To you:
I need you to know-
I'm praying for you
I want to make it go away
I didn't mean to use the past tense in my letter
I want to drive home, wrap you in my arms, and tell you it will be ok
You are strong and amazing. You are one of the best men I've ever known. I don't know what is going to happen, but I am sure that you will handle it with a manner of grace and maturity that will surpass those around you. I believe in you.
Sunday, May 27
Thursday, May 24
Calm in the Waves
There was a girl that lived next to the sea. She would watch the world float by her little life, considering the occasional waves that were able to change her perception of time. She would sit, watching the passing boats. With a raised hand, she steadied the horizon that lay before her. ‘All that I look past and all that I can see can be steadied by the width of my hand’. The little girl grew up to be a woman. As a woman she no longer lived by the sea, her horizon was filled with skyscrapers and speeding cars. She would gaze out the window, steady her hand and make the city still. She wanted to believe that there could be no effect that was bigger than the cause. With small decisions and smaller steps there could never be a leap.
She loved a man once. His ways were cold and calculating. She accepted his conclusions to a fault. Her love for him was like a breeze. She felt the effects on her body, the cold caress on her cheek, but it had no beginning and no end. Her love for him had always been but it was a passing breeze. It had a way that moved through her in search of its final destination. She was not the end to his means.
‘Each day is a blessing’. And she raised her hand again. Steady and calm but there was no ocean to be seen. She closed her eyes to a river that crashed through her. The water pulled her to a final destination and he became a rock, strong and solid but simply a minor block to her ultimate end. She would gaze at him and see something that was nothing. ‘You are almost enough’.
There was a woman that moved to the sea. She would gaze at the world that no longer floated by her. She had become an actor in her own play, a master of the river inside. Through the rushing and the failing, she felt no need to steady her hand. ‘There is calm in the waves’.
There was a girl that lived next to the sea. She would watch the world float by her little life, considering the occasional waves that were able to change her perception of time. She would sit, watching the passing boats. With a raised hand, she steadied the horizon that lay before her. ‘All that I look past and all that I can see can be steadied by the width of my hand’. The little girl grew up to be a woman. As a woman she no longer lived by the sea, her horizon was filled with skyscrapers and speeding cars. She would gaze out the window, steady her hand and make the city still. She wanted to believe that there could be no effect that was bigger than the cause. With small decisions and smaller steps there could never be a leap.
She loved a man once. His ways were cold and calculating. She accepted his conclusions to a fault. Her love for him was like a breeze. She felt the effects on her body, the cold caress on her cheek, but it had no beginning and no end. Her love for him had always been but it was a passing breeze. It had a way that moved through her in search of its final destination. She was not the end to his means.
‘Each day is a blessing’. And she raised her hand again. Steady and calm but there was no ocean to be seen. She closed her eyes to a river that crashed through her. The water pulled her to a final destination and he became a rock, strong and solid but simply a minor block to her ultimate end. She would gaze at him and see something that was nothing. ‘You are almost enough’.
There was a woman that moved to the sea. She would gaze at the world that no longer floated by her. She had become an actor in her own play, a master of the river inside. Through the rushing and the failing, she felt no need to steady her hand. ‘There is calm in the waves’.
Sunday, May 6
Until Lately...
Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus
They flee from me that sometime did me seek,
With naked foot stalking within my chamber:
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild, and do not once remember
That sometime they have put themselves in danger
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking in continual change.
Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once especial--
In thin array: after a pleasant guise,
When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small,
And therewithal so sweetly did me kiss,
And softly said, 'Dear heart, how like you this?'
It was no dream; for I lay broad awaking:
But all is turn'd now, through my gentleness,
Into a bitter fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness;
And she also to use new-fangleness.
But since that I unkindly so am served,
'How like you this?' — what hath she now deserved?
--Thomas Wyatt
Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus
They flee from me that sometime did me seek,
With naked foot stalking within my chamber:
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild, and do not once remember
That sometime they have put themselves in danger
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking in continual change.
Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once especial--
In thin array: after a pleasant guise,
When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small,
And therewithal so sweetly did me kiss,
And softly said, 'Dear heart, how like you this?'
It was no dream; for I lay broad awaking:
But all is turn'd now, through my gentleness,
Into a bitter fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness;
And she also to use new-fangleness.
But since that I unkindly so am served,
'How like you this?' — what hath she now deserved?
--Thomas Wyatt
Thursday, May 3
A Man who Stands for Himself
I don’t believe in labels, people rarely adhere to them.
I spoke recently to an old friend. I told him quietly, firmly that I was no longer a Christian and that I could not identify myself with this label any longer. He seemed perplexed by my words. His head tilted to the side as he said, “You were, but now you’re not?” I knew that this would be a difficult conversation to navigate. The label of Christianity is a salve for many. The word that slides off men’s tongue is familiar and tells others that he can be trusted, that he is part of their select society. I refuse to offer comfort with this term. It might seem as though I am disgusted with Christianity, but I am not. I don’t believe in basing one’s identity on labels. Men who have told me they live by other great moral standards have still failed. They say they do not lie and then spout venom with their tongue. They say they do not break promises and then leave the ones who love them standing alone. I do not stand for these men either. I can not stand for any man who wishes to identify himself with a power greater than himself because if so chooses this path then he will surely fail. Why not be honest for the sake of yourself? Not because it is moral and right, but because you are the master of your own dignity. I wish for a man who can not only stand but testify that he stands for himself alone. He stands for the purpose that is born within him, and if he lies or breaks his promises it is because he is a flawed man- not because there is a flawed moral code.
Religion covers a multitude of sins; it acts as an insurance policy for those who are unable to stand on their own.
I don’t believe in labels, people rarely adhere to them.
