Oceansong

The past couple of days I’ve been at the beach with my man. It’s been heaven, but more it’s been the juxtaposition of land and sea. We’ve gone into the water and spent hours walking up and down the shore. It’s been relaxing, invigorating, tiring, peaceful, and brilliant. The wind has roared. The waves have crashed. And one thing is certain: the oceansong is amazing.

Confessionals

I must confess. I’m not entirely honest. I don’t deceive, not intentionally at least, but I usually know a thing or two more than I let on. It helps me hold onto something, a sliver of control, a ground wire to make sure I don’t shock myself by coming to a dead end. If I don’t have the whole picture, I hide the pieces I have in pursuit of those I need to hold. When it’s all put together, and I meet someone, I don’t enlighten them. They need to come to it on their own, I might say, or it’s better to wait–maybe what I think is whole isn’t whole yet.

It’s not exactly deception. It’s not exactly honesty either.

As many of you may know, there’s been a couple people on campus that have made this semester hell. I mentioned their backstabbing in “Awfully Whetted Strife” where I discussed how my very sense of trust has been injured. In a few words I expressed my rising indignation over the one of them in “The Man Who Lied to My Face.” You don’t need to read those, not unless you want to, but it’s worth knowing how long this has been going on.

Because today it’s going to stop.

From Walmart with Love

I never would have guessed Walmart would give me hope. I never really expected it from one of the saddest shopping places I know. A designer boutique, perhaps, or one of those specialty shops with a focus. Yeah. They could give a guy hope. But Walmart? That place we go because it’s cheap, not stylish, with the smelly bathrooms and scuffed-up floors?

Well. I guess it happens sometimes.

701 Words to Remember

“More Than a Moment”

It’s not that I don’t want to get married
it’s simply the fact that I can’t
but what would it matter even if I did
when I know how they all end anyways
Well I guess they don’t all end
but you know what I mean when I say
that most of them do go anyways.

Opportunities Knocked

It’s been a while since I’ve given good time to writing, but it really is my favorite passion. No matter how many leadership roles I’ve had, no matter how many math classes I’ve taken, no matter how many electives I’ve indulged in–nothing brings me back to myself like writing does. I often compare words to blood, the act of writing itself like bleeding–blood-letting, if you will, that cathartic process of expelling the bad humors while holding onto the good.

This week I’m continuing my series of writing exercises and wrapping up the chapter on what makes a story. The exercise is simple: Look back at opportunities not taken. I guess often we look at the choices we’ve made that lead somewhere, but forget the choices that did the opposite–those choices that led nowhere. In stories, however, it’s those choices that make something happen that we follow to the end. If we can identify those choices that cause the story to stop, we can focus on writing about those choices that take us places.

What I Sing About When I Sing About Love

I have a confession to make: I’m a complete and total sap. I turn to mush in the vicinity of someone I like. All things that make you go “Awww!” fill me with butterflies and rainbows and little puppies rolling in the grass. I love the sentimental–not sentimentality, mind you, but the sentimental–and those possessions I cherish most have the least practical use and the most emotional meaning. I’m impressed by the visual, but overwhelmed by the sensory–touch and sound and smell and taste–and if I can taste you in my breath, I am in love.

I just don’t show it very much. It’s easier around the edges to be sharper, more stoic and solid. There’s a lot inside me that I don’t show, and only part of it are vital organs that really need to stay inside. The rest of it bleeds through like ink in any manner of manifestations until, like a blood-warmed bath, it’s all leaked around me and I’m drowning in my own feeling, unable to swim to the surface and save myself.

I don’t show that much either. On the inside, it’s a steady current of chaos. Until I look at it, until I perceive what fragments are there, it’s only a seamless, stable whole. Introspection becomes the bane of my existence, and come today–come this dreaded day of hearts and roses–all my introspection turns inward on love.

That Which We Cannot Name

Yesterday I ate Christmas dinner. Twice. That itself may have been tiring, but it was the company that was most exhaustive. I’m an introvert; I can’t help but feel weighed down in large crowds.

Even if they are family.

Yet for all the anguish and agony, today I’m thankful for my family. Of course, I’m thankful for my family every day (or at least most days), but today I’m making something special of it.

Family Values are Under Attack

That’s right, folks, you’ve heard it first from me: Family values are under attack. People across the nation are fighting for the right for same-sex couples to wed, to adopt children, to raise families with love and compassion–and our family values are under attack.

You might think I’m on the wrong side of the fence here, but I assure you, you’d be mistaken.

An Open Letter to the People of North Carolina

To My Fellow North Carolinians;

I am writing to you in concern of the upcoming Special Session on Monday, September 12, 2011, to vote on Senate Bill 106 and House Bill 777, both entitled Defense of Marriage, which seek to amend our state constitution so that marriages between one man and one woman are the only legally recognized domestic relationship in North Carolina.

It is my belief, however, that these bills should not be passed.

Suppose I Never Ever Met You

For the sake of introduction, I feel I should say something here. However, it is not in me tonight. I’ve had a long day. From studying, to studying, and all the myriad things in between I just don’t feel like talking about, I never thought the day would become so drawn out. I’m glad I’m here, to finally put my mind on something tangible, something sensible. Some days these things just seem lacking in general. Some days you just know what I mean.

2.17 Rabbi Yose taught:

The property of others should be as precious to you as your own;
Perfect yourself in the study of Torah–it will not come to you by inheritance;
let all your deeds be for Heaven’s sake.

I took a class with my rabbi once. I can’t remember what it was about, I’ve taken a few with him, but I remember the way he put it: All sins in the Bible can be traced back to one–the sin of stealing. Murder is stealing another’s life; adultery is stealing another’s wife; even idolatry can be described as stealing from God what is due to him and giving it unto another. It’s a perfect philosophy, in a way, and this teaching makes me think of it.