00

Amory rolled off of the bed and strode towards the kitchen. Whenever he got bored, or upset, or just almost anytime he wasn't doing anything else, he found himself eating. I was a bad habit that he had picked up from his family, and was careful to change it. It was still present in his life, but he was not an over-eater like the men in his family.

He found a banana on the counter in the fruit basket. He'd been avoiding eating it because it was browning and he was a picky eater; however, he had decided to save money by using and eating everything rather than throwing away food he didn't necessarily want to eat. Peeling it, he walked to the living room and layed down on the couch and slowly ate away. The sweet smell and taste of the fruit made him tired again, and he relaxed his mind. Early summer had sprung to life, and the warmth in march gave way to opened collars and rolled down windows. the television softly announced an old baseball game between the dodgers and the braves. Amory always believed that afternoons like this were made for napping on the couch. his childhood was filled with sunday afternoons sleeping on his fathers chest while the baseball game played in the background. amory slowly closed his eyes and went back to that day when he met Imogen

"so you're a singer?" he asked her coyly, watching her behind his sunglasses, waiting to see how much she liked to talk about herself.
"you could say that," she paused, and this gave amory hope, "i've been singing since i was six, and normally i'd be in voice lessons today but..."
"sounds...thrilling," he yawned at her, "lets go get lunch."
"...alright." she couldn't think of anything else to say, she felt insulted that he didn't care about the one thing she was passionate about, even though he asked. he walked toward the car across the street and she slowly stood up and ran her hands through her hair. she wanted to tell him she was upset with him, but there was something about him that she couldn't quite figure out. she stood up and slowly followed him towards the red convertible parked slanted over two spots. "why do you park like that? the lot is crowded, and you're making it tough on everyone."
"what do i care about everyone else? look, i've stopped caring that people need a spot. i don't need some old guy pulling next to me and banging his door on my car and messing up the paint," he replied as he hopped over the door. all she could think was how he was an asshole, but she had nothing better to do for the day, so she decided against walking away. she got in and sat down uncomfortably, and he started the engine and slowly pulled away into traffic. "sorry about before," he shouted over the sound of the wind, "i get in these sort of funks sometimes. it's just been one of those days."
"it's okay," Imogen said quietly. he didn't hear her, and it didn't matter much because he figured that since she had gotten in the car with him, she wasn't that offended. she stared off at the trees in the distance as the car rolled swiftly down the two lane highway. her hair was blowing high in the wind, and she pulled it into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. "so where are we going?" she asked him loudly.
"a little joint down on 64th and third, you'll see," he smiled at her. the drive lasted for no more than 20 minutes or so, and they both got out and he walked up towards the door and a man no more than 40 came through the brass laden door.
"Amory!" he smiled at him.
"Father Davis, how are you? I haven't seen you since Michael passed," amory looked happy yet pained.
"Life continues, and I am blessed by the grace of God. How is your father?"
"he's better. we all miss Mike, but we go and visit him once a month. i go sit by his stone when i get lonely, but God is with me."
"That's right Amory. He's always there. I see you out there some days, but I didn't want to..."
"it's okay, i understand. i'd actually like to invite you to dinner with my father and i sometime this week. i think it would do him some good," amory smiled.
"I'll call the house...and who is...?" he asked, nodding at Imogen.
"oh, i'm sorry, Imogen, this is father davis. father davis this is a new friend of mine, Imogen."
"Well that is a unique name, gaelic for maiden. I'm sorry to cut this short, but I must run. It was wonderful to see you," the priest slowly backed away.
"it was, i will see you soon father." amory smiled and shook his hand.

a dog barked behind him, and Amory shook his head and sat up. Imogen was sitting on the porch behind the house with murphy, their golden retriever, on the covered swing. she was throwing an old tennis ball that was worn and frayed for murphy to run and return. her hair shimmered in the golden sunlight, and it looked like amber flowing. he just sat there, watching her move back and forth, letting her legs move to and fro. she was gorgeous, and amory couldn't help but get up and walk outside to sit next to her.

the world could be burning...

