Hope

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... just... moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope. ~ Gigi from "He's Just Not That Into You"

If you had asked me three months ago, 6 months ago, a year ago, what a happy ending meant to me, I would probably have said that it meant forever love. That, in relationship terms, it meant that everything worked out perfectly and we were perfectly happy in our perfect little romance.
A lot has changed since then.

I started this blog off with that bit of monologue from the movie "He's Just Not That Into You" because in a lot of ways, it sums up my experience in the dating the world. Especially the part at the end. The part about the happy ending being that through an entire host of painfully awkward moments, at the end, I've come out still holding onto hope. While the entire thing is applicable to my life, that final sentence rings extremely true. I could lie and say it's been a breeze, that getting to this place hasn't been painful and full of tears and heartbreak, but I won't. It has been full of pain and tears and hurt and loss. And there are still moments when I mourn that loss- and in a lot of cases, more of what might have been than what really was. Because in most cases, what might have been is really beautiful. This idealized view of failed relationships is what catches a lot of us and causes a lot of problems (and a lot of awkward moments).
And while it is not easy, there aren't a lot of options. You either move on or you don't. Like most of us, I've wasted a lot of time refusing to move on and refusing to read the signs for what they were really saying instead of what I hoped that they were saying. But hey- you live, you learn, you do better next time.

Right- where was I? Oh, that's right. Hope. In this life, all we can ask for is that when a chapter closes, even if it's one of those chapters where the hero was just captured and tortured and it's a cliffhanger and you really really REALLY dislike the author for leaving your heart breaking, that you are able to start the next chapter with hope for what is to come. Hope that the hero will heal and will go on to kick enemy butt. Hope that someone will be there to help the hero pick up all of the pieces. Hope that in the end, some good will have come from the pain and suffering and that the next chapter will be amazing and make up for the fact that you were left hanging from a really cheap rope that gave you really bad rope burn.

And inevitably, it happens. You meet someone. Sparks fly. Rope burn heals. And that, as they say, is that.

Ch-ch-changes

August is at an end. It is unseasonably cool, with weather better suited for the end of September than that of August. The heat is bearable. The evenings are cool and comfortable, perfect for lounging outside and stargazing. I feel the early arrival of fall in my bones and I welcome the change of seasons.

After an extended vacation (if you can consider falling ill, being hospitalized, having surgery, and then recovering a vacation), I return to work tomorrow. I’m glad that I will once again be productive and active. I’m also anxious and weary- I still tire so easily and am having problems with pain from the surgery (the location is far from optimal and is constantly irritated). I’m afraid I’ll be clumsy with the work, clumsy with my customers and their issues; that I’ll be inefficient and substandard in my interactions. I’m second guessing myself and my ability to do the job I’m there to do. I’m afraid of being overwhelmed and falling apart. I’ve become so fragile over the past few weeks that I’m more frightened than I like to admit that I might fall apart. Regardless of my anxieties and fears, tomorrow will come and I will show up for work and face all of my concerns.

