I haven't written in quite some time, so what better time to start again then 11:11 pm on New Year's Eve. I am at home, in my pajamas, and all is quiet. I like the quiet today. I thought about the different parties I could've attended tonight, or the slumber party with the girls, a night at my mom's, or even a stop at the bars quickly to ring in the new year...you know what? Not one of those options sounded even remotely appealing. The truth is so many people feel so unhappy on New Year's. There is a lot of shallow celebration and people trying to meet the impossible expectations they have put on this one night of the year. It always seems a bit disappointing somehow. The truth is, I usually do what I want when I want, whether it be going out on the town on a Sunday, eating chocolate cake for breakfast, going grocery shopping at four in the morning, or taking a nap at 8 o'clock at night. So, here I sit, at home, watching the snow come down, and watching the live celebration from Times Square, and you know what? I am content. It's nice to sit here and be able to say that I am happy with who I am, with how far I've come, and excited to see where I go from here. I am so relieved everything went well last week with my sister's wedding and bachelorette party, not to mention the holiday, and my big sister and her family coming into town. My family is happy and healthy. My sister is in California on her honeymoon with the man of her dreams. I am absolutely exhausted from all that has happened this semester, and all the craziness that has been my "break". I decided that tonight was going to be the break I've been waiting for, and truly feel I deserve, at this point. My body is breaking down and telling me it's time to get some rest. I still have a lot to accomplish this week with some overdue papers to write, scenes to memorize and block for ACTF, and rehearsal for the show I'm stage managing, but, overall, I am happy- As I wrote this last statement I received an emergency phone call from someone needing assistance, and as I hung up the phone gun shots rang out from somewhere quite close. If I wouldn't have stayed home tonight, there would have been no one to take that call. Man, there is so much to be done in Saginaw. I believe it is possible. I really do. For tonight, which is a rarity for me, I will cast all of it aside and sit and watch the ball drop with little more on my heart and mind than a tiny celebration of this life that God has given me. I wish everyone a safe and happy new year....as I write this I realize something tragic is happening outside, as the sound of sirens pierce through the falling snow...I will not allow it to bring me down, only empower me to know that I am doing the right thing by living here. God help us all.

Roses For Molly

She rushes past the gates of the garden Barefoot and barely breathing Anticipation and wonder filling her mind Leaving no trace of doubt or misgiving As she enters the garden her feet slow Giving her breath a chance To catch up with her heart The ground beneath her feet is soft As the sun begins to peek Through the heavy grey clouds Something beckons her to look over her shoulder Back to the gates she passed through And there, leaning slightly on the wrought iron, Is a single white rose just beginning to bloom She slowly walks over to the rose And bends down to breathe in peace To her surprise it smells of cinnamon And her grandmother’s perfume She looks to the other side of the path and sees another white rose In full bloom She turns and looks down the freshly dug path And sees a large tree at the top of a small hill From where she stands it looks as if it might be pink She curiously begins to walk down the path to get a better look On her way she looks down and sees the path Lined with tiny yellow roses There is one for every cousin Niece and nephew Aunt and uncle But there are more in bloom as the path begins to widen She gets closer and the path splits Forming a large circle around the pink tree There is a bench near the tree A small bench made of stone She looks beyond the path on either side And notices large rose bushes Reaching towards the sky Peach and orange roses in full bloom Covering the bushes and humming softly A bush for each brother and sister She gets closer to the tree The sun throws light upon the branches And she sees that it is not pink But white roses, hundreds of them She notices two stems Wrapped around the base of the tree Making their own paths Peeking over the bench at the end of each stem A blue rose for dad A large lilac rose for mom She sits on the stone bench Warmed by the sun Looks out at the garden And begins to realize it belongs to her Some of the petals begin to fall from the tree As a warm breeze makes its way Through the white roses Tears begin to make their way down her cheeks Spilling onto the stone bench As grief and sorrow begin to merge with joy and love She stands Takes one last look around And breathes in the sense of love lost , love found And love yet to be She walks slowly down the path Treading lightly on petals As they are caught by the breeze And displayed across the path She scoops up a handful, wanting to remember But soon drops them again, realizing she’ll never forget As she approaches the open gate She notices a single red rose Intertwined in the iron door A single key dangling from a chain on the stem She frees the rose, and gently removes the chain with the key She closes the gate and fits the key into the lock As she turns the key she reaches out and gently touches one of the white roses She clasps the chain with the key around her neck Breathes in the scent of her red rose, looks up toward the sky and walks on Knowing she can always return

Brain Tumor, Early Alzheimer's, or Am I Just Crazy?

That was the question I've been asking myself the past year or so...you see, my mind is not what it used to be. I find myself being more forgetful than usual, even forgetting why I went into a room when I go in, or forgetting things I've always known, important things. I've been doing funny things like starting to put my purse in the refrigerator before catching myself, or taking my laundry into the bathroom when I should go to the basement. I've stopped mid-sentence more times than I can count because I completely forget what I was just talking about, and usually can't get it back unless someone reminds me. I will be writing, and suddenly the word is backwards, or spelled wrong and I can't find it in my mind to correct it. The weird thing I began to notice is, it only happens in a moment, and then the next moment or day I'll be fine. I'll do okay on a test, but if someone asks me what was on it a day later, I wouldn't be able to tell them what it was even about. I could read a book or watch a movie and not be able to recount what happened, but I could still tell you how it made me feel. I know what you're thinking...everybody has these moments, and I totally agree, which is why I dismissed it in my mind as me being dramatic about something as usual. I thought I was crazy just to think I might be going crazy. The past year has really forced me to take notice of it, however, because it has reached a much higher level in a very short time. I have begun to have trouble speaking, or putting thoughts together, giving up on attempting any kind of intelligent conversations, altogether. In drum practices, I cannot count how many notes there are anymore, or determine the rhythm by seeing, only hearing. I have begun to actually put things where they don't belong or walk into the right room and think it's the wrong one, only to walk into a different room and have no idea what I'm doing until I just give up and do something else. I have had to stop writing because I cannot put a sentence together, or my mind can't even find what I'm supposed to be writing about. There are so many more things that just happen on and off, I can't even really explain it. It's been the craziest thing, and I finally gave in tonight and typed in these symptoms online to see what came up...I am so glad I did. This is the first thing that popped up: Dr. Warga identifies the "mind misconnect" syndrome that causes unsettling events during perimenopause and menopause, noting that they are not signs of imminent madness but a natural part of aging. She names this condition "WHMS: Warga's Hormonal Misconnection Syndrome." Sometimes it begins out of the blue with occasional slips of the tongue, meaning to say one word and unexpectedly hearing another pop out. Or when you realize that you, once a champion speller, aren't so sure anymore how to spell "potato" or "forty." Sometimes it begins with uncharacteristically forgetting important appointments or drawing unexpected momentary blanks -- total blanks -- when it comes to remembering your only child's or best friend's name, or how to turn on the computer you've been using for years. Sometimes with feeling mentally "hazy" "foggy," or "spacey" and not being able to clear things up though you need to be "sharp" at that moment. "What's happening to me" you wonder. "Could this be early, early, early Alzheimer's disease or a brain tumor?" "I'm losing it," women say. "I'm going out of my mind," "I'm falling apart at the seams." "I'm flipping out." "I'm cracking up." "I'm having a nervous breakdown," "I'm just not myself." "I don't know what's wrong with me." "I do the strangest things." "I think I'm getting early Alzheimer's." As you examine the following chart keep in mind that the symptoms below typically occur as brief come-and-go episodes within the context of a functional ongoing nondisabled life, not unlike the manner of hot flashes. THINKING CHANGES -Losing your train of thought more often than in the past -Forgetting what you came into a room to get more than in the past -Not being able to concentrate as well upon demand -Feeling foggy, hazy, and cotton-headed and not being able to clear it up at will -Experiencing a thought blockade: an inability to pull ideas out at will -Fluctuating agility in prioritizing as well as in the past SPEECH CHANGES -Naming difficulties for long-known names: children, best friends, things, places -Finding yourself at a loss for words in how to express something while speaking -Experiencing "It's on the tip of my tongue but I can't get it out" sensation -Making malapropisms: saying wrong words that are related some how to the intended one -Reversing whole words while speaking -Reversing the first letters of words while speaking -Experiencing "echo" words as unintentional intrusions into present speech -Relying on "filler" words more often: "whatchamacallit," "that thing," "you know what I mean" -Organizing sentences and ideas less efficiently while speaking CHANGES IN THE "BEAM" OF ATTENTION -Blinking social attention when interested and interacting: listening but not always attending -Blanking-out amnesia for what you just did -Experiencing increased distractability MEMORY CHANGES: SHORT- AND LONG-TERM -Forgetting what you just did, or past occurrences, with no threads of associationto getting back to what's missing: missing links -Changing certainty in how words should be spelled in once good or great spellers -Fluctuating agility in calculating and in "counting with a quick scanning look" -Experiencing changes in the speed and accuracy of memory retrieval -Forgetting the content of a movie right after seeing it but remembering your emotional reaction to it BEHAVIORAL CHANGES -Making behavioral "malapropisms": unintended slips in behavior that are related to the intended behavior somehow, such as putting shampoo inthe refrigerator -Forgetting briefly how to do things long known, such as where to turn on the computer -Feeling that automatic skills such as driving for a few moments are not "automatic" in the same way as usual -Dropping things more often that require fine finger/hand coordination -Absentmindedly, leaving out or reversing letters in words while writing -Forgetting how to write a word in the middle of writing and having to leave blanks -Experiencing "translating" hesitations in converting what's heard into writing -Not handling the same amount of stress in the same way SPATIAL SKILLS CHANGES -Changing skill in remembering and/or recognizing faces (not well-known faces) -"Looking at but not seeing" what you are looking for when it's right there ultimately, more than in the past -Changing reading skill in visually "seeing" and comprehending reading material -Spending less time reading, without difficulties above (for formerly heavy-duty readers) -Forgetting briefly how to get to long-known landmarks in your life -Experiencing familiar locales in one's experience as momentarily unfamiliar ALTERED SENSE OF TIME -Forgetting appointments more or not anticipating events of personal importance with the same accuracy as in the past -Forgetting important events in your personal history timeline, i.e., which breast you had biopsied -"Living more in the moment" out of necessity: a "spliced-film-frames" sense of personal time I have to tell you, I read through this article, and it was like my whole body melted with relief. First, my concern was legit. There really was a change in all these things, I wasn't just being dramatic. Second, it was caused by my hormones and not something much bigger, or much more fatal. Unfortunately, this means it is probably not going away any time soon. I have probably been going through menopause now for, roughly, four years. My body reminds me when my brain forgets, with hot flashes, and other fun things only middle-aged women are supposed to have to deal with, but this whole foggy brain thing is really putting a strain on things. I think it is time for me to look into some kind of treatment, whether it's a simple support group kind of thing with other young women who have gone through this before, or hormone replacement therapy, or, I don't know, but there must be something I can do. It says in the article that many women that show these symptoms are often diagnosed with ADD...I was just telling a classmate the other day that I think it's time to be checked for that because something is going on that goes a little past normal. You know what's crazy? I always believed I had hypothyroidism before I found out I had menopause, turns out I wasn't too off-base, the symptoms are very similar, and often women going through menopause often experience changes in thyroid functioning. Often menopause can leave you with other mental and physical symptoms like bouts of depression and leaving your body "bone wearying" tired. For those of you who know my lifestyle, neither of those things are really an option for me, but they tend to happen more than I ever let on. Basically, to sum all of this up, my hormones are kicking my butt right now, but I would take this over a brain tumor any day. Now, what was I saying again...... :)

