Outside my window is a parking lot. Home to various models, makes, and wheels. Each set of wheels marking somewhere they've been, somewhere they've taken a rest, somewhere.
With the turn of the key a car starts the growl that starts it all. Normally, engine revving, a car transports the fragile cargo of a human life to that somewhere. But what happens when the car doesn't start?
Outside my window was a car trying its hardest to rev up and take off. With each growl there was a sigh of exhaustion.
First try. Nothing.
Here's my question is it worth the wait? Is it worth the effort of cranking that key and pumping the gas? All to get somewhere, to be somebody.
Second try. Nothing.
Still worth it? What about when you put it all out there and remain, without a step forward, stagnant. Knowing what the growl could lead to, the uproar. The love of something on the way to somewhere.
Third try. The uproar.
What if that driver had given up? It could possibly be a reflection of the importance of that somewhere. Or perhaps a reflection of the belief in luck until it runs dry.
Here's my question.
When does disappointment out weigh the hope?
When is it not worth the wait?
Monday, April 19, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
3:30
3:30 is a truly bewitching hour. When the world is still and the breathe of a child ices the galaxy, feel free to cry up to the stars. Bargain with the cosmos. The hum and chatter of car motors, conversations both enjoyable and heart breaking, and disappointment seem to settle, like the haze over the valley. Still there and ominous, its a sigh of relief - if just for a minute.
The smog things, the atmosphere seems to desimate. Given a key to the heavens, the door is unlocked. That is when I lay back and whisper to the stars. I tell them my secrets, my fears, and my anxieties. They know what I can't say and take my tears. With no exchange of pity the stars take the tears and sparkle as never before.
Tears of joy mingle with tears of loss, of grief, of pain. A shimmering reminder that they have them, millions of billions of miles away.
No need to fear.
No need to worry.
No need, it has already been met.
The smog things, the atmosphere seems to desimate. Given a key to the heavens, the door is unlocked. That is when I lay back and whisper to the stars. I tell them my secrets, my fears, and my anxieties. They know what I can't say and take my tears. With no exchange of pity the stars take the tears and sparkle as never before.
Tears of joy mingle with tears of loss, of grief, of pain. A shimmering reminder that they have them, millions of billions of miles away.
No need to fear.
No need to worry.
No need, it has already been met.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Knit Picky
I was walking up the stairs, talking to myself (inside my head not outside), and I realized that with the company I keep I should watch what I say. I thought I would share this realization with the internets. All of them.
1 - Avoid words such as and including: honestly, normally, literally. These are all death traps in the ways of knit picky conversation. "Now if you have to say honestly, are you making up for something else?" "Normally? What do you do otherwise? How often do you feel abnormal versus normal?" "Wow, that must be awkward."
2 - Avoid cliche or over used statements as well redundancy. Also avoid repetition. It's annoying.
3 - Never use "your mom" as a comeback. Think about, do you really mean it? I heard it once from a talking animal that if you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all. I think the same goes for saying and meaning things. If you really mean that their mom the slowest thing you ever saw, then by all means - your mom away.
1 - Avoid words such as and including: honestly, normally, literally. These are all death traps in the ways of knit picky conversation. "Now if you have to say honestly, are you making up for something else?" "Normally? What do you do otherwise? How often do you feel abnormal versus normal?" "Wow, that must be awkward."
2 - Avoid cliche or over used statements as well redundancy. Also avoid repetition. It's annoying.
3 - Never use "your mom" as a comeback. Think about, do you really mean it? I heard it once from a talking animal that if you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all. I think the same goes for saying and meaning things. If you really mean that their mom the slowest thing you ever saw, then by all means - your mom away.
Donna Gwen
What a name! (By that I'm assuming you read the title because that is in fact the name I am referencing). Donna Gwen is more then a name that rolls off the tongue but a person. A person with white hair, glasses, false teeth, and a family. I'm fortunate enough to be a part of her family, her legacy.
Donna Gwen just turned 80 years old and in her own words, she is officially old.
60? Young.
70? Young.
79? Young.
80? Old.
My grandma is one of my top favorite people and I have to say that I may be biased but she is more then deserving. Furthermore I would like to prove to you (or to me when I read this later, probably tomorrow, just to know that someone is reading this thing) that she is a woman worth knowing.
1 - When I was very little (in age not size) I cut my thumb. According to the images stored in my long term memory I am lucky to still be here as the blood gushed from my thumb in a steady, thick syrup like manner. Distressed, I rushed to the aid of dear old Grandma. Her first question to me was, "Is the blood green?" How could she be thinking of such a silly thing in this moment. "No." Stubborn as ever I failed to see the humor to be had in such a situation. "Oh good" was her response, "then you're not an alien."
