theamyjoy

yesterday i woke up, mourning for something i couldn’t change. i couldn’t put it into words nor could i find a reason. my eyes felt a surge of liquid, but there was no break, no peak of emotion that proceeds tears.
it haunted me all day. i hardly felt like speaking. i worked for nine hours, came home and collapsed. i eventually found my bed and used the sleep function for the first time in the three years i’ve owned my television. i awoke today. still feeling that haunting stillness. i had a beautiful melody in my head, the words of which speak to the deep seated feelings i push away so often.
i tried to ignore, to shake it all away. to discount it as a bad night’s sleep.
i sat and listened to ageless wisdom. i smiled. i laughed. i tried to be what everyone expected.
and despite four hours of friends and chatter and the breaking of bread, i felt the same. i felt the haunting stillness. the cold mourning.
i followed the road to a bookstore and curled up in an armchair and read. i sipped coffee. i waited for the heavy weight to slide away. i watched humanity pass me by, saw each face as they surveyed me, alone, in the corner.

i saw my reflection in the girl at the coffee shop who mentioned i looked down. i shrugged it off with a half-hearted smile and offered up the sort of typical “tired” excuse strangers and acquaintances welcome.
i knew i couldn’t put into words how i felt, and i knew she didn’t really care to hear the sorrow i felt so intensely, with no source i could pin down.
hours passed. the sun dipped into the tree branches outside, and i knew my effort at stalling a night alone was failing.
before i knew it i was at a stoplight, then in my driveway. my mind had been elsewhere, not on the road, or my car, or my key in the ignition, nor was it on my house door as i unlocked it.
i sat down and read a paragraph in a new book.and then it came. a huge wave of sadness. a crashing of some inner barrier. i braced my arms around myself, feeling the intense shivering as i finally let myself feel.
i felt the wounds of personal dissapointment, of failure, of hurt - the cuts i had spent the past month bandaging up for another day’s attention.
i felt the grief, all over again. i felt the loneliness. the rejection. the isolation. confusion. frustration. pain.

and then i swallowed it all down, a hard knot in my throat, a bitter pill i had held too long in my mouth.
one deep breath.
i looked in the mirror and closed the bleary eyes that were staring at me, mentally silencing my fears, shushing my pain.

i know a cold as cold as it gets
i know a darkness that’s darker than cold
a wind that blows as cold as it gets
blew out the light of my soul…
i dream in my sleep, i dream in my days
Of some sunny street not so far away
where up in a window a curtain will sway
and you and i’ll meet down below…

Being on the ground floor is hard. I feel like right now I’m working on the ground floor in a ton of ways.
I am building the “next big” site. A frivolous venture for sure. But it’s generated such great response - it’s pretty amazing.
I am working on myself - starting from scratch on my health and overall well-being. A FULL bloodwork list for tomorrow morning will be super unapologetic.
I am learning to be… unaffected. In a good way. To just be assertive in a sweet-natured sort of way. It’s hard. It’s a process for sure.

And I am searching for the best way to reach the people I know I want to be reaching. The group of people I know I need to be a part of, who I want to be influencing, who I want to inspire change in, who I want to help reach the world, who I know can change the world. It’s hard.

I’ve been watching the History channel’s series on Greek Mythology before bed, and a few nights ago they wrapped up Hercules and his 10 labors. It struck me that although Hercules was supposedly half-mortal, he relied a lot on his immortal ties and friends for help with his labors. They help him to be… supernatural. I have a Friend who helps me with my struggles. He’s faithful. He’s just. He’s able. He’s supernatural.
He makes it less hard. He makes it worth it. He gives it all purpose.

The ground floor. I don’t know if I’d want to be anywhere else.

i have a disease.
the statement itself is both simple and vague, unlike the disease itself, which is complex and vague. i suppose i’m just so tired of not acknowledging that it [the vague disease] affects every single part of my life.
i want to be a normal almost 25 year old.
but with the events of the past month, i’m determined to do whatever it takes to be healthy.
it’s not just the surface and visible effects that war with my self-security.
the ones i ignore all the time - dry skin and chronically cold hands and feet, and the visible struggle with weight.
it’s the fact that i’m exhausted, and unfocused and have a hard time remembering things. it’s the unexplained tendency toward crying and the pull of depression. every time i lose feeling in a hand, finger or toe, it’s the invisible knowledge that inaction will make my heart slowly decrease it’s rate and output and eventually there will be some sort of shutdown with my kidneys.

and one day, i won’t be able to ignore it.
one day it’ll stop being a disease. it will be the end.
my mind rails against the words of men. my spirit wants to live freely and beyond constrictions of pills and blood tests.
the choice may seem obvious, but making it is succumbing to a medical straight jacket.
it’s made me feel alone, it’s made me feel outcast, and it’s made me feel unwanted or unwantable.
i’ve been angry and i’ve been upset. neither helped. so now i’m being honest. i’m being open.
this is me, this is what lurks in the back of my mind everyday.
i’ve complained. i’ve wept.
now i’m done. i have to face it. Own it. Do what it takes.

