He used to reach for my hand in the dark. Even though he was asleep, his fingers would seek mine and become entwined. He was an angel on Earth. Now he sleeps eternally.
~~
(image credit: fineartamerica.com)
Written for the Trifecta Writing Challenge: This week we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own words about love gone wrong. But we’re asking that you not use any of the following words:
The beauty of a white world all around,
but I cannot see it beyond my window.
I am entombed by reality,
gestating in the womb of Mother Nature’s swollen belly.
Her raging emotions unsettle me,
her fury becomes my anger.
My sense of peace is replaced by the need to kill.
Thousands of individual victims lay in wait
and my I raise my weapon.
I lose track of how many bodies have been discarded on my property
as my shovel throws more snowflakes to their grave.
I wave goodbye but nobody waves back. They gather as a crowd, looking at me but not really seeing me. Music plays in the background. Melancholy harmonies, tones that remind me of home, hover in the air creating the mood that was anticipated but is never welcomed.
I linger and watch their sullen faces and I struggle to block out the abrasive light. And so I wave goodbye again, hoping that just one person will glimpse my spirit and wave back.
The light seems to warm the longer I look into it. Nothing holds me anymore and I fly home.
~~
(image credit: rapgenius.com)
Written for the 100 Word Song at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. This week’s song is Tones of Home, by Blind Melon.
A few years ago, I made my Aunt a 60th birthday cake and thought it would be inventive to write historic things on the cake that happened on the day she was born. It was a big hit at the party, and we all gained a bit of knowledge in the process.
I thought I would make history repeat itself and take you on a journey through time (without the cake, sorry). I picked this particular day as a fun way to celebrate my best friend’s birthday on this February 4th, 2014. Since she is a lover of history, I thought this message would have more of an impact.
Happy birthday Sami Jones!!!
On this day in history – February 4th
2004 – Mark Zuckerberg, after spending countless hours creating algorithms, invents “the” Facebook and eventually becomes a billionaire. Happy 10th anniversary Facebook.
1997 – A civil jury panel in Santa Monica, CA had determined that O.J. Simpson was guilty of the death of his wife and Ronald Goldman, although he had been acquitted in 1995.
1959 – The first day of the invention of the Barbie Doll. Barbie was created by Ruth Handler and was named after her daughter. Ken would follow years later and was named after Ruth’s son. (does that seem a little incestuous to anyone else?)
1938 – Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was released. This legendary cartoon grossed more money than any other motion picture to that point.
1932 – The first Winter Olympic games were held in Lake Placid, New York
Several historical figures also share this birthday – Johann Bach (1677), Charles Lindbergh (1902), Byron Nelson (1912), Rosa Parks (1913), Dan Quayle (1944), Alice Cooper (1948), Natalie Imbruglia (1975)
The most significant event on this day in history, as it relates to me, was the birth of my friend Sami. True friends are not easy to find but, somewhere in the chaos of our lives, we formed a friendship and we have never looked back. Birthdays should be celebrated for what they represent, not for the number of years that person has been on this planet. We celebrate the moment they came to be and the significance they have in our lives. When you bestow your happy wishes on that person on the anniversary of their birth, truly embrace the meaning of what you are saying to them…..I celebrate the day you joined this life.
You can verbalize that message in a more creative way by celebrating the number of times the Earth has revolved around the sun since they have been on this planet. You can celebrate the number of minutes or seconds they have shared their presence but the message should always come from your heart.
Happy birthday Ms. Jones!! And may you have many, many more!! Today, I celebrate you.
(Image credit: Monty Python)
Part I – The Miracle of Birth
The conception of my blog was, indeed, immaculate. It was unprotected and unplanned but, once it was miraculously born, it brought great joy to my life. I have nourished it, fed it and loved it. Its incessant need has brought many sleepless nights but the rare moments that it smiles at me make the bags under my eyes worthwhile. I have held it close to my heart and have had moments that I wish it would sleep through the night and let me get some much-needed rest.
I have used many tricks to make it laugh and have relished the moments that it brought a smile to my face or a tear to my eye. I have suffered through its teething and those many moments that nothing I did would make it happy. Through its toddler phase we had a great deal of fun together, learning about each other as we spent more time together. I watched it learn to walk and then to run. I soothed its scrapes and cuts when it fell but, through all the tumultuous growing pains, we forged a bond that cannot be replaced.
Part II – Growth and Learning
Over the past year and a half I have watched it grow and mature. I have seen it develop a personality and gain some independence. But its need for me and my attention seems to be waning. It seems to have rapidly entered its teenage years before my eyes. It has become sullen and withdrawn. We don’t spend much time together these days.
I get up early to go to work and can’t find the time needed to spend with it in those rising hours of the morning. I have been working more split shifts recently and when I come home for my break it is lying on the couch, having accomplished nothing on its own during my absence. When I attempt to create some lasting moments with it in the afternoons, it ignores me and does not react to my efforts.
I can only hope in the near future that the negative teenage reaction will subside and, as a young adult does with their parents, we form a new alliance and become friends again. I miss spending time with it and miss creating the words and phrases that we would carve into our reality. With a little more effort on my part, I’m sure I can find that one common thread that will bring us back together again. I put my faith in its capacity to grow and mature and its ability to accept the fact that I, too, have my limitations.
And the words shall set us free.
VS. 