I Am Losing...

Focus. Thank goodness for things like macaroni necklaces made by four-year-old hands, white Chevrolets that do not suck up gas, people who apologize, people who accept apologies, mothers who insist on spending birthday time together, sisters who are sweet, brothers in need, a toothy 2-year-old giggle, old houses with creaky floors, chickens in the city, professors who see potential, annie's fried chicken, amazing creativity in the shop, movies that inspire, jeans and a sweater, elegant costumes, the best gravediggers in the world, generous congregations, and the warmth of God's love to keep things in perspective.

tabled...again.

it's a funny thing, sitting in front of a blank screen, so sure you are brimming with so many things to write, yet, when prompted by the cursor to begin, you find nothing is in your head or your heart but weariness and maybe even emptiness; not emptiness for lack of faith or lack of responsibilities, but emptiness due to being in the delayed part of delayed gratification. i feel like mourning right now. i feel like mourning the fact that i was tabled, yet again. the fact that i don't understand why shows me that i must have some sort of confidence or belief in myself as a person of value, or i wouldn't be so surprised and hurt when i'm tabled. i asked for a clear sign tonight one way or another and i received exactly what i asked for, yet it has made me so sad i can't begin to explain it. maybe it's because i already knew the answer and still refused to accept and move in a different direction, which would have given me the edge and bragging rights for staying one step ahead of the game. i repeat this same scenario over and over, and i never change my part. they say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result, the funny thing? i don't expect a different result...it's like i know exactly what i'm getting myself into right from the beginning and i still play the part to perfection that will get me where i least want to be. i was once labeled a self-sabotager...screw labels. i will wake up a different person tomorrow than i was today. i will wake up relieved and pissed because the decision was made for me. i will wake up, breathe in and out and realize i've been given another day, another chance to love on others who have been tabled their whole lives. my stuff was literally put on a table by someone else as a sign that it was time for me to leave. tabled. again. part of me is pissed that i didn't make the decision first. part of me is relieved because i probably wouldn't have made the best choice. part of me is pissed that i wouldn't have made the best choice. part of me is wondering why. part of me knows. part of me wishes i would talk more about things that are truly on my mind, or on my heart, and confront things as they come instead of analyzing a great response later. part of me keeps trying to fix things that aren't broken, while allowing the things that are broken to sit in the driveway untouched. part of me wishes i could carry a conversation like i carry a pen. part of me realizes there is something greater at work here. part of me wishes i could fix it. part of me can't quit. part of me already has. part of me isn't really worried about any of it, knowing that i will never come up with a solid answer or solution, and that i can never know exactly what someone else is thinking. part of me also understands that being awake almost 48 hours can really begin to mess with your emotions. that part of me tells me that it is time to bid farewell, even though there are a million pieces of me i would like to begin to peice together all in the time span of one blog. i hope...suddenly i sit here hoping...and falling asleep.

Everything is Efemeral

i sit my legs curled under me bare feet cool on a barely-lit stage light pools splash across my back spilling onto the empty chairs cross-legged on the apron of the bare bones stage peering out into the crowdless space suddenly i begin to see them take shape the subtext of their existence playing out across my heart as they search for the perfect seat and wait for the story to unfold the elderly couple walk down the aisle hand in hand they select a seat in the front row so she will be able to hear and see everything more clearly her eyes light up as the song and dance commence he lightly reaches for her hand hoping to take part in her adventure the mom and dad file into the fifth row just left of center mom hides her camera from the usher while dad sits wishing he were golfing their little angel floats across the stage suddenly both come to life exchanging prideful smiles of a shared success the college freshman saunters in remembering to remove his ballcap and turn off his phone he chooses a seat near the wall in the back as the curtain rises for Act II he leans his head back, closes his eyes, and falls asleep she walks in dressed in her theatre best and chooses a seat towards the front as she waits for the play to begin she glances longingly at the seat to her left her husband would always sit to her left and take her to a late dinner after the show the characters come out onto the stage as her tears silently fall onto the program in her lap a society man ushers the tall blonde to his reserved seats in the third row he shakes the hand of the playhouse owner and introduces his fair maiden they then sit and chatter lightly waiting for the play to begin smiling warmly at each other when the lights dim each knowing the relationship is as efemeral as the show they are about to see he walks in with his head down as people stare menacingly at his mohawk and chains he slides into the aisle seat towards the back wondering why he came she steps out onto the stage and begins to sing mesmerized, he is transfixed on her beauty and is sure she is singing only to him she walks in with a book in her hand stopping at the door and scanning the room she notices the boy with the mohawk sitting near the back she quietly slips into the seat across the aisle and opens her book watching him watching her becomes too unbearable and she quietly slips out the door the two girls walk in talking loudly to each other as they make their way to the front sitting near the wall in the front row they giggle and tease tossing their hair and scanning the room as they pretend to listen to one another they stand and scream and hug their friends as they arrive hoping to get their fifteen minutes before the actors take the stage the old man takes his seat in the third row near the wall on the left he sits quietly reading the program, adjusting his spectacles as he scans the pages he is reminded of a painting he has hanging in his parlor above the mantel the lights dim as he sets down the program and awaits the magic on stage he is home my thoughts are interrupted by footsteps behind me "it's time to go", he says "it's quite late." as we turn out the lights and begin to walk out, i look back and see them sitting, waiting for someone to carry them to a place they would rather be