I spoke recently to an old friend. I told him quietly, firmly that I was no longer a Christian and that I could not identify myself with this label any longer. He seemed perplexed by my words. His head tilted to the side as he said, “You were, but now you’re not?” I knew that this would be a difficult conversation to navigate. The label of Christianity is a salve for many. The word that slides off men’s tongue is familiar and tells others that he can be trusted, that he is part of their select society. I refuse to offer comfort with this term. It might seem as though I am disgusted with Christianity, but I am not. I don’t believe in basing one’s identity on labels. Men who have told me they live by other great moral standards have still failed. They say they do not lie and then spout venom with their tongue. They say they do not break promises and then leave the ones who love them standing alone. I do not stand for these men either. I can not stand for any man who wishes to identify himself with a power greater than himself because if so chooses this path then he will surely fail. Why not be honest for the sake of yourself? Not because it is moral and right, but because you are the master of your own dignity. I wish for a man who can not only stand but testify that he stands for himself alone. He stands for the purpose that is born within him, and if he lies or breaks his promises it is because he is a flawed man- not because there is a flawed moral code.
Religion covers a multitude of sins; it acts as an insurance policy for those who are unable to stand on their own.
Wednesday, May 2
Monday, April 30
Darlin'
"I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips, and
they both tell me we're better than this.
'Cause that's what I'm waiting for.
that's what i'm waiting for, aren't I?
that's what I'm waiting for darlin'. "
When did waiting for better become acting for nothing?
Last year around this time, I began the 'single thing'. I purposefuly remained single to clarify my mind and figure myself out. It all sounded very Zen. I would work out more, drink less, and come to find who the real 'clare' was. My longtime friends cheered my independence; I had always been the girl with the boyfriend and they were excited to see what I might find on my own. So I began my journey, full of my own pride and thinking that, when the time came, I could end my fast on love. Many long runs and attempted Yoga positions later, I decided to accept a date and get back out there. It all started out innocently enough, with someone I had known and wanted to date for a long time. But then one thing led to another and nothing seemed to work out. My friends who had cheered me at the starting line were now considering the various effects this jaunt into self-fulfillment had cost me. They began doing what is the gravestone of every single person's life: they set me up with their boyfriend's friends. A couple of dinners and some polite conversation later, I began to wonder where this Zen journey had left me. I had completed the journey; I had figured out exactly what I wanted, now I just had to find the guy. Three strikes was brought down to one and nobody was able to measure up. Not funny enough, not serious enough, oh wait too serious, but not smart enough, and definitely not cute enough... and again and again.
fuck Zen
I think my one year sojourn has become two
"Yeah!" they'll say, "You're a free woman!" they'll rant all the while whispering..."do you think we should set her up with Paul or Thomas?"
"I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips, and
they both tell me we're better than this.
'Cause that's what I'm waiting for.
that's what i'm waiting for, aren't I?
that's what I'm waiting for darlin'. "
When did waiting for better become acting for nothing?
Last year around this time, I began the 'single thing'. I purposefuly remained single to clarify my mind and figure myself out. It all sounded very Zen. I would work out more, drink less, and come to find who the real 'clare' was. My longtime friends cheered my independence; I had always been the girl with the boyfriend and they were excited to see what I might find on my own. So I began my journey, full of my own pride and thinking that, when the time came, I could end my fast on love. Many long runs and attempted Yoga positions later, I decided to accept a date and get back out there. It all started out innocently enough, with someone I had known and wanted to date for a long time. But then one thing led to another and nothing seemed to work out. My friends who had cheered me at the starting line were now considering the various effects this jaunt into self-fulfillment had cost me. They began doing what is the gravestone of every single person's life: they set me up with their boyfriend's friends. A couple of dinners and some polite conversation later, I began to wonder where this Zen journey had left me. I had completed the journey; I had figured out exactly what I wanted, now I just had to find the guy. Three strikes was brought down to one and nobody was able to measure up. Not funny enough, not serious enough, oh wait too serious, but not smart enough, and definitely not cute enough... and again and again.
fuck Zen
I think my one year sojourn has become two
"Yeah!" they'll say, "You're a free woman!" they'll rant all the while whispering..."do you think we should set her up with Paul or Thomas?"
Thursday, April 26
Tick, Tack, Tickle
The name of your name tickles my tongue
I open my mouth to give and say it loud
But the letters trip and fall onto the ground
‘Kiss me, call me’ you ask so pleasantly
One, two, three, an open mouth and then
I watch the consonants fall back down again
Eye to your eyes smile at my fumble
“When they open it is like a sunrise”, I say
Happy green that brightens my everyday
Tick, tack, tickle my words but then
There is only one that wants and needs to be said
I know! I’ll call you simply ‘Love’ instead
The name of your name tickles my tongue
I open my mouth to give and say it loud
But the letters trip and fall onto the ground
‘Kiss me, call me’ you ask so pleasantly
One, two, three, an open mouth and then
I watch the consonants fall back down again
Eye to your eyes smile at my fumble
“When they open it is like a sunrise”, I say
Happy green that brightens my everyday
Tick, tack, tickle my words but then
There is only one that wants and needs to be said
I know! I’ll call you simply ‘Love’ instead
Monday, April 16
Random Song Lyrics from my Ipod set on random.
"falling in and out of love (something sweet to throw away)
i want something good to die for to make it beautiful to live
i want a new mistake, to lose is more than to hesitate."
"It's a backwards attraction to your forward eyes"
"the freckles in our eyes are mirror images, and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned"
"All at once you look across a crowded room to see the way that light attaches to a girl"
"I don't know who kept track (I didn't know there was score),
but it looks like you're the winner and I ain't gonna play no more.
It's over, game over."
