Look Ma, All The Letters!

The five boxing wizards jump quickly.

I have in my possession 26 letters of wordy goodness.  I can arrange them in many ways:

  • However I want-

Jopwqg silf ghyuliop, yhwimgio!

  • So others may read them-

Why hello there, beautiful!

  • In accordance with modern American English:

AaBbCcDdEeFfGgHhIiJjKkLlMmNnOoPpQqRrSsTtUuVvWwXxYyZz

But I digress.  

What my thoughts are trying to convey is this:  If you got words to put down, use the letters you have to make it happen!  In my old poetry, I used a fairly limited vocabulary.  Not because I didn’t know other words, but rather because the words I used frequently were the most comfortable and flew off the pen easier for me.  I may not have been the most eloquent writer (and I maintain that view today), but I did get what I wanted out of what was given to me.

 

-Thanks to my 10th grade English teacher, who always gave me a √+++ on my “idea/vision” for every paper I handed in. (She did, however give me less than amazing scores for my mechanical writing skills!)

An Unfiltered Look

These are the things currently occupying my desk:

My custom mousepad, bluetooth mouse, Macbook Pro, and its power adapter.

My home made wallet, Timex watch, cell phone, and teat tree oil bottle.

My medication, green headphones, iPod touch, camera lens cover, and an SD card.

Last night’s gin & tonic, old iPod earbuds, package of generic ballpoint pens, and a scrunched up paper towel.

A USB dock connector, $1 in quarters, extra earbud fittings, a click top pen, and a mug.

2 small bowls, a Super Mario coin cube, my son’s paper craft, and a 300 CD carrying case.

U2: Go Home DVD, Macbook Pro: Portable Genius – 3rd Edition, and Davis’s Drug Guide for Nurses – 10th Edition.

Old back-up dvd case, webcam, and a plethora of old mail in a metal separator.

A picture of my oldest son, a picture of my sons, wife, and myself, and nail clippers.

A snapshot in the daily life of my desk.

Autumn Lunch Breaks

It’s 12:55pm on the 18th day of November.  A Sunny Sunday in fact.  I am sitting outside Oasis with some spicy tuna sushi and some folk strolling from my computer speakers.

The passersby look with feigned disinterest in what I am doing, but i see what they want.  They would like to sit down and talk.  I know I would.  There i something about sharing stories with a stranger or a long-lost friend. I can not completely comprehend the feelings that well up inside when I run across these situations, but in most cases it goes something like this:

    I am listening to bob dylan on my ipod when I come across someone I haven’t seen in a while.  They look like they need company.  They also look like they are engrossed in whatever they are doing.  I can’t tell if that look is genuine or forced.  And that is the crux of the problem.  Do I interrupt their business and essentially stop their train of thought, or do I walk on by with “feigned disinterest”?

There you have it.  I usually pick the latter and walk on by, but later regret not saying hi.  Maybe I need to work on that.

The other situation is like I mentioned in the beginning – I am sitting down, somewhere public and usually at an empty table.  Most of the time I am the observer – looking from my point of view out into the scene.  Other times I might seem ‘into’ my thoughts or whatever, but I can tell you that I am eager for someone to come by and sit down across from me ant start up a conversation.  For me, that encounter would be like an unexpected breath of fresh air.  Alas, this rarely happens anymore.  It did when I was younger – when we were all younger and socially less intimidated.

The lone figure, hunched over his work, sips a cup of coffee from a well-used travel mug beside a cafe, listening to the noises of the neighborhood.  A small smile creeps up from nowhere and plasters itself blatantly upon his unusually hardened features.  Slowly, but surely the neighborhood sees the figure sitting there.  Slowly the people around him do too.  Eventually the lone figure lets his smile spread and encompass his entire face.  His eyes gleam with the radiance of a summer’s mid-day sun.  His expressions soften and liven up as sparkles of thoughts flood his mind.  They pour out of his mouth in the form of invitations and greetings.  Then, with the awareness of self-confidence, the lone figure stands up, walks to the nearest person and strikes up a conversation that had been his internal monologue for uncounted years.  The man and his thoughts were now accompanied by an audience of willing ears.  A bright day happened indeed.

May each of us experience our own one day.  I know I will.  One day.

Reacquainting Myself With Isolation

Dear Loneliness,

I write you this letter in reply to your interest in my life.  I can see by your desperation that inserting yourself in my life would bring you some sense of success.  I have to say; in that regard, I am in no way in need of your services.  Thank you for applying and good luck in your search for companionship.  I think you will find that most contacts will avoid the likes of you with their own brand of resistance.  Just a heads up.

-Your past,

Jeremiah (A Wandering Poet)

The above letter was dusted off the long-forgotten memories of my youth.  I reread it this morning over some breakfast and maté and realized something profound.

Loneliness never stopped writing me.

Armed with the fact that I have a loving family around me; Wife, 2 boys, my Dad, and one of my sisters, loneliness has no chance with me.  Yet I feel the tug of some familiar string.  I can not escape the reality around me.  As I surround myself with loved ones over the years, I am at the same time warding off the ever-persistant loneliness.  I have won, for the most part every brush with it with I can remember.  But why it never ceases is a mystery.

Recently though, loneliness’ cousin, isolation has come around knockin’.  At first it was a few moments here and there – postcards really – of times when I wanted to be left alone or needed some breathing space.  Those times were mere haikus in the grand poetry of my life, and in no way presented like those lonely letters all those years ago.  I thought little of them.  Until about a year ago.  Life had a way of slipping me a bit of isolation without me knowing or without my consent.  I guess it started with the loss of a dear friend of mine.  Grief has a serious affect on people.  Different in all of us, but with me it was quiet and subtle.  Like early-stage cancer.  So with the passing of an up-until-then standard and reliable aspect of my friendships, all the dominoes seemed to fall after that.  The childhood friends that I had maintained fell to the wayside with little fight or minimal complaint by my peers.  I tried to write them and explain that our time together was still important, but either life got in the way, or isolation was a key figure in the grand scheme of things.

I gave up on flaky letters of non-committal poetry. I was getting tired of things falling through.  Every time.  I retreated within my comfort zone.  My wife and kids.  That is what I knew to be there all the time.  A warm feeling of togetherness and family that pervaded everything I did.  It was nice.  For awhile.  I noticed that the few opportunities that crept up were either last-minute and therefore undoable, or that I created a safe-haven of isolation around my time and space, allowing select few to get through.  Not good.

I do not know what is to be done, as I am still in the throws of it all.  On one hand I have the companionship of a lovely woman and the (hopeful) adoration of two amazing boys.  On the other rests the reality of life – reaching out to those that you put aside.  I will get there –  and reintegrate them into my life.  Until then, I must accept that I am isolated.  Isolated from extending myself too far.

I need to wake my mind up, spiritualize my thoughts and re-imagine the future of myself.

*sat in front of this computer for roughly 20 minutes with nothing to add*

I guess I will end with a poem of sorts.

(Funny that my wife is not a fan of poetry …oh well.)

Isolation will fade

as loneliness drowns

in the circle of friends

that entrench around you

protect you from wild desolation

see you through

tough times

bring you back

into the fold if lost.

Isolation!

hold hands with loneliness

and do yourselves a favor

and fade away to black.

Inspired by:

“If I could through myself
Set your spirit free
I’d lead your heart away
See you break, break away
Into the light
And to the day

To let it go
And so to fade away
To let it go
And so fade away”

-Bono, U2.