My most favorite and least favorite day of the year has arrived!! The culmination of a great season of football and some hard-fought battles with the pigskin bring us to the moment that the Vince Lombardi trophy will be awarded. My efforts as “The Commish” in a 17-week long football pool as well as a playoff pool also come to an end at the pinnacle of the football season. It is a bittersweet day.
Superbowl Sunday is like my Christmas day. I awake excited knowing what the day will bring and can’t wait to unwrap the gift of football. Unlike Christmas day, however, I fidget throughout the day in anticipation of the moment I can sit in front of my television set and scream obscenities at will. My dog has had four weeks of pre-season, seventeen weeks of regular season and three weekends of playoff games to learn how to properly tune out the expletives that undoubtedly cascade from my lips.
This year’s rivalry between Denver and Seattle should be a close game and a well fought battle. The pure, raw desire for each of these teams to reign supreme is evident on the field and the energy is palpable from both sidelines. The deeply etched scars of the carnage on the field are proudly worn as badges of honor, but there is another carrot dangling ever so close to Peyton Manning besides putting his lips on the Vince Lombardi trophy. Should the Denver Broncos emerge victorious, he will be the first quarterback in the NFL to win a second Superbowl championship throwing for two different teams.
Superbowl Sunday has become one of the most anticipated sporting events. There is something so enticing about the spirit of Superbowl Sunday. Even if you are not a fan of the game, the camaraderie and the game-day snacks are enough to draw in a crowd, if only to nibble the offerings and watch the commercials!
When the game is done, the trophy is presented and the celebration is carried on beyond the cameras, there should be a rehabilitation program for dedicated fans, like myself. I admittedly feel a sense of loss and wander aimlessly on the Sunday following Superbowl trying to overcome that loss. The sudden deviation to absolutely no football requires an intense effort to fill those weekend hours and I am forced to find sufficient entertainment to fill the void. Thank God for blogging!
But for now, I will focus on Superbowl XLVIII – the throw down between the Broncos and the Seahawks. It’s gonna be loud, it’s gonna be tense and it’s gonna be the Broncos 34 and the Seahawks 28. Happy Superbowl Sunday!!
PS: If you’re looking for me next Sunday, I will be signing up for an out-patient program for football withdrawal.
The subject line of this post is a quote by Truman Capote. I have always believed that not achieving instant gratification is a necessity. Failure is life’s way of moving you in another direction and truly allowing you to appreciate eventually achieving that success you have been striving towards.
“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”
― Thomas A. Edison
(image credit: enchantedlearning.com)
I think of myself as a success because I have failed. My failures have given me a true sense of self and pushed me to want to attain that success that I covet. Failure is not an end, it is only a beginning. That defeat makes me rethink my original plan and construct a new plan, pushing me in a direction I may have not originally intended.
My failures do not define me, they strengthen me. I can accept falling short of a goal but I could never live with myself if I gave up trying. Just one line in the sand on the success side of my life is worth all of those hash marks in the failure column. A few dashes of inadequacy and a sprinkling of botched attempts make that main course of success that much tastier!
(image credit: outpostusa.org)
I have to admit, I am loving the 100-Word Song Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. This week, after experiencing some unexpected snowfall, Lance and Leeroy have chosen “Route 66” as this week’s song. Here is my 100 word interpretation.
~~~~~
There was something charming in the way he pursued me. If my soul were a road map he would have traveled from one coast to the other exploring every nuance of the highway that led through the heart of my existence.
He stopped to admire the things he would see only on this road. He fondly recalled the route that brought him to me, it was the road less traveled but the road that was meant for him to follow.
It is now a direction we pursue together, an open avenue to our future. It winds us into our reality.
The decision made so long ago,
for her child to be given a better life.
She watched her from a distance,
hidden in plain sight.
Never being her mother, only a vague reflection.
(image credit: Thomas Leuthard)
~
Written for the Trifecta Challenge – On to this week’s Trifextra challenge. This week we’re asking for 33 of your own words inspired by the following picture. If you use the picture on your blog, you MUST give proper attribution to the photographer by providing a link to the photo, not just to Trifecta. Failure to comply will eliminate you from the challenge.
Good luck and have fun with it!
A few days ago I attended a business meeting and encountered a woman I haven’t seen since I left my old job last May. Our hotel properties used to be side by side so we had a fairly regular occasion to bump into each other but I haven’t seen her since I began my new job. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, took our seats and the meeting began. After an hour of brainstorming, the session adjourned and we were able to chat a little more and catch up.
We, of course, commiserated with each other about the roller coaster of weather we have been experiencing this year. We talked briefly about how the hospitality business has been for each of us this season and then the conversation changed completely.
She looked at me quizzically and said, “I’m not sure if this will come out the way I mean it to, but your face looks so much lighter.”
It was an odd statement, certainly, but one I have been hearing more frequently. It wasn’t in reference to my pallid winter flesh color nor was it meant to infer anything about weight loss. She simply observed my happiness.
(image credit: myvintagejewelbox.com)
When she had seen me last, I was working at a job that I no longer enjoyed. The stress that I faced each day was etching itself into my face and I looked, and felt, like a different person. It was a tough decision leaving that job because it had once been a place I considered to be a second home and my fellow employees were like family. When that home was bought by a corporation, the feel of my job evolved into something foreign. It was no longer a warm and inviting place to be and, although I had to leave some great people behind, I made the tough choice to get happy again.
I was fortunate enough to be able to make the decision to be happy, and if my face is any indication, I made the right choice.
polysyllabic profundities 