Such Great Heights

A good friend of mine died two Sundays ago. My tears were light because he'd had cancer for nearly two years and now he is no longer suffering. The majority of my tears were for me. Why does death bring out the most selfish desires and thoughts? I wanted him to be back to his original, pre cancer, body and days. I wanted him to meet my husband, whom he'd never had the pleasure of meeting. I wanted to talk to him about a couple of friends of ours who didn't seem to be doing well. I wanted his advice about a move we were going to make. I wanted to talk to him about the things God had been telling me and get his prayer and help concerning these very hard things. I missed him for me.

The viewing was the first I'd been to for someone other than family. The lines was somber and long, the mood quiet. There was the occasional sniff, the occasional loud cry choked back for modesty's sake, but overall, a sober crowd paying last respects. I went with my boss, who is also a friend of mine. We talked about him and most of the stories made us laugh, which was out of place in this crowd, but definitely on par for his life.

What is there about seeing the vacant house that once held the soul of my friend that brings others to tears? Seeing him there, vacant, caused the threat of tears to stop. This wasn't him. He was long gone, enjoying his present hope. I don't know why I paid so much attention to the look on his face. He had a slight smile on his face and I thought, "that's how I want to look when I go." There was a picture of him pre-cancer, and that picture made me cry. That was who I missed, not this guy. I couldn't find tears for his parents, but I found a smile and a word of encouragement.

The funeral brought together many old faces, people who had gone out of my life were back again, but in tears, not in joy. There was some joy, I guess, because we didn't relish the idea of more suffering, but there was much sadness because the clown we'd known and loved was gone. Two months before, he'd almost died from pneumonia. When he came through it, he started earnest preparations for his funeral. He knew his time was coming and he wasn't going to fight it. His brother said that, after he'd died, they left the room to call people and he came back thirty minutes later. Somehow, amazingly, there was a smile on his face. One of his last requests was that we release ballons at the burial site. The officiant at his funeral said it was because he'd always loved balloons, but I think there was another reason. I think that he wasn't sure how he would think about the things and people on earth when he was in heaven, but, if there was a chance he could see us, he'd know we were paying our respects to him when the first strain of balloons hit the sky.

Mine was yellow, Jeff. I love you.

Knitting v. Writing

Writing is an obsession. Not the sneaky one that catches you unaware, like the time I was 30 bags into my cheetos obsession before I realized it, or the time I went through several *cough,cough* 1 pound bags of peanut butter M&Ms in a year. Writing is the kind of obsession I've lived with forever, stories filling my head, voices of strangers as familiar as the voices of my friends, and sometimes, the voices of my friends as they become characters, carrying on conversations they never remember in real life.

Knitting is my new past time, as well as crocheting. It is the most rewarding and most frustrating thing I've ever done. I can walk away from a well written work of fiction bothered by my inability to express the thought the way it deserves to be expressed, but when I finish a block of the baby blanket I'm knitting for my husband's sister, I feel the accomplishment that writing never gives me. Knitting (or crocheting) is great in that it is an instant gratification kind of thing, although when you make mistakes and have to undo hours of work because you inadvertently added a stitch or you missed a double crochet in the 3rd round, it can be kind of frustrating. The inability to adequately express myself is much more frustrating.

Knitting, however, doesn't give me the sense of purpose that writing gives me. In knitting, I am an imitator, since I don't know enough about the craft to be a creator. But in writing, I am a creator, crafting character traits from glances, conversations from single words. I do not know enough about the craft of writing to be a creator, but the craft itself compels me to create.

I took up knitting to lull my brain, to keep the thoughts from richocheting quite so painfully so that maybe I would be able to isolate the things I wanted to say from the things I would need to say later. It has turned into a fascinating hobby where I can spend hours searching for yarns, designs to try, magazines with designs that I actually think someone would wear, etc. In some ways, it has eclipsed writing. Maybe because it is easier, maybe because it doesn't require much thought. Maybe because I don't get quite as angry when I'm interrupted from knitting(crocheting) as when I'm interrupted from writing. It has been my blessing, a much needed rest as I get back on my writing track. The intricacies of teaching myself to knit and crochet has definitely sharpened the mind even as the ability to knit (once I learned) has given my mind the freedom to wander.

Does this make my butt look young?

