Butterly wings fluttering in the wind
Tiny wrinkles
Golden coins atop withered fingers
Highly valued
Fairy waifs dancing to the earth
Delicate and lovely
That's when I. . .
CRUNCH!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Lately
For the last three weeks I have found Sacrament meeting to be impossible to sit through.
It's not that I don't want to pay attention or because I'm too tired and would rather sleep or because the speakers are less than interesting.
No, it's because I get the giggles.
Growing up Frank used to torment me during Sacrament meeting. We always sat in the second row pew within perfect view of the bishopric. I wonder if that was an attempt on my parents part to keep us in line, as though they were silently telling the whole ward, "Stare at our kids and fwap them for us when they get out of line." In any case, Frank and I didn't get along during any day of the week so how could we be expected to paint a happy picture of sibling affection on the Sabbath? He would pick a stray hair off of my scalp and tickle my ear or nose. He would poke me. He would wiggle the hymn book when we shared. He would whisper things geared toward making me squeal with rage. I would pinch. I would slap. I would attempt to ignore. And finally, I would squeal with rage.
Something changed for Frank after returning from his mission; around the same time he started dating a lovely girl. He mellowed.
Something changed for me over the course of several years as I learned to express my emotions rather than hold them in; after I learned how to be sad and happy and angry rather than just an emotional hurricane. I learned to love who I am and accept my flaws. I learned to be the person I always saw trapped within my own eyes; to liberate the real me. I mellowed.
And, for the last three weeks I have had a very hard time paying attention during Sacrament meeting. I giggle. When Frank does something to keep up his childhood legacy, I giggle. When the child in the pew ahead of us does something adorable, I giggle. When those sitting next to me point out that the silent giggle rippling through my body has been transferred to their bodies, I giggle even harder.
I giggle so hard, I can't breathe.
I shake so hard, my abs hurt afterwards.
I'd much rather giggle than squeal in rage.
It's not that I don't want to pay attention or because I'm too tired and would rather sleep or because the speakers are less than interesting.
No, it's because I get the giggles.
Growing up Frank used to torment me during Sacrament meeting. We always sat in the second row pew within perfect view of the bishopric. I wonder if that was an attempt on my parents part to keep us in line, as though they were silently telling the whole ward, "Stare at our kids and fwap them for us when they get out of line." In any case, Frank and I didn't get along during any day of the week so how could we be expected to paint a happy picture of sibling affection on the Sabbath? He would pick a stray hair off of my scalp and tickle my ear or nose. He would poke me. He would wiggle the hymn book when we shared. He would whisper things geared toward making me squeal with rage. I would pinch. I would slap. I would attempt to ignore. And finally, I would squeal with rage.
Something changed for Frank after returning from his mission; around the same time he started dating a lovely girl. He mellowed.
Something changed for me over the course of several years as I learned to express my emotions rather than hold them in; after I learned how to be sad and happy and angry rather than just an emotional hurricane. I learned to love who I am and accept my flaws. I learned to be the person I always saw trapped within my own eyes; to liberate the real me. I mellowed.
And, for the last three weeks I have had a very hard time paying attention during Sacrament meeting. I giggle. When Frank does something to keep up his childhood legacy, I giggle. When the child in the pew ahead of us does something adorable, I giggle. When those sitting next to me point out that the silent giggle rippling through my body has been transferred to their bodies, I giggle even harder.
I giggle so hard, I can't breathe.
I shake so hard, my abs hurt afterwards.
I'd much rather giggle than squeal in rage.
New Day Dawning
Gold light of morning filters through a crack in the wall.
Dust dances on the liquid shaft of light and I smile.
In my mind, a million miles away, I am happy.
In my mind, right here, I dance in the golden rays of the sun.
And I smile.
I’ve left behind the life I did not love and in its place I can replace my special place of golden light where dust dances on air and I am happy in my mind with my past far behind, a million miles behind.
Ahead of me is only air. The air I breathe; in and out with the happy rhythm of blood pumping through my veins to my heart.
I can see my heart dance under my skin as I lay here – still and quiet, focused only on the air going in and out of me; becoming part of me.
With my beating heart to set the tempo, I dance the dance of youth and sing the song of life.
I was born with this song and although I will not always dance, I will die with this song still resonating with the beat of my heart until that, like my youth, fades into oblivion.
Gold light changes with the morning, turning white -- but not less pure.
The day progresses, as days do, when all of a sudden it is night and my mind drifts into oblivion.
New day dawning gives me hope.
Today is a day for living and leaving the past behind – a million miles behind – and loving every heartbeat.
So I smile.
Dust dances on the liquid shaft of light and I smile.
In my mind, a million miles away, I am happy.
In my mind, right here, I dance in the golden rays of the sun.
And I smile.
I’ve left behind the life I did not love and in its place I can replace my special place of golden light where dust dances on air and I am happy in my mind with my past far behind, a million miles behind.
Ahead of me is only air. The air I breathe; in and out with the happy rhythm of blood pumping through my veins to my heart.