I am restless. I get this way when the seasons change. Ch-ch-changes. It is a time of change- in nature and in my life. It’s strange how often the two coincide in my life. I am frustrated with myself and with this abnormal fragileness that I find myself experiencing. Little things set me off, hurt me, set me off into tears. I am needy but can’t seem to find the words to let those that I feel I need know that I need them- and then I fall apart when faced with their absence- emotional and physical- at those moments. I know I am cutting off my nose to spite my face by doing this and yet I just can’t seem to find the words. And anytime I do find the words, I am so afraid of being rejected that my heart catches in my throat and I can’t say what I want and need to say. I don’t even know why I’m afraid of being rejected. Well, yes, I do. No one likes rejection and with my emotional rollercoaster of late, the chances of rejection are probably higher than usual.
I don’t know what it is about being sick the way that I have been and what has turned into a recovery period that just seems to go on and on and on that has my emotions in such upheaval. I think that it might be the isolation, in part. I am lonely. I am very lonely. I ache with the weight of how lonely I feel. Perhaps it’s self-imposed to an extent.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about what I want. I have come up with the following.
I want forever. I want passion. I want quiet moments and just laying on the couch watching a movie or a sports recap or some strange show on the travel channel. I want something that gets in my face when I’m being an ass and stupid. I want to do the same when the opposite is true. I want honesty. I want indifference to be banned. I want romance. I want the day-to-day non-events. I want to talk- even if it’s fighting, I want to keep talking. I want to share laughter and tears and the moments in between when everything is nothing extraordinary. I want all the tomorrows. I want to hold hands. I want casual touches that are simple reminders that ‘Hey.. You’re here and I’m here, and I know it.” I want to be told I matter. I want to be old and gray haired and still holding hands. I want to pray and worship together and nourish the spirituality of my chosen mate, as he nourishes mine.
I want a lot. I know the chances of obtaining everything I listed above are slim. I know I ask a lot. I’m also willing to give a lot. I want to give a lot. I’d give almost everything (there are some things that I will never give on, and those revolve around my son).

I wrote about the right time in the last blog post I made and once again, the subject is on my mind. I wonder if the stars are simply misaligned and there is no way for anything to work out. There are moments when I consider the timing and I regret that anything ever began- not because I love any less, but because I love so much. I’m so unsure of myself and of everything.


I don’t know what the point of this has been. Mostly, I’ve been rambling, something I tend to do a lot. Perhaps an attempt to exorcise emotion through the act of writing and find some small amount of peace? Or maybe it’s a feeble attempt at explaining myself. Maybe I’m just full of hot air. I don’t know. Whatever the case, I’ve hung it all out to dry now, no take-backs.

Thinking more, I had to come back to this and edit it. I'm an idiot- a clueless, blind, dumb idiot. Proof that I never, ever learn. At some point, you realize you make rules for yourself for a reason. For a good damned reason. And breaking them is just plain stupid. So from now on, I will not be breaking my own rules. In the end.. I can't say that memories aren't worth the way things inevitably end, but I also can't say that I can handle doing this again. I can't handle it. Maybe it makes me a coward, but I can't handle putting myself out there and coming back broken again. That's why I put myself away for 6 years to begin with.
But with a conclusion comes a sense of release. It is over. There is nothing more to wonder about or frustrate over. It is simply over. So it goes.

"Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what he loves." -- Blaise Pascal

Clarity. I often find myself attempting to stop, refocus my sight and gain my footing, and find clarity in the chaos that is daily life. It always leaves me slightly nauseous, using a hand on a wall to steady myself, struggling to make sense of everything. I've had a lot of time to be introspective and seek clarity lately- illness allows for that, between the pain and healing and recovery. And I think- no, I know- that I've found at least a little.

I once believed that there was a right time for everything. There was a time line and everything had its moment when it was 'right'. But what if I was wrong. What if there is no right time? What if there is only now, only this moment. What if there is only this moment and you let it go without taking the chance, and that's it?

Clarity- what are you going to do with this moment? I know what I'm doing with it- I'm open-armed and open hearted and I'm here.

I'm Scared.

I'm scared. As I lay here trying to get comfortable and let the antihistimines take effect to help with the reaction to the antibiotics I had been taking, I am so incredibly scared. So scared, in fact, that I am having to fight desperately to keep myself from descending into the dark hole where, in the past, I've curled up into a ball and done my damnedest to ignore the fear. My fingernails are caked with dirt from working to drag myself out of that hole before I go any deeper.

I know I shouldn't be afraid- the infection is healing, the worst is over. What is there to fear? I look at the incisions (one is 3 inches and one is about an inch) and I wonder if they will ever heal well or if I will have a set of ugly scars for the rest of my life. It's a stupid thing to be afraid of, but I fear it. I'm afraid that it will be disgusting and will cause other areas of my life to suffer once healed.

