A Bit of Soul-Searchin' Never Killed a Body

A Tribute

2005-04-25T01:11:00.000-05:00

Episodes

As I lay awake in the comfort of my soft sheets
Clips of memory float in my mind
Chopped up--
Disoriented
Chaotic.

Wondering what kinds of decisions I am
Responsible for--if I even want to claim responsibility for my
Actions. Fumbling through the motions of the
Blurry episode of a
Mistake.
Costly and irrational.

Desiring to take back the
Stumble up the stairs--to hear the
Rushed whispers that disintegrated in the pit of my ear and
Shredded my stomach into an ironic resemblence of
Confetti.

Can forgiveness be offered as a kind token?
Perhaps, but it will never
Erase the uncertainty of that
Wild night that will ultimately
Change you
Forever.

What do you think the title should be?

2005-04-24T15:43:00.000-05:00

Well, to say the very least, I've been extremely neglecting this blog. Not that I have many faithful readers or anything, but I still kind of feel guilty about it.

As of late my life has been interesting. I went out a few times. I can't decide if that was a good thing or not--but I did meet quite a few people! I'm sad that it's going to be summer in 9 days. Maybe we'll keep in touch? We'll see!

Right now I'm taking a small break from packing my things. I suppose I really should be working on my paper that's due on Thursday, but oh well. I think I"ll be able to finish it. If anything, I'll pull an all nighter on Wednesday and my paper will have a very weird conclusion--hopefully one that's coherent.

The end of the year is a weird time. It's kind of a relief that I have a chance to move on from Phelps--at least this room--and have a new start in my own house next fall. From what I can tell it's going to be an extremely fun year. I'll have great housemates, entertaining neighbors, and I'm going to have a million and one activities to do! Woot!

So much for keeping this blog deep. Oh well. Maybe next time I post my brain won't be fried.

Puddles

2005-04-01T02:01:00.000-05:00

I've been working on a new piece to post on my blog for about 4 weeks now. It's taking me a ridiculously long time to write, but I just can't figure out how I want it to end. Poor Maxwell. He's the main character in my story--a stressed out man on the "L" drowning in all of his inner dealings while the world goes on around him. Maybe I can't finish this piece because his character is too similar to this time in my life; and I assure you, this time in my life is far from over. Thus, the ending is impossible to write.

Isn't that true of so many things in life though? All of us become so warped in our own mini-soaps that we are oblivious to the most important things in our borrowed time. What's even more sad, the farther and farther from reality we carry ourselves, the more we forget what is even important in the first place. And as we jump in our own puddles of sorrow, stress, and sympathy (which soon become ponds, lakes, and oceans) the rest of the world passes us on the sidewalk, avoiding the pathetic splunks of water that might get their Docs wet.

I'm way in left field. For so long I've drained my soul into things that, in the long run, just don't matter. I've missed out on so many things--from childhood to the present--that the first quarter of my life is close to being deemed worthless. And now, 30 days shy of being a junior in college, I find myself searching for anything that makes sense and that can give me a lead on my life in the future. I'm getting closer and closer to leaving this puddle behind. I want to jump in with the flow of traffic to a new destination--hopefully one more meaningful and enjoyable that the current funk I'm in.

Decline of Sanity

2005-03-15T15:14:00.000-05:00

Well, I've finally reached my breaking point. I decided to go and talk to a counselor. This, of course, terrifies me and I haven't the slightest clue as to what I'm going to tell this woman. I suppose honesty would be best, but as she said--I don't trust, I don't feel, and I don't tell. Step one to recovery--Tell. I never realized how many things I have kept pent up for so long. It feels good to let loose and get it all out there. I'm sick of hiding. I'm restless in this life and I can't wait to break free from this tiny box that I've locked myself in. Yes, cousneling will help.

And, in addition to all of that, these circumstances--and yes, they are only circumstances--make me question God more. Why does suffering have to be a demonstration for God's eternal love? If He loves us so much, why must we have to know pain, destruction, violence, and sorrow? Is it because we are sinful? Is it because we are that horrible that we must be punished before we can reach a spiritual euphoria? I suppose I will never know, but it still makes me wonder...

I need to write more. I haven't been keeping up with my blog and that makes me sad. Perhaps if I wrote more I wouldn't feel so tense all of the time. Creative Writing class will help. I'm really enjoying that class--Trembley is amazing! I can tell I'm growing as an author. I can't wait to turn in my short story. :)

Anyway, Spring Break is coming up and that will be swell. I want to do a million things, but I know I'll have limited funds AND limited time. Summer can't come soon enough!

All I know is right now my brain is spinning and is all jarbled up (yes, I made up my own word) and I'm wondering if I'll EVER get everything finished. *deep breath*

Grown Up

2005-02-22T21:38:00.000-05:00

Memories from my childhood drift around the inside of my head tonight--every once in a while I'll be able to hear Stevie's fourth grade giggle or Gonzo's panicked breath during the most intense hide-and-seek-tag one could ever imagine. And, on occasion, I'll look down at my tiny hands and remember how they used to look--young, smooth, and pure.

