I've been thinking a lot about suicide lately. Not of doing it myself, but just of the thing. People doing it. I've seen videos online of various people killing themselves, and it's just awful. I imagine the sadness and despair they must be going through to move them to such an action, and I almost feel it myself. Just extreme sadness. There's a movie called The Bridge, a documentary about Golden Gate Bridge suicide jumpers. There are several interviews with family members and friends of people who've killed themselves by jumping, and there is video footage of people doing it. It's in my head now, and I think of these people a lot. I'm sad about it. So very sad. It's awful. Just awful, but also compelling to me. The images of these people who jumped, and their families and friends, recur in my thoughts frequently throughout the days, and at night as I drift off to sleep. I cry at night when I think about them.
There was one guy in particular. A tall guy, tall and slim, dressed all in slick, shiny black leather... black leather jacket, black pants, long black hair, black boots, and black sunglasses. He was leaning against the railing, just kind of relaxing, it looked like, and then he turned around with his back to the rail and hopped up onto it. He sat like that for a few seconds, and then in one fluid motion, he stood up. He didn't even hesitate. He crossed his arms over his chest and let himself fall backwards. It was one of the most graceful things I'd ever seen, the way this guy who had come to the end of his rope ended his life. It was almost artistic. It was devastatingly heart breaking.
A few years ago I came relatively close to making the decision to end my own life. I even wrote a suicide note. That was about a year before I discovered the Orthodox Church. It's not something I would ever consider doing now, but I still think about it once in a while... about how it would be a relief to just give up, or how it would have been better if I had never been born. And although I do still have those thoughts sometimes, and I still experience feelings of despair, things are different now than they were when I wrote that note. Better.
"I still don't have any answers though. Just a bunch of observations, and a lot of experience with feeling disturbed. I don't know why people kill themselves... and yet, it's a small step to empathize, because I think we all experience moments of despair. That it would just be so much easier not to do this anymore. "
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Thursday, August 2, 2012
An unexpected and unlikely encounter.
Tonight on my way home from work I was walking up Elm St. towards University. When I was just a few blocks north of Congress, I heard in a loud whisper - "Ash!" from the shadows somewhere over to my right. I stopped and looked around quickly and kind of frantically. This kind of thing usually scares me shitless, when somebody appears suddenly in the dark in my presence. The last time it happened was about three years ago when Leah let herself into my house and came into my room when I was sick and dozing, to see if I wanted to go to vespers. It was dark, and I when I came to and saw her standing there I was just flat out terrified for several seconds, even though I knew it was just Leah and that I wasn't in any danger. It just freaks me out when I encounter people unexpectedly in the dark, I guess. So anyway...
I looked around and didn't see anybody, and I started to high-tail it when I heard it again. "ASH!" Louder that time. I stopped and got a hold of myself, and realized that somebody was calling my name, as odd as that might be, there in the dark, on some random block on Elm St., while I'm on my way home from work. I looked around again and heard, "Ash! It's Shauna!" in another loud whisper. I looked in that direction and saw a shadowy figure approach. "Shauna?" I said. I suddenly remembered. OH! Shauna! I remember her! I used to work with her, at 7-Eleven, back in 2008. Wow! What the frik? Holy cow, I haven't seen Shauna in years! And here she is, whispering to me in the dark? What? Why? How? Huh? All of this I was thinking to myself as she hurried over to me. I approached her and finally recognized her as she emerged from the shadows and into the illumination of a street light. "Hey, Shauna!" WOW! Recognition! I grabbed her into my arms and gave her a big hug. We used to be pretty good friends way back then, and it had been several years since I'd seen her. What a surprise! I could barely believe it. Here was this girl calling my name out of the blue from the shadows on Elm St. as I'm walking home from work, this girl who has just been GONE. Gone from my life. Somebody I figured I'd probably never see again. And here she was!
She said that she recognized me from my silhouette. Can you believe that? She lives in a house right there on Elm St., and she happened to be outside as I was walking by, and she hadn't seen me for almost four years, and she recognizes me from my outline! KEEE-RAZY!
Anywho. That's about it, really. We chatted for about 20 minutes, and I gave her my facebook info because my phone is out of service. She's looking for a job, and I told her I'd talk to Chiy about possibly hiring her back. She used to work at that same store, about four years ago. That'd be really cool, to have her working there again.
I'm still kind of shaking my head in wonderment at the whole situation. Wow, Shauna! I can hardly believe it.