"I'm filled with guilt from things I've seen
your water's from a battle, mine's from a canteen
at night I hear the sounds of screams so I'm a light sleeper
the cause of life seems to get cheaper
out in the desert with my street sweeper
'the war is over', so says the speaker with the flight suit on
maybe to him i'm just a pawn so he can advance.
remember when I used to dance? Man, all I want to do is dance."
"falling in and out of love (something sweet to throw away)
i want something good to die for to make it beautiful to live
i want a new mistake, to lose is more than to hesitate."
"It's a backwards attraction to your forward eyes"
"the freckles in our eyes are mirror images, and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned"
"All at once you look across a crowded room to see the way that light attaches to a girl"
"I don't know who kept track (I didn't know there was score),
but it looks like you're the winner and I ain't gonna play no more.
It's over, game over."
"I'm filled with guilt from things I've seen
your water's from a battle, mine's from a canteen
at night I hear the sounds of screams so I'm a light sleeper
the cause of life seems to get cheaper
out in the desert with my street sweeper
'the war is over', so says the speaker with the flight suit on
maybe to him i'm just a pawn so he can advance.
remember when I used to dance? Man, all I want to do is dance."
Friday, April 13
I'm Driving
I want a breeze, and an open mind
I want to swim in the ocean
and take my time for me--all me
So I'm finally graduating and moving away. This has been one of the best times of my life. I read somewhere that in your twenties, you're simply reacting. I felt like that for a long time. I felt like I was only reacting to the situations and people around me. I couldn't figure out why I didn't like dating, but then I realized it was because it all felt like a charade. Two people get dressed up to put their best faces forward. Small talk and cheap wine collide until you walk away-realizing there's nothing real. I'm tired of other people making the decisions. I'm tired of playing life like it's a spectator sport.
So I'm moving. Where? I don't know. What am I going to do? I haven't figured it out yet. But it's my life and it's the only one I've got.
And as far as dating......I think my next response will be- "welcome to my life; you're welcome to come along for the ride, but I'm driving"
I want a breeze, and an open mind
I want to swim in the ocean
and take my time for me--all me
So I'm finally graduating and moving away. This has been one of the best times of my life. I read somewhere that in your twenties, you're simply reacting. I felt like that for a long time. I felt like I was only reacting to the situations and people around me. I couldn't figure out why I didn't like dating, but then I realized it was because it all felt like a charade. Two people get dressed up to put their best faces forward. Small talk and cheap wine collide until you walk away-realizing there's nothing real. I'm tired of other people making the decisions. I'm tired of playing life like it's a spectator sport.
So I'm moving. Where? I don't know. What am I going to do? I haven't figured it out yet. But it's my life and it's the only one I've got.
And as far as dating......I think my next response will be- "welcome to my life; you're welcome to come along for the ride, but I'm driving"
Thursday, April 5
This one goes out to the one I love....
I said my first prayer in months for you today. When you told me, I realized that you might not always be here. All our past fell away, and I was talking to the man that I had given my heart to years ago. We've been through it all, and because of that, I know I can always turn to you. I am humbled by your honesty and the power that remains between us.
God Bless You
I love you
I said my first prayer in months for you today. When you told me, I realized that you might not always be here. All our past fell away, and I was talking to the man that I had given my heart to years ago. We've been through it all, and because of that, I know I can always turn to you. I am humbled by your honesty and the power that remains between us.
God Bless You
I love you
Monday, April 2
Friday, March 30
Monday, March 26
Chapter 3
What It Means
“I don’t understand all the things you’ve seen, but I’m slipping in between you and your big dreams.” The lyrics float across the room as I lay on my bed listening to the CD Sarah had left on my desk. She had written a simple note, “#9, Love you,” I had known immediately the song would contain the perfect lyrics to carry me through my winding thoughts. I needed to move but the careful piano notes held me to the bed, beckoning me to pay close attention to every syllable of the chorus.
I glanced at the clock on my bedside table and realized I was going to be late if I didn’t get up immediately. I had accepted a date from a guy I had met on Saturday and was now starting to wonder what exactly I had been thinking. It was clear I wasn’t completely over Christopher and had no business accepting the proposals of other men. Then again, I had put this poor guy through enough. He had repeatedly asked to take me to dinner but I had refused, citing that I had a busy schedule. Finally, I told him that if he called me on Monday, not Sunday or Tuesday, then he could have a date on Wednesday. It was bitchy, manipulative but it had worked. I was now left to stare at myself in the mirror, wondering how I was going to get ready in 30 minutes when I hadn’t even had a shower.
“It’s to dying in another’s arms and why I had to try it”
Damn it, this is why I hate dating. I knew I had to give this guy a chance, and yet every ounce of my being wanted to simply forget that I had ever met him. “Dying in another’s arms…” the words seemed so fitting. That’s what love was like, dying, laying down all your pretenses to open yourself up. But for what? Hell, if I know. “Dying…” I felt the beginning of a poem coming to my mind. My hair would have to wait; he would have to wait. I was a writer at heart and when words came to my mind there was nothing I could do but stop immediately and write them down.
I opened my eyes to a painful measure
Lid to lid and yours half-closed
Exhaling of breath and slow divide
That’s how it felt: dying in another’s arms. I remember distinctly lying with my head on his chest, my neck resting on his shoulder and looking up to meet his gaze, and it had hurt, opening my eyes that fully to only see his half-closed. I don’t know how to explain it exactly but that was the moment I knew it was over. I realized that, like my eyes, my heart was completely open and his was shut.
