Beautiful Music

As it says in my "about me" section, I am single and looking. The main form that my looking takes is via online dating. I've been at it for about 18 months, and while I've not had amazing success, I've had better luck there than meeting men in the 'real world'.

So this week I came across a profile that I hadn't seen before. Well, that's not quite right--I had seen his blog quite a while before, but for some reason had never looked at his full dating profile. But this time I did.

He appears to be quite a delightful man! Nice pictures, articulate text, and he's a musician, as am I. So I sent an e-mail earlier this week, and he kindly responded, with some rather encouraging words, leading me to believe that we might hit it off.

Ball's in my court, so I send off a thoughtful yet amusing response. And....nothing. Three days, and nothing. I can see that he's been online, so it's not that he hasn't had an opportunity to read it.

I was torn. This particular dating site is rather notorious for "eating" messages--entire e-mails will simply never be delivered, and you're never told. So I've hemmed and hawed, and finally decided I couldn't handle it. I sent a follow-up e-mail earlier this evening.

No response so far, so I don't know if he's going to think I'm some cyber-stalker (I'm not), or pathetic (I guess I could be), or if he'll be flattered that I was interested enough to follow up (I am!)

This is the part I hate--waiting, not knowing, wondering what the other person thinks. I'm not a good person for "possibilities"--I like actualities much better. Let me settle into what I know, don't make me deal with a hundred "what if's".

But there's nothing more to do--if he does not respond again, I will not chase him down. I will take it as a lack of interest, and move along. Disappointing, because I think we could have made beautiful music together.

Swept aside

The office was hot and stuffy, a sweltering sweatbox 3 months before schedule. The early evening light was muted as I pushed open the doors as I headed home.

An immediate change in atmosphere made me catch my breath. I had watched the breeze blowing all day, but had not felt it. Now, freed from the confines of work and duty, I felt drawn out, beckoned by a cool hand caressing my skin.

I took my time as I headed to my car. I rarely take time to enjoy a breeze, but this was more than just a simple whisper of air--these are Santa Ana winds, blowing strong and sure and not caring who is in their path. Though they are warm winds, they felt cool to my overheated skin.

I stood in the wind's embrace, feeling as though I was in a stream. My shadow stretched out long and low before me, casting me as a latter-day Medusa.

Bathed in the winds, held, caressed and moved by its power.

Warm my globe

I'm not much of an activist. It's not because I don't believe in causes, but because I don't believe in people. I'm a person, so you'd think I'd be more understanding and sympathetic. But basically, I think that people don't want to be inconvenienced, and so they ignore any message that would require them to make changes.

So I don't hold out a whole lot of hope for the USA's response to imminent climate change. Even in a culture that is so obsessed with our kids (our schedules revolve entirely around our kids, much different than it was even in my parents' generation) we cannot be made to care about the future of the earth they will inherit from us.

But I want to do my part. I drive a very small car that gets good gas mileage. But I feel that even that is not enough, so I have started cycling. I'm not good enough yet to use it as my main form of transportation, but that is my goal.

My family thinks I'm more than a little nuts. They don't think I'll stick to it. I know that it's going to be tough. Southern California is definitely a car culture, and there are long distances to travel. But the benefits so far outweigh the costs that I really can't continue to ignore the obvious any longer.

I hope our self-indulgent culture wakes up soon and realizes that we are on the brink of catastrophe. There is no Imminent Domain, no God-given right to consume and own and take and use and cast away. The world sees us as greedy and arrogant, and they have a valid point.

I am just one small voice, but I will continue to speak truth wherever and whenever I can. As the old Bible school song goes, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." I'm just going to use a renewable resource to fuel it. :)

Conversation in Reverse

I commute to school and to work 5 to 6 days a week. I'm usually alone in my car (yeah, I know--bad for the environment. I'll be making some changes soon.)

One of the things that I like to do is watch other people in their cars. Not while I'm driving, mind you, but at those points where we are stopped. Generally, I watch in my rear view mirror, since I can see faces that way.

Watching a conversation in reverse is a little odd--trying to figure out who started the discussion, what they are talking about, is it a good conversation, or are they arguing, are they related or just friends--all the little things that go into a tale are right there behind me.

I've been caught watching a few times--the driver or passenger will get a furrowed brow, then try to nonchalantly tell the other person that they are being watched. I don't count it as eavesdropping, since I can't hear what they're saying, and I can't read lips even when face-to-face, so in reverse would be hopeless. Yet I suppose that when we are in our cars, we enter our own private bubble, a mini-universe of our own, and knowing that someone else is watching you bursts that illusion.

I think my favorite part is the gesticulations--all the movements that we make as we communicate. I try to figure out what point they're emphasizing. Sometimes, I make up my own story to go along with their motions.

Man, I need a shorter commute!

Alive and Kicking

Appropriate sentiment for Easter, I suppose.

