"Who can say why we love something or feel something? I am certainly no authority, but perhaps it starts with truth. There is something about hearing or seeing or feeling something that is true." ~Jamie Tworkowski
I read a blog today. It is one I read frequently. The only one, in fact. It is the To Write Love On Her Arms blog. ((if you do not know about them: http://www.twloha.com/index.php Go. Look around.)) It is written by many people who work on the team, but most often it is written by Jamie Tworkowski. I've had a deep adoration and respect for this man since his words saved my life in the summer of 2006. When I read the things he writes, I feel my brokenness but I also feel as though the little cracks are being filled. I feel healing. Most of all, I feel hope. And I know that I am not the only one who feels this way...it makes me wonder whether he feels the pressure of the millions of lives that lean against him for support...
Last night, Jamie wrote about a song. Writing about music isn't something new for TWLOHA, least of all Jamie, and I usually end up falling in love with whatever music the team talks about if I wasn't already a fan. Today...the song left me shaking. Literally, my body rocked with sobs. I couldn't stop crying. Still..tears are pricking in the corners of my eyes. This song...this beautiful, soulful, simple song...it has captured my heart so completely that I haven't been able to stop listening to it. For the last hour and a half, I have played it on repeat. There is something so very true about the lyrics...and in the voice of the lead singer. I learned throught he blog that his name is Steven. And when Steven sings that song, I believe every single word of it. I believe he has seen such struggles and such beauty that you can actually hear it in his voice. I can taste the contrasts of life in that voice and those lyrics. They speak to me in a way that only one other song ever has, "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley. If, somehow, you find yourself reading this...I hope you'll go and give his band, Satellite, a listen. I haven't been able to listen to anything besides the one song, "Ring the Bells", but I am confident everything else they have to offer is just as wonderful.Use the player at the bottom of the page...and then pass them on to someone you know. http://satellite-music.com/fr_home.cfm
"Ring the Bells"
Find the words that make it right again
Calling birds help you make it through the night
It's just enough to find a way to open up again
and learn to taste all the beauty that's inside
Well ring the bells that lead you home
cause the only truth i've ever known
is that nothing ever hurts us more than love
so circle up your best of friends
and we'll celebrate the way it ends
Atleast we live tonight
Atleast we live tonight
Scream out loud
until you feel again
and hear the sound of how to heal an aching heart
and those that know you most
can help you to live again
so keep them close
as you're making your new start
Well ring the bells that lead you home
cause the only truth i've ever known
is that nothing ever hurts us more than love
so circle up your best of friends
and we'll celebrate the way it ends
Atleast we live tonight
Atleast we live tonight
The day you finally turn to dust
and finally hear your name
brings colors that will never fade away
Sometimes the best all of us
can still break down and still give up on love
but it's never gone
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Anybody have a breaker switch to my brain?
I can't sleep. And my brain won't shut off.
So this is where I'm supposed to go...right? I'm supposed to login and blather on about my problems to everyone and no one at the same time? Sure thing, boss.
The truth is...I don't even know what my problems are. I have this habbit of caring about people that are destined to hurt me. Destined to slowly chip away at me until they have a little piece that they can keep for themselves, and run off with it. It's my own fault, really...I'm hopelessly addicted to train wrecks. I love the mess; broken spirits, shattered hearts, battle scars...I can't get enough. Which begs the question: How fucked up am I? I don't need someone else to make me feel whole, thats not the case here...I am just perpetually drawn to those people who will use me to fill in their own gaps.
I can't sleep. And my brain won't shut off.
So this is where I'm supposed to go...right? I'm supposed to login and blather on about my problems to everyone and no one at the same time? Sure thing, boss.
The truth is...I don't even know what my problems are. I have this habbit of caring about people that are destined to hurt me. Destined to slowly chip away at me until they have a little piece that they can keep for themselves, and run off with it. It's my own fault, really...I'm hopelessly addicted to train wrecks. I love the mess; broken spirits, shattered hearts, battle scars...I can't get enough. Which begs the question: How fucked up am I? I don't need someone else to make me feel whole, thats not the case here...I am just perpetually drawn to those people who will use me to fill in their own gaps.
I can't sleep. And my brain won't shut off.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I'd Tell You...
NOTE:
This is an intensely personal piece of writing. I do not post it lightly, and in fact waffled about whether or not I should post it at all. In the end, after consulting a trusted friend, I decided to do so for two reasons.
1) The person this is written to, for, and about was one of the strongest, most supportive, and loving individuals I will ever know. She was a teeny Mexican woman, hardly over 5 feet tall, and yet she had a presence that could completely fill any room. She happened to be my paternal grandmother. And last week marked the two year anniversary of an even that has undeniably changed me: her death.