Is There a Dream Analyst in the Building?

i've been having some horrible dreams the past week and a half. it's just now starting to take its toll this week. the only way i can describe what kind of dreams is to explain the one i had last night...when i woke up i remembered almost every detail, but more than that, i can remember how it made me feel. i've been having trouble getting to sleep, finally fading away around 2 or 3, or 5 depending on the night. for those that know me, that's really nothing new. i haven't been waking up a million times a night, like usual, which would normally be a good thing, but it doesn't allow me to escape these dreams. i think a dream analyst would have a hay day with this one, though...what the heck is a hay day anyway? the dream began with me, my friend Carp and his wife Katie in my grandmother's old apartment in colorado. suddenly they got up and said they had to go, they had another life to live...just like that, then they left...suddenly my little sister DeAnna, and my mom were there. we were talking together because DeAnna had just lost a baby...she was talking calmly about information she received, and i confirmed it, apprehensively. she then told me that she hated me and never wanted to speak to me again. my mom just stood in the background, and she wouldn't look at me. my sister's friend Raven came in to get her, and as they were leaving, Raven turned and said, "sometimes you do things that just don't make any sense, Colleen." and they left. suddenly, i was in my jeep, on my way to pick up some teenage girls to bring them to an activity. we pulled up to my old middle school in cass city (that has been torn down for years) and went inside. the band Sprout was playing in a small room off to the side...i walked around a little looking for the teenage girls and when i got back into the same room, the girls from "Taffetas" were singing - but the sound kept cutting out and people started talking and yelling and stuff...finally the girls left the stage area, which was actually just a sheet hung up with a microphone in front of it and cords everywhere. they got the sound working again, and Darryn came out instead of the girls, so they had her start from the beginning but pick up the pace so she could speed through the stuff we already heard...she tried to go with it but lost her place. she got really frustrated and finally stopped singing and left the stage area because the sound cut off again. everybody was mad and started to leave, and a lady muttered to me on the way out, "they should find the music man...and fire him." i desparately grabbed some of the cords and started plugging things in and messing with the equipment, not really knowing what i was doing. just when i was plugging in the last cord, the last person walked out, but i had actually fixed it, and the sound system was working. a lady came in and told me it was a lost cause...hadn't i seen what happened to Sprout? (i never figured out what she was talking about) i told her no and she just shook her head and left, and as i walked out into the hallway, more people were shaking their heads in disgust. i finally found the teenagers i had brought with me, and after talking with them, i realized none of their parents knew they were at the school...one girls' parents knew, but she was supposed to have been home hours ago. i finally got them to stay in my jeep, there were about six of them at this time, while i went inside to pick up my stuff. i was furious and scared to death that their parents would never trust me again. i found my stuff piled up in a bathroom (it was all the stuff i own that's packed in boxes in my room right now) i had to choose one box to grab because i didn't have time or room to grab more. my friend from high school, Janis, found me and said she could take one for me, so i grabbed my picture box and gave her the box with my childhood memories. she said she was going to walk to her car around the corner, and i told her i thought it was dangerous. she said it was no big deal ,so i followed her around the corner to make sure she made it safely...when we turned the corner, suddenly we were on a street just outside an apartment i used to live in when i was in fourth grade. there were some guys standing around staring at us, and further down the street near her car were two men hitting another guy with a chain (crazy, i know) i said sarcastically, "how about i give you a ride" and she said calmly "yeah, that sounds like a good idea." we turn and walk towards where my jeep was supposed to be and it was gone. i remember not being the least bit surprised because i had left my keys in it with all those girls. that's when everything becomes a blur for a while and the stories all begin to blend together (must have been one of those REM cycles;) suddenly i am sitting on a motorized scooter, and my other friend from high school, Melissa, is standing on the back, holding on for dear life. we are either looking for Janis, or Janis is following us and we can't figure out which one. we are not wearing helmets and we both have party clothes on...(the wierdest thing, my friend melissa is her high school self, not the melissa i know now.) we are going very fast along a dark highway surrounded by pine trees, the highway curves a lot and it is pretty chilly outside. i never slow down, even when we come to a group of on and off ramps and forks in the road (exactly like the ones near downtown grand rapids.) someone has taken all the signs down...the signs are there, but they are all blank, so we don't know which way to go, and we don't have any lights on the scooter. i veer towards the one in the middle, letting my memory be my guide. suddenly there are cars crowding around getting on and off the highway, and people are swerving and passing, and nobody has any lights, but they all seemed to know where they were going. finally, all the cars disappeared and i sped up to catch up with Janis. everything becomes a blur again, and i'm still driving, but never actually stop anywhere. suddenly i'm walking down a big hallway, that circles around the outside edge of a huge circular dome. i do not go into the doors that lead to the center, i just keep walking around the edge in a very wide corridor. the lighting is comforting, and i seem relieved to have made it. i am all by myself, and start walking faster, excited to be back, even though i'd never been there before. the corridor is separted by double doors every fifty feet or so, i walk through a couple different sets of doors, until i walk around a corner and pass a really big, black dog. he is scraggly and mean. he jumps on me as i pass him and i put my arm up to protect my face, i use all my might to push him off a bit and reach for a plastic chair that is near me. i manage to pull the chair over my head and top of my back, as i try to run for the door. the dog lunges at my back and knocks me to the floor, the chair still shielding me. two girls walk in from the center doors and call the dog catcher, but they are extremely calm, as if this kind of thing happens every day, and they seem annoyed to have to call. suddenly the dog catcher is there, and a lot of people begin to crowd around...(watching the whole thing as if someone is trying to pull gum out of my hair, instead of stopping a big, mean dog from attacking me.) the dog catcher is just standing there with one of those noose things they use and i overhear him say to one of the bystanders that he can only grab the dog and interfere if the dog is biting my head or face. i remember thinking in my head that he was a government issued dog catcher and i was in trouble. so i began yelling, "ow, ow, my head...i can feel his teeth" which wasn't a lie because i could really feel them in the back of my head. the dog catcher noosed the dog and walked him out calmly and everyone left without saying a word. the two girls went back in through the double doors leading to the center of the building, and i knew i couldn't follow them because i wasn't allowed in there, even though, again, there were no signs. i walk through the next set of double doors in the corridor, a little disoriented, and i notice this section of corridor is much longer than all the rest...i can't even see the next set of double doors around the corner, but i know they are there so i keep walking. i see another dog sleeping, but this one is shorter and much fatter, and light brown. i quietly pass the dog without disturbing him and head for the next set of doors...i turn back around just in time to see Amanda (a new freshman in the theatre department) walk past the dog. the dog wakes up and Amanda starts running towards me. i yell at her to stop running just as she is getting close to me...i step in between her and the dog, and put my arm up in front of my face, whincing and thinking desparately "here we go again." the dog lunges at me but isn't nearly as strong as the last one. i decide quickly to try a new tactic, so i pet him and coo and start scratching his back. the dog stops and his foot starts thumping, so I send Amanda ahead to get safely through the doors. every few steps i have to stop and pet the dog or he begins to get mean again. i look up and see Amanda peeking through the circular window on the door. i still have quite a distance between me and the door, taking it one step at a time...i'm finally almost there...and that's when i woke up. it was already nine o'clock, and i decided not to even try to get back to sleep. when i finally had the feeling that everything would be okay, that's when i woke up, but not once before that...which, like i said, is very strange for me, usually i wake up three or four times a night. i slept straight through from about 3 to 9...a full six hours of uninterrupted terror.