My two weeks of havoc are finally over. I got through the holiday, got through meeting the new love in my brother's life, got through a houseguest for the weekend, got through my crazy work shenanigans.

Things can return to the staid, placid pace to which I am most accustomed. Of course, I don't really anticipate that lasting too long, either, as my sister typically has projects that either require help, or require me to be busy so she doesn't bark at me for not working as hard as she is working.

I don't have any major projects of my own, just schoolwork and some books I want to read.

Deflated

The last two weeks have drained me. My normal pace is closer to the tortoise rather than the hare. I can't say that I always win the race, but I have always finished.

But now, with the hyper-active schedule that I have had, I am done for. There is nothing left, and yet there is more to do.

I wouldn't mind a little break--a chance to catch my breath, recuperate, regroup. But no such luck! I have miles to go before I'm done--I think Easter will be the final hurdle. Not too many guests, but an important new person to meet--my brother's new sweetheart is making her debut with the family that day.

So not only will I be completely drained, but I'll also need to attempt to be my witty, charming self. Oh, the things we do for those we love!

The week that was

The last week had me working harder than I usually do, longer hours, more physical labor, and less time to think, let alone post.

I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I did get to sleep in today, but once I got up, I realized that I had better get my chores done. I was dreading this--I really just need a day or two of nothing to do to get back to my normal state of being. But laundry waits for no man, and my sister is knee-deep in renovation/redecorating projects, which means my time is still not my own.

We started a reupholstering project that she had envisioned: Removing the pale-colored fabric from our dining room chairs and bar stools, and replacing them with a black fabric with a delicate gold diamond pattern. Since we have a black-and-gold area rug under the dining room table, this fabric is a much better match. We had left the pale fabrics for convenience sake only, since we hadn't had the time to do more.

She is also remodeling her bathroom, but had come to a stalling point. She needs to pick up some large pieces of plywood and backer board to retile her bathroom countertop, but she needs my brother to pick them up, because he has a truck and we don't. Since he couldn't come by until tomorrow, she decided we should work on the reupholstering project today.

She asked if I wanted to help, and I said "Sure." She does a lot for me, and I'm happy to help her. However, she is the talented one when it comes to this stuff, so I generally always ask if I can be limited to the 'destructive' tasks, rather than the creative ones.

That's how I found myself seated on the floor of the living room, watching a bunch of shows that we had TiVo'd but hadn't viewed, all while pulling innumerable staples from the shredding fabric on multiple chairs. Fun Saturday!

We're still not done, but I'll be babysitting my brother's kids tomorrow, so I won't get much done then. That's probably a good thing, because my hands are aching from prying up staples, and my back is a mess from being hunched over most of the day.

So how was your week?

Remiss

I have been lax in my posting of late. This week has me swamped at work, and when I get home I am so tired that I can't even think straight. I can't guarantee that my brain is even in gear as I type this.

Hopefully, I will get caught up on my sleep soon so I'll have something worthwhile to share with you in a few days.

In the meantime, have some chocolate. It's what I would do if I was bored. :)

Reflection

The outer eye sees much the same as it did last year

A few more gray hairs
heralding the passage of time

New wrinkles wreath my eyes
evidence of a year filled with laughter and smiles

The inner eye sees more

What I had long pursued has shifted focus
and I see more clearly what I truly desire

A soul that stopped attending church
but found its faith

Bonds of love and loyalty to family
strengthened as challenges were faced

A new friend, thousands of miles away
who has rejuvenated my zest for life

And the longing for another who is not my own
But who will remain in my heart long after our time together passes

Fears faced and conquered,
Joy discovered unexpectedly

These reflections wash over me
as a new year marches on

Intensive Purposes

One thing that I have noticed in some blogs is this statement: "For all intensive purposes...."

I'm not normally one who corrects people. My mom always said "You don't correct adults--it's not polite." So unless I really can't tell what a person meant to say, I just go with what they said.

But c'mon, really? Have they never read the phrase in writing? "Intents and purposes," people.

Although it makes me curious--what would an intensive purpose be?

OMG! They killed Kenny! (not really about South Park)

I've missed a couple of episodes of Battlestar Galactica this season, and I feel a little out of the loop. My friend e-mailed today, asking if we could discuss this week's episode, and I had to confess that I haven't seen it. He made me promise to download it after work, because he's "ready to burst "over it.

I have now done that, and watched the episode. I don't want to spoil it for all 1 of you people reading here, but what the frak?

So I e-mailed him to start the conversation, but apparently he had better things to do than to sit around, waiting for my e-mail. "Ready to burst," indeed!