I looked around and didn't see anybody, and I started to high-tail it when I heard it again. "ASH!" Louder that time. I stopped and got a hold of myself, and realized that somebody was calling my name, as odd as that might be, there in the dark, on some random block on Elm St., while I'm on my way home from work. I looked around again and heard, "Ash! It's Shauna!" in another loud whisper. I looked in that direction and saw a shadowy figure approach. "Shauna?" I said. I suddenly remembered. OH! Shauna! I remember her! I used to work with her, at 7-Eleven, back in 2008. Wow! What the frik? Holy cow, I haven't seen Shauna in years! And here she is, whispering to me in the dark? What? Why? How? Huh? All of this I was thinking to myself as she hurried over to me. I approached her and finally recognized her as she emerged from the shadows and into the illumination of a street light. "Hey, Shauna!" WOW! Recognition! I grabbed her into my arms and gave her a big hug. We used to be pretty good friends way back then, and it had been several years since I'd seen her. What a surprise! I could barely believe it. Here was this girl calling my name out of the blue from the shadows on Elm St. as I'm walking home from work, this girl who has just been GONE. Gone from my life. Somebody I figured I'd probably never see again. And here she was!
She said that she recognized me from my silhouette. Can you believe that? She lives in a house right there on Elm St., and she happened to be outside as I was walking by, and she hadn't seen me for almost four years, and she recognizes me from my outline! KEEE-RAZY!
Anywho. That's about it, really. We chatted for about 20 minutes, and I gave her my facebook info because my phone is out of service. She's looking for a job, and I told her I'd talk to Chiy about possibly hiring her back. She used to work at that same store, about four years ago. That'd be really cool, to have her working there again.
I'm still kind of shaking my head in wonderment at the whole situation. Wow, Shauna! I can hardly believe it.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Same old shmame old - part 2
Anywho... about what I'm gonna do with the rest of my life and stuff, from my previous blog entry. I forgot to expound upon that yesterday.
I've been thinking quite a bit about visiting a monastery myself. The idea has been in my head since the summer of '09, around the time I was deciding that I wanted to become a catechumen. For the last three years that idea has been growing, and now it has become a persistent thought for me; that I should visit a monastery. Possibly to become a monk. More and more it seems like my entire life has been custom designed for the specific purpose of becoming a monastic. I've never really fit into this life of western culture and society and careers and money and families and social interactions and The American Dream and what everybody considers 'normal'. I've always wished that I could just drop out of society. I could do that by becoming a monk and living in a monastery for the rest of my life. That seems like a pretty flimsy reason to become a monk, though... just so that I can drop out of society.
Wouldn't that be ironic if I were led to a monastic life by such a selfish motivation? After all, the only reason I started going to church in the first place was for the girl. You know? And look what happened.
I've been thinking quite a bit about visiting a monastery myself. The idea has been in my head since the summer of '09, around the time I was deciding that I wanted to become a catechumen. For the last three years that idea has been growing, and now it has become a persistent thought for me; that I should visit a monastery. Possibly to become a monk. More and more it seems like my entire life has been custom designed for the specific purpose of becoming a monastic. I've never really fit into this life of western culture and society and careers and money and families and social interactions and The American Dream and what everybody considers 'normal'. I've always wished that I could just drop out of society. I could do that by becoming a monk and living in a monastery for the rest of my life. That seems like a pretty flimsy reason to become a monk, though... just so that I can drop out of society.
Wouldn't that be ironic if I were led to a monastic life by such a selfish motivation? After all, the only reason I started going to church in the first place was for the girl. You know? And look what happened.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Same old shmame old
I've been thinking a lot about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life, and what God wants me to do with it. I know now that God put Leah into my life for the main purpose of leading me to Orthodoxy, and that we were never meant to be together - although I still hope, like a fool and against all reasoning, that things might change in the future. But she's living at a monastery now as a novitiate, and she's on her way to becoming a monastic, unless she changes her mind. I should be happy for her. And I am happy for her... but I'm sad for me too, and that makes this lingering issue concerning my feelings for her just utterly selfish
But things are different this time than they have been in the past, in similar situations. It's been almost two and a half years since I lost her, and although the immediate incapacitating pain of a brand new broken heart has pretty much faded completely, my feelings haven't diminished for her at all. They've gotten stronger, if anything, and that lends itself to a different kind of pain. A dull pain which never changes and is always there, lingering permanently in the background of my thoughts and emotions; affecting everything I do or think or say in a miniscule way, and as a result I exist in a perpetual shadow of sadness. I wish these feelings would just fade away, like they're supposed to, so I could feel normal again. I haven't felt normal since the fall of 2008. I wonder what God's will is, that I should continue to feel this way with no relief. The only thing I can think of is there's a lesson here that I haven't learned yet, because usually after two years I'm well on my way to being over a broken heart... and that ain't the case this time. It always has been before, but not this time.
I hate to keep harping on and on about this. It's getting old. I feel embarrassed that this is still an issue for me, but I don't have any control over it. I can't reprogram my emotions... or maybe I just don't know how. The only thing I can do is write about it now and then. As an outlet it I hope that it helps somewhat. I dunno if it does, but it feels like I'm getting some of it out of me when I write about it.
