YSA Centennial Dance Performance

I broke my car. Metaphorically. Futuristically.

...sigh...

Dean sat down today, and turned on his computer so he could talk to his son. They used Skype. I walked by the room, and heard talking and laughing. How beautiful, I thought. I was jealous of him. Jealous because he keeps his car in good condition.

I don't keep my car in good working order. When it breaks down, I take it to the shop. Because I need a means of transportation. Dean looks after his car, works on maintenance, cracks, oil, windshield repair... He hardly ever needs to take his car into the shop. It hardly ever breaks down.

Do you see what I'm saying? Dean looks after his car, like he looks after relationships. He doesn't wait until they break down before he fixes them, he gets on his computer, and talks to people he's not close enough to talk to in person! He gets out the phone and has real communications with people! I, on the other hand wait until my car has broken down before I fix it. If that! I'll fix it if I really really need it! If I don't need my car, I won't fix it! What a selfish disaster I am!

I don't change the oil in my car!

...sigh...

I'm taking a moment to analyze myself. It doesn't seem to be helping my mood. The relationships around me flounder. The relationships not around me (ie: out of circle of friends) are less than floundering, but rather non-existant. I just don't talk to people. I don't change the oil in my car.

Ugh. Maybe this will help. I'll be taking on the challenge of the computer hiatus. I shan't be on for the next two weeks, in hopes that something good will come of it. Maybe I'll be forced to talk to REAL people, instead of facebook, fake people. Maybe I'll have to square with myself and actually send letters.

Goodbye cruel world. Was nice knowing you.

...sigh...

"Ordinary Boring Molecule of Water"

Ha! I think this is my favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic to date. hahahahahahahaha....!!

Excuse me while I make my exit from learning how 'normal' people behave. I think I would rather be an abnormal individual, than a normal carbon copy of the next guy over.

Fulghum

My favorite author, is Robert Fulghum. I've read good books, (lots of them) but it's always been unimpressive as the Author gets high on themselves and has a name that's recognizable. They lose touch with that part of them that first begged them to write. They lose the reason they started. And yes, they are skilled, and yes, often they continue printing good messages or great story lines... But few authors have that spark for writing that they had when they began.

And though I couldn't pin down what by definition that 'spark' is made of, I know it's there. Call it what you will, and label me crazy, there's a spark of inspiration that almost draws through the words on the page, the eyes of the author themselves, alive and excited.

I find that Robert Fulghum has continued this spark. How ever it is that he has done it, he stands out in my mind. Even though sometimes vulgar, or off topic, he connects his soul to the words, and the words to the reader.

"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge-
That myth is more potent than history.
I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts-
That hope always triumphs over experience-
That laughter is the only cure for grief.
And I believe that love is stronger than death."

Robert Fulghum

Amen.

PS... I have a site for awesome quotes. Robert Fulghum has a few among them.

Loving By Letting Go

To Let Go does not mean I stop caring for you.
      It means a new form of trying is to let you be.
To Let Go does not mean I abandon you,
      It means I realize I can't control you.
To Let Go does not mean letting you take advantage,
      It means I allow you to learn through natural consequences.
To Let Go does not mean piloting alternatives for you,
      It means I hope you choose to affect your own destiny.

To Let Go is to admit powerlessness
      Which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To Let Go is not to change or blame you.
      It's to make the most of myself.
To Let Go is not to take care of your feelings,
      It's to care about how you feel.
To Let Go is not to fix or judge you,
      It's to support and accept you.

To Let Go does not mean I shelter you from truth,
      It means I offer you experience and growth.
To Let Go does not mean I regret the past,
      It means I grow and live for the future.
To Let Go does not mean I criticize or regulate you,
      It means letting us both become what we dream we can be.
To Let Go is to fear less and love more.

      To Let Go might be the only way to love.

Riddle Me This

Riddle me this:

How many blossoms unopened at best,
may land in the autumn, forever in rest.

Have they been let fall? What is it yet,
for the blossoms to fall, is it hope or regret?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

What is to know, and less for to see,
if truth is obscure and barely your need?

For the words on the page, seem idle and weak,
but simplicity begs the truth that you seek.

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

I can't lift it up, as I can't change a view.
Impossible to steal, yet stolen from you.

Now ought I to try, not to refrain,
stealing the stolen back home again?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

The chill of the winter, may shatter the road.
The heat of the summer may liquefy gold.

What is the virtue, of knowledge untold,
when hope chills the heat and warms winter cold?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

Were the signs not enough, shown through the law,
of natural preference in a leaf with no flaw?

Or the beams of the sun, or wind now explained?
Yet interpret you will, away and ashamed.

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

Could the mouse do much better than the dragon to chase,
or the fish than the horse in winning a race?