Cracks of Time

I fit you into the cracks of time
the spaces between what must happen
to keep life moving forward

Stolen moments
nestled between obligations
that’s where I meet you

Your music breathes life into me
My heart beats again
and I sing

Your words speak to my soul
washing away the stains
of my sojourn

I would widen the spaces
to fill my life with you
but that is not to be

These cracks of time are moments
unnoticed in this world
that bring me to you

And I am replenished

© 2006 pac611

The Ocean Cries

Rainfall woke me, but the benevolent deities heard my heart’s cry. The gods of wind and sky blew away the clouds, leaving a crystal dome for the sun’s rays to glint on the waters. I return to my mistress, the sea. My heart was lost to her as a child, and I never wish to regain it.

Slowly I make my way to the water’s edge. The dunes sink beneath my feet, leaving what seems to be an indelible mark. But it is an illusion, for nothing here lasts. As I tread the shore, trailing footprints, I reflect on my impermanence. I leave my mark for but a while, soon to disappear in the unceasing tide.

The sea erases the sins of man, and I come to be cleansed. I hesitate, needing to be washed but fearing the sting. She knows this, and rushes to greet me. The baptismal font flows, washing me, drawing out the stains. Anger, regret, heartbreak, all flood away in the tide.

I stand on the shore and weep

for Beauty and Joy
for Laughter and Friendship and Love
for Finding and Losing
for Hoping against hope
for Acceptance

I have left my mark in the lives of some. In time it will fade, only a memory and faint. I will be gone, as swiftly as my footfalls are washed away in the tide. But one day another young woman will come to the shore and weep, and she will find me there. For my soul belongs to the sea, and I will find my final rest there.

© 2006 pac611

The Living Cathedral

I went to pay homage at the living cathedral

bright blue sky adorned ceiling

pulse of the ocean hymns

rolling waves sermon

And spirits hovered over me

white-winged, golden-eyed

Crying in a tongue I could not speak

yet fully comprehended

I, the penitent

wayward soul

returning to hear once more

"Welcome home, child"

And I worshiped

© 2006 pac611

Cold Bones

The cold seeped into my bones
chilling my core
till my soul felt frozen in place

Unable to move
to dance, to sing
I waited for the thaw

Then you came
alight with a fire of your own
I was drawn in

You engulfed me
but there was no burn
only blessed warmth

Freed by your fire
I have feet again, and voice
alive in your flame

© 2006 pac611

Walking Man

I like to watch men walk. A man crossed the street in front of me today as I was driving home. He had a long overcoat on, as the weather was turning cold, and he was putting an earpiece in place, either for his iPod or cell phone.

His strides were confident, sure, quick without being a jog. His whole body moved fluidly, no hesitation.

I know that not all men walk like this, but these are the ones who catch my eye. Perhaps it seems foreign to me because so many women wear shoes that make bold walking difficult. But men can convey their power and virility in something as simple as a step.

And I notice.

The Journey of Words

I gave life to you
Lips, tongue, teeth, breath
Your creator
Once I breathed you to life
You had free will
And all I can do is wait
To see if you will return to me
And in what form

Like some “Where’s George?” game
I can trace your path once I set you on your course
But I can no longer direct you
Nor force my will upon you
Once spoken, you have life
And cannot be unmade

I sent you to him
Full of intent
But with your own will
You conveyed a different message

You return to me through him
The same, but different
A tone I did not speak
The message missed its mark

He received you
My creation
But he did not receive me
Your will imposed upon mine
Telling him what I did not say

© 2006 pac611

Spam-tastic

I have a few types of spam that I typically get in my e-mail.

First are the bogus "You've won...." offers.

Next are the "Increase your penis size" lies.

Followed by the "I'm a young horny girl" solicitations.

But now there's a new one. "Increase your sperm by 500%." I'm not sure what the attraction of this is. It doesn't seem to be aimed at infertile couples. I'm guessing it's a volume thing?

Either way, it makes no difference to me. I'm a girl--if I increase my sperm count by 500%, it's still gonna be zero.

The Cold Wind

The cold wind blows
the empty shell down the well-traveled road.
Bumping into obstacles makes no difference
to the empty shell, because it is hollow
And cannot feel.

The road is familiar
though there are some new twists in the path.
In spots mud sucks the shell in, threatening to consume it
But the wind dries the mud and blows the shell along.

Strangers see the shell, but it doesn’t register in their memory
because it is just an empty shell, not worth noticing.

Till the cold wind blows
the empty shell to a resting place
where the wind cannot reach.
The howling subsides,
and the shell abides
in anticipation of being

Filled again.

© 2006 pac611

Work for Food

Started my new job today. Though it will take me a couple of weeks to get into the 'groove', it's obvious already that it's going to be a fairly simple job. In fact, it will become mindless rather quickly.

This is okay, because I'll need to not be taxing my brain once school starts again. However, during the summer, while I have no classes, I'm certain that I will be bored stiff.

But I'm grateful for the job, because it will provide me with an adequate (not significant) income, allowing me to continue my education and still have a little social life. With the new gentleman friend that I am seeing, the need to fund a social life has increased. :)