Don't Break a Heart...Break a Leg

Tonight my heart is racing, not from nervousness or fear, but racing with love and hope, a little sorrow and a great deal of mercy. We had our second audition tonight for "Frankenstein". I can honestly say I gave everything I had, and left anything I had left from the day on that stage tonight. All I wanted was a chance...the opportunity to show people what I could do, the opportunity to show myself what I could do. I was given the opportunity and rose to the occasion. What more can I ask for? After auditions, I had the familiar afterthought, wondering if it just wasn't enough, or wondering if it was too much. The thought was replaced quickly by the realization that everything happens as it should, I truly did my best, and there was nothing more I could do. Suddenly, I also remembered where I live. I live with homeless women. I walk past people every day, either on the street or in the halls, and I feel their pain, their hopelessness. Suddenly, what I was feeling was blessed, not stressed. I had the chance to be on stage tonight and lose myself in a moment, in a character, and come out a better person. I had the chance to feel that fire in my gut, the ache in my chest, the passion come alive and unfold before me, within me. I came home tonight and talked to one of our guests about her housing situation. I was supposed to help her move her few items into a new apartment tomorrow. She has been delayed another week. You could just see the anguish in her face. We will go tomorrow to get a few other things in order. You see, she doesn't have a car, either. I reminded her that she always has a place here, at this house, and that we are happy to have her however long it takes...words didn't seem to be enough tonight, but tomorrow is a new day, and she never stays down for long. She then told me that the other house guest we have went into the hospital tonight. She is 7 months along, and her baby has downs syndrome. She moved in with us to be closer to the hospital, and it's a good thing she did, the baby has fluid around his heart. If it is as bad as they think, she could have an emergency C-section tomorrow...so we will drop in to see her just in case. Then, I am off to a baby shower for my friend Melissa. Melissa was on bed rest for two months or so because there was a tear in her uterus, and the doctor's were worried about her safety. Abigail was born early and stayed in the NICU for a while. She is now almost two months old, and healthy, and mom is doing fine. Tomorrow I get to see Abigail for the first time. We are going to have one heck of a celebration! In the middle of all of this, I will stop by SVSU and check to see if my name is on the cast list. It seems trivial compared to all that is taking place tomorrow...but I know it is just as important, for it will determine my next move. If my name is not on the list, I know that my time and energy is needed elsewhere. If my name is on the list, I will work very hard to honor those who gave it their all tonight, and bring everything I have and everything I am to each rehearsal, making the most of the opportunity presented to me. I think deep down I know the answer, and I humbly say "well done" to all who are chosen. As I lay my head on my pillow tonight, my thoughts will turn to my brother, as they do each night. I picture him on a cot in a cell, and wonder if his blanket is warm enough. Nobody is beyond hope, nobody is beyond redemption. Nobody is so far gone that God can't reach them. Nobody. With that, I whisper a prayer of thanksgiving for God bringing me to a new place tonight, and a prayer of hope for everyone who is laying in bed, or sitting on a barstool, or curled up in a corner, or driving down the highway, clouded by fear and despair. I pray that the Son may begin to peek through the clouds as you get through one day at a time.

Standing Outside the Fire...but not for long

i know everything will make more sense tomorrow, after some sleep. i don't know why i'm still awake...i've been awake since 4:30 this morning. it was a long day of sitting, writing early morning messages, listening to instructions about how to communicate with guests in the house, taking a depressing tour around saginaw, and then off to the church to tell the kids that i'm leaving. not a very good day. obviously this is not a good time to evaluate things. the truth is i'm not evaluating anything. i'm just sitting here staring at the computer. i would love to post one of those bulletins that people post sometimes, you know, that say they need a friend, or are feeling down and want someone to call. i'm afraid if i do that someone will call, and i'll just be annoyed to use up my pre-paid minutes over a pity party that i would feel guilty about later, or i might not even need to have after i've already posted the bulletin. or i'll hate that people know that tonight is not a good night. does that make sense? mostly in these moments i push through it by myself...seems safer that way. this is one of those nights that i would like to have someone here, though, to just sit and watch a movie with, or just sit, you know? but it seems like if you call a guy for something like that they expect other things, and at this point i know myself well enough to know i am too tired and too weak to protest, so i do not call. sometimes i wish i were still young and stupid enough to make that call. when i wake up in the morning, i'm always relieved i didn't call. i already feel a bit better. i think i just feel trapped, too. and anybody that knows me well, knows that's one of the worst things for me. my gas light turned on and i am out of money. i get paid next thursday for my last few days at the church, so i will be walking and riding a bike for a week, but i really won't be riding anywhere that costs money. that normally wouldn't be a problem, people go without vehicles in this town all the time...there's only two of us with vehicles in this house. it's all a matter of perspective, and i understand that completely. however, i do not have any house days until next week when school starts, so i am basically completely free the next five days, but with no money to get out of here. it's humbling, i get it. now i know how all these people feel on a daily basis in this town who are stuck. at least i'm only stuck for a week, some of these people never see the light, never get a chance to feel free in their lives. and all i can think about is myself. my brother's in jail...again. there, i said it. for everyone to read. i'm sick of it...i'm so sick of hurting for him. i'm so sick of worrying about him. i'm so sick of seeing my mom just crumble when she can't take any more. life has been rough on her...she deserves a break. i would just like to make enough money when i get done with school to pay my loans and take care of my mom. that's it. i don't care about all that other bullshit...it's just stuff...it's just pressure from society to matter, to make it big, to live the life...my mom deserves the life. she has worked her tail off and raised four kids on her own...she has given up everything...she deserves it...let her have it. i don't even want it. ah. now the tears are coming...it's about time...for a while there i was beginning to think they'd left for good. i just want to give people a fair shot. they say in america everybody gets a shot, a chance to build on a dream...i say bullshit. you're going to tell me that a baby born in the projects to a mother who is addicted to crack has the same shot as those celebrity babies you see all over the tabloids...bullshit. we all know it...why are we so apathetic? john mayer says that this generation is "waiting on the world to change"...okay, that's a great idea, lets just sit around and wait for someone else to fix it. maybe if we get caught up enough in our own worlds we might not even notice problems exist. our biggest worry is whether or not we got a part in the school play. screw the school play. half of the kids who secretly dream of being accepted, receiving a standing ovation just for being who they are, will never get that chance because our society, that we have created, sets them up to fail. we created it, so we need to fix it...and we can. i truly believe that we can. man, i know we can. aha. the tears have dried to my cheeks and a new fire burns in my soul. i refuse to "stand outside the fire." like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abendego i'm going in with nothing but the good Lord to save me. ahhh...awake again, a new fire...or maybe the same old flame ignited once more...in three hours i'll be up 24 hours...that's just the way my God works.

Coffee With Jim

The sweat glistens from the sun on my poorly shaved gems Lorie Line whispers her song across the piano barely smoldering the sound of traffic and Friday afternoon conversations Jim Harrison freshly at my fingertips I desire to take a spin on the apparatus parked illegally near the two hour lampost I have a feeling people would notice A weathered man walks by muttering inaudible salutations The tree across the way looks out of place He belongs on an island in a sea of wildflowers Shading two lovers as they picnic in secret Yet here he sits in his concrete prison Shading the apparatus on the two hour pole

good night

i want so badly to write a million words....i was so calm after watching the stars waltz across the sky that my body became very heavy....i came home only to become restless...i jumped on the computer relieved that i was once again awake enough to write...now here i sit, heavy and weary again...for now this will have to do. good night. yes it was.

all is quiet on the eastern front

i recently picked up "mooring against the tide" and read the intro. it was a text book i had for a poetry class a couple of years ago. i didn't read it then, but i kept it in case i decided to read it someday. the intro went on to say that we should write poems about the everyday things that matter, the things we can see only if we stop and really look and listen. take a moment, it said, the abstract of what you are feeling, and turn it into something concrete, that others might be able to see. i guess i never really thought of it that way. it also mentioned taking notes all the time and forming a poem later. i've never taken notes for a poem, i've just written them. i've never not finished a poem and then came back to it later. that seems weird to me. oh well. writing is not something i want to do, so i'm not too worried about getting better at it. the book has caught my interest, however. the smell of graham crackers and bath bubbles makes me smile as i brush a blanket over tiny fingers and toes sitting back at the computer i man my post listening to cars go by smelling the smoke as the mothers sit silently on the porch today has just turned into tomorrow the traffic has slowed on holland except for the sirens doors slam i can hear the wind for a moment peace i notice a novel next to the computer "all quiet on the western front" for now all is quiet on the eastern front as well

It's the time of your life, so live it well...

i'm sitting here at the computer. teo, keelee, and joshua are all asleep as the credits roll on "a bug's life"...they are little kids, and i absolutely adore them all. i took teo and keelee to the park tonight to give mama a break. i was supposed to go out on the town tonight...i prefer the park, and this moment right now, with the babies sleeping in the next room, and a nice breeze coming in the window, after a long evening of playing "chase the monkies around the park to get them back in their cages which they cleverly escape from every time i turn my back." i'm off to take a shower, and then to bed. i think i'm moving into the unfinished attic in the next few days to make room for more guests. if anybody's interested in helping me finish it, that would be sweet. living in community is nothing and everything i expected all at once. it's excruciating and exhilerating, and exhausting, and completely humbling...time consuming, rewarding, blissful, dreadful, the list could go on and on and on. i am where i'm supposed to be...who would've thought? saginaw, michigan. probably the second to last place i would've picked next to where i graduated from high school. there is such a need here. people need to start investing in this area. i think i am as worn out and as happy as i would be in any other place. i think i need to go to bed.