There. The words were laid out carefully, and the truth had been spoken. I could now get back to fixing my hair………
The first thing I had noticed about Mike was that he was, so obviously, American. Yes, there is a look that American’s have and it can be blaring. He had caught my eye and got the signal by his own interpretation that I wanted to talk to him. I really didn’t know much about the guy except that he was originally from Oklahoma and had been living in England for six years. He had called me and told me to meet him at the train station and we would go from there. As I scanned the room I immediately zoned in on his bleach blond hair and bright polo shirt, could he possibly be more obvious?
“Hey, you look beautiful,” he said customarily with just enough sincerity to make me believe his intentions weren’t completely vile.
“Thanks. So where are we going tonight?” He had deliberately not told me the venue and I was wondering if my attire was fitting.
“I was thinking we could get a curry at this great restaurant on Manchester rd.” He said this statement as if, in fact, he wasn’t thinking but had already decided. I motioned for us to go ahead, simultaneously wondering how much effort I was going to put into the conversation tonight.
As we were settled into our seats we began the custom of exploring the menu and chatting over different dishes we liked. We chatted about school and family, finally getting to the question of what he was doing in England.
“My mom and dad are missionaries. They lead a church and help grass-root bible studies. That’s why I was really attracted to you. You’re American; therefore, you can share my faith. It’s kind of hard to find Christians in England.” He said this matter-of-factly, openly as if it were the only thought that had ever occurred to him.
I hesitated, “actually I’m not a Christian.” I could see the confusion in his face. “I mean, I was raised Baptist but I haven’t figured out what exactly I believe in.” This wasn’t entirely true, I knew what I believed; I just didn’t have the heart to tell him.
“Right…” As quickly as it had begun, the date was over. We continued to chat over this and that but the date was definitely a failure in both of our minds.
As I caught the train back to town I began to ponder my own beliefs. I believed in God, or I believed in a God. More correctly, I believed that every culture contains religion. Every man I’ve met believed in a moral code. Where does all this come from? There has to be a truth that extends past man’s need to understand his surroundings. Its simple uncertainty reduction theory, we must minimize the uncertainty of our surroundings; therefore, religions (and moral codes) offer a way for man to understand that which is incomprehensible: Life. Man only has one life, we are confined by our knowledge that we acquire through our interactions with others. How are we to understand the great complexity that envelops our every action if it is impossible to step outside of it? There was one thing I needed, and I needed it now.
As I stepped inside the old wooden chapel I felt the peace surround me. This is God. In some cultures the chapel is called a sanctuary, and that is exactly what it brought me. I closed my eyes to breath in the musky air and feel the worn leather of the Bibles. I didn’t believe in the stories that it contained but I felt the undeniable need that those who had grasped its worn pages clung to. The moment reminded me of a story a friend had told me once. He was an atheist and was walking home from the pub one night. He stumbled upon an old church and somehow found his way into the courtyard. As he found a place to lay his head, he looked up at the stars and began to wonder if there was a God. He pondered the vast expanse of the sky and then realized: He was drunk. The story had made me laugh at the time but now I simply understood him. As I looked around at the worn chairs I knew this wasn’t the place I would find my peace. There was a bit of it here but years of corruption had eaten away at any foundation God once had in the Church.
“Can I help you?” I looked up suddenly to see an old priest standing in the doorway of the chapel.
“Excuse me father, I was trying to find something but…I’m leaving now,” I had wanted to tell him more but years of Sunday school had trained me to stay away from those of authority in the church. But still…I needed to ask him.
“How is it that we are so innately, intrinsically human yet utterly incomplete at the same time?” The question had been plaguing me since the bus station.
“Well…I think that’s what it means to be human,” His voice held authority but his manner understood my need.
“Thank you father,” I walked toward him, handing him the old Bible I had been unconsciously clutching since I walked in.
“Child, God is not insecure. Ask him your questions and you will be answered.” His advice seemed shallow compared to the knowledge that stood behind his eyes. I looked at him closely wondering if he held all the answers to the questions I hadn’t yet discovered. I turned and walked briskly out the door. I had asked God a question once and he never answered. Damn it, if I was going to be a fool again.
What It Means
“I don’t understand all the things you’ve seen, but I’m slipping in between you and your big dreams.” The lyrics float across the room as I lay on my bed listening to the CD Sarah had left on my desk. She had written a simple note, “#9, Love you,” I had known immediately the song would contain the perfect lyrics to carry me through my winding thoughts. I needed to move but the careful piano notes held me to the bed, beckoning me to pay close attention to every syllable of the chorus.
I glanced at the clock on my bedside table and realized I was going to be late if I didn’t get up immediately. I had accepted a date from a guy I had met on Saturday and was now starting to wonder what exactly I had been thinking. It was clear I wasn’t completely over Christopher and had no business accepting the proposals of other men. Then again, I had put this poor guy through enough. He had repeatedly asked to take me to dinner but I had refused, citing that I had a busy schedule. Finally, I told him that if he called me on Monday, not Sunday or Tuesday, then he could have a date on Wednesday. It was bitchy, manipulative but it had worked. I was now left to stare at myself in the mirror, wondering how I was going to get ready in 30 minutes when I hadn’t even had a shower.
“It’s to dying in another’s arms and why I had to try it”
Damn it, this is why I hate dating. I knew I had to give this guy a chance, and yet every ounce of my being wanted to simply forget that I had ever met him. “Dying in another’s arms…” the words seemed so fitting. That’s what love was like, dying, laying down all your pretenses to open yourself up. But for what? Hell, if I know. “Dying…” I felt the beginning of a poem coming to my mind. My hair would have to wait; he would have to wait. I was a writer at heart and when words came to my mind there was nothing I could do but stop immediately and write them down.
