Two Years Ago

Two years ago the world became a confusing place.
Things I thought I knew were wrong.
What I trusted had failed.
What I relied on was lost.

Two years ago was a scary time.
Things I thought would always be were gone.
What I expected came into question.
What I wanted didn't matter.

Two years ago my hero fell.
Things I thought were strong had faults.
What I thought would last had worn.
What I cared about was wounded.

Two years ago I wasn't prepared.
Things I thought were distant came close.
What I realized was scary.
What I learned I valued.

Questions (Part 3)

***The following is an excerpt from Raina's Story ****

Bartles’s face washed with a somber realization. “You don’t remember your father at all?”

“Just that he called me his princess,” she sniffled.

He nodded knowingly. “So, you have no knowledge of this realm?”

She shook her head.

“What do you know of your ancestry?”

Raina knit her eyebrows, as she continued to shake her head.

Bartle leaned back against the wall. “Oh my,” he sighed. “I must say this is not what I anticipated at all.”

The two of them sat together quietly, both their brows furrowed with ineffable confusion, for what seemed like ages.  Each moment brought a new question, and Raina was overwhelmed by the burden of it all.  She didn’t know where to begin, but before she could even try Bartle suddenly jumped to his feet and started to pace the woody bedroom while muttering to himself.

Though it hardly seemed possible, Raina was further perplexed by his abrupt shift in behavior.  Her eyes followed Bartle as he rapidly looped the room.  She tried to make out what he was saying, but his hushed and hurried tones made it rather difficult.

After several minutes, Bartle eventually spoke up.  “I thought you’d know more.”

He said it as though he was addressing her, but he continued to circle the room with his eyes trained on the floor.  “I thought you would understand our world, and your purpose in it.  I assumed you’d have knowledge of the prophecy.  Mother said you would have questions that I must be prepared to answer, but I never expected…”

When he came to a stop Raina realized just how dizzy she had become from watching him.  She craned her neck back to look at him.  He met her gaze with an out reached hand and a determined expression.  “That’s it then. We must speak with Mother.”

Not sure what to make of this decision, but accepting her now perpetual state of confusion, Raina brought herself to her feet.

“Hurry, there is much to discuss,” Bartle explained.  He grabbed her hand, and pulled her across the room.  Just before they reached the door, Raina noticed a photo of a familiar man on a shelf, but there was no time to ask about it.  Bartle threw open the door, and whisked her into a hallway like none she had ever seen before.  Wooden walls and knotted doors covered the wall behind her and extended around a vast circumference.  The floor, which looked as though it had been whittled into an intricate argyle pattern, only stuck out about three feet from where she stood.  There was an ornate wooden banister before her that stretched the entire boundary of a wide open area. Across the way, Raina could just make out the other side of the corridor, which looked similar to where she stood.  Remembering that they were inside a tree, and possibly the largest one she had ever seen, Raina attempted to peer over the banister to see the base of the structure.  Only, before she could get a good glance, Bartle wrapped his hands around her waist.  “What are you ̶ ” Raina turned to confront him, but he crouched before she could finish, and then they were in the air. Certain they were falling, she closed her eyes and clung to his chest

As her body rose, Raina’s insides struggled to keep up.  Her heart dropped into her stomach, and her brain seemed caught in her throat.

When everything made its way back to the right place, and her brain felt securely in her head, Raina opened her eyes to look around.  She clung desperately to Bartle’s chest as she took it all in. However, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.  They were flying up the center of an enormous hollowed out cypress tree.

To be continued...

My Controversial Musings

Found here

I think sometimes when people say that they are all about diversity they mean to say that they are all about minorities and oppressed populations. If that's true, that's great! Those groups absolutely need someone to stand up for them. They need people to be their champion, and to make sure that they are equally included in this world dominated by the privileged masses.

But, let's be real. If that's what you're doing, you are not actually promoting inclusion. The diversity movement, at least as I understand it, is about incorporating everybody. After all, the word literally means variety. So, regardless of your reason, if you shut out a person from any one particular group you are decreasing the variety and therefore the diversification of your own movement. When you favor one group over another, even if it's the disadvantaged, you are merely replicating the same discrimination you seek to eradicate.

For the record, I am aware this is a controversial view. I'm also aware that this might sound like I'm advocating to extend the privilege of the groups with social power (and therefore my own). This is not my intent. I am merely noticing a discrepancy between the ideology of many (not all) proponents of diversity groups, and the actual intent. Maybe I'm too literal, but I believe that a truly diverse group of people would be all inclusive.

