November 25, 2009

There’s nothing I can do now. 

It’s out of my hands and under my skin.

January 19, 2012

She cannot write.  She doesn’t know what to write.  She always knows what to write; but not this time.  She hasn’t written in so long, and as her fingers dance across the keyboard even now, she pauses . . . nothing. What to write, what to write, what to write? It’s there. She knows it’s there, it’s in there somewhere, it always is.

She’s always wanted to write their story, but the memories have faded over the years. Each time she sits to write it, she cannot think of where to start or what to say. Convinced that she will forget a detail or leave out an important part, she surrenders to the hesitance and walks away.

There’s never been a time that she’s known exactly what she wanted. She can never quite make up her mind.  Or she knew it was something she wanted, but was it something He wanted? If she didn’t know, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted it or not.  She’s never really known what she wants. That probably won’t ever change.

So what she wants doesn’t matter. Only His wants matter. What to write doesn’t matter so much. It’s in there somewhere. It always is.

(Just to point out, it's been over two years..)

I miss my friends.


There is the one who always knows how I feel, even when I don’t.

There’s the one who tries to make things better, even when he doesn’t have to.

There is the one who’ll never give up on me, even when I’ve given up on myself.

There’s the one who will always be there, even when I don’t return the favor.

There is the one with that orange sweatshirt, which I always think of when I watch that one movie.

There is the one I can never live with, and more obnoxiously, can never live without.

There’s the one who always tells me I’m beautiful, even though I’m not.

There is the one who fell in love with me, even when I couldn’t love him back.

There’s the one who’s obsessed with that actress, and can anyone really blame him?

There is the one who plays the drums, and becomes more attractive when he does.

There’s the one I never see anymore.

There is the one I never want to.

There’s the one who broke my heart.

And the one who whose heart I broke.

There is the one who’ll let me cry on his shoulder, even when he has something else to do.

There’s the one who can tell when I’ve had a bad day, and obnoxiously makes me talk about it.

There is the one who always makes me laugh—I love, love, love the sound of her laugh.

There’s the one who knows my faults—and loves me just the same.

There is the one who inspired so much of what I’ve written, what I’m writing, what I’ll write.

There’s the one I can go to after months of silence, and know we’ll pick up right where we left off.

There is the one who always makes me feel even the slightest bit inadequate.

There is the one I’ll always think of every time I hear that song.

There’s the one I always played make believe with—and I’m not quite sure that we ever really stopped.


I miss my friends.

