Fundamentally Flawed

I think I must be fundamentally flawed. I don't understand people. I don't think I ever will. Why they do things, why they don't do other things. What makes people act the way they do?

I had a great thing happen yesterday. I want to be happy so badly. I yearn for it so desperately. I can't even find solace in dreams. My dreams are an endless cycle of unsatisfying moments all laced and sewn together until I finally wake up because I can't stand it any longer.

I need to cry about all of this. But tears won't come. I wish they would, it'd be such a sweet release. Everything I think and feel has somehow become clotted in my throat and won't come up or down. It just sticks there.

I put on such a facade. I must be good because no one seems to notice. Or maybe they don't care, I guess. I'm kind of sick of guessing.

I just want a moment where everything feels alright again. One moment where my breath doesn't catch a little; one moment where the weight on my chest lifts.

I know it's too much to ask because I can't turn back time.

Random Thought

Life is so terrible and beautiful. So many moments, all connected one to the other making an everlasting chain that can't ever be broken, not even by death. Death only steals the visible from the eyes of mortals, but there is something in each of us, that spark that is immortal.

All anyone can hope for is that they are granted more moments that bring joy and less that evoke sorrow. Neither moment is cursed though; there is a time for everything.

These moments that we claim as our own are merely fragments of a thread that is interwoven in a tapestry that is humanity.

One day we'll meet the One who weaves the tapestry.

Uh, What Did You Say?

This is a sort of rant. Not really a rant, more like me having an "I do not get this" kind of moment.

Not too long ago I started blogging with another person who has disabilities. She's very politically active and obviously liberal (which is really here nor there) but she just talks using politically correct language. I had used the word "handicapped" in my entry that day and she had commented something to the effect "we'll have to talk about using respectful language."

I was a little surprised because I've never been offended by that term and I'm disabled. Then again, I try to stay out of disability politics because it's so tiresome. Too many egos and who wants a life of endless debating issues? It just ends up being one big fight.

But I am glad there are people who do that kind of thing because sometimes it brings beneficial changes. So I'm not complaining about that.

I was kind of shocked when I went to her site recently and she's using the term 'crip' all over. I'm assuming crip is short for crippled. How is being called or labeling yourself crippled somehow better or more dignified than calling yourself or being called handicapped??

I just don't get it. I would be offended if someone called me crippled.

But maybe I shouldn't. I think it's all just words too. Words, words, words. We put too much emphasis on them sometimes, other times not enough. In general I think political correctness is getting to be insane in the membrane. So many rules that are just getting sillier by the day. Pretty soon there will come a time when we'll have to call everything by it's species name like in science class.

Note to Self

Note to Self: Take heed, you are not as important as you think you are. In fact, you are not a Self, you are a self.

Stop thinking about what that self wants. That self needs to shut up so you can hear that quiet voice that knows all Truth. Listen to it and follow it wherever it leads you. Self will soon get jealous and take a hike. You'll be much happier then. The One who is connected to that voice loves you more than self ever could or ever will.

The Grace of God

"The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you. There's only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you'll reach out and take it. Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too." - (Carl) Frederick Buechner

Inquisition

Sometimes I wonder what I would do or say under torture. Yeah, that's probably a pretty horrible thing to think about, but I used to think about it a lot. Especially when I used to read or think about the Holocaust. Or anyone who has ever suffered and died in Jesus' name.

Torture is so brutal and I can't even bare to watch real or fake versions of it on TV. Most of the time I feel good about that fact because it means that despite the violence crazed world I live in I am still sensitive to brutality. I am not a numb-apathetic-desensitized borg that can watch people get sawed in half with blood flying everywhere and reach for more popcorn.

On the other hand, I think 'wow April, what are you ever going to do if you have to deal with something like that in your life?' Which I guess is probably a stupid thing to think about seriously. But I just do. Probably for the same reason I don't like the idea of getting drunk. I wonder what I would do, what I would say, what would come out?

I don't know. I like to think that I am a decent person. I have flaws, cracks, made mistakes, have regrets as much as the next person. But what kind of a person would I turn into if I was really put under pressure? Would I be true to who I think I am, or would I become something else entirely?

Am I who I think I am or do I just use who I think I am as a cover for who I really am?

Would I be one of those people who gives in and gives up when the going gets tough? Would I sell out for a little relief?

