peaches and personal revelation

I first learned that God listened to my prayers through a hamster.  His name was Peaches.  My family named him this because he had orange fur, and his little bum looked just like a peach.  It was unanimous.

Peaches died a tragic death by marshmallow peep.  He found his way into my brother's Easter basket and thought he'd try eating one which expanded in his body and asphyxiated him until dead.  Like I said, tragic.  I've never really understood Peeps.  White, fluffy sugar covered in more sugar, just colorful this time, shaped like bunnies and baby birds.  Anyway, I digress. 

Before his passing, Peaches and I were thick as thieves.  The only trouble was, hamsters are small.  At the tender age of 7, I wasn't very skilled at keeping track of the day of the week, let alone small items such as hamsters.  I used to place him in random spots, like my sock drawer, and forget about him.  A few hours later I would realize -- the hamster was lost. 

This was typically followed by complete chaos, caused by my entire family's efforts to find our lost Peaches.  When I had exhausted every place I could think of, and resorted to shameless tears, I had a thought.  If anybody knew where my hamster was, it was God.  I mean, he knew lots of things, right?

I said a prayer, Please help us find Peaches.  Every time, without fail, Peaches turned up in a matter of minutes.  And that's how I knew.  God knew me.  He wanted to help.  He was generally easy to get a hold of.  He listened, he answered, he cared.

Last night, I felt a bit nostalgic.  The cat made a mad dash out the front door as we opened it for some visitors. She ran and ran, father than we had ever seen her run, through a neighbor's yard and into the dark of the night.  We knew we wouldn't be able to sleep until she was home safe, especially with a thunderstorm rolling in.  We had to find her, and quick.  And might I add how happy I was at this point that she was a cat and not a hamster.

After about an hour of walking around with flashlights, jingling bells, shaking bags of food, calling out, "Kitty kiiittyyy!" and a bunch of other things that I'm sure were sincerely concerning to our neighbors, we were at a loss.  Drew stood on the back porch, slumped his shoulders, said, "What do we do?"

"I don't know..."

Wait, yes I do.  "How about we say a prayer."

He nodded.  We walked to our room, knelt down by our bed, and I said a simple prayer.  Please help us to find our cute little kitty.  We like her.  

After that, we decided to go sit out on the porch, wait for her to come to us.  I went to grab my book, and heard Drew say, "Hey, there she is!"  He was holding her when he walked inside and locked the front door, said, "Well that was fast."

when i woke up

I was sitting in my Sunday best across the room from the kind of man I hoped would still exist in a few years.  As opposed to the loose canons I always seemed to find myself in close proximity to.  The kind that ignore your phone calls and inhale illegal substances and then tell you they didn't. 

Yes, this man in front of me was the kind of man who most definitely answered every one of his wife's phone calls, and who probably never inhaled things for fun.  That's what I was thinking.  He told me that my past was set in stone, but that I couldn't let that tether me down, away from the better things.

I remember imagining myself as a statue.  Set in stone. My past-self, with the blank, passive expression and the terrified eyes.

The only thing you can do is move forward with all of the strength you have and make as many memories as you can to make the bad ones, the repulsive ones, seem smaller somehow.  After awhile, they feel like less apart of you.

So, if you're one of the unfortunate, one of the manipulated and deceived who let a poisonous boy who never deserved to touch you, touch you, at least you have that to look forward to.  And by "that" I mean the entire rest of your life.

warm nostalgia.

via *

eyes wide open 

through the night, 

never enough sunlight. 

sleeping through the morning 

most everyday.  

we greet a cloudless sky, 

make our way outside. 

we had one meeting place, 

for a few months after May.

an unlicensed drive, 

try to outrun our lives.  

perfect song on repeat.  

I couldn't tell 

what it would mean to me. 

but we kept up a decent pace, 

for those few months after May.  

you wonder if it will be this way.  

next year, the next day.  

wondering how long we'd last 

on nothing but sun rays.  

living only for the summer, 

never counting days.  

it wouldn't be this way. 

but we kept it up like no one could,

for those few months after May.

who knows.

Someday I'm going to have a house that is covered in vines.  Just like this.  I really will.  Watch me.

        "My room and car aren't always clean.  I don't typically put a great 
       amount of effort into 'getting ready' (hair, make up, etc.)  I just figure 
       that the people who love me will love me either way.  Maybe I'm not 
       trying to be beautiful, understood or liked at the moment.  So what?  
       If you don't love me just because my face isn't shining like yours, 
       that's probably more your problem than mine." 

I was just cleaning out my old email address today, and found the above paragraph hidden in my old drafts.  I found it hilarious.  Mostly because not much has changed over the years.  Since, you know...

2007

Unfortunately, my hair will never be this long and beautiful again.  It just doesn't grow like that anymore.  But at least my face is no longer in a perma-stoned expression at all hours of the day.  Just FYI, I was never actually stoned.  Really.

And, yes, I said "old" email address.  Because we all created an email account when we were approximately 10-13 years old that we kept until it became much too embarrassing for us to do so anymore.  (Mine had to do with The Lord of the Rings, of course.)  Then we switched to Gmail, and use the old address to received additional free months of Netflix access and for giving to non-profit organizations when they ask if you want a newsletter and you feel like you'd be rude if you didn't say yes.  You know what I mean.  Don't even.  

-Roxberry.  Se-ver-al times a week.  Because HEAT.  Summertime makes me spend a stupid amount of money on cold fruity beverages and I don't even feel bad because I work full-time and that means I can afford to allow myself one superfluous habit.  The trouble is, I allow myself a great amount more than one.

