Getting Better at This

Man, I slept like a rock last night. I’m getting better and waking up earlier. Maybe, god forbid, I’m turning into a morning person.

This Life

There is a pervading certainty that is always with me which I can neither explain nor hope to resolve. I feel it with the clarity one feels when something lost is found, or when a long-lingering question has been answered. It brings with it a waiting calm and quiet comfort that I have yet to find replicated in the world. It keeps me company, as it manifests in the ghosts that never stray too far from me. In a crowded room, they keep me alone; in an empty room they nearly suffocate me.

Yet from this certainty spring questions I have yet to courage myself to ask. The “how”s and “why”s and “when”s, the factors on which I do not stand as resolute and convinced as the knowledge itself. The questions that surface when my conviction fails me, that make the waiting seem unbearable and all the more permanent. They turn into questions I want to ask of you, but in doing so would surrender to the utter hypocrisy that I fear ultimately rules me.

There is a sense of change in the air these days, and it leaves me restless and finds me most days contemplating a nearby window. Ignorant observers would attribute my vacant expression to seasonal depression or youthful contemplation of the world outside. In truth, a battle rages in my head as I obliquely worry my lip in defiance of the smile that the affronting images bring. I relent as that comfortable certainty sets in again, letting the devious and divine play about my mouth. And with the onslaught of memories and sounds and senses I fight the overwhelming urge to find you and say all that I’ve said to myself in the hopes of absolution. Instead I fling a up a prayer on a lark, that He will know my heart, and allow you to look into it, and that you’ll find there what I, myself, have yet to conquer.

But – for now – I will concede to torture and torment, to the sweet abomination and agony of the unrequiteable that keeps me wandering through this life. Because the only thing worse than living with this is the thought of living without it.

Yay!

I can has internets again!

OMG, Cherz!!!!1!!

Cher is coming out of retirement for a concert series in. . . wait for it. . .

VEGAS!! OMGz!! Cher AND Vegas? That’s my Everest and my Grail, all in one convenient package!! I’m so there.

*rushes off to open a savings account*

A Little Reality (and Maybe a Metaphor)

Admittedly, I don’t watch a lot of sports-themed movies. However, I know the cliches – the training montages, the sweat-doused workouts, the fast, heart-pumping music. And ultimately, it comes down to the final challenge. Boxing, for example.

Cinderella Man comes to mind.

Russell Crowe’s character comes back from a dismal career in boxing to face his most brutal opponent yet. The fight starts off well, progresses as one logically would, and then something happens. Good Guy takes a few devastating blows. One right after the other. To the rib. To the head. To the jaw. To the gut. And he’s down.

But wait. . . he’s. . .

He’s getting up! He’s shaking it off! And he lands one good blow! Then another! Now another! And – OH MY GOD, ladies and gentleman, he has WON THE MATCH! History has been made here tonight! He has come back from beyond the odds to win the game once and for all!

And here’s how it really happens to people like you and me:

The fight starts off well, progresses as one logically would, and then something happens. Good Guy takes a few devastating blows. One right after the other. To the rib. To the head. To the jaw. To the gut. And he’s down.

But wait. . . he’s. . .

He’s not getting up. He’s struggling. Gasping for breath. Gushing blood. Disoriented and broken. He seems to have given up as the count continues. But with one final burst of energy he tries to lift his broken, heavy body from the mat. . . and it’s no use. And out of nowhere, his opponent kicks him hard to the ribs, ending him once and for all. And the count is over. He’s finished.

But, just for fun, they keep kicking him. Even after all ability and desire to fight has fallen blood red to the ground, leaving him cold, unfeeling, and wishing he were dead.

And I Sang With All My Might

What a perfect day!

The seductively warm weather teased of the upcoming Spring. Because I spent most of the night cleaning my apartment, I had plenty of time today to run errands. I managed to find the second season of Scrubs, a Korner Kitty Komber for Fancy, and both Ace Ventura movies *with* the entire animated series for only $9.00.  And to boot, when I got home and opened the pack of Swiffer refill pads that I’d bought, there was a $2.00 off coupon in the box! Suh-weet! Follow up this great day with a phone call from my beloved brother, and a superb lunch that I made myself, and I just can’t imagine how it could be much better.

It really is the little things.

And I can’t wait for Spring!

Late-Night Self-Doubt

People don’t normally visit my apartment. Especially not this late at night. So when the knock came, resonating uncertainty throughout my home, rendered unfamiliar by this encroachment, I was unprepared.

My heart stopped. Time froze. The room spun. It could only be you.

One thousand scenarios tornadoed through my mind as my shaky hands reached for the lock. . . then the chain. . . then the deadbolt. An eternity later I opened the door.

And it wasn’t you.

Difficult Confession – This is just dumb

I have a habit of falling in love with fictional characters.

Friday Five – Critical Condition

Under what conditions can you have the perfect nap?

Late afternoon, early summer, not too hot yet, windows open but curtains drawn, so the bedroom gets that irresistible dark buttery glow. Collapsing into my perfectly broken-in bed wearing a tank top immediately after a cool, cleansing shower. Not that I’ve given this much thought.

Under what conditions can you let most of your guard down?

My guard hasn’t had a “down” option since I was 16.

Under what conditions can you do your best writing?

Very sad, dark, lonely, emotional nights. Usually, there is rain involved.

Under what conditions would you give away everything you own?

 It used to be that one man need say one word, and I would have dropped it all in a heartbeat. Except my cat. I can now say that this has evolved into nothing short of dire financial disaster. Still, I’m not much attached to “things.” People and cats are much more important.

Under what conditions would you kiss a stranger?

Well, there were some very unusual circumstances under which this very scenario took place one night when I was a freshman in college. Ended up with my roommate dragging me out of the club. But now that I’m (much!) more discriminating, I’d have to say. . . a bet of $500 or more.

I’m Neurotic

Again, I’ve completely forgotten about my woman on Human Age and my wolf, Remus, is about to die. His health is at 6%. The message says “If you don’t do something, he will die. He cannot hunt anymore.” I was just going to kill of my character but you can’t; you have to let her die. But to do that, Remus has to die, also. The thought of that cute, cuddly little wolf kicking it just kills me. I can’t do it.