2 - My grandma always won Old Maid. On purpose. She likes the un-irony of it.
3 - She rode a horse to school. I tried to talk my mom into this but using Grandma's situation and comparing it to my own didn't quite work. I dug my own grave in that debate.
4 - White haired and willful, there was a time that Donna Gwen donned a wig. The reason escapes me but logic tells me that it has something to do with the lack of hair. Anyway, the Blue Room (named for its coloring - go figure) was home to the wig. There are no images more disturbing stored in the Grandma and Grandpa's house folder in my long term memory then seeing my Grandma's hair on a plastic head over the dresser where the card games were stored.
4.5 - (This is a half because it is the same subject as number four but a completely different moment) I was watching this last session of general conference with Grandma when she grabbed my hand. Very seriously she asked, "Are my eyebrows on?"
5 - She loves me. She loves me when I'm silly, she loves me when I'm serious, she loves me when I'm practicing, she loves me when I'm sitting quietly. She loves me in a house, she loves me with a mouse. She loves me here or there, my Grandma loves me everywhere.
Here's to 80 years Grandma. Love you more then I love words.
Donna Gwen just turned 80 years old and in her own words, she is officially old.
60? Young.
70? Young.
79? Young.
80? Old.
My grandma is one of my top favorite people and I have to say that I may be biased but she is more then deserving. Furthermore I would like to prove to you (or to me when I read this later, probably tomorrow, just to know that someone is reading this thing) that she is a woman worth knowing.
1 - When I was very little (in age not size) I cut my thumb. According to the images stored in my long term memory I am lucky to still be here as the blood gushed from my thumb in a steady, thick syrup like manner. Distressed, I rushed to the aid of dear old Grandma. Her first question to me was, "Is the blood green?" How could she be thinking of such a silly thing in this moment. "No." Stubborn as ever I failed to see the humor to be had in such a situation. "Oh good" was her response, "then you're not an alien."
2 - My grandma always won Old Maid. On purpose. She likes the un-irony of it.
3 - She rode a horse to school. I tried to talk my mom into this but using Grandma's situation and comparing it to my own didn't quite work. I dug my own grave in that debate.
4 - White haired and willful, there was a time that Donna Gwen donned a wig. The reason escapes me but logic tells me that it has something to do with the lack of hair. Anyway, the Blue Room (named for its coloring - go figure) was home to the wig. There are no images more disturbing stored in the Grandma and Grandpa's house folder in my long term memory then seeing my Grandma's hair on a plastic head over the dresser where the card games were stored.
4.5 - (This is a half because it is the same subject as number four but a completely different moment) I was watching this last session of general conference with Grandma when she grabbed my hand. Very seriously she asked, "Are my eyebrows on?"
5 - She loves me. She loves me when I'm silly, she loves me when I'm serious, she loves me when I'm practicing, she loves me when I'm sitting quietly. She loves me in a house, she loves me with a mouse. She loves me here or there, my Grandma loves me everywhere.
Here's to 80 years Grandma. Love you more then I love words.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Date Night
Why yes, I am single.
Driving, mostly according to the speed limit give or take or not at all, down 1300 East in an effort to make it to the movies on time. (The best part about being in a hurry to get somewhere is the destination. It is the one thing that motivates your lane changes, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel either in frustration because the light will never turn green fast enough or to that new diddy on the radio, and your somewhat wide but no one got hurt so its good left turn into the parking lot.)
In a moment of spontaneity I took off to see "Date Night" to be amused by the comedic strategy of Steve Carell and the intriguing repartee that is Tina Fey. After reading a very unimpressive review I thought that I would share my opinion.
This here is the movie that is a lot like any movie where average people are put in above average circumstances but perform horribly and marvelously all at the same time.
I enjoyed the appearance of Saturday Night Live actress Kristen Whig, the classic black taxi cab driver, and the appearance of the Audi R8.
Now, it isn't your psychological mind bender or your tear jerking sports thriller but it fills a laugh at the ordinary being extraordinary void.
In no way would I say to take this movie seriously because you will only be disappointed. You should probably start with "Baby Mama" and "Get Smart" and go from there.
I have a hard time seeing what people could complain about. here we have to off the wall actors who commonly are mixing it up with pop culture references being a little more normal. What's the harm in that?
Phil and Claire Foster are your average married couple from New Jersey (ha ha ha New Jersey **shaking head back and forth**). They've run dry on the flirtatiousness and are overflowing with the run of the mill exhaustion. As you can see with any trailer, they try to take a step out the box of their ordinary and end up in big trouble. They are definitely jimmy jacked. (I love that phrase. Seriously, my favorite).
Carell and Fey don't have the chemistry that is Kate Hudson Wesley and Princess Buttercup. They have a bit of the old people that hold hands when they need each other and a sense that they just get each other.
The finalizing moment for me in knowing if I really liked a movie or not is the drive home. I pulled out of the parking lot and kept laughing. There you have it. The seal of approval.
Laughter.
Driving, mostly according to the speed limit give or take or not at all, down 1300 East in an effort to make it to the movies on time. (The best part about being in a hurry to get somewhere is the destination. It is the one thing that motivates your lane changes, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel either in frustration because the light will never turn green fast enough or to that new diddy on the radio, and your somewhat wide but no one got hurt so its good left turn into the parking lot.)
In a moment of spontaneity I took off to see "Date Night" to be amused by the comedic strategy of Steve Carell and the intriguing repartee that is Tina Fey. After reading a very unimpressive review I thought that I would share my opinion.
This here is the movie that is a lot like any movie where average people are put in above average circumstances but perform horribly and marvelously all at the same time.
I enjoyed the appearance of Saturday Night Live actress Kristen Whig, the classic black taxi cab driver, and the appearance of the Audi R8.
Now, it isn't your psychological mind bender or your tear jerking sports thriller but it fills a laugh at the ordinary being extraordinary void.
In no way would I say to take this movie seriously because you will only be disappointed. You should probably start with "Baby Mama" and "Get Smart" and go from there.
I have a hard time seeing what people could complain about. here we have to off the wall actors who commonly are mixing it up with pop culture references being a little more normal. What's the harm in that?
Phil and Claire Foster are your average married couple from New Jersey (ha ha ha New Jersey **shaking head back and forth**). They've run dry on the flirtatiousness and are overflowing with the run of the mill exhaustion. As you can see with any trailer, they try to take a step out the box of their ordinary and end up in big trouble. They are definitely jimmy jacked. (I love that phrase. Seriously, my favorite).
Carell and Fey don't have the chemistry that is Kate Hudson Wesley and Princess Buttercup. They have a bit of the old people that hold hands when they need each other and a sense that they just get each other.
The finalizing moment for me in knowing if I really liked a movie or not is the drive home. I pulled out of the parking lot and kept laughing. There you have it. The seal of approval.
Laughter.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Fox Hunt
While the weather was on a cleanse diet and getting out the junk it stored during the weather, I happened to be interacting with the consequences of such a cleanse on my drive home from work. As the roads and snow decided to start a club and were highly exclusive, the stress of pulling into my vertical driveway grasped my attention and began to strangle ADD into submission.
Attempt one: This was more or less a general assesment and I realized I would need a second opinion
Attempt two: This was while taking the advice of the assessment of my mother. Hindsight tells me that calling her was pointless because she was not looking at what I was looking at. While turning around to start another attempt I almost got stuck in my neighbors driveway.
Attempt three: I SAW A FOX! Now with this claim I add a disclaimer. There is a possibility that it was a very short and spry dear with a bushy tail. Or even a raccoon with longer legs and bigger ears. I have seen enough Disney movies to know that it was a fox. (If I knew how to do footnotes there would be one next to Disney giving a short history of the company and another one next to fox that left further reference to "Robin Hood" and "The Fox and the Hound") So yes, I am 73% positive that it was a fox.
After getting my head in the game (yes, another Disney reference) I parked the car and was faced with the second hardest decision I have had to make today. The first was which movie to watch and believe me when I say, it was difficult. But the decision of consequence is if I were to chase after that fox. It was only two houses down and though I would be in unfamiliar terrain, in total darkness, at risk for getting in trouble for trespassing, and contracting rabies assuming this deer, raccoon maybe even a skunk creature was ravenous. Like I do with most hard decisions in my life I decided to decide later.
Now, knowing that this fox hunt opportunity is in the past and a past that yields no story, I have decided to make my own story.
Once upon a time there was a short girl. She was slightly adventurous, slightly blind, and highly curious. One night, whilst dancing in the glimmer of snowflakes, something curious caught this young maidens eye. While slightly uncertain of the animals character, little miss needs to see it all was quick to follow. Through the forest of suburban homes and landscaped lawns they ran until the young miss lost sight of the leader in this race through space and time. "Curious," she thought to herself and cautiously stepped forward. Like she'd seen in movies time and time again, she took the wrong step and WOOSH! A curious sight she was, her head where her feet should be. Out from behind the tree came Mr. Fox. It was clear now that he was a fox due to the process of elimination. He most certainly was not a deer because his legs were much to furry and far too thick. He was in no way a skunk because he neither smelled or bashfully hid behind a flower. And in no way could he ever be confused with Lady Gaga in a crowd because. . . well there is no logic to explain this deduction so be trusting and blindly believe that it was not Lady Gaga. So there she was, a curious sight being curiously dangled from a tree under scrutinizing inspection. "Curious," the fox whispered as he nibbled on her finger tips for just a moment and sniffed her hair. "You will have to do." With that he cut her down and expected her to keep up. Around a tree, under a porch, and into an outdoor pool they ventured. There they found a slightly short table from the girl's perspective with slightly smashed tea cakes and slightly chipped tea cups. There they sipped on slightly bitter tea and talked of slightly bitter things and were slightly civilized in their thumb wrestling tournament. After a slightly disappointing loss, the girl traveled back home to where a warm cozy bed was waiting. And she slept happily ever until the next adventure.
Good Night.
Attempt one: This was more or less a general assesment and I realized I would need a second opinion
Attempt two: This was while taking the advice of the assessment of my mother. Hindsight tells me that calling her was pointless because she was not looking at what I was looking at. While turning around to start another attempt I almost got stuck in my neighbors driveway.
Attempt three: I SAW A FOX! Now with this claim I add a disclaimer. There is a possibility that it was a very short and spry dear with a bushy tail. Or even a raccoon with longer legs and bigger ears. I have seen enough Disney movies to know that it was a fox. (If I knew how to do footnotes there would be one next to Disney giving a short history of the company and another one next to fox that left further reference to "Robin Hood" and "The Fox and the Hound") So yes, I am 73% positive that it was a fox.
After getting my head in the game (yes, another Disney reference) I parked the car and was faced with the second hardest decision I have had to make today. The first was which movie to watch and believe me when I say, it was difficult. But the decision of consequence is if I were to chase after that fox. It was only two houses down and though I would be in unfamiliar terrain, in total darkness, at risk for getting in trouble for trespassing, and contracting rabies assuming this deer, raccoon maybe even a skunk creature was ravenous. Like I do with most hard decisions in my life I decided to decide later.
Now, knowing that this fox hunt opportunity is in the past and a past that yields no story, I have decided to make my own story.
Once upon a time there was a short girl. She was slightly adventurous, slightly blind, and highly curious. One night, whilst dancing in the glimmer of snowflakes, something curious caught this young maidens eye. While slightly uncertain of the animals character, little miss needs to see it all was quick to follow. Through the forest of suburban homes and landscaped lawns they ran until the young miss lost sight of the leader in this race through space and time. "Curious," she thought to herself and cautiously stepped forward. Like she'd seen in movies time and time again, she took the wrong step and WOOSH! A curious sight she was, her head where her feet should be. Out from behind the tree came Mr. Fox. It was clear now that he was a fox due to the process of elimination. He most certainly was not a deer because his legs were much to furry and far too thick. He was in no way a skunk because he neither smelled or bashfully hid behind a flower. And in no way could he ever be confused with Lady Gaga in a crowd because. . . well there is no logic to explain this deduction so be trusting and blindly believe that it was not Lady Gaga. So there she was, a curious sight being curiously dangled from a tree under scrutinizing inspection. "Curious," the fox whispered as he nibbled on her finger tips for just a moment and sniffed her hair. "You will have to do." With that he cut her down and expected her to keep up. Around a tree, under a porch, and into an outdoor pool they ventured. There they found a slightly short table from the girl's perspective with slightly smashed tea cakes and slightly chipped tea cups. There they sipped on slightly bitter tea and talked of slightly bitter things and were slightly civilized in their thumb wrestling tournament. After a slightly disappointing loss, the girl traveled back home to where a warm cozy bed was waiting. And she slept happily ever until the next adventure.
Good Night.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The power of your mind
As I sit here, stubbornly refusing to take medicine for this cold that crippled my enthusiasm to talk, sing, or even breathe I think about the power we all have. I've always been a firm believer that illness can be in your head. The possibility optimism awards for opportunities to improve your life are well worth the wait and the smile, even if you get some dirt in your mouth when the wind blows against you. I'm wondering why I am thinking only happy things of rainbows and butterflies and still my throat has been replaced by a music box with a dieing battery that sounds like a horse winy.
I also believe that I don't need to take medicine. Yes, I can see the obvious errors in my own logic but I will let it push me to the edge of my tolerance and still swallow that Advil begrudgingly.
I don't say that I understand it entirely but it is very much a part of me. I think that I can do anything I set my mind to so if you would be so kind to excuse me, I have my throat to think about.
I also believe that I don't need to take medicine. Yes, I can see the obvious errors in my own logic but I will let it push me to the edge of my tolerance and still swallow that Advil begrudgingly.
I don't say that I understand it entirely but it is very much a part of me. I think that I can do anything I set my mind to so if you would be so kind to excuse me, I have my throat to think about.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