2006-02-01T22:59:00.000-06:00

"I'm going to make you punch yourself in the face." he laughed at her, as he nudged her elbow upward
"Amory, don't be such a dork. I have to work on this stuff, just chill, please?"
"Okay, whatever, I'm sorry." he just sat there, picking at his thumbnail and biting the skin on his lower lip. he always did that when she brought him down, and it was never intentional. Rolling onto his back, he put his hands behind his head and watched the ceiling fan spin swiftly around. He let his eyes match the rotation of the blades, and before he knew it, he was in a trance, just there, but mentally somewhere else. His mind had wandered to how they had met, and how it was just such a weird coincidence that they even had the chance to be with one another.

Amory was a hard working guy who wanted nothing more than he really ever needed in life. It usually suited him well that way, because he could rarely afford anything more than the bare necessities. Imogen was the same way, in personality, but life was more available for her. She could have had the best of anything that she ever wanted, and she never really asked for more than she needed. It was the bonding point that he had with her that drew him to her. She was original, beautiful, sweet, and kind, and he wondered sometimes what had drawn her to him. He didn't feel like he had anything to really offer her that she couldn't find anywhere else, but he figured that since she was happy with him, that he wasn't about to question it. The day they met was chaotic, but it should have come as no surprise to either of them, because that's usually how their lives were regardless. It would be a foreshadowing to what their relationship would be.

Imogen, or Gen as people called her, was a singer, and was practicing with the campus choir. It wasn't her first choice, after all, because she craved attention and loved the spotlight. However, it would have made due since her voice teacher was sick and wasn't attending to his normal schedule. Making the most of it, she constantly sang a completely different octave than the rest of the group just to garnish the attention of the passing students. It wasn't that she was cocky or conceited, but it often came off that way to people who didn't know her.

Amory gave tours to prospective students on campus with their parents. He would walk them from building to building, pointing out historical sights, or interjecting facts that the admissions office had prepped him to do as to wow the parents, and subsequently bore the students. To be completely honest, Amory couldn't have hated his job any worse than he did. It payed him more than the average campus worker because it often required him to work most days out of the week, and severely cut into his personal time. On the day they had met, he had been suckered into working for some slack-ass upper classman who didn't want to work on a saturday afternoon in the fall. Pissed and frustrated, he grabbed his brown leather jacket, and tossed it on, stopping only to look in the mirror to make sure his hair wasn't a mess and that his tie was straight. The dress code was another huge downside to the job, as he had to dress like an ivy league college kid, with a blazer and all. It was bullshit because the job was so relaxed.

On this particular day, while giving a tour of the autotorium, he passed the open door and stopped, sweeping his hand through the air, averting the attention inside where the group was working on a piece that would be heard at the opening convocation for the school. The parents slowly walked through the door, followed closely by their sons and daughters, and lastly by Amory. He walked them down towards the stage, where the choir director would "surprisingly" stop, and turn to talk to him in a conversation that was set up before hand. The parents were all somewhat impressed with the candor with which they both spoke to each other. The parent of one young looking red-headed girl seemed enthused about the program, and began to ask questions loudly over the top of the conversation. Amory slowly paused and let the loud woman speak, and as he did, he caught the glancing eye of Imogen. She shifted her gaze elsewhere, but soon found herself looking back at him.

Amory blushed, jerking his head towards the exit and raising one eyebrow. She looked confused at first, but slowly gave a coy smile, and stepped off the risers. Touching the director on the shoulder, she quietly spoke, "I've got to go make a phone call." She stepped off the stage, making her way through the door with which the pack had entered through. The director made a few closing remarks, and Amory made nice, and waved goodbye. They filed out of the room, and Amory's stomach was in his throat. He led them outside where the next guide would take them to the housing buildings. He put on his sunglasses and loosened his tie, slowly searching the area for that beautiful face.
"Looking for someone?" A voice behind him asked. Turning in place, he saw her sitting, cross legged on the cement flowerbed.

"Amory! Wake up!" He blinked, and he was back in the bedroom, watching the ceiling fan spin. "What were you thinking about Am?"
"Nothin, just stuff..."

say goodnight, not goodbye, you will never leave my heart behind...

