"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  I have seen so much pain and heartache this past year to last me a decade. Not all has been mine, and not all has been specifically connected to me in anyway. But we have all seen the havoc that was 2016 and it reeks of death and sadness and brokenness.    A suggestion when encountering those who are staring, have stared, or will stare pain and bleakness in the face.   Don't tell us how to grieve... I find this the most damaging suggestion anyone could give. By this point, those of us who participate in social media have, at some point, experienced deep and gruesome pain. Perhaps not death. Perhaps sickness or break-up. Gruesome none-the-less. And the human desire for community in us wants to relate to those who are hurting with our own tales of healing. Do so, if you wish, but with extreme caution. Because no matter the pain in your past it will never compare to theirs.   In just a few short days, those of us who are left will greet, hopefully with unwavering hope, the dawn o

  "The Social Network" appeared in theatres October 2010. It sparked a frenzy of controversy that halted people's ideas about social media, it's start, and the propagation of lies. I didn't see it in theatre, but I did see it. I liked it. In fact, a guy who was in the film went to my senior prom. Odd to see him on screen.   The 2016 presidential election has caused more bitterness and hate than I have seen in a long time, and I dated a Muslim! And for the most part, I can take it. I don't care how or what you voted on/for. I don't care how you vote but that you do it. It has been ingrained in me from long time back. But, my level of flabergastedness has risen quite high.   On November 8th, I was asked by quite a few people how I voted, and on many of those occasions, I told them it wasn't in my nature to talk about what happens outside the voting booth. I wore no "Make America Great Again" stickers or #imwithher hash tags on my Facebook. I

  by Greg Long Pain The gift nobody longs for, still it comes And somehow leaves us stronger When it's gone away Pray I try and pray for Your will to be done But I confess it's never fast enough for me It seems the hardest part is waiting on You When what I really want Is just to see Your hand move I want a peace beyond my understanding I want to feel it fall like rain In the middle of my hurting I want to feel Your arms as they surround me And let me know that it's okay To be here in this place Resting in the peace that only comes In the waiting Time Time to let it go and just believe Trusting in what no one else but You can see Free Freedom from the fears that close me in When I can't get beyond where I have been, but then Again The silence doesn't mean that I'm alone As long as I can hear That I am still Your own

  I am woman...hear me roar! Okay, maybe not roar, especially since I have been dealing with major allergies this week. But still. Today, I have felt the bitter taste of neediness, and I am not quite sure I like it.   For the last several weeks, he has had to work weekends and I get exactly 1 solid day by his side. Had you asked me a year ago, I would have been fine with that. Now, I am not fairing so well. Granted, it could be because I have started my period and I have been known to get emotional, but even last weekend I felt this way.   "What way," you ask. That I am more invested in this relationship than him. Lately, I have wanted nothing more than to be by his side...touching him, making sure he is not a figment of my imagination, kissing him, holding hands, and all the typical emotional things vulnerable people want in a relationship. And I'm struggling.   Last weekend, although slightly under the influence of alcohol, I told him I wanted him to initiate a physi

  Politics...politics...politics. It. Is. Everywhere. And I am tired. So very tired. I have read people deleting others on Facebook, unfollowing friends, I have even gone so far as to delete Facebook off of my phone's main screen because it is so infuriating. Alas, I have a habit and put my apps icon back where it goes.   And it all started when we all got super interested, as we do closer to a presidential election, in the next POTUS. Since I was young, I couldn't wait till I turned 18. I wanted more than anything to cast my vote and support women's suffrage. My mother, extremely political, taught my brother, extremely political, who taught me to BE extremely political. Politics has been ingrained in my nature. Honestly, I didn't have much of a choice seeing who my brother was. And I followed the political field closely as possible.   When Andy died, I continued my civic duty, voting every election possible, with fervor. However, as I have gotten older my media consu