I can see my heart dance under my skin as I lay here – still and quiet, focused only on the air going in and out of me; becoming part of me.
With my beating heart to set the tempo, I dance the dance of youth and sing the song of life.
I was born with this song and although I will not always dance, I will die with this song still resonating with the beat of my heart until that, like my youth, fades into oblivion.
Gold light changes with the morning, turning white -- but not less pure.
The day progresses, as days do, when all of a sudden it is night and my mind drifts into oblivion.
New day dawning gives me hope.
Today is a day for living and leaving the past behind – a million miles behind – and loving every heartbeat.
So I smile.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Locked in for the Rescue
I've been having bad luck with locks recently.
Last Friday after dealing with a scary phone call, getting stuck on the I-15 Southbound for three hours due to a fatal car accident involving eight cars, "winning" in a tangle with another vehicle who thought she could share lanes with my 15 passenger van (first ever wreck with a moving vehicle), arriving at a 3:30pm lunch date at 5:30pm, discovering that none of my friends were home, watching a movie in a theatre alone (for the first time ever), I discovered that I had locked my keys in my car. In the ignition. And Provo cops can't help jimmy locks. And I have no clue what to do with a coat hanger besides unwind it and poke at my windows. And locksmiths are expensive!
I gave up trying to open it myself at 1:30am and passed out on Holly's couch.
In Holly's pjs.
With Holly's pillow.
Thanks Holly.
Saturday morning saw me up bright and early poking at my windows again as snowflakes chased one another and made toes cold. I was totally deflated by the time I broke down and called a friend for help. I was close to tears of frustration and self pity by the time he arrived. I was completely and utterly grateful when he was able to poke at my windows (in places I had deemed inopperable) and pop the lock, rescuing me from a fate of making faces at myself on the wrong side of the car door window, fashioning tiny snowmen all over my car, and writing messages to passersby in the snow on my windshield via the long coat hanger.
Thank you Josh!
He stuck the coat hanger under my van somewhere just in case I need it again. I just might. I tend to get locked out, stranded with a dead battery due to my inability to shut off the lights, or stuck with tire problems at least once every 3 months.
I tend to require rescuing at least once every 3 months.
At least.
This time it was less than a week later.
Last night I managed to successfully infiltrate the Murray Symphony 2nd Violin section (my first choice, but I like 1st Violins too) and get started on Handel's Messiah in time for the Christmas concert.
Ha ha! Victory is mine!
After a really good rehearsal (during which I played maybe 1/4 of the content because I've never read through the whole part before -- what I did play, was played with gusto!) I got a bit lost trying to find hall that led to the door that led to the parking lot, where sat my van. I got lost because someone had pulled a big metal grate over the hall intrance; the kind that they pull down over store fronts in malls after store hours to keep theaving theaves out at night. Considering my options in a huge school, wherein I was quicking becoming lost, I decided that the best choice would be to find a door that led outside and simply walk the parameter of the enormous school until I could figure out where I had left the van.
So, I found a door that led outside and walked through it.
After a few moments of walking around in the cold I realized that I had walked into a courtyard situated inside the school.
With no outlet.
And all of the doors were locked for the night.
And no one was left in the building to hear me pound on the doors.
So, I laughed at my reflection in the wrong side of the glass door and decided that hobo-ing it outside in a courtyard all night was not an option.
After calling home and letting my family laugh at me I dialed 911 (for the second time ever, the first time was after that car tried to share my lane and discovered that she couldn't). After attempting to explain to the opperator that I was locked inside a courtyard, I spoke with a nice police man who called another nice police man who opened a door. Just walked up and opened it. Pushed the dealy-bob and liberated me.
Thanks nice police man!
Sometimes we get stuck in less-than-ideal situations due to our own shortcomings (or forgetfulness) and need some help.
Sometimes we get stuck in impossible situations due to ignorance (or inattentiveness) and require some serious rescuing.
Sometimes.
One thing I've learned again and again is that when these less-than-ideal or impossible situations arise, the only thing to do is to laugh at my reflection and ask for help.
Last Friday after dealing with a scary phone call, getting stuck on the I-15 Southbound for three hours due to a fatal car accident involving eight cars, "winning" in a tangle with another vehicle who thought she could share lanes with my 15 passenger van (first ever wreck with a moving vehicle), arriving at a 3:30pm lunch date at 5:30pm, discovering that none of my friends were home, watching a movie in a theatre alone (for the first time ever), I discovered that I had locked my keys in my car. In the ignition. And Provo cops can't help jimmy locks. And I have no clue what to do with a coat hanger besides unwind it and poke at my windows. And locksmiths are expensive!
I gave up trying to open it myself at 1:30am and passed out on Holly's couch.
In Holly's pjs.
With Holly's pillow.
Thanks Holly.
Saturday morning saw me up bright and early poking at my windows again as snowflakes chased one another and made toes cold. I was totally deflated by the time I broke down and called a friend for help. I was close to tears of frustration and self pity by the time he arrived. I was completely and utterly grateful when he was able to poke at my windows (in places I had deemed inopperable) and pop the lock, rescuing me from a fate of making faces at myself on the wrong side of the car door window, fashioning tiny snowmen all over my car, and writing messages to passersby in the snow on my windshield via the long coat hanger.
