Break The Cycle

You stop me in the hallway
And you say that I did well.
Your hand placed on my shoulder -
Plastic smile, empty shell.
But I know that you secretly
See me as competition.
These lifeless words and gestures
Rankle under raw ambition.

I’m sick and tired of all these lies,
I’d rather truth than crooning sighs.
Tell me what you truly feel.
Break the cycle, take the wheel.

You fuss and fawn as I walk by.
You shower me with praises.
Lauding me as someone great
In such detailed phrases.
But save your breath for later
When you talk behind my back;
I know you hate me in and out
For something that I lack.

I’m sick and tired of all these lies.
I’d rather truth than crooning sighs.
Tell me what you truly feel.
Break the cycle, take the wheel.

I don’t want your petty smiles
I’m not one to be beguiled.
We’ll get more done if we’re real.
Break the cycle, take the wheel.

Ramblings #1

The funny thing is to look back on all the notes I have recently posted and find that many of them are about the un-mentionable word: a boy. Okay, that was two words, but you get the gist.

I am just going to expound on this for now. I am not going to talk about how to get over it, or anything sensible. For now, let us indulge in exploring my emotions. I have been afraid to write about it for some time. I have been afraid to talk to others about it as well, because I know that love in its true form is something that comes later for me, and to dwell on it is to simply relish in being impatient. But I think it is time that I sat myself down and went through this myriad of a hullabaloo in my mind.

And so it begins...

I guess that like any shallow person, I began thinking about you because of your physical looks. I found your aura of mysteriousness captivating. I did not find you “cute” until time progressed; no, the fact that I could not read you like a book was what hooked me first. I like to watch people, because most of them are too busy making a spectacle of themselves to notice any observing eyes outside of the ones with stars in them. [I am more than guilty of making myself look like an idiot, do not get me wrong.]

Anyways, I thought you were interesting, and that is what pulled me in. Then your love and obvious talents for mutual interests changed my feelings from curiosity to a sort of respect.

I guess it all spiraled from there. Despite prolonged study, I still do not understand much of you at all. Some things you do have me shaking my head; some make me smile; some cause disappointment--but the final product leaves me bewildered, keeping me hungry to search for anything that will complete the scattered puzzle pieces I have formed about you. Maybe someday, the puzzle will fit together and it will form a complete picture of you. Maybe. Maybe not.

I wrote down a list of all the things I looked for in a husband, and tried to match them with qualities you had. I am not even sure if you have the most important quality I seek. Yet I just keep hoping that God will change you.

So for the time being, I am trying desperately to forget yet remember you. I dislike thinking about you because it uses up so much of my time and emotions. And yet I find it a thrill to wonder if things may ever be.

I remember jokes you cracked, and they still make me smile. A certain song plays and I automatically think of you. I wonder what you would say when I do certain things, never remembering that I hardly know your true essence.

And the thing that really gets me is that ugly green-faced thing called jealousy. It rears its head at the most inopportune times, getting me all wired up over any silly thing or person I view as competition. And what right do I have to get jealous anyways? That is what really annoys me—this viewing of you as mine simply because I, well, okay, simply because I LIKE you. Is that better? I LIKE you.

Me. Liking you. Me, the girl who makes it her business to keep guys out of her own. Me, the whacko person who just, well... ARGH! It is not something I am proud of, the fact that I cannot get you out of my mind. I am supposed to pride myself on staying focused and sensible, although I have no idea where those assumptions sprouted from. But I cannot, because there is this face of an angel that pushes out all common sense and has me envisioning wedding invitations. [Granted, the wedding invitations part may be an exaggeration by a short step.] It is frustrating that I cannot be what I want to be because of you. Not like it is your fault. I am quite sure you never DID anything to lead me on.

Love may make you blind, but puppy love makes you an idiot.

I am an idiot.

When am I going to realize things are not going to work out, and that neither you nor I am ready to even think about marriage. Oh, did I mention that I am not into relationships that do not last forever? You probably know, so why am I explaining? Anyways, when I like someone, it is not chasing after a fling. I am ridiculously serious.