Romantic Comedies and their Aftermath

Romantic Comedies and their Aftermath...
I enjoy watching romantic comedies (more pathetically knows as chick flicks.) I enjoy watching them probably more than I should. This genre of films is so cliche. They're all so predictable. I hate predictable. Yet I'm still so enticed by the category. (I'm technically enticed by every category. I'm not very picky. It's just that this particular genus suprises me. Or, rather, the fact that it continues to captivate me surprises me.) There are many different reasons for this helpless fascination. For exmample, they make you laugh. They make you smile. (I recently watched Fever Pitch. I've decided if I could clone Jimmy Fallon, I would in a second. He makes me smile.) The writers always know just what to put in the script so as to achieve absolute emotional dimension. And...if I'm being completely honest, sometimes I like the fact that it's predictable. Which makes me angry. (I'm stupid.) When really thinking about it, I know that one of the most luring things about the genre is that you don't have to think. It's roughly two hours of feel. And it's the carefree type of feel. Because you know that no matter how bad they try to scare you; no matter how hard they try to make you jump up in your seat, tuck your knees underneath your arms and start to bite your fingernails (embarrassing admission: I'm guilty of this anxiety,) you know that they'll end up together. (Unless, of course, you're watching the best kind where they don't actually end up together. These cases are rare but most always beautiful.) Prince charming found his princess and stopped at nothing to rescue her. Harry met Sally and by the time the credits were rolling you knew they were going to be together forever. Happily Ever After. Even though Romeo and Juliet committed suicide, at least they did it together. They each completed the other's life only to end them together. Jack Dawson may have died, but Rose never let go. They found each other and they loved each other. And so it remains. And it will continue on. Engaging as ever. The problem I have found with the chick flick is that I always walk away with the same feeling. Throughout the entire production there's ups and downs and will she or won't he's and at the end....ah, at the end is the kiss. The kiss when you feel all of the love that the characters have for each other. You become happy for them and their box-office love story. Then the credits come. and Each time the credits start to roll, I just sit there and stare at the screen. It always leaves me with a longing to be loved. To fall in love. To have a painfully adorable boy take me by surprise and sweep me off of my feet. He'd stare at me for minutes at a time just because he couldn't look away. He wouldn't tell me that he loved me until he had, in fact, fallen. He'd hold me like I was fragile and would never want to let me go. He'd wait to kiss me 'til the perfect moment, then he'd kiss me like he meant it; and he would. I hate wanting all of these things. I haven't really liked a guy in quite sometime now and quite frankly, it scares the crap out of me. You become vulnerable. You include this other person in your schedule. You give him this and that and the other. You give him your frailty. and If I bothered to like him, what if I bothered to love him? That terrifies me. Love is a beautiful thing, I know. But not always. Not always. Am I even loveable? I know I have His love. But He loves everyone. I thought I once had the love of another, but I'm just not sure. Neither is he.
The thing about all of this is...it's not just the chick flicks.
(I am simply pathetic)
...I hate this about myself.


(Cole, amidst this spiel, I thought of our secret AlexOrf conversation sharings...and how he said that we were both stupid but the difference was that I use big words. It made me smile and think of you.)

apologies

"I'm sorry," she whispered once again as she felt the hot water fall from her forehead to her feet. She must've said it a hundred times that night. What had she done? She despised herself all over again and all she could do was apologize; and that's exactly what she did. She repeated herself over and over as the teardrops mixed with the water and flowed down her body and into the drain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The steam filled the room and fogged the mirrors. She wished more than anything that she could make things right. She wondered if it would've been better if it the whole thing had never happened at all. Then convinced herself that it wouldn't have; and that he would say the same. She hated seeing him hurt - and even more, couldn't stand the fact that it was because of her. She whiped the fog from one of the mirrors and stared, idley into her own eyes. She wasn't pretty. Not even close. And when she cried, she looked so pitiful. She was pitiful. Never really got anything right. Always hurt the ones she loved most. Always made the wrong choice on all of the most important decisions. And she wasn't pretty. Not even close. She wondered what he even saw in her in the first place. What did anyone see in her? She was convinced that if they knew everything, they'd change their minds. But he hadn't. Not yet. He treated her good, most of the time; and most of the time, she didn't deserve it.

