Blast my rebellious REM cycles!

There is a particular person, with whom I have not spoken in quite some time, who has been plaguing my dreams for the past few weeks. (And plaguing is the appropriate word.) I hate when my brain does this to me. I give the firm order not to think about it, but it just waits until I go to sleep and disobeys anyway. To call or not to call, that is the question. The answer is not, because I know how it would go, and it would not be to my satisfaction. Not nearly. It would just be much easier to stop asking the question if he would stay out of my dreams. Seriously, it’s kind of rude.

Also, I’ve lost a notebook. A particular notebook that I wouldn’t be too fond of anyone else getting ahold of. Bah!

Well what’s left for Sunday?

As I got off the bus coming from the parking lot to my building, I heard this from the first random person I passed on campus. ”Well…Friday night I’m having sex. And Saturday I’m getting plastered!” Oooh, it’s good to be home. Where is an eye-rolling emoticon when you need one.

 I will be happy to get back to the school, though. A day is like an eternity with those kids, and I certainly don’t want to start back at square one with them. We’ll see how it goes on Wednesday.

Also, I dreamt last night that I organized my desk. I didn’t remember this until I walked into my room tonight and became very disappointed that my desk was not as orderly as I was expecting. This is noteworthy as it is only the second time in my life I’ve dreamt something and later thought it to be true. The first time was a few years ago when I dreamt I found ten dollars in my pocket and then went to use it to pay for something later.

No, scratch that. Third time. I used to think I could float when I was a kid. I don’t remember dreaming it, really, but I can only assume that I did. I have very vivid memories of floating near the ceiling of my grandparents’ house. Not flying, really, just kind of…hovering there. I remember thinking that I could do this, just as though it were normal, like a fact. I could float. The way to do it was to let your body go limp, hang your head, and slowly push your arms out to your sides. I remember reasoning that it must have something to do with static electricity, just like you could get a balloon to stick to the ceiling if you rubbed it on the carpet or your hair for long enough. It’s strange, though, I can still remember the feeling of weightlessness. Then one day I realized it was impossible and that it must have been a dream. That was a sad day, indeed.

Maelstrom

I’ve spent a good portion of the evening methodically searching the internet. I’ve been trying to find two things. I finally was able to watch last week’s episode of Battlestar Galactica. (Which, by the way, had a perfect title: Maelstrom. I’ve borrowed it for the title of this blog because it seems appropriate for this week.) Afer I watched it I became obsessed with figuring out what is written on Kara’s apartment wall, next to the “eye of Jupiter.” Luckily I was able to pause it and get most of it, and after scouring the internet to fill in the gaps, I think this is right.

methodically
smoking my cigarette
with every breath
i breathe out the day
with every delicious
sip
i drink away the night
Stroking my hair to
the beat of his
heart
watching a
boy turn
into a
Man

I think that’s really great. One source made mention that it was actually written by Katee Sackhoff, but I don’t know if there’s any truth to that. I kind of hope there is.
I also think that the scene where she’s painting over this wall with white paint is one of my favorite Battlestar scenes ever.

The second thing I’ve been looking for is really random, even to me. For no particular reason I began thinking about this song that I haven’t heard in years, called Halo, by Michael Knott. And as best I can remember I downloaded this song because of a particular piece of writing. I can’t remember if it was a review, or some sort of short story-esque thing, or what, but it made mention of the song. All I remember about it is that it was written by J. Edward Keyes. And I don’t even have any idea who that is or why his name stuck in my head all these years. I just remember reading it and being so struck by it that I downloaded the song it was talking about. I decided I’d really like to read that particularly piece of writing again, so I’ve been searching all night. So far with no luck. Meh.

The song itself is wonderful too. At least the particular version that I had at one time was just he and the guitar, and the lyrics are…well, I’ll just post them. I like them very much.

she can take me to the place I love
sometimes it’s a hard place to find
even when the heart is hardened
I see something in her eyes
kick and screaming on the outside
something hidden within
I think she knows about it
cause when she holds me close
I hear her soul

hell no
I don’t mind if your halo don’t glow like it used to glow
I don’t care if you change your mind every tempting road

she’s always reaching out for heaven
says it’s a hard place to find
I swear and say its everywhere
freed is the taker’s line
slip into the darkest color
nothing but a stain to show
I think we both know we know about it
cause when she holds me close I hear her soul

hell no
I don’t mind if your halo don’t glow like it used to glow
I don’t care if you change your mind with every tempting road

I’ll be on your side with something here
to let you know
I don’t care if your halo don’t glow

For a moment, we’re lost together.