But things are different this time than they have been in the past, in similar situations. It's been almost two and a half years since I lost her, and although the immediate incapacitating pain of a brand new broken heart has pretty much faded completely, my feelings haven't diminished for her at all. They've gotten stronger, if anything, and that lends itself to a different kind of pain. A dull pain which never changes and is always there, lingering permanently in the background of my thoughts and emotions; affecting everything I do or think or say in a miniscule way, and as a result I exist in a perpetual shadow of sadness. I wish these feelings would just fade away, like they're supposed to, so I could feel normal again. I haven't felt normal since the fall of 2008. I wonder what God's will is, that I should continue to feel this way with no relief. The only thing I can think of is there's a lesson here that I haven't learned yet, because usually after two years I'm well on my way to being over a broken heart... and that ain't the case this time. It always has been before, but not this time.
I hate to keep harping on and on about this. It's getting old. I feel embarrassed that this is still an issue for me, but I don't have any control over it. I can't reprogram my emotions... or maybe I just don't know how. The only thing I can do is write about it now and then. As an outlet it I hope that it helps somewhat. I dunno if it does, but it feels like I'm getting some of it out of me when I write about it.
An old friend
Today I received a message from a girl who I haven't seen or spoken to for a long time. The previous century. Pretty much ancient history. Back then I was in love with this girl, but she didn't love me and my heart was broken. Not for the first time... it's the same old story, you know. It's the way my relationships with girls have always been, or how they've eventually wound up.
Anywho...
In it, she... and I'm finding it hard to express this. I dunno what to say, and I'm still feeling kind of spaced out and just kind of... I dunno. Shocked, I guess. Surprised. Taken aback. Blown away... in the message she expressed deep regret that she'd felt over the years, and she apologized for back then, for breaking my heart, for treating me the way she did. And I feel... I dunno. Weird. Sad. It hurt pretty bad back then, but that was a long time ago. We had been good friends before our 'relationship', and because of it our friendship had been ruined. And now, here it is, years and years later, and she sends me this message expressing all of this, and it's pretty emotional. I dunno if I deserve this kind of expression from her. It amazes me though. Amazed. That's a good word for how I feel.
And it's funny how right now I'm in another frazzle because of a completely different girl. Life is weird, and it's stupid and it sucks sometimes, and stupid things happen in life that suck and cause regrets.
Anywho...
In it, she... and I'm finding it hard to express this. I dunno what to say, and I'm still feeling kind of spaced out and just kind of... I dunno. Shocked, I guess. Surprised. Taken aback. Blown away... in the message she expressed deep regret that she'd felt over the years, and she apologized for back then, for breaking my heart, for treating me the way she did. And I feel... I dunno. Weird. Sad. It hurt pretty bad back then, but that was a long time ago. We had been good friends before our 'relationship', and because of it our friendship had been ruined. And now, here it is, years and years later, and she sends me this message expressing all of this, and it's pretty emotional. I dunno if I deserve this kind of expression from her. It amazes me though. Amazed. That's a good word for how I feel.
And it's funny how right now I'm in another frazzle because of a completely different girl. Life is weird, and it's stupid and it sucks sometimes, and stupid things happen in life that suck and cause regrets.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Tired
Lum-dee-f'ing-dum. Sigh. Frikin frak! Yeesh... yeesh-o-matic. Big fat Yeesh-O-Rama.
Dangit! You know, you can get used to pain so that you don't really notice it that much anymore, but on the other hand, it just becomes more and more exhausting the longer it hangs around and lingers, like mildew that weighs a hundred pounds. Just really really tiring, and smelly. Smelly pain. Goan now, git! Scat!
Dangit! You know, you can get used to pain so that you don't really notice it that much anymore, but on the other hand, it just becomes more and more exhausting the longer it hangs around and lingers, like mildew that weighs a hundred pounds. Just really really tiring, and smelly. Smelly pain. Goan now, git! Scat!
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
The cup of soda
I got the cup of soda thrown at me the other night, walking up Carrol towards University, at about 11:00 pm. It soaked my legs and my bag, and all the little tidbits in it. I didn't get pissed off this time though, like I did the other night, which surprised me... although it did sadden me a little. It did surprise me to get hit with a cup of soda though, as it always does. Still, I just kept walking and reading and I was dry, pretty much, by the time I got home.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Spreading the hurt
Friday, June 15th, 2012 (early Saturday morning, actually)
I was in a perfectly good mood tonight. I was out walking and reading, it was around 1:00 am, and I was heading to 7-Eleven to grab sumpin' to drink. Tonight was Friday night - an active night. Lots of kids driving around with loud music, loud engines and loud voices. I had no problem with that. I had no problem with anything; that is, until a car passed me on Oak St. right before Fry St. and I heard, "I love your hair, you fucking faggot!" followed by raucous, taunting laughter. This startled me badly, as I'd had my nose in a book and was hardly paying any attention to anything around me except for the necessities - the borders of the sidewalk, and the occasional stop sign, and the occasional location check.