Yolk does not = yoke

so...normally when i make a pretty ignorant choice and find it later, i erase the mistake and replace it with a more appropriate response, before people have a chance to see my mistake. this time, however, i'll just leave it as is and fix my mistake in a new blog. it's okay to admit to my own ignorance...i'm not perfect, and i make mistakes...i'll just keep reminding myself that admitting my mistakes to everyone might make someone else feel better about themselves :) in my previous blog i referred to the "yolk of Christ in my heart"...well, the thought occurred to me a few times between then and now that it might be the yoke of Christ. i checked today (today meaning three days ago because it took me a few days to have time to sit and continue writing this blog...no time to write recently...too much to do) and, sure enough, it is yoke, not yolk. i guess it could still make sense, after looking up both definitions from many different points of reference. on wikipedia (an excellent source, usually, except for that minor infraction where it stated that the comic Sinbad was deceased when, in fact, he was still alive and kickin') it defines yolk as "the part of the egg which serves as the food source for the developing embryo inside." hm. in that case, the yolk of Christ makes sense. when we first decide to invite Christ to be a part of our lives, we are like embryos in need of constant nourishment...as we develop we still need to constantly be fed and take in nourishment from Christ, but the later wisdom could be more comparable to milk and then solid food. in fact, Paul uses this reference when writing to the gentiles. yoke refers to a tool used to steer two oxen or horses. it's the big crossbow that goes between the animals. hm. doesn't sound very comfortable when you put it that way. Jesus says "my yoke is easy and my burden is light." maybe He's saying, "let me steer." it seems an oxen would have a much better time of things if he wouldn't fight where the farmer wanted to go. it seems the oxen would have a much better time if they both listened and paid attention to the farmer, rather than fight one another to go their own way. My yoke is easy...not simple, easy. i would be curious to look up the actual Hebrew term used for "easy." okay, so i just spent about an hour looking up different things and actually found the written text in aramaic, but no translation or way of knowing how to begin to interpret it. looks like my study will have to go a little deeper than a quick internet search. well, whether it's the yolk of Christ or the yoke...i truly need both to make it through each day. maybe i should start to use my rebellious nature towards fighting the yoke of oppression we have allowed to continue in the Systems we have built that directly defy the wonderful things Christ stood for, instead of fighting against the yoke that is actually Christ leading me...a yoke He claims is "easy". I've never been steered wrong by taking Him at His Word before...why would He suddenly steer me wrong now?

It's Been A While

yep. it's been a month...almost. not that there haven't been a bajillion thoughts running through my head. it seems, there has been no good time to sit and write them all down. sometimes, i feel like i shouldn't waste time writing them down, you know? just when i get it down, another fifty thoughts have crept into my mind, some of which might actually contradict the original thought. does anyone else have this problem? it seems i'm either writing all the time, or not writing at all. new things in my life. ch-ch-ch-ch-changes, as the song goes. might've put too many ch's. i am so blessed. have i said that before? i hope so. i am. i cannot wrap my mind around why God has chosen to be friends with me...i mean, like, close friends. my heart is constantly in despair and full of joy at the same time. is that crazy? it's like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but the yolk of Christ is in my heart. yolk. funny that Christ would use yolk. mustard seeds, lamps, yolk, soil, you name it, Christ uses it to teach. He used what people were familiar with...and He didn't explain His parables to everyone. hm. Christ is my best friend. He is who I want to walk hand in hand with in the wilderness. i bet He smells like grilled cheese sandwiches and cookies. i bet He didn't smell like that when He was on this earth, though. vagabond...itinerant...lover...healer. i desire to be like Him. more later...the sun is shining...my stomach is growling...and everything is not right with the world...so i better get to work.

i sit

i sit the rain drops loosely from the sky the green of nature looks greener against the light grey clouds nothing profound enters or leaves my brain i sit listening to the cars pass i believe i am waiting for someone to tell me what comes next but no one is here i never feel alone when i am by myself with many people here i often feel alone i am not afraid but i feel like i should be so i sit waiting for fear that will never come

To Be or Not To Be...

I have been struggling with my character in the play I am currently in. Instead of diving in to find her, I have spent a majority of time trying to figure out why I can’t. I don’t know how to find her. I have forgotten what it feels like to be in a relationship. I have forgotten what it looks like. I wasn’t very good at being in one in the first place. I don’t know. I would act extremely immature because I didn’t know how to be, what my role was. I have been wrestling with many ideas as to why I can’t do this: maybe I’m not meant to do this, maybe I’m only a character actress, maybe I have been fooling myself these past couple of years and the veil has finally been lifted, maybe it’s because I disagree with how and who the character is from a directing standpoint, maybe I’m not getting very much from the actor who is playing opposite me, maybe…well, let’s just say I’ve been driving myself crazy. I have never really worked a lot on a character outside of rehearsal. I don’t really know how to find her on my own. I’ve worked on accents or memorization, and that’s about it. Everything else seems to come through the rehearsal process. The only thing I feel that has come through this rehearsal process is mounting frustration. I think the relationship thing might stem from living with a mother who gave up relationships before my memory will allow me to see her in one. I know how to be strong and survive when things look like they can’t get any worse. I know how to cry alone in the bathroom when I just can’t take any more. I know how to give up everything I have so someone else can have something. Those are all good things to know. Somehow I have also learned how to lose myself when someone comes along and pretends to care. Somehow I have learned how to allow someone to say and do the cruelest things and cling to them even harder. Somehow, I have learned that continually compromising myself is what love is all about. So, like my mom, I just stopped. I think I am jealous of Steffy Blondell, my character in the show. She knows how to be in a relationship, and a difficult one at that. Yeah, she’s been dating a man for two years who is afraid of commitment, but she still goes to work every day and takes excellent care of her family. She has not lost who and how she is. She is not afraid to finally confront this man and ask for exactly what she wants, knowing she could lose everything. She knows if she stays she could lose even more, she could lose herself. I don’t know how to be like that. I wish I could. Being jealous of her is blocking my ability to be her…when we are jealous of someone we start to hate them a little. I have had no problem playing characters I do not like, in fact, sometimes I prefer it. Maybe that’s the problem, maybe I like Steffy Blondell. Maybe I like her so much I wish I could be more like her. She must live inside of me somewhere. I walked away from a relationship that was killing me. I thought he could change. I knew that he wouldn’t. Steffy is in a relationship she likes. I’ve never been in a relationship I liked. I can’t find her! There are many other things blocking me from just allowing her to be. I compare myself to other actors and find myself frustrated because I feel like I do not have the natural talent or emotional depth that they have. I’m not sure if I can turn it on and off the way they do. I feel if I go into the emotional roller coaster that might be necessary for this character, that I might not be able to finish the ride because I will be exhausted, and have nothing left when it’s time to deliver the final product, or maybe I won’t be able to make it back. I would love to talk to the other actors about some of these thoughts and feelings, but I’m afraid they won’t understand, or they’ll second-guess my ability, or they’ll judge me. Isn’t that silly? I think I am afraid that the people who see this show are going to know how overrated I am, and it’s killing me. Hey, at least the pressure will be off, right? I like the pressure. I hope I look back on this journey and realize how necessary it was for me to be in this agony in order to take it to the next level. It’s been said, “It’s through overcoming obstacles that we grow.” Even if it is just for me to realize that I am not cut out for this, and I need to move on, and just do it for fun every once in a while. I hope not.