2) There are no guarantees, ever. This very instant, as you read these words perhaps, you or someone you love could be struck dead in any number of ways. Yes, thinking like this is in some ways morbid…BUT it also forces you to accept the fact that nothing is certain. Least of all life, so it should not be taken for granted. After you read this (if you read this), go out and tell people exactly how you feel about them. Because you can never know, not really, when either one of you might be gone.
What would I say to you right now if I could? If I somehow had the chance to speak to you and have you hear my words, what would I say? As much as I would literally give my right arm for the opportunity to do just that, I honestly have no idea what I would tell you. “I love you” is obvious, “I miss you”, even more so…but undoubtedly they would be the first things I’d utter. I can’t possibly know for sure what would tumble out next, but I’d want it to be something like: “You’ve been gone for two years and I still feel the gaps between where my heart is and where it’s supposed to connect with the rest of me.” I wouldn’t say this to make you or hurt or feel sorry for me, which of course you would. I would just want you to know. I’d tell you that I think about you daily. Sometimes, it’s a little memory that makes me smile fondly. Other days, it’s something that knocks my knees right out. And that when I’m nervous, or upset, or really, really pissed off…it was pointed out to me that I rub the tattoo on my right wrist. Your tattoo. I know you hated my self decorations, called them mutilations in fact, but I also remember you chastised with a smile on your face and a roll of your eyes. I actually think you would have liked this one.
I’d tell you that for the most part, we’re doing fine. Anna is going to have a baby. A boy, due in September. She and Billy are living with us now and they’re saving for a house a of their own. I’m so happy that you knew Billy. And I’m sure it would make you happy to know that I have grown to truly consider him part of our family. He’s the perfect match for her. Robby is going to Hope College, that prestigious private school right in Holland, to study computer science and play football. He has a pretty serious girlfriend, one that I think you’d love--- she’s a lot like my mom. And Adam…oh Adam. He’s tall with a nose like dad and papa’s. He’s grown into a young man. He’s still learning what that means, but he’s a good kid. And a superb all around athlete. My parents are doing well. My dad is pretty solidly booked this summer and my mother has a permanent job with good benefits. He is still stubborn and a little over bearing at times, while she is just as absent minded as ever, but honestly….both of them seem happier than I can remember them being in a while. As for me…I’d break down and tell you how lost I was feeling. AM feeling. And how I simply have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I’d tell you about Connie, about how much I adore her, but how much I’m dying to write professionally somehow.
I would let you know that after you died, the whole family seemed to pull together. Everyone stopped with their senseless, and in the end, trivial bickering and we just a family united. Sons-daughters-parents-brothers-sisters-aunts-uncles-nieces-nephews-cousins. We clung to each other. We held hands on the day we buried you and it felt like we were holding hearts. I want desperately to tell you that it lasted, that we all still keep in touch and we haven’t let things that shouldn’t really matter come between us…but we both know that I never could tell a decent lie, especially to you. We’ve drifted apart again and all the old resentments and bitterness are right back with a large serving of new dramas to push us even further apart. I know it would destroy you to hear such things because it hurts me too, but I’d want you to know the truth. I’d also tell you that I’m beginning to forget your voice. The brusque yet soft way you spoke. The way your slight accent dusted certain words with an atavistic touch so light that it was almost indiscernible. And that your smell has almost leeched completely out of your old green housecoat that you kept at the lake house. Light and powdery, it has all but totally vanished. I might even imagine it to still be there at all now. I would tell you how much this terrifies me. I’m afraid that one day, I’m going to wake up and not be able to recall how your smile looked, or the particular shape of your eyes, or what it felt like to bend down and hug you while your hair brushed against my cheek. I’d talk to you about how robbed I felt loosing you the way we did. I’d apologize for not being able to be there, which is something I still feel needless guilt about. Without question, I would cry and tell you, just so you would know, that you were the most important person to have ever touched my life and I am not the same without you. I’m sure I’d blather on about the amazing friends I have made, and equally so about the ones I had lost. I’d ramble about my adventures in Pennsylvania, Chicago, Ohio, California, and Canada too. ..but before anything else, just in case you had to leave before I had the chance to say everything I had wanted to say (as was the case in life) I’d say this:
“I love you. And I miss you terribly.”
This is an intensely personal piece of writing. I do not post it lightly, and in fact waffled about whether or not I should post it at all. In the end, after consulting a trusted friend, I decided to do so for two reasons.
1) The person this is written to, for, and about was one of the strongest, most supportive, and loving individuals I will ever know. She was a teeny Mexican woman, hardly over 5 feet tall, and yet she had a presence that could completely fill any room. She happened to be my paternal grandmother. And last week marked the two year anniversary of an even that has undeniably changed me: her death.
