A word on being cut open

6 am. That's when I have to be there. 

NOT when I have to open my eye lids to a dark world.

NOT when I have to awake myself and arouse my faculties. 

NOT when I have to take a shower to scrub the special antibiotic soap all over my bacteria-ridden body. 

NOT when I have to prepare myself for my doom.

NOT when I have to leave my home to get to the hospital. 

I'm the first 'case.' That's right. The lucky girl that arrives at 6 am. 

6 am. Oh how I haven't missed you. Lucky for me, I get to be knocked out for a couple of hours to make up for it. That's when they cut me open. Yup. Like in the child's game, Operation. 

Tools needed...true story

Only for real. 

Due to many hilarious stories of delirious post-anesthetic behaviors, I'm leaving my phone in the care of my beloved mother who will be sane and drug-free at all times. She will be in possession of the device whilst I am in a drug-induced craziness. Until such a time that I can coherently converse with you lovely peoples.

SO nothing too scandalous if you please. It's my mother who'll be reading them. Just sayin.

Read more...

Dream big

Dreams, butterflies in the azure sky. Floating, lilting, playing in the soft downy clouds. Beautiful bright colors gleaming on their backs in the morning sun's rays. Nothing can reach them but a child on wings. Children are their caretakers, treating their fragile wings with gentle care and love.

Adults stay to the hard, cold ground to which they cling. They're really grown up caretakers that have stopped using their wings and grasped 'reality' tightly in their fists. Fear guides them now.

One such grownup child sits. She is small and few take notice of her. Her wings are broken. Her's is a lucky story however. She can still see the butterflies and her own wings. Most grownup children forget to look for either of them anymore.

Everyday she stares with hope and yearning at the beautiful orange butterfly dancing above her little spot on the ground. So close and yet so very far away. Her eyes shining and sparkling she beckons her desired treasure near. But it will not do. Dreams cannot get that close to the ground or they will die. And so each sunset ends with tears of sadness.

A little blond child stops and watches her reaching skyward with curiosity and compassion on his little smudged face. Gallantly, he offers his wings to her. Her excitement is beyond belief. She doesn't even notice his tattered clothes and matted hair.

She leaps into the blue. Her day in the sky is magical. She dances around clouds and amidst oceans of dreams and laughter. Her special friend is the little orange butterfly perched on her slight shoulder. Even as midnight colors and bright twinkling fairies blanket the sky, she wants to stay but the nice little boy must be missing his wings. She drifts down on fluttering wings to where he sits. His face is beloved to her now and always will be. With tears in her eyes she carefully hands the precious wings back to her savior. He kindly accepts.

He hands her wings to her. They are no longer broken. He has fixed them just for her. She wraps her arms around him in the best hug she has ever given. A small movement catches her eye. The little orange butterfly is falling to the ground from her shoulder.

Read more...

Misused opportunity

In the entire world there are many opportunities that pass us by. Many of which we make a choice not to take the opportunities by the throat. Sometimes we just miss them and don't realize it until a later date.

Now.

It has come to my attention that I had the opportunity and used it to the advantage I saw fit, but I didn't use it as I should have. As soon as I have this opportunity again...I vow I will not misuse it again.

On the cruise that me and my friends went on this last Spring Break, there were self-serve ice cream machines in the buffet kitchen area. We stopped by on a regular basis. Filling bowls or cones whenever we wanted (don't worry, I struggled with the consequence of that choice at the gym soon after) was a dream come true. As a small child I recall always wanting a soft serve ice cream cone whenever we happened to be lucky enough to stop at a Mickey D's.

There was a third option of consumption means that neither I nor my companions had thought to utilize.

Straight into the kisser.

Regret. *sigh* That is all I feel.

Read more...

Moving myself: Jog part jump

This is going to sound really bad. Maybe I shouldn't say it. But it's the truth. My confession today is...

I like to do crazy things to my body.

Don't get me wrong here and leave the page thinking you just came across another crazy person!!