I opened my eyes to a painful measure
Lid to lid and yours half-closed
Exhaling of breath and slow divide
That’s how it felt: dying in another’s arms. I remember distinctly lying with my head on his chest, my neck resting on his shoulder and looking up to meet his gaze, and it had hurt, opening my eyes that fully to only see his half-closed. I don’t know how to explain it exactly but that was the moment I knew it was over. I realized that, like my eyes, my heart was completely open and his was shut.
There. The words were laid out carefully, and the truth had been spoken. I could now get back to fixing my hair………
The first thing I had noticed about Mike was that he was, so obviously, American. Yes, there is a look that American’s have and it can be blaring. He had caught my eye and got the signal by his own interpretation that I wanted to talk to him. I really didn’t know much about the guy except that he was originally from Oklahoma and had been living in England for six years. He had called me and told me to meet him at the train station and we would go from there. As I scanned the room I immediately zoned in on his bleach blond hair and bright polo shirt, could he possibly be more obvious?
“Hey, you look beautiful,” he said customarily with just enough sincerity to make me believe his intentions weren’t completely vile.
“Thanks. So where are we going tonight?” He had deliberately not told me the venue and I was wondering if my attire was fitting.
“I was thinking we could get a curry at this great restaurant on Manchester rd.” He said this statement as if, in fact, he wasn’t thinking but had already decided. I motioned for us to go ahead, simultaneously wondering how much effort I was going to put into the conversation tonight.
As we were settled into our seats we began the custom of exploring the menu and chatting over different dishes we liked. We chatted about school and family, finally getting to the question of what he was doing in England.
“My mom and dad are missionaries. They lead a church and help grass-root bible studies. That’s why I was really attracted to you. You’re American; therefore, you can share my faith. It’s kind of hard to find Christians in England.” He said this matter-of-factly, openly as if it were the only thought that had ever occurred to him.
I hesitated, “actually I’m not a Christian.” I could see the confusion in his face. “I mean, I was raised Baptist but I haven’t figured out what exactly I believe in.” This wasn’t entirely true, I knew what I believed; I just didn’t have the heart to tell him.
“Right…” As quickly as it had begun, the date was over. We continued to chat over this and that but the date was definitely a failure in both of our minds.
As I caught the train back to town I began to ponder my own beliefs. I believed in God, or I believed in a God. More correctly, I believed that every culture contains religion. Every man I’ve met believed in a moral code. Where does all this come from? There has to be a truth that extends past man’s need to understand his surroundings. Its simple uncertainty reduction theory, we must minimize the uncertainty of our surroundings; therefore, religions (and moral codes) offer a way for man to understand that which is incomprehensible: Life. Man only has one life, we are confined by our knowledge that we acquire through our interactions with others. How are we to understand the great complexity that envelops our every action if it is impossible to step outside of it? There was one thing I needed, and I needed it now.
As I stepped inside the old wooden chapel I felt the peace surround me. This is God. In some cultures the chapel is called a sanctuary, and that is exactly what it brought me. I closed my eyes to breath in the musky air and feel the worn leather of the Bibles. I didn’t believe in the stories that it contained but I felt the undeniable need that those who had grasped its worn pages clung to. The moment reminded me of a story a friend had told me once. He was an atheist and was walking home from the pub one night. He stumbled upon an old church and somehow found his way into the courtyard. As he found a place to lay his head, he looked up at the stars and began to wonder if there was a God. He pondered the vast expanse of the sky and then realized: He was drunk. The story had made me laugh at the time but now I simply understood him. As I looked around at the worn chairs I knew this wasn’t the place I would find my peace. There was a bit of it here but years of corruption had eaten away at any foundation God once had in the Church.
“Can I help you?” I looked up suddenly to see an old priest standing in the doorway of the chapel.
“Excuse me father, I was trying to find something but…I’m leaving now,” I had wanted to tell him more but years of Sunday school had trained me to stay away from those of authority in the church. But still…I needed to ask him.
“How is it that we are so innately, intrinsically human yet utterly incomplete at the same time?” The question had been plaguing me since the bus station.
“Well…I think that’s what it means to be human,” His voice held authority but his manner understood my need.
“Thank you father,” I walked toward him, handing him the old Bible I had been unconsciously clutching since I walked in.
“Child, God is not insecure. Ask him your questions and you will be answered.” His advice seemed shallow compared to the knowledge that stood behind his eyes. I looked at him closely wondering if he held all the answers to the questions I hadn’t yet discovered. I turned and walked briskly out the door. I had asked God a question once and he never answered. Damn it, if I was going to be a fool again.
Sunday, March 25
This is what happens when I read E. E. Cummings
I loved you first (first I loved you),
did you (see) know it?
Neck (connects) to --------> shoulder
And
“”(wide) open (wide)””
eyes
flinching of wrist/tsirw
glances aside
I kissed you with my
w (each) o (and) r (every) d (syllable) s
to show it
breast to rib (like eve from adam)
F l n g hearts
u t r i
t e
s l i d i n g
of fingers (our intertwined)
wants
[wantingfingers]
collide
I loved you first (first I loved you),
did you (see) know it?
Neck (connects) to --------> shoulder
And
“”(wide) open (wide)””
eyes
flinching of wrist/tsirw
glances aside
I kissed you with my
w (each) o (and) r (every) d (syllable) s
to show it
breast to rib (like eve from adam)
F l n g hearts
u t r i
t e
s l i d i n g
of fingers (our intertwined)
wants
[wantingfingers]
collide
Monday, March 19
So there's been some question as to whether my blog is biographical or not. My commentary, short stories, and poems all have roots in my life experiences. I am constantly inspired by those around me to write about people and the lives they lead. If you feel that you have been misrepresented on my blog, then I am sorry. My characters are a mixture of the people that have come in and out of my life. I have also changed many details to simplify and clarify the message I am trying to convey. My blog is just a place for me to write, so take it simply as that.
