Oh Beautiful For...

I once saw a picture of me taken at Easter. I was in a striped shirt and holding a colorful basket half my size. I looked stunned but the context of the picture denotes I was looking for eggs. Judging by my age and again my expression, I’m sure I was failing miserably at the task on hand. Not much has changed in the past 20 years.

This past weekend, I accompanied some friends to Idaho for a little holiday festivity. Getting out of town and away from usual activity is good for the soul. So we jumped in the car and three and a half hours later found ourselves in nowhere, uh hem, Idaho… somewhere right outside of Burley, so I re-assert my first comment, nowhere, Idaho.

The land expanded flat and brown. Farms abounded and though the crops are either not yet planted or just having been planted, most of the ground was a rich brown until it bordered a dreadfully pale green yard. The land was vast and the spacious sky was a plush blue until it collided with purple mountained majesty.

It is a different terrain than the tree inundated, vivid green east or the rocky, steep, "in your backyard" mountains of Utah.

My friends’ family celebrated the bulk of Easter on Saturday and so Saturday we walked into “grandma’s” house with celebratory attitudes in tow. We barbequed and ate hamburgers and potato salad. (I use the term “we” loosely as anyone who knows me knows potato salad wouldn’t even cross my fork’s path, much less my lips.)

I laughed when my friends’ dad asked me if I ever participated in any redneck activities. I inquired if he had a specific one in mind. When he asked if I ever shot skeet, I mocked him relentlessly. I relayed to him my having passed my hunter’s safety exam at age 12 with a perfect score. I corrected his assertion of skeet shooting to be a redneck activity. It’s a country activity and I am from the country indeed.

Yet I had to laugh when the man I ridiculed came to my rescue for the Easter egg hunt. All the offspring participate in the hunt with the men hiding them beforehand. And after 15 steps, I recognized myself as the child from the picture in the frozen woman on the edge of the yard bordering one of the immense farms.

His mercy was hilarious as he tried to direct me with a flock of children waiting on his every command to pillage my would be plunder if they weren’t faster. Yet his patience was unfailing as he would mislead them and merely smiled at me and pointed in a different direction.

The woman that deliberates is lost. – Joseph Addison

As It Stands...

In a desire to poetically commence this blog, I feel I should make some reference to the weather outside or the type of day it is. However the truth is, I’m currently at work and have no idea what the outside looks like. It could be sunny as a spring day or dreary as a late-winter afternoon.

All I know is I’m sitting here streaming a live concert of a recent musician I’ve discovered from a website which his friend referred me to. The concert is great and reminds me of my dear friend. A friend whose direct influence in my life has far waned from the intensity of the past but whose longevity of influence I believe will be extensively lived in my life. To you, this blog is about.

One day I met a boy. I don’t forget the day I noticed him, walked up the stairs to him, and sat down beside him for the duration of the class. He was life. Everything else is fuzzy.

We became quick friends and it didn’t take long before I respected him in a way I respected few in this world. The way I knew I could respect few in this world. The way I respect him still.

He was an amazing teacher. I learned to philosophize. I learned to defend. I learned how to listen.

He was passionate. I was moved on many occasions. Moved by the spirit. Moved by music. Moved to love.

Then one day I hurt him. And he hurt me. And never was there pain in the world the way I felt from him. From his actions. From his teachings. From his absence. My heart and definitely soul has never recovered.

The wounds continue even now to heal. Yet three years later, I still grieve for him.

While listening to this amazing musician performing an amazing little concert, my mind is on one thing. Him. I miss his wit. I miss his intellect. I miss his hugs. I miss his compassion. I miss HIM.

I miss the only person I’ve ever turned to in all the honesty I had to give then and miss giving him the honesty I have learned to give now. I miss my Friend.

There have been so many times I wish he could see me now. I have learned so much as his feet and so much since then. He has moved once more placing thousands of miles between us.

Having met a variety of people in a variety of places, there remains one man to whom I wish I could return and give an accounting of my experiences to. He should know I’m making a list to one day share should the opportunity ever again present itself.

Though the accolades strangely resemble an obituary, ironically it is because he has found life again, HIS life again, that I write this. He is my Boy. He is my Superhero. He is the "beloved one."

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

Leonard Bernstein said, “to achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan and not quite enough time.”

Now pick your jaw up off the floor if you’ve just comprehended the mass amount of truth given to us in point two seconds. Or, stop reading the blog until you realize the genius of the statement.

This past weekend, we once again tampered with our clocks. Though both daylight savings days each year inconvenience me, I confess the “springing forward” to be the more difficult of the two. After all, “falling back” merely robs you after you’ve woken up in the morning. All I know is the alarm clock is once again my technological nemesis.

In spite of this, it seems I can’t stop smiling. I can not stop at all. And I have nothing but a plan. One which seems to be powerful enough to emotionally buoy me in an unrecognizable fashion.

