A Gray Day

The rain is pouring down outside. Living on the top floor of our apartment complex, we can hear it pounding onto the roof. It's been like this all day today, with the exception of a break in the clouds at lunch.
The rain is cleansing. I know that. I love watching the current of the water in the gutters when its really rainy. I love watching the drops collect and run down my windows. I love watching the clouds form and grow and move in all of their puffiness. I love watching people running through it to get out of it as quickly as possible. I love watching the wipers go back and forth to brush off the drops on my windshield. And most of all, I love listening to the intensity of the rain hitting whatever is covering my head. It can be so beautiful and peaceful to pay attention to these details that I often don't consider.
As glorious as I have made it sound, the truth is that whenever it does rain I feel more down-and-out. Under-the-weather. Depressed. I try to change it, even by acknowledging the little things that I just mentioned. Yet somehow, the darkness finds its way into the very core of my being. Deep. Uncomfortable. So I try to distract myself by doing the things that I love, like writing, scrapbooking, watching movies, or whatever else that will keep me dry. Maybe that is part of the problem, though. I am drying up. All of these involve me being enclosed in my tiny apartment. The air is dry. My skin feels dry. My eyes feel dry. My heart feels dry, heavy, bored.
And I never really pay attention. So the darkness has this easy victory in pulling me down. The rain falls and I have fallen.
But I have forgotten that there are benefits of this powerful weather. When the clouds have been wrung dry of the moisture, they depart, giving way to the sun's brilliant rays. Sometimes, you can even see those rays as they break through the fleeting clouds. I've always thought that was God's way of showing us the angels ascending and descending, going to and from heaven. Magnificent. And how could I forget that "April showers bring May flowers!" I must remember that this rain is here to water this place so that these incredible varieties of flowers can grow and carry on. The best thing about the rain leaving is the fresh, crisp air that it leaves behind. At first it can smell a lot like soggy streets here in this city life, but after the sun's bath the air is finally clean again. Even against my skin I can feel a difference after the rainshowers have passed. It's cool and refreshing after being confined inside with the heater drying me up. There is clarity in the atmosphere here again after the rain. The smog and pollution seem to have been flushed away from the weight of the water pushing it down and away. And there it is. The rain is good. I will conclude that it is not the rain that is the problem, but it is the inevitable darkness that it will always bring that 'dampens my spirits.'

Solitude

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(1850-1919)

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;

Weep, and you weep alone.

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,

But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;

Sigh, it is lost on the air.

The echoes bound to a joyful sound,

But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;

Grieve, and they turn and go.

They want full measure of all your pleasure,

But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;

Be sad, and you lose them all.

There are none to decline your nectared wine,

But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;

Fast, and the world goes by.

Succeed and give, and it helps you live,

But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure

For a long and lordly train,

But one by one we must all file on

Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Sounds kinda cynical, doesn't it? I found this poem for a paper I wrote in high school. It is still one of my favorites. Why? Because there have been so many times when these words rang true. When life's good, everyone wants to be apart of it. But where do they all go when you need them most?

Now, I am not saying that this poem is always true to the way things work. There have been countless times when I was down and my friends were there to pick me up. I could not have made it through many hardships without the help of so many friends throughout my life.

However, there are times in life where it just seems like there is no one. Solitude is all that there is. Its in those times when you "Sigh, it is lost on the air." No one hears. No one notices. And that's when you realize you're on your own for this one.

So what do you do? What can you really do? Pull yourself back up and fight on (or just try to go on!). With teeth tightly clenched, your hands in tight fists, and the lump in your throat, it's time to move on with your life or else it will keep on moving without you. It's so hard to do. Sometimes it just hurts too badly to want to keep trying. But you know that if you give up now, you will never be able to grow or change. And that is the essence of life, to learn and grow and change as a result of the hard times and hard circumstances that we face in life. The more that you learn, the better your chances of survival in the next crisis, should you face it alone again. In the meantime, "Succeed and give, and it helps you live."

The Perfect Rose

I've been wanting to create another post all week. But I cannot find my inspiration. I thought I'd share this picture that I took a while ago. I can't believe that it came out this great. Technology is so incredible to enable an amature such as myself to capture something like this with such clarity. Maybe there is a chance that I could learn to take professional photographs? I'll keep working on it!

This is my Open Book

Is anyone out there? Are you reading this? I was just wondering because I know that you've been here before. I am sharing my thoughts with you, world, and I'm vulnerable because I don't know what you're thinking or doing with what I've written. I am curious, what do you come back for? Please let me know. I want to grow, improve, learn how to really become a writer. Just click where it says "COMMENTS" below. I'd really appreciate what you have to say!

He Shoots, He SCORES!!