aah, yes, and another

She couldn't believe they had come so far only to fall into a darkness. A long, miserable darkness from which there seemed to be no escape. At the moment she'd fallen she hadn't realized the weight of the gravity in a place so unfamiliar. But not long after - it came upon her. She frantically searched the walls surrounding her for anything with means of an escape. Her hands scaled the bumpy concrete - cracked, rigid and cool. Her feet raised waist-high against the wall in attempts to find a grip, only to fall back down to the ground.. She knew she couldn't get out alone. There was only one person who could help her out. One person - whos darkness was just as great, if not greater than her own. One person - just as desperate as she; desperate for one person - desperate for her. She cried out in a hopeless sob. She was the one that got them there. She should've seen it - should've realized. She hated every second that he wasn't there. Started to miss him right as he went. She loved him more than he'd ever know - thought someday they might be together. Part of her wanted him, part was scared. He was walking straight toward the pit, and instead of saving him, she watched him fall. She might as well have pushed him in; and when he fell, he fell so hard. He was silent but she could still hear. The guilt and the sorrow blinded her so that she could not see. And that's when she fell. In the pit next to his. He could hear her cry when it was loud enough; but he could never let her know that .There were so many things he could never let her know - and so many things reversed. She'd wanted him - before he told her - she'd wanted him. She didn't know he was in love. She wasn't anywhere near there. Never knew if she would be. Or could be. The thought never left her mind; the agony never left her spirit. She was miserable. She tried to stop it but she was powerless. She tried to distract herself from the thought, but it never really left her. He was a part of her, but he took it with him and she felt it was missing. Didn't want to replace it. She'd rather feel the pain from not having him than not feel anything at all. In the beginning, she'd tried to escape - then eventually gave up and in to the darkness. He, on the other hand, never attempted escape. At times, he'd try to make himself believe he wasn't in that place - that he'd never fallen at all. It never really worked but he had to try - for the sake of his sanity. Whatever that meant - sanity. Or what he knew to be sanity. For the sake of that. And for her sake too. He knew if he lost it that she'd lose it too. She could no longer see him - no longer touch him - but she would know. And he knew she would know. Knew she'd be able to feel it. His eyes always gave him away - she could always see him in his eyes. But this time she couldn't see his eyes. Not this time. And though she couldn't see him - she could feel him. Somehow, somewhere on the length of their journey, she'd learn to feel. Learned to feel him. Learned to feel what she let herself feel; and leave the rest blank. That and the things he'd hide from her. He knew she couldn't tell it when he hid it well enough; and she knew it too. Never knew what he was hiding unless he told her. Always wondered if - at that moment - there was something he was hiding. He was even good at hiding the fact that he was hiding something. Only let it show every once in a while - when he couldn't get his mind off of it. She hated when his eyes were sad. He had the most beautiful eyes. At times, they'd stare so deeply back into hers that she'd have to look away. He could see right through and she knew it. The darkness slowly began to take its toll on her. She was anxious about everything yet simultaneously apathetic. She'd want one thing and then another, then both at the same time, than nothing at all. Then she didn't know what she wanted altogether. She could hardly tell who she was anymore. She didn't like who she was becoming but didn't know what to do to change it. Either that or just didn't have the courage. At whichever rate - she hated it. What had she gotten herself into?

He always understood

The sun turned black today. The rain started to fall. They were sitting on his bed when everything changed. She wasn't prepared for what he told her. Still isn't. She knew she'd be walking home alone that night. The wind was hard and the rain was cold. it stung sharply on her skin. Mixed with her tears. One foot in front of the other - such an easy concept yet so hard to fathom on what seemed to be the longest journey home that she'd ever endured. One single thought with so many different aspects. The warmth of her breath created rythmic clouds of fog which slowly faded, only to reappear. He was haunting her. She could see him. Everywhere she looked. She could feel him. In the raindrops he loves so much. She looked up and saw him. In the middle of the road, walking straight toward her. She ran to him, weeping and threw her arms around him. Then pushed him away and slapped him across the face...
"What we were I can't have back. I wish so badly that I could. I never thought things could be so different. Never knew I could miss someone so much. I'd get mad. Sometimes you'd make me feel expendable. That wasn't long before everything changed. You changed. But I don't think it was you that changed. It was your actions. You stopped acting the way you knew everyone else wanted you to. I want to hate you so bad sometimes. Did you know that? Because everything was a lie. and I let myself believe it. I knew it was. Sometimes I even knew that I knew. I just wanted so badly for it to be true that I believed it. I hate myself too, you know. Blame myself. I feel like Ender Wiggin. I won't explain but just as well, I despise myself for it. For all of it. For everything. Why weren't you just honest with me? You didn't have to be fake for me. Was it because you knew I'd never love someone who didn't also love Him? Was that it? Or were you just trying to make me and everyone else happy? ...Or possibly even trying to make yourself happy as well. By believing the same lie you were telling me. You know, I never had to think when I was around you. I could always just....be. No matter what. I could talk to you for hours. About anything. Everything. Nothing. I wrote a song, you know. For you. To you. About you. About you and me. About us. The us that once was. The us we'll never be. The us we are now. It's not finished yet. Not yet. I just don't know how to end it. Don't know how to end it so I started another. I drive myself crazy wishing I could avoid the inevitable...and knowing that I can't. It's not the first time you've hurt me. and I'm almost sure not the first time reversed. That day by the lake, I was so numb to everything. The night before, I cried myself to sleep, but that day...I think I decided when I got in my car that I wasn't going to let myself cry about it anymore. I've since failed myself miserably. I think I decided I wasn't going to let anything you said that day hurt. Because I was tired of hurting. and It worked, for the moment. I wasn't surprised. But I also wasn't really phased. By anything you said. When normally, I would've been. Some of it now hurts. Makes me mad. I get so mad at you. Why do you have to be the way you are sometimes? I hate it, you know. and I hate the way I feel when I'm around you. Every time I want to cry. and Don't always resist. Why can't that just go away? Why can the way you feel not just go away? I've wished so many times that things could go back to the way they were. and Then I stop and wonder what that even means..."
Her dialouge was long, emptied between sobs and may not have made sense. But he understood. He always understood.