Tonight I've lived hundreds of sleepovers in my backyard. The one-man tent is poorly constructed and collapsing on my head, but it doesn't matter. Stevie, Gonzo, and Espo are there with me and the only thing we are capable of doing together is laughing. We talk about basketball, roller hockey, and Mrs. Thiakos' 6th grade math class. They tease me about joining the pom-pon squad, make incessant jokes about my golden yellow uniform, and beg to know what Lindsay and Christina say about them in the locker room. When I remain loyal to my gal pals, the game of Truth or Dare begins. Do you really like Brian Pate? Would you ever ditch class? I dare you to kiss Chris on the cheek!!! We fall asleep, drifting in and out of senseless conversation.

The dew begins to flood the grass and the stars fade away one by one until morning finally comes. As the temperature rises, so do we, and eventually our stomachs remind us that breakfast is needed. Espo, Stevie, and I carefully maneuver our bodies out of the tiny tent that served as our happy home for the evening. Gonzo, who has never been as graceful as the rest of us, comes crashing out from behind the makeshift doors, completely collapsing the frame of the tent. The majority of our days were spent freely and without consequence--basketball, swimming, tag, Master P, school dances, long walks to Coach's Corner, and encouraging hugs inbetween roller hockey periods at St. Ambrose. I miss those moments where life was as simplistic as playing BRICK or going bowling. I miss my roots.

Hundreds of sunrises have chased the stars away since that time in my life. And even ten years later I can still hear Stevie's laughter or Gonzo's sarcasm knowing that these memories make me the woman that I am today. My hands are no longer as young and pure as they once were--but as long as I can recapture my youth with them, I'll be okay with growing up.

Powers in a Pair of Lobes

2005-02-05T11:05:00.000-05:00

"The most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention. … A loving silence often has far more power to heal and to connect than the most well-intentioned words."

Rachel Naomi Remen, Kitchen Table Wisdom

We overestimate the power of a pair of listening ears. To be completely honest, I don't listen enough. I don't like silence. I struggle to keep my mouth closed instead of offering useless advice, which more often than not, won't help said person anyway.

Last night, though, was a great night. I didn't do much, found some people in awkaward situations, but was able to spend time with a truly amazing person. When I took the time to listen, I could really hear how this person felt, and in some ways, found that I connected with this person more than I thought.

Life is a journey (excuse the cliche); but to make it more worth your while, listen to your sojourners. You never know how they might help the remainder of your travels.

Small Salutations

2005-02-01T22:53:00.000-05:00

Relationships are not my forte. Sure, I've had a few lengthy ones, but they all ended. All were equally unfufilling, and each resulted in some sort of heartbreak. The last relationship I was in ended the summer before I came to college, and a messy break up it was. In fact, it's almost two years later and the dramatics are still looming over my shoulder.

Dawning on two years of glorious independence, I have been half-heartedly looking for another mess to be tangled up in. There are some nights where I really miss having a "last-call-of-the-day" and a soft set of lips to gently kiss before I slip under my chartreuse quilt and drift away to dreamland. For a short while, I fancied that a friendship might turn into something more--but, alas, my mind was playing tricks on my heart. Or vice versa. I'm not really sure what happened, but either way, I am left alone and back to the beginning in finding something with more potential.

All while I had been lost in an unnecessary drama, there is a boy. He's made eyes at me more than once--I had a class with him last semester. And every day since then I have seen him. He's everywhere. I see him walking to and from my classes, in the cafeteria, at the gym, and several of the same off-campus places in which I have recently made an appearance.

I have daydreamed of gathering up enough nerve to talk to him. But, for the first time in my life, I'm afraid. There is no particular reason why I fear this encounter--he is incredibly sweet. I can tell by his smile. He has a warm smile that lights up his eyes. A vintage hat usually rests high enough on his head for his sandy hair to poke out from underneath the bill. And he's usually sitting at the football table in Phelps. Yes, it's high school, but it's a small liberal arts college--what do you expect?

Most times when I see him I just casually glance his way, believing that he is way out of my league. Until today. Today, as expected, I saw him at dinner. He looked at me on his way out of the building and we made eye contact; but instead of just passing by, he said hello.

Sure, this is a juvenile, high-school-sappy entry. But maybe a simple salutaion is all it is going to take to catapult me into a new demention of college life.

Who knows if anything will actually transpire with this boy. I do know, though, that taking small steps can only build me up instead of taking me down a path of solidarity.

Here's to some confidence in the horrible, God-forsaken month of February.

Miracles Do Exist

2005-01-30T23:42:00.000-05:00

Out of my dad's entire family, he only has one brother by blood. His name is Robbie. Robbie has been my favorite uncle on my dad's side for as long as I can remember. The scrawny, bordering on greasy man has been noted as the only one who could rock me to sleep as an infant, the only uncle that fit in with my group of friends, and the only uncle that has the same eyes as my late grandmother, Rosemarie. It is by this feature that we are obvious relatives.