Compare to the truth of fear versus faith,
how is the message, and how would it change?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

Encased in the moment, forgotten in time;
was in fragments shattered, like forsaken signs.

Is there hope to recover, or sight to regain,
or neither an answer for nothing to feign.

Please riddle me these
Riddle me this,
I beg and I plead
you will not dismiss.
Riddle me, riddle me,
Riddle me this.

Sera Johnson © 2009

Superhero

I lean back in my chair, head cocked to the side, confident and full of myself; pretending I am a superhero. I lift one eye brow with a slight grin. 'I can do anything' I whisper to myself. 'Because I'm a freekin' superhero! And superheros have super powers.' I grin widely.

But then I glance back at the computer area in front of me; papers scattered about, bits of old projects left unfinished on top of the printer and left on and around stacks of CDs. Around my feet lay wires tangled with themselves from old and broken parts of who-really-knows-whats. I'm not really smiling anymore.

Among the heaps of junk and potentially useful items is a College catalog with course listings. I let out a sigh and sit back in my chair normally, snatching the book out from under a pile of old art work. I flip it open to some papers stuffed into the pages. Enrollment papers for the coming semester. 'I want to go to school', I tell myself, in a less than convincing voice. Barely audible. I stare at the book for a bit but then I toss it back onto the pile, and set to work on getting rid of some of the mess.

I shuffle through some papers lying on the desk. I look back at the computer screen, and see a face smiling out at me. It's the face of a baby. Amy. She's only a month old. Her little face smiles out of the computer screen, the rest of her body wrapped up warmly in the embrace of her father. His face smiling along side hers. I put down the papers and look at the picture on the screen. 'Hi Amy.' I say. My heart begins to ache a bit. It must be so comfortable there, in her father's arms. He's got a hold of her snug and tight. You can tell he's not going to let go of his little girl any time soon. How peaceful it looks to be a part of that picture. 'I want to be a mother', I begin to say, less audible than before.

I bookmark the page, and close the window. Why was that painful to look at? I decide to change rooms and I go get the papers I left with my church books. I begin leafing through and find the notes from church I took earlier this morning. Notes about being kinder to people, and about what faith really is, and about what separates hope from belief. There on the corner of one piece of paper is the scribbled words 'Note to self: Go on a mission'. There's so much that intrigues me about the gospel. I believe it. I want to share it with people. 'I want to go on a mission', I say. But am I too scared, I wonder?

I continue working on recording the notes in other places so that I can throw out all the bits of paper that have been collecting over a period of much-too-long. But I don't know how to throw some of them out. Some of them are pieces of art work, swirls and lines, shaded pictures mixed in with my notes. How do I throw those out? They aren't exactly masterpieces, but they aren't exactly transferable to some other place, and I still want to keep them. After a while, I stop. I go back to the computer chair by the window. I'm not interested in sorting papers anymore. I'll leave that for some other time. When I care more. Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I'm ADD. Then again, maybe I don't care if I'm ADD.

But, what do I care about? I wonder to myself. What do I want to do? I've got a job. I work at a daycare. I could keep working there. But for what? But I don't really want to work there anymore. Working there isn't what I want to be doing in a few months. Maybe it's because I am not dedicated, and I just don't want to do something I'm not enjoying, or maybe it's because having worked there has made me dislike children, and I think that is wrong. So I ask myself again, 'what do I want to do?'

'I want to start a business', I say, half wishing someone was listening so they could give me some sort of motivation. It would be amazing to change the world in some way through a business I created. The truth is, I want to begin changing the world through my efforts to help people. I want to help people all over the world. 'And I want to travel too'. I hear the words come out, but by the time they are out, my mind has already moved on. I want to travel, but what about all the other stuff I want to do? Do I have the guts? Do I know what's coming? Can I do any one of these things and not miss out on the rest?

I sigh. I lean back in my chair, and cock my head, looking out the window. 'I want to be a superhero', I say. This time I can barely muster up the words. 'Maybe then I'd have the guts to try something. Anything. Even if it was just finishing clearing up this messy room. I'd do something exciting. After all, I'd have super powers.'

But nothing changes. The leaves aren't even rustling in the wind. It's all the same. Same as when I looked out the window the first time. And I'm not a superhero. I don't have super powers. And I can't bend the rules.

I sigh again. I wish someone would push me in some direction. Then I wouldn't have to choose and come up with my own motivation. I'd just have to keep the momentum.

I get out of the chair, and begin cleaning the papers off the desk. Frustrated, and weary I trudge on, hoping somewhere in the mix and confusion of it all, someone will save me from the fate of the unfortunate soul, born as a regular. Not a superhero... Not even a sidekick... Not super at all.