Little Buggers

There are times when I don't want to be having the time of my life anymore.

I want the drudgery of seven years into a marriage, keeping water rings off of my coffee table, wondering why I'm still a Shift Supervisor, wishing I had the money tree I'd tried to grow since grade school, worrying about my family and where they are and how they are, worrying about why I still can't have a baby. Settling into accepting that I'll be trying to remind myself for the rest of my life that worrying is pointless.

I don't want the knowledge that when I finally get there, I'll smack myself for having looked forward to it. I don't want the knowledge that these are the days I'll look back on in awe and, unfettered by inhibition, wonder how it is I managed to do so little with them. But I have it. And as a friend says, regretting knowledge I already have...is silly.

Thus, I refuse to minimize the present any longer. I don't always know how to maximize it, and I often wish my faithfulness could be cashed in for more happiness than I regularly find myself in, but faith isn't cash for a reason. Neither grows on trees, but only cash is in finite supply.

I even worry about my children having blogs like this one, or whatever holographic media the future may hold. My genes are introspective, and I don't know how to pair up with someone who's not... my babies are gonna be angsty balls of wit, but they'll be lovely all the same. I'm glad I'll have this to show them. Technology continues to fascinate me.

God is good God is good God is good God is good God is love Love is good Love is love God loves you you are good

P.S. I can't believe I had to break up with Dave Matthews Band. But new favorite music is swirling, and I thank God. Listening to right now: "My Favourite Book" - Stars

Happy Love Day, Dollface

Sometimes I pray that the boy aching for my brand of love knows how not to ache until I find him. And that if he figures out how not to ache, he'll teach me telepathically.

Well isn't this blog sufficiently depressing... you should read my Facebook. That's where I go when I'm smiling. I'll try and spread the love around.

Thanks for being on this journey with me.

Mwah.

Thought o' the mornin' to ya

Being in love is not overrated, but not being in love is underrated.

Blahblahblah

Oh man. Even what's clear isn't clear.

I hate hormones.

If you'd like, you can pray for some measure of joy to take over my life. That would be really, really nice.

Cause I don't mind resigning to the whole "life is hard, you can do it" shindig, but at the same time... I mind. Every once in a while. Like every other Tuesday.

Every other Tuesday, I'd like to not worry and to not find people's faults so easily and to feel like this is a twilight-free zone. If it catches on, maybe it can become a weekly thing.

Praise the Lord, oh my soul.

Forever and ever.

Amen.

"It's easy to let something go when you know you're gonna get it back."

Good thing I like a challenge.

Cathedrals

concerts play cathedrals, you know
the vaulted ceilings encasing hearts and harmonies alike,
for both heartstrings and harpstrings play echoing tunes.
sing-alongs at the tops of lungs
remain poster children for uninhibited unity,
and encore applause is one thousand times one thousand spirits saying,
"I beg of you. Don't be through with me yet."

a sea of lighters, a sea of devotion,
a fight for light.
a fight for the unextinguishable.
flickering fireflies
communicating wordlessly,
"I would nothing short of burn for you."

to take the offering from its place of worship
blasphemy
for splitting what grew together is unnatural--
fellowship loses strength as the venue retreats,
and communion becomes commonplace
once exit lights taint the elements.

to look across a sea of faces whose lips sync the same song
is to look across a sea of souls whose voices speak,
apprehensively,
[for uninhibited unity is too baring not to notice],
of a similar wish:
to love another with the vibrance of a spotlight.

to praise another with the awe of a frontman
who sees no empty seats.
but the encore ends
and the curtains clap
and the exits open
and the congregation shuffles into the streets.

the vulnerability is both terrifying
and life saving.
beautifully,
the disciples' procession shifts in unison,
for they know this feeling's end as masterfully as its beginning,
and to know a feeling's end is to expect the feeling again.

dreams intersect where eyes do
as seemingly telepathic vows bounce between minds.
the experience is impossible to resurrect entirely,
but they must try.
not one ventures to define the risen,
but all refuse to die.

Climbed A Mountain

I was thinking about moving forward with people who have hurt you, and likened the experience to slowly adding hot water to a shower; ideally, the water gets hotter at the same rate you're adapting to it. The struggle with forgiveness is that the water is getting hotter a tad bit faster than your heart can stand. Not enough to harm you, but enough to cause discomfort. The thing is, not liking to handle something isn't the same as not being able to handle something. Now that my heart has been forced to burn more often than expected, my adaptation rate has changed. At this point, I feel the need to be exposed to just enough disillusionment and loneliness and heartache to cause discomfort. The trends of happiness, then, aren't weakened, but strengthened by the back and forth of it all.

"Oh, mirror in the sky

What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well I've been afraid of changing

Cause I built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Children get older

I'm getting older, too."

Ohh, Fleetwood Mac. How often I took this song for granted.

[Joni Mitchell pandora station FTW {for the win...}]