Ozarks

She pauses as hair falls across her face
A shiver builds resolve in her shoulders
She's quit counting scars she's earned in this place
And let the burn marks fade as ashes smolder.

In the far corner he sits in a chair
Watching as the door swings wide
There's too much to say in the thin mountain air
But he's found silence is the best place to hide.

Suddenly, although nothing happened
She covers the mars on her arm
He grimaced at the scars her tears can't dampen
The price to pay when love comes to harm.

a breath of fresh air to fill your lungs

It's no small secret that I've been over analyzing just about everything I've ever said and or done in the last few weeks. I've been super cranky, had terrible headaches, and general grumpies. 

Last minute I heard about a This Is Energy show tonight at the Hard Rock. Lucky it was free... and it was a Battle of The Bands... something about it felt like everything I needed tonight and it felt a little full circle. The first time I saw Adam (and Britton) perform was at a battle of the bands in a tiny little dive downtown before I was old enough to drive. So I yonked my mom's car and headed out when I would normally be in bed.

I've never been so glad for a lack of sleep. If Dave's guitar playing wasn't enough to lift my mood, the kiss off "If You Ever Make a Come Back" and "Let the World Know" were enough to let my frustration rise to the surface and steam away. By the time the guys launched in to "Just Breathe" I was willing to listen to a simple message that I've been all to willing to ignore as of late. I find it funny that I'm willing to listen to it now when Adam's singing it not to me, but I'm not willing to listen when Andrea's all but shoving it down my throat. There is something cathartic about a drum line pounding through your chest, a guitar playing your heart strings and a bass rolling through your ears. There's something healing about listening to a performance so passionate you have to close your eyes to keep from crying.

I had to ask Adam if he was still attending the church that we shared for that brief year and a half, or even the church that left me with scars and threw me into the church were we first met. He's not and somehow that's more refreshing than I can even explain. But it leaves me with one thought. God works all things for good. He was willing to turn one hellish experience into an chance to know someone who would play a role in encouraging me in my darkest hours. Even if all it led to was a reminder to breathe a decade later, God's got a plan we just have to follow it.

Alarms and chimes

I spent some time this weekend just enjoying some simple pleasures, good jazz and a good book. I'm not entirely sure where I discovered these small passions. Sometimes I feel like the only member of the family who will put on a record and curl up with a book. More often than not I hear from my mother how she just can't get into the books and movies that my dad and I will lose entire days to. I also rarely hear my dad turn off the tv so he can lose himself in a great album. But somewhere there is a combination of their passions that turn me in to a book worm with an ear for a smooth trumpet and silky guitar.  Thank God for that.

I needed that. I find that I need time away from people with a good book and good music. There are little "crankiness alarms" in my head that start sounding when I don't. I started realizing this and really embracing my coffee shop moments while I was away in college. It was the best thing I could have done and I'm not entirely sure why I let myself get away from it when I got back home.

Song of the day: Summer time by Duke Ellington

Flames of Memory

A soft breeze, gentle as satin
Wafts across the path
Well beaten, smoothed over by
Clydesdales and wagon wheels.
I look back, still as marble
Remembering and forgetting
A tiny flame, barely candle bright
Burning our concrete bridge.



Song of the Day: Not What You Want by Ingram Hill

Burning bridges

A comment was made to a friend today that sometimes you just have to burn your bridges and walk a way.
That's easier said than done when your bridges are concrete.
I started seriously considering if I'm neglecting burning my own bridges for the sake of not getting smoke in my eye.
Still I'm waiting by the phone... hoping my bridges don't have trolls living beneath them.

I'm afraid that there are diamonds letting you go

Every other time I've been in this situation I've known what to do and how to handle it. Every other time I've been at a spot where I had to choose to stay and fight or leave, I've always known what to do. And almost every time a friend has been in this spot I've known how to deal with it. At this point... I'm torn. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
A piece of me feels like this will blow over because it always has. It always does. That's how things work with this relationship...
But then we're at the point where the relationship ends for me. It's been almost 5 years. That's my breaking point. I'm so tired. So tired of constantly bailing her out. Of constantly fixing her problems. So tired of pulling out information about who she is and what she's doing. 

I don't have the energy for it. But then... maybe it's just that I'm tired of arguing. I've lost a sense of grace I used to have. I just don't know.

Promises, Promises

Ah so I promised you stories from the weekend in OK! So here are a few... well, at least breif lessons learned... and maybe some stories.

Sand Springs is really far away from Tulsa when you've already been in the car two hours longer than neccessary.

When you can't say a word in certain company it seems to be the only word you need to say.

12 hours in a car with people you don't really know can drive you to drink.

It's hard to share a bed with someone you want to smack.

Lies are hard to digest.

The best places to be are tiny little dive bars you have to go looking for.

40 year old women don't need to wear mini skirts to said dive bars.

Dreams come true if you're willing to keep your eyes open and look for them.