For the most part actually 'altering' my body is not an option. Because of my beliefs (1), I will not do extreme things to my body because of the sacredness of the covenants I have made. Henna is the closest I've come to getting a 'tattoo' and the closest I will ever get. I have recently become kind of obsessed with Bollywood and that may have played a part in my crazy decision to participate...

Sadly it faded within a week...

One of my very dear friends (who got me hooked on Bollywood) joined in this activity and has now elicited my services as the artist for her next Hindi party.

All my life...I have lived with a body that was whole. The only holes in my body were the ones God blessed me with. As a church worldwide, we female Latterday Saints have been asked to only have one set of ear piercings and nothing else. Now my Momma decided before that counsel ever came, that we were not allowed to have piercings until we were 18 and could make a marginally rational decision about what to do to our bodies. By the time I turned 18, I hadn't really the desire to join the crowd and get my ears pierced. I liked being different.

One day years later, I was in Wal-mart (don't judge me for it...) and made a split decision to get my ears pierced.

Luckily I had an older lady doing it for me...who couldn't have possibly pushed the needle through any slower...

I love the diversity of earrings. I can express my particular style, mood, and craziness with my choice in earrings.

Probably the craziest thing I've ever done to myself on purpose and with a lot more thought than other crazy things I've done. I decided to wax my legs. I'm telling you now...this is probably the first time in my life...I've screamed in pain (assuming that yelling and grunts don't count). I did the strips the first time I did this and Ima tell ya. That hurt like nothing else I've ever known and I've been injured multiple times in sports and other activities. Since then I've learned that hard Brazilian wax, which is 85% less painful, is the way to go. I have waxed my legs a few more times and the results are so very wonderful.

Now to the awesome things I've done. Besides playing sports with all of my worth (diving, sliding, pushing, shoving) and putting myself in dangerous situations (hiking up the mountainside and coming down waterfall ravines in the rain...), I have done things people either admire or term crazy.

I did a polar plunge. I really don't think I need to say more.

Note to self: don't submerge...just dip...

To go along with that, we went up to a rope swing at Bloomington Lake, Idaho during the early summer. It is in fact a glacier lake with snow sitting off to the side halfway in the Lake.

Am I crazy? Possibly but I'm all right with it.

Read more...

Books of paradise

There are many times in my life when I just need to cuddle up on the couch or curl up on my bed and read a good book! 

Sometimes I*m in the mood for a gushy-like-gushers; cheesy-like-the-delicious-squeaky-kind; sappy-as-a-pine-tree romance novel. Other times I*m in need of an honest to goodness C.S. Lewis novel for some deep soul searching and philosophical ponderances. Every night I crack open the Book of Mormon (1) for some serious studying to find life changing answers and comforting words. When I*m up for it I*ll grab a Sherlock Holmes mystery and puzzle my way through it. 

But the books I will never tire of. The books that capture my attention every time I look at the cover. Books with cunning wit. Books of stunning insight and out-of-this-world knowledge. Books that make me laugh until I cry or cry until I laugh. Books that change my life. 

These are books of the paradisical glory of which I speak...

Me and my awesome nose...oh; and the book is there too.

The Complete Book of Nose Etiquette
 ...and other nasal matters

written by Dr. Doight du Nez

drawings by Steve Bjorkman

Never before have I stumbled upon such a work of greatness. Well...it was more my uncle. He was foraging through his old room and its remaining occupants and brought it up to us. I snatched it and haven*t relinquished it since. With amazing depictions of the different nose types in existence; the book describes the 7 basic nose types; discusses the different booger removal techniques available; and even lists some easy do-it-yourself ways to get the nose you*ve always dreamed of. This is by no means light reading.

If you can see my eyes...you might be ninja...