2) There are no guarantees, ever. This very instant, as you read these words perhaps, you or someone you love could be struck dead in any number of ways. Yes, thinking like this is in some ways morbid…BUT it also forces you to accept the fact that nothing is certain. Least of all life, so it should not be taken for granted. After you read this (if you read this), go out and tell people exactly how you feel about them. Because you can never know, not really, when either one of you might be gone.
What would I say to you right now if I could? If I somehow had the chance to speak to you and have you hear my words, what would I say? As much as I would literally give my right arm for the opportunity to do just that, I honestly have no idea what I would tell you. “I love you” is obvious, “I miss you”, even more so…but undoubtedly they would be the first things I’d utter. I can’t possibly know for sure what would tumble out next, but I’d want it to be something like: “You’ve been gone for two years and I still feel the gaps between where my heart is and where it’s supposed to connect with the rest of me.” I wouldn’t say this to make you or hurt or feel sorry for me, which of course you would. I would just want you to know. I’d tell you that I think about you daily. Sometimes, it’s a little memory that makes me smile fondly. Other days, it’s something that knocks my knees right out. And that when I’m nervous, or upset, or really, really pissed off…it was pointed out to me that I rub the tattoo on my right wrist. Your tattoo. I know you hated my self decorations, called them mutilations in fact, but I also remember you chastised with a smile on your face and a roll of your eyes. I actually think you would have liked this one.
I’d tell you that for the most part, we’re doing fine. Anna is going to have a baby. A boy, due in September. She and Billy are living with us now and they’re saving for a house a of their own. I’m so happy that you knew Billy. And I’m sure it would make you happy to know that I have grown to truly consider him part of our family. He’s the perfect match for her. Robby is going to Hope College, that prestigious private school right in Holland, to study computer science and play football. He has a pretty serious girlfriend, one that I think you’d love--- she’s a lot like my mom. And Adam…oh Adam. He’s tall with a nose like dad and papa’s. He’s grown into a young man. He’s still learning what that means, but he’s a good kid. And a superb all around athlete. My parents are doing well. My dad is pretty solidly booked this summer and my mother has a permanent job with good benefits. He is still stubborn and a little over bearing at times, while she is just as absent minded as ever, but honestly….both of them seem happier than I can remember them being in a while. As for me…I’d break down and tell you how lost I was feeling. AM feeling. And how I simply have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I’d tell you about Connie, about how much I adore her, but how much I’m dying to write professionally somehow.
I would let you know that after you died, the whole family seemed to pull together. Everyone stopped with their senseless, and in the end, trivial bickering and we just a family united. Sons-daughters-parents-brothers-sisters-aunts-uncles-nieces-nephews-cousins. We clung to each other. We held hands on the day we buried you and it felt like we were holding hearts. I want desperately to tell you that it lasted, that we all still keep in touch and we haven’t let things that shouldn’t really matter come between us…but we both know that I never could tell a decent lie, especially to you. We’ve drifted apart again and all the old resentments and bitterness are right back with a large serving of new dramas to push us even further apart. I know it would destroy you to hear such things because it hurts me too, but I’d want you to know the truth. I’d also tell you that I’m beginning to forget your voice. The brusque yet soft way you spoke. The way your slight accent dusted certain words with an atavistic touch so light that it was almost indiscernible. And that your smell has almost leeched completely out of your old green housecoat that you kept at the lake house. Light and powdery, it has all but totally vanished. I might even imagine it to still be there at all now. I would tell you how much this terrifies me. I’m afraid that one day, I’m going to wake up and not be able to recall how your smile looked, or the particular shape of your eyes, or what it felt like to bend down and hug you while your hair brushed against my cheek. I’d talk to you about how robbed I felt loosing you the way we did. I’d apologize for not being able to be there, which is something I still feel needless guilt about. Without question, I would cry and tell you, just so you would know, that you were the most important person to have ever touched my life and I am not the same without you. I’m sure I’d blather on about the amazing friends I have made, and equally so about the ones I had lost. I’d ramble about my adventures in Pennsylvania, Chicago, Ohio, California, and Canada too. ..but before anything else, just in case you had to leave before I had the chance to say everything I had wanted to say (as was the case in life) I’d say this:
“I love you. And I miss you terribly.”
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Is this a blog?
This is soooooo a fucking blog. I don't know what the hell that really means, but here I am. I am constantly writing. This is something that even the people who do not know me very well are aware of...but I don't share often. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and in fact, naked. So this whole thing is really just a giant nightmare. You know the kind-it leaves you shaking and terrified long after you've awakened to find that your life is still in the varying array of brokenness you left it in upon going to sleep. And yet...you can't quite shake the feeling that something is devastatingly wrong and out of sorts. The undeniable notion that there is something out there, waiting, to destroy you.
Why then, am I sacrificing myself up for this?
Who the fuck knows. Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment.
Why then, am I sacrificing myself up for this?
Who the fuck knows. Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment.
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