  Tonight during RCIA, we spoke a small part about death. And in that talk, the Catholic funeral came up (obviously) in which we place the white cloth (pall) over the casket. The true reason we do this is to symbolize the baptism and purity of the one who has died.   One gentleman, on the older side of life, spoke up and said he and his wife visited the funeral home yesterday to prepare for their death. The funeral director told this man the reason they put the white cloth over the casket was to hide the price of the casket. It could be inlaid with gold or a simple pine box. No one would know.   A symbol of humility in both instances.   At the mention of that, Father mentioned that no matter how big your car the plot size is still the same. My mind began to reel about this simple yet lost idea.   Why is it we try so hard to acquire? Why do we spend so much time trying to gather unto ourselves all things material that will only give us a temporary degree of wealth? And my mind didn&

  When you are born, you are lucky to get one day a year to celebrate just you. Well, you and all the others born on that day. When you become a mother or father, you get another day for just you. Sometimes those days come when you are not ready, and some come when you wish they wouldn't.   Today, 60 years ago, my mother was born. A date that means littler to most people I know than to her or me. As we age, and my mother is no different, our birthdays become just another cycle of the rising of the sun and a following of the moon. Nothing to make a big to do of.   My mother enjoys subtly. She can be dramatic but embraces the subtle acknowledgement of herself. She has ALWAYS placed herself second and counted the accolades of her children as if they were her own. That was one thing my mother NEVER lacked: humility. Which made me often sad she didn't get more than 2 days a year commemorating her.   Mom, I know I've come short. I know that I have openly and often failed to ho

  It was completely unassuming. I tend to be that way at times.   On the night before my 30th birthday, he told me he had 2 questions for me: "How was I going to introduce him to my friends, and would I be his girlfriend." I was confused at the first, a little shocked at the second but said yes, and the rest was history.   Until I couldn't take it. I was drowning in my own past hurts. Being his girlfriend was suffocating me, and I needed to get out. Around August last year I took it back. I told him I couldn't be his girlfriend just yet. It was a word that held too much weight and I couldn't be that. I truly thought he would take off and run away from me. There was a little hope that he would. But...instead since he knew I was a traditionalist and needed the formal asking, he asked me how he would know I was ready. I told him I would ask him the next time. If there was a next time.    I had told him if I asked him, I would give him everything and at that point

  Last year, on this day, I wrote a blog post entitled: "Dehumanizing my savior." It was a confession that I spent the evening waiting for and then dehumanizing my then on-again-off-again boyfriend. I looked him in the eye and told him, "I have been hot and cold because I was disregarding you as a human with feelings. It is easier to pretend you have no feelings to assuage my own self." I sat, at a friend's house that I was sitting for and berated him for my own pain's sake.   Oddly enough, exactly one year later, I sit at the same house, in the same spot, and eagerly await for him to come to me. To love me. To hold me. To tell me that I am his one and only. To spend a few blessed moments together.   What changed?! What could possibly have changed within him to cause me such a turn around? Absolutely nothing.   He is and has always been a constant. He has changed for no one not even me...the one he loved. And a year ago when he responded, "You preten

  I pride myself in a lot of things: my ability to use words, my knowledge in life's simple things, an array of poems, a general understanding of the way humanity should work, and many more. But a lot of times... I get caught up in my pride and I suffer.   As someone who has as recently as 15 months joined the corporate world, I find myself berating my talent and praising my character. When I should do the opposite. It isn't that my character is of ill repute; it is more of the insensitive notion that others can't teach me things.   I have been blessed to have a manager that I love and respect. He reminds me of my father and yet handles me like my mother. He demands much from me, and I push back at every moment I can. I lack the inability to listen with an open mind, and I fail often in the art of accepting fate.   When it comes to the dreaded words such as process and procedures, I get them. I am great at them. I thrive in being the best at them. And no one would counte

  After just celebrating the death of my brother, 4 days later I get to celebrate the birth of the man who has stolen my heart. The one who placed the ring on my finger and pledged his forever to me, Justin Garner.   I am pretty sure that I never thought I would say yes to spend the rest of my life to someone who irritates me to no end. I never thought I would say yes to spend the rest of my life with someone who makes me think this world has nothing on us. I never thought I would say yes to spend the rest of my life with someone who loves me flaws and all.   But this is less about me and more about the heart that beats inside his chest: honest. It is more about the character he portrays to the world: genuine. It is more about the personality that drives me wild: kind.   I am so blessed to have found the one who will be at the end of the aisle waiting for me. I love you, white boy...more than yesterday but certainly not as much as tomorrow. Stick with me, keep forgiving me, continue