I fear the new antibiotic will not be effective- that the hives will go away, but that the infection will return. And what if my body just doesn't have what it takes to fight the MRSA again? I'm afraid of getting so sick that I cannot fight it.

I fear the next surgery that will likely happen in the next week or two. I fear being put under anesthesia again. I'm afraid I won't wake back up. I fear never seeing my son's face or holding him or kissing his soft sweet cheek, or runing my fingers through his hair. I fear going under and not having told the person I love how much I do love them- not hearing their voice beforehand. Not tasting their kiss.

I'm afraid that with all these restrictions- no work, no driving- that I will fall back into the hole. I know I have family and friends who love me and will do everything they can for me, but it's such an imposition to have to come and pick me up to go do something (a movie, dinner, just hanging out). And I need to get out- I need to go see a movie, I need to go out to eat, I need to just hang out and watch tv/a movie. I know that I need this. But I find I can't ask it of anyone- I can't ask them to set their lives aside to come cater to me. No one has the time to do that for/with me. Everyone has lives. I am not anywhere near the center of them.

I'm just tired. And clawing to get out of the house and do something mostly stationary, that just doesn't involve being at the doctor/in the hospital/ or in my bed. I'm trying so hard to hold on to the positive things but it is so hard. :( I'm finding it so hard, which is so stupid because I have an amazing family, the love of the most awesome little boy ever to breathe, and the love of a good man.
I just need to find something, anything, super positive and hold on for dear life until I'm on an upswing again. I am holding onto my faith with all I have and praying like crazy. Prayer is all I have left at this point.
On a positive note, unless you were to get all handsy on my incision/wound area, I'm not going to make you sick.

I don't even know what this blog is really about. My fear, maybe. I'm really scared. I wish I were 5 again and someone hugging me and telling me that it will all be ok was enough to make me believe that everything would be ok. That everything would get better. But I'm not, and it doesn't work that way.

I'm scared. And lonely.

So it goes.

The heavens are wide open tonight.

It rained today. Really, I should say we had storms and torrential downpours. Saying that it rained simply does not do justice to the sheets of heavy rain that flooded the roads and left me hydroplaning all the way to work. Something more majestic must be said about a downpour such as that from this afternoon. So here goes:
The day was battered by whipping winds and drowning rains, soaking everything possible.
..Yeah. Just not feeling that. So it rained and it rained hard and eventually, AFTER I got to work and got inside, it stopped. So it goes.

I love the way the world is after it has rained hard and long and washed the film of stagnancy from everything. Greens are brighter. Everything smells clean. The air feels clean. I like storms- I like them a lot, actually. They energize me. I am both energized and weary tonight. I'm not exactly certain how I have managed both states, but I have. Eventually the storms cleared out, and as I was driving home from work, I was awed by the beauty of the stars all throughout the sky.

I could write about what the stars look like- like they were a blanket of stars, so thick I thought I might be suffocated or drown in them- but that has been written so many times before by so many different people. Any attempt to put to words the majesty of them with the use of cliches and oft used adjectives would demean the beauty of the night. The sky is dark- such a dark inky black as almost to seem impenetrable. And then, everywhere, are points of light. Stars. All shining at different rates, all projecting different light. I wonder at how many different galaxies I'm actually seeing, if somewhere out there someone like me is looking out at the stars from their view, thinking the exact same thoughts.

And looking at those stars, I feel small. I am reminded of how insignificant I really am in the world. How inconsequential the comings and goings of my daily life are. But I don't feel saddened or upset by this- this acknowledgment of others, that I am not the center of the universe, it feels good. It's refreshing. It's energizing. There is an entire world of small people, like me, out there. I don't think of them enough. I'm so caught up in myself and my own mess that it takes something spectacular, something bigger than myself, something majestic, to remind me of everyone else.

I've been thinking a lot about love recently- and not just romantic love, although that has been on my mind- and how freely I give my love. I don't love nearly enough- past baggage has me withholding my love. Prejudice has me withholding my love. And I can't help but wonder the difference it would make in MY life if I were to love more and judge less. I just finished a very good book that touched on this and I've had the idea in my head ever since. What would happen if I just loved? It might not change the world, but maybe, just maybe, it would change me.