I didn't mean to leave you hanging on.
I didn't mean to leave you all alone.
I didn't know what to say.
I didn't know what to say.

Just a portion of a grander scheme....

The sun turned orange today. The snow started to fall. I was sitting on that park bench when you came up behind me. You kissed me on the cheek then you sat down beside me. You told me how you love the way I bite my lower lip, and how you had been dying to give me our first kiss. You told me I looked beautiful in the lighting of the sunset. I knew you must be lying. I looked away from you and toward the sun. Crazy, he would be, the man who thought me beautiful; yet your eyes aren't the eyes of a lunatic. You have the most beautiful eyes. You gently placed your hand upon mine. I widened my fingers slightly as you slid yours in between them. We sat silent on the bench for several minutes, hand in hand, our eyes fixed upon the candy-colored horizon. You broke the silence with a whisper - and a confession. You told me you'd fallen in love with me the very first time you looked into my eyes - then knew it was real when you couldn't look away. You have the most beautiful eyes. You told me of how when I walk in the room, your heart takes hold of your tightened lungs and immediately begins to beat faster. You told me of how when my hand is in yours, it seems as if the world is revolving around us. you told me of how it feels when I play, how you long for the words to be sung about you, delicately written with you in mind. You told me of how when my lips meet your cheek, the sun and the moon and the stars all look down to watch our two souls collide in a kiss. You told me of how when you look in my eyes, there's a beautiful pain in the heart of your chest; a love-stricken aching that wants nothing more than to make you smile. you have the most beautiful smile. You told me you'd fallen to the depth of forever - said you'd do anything to make me feel the same. You said that you wish you could be everything I want. You said it like I somehow deserve it. Like my faults are mythical. Like you don't deserve me. You sat, contemplating the appearance of my eyes. you have the most beautiful eyes.

.e.t.e.r.n.i.t.y.