Riding it Out

For those of you keeping track at home, here is an inventory of how I exercised my awesome decision-making skills today:

After sleeping-in an extra hour, I decided that all I needed to eat for breakfast was a small banana and half a cup of coffee. I washed it down with a small glass of water, and decided that I should really go for a bike ride since it is not raining.

On my way out the door, I thought to myself, "did I take my allergy medicine yet today? You know what?! I'll check when I get back from my ride." Halfway through the first section of my ride, it became readily apparent that I had not taken my allergy medicine when it suddenly felt like I was breathing only through a small straw in my nose.

Then the tail-light on my bike rack fell off. I stopped to pick it up, and figured I should back-track down the road to see if there were any other missing pieces...on a one-way street.

Narrowly avoiding an oncoming car, I righted my direction and carried on. My labored breathing on a leisurely part of my usual route reminded me this was going to be a short ride. Yet, for some reason I just rode right on pass the turn to my house.

Grunting and wheezing down a highly public road (wearing my lustrous turquoise pants), I rode right past the next turn that I could take back to my house. When I approached the third turn that I take when I want to go for a "longer" ride (mind you, none of my rides are very long) I decided that I had already committed. So, I might as well ride out the end of the road I was on. Yup, I went an unnecessary extra two miles, and THEN I decided to tackle a rather steep little incline on my single-speed (with very little breakfast, hydration, and no allergy medicine in my body).

Needless to say, I'm a bit tired now. I expect that once I get over that, I'll feel like a stud though.

Right?!

Have any of you ever had a similar experience? Were you ultimately impressed with yourself, or did you continue to regret your impulsive actions?

Satisfying Sentiments

Due in part to the popularity of my recent list, and also because my biggest fan said it was petty "ranting," I have decided to produce another, more positive inventory. What follows is a few things that make me feel awesome.

Perfect parallel parking
There's nothing like the euphoria that comes from violently yanking the e-brake and shouting "boom! Nailed it!" This is an incredibly difficult task. Add to that my legitimate depth perception deficit, and it's damn near impossible. I never have any idea where the curb is, and I'm nearly always convinced that I will hit the cars I'm trying to fit between. So, when I don't it's incredibly gratifying. Even better is the bolstered sense of self-worth that develops after I realize my car is not stationed in the middle of the road. Way to go me!

Arriving on the MAX platform just as it is pulling in
Extra points if it's the kind with the upstairs section at the ends. Some may call this dumb luck. Others may think it's coincidental timing. That's just stupid. I genuinely believe this is proof that I rock at life.

Finding out that I can cut out 2 (or more) pages of my reading assignments
Haha! In your face Professor Overly-Ambitious! Here you were expecting to torture me with a 13 page article on the effects of interpersonal perception on introductory conversations between social dyads, but you don't even realize that it's really only 11 pages when you cut out the references. But, wait...WHAT'S THIS?! A FULL PAGE CHART IN THE MIDDLE! I am officially the luckiest person in the world!

Finishing an essay on the very last line of the maximum page limit
Uhh...yeah, I totally meant to do that. Behold all the glory that is me and my ability to plan thoughts down to the exact number of centimeters on an 8.5x11 word document. I'm pretty much the most excellent student that ever graced the halls of your establishment...except when I'm not...IRRELEVANT! This is not one of those times! Obviously. I just owned your sadistic page limits!

My guilty pleasure songs come on the car radio 
HOLD UP! It's time to close the windows. I'm about to have a moment because it is pretty clear that those boys from One Direction are singing directly to my soul. I mean, it's obvious that I have a spiritual connection with my radio, and as far as I'm concerned there's no better self-care than the perfect Careoke (TM) session. This fortunate experience has a number of positive correlates. Sometimes it's the self-righteous sense of closure that I derive from belting a little Adele and Gotye. Other times it's the reaffirmation of my fun-loving attitude that results from a comedic rendition of Fatbottom Girls. Either way, I'm convinced each one of these moments contains a special message from the the music gods and it is meant only for me.

Unexpected Free Cookies
This is what happens whenever I walk into a room and hone in on a surprising platter of sweet baked biscuits: Leaving one eye trained on the tray to ensure it's not going anywhere, I cautiously approach someone I have a relationship with. Forgetting all social greeting norms, I whisper out of the corner of my mouth "um...what's the deal with the cookies?" When I get confirmation that those puppies are indeed up for grabs, I loudly celebrate my discovery and declare that day to be the greatest day of my life. What happens next is always a bit of a blur. It may or may not involve some kind of elfin dance as I quickly migrate to the location of my heart's greatest desire. Then, with a mouthful of deliciousness, I'll come back to reality. Oh, What was that friend? Were you still talking to me? I couldn't hear you over all the chewing. Also, why are you on the ground? I trampled over you in my triumphant dash to the tart table?! Whoopsie. Well, you understand. COOKIES!