I'm Not That Girl

I'm not the kind of girl a guy writes a poem about or a song I'm not the kind of face that inspires a person to draw or paint They do not ask me what I think or how I feel because they know I'll tell them They write me off as immature aloof naive and scan the room for someone more broken more fragile They never hear my story They look at my joy write a summary in their minds and leave out all the good parts The parts that have been broken mended back together made new The proof is in the stitching God knows I do not need it and not having it reminds me to listen to others write poems about people not leave anybody out God knows I do not need it but it would be nice just once.

tid bits @ two a.m.

I am not a big advocate of the midnight snack…it’s actually not very healthy to eat so late at night…but I’m not directly opposed to it either. (Written as I’m eating tortilla chips and cheese dip at 1am) If you are tired or hungry, or both, that is not usually the best time to self-evaluate… but that seems to be the time I want to do it the most. I’m okay when it comes to giving advice on relationships; I’m just not good at being in one. Giving my TV away was a tough call, but it has proven to be one of the best decisions I have made…maybe I’ll take that into consideration the next time a decision seems so painful. Feeling guilty about having blessings is comparable to purposefully making yourself sick, or chopping your arm off when there’s nothing wrong with it. Truth can come from the most inconspicuous places…and usually does. God does not yell, so to hear Him, sometimes I have to turn down the radio…or stop singing at the top of my lungs…and not just when a crappy song is on. Abe Lincoln once said “Never put off till tomorrow what can be done today”. I usually put off till tomorrow what should have been done yesterday. Looking at what Abe was able to accomplish in his life and where I’m at, I think I’ll start going with his idea. Usually when I speak on impulse and say what’s on my mind without much thought, later I find myself wishing I had kept my mouth shut. When I am apprehensive and keep my mouth shut, later I find myself wishing I had spoken up.

the girl who never wins anything...

is the big winner this week! seriously... ~decided to randomly go to a poetry slam at a bar on tuesday to get over my stupid stage fright and get through an entire poem without freezing up and running out the door....did it! then, i won the slam! word. ~went to the tony awards on friday night and won best supporting actress for the rabbi/bronx woman in "angels in america" and had a BLAST...sweet. ~had some french fries at burger king yesterday while helping molly move into her new apartment...won a free double stacker...it has bacon on it! bacon! ~won the election for president of the theatre honor society, Alpha Psi Omega, for next year...again. ~had a final performance for our musical theatre class that consisted of a number that i choreographed...Footloose!...received some excellent, excellent feedback, and was asked by one of the directors to be the choreographer for her mainstage show next february! yay for opportunity! ~sat down with an advisor and worked out a PLAN for graduating next may! yes...i worked out a plan...and i actually have to follow this stinker if i want to get done...and i WANT to get DONE. ~found out that Ric is directing "annie" in december...miss hannigan has always been my dream role, since i was a kid...every other girl wanted to be annie...i wanted to be miss hannigan...i am going to have to work extremely hard to get this part!

~gave my utility cart chuck-full of things like my television, dvd player, vcr, and all my movies to my brother for his apartment...yes, that means i win...because now i won't waste my time mindlessly watching a lot of crappy advertisements...i will miss watching Charlie Rose, though, maybe i'll just call him so we can chat ;)

~went to a meeting for "moving saginaw forward" and came out motivated and ready for action...start small and DREAM BIG!

i couldn't pay my rent on time, i got a shut-off notice for my gas, my car is running like crap, my phone is out of minutes and my refrigerator is not exactly full and i am t-i-r-e-d...you know what? that's small potatoes, cuz this has been a great week!

I am

I recently ran across this poem that I had written two years ago for my poetry class....

I am

Not always smiling

But it doesn’t mean

That I’m not happy

I am

Not always laughing

But it doesn’t mean

I don’t think you’re funny

I am

Not always organized

But it doesn’t mean

That I’m not prepared

I am

Not always listening

But when it’s important

I will hear

I am

Not always smart

But I will learn

If it matters

I am

Not always sane

But I find it usually

Works in my favor

I am

Not always graceful

But it’s only because

I don’t have time to practice

I am

Not always brave

But love is stronger than fear

When it is necessary

I am

Not always strong

But God’s power is made perfect

In my weakness

Angels @ the Red Eye

Calloused hands reach for the warm soup No words are exchanged as the smell of urine and sweat fill my nostrils I am humbled and do not react I am proud that I am humble and I'm forced to start over As she grabs the soup from my hands I wonder if she expects charity and immediately feel sorry recognizing the shame in her posture that I have seen so many times in my own mother I want to save her until I realize I would be saving her from people like me who allow others to become charity so we can feel better about ourselves As she begins to walk away my heart is stirred to speak hoping something in my words might save her soul My voice catches in my throat as I realize it is me who should be ashamed I don't even know the color of her eyes.

Mareesee's Manor

Hey mister, I don’t know who mister is exactly, but I always seem to write better if I think I’m speaking to someone besides myself. If I were just speaking to myself, I could just have the conversation in my head. Somehow, documenting the conversation makes me more accountable to what I have convicted myself to feel within the conversation. Also, it helps me to remember what the conversation entailed, because my memory is lousy. It’s funny, well, not really funny, it’s actually pretty annoying, but I could be reading a book and think it has some pretty amazing remarks that change my life for the better, and someone could ask me what the book is, who wrote it, and what it’s about, and I would hardly be able to answer the questions, because I have a hard time remembering specifics. However, the book still changes me, so all is not lost, and with a book, I can just recommend it to someone else, and even buy it for them, and they can experience it for themselves. I wish I could do the same with my own convictions, like with explaining where they come from, but it is made up of such a smorgasbord of events, people, conversations with God, and so much more, that it makes it almost impossible for me to defend how I feel or what I think without sounding like a babbling idiot. (Case in point, the run-on sentence that the green grammar squiggly line is telling me I just wrote.) I’m writing at 4 in the morning, and I am exhausted. I can’t sleep. I need to be sleeping. I have an incredibly busy day tomorrow. Also, finals, work, rehearsal, plus the rest of the “Angels” run, and a few extra projects are going to keep me running full steam all this weekend and all next week as well. I have been changed. I don’t know what’s going to come of it, but God hasn’t told me one time that it will be comfortable. That doesn’t make me very comfortable. He promises comfort and peace, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I stopped by Jeannine House today, a house for homeless women and children, to see if my services were needed. I was welcomed with open arms. I did not want to go, it would have been easier to sit on my butt at the coffee house and think about how nice it would be to help out sometime, you know, when I found myself with some free time. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with frustration at myself, and got up to ask directions to this house. It was very easy to find, and everyone was extremely kind. It felt good to actually take action. They told me, at Jeannine House, about a garden they have a few blocks down, that takes up about three lots. I surveyed the garden, and realized that it was one of the saddest looking things I’ve seen, which means it has a lot of potential, kind of like a lot of sad people I see. I realized I would have my work cut out for me, but it was possible. I decided to survey the neighborhood considering I had never even seen that part of Saginaw before. I’ve heard a lot about the East Side, near the hospital. It’s on the news at least a few times a week. I drove a few blocks down from the garden, and pulled over when I saw The House. It was an old abandoned house, clearly trashed, with a phone number and a price spray painted on the front in bright red “$3000 or Best”. The house is huge. It looks like there might be at least three apartments inside with a small yard outside. Every single window was broken, and graffiti and trash were everywhere. I have not felt as alive as I felt, as I was surveying that house, in a very long time. Something stirred inside my bones. I began to pray. “Is this it, Lord? Is this what you want me to do? Ah, man, I wouldn’t even know where to begin….” My prayer was interrupted by a shout from across the street. “You fixin’ to buy that house?” I turned around to see a girl of about twelve years old, standing near a couple of boys who looked about eight or so. “I don’t know” I said hesitantly, “It looks like it would take an awful lot of work to clean and fix it up.” “It’s a big house.” She said. “Yeah…would you help me clean it up if I bought it?” “Yeah, I’d help you clean it.” “You would?” I turned back to the house and let out a sigh. Suddenly one of the boys chimed in, “give me some money and I’ll help you.” I just laughed and began to walk back to my jeep. Just as I was reaching for the handle the girl spoke up, “You don’t have to give me no money… I’ll help you.” In that moment, I knew why I have to buy that house. I asked the girl her name. I had her repeat it twice and still don’t think I have it right, but it was something like Marissa, but a bit different, pronounced like Mareesee, or close to that. Well, if God intends for that house to be fixed up and used as a hub for the kids and people of that community, at least I know I already have a name for it. Mareesee Manor. I need to go to bed. I have to get up in two hours, and I will be going all day until after midnight. It looks like Sunday through Saturday of next week is about the same schedule. I looked up at God a minute ago and asked Him why He chose this week to show me this neighborhood. He told me that this is the week I finally got off my butt and went there, He’s had it on my heart for a while. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the timing couldn’t be better. It gives me four months of mediocre to above-average weather to work with. I am scared to death. I can’t get this house out of my head, or the garden. I cannot save Saginaw. I cannot even save myself. God is going to do what He’s going to do, with or without me. It’s time for me to get on board. It’s time to sell everything I have and follow Him. I knew this was coming. I know my life is about to change. It’s going to get harder, but it’s going to be what it’s intended to be, not what I would have it be. In the words of Rage Against the Machine in their song Guerilla Radio, "It has to start somewhere. It has to start sometime. What better place than here. What better time than now."