pray for me. and if you see me, and i’m cold or tired or inexplicably upset, please understand.
if you hold my [dry] hand, and i seem unfocused, remember why.

remember quietly though. unless you want me to cry. :)
[now pass the hand lotion]learn more

how do i get it out?
how do i say all the things i have no words for? no matter what thought or sentiment i have, it seems as if they are a worthless effort or an overly sentimental moment.
and you deserve more than either of those things.

i knew from the moment i first saw you i would like you.
in fact, i knew it so strongly i tried to keep it to myself.
and nearly succeeded.
until that fateful night - the one i never got over.
in fact, if i ever blushed, i would blush still thinking about it.
i tried to get over you for a year.
tried to “be cool” for so long.
and there were great moments. there were fight moments.
i’m sorry for picking the fights i did.
i forgive you for the ones you caused. the last two times i saw you, were some of the favorite moments i had.

i was so excited to have you be a part of that wedding.
i threatened to have your name written as nicholas.
but i would never do that to you.
you were so amazing that whole day…
and of course, when you called last dance, and i faded into the corner to watch all the couples sway slowly together…
i should have known you would walk over and reach out for my hand.
it was a reminder, that fizzy way the gesture made my heart feel, that i still wasn’t over you.
and we danced and i told you how great you had been that night and you said the same about me.
and i should have just gotten over myself and told you how unrequited i felt.
if i had known…and at lunch that day, the last “work” moment…
you looked sideways at me and asked why we weren’t sitting together.
and so i moved over. we chatted. i still had those stupid butterflies.
god, i wish i had just been somehow normal.
i wish i had done so many things differently.
now it just seems so petty. ugh… i hope it wasn’t.
i hope so, desperately.
because there are so many wishes now.
there are so many smiles i keep remembering.
so many laughs i can hear in my memory.
you were one of kind, love.

i still don’t know what to say out loud. i don’t know what to say… at all, really.
i loved you. i really did.
and you were a great kisser.
and you were you.
and that was the best legacy you could leave. i miss you.
i miss you.

this morning i woke up late, just after 9 am. i stretched my sore body, smiling when i thought of the platform heels, the dancing, the anxiety and excitement that had tensed each muscle. the sun streamed through the window and shimmered over the white dress at the foot of my bed. i got up and looked at the still intact curls my hair had held for hours, decided against fighting them and pulled on a swimsuit. my steps echoed in the empty house as i walked down to the first floor and into the kitchen to scavenge for coffee - a fresh pot from earlier that morning stared me in the face and i warmed it up, suddenly remembering the medium sized dunkin donuts coffee i had downed in one sip, almost as an afterthought, merely minutes before the ceremony less than twenty four hours before.

i laid by the pool, listening to the bubbling pond running through a meticulously maintained garden - the bride’s mother spends her free time outside as much as possible. The entire house feels like a vacation oasis. the sun warms my skin and birds chirp around me. i can see why they loved this area enough to have thier big day down here. after a few hours, some good conversation with family members who began coming home for some day-after breakdown and relaxation, a quick jump in the pool and a lazy afternoon lunch, it was time to head back to reality. i went upstairs and packed up the sparkling earrings, gathered the chiffon layered dress, and all the bobby pins and makeup and girly things we had frenetically thrown in bags and purses for the journey from salon to church to reception and back.

a quick hug all around, and i jumped in the car. no tears for this goodbye. yesterday i had looked at my dear friends, now united, now not just him and her but officially and legally them, and tears had come when i thought about all the love, all the time spent planning that had come to fruition, all the meaning behind each word and action of that day. tears of joy. tears of love. i turned on my GPS. Something felt so different. Was I different? I felt out of place. Like some part of me needed something more. The last time I had felt this way I had contemplated a change of pace, a change of location. My GPS informed me that the road i had turned onto was north coastal highway. the coast - something the bride and groom loved so intensely. something i loved so much, i had told the world it illuminated me and my life and my thoughts. and yet, somehow, i had let myself become un-illuminated. i had spent so much time, so many months without seeing my beloved coast.

with windows rolled down and a good beat on the radio, i breathed in salt air. the sun was setting and golden streaks highlighted the highway home. i thought again about the beautiful day before, the comforting conversations with friends, the amazing memories we made. i turned up the radio, and took the illuminated coastal highway home.