I'm What?

Found Here

Recently one of my married friends told me she had forgotten what it was like to be single. Then, she asked me to fill her in on the lifestyle. Instinctively, I replied "how should I know?"

The answer should seem obvious, but I was genuinely perplexed by the question. I honestly don't think of myself as a single lady. This is bizarre, because I am one. I have to remind myself of this on a pretty regular basis. Otherwise, I forget to make an effort. I don't forget about dating, or interacting with attractive men. This is not the issue. What I seem to loose track of is the idea that I have to put myself out there (wherever that is).

Most of this comes back to my comfort level. I am comfortable in my social bubble. It's nice and reassuring in here. My friends are cool, and everyone likes me well enough. I know how to be myself in this space. And, more importantly, I like myself in this space. Despite my extreme difficulty with decision making of all kind (seriously, ask my sister what I'm like at meal times), I do pretty well on my own. Sure, I call my parents a lot, but I know how to find my own solutions and I can tackle problems in my social bubble. I can even appreciate my appearance and take myself out on a date (I love a solo dinner and a movie!).

Aside from the satisfaction of essentially being in a relationship with myself, I also forget about trying to date because I've never really had to. I've never needed to advertise my availability. Every relationship that I have been in has sort of just developed, and I honestly think that's how it should be. What little attempt I have made to put myself out there has resulted in an incredible amount of anxiety. There's too much concern about how I should dress, what I should and shouldn't say, when to contact who, and don't even get me started on the paying etiquette!

It's too much effort, and I don't appreciate the neuroticism that develops from presenting myself for judgment by a virtual stranger. I'm not perfect, but who is? I'm comfortable with who I am. Why should I care what some random dude thinks? I'm not a salesperson, and I don't care to pitch my positive traits while hiding my flaws. In fact, I'm equally embarrassed by and proud of my imperfections. They are the amusing ingredients to the recipe that is me. That's why, I'll openly share them with anyone who cares to hear (and some who don't).

However, I realize the paradox in my situation. Finding an eventual partner seems nearly impossible when I consider that all of the above results in my forgetting that I'm single.

Questions (Part 2)

***The following is an excerpt from Raina's Story **** 

Raina’s head began to spin with renewed concern for her mental status.  Putting down her honey suckle tea, she closed her eyes, and clutched her head once more.  She took in a deep breath through her nose, and held on to it until she felt calm enough to speak again. “Bartle,” she whispered with her eyes still closed.  “Does that mean we’re not on Earth anymore?”

“I’m not certain.”  He said with concern in his voice.  “But I do know that these are separate realms.  We left yours behind earlier today.”

The room filled with silence.  Tears quietly slipped out from under Raina’s eyelids as she struggled to grasp this information.  She didn’t understand any of it.  Slowly, Raina opened her eyes.  As she tilted her head back up, her perception slowed once again.  She distanced herself from the experience as she accepted her budding insanity, and with that the room pulled slightly out of focus.  Outside of herself, Raina watched as she quietly continued to question this strange man.

“Should I understand any of this?”

“Well, that all depends on how much you know of the prophecy?”

“The what?”

“Oh dear, you mean you don’t know?”

The image rattled as the girl shook her head.

“Surely your mother must have told you stories of our land?”

With the mention of her mother, Raina returned to her body.  Her image sharpened, and she sat up straight.  “My mom is dead,” she replied.

Bartle lowered his head, and spoke in a somber tone.  “This I know Love, but during her life did she ever tell you tales of your fate?”

Unable to question his knowledge of her mother, Raina thought carefully.  She rarely allowed herself to reminisce.  Her life had been a chaotic jumble of experiences.  Most of which were too intense to let resurface.  She buried them deep in the corners of her mind as she tried to make it through each day.  When she thought of her mother, she remembered her dancing in the kitchen with Mark.  She had flashes of soft hands on her forehead, and she heard the tune of their song as she woke up for school.  Unfortunately that wasn’t all she recalled.  Raina remembered her mother lying in bed and crying for days.  She had images of pleading with her to come to.  And sometimes, if she let her guard down, Raina remembered finding her mother’s cold body in the back yard.

Her voice caught in her throat, and a tear quietly snuck out the corner of her right eye.  Not wanting to think about her mother any longer, Raina simply shook her head.  The room fell silent.  Above her head, Raina could hear the delicate sound of a wind chime through the window.

“Well, then your father must have shared it with you,” Bartle explained away his confusion.

