And There Are Days...

This is something I wrote for my brother back when he was learning how to play the guitar. It's much better with a tune put to it, but I was feeling nostalgic, so here it is. :)


You’d be surprised what you can live through
You’d be surprised at what the heart can endure.
You think it’s over now we’ve parted ways,
The hero stays,
But there are days...

I only breathe because I have to.
I only eat and drink and sleep to kill time.
I only drag myself from place to place,
Encounter face to face,
And try to match their pace.

I don’t play ‘cause I don’t want to.
What’s there to sing about anyway?
I only occupy this space I’m in,
Atone from sin,
Since you got brave,
Since you walked away.

You never held back the hurtful things,
Never gave a notion to regrets.
Words were said so fast,
Now the die is cast,
And let me tell you, the pain, it lasts.

You never thought to look behind you,
At the mess you left in your wake.
Never thought to look ahead,
Spare us the tears we shed.
Just left me here for dead.

And let me tell you boy, that there are days...

Frustrated Existence

Longing. Yearning. Listlessness.

Commitment. Denial. Circumstance.

Wallowing in contentment;

Frolicking in sorrow.



Hateful Adoration

Concerned Indifference

Repulsive Attraction

Oxymorons:

How you would prefer to live your life.



Bonded. Restricted. Bound.

Cautious. Guarded. Callous.

Doomed to happiness;

Destined for destruction.



Respectful Disgust

Euphoric Misery

Enemy Comrades

Conflicts:

The bed in which you happily lie; and meticulously made.



A shift awaits.

A change that never comes;

That isn’t welcome.



Good lies in wait;

Only Good.

No inner conflict to rap at the soul;

Acceptance only; which you will never accept.



Foggy Clarity.

Sweet Bitterness.

Loyal Betrayal.



The prize you’ve won;

What the future holds;

For you, for them, for us.

Insecurities Times Too Many

It's that time of year again around here, when you have to walk everywhere, because a) there's not enough snow on the ground anymore for snowmobiles and b) there's not enough ground on the ground for the quad bike or the car. I don't mind too much, since I've been trying desperately to keep in the forefront of my thinking that walking is good for me. I'm glad to see the snow go, in anticipation of a lovely spring, but this year it's a little bittersweet. Chris and I bought our very first piece of togetherness, together, in the form of a brand new fabulous snowmobile that I'm absolutely tickled pink about! (A picture of me on said vehicle is currently my Facebook profile picture :D). The suckiness of it all is that Chris has driven it as far as our house, I haven't driven it at all, and it's going to have to stay parked for the summer, so I won't get to use it until winter rolls around again. Bummed! - BUT - Not gonna let it get me down, because I'm thrilled to even own it. I've named it Louise. :D My old skidoo - Charlie - is a tad bit jealous, but he'll get over it. Loyalty is in some ways better than newness, and he's been ever so loyal to me for the 6 years or however long I've had him. In other news, I have to see the Dentist tomorrow, and I hate the very idea of it. I don't know why I'm so squeamish about it really. I've been to this guy before and he's always so lovely and gentle, and he does great work! The more I remind myself of this, the more sane I hope to be when I get there tomorrow at 9! My Daycare kids are preparing their Mother's Day gifts this week, since Mother's Day is this coming Sunday. So far, they've made 'World's Best Mom' diplomas, which I have to laminate before Friday; they've made cards with cute little verses I found on the internet; 'All About Mom' fact sheets; and some doily flowers. Tomorrow, they'll make beaded bracelets and we're going to make and decorate heart/flower cookies. On Friday, we'll bag it all up and send home for the big day! I'm no closer to being a mother this year than I was last year... I say that every year, but it seems to me that Mother's Day comes around fast! Some of the 'All About Mom' fact sheets were funny. You have to love preschoolers, seriously. When they don't know the answer to something, they just make up their own reality. I'd like to be able to do that. When the world gives me lemons, instead of being depressed about it, I could just pretend the sky is not blue, but green.. and the grass is not green, but purple. Anyway, like I said, the answers were pretty comical. According to one little boy, his mom is 56! According to a little girl, her mom is as tall as a pine cone! Somebody's mom weighs 12 lbs; and her favorite dessert is vanilla ice cream with 'pink stuff' in it. It all got me to wondering what a kid of mine would say about me. Would he be so serious and smart and unimaginative that he'd just answer every question correctly? Or would she be silly and creative and say whatever was on her mind? If you're a mother, here's hoping you have a lovely Mother's Day on Sunday! And if you're Benny, you'll probably just sleep late and feel nothing. :P

'Post Title' is the title of this post.