It highly frustrates me when people adopt the assumption that God, in one way or another, owes us something. I grew up in a Christian home so the concept of Heaven and Hell is one that I've always been aware of, though never really fully grasped. As I've grown older and matured in my faith, I've come to believe that I've never fully grasped it because I'm never really supposed to grasp it. There's not many concept to my faith that I do grasp but if I did, in fact, grasp them what would they then become? For example, if the concept of faith itself were grasped...if it somehow became a solution to a scientific equation...would it then still be faith? Could you really pass proof off as faith? And then if you could grasp it, could you fully understand it? And if we could, somehow, understand it all, would we then stop throwing the self-pity-parties and giving the "I deserve more than this" speeches? Or would we go on using the same sad excuses as we do now even though we then would have all the answers? And when one says they can't imagine a God who would allow a soul to endure the agony of Hell, are they in some way calling Him a liar? What exactly might they be imagining? What kind of a person murders the only one who ever has and ever will love them and then, when given a second chance, or a third chance, or a three hundred and fifty-two millionth chance...just simply cocks the trigger...and puts the bullet right back into His heart? I think that's the question we should all be asking ourselves. If you're having trouble imaining a just God, maybe it's because you're trying to imagine the wrong thing. Because the final round doesn't come until the heart stops beating. The second tries don't end until the last try. If we all got what we deserved, I don't want to have any idea what kind of pain I'd be going through right now. But, you see, if we had no second tries, it would be game over from day one. Because we screw up every day of our lives. So...no second tries means we lose before we begin and then what's left? So if we choose to, we work. We work for Heaven. We work for bliss. We deserve nothing. We never will. But we have the opportunity to work. Because of grace. Because of love. Because we deserve nothing. Because he owes us nothing...yet gives us grace. And loves us regardless. Don't try to understand it. Embrace it. Embrace it and live. Live for Him. Live....inspite of the past...because of the future...and for the present. Live for Him. Why? Because there's no other life worth living. Because everything else is just a lie. Because everything on the inside tells you it's for real. And because everything on the outside tells you it's all just fantasy. Live.for.Him.Because.He's.real. The hurt, the love, the pain, the joy...it's all real. He owes us nothing. Not life, not love, not Heaven. And that's real.

If my middle name weren't Glynne...it would be Irony.

Friday, September 30, 2005 (roughly 4pm):

I deposit two checks into my bank account. Both worth around $750. I take $400 of that along with me for insurance, cell phone bill, tithe, and spending money for KY. I KEEP the envelope containing $400 in my purse, knowing I am going to need the offering money on Sunday and the insurance/cellphone money possibly before that. I know it's a stupid idea. But I figure what the heck, who even worries about those things anyway?
(Mind you friends...Thus begineth the irony.)

Saturday, October 1, 2005 (roughly 9pm):

I make a quick trip (no pun intended...ok well maybe there was) to Hollywood Video. On my way out of the parking lot, I get a call from my mother telling me she needs me to go to wal mart and pick up a few things. While in the parking lot, I decide to leave my purse containing the $400 in my car and simply lock the doors. Then my mother's voice in my head kicks in and I decide to carry it in with me just so that incase someone randomly decides to break into the crappiest car in the parking lot (being mine), they won't get $400 out of their whim of burglary/breaking and entering.
(Mind you friends....Thus Continueth the irony.)
SO....here I am strolling through wal mart. I pick up the few things requested and make my way to check out. Aah, yes...lane 14. 10 items of less. Directly to the right of the tobacco center. No line. Why? Are tobacco sales going down in America? NOOOO! I guess this just happens to be my lucky day!! Upon adding up the prices of the items in my head (which I wasn't really paying attention to in the first place), I arrive at the hypothesis that the $14 in my wallet may not be enough for the groceries at hand, SO I pull out my trustee envelope and begin retrieving a twenty when I hear the friendly casheer lady say, "Your total comes to $13.37". Thirteen dollars and thirty seven sence. What'd'ya know....I paid with a ten, three ones and some change and walked away with a single bill still left lone in my wallet. Aah, yes, but the envelope. The trustee Heartland Bank envelope upon which I had grown so accustomed to glancing down at to assure me once again that, yes, it was in fact still safely tucked away inside my red purse. What had become of this envelope? I had placed it right back in my purse right next to my wallet, hadn't I. Hadn't I? I gathered my bags, reached into my hoodie pocket for my keys, made my way out the door, through the parking lot, into my car, down mason road, into my driveway and eventually...through my front door. I clean my room, watched Cider House Rules, hop into the shower, Read my Bible, write my notes, Fulfilled the craving due to my George Orwell addiction, set my alarm, shut off my lights, hopped into bed, and visited Trollywood for roughly four and a half hours of harmony.

Sunday, October 2, 2005 (roughly 6:30am)
That light. What is that light? Why is that light shining in my face? Oh, right...Sunday...Mom has practice at the buttcrack of dawn.

