"Those" moments..., Thoughts

“And in the night, he searches.

And in the day, he searches.

And on the morrow, he will search.

Close. Reaching.

Yet it will not be found.

And he knows that.”

 

 

 

…sometimes we love and though it seems that the object of our love is within reach, it does not reciprocate and so we must keep reaching…

 

 

 

– Boy Meets World

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Reaching

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Author's Picks, Thoughts

A Day

*A pleasant work of fiction

 

Summer has ended. If I’m to be allowed back into school I must needs to present a full summer report as Ms. Carter so persuasively pointed out to our class before we were temporarily unshackled from the widely accepted form of imprisonment that is educational institution. We were also instructed to write an introduction to our report proper to be followed by at least 1000 words. I guess this is mine.

My last summer report will about my family, and finding the perfect gift for my grandparents on their anniversary. It’s their 45th, I think. I believe 50 years of married life deserves some kind of nationwide awarding ceremony but that’s an issue for the government, not me. I would if I could. I’ve never seen two people more in love. A decade of that is extraordinary by itself. Half a century is mind boggling-ly amazing. (Three cheers for artistic license!)

I read somewhere that the perfect gift to give is something that shows just how much you know the receiver and that if given to anyone else would make zero sense. Once, I gifted my best friend the remains of Continue reading

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General Blah Blah

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

Despite my seemingly successful attempts to explain this, what this is; whatever this has become; Or why it is and what it’s for; i still don’t know, really.

Looking at my earlier ventures into writing – what seems like little more than digital chicken scratching – this cobwebbed side of the interwebs (heh) has turned into a hodge podge of bitterness, misery, dejection, frustration, and the other cousins of depression, with the occasional and obligatory existential musings, dry wit, and sometimes…lesser times…sometimes… gleams of actual insight – some of which, I can honestly say, have brought me pride.

Is that it though?

The Sesquipedalian has always been a home of sorts for me. It was never a summer home where people could and would cavort with the warmth in life only rainbows and butterflies and sunny days can bring. It is also not where you’d hide from the biting cold when the rivers would sleep and when sunshine would hide behind the gray veil; a home abandoned during the deepest of winters. It’s the in-between. When the warmth of summer has but left and the creeping cold betrays life.

When the valleys meet the peaks, that’s when you would find me here.

This place is more than it seems and I’ve yet to know how far it reaches into the void inside.

It has been winter for a while now and yet, I’ve come here. I’m here. I’m still here. Maybe I should stay for a while. Maybe, this time, I should face the frigid world. I should gaze into the abyss, and when the abyss gazes back, i’ll make it wish it hadn’t.

This is a good as home as any. Yes, i threw away the keys. Locks however, can be broken. Locks can be replaced, gates opened, walls scaled.

 

 

Hurdles were not meant to stop you. They’re meant to test your resolve and desire to overcome them.

So,

Overcome.

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"Those" moments..., Thoughts

Barely Beating.

Seafront evening

My seas have calmed. The winds, abated. The tempest’s fire has smoldered low, leaving only a memory. She was a maelstrom. A squall I was unprepared to face let alone handle. I see her in the distance now. The space between us I must strive to keep. Is it over or will she turn into a perfect storm once more?

I survived her. I’ve overcome. At least i’d want to think to myself. I know I’m safe at anchor. I’ve secured my mooring.

I can’t, however, sink the feeling that I’m drifting, slowly, away from the jetty of security. I can feel it when I close my eyes, when the world waxes taciturn. I close them now…and it’s there. Seemingly gentle ripples gradually pulling me away. The water rocking my craft into the unknown. I’m being drawn off the docks in the opposite direction of the storm. Into calm, indifferent and vacant waters.

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Just sayin..., Thoughts

How to (almost) always win and never be wrong

Sunshine in a Vaccume

Don’t get me wrong (heh). I actually love being wrong. You don’t learn anything new when you’re right. Being wrong however opens up a new world of knowledge, possibilities and personal evolution despite the general feelings people have toward the same and the ignominy it usually entails. Why shouldn’t we take the opportunity to learn when in the wrong? We’ll be better for it. A little embarrassment can’t kill. More on that later.

Having said that, know that this article isn’t a manual to manipulation, psychological prowess or a how-to into being a socially accepted know-it-all so one could force, bluff, or that-other-word-that’s-already-in-your-head their way into being right. If you are truly wrong nothing can save you, nothing noble at least. So don’t argue for argument’s sake, especially for the sake of being right. Stand for something. Be a torch-holder for the dispersion of truth, wisdom and self-betterment instead of ignorance and self-importance.

So how can one avoid (almost) ever being wrong?

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General Blah Blah

This Is The Kind Of Love I’m Looking For

“I want someone who maybe doesn’t love me the first time they meet me. I wouldn’t love me the first time I met me. Someone who still doesn’t necessarily feel anything the second or third time we meet, but who loves me when they love me. Maybe when they’ve memorized my order at coffee shops. Or when they’ve memorized exactly how long I can last on the elliptical, and exactly how many calories I burn each time. When they can recite verbatim and fully appreciate the stories I tell, the dramatic pauses I take, the faces I make, the truths I stretch each time I tell them.”

Thought Catalog

I want someone who maybe doesn’t love me the first time they meet me. I wouldn’t love me the first time I met me. Someone who still doesn’t necessarily feel anything the second or third time we meet, but who loves me when they love me. Maybe when they’ve memorized my order at coffee shops. Or when they’ve memorized exactly how long I can last on the elliptical, and exactly how many calories I burn each time. When they can recite verbatim and fully appreciate the stories I tell, the dramatic pauses I take, the faces I make, the truths I stretch each time I tell them.

Someone who loves me when they know my favorite pair of jeans. Who still loves me when they find out just how many times I wear them between washes. Someone that loves me when they learn that snow makes me sad, rain makes…

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