2006-01-15T19:31:00.000-06:00

i got into the house, running into every possible obstruction between me and the keys which were within our bedroom. as i turned the corner, my shoulder caught the post of the staircase and jammed a section of dark wood between my shoulder and chest, causing a thick red stream of blood to slip down my chest. the contrast of deep red blood against my skin made me light headed as the pain shot through every inch of my body. i wanted to keep running, but my legs gave out underneath me, shooting me forward onto the floor. i rolled to my back and looked closely at the splintered wood now protruding from my shoulder. the blood was rising slowly out around it, and i suddenly didn't care about the pain anymore. i had to reach her, no matter what, no matter the problem, i would get to her. i took the bottom portion of my shirt, rolled it up and shoved it between my teeth. what i was about to do was going to hurt me more than i ever figured, but it was the only way i could stop the bleeding. i bit down as hard as i could, wrapping my sweat covered fingers around the shard, and pulled hard. the tears began to build in the corners of my eyes and the pain in my jaw from clenching so hard was only second to the pain that was now multiplying through my arm and chest. the piece came free and i threw it against the floor, half covered in my crimson blood. i made my way to my feet and spit my shirt out, making sure to remove my shirt carefully. the wall held my now aching body up with my free arm holding the molding so i would not slip down to the floor again. the bedroom was no more than eight feet away from me, but it seemed like miles. the pain filled me and kept me from doing what i needed to do, and i shut my eyes tight, and began walking forward, as if wearing weighted clothing. i was guided by the wall right to the room, and i opened my eyes through the excruciating torture i was going through. i grabbed an undershirt out of the dresser, and pressed it hard against my now gaping wound, and tied it against me with my blood soaked shirt. the sunlight that had filled the room earlier in the morning was now gone and replaced by darkness and the sounds of thunder. i grabbed the bottle of water jessica always kept by her side of the bed, and i poured it over my head, into my mouth, and finally onto the makeshift bandage. now dripping with lukewarm water and the dryness in my mouth gone, i reached for the keys and clipped them to my beltloop. i grabbed another large shirt out of the dresser, and made a sling to hold my arm up and so i wouldn't move it. i made my way back out to the hallway, starting to feel the blood return to my head. i wasn't lightheaded anymore, and i started to realize that it had taken me around twenty minutes to simply get my keys and head toward the garage.

and in a split second, the house was filled with noise. it sounded as though the sky was falling upon our roof and there was not enough silence for me to even think. the rain was falling at a torrential rate, and hail bounced against the gutters, adding more noise to the fray. i turned the door handle and opened the door, spilling the water that had collected on the front porch, and waded out into the storm. the water ran in tributaries down my face, pushing my hair down, matted onto my forehead and ears. the smell of the rain was unlike anything you'd ever smell. it wasn't like the normal smell of rain, but it was as if the ocean itself was falling upon me, and through me. it was as if the rain was pushing through me, flowing through my body, becoming part of me. the blood from my shoulder was running down my torso and flowing down my leg. i sprinted towards my car at the end of the driveway, being careful not to slip and lose my balance and worsen the situation that was already destroying me both physically and mentally. i got to my car and as i reached the door, i felt a flood of light wash over me. i turned to look down the road, my left eye closing slightly to the bright halogen light, and the car stopped. it wasn't possible, what i saw next, and it caused me to drop to my knees. out of the car, jessica began to run to me, hitting the ground. i couldn't believe what i was seeing, and it was as if i was seeing a ghost. i wanted to believe it was her more than i'd ever wanted anything, but something deep down inside felt like i had already lost her. i looked at her with tears streaming into the rain, wanting to scream because i still didn't believe it was her. "amory, am, it's okay. i'm okay. i got out of the car before it went up in flames. someone pulled up to see if i was okay, and, amory, i had them bring me here." she cried hard and she seemed to be grazed and hurt, but she was here. she wrapped her arm around me, feeling my shoulder and seeing the blood, she tried to pull me to my feet. i stood up so that she wouldn't cause more pain to me that i was already in, and i pulled her against me. i didn't care about the pain, or the blood or the water, i just wanted to be against her, for the rest of my life