The Ninja Handbook

This book looks forward to killing you soon

Official product of the International Order of Ninjas

This wondrously sneaky book came as a not-so-surprise Christmas gift from an esteemed foe of mine. As is his nature; he tends to think that I need help in this area (little does he know I wrote Section II deducing your ninja level and Section IV the skills of a ninja). In this book it discusses secrets of the elite ninja lifestyle. As the title denotes it is a handbook of sorts. But as with everything else that is awesome; being a ninja goes far and beyond what is contained in this teeny tiny book as all real ninjas well know. 

note: there are serious penalties to those who read this book and disperse the actual contents of its pages...you have been warned...

I*m just a small town girl trying to figure things out...

This Is NOT A Book

Written by Keri Smith creator of Wreck This Journal

This Is NOT A Book was an interesting item to come across. It really isn*t a book. I didn*t read it. Every page contains a new adventure to be performed by the owner (me). From creating Treasure Maps to Psychological mood-altering machines to Kits for boring events. This book is stuffed with crazy random missions for the bored-out-of-your-mind type people or people who need some serious awesomeness in their lives. Some day when I*ve completed all of the pages inside...I will be so mind-bogglingly fantastic no one will know what to do with me.

Well...that is assuming they know what to do with me now...as a normally fantastic person...

Read more...

Dweam wiffin a dweam

DREAM ONE

Snow is stacked around the road in plowed piles. Pine trees make a high skyline and through their hallways a dark and spacious warehouse opens. To the side of the mountain road a mining pit. Tiny figures pick at the rocks and small explosions spatter the mine. Formless people mill around the constricted open area; disappearing and reappearing with little purpose other than to exist in my mind.

From the deep blurry forest a Tyrannosaurus Rex bursts into the scene. Frantic movements of the figures becomes a haze in my peripherals. My limbs feel sluggish and my vision can*t seem to clear as I search for a hiding space from the huge carnivorous creature. A dugout; only tall enough for me and just as wide as a person across the shoulders; appears in the ground at the top of the hill with a few hiders in it already. I drop down inside and wait for the all*s clear.

A military march is heard in the distance. Soundless voices urge my escape. Only I can get away fast enough to come and rescue them from the overrule of the foreign military. I run up the hill and down through the warehouse. My computer and its cord are in my hands. It is essential that I keep it.

The officers of the brigade enter the warehouse moments after I run down the stairs. My fingers lose their grip on the computer. I look towards the opening to the upper floor and the leader looks at me with calculating eyes. He points at me and I weave and jump through the bottom floor to safety.

I am in the city now. I make my way into the Taggart Student Center. I find an elderly man who puts his arm around my shoulder; shielding me from the view of the occupant soldiers. His wife comes to my other side and guards me there. A soldier comes and tries to see my face. I keep it turned away and make my escape outside. I somehow find myself on babysitting duty. They only get to have 10 minutes to play outside.

At the close of their playtime; barrels of various colors float down from the sky. They melt into the ground where the storehouse resides. We wait in line; first come; first served. I come second after the first unlucky man. I turn to the boy behind me and we walk away trying to keep our spirits up. The front man attacks me and thrusts me up to the wall by my shoulders.

I push him away several times but each successive attack he gets stronger. My fists pummel his face but seem to have lost their substance. I feel completely helpless. I don*t have the strength I can feel in my anger. Something is wrong. My limbs don*t have strength at all. With one final attempt at escape from the evil man; I punch his face with everything left inside me and the jolt wakes me.

DREAM TWO

I look around. I*m in my room. Thank heavens. It was a dream. Odd. I*m not in my bed. I crawl out from under the covers and look to see that I am in fact at the foot of my roommate*s bed; scrunched into a ball and she is still asleep. I slip out onto the floor. I swear I don*t sleep walk. Perhaps tonight had disproved that. I stand up and look around. There isn*t much light seeping in through the blinds. It must still be night time.

Well I don*t feel too sleepy. A television sits on a dresser that has somehow replaced the head of my bed in the corner. I toggle the switches and look for a channel to watch. A female news reporter; in front of a red background; rambles on indistinguishably about something boring but I can*t seem to get away from this channel. My other roommates are still asleep so I try to find the volume button. It can*t be found. The television gets louder and louder. I panic because I don*t want to wake them all up. The noise eventually wakes me.