  "Today the most amazing person I ever knew... I love you so much, Andy. My friend, my best friend, my brother...see you later."   The last few time an anniversary comes around that has to do with Andy, his birthday or death day, I get quiet. I used to need to be around friends and toast him with those that held me up higher than my demons. Now, I like the quiet that comes with being alone with his memory.   6 years ago, I sat in my living room surrounded by family and friends telling tales of his memory to perhaps bring some warm sense of comfort to the lot of us. Tonight, I sit at home...alone. I am exhausted, but not because I carry the heavy grief of his death with me today above others. No, I carry that always; however, it has ceased to be so heavy. It is an occasional dullness that resonates with my day-to-day life. I am exhausted because this weekend I took my fiancé to visit his grave. And it was truly a special moment.   The last time I visited his grave, I was d

  My father hates the doctor. He hates the hospital and all things that he considers to be invasive to his personal self. So, when he believed he had a heart attack, I was scared--shitless. Especially when he decided he needed to go to the emergency room. That was not my father. He is the strong, silent type. You know the man's man; pain is just an expression of hard work and being alive.   But I've been lucky because my family is close. It had always been my mom, dad, my brother and I...always together. Always battling; always conquering anything that came along. So this incident was no different. However, I have learned that even the strong things fall. Sometimes, they fall hard enough never to get up again.   But this isn't about my dad or his heart attack. This is about last moments. The moments we don't realize are the last until they're over.   Thursday, book club day, a last moment. As my dad and mom stayed in the hospital, my brother and I went across the

  I never wanted to be married. I sorta wanted kids. I never truly planned to spend the rest of my life in Oklahoma. I wanted to be the director of the FBI by the time I was 25. I wanted to travel the world and see things people only dreamed about...now here I am.   A few day ago, I came across an opportunity to travel to Thailand and Cambodia for 2 weeks doing volunteer work with wildlife. Elephants to be exact. I want it. I want it badly. But what does that mean for me now?   Today, my boss asked me if I was a P1 employee or a P2. Having not understood either he explained. P1: someone who is mobile at anytime to follow an opportunity. P2 being the opposite. Immediately, my heart lurched. Obviously, I always wanted to be a P1. I am now a P2. My family is a P1 family. Although I have been here for a long time now, my nomadic heart still longs for the unknown. My newly embraced engagement has me at a P2.   So what am I now? A P2? I just went through my 31st birthday. Another day...an

  To another day older tomorrow and another after that and so on and so forth... cheers.   

  "In a relationship, what can be more powerful than I choose you?"   Lately, perhaps because I am getting older, or because I am feeling insecure, or because even when I have a ring on my finger I still need reassuring, I have been thinking about me...or more specifically my relationship with white boy. I think sometimes I over think.   I remember a video I watched about the difference between men and women and the way their brain works. In essence, it was a woman can think of 100 things at one time and a man can literally think about nothing. Which fascinated me...literally blank. So, when I tell him I need a drive to think about all aspects of my life he being one of them, he is taken back.   Last night I took a drive. Three hours to the dam and I was not better just more calm. I realized something on that drive. When I drive, I think of nothing. I have the ability to think about so many things at once that nothing has the ability to take hold in my brain. Save one...