and i held her hard, as if she was being ripped from my arms, as if my life depended on it. for that time when i thought i had lost her, i was ready to go through hell and back just to see her again, and she came back to me. we walked to the porch and sat down in the rain. i told her everything i had inside me, every word and thought was now coming forth from my lips, like this was it for us. i didn't want to hold anything back from her, and she pulled herself tighter against me. her put her hand on the back of my head and put her head on my shoulder, digging her fingers into my scalp.

"i thought i lost you jess...i thought...god i thought it was over..."
"i came back because i knew you'd try to reach me. i knew you wouldn't reason and wait it out, so i had to make it back to you." and her eyes looked amazing through the falling drops of rain and hail. her brown eyes sparkled and warmed me inside, and it made me believe that we all have a purpose and a place. and hers is with me, and not even this would take her from me...

oh, i'll look after you

2006-01-13T22:07:00.000-06:00

it was a beautiful fall afternoon in naples, and the sun was high in the sky. i walked out onto my back porch and let the screen door slam behind me, and as soon as it shut, murphy came bounding outside. i sat down on the wooden chair and rested my beer on the armrest and layed my hand on murphy's head. he wagged his tail joyfully and stared out towards the water. his eyes rolled from side to side, watching the birds soaring above overhead. i sipped my golden cervecas and rested my hand behind my head. the warm slats felt wonderful on my bare back, and i looked up at jessica walking up from the beach. her dark cherry hair swept from side to side, and murphy ran off and met her half way up towards the house. she was beautiful, and i'd somehow ended up with her. we'd met completely by chance, and the moment i had the chance to get to know her, i took it.

she walked up to me, leaned down, kissed me on the neck as she snaked her arm around me and took a hold of my beer. i laughed at her and ran my hand across her stomach as she walked inside. the waves were crashing pretty hard up into the shore. our neighbors were out for a walk, and waved at me as they passed. they walked with their son between them, and swung him up into the air as he giggled and kicked his legs. the blonde little boy was tan and happy in the august sun. i felt my chest begin to burn and i got up and went inside to put on a thin hawaiian shirt. inside the bedroom, jess was laying on the bed with the breeze blowing into the room, cooling the beads of sweat on her skin. i walked up to her and picked her up off the bed, spinning her around the room. she screamed and laughed, pulling hard on my neck to keep herself from falling. "amory! stop! please, put me down!" she shrieked.
"aww...okay..." i cooed, and layed her back onto the pristine white sheets. i sat down and rubbed her leg, "so what do we have going on today?"
"well," she started as she sat up and massaged my shoulders and kissed the back of my neck, "i was thinking of going out and fixing your dad's old pocket watch that he left you. it's been sitting in that drawer for the past two years, and i figured i'd get it fixed for you." she put her chin on my shoulder and i looked over at her and she pretended to look away from me. i quickly kissed her ear and turned around and grabbed her by the waist and pinned her to the bed.
"God i love you." i kissed her hard and laughed as she tried to push me away. i got off and walked outside and she yelled that she loved me and that she'd be back. i walked back outside and the breeze began to kick up. i walked up to the rail and rested my arms on the soft, rain worn wood. suddenly i got this urge to get up and stand on the rail and put my arms out, so i did it. i unbuttoned my shirt and got up on the rail, letting the breeze press against me. i closed my eyes, and let the world spin around me, and i felt like i could lean forward and almost float midair as the wind pushed me backwards. i opened my eyes and looked out over the water and saw surfers cresting the waves. my shirt whipped around me and the air flowed against my burned skin. the sky far out was suddenly becoming filled with dark grey clouds. i brushed off the odd feeling i had in the pit of my stomach and sat down to watch murphy run through the sand. the golden lab barked as the birds swooped low over his head. i slipped down and let my toes dig into the loose sand. i ran out quickly into the water and dove in until my chest grazed the bottom. i shot to the surface and started swimming out towards the break. when i noticed the clouds quickly shifting towards the land, the ominous feeling grew, and i started swimming swiftly towards land. i got up on the shore and shook the water out of my hair. as i approached the deck, i heard my cell vibrating against the arm of the chair. it was my sister in law, asking to talk to jess. i told her that she had gone out and would be back later on in the evening, and her sister began to cry. i asked her what was wrong, and the only thing i heard before the phone hit the ground was "they just flashed a picture on the news of a fiery crash on 896, and it was..."

