Make it last

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing in life.

What I've done.

What I'll ever do.

I think of all the things I want to do to make this world a better place. How much I want people to know their own love and beauty.

It worries me, I don't have enough time to learn.

Why do I have to waist my time doing things that aren't meaningful?

And then I remember the people I get to spend my time with. 

The laughter over senseless looks & jokes. 

The long deep conversations. 

The nerdy shared interests & fancy sentiments. 

The hugs. 

The real tears. 

The dreams and hopes.

The passions and the safeties.

And I think it might just be enough.

I still want to do something more - and I always will. 

But for me, whatever I get to - well, it will be amazing.

Fuck this.

http://thegospelcoalition.org/mobile/article/thabitianyabwile/the-importance-of-your-gag-reflex-when-discussing-homosexuality-and-gay-marriage

That's probably one of the worst articles I've read.

There's some damn good blogged responses to it, though.

Oh, society.

Society is messed up. Society is so screwed up.

Today a work some guy was being super persistent.

After questioning my coworker about me while I was in back he finally asked if I had a boyfriend - to which she quickly replied, "yes, actually she does" (I appreciated her quick thinking, there) because she was picking up on his super creepy vibes.

He grabbed some paper & insisted on writing down his number for me "just in case", then waited around in the lobby for me. (She warned me of what was going on & asked me to stay back there.)

I was irritated, but didn't really care otherwise & continued doing my job, which included coming out front again & ignoring him until he left.

After "that" was over - my coworkers went on for a while about it. And that when things got weird for me. I jokingly added, "just so you know - I'll not ever be interested in anyone trying to give me their number here." (I didn't think it was that surprising of a thing to say) but they responded differently.

All three of them were shocked & thought I didn't mean it.

"But what if he's like a super hot fire-fighter?"

"What?! But you'll be alone for the rest of your life!!" ((A note of panic in her voice))

"You're not serious. How are you going to meet anyone?"

"Really though, I just don't care. I'm not going to be interested."

Finally a coworker was trying to be understanding & said, "she's going to go out and find him herself!" - thanks, but...

Society is so weird.

Brooke

So, my sister died seven and a half years ago.
The day that was her birthday is Monday.
It should be something that is good - a nice time for me to remember how beautiful of a person she was and how appreciative I am that she was a part of my life.
It would be a time for me to crack a smile as fond memories of her running through the halls laughing weave their way in and out of my thoughts. I still know exactly what her many laughs sounded like, and sometimes I can still hear them in my own. I remember her smell, the details of her hands and the feel of her hair. I occasionally catch myself saying how much she loved a certain movie or activity.
I also remember her pain. I remember her whimpers as another needle bruised her fragile skin. Or her exhaustion from having to take yet another pill. I remember her silent tears and the reddened whites of her eyes. And I remember the feel of her hand as it stiffened in mine - and the very horrifying realization that she'd just taken her last breath.

I remember so many things. I cherish who she was.
I wish that was enough for some of my family.
I wish that Monday was a time we could remember how beautiful she was, and realize how beautiful we all are - and take a moment to see how much we've healed.
But that's not what it is, ever.

I don't want to go to what they have planned.
I don't want to see how some have chosen to handle her death.
I don't want to feel so alone in a group of the only people who could understand.
I want to remember her beauty.
I want to remember that I am whole, and that she is a part of that.

There's always a thing about dads.

For years now we've simply existed near one another but anything than close.
Our interactions consisted of infrequent grunts of acknowledgement and the occasional polite conversation.
But recently that's been changing.

I've shown interest in the things he likes, the person he is - and have tried to become more involved.
In return, he's trying to do the same.
The last few weeks I've found myself somewhat comforted when he is near.
Which, believe me, is absolutely foreign.
I've made him laugh a few times, have shared some of my interests and opinions and even high-fived him once.
And while its still a whole lot of politeness - hidden there is some actual, real, there-is-something-there connection in our daily interactions.


So tonight was tough.
It was tough because he yelled at me like I was the one who was unreasonable.
Tough because in a few simple statements it was as though he was shaming me for anything I've ever been shamed by him for - without cause.
And tough because it wasn't possible to get past that angry exterior response to the tender interior of his heart - where we could communicate clearly, respectfully and in a sense of understanding and awe of one another's wholeness.
I think he'd find I could understand his opinion much better than he thinks - I wish he could communicate it without fear, and listen to my opinion without fear too.

But worse of all - tonight was tough because I felt like I'd lost that tiny bit of hidden connection. I lost the desire to be in the same room with him, to carry on small talk conversations with him. I lost hope that we could have a relationship. The "So much for that..." or "I knew it wouldn't last..." dampened the spark of hope within me.

Then I realized - I want a relationship with him. Not just the ideal him.
Yeah, I wish he could communicate. That he could understand himself. And then someday me.
I wish I could have the depth of relationship with him that I've found in others.
But really - this is our relationship, exactly how it is.
Part of it will be unhealthy. Part of it will be irrational and a little crazy-making. A lot of it may hurt.
But he's a man I've known my entire life - and just now I want to start to actually get to know him.
I wont let the crazy-making stop me.

"Did you hear?!"

It was "incredibly unfortunate," I was told.

But that's not what it was, was it? No.

It was wrong. Disgusting, even.

I can say that now. 

I don't have to suck it up for their honor or lest I be disrespectful. 

They had no right to share the very painful happenings of my life.

Again and again like wildfire until it fell upon the ears of those who've most expressed resentment towards me.

I was in so much pain.

My wounds were constant agony.

And that information was tossed around like a local news story. 

I hate the news.

They did not have any right to treat me so callously, regardless of their intentions in sharing.

I am not a woman to be shamed or devalued. 

My life is my own - and mine alone.

I'll never go back.