(roughly 7:00 am)
"Haley.....Haley..." Haley....Haley....where have I heared that before? Why does that sound so familiar? "HALEY...." Ohhh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes...my name. She wants my attention. the blurry visoin of what seemed to be my mother proceeded, "Sorry to wake you...but I have a question for you" HOLY CRAP LIGHT! banchees from a ridden grave, why is that light on? "Do these colors look ok together?" Yes, mom...they look perfect. darkness.

(roughly 7:15 am)
Beeping. Beeping. Will somebody stop that beeping? "Haley...your alarm's going off." What? It's 7:15 already? Snooze.

(roughly 7:30am)
Ok. No more snooze. Wakey wakey. Holy crap. I feel like crap. Ok...morning routine, toilet, teeth, face, blah blah blah. There is no absolute way at this point I'm making it all morning without throwing up. Aaaaand, yesssss, there it went. Ok, now that I have THAT out of the way....proceed getting ready. makeup, hair, clothes. 8:15. I need to go. I grab my Bible, I grab my purse. I once again check for my trustee envelope. My envelope....why can't I see it from this angle? Or this angle? Or this angle? Crapdangit, where is it? Ok....I was at wal mart with it...I HAD to have put it in my purse...... Right? Where else would it be? Unless it fell out. No. It's here somewhere. Someone borrowed money. I took it out and set it somewhere. It's here. Somewhere. I frantically searched around my house for about....20 seconds tops. Then....suddenly....calm. It's around here. But You're going to be late for practice and you can find it later. The offering plate's gonna be there next week too. I take a quick gander in my car for the envelope...just incase it might have fallen out in my ventures of last night. Nope. Nothing. I turn on the engine. Low Fuel. Oh, goody....Now I can pay for my tank of gas with all of the money I have! David Crowder begins singing. No...Not to the microphone...not to the producers sitting behind the window in the studio....to me. (ok well essentially, yes, to God, but...just work with me here) He says "So be quiet now...and rest" and I said....ok. At the beginning stages of my journey to church, I replay the scene in my mind over and over again. From the moment I took the envelope out of the purse to the moment I realized it wasn't there this morning. Where could it be? How am I going to find it? If I dropped it in wal mart there's no way in this filth ridden world I am going to find it. "Be quiet now....and rest." Right, right, right....rest. ok but I KNOW I put it back in my purse with my wallet. I mean my wallet is in my purse, why shouldn't the envelope be?? "Majesty...finally" You know what....I bet I DID drop it. and I bet someone picked it up. But not just anyone. Someone with 5 kids, $50 in his bank account, and not a clue in the slightest where his rent for this month is coming from. He was at wal mart picking up several packs of Ramen Noodles for tomorrow's meal. That's right. HE found the money. And he needed it. Case closed. David keeps singing.....and I begin to sing along with him. I put a smile on my face and with my window rolled down, sing to my Love.

I'll end this up since it's already immensely lengthy. I just didn't care about that money. Yes, I got mad at myself for it. But....my main focus wasn't on that. I was getting ready to worship my Lord with my church family and this $400 wasn't going to hold me back for anything. My parents weren't exactly proud when I told them what had happened. They put in much more effort than I did in trying to find my envelope. My dad is still convinced I took it out of my purse and laid it down somewhere in the house and it's still here somewhere. Boy do I love him. Both of them.

My point is....that there's irony all around in this occasion. This all too unfortunate event. Yes I'm just the same Right now....as I was last night. When I was still the occupent of that envelope. Or am I? It didn't make me less of a person. It may have made me feel somewhat less than a genius. But....it did show me once again....how it is all his. He gives it. And He takes it away. It wasn't my money to begin with. It was His. What if he DID use it for him. What if a mam who really needed it DID pick it up. What if he didn't. None of it matters. What matters is....I have a God who is so madly deeply head over heels in love with me....I'd give $400 dollars any day of the week to feel his embrace, his kiss on my forehead, arms wrapped around me and his hand on my cheek as he looks into my eyes and tells me it's all going to be ok.