So, it's May now, and I've really kept you in suspense of how my Christmas actually turned out, right? Huh? Huh? Well, it was lovely. Christmas didn't let me down as I had been preparing myself for. All the work and mess and putting out was worth it. (Shut up, Ben). So, as I said, it's May now. It seems to me that I haven't actually stopped long enough to gaze out the window since I wrote that last post back in December. Wintertime in my outpost part of Canada is white and wonderful. It might seem a cheesy thing to say, but it's my blog, so I'll say it: I love to look out the window during the winter months and see the freshly fallen snow and think that it's so innocent-looking. So white, so pure. No mistakes in it. It's helpful to see that kind of thing when sometimes all you can recall about your own self are the mistakes. Sometimes it's necessary for nature to point out that God isn't in the mistake-making business. As I look outside now though, there's still the usual quilt of snow on the ground, but there's a lot more ground and green to be seen. The skies are more blue than grey. I'm someone who simply adores the cold and snow of winter, but at the same time, I find spring to be refreshing to the soul. And I thank God for that today. I've been cleaning today, since it's Saturday. My Saturday cleaning usually consists of sweeping, mopping, cleaning the bathroom, cleaning the kitchen, cleaning the porch, and generally doing anything else that needs to be done while I've got the time and initiative to do it. I'm someone who has to have the house empty of dog and husband and music blaring at an unacceptable level of loud in order to get down to work, and not just any music will suffice. I have a 'cleaning playlist' on iTunes that comes on when I need to get things done, and I must say it makes the time go much faster! Anyway, now I'm beat and drinking Pepsi and blogging and ordering clothes from JCPenney. More later. :)

So this is Christmas... and what have you done..

Well, it’s been a while. So this might be kind of a long read.

So, it’s nearly Christmas. This seems to be the topic to start on, so I’ll start on it. Most of what I’ve been reading surrounding Christmas so far, is about the rush, the greed, the unpreparedness, and while I have my own thoughts and opinions on that, let me just say that I am totally and completely on board the Christmas train this year. I spent way too much money again, which doesn’t really bother me as much as it probably should. It seems like every year I say to myself, “well, Chris and I don’t have any children yet again this Christmas, so we might as well buy whatever we want for each other.” And it doesn’t take much more argument than that really, to get me to spend a small fortune. I have every single one of my gifts bought, my tree up, and I’ve even had time to wrap all my mother’s gifts for her and do some heavy Christmas baking. So, on that front, I’m pleased. I feel like the concept of ‘Christmas baking’ is important for some reason. I’ve been seeing it a lot on Facebook. – “Have you done any Christmas baking???” And my mother’s, “Wow, you’ve done some great Christmas baking!” So it seems like the thing to be doing when there’s time.
My work gave me a turkey for my bonus this year, which is fine. Chris’ work gave him a ham, so we’re good to go for both Christmas dinner and our New Year’s meal, which we’re spending with my parents and grandparents.
The last few weeks, I’ve been working a lot of hours. Or at least it feels like more than usual. I’m quite tired a lot of the time, and I really don’t have much time or use for people; sad to say. I seem to be disgruntled at everyone and everything, and I feel like I have really good reasons for my anger, but when I really think about it and try to sort it out, I feel at a loss for my feelings. I can’t explain them away and I feel them intensely, and the truth of the matter is, if I haven’t blown up at you, it’s probably just because I haven’t gotten to you yet.
Like I said, I’m at a loss for finding reasons behind these feelings. And I don’t want to be feeling this way inside. It’s the Christmas season, after all. Time for merriment and all that. I don’t think it has anything to do with hormones, really. More to do with being stressed out, I think. I feel like the Christmas season owes me something in the way of happiness. I give to it and have been giving to it, probably since December started. But I’m really not feeling the love back. It’s like, Christmas time promises some sense of hope and peace and wellbeing when it comes around each year, but this year it’s not been keeping its promise to me so far.
I guess I’m like any kid when it comes to waiting on the actual day and presents and things. It took way too long to get here, and now that it’s here, I’d kind of like it to slow down and let me linger in it for a while.
Today being Sunday, I had dinner with my parents at their house. I wrapped some presents for my mom, and then came home to face my kitchen and make some cookies and a macaroni and cheese casserole for my brother’s work party tomorrow night. I won’t get time to make anything tomorrow, because, well, I’m super busy all the time at work. My brother’s sad and single and so he invited me to go with him to his party for work. I’m glad to go, and I hope it serves to boost my spirits a bit, but really I’m just wondering if I can spare the time to go and have fun. I have a lot of other things on my mind. Tuesday afternoon is the Daycare Christmas party, and I have to be *on* for that. And make the food and prepare the activities and get Santa ready and give out gifts and that sort of thing. When I think about it, it sounds like a lot of fun, but I know inside that it’ll just be more busyness.
On top of those things, the Dentist is coming to town on Tuesday as well and I need to see him. I couldn’t be more afraid of the Dentist if I tried to be, and it just feels like doom and gloom looming over me.
Then on Wednesday, it’s the Children’s Christmas Program at the ‘big school’, so I have to go and get my kids to say their parts. Though with little kids, you can never know what they’re gonna do. Whether they’ll say their lines, throw up, pee... well, we’ll find out.
You’re listening to the rantings of someone who really needs some time off. I was asked if I wanted to do a float with my kids for the children’s parade that went ahead yesterday, and I said no. I felt bad and I still do, but I just couldn’t do it. I selfishly needed my Saturday. Oh well.
I get a few days off over Christmas, and I get off for holidays on Friday morning, so that’s not so bad. But between now and then, it’s really busy. And then after that, my department is throwing a Christmas Eve bash like they do every year, so I have to work at that on Saturday, and I hope I feel a lot better before then, because my heart is just not in it at the moment.