I don’t generally read webcomics, but I really enjoy XKCD. It is, after all, a webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language. I’m particularly fond of this one. I can relate to that. :)

Cobwebby writing come full circle.

I really should be sleeping right now, but I consumed an ungodly amount of espresso today and I’m not thinking it’s going to happen anytime soon. Instead I’ve been rifling through my hard drive. It’s amazing what you’ll find doing this. Most of the time I don’t like things I’ve written as quickly as the day after I’ve written them. And maybe tomorrow I won’t like this again, but tonight it seems nice and appropriate. This was written about a year ago during a time when I was listening to The Widow, by The Mars Volta on repeat for days on end. That’s really irrelivent except that when I reread this it was very clear to me that that’s the…vibe I was in while writing it.

So here it is….

There’s a dripping from the faucet that I’m sure has been going for days: constant, with a steady rhythm that bores deep inside of me, to the marrow of my bones, until all that exists is the sound of one solitary drop of water after another, slamming against ceramic.

The phone rings. I pull the sheet over my head and fold my knees to my chest.

There are moments I will never forget. I replay them over and over in my head to the rhythm of the faucet.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Memories. Vivid and blinding but I can’t stop them. They just keep coming and coming; so I close my eyes to the light and continues to recount them. I do this until I can no longer distinguish one from another. They mold together and hang like a drop of water suspended permanently above me, waiting for absolution. It grows and bulges and something about it is frightening, like when it finally falls, when it’s finally released and it all comes crashing down, it will drown me.

Drip.

I can’t focus. Drops keep coming and they keep growing and they hang there like a tidal wave, ready to take me down, until I’m suddenly aware of someone else in the room.

I don’t even need to look.

He doesn’t say anything, just walks to the bed. He sits down, but I still don’t move. He carefully shifts his body, throws his legs onto the mattress and stretches out next to me.

I open my eyes.

The drop falls. I see it descending upon me and I take a deep breath, but it’s too late. I can almost hear it crashing on my head, like I’m being pounded into the ocean floor. My lungs fill with water, thick like my memories, and I can’t breathe.

“We need to talk.” He says it as though I don’t have a choice.

I think of a million things I want to say: questions, confessions, apologies, but I can’t force them out. They’re trapped, swimming in the water inside my lungs.

“I feel like I’m drowning.”

He considers this for a moment then places a hand firmly on my hip protectively curling his slender fingers around the bone.

“I’ll save you.” He says this matter-of-factly. I believe him.

I take his hand and wrap it fully around my waist, pulling him closer until I feel breath on the back of my neck. The ocean calms and I allow his breathing to regulate my own.

I sigh, my eyelids already drifting closed.

Today should be a national holiday.

Today is Dr. Seuss’s 103rd birthday! Or would be, were he still alive. What a joyous holiday this is. I’d like to celebrate by recommending a litle known Dr. Seuss tale. It’s called “What was I scared of!” and can be found in the Sneetches and Other Tales book. I was just introduced to it a few days ago, and I highly recommend it for all Seuss lovers. (And if you say you’re not a Seuss lover, you’re lying.) It’s about a pair of pale green pants with no one inside!

Food for thought.

I recently subscribed to something pastor Tim Cox writes every day called “Footloose on the Journey.” I’ve been enjoying them all, but today’s could not be more appropriate for what’s been on my mind for the past few weeks.

I needed to stop by the bank before going to the office this morning. I got there and they were not open. They were supposed to be open but the doors were locked up tight. After a few minutes the manager of the bank came to the door, unlocked it and said: “We’re not open yet. I have Brinks inside and they won’t come out until you move to the side.”

We promptly obeyed and out came the Brinks’ men…heavily armed and guarding the money they were taking to the truck. They banged on the door of the truck, it opened from the inside and with quick precision the money was unloaded, the men were inside the truck, the door slammed, and the truck was moving out of the lot. These guys knew what it meant to guard something.