DREAM THREE

I*m in my old apartment in Old Farm. I*m laying on the ground between Sally and Charlie; my feet propped up on Sally*s armrest. The lights downstairs are all off and the hallway light upstairs shines down the stairs and through the bars of the stair railing. A movie is on and shadows of people I know sit on the couches attentive to its story. I try to sit up and my body won*t move. I*m so tired. I can*t seem to keep my eyes open. I can*t make anything move. My eyelids close but then flutter open as I come awake.

DREAM FOUR

I*m in my bed. My clock blinks early morning. My eyelids are heavy and my mind is grateful for the promised rest until my alarm is actually set to go off. I close my eyes and go back to sleep to find blurry dreams and sluggish fantasies.

Read more...

Long-legged derby

On a regular day; just like any other; I find myself at the gym running to my heart*s content. Being very competitive by nature; I feel quite proud of my speed for running and my aloofness to the physical exertion. I glance to the man beside me. His is a higher speed. No need to hide my running prowess. I amp it up and drive my little legs to match his speed with ease.

My peripherals watch his easy strides and compare to my own quick short steps to conform to the speed that we both have set. I must lengthen my steps. My legs welcome the stretched out pace and slip into the new stride length.

Not more than a few seconds later the young man increases his pace. The nerve. His posture still suggests that the pace is easy and slow for him. Blast. The height to leg length ratio is vastly different between us two individuals. What to do? I gauge my energy reserves and decide that I can handle it...for a little while. I stack my courage and punch the button. The going gets a little tough. My legs are getting tired and wobbly like jello. Sheesh. He makes it look easy. His legs are as long as Ponderosa Pines!

My breath comes out in short little puffs and my energy quickly runs out. Now I consider myself to be quite in shape. But honestly those of us with shorter legs must produce more reps per minute in order to cover the same amount of distance. This long-legged young man continues to take a stroll while I struggle on. Of course the time comes that he leaves for another part of the gym walking nonchalantly and my allotted running time comes to an end, I fall off the edge of the treadmill barely maintaining equilibrium. 

Oh the woes of a short-legged life.  

Read more...

I dono

Where is it? Is it happy?

I wouldn*t know. I can*t seem to find it.

But surely it*s there. Everyone else has theirs.

I can*t feel it. I can*t see it. I can*t hear it anymore. I can*t remember what it felt like.

Where could it have gone? It*s impossible for it to just disappear.

Is it? Can you find it? It has to be gone. Otherwise I would be able to find it.

I*m not sure where to look. I got so used to it being there that I forgot to remember.

I feel like giving up now. How can we find it if we don*t know where to look?

But surely we can*t give up. That would be depressing if we lost it permanently.

I don*t think it would. It might make things a LOT less complicated. We wouldn*t have to worry.

If we found it though; we could lock it away where no one else could find it. It is so precious. We can*t leave it out there alone.

That*s what anyone else would do. Why can*t we just do what*s easy?

Because it means so much to us. I know that it can be full of sorrow; but there is so much joy found in it too.


That*s just it. How will we know if it still has any joy left in it? We might have used it all up.

I don*t know. But remember how much joy there was before we lost it? Perhaps we can replenish it.

Yes. Yes I do remember that. But where could we go? Who would know so much about something like this to be able to help with that?

I just...I just don*t know. There must be something we can do. I don*t like being without it. It*s uncomfortable.

I know. Me too. We can acclimate. It*s part of our survival instinct right? I know we can do this. 

It will be hard though. Maybe we should find it and let someone else take care of it. That way we wouldn*t have to worry.

Sigh. I don*t think you are understanding. It was our burden to bear. We are the caretakers and we lost it. IF we are able to find it then we would have to guard it lock and key. We can*t lose it so easily again. It belongs to a very important person. No one else can have it. It*s just not meant to be stretched out between more than one person. We*ve failed.

