search: empathy

big dreams

when i was 13 years old, i could easily name all the professions i DIDN'T want to be. not a doctor (eww, too much blood), or a vet (too many dogs), not a teacher (kids are annoying), or the president (not enough power). other than that, my options were open.

just 4 years later, i walked shakily to a podium and urged my classmates to build their dreams into beautiful castles. to gather the stones of their own journey and refuse to look back. my mind danced with visions of literary greatness, political lobbying, and covert ops.

then college happened. what had been previously praised as limitless options was tied down by the label "undecided." no major seemed to point directly to where i wanted to be, so i tried advertising. the idea of being my own think-tank appealed, and the thought of writing short messages for the world was a strong seductive force.

for a time.

now i teach. i demonstrate, i mold, i provide the foundation for other peoples' dreams. it is a noble and wonderful profession. and yet some days it's not enough. some days i open the blueprints of my castle and grieve for the stones not gathered. and lately i wonder if "undecided" has forever captured my limitless options.

written expression

every month i look at my amex statement and am reminded of this cookie jar of my thoughts. i miss the opportunity to express myself in more than 140 characters. perhaps july begins the search again.

cameo

it's been awhile, so let's take it way back: freshman year, UF honors course. a random girl shoots me a contemplative look and comments on my "sparkle." 

this goes down in my books as one of the greatest compliments i've ever received. why? because she wasn't talking about my clothes, or my infused lotion or any bling on my hands or ears. she just thought there was something about me that caught the light.

fast-forward a few years to small town florida. a car ride down 441 and an old friend shakes her head, "you know you light up the room."

part of me (that sad pathetic part that wants to hurl insults at the mirror) refuses to hear either. but another part of me remembers both days vividly and hopes. it's a hope for a beauty i've never believed in, but more than that, it's a hope that i can play a small part in reflecting the magic and mystery of every blessing this life has for us.

lately i've been an emotional wreck, the rollercoaster is never-ending. words such as "overwhelmed, stressed out, and tired" have become both my excuse and my crutch. these days when the mountain seems to loom infinite are the days when i yearn to shine. i want to feel the old smile light up my face.

why is it so hard to recapture me?

the little old man at the gate

i live in a gated community. our high-tech security system consists of a tiny little house and a huge speedbump (no actual gate). at night, the house is manned by either an old gentleman or a kid who looks like he's 12 with a clipboard.

i feel very safe.

when my roommate and i first took up residence, the gatekeeper was "that old guy." (this wasn't said with love.) his lack of memory turned an easy process into a 20-minute waiting game where you gazed at the speedbump with longing. we complained. apparently we weren't the first to do so and "that old guy" no longer works here.

there are moments when this makes me feel like a horrible person. did i get someone's poor old grandpa fired because i couldn't wait five minutes? or, even worse, did i help in ending the paycheck of a senior citizen with no one in his life, no one to help him out?

and the fuzzier MY grandpa gets, the more he forgets, the slower he drives...it makes me hope that when i'm that age i'm not all alone in a little house with no one around who cares to take the time.

move on

"'cause goodbyes are like a roulette wheel..."

looking back, life glosses over. parties resound with more laughter. holidays gleam with toothy grins and bear hugs.

broken relationships lose the ability to devastate. they move softly into bittersweet, like the sun sinking slowly behind the sea.

"one day you're gonna find someone, right away you'll know it's true..."

i have. and these moments need no hindsight gloss to be wonderful. but i wouldn't be me without the past. wouldn't appreciate time and truth without tragedy.

"it's just a part of the passing through..."

i sigh now. not with anger or hurt or regret. merely peace. i'm at peace. and with a last glance...turn my head forward.

"right there in that moment, you'll finally understand, that i was better as a memory..."

i understand.

conversation in motion

for eight months i walked or biked everywhere i went. to work, to the grocery, to the market, to the lake. some days it was necessary catharsis of a roiling stew of emotions and insecurities. one foot in front of the other was a rhythm of peace.

but most days i chose to walk with friends. shoulder bags full of the day's necessary complements, we would set off. conversation flowing around our footsteps. trying new paths to a familiar destination. the sights and sounds of amsterdam were a colorful backdrop of spicy observations.

i miss it. bridget recently emailed this exact sentiment (thanks for the title!!!) and her words struck a deep chord. in most of america, we don't experience the simple pleasure of walking and talking with friends. slowing down. taking time. enjoying the journey.

and as much as i realize that, especially in my widespread rural area, walking is not feasible...i still yearn for the days.

in response to marco

i read marco's comment (in myspace) to my previous post and it got me thinking. yes, there IS an undue (unfair?) amount of pressure placed on men. and when relationships go wrong, a lot of the blame gets placed there too. my thoughts? women expect men to be the leader, to take the lead. men are SUPPOSED to be the leaders in relationships. and in today's society, there is tons of reseach about how that's just not happening.

call it the product of broken homes, societal attitude, or what have you, but fewer and fewer men AND women are getting married in their early to mid-20's. is this necessarily a bad thing? i think not. because, like marco, i regret none of the choices that have taken me out of my comfort zone, away from all that is known, even into places where my only means of communication is extreme facial expression. i love my life. at the moment, i'm enjoying rediscovering the single me.

but then i look at my mom and dad. they were married at ages 18 and 22, respectively. those are ages that make people shake their head and mutter, "much too young."  it hasn't been an easy road, but they've helped each other down it. and my father, amazing man that he was and is, even at that young age, was not afraid to make a lifelong, life-changing commitment.

so, what i think i'm saying is, to all my single friends out there - men and women. revel in the moment. enjoy each and every opportunity that comes your way and discover the you that you were meant to be. but do not be afraid of drastically altering that life and making compromises for another....especially when the results are so worthwhile.

foolish

tonight i broke. looked around and breathed in and out. got in my car and went searching for a friend. came back alone.

tonight i need a hug. tonight i need a drink.

tonight i need to become tomorrow.

storm clouds

like city center hearts of steel and concrete they tower, obscuring all in their shadow but the flashing of life within. theirs is an effortless urban sprawl. it brings a brisk wind saturated with the promise of more to come.

long strands of blonde tickle my neck, soon biting my cheek and nose, keeping tempo with the roaring beat. i glance right. what i met this morning as a rolling field and sanded dune have surrendered, laid low as foundation for furor.

i stand, struck. recognizing my fragility, glorying in the witness.

and with a CRASH...the world shifts.

my portable, no port. i race home, thunder demanding at the chase.

passive processes

i started to write this very poetic blog about hurt and life and faith and doubt. but today, well today i've had to remind myself twice to "breathe out."

obviously poetry is not on the agenda.

it's almost shocking how "okay" you can be and still not be "okay."