Unrequited Love

Ah, Benny wrote this. Read it if you want. :)

Is there anything worse than being in the throes of unrequited love? If you've ever been trapped in that situation you'll know the feelings of true heartache and loss. How can something that feels so real and so deep be a mistake?

There are two sides to unrequited love: the lover and the rejecter, but perhaps the only one familiar to us is the lover. In reality, though, the rejecter also experiences a range of unpleasant emotions on a par with those of the suitor such as frustration and guilt.

Unrequited love is commonly regarded as a noble, selfless and stoic willingness to accept suffering. Some say that one-sided love is better than none, but like half a loaf of bread, it is likely to grow hard and mouldy sooner. I beg to differ; in my experience nothing good comes from unrequited love. Any lingering hope on the part of the lover is a false hope and of no value. It is neither noble nor wise to all unrequited love to linger but better to accept its existence in order to overcome and move past the sorrow. Otherwise it's like pouring something of great value down a drain.

The world is full of thieves who want to take away from you everything that is good; thieves such as bad circumstances, mental illness or spiteful people. These things can bring about the appearance of unrequited love whereas in reality, the love is indeed reciprocated. In, I'm sure, many circumstances the object of a person’s love does not know how to respond or is simply not aware of deep affection another has for them. The chance of this being the case is cause for many to hang on to someone, believing that in time they will 'come around'.

On a personal level, I've been on both sides of this equation. When I was younger, I allowed myself to become attached to unobtainable women. I guess it made me feel alive on some level as in my heart I felt I'd never really be with anyone.. that relationships were simply too difficult for me to attain or maintain. More recently, I've considered I may be the object of other people's love that I'm not able to return because I just don't feel the same. As someone who wants everyone to be happy and someone who loves to help other's other, the situation is problematic at best and one I'm only beginning to learn how to handle properly. On one hand it's good to be straight with someone but on the other it's good to not hurt their feelings. In this context, it's impossible to find an outcome that's immediately satisfying for both parties. It's no wonder so many people are wary of loving or of being loved.

Does anyone think about the unrequited love of God? Presiding over a world filled with people who don't want to know him, deny him or give no more than half measures. We give him so little in return but he still loves us just the same. He of all people would know best of all what it is like to be rejected by those he loves.

Spoken With Passion

I'm sure you've noticed my last two blogs being nothing more than Youtube links, in an effort to save myself the shame and embarrassment of not being able to find anything interesting to write about. lol - In fact, to anyone who'll listen, my usual conversation in chat is, "what can I possibly blog about?" - I'm hopelessly uninteresting and uninterested as of late.

I came across something I wrote a while back:

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You would not put pen to paper for me;

Yet I struggle with tool and scroll in an effort not merely to control the accuracy and flow of each descriptive symbol, but to hold back in kindness that which aches to be spoken into existence; that which yearns to be written.

An agenda is set. Not by the willfulness of yours truly. Even the universe itself as a whole, calling in all favors, sending forth an army of determined elements to combat the harsh and bring forth the right; calling upon each grain of sand, each shooting star for its ingrained symbol of hope and direction. None of these matters, for the agenda is set, and by whose hand lies with the realm of the irrelevant.
Strained, at best. Strained is the one word, the only word which in itself leaves a semi-peaceful taste in my mouth. Not because it is in any way satisfying or acceptable; but for the sole reason that it fits. It fits and does justice to that which I struggle to convey and that which you would deny.