  On evenings like these: when the hormones are imbalanced and the mood swings like a pendulum, I am reminded that I am not the sole reason I have a solid relationship. I still find it hard that things can be peachy one moment, and without fair warning not okay the next.   "What's wrong, love?" "I am just feeling blah." I cut the evening short with him; however, it was absolutely nothing he did. It was just necessary. I couldn't sit there and pretend that I was in a good mood to spend time with him. I was irritable and needed to see the road.   So, I took a drive. I do realize that once married I may need a drive but the car will find its way back to his driveway instead of my own. I still may need the drive, and I am okay with that. It's a coping mechanism that helps. The problem is that I feel bad that he is left in the dirt.   "Are you home safely, love?" "Almost." "Oh, okay." Oddly enough, he doesn't feel left in

  For as long as I can remember, I used to make up stories in my head. As I got older, most of them revolved around a romance, something I didn't have. I would create detailed stories of romantic trips to far off places; happenstance meetings of a famous musician and how they would fall in love with me; being chosen to be in a Oscar-winning movie and make the main actor fall head over heels. In fact, sometimes, I would imagine how it would be around my friends and family and such. I honestly think I used this crutch to be okay with not dating till I was much older.   When I got into my first relationship, I realized the fantasy relationships stopped. But then I realized they didn't stop they morphed. I could try to defend him and excuse him from the tears and the pain and the hurt heart, but I won't. While in the midst of those things, my mind would build imaginary stories of a perfect relationship with him. Ones in which he spent time with me; ones where he cherished our

For some reason, dating my first boyfriend was hard. I was 21; he was 18. We were together for maybe 2 months. I am even reluctant to call him my boyfriend. Classic story of he wanted me; I was bored...voila. And not too long before I broke it off, I found myself in the sacristy talking to my then pastor. I was confused and hurt. I honestly can't even remember why. But he changed me that day.   He told me this: when he was discerning the priesthood two weeks prior to ordination, he struggled. He struggled so much he was beginning to believe his choice of vocation was wrong. His spiritual director at the time told him to pray. He told him to spend one solid week praying as though he was going to leave formation. Leaning all prayer toward that thought. Then, he told him to pray the next solid week as though he was going to stay and become the priest that he believed, at one point, he was supposed to be.   And as he prayed, he struggled. His mind wanted to wander and his desire want

  I had never been so persued. I found it truly flattering, even though he was someone I would NEVER date. He was a country music listening, small town living, Budweiser drinking, persistent when I didn't want him to be young man, and I did NOT want to go have drinks with him. He bugged me about it for at least 3 months. Till I found myself single, independent, and carefree, I did not take him up on his offer. Until the night of June 3rd.   One year ago, white boy and I went on our first outting. If you ask me, it was a hang out. If you ask him, it was a date. Looking back, I am acquiesced to both. It was a hang out that turned into a date. And it started me on a long path to self discovery, painful healing, and falling in love with the man who makes me a better woman.   He had taken me to the casino. It wasn't the first time I had been there, and although it was not my cup of tea, I was having a great time. Don't tell him, but mainly because I caught him staring at me so

  Things are fine. All is well. Couldn't be happier. The earth is spinning to my heart beat. Then it hits...something that makes me freeze and run.   I ran today. I ran away from him because it is what I do. The difference from the past is that he didn't try to chase me. And although I felt the pull of the weight of the ring on my finger, I kept running. Because it is what I do. I run. And it made me feel...   I don't know exactly how it made me feel. I used to be so used to running when shit got hard. It was easy because no one came after me. Usually, I would run when I realized there was no hope. This time, I chose to run because I didn't feel like facing things like an adult.   He and I haven't gotten into many arguments. Maybe 3. Maybe... but today, I found something out that threw me for a loop. Something from the past but out of character, as he has about me. The obligatory learning of each other. I felt winded.   The difference between the other times tha

  Early last week was bad for white boy. He was injured and is probably left with a broken foot. Now, he hasn't been to the doctor and continues to walk and work and do all the things. He continues to also piss me off because he hasn't gone. Granted, I tend to be stubborn too, but if that would have happened to me and my foot looked like that, I would have been at the doctor's office first thing in the morning.   Having said that, that is all I can think about in the back of my mind. How much he is in pain and how much it sucks. I can't fix it, but I can get irritated and semi-yell at him for not going to have it checked out. Guess that's how I cope. I love him, but damn is it frustrating.   Sometimes I wonder how people show love. Sometimes I wonder if people show love in grandiose ways or if the subtlety of love is what is true love. Sure, I mean when he proposed that was a good indicator that he loves me. When I said yes is also a good indicator that I love him

