I'm packing up to move into my own place. As always with packing, there is a literal cleansing that happens; you purge what is no longer needed and save what scraps of paper notes and pieces of glass you have collected from sandy beaches and tuck them away in shoe boxes and drawers. Along with it, you brush away cobwebs and tears alike as you read through old journals and discard the broken bits of your heart you forgot you had stored away.
I found some old poetry, and ramblings. I thought I'd share this one. I don't know who it was directed to, but I feel that right now it could be applicable to any meandering stranger and possibly even medicine for my own soul.
Dear Wandering One,
Let me begin gently, as I acknowledge the feeling of emptiness you are experiencing. It is only natural and I assure you, you are unsuccessful in your attempts to disguise the sorrow. My suggestion on the matter is to release it, in the best way you see fit, whether it be screaming, crying breaking things or lashing out at inanimate objects. It will not soon subside (this feeling) but linger hauntingly, convincing you the warmth you once feeling has permanently abandoned your being. At this time, I advise being fruitful, finding an outlet and unleashing a sadly inspired part of yourself you never knew existed. Let me tell you, and I know from experience, it is the most glorious pain you will ever fall victim to...heartache.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Looking for Jack Smith
I work in insurance. I quote Fords and Chevorlets, add coverages and advise you against getting a pit bull puppy to keep in your home. My job is interesting, to say the least, but I never find myself swept off my feet and my heart touched by stories of how getting into a car accident led to a marriage proposal. It's just not how my career works, and who cares about all that stereotypical mushy bullshit anyhow, right? I could never design wedding cakes or sell bridal bouquets, because I feel I would always have the urge to gag as I smugly said "Congratulations on your engagement, you're spending an awful lot of money on a cake and a few glorified weeds; and that unfortunately does not guarantee your relationship will work. But good luck anyway, kids!".
Call it bitter or jaded, but my views on being the other half of a couple with someone have changed. Honestly, I don't think I would have actually needed to get married and then divorced at a young age, but that's what happened. It's trendy now, anyway, to meet, fall in love and jump headfirst into the darkness with your fingers crossed. We've taken the phrase "life is too short" and drilled it so hard into our heads that it's damaged the discerning part of our brains that balances logic and love. Red flags are dismissed quickly, and sometimes never discussed out of fear that we will appear paranoid. The man or woman who tells you they are not afraid of being forever alone and can do it convincingly is either the world's greatest liar or a saint. Period.
So we swallow a lot of pain, we choke at the taste and we handcuff ourselves to the ideals we have set and settle for less than what we deserve because it's better than being lonely.
I don't think this is the tragic fate of humanity. I love love. Everyone knows I do. I have a huge heart with an open door policy and damaged as it is, it's no different from anyone else's in it's abilities to give and receive great things.
I spoke to an elderly lady the other day at work. Fridays are always long days for me, as I watch the clock desperately, and practice my time moving super powers that always fail me. She spoke softly as she told me her story. She didn't need an insurance quote, or to report a claim. She didn't call to yell about a bill or to tell me that her insurance rate was too high. She had been a customer of my company for over 25 years, had never married and wanted to get an old agent of her's name and information if I could possibly find it.
She told me his name was Jack Smith, and that many years ago, when she was a young woman, Jack had been her insurance agent. At 83 years old now, she knew he no longer was in the business, but for very personal reasons, it was time she finally got in touch with him. She giggled at this point, and I laughed along with her. Something in the way she said his name, made my heart skip a beat, and I could imagine her's was doing the same thing.
I searched in every data base, wracked my brain to think of a way to find this elusive man, but unfortunately was unable to find anything to help her in her search. She laughed again. "It's alright. I didn't figure you would know, but I am confident I'll find him. You know, honey, try looking for a Jack Smith. I've searched phone books and computers and everyone keeps telling me what a difficult name I'm searching for. All I can ever say is, I realize it's like finding a needle in a haystack, but he's the only Jack Smith that matters to me".
Immediately after I hung up the phone, I turned to my co-worker to tell her the story I had just heard. Hands over our hearts we swooned and cooed over the little old woman and her long lost prince. Sarcastically, to break the welling of tears in my eyes, I made a joke about it being like "The (Fucking) Notebook" and we moved on with our day.
Driving home, I started thinking about the lady again, and I realized how delicate that kind of affection is. At 83, she is still looking, with a peace in her heart, for the one man who was worth it all.
There are a million Jack Smiths in the world. It's not supposed to be like the movies and it's not ever going to be perfect, but if for one moment in our lives we had a connection with someone like my caller had, I believe with all my heart it would restore faith in truthful love.
Dear Jack Smith, wherever you are...
Call it bitter or jaded, but my views on being the other half of a couple with someone have changed. Honestly, I don't think I would have actually needed to get married and then divorced at a young age, but that's what happened. It's trendy now, anyway, to meet, fall in love and jump headfirst into the darkness with your fingers crossed. We've taken the phrase "life is too short" and drilled it so hard into our heads that it's damaged the discerning part of our brains that balances logic and love. Red flags are dismissed quickly, and sometimes never discussed out of fear that we will appear paranoid. The man or woman who tells you they are not afraid of being forever alone and can do it convincingly is either the world's greatest liar or a saint. Period.