the night i turned 17, i specifically remember planning out the next ten years of my life. i believe the reason it made sense to me then was because 27 seemed a perfect goal age - i was sure that by that time, i would be well on my way towards being awesome in every way. i was sure i would have the dream job [which at that time involved a newspaper career in some capacity], i would be beautiful, i would finally be able to afford to dress myself the way i knew i wanted to dress and i would have the best shade of blonde hair money could buy. i also knew that by 27, i would have left all silly boys behind in college and after having a few years of my pick of amazing men i would be most likely seriously dating The One, and getting married at that time would give me a few years to enjoy us being awesome together before we had our amazing child [yes, singular].

i remember having this stream of thoughts as i lay in between two of my best friends at the time, the three of us having stayed up chatting about how “old” we were now and how college was coming so soon. they had fallen asleep, but in my typical way, i had managed to be seduced by moonlight and quiet and my mind had come to life as i basked in the soft white glow. i knew, i just knew that the next decade was going to be so important. well. that night, specific and clear in my mind, was almost eight years ago. i have two years left before the perfect age. and i’ve never been more unclear as to what 27 is going to look like.

here is what i do know.
i know that i am still searching for the perfect shade of blonde hair [and i think it’s a little like ponce de leon and his search for the fountain of youth, read:unattainable].
i know that i do love expensive and pretty things. i often find myself googling purses and shoes that have price tags a lot of people would blush at. and i’ve jested aloud that my adoration for the très chic would be my reason for marrying for money.
but it’s hard for me to justify paying for them when i’ve lived in countries where the cost of my coffee habit for a month could pay for someone’s whole monthly income.
i know that i did leave a lot of silly boys behind me. but i also know i share responsibility in the heartache and wasted time and attention those relationships cost me. i know that i’m scared of repeating mistakes that i flamboyantly made when i was younger and didn’t have as many fears.
i know now that there are times i have absolutely no idea who i am meant to be. i dream still. i hope always. but the path feels much narrower now than it did before, when it seemed to stretch out into a golden horizon. and while this could be a sign of maturity [at best] or a sign of depression [at worst], i still yearn and pray for that perfect opportunity to be more than myself. to be something, no, to be a part of something that is epic.
i know that i’m still only 24 [okay, almost 25]. and that anyone older than me is shaking their head like they would at a child who spouts self-centered sentiment [which i am fully aware is warranted]. what i also know is that i’m tired of only thinking of myself.

i know that i want to love. i want to give out of myself until i know i’m not giving just to look good or to have others compliment me - i want to give when it hurts and when i am not prepared for it and when i would rather be sleeping [because sleep is my current favorite hobby, third only to reading and kissing … although judging by the amount of books on my bedside table, it’s pretty obvious i’ve only been reading and sleeping in my free time as of late].
i know i want to give hope to those who live the mundane lives of no expectations.
i know i need to know more, to see more and to hear more … but that i don’t need to do all that to simply start being more. if i could go back to that night when i laid there, merely a seventeen year old with surface dreams and a bad case of insomnia, i wouldn’t. i needed to believe i would be amazing. i needed to be able to look back and, bittersweetly, know that there was a time when i was so certain it was so simple.

i know now that life is complex. we change, we grow out of necessity, we mature when we fall down and when our vision and passions die like seeds in the ground, and when we realize our decisions impact more than just ourselves and when disappointment washes over us.
and it then seems to rain over us.
and then, there is a day, a string of sunshine days, when someone speaks to us and we remember our former dreams of greatness. the seeds crack. the tiny roots peek out.
i know now that my former vision never had roots. it never had fallen, never been pushed underground, never been rained on and never had to force it’s way out of the shell it had been hiding in. today will be one of those specifically clear days. i sat outside after a storm and watched the springtime sun warm every bit of earth, watched it dry away the puddles and saw the flowers reopen and bask in the streaming rays that reached them.
and it was then i knew that, maybe not it two years, maybe not in five years, maybe not ever, would i have that perfect life i had dreamed for myself those years ago.

but i can push myself out of this shell. i can take the years of rain, i can take the piled up disappointment and let my real dreams, my hidden visions grow and live and be. that is what i know now.

i have been lazy.
this sentiment is true in every aspect of my life. both mundane and serious…
i haven’t made my bed in weeks… because i have been lazy.
instead of doing laundry, i just wear every piece of clothing i own… because i have been lazy [i think i’m good for another week, too].
i got a haircut that doesn’t require me to actually do my hair in the morning… because i have been lazy.
i have no excuses for not working out… because i have been lazy. and, most internally crushing of all, i have no reason for people to expect more from me or to look to me as some type of Christ-centered bastion of hope. Because i have been lazy.