  I sometimes enjoy the way Facebook reminds me of what I posted from years past. This year, at this time makes it a bit difficult since I am reminded more and more of Andy. But, this morning, as I opened up the "you have memories to look back on" notification, I read my blog post from this time last year. May 2nd, last year, I walked away from "the one my heart had fallen in love with." It was a pivotal moment in my life, not just because I was walking, but because more importantly, I was opening up myself for something better. I was walking away from pain and walking towards my true self.   "I just want to be loved and love in return. It is the story in all of us. But, when do we decide who gets that love? I am amazed at how easy it is to find the 'love' we think we want..." Quite a poignant opening statement. I was in pain. I was completely ready for more. I just wasn't sure where to find it. I always knew I was meant for a greater good, an

  It had almost been a year, and I was trying to figure out how to celebrate Mother's Day without my brother's help. My mom had lost one child, and I was who she had left. I knew it would be tough, but talk about how to say "Happy Mother's Day" to a sad mom. It wasn't easy.   I am horrible at empathy. I am quite vocal about such, so when I encounter a situation, most of my friends know what to expect. Silence mostly...un-awkward silence.   It has been 36 days since my grandmother died. It hasn't been easy; it has just been. And from past experiences, I knew it would be quite a hard mother's day for my mom. I walked into her room late last night, and she said, "Can't we just pretend that tomorrow is just another day?" It made it easier for me. I wasn't sure what to say or do for her on this day. In fact, when I saw her for lunch, I didn't even say happy mother's day. It wasn't that I didn't/don't want to acknowled

  It has been a while since I have been on such a long trip in such a short amount of time. 13 states in 7 days. 3300 miles. I am tired. Stood in Time Square. Walked the Atlantic City boardwalk. Shopped in the original Macy's. Lost a boyfriend, but I gained a fiance (which was definitely the most outrageous moment of the trip). Had NY pizza and cheesecake which were must haves and had (overall) a freaking amazing time.   Welcome back to reality! Since last Monday, I have been trying to figure out what it actually means to be a fiance. What if any changes do I need to make to fully embrace or understand the new reality that is me. And, the moment I do, I start to get overwhelmed and I decide to think about something else. A few times, J, his mom, and I would talk about when and what kind and all that "stuffs" that comes into a wedding. But, this goes waaayyyy beyond a wedding. If marriage was just a badass wedding and then going back to exactly the way things are with a s

  When I woke up from my nap today, my heart was beating super fast. I couldn't tell if it was from the lack of sleep, the 2 very boozy drinks I had earlier in the day, or the fact that my paradigm had shifted. Okay, more than a shift...a complete unearthing of a new reality.   We left for New Jersey just 2, long days back. J had just gotten off of work, and by 8am we were on our way. His mother and I were gracious enough to let him sleep to counteract the sleepiness that comes with a 13 hour work day. So, we talked...about a lot. Not just her handsome and loving son in the back but about everything.   Granted, a lot had to do with him. I mean he and I have been dating for almost 8 months. When he woke, I jokingly made the comment that with all the stories that I had heard about him, I wasn't sure if I wanted to still have him as my boyfriend by the end of the trip. Call it cold, call it mean...but it was all in jest. He played along well.   Almost to the moment, 48 hours la

  It's not like I woke up one day and decided to be a magical half of the "Dynamic Duo." It isn't like my grandmother picked me out of the grand kid line-up and said, "Yup, you'll do. I think you can be my partner." It wasn't like that. It just happened. And even though there is a cape with a large DD in hot glue and plastic beads hanging in her bedroom, she wasn't a superhero. Gram was Gram. She wasn't flawless, and sometimes her flaws were quite blatant. But she was mine.   So what do you say about someone you have spent your whole life loving? What do you say about someone who was truly a constant. So much, that blinking made her appear. The last few days, I have been trying to think of what exactly my grandmother meant to me and tie that up in a sweet little package. Screw that. There is no little sweet package in which you can shove a legend. She was too big and too important. She had changed the world.   In a few days, people will gat