This one is for you, #23. I'm so impressed with the man you've become. You make me proud to be a part of your life, as your sister. I just want you to know that. I love you!

Hockey on Dry Ice

Smell the stench.

Feel the exhilaration.

Games have been played.

Teams battled to win.

The clock is set

Blood begins to rush.

Warm up now.

Challenge your goalie.

Time's up.

Teams gather.

No coaches.

Just play.

And the whistle blows.

The puck is tossed.

Each player knows their role.

Get it, pass it, shoot it.

Work together.

The puck is slapped.

The goalie is alert.

No miss, yet no shot.

Time out.

Recover.

Deep-breath.

Try again.

Fly down the rink.

The puck is here.

Now is your time.

Shoot for the goal.

It's in!

It's good!

There's cheering.

You did it.

And we're proud.

It's not the game.

It's the fight to win.

You never gave up.

It's for you!

"Hello? . . . Are you there? . . . Can you hear me now?"

"Hi! You've reached my voice-mail. Leave a message after the beep!"

Sound familiar? Of course it does. It is something that we all are familiar with and what some take forgranted: the cellular phone. Yesterday, my phone just stopped working. It was not that the battery had died or that it was just momentarily malfunctioning. No, it just died. And all of the sudden I felt so vulnerable! All of the sudden, I have no way of contacting ANYONE if something were to happen to me while I was out, driving, alone, and it's dark outside. I think: "Well, at least I could go use a pay-phone if I really needed to." But then I remembered that I have no way to access the numbers of anyone I know because I've never actually dialed anyone's number. I just always find their name in my phone list in the phone and press 'talk' to dial their number automatically. I also remember that I don't have any change in my purse anyway. I can't remember when I last had change in my purse! I have just been so used to using my 'debit' card for everything that I no longer think it is necessary to carry any cash at all! WoW. Then I realized why I was feeling so vulnerable. It is because I have come to depend on my cell phone. It is my life-line. I never think of not ever having a cell phone. I've been the one taking this seemingly small luxury forgranted.

You see, I've grown up with this technology in its early developmental stages. I have not known a world without this ability to contact someone right away if I needed or wanted to. I remember when my dad first brought home a "car-phone" that was somewhat mobile. I remember how just a few short years later, that phone seemed so bulky and superfluous. And I got my own pager. That was junior high for me. That was when I was only just becoming aware of the telephone as a means of communication with my friends and family. I remember "pager-code" was so cool and if you didn't know it, there really was no point in even owning a pager. And then came high school. I remember when I traded my pager in for my first cell phone. It was the Nokia phones that were the hit at the time. Everyone who was anyone had one of these phones. So by that time the industry had obviously taken off, giving everyone more of a reason to need a cell phone. Slowly, we all come to understand how having a cell phone is a good idea, just in case of an 'emergency.' That's how I remember it starting. That was how I convinced my parents that I, too, needed a cell phone, so that I would have it for 'emergencies' while I was out with my friends or driving alone. After a while, I couldn't put that thing down. That was the only way I would talk with my friends. Oh, and the bills were outrageous! I remember trying to work more hours at my job so that I wouldn't be late in paying the first bill that I was solely responsible for. Clearly, this is my generation, caught up in the entanglements of the wireless communication era.

I suppose that the reason I was wanting to write about this is that I wanted to just sit back and think about how we are really privileged (in this country, I guess) to have this ability to cry out for help from just about anywhere. And it is a luxury, I think, to be able to just talk with friends or family whenever and wherever. I'm thinking about how safe I feel when I get a flat tire while I'm driving on the freeway and I don't even have to get out of my car to go find some kind of phone to call for help! I can use my cell phone to directly call for a tow-truck, which also saves me the time it would have taken searching for another kind of phone. I'm thinking about how safe I feel when my surroundings are unsafe. I can use my cell phone to call someone I know to come find me and help me. I'm thinking about how nice it is to be able to call someone when I am just around the corner to tell them to come on out for me to pick them up (laziness, I know, but you do it too, don't you?). I'm thinking about how nice it is to be able to call my husband after a long day at work just to hear his sweet voice until we can see each other again in person (I know, I'll see him when I get home. But sometimes I just can't wait to talk with him!). I'm thinking about how nice it is when I am lost and cannot find the right directions that I don't have to find a gas station to pull into to ask some stranger. I can call someone I know for the right directions to bring me safely to my destination (sometimes I'm scared of the people working the gas stations late at night!). And I'm thinking about how nice it is to be able to prepare for those important calls that you just can't miss. As long as you have that cell phone with you, you can take that important call wherever you are (that way you don't have to miss that call at all!).