So my goal is to love freely. I'm going to put aside the qualifications that I have built up inside my head regarding who I am willing to love, and I'm simply going to love people. Call it an experiment. With any luck, I'll have successful results to report.

The heavens are wide open tonight- exactly as I wish my heart to be.

Lullaby That is Your Heartbeat

Hadn't slept
in days
yet
I fell asleep to the steady
strong
safe
lullaby that is your heartbeat
I was laying in
your arms
my head against your chest
your arms around me
and my heart- once more
it became yours
again and again and again

And I meant it when I said I love you
and I miss you
and it's most overpowering
but I know I have to keep it in, stay reserved
but I don't want to.

I want to show up at your door
and kiss you until you are dizzy
and I'm dizzy
and we collapse, laughing,
onto the couch.
Breathless.
And talk, for hours,
or simply be quiet
together.
Just together.
With you.

You said that you've missed me
and I believe you
I miss you
and I love you.
And I want you.

I feel stupid, sometimes,
and confused
waiting here
waiting for an acknowledgment
for some time
But I still wait.

I fell asleep
to to the steady
strong
safe
lullaby that is your heartbeat.

Random Meanderings

The firm, ripe, white flesh gave way easily as she sank her teeth into it. An explosion of tart sweetness burst over her lips, racing like electricity through her mouth. The slightly sandpaper-like skin prickled her tongue. Juice dripped out of the right corner of her mouth and down her chin in beads. Her eyes were closed and her face was lifted heavenward, caught in a moment of pure joy. She tried to extend the moment, the bliss, the sweetness, by staying completely still. But like all such moments, it passed too quickly and left only its impression on her senses. With the back of her free hand, she wiped away the traces of juice from her chin, sighed, and tossed the pit of the fruit into the tide. A light breeze lifted a stray blond curl away from her face and caused her skirt to graze her legs. She opened wide, hopeful blue eyes and stared out at the horizon over the water from her place on the edge of dock, and continued to wait.

When I got home from work tonight, I grabbed a piece of fruit from the fridge, took a bite, and immediately had to write. That was what came of it. Not terribly impressed. It'll probably end up as part of a short story of some sort, though I am not certain of what the short story will be yet. Thought I'd post it anyway since I needed to update my blog anyway.

So it goes.

Plans

¹¹ For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. --- Jeremiah 29:11

Occasionally, you find yourself with the opportunity to get to know yourself better. Sometimes it is something that you have searched for and about but have been unable to find. And sometimes you find yourself face to face with the opportunity despite the fact that you were dragged, kicking and screaming, not at all willingly to that point in time, at that exact place. You are faced with a choice- take the time you find yourself so suddenly with and use it constructively or lose your ever-loving mind. For myself, I decided to do a little bit of both. I lost my mind and cried and hurt and almost let my hurt determine my fate. Then, I wiped my eyes (and applied any number of remedies suggested by girlfriends to ease some of the swelling around them), took a deep breath, and decided to face the day.

I was deleting redundant status comments out of my facebook yesterday when I realized how often I had posted status messages stating that I really didn't know how much I could take- how far I could bend. If I could really handle what had been placed in my path. The more I thought about those status messages, the more I found myself thinking about other situations in my life over the past 6 months or so since I truly began to feel my faith and spirituality growing back in my heart. So often, I questioned if I was ready- for everything and anything.

It hit me, like a grand piano plummeting eight stories from the sky right on top of my head, that when it came to the plan for my life, for what I could and couldn't handle, I erroneously believed that my human anxieties regarding each situation made me a better judge of what I could handle and accept than even GOD could plan. So what if He had the base plans for my life laid out and that He knows my heart better than I could possibly- I still know better!

How vain. How faithless. How self-important.