Bailar

she moves legs, arms intertwining with the notes on the page bare feet wood floor tears begin to dance as she envisions her castle on the cloud up on her toes her hand brushes the sun she blows a kiss sending hope she bends never breaks the silence of the notes on the page bow, my dear to your master as they applaud to each other and smile

Iggy & Me

No words quite fit The way a cold beer tastes At 2:38 in the afternoon While reading a Rolling Stone And listening To Celtic women sing From somewhere deep Somewhere raw Propaganda of my nature The Starry Night of Edvard Munch Staring into my soul Vanilla flames dance To the melody While I dance To the beating of my own heart You’re not the boss of me Iggy Pop You’re not the boss of me

happy keester

It seems like whenever I see someone else doing something, or watch something amazing, I seem to think it’s my new calling. That’s weird, isn’t it? Like, I just read a novel written by one of my friends, and suddenly I find myself writing all the time now. I watch the NCAA tournament, and I want to get back in the gym and shoot around. I watch a play, and can’t wait for rehearsal. I’ve recently learned to knit, and am currently working on a puzzle. I have taken piano lessons, and now take drum lessons. I desire to take dance lessons more than anything, but I’m afraid I’ll be good. Is that weird? I hibernate in my apartment. I have succeeded to isolate myself from almost everyone. Lately, I haven’t been feeling too good about it, but I don’t know how to fix it, and I’m not so sure I even want to. I have no desire to invite people over, and I have no desire to go anywhere else when I’m here. Part of it is lack of money, I’m sure, because most things take money. I enjoy getting out when I have rehearsal, or to go to my church in the evening. I have seriously become a hermit. I wouldn’t mind so much, except I have also become quite lazy. I want to step out from this lifestyle, but I feel so rested and calm, I’ve fallen in love with it. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can say I feel at peace, because I’m constantly feeling guilty for sitting around thinking about everything. I’ve begun talking to people out loud, instead of in my head. I have full conversations, until I realize I’m talking out loud and end the conversation mid-sentence. I have a desire to connect with other people, and I yearn for that human companionship sometimes. However, I love this new state I’ve found because I feel like I have time to think, and to read, but mostly to think. I have time to form a whole thought, dive deep within that thought to find the contradiction, and circle back around to a resolution, which usually leads me to another contradiction. It’s a relief. However, I know that I need interaction with others. I don’t need much, but I do much better as a person when I find balance. Social situations and intimacy are part of that balance. Like I said, I’ve never needed very much, but to connect with someone on a higher level at least once in a while would do me good. I don’t really know how to get there from here. I know it could be a matter of picking up the phone and calling someone to hang out, but what if I don’t feel like it when the plans are made, or I don’t have money, or they say no, or they expect more out of me than I can give, or I expect more out of them than they can give, or everything works out really well and I want to hang out with people more, and soon I become very social again, and lose this alone time, and the scales tip in the opposite direction. I have a tendency to get in ruts of severe unbalance, if that’s even a sentence. I get to hang out with my mom today, but deep down I’d rather hang around my apartment in my sweatpants. Isn’t that weird? There is no pressure when I hang out with my mom, we just chill. I know I will feel good about it once I’m home again tonight after hanging out with her. I just can’t seem to get my butt moving to make the trip, or pick up the phone to make the call. I’d rather sit and do nothing. Usually I end up getting up and doing something for a while, like I started to organize the pile of stuff I have in my kitchen, but I only get so far and then something else catches my attention, and I stop. I get excited when I think about doing it, and it’s always like 3 in the morning, and I’m like ‘ok, tomorrow I will do it, and it will be great, but I can’t get into it now cuz it’s 3 in the morning’. Then tomorrow comes, and I find something else because I’m not motivated to do it anymore. It’s a vicious cycle. I know it will take discipline to get out of it, but I think part of me likes this low-key, low responsibility lifestyle. I know it’s not very fulfilling, though, and I think that’s what keeps jabbing me in the side about it. I need to stop typing right now and go see my mom. It’s weird, I know I should be doing something else, so the words really start flowing on the page. I have begun to give into those urges and do whatever is in me to do. Is that beneficial? I don’t know. A lot of good things have come from doing that, creatively speaking. Unfortunately, I’ve dropped a lot of responsibilities and really can’t hope to move forward very fast if I continue down this path. What is forward anyway, though? I’m at peace, and I’m calm, and I’m not starving. Why not sit and create? Why not hang out by myself, if that’s what suits me? I can’t help but feel there is some sort of balance that needs to be maintained, even in this lifestyle. My body is the type that just needs to move, so I know I will never become stagnant. I know I will continue to thrust myself into social situations, even if I still maintain an isolated lifestyle. I am always meeting new people, and finding out all about them. I think what I’ve been feeling lately is that a lot of people don’t know much about me. That’s selfish though, isn’t it? I’m being selfish right now, because I’m continuing to write even though I know I should be getting dressed and out the door to see my mom and honor the time I told her I would be there. However, I can’t help but feel she would understand if I told her I had an epiphany and needed to write for a while. That doesn’t make it right, though, does it? If I’m meant to write these thoughts down they’ll come later won’t they? I’ve found that’s not always the case. Am I selfish for sitting here and writing, knowing I’ll be a better person if I get this stuff down? Alright, I can sense the thoughts beginning to fade. That’s good. It’s time to get dressed and go. Now I was able to write, and I’m also able to go spend time with my mom and still be reasonably on time. To me, that’s balance.

Feeding Time

He swims beneath the algae to get a closer look at the castle The rocks are bright pink, her favorite color Timidly he approaches the drawbridge and begins to nibble Stone. Crap. He always forgot. Turning to his left he sees a pair of blue eyes staring right at him Through the glass Mascara running down her face Trails of salty tears She whispers softly “Other fish in the sea…but just one in the bowl” He smiles warmly wishing he could swim in her tears But he is a freshwater fish She sprinkles the food into the bowl Watching as it floats along the surface He allows himself to rise to the top Hoping to feel her hand glide along his back Knowing he never will ‘Maybe if I kiss her, she’ll turn into a fish And we can live in my castle Forever.’ He nibbles the drawbridge once more Stone.

Dear Colleen

Another relevant find.... Saturday Nov. 27th, 2004 2:10pm Dear Colleen, I write you today, instead of God, Himself, because I know what God hears in your heart and that writing a letter to Him is entirely unnecessary. However, I see that you could use a letter of encouragement. This is not to barrade you, or ask why you are who you are and make the decisions that you make. This is a letter of the here and now - not revisiting old decisions that have long since passed and by the mercy and grace of God have been forgiven. I see the path your mind is taking you on in this moment and I'm writing this letter to you to turn it around. They are satan's lies - you should not be ashamed or afraid. Don't even give him the satisfaction of entertaining such notions. Rather, reflect on God's love, forever. No one can take that away from you. You are eternal, but only through the grace of Jesus Christ. Reflect on that and the words of Christ. You are His friend. God wants you to be happy - not ashamed. You can break the cycle here and now - but you have to believe it's possible. It is easy to get wrapped up in things of this world - you're not the only one who has given in or stepped away. Repent and search again for God's way, and you will find happiness there. Expose and admitt your mistakes to God, but do not dwell on them. Sin gives birth to sin. Love gives birth to peace and casts out fear. You are weak - but that is not a fault - God's power is made perfect in your weakness. God's power is perfect - so you are weak. Satan will try and try - he will never give up because he knows the war is lost - so he will try to win every battle he can. He will lose. God has won and God has chosen you. You have a tender, sensitive heart and people will make you feel like that is wrong. Keep listening for God's word - He speaks to you - speaks peace into your heart. Keep talking about God's love. Keep showing others what it is through your life. Keep admitting and exposing mistakes and sin, repenting and forgiving yourself after you know God has forgiven you. Go through each day picking out a mistake from the day before and giving it to God without replacing it with a new one. You are not the bad person that you so often think you are. You are loved by those in Heaven and by some here on Earth. Surround yourself with love every day. You are a work in progress, and nobody knows that better than you. Don't forget to rest sometimes. I don't mean physically. Don't forget to give yourself a break sometimes. You are a good person - you are on the right track most of the time. Don't forget to enjoy God's blessings. Just breathe, and don't judge yourself for it. It's all about balance - mind, body, soul, and other people. Heaven will be great, but every day you're on this earth can be great, too. It's just a matter of perspective. Keep God in front, let Him do the hard stuff - He wants to, and He's good at it! He loves you. God did not have time to make a nobody - He did not have time to save a nobody. To God you are somebody. You are somebody to me, too. Keep going out there and being somebody to everyone you meet and God will be there. Love, Colleen

Keep it.

