No More Metaphors

It's funny how we communicate best
Best in code
Best in costume
Best in show

It's odd how we dance our best
Best in darkness
Best in shadows
Best in masquerade

Yet, you slip off my mask
Let it tumble to the floor
Cup my metaphors in your hands
And blow them from your palms

My brow once hidden
by feathers and pearls
Unfurrows in the warmth
Of light 'til now unbeheld

Luminance not from bulbs or orbs
But from blinders removed
Revealing light found not in pictures
Found only in what is.

The Evil Side of Lady M

I try, in general, to exercise kindness and sensitivity towards others, peppered of course with playful sarcasm, but with no harmful intentions. And, of course, there are those times (hopefully not too often) when it might be more beneficial to be beaten with a large, barbed wire-wrapped stick than to try to talk to me. However, even in these times I try to maintain civic duty and lock myself away until the proverbial full moon sets.

Aside from these infrequent bursts of savagery, inside me dances a dervish, little imp who loves nothing more than mischief. This is the Evil of which I speak. Granted, it's not a true evil. It's more the kind of evil that tempts the dieter to a piece of tiramisu or the Atkin's affectionado to some tortilla chips.

It's this impish part of me that smirks at the sight of a "Student Driver" sign on a car. I ALWAYS want to mess with the student drivers. Not really because I'm that mean... ok, maybe, but more because, well, it'd be a life lesson. Not every car on the road will be nice and eventually there will be no sign announcing to the world that you could use some leeway. So, I'd be doing them a favor, right? Good thing I was borrowing my friend's car today. hehehe

To All Friends and Lovers

This past weekend was actually rather relaxing. If I hadn't had a morning Board meeting, this would have been my first Saturday since I started my second job that I haven't worked at all (except for when I was away in Ireland and just getting back). So, I got to spend plenty of time outside basking... oh wait, no I fell asleep inside for most of the day. = ) I was sooo tired I almost couldn't get up that evening for my friend's birthday bash, but I'm so glad I did!

It was such a wonderful night. Good friends (old and new) holding down the porch on a beautiful summer night, grilling out, sharing stories and celebrating our friend. (have I mentioned that my favorite summer meal is cheeseburgers on the grill? one of the only times of the year I really love them, actually) It was such a family atmosphere-- regardless of the fact that his family (who I love!) was at hand. We, as friends, built a family- brothers and sisters, quite and boisterous, mellow and wild. We mostly all go to the same church, which is a bonus because we got to bring that familiarity into the "sanctuary" the next morning.

Speaking of, church was great, too. We had a sort of non-traditional service (surprise, surprise, we meet in a warehouse--ha) where our pastor gave us a visual picture of the freedom and grace we've been discussing over the past six months through snipets of the movie, "Les Miserables." We sat around round tables and discussed questions before hearing more from our pastor. It was a beautiful picture not only of grace and freedom, but also community as we sat there sharing muffin crumbs and morsels of insight.

Then I finally got to relax outside some Sunday afternoon, reading and listening to Damien Rice before going to see Shrek 2 in the company of a delightful friend (after which I returned to a home of roommies watching 50 First Dates, which I quickly joined in on!).

Plus, I got to talk to my dad some on Sunday for Father's Day, and that's always a bonus.

We nearly galloped down the curvaceous path toward the sea. As we descended, the ground shot up to our left, long grass pouring over dunes and hills. Some walked in groups, some in pairs, some in solitary silence.

Upon meeting our destination, each person wandered quietly from stone to stone, examining the ground, the sea, the sky. Hexagonal shapes jutted from nature's floor, some slate grey, some molten black. These six-sided stones formed perches and gullies, mounds and ravines to the wonder of all. Yet, over all of it came the song of the sea. The sweet, gentle, rolling murmur that whispers you are home, you are safe, you may rest.

Indeed we rested for a moment that seemed like a lifetime gone by too quickly, taken too soon. And still, the waves rumble in our minds, in our souls: you are home, you are safe, you may rest.

Hot and Tired

It's nearly 9pm and I'm still at work. It's ok, it's actually cooler in here right now than in the middle of the day, I think-- you know, since the a/c's been out for a week now. Yeah, good thing we're not in the sweltering south. oh, wait...
Weather Pixie says it's 81F outside. Last reading from Ms. Carolyn's thermostat: 90F, and her lights have been out and blinds shut for the past five hours. I think my room's one of the coolest in the offices because I don't have a wall of windows, but Ms. Carolyn's office feels pretty cool right now. Don't worry, I'll leave soon. I just want to get some copies run while no one's around to die of heat stroke from the copier's kinetic emissions.

delirium is setting in. must. escape. heat...