Of course, I don't really know better than God the general twists and turns that map out how He sees my life meandering through this world. I believe firmly in free will and I don't feel that that conflicts with my belief that God does have an outline regarding my life. His plan is not a permanent marker dragged screeching over a sheet of paper putting down the exact path that you HAVE to take. His plan is a soft pencil drawing- possibly a charcoal sketch- where the basic shape is visible but each curve and turn is open to interpretation. You can choose to go left or right, back or forward, up or down. You have to decide what the final shape the artist's hand will have to layer in to the image. At each stage of the drawing, there is not more there for you to face or experience than what He knows that you can somehow handle and that you are capable of making work. It is only when you fail to trust that He would not put more in your hands or in your heart than you have ability to accept and embrace that you rip the charcoal from the artist's fingers and alter his plans, sometimes in ways that feel irreparable.

And boy, have I managed that one. Who hasn't, though? So few of us can say honestly that we haven't, at some point in time, showed so little faith that the choice we made was one that God already knew about and had written into the little moments that together make up our lives. Maybe you went off to college, young and naive and lost, and mistook physical affection for love, being drunk for feeling alive, and ended up a single mom. Maybe, like me when I was that young and naive and lost eighteen year old, you trusted so little in the fact that God knew what you could handle that you lost your mind. But maybe, God knew that you would reach that point in your life and it was part of how he had filled out the bones of the sketch of your life. Maybe you failed at a relationship you feel that you should have been able to salvage and can't wrap your head around the idea that you couldn't make it work. But maybe, just maybe, the test wasn't making the relationship work. The best way to flesh out that part of the drawing was accepting the things you cannot change in yourself and others and moving out of something unhealthy, trusting that He wouldn't put you in a position where the end of one thing necessarily means failure. Maybe drugs and addiction are the off page courses you've taken. But all along the way, there have been paths back onto the page, openings.

It's easy for me to believe this, because MY personal God is a loving God. He is a parent- like I do with my son, he goes out of his way to guide me along the right path, but if I'm determined to go my own way, to see what sort of trouble waits along that road, He reluctantly lets me. He makes certain there are multiple chances along that way for me head back in the other direction.

Once I came to these realizations, a cloud of anxiety lifted from my heart and my view of what was and is going on my life. Everything that is in front of me right now- from relationship situations that I would normally run as far from as I possibly could manage to work to family- is something that I am capable and READY to handle. He believes that I have the faith and the love and hope and ability to bend. Regardless of where things go or how things work out or which direction I decide to take when it comes to fleshing out His plans for me, the things happening right now are good and right and ones He believes I am ready to experience. So I'm finished with doubting Him. I will allow my heart to be led by his gentle guidance. Sure- I can't know for certain how His plans and free will will work in the hearts of those people surrounding me, so I don't know which direction this movable piece of art that is life is going to take. But I know that my path, the one I choose, will be one that strives to accept and live the idea that I wouldn't be at his moment if He hadn't seen some good coming from it. I will strive to find that good and carry it with me as I go.
New meaning, for me, to the phrase Let Go and Let God.

I want to end this with a pretty famous prayer that has always been a big part of my life. I am the daughter of an addict who has spent my entire life battling his addictions through the help of AA and NA (Narcotics Anonymous). This prayer is a keystone, for me, and very fitting, with the idea that I wouldn't be in this moment if I hadn't taken one of the paths back to the picture-in-progress that he left open for me because he knew I would be here, and he knew that at some point, I'd be ready for the moment I am in, right this very second.

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

The Invitation

The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

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

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

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

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

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

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

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

In addition...

I'm sending this out to the universe because the universe is wide and despite my current frustrations, it is the undeniable truth.

I love you.

So it goes.

It's Independence Day

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was crying

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hours
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it's alright, it's all right, it's all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all, I'm trying to get some rest...

It is Independence Day. Today all across the United States of America, people will be celebrating. There will be much drinking and grilled food. People will gather, eager not to spend the day the alone. Alcohol and explosives will be mixed. Chaos will reign. A good time will be had by most.