My instant reaction was that my head jerked up, along with my hand and middle finger. It's just automatic, I don't have conscious control over it in a situation like that. It happens, even though in hindsight I'd rather have just stayed inert and silent... but I yelled, "COME BACK! YOU JUST TURN AROUND AND COME ON BACK RIGHT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER! COME BACK AND GET OUT OF YOUR CAR AND SAY THAT AGAIN TO MY FACE! FUCKING COWARDS, FUCK YOU!" I glanced around and there was a couple walking in the same direction on the other side of the street. They had stopped and were looking at me, and their mouths were formed into these little, precise 'O' shapes. After a few seconds, time kicked back in and we all continued walking. I was close to tears at the surprise I felt, at having gone from completely content, to humiliated rage in the span of about five seconds. I was completely discombobulated.
Now, I should mention that this kind of thing happens to me several times a year when I'm out strolling about. Sometimes I even get stuff thrown at me, like coke cans or cups full of ice and soda, but I usually don't react the way I did tonight... to the extreme I did tonight, anyway. It was just so unexpected. It was a freakin' ambush. I got ambushed. Sneak attack, out of the blue, ambushed and shot right out of my saddle as I was swaying to the rhythm of the story I was ensconced within, content with my evening indulgence and the anticipation of a cool drink at the 7-Eleven, and maybe a smoke. And then those random bastards just shot me right off my horse.
Well, my evening stroll was ruined. I didn't have the stomach for walking anymore, and when I tried to go back to my story, it wasn't fun to read anymore. I decided that I would just stop off at the 7-Eleven per my original plan and get something to drink and then walk home. So, I went into the store, grabbed a Gatorade and brought it to the counter, and the night guy - Mr. Chin - pretended I wasn't there, even though I was standing at his register. Then, when another customer approached with his items, ready to be checked, Mr. Chin said to me, "Not you, him." and motioned to the guy behind me, who kind of muttered "Sorry dude," to me as Mr. Chin rang up his items. This just about shocked me right out of my shoes, and it took me a couple of seconds to actually get my feet to obey my commands to back my body up, so the other guy could go have room at the counter. After that guy was finished, Mr. Chin kept motioning to other customers to come ahead of me until I was the only one left in the store, at which point I finally got my Gatorade and left. Maybe Mr. Chin was just following some kind of personal creed of his - that regular customers should come ahead of employee customers, or maybe he was joking. Maybe I was just being oversensitive because of what had just happened... whatever the case may have been, he didn't seem like he was joking, and I don't really know him that well anyway... but after having been called a fucking faggot, getting shoved to the side and made to go last felt really shitty, like I was being punished for heaven knows what. It sucked.
On my way home I took Carrol up to Congress, and then took a right. I was almost to Elm St. when the same insultmobile which had passed me on Oak St. passed me again. As it went by, the brake lights immediately came on, along with the blinker, as if the driver had recognized me and decided to turn around right then to take me up on the invitation I had screamed earlier. I immediately started to get my blood up again, so I turned off my e-book and waited to see what they would do. The car stopped in the road and made as if to turn into the adjacent parking lot, then went on and turned right on Elm St. It kept going and disappeared, and after a couple of minutes, I didn't see it again so I resumed my walk. However, I hadn't gone more than ten steps when I tripped over something on the sidewalk and just went ass over teakettle. After everything else, It was just a nice layer of concrete icing on the steaming turd I'd been served earlier... injury added to insult. Pain in my palms, pain in my elbows and knees, pain in my ankle and wrists, pain in my chin... but most of all, pain in my pride and my ego.
After that I just walked and wondered. Why did whoever it was in that car call me a fucking faggot? Was it some inherent need they felt to do damage to another person? To make somebody feel bad, just because? Or, was it like, some kind of feeding process? What, were these people not human? Were they emotional vampires? Or didn't they know or understand that tossing an insult like that to a random stranger was likely to do some form of hurt? They wouldn't have liked it, would they? Why do people so casually lack empathy? Doesn't anybody know the difference between right and wrong? Why are people such shit heads, all over the world, every single day, throughout history and on into the future? Why do we get off on it?
And now, as I sit here and type all of this, ready to post it publicly, I wonder about my own motivation for doing it. Why can't I just suffer my injuries quietly and be at peace with the situation? Why do I type it up and post it so that other people can read it too? Is it so that I can at least get rid of some of the pain and humiliation by cutting it up into little pieces and sharing it with all of you guys? By being generous with the crap and making sure everybody who doesn't want one gets a piece? By making sure the damage gets partitioned out equally? Am I so generous with the pain?
And this is where I sense the major flaw in myself... the source of my ugliness, the part of me that wants to spread around the hurt until it's gone, because I can't just forgive it and let it disappear that way. And I realize that I'm just like everybody else.
