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