Like many others I'm sure, I am laying awake, tossing and turning, swaddled in the pillowy softness and warmth of my bed. My mind is racing with constant thoughts of our dear friend Michelle though...hoping she is tucked safely in her sub-zero sleeping bag within the confines of her "exceptional" tent, or perhaps nestled down deep within the protective walls of a snow cave. The uncertainty of this situation is brutal. I can only imagine how her parents must feel, and truly, to them I extend my deepest sympathies and my hope for peace and rest.
In the midst of this snowy madness though, there is an intense and profound beauty, one that so wholly displays a true and pure love for another person. I'm somewhat in awe of the phenomenal amount of earnest passion, sincere love, and unwavering faith and hope displayed by this mass of people joining together to root for our beloved friend, sister, and daughter.
I am confident she is out there, waiting with a patience and determination that can only be heaven sent. I am certain that Michelle is there in the snowy wonder of this mountain with unbreakable strength bestowing her selfless love on those around her, for as we all know, that is what she does, and it simply is who she is.
As the break of day is fast approaching, so comes with it a new chance for glory to rain down, and for hope and faith to be renewed.
Michelle,
We all love you so very dearly, and cannot wait to hear your tales of adventure and wonder and incredible tenacity. I look forward to seeing you soon my friend.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Monday, December 26, 2011
Elegy
I've borrowed the title from one of my most favorite movies, in fact, it is quite possibly my favorite movie ever. I think it chronicles the most lovely and poignant story I've seen or heard in some time.
There is a bit in the film in which the main character's best friend tells about his theory on beautiful women. He says that "Beautiful women are invisible[...] that we [people] are so dazzled by their beautiful exterior that we don't even see what's within." As melancholy and dramatic as this may seem, I believe it to be quite true. There are people in the world, not only women but men too, who are in fact exquisite, artwork in and of themselves, as though their only reason for being created was for the rest of us to stop and stare. I don't mean you're typical sort of model or actress. No, I mean those people who simply take your breath away and command a second, third, or even fourth glance because they're so lovely you think it can't possibly be real.
I wonder though, what is it like hiding beneath that shell. It must be quite lonely as people seemingly so unattainable are rarely ever pursued for anything more than some gratuitous escapade. I'm certain though that there must be much more depth beneath that most lovely facade. So I wonder, what sort of person is tenacious enough to pursue that hidden mystery? What must it take to gently chip away at the shell of a Faberge egg in order to discover the secret within? And how great must that love be?
There is a bit in the film in which the main character's best friend tells about his theory on beautiful women. He says that "Beautiful women are invisible[...] that we [people] are so dazzled by their beautiful exterior that we don't even see what's within." As melancholy and dramatic as this may seem, I believe it to be quite true. There are people in the world, not only women but men too, who are in fact exquisite, artwork in and of themselves, as though their only reason for being created was for the rest of us to stop and stare. I don't mean you're typical sort of model or actress. No, I mean those people who simply take your breath away and command a second, third, or even fourth glance because they're so lovely you think it can't possibly be real.
I wonder though, what is it like hiding beneath that shell. It must be quite lonely as people seemingly so unattainable are rarely ever pursued for anything more than some gratuitous escapade. I'm certain though that there must be much more depth beneath that most lovely facade. So I wonder, what sort of person is tenacious enough to pursue that hidden mystery? What must it take to gently chip away at the shell of a Faberge egg in order to discover the secret within? And how great must that love be?
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
To be Loved
Recently a friend of mine gave me a quote, which I'm sure to misquote actually, but the gist of it is something along the lines of being sure to surround oneself with people who truly celebrate and love him or her as opposed to merely tolerating the person. This thought is something I've carried closely in my thoughts lately as I have evaluated various relationships in my life. The idea of someone actually celebrating all of my quirks and idiosyncrasies is one I can barely grasp as I generally feel as though I'm little more than a novelty...a play thing that loses its luster quite rapidly, only to be tossed aside for the next best thing.