My time is spent fully every day. I laughed last night when my friend came over and I was cleaning. The last time she came over (last Saturday) I was cleaning. She cleverly remarked what an insane cleaner I was. Though true (I’m not OCD), I urged her to walk through my apartment which has been insanely unclean for the past five days. She found disaster in spades.

My cleanliness is directly correlated to my busyness. At the end of the day, I feel certain I pay more of a storage fee than rent and I’m being supremely ripped off.

Nevertheless in the past month, hard work, the same work which once scared me, has been the life source of a satisfaction I have long since known. My head is full. But so is my heart. I feel certain my alarm clock and I will always be battling and hopefully the lengthening days with lend to a truce between us.

Yet in the meantime, it’s like Einstein said. “The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.” And I’ve got plenty happening.

An Up-Swing!

The voice mail light on my work phone has been winking at me all day. I’ve considered it useless to check it any more than every half hour on the hour. I check and clear out the mail, return a call, and hang up only to see it is blinking again. My email inbox follows in similar suit.

Yet my spirit is completely full of late and I’m pretty sure the sun and some key players in my life have had something to do with my frequent smiling. A tribute to the good, the bad, and the foolish follows... in reverse.

The Foolish: I’m repeatedly astounded to see how sure I am I have learned a lesson, my lesson, and how quick I am to abandon the knowledge when first put to the test. A certain someone paced back into my life last week and with a once familiar kiss on the cheek, received a little encouragement from me to continue his presence in my existence.

Five days later, the words to an Angels and Airwaves song surfaced in my heart and true to the lyrics (repeated 17 times) “it hurts” seemed to be the order of the day on the emotional menu.

In the university town of P’s and F’s in which I reside, I willingly go ahead and award myself an F with a new and more aware resolve to pass that exam if ever there is a next time. Knowing our history, I’m pretty sure there will be.

The Bad: Change, this time in the friend front again. Yesterday gifted me an injurious taste in my mouth with regards to a few friends.

I awoke with a set weekly practice scheduled for the evening. The duration of the day changed the original agenda for the evening and with the agenda change, I took the opportunity to then change my agenda according to new opportunity.

I am miffed at the phone call I received from one of my friends whose thirty seconds of speech was to actually, on my time with my minutes, mock me condescendingly through the repetition of the sardonic rhetorical question, “really?”

She coldly hung up when I queried, “Is this the reason you called me?” Her blatant malice is noted. The practice is hereafter abandoned. A farewell is offered to what once was. (Reference my blog titled An Epoch to Remember… or Forget, paragraph 6.)

Other than that, my concerns are of little TRUE value in the game of life.

My sister has again taken to salutations addressed to me commencing with, “hi retard,” or “hey retard…?” I fear we are once more drifting apart as the “term of endearment” only rears its head when she is feeling anything less than completely comfortable. (Do you hear me? Stop calling me that, freak. LOL.)

I can’t seem to find the new Chris Brown Umbrella/Cinderella Remix anywhere, inclusive of iTunes who has really let me down on this one.

My apartment lease ends with the completion of this month. Moving is necessary evil to be dealt with once more (as I have chosen not to renew.) Time to start downsizing.

The Good: I have rarely felt as blessed in my life as I do presently while things NOT being as I would have them. Nonetheless, there is plenty to make me smile. I’ve taken to popcorn with chocolate (M&M’s or Andes mints) with… Fresca. My new beverage of choice. The combination makes me smile every time.

My brother in law relayed to me the answer my nephew gave when questioned as to his middle name. “Buttered Popcorn.” My nickname for the kid who many months ago greeted me with grubby buttery hands upon my arrival. I adore him and the fact he dons a superman ring these days is proof he is in qualification as one of my favorites.

My work environment is good. I’m still without the knowledge I wish I possessed to perform my job. I’m not fond that it takes me twice as long to do the work that others do with ease.

Yet I love the fact that the department dart board is adjacent to my work space. I frequently hear laughter and my whiteboard has become the score card for the game.

(I was the first to throw a bull’s eye last week and rejoicing left many explaining the uproar to various United States residents on the other side of the phone line across the country.)

I enjoy the people I work with immensely. They are a fresh change from their cookie cutter counters of the valley. I love watching and listening daily to find out insight into the minds of many like myself. The jokester supervisor. The brooding threesome. The silent. The family men. The family men who wish they were the bachelor. Ah, sweet reprieve.

Also, I’d be lying to say I wasn’t just peeing my pants in anticipation for the Ireland trip (all of the Emerald Isles really) I have coming up in September. I revere the friends who will be accompanying me. I feel more than financially able to make it everything I ever wanted it to be. Additionally, the fact that it will actually take place is a vast improvement from my last experience.

Finally, who would I be if I didn’t end today’s entry with more song lyrics? Again conscious my life is not as great as I desire it to be, my attitude is that of some Leonard Cohen stanzas.

And even [if] it all went wrong; I’ll stand before the Lord of song; with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.