Well, whatever other benefits there are that I haven't thought about, I do believe that it is worth it to have one. And I know that I will feel safe again as soon as I get myself a new cell phone! Until then, you can just leave me a message! (heehee!)

In Your Eyes

Looking at these pictures gets me all choked up. Its in a good way. It's like I'm thinking, "how did I get so lucky, so blessed to have you in my life forever?" It's in your eyes. It's in the way that you look at me. So often I am too busy looking out rather than in, at you, where I am home. Today, Valentine's Day, I write this to you, my love, because today I want to look at you the way that you look at me.

In Your Eyes

There's a giggle. And I'm looking all around.

There is silence. And your face is soft.

I am restless. You are urging me to be calm.

You have this peace. I don't understand it.

And we dance, together, in ways we've always dreamed.

We circle around without ever knowing.

The music is silence, yet sound is all around us.

There's no time to stop because we've got to live on.

But I am falling. I am losing my grip.

Suddenly the dance isn't so fun.

I can no longer hear any sound.

Life is still moving and I cannot.

It's your hand you give to me.

Your arms are so strong to pull me back up.

I'm looking around in my shame and disgust.

No one else noticed. Your eyes were still on me.

I find in your eyes the wisdom of old

and the depth of a love that never could age.

Finally I see where you have always been.

You're in front of me and I've found my home again.

Jessica Rose

02-14-06

I love you, Timothy.

My Favorite Pen-Pal

November 1972

(1995) I'm about 12 years old. I'm running down the driveway, wondering always if there is anything tucked in the mailbox for me. I think I have established about 4 or 5 pen-pals to correspond with. But there is one specific pen-pal that I am most eager to hear from: my grandfather. I enjoy his letters the most because he has this silly sense of humor and he's full of sarcasm. And I know that when a letter is coming from him, there is not always just a piece of paper with writing on it, but often there is also something special. Something different each time. So far, I've recieved a silly old note attatched to a $2 bill indicating that as long as I hang onto that bill, I will never be poor and neither will my family (oh, and if I do spend it, I will be CURSED with the old family curse!). I laughed. I've also recieved a lot of cool postcards from all of the different places that he's been visiting. I can't wait to hear about his next adventure!

I open the mailbox and carefully pull out all the mail. Bills for mom and dad, more bills, some "junk" mail, some coupons, and . . . and . . . a LETTER FOR ME from my favorite pen-pal!

I run back into the house and throw all of that other mail onto the counter for my mom and dad. I plop myself down onto the couch and rip open my letter at the seams. And then I am careful . . . this is the best part, the anticipation of what I am about to read. As I pull down the first fold, something thin and delicate falls onto my lap. It's face-down. I pick it up carefully, holding its edges. And I turn it over only to find my favorite pen-pal looking down on me. WoW! This picture is amazing. It is so special to me, I know, even just after this first glance. I wasn't even alive in 1972! But I'm thinking, this might very well be the best picture I will ever have of my grandfather! So before I even read the letter, I run to my bedroom to place this precious photo in the safest place I know: my sticker album.

(2006) I am 22. I recently went back to my parent's house to dig up some of my old poems and keepsakes. I find pages and pages of notes, letters, and memorable little trinkets. And as I peer into my old closet, I spot it! It was my most prized possession from when I was about 11 and 12. It's this 11x14 grey picture album, unmarked. I slowly remove it from its place in the debris that is my stuff. I roam through the pages and pages of stickers, reminiscing about when I got which sticker. I decide that this is something I would like to have in my possession again. I take it home.

I'm tired. A few days have gone by. But I am curious again, so I go and find that grey photo album I brought back from my parent's house. I flip through EVERY page this time. And the end was like a cherry on an ice cream sundae, just so sweet. This picture has had a whole page dedicated to it for all these years. I'm so happy to have found this picture again! It has made my day. I think I'll go and write a story about it . . .

I love you, Grandpa.

You'll always be my favorite pen-pal!

Life Again

The coldest of the winter has passed.

Still, it is not quite spring.

Yet here, tucked in a corner

is life again.

The sun is rising in the distance,

showering down its rays of warmth.

It is finally penetrating the ground again,

touching beauty, revealing hidden glory.

Slowly life emerges from its darker places.

Suddenly it is there to greet us,

to remind us that it has not all gone.

Instead it has been renewed and refined.

It begins so sweetly, with such purity.

A mere branch takes it on,

the dawn of renewed fruit,

taking the place to which it has been ordained.

And then it begins.

The branch births limbs,

the limbs sproud seeds,

the seeds display the bud.

Behold the flower,

so artfully created

with such accuracy and precision,

the blossom of the beginning of spring.

-Jessica Rose

02-05-06

Congratulations

My latest creