Recharge

"they don't know my head is a mess"

Writer's block is a mean thing, simply put. So many thoughts running around but no way to set them free. My thoughts run away from me. They offer seconds of solace and move on. I am not at a loss for words, but ideas.

I need a mental revolution. A recharge. I need to stray from the norm. Did you know the people I see every day blend together? Everything does. Did you know I cry every day? Neither did I. Did you know I haven't written a poem in weeks?

Believe it or not, I am spiritually strong. Unusually so. Spiritual strength can cause both of these: a newfound look at life, and a sadness for what we come back to. That's a sad thing. Oh well. I know how to be sad.

Today I wished it would rain. There's a good thing..it did rain. Rain is sweetly depressing. It can be gentle or strong, always cleaning, always gray, always wet. Yes. Rain is always wet. I can lean on that.

It stopped too soon. I wanted to jump up and down in the rain, in the horrendous rain. It reminds me of myself. I wanted to soak in silence.

I need to sleep. I need to read. I need a hug, probably. I don't want one. I want to shiver, to burn. I want to smile. Please don't tell me to smile.

I'm sorry, I'm going nowhere with this. Go and read something happy.

Sing Me a Song

I got to thinking about my love for good music recommendations...

A favorite song of mine is Hide and Seek: Imogen Heap. The album, Speak For Yourself, is fantastic. That song is one of the best musical experiences I have ever beheld in four and a half minutes. It is one of the only songs I own that can be looped for hours and still loved.

So. What is your favorite song? Either currently or of all time, it doesn't matter. Leave what it means to you -- its significance, if any. Blogless friends: comment using "other". You can leave your name and input. I'd appreciate it... I really am curious.

I Need A Hero

Inspired (as they often are) by Stephen's latest post.

I am strong and broken.
I am independent, but don't understand why people leave.
I've created a best friend out of many people.
Is it okay to take what I like and overlook the rest? I suppose not.
Is it acceptable to expect this one person to be, at some point, a package deal?
I realize my own flaws through the judgement of others'.
I am honest to the point of brutality.
I am fragile and try to hide it.
I think too highly of myself and my opinions.
I expect others to reach those conclusions.
..This isn't smart. But that's not what I'm concerned with, at the moment.
I want to breathe freely.
I want to be an innocent bystander
fists unclenched.
I want to rely on God completely.
I want to know this will be sufficient for the rest of my life.
Yeah, I'd like an earthly hero. Those impossible heroes.
I don't want to be my own hero. I am no hero.

Closure

I wondered how it could be that closure survives on its own, independent from the persons involved. But it does.

I wrote him a letter he will never see. He won't need it -- he hasn't noticed anything for seven months.

I needed it. I needed to know I am happier alone. Technically, I was always alone. But I'm okay with that.

Heartbeat of God

The music kicked in as I brought my head to my knees. In no time the jeans were tear-stained, as the lyrics identified with my past couple days. "I can't do it alone..."

April came to pray for me. She spoke of my percussive talents (thank you, April..though they are exaggerated) and referred to percussion as the "heartbeat of God". There is no better relief than that felt through relevant words of God...relevant to my current struggles and prayers. These windows of hope spark further prayer and the ancticipation of clarity. This was clear:

I had been dropped off, abandoned. By whom I wasn't sure. I lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of a gigantic cement staircase. Sensing that comfort rested at the peak, I summoned all remaining energy and pulled myself up stair by stair. I found an enormous throne, also cement. The man's feet were all I could see. Once again, I collapsed. Within minutes I was lifted by the hands of this man and lifted to eye level. I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact; the majesty was too great. He held me close between his hands and removed my heart. There was no pain. He proceeded to remove his own heart. It was bigger than my entire body, yet he put it where mine used to be. The effect was unimaginable. I could live again. My broken little heart beat inconsistently; it seemed bruised. With one touch, by this great man, it was restored. But I no longer needed it...I had more than I could never need. He threw it to the floor. And let me go.

The music stopped. The tears subsided. Clarity surfaced, and a mended life began to live again.

I only hope that I will remember the way to those concrete stairs, and that life's monotony will not extinguish this new faith's dwindling flame.

A Friendly Interrogation

This is a requested interview posed by Flenker! Some answers I knew straightaway, some I had never considered. I appreciate the thought catalyst, Flenker. And, sadly, I am of no relation to Mike Doughty. What a buzzkill.

If any reader would like to hop on the interview train, follow the directions at the end of the post.

Here goes nothing:

1. If there is one writer with whom you'd love to be compared, who would it be and why?

This is difficult. I don't think I write like one specific person, and while I love many writers, I wouldn't necessarily emulate their style. I would be happily surprised if I were compared to Jane Austen. I enjoy how she weaves her stories with social observations. The characters are true to life (as true as fiction can be), and the writing is concise...yet detailed.

2.  What would be your first drink of choice after a long day in the hot sun?  And what on a cold winter day?  ( realize you may not have had many cold winter days in Georgia, but play along. . .:) )

Strangely enough, I categorized my favorite Starbucks drinks by season a while back. Summer is a Tall Passion Iced Tea Lemonade: the most refreshing beverage ever to reach my parched little tastebuds. However, I have never turned down a glass of ice water.

Winter...hmm. Some changes have been made. My father works for Starbucks Coffee and often makes my favorite, basic coffee drink: a caramel macchiato. Once, he ran out of vanilla syrup and substituted hazelnut. I now request it frequently. This has become the "particular drink": Double Tall Caramel Macchiato with Hazelnut at 140 degrees, please. I know, I know. But it burns my tongue otherwise...

3.  Where would you go, if money were of no concern, for a weekend trip, and what would you do there?

I would take my first First Class flight to Studio City, CA to visit my favorite aunt. I haven't yet seen her new place and I'd love to see her LA favorites. I had thought about backpacking in Europe, but I don't think I can get the full experience in a weekend...I'll save that trip for the "money is no concern where would you go for a month" question.

4.  If you were a wrestler in the WWE or WCW, what song would you use as your entrance music, and what would your wrestling name be?

I am going to borrow an already used theme song. NHL's Anaheim Ducks' Bro Hymn by Pennywise. That is a power song if I ever heard one. Not a face melter, necessarily, but it does make me jump up and down.

My name? How about....Dominating Damsel of Death. I love alliteration. It has a ring to it, don't you think? I'm already pumped.

5.  If you could own one piece of memorabilia from any movie, what would you pick, and why you you want to have it?

Ooh. Okay, here goes. Can I offer options?
1. I'd love a Men In Black memory eraser. Sometimes the persons involved in my antics don't need the particulars. It'd have to be in perfect working order, of course.
2. I often fantasize about the Clockstoppers watch. Stopping time? Quite useful, I would imagine.
3. I am going to steal Forrest Gump's bench from the Savannah, GA Museum. How great would that be?? Yeah. That's the keeper. It doesn't deal with anything impossible like memory-erasing by piercing blue lightbulb, either.

..............................

Now everyone else plays along! You may have seen this done elsewhere, but now it's your turn. Just follow these simple rules:
1. Leave me a comment on this post saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

I Didn't Really Want That...

I find it interesting, the things I convince myself I need...be it an object or person.

And when that/they are taken away, I am able to live without them, only by convincing myself that I can't have it. I can't be with them/own that object; I am not allowed.

This is a tough mindset to put myself in. I have focused so much energy on needing it, desiring it, only to find the energy wasted. The rebuilding of my desires is no easy task...but I hate wasting time on undeserving people. I don't deem them undeserving, they do. The worst part follows: my slight (or not-so-slight) obsession with "what's not good for me" affects the judgement of my character. Perhaps that is why my thoughts are so closed off.

So. All of a sudden, this thing is no longer forbidden. And I have no concrete reason to put it in the back of my mind...it floats right to the top. Now deserving, now accesible. Though that is what I knew I needed, I was mistaken. The rebuilding of desires begins yet again. And I didn't really want that. I'm back where I started.