i need this old train to break down

2006-01-10T21:28:00.000-06:00

the apartment was dead quiet at 2:30 in the morning, as i walked toward the bedroom. i'd been having trouble sleeping and all i could do is sit on my couch and watch old movies on cable. i always dug black and white films from the era when men were gentlemen and there was still a sense of chivalry. all these movies made me want to go back in time and live in that era. these days, we have to be protected from ourselves, and many times, we're forced into acting a certain way or saying certain things. it was a social pressure that was evident back then, but it wasn't held in such a regard that it is today.

so i found myself wandering around my three room apartment at all hours of the night with no idea how to keep myself from thinking about everything. i would lay my head on my pillow, and close my eyes, and do what i did every day since i was young. i would find a reason to smile. it didn't ever really matter what it was, just as long as it was in my life, and it made me smile something wonderful, and i would wrap my arms around my pillow and drift off to sleep. when i got older, i always smiled as i fell asleep because she was there next to me. when the smell of her shampoo was the last smell i had before i fell asleep, it put a wonderful warmth in me and it made me smile like a kid on christmas. she would hold my hand up under her head and pull me close and we would sleep deeply and long. we would sleep in late and i would wake up to the sound of rain on a monday in seattle, and i would get up and make her pancakes and orange juice, and we would lay in bed eating and talking and laughing. the fact was that she became the only thing i had to think of to smile at night. even on the nights that she wasn't there, her smell would linger on the pillow next to mine, and it was still enough to make me laugh, and sleep easily.

and the truth is, i didn't know what to do with myself now that she wasn't sleeping there next to me. i'd had her in my life for so long that now that she was gone, i couldn't think of a good reason to smile. i wanted to, and i would constantly lay down and smell that old blue pillow, hoping that i could still pick up a scent of that old fruit shampoo that she used, but it was gone. so i kept walking around, from window to window, looking out to the street, watching an occasional car pass by my building, and the building across from mine had a television on in one of the rooms, and the glow lit the room enough to see the man and woman laying on the couch watching those old movies that i loved so much. so i'd pull the blinds down and move into another room and look up at the sky. the stars were clear and the moon was soft and ever present, without a single cloud in the sky. the park below was empty, except for two people. i thought it strange that there would be people in the park in the dead of night, so i stood and watched with a hand running through my short brown hair. it was a young man and woman sitting on a flower bed, and she was swinging her legs to and frow and he was tapping his foot against hers as she brought it back. they seemed to just be talking, and she layed her head on his shoulder, and he turned his head and kissed her on the forehead and put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. he put his head against hers and let it rest there.

i smiled a little bit. i remembered when i was young, my best friend told me that the way to a womans heart was not through expensive gifts, or through grand gestures, but simply a kiss on the forehead. i didn't understand at the time, but he was the person that i always turned to for advice, and he had never steered me wrong. "Am, listen," he told to me as he took a drag on his pfunk, "it makes 'em feel safe. it's like this, when a kid is sick, and their parent comes in to comfort 'em, where do they kiss 'em? yeah, forehead. it makes 'em feel like you're gonna be there through everything. dude, it says everything to her. you want to win her over? you don't gotta use words, just hug her and kiss her on the forehead." so when i saw that kid down there kiss his girl on the forehead, i thought of growing up. i thought of all the pain and loss that comes along with relationships and love, and how those two are gonna fight someday and have trouble. but i smiled because i knew that somehow, they'd make it through.