Thank you Josh!
He stuck the coat hanger under my van somewhere just in case I need it again. I just might. I tend to get locked out, stranded with a dead battery due to my inability to shut off the lights, or stuck with tire problems at least once every 3 months.
I tend to require rescuing at least once every 3 months.
At least.
This time it was less than a week later.
Last night I managed to successfully infiltrate the Murray Symphony 2nd Violin section (my first choice, but I like 1st Violins too) and get started on Handel's Messiah in time for the Christmas concert.
Ha ha! Victory is mine!
After a really good rehearsal (during which I played maybe 1/4 of the content because I've never read through the whole part before -- what I did play, was played with gusto!) I got a bit lost trying to find hall that led to the door that led to the parking lot, where sat my van. I got lost because someone had pulled a big metal grate over the hall intrance; the kind that they pull down over store fronts in malls after store hours to keep theaving theaves out at night. Considering my options in a huge school, wherein I was quicking becoming lost, I decided that the best choice would be to find a door that led outside and simply walk the parameter of the enormous school until I could figure out where I had left the van.
So, I found a door that led outside and walked through it.
After a few moments of walking around in the cold I realized that I had walked into a courtyard situated inside the school.
With no outlet.
And all of the doors were locked for the night.
And no one was left in the building to hear me pound on the doors.
So, I laughed at my reflection in the wrong side of the glass door and decided that hobo-ing it outside in a courtyard all night was not an option.
After calling home and letting my family laugh at me I dialed 911 (for the second time ever, the first time was after that car tried to share my lane and discovered that she couldn't). After attempting to explain to the opperator that I was locked inside a courtyard, I spoke with a nice police man who called another nice police man who opened a door. Just walked up and opened it. Pushed the dealy-bob and liberated me.
Thanks nice police man!
Sometimes we get stuck in less-than-ideal situations due to our own shortcomings (or forgetfulness) and need some help.
Sometimes we get stuck in impossible situations due to ignorance (or inattentiveness) and require some serious rescuing.
Sometimes.
One thing I've learned again and again is that when these less-than-ideal or impossible situations arise, the only thing to do is to laugh at my reflection and ask for help.
If I Didn't Have To
Oh what I could do if I didn't go there!
I'd play, romp, run, jump with nary a care
Learn to sing the firefly's meandering tune
Take a walk to the the tall grass with only the moon
Or feast upon ice cream, cookies and treats
Watch television while snacking on sweets
Learn about calculus, poetry, and Latin
Painting, and dancing, and instrumentation
Football and tennis, soccer and ping pong
I'd do it all happily before very long!
I'd tame wild beasts with a wave of my hand
Or build a tall rocket to explore star-washed lands
Do you see all the things I could clearly accomplish
If I never went THERE as you so often admonish
The life of a genius may be tiring, I suppose
But I'll rejuvenate in my caffeine-washed clothes
Perhaps *yawn* for now, while I'm still very small
I'll allow you to change me *yawn* and try not to bawl
As you kiss me and tuck me under the sheet
With *yawn* fuzzy green PJ's with zippers and feet
All comfy and cozy a poofy pillow under head
I'll plan my adventures *yawn* for when I never have to go to bed
I'd play, romp, run, jump with nary a care
Learn to sing the firefly's meandering tune
Take a walk to the the tall grass with only the moon
Or feast upon ice cream, cookies and treats
Watch television while snacking on sweets
Learn about calculus, poetry, and Latin
Painting, and dancing, and instrumentation
Football and tennis, soccer and ping pong
I'd do it all happily before very long!
I'd tame wild beasts with a wave of my hand
Or build a tall rocket to explore star-washed lands
Do you see all the things I could clearly accomplish
If I never went THERE as you so often admonish
The life of a genius may be tiring, I suppose
But I'll rejuvenate in my caffeine-washed clothes
Perhaps *yawn* for now, while I'm still very small
I'll allow you to change me *yawn* and try not to bawl
As you kiss me and tuck me under the sheet
With *yawn* fuzzy green PJ's with zippers and feet
All comfy and cozy a poofy pillow under head
I'll plan my adventures *yawn* for when I never have to go to bed
Monday, November 2, 2009
Choice
Forget the childhood fantasy
Life is harsh reality
Give up that to earn the other
Indecision brings bad weather
Churning, turning, changing wind
Forcing actions no will can bend
Choices are a patchwork quilt
Each tangled piece so dearly felt
As the reject slips from sight
The chosen choice is sewn so tight
No earthly powers can break the bond
Time’s antidote cannot be found
Life is harsh reality
Give up that to earn the other
Indecision brings bad weather
Churning, turning, changing wind
Forcing actions no will can bend
Choices are a patchwork quilt
Each tangled piece so dearly felt
As the reject slips from sight
The chosen choice is sewn so tight
No earthly powers can break the bond
Time’s antidote cannot be found
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