i’m not content to live that way any longer. it could be that simply existing isn’t enough any more. that simply being the church girl won’t cut it. that breezy mentions of my faith need to be backed up by a life that shows i’m working towards something. a reflection of that faith that offers more, even if it is harder.
because who would want to be a part of something a lazy person can do? why change? why listen? why pay attention at all?if i’m not motivated by my own life, how can anyone else be?
i’m resolved.
pay attention - i’m going to show you something you ain’t seen yet…

at my church we have been talking about sex. that’s right, we’ve been engaging in discussions about sex, in church, on sunday. it’s been fabulous. i decided to read 1 corinthians 7, which is a chapter in the Bible i’ve read numerous times. these talks we’ve been having, however, have sort of given me “new eyes” as i’ve been reading different parts of scripture. in the middle of the chapter [verse 17, to be exact] i read words that spoke volumes to me…
“And don’t be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God’s place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. God, not your marital status, defines your life.”

those were paul’s words to his friends. he recognized the struggles and pain some of them were having with trying to be content and wanted them to realize the value of where they were and who they were.
i would love to have heard him speak these words.
because it’s not even about being married [i currently have no desire for that for a while… ]. it’s about knowing that if i’m following the voice of God, that where i am is exactly where he wants me. and that can be my fullfillment. my contentment. come out next sunday if you are curious… i bet it will be the best church service you ever attend…

;)

today, the melancholy rolled in. it’s been chilling every inside part of me. and then here i end up, sitting in a picture window staring at the moon, staring and asking myself what i should do.

and i find myself needing distractions and noise to drown out the rising fears. and when i have gone and laughed with and amused others, and when all the music finally stops playing, i become… the most introverted version of myself. i leave for long drives with no set destination. i find myself in store aisles staring at things i don’t need and never buy. i contemplate being impulsive and leaving on trips or cutting my hair.

but, never fail, once the hand strikes the hours past midnight, i sit here in this pool of moonlight. the icy snow outside reminds me of the chills i have in my fingers and feet and knees and throat and heart.and i have consulted all the best lyricists, and they have had some good things to say. some great ones have reminded me not to expect victory marches, but to expect coldness creeping over the good. they have commiserated the pain of dreaming with a broken heart and the pain of having someone else who is just dreaming of revelry. pop princesses have told me it’s okay to expect broken hearts, but painted with whispers the swirls and delicate strokes of love stories.

i have read the great stories of love’s tragedy and love’s victory. of betrayal and loyalty, of trust and deceit and good and great and terrible.i want all these words to make it all more clear. to make my mind work better. to bring sweet sleep with it’s magic. i want to see a path with no pain, with no questions, and with no fear.

the moonbeams fall around me and i hug myself tighter, arms wrapped together around my knees, desperate for warmth.

I discovered a game I very much like.
Listed below are 15 quotes from movies I love. I’d like to see if you can identify them or if indeed I like too many obscure films…
First person to name all 15 wins.
Go…

1. “Sub-question: is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter day sins… is it better to burn out or fade away?”
2. “Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?”

3. “$38 for a Christmas tree and they don’t deliver? You order $10 worth of chow mein from Mr. Wong they bring it to your door.”
4. “He drove a Corvette in “The Magician”, a Ford pickup truck in “The Incredible Hulk”, and in “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father”… he walked.”

5. “Are we like couples you see in restaurants? Are we the dining dead?”
6. “What’s it like… to be stupid?”

7. “She… left me tonight which is - she never does that and then I was kidnapped. And then, she… usually when I go home with her she… she makes me a turkey sandwich when I get home, but I might never get home, you know? And I’m so tired… Is that a turkey sandwich?”
8. “That’s why her hair is so big, it’s full of secrets.”

9. “Don’t stay in here all day. I had to take the batteries out of the carbon monoxide detector; it was beeping all night.”
10. “No! I’m madly in love with you and it’s not because of your brains or your personality.”

11. I’m over here in my unit, isolated and alone, eating my terrible tasting food, and I have to look over at that. That looks like the most fun I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and it’s B.S. - excuse my language. I’m just saying that I wash and dry; I’m like a single mother. Look, we all know home-ec is a joke - no offense - it’s just that everyone takes this class to get an A, and it’s bulls___ - and I’m sorry. I’m not putting down your profession, but it’s just the way I feel. I don’t want to sit here, all by myself, cooking this s____y food - no offense - and I just think that I don’t need to cook tiramisu. Am I going to be a chef? No. There’s three weeks left of school, give me a f____’ break! I’m sorry for cursing.
12. “Is that everything? It seemed like he said quite a bit more than that.”

13. “I know what stomach cancer looks like. I’ve seen it, and you don’t eat three cheeseburgers a day with french fries when you got it.”
14. On September 3rd 1973, at 6:28pm and 32 seconds, a bluebottle fly capable of 14,670 wing beats a minute landed on Rue St Vincent, Montmartre.

15. “I think if Gandhi had to spend a prolonged amount of time with you, he’d end up beating the s___ out of you, too.”