So we swallow a lot of pain, we choke at the taste and we handcuff ourselves to the ideals we have set and settle for less than what we deserve because it's better than being lonely.
I don't think this is the tragic fate of humanity. I love love. Everyone knows I do. I have a huge heart with an open door policy and damaged as it is, it's no different from anyone else's in it's abilities to give and receive great things.
I spoke to an elderly lady the other day at work. Fridays are always long days for me, as I watch the clock desperately, and practice my time moving super powers that always fail me. She spoke softly as she told me her story. She didn't need an insurance quote, or to report a claim. She didn't call to yell about a bill or to tell me that her insurance rate was too high. She had been a customer of my company for over 25 years, had never married and wanted to get an old agent of her's name and information if I could possibly find it.
She told me his name was Jack Smith, and that many years ago, when she was a young woman, Jack had been her insurance agent. At 83 years old now, she knew he no longer was in the business, but for very personal reasons, it was time she finally got in touch with him. She giggled at this point, and I laughed along with her. Something in the way she said his name, made my heart skip a beat, and I could imagine her's was doing the same thing.
I searched in every data base, wracked my brain to think of a way to find this elusive man, but unfortunately was unable to find anything to help her in her search. She laughed again. "It's alright. I didn't figure you would know, but I am confident I'll find him. You know, honey, try looking for a Jack Smith. I've searched phone books and computers and everyone keeps telling me what a difficult name I'm searching for. All I can ever say is, I realize it's like finding a needle in a haystack, but he's the only Jack Smith that matters to me".
Immediately after I hung up the phone, I turned to my co-worker to tell her the story I had just heard. Hands over our hearts we swooned and cooed over the little old woman and her long lost prince. Sarcastically, to break the welling of tears in my eyes, I made a joke about it being like "The (Fucking) Notebook" and we moved on with our day.
Driving home, I started thinking about the lady again, and I realized how delicate that kind of affection is. At 83, she is still looking, with a peace in her heart, for the one man who was worth it all.
There are a million Jack Smiths in the world. It's not supposed to be like the movies and it's not ever going to be perfect, but if for one moment in our lives we had a connection with someone like my caller had, I believe with all my heart it would restore faith in truthful love.
Dear Jack Smith, wherever you are...
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
...high jumping in fashion...
I went on vacation and never came back mentally. A coastal adventure that renewed and brought clarity in waves.
You’re so vain, you probably think this post is about you, don’t you? Turns out, it is, but there’s no room for vanity today. Flattery will also get me nowhere, so I’ll be frank. Unless you want to be Frank, for humor’s sake, that way I can be myself during this conversation. I’m going to blindfold, gag and bind you, and not in a great sort of way. I want you to listen and be still for once, and keep your judgment in a box until I finish this all in one swift breath. Ready? Set? And, go.
I practiced my speeches leaving the sand and shores to return home. I must say, I’m pretty incredible at giving lectures while in the driver’s seat, hands at ten and two and eyes focused straight ahead on the road I’m traveling. As always, I light up a cigarette before I start one of my infamous speeches. I didn't want to have to go through this again with you because I’m so much better at this in the mirror…and action.
Center stage, follow-spot to the podium I walk to. The lights are dim, but I can see the outline of your shadow; my only audience member. A soundtrack playing thunder claps rolls in gently, increasing in volume as I take a drag from my Marlboro. A black backdrop falls heavy to the floor and I cue, by raising my eyes upward, a flash of lightening that flickers across stage left. I stare out into the vast emptiness, and scream out one single, tragic concept. Above the cacophony you hear my cry of ‘RELATIONSHIP!’. Your heart drops, the muscles in your hands stretch painfully as you grip your seat. You are frozen in time, unable in your fear to even attempt an escape. I raise one solitary finger and point at you. The curtain drops as I flick my still-lit cigarette in your direction and walk away.
It’s what you pictured, right? If not this scene, then something similar to it and I’d put all my betting money on that pony. Destruction of your life and freedom, loss of sanity and complete and utter doom, all caused by the utterance of twelve letters put together to form one single word. Already, you are crawling inside your skin, panicking, and gasping for air. This is what you’ve been afraid of all along, and I can say that with confidence as you have openly confessed your profound phobia of commitment.
Here’s the real kicker: as frightened as you say you are, I am equally freaked out, for lack of better wording. You showed up yet again, with your incredible swagger and dark hair and kicked down the door to my heart. You told me I was rare, and I delightfully soaked it up without a second thought.
I don’t want to change your life. I don’t want to mold you into a better person, or use you as my entertainment. I don’t have the time to domineer you, because as much as I care about you and being with you, I will always retain my own life, interests and friends. I value silence often, and peace frequently, and sometimes I need solitude for days at a time. Video games? Great! Play them for hours until your eyes fall out of your head. I will gratefully soak in a tub with wine and a nerdy Stephen King novel—in my own living space. I don’t care that you had eggs for breakfast, unless you are making them for me, over medium, on top of blueberry pancakes. As much as I want to know you, I don’t want to encroach on your territory and change your personality.