Robbie has had his fair share of problems. He married young to a woman and together they had a beautiful baby girl. They named her Amber Marie. She was a tiny little girl with thick, golden hair, bright blue eyes, and the curse of the Orange ear-lobe. She was born almost a year and a half after my youngest brother, and for a short while, the three of us were together often. And in this time, Robbie was a wonderful parent and he loved his daughter very much. Everything was going well until he and my aunt-in-law got a divorce.

Robbie and his wife parted. It was, to say the very least, a messy split causing many problems within our entire family. The worst part of the break-up: Amber was removed from our lives for a very long time.

It was years after that when we got to see Amber again. My Aunt Casper was getting married and asked Amber to be the flowergirl of the wedding. She had grown to be a beautiful girl. At the age of six, the social bug had bit her and she had no problem running her motor mouth the entire weekend of my aunt's wedding. I remember coloring pictures of My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake before the ceremony. Eveyone was ecstatic that they were able to spend time with such a joyous little girl. Needless to say, after the wedding, her mother took her and moved out of state. And once again, Amber was taken away from our family.

A few years later, we got a call from Amber's mother explaining that Amber had a tumor on her neck. She was at Children's Memorial Hospital in downtown Chicago and was going in for surgery sometime that week. The surgery was successful--the tumor was not malignant and Amber was going to be a healthy young girl once her neck was fully recovered from the surgery. And then, as predicted, Amber was released from the hospital and no one has seen her since.

In fact, my uncle has searched high and low for his precious little girl for the past six years, but to no avail. Until today. My uncle finally got a lead as to where our Amber is, and he found her. Apparently, the court took Amber away from her mother a few years ago and she has been living in foster homes since then. No one knows why Amber was placed in the legal system or why my uncle was not notified earlier. All we do know is that Amber is finally coming home.

After all of these years, the now 13 year old girl is being returned to a family that has missed her dearly. She now has a brother that is 4 years old, twin 3 year old cousins, my brother, and myself. She also has cousins that live in Florida, Washington (state), and several in the Chicagoland area. She most likely does not remember them. And she might even be scared of the people who love her dearly and who have missed her for several years. Despite this, though, I could not be more excited that my favorite Uncle Robbie will be reunited with his daughter.

And while there is a lot of progress to be made and several adversaries to conquer, there is a God. And only by His grace can true miracles exist in this sad, twisted world.

Leap of Faith

2005-01-25T23:20:00.000-05:00

Yes, I have a Xanga. No, it's not as cool as this. Eventually I will completely leave Xanga to the dust and fully convert to this blog. Anyway, if you want to hear the boring details of my day to day life, visit Xanga. Otherwise, actually get to know me and read this one.

I've been thinking a lot about faith. Faith and religion are two things that have captured my attention for the past 5 or 6 years and, to be perfectly honest, I'm annoyed that I cannot find answers to the questions that penetrate my existence. Claiming Christianity as my religion seemed like a great idea at the time, yet as I matured in my faith, I have found the church and the overall religion as a whole to be quite the joke. A monumental and quite offensive statement, I know. Yet, I can't help but wonder why I bought into that religion to begin with.

Not to brag, I was a very devout Christian. Went to church on Sunday. Read the Bible twice a day. Held Bible studies at my house. And a few times, I led people to the blessed Savior. I took my religion very seriously, yet if people asked me questions about the orgin of my belief, I could only quote verses that I had to memorize for a grade in Sunday School. I was told that I had to cling to Jesus as my refuge and strength--I am nothing without Christ. And I believed this. For a short, short while.

Please do not misunderstand me: I have a great faith in God and all that He has done in my life, in this world, and I see what He is continually doing; however, I fail to see why I must conform to the Church and their every belief. I especially refuse to believe that a proclaimed religion is what wins the mercy and compassion of a loving God.

To me, God is an infinate being. He is beyond comprehension. For anyone to say that they can know the power and truth of God is a fool. I believe that one can know God in his or her life, yet just because one has had an encounter with the Almighty does not mean that He is portrayed in the same way to the other six billion people on this planet. In addition to this, the glimpse of God one might be able to piece together in a lifetime cannot and does not encompass the entirety of God. Our minds are incapable of such a task. If it were a posibility, someone would have done it years ago, and faith and religion would be nothing more than the law.

So, I'm taking a true leap of faith. I'm diving into the abyss with the purest intentions of finding glimpses of God in my life. I will not and cannot belive things that are not logical to me. I have to take any belief, information, or religious viewpoint with a grain of salt, even when insured that it is the "truth."

Do I have faith in God. Absolutely. Do I have faith in any "foundation" that claims to know Truth? No, for I have lost faith in those institutions a long time ago.

While there are plenty of holes in this entry, give me some time to wrestle with these issues of faith. I promise you, there isn't a stone that will go unturned.

Welcome to my life.