Startled once again by the mention of her parent, Raina turned to face Bartle.  “My father’s gone too,” she said with an air of skepticism.

His head tilted to the side as he responded sympathetically, “I know Love, but before his passing…”

The truth was that Raina couldn’t remember much about her father.  The time following his unexpected death had been so overwhelming that it clouded her earlier memories of him.  Recognizing her mother’s crippling grief, Raina had suppressed her own.  She refused to acknowledge his death, and with that she began to deny his very existence.  Eventually she only had vague recollections of a fatherly presence, and a single term of endearment.  She widened her eyes in an attempt to convey what she didn’t want to say, but it wasn’t enough.

 “I don’t remember,” she whispered.

To be continued...  

Who Am I?

Who am I to think I can help people?

Found here

I have lived a fairly sheltered life safely swaddled in my privileged middle class bubble. What I know of this complex world is derived innocently from books, movies, and secondhand stories. I don’t have life experiences that allow me to speak to the very real and significant struggles that many, if not most, people go through. 

I have been widely loved and supported throughout my life. People have encouraged, valued, and believed in me. I have been consistently lifted up, respected, and handed opportunities. The only person to ever doubt my worth or skills has been me. I am the only one who has ever kept me from anything.

In my life, I have always been afforded the luxury of choice. I could go anywhere or do anything. I have been able to choose to stay back or move on. I could be or do anything I wanted. My only real difficulties emerged from this overwhelming sense of obligation to select my own path.

Without completely invalidating my own difficulties in this world, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve been incredibly lucky. No external source has ever pushed me down, blocked my path, or made me feel defeated. I have never had to overcome a source seemingly more powerful than myself. Thus far I have avoided trauma, loss, and oppression. I have not experienced the crippling effects of poverty, or the fear and isolation that results from a lack of trust in those around me.

What do I know about any of that? How does that knowledge enable me to improve a lifestyle I don’t understand? Who am I to think I can help these people?

Questions (Part 1)

***The following is an excerpt from Raina's Story **** 

So this is what dying feels like, Raina thought.  It’s kind of peaceful.

It had all happened so quickly.  Instead of crashing into it, her mind made believe that the tree trunk had somehow opened by an invisible garage door-like apparatus.  Then she simply lost consciousness.  Her body felt increasingly lighter as a warm corporal sensation lifted her up.  The familiarity of it was comforting, and somehow reminiscent of fading memories of her father. Through her eyelids, she absorbed the light shining down from the heavens.  She felt her body rising slowly between those paternal arms.  In no time at all, she was placed gently on a bed of clouds.  In the distance, she could hear birds chirping the most beautiful song.  The sun set in an instant and Raina drifted off once more.

In her slumber, Raina saw Tam, dressed as he was the day she left him.  He was in the school yard, swinging by himself.  With eyes closed and a serene expression, he pumped his legs back and forth.  His little body climbed higher into the air than seemed possible, and he appeared to relish in the feeling of the wind on his face.  As she watched, Raina heard the tones of their song. When the intro shifted to the lyrics, Tam opened his eyes.

Little one, arise

There you are Tam Tam. Raina’s face pulled into a smile.

The sun has come.

His swing fell backwards, and Tam’s lips drew up in a mischievous smirk.  Be careful!  Raina cautioned, but bunked in the clouds, her voice was not audible on earth.  His swing pushed forward.  He let go, and launched himself into the air.

We take to the skies

“TAM!” Raina bolted upright.  Disoriented, she looked around.  She hadn’t been adrift on a bed of clouds after all.  She had been laid to rest on a trundle filled with down pillows, and covered in a blanket of moss.  She appeared to be inside a room in a wooded cabin.  In her confusion, Raina struck a frozen posture as she surveyed her surroundings.  Once she had determined that she was alone, Raina slipped out from under her cover.  She lightly pressed her bare feet onto the wooded floor, and tip-toed to the adjacent window.

Her brow furrowed as she peered out the circular frame.  Raina was looking directly into a sylvan canopy.  Straight ahead was an abundance of green foliage.  Looking up, Raina could see patches of blue and sunlight peaking through intertwined branches.  Below, she saw an incredible height of grooved and knotted tree bark.  Raina was in a tree.

She turned her back on the forested scene, and slid down the wall.  She landed on the soft woody floor, and dipped her head into her hands. The harshness of her uncertainty told her that this couldn’t be the heaven she once thought it might be.  She felt her cold fingers wring through her auburn hair and knew she wasn’t dreaming.  The only logical explanation left was that Raina was losing her mind.

With this realization, Raina began to cry.  She pulled her knees to her chest, and rested her head on her arms as she whimpered helplessly.