I was in a perfectly good mood tonight. I was out walking and reading, it was around 1:00 am, and I was heading to 7-Eleven to grab sumpin' to drink. Tonight was Friday night - an active night. Lots of kids driving around with loud music, loud engines and loud voices. I had no problem with that. I had no problem with anything; that is, until a car passed me on Oak St. right before Fry St. and I heard, "I love your hair, you fucking faggot!" followed by raucous, taunting laughter. This startled me badly, as I'd had my nose in a book and was hardly paying any attention to anything around me except for the necessities - the borders of the sidewalk, and the occasional stop sign, and the occasional location check.
My instant reaction was that my head jerked up, along with my hand and middle finger. It's just automatic, I don't have conscious control over it in a situation like that. It happens, even though in hindsight I'd rather have just stayed inert and silent... but I yelled, "COME BACK! YOU JUST TURN AROUND AND COME ON BACK RIGHT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER! COME BACK AND GET OUT OF YOUR CAR AND SAY THAT AGAIN TO MY FACE! FUCKING COWARDS, FUCK YOU!" I glanced around and there was a couple walking in the same direction on the other side of the street. They had stopped and were looking at me, and their mouths were formed into these little, precise 'O' shapes. After a few seconds, time kicked back in and we all continued walking. I was close to tears at the surprise I felt, at having gone from completely content, to humiliated rage in the span of about five seconds. I was completely discombobulated.
Now, I should mention that this kind of thing happens to me several times a year when I'm out strolling about. Sometimes I even get stuff thrown at me, like coke cans or cups full of ice and soda, but I usually don't react the way I did tonight... to the extreme I did tonight, anyway. It was just so unexpected. It was a freakin' ambush. I got ambushed. Sneak attack, out of the blue, ambushed and shot right out of my saddle as I was swaying to the rhythm of the story I was ensconced within, content with my evening indulgence and the anticipation of a cool drink at the 7-Eleven, and maybe a smoke. And then those random bastards just shot me right off my horse.
Well, my evening stroll was ruined. I didn't have the stomach for walking anymore, and when I tried to go back to my story, it wasn't fun to read anymore. I decided that I would just stop off at the 7-Eleven per my original plan and get something to drink and then walk home. So, I went into the store, grabbed a Gatorade and brought it to the counter, and the night guy - Mr. Chin - pretended I wasn't there, even though I was standing at his register. Then, when another customer approached with his items, ready to be checked, Mr. Chin said to me, "Not you, him." and motioned to the guy behind me, who kind of muttered "Sorry dude," to me as Mr. Chin rang up his items. This just about shocked me right out of my shoes, and it took me a couple of seconds to actually get my feet to obey my commands to back my body up, so the other guy could go have room at the counter. After that guy was finished, Mr. Chin kept motioning to other customers to come ahead of me until I was the only one left in the store, at which point I finally got my Gatorade and left. Maybe Mr. Chin was just following some kind of personal creed of his - that regular customers should come ahead of employee customers, or maybe he was joking. Maybe I was just being oversensitive because of what had just happened... whatever the case may have been, he didn't seem like he was joking, and I don't really know him that well anyway... but after having been called a fucking faggot, getting shoved to the side and made to go last felt really shitty, like I was being punished for heaven knows what. It sucked.
On my way home I took Carrol up to Congress, and then took a right. I was almost to Elm St. when the same insultmobile which had passed me on Oak St. passed me again. As it went by, the brake lights immediately came on, along with the blinker, as if the driver had recognized me and decided to turn around right then to take me up on the invitation I had screamed earlier. I immediately started to get my blood up again, so I turned off my e-book and waited to see what they would do. The car stopped in the road and made as if to turn into the adjacent parking lot, then went on and turned right on Elm St. It kept going and disappeared, and after a couple of minutes, I didn't see it again so I resumed my walk. However, I hadn't gone more than ten steps when I tripped over something on the sidewalk and just went ass over teakettle. After everything else, It was just a nice layer of concrete icing on the steaming turd I'd been served earlier... injury added to insult. Pain in my palms, pain in my elbows and knees, pain in my ankle and wrists, pain in my chin... but most of all, pain in my pride and my ego.
After that I just walked and wondered. Why did whoever it was in that car call me a fucking faggot? Was it some inherent need they felt to do damage to another person? To make somebody feel bad, just because? Or, was it like, some kind of feeding process? What, were these people not human? Were they emotional vampires? Or didn't they know or understand that tossing an insult like that to a random stranger was likely to do some form of hurt? They wouldn't have liked it, would they? Why do people so casually lack empathy? Doesn't anybody know the difference between right and wrong? Why are people such shit heads, all over the world, every single day, throughout history and on into the future? Why do we get off on it?
