...One Year Later...

A serendipitous discovery this afternoon-- I started my blog one year ago today. Obviously, I haven't written very often in said year, but I think I can see a distinct evolution over the 366 (leap year!) days since April 23, 2007. I'm also getting more regular in my public self-discovery.

Writing a blog this year has been a way to compose my thoughts and questions, to formalize some part of what I journal every few days. (I have 14 journals to date, which hopefully no one other than myself will ever read.) Growing up is such a monumental pain in the ass that maybe documenting it will be somewhat enlightening/entertaining/educational.

I'm still trying to figure myself out, as well as whatever this "adult" life is about. I have started two new jobs in two new cities with two new roommates, one rather white-collar and one rather blue-collar (the jobs, not the roommates). I do feel more daily joy than I did 12 months ago and I think about Jason every hour or so rather than every 10 minutes. But I've lost another dear friend and dealing with death is a more common occupation than I had ever imagined it would be at this age. My customers think of me as a kid... Probably because I still look like one. And this uniform get-up doesn't help much either.

I went to Jason's grave in Kentucky last weekend with Tiffany, Becca, and his parents. It was a strange combination of frustrating and satisfying. Satisfying because I finally got to see where he went at least twice a year with his parents, and where his parents grew up, and where he stayed over Christmases when we'd talk on the phone. I now understand a lot that I didn't. Frustrating because I went to a beautiful cemetery on top of a green hill with a blue sky & puffy clouds above in the charming countryside and farmland of Kentucky... and Jason wasn't there. I'm glad his body is there; when Jesus comes to establish his rule on this earth, that's the first thing Jason will see when he's resurrected... unless he comes in the clouds with Jesus, and I'm not 100% sure what it will really look like. But anyway. I think he'd be glad to be buried there. There are all these stones at the cemetery that say, "If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd go right up to heaven and bring you back again." I wouldn't. I'd stay there with him. If I died and somebody came up and said, "I'm taking you back to earth, let's go." I'd say, "Piss off. I'm having a great time right here; thanks. Ain't no way I want to go back there, you kidding me?"

I do like that they have "Decoration" on Memorial Day weekend. The families of the people buried there all come with picnics and decorate all the gravestones of their loved ones and their long-gone family. It's a Southern dia de los muertos... the remnant of the small-town Americana community. Mrs Ray said that if anybody has family left, their grave is decorated. I think that's awesome.

Enough about that. For now.

Happy birthday (yesterday), Tiffany ~ Hi, Jeremy ~ Welcome, little Levi Daniel ~ I miss you, Lauren ~ Can't wait to see you, Amy

Over and out.

Weird Sleep Hypothetical Question That I Just Thought Of

Ok, so a wizard comes to you and says, "You can choose how long you will be in this magical sleep.  When you wake up, you will not have to sleep for those hours that you slept magically until you use them all up. For example, if you sleep for four hours, those four hours will count towards your need for four hours' worth of sleep at another point in the future.  You can choose when to use those hours. If you slept for twenty years, you'd have twenty years of sleep stored up. But, when you awake, time will have passed normally, and you will miss whatever happened while you were sleeping. Also, your life will be the same number of years including your magical sleep. (If you were to sleep from 23 to 25 and you were going to die at 73, you still will-- you won't live to 75.)"

How long would you sleep?

I'm not where I should be, in more ways than one

sometimes somebody else has already said what i want to...

oh for a heart that doesn't heartache

and for a backbone that won't break

for some steady feet and sturdy ground

a road that isn't going to let me turn around and around

for a thousand tongues to sing

to wear wisdom like Solomon's robe

for the patience and perspective of a man like Job

just to soar on wings of eagles for no other reason

than the bird's eye view or a flight or two

and the list gets longer: who i wish i was and was no longer

i never could be good enough to measure up

but you want to take me as i come

you're the only that can

take me as i am

oh to feel hope in hopeless times

never mind the silver lining cause the clouds are fine

to breathe prayers that move the heavens or save hundreds from the flames

to know my place, to know my name

but the gap grows wider between who i am and all i aspire to be

i never could be good enough to measure up

but you want to take me as i come

you're the only one that can

take me as i am

at the end of myself at the end of the day

i can find little else but the courage to say

i need you, that's all

i need you

-nichole nordeman

i.e. best songwriter since david

Mars, Venus, birds, bees, etc.

I don't agree with many of Kurt Vonnegut's sentiments expressed in the introduction to God Bless You, Mr. Kevorkian, but I found the following segment of said introduction very interesting/amusing, and actually profound in its simplicity. I hope you do as well.

"OK, now let's have some fun. Let's talk about sex. Let's talk about women. Freud said he didn't know what women wanted. I know what women want.  They want a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything.

"What do men want? They want a lot of pals, and they wish people wouldn't get so mad at them.

"Why are so many people getting divorced today? It's because most of us don't have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to.

"A few Americans, but very few, still have extended families. The Navahos. The Kennedys.

"But most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. The groom gets one more pal, but it's a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it's a man.

"When a couple has an argument, they may think it's about money or power or sex, or how to raise the kids, or whatever. What they're really saying to each other, though, without realizing it, is this:  'You are not enough people!'

"I met a man in Nigeria one time, an Ibo who had six hundred relatives he knew quite well.  His wife had just had a baby, the best possible news in any extended family.

"They were going to take it to meet all its relatives, Ibos of all ages and sizes and shapes. It would even meet other babies, cousins not much older than it was. Everybody who was big enough and steady enough was going to get to hold it, cuddle it, gurgle to it, and say how pretty it was, or handsome.

"Wouldn't you have loved to be that baby?"

We throw around the word and concept of "community" constantly. It's a pretty common need for humanity. That's all. I liked the passage.