Through her quiet sobs Raina heard a door open.  Heavy footsteps trotted into the room.

“Rise and shine Love,” came the male voice from before.

She looked up, and her eyes found the short and pudgy bald man who called himself Bartle.  He was holding a tray of food, and wore a dopey expression of excitement.  For a moment, he seemed surprised to see an empty bed.  Then he turned to see her small cradled form on the floor.

“Oh dear,” his eyes switched to concern as he approached her.  Bartle placed the tray on the floor, and crouched down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

He may have been a complete stranger who had labeled her with an alarming nickname, but Raina was somewhat comforted by the familiarity of his presence.  She turned her tear-stained cheeks toward him and took in a deep breath broken up with a staccato rhythm dictated by her spasming diaphragm.  Between gulps for air Raina explained, “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“You’re crying,” said Bartle.

Slightly amused by the response, Raina sniffed a brief laugh.  “I know that,” she went on.  “But what is all this?”  She gestured around the room. “Who are you? What’s going on? Where am I? How did we get here? Why is this happening?” She spouted off rapid-fire.

Puzzled, Bartle replied with a question of his own.  “You mean you don’t know?”

“Should I?”  Raina shook her head.  Her suspicions of insanity confirmed, she fell back into sobs.

“There, there,” Bartle wrapped his arms around her.  “It’s not all bad.  I’ve brought maple fudge bars, and honeysuckle tea for you.  Try some, and I’ll see if I can give you some answers.”

Raina obliged, and was glad she did.  One sip of tea spread a warm feeling throughout her core. She relaxed as she listened to Bartle’s answers.  He needed prodding however, as he clearly didn’t understand that she had no idea what was happening.

“Well, I’m Bartle,” he started.  “This is where I live.  I picked you up when you fell asleep on that yellow vehicle, and brought you here in my mother’s coach.”

“But where is ‘here?’” Raina asked.

“The Royal Cypress,” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Soo…California?”

After a brief chortle, Bartle smiled at her.  “Ah, I understand your question now, but I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you.  This place no longer has a name.  Over the years it has been called Guardian Forest, Spritely Woods, The Land of Celestial Beings, Spirit’s Passing, and countless other names. Frankly, keeping track of it all has been rather confusing for me.  I prefer just to call it Home.”

Her question still unaddressed, she spoke slowly, “is your home close to mine?”

“The distance between two worlds cannot be measured, but it does not take long to travel it.”

“I’m sorry, the distance between what?”  Raina inquired, taken aback by this piece of information.

Bartle cocked his head in surprise, “two worlds.”

To be continued... 

The Advice That Never Stuck

Found here

The first joke I remember telling happened when I was very young. I couldn't have been older than five. I vaguely recall hearing it on my favorite show, but I don't even know what character said it. I honestly can't remember which of my felt friends shared this comedic gem with me, but I do remember thinking that it was amusing enough to share.

Not long after that, I was strapped up in the back seat of PeeWee, our family mini van. My dad drove while I yammered on about each and every thought that crossed my mind. Knowing me, I probably shared everything I observed from peering out my window, asked a few questions about the nature of the world (seriously), and described the dramatically complex life of my invisible friend Little Min (I'm telling you that girl should have had her own blog). After ignoring my father's sarcastic comments (likely intended to teach me the conversational art of filtering) and only partially absorbing his developmentally advanced scientific answers to my queires, I finally saw my chance.

"Hey Dad," I called out.
"You don't have to say that every time," he responded. "I'm right here."
"Why did the chicken cross the playground?" I asked, unfazed by his remark.
"Why?"
"To get to the other slide!"

*Rimshot.*

*Pause for raucous laughter*

No, but seriously now... I obviously didn't split anyone's sides with this witty and inventive play on words. However, I did make my dad smirk, and I'll never forget his response.

"That's pretty good Min," he commended me. "Where did you learn that?"

"Sesame St," I replied honestly.

"That's great, but next time someone asks you that, tell them you made it up yourself."

My precocious little brain was completely bewildered by this advice. I know I understood the point, because I remember thinking that it would be more impressive if I had made it up myself. Nevertheless, I couldn't reconcile that thought with my need to tell the truth. In fact, the very next time I told this joke, I voluntarily admitted everything.

"My dad says I should tell you I made that up," I explained. "But I really just heard it on Sesame St."

I just couldn't do it. I could not take credit for another person's work. It felt wrong. Still does. To this day, whenever I tell that joke (and you'd be surprised how often that is), I follow it up with this back story. Although, despite the contradictory logic, I somehow think I got the right message. What do you think?