Put on a stand, prodded for truth, hand on a double-edged sword, you would claim to all eyes watching that no such foot bridge exists between what was and what now is being. You would do this, while I called upon wing and flight to cross the width of the canyon that separates the now from perfection. In merely speaking words, you would manage only to convince the onlookers of thinness, flatness, resigned effort to right wrongs. In my actions, in my spanning the lost ground, tirelessly regaining what is now strained, what used to come so naturally, I urge them to believe in a perfection beyond what they see in the two people standing before them.

They will see what is acted upon; they will see a need to right what has turned wrong. They will stop the further destruction of what is strained. We will both be subjected to bitter clichés that in truth offer more than any punishment could hope to heal.

They will warn that Rome was not built in a day, and with that, they will harshly look from one to another and state that even though this is truth, what is also true, is that it can be destroyed in much less time than it took to build.
Take heed to this, they will say. And we promise that we will, but once we leave their courts, what then? We leave our promises on the other side of the door. Promised in sincerity; left in the same manner.

You can afford the luxury of time as your right-hand companion. Perhaps you shall never fully comprehend the fortune which time could not afford to buy. Persons. Things. These are those elements that are easily underestimated; undervalued. You may never go without. You may always reside within the blessed confines of wealth and free will. I would not deny you those. I would merely ask, if ever I gained favor in your presence, in your courts: Would you, could you ever possibly count me among them?

And that which I ask, would not be a question asked with an answer expected, anticipated. It would be, and is, a question that with time and the universe working for the good of the outcome, you may one day ponder instead of I.
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I wish that I could write like that again. I'm not saying that it's some great piece of literature or anything, but it was real and it was passionate. I was probably mad at someone at the time - most likely Benny. lol But it was angry and passionate and I felt every word, and even now as I read it again, it feels fiery and more like me than I've been in the last little while.

I feel domesticated or something. In the sense that you domesticate an animal. I find myself censoring my thoughts and feelings in an effort to be kinder, or to avoid conflict, I guess. But the truth is, I really don't know why I'm doing it. All the passion and purpose have gone out of my words because of it.

I used to be witty; side-splittingly hilarious, in fact. Now, I can't think of what to write about half the time, and the other half of the time, I've thought up a topic, but discard it immediately because I know that my present self can't do justice to it.

I know that the moral of the story is that I need to trust myself as a thoughtful person, to write an interesting blog. And most definitely, that I need to be writing more. Between my job and the many things that need to be done with regards to having a new house, I hardly get a chance to write anything decent; and when I do have the time, I just don't have the interest.

What I'm finding is that writing is something that stays with me, no matter what other changes I'm going through; writing is a constant. When I was little, I wrote little stories for my eyes only, and I played with barbies. When I got older, I wrote longer stories, and worried about my hair and make-up. Now, I write nothing, and go to work and care for my home. But it's always there, in the back of my mind, in a corner of my soul, that I should be writing. It's like a nagging feeling that this is who I am, and what I have to do. Some people, like Chris, for example, are just happy to go about their day and never feel the tug of pen and paper weighing them down. I wonder what it's like to never feel like you should be writing. For me, it's become a chore that I unhappily ignore and put on my 'to-do' list for the next day, and then the next. It's like when you know you have a mountain of dishes to be washing, but you go and watch TV for an hour, and all the while you're watching, you're thinking about the dishes and the notion that they have to be done before bedtime.

I've always said that the difference between me and a writer, is that writers write. I have the soul of a writer, if maybe not the refined skill. I think I will really only worry about the quality of my skill if I ever try to become published. Right now, what I write is raw and passionate - or, as I said, it used to be. And that's what I want to get back. The soul.

Recently, I entered a writing contest for Aboriginal Canadians. I wrote a piece that earned me fourth place in the contest, which I thought was excellent. Until they sent me the book that the stories were published in, and a note saying that mine didn't make the publication because I came in fourth, and only first, second and third places made the cut. It felt like cruel and unusual punishment. So, with sour grapes, I read the third place story and ripped it apart in my mind to make myself feel better. And of course it did at the time. But the story was good, and there's no denying that now. I realize now that I hadn't written my story with my usual passion. I wrote it for the first place $2,000 prize money that I'd hoped to have in time for my trip to England. Mistake number one. Unless you're a world-class writer, writing for prize money will make your entry very obviously passionless.

Anyway.

I've used up your time and a lot of words to simply say that I'm going to try to find the passion again.