Kristin stole this idea from Kandy. Then I stole it from her. Thanks ladies! She's so cute. = D

Cheap Excuse for a Post

melissa, you are somewhat left-hemisphere dominant and show a preference for visual learning, although not extreme in either characteristic. You probably tend to do most things in moderation, but not always.
Your left-hemisphere dominance implies that your learning style is organized and structured, detail oriented and logical. Your visual preference, though, has you seeking stimulation and multiple data. Such an outlook can overwhelm structure and logic and create an almost continuous state of uncertainty and agitation. You may well suffer a feeling of continually trying to "catch up" with yourself.
Your tendency to be organized and logical and attend to details is reasonably well-established which should afford you success regardless of your chosen field of endeavor. You can "size up" situations and take in information rapidly. However, you must then subject that data to being classified and organized which causes you to "lose touch" with the immediacy of the problem.
Your logical and methodical nature hamper you in this regard though in the long run it may work to your advantage since you "learn from experience" and can go through the process more rapidly on subsequent occasions.
You remain predominantly functional in your orientation and practical. Abstraction and theory are secondary to application. In keeping with this, you focus on details until they manifest themselves in a unique pattern and only then work with the "larger whole."
With regards to your career choices, you have a mentality that would be good as a scientist, coach, athlete, design consultant, or an engineering technician. You can "see where you want to go" and even be able to "tell yourself," but find that you are "fighting yourself" at the darndest times.

taken from http://www.mindmedia.com/brainworks/index.html
an idea which I stole from my friend Emily. (not EM-- Emily)

Let me know if you think they're on to something.

Matt Put Up Pictures of Northern Ireland

In case you were wondering.

I can't play Pooh to your Christopher Robin

I caught a movie on TV this weekend, Beautiful Girls, and just kind of got sucked in. That's always how it happens, isn't it? You have to be to work in two and a half hours and you get sucked into a movie that ends with just enough time for you to almost get ready, if you really hurry.

Well, in this movie, a guy goes back to his small hometown (which I really think was in Wisconsin, one of the guys had a Milwaukee jacket... go figure) Anyway, it's a look at growing up and all that entails-- leaving ghosts behind, forging into the future. One of the story lines involves a 29 yr old man and his 13 yr old neighbor who he considers "waiting for" because she's so amazing and can only get more amazing.

Then his friend makes him see that maybe this is just another sign of him not wanting to grow up. However, the girl picks up on it all, and asks him to wait for her anyway, just 5 years until she's 18. At this juncture, the man has to come to grips with what is real and what he would like to believe. He gives her this great analogy of Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh. Pooh was a product of Christopher's imagination and when he grew up, he didn't need him anymore; didn't need the 100 Acre Wood, at all.

A sentiment seems to be floating around about the 100 Acre Wood that is the Blog-o-sphere. Jason's moved on, Matt's done, Dave's mulling it over. I can't say I haven't pondered it myself, that I haven't felt the pages slipping by one after another; that I haven't feared the monster at the end of this book.

With every scrolling page I seem to follow the bouncing ball further toward the end of the 100 Acre Wood. I'm not ready to see the light yet, but I know it's coming and that day looms ahead with grief and joy. As I sit here, I wonder if I can enjoy life outside the Wood, and yet never leave its pages. I wonder if a caged bird really ever has a song.

Aragorn: What do you fear my lady?
Èowyn: A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire.

I wonder what my true song will be and when that day will finally come.

Where Once Stood Servants of the King

Centuries of tales and mourning seeped from every nook and cranny as we stood amidst the ruins of Castle DunDrum. Built as a fortress and manor in 1111, now all that remains are a few walls and pillars, semblances of rooms and towers. What once may have been a dirt floor has been overgrown with a carpet of plush green grass. Weeds and wildflowers sprout from the crumbling tips of what may have presumably been a guard wall.

We climbed haphazardly, almost irreverently, along the remaining stones. Our companions were soon dwarfed in appearance from atop a curved staircase or two. Even from the court floor, however, the surrounding landscape and countryside could not be dwarfed. From across a crystalline bay, mountains loomed over us as silent guardians, fortifying yet foreboding.

While my friends and companions cheered in revelry at the marvelous site of it all, I couldn't help but meander off by myself in ponderous sadness. No where in the States will ever be this old, will ever hold this much history. There will never be a day when someone can stand on the ruins of my livelihood and romanticize at what it may have been like. You can see it already, consecrated battle grounds turned places of woredrobing worship; graveyards overrun by the green of 18 holes.

Perhaps this very ground once felt the foot falls of royalty and servants alike; troubadours and soldiers. Once a queen stood here, peering out over her realm, over her people for whom she wept and fought and loved. Perhaps the walls miss hearing the echo of voices, of royalty, of servants of the King. If nothing else, perhaps we were sent to minister to this place and be ministered by it. For on that day, at least, those walls once again echoed with voices of the Court. It reminded us of our purpose for there we stood, servants of The King.