I guess the only truth is that I hope I wouldn't. I hope that I am who I think I am, and becoming the person I wish to be, and I hope that I wouldn't give in no matter what.

I'll never really know unless something horrific happens, and I'm grateful for that; I don't want anything to happen!

I really just want to discover my own heart. To feel what it feels more fully. To explore it's depths so that I never have to be surprised at what it reveals in any situation. There's that whole quote that is begging to be said "To thine own self be true." Yeah, well I'd rather be true to God. His values are what I aspire to.

Message to Myself

I am writing this message to myself

so that when I read it

I will know that everything is fine

I Wish I Knew Too

Fireflywishes

I want something solid
I want something real
something that won’t fade away
or slowly turn grey
won’t yellow with age
or wilt in the sun

I want something firm
I want something sure
something that won’t crumble
or turn to rubble
won’t crack and buckle under the weight
of my aching need
to love and be loved.

Cathy

She walked to class alone holding her shoulder bag with both hands wishing for some reassurance that she had made the right choice. Her feet having a difficult time finding their way on the uneven cobblestones weren’t giving her much confidence. After waking up late, having to wait thirty minutes before a shower was available and missing breakfast, she was near tears as the beautiful ivy-covered Ashvelle Hall came into view.

Cathy wanted nothing more than to sit on a bench near the rose bushes and stare at the old building that had aged with such grace but she had no time. As she finally reached the top of the landing before opening the door she stopped herself and took a deep breath inhaling the sweetness in the air left by the night’s rain.

She decided to give herself a little pep talk. This is it, don’t stop now. This is my house – I have to protect it. And she laughed as the words from one of her favorite movies, Home Alone filled her head. What a nice pep talk Cathy, not even remotely related to this situation – you’re about as far away from your house as you can get! She looked around uncertainly hoping no one else had seen her laughing by herself. That’s all she needed was someone to see her staring at the door laughing and thinking she didn’t have a flight of stairs that went all the way up.

Alright Cathy, enough procrastinating! Open that door and head in! She saw herself reaching for the door and pushing it forward as if in slow motion. Then she was in and it was if she had passed through a barrier. She didn’t hesitate. She walked to her classroom swiftly and with purpose in her steps.

Pure Dialogue

“Well Toto, we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”
“Will you shut the fuck up, already? Of course we aren’t in Kansas, we never were, and we didn’t plan on going there either. And if you call me Toto one more time your ass is grass and I’m going to smoke it.”
“Alright, alright Toto, don’t get so wound up. We’ll make it to Kansas eventually. It’s our destiny, I can feel it”
“Just stop with all this destiny bull shit, it’s starting to get ridiculous! And what is up with your obsession with calling me Toto? Do I look like a little dog to you?”
“Would you rather I call you Tito?”
“Tito?! Why not just Tonto while you’re at it?!”
“Wow, you want me to call you Tonto? That’s not very cool. I think Toto and Tito are much cooler, you should really reconsider.”
“Are you fucking serious? Here we are, in a rented piece-of-shit Mazda headed to God-knows-where with your ex in the trunk calling for maggots and all you can do is joke. Well, I’m not laughing and I got news for you buddy, I aign’t your fucking sidekick.”
“You’re not my psychic? But I don’t want a psychic. I want a sidekick. And watch the language, puh-lease! ‘Manda doesn’t approve of foul language.”
“Well, thanks to you and your idiot ideas, ‘Manda won’t have to worry about hearing anything anymore.”

Mariette

To passersby it might have looked as if she was praying. She was not. She sat on a bench in a quiet park and had her head bent towards the book resting in her lap. If someone had walked passed her they might notice that her eyes were not following the words on the upturned pages but rather the pigeons walking near her feet. She could almost have been mistaken for a statue except her scarf fluttered in the light breeze.

It was at times like these that Mariette could not read no matter how hard she tried. Whenever she would begin her thoughts would take hold of her and soon she realized she had read an entire page and could not recall what she had read. So she gave up trying and just let her eyes wander.

The birds fascinated her in their own way. Whenever her thoughts were troubled she always seemed to notice the birds and admire their wings. Envy their wings really. A bird could fly whenever it wanted to and some could fly high enough that the world surely had to look beautiful no matter what really was beneath it. And she didn’t even have the luxury to escape into a book.