As for me and mine, the 4th of July will be spent with extended family and friends. I'm fortunate in that way- I am a member of a large and inviting family who are quite patriotic. We are a military family- on my father's side, there has not been a generation not to serve the United States of America since the American Revolution. On my mother's side, the history is just as rich. Yesterday evening was spent at my Uncle's house (my father's youngest brother) celebrating the holiday because he has to leave Sunday for Army Reserve training. Tonight, I'll be celebrating with my mother's side of the family. Swimming, food, family, friends, fireworks, and fun.

I'm adjusting to change right now. I jumped from a plane without a parachute and experienced a very sudden stop after a trip that still has me a bit breathless. I'm not counting the bruises right now- they are mostly too sore to aggravate. I'd like to lay the blame elsewhere, but when it comes down to it, I'm battered due to my own lack of care for myself and my own insistence in continuing to believe that kisses are promises and not looking before I leap. I made a promise to myself a number of years ago that I would keep a specific amount of safe space around myself to prevent such happenings, but as soon as his lips touched mine for the first time, it all went out the door. I was disarmed. I put down the anti-aircraft weapon controls that I normally cling to- "Warning: Enemy sighted. Firing warning shot." I'd like to hit myself at times like this- I know that kisses aren't promises and that promises don't really count. Call me a pessimist. Call me skeptical. You'd be right on both counts.
That's the theme for my next tattoo, I think. I may have it tattooed on the underside of my eyelids and on my forehead. "Kisses aren't promises, Fool."
And I'm bitter. I've been working hard not to be, to accept that it's nothing personal that space from everyone is really a kind way of saying 'space from you, specifically' but it's hard. Another of my many character flaws.

I am kind of surprised that I haven't just up and run yet. I've opened my eyes the past few mornings and experienced a bit of shock that the first thought on my mind was not, "Today's the day I run, so I reach the door first". Sticking around and waiting makes me anxious. It makes me like a beaten dog- all movements no matter how small make me jerk an catch my breath, certain that the final blow is coming. It's ridiculous and irrational. I don't stick around and wait for the final blow- I run. But I'm not running this time. Whatever comes, comes. I'll be here to accept it.

I know the need for space is not about me. Fortunately my blog is about me, though. I am resolved not to write about this subject again, though. If only I could stop myself from thinking about it.

So it goes.

You'd be a beautiful, rambling, klutz. Eloquent but without grace. You'd be amazing.

I've had a thing for that particular statement since the moment I first read it. It was a gut punch- someone actually knew me well enough to know how completely me that description was, and was still there. It was a first. It was bliss.

I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm a sucker for the written word. Things like this:

Kindred spirit is a term for someone who shares similar thoughts, feelings, someone who is close in temperament and nature to yourself, to whom you have a rare spiritual link that is very special and you can't quite explain.

.. make my heart stop in my chest. I love words- I love the way that when put together in the right order, they can unlock the deepest chambers of your heart and mind. I love the way that the same words, when put in a slightly different order, can devastate. The intimacy of words compels me to crave them like an addict needs their next fix. And when words don't come, it leaves my soul feeling bereft. So it goes.

This is my first post in this blog. I have some time on my hands and a lot on my mind- and enough varied emotions sloshing around that I'm inspired to write-, so it will be the first of many. What will this blog be about? Words. Words I've said. Words I've meant to say. Words I've heard. Those I need to hear. Words I'll never hear. Words I want to hear. The ones I want to say. The ones I'll never say. Look for some short stories to come, some spiritual discussion, most likely some whining, undoubtedly some tears. There will probably be some frustration, annoyance, and anger tossed into the mix just to liven things up. No holds barred. So it goes.

There's little in life quite as daunting as facing a newly cleared screen with nothing but a blinking cursor in a sea of white pixels. One has but two choices: stare blankly at it and fail to keep going or fill it with the words occupying your soul. I think you can guess which one I'm choosing.