so i went into my room, turned out the light, and layed in bed. i stared up at the ceiling fan spinning gently around above me, and i thought about how life always seems to make you realize that you can't hold onto something because you're afraid of losing it, but you gotta let it go because something better could be around the corner. i thought of the kiss on the forehead, i smiled, and gently closed my eyes and i drifted off into a peaceful sleep that i hadn't gotten in weeks.

please close your eyes and see the stars

2006-01-09T23:22:00.000-06:00

the cars on the expressway were slowing to a stop as rush hour began, so it occured to me that i'd drive myself insane if i stayed on. i skipped two lanes of traffic and seemingly skid onto the road, which was beginning to fill up as well. i turned up the music and rolled down my window so that the wind could hit my face. his voice over the stereo meshed with the guitar, and the harmonic sounds relaxed my mind and gave me a sense of patience. there was no longer any urgency to my drive, and i could just sit back and enjoy the ride.

i reached the boulevard that i'd ridden on since i was a little boy. my dad would ask me if i wanted to go out for a drive while i was sitting in my pajamas at the breakfest table. i'd smile and shout "YES!" as milk would dribble out of my mouth. saturday drives were always the time when i could just sit and have a different kind of fun. it wasn't like kid fun, like watching cartoons or playing cops and robbers, but more like learning what it was to be a happy person. we would start out talking about what i was learning in school, and what i did that week, and he would have me tell him stories about things i did with my friends. when we finally reached oak boulevard, we were on to his singing to the oldies, making funny voices and zooming over the crests of the hills. we would end up going to taco bell and getting cheap food, and then going somewhere different every saturday. it would be either a baseball game, rock climbing, roller skating, or bike riding around town.

this was all going through my head as i was hitting the crest of the first hill, and the feeling of my stomach rising and falling brought me back to where i was. i put my seat back a little further, set my head against the rest, and put my arm out the window. the clouds were starting to break and the sun was filling my car with a warm glow. the random lint and dust flowed visibly out of my window and i became sad thinking about growing up and of the days when we stopped taking those drives. our lives were now filled with other things, and we grew apart.

but when i drove on that street, i pictured the day when i'd have a fair haired tot smiling in the passenger seat.

hope for the best, expect the worst, meet in the middle

2006-01-05T02:16:00.000-06:00

This was originally posted on July Seventh of 2005, and I as well as a few others think that this is one of my best posts. I wrote this after a road trip into illiois and then sitting in a hot tub. i was really late/really early, and i felt compelled to write this.

Originally titled: My Goodbye Note To Her

there are some people in this world that you can't explain, good or bad. it's just a trait about them that holds you to them tighter than anything you've ever experienced, but pushes you away because you know that all they will ever cause you is pain and strife because of the happiness they bring you. and all you can do is watch and hope that things change and that some awkward twist of fate allows you to come into contact with what it is that they truely are, because you somehow need them. they make you feel wonderful because they know you as you want to be known, but they also make you feel deep and terrible sorrow for the inability to have them. to say to yourself that they are yours, less than ownership, but more than just a simple stake or claim or comment. that they are yours because you're somehow linked to this person with every fiber of your very being. they are as much a part of you as your limbs, or your soul. but they, for some reason unbeknownst to you, are not yours, but just someone who you made aquaintance with and it blossomed into an amazing friendship which blocks your way to anything more. you are ready to give to them and ready to take from them what seems to piece your heart together, like a child with a puzzle with a missing piece on the floor, and the joy you feel when you realize how close this is to your hold.

everyone has one person like that. that the world seems to stop for when you see them and you believe in them for everything they hope and desire. when nothing you've ever wanted or needed was more than that person. and you ache for them to hold you, and comfort you, and be yours. and when you finally realize that they aren't, it breaks your heart. not completely like an unrequieted love ever does, but in the sense, that no love that you would share with anyone else would be as great or powerful as that which you were ready and willing to share with that single person.

and this is for those who have been in this place.