He refilled her wine glass, took the five dollar bill she had set down, and brought it to the cash register to make change. “Keep it,” “You sure?” The response came automatically, after years of bartending many things became automatic. “Keep it.” She watched as he put the money in the till and pocketed the change. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure” He seemed agitated, but she knew he wouldn’t say no, another unwritten bartending rule. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” She knew he had heard the question many times before, as he quickly grabbed the drink order from the ball cap next to her. “I’m sure you get that a lot, not that it’s a bad place to be…I can’t imagine what you see, standing behind the bar, watching people try to stay afloat.” She continued “I’m not hitting on you…I’m sure you get that a lot, too. I’m not interested in you like that. I mean, I’m interested in you…just not like that.” “What kind of place should a guy like me be?” He said as he rang up another drink order on the register and handed out the change…still agitated. “Hmm…a guy like you should be allowed to go anywhere, anytime, no constrictions. A guy like you should be able to be…just to be, so everyone could see what happens next.” She knew she needed to be there in that moment to say those words to him. He didn’t act surprised, or annoyed, or grateful, he just continued to take orders from around the bar. Regardless, she knew he needed to hear it. Many times people didn’t react to the things that she said. Many times people almost became angry at her for the things she said, but she still said them, because she knew.

ALS, age, materialism, and me.....

“What looks like the end, becomes another beginning….” On the 5th anniversary of his prognosis…Stephen decided to go on a respirator. He had ALS…and a camera crew had followed him for over four years. The show, “So Much, So Fast” was on PBS last night. “Time is relative, the faster you move, the slower it goes.” –Einstein Watching Stephen’s family deal with the new mission that stood before them, and seeing how each individual member of the family responded, makes me wonder about my role in this fight. You see, when I was first starting grade school, my Aunt Wave was diagnosed with ALS. It did not take long for the disease to begin to rob her of her joy. My aunt wrote a note to her family, brought a gun into her bathroom, and shot herself in the head, while she still had the control to make and carry out the decision herself. Many people might not understand the choice she made. I think her sister, my Grandmother Colleen, and their mother, understood all too well. Wave and Colleen watched as their brother Cliff lost all mobility from the disease, many years earlier, and eventually, as my grandmother describes it “died a horrible death”. That is the only thing my grandmother has said about any of it. I have never heard her talk about her brother and sister, and now that her mom has passed, my dear Great-Grandmother Rose, she hasn’t mentioned her much, either. Of course, I do not get much of a chance to talk with my grandmother, with her being in Colorado, and me being here in Michigan. I worry about her. She often has a horrible time with anxiety and depression. She cannot work or drive because of it. Her daughter, my aunt Terry Lee, (yes, you’re catching on, Colleen, Rose, Florence, Lee – Florence being my other fabulous Great-Grandmother, mother of my grandfather), lives 20 minutes from her, so she will sometimes take her shopping, or to the doctor’s office, or just stop by for a visit. My father, unfortunately, is not so good about stopping by. That’s just kind of how that family works, they seem to be extremely self-serving, and…cold. I wonder how my mother ever fit in with any of them. I’m not so sure she ever did. I’m not so sure anybody ever has, even the very people that make up that family. The funny thing is I still absolutely adore all of them. Another good thing, I guess, that will come from not being able to have kids of my own...I will not pass this deadly gene onto them. My brother could have it, and my nephew could have it...who knows, I could have it. I will not drive myself crazy wondering if I do. I feel compelled, however, to have a more active role in the fight for a cure. My older sister's birthday is today. Deana is 35 years old. That seems totally crazy to me. When did she get so old? When will I stop thinking 35 is old? Probably when I turn 35. No, then I will probably think it's older than ever. I think 27 is old. The world tells me where I should be at 27...married, graduated (maybe with a Master's Degree by now), with one kid and another on the way, a house in the suburbs and a dog name Murphy. My friend Lindsay had a dog name Murphy, it only had three legs. Sometimes it would get loose from their yard and run to the high school to visit her. She would be so embarassed because everyone knew it was her dog...I think it was the only one in town with three legs:) Anyway, I don't think there is anywhere I'm supposed to be right now. The world bombards us with images of the American Dream. I look around me and see images of stressed out teenagers or twenty-somethings all striving for the same dream, not realizing that right down the street are people who have stopped dreaming altogether. I find myself more and more uncomfortable lately with the stuff that I have, and the life that I lead. Mother Theresa's feet were deformed. Did you know that? They would get boxes of shoes donated to the people of Calcutta, and she would dig through the box and find the worst pair, so nobody else had to wear them. Her feet were deformed from years of wearing bad shoes, or no shoes. My feet are already pretty ugly...but not because of a giving spirit. It is time to act. I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to do, but that won't stop me from doing something. I can start small, start here, in this town. It will start with shedding my life from all the "stuff". It's kind of funny...I usually look around at my stuff and feel bad that I don't have very much, now I realize it is not a lack of stuff, but an over-abundance of stuff that is making me uncomfortable. Now, just to come to the realization is not enough, it's time to act. I am currently reading a couple of books, and both have compelled the same thoughts within me. The first is called "The Irresistible Revolution". The second was written by a friend of mine...he was traveling across the country with a backpack, and nothing more...there's obviously a lot more to it than that, and I'm sure I'll reveal more as I continue to read...but one excerpt spoke to me in the same way as "The Irresistible Revolution"... "...But more than all this, the joy and value of living out of a pack stemmed from the austere limitation of available space. Nagashana was forced to carefully consider the importance of each item that went into it. There was no room for the usual trivia and trifles that fill and eventually overtake the average American household. Nagashana had often heard people complain that their space was so cluttered that they didn't even have room to think. Living out of a backpack ensured, at the very least, plenty of room for that. Yet Nagashana took it even further than this. He remembered the teachings Jesus had on the subject of possessions: "Lay up your treasures in Heaven, rather than earth; for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also...If you would be perfect, sell all that you possess and give the money to the poor." Nagashana knew that these words were not about the importance of being a charitable person. They were a warning: He knew that possessions will eventually do the possessing; master will become slave, and a path will be forever lost. Shackles and chains, he knew, could have such alluring forms...cars, stereos, televisions, electric blankets, secure jobs, credit cards, cellular phones, satellite dishes - each a link binding and burdening until we all become like Marley's ghost: a cold sould trapped eternally by luxury and wealth...For him (Nagashana) consciously limiting his material goods was an act of spiritual training as important as meditation, study of sacred texts, or worship. The lightness (in weight) of his pack was directly proportional to the lightness (in luminescence) of his soul." - "A Handful of Dust" A Novel by Marc Beaudin http://www.myspace.com/crowvoice You know, for a guy claiming to be more spiritual than religious, I would say he's got more of the right idea than many Christians I know. I keep receiving this same message over and over and over and over again. You think God's trying to tell me something? ;) I have to head off to rehearsal, to play two amazing characters...an old rabbi (yes, an old man) and a homeless woman from the Bronx, who many say, is believed to be a prophet in the show...seriously, could I have been any luckier with this show? I was just cast in a Neil Simon show, I get to actually play a normal 30-something woman. No one is really normal, though, she will have a story to tell and act out just like all the characters I've been playing all along. At least I won't need to contort my face or my body for this one...I'll just need to dig deep within myself and find her.