It*s just not there anymore. How could this have happened?

Read more...

A spoonful of bubbly

The feeling in the room is calm and reverent. Everyone in the spacious room is sitting quietly on the green padded benches paying especial attention to the speaker.

The young man at the podium finishes his elocution and the intermediate hymn begins. The entire congregation sings the psalm with fire and gusto. As is customary; my sister and I alternate between the different parts and our voices dance an ever-changing duet. In the third verse; which carries a sacred message to its singers; a sudden high vibrato Snow White voice resonates in the bench directly in front of us. The composure that most suits the occupants of a church meeting begins to crumble. The tickling in our throats bubbles over. Laughter emits.

As the organ*s reverberating sounds and the chants of the singing congregation drown out the spurts of laughter squeezing past our lips; we struggle to regain at the least a reverent appearance. Giggles erupt nonetheless and the merriment continues. Without the use of our own voices to cover it; the operatic sounds of Snow White*s voice serves as a constant renewal to our amusement.

The hymn comes to an end as hymns are wont to do. The time for self-control is here. The moment is at hand.

INTERJECTION HERE

The thing about giggles in sacrament is that they can*t really truly be controlled. Containing something that requires a moment of vocal expulsion in a place where silence is key for the sake of the meeting; is a mission impossible.

Observe.

Covering the mouth doesn't cut it. Sound leaks right between the spaces in the fingers. In fact; it increases the startlingly loud factor by producing a kazoo effect. Taking deep breaths is a joke. That only increases the air capacity for the bubbling of giggles. Holding breath produces the same results as deep breaths. Looking to the Bishop only adds to the silliness as the need for control increases. Giggles are as wild animals; the more you try for control; the less control you have. Giggles as we all know; are supercalifragilistically contagious. The contagiousness increases with containment. If I gain control; my sister loses it. If she gains composure, I bail. It doesn*t help that my roommate Pan joins our nonsensical ways. No matter how hard we fight for control; we lose it. The chuckles and guffaws slip through.

To end the story; the closing hymn was sung as loudly as possible until the giggles inevitably begun anew. We will never inform Snow White of our amusement. It's better this way.

Read more...

Fire + Men = ?!!!

Midnight approaches and everyone is getting antsy. Food adorns the kitchen counter and none of it has been left untouched. Standing in the kitchen are a few of the men; exchanging funny stories of things that had happened to each of them over the past year. On the kitchen table a riveting game of Picture Dice is commencing and the occupants are raising their voices according to their luck or lack thereof. In the living room in front of the couch four or more dancers jam out to the songs on Just Dance 2; the newest addition to the Wii repertoire; while an unlicensed cameraman takes an unauthorized recording of one particular dancer...! A few people are gathered around the computer playing some extraordinary game I*m sure. My Dad however after waking from a short evening nap; has gone outside to rig up the launching pad.

The clock strikes 12 and everyone scrambles to throw their coats; gloves; scarves; hats; and boots on. The babies and small children are asleep inside and a few stay in to keep warm. But testosterone is pumping and all the men must launch something big and spectacular.

A few bottle rockets fly into the sky and explode with a pop! Drifting down the porch stairs my puppy*s whines reach my ears. I walk out past the halo of light surrounding the house to cover her ears and hold her trembling body close as firework after firework explodes in the air. Reds; golds; and a few blues shower the sky with their brilliant light. My horse paces a frantic burrow in the snow along the far fence; making worried noises with each burst of light.

Silence once again reigns. The show must have ended. I watch as the bystanders march inside.

The proud launchers still buzz a pattern around the remaining fireworks. Some are saved for the next years show; but there are a few of the men that can't leave a firework unfired! One last big firework is sent screaming into the frozen New Year air.

Something just feels off. The men stash the rest of the fireworks in a bag for next year and pick up the burnt out remains of those that were fired. But something was missing. I ponder the events that had just transpired.

