Sometimes I re-read...sometimes I re-post

Originally posted Monday, September 10, 2007:

Everything is Ephemeral

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 ephemeral 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

Covered With Scars I Did Nothing To Earn....

A student of mine just directed "The Last Five Years" at SASA.  The show breaks my heart, but it's also really good....kind of like "The Notebook"...haha....the play takes you on a journey through five years of a relationship, marriage, and eventual breakup of a couple...the interesting part is, the girl starts at the end of the journey and works back, and the guy starts where they met and works forward...they eventually meet in the middle, and then continue on their individual paths towards the inevitable good-bye...him saying good-bye for good, and her saying good-bye after their first date....augh...their is a hole in my chest just thinking about it again...

I've never had something like this happen to me, what happens to this couple...not in a romantic sense, anyway...not to this extreme...but something about this rings so true to me, to everyone, I imagine...it's one of those shows where we all take ownership in some way...I think it's my biggest fear staring me in the face...that's why I stayed away from dating for so long...it was just...easier....but I don't want to run anymore...I face my fears every day, I'm known for it...so I must face this one, too....only those who dare to risk can really and truly make peace with themselves, I think....

This is the opening number of the play.  Something about it haunts me, and I'm not entirely sure what it is....maybe if I share it with you...it will stop haunting me... 

CATHERINE
Jamie is over and Jamie is gone
Jamie's decided it's time to move on
Jamie has new dreams he's building upon
And I'm still hurting

Jamie arrived at the end of the line
Jamie's convinced that the problems are mine
Jamie is probably feeling just fine
And I'm still hurting

What about lies, Jamie?
What about things
That you swore to be true
What about you, Jamie
What about you

Jamie is sure something wonderful died
Jamie decides it's his right to decide
Jamie's got secrets he doesn't confide
And I'm still hurting

Go and hide and run away
Run away, run and find something better
Go and ride the sun away
Run away like it's simple
Like it's right...

Give me a day, Jamie
Bring back the lies
Hang them back on the wall
Maybe I'd see
How you could be
So certain that we
Had no chance at all

Jamie is over and where can I turn?
Covered with scars I did nothing to earn
Maybe there's somewhere a lesson to learn
But that wouldn't change the fact
That wouldn't speed the time
Once the foundation's cracked
And I'm
Still Hurting

Band of Brotherhoood

I have been lying awake in my bed for almost two hours.  I find myself in such a state of peace, however, being awake does not bother me.  Sometimes these very early mornings are the best part of my day; sitting in the dark, letting my mind have free reign.  Sometimes.

I woke up from a dream, a good dream.  I was in a cathedral, singing in a choir.  We were not singing words, just...sounds.  It was a very large, immaculate cathedral, but one I have never seen before.  I was looking in on myself, from a vantage point somewhere along the wall of the cathedral, circling overhead and then resting where I stood as soon as the choir hit a note that transcends anything I've ever heard.  The overtone was breathtaking, and suddenly I was looking out of my own eyes again.  I woke up.  The note keeps ringing in my head, but not in an intrusive way.  I'm grateful for it.  I am at peace.

In light of very recent events, it seems peace should be the farthest thing from what I feel.  (After another twelve hour day of working hard, you come home and jump online only to find your own job posted, but you were never told about it; and when your heart is at war with your mind, but you can't seem to figure out which one is giving what argument, it all can begin to unravel.)  Those that know me, know that I can hold my own in a choir (after months of practice, gallons of tea, and some strict vocal coaching, of course;), but I am certainly not a singer.  In the dream, however, the voice just came...it was so...easy...as if it were not even coming from me, but through me.  The peace, I know, does not come from me either, and it materializes just as easy.

It was a different time, in my dream.  It wasn't this time, this place.  The congregation was not there for a church service, it was something else.  It wasn't sad, though.  There was a group of young soldiers sitting in the front.  Their uniforms looked older.  I can't quite place the time, but if I had to guess, they looked like soldiers who would have fought in World War II, maybe.  While I was singing, I wanted to share my peace with them.  I wanted them to be part of something beautiful.  I know it all sounds so...not cliche'...but close.  Sometimes the weight of people's loneliness, emptiness, and unhappiness makes me tired.  This was not one of those moments, is not one of those moments.  I want the world to know the peace that I feel.  I do not feel the burden of responsibility that often overwhelms me, but instead, a calm that overtakes me.  It is not my burden to bear.

No one emotion overtakes me, I am simply....halcyon.  I do not feel the need to praise, to weep, to laugh, or to sleep.  I am truly at peace.

  

 

Box Elder: Beerman

I notice when people are alone...at a restaurant, when they're driving, at the bar, the museum, the mall, anywhere.  Sometimes I can make up entire stories about them without knowing a single thing about their lives.  I frequently have to remind myself that the story is all in my head, and I do not really know what their life encompasses.  Sometimes I forget to remind myself, and their often sad tale brings me to a melancholy state, until I can be coaxed back to mediocre jubilance once more.

I can be talked into anything.  That's what a friend said about me recently, in an off-hand comment meant more for entertainment than deleterious effect.  For being as stubborn as I am, I must concede that she was right, is right, even though everything inside of me wanted to dispute the claim.  It's funny, oftentimes the very traits we rail against, or find unnerving in other people, are the traits we, ourselves, struggle to recognize and overcome.  A different friend shared that little nugget of truth with me when I was complaining about someone unrelentingly eight years ago.  I never forgot it, and think about it often.  That same friend challenged me through an entire summer to stop apologizing, start working harder, continue being silly, and take time to figure it out.  I hope he is happy in his life...it looks like he might be, and that makes me smile.  He will never know how much his friendship meant to me at that very dark time in my life.  He respected me, never wanted to be more than friends, never expected more out of me than I was willing or able to give, and showed me what a Godly man can look like in the flesh.  I appreciate him more than he'll ever know.

There is a bug on my ceiling.  I'm not sure I can continue typing until I take care of it.  I type a few words, look up to make sure it's still there (and hasn't somehow catapulted itself into my mess of a mane), and then continue typing when I am convinced it is much happier tooling around the ceiling than to be bothered by the likes of me.  This process will no doubt repeat itself until I am able to reach out and, yes, kill this bug.  Normally, I would be obliged to simply set it free in the natural world, but not these bugs.  You see, these bugs are relentless.  My room has been taken over by these crazy boxelder bugs from a tree just outside my window.  I cannot believe I'm readily admitting this, but there is plastic on my windows, and on the other side, it looks like my room is straight out of Amityville Horror.  Gross.  I know.  Trust me, if I am unable to fix this Amityville encroachment on my living quarters, I am considering moving into my Jeep. :)  Alas, this battle will end, and I will eventually win.

I can feel myself starting to get sleepy; not sleepy as in I want to be asleep, but sleepy as in I might actually be able to close my eyes and drift off shortly.  There is a rather tiny window for me when this opportunity arises.  If I fight it to continue writing, I will have to start this process all over again, and probably get up for the day, instead of trying to drift off to sleep at eight in the morning.  It's spring break, so I am allowed some liberty.  This past week, insomnia has invaded once again, with a vengeance.  It seems I have trailed a miserable distance from my routine.  Yes.  I said routine.  It's amazing what establishing a routine can do for your overall well-being, sleep included.  I have now seen and felt the benefits of it firsthand.  For some reason, it is naturally in me to resist routine.  I do not do it openly, but little by little I find I begin talking myself out of the routine.  Generally, I have to then talk myself back into it.  It's a horrible process which I hope to eradicate soon.

Currently talking myself into shutting down the computer and drifting off to sleep.  Guess that means it's time to go....