A particularly strong gust of wind blew through and the pigeons scattered only to land a few feet away again. Mariette closed her watering eyes against the force of the wind. She focused intently on the sounds surrounding her: the brittle oak leaves scraping the asphalt trail, the rusty chains lightly chinking and squeeking as they swayed on the swing set, the traffic going by in the distance, and the tap of her Sketchers on the thousands of small pebbles at her feet as her anxiety mounted.

She was hoping that Devon would show up. He had promised her he would meet her at the park but he was always breaking his promises. She didn’t have much hope for their relationship once they both went off to college in a couple weeks. Devon was set to go to Notre Dame and she had been accepted at both Notre Dame and Holy Cross. She chose to go to Holy Cross and Devon considered this a personal rejection of sorts. He just couldn’t understand why she would prefer a smaller school that didn’t even allow members of the opposite sex to be in the same room with the door closed. It didn’t seem to matter to Devon that the colleges were just down the road from one another. She could feel that something had broken between them and things were just slowly going to disintegrate until one of them finally said the words.

Mariette was hoping that Devon could see too that their relationship was coming to an end. She didn’t want it to be a terrible surprise. She felt devastated but she knew it was time to let things go. She’d decided it would be much better to end it before leaving for college because she didn’t want to see his arms around another girl while they were still technically together. Even though she wouldn’t be too thrilled to see him with someone else after they broke up either. They’d been dating for 2 years after all, that was a long time for a high school relationship. Mariette was still wondering whether she and Devon would remain friends or not.

She’d wanted to talk all of it out with Devon today. So it was something they could both agree on and things could be amicable. But she still had doubts. Maybe she was reading everything wrong and her and Devon would just have to work a little harder to maintain their relationship. Was she really ready to pull the trigger and just end it? Or was she just trying to act preemptively to ensure she wouldn’t be hurt unexpectedly in the future? Mariette wished Devon would just show up already.

Mariette gave up reading as the wind was making her eyes sting and she couldn't concentrate anyway. She put her book in her messenger bag sitting beside her on the bench and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. She was really grateful that she had remembered to bring it. She glanced down at her watch, a gift from Devon; it read a quarter to 5. Mariette decided that she'd wait for 15 more minutes and then she'd head over to his house.

***

Devon closed the door and pulled on his jacket. He was kicking himself because he was late and he'd meant to get to the park early. As it was he didn't know what he was going to say. Mariette had called him earlier and asked him to meet her at the park for a serious discussion. In his experience that didn't mean anything good was coming. Devon had sat on his bed with his radio blasting Korn. He hated Korn more than anything, but it sometimes brought him relief when he didn't want to think anymore.

He loved Mariette so much, he just couldn't understand why she didn't want to go to Notre Dame with him. Didn't she want them to be as close as possible? Holy Cross seemed so strict of a school to him he just couldn't fathom her decision. He even started to wonder if she had found someone else and wanted to put a little distance between them so she could pursue another relationship.

Well, he wasn't going to give her the chance to tell him one way or the other. On his walk to the park he picked up his step as he decided that he'd end it first, so she wouldn't have to. Mariette had no idea that he had begun saving money for an engagement ring and he wasn't going to tell her now. He'd find another use for the money.

Devon balled his hands into fists as the tears fell. He wiped them away angrily. He was coming up on the park and he could see Mariette sitting there looking at the birds. He stopped for a moment and just stared at her. She was so beautiful, she took his breath away. Her brown almost black hair that shone in the sunlight filtering through the trees. How many times had he ran his hands through that hair as he'd kissed her? He loved how soft and thick it was. He remembered their first passionate kiss and how he could smell the scent of her shampoo on his hands all night after he got home.

He pulled himself together and wiped the wetness from his face. Devon knew in his heart that he had to ask her to marry him today. He had wanted to wait until he had the ring in his hands, but she was obviously having a lot of doubts about their relationship. Looking at her on that bench, he knew in that instant that he could not let her go. He just loved her too much, he could not fathom living a life without her beside him. If she had found someone else then he would have to face that, but he couldn't live with himself if he didn't tell her how he truely felt for her. He owed her that. And he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life wondering what could've been had he asked her.

Devon looked down at his hand and saw his class ring on his finger. That would have to do for now. He said a prayer that he wouldn't be wearing it when he went home. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. What a day this was shaping up to be. Depending on the outcome the best or worst day of his life.