Grin.
I'm generally a pretty upbeat guy. The past few months I've done my best to appreciate the good things around me, of which there are many, and cope with the less enjoyable. In the last twenty-four hours I've been forced to grin. Yes, forced. It's the type of grin that when you finally realize just how stupid you must look it fades for a moment only to return even more forcefully when you are reminded of what made you begin in the first place.
The first was during worship. Well, after worship, actually. God is good.
The second was instigated by merely hearing I had caused a friend to smile.
Sick to death.
Oh, how absence makes the heart grow fonder...
or, in my case, care less.
______________________
It's rather astounding how upsetting it can be when someone isn't upset when you want them to be. I don't usually measure things in percentages. I'm not generally that mathematical (my wife never believed I had any mathematical talent), but over the last five months I've found a particular area of my thought process that really can't be accounted for in any other way. I've kept a running tally of my day to day desire for my wife to return vs. my lack of desire for the same.
I'm sure now of the ground upon which I stand, but I can't say as of yet whether or not I'm pleased to be standing here.
*
Once upon a time (a story inspired by a story that was only somewhat meant to be read by someone.)
Once upon a time there was a boy. He had a life. and it was good.
The life that he once knew exploded into tiny fragments. Sends shrapnel in each and every direction. Wounding his heart deeply. Yet, it was good, only he didn't know it yet.
One day while tending his hands that were gashed from cleaning up the pieces, he found a community of friends where he just happened to fill a need... answering phones. His worries where forgotten and the mess was left. And it was good.
The distraction continued and the mess grew unbeknownst to him. But he found friends. And it was good.
After months, the distraction concluded and life and the mess rushed in on the boy, but still he ignored them and clung to his new friends as his only distraction. And it was not so good.
The mess had grown teeth. They cut and ripped at the boy's flesh leaving little undone, but the boy gritted his teeth and clung to his friends. And it was not so good.
Until one day the boy forgot his link to his friends at home. Alone in a world of teeth. Center stage against an enemy he could find no cover from. His thoughts laid waste to him that day. And surprisingly, it was slightly better then not so good.
A few days passed without the link, and the boy waged an unending war on his thoughts. Slowly, without even realizing, the mess began to fade. And it was good.
Never did he forget his friends. Often the boy thought of them and hoped that his absence was not too much. But the boy was mindful of the wounds to his heart and worked diligently to erase the thoughts that continued to pain him. And it was good.
Then one day the boy stumbled across a note. It wasn't, but was, meant for him. His friends had been wounded while he was away cleaning his mess and fighting his battles. The wounds to his heart, not fully healed, began to ache as he read. Each word pushing the shrapnel deeper. Upon the reverse of the note were phrases penned by multiple hands. Some painful, some confused. The boy staggered back. And there he stands. Is it good?
Careful Skeptic
A close friend once called me
a careful skeptic. Miracles don't come
from eggs, I might say, chickens do.
One morning I talked to a young man
who had broken up with the mother of his child;
He cried about not seeing the baby
and the loss of equilibrium
forced by his confusion.
More than forty years of life
have given me some place in this space.
So we talked about dignity, of the values that
keep one strong when everything else falls apart;
He listened, began to smile, said he would try,
and left, paying for breakfast.
I'm sure he wished an angel would stride with him through the windswept road.
I don't know about angels; I do know
the miracle germinating at any crossroads
is what's learned
- Luis J. Rodriguez
deep thoughts
Two lamps in the window...
A rainbow over dry land...
Red skies at night.
____________
My appetite is back.
*
Stupidity intact
Upon the meaty section of his left hand, the piece where the pointer finger intersects with the thumb, a perfectly round layer of white skin lay exposed. The outer layer of flesh that had protected this particular three quarter inch spot had been seared away... rather inexplicably, I might add.
________________________________________What boys will do on a guy's night with a well smoked cigar on hand.
*
do you like e. e. cummings?
i am a beggar always
who begs in your mind
(slightly smiling, patient, unspeaking
with a sign on his
breast
BLIND)yes i
am this person of whom somehow
you are never wholly rid(and who
does not ask for more than
just enough dreams to
live on)
after all, kid
you might as well
toss him a few thoughts
a little love preferably,
anything which you can't
pass off on other people: for
instance a
plugged promise--
then he will maybe(hearing something
fall into his hat)go wandering
after it with fingers; till having
found
what was thrown away
himself
taptaptaps out of your brain, hopes, life
to(carefully turning a
corner)never bother you any more.
Her
My eyes glazed
her image faded
and all that remains is
hope.
Hope drowned in the sound
of gnashing of teeth.
Here I am undone. Here I am center stage. Alone.
Under any other circumstances this longing to know the person below the surface would be endearing and romantic. In my situation, it's just pathetic.
I crave their understanding. I wail against this cage I've made to contain the thoughts I find unacceptable. Praying that one day these bars will break and I will again find freedom in wholehearted honesty. But for now I bide my time. Keeping these atrocities unseen by those I love, till I fully understand the depravity in my character that allows for them to be birthed.
*
Dang... I'm a dweeb.
So, thanks to
dasro's blog (go check it out. Be warned, it's addictive.) I decided to take a little quiz.
*angelo hangs head in shame...
as promised
Peggy (the real principal) and me.
Just me.
*