I want to enrich your life, and in return, have you be an asset to mine.
Read the prior blogs, I’ll have them put into animation with bright colors so you will better understand and grasp finally my attempts to connect with you on a deeper level. I’ve been harboring too many secrets, and I am dragging because of it. I deserve the best, and I am ready to develop a relationship (SCREAM!) with the right person. Sadly enough, if this is not you, I will ask you to agree to disagree and cut the ties that hold us together. Flesh on flesh, I will break bones and tear skin and walk away bleeding in order to prove my unbreakable strength. I cannot stay connected to you, and if you are going to injure my heart further, I will finish building the bridge between us, just to burn it down.
I adore you naturally and in an easy way. My care and concern does not ebb and flow like the tide, it is a constant presence and ever growing in amount. I don’t want to cling to you like a barnacle on a whale, I want to float next to you lazily in the sun, two souls, happy as clams. I’m full of sea analogies, which is a testament to my astounding sense of humor. I considered giving you this all, describing me as a starfish and you as a wild stalk of seaweed, but I declined as all in all, my goal was to finally reach you, and very intentionally so.
Once again, I am about to set sail. My greatest fear is that you will not be on board…
You’re so vain, you probably think this post is about you, don’t you? Turns out, it is, but there’s no room for vanity today. Flattery will also get me nowhere, so I’ll be frank. Unless you want to be Frank, for humor’s sake, that way I can be myself during this conversation. I’m going to blindfold, gag and bind you, and not in a great sort of way. I want you to listen and be still for once, and keep your judgment in a box until I finish this all in one swift breath. Ready? Set? And, go.
I practiced my speeches leaving the sand and shores to return home. I must say, I’m pretty incredible at giving lectures while in the driver’s seat, hands at ten and two and eyes focused straight ahead on the road I’m traveling. As always, I light up a cigarette before I start one of my infamous speeches. I didn't want to have to go through this again with you because I’m so much better at this in the mirror…and action.
Center stage, follow-spot to the podium I walk to. The lights are dim, but I can see the outline of your shadow; my only audience member. A soundtrack playing thunder claps rolls in gently, increasing in volume as I take a drag from my Marlboro. A black backdrop falls heavy to the floor and I cue, by raising my eyes upward, a flash of lightening that flickers across stage left. I stare out into the vast emptiness, and scream out one single, tragic concept. Above the cacophony you hear my cry of ‘RELATIONSHIP!’. Your heart drops, the muscles in your hands stretch painfully as you grip your seat. You are frozen in time, unable in your fear to even attempt an escape. I raise one solitary finger and point at you. The curtain drops as I flick my still-lit cigarette in your direction and walk away.
It’s what you pictured, right? If not this scene, then something similar to it and I’d put all my betting money on that pony. Destruction of your life and freedom, loss of sanity and complete and utter doom, all caused by the utterance of twelve letters put together to form one single word. Already, you are crawling inside your skin, panicking, and gasping for air. This is what you’ve been afraid of all along, and I can say that with confidence as you have openly confessed your profound phobia of commitment.
Here’s the real kicker: as frightened as you say you are, I am equally freaked out, for lack of better wording. You showed up yet again, with your incredible swagger and dark hair and kicked down the door to my heart. You told me I was rare, and I delightfully soaked it up without a second thought.
I don’t want to change your life. I don’t want to mold you into a better person, or use you as my entertainment. I don’t have the time to domineer you, because as much as I care about you and being with you, I will always retain my own life, interests and friends. I value silence often, and peace frequently, and sometimes I need solitude for days at a time. Video games? Great! Play them for hours until your eyes fall out of your head. I will gratefully soak in a tub with wine and a nerdy Stephen King novel—in my own living space. I don’t care that you had eggs for breakfast, unless you are making them for me, over medium, on top of blueberry pancakes. As much as I want to know you, I don’t want to encroach on your territory and change your personality.
I want to enrich your life, and in return, have you be an asset to mine.
Read the prior blogs, I’ll have them put into animation with bright colors so you will better understand and grasp finally my attempts to connect with you on a deeper level. I’ve been harboring too many secrets, and I am dragging because of it. I deserve the best, and I am ready to develop a relationship (SCREAM!) with the right person. Sadly enough, if this is not you, I will ask you to agree to disagree and cut the ties that hold us together. Flesh on flesh, I will break bones and tear skin and walk away bleeding in order to prove my unbreakable strength. I cannot stay connected to you, and if you are going to injure my heart further, I will finish building the bridge between us, just to burn it down.
I adore you naturally and in an easy way. My care and concern does not ebb and flow like the tide, it is a constant presence and ever growing in amount. I don’t want to cling to you like a barnacle on a whale, I want to float next to you lazily in the sun, two souls, happy as clams. I’m full of sea analogies, which is a testament to my astounding sense of humor. I considered giving you this all, describing me as a starfish and you as a wild stalk of seaweed, but I declined as all in all, my goal was to finally reach you, and very intentionally so.
Once again, I am about to set sail. My greatest fear is that you will not be on board…
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