And now, as I sit here and type all of this, ready to post it publicly, I wonder about my own motivation for doing it. Why can't I just suffer my injuries quietly and be at peace with the situation? Why do I type it up and post it so that other people can read it too? Is it so that I can at least get rid of some of the pain and humiliation by cutting it up into little pieces and sharing it with all of you guys? By being generous with the crap and making sure everybody who doesn't want one gets a piece? By making sure the damage gets partitioned out equally? Am I so generous with the pain?
And this is where I sense the major flaw in myself... the source of my ugliness, the part of me that wants to spread around the hurt until it's gone, because I can't just forgive it and let it disappear that way. And I realize that I'm just like everybody else.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
words
Hello. You were a stranger to me when I worked up my courage and made an attempt to say 'hi' to you a couple of weeks ago. It was somewhat disconcerting and a little bit painful, in a spiky surprising way, at first. Mostly though, it was just a kind of confusing, dull ache which became diluted as it got mixed up with the minutes and hours and days that have passed since then. Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that we were once friends, and that we spent so much time together and shared so much laughter and love and were so close for a while. There are a lot of good memories, but they only bring a painful nostalgia nowadays. I don't know if that's good or bad. I miss you... I think. I'm pretty sure I don't know you now, so I don't know if I can truthfully say that I miss you without acknowledging my own selfishness. Maybe I just miss those days, and the person you were during that time. Maybe I just want all of that back, and it's a purely selfish thing. I'm sure that's part of it... but I don't think it's all of it.
Things sure are different now. Whatever is going on right now, I know that you were a part of my life once, and that we share some good memories, and that you continue to occupy a good portion of my thoughts and prayers every day. I hope that you're ok that and everything is becoming good for you now, and that you're learning how to pray and love and resist the enemy and are closer to God and all that good stuff. I know that you most likely won't ever read this, but that's ok, because I'm writing this mostly to sort out my own feelings. I don't know why I post it publicly... I guess it's because of the fact that it's tossed out there and away from me, and it's not sitting in my head or moldering on my hard drive.
I still feel this love for you, as much as I ever did - and more, even. It's probably mostly a selfish love, but I don't want it to be that way. Part of it is good, I think, because when I think of you, often times it hurts in my chest, right in the center, but that hurt isn't accompanied by any negative feelings or thoughts towards you or about you anymore. I think that's how it's supposed to be when you give your love to somebody though... it always hurts, even if they love you back and you don't have to spend years missing them.
Anywho... thanks for opening your personal box of treasures and allowing me to rummage through it with you for a little while, way back when, and for sharing your Orthodoxy with me. I'll always remember that promise I made to you. Good night.
Things sure are different now. Whatever is going on right now, I know that you were a part of my life once, and that we share some good memories, and that you continue to occupy a good portion of my thoughts and prayers every day. I hope that you're ok that and everything is becoming good for you now, and that you're learning how to pray and love and resist the enemy and are closer to God and all that good stuff. I know that you most likely won't ever read this, but that's ok, because I'm writing this mostly to sort out my own feelings. I don't know why I post it publicly... I guess it's because of the fact that it's tossed out there and away from me, and it's not sitting in my head or moldering on my hard drive.
I still feel this love for you, as much as I ever did - and more, even. It's probably mostly a selfish love, but I don't want it to be that way. Part of it is good, I think, because when I think of you, often times it hurts in my chest, right in the center, but that hurt isn't accompanied by any negative feelings or thoughts towards you or about you anymore. I think that's how it's supposed to be when you give your love to somebody though... it always hurts, even if they love you back and you don't have to spend years missing them.
Anywho... thanks for opening your personal box of treasures and allowing me to rummage through it with you for a little while, way back when, and for sharing your Orthodoxy with me. I'll always remember that promise I made to you. Good night.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Poor Ms. Greely
As I was returning from Kroger this morning, I passed by the Wellspring Christian Academy, where a pool party was in full swing in the parking lot. Two large pools, made out of some type of corrugated metal (tin, I'm guessing), were filled to the brim with water and screaming children. On the other side of the pools and across the parking lot, a lady with a megaphone was standing there, supervising and barking orders at the kiddoes and keeping them in line. Closer to me, another lady was having some trouble from the looks of it, with one of the kids who wouldn't quit splashing the others. She was bent over the pool and having a fair time trying to keep from getting soaked. The megaphone bellowed, "Ms. Greely, Ms. Greely! Ms. Greely, are you alright over there? Stop giving Ms. Greely trouble, I say, stop that! Ms. Greely, are you all right?"
When at that moment - AMBUSH AND SURPRISE! SHOCK AND AWE! A child, formerly lurking in the depths and waiting for the perfect moment, popped up above the water with a super soaker, cocked it, raised it, and shot a stream of water directly onto Ms. Greely's ample bosom! Ms. Greely jumped backwards in surprise, and her hands kind of went bananas for a second as she tried to block the stream.
The response from the megaphone was immediate. "DO NOT SHOOT THE TEACHER! DO NOT SHOOT THE TEACHER! DO NOT SHOOT THE TEACHER...!" and I surprised myself by laughing out loud into the sky.