No near death experiences this year. All of the illegal Wyoming fireworks had actually ended up in the air as was their purpose. That was it!!! Almost every year of the Crook get together for New Years at least ONE of the airborne fireworks hadn't made it up where it belonged. One year a bottle rocket fell over and shot at almost every group of family members huddled together around the yard. Another year a huge blue firework hadn*t shot out of its canister and had exploded on the ground where everyone was still gathered.

The excitement of those years outweighed the excitement experienced this year. Safety was always a good thing...but you never have stories to tell from those years. Just a thought.

Read more...

Less timeless

I haven*t been here long. 

Just a little over a fifth of a century really. It*s timeless to me because it*s all I*ve ever known. I don*t have a specific beginning point to my memories; merely snippets of my past that shimmer in my conscious. It*s surprising that I remember as much as I do. So much happens in one day. More often than not; there isn*t enough time for it all.

In retrospect; time goes by like a pinprick. At the moment; it certainly doesn*t feel like it is. This is where regret falls. Maybe time isn*t as timeless as it used to be before. The closer I come to the literal meaning of mortality; the more I appreciate the time that has been allotted me. 

No matter how much I appreciate it though; it still has a way of slipping away.

So many silly aspirations flit about in my dreams. I hardly ever act on them. Fear. Doubt. Pain. I know I forget to live my life for fear of losing or for fear of change. Whatever the case may be; I feel like in all the 21 years I*ve been on this planet; I still haven*t lived the fullest life that I am able. I*m not a fearful person by nature. Any fear I may have; comes at another*s bequest. I*m really quite optimistic and laid back about everything. Which has proven quite worrisome to my parents many a time.

Time. What a small word for such an altering constituent of life. The best moments in mine; are the moments that I*ve spent doing what I love.

I love being with my family. But you and I both know that there is never enough time spent doing that. Every time I*m with them; I can be myself. No pretending; no facade; no tough face. But this is where life throws its curve. I never feel like I measure up. In a family where the genius and talented gene runs rampant; I never feel like I have anything to offer to the family name. I*m not dumb nor talentless; but my progress in life has been halted many times because of my fear of failure when compared to any of them. I wish that I hadn*t let all that time go to waste worrying about it because then I would have so much more confidence in myself whether or not failure was the end result.

Having so little confidence in myself; I can*t stand the thought of people thinking badly of me and that is my worst fear. Fear. It holds me back every time; even when I know it is ridiculously futile. 

If I spent more time doing things just for the heck of it; doing what I want to do; and less time fretting about others* opinions of me; I wouldn*t have so many retrospect regrets.

Fact; time isn*t long enough. But...

would I take the best advantage of it if it were?

Read more...

Passersby

There isn*t much to be said about walking past people; except that it can be extremely awkward. I*ve noticed with all of my experience in passing people in the street or on campus; that most are no good at the whole passing thing. There isn*t any literature or written code on the passersby etiquette but it would seem that there are many rules; do nots; and many amendments to top it all off. The amount of thought that each person has to put into merely walking past someone else is enough to make one*s head spin.

My most favorite is the not-supposed-to-walk-on-the-same-side-of-the-road unspoken rule. When walking down the street if there is a person on the same side coming towards you; inevitably they have to get to the other side of the road; immediately or as quickly as possible. The thoughts that roll through my mind include: 

• *Do I reek so badly that it has wafted all the way down to them already?*
• *Would fatal collision have been certain had we both continued on the same side of the road?*
• *Do they know something about me that they shouldn't?*
• *Probably just couldn't handle walking past the awesomeness and attractiveness that is me.*
• *Does my bed hair look atrocious and they don't want to have to hide their sniggering?*

The next unspoken rule on my favorites list is the don*t-smile-because-it-might-not-be-reciprocated -and-then-things-could-get-really-awkward rule. Come on peeps. Show them pearls off. Every time we pass someone; it is our mini audition as a smile model.
 