Where am I going with this? Oh yeah, how I feel right now.

And I am pretty sure you have completely forgotten my existence, or are pretty close to it. Or perhaps you think I am weird, which I would not completely put past you, nor do I blame you, because from what I know of you, you would not go for someone like me. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I feel like your heart is tucked away in some safe in London, guarded by ten-foot brick walls. You are impenetrable. The fact that it is the reason I was drawn to you in the first place does not change the knowing that we are such different, different people.

One side of my mouth quirked up right now. Not sure why I am amused by this post.

Hello, Fall

Hello Fall,

It’s nice to see you’re back this year, although I didn’t realize how much I missed you until you showed up. I love green, but I can’t say I entirely disapprove of the changes you’ve made around here. Bright oranges, fiery reds, rich plums, golden yellows, and deep browns seem to go together quite decently.

And cold weather calls for scarves, hats, and comfy sweaters. Not complaining about that, either.

At this point in our relationship, I can still open up the window right next to my bed as the soft breezes you brought caress my face while I sleep.

The world is edging towards Christmas, and you’re doing a great job to herald it in. You’re halfway gone already, and I’ve only finally realized you’re here. I appreciate your subtlety.

My only complaint about you is the ever-present sense of coldness and loneliness; you always make me dream about having a special guy to cuddle up with. Yeah, I’ve got a problem with that.

Hello Fall.

Decisions

At a fork in the road.
Don't know which way I should go.
Should I turn and take the left,
Or is right the better yet?

Sky so bright becomes black ink.
Please hold on!- I need to think!
But the sands of time still flow.
Which way, which way, must I go?

Swifter, swifter, swirl the stars,
Closing in from near and far.
Time and nature turned to foe-
Which way, which way, must I go?

The Eagle

A lonely eagle,
Proud and free,
Soaring the sky
Above me.

Wind on wings.
Whistle of air.
Feel the wind
Rip through hair.

An eagle strong
Above me flies,
Filling the air
With his piercing cries.

And I below,
Confined to land,
Pleading to him
With an outstretched hand.

His disappears
To unknown sands
And on the ground,
There still I stand.

"Children Are The Bridge To Heaven" - Persian Proverb

When we were young, most of what we did was by impulse, showing our true nature, for we knew not what was expected or polite. As we aged, we sat through lectures, experienced mistakes, and grew. We learned what was acceptable in certain societies and how to chameleon-ize ourselves in dissimilar circumstances.

We now act differently with people who we know can play a large part in our lives than with those who seem to be of little importance when pertaining to our future; we truckle to those in high positions and talk behind people’s backs. We have assimilated ourselves into a culture that smiles upon self-preservation as a rule.

Perhaps that is why I love children so much. Children lie when scared or as a means to innocently embellish. They say what is on their mind, and rarely regret or realize instances in which they could have offended someone. When a compliment or admonish is received from a child, one cannot but know that truth is in every word. I will admit to the fact that I have worked with children who at age 4 already knew how to suck up, but for the most part, children are truthful. Their facial emotions are blatant, their cries of delight honest.

When I am with children, I have a freedom I experience with very few people. The mask of expectations strips away and I can pretend to be a plane, play hide-and-seek, tell ridiculous stories, and sing loudly and in such a manner that my voice teacher would be appalled. I can growl like a bear, snort like a pig, and hop like a rabbit with its tail on fire. I can laugh loudly and joyously, make faces that guarantee the need for Botox in ten years, and abandon my feelings of insecurity. Freedom. Sweet, delicious freedom.

I concede that there is a necessity in life for properness, and delicacy towards the feelings and standards of others. But children are the lifeboats in society, whose refreshingly blunt comments save us from drowning in our own people-pleasing lies.

Thank God for children.

"Bitter are the tears of a child: Sweeten them.
Deep are the thoughts of a child: Quiet them.
Sharp is the grief of a child: Take it from him.
Soft is the heart of a child: Do not harden it."
- Pamela Glenconner

Waiting

I don’t know if we have talked
Or if we’ve even met.
I don’t know if you can sing –
I wish, but I don’t yet.