When at that moment - AMBUSH AND SURPRISE! SHOCK AND AWE! A child, formerly lurking in the depths and waiting for the perfect moment, popped up above the water with a super soaker, cocked it, raised it, and shot a stream of water directly onto Ms. Greely's ample bosom! Ms. Greely jumped backwards in surprise, and her hands kind of went bananas for a second as she tried to block the stream.
The response from the megaphone was immediate. "DO NOT SHOOT THE TEACHER! DO NOT SHOOT THE TEACHER! DO NOT SHOOT THE TEACHER...!" and I surprised myself by laughing out loud into the sky.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Thursday night happenings
Last Thursday night I was at work and checking customers, as usual, and this one cutie pie wouldn't stop chatting with me after she had finished her transaction. There was a line of customers going back halfway to the cooler, but she seemed oblivious to them. I know that I should have probably hurried her along, as I was getting pointed looks from the folks behind her, but sometimes sacrifices must be made when you're chatting with a cutie pie. And you know, you get a vibe from a girl sometimes... especially when she purposefully takes the extra time to just yak with you about nothing, especially in that kind of situation... a vibe that says, she's interested in you, man... she likes you; she's standing there and twirling her hair with her finger and talking to you, and her friend is standing there at the door waiting for her, and she's not even making any kind of move to end the chat and to get on with her evening... she digs you man, she at least thinks you're cute, you can feel it, right? So we just chatted there for a minute or two, holding up the line and pissing off the other customers. And when she finally left, she - get this - she blew me a kiss! As she was heading towards the door, she turned, lifted two fingers to her lips and kissed them, then blew it to me, while at the same time extending her arm towards me, offering me those two kissed fingers in a kind of salute! It made me feel really good.
After work I went for one of my long walks with my e-book, and stopped at a Whataburger. I ordered just a chicken strip sandwich, no soda, no fries, no nothing else, just the sandwich to go. Well, the computers happened to be down and they couldn't process my card immediately, so I sat down and read my e-book while I waited. A guy who worked there took an interest in me and asked what I was reading. I told him that it was The Dark Tower by Stephen King, and it turns out that he'd read it, too. We embarked on about a ten minute conversation on how great it was, and do you remember this part, and why didn't he do this at that part, and where are you at now? and how many times have you read it? and they're making a movie, isn't that awesome? and it was just really fun and cool, talking with enthusiasm to someone about a particular interest that we both shared. Finally, he just brought my card back to me and said that he wasn't going to charge me for anything. I said, Dude, you're awesome! and invited him to visit me at the store some time, and that I'd hook him up with a free Slurpee or something. And when I got outside and checked my bag, he'd included an extra large fries and two apple pies! How cool was that?
Later on that night, I was still out walking and reading and I decided to cut across some pasture land. It turns out that this land was very muddy and hilly, and I was very quickly squelching through mud and getting my new boots completely filthy. I thought about turning around and just going back, but my shoes were already coated with mud, so I trudged on up this hill I'd been climbing because I wanted to see the view of Denton from up there. Well, no sooner had I reached the top of the hill that I just lost my shit completely and tumbled down the other side to the bottom. When I came to rest, I was completely covered with mud from head to toe, and a quick inventory revealed that I'd lost my two brightest flashlights, which had fallen out of my backpack on the way down. And to top it off, I'd twisted my ankle, so I wasn't feeling much like limping back up that hill to search around in the dark and in the mud for my two flashlights. My phone was covered with mud, but undamaged, and earlier that night I'd bought a little penlight, so I still had some source of illumination, at least. My walking mood was ruined though, so I limped about two miles back to the house, covered in mud, minus two flashlights and plus one twisted ankle, which was beginning to swell. FUN!
After work I went for one of my long walks with my e-book, and stopped at a Whataburger. I ordered just a chicken strip sandwich, no soda, no fries, no nothing else, just the sandwich to go. Well, the computers happened to be down and they couldn't process my card immediately, so I sat down and read my e-book while I waited. A guy who worked there took an interest in me and asked what I was reading. I told him that it was The Dark Tower by Stephen King, and it turns out that he'd read it, too. We embarked on about a ten minute conversation on how great it was, and do you remember this part, and why didn't he do this at that part, and where are you at now? and how many times have you read it? and they're making a movie, isn't that awesome? and it was just really fun and cool, talking with enthusiasm to someone about a particular interest that we both shared. Finally, he just brought my card back to me and said that he wasn't going to charge me for anything. I said, Dude, you're awesome! and invited him to visit me at the store some time, and that I'd hook him up with a free Slurpee or something. And when I got outside and checked my bag, he'd included an extra large fries and two apple pies! How cool was that?