My biggest pet peeve lately is wardrobe. Besides the fact that I work so much the only clothes that usually end up getting cleaned is my work uniform, I am struggling with this new situation I am encountering. That situation is being old enough to look ridiculous in young clothes while still being young enough to look ridiculous in old clothes. When I go shopping, which, fortunately, is not often, I find one of 3 things. Clothes that look really good on 18-22 year olds, clothes that look really good on the 30something mother of young children and clothes that look really good on my mother. I am exempt from all categories, but I find that the pair of pants I try on are too low, too skin tight, too Martha's Vineyard capri-ish, or contain too much elastic. There is no category for the young, no longer looking, but still want to be attractive woman. A plus for me is that I look younger than my 29 years so, to others, I don't look outlandish in 18-22 clothes, but I feel ridiculous. However, if I wear the 30something mother clothes, or my mother's clothes, I look ridiculous, because I look younger than my 29 years. Someone needs to do something. There needs to be a line of clothes for young, married, un-childrened women who want to be fashionable, not faddish, while still looking the part. I mean, if I wore the shirts and pants that my face dictates, my husband would wonder if I am actually looking to replace him. But I can't stand the dumpy looking clothes that is next in line for me. (No offense to the women who actually do look good in these clothes. It's just not me).

Is there help? Will someone show me the way? That is, if there's not much shopping involved.

Writer's Block

So, to combat writer's block, I knit and write to my blog. It doesn't help me get anywhere with my other writing, but it certainly makes me feel productive.

Learning In Marriage

1. The right person will come along and you will know it when it happens. When I met my husband, it was as if everything was aligned to make sure we would not miss out on the chance to be together. I was about to move to California. I was not interested in having a long distance relationship. I thought I only had a crush on him. I was going to say goodbye and never talk to him again. But something wouldn't let me leave without telling him how I felt and I ended up having a long distance relationship. When I moved back, he asked me to marry him and I've been happy every since. Not fairy tale happy, but happy because I am with the person I know I'm supposed to be with. "Good for you", you might think, hating your single existence. I say this to the single, because now I understand. If you are single, enjoy it. If you believe in God and trust Him for yourself, you can trust Him to treat you right. He will not only let you know, but He will make sure that you don't miss out. If you do not believe in God or trust Him for yourself, I have no true words of consolations. I can only implore you to wait patiently. Do not be hasty in anything.

2. No one issue should be the main focus in your marriage. If sex, or cleaning, or anything becomes a source of contention, that thing has too big of a place in your relationship. Marriage is a mix of things. It's two people becoming one. It's taking all of the good and the crap from the accumulated years and pushing them so that they form the basis of one relationship. We all know that we carry everything that has, or has not, happened to us into our relationships. But we don't know how to make them all work together. We hear words like compromise and know it is right, but we want to win. And that is where the problems start. Compare the issue that is causing problems to the ones that aren't and if it looks much bigger, reduce it. Stop trying to win, or be the one that is right and the problem will grow smaller. It will take some introspection, but if we will stop trying to be our own person when we are half of a whole, we will find much peace and comfort in this. And by no means do I suggest that you lose your identity in marriage. Your identity if solidified in marriage. You just have to stop fighting the other half of yourself.

3. The man is not the only person who should be romantic. I have detested Valentine's Day for nearly 20 years. Most people think that it should excite me now that I'm married, but it hasn't. The only problem is that my 6 month anniversary fell on Valentine's day... so our half a year celebration, when done correctly, should be done on Valentine's Day. As I was planning the things that we would do this year, I kept thinking that I would get my husband to give me a massage for Valentine's Day. That was my plan the entire day. As it got closer to the time my husband was to come home from work, I remembered one of my objections to V-Day. It is that so much is expected of men on this particular day, if they don't meet it, they are not romantic, loving, or any of those things they really are. I chose to pamper him and it was the biggest surprise for both of us. He wasn't expecting it at all, and I wasn't expecting how pleased it would make him. I remembered when he gave me flowers out of nowhere, how surprising it was, how loved it made me feel and I realized that he could feel the same way. I'd never thought of my being romantic as a way to his heart or as a way to make him feel the way he makes me feel.

4. Don't sweat the small stuff. Really, don't.
5. Truthfully communicate. Before we got married, my husband said he would have no expectations of me. I said the same. However, I lied, but he didn't. If he wants me to do something, he asks. If I do something, I expect him to see it, understand what that means, then react towards me accordingly. The problem is, I think he is doing the same thing. We ended up having to talk about this because it was causing major problems for me, and major headache for him. If I'd just told him the truth, or if I had just talked to him the first time he didn't meet an expectation, some of the problems or headaches would have been avoided.

I wish I could say to you that these are the things I've gotten down. I relearn these things every day. What I do know is that when I do any of them, I find alot more peace than when I didn't do them.

Is Anybody Out There?

Everybody thinks I'm f***in' crazy
!!!

I like this song, even though it took me a while to get used to the things that go on in the song. But that's not what this blog is about, even if I will occasionally talk incoherently about music. This is about unloading.