Absolutely-positively-NO-communication-whatsoever-or-you-will-DIE rule is steadily making its way up on my favorite unspoken rules list. I believe that this is proof of digression in our species. The grunts from pre-homo erectus are even non-existent in the passersby*s world. Communication was a big thing back in the day. Since we can't seem to stay away from the 60s hippy-isms; the 70s dancing; the 80s clothes; and the 90s hair; why not yesterdays communication? Saying hello to someone hasn't killed anyone yet and if it has; it is a very tiny number; not likely to happen to anyone we know.

My cousin touched on this next unspoken rule in her blog. The must-walk-on-the-right-side-of-the-sidewalk rule. It*s good to know that all of us are good enough drivers to apply the traffic idea to the sidewalk. It does make the flow of passing people so much flowier. However; in many cases people will go out of their way to make sure that you do not pass them on the wrong (left) side. 

Another unspoken rule on my list is the you-can-move-out-of-my-way-because-I-obviously-have-the-right-of-way-in-this-situation rule. This one is especially fun in the winter time when the sidewalks haven*t been shoveled yet so there is only the path where many shoes have walked. Because of the limited space for your feet; besides the perfectly good snow banks on either side that will instantly soak anyone to the bone. But there's always the person who walks like a Viking; tall and strong and true and completely unyielding; even if they have a small pullover space close by. 

I face these dilemmas every day as I pass many people walking to and from classes and work and home. There are so many little subtleties to the passersby etiquette. I haven*t even covered all the the little unspoken rules of passing people such as the hurry-and-pass-someone-from-behind-while-looking-at-*something*-very-interesting-on-the-other-side rule or the they-just-slipped-but-I*m-going-to-pretend-that-I-didn*t-see rule. 

I'm sure that we all know the feeling of passing someone and putting WAY too much thought into what we should do.

Read more...

Snowflakes

Grumbling with bitterness and resentment, I flip my hood up and step out of the warm building into the falling snow. It's not the huge light fluffy snowflakes that fall in enchanting patterns but rather little wisps of ice streaming down to the already frozen earth.

Faceless strangers pass me, hoods pulled low over their foreheads. I struggle over the unevenly trodden snow as I make my way home.  Although my hood is pulled up and over my head, it doesn't seem to cover quite enough. Iceflakes still pelt me in the face. I bend my head forward against the attack. My forward progression requires more vision than is provided thus. So I lift my face and take the snowflakes in the face once more.

There's a lot to be said about the people I see walking undeterred by the cold, wet flecks smacking them in the face. My eyes blink rapidly of their own accord every few seconds and twitch uncontrollably between blinks. Whatever makeup I managed to get on my face and eyes in the sleepy getting ready hours of the morning, was fast melting off. My brow becomes furrowed and my nose crinkles with the strain of trying to see past the blasted snowflakes. The entire surface area of my face was intent on closing in around my eyes to protect them from the mini ice bullets.

All of these people with the finesse to blink naturally in normal intervals must be laughing quite recklessly on the inside. I probably would if I could see my face contorting as each seemingly harmless snowman baby flies into my eyes. No one else seems to be struggling with this as I have been.

The solution...for the snowing to cease, but since I have no control over that I will just have get a hat with a brim.

Read more...

Hazy

I fall down from the sky and creep down the mountains through canyons and ravines. My fingers seep into every crack, every orifice as I spread my being across the valley. Darkness is my friend and best companion and we give protection to those who seek it.

My thickness blocks out the sun and the sky. I surround and cover everything beneath me. I take chill and ice with me wherever I go. In the winter time I leave marks of the fabled 'Jack Frost' along railings and windows. My breath slips through leaks in buildings and touches every living thing. I am relentless. I cling to every surface that I can, drawing the warmth out of everything I touch. I have no substance but I am a wall.

No one can see what I hide. I hide the lovers' trysts. I hide the thief's scheming. I hide the world from every eye. No one knows what can hold me. The sky can only hold me for so long. I am wild and free. No one can control me. No one can stop me. No physical hand has power over my spirit.