How about us?

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Proverbs 4:23 TNIV

When I first learned this verse, those teaching it to me applied it to sexual temptations. The verse works for that but it applies in so many other ways. Don’t just guard your heart against lust. Guard it against discouragement. Guard it against pride. Guard it against doubt. Insecurity. Jealousy. Distraction. Loneliness. Guard it against ______________. (you fill in the blank).

Be careful about who and what gets into your heart. Be selective about who gets backstage access in your life. You can’t let just anyone into your world to speak into your soul. Be careful who you take advice from. Their immaturity or ignorance might confuse the issue and create needless chaos.

Be careful what you let out of your heart! Be careful who you share your dreams with. Their negativity or mishandling of that which is dear to you can contaminate the possibility before it ever has a chance to become a reality. Heart issues shared at the wrong time or with the wrong people can cause pain.

God’s placed some valuable stuff in your heart and it needs to be guarded at all costs.

Of course, the time comes when we have to take the risk and let stuff in and out of our hearts. We just have to be careful because everything flows from the heart! Put it on lock down…and like the Brinks guys, when it’s time to let some stuff out of your heart, make sure the path is clear, even if it means you have to ask some folks to step to the side.

a friend on the journey,
tim

I love when things like this pop up in my inbox perfectly timed. I’ve been thinking about how much I do this in relation to those around me, because it seems like I take a completely different approach than some others I know, particularly with “new” people. I’ve been told I have trust issues, and I’m a closed book and blah blah…but maybe I am just…mindful, and the people that told me those things are just out there sharing willy nilly. Or maybe I take it to an extreme. Or maybe no one is on guard quite enough.  I’m going to go think about that some more on my drive home because I am officially on spring break. :)

And we wonder why they think violence is the answer!

We had a lockdown at school today because a parent came in with a belt and proceeded to chase her daughter up and down the halls with it. I mean my goodness. We barely let the students sharpen their pencils to a fine point because they could be used as a weapon. How whooping your child with a belt in the hallway of a public school makes even the smallest amount of sense is beyond me. I’m not sure if she ever got at her with it. But she did have the nerve to say to one of the case workers “Now you’re having a lockdown because of my damn daugher!” haha. With all due respect, ma’am….she’s not the one with a belt in her hand.

Random musings. (Read: rant)

I wonder sometimes why human beings do the things they do. I wonder why we say one thing, then act in a way that is completely contradictory. I wonder why we say everything we can to convince someone to hold one particular belief about us, with full knowledge that it’s not true at all. Eventually it becomes clear to others that our actions are inconsistent with our words. And the closer we think they are to figuring it out, the more fervently we persist in telling them otherwise. Yet we just keep acting the same way. It’s like we really want them to figure out the truth without actually having to tell them, because Lord forbid we bite the bullet and own up to how we really feel. I think some people do it maliciously, but more often than not it’s done out of what we think is kindness- out of a desire to…be what this person wants you to be, or spare their feelings, or say what you know they want to hear. But that’s not kindness at all. Because at the root of it I think it’s still self-preservation. You say what you think I want you to say not because you don’t want me to have to deal with a truth that might be hurtful, but because you really don’t want to deal with how I would react to the truth. So you convince yourself you’re being kind to me, when in actuality you’re just being cowardly, selfish, and above all, untruthful. I don’t know. I can’t decide if I’m over or under-simplifying here. The point is, I’m going to try very hard not to do this. It’s unnecessary, annoying, hurtful, and to be quite frank, insulting.

Oscars

I didn’t watch all of the Oscars because…well it’s long, and it conflicts with my regular Sunday night viewing schedule. But I watched the first hour and a half and switched back and forth on commercials for the rest. I really wasn’t all that interested since the only nominees I managed to see were Blood Diamond, Children of Men, The Devil Wears Prada, Pirates 2, and half of The Prestige. So I have to say, for me the best part of the entire evening (besides Ellen, of course) was this video. Any song and dance number that includes Jack Black threatening to beat Peter O’Toole with a Nickelodeon award is a-okay in my book.