Month: April 2008

The days flew but the memories did not.  Another weeks starts but I still live in the past.  Or maybe its the present and I am living in the future.  Whatever it is, it just represents more of the same sometimes.  Other times, change can drown me while others I just want to dive into anything.  And then I pause, and wonder and think, and in the darkening moments of my eyelids, I wonder about what could have been.

I dont pretend to want to change, I really do want but some words and actions just put in my automatic mode, and a Sanjay appears that I wish wasnt really there.  The charging bull instead of the same monk, the emotional whiner ahead of the intellectual reader.  The one I see in the mirror instead of the one in my mind.  Constantly, I struggle with this, and each day I begin with the glare of hope and ending in the harshness of apathy. 

Its coming back, a dribble at a time.  Words that stormed around my empty skull now have the lottery winner’s chance of getting out.  But its happening, achingly but its there.  Instead of fake high minded words, I am trying to burrow upward.  Patience please, almost 2 decades since I took on this tool, and it still feels unwieldy and large in my hands (bombs away sexual inneundos), but atleast I am more awake.  The drowsiness of monotony rubbed off a bit, and things that used to take up space now fill my attention.  What was now seems more.  Helplessness eroded by a wee bit of shiny hope.  Illusion beckons from around the corner.  I close my eyes, and imagine the wonderful writer.  Words that seem carelessly scattered in fact took minutes to create.  A hesitation here and there, but I push on.

This self love of word always on my mind.  This overly aware mind too quick to pick up my insecurities and flaws, but I cant stop.  I must go on, if not for myself but for my legions of imaginary readers.  That gives me some comfort.  Yet another post about nothing, proud to be the Seinfield of blogging or perhaps just a very lound silent cry for help.  You decide or maybe it will be just me as usual.  My chariot awaits.

is a blanket.  Wrap them tight around you when you need warmth, but when it gets hot you just want to throw them away.  Yesterday, we kept our aunt warm with our off color jokes and relentless completely inappropriate sexual innuedos and what should have been a relentless slaugher of pain and worry became instead a half joking rebuke on our behavior.  We laughed the loudest at the future morgue, while the blank and harsh stares around her whizzed.  We took on the battle knowing the war was uncertain but certain victories were attained with her smile and lightening of the creases around her forehead. 

Seeing him in bed with a bandaged wasnt easy, and the cry hard to swallow when his first concern was for his mom, insisting we take her home so she was not too upset.  How are we hardwired that way?  Or maybe only he is.  The concern for his life unapparent, waved away to focus on the tear streaked face in his vision.  But then it blurred for me, and a prayer anew began again.  Please God, make it right again, give me some of his pain, let me shoulder it for little brother, regretting all the times I had snapped at him.  The young puppy slinking away from the sting of my careless and cruel attitudes.  I am unable to tackle the waves that have stuck him and my aunt, but I can try to be a lifeguard now.  I looked up.

I am sorry, and thank you.

It seems appropriate to jot down something while possibility seems a whiff away.  Smiling seems to short circuit the tendendy to clatter across the keyboard so todays boss is determination.  A blush of light in what is otherwise turning out to be a bleak call to reality.  It wasnt always like that. In fact, darkness hid from me, and I let light be.  Whatever was dreamt of was formed into reality.  It all seemed so easy until I realized that others paid for it, and I just earned the commission.  As I really begin being an adult, it sucks I think, and then to realize others have lived this for way longer.  Makes me cringe for being so petty.

I meant to be light and flighty, but instead became weighty and whiny.  Eh, take it for what it is.  I didnt promise anything, did I?  And if I did, I didnt mean it.  Just like my words.  Have a good weekend, Monday will rape you soon. 

What is it about generic words that can capture our interest still and yet not not really hand over the reasons for it existence? I am fascinated by love lately because it sounds so giving, yet it takes so much out.  Instead of an embrace I feel a bear claw that does not let go.  How can something that represents a huge part of our life give off so much pain?  Or is it that we confuse love for something else?  Perhaps its like the the illusion on the hot dry road, you may thinking your driving towards life yet it mockingly dissipates as you come near  Or maybe it is love, you look at it from afar and accept its hollowness.  Fill it with whatever you want because it wont hold anything anyway. 

Or we all come up with words that anyone can recognize but only we feel only to realize that nothing we feel is original.  Nothing we come up has not been thought of or has it?  We are all plagiarists in the making or worse pretenders to emotions that hold no feeling.  And even then I secretly hope when I see it spelled out, seeming real.  Putting it down might make it real or perhaps even rub off on me.  Am I doomed to just observe and reflect on something others take for granted?  I can play in it for a while, lose myself in its blanket and for a small short miniscule moment convince myself that word applies to me. 

Love is…

Eh, who am I kidding?