Saturday, March 17
Chapter 2
I Loved You First
There’s a certain beauty to being young- when regrets are only lessons and dreams are thoughts of tomorrow. This thought comes to me again as I sit on the English hillside: I am young, and I am free. I have become defined, but the memory still persists. I am dancing on the beach in my summer dress and he is there. “You are everything to me,” I had said it, but had I meant it?
“Maria, you shouldn’t be so anti-social all the time,” I look up to see Peter’s grinning face looking down at me.
“Sorry Peter, I was just…thinking,” I am unsure about sharing my anxiety. He had caught me in a fragile moment but the sudden interruption had caused my thoughts to shift so violently, I was unsure if I could get them back.
‘Oh yes, Maria, the girl with the great sadness,” his words were playful but striking. “I’ll leave you alone to your thoughts…if I can get a cigarette first.”
As I watch him walk back to the dorm rooms, I think of his words. Was I really the girl with the great sadness? Had I let this particular sadness live too long within me? These thoughts continue to dance on my mind as I watch the other students on the hillside. It is a rare, crisp autumn day. People had warned me that it rained everyday in England. This was, in fact, not entirely true; everyday it drizzles. The skies were clear for once and everyone was taking an advantage by playing various sports. I spotted Christopher playing football at the end of the slope with some of his students, and the familiar pang hit me again. When we had met, I had been bowled over by his intelligence and drive. He had big dreams and as we talked politics over pints, I felt like they could be my dreams also. That was six months ago and now he was nothing more than a stranger to me. This sense of rejection was particularly sharp because I still hadn’t figured out why we had fallen apart in the first place. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with a professor but he had treated me as a colleague and confidant. I thought we had a connection that would transcend the differences others had pointed out so blatantly. I had been the one to drop the final shoe..
"You are going to miss my love," he had said openly, smugly.
"I never had it anyway," I felt empowered by the realization that I was losing something I had never owned in the first place. It was over now and as sure as I knew it, I knew I would be moving on soon. I had always been a traveler, and though I had always considered myself to be one who was traveling toward something, I felt this time I might be traveling away from someone.
“Fuck!” In my search for answers I had forgotten all about my cigarette until it burned my hand as a reminder of reality. “Fuck,” I said softly, this time for reasons other than my hand. I had promised myself when I drove away from John’s house that I would show love with no remorse, it was proving harder than I had imagined. “Afraid of being alone,” that is what Sara had said. She was afraid because, to her, it meant being unwanted. To me, the goal of a relationship is to find a partner, and the truth was I only worked alone.
I glanced at my pack of cigarettes, considering lighting up another. Right now, cancer seemed a much better alternative to the thoughts in my head but I decided against it.
I Loved You First
There’s a certain beauty to being young- when regrets are only lessons and dreams are thoughts of tomorrow. This thought comes to me again as I sit on the English hillside: I am young, and I am free. I have become defined, but the memory still persists. I am dancing on the beach in my summer dress and he is there. “You are everything to me,” I had said it, but had I meant it?
“Maria, you shouldn’t be so anti-social all the time,” I look up to see Peter’s grinning face looking down at me.
“Sorry Peter, I was just…thinking,” I am unsure about sharing my anxiety. He had caught me in a fragile moment but the sudden interruption had caused my thoughts to shift so violently, I was unsure if I could get them back.
‘Oh yes, Maria, the girl with the great sadness,” his words were playful but striking. “I’ll leave you alone to your thoughts…if I can get a cigarette first.”
As I watch him walk back to the dorm rooms, I think of his words. Was I really the girl with the great sadness? Had I let this particular sadness live too long within me? These thoughts continue to dance on my mind as I watch the other students on the hillside. It is a rare, crisp autumn day. People had warned me that it rained everyday in England. This was, in fact, not entirely true; everyday it drizzles. The skies were clear for once and everyone was taking an advantage by playing various sports. I spotted Christopher playing football at the end of the slope with some of his students, and the familiar pang hit me again. When we had met, I had been bowled over by his intelligence and drive. He had big dreams and as we talked politics over pints, I felt like they could be my dreams also. That was six months ago and now he was nothing more than a stranger to me. This sense of rejection was particularly sharp because I still hadn’t figured out why we had fallen apart in the first place. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with a professor but he had treated me as a colleague and confidant. I thought we had a connection that would transcend the differences others had pointed out so blatantly. I had been the one to drop the final shoe..
"You are going to miss my love," he had said openly, smugly.
"I never had it anyway," I felt empowered by the realization that I was losing something I had never owned in the first place. It was over now and as sure as I knew it, I knew I would be moving on soon. I had always been a traveler, and though I had always considered myself to be one who was traveling toward something, I felt this time I might be traveling away from someone.
“Fuck!” In my search for answers I had forgotten all about my cigarette until it burned my hand as a reminder of reality. “Fuck,” I said softly, this time for reasons other than my hand. I had promised myself when I drove away from John’s house that I would show love with no remorse, it was proving harder than I had imagined. “Afraid of being alone,” that is what Sara had said. She was afraid because, to her, it meant being unwanted. To me, the goal of a relationship is to find a partner, and the truth was I only worked alone.
I glanced at my pack of cigarettes, considering lighting up another. Right now, cancer seemed a much better alternative to the thoughts in my head but I decided against it.
Tuesday, March 13
My ledger, My gravestone
I loved you first, but did you know it?
Neck to shoulder and open eyes
Flinching of wrist and glances aside
I kissed you with my words to show it
Breast to rib and fluttering hearts
Sliding of fingers and wants collide
I opened my eyes to a painful measure
Lid to lid and yours half-closed
Exhaling of breath and slow divide
I closed my mind to mark my ledger
Palm to cheek for your relief
Neck to shoulder and I abide
I loved you first, but did you know it?