What color are your eyes so bright?
What color is your hair?
How do you look when you’re asleep?
How do you say your prayers?

And is your laughter loud and free,
Or is it softly pensive?
Do you forget the little things
Or are you more attentive?

What kind of person in the morning?-
Bright and cheerful? Owl night?
How will you discipline our kids
If [rather, when] they fight?

Will you help with all the dishes?
Would [or can] you cook at all?
Will you take me out for walks
When summer eases into fall?

Would you let me plant a Willow
Tree betwixt the vines outside?
Will you satisfy my longing
For a baby porcupine?

All these answers that I’m seeking
With be found when I find you.
For the moment, know I’m waiting.
Know I’m faithful. Know I’m true.

"Love Is Just Love. It Can Never Be Explained."

Over grass so deep green, under thick skies of gray.
And she said, “Okay Jesus, please send me a sign
That You still love me and that You’re still mine.

I’ve been running for years, not believing You’re there.
I’ve been telling myself that You never did care.
So I’ve lived all these years acting free, young, and strong,
But this empty, draining feeling told me I was so wrong.

Oh, I wanted to return, to seek out the truth,
But I was so ashamed of what I did in my youth.
Behind every hotel door, under every street light,
I told myself You just weren’t real—that I was still right.

So I’m begging You now, if You even exist.
Can You give me the love I‘ve never had, though I wished.
I’m not expecting an answer, ‘cause I’m so ashamed
Of the things that I’ve done, how I’ve trampled Your name.”

Then the sky burst open with the fragrance of spring,
And a choir of angels in the shape of birds did sing.
And a light so bright shone down from above.
Oh, it chased away the darkness with a symphony of love.

A whisper danced down as the pure light shone,
“My child, my child, you are never alone”.
And the runaway daughter, with tears down her face,
Worshipped the Father of true love and grace.

Fragile

Like a mountain-- solid, sturdy,
Like the crashing sea of foam,
I am standing tall and upright-
Standing strong all on my own.

But I’m so weak beneath my facade
Where the wand’ring eyes can’t see.
Like a newborn robin frail,
Look!- it’s little, fragile me.

Like the weatherbeaten willow.
Leathern bark of battle scars.
I’ll face forwards through the onslaught,
Through the front line of the war.

But I’m so weak beneath my facade
Where the wand’ring eyes can’t see.
Like the trust of a precious child,
Look!- it’s little, fragile me.

I don’t know why I’m not stronger;
Why I hide inside my mind.
Why tears can’t wait any longer.
Where’s this strength I seek to find?

You know I’m weak beneath it all
Where wand’ring eyes can’t see.
But You are my strength, and with Your love,
I’ll become a stronger me.

Give me faith to move the mountains.
Give me soaring eagle wings.
Give me strength to face tomorrow.
Lord, You are my Everything.

Beautiful You

Honey, I can see you
Hiding in the corner.
Sittin’ ways away from us,
Feelin’ like a loner.

Child, I can feel your
Hungry-for-some-love gaze,
Hopelessly desiring
Society’s ideal face.

But I say,
“You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
He made you in the darkest depths,
The secrets of the deep.
You are wonderful, incomparable, just awe-inspiring.
He made you to be who you are –
He made you beautiful.”

Darlin’, He is perfect,
Creator of us from above.
He made no mistakes, my dear,
When He molded you in love.

He knit your inmost being; you
Are wonderfully made.
You, Gorgeous, are His masterpiece,
The Potter’s precious clay.

So look into the mirror,
Look it full in the face.
Remember, we were all born
From the same human race.
Made in His own image,
We are beautiful, too.
Remember, you, His child,
Are a beautiful you.

And I say,
“You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
He made you in the darkest depths,
The secrets of the deep.
You are wonderful, incomparable, just awe-inspiring.
He made you to be who you are –
He made you beautiful.”