I was explaining that to a very dear friend of mine earlier this lovely evening and his response was one of shock. He looked at me in disbelief as I detailed why I have come to this conclusion. Yes, I know this seems like a "woe is me" sort of tale, but it's about to take a turn. At that point in the conversation my friend tells me he thinks I'm beautiful and that he loves me. He tells me again when we leave that he loves me very much. And that friends, is the loveliest thing. Why? Because I know he means it...every ounce of it. That was a most sincere comment, and one that will always be held dear. In the midst of all the hustle and bustle of this Christmas season, I am fully convinced being the recipient of one true love is the greatest gift of all.
I was explaining that to a very dear friend of mine earlier this lovely evening and his response was one of shock. He looked at me in disbelief as I detailed why I have come to this conclusion. Yes, I know this seems like a "woe is me" sort of tale, but it's about to take a turn. At that point in the conversation my friend tells me he thinks I'm beautiful and that he loves me. He tells me again when we leave that he loves me very much. And that friends, is the loveliest thing. Why? Because I know he means it...every ounce of it. That was a most sincere comment, and one that will always be held dear. In the midst of all the hustle and bustle of this Christmas season, I am fully convinced being the recipient of one true love is the greatest gift of all.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
on a night like this...
my heart truly is broken. i sit here in the comfort of my pillowy, plush bed with a heavy heart as the father of one of my dearest friends has passed away. i know that she now sits alone in a hotel room with a heart full of hurt, pain, questioning, shock, relief, anger, and frustration. selfishly i want to get in my car and drive to her immediately if for no other reason than to sit in that hotel room with her. but that is for my sake, so i can feel as though i am doing something to comfort her in a tangible way since i am four hours away geographically. realistically, i know it makes no difference whether i am there in person or not though. at the end of the day, the pain is hers. nothing i can say or do will take it away or even lessen it at all. and selfishly, that is the hardest part for me.
she asked me if it ever gets easier...not having a dad. the truth is, for me at least, it hurts less over time. well most days that's true anyway. overall though, it's never easier. it has been over 16 years since my dad died, and i will always miss him. i think of him every day. and not one day goes by when i don't wish he were still here with me. but yes, generally, it hurts less. like my friend said of her father, at least mine is no longer in pain.
but oh god why did this happen while she is away with no one geographically close enough to her to go and be with her? no one should have to handle this in such solitude. lord i hope she knows she is not alone. i know that it hurts most at night in still, quiet darkness. i know too though that i found the most comfort in that place. i was able to be truly alone to deal with the hurt and angst in my own time and in my own way. i cried myself to sleep for months...maybe years. i don't remember exactly. but that solitude was the only place i could truly break down and feel the emotions that transpired out of that ordeal. i hope the same for my beloved friend. i hope and pray that she finds peace in the quiet solitude. my god i hope she is able to rest there and lay down her burden. please god if you are there, hear her cries and give her comfort and rest from this, the most painful thing she has yet to endure in her life
she asked me if it ever gets easier...not having a dad. the truth is, for me at least, it hurts less over time. well most days that's true anyway. overall though, it's never easier. it has been over 16 years since my dad died, and i will always miss him. i think of him every day. and not one day goes by when i don't wish he were still here with me. but yes, generally, it hurts less. like my friend said of her father, at least mine is no longer in pain.
but oh god why did this happen while she is away with no one geographically close enough to her to go and be with her? no one should have to handle this in such solitude. lord i hope she knows she is not alone. i know that it hurts most at night in still, quiet darkness. i know too though that i found the most comfort in that place. i was able to be truly alone to deal with the hurt and angst in my own time and in my own way. i cried myself to sleep for months...maybe years. i don't remember exactly. but that solitude was the only place i could truly break down and feel the emotions that transpired out of that ordeal. i hope the same for my beloved friend. i hope and pray that she finds peace in the quiet solitude. my god i hope she is able to rest there and lay down her burden. please god if you are there, hear her cries and give her comfort and rest from this, the most painful thing she has yet to endure in her life
Monday, November 14, 2011
It's the pushing and pulling and never let me go-ing...it's this restlessness that never dies. Stay, leave, rest, run. Which is it I wonder or which should it be or which will it ever be? If I run will I find what I think I'm missing? If I stay will I always miss it? Or is it that no matter what, I will always be missing something...or perhaps someone?
As it is, I feel like I'm floating in a holding pattern with only the clouds to keep me company. But even there in the beautiful, soft greyness, is still this overwhelming stuckness. Maybe the stuckness is stuck inside my head though. Perhaps it isn't real. Perhaps it's just the drowsy effect of the thick, cozy cloud cover hanging drearily from the heavy sky.
