Friday, June 30, 2006

tonight i will grieve...

...tomorrow i will reflect on her life and her death, and all she taught me in between.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

i think i can't, but i always do...

there are so many moments in life when i think i can't, but somehow i always do.
there are moments i think will never pass,
and then i find myself on the other side of them.
there are periods when i feel so old, like i've lived a lifetime,
but a quick glance in the mirror tells me I am still young.
today i feel all of these things.
i am old, and i am stuck in a moment
and i am pretty sure i can't...
but i know tomorrow will come.
tomorrow will bring untouched time.
tomorrow i will be me again--young
and full of life.
ready for life.
ready for whatever comes my way.
i will wait for tomorrow, when i can.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Happy 21st Birthday

Today is my friend Heather's 21st birthday. We actually celebrated it last night by surprising her at a restaurant. Well, we sort of crashed her date...but he knew and she loved it. Great time. Left to right, me, Kristi, Heather, and Christy. :o) Be back later.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Not Together, Not Quite Alone

Time passes in a blur and I realize that we have not seen each other in days. I see you of course but our conversation is limited to, “when will you be home and what are you doing at such and such time?” We’re not together. We haven’t been together for some time now…but I’m not quite alone and can’t function as an independent. This leaves me in limbo, feeling torn between my desire to be at your side and my desire to push you away completely. Too many nights I fall asleep, with only the dog at my side, and too many mornings I wake up alone. Where are you? Where am I?

I want to miss you but I also want to make you hurt—make you feel the way I do when I know you’re having a good time and I’m left behind. I want to be in your arms, to be held like I am the only thing that matters, but I also want to make you feel neglect—make you feel like the only way to love and security is to ask, no beg, for a moment of my time. I want to talk with you, to look into your eyes, to connect, but I also want to make you feel alienated—make you feel like you bitch about insignificant things and what you have to say isn’t worth my full attention.

We’re not together but I’m not quite alone…and I don’t know which is worst.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Long Days and Little Tragedies (part II)

In light of recent events, I’ve been thinking about death; specifically, my own. There has always been something about death that really bothers me--that scares the hell out of me. Perhaps it’s the finality of it. There is something about its permanence that causes me to shiver. I comfort myself with thoughts of Heaven-- what I know from my childhood as life after death, a glorious life without pain or suffering. Still, I find little solace in this truth because my human self can not comprehend the supernatural. I want to believe. I know I believe but I can’t grasp an immutable eternity of ecstasy. The closest I can get, is the idea of living endlessly and the thought of perpetual life, in this human state, seems more to me like damnation. Don’t get me wrong, I want to live a long, healthy, happy, productive life but I don’t want to do it forever and ever and ever. I guess if I think about it, I shouldn’t be scared of dying. (I know this is morbid but denying ‘its’ existence and the way it presses on my mind, doesn’t make it go away). I shouldn’t be scared because it is likely to come like a thief in the night and I’m pretty sure I won’t realize it has passed over me. Despite my feelings regarding my own death, I am more afraid of losing my family and friends. As each mother, husband, sister, and nana passes away around me, I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before I lose someone I love and pieces of myself. And even as I wonder these things, I banish the thoughts as if their consideration facilitates a knock on death’s door.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Long Days and Little Tragedies (part I)

After three consecutive eighteen hour days, smeared with little tragedies, I’m exhausted and thinking extensively of my own mortality. Every day I wake with great expectation for the world ahead of me. What will the day hold? How will I grow? What can I do to leave my mark? How can I make this day count? Never do I consider the possibility that this day, or even this moment, could be my last. It’s almost cliché to utter the words, “live like you were dying.” (Unless of course, you’re Tim McGraw). I digress. Anyway, the truth is, people are dying all around me. Left and right. They’re here and the suddenly, they’re not. I’m sure my friend’s grandmother, or Brad’s sister, or the patient I’ve been caring for, didn’t wake up and think twice about the moments they had left. It’s tragic. Even here, in this little “city of hope,” death slowly moves in, devouring any who submit to hopelessness and some who don’t. In the past week this hospital has had two small fires, a man who shot his wife before killing himself, a good man die of a wretched disease, and right now I am watching a beautiful mother of two, because the very thing that cured her of cancer, may have fried her brain. It’s tragic. It’s tragic and I have questions to which there are no answers.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

The Hard Core Truth

We're going to try something here. I'm going to try something here. For the past few months I have blogged sporadically, only when I deemed my life/thoughts worth reading and (even more realistic) only when the material was easy to write and cope with. I figure that if I write something, it's out there. If I want to change my mind or the way I feel, I can but the world will know that at one point, I felt the way I did and had the stupidity to verbalize it…and the world will remember. If you were to look back at any of the journals I started over the years, you would fall asleep with boredom. I seem to have a Stepford complex in which my world must appear perfect, when we all know it is not. I sort of laugh at this revelation because all my unfinished journals are memoirs of the day to day happenings of my life, without any juicy details that we would all rather hear about. All of my journals have pages that have been ripped out. I would write about things—how I really felt, my views or interpretations of events and later, having read them after some time, I somehow felt compelled to erase the evidence. Only recently have I started sharing the rotten things I say, do, and think, with trusted family and friends and each of them has proved the theory of my younger self, wrong; they all still love me and ironically come back for more. I don’t fully understand it. So, the something I am going to try is this…I am going to use this blog (for an unspecified time) to really journal for myself. Its content is not meant to offend anyone although I can’t promise it wont. My motive is rather selfish—this journal is for me. My goal is to present the hard core truth to and about myself, to have something raw to look back at, and to learn to be real in the midst of my own high expectations and that of my environment. For now, I will try to write at least every other day, but my hope is that I find joy in the journey and journaling becomes a treasured habit.