Neck to shoulder and open eyes
Flinching of wrist and glances aside
I kissed you with my words to show it
Breast to rib and fluttering hearts
Sliding of fingers and wants collide
I opened my eyes to a painful measure
Lid to lid and yours half-closed
Exhaling of breath and slow divide
I closed my mind to mark my ledger
Palm to cheek for your relief
Neck to shoulder and I abide
Tuesday, March 6
You Began Me
I was given a light, and told to follow
Think beyond knowledge, accept despite servitude
You made me
I was given a light, and clarity to see
Dream without dreams, reach above difficulty
You began me
I was given a word, and it was quiet
Speak with silence, give before receive
You told me
I was given a word, and nothing else
Light upon lie, embrace until breaking
You ended me
I was given a light, and told to follow
Think beyond knowledge, accept despite servitude
You made me
I was given a light, and clarity to see
Dream without dreams, reach above difficulty
You began me
I was given a word, and it was quiet
Speak with silence, give before receive
You told me
I was given a word, and nothing else
Light upon lie, embrace until breaking
You ended me
Monday, February 19
Chapter 1
Leaves Leaving Me
November 2006
The autumn leaves are leaving me. I watch as they drop outside of my window, their slow descent reminding me of my last fall. “That’s my biggest fear”, she says out of the blue. I hear her words echo off my dorm-room walls but I can’t comprehend. I force my eyes away from the falling beauty and turn to her. “
Never finding love…that’s my biggest fear”, she repeats to me slowly. My mind is still wrapped around the maple tree, yet I’m starting to register her words. “Why?” I am confused about the origin and the intent behind her comment.
“Why would that be your biggest fear?”
“It’s not yours? You have never thought about it, about being alone for the rest of your life?” Her eyes are searching my calm expression for a hint of her desperation. “No…I mean, I’ve never really thought about it I suppose.”
I know she is disappointed in my answer but I don’t know what else to say, so I turn back to the leaves. Sarah doesn’t understand where my real fear lies. I am not afraid of living without love, I am afraid of a love I can’t live without. I glance back at my friend to see that she’s perusing a bridal magazine; this must be the source of her angst. All the smiling brides make me want to lose my lunch.
“I am going for a walk.”
I grab my coat and walk quickly out the door before she can respond. There’s always been something special about autumn to me; the brisk wind hits my cheeks, reminding me that winter is near. It was fitting to choose autumn as the perfect time to change my life. The winter had come soon after, and though it had been the hardest I had ever known, the rebirth was worth the death. I reached into my pocket to pull out my pack of ciggies. I had taken up a number of sins to cover the one I couldn’t forget.
My feet beat out the sounds of my thoughts as I walk briskly to the forest, remembering that lonely spring evening I had stood outside of John’s house. I remember the rain and the feel of the cold, paisley fabric as it clung to my shivering body. He had told me that night, “I couldn’t complete you.” I was shocked; scared at the implications of his words but now I realize how true they were. I had been a lost girl when I fell in love, and a woman searching for her independence when I jumped out. There’s a stain on November 17th that will never go away, and the way it all began…
I was sitting in traffic, waiting for the turn light on University Blvd. I was sitting patiently behind this woman in a Volkswagen when I quickly noticed her montage of bumper stickers and absentmindedly began reading them. “I love someone with Autism.” “American’s united for the fight against Autism.”…the signs read on and on. My eyes drifted back to the front of the vehicle and the woman behind the steering wheel, and then it struck me: this woman has a purpose. This woman is defined. Her pain was her power and I felt like a weak child staring in awe. My life had been a serious of incompletes, without purpose or drive. I knew then that I need a break, and who it would have to be from.
Leaves Leaving Me
November 2006
The autumn leaves are leaving me. I watch as they drop outside of my window, their slow descent reminding me of my last fall. “That’s my biggest fear”, she says out of the blue. I hear her words echo off my dorm-room walls but I can’t comprehend. I force my eyes away from the falling beauty and turn to her. “
Never finding love…that’s my biggest fear”, she repeats to me slowly. My mind is still wrapped around the maple tree, yet I’m starting to register her words. “Why?” I am confused about the origin and the intent behind her comment.
“Why would that be your biggest fear?”
“It’s not yours? You have never thought about it, about being alone for the rest of your life?” Her eyes are searching my calm expression for a hint of her desperation. “No…I mean, I’ve never really thought about it I suppose.”
I know she is disappointed in my answer but I don’t know what else to say, so I turn back to the leaves. Sarah doesn’t understand where my real fear lies. I am not afraid of living without love, I am afraid of a love I can’t live without. I glance back at my friend to see that she’s perusing a bridal magazine; this must be the source of her angst. All the smiling brides make me want to lose my lunch.
“I am going for a walk.”
I grab my coat and walk quickly out the door before she can respond. There’s always been something special about autumn to me; the brisk wind hits my cheeks, reminding me that winter is near. It was fitting to choose autumn as the perfect time to change my life. The winter had come soon after, and though it had been the hardest I had ever known, the rebirth was worth the death. I reached into my pocket to pull out my pack of ciggies. I had taken up a number of sins to cover the one I couldn’t forget.
My feet beat out the sounds of my thoughts as I walk briskly to the forest, remembering that lonely spring evening I had stood outside of John’s house. I remember the rain and the feel of the cold, paisley fabric as it clung to my shivering body. He had told me that night, “I couldn’t complete you.” I was shocked; scared at the implications of his words but now I realize how true they were. I had been a lost girl when I fell in love, and a woman searching for her independence when I jumped out. There’s a stain on November 17th that will never go away, and the way it all began…
I was sitting in traffic, waiting for the turn light on University Blvd. I was sitting patiently behind this woman in a Volkswagen when I quickly noticed her montage of bumper stickers and absentmindedly began reading them. “I love someone with Autism.” “American’s united for the fight against Autism.”…the signs read on and on. My eyes drifted back to the front of the vehicle and the woman behind the steering wheel, and then it struck me: this woman has a purpose. This woman is defined. Her pain was her power and I felt like a weak child staring in awe. My life had been a serious of incompletes, without purpose or drive. I knew then that I need a break, and who it would have to be from.