Later on that night, I was still out walking and reading and I decided to cut across some pasture land. It turns out that this land was very muddy and hilly, and I was very quickly squelching through mud and getting my new boots completely filthy. I thought about turning around and just going back, but my shoes were already coated with mud, so I trudged on up this hill I'd been climbing because I wanted to see the view of Denton from up there. Well, no sooner had I reached the top of the hill that I just lost my shit completely and tumbled down the other side to the bottom. When I came to rest, I was completely covered with mud from head to toe, and a quick inventory revealed that I'd lost my two brightest flashlights, which had fallen out of my backpack on the way down. And to top it off, I'd twisted my ankle, so I wasn't feeling much like limping back up that hill to search around in the dark and in the mud for my two flashlights. My phone was covered with mud, but undamaged, and earlier that night I'd bought a little penlight, so I still had some source of illumination, at least. My walking mood was ruined though, so I limped about two miles back to the house, covered in mud, minus two flashlights and plus one twisted ankle, which was beginning to swell. FUN!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Trying
Last night as I walked home from work, I was reading the biography of Saint Nektarios, and I came across a passage in which he dreamed that he was in a green field, singing 'O Gladsome Light'. This immediately instilled a strong urge in myself to sing it, and I did, along with other Orthodox hymns such as Psalm 103 and Let My Prayer Arise. And then I was overcome with a fierce need to pray, which I unfortunately rarely feel. After several minutes of praying, I got that so rare and valuable uplifted feeling again, which I have only gotten a handful of times. I'm so weak, I can only hope that God lets me live long enough to learn how to pray ceaselessly. So, as I was walking, overcome with this rare joy, I looked up and saw the moonlight shining through a break in the clouds, and the light was in the shape of a cross. It was trying to be a three bar Orthodox cross, but not quite. The bottom bar was only half, and the top bar was a rounded shape. It was trying though, which said a lot. Trying way harder than I do on a regular basis.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Today, May something or other.
this morning I woke up at noon. I walked to work, got hot, and sweated like a slave. on the way, I was singing out loud at the top of my lungs, queens can anybody find me somebody to love. I was kind of hoping somebody would hear me singing, and actually walk up to me and say, here you go, I heard you singing and just happened to have an extra love of my life that I don't need, and then present her to me, right then and there, just as real as you please. problem solved, may it do ya fine, say thank ya.
well, that didn't happen. instead, I stopped singing and as I approached these two boys, about ten years old each, a truck passed us and someone threw a ketchup packet at the boys. this just pissed me right off, and I had to stop my hand as it went up reflexively with the middle finger extended. as I neared the boys, one of them recognized me from work. he asked me to tie his backpack to a stick so he could hang it from the handlebars off his bike. I did this, he said thanks, I said you boys be careful, and he laughed.
I have to pause now, to remark upon this stray dog which is stalking me. when I pretend not to notice it, it runs around in circles like a lunatic as it follows me. then, when I turn to face it, it barks and dashes behind whatever cover is available. I guess it grew bored, because it just beged off of the hunt.
anywho. I busted my ass today at work. I had to change shirts twice because I got so sweaty. I also had to cut the legs off of my pants and turn them into shorts, because I got them soaking wet as I was cleaning the gunk off of these metal baseboard things. now I'm just tired and want to go home, but I have to go by walmart first to buy some new boots because I only have one pair now and they aren't waterproof anymore. they got soaked today too, and it wasn't fun having to work in wet socks and boots.
now I'm tired of blogging this crap.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
A dream - waking up
I dreamed that I was trying to sleep but Matt kept bothering me about something. It was almost time to get up anyway though, and grey light was coming in through the windows. Matt gave up and left, and I continued to doze. Then Leah knocked on my bedroom door and came on in, like she used to at the front door when she would come over for a visit, back when we were together. I was groggy and wondered what she wanted, and why couldn't everybody just leave me alone and let me sleep. She sat on the edge of my bed and shook me awake. She was all bouncy and in a good mood, which was irritating. I asked her what she wanted, and why she was here. I tried to remember the last time I'd seen or talked to her, but I couldn't, and I thought drowsily that I should probably be happy to see her. She was very excited as she gave me a pillow that she said she'd made for me. I sat up in bed and examined the pillow. The pillow case was hand made, like a quilt, with images of all of my favorite things all over it. Then she touched my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, smiled, and left. I felt somewhat bothered that she would show up, give me this gift, and then leave so suddenly. I got up and yawned, and went to my bedroom doorway, which Leah had left open. I saw her walking away, and she looked to me as though she'd gained some weight. She looked good - healthy and happy. I thought to myself that I would probably never see her again. I went into the bathroom and tried to cough up that morning stuff in my throat, and what came up was this sticky, black gunk, filled with little sharp seeds. Then I started to choke on it, and I felt the sharp, stickiness of it digging into and closing my throat. I couldn't breathe, and I knew that I was likely going to choke too death, but I only felt vaguely bothered by the prospect.
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