I am what makes lake's mysteries stay mysterious. I am what shrouds the countryside with charm. I am cause for a poet's passion in a poem. I am the listless feeling of the clouds. I am the cap of a mountain. I am the warning of an ocean storm. I am the yore of the Scottish glens. I am in the morning. I am in the winter. I am in the cool spring.

Read more...

No place like it

I sit in my car, taking in the seemingly painted scene before me. Except for the light illuminating the air around the two story house, the world around me is blanketed in cold darkness. The silence and solitude that keeps me company, causes my stillness. I look to the beacon of light that this place represents in my life. What a wonderful feeling to return here. There is a sense of relief, of calmness. I know that here I am loved. It is here that my character was built. Here I have made memories.

Opening the door I climb out of the black vehicle and grab my things. The closer I come to the lit building, the more happy my being becomes. My feet barely the touch the ground as my heart feels lighter and freer.

The burdens of everyday life can be left outside at this place. I step through the threshold into the light. Warm greetings and shouts of excitement welcome my entrance. My face can't help but break into a smile. This place seems to increase the light in my spirit just by being here. Though the world has dumped snow on the world and on my life of late, nothing can take away the warmth and comfort here. This lit world within is my refuge, my safe place.

I can be myself here. I can find myself again. All the despairs and stresses of life are still a part of me, still looming in my mind but I can forget them...for a little while. I am filled with peace and tranquility because I'm home now. Home.

Read more...

Gamers

The dating game is very much like the childish game of tag-you're-it. Both genders are playing and tagging one another, running around trying not to get tagged by the ones we don't want to be and hoping to get tagged by that certain person. Then if you're tagged you go for that person again. Sometimes two are lucky enough to find someone they like playing with alone and end up playing their own private game.

More often than not we all find the game gets really large. Tons of children come join the game and the entire schoolyard is our playing field. If only it were that simple.

The dating game has so many more rules and complexities. Most of the time the game starts with the male player making his move, followed by a reciprocated movement by the female player.

In my experience the game goes so much better when both key players are trying to win. If only the one is playing and the other isn't, the game goes nowhere, it is at a standstill. The one playing gets frustrated and the other doesn't understand why they are getting so emotional about a mere game.

But if the one competing is smart they will end that game and find another gamer. There's too much time wasted in trying to finish the game with them to the end knowing you'll come out finishing but leaving them behind.

The worst type of game played is when the time runs out and extenuating circumstances causes the game to end abruptly. Both players are left feeling unfulfilled and hurt.

A lot of times one of the players will decide that they need a break and leave the other sitting alone at the game. Or they will look around and see other games or other players and decide that they don't want to finish out that game they were playing and again leaving the other player alone.

Many times, there are female players aplenty, waiting and hoping for someone to notice their game set up, and come start a game with them. Sometimes, they are waiting a long time. The dating game is different than all other games played in this entire world because of one thing. The heart.

Anyone can play a game of tag and lose and still feel good about themselves.
Anyone can play a game of frisbee, lose and have hope for the next game.
Anyone can play a game of Canasta, lose by just a few points and still be happy.
Anyone can play a game of golf, hit the ball too far and have a good attitude.

But no one can play a dating game, lose, and still feel good about themselves, have hope for the next go around, be happy, or have a good attitude. Some are really good about getting over the hurt quickly. Others are really good about hiding their pain. A lot get discouraged and pack up their game, not willing to invest that part of themselves again.

There is more invested in a dating game than just time or effort, the heart is the biggest player. The heart is the end goal and the incentive. The heart is the means and everyone's biggest secret. Everything in the dating game revolves around the heart and affects the heart. That's why it isn't like any other game. We risk a lot more than we might get back. But then, when there is finally someone with whom we find our happiness, it all becomes worth it and the previous pain and hurt goes away. That is what the whole point of the dating game is. To find that happy ending. To get to the happily ever after.

Read more...