Tuesday, February 6
The Indisputable Truth
Prologue- March 2005
“What was love supposed to be like?” She yells out to me through the rain. Her dress is soaked through and I immediately know she has been standing out here for hours. I stare at the shivering face of my fallen angel Maria. I haven’t seen her since the fall. The red and golden leaves drifted down to her as she descended with each lie. Maria, the girl that gave her heart to me at fifteen and took it back at twenty. I had the sudden urge to give her warmth. I opened my mouth to ask if she wanted to come in but my words were lost.
“What was love supposed to be like?” Her face pleaded with me for an answer.
“What were you waiting for?”
“Did you expect us to be perfect?”
“Were you waiting for me to be perfect?” Her questions are coming too fast and my mind can’t comprehend their meaning. Maria, oh Maria, you tasted like summer and always stopped to dance in the rain. I thought having her in my life made everyday mean something. I wish I could hold her again but then I remember…
“I couldn’t complete you”, the words tumble out of my mouth before I realize their consequence. Her face looks stung, her green eyes opened wide at the realization of my words. “I couldn’t complete you,” I continue because I have to tell her everything now, “You were beautiful, enchanting. You gave yourself to me in ways I never knew I needed but I couldn’t be enough for you. I wanted to fix you, I wanted my love to be enough but it never was…
“When you talked about us, you spoke of our love like it was an indisputable truth. You believed in me as much as you believed in God. I wasn’t waiting for us to be perfect, and I didn’t need you to be perfect. All I wanted was for you to stop thinking I was perfect. I was your savior and you…you were my downfall…
”Her hollowed frame turns from me slowly and I know I have broken her spirit once again. I watch as she walks back to her car, and slowly her taillights fade into the night. I turn to go inside my apartment, still in shock from the night’s events. I know I won’t sleep tonight but I suddenly feel exhausted. I sit down in my room to write this all down but the words won’t come. I find my drawing pens to express myself in my notebook but I can’t see the lines. I get up to fix myself some dinner but nothing seems to satisfy this hole that is left in the pit of my stomach.
Almost two years have past and I still can’t shake her from my memory. I am angry that she had the audacity to show herself here, but I’m also heartbroken over her determination. Where was it when we needed it the most? I stare at my empty house and know that I am a broken man. I feel as though something stopped that November and no matter how hard I try, I can’t move forward. I wake up every morning to relieve November 18th, the day after she told me what she had done. I wake up in between a memory and a dream of her dancing on the sea shore, her red dress floating in the wind, carrying my worries along with it. I remember her laughing and her green eyes sparkling as she said to me, “you are everything to me”. Her love for me was like an indisputable truth and I was only starting to believe.
Prologue- March 2005
“What was love supposed to be like?” She yells out to me through the rain. Her dress is soaked through and I immediately know she has been standing out here for hours. I stare at the shivering face of my fallen angel Maria. I haven’t seen her since the fall. The red and golden leaves drifted down to her as she descended with each lie. Maria, the girl that gave her heart to me at fifteen and took it back at twenty. I had the sudden urge to give her warmth. I opened my mouth to ask if she wanted to come in but my words were lost.
“What was love supposed to be like?” Her face pleaded with me for an answer.
“What were you waiting for?”
“Did you expect us to be perfect?”
“Were you waiting for me to be perfect?” Her questions are coming too fast and my mind can’t comprehend their meaning. Maria, oh Maria, you tasted like summer and always stopped to dance in the rain. I thought having her in my life made everyday mean something. I wish I could hold her again but then I remember…
“I couldn’t complete you”, the words tumble out of my mouth before I realize their consequence. Her face looks stung, her green eyes opened wide at the realization of my words. “I couldn’t complete you,” I continue because I have to tell her everything now, “You were beautiful, enchanting. You gave yourself to me in ways I never knew I needed but I couldn’t be enough for you. I wanted to fix you, I wanted my love to be enough but it never was…
“When you talked about us, you spoke of our love like it was an indisputable truth. You believed in me as much as you believed in God. I wasn’t waiting for us to be perfect, and I didn’t need you to be perfect. All I wanted was for you to stop thinking I was perfect. I was your savior and you…you were my downfall…
”Her hollowed frame turns from me slowly and I know I have broken her spirit once again. I watch as she walks back to her car, and slowly her taillights fade into the night. I turn to go inside my apartment, still in shock from the night’s events. I know I won’t sleep tonight but I suddenly feel exhausted. I sit down in my room to write this all down but the words won’t come. I find my drawing pens to express myself in my notebook but I can’t see the lines. I get up to fix myself some dinner but nothing seems to satisfy this hole that is left in the pit of my stomach.
Almost two years have past and I still can’t shake her from my memory. I am angry that she had the audacity to show herself here, but I’m also heartbroken over her determination. Where was it when we needed it the most? I stare at my empty house and know that I am a broken man. I feel as though something stopped that November and no matter how hard I try, I can’t move forward. I wake up every morning to relieve November 18th, the day after she told me what she had done. I wake up in between a memory and a dream of her dancing on the sea shore, her red dress floating in the wind, carrying my worries along with it. I remember her laughing and her green eyes sparkling as she said to me, “you are everything to me”. Her love for me was like an indisputable truth and I was only starting to believe.
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