The best lines are said when no one has a pen to write them down.

106.1 IS the BEST radio station in Oklahoma and even they repeat the same 25 songs.

"No Rain" by Blind Melon is not creatively ironic to play while it's snowing.

Flip flops are not the best shoes of choice when it's snowing. Neither are Toms.

Dry socks are worth stopping for and worth putting on while you're still in KMart.

Just because a man has dated a girl doesn't mean he's straight.

Never assume you didn't get the shot, but take another one anyway.

Looks can be decieving. Sometimes the chili cheese omlete is the best thing on the menu and the salsa kills the hashbrowns.

The green sauce will kill taste buds.

Mexican is always a safe bet.

If the restuarant smells like fish when you open the door chances are all your food will taste like fish.

Museums are meant to be enjoyed slowly and reverantly. Bouncing up and down like a five year old will get you yelled at and will cause all of your friends to consider just how closely they want to stand near you.

There is always one friend who is the "mom" of the group. Her kids are the reason she drinks. (If you're not sure if you're one of her kids, you probably are.)

Appearances can be everything.

It's worth walking barefoot through the snow to see the better appartment.

If a coffee house can't make a good cup-o-joe, chances are I can take it out.

Asking artists about their work will get you mad props.

Always ask the sales clerk at a local store about their favorite merch. You might just meet someone awesome and get a great music referrence too.

Some people are more than kind of awesome.

Finally if you don't set your boundaries, someone will press all your buttons.

Those are just some of the lessons we were reminded of.  But the best is this: Hope comes in all sorts of ways and places. Sometimes it's the one who's giving advice, sometimes it's the one who needs it who creates it, but hope never travels alone. You've got to be open to people to see the hope in their lives.

Brief

Never under estimate the power of balance. Never. Ever.

Every rose has a thorn

This weekend has been full of awesome sauce and chilli cheese and bad ideas for my digestion. This weekend has been the first annual "Typing with purpose convference".  A group of writers from various different backgrounds and with different styles have gathered to bounce off ideas and embrace the dissonance and make something (hopefully) beautiful out of it. Although, that's not how this weekend was billed it's what it's become and that's actually kind of amazing. 

It was billed as just a weekend of friends.... but it quickly became a weekend of friends who like pens. 

At the same time that we've all found something awesome to share with each other we're finding out what our limits are.  I'll add some stories later.. I promise.

I heard the news today...

I got word today that my best friend miscarried this week. It's brought about a series of emotions that seems to rest somewhere in a dynamic sense of loss and self-righteous anger and then concern.

A sense of loss because Peanut J Love Muffin was gonna be one kick but kid. And the kid in town who I could play aunt to when I can't see my neice and nephews in Nebraska. If Peanut tured out half as awesome as his parents he'd be one hell of a kid. I'm greiving the chance to see him grow up, and the chance to watch my friend watch him grow up. She is really ready to be a mom.
Which brings us to the self-righteous anger and concern. She's ready to be a mom, and there are very few people who I could say that of. She's not looking to fill a void in her life by having something to do or someone who loves her. She wants a family because she's ready to give all the rest of the love in her oversized heart to someone else in her family. She's so ready for it it hurts. She's so motherly that I sometimes wish she was old enough to be my mom so I could have yet another. And I mean that in the most sincerly happy way ever. She's a bake you cookies when you're having a bad day kind of mom. If you ever meet her, you'd know it right off the bat too.  So the anger kicks in.
How could God not give her this kid when he's willing to let my crack head cousin have two? How could God not put a kid in to this insanely happy and healthy home when he'd put six into the unhealthy home my neice and nephews were saved from? How could he play with my friend's emotions to let her conceive but then not carry to term? Where the hell is the good in that?
Then the anger at society's phrases for this. It's always "So and so miscarried." or "She lost the child", there is always a tone of fault and it's always the mom's. That's not fair. Trust me there was nothing this girl could have done to have better prepared herself and her body to carry this kid. She wasn't running around lifting a million pounds or drinking or smoking or what have you. She created the best little home for the kid possible. If Peanut wasn't willing to stick around, that's not her fault at all.
The anger gives way to concern. What can I say to her that will make this better? Nothing. I can try but then again, there's nothing I can do. Not a single solitary thing that will make this different or better. I know she's crying her self to sleep. I know she wants to hide from the world, curl up in a little ball and let the world go away. I don't know how to pull her out of it and I don't know if I'd want to. If I were her I'd hate me for pulling me out of it. Then there's her husband who's become a friend as well. How does he go on with school and work when his world is falling apart? How does he save his wife with out throwing away everything they've worked so long and so hard for?

I don't have the answers to these questions although it's not the first I've been in this spot. It wasn't that long ago that I was asking the same questions when my brother and sister (in-love) suffered the loss of their first child. If you think of it, please say a little prayer for my friend and all the families who have lost loved ones particularly children. Lord knows that's the only way to save these broken hearts.