-Brownies.  Mint ones.  Because I've been giving into the demands of PMS since 2003.

This was nonsense.

going on 16.

It became clear to me very early on that things such as getting noticed and being known required a competitive drive and an amount of energy that I most certainly fell short of.  Naturally, I folded, gave up on that game before I even got started.

Sitting in corners or on deserted benches, I found refuge in any secluded area I could find.  All of those places others simply walked past and looked over I considered my own personal oasis.  Taking detours, keeping my eyes down, I was more of a shadow than a student at this point.  After a while, everything blurred.  There were no individuals anymore, just loud exclamations and fuzzy silhouettes to dodge.  I read my own books and thought my own thoughts and avoided eye contact or any contact with anyone.  Because what business was it of theirs anyway?

"I can't live in this city, but I was born here.  I know all these people, where they went to high school, where they got their angle, where they waited tables.  Still call me brother like Cain and Abel.

There, see all those old men - how'd they get so swollen?  I got so many broke friends who say I owe them from when we were children.  How did it happen?  Where is it going?  Is that your question, man?
Where does all your frustration lie?  Why are you pulling out your hair at night?  Just try and have a good time.  All the rest aside -You're still one of my kind.

I can't think in this city, but I remember every story that it ever told me.  Well, I got the blueprint to create my own myth.  That's what made it tragic, like a summer snowdrift.

Going to call my first love, meet her at the new club, tell her all that I've done, finally be forgiven.  And get good and drunk, like it feels when you're young.  There are things against us, but we'll fight tooth and nail.

Stand in the sickening sunshine after staying out all night.  And maybe it's the good life.  All the rest aside, the rest aside, the rest aside - You're still one of my kind.

I can't live in this city, but I'll probably die here.  Maybe that's how you feel:  like a poisoned caulfield, like a best friend back-stabbed, an abandoned train track.  We're living in the straight-line; Are you one of my kind?"-Conor Oberst

"My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds..."

-Sally Gardner Read

N O S T A L G I A

symmetrical elegance/never have to be alone again.

In a dream, we were all right back
where we were meant to be.
Since that day when hands were clasped
in symmetrical elegance.
Promises spoken.
You'll never have to be alone again.
Only that's exactly where you find yourself
in this graveyard of accomplishments.
After all of the applause and credit given
in your honor,
you've finally found that none of it really matters
without her sweet smile to welcome you home.
Her warm eyes to take you in and tell you,
that you'll never have to be alone again.
Except that's exactly where you find yourself now.
Her face haunts you in old slide shows,
you're wondering what you did wrong.
Wishing you could take back what you can recall.
All those moments you spent
clenching fists and yelling,
you wish you would have spent telling her
how much it all meant,
and that she'd never have to be alone again.
And maybe that's where she finds herself now,
but it makes no difference to you.
That day she went away,
she was so sure of her choices.
And now and again in this hollow home,
we hear voices,
the haunting memories of sweet days long gone.
When the sun stayed out longer,
her very presence made you stronger.
It all comes flooding back like an old favorite song.
But it makes no difference today,
you let your pride and arrogance
get in the way
of the promises made.
You forgot your hands clasped
in symmetrical elegance;
you never had to be alone again.
And now you just can't find a place to relax.
As if this loneliness is a never-ending tax
on the happiness that might have been known.
This is where we find you,
none of us quite sure what to do,
all broken and indifferent and alone.

seemingly inevitable.

Driving past your side of town,
we pretend to forget things are any different now
than they were when you were with us.
Before this silence had swallowed us up,
before this clutter, chaos, and confusion
had replaced anything stable.
Now we find ourselves dedicating any and all effort we have
to just keeping our feet on the ground.


Life's not too much different though,
just a little less sun.
With two Christmas dinners instead of one.

4/7/10

I thought April had promised me more than this. But her dark, dead mornings continue to be less than welcoming in this string of seemingly recycled days. Is this spot any different than where I found myself twenty four hours back? I could continue running recklessly, burning bridges, bringing them and all these ties that bind crashing harshly into endless debris. This debris that never seems to settle. I could continue this battle of philosophy and the cluster of false opinion being tossed with me, but none of this has gotten me where I need to be. There is a certain comfort that surrounds as I sit in a familiar place. I know soon enough I'll feel that sweet sunlight on my face. So for the present moment, I choose exile over destruction, deceit, and pretense. I choose to stay where eventually this divine warmth will meet me, and come to my defense.

reality vs. substance

Your presence is like a disease 

and it's spreading through the room.

You're nothing sober,

you try to hide it.

I can see it with no defense, 

no ability or will to fight it.

You're stumbling through the door,
it's nothing I haven't seen before.

All these years,
All these years and I still don't know 

who this person is,

who you've become.



Look at your reflection and tell yourself

that you're in control.

Say that you know what you're doing.

Keep telling yourself
 that this is the last time.
At least one of us is convinced.
But it only takes one look 

into those flat, opaque eyes

and I can see
 I've lost you again.

Your thoughts swayed with alcohol
 -
Your main intention to forget us all.


Slowly giving away all the secrets

That you've tried so desperately to hide.
While rolling over 

and off your bed
,
You slur something about suicide.

So dress it up, make it real
.
Keep lying to yourself

about how you really feel
.
Take in that bottle

as if there's anything to prove,

like you have nothing to lose.

Come on, seal the deal

.

This substance
,
This is your disease

And you'd easily choose it over me

.

So dress it up, make it real

Keep lying to yourself

About how you really feel
.
This substance
,
This is your disease

And you've chosen it over me.