As it is, I feel like I'm floating in a holding pattern with only the clouds to keep me company. But even there in the beautiful, soft greyness, is still this overwhelming stuckness. Maybe the stuckness is stuck inside my head though. Perhaps it isn't real. Perhaps it's just the drowsy effect of the thick, cozy cloud cover hanging drearily from the heavy sky.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
I by no means grew up in any sort of slum or third world country, nor did I grow up filthy rich with every advantage afforded to me. I had a normal family with a median income, 2 dogs, and a cat. I suppose it was the traditional American dream,
When my dad died, at least for me anyway, that dream shattered. Really I know I reference this often, but it was an earth-shattering experience in my life. It was a bit more over the top than your everyday ebb and flow. And ever since, things simply have not come easy. I don't say that to sound tragic or dramatic, it simply is a fact. Up until very recently I have worked at least two jobs and no less than 70 hours a week...for over the past decade. Given that I'm only 30...that seems like a terribly long time. However, that is the least of my concerns. I don't mind hard work. In fact, I rather like it as I think it builds character and integrity.
My issue rather is with relationships. Even in the middle of very messy and long, drawn out divorce, I still found myself trying to remain calm and non-reactionary, and to maintain some semblance of grace and dignity. Even in a trying time like that when truly it felt as though the weight of the world had alighted quite abruptly on my shoulders, I found myself mustering up every bit of strength I had to be strong, not just for myself, but for others. I've since learned that sometimes being strong also means have the capability to completely fall apart...as much as I hate to admit that. But in relationships, yes with guys, I have tried to be honest, open, kind, fair, compassionate, and patient. Yet no matter what I do it seems I cannot manage to come out on top.
Let me run down a list. We'll start with the narcissistic ex-husband. Not my finest moment. He was followed up by a guy we'll call the finger-tip pimp. I stole that name from my buddy Chris Price. Anyway, said pimp was a real charmer in on-line chats and emails...oddly even sent me pictures of engagement rings and the like...only to find out he was dating about 5 girls at the same time. Cool huh? Next up was...oh yeah, the needy one who was incredibly kind and fun but tried too hard to be something he wasn't and tried even harder to make our relationship work when clearly it just wasn't going to pan out. Lesson from that one...if you're in a relationship with someone and you're not entirely certain of your feelings toward that someone you probably needs to bail out of that relationship on the fly. Quite simply, if you don't know, you know. Anyway, that guy was followed up by this fellow who charmed me with his wit and sarcasm only to turn out to be a legit drug dealer. Considering I don't want to end up like Penelope Cruz in Blow I obviously had to put the kibosh on that one real quick. Bummer though, he was super fun. Post drug dealer along came this very handsome fellow I met at a wedding. He was unassuming certainly, but incredibly fun. He had me at the suspenders he sported to the wedding too I might add. I suppose it may have seemed an unusual match...me with a more simplistic guy, but that's part of what I liked about him. He was the opposite of me. REALLY the opposite...like ended up hardly talking to me and certainly wasn't honest with me...and I'm guilty of being brutally honest. That has ended actually with the two of us as roommates in a place he hates in a part of the city that I love. He's miserable, and now I'm kind of mad at him whereas at one point I felt sorry for him. Now though, I think I've just been used for the last year. Not awesome. I've hung out with a few people since-one is kind of psycho and definitely controlling, the other is just plain fun. At this point, I don't even care what the fun guy's intentions are. Why? Because he's fun. And until Adrian Brody comes to sweep me off my feet, I think I'm settling for fun in any way, shape, or form.
Enough with the relationships where I have to be the strong one, the honest one, the level headed one. Enough. I want fun and whimsy and carefree. I want that seemingly easy life for a little while. I don't want to work quite so hard, just for a bit. I think it might be nice if for once someone took care of me.
When my dad died, at least for me anyway, that dream shattered. Really I know I reference this often, but it was an earth-shattering experience in my life. It was a bit more over the top than your everyday ebb and flow. And ever since, things simply have not come easy. I don't say that to sound tragic or dramatic, it simply is a fact. Up until very recently I have worked at least two jobs and no less than 70 hours a week...for over the past decade. Given that I'm only 30...that seems like a terribly long time. However, that is the least of my concerns. I don't mind hard work. In fact, I rather like it as I think it builds character and integrity.
My issue rather is with relationships. Even in the middle of very messy and long, drawn out divorce, I still found myself trying to remain calm and non-reactionary, and to maintain some semblance of grace and dignity. Even in a trying time like that when truly it felt as though the weight of the world had alighted quite abruptly on my shoulders, I found myself mustering up every bit of strength I had to be strong, not just for myself, but for others. I've since learned that sometimes being strong also means have the capability to completely fall apart...as much as I hate to admit that. But in relationships, yes with guys, I have tried to be honest, open, kind, fair, compassionate, and patient. Yet no matter what I do it seems I cannot manage to come out on top.
Let me run down a list. We'll start with the narcissistic ex-husband. Not my finest moment. He was followed up by a guy we'll call the finger-tip pimp. I stole that name from my buddy Chris Price. Anyway, said pimp was a real charmer in on-line chats and emails...oddly even sent me pictures of engagement rings and the like...only to find out he was dating about 5 girls at the same time. Cool huh? Next up was...oh yeah, the needy one who was incredibly kind and fun but tried too hard to be something he wasn't and tried even harder to make our relationship work when clearly it just wasn't going to pan out. Lesson from that one...if you're in a relationship with someone and you're not entirely certain of your feelings toward that someone you probably needs to bail out of that relationship on the fly. Quite simply, if you don't know, you know. Anyway, that guy was followed up by this fellow who charmed me with his wit and sarcasm only to turn out to be a legit drug dealer. Considering I don't want to end up like Penelope Cruz in Blow I obviously had to put the kibosh on that one real quick. Bummer though, he was super fun. Post drug dealer along came this very handsome fellow I met at a wedding. He was unassuming certainly, but incredibly fun. He had me at the suspenders he sported to the wedding too I might add. I suppose it may have seemed an unusual match...me with a more simplistic guy, but that's part of what I liked about him. He was the opposite of me. REALLY the opposite...like ended up hardly talking to me and certainly wasn't honest with me...and I'm guilty of being brutally honest. That has ended actually with the two of us as roommates in a place he hates in a part of the city that I love. He's miserable, and now I'm kind of mad at him whereas at one point I felt sorry for him. Now though, I think I've just been used for the last year. Not awesome. I've hung out with a few people since-one is kind of psycho and definitely controlling, the other is just plain fun. At this point, I don't even care what the fun guy's intentions are. Why? Because he's fun. And until Adrian Brody comes to sweep me off my feet, I think I'm settling for fun in any way, shape, or form.
Enough with the relationships where I have to be the strong one, the honest one, the level headed one. Enough. I want fun and whimsy and carefree. I want that seemingly easy life for a little while. I don't want to work quite so hard, just for a bit. I think it might be nice if for once someone took care of me.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Perfect timing? Not so sure....
It's funny isn't it how supposedly God gives you who and what you need when you need them or it as the case may be? But I wonder if the timing is as accurate as some people believe.
I say this because in the last...eh...two years or so, I've made some amazing friends. I wonder how my life may have turned out differently had they been around for all the muck and mire of my past. My best friend alone is the only one to truly endure the mess with me and hold my hand as I toiled through through the sludge that was my life. Aside from her there were others, but she is the closest to me both geographically and emotionally and therefore endured the brunt of the storm. I can't help but think that perhaps I wouldn't be so cynical and jaded at times had I also had the blessing of these other friends to come alongside me when in the past when I needed them most. If that's the case...how can one rest in the knowledge that God's timing is perfect when it doesn't seem so perfect at all?
I say this because in the last...eh...two years or so, I've made some amazing friends. I wonder how my life may have turned out differently had they been around for all the muck and mire of my past. My best friend alone is the only one to truly endure the mess with me and hold my hand as I toiled through through the sludge that was my life. Aside from her there were others, but she is the closest to me both geographically and emotionally and therefore endured the brunt of the storm. I can't help but think that perhaps I wouldn't be so cynical and jaded at times had I also had the blessing of these other friends to come alongside me when in the past when I needed them most. If that's the case...how can one rest in the knowledge that God's timing is perfect when it doesn't seem so perfect at all?
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