  Lately, I have seen countless memes about that one guy. You know, the one who opens doors, plans the special date, wants to spend time with you more than his friends, texts back immediately, would rather see you on your ugly day than any other girl on her best. That guy...   Following these memes, I have seen girls say, "They don't exist." Tumblr and FaceBook are full of these. A few weeks back, I took a look back on my Tumblr and saw them on my own page. I have periods of feelings, and my Tumblr is a much better representation of those periods. I have some that evoke female power, some that express my depression concerning the passing of my brother, others that express my sadness with guys and their complete inability to measure up to what I thought they should, and some that are just representations of my existential mind.   I think I always knew this "guy" existed. I was always pretty sure that those of us who didn't think they did were wrong. I suppo

  I read a story of a young girl around 12 who like most preteen girls are full of life, vivacity, and unabridged emotions. It was interesting reading what she had to say in her oh so woe-is-me voice. She spoke of her mother and sister who didn't often understand her. She spoke of her father, the man she most identified with. She spoke of some friends of the family who came to live with them. She spoke of her life as though she had no care in the world. She spoke like she had lived long enough to understand the world.   Ha! What does a 12 year old know of life? I have lived more than double that time, and I am still trying to figure out life. So often I read on social media people ranting and raving of being misunderstood. We get it okay...you are a soul who no one would get because you have lived and experienced as no one else has. Right? How come we make it our pain against someone else's? How is it that we spend more time trying to measure our differences than our similarit

  Recently, I have been thinking about this quote, "If your are not losing friends, then you aren't growing up." I have lost several friends as an adult. Some I thought would be around forever. I have gained some new ones that I wouldn't change for the old ones. And I have some friends that are just indelible marks on my heart; therefore, will never go away (for the good.)   But recently I have been thinking about the ones that are gone. One in particular. She happens to be the first friend I made when my family and I moved to Tulsa. I knew no one. I was the new kid at school. I had moved from a very very small school to a much larger school with the already slight inability to make friends easily. But, she accepted me.   After high school, we stayed in touch missing several beats when she went to law school and when she moved out of state...we just seemed to grow closer. We texted all the time. In fact, she was usually my good morning or good night text. Then one d

  Gram,     It sucks. Just so you know being this far away from you sucks. Normally, when you are on the mountain and I am here, it is okay. It is passable. But when you are ill as you are, it is much harder to stomach. I feel like there is so much to say to you, and yet for the first time in our 30 year relationship I am at a loss for words.   I know lately you can barely talk. I know that even breathing is difficult, I just wish I could wrap my arms around you. How much more amazing would it be if we could just lace up our capes and go flying? How much more amazing would it be if we could soar over it all holding each other's hands for support like we have for many years now?   Can I just say that I am truly honored to be your sidekick? It's funny who God decides should be in our lives. Granted, we didn't have a choice but I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have changed if given the choice. I know I wouldn't change being your granddaughter for the world.   I just

  Three days after Christmas we are inundated with Valentine. It is has become an obligation for one lover to show the object of their affection just how much they care. Hallmark, Russell Stovers, and florists every where are selling their wares and perhaps greedily cackling with mirth.   But that is so far from what Valentine's day is all about. I could give some sort of history lesson on St. Valentine, bishop and martyr; however, what good is that? It isn't. But I have seen, in the last several days, how different people see this holiday.   Those who are in committed relationships usually scramble for a gift, men especially. Those who are not in a relationship are usually hating the fact that they are single by calling out the industry as a mass market of money laundering tycoons, or embracing the holiday as just that...a holiday. But, for whatever the sentiment toward this holiday, I have one myself...   Love. Just love. Not just the kind we feel when our stomachs church

  I had this idea that I would be the perfect girlfriend. Ha! That was before, when I thought I didn't act like other girls or women. Yeah... I am definitely a woman, and I definitely embrace it.   I had this idea that the first guy I was ever involved with would be the only. Ha! That was before, when I thought I was the exception not the rule. Yeah... I definitely did not end up with the first or the second or the third or when I went back to the first.   Today marks the longest relationship I have been in. In 30 years, I have made it 5 months. Call it sad. Call it tragic. Call it what you will. To my defense, I only started dating when I was 27. I did not see myself as attractive, sexually appealing, or interesting to the opposite sex.   But this post isn't about me. Or the exes. It's about white boy and acceptance. I will admit to anyone that he is/was not my type. He is/was not the kind of guy I was looking forward to spending a long time with. But, he kind of wound

  It took me 3 seconds to raise my hand when asked if someone wanted a miniature schnauzer puppy. I did. Pick me... I heard she was selective on who she would give the last litter her little Coconut bore. I was hoping to be the lucky one. My parents and I were both lucky.   It's been a running joke from the moment I picked up Dutch and Baron from my dear friend's house, that her mom was now my dog's grandma. People are weird about animals. And you never enter into the weirdness until the animal weaves their way into your heart.   I walked into her hospital room as she sat there looking better than I imagined her to be. There, propped up against the pillow, sat a woman with a wound vac covering her upper thigh. Her 1 ton bull just happened to run her over crushing her leg. I still remember the pictures. I still remember her story. It was as though she had just fallen down instead of nearly being trampled to death. She chuckled and told me she would teach it a lesson by thr

  I am at a loss. For awhile now, I have wanted to write words that divine inspiration or inspire emotion. For awhile now, I have wanted to forge tales of hope that vanquished evil. For awhile now, I have wanted to put into words what my day to day routine has consisted of...but I don't know what to say.   Work has taught me that drowning for a paycheck is acceptable. Home has taught me that parents are more than willing to overlook flaws. Love has taught me that moodiness is acceptable and embraced. Friendship has taught me that people do gravitate toward goodness and sometimes disregard negativity. Life has taught me that I am quite resilient.   I have thought often about what to write here. But my constant thought is, "But what do I write about when all is okay and peaceful in one area and torrential in another?" For what inspiration is there in that? I think I have forgotten that I write for my own sanity. I think I have forgotten that to write for myself is my life

 In 1968, Laurence Peter published the idea of the "Peter Principle." A term that most are aware of, but most don't equate to themselves. Laurence claims that, "In a hierarchy every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence." He goes on to say that every position is then filled with incompetent people, and that the works is thus completed by those who are still competent.   What happens when you realize you are literally being sky rocketed to that position? First of all...I am the worst at follow through. The worst. I work well under pressure, and I work best by procrastinating. However, if things are too hard...I don't have a problem walking. I have lots of unfinished projects. But, when my lively hood depends on not walking, what then?   I found out long ago, that if you walk away from something it is harder to fail. You cease to have the ability to fail. You have to have something you are working on to fail. Walking eliminates that chance. I c

  He started working nights. It was something we talked extensively about before he accepted the promotion. At first, I thought that it didn't matter what I had to say. If he wanted to take more pay and work graveyard, then what part do I play in that. He said I was the biggest part of his life and to ruin that would not be worth it. That was a little over a month ago.   I started working more over time. It was something I knew was going to happen just to stay a float in my job. Not to mention I would wake up long before the sun made its appearance just to see white boy for a few blessed moments. Work began to pile, and sleep became more scarce. That was a little over a month ago.   The problem is that for days on end all I saw of him was a few blessed moments. In the cracks between those moments, ambivalence took root. It began to grow profusely and I began to get strangled in its vines. My feelings became questionable. My words became biting. My actions became hurtful.   Today

  A little new year retrospection never hurt anyone. If anything, it allows us to breathe in the goodness and pain we were given and endured so that perhaps we can gain more and curb the rest. January 2, 2015    The untried year... I have a sinking suspicion that this year is going to be better and harder than the last. Why? because growing pains hurt. The stretching and aching of ourselves to new things and new ways hurts. The bending and contorting of our souls and hearts to allow others in and let some go hurt. The graciousness that sometimes we lack, in being who we are because we know that to truly be ourselves is our defining glory, hurts. I think this year, this untried year, is going to be epic. January 30, 2015   On Sunday, I was contacted by a former and in one moment, as I read this message, I felt a complete sense of indifference. It wasn't until a few days later when I received a message from another former that I saw a shape. A circle.. . I don't even carry