if i'm getting through to you, you're not letting it show

2006-01-03T23:12:00.000-06:00

he stared through his thick black glasses out the window. the pencil pinched between his thumb and middle finger was swinging back and forth, tapping into his index and pinkey. i noticed him playing with his lip ring with his tongue, pressing it back and forth from one side of his lower lip to the other, letting the ball press into the skin until it flushed pink, and then he flicked it up and to the other side. derek never was one to focus on one thing too long, and he was the kind of kid that you wouldn't expect to see in a campus library. carissa sat across from him, flitting from one page of her anatomy book to the next, rapidly attempting to absorb any last fact before what she played out in her mind as the end all be all college final. she was gorgeous, not in the sense that you'd say a model is gorgeous, but something in her face screamed that she wasn't like any other girl you'd ever come across would hit you like her eyes did. her eyes sparkled brightly, and shimmered like champagne in evening sunlight, and the color was the same. her green eyes had flecks of gold that held your attention for as long as she wasn't looking at you. and when she did, you couldn't keep looking. it was like being stabbed in the heart with this terrible ache that you wanted to feel every second of your life, but it would make your heart burst. her freckles covered her somewhat pale cheeks and nose, and she had dimples that made you want to smile. her hair sat comfortably on her shoulders, gently curling around toward her neck. daniel sat across from me, running his highlighter over a line in his book, and speaking it to himself under his breath. his lips moved quickly, and you could hardly catch any of the words that he might have been reciting, that is if he had put voice through his throat. he was someone that i'd never been much of a fan of, but the final was less than 24 hours away, and he had offered me a chance to sit in on his study group. these three people were apparently the smartest minds at the university, but just by looks, you would never know. derek was a religion and philosophy genius, and had swept through basically every class on existential thought that was ever offered. carissa was an english and business brainchild with the body of a lakers cheerleader. she knew more about marketing, advertising, journalism, and literature than anyone could ever hope to learn in a lifetime. daniel was OCD with a photographic memory, and could recite chemical compositions and algebraic theorems in his sleep. i laughed when i first saw him using his highlighter on his book, because we all knew that he didn't need it. highlighters are for people that need to reread something. apparently, or so carissa told me, he wanted to make the book easier for the next poor schlub who might end up with it. figure that, daniel being benevolent, and i had him pinned for an uptight jerk.

why they wanted me, however, i couldn't help but wonder. i'd been getting through anatomy pretty easily, and i suppose derek and carissa were not. we sat and discussed and we worked through a good section of what would be eventually seen again on dr. kuhlan's final. it was getting late, and i put my books back into my bag. i started to walk up the white marble stairs as i felt a tug at the canvas of my messenger bag. i turned around to see carissa looking backwards playing with her auburn hair. i waited there, looking at her, and hoping she'd turn around and look me square in the eye. i knew that if she did, it would probably make me fall over flat, but i didn't care. she spun around with her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side and asked why i was standing there. "you're a joker, you know that? you're lucky you're cute." and then she did something that had always made me swoon. she bit the left side of her lower lip, raised just the inside part of her eyebrows, and looked at me with a lowered head. i grinned and stepped down to her, and she followed me with her gaze as i put my arm around her waist and walked up the stairs with one hand on her hip. we didn't say anything more, because nothing more needed to be said. she would occasionally turn and look at me, and blow into my ear till i brushed it with my hand, and then tapped her lightly on the top of her head.

we walked to my dorm building and she sat down on the park bench outside under the golden light of the street lamp. i sighed and sat down next to her. she looked up at the sky and said "amory, do you...do you ever think someone could ever...well that is could dreams really ever come true? like exactly how you see it in your head?"
"i dunno...mine do sometimes. de ja vu i guess..." as i slid against her to break her concentration.
"Amory! this is important! don't you have any sense for this at all?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about sah. explain. what do you..." and she kissed me. she broke my words right in half, like glass against the side of a table and i couldn't even remember anything i'd ever known in my entire life.
"You're so hopeless Am. go to bed. sweet dreams" and i sat there, amazed and amused, because i'd never dreamt that i'd get to do what i just did. so she got up, took off my torn UNC hat and rubbed my hair till it was sticking in ever possible direction. she walked off, and i got up, and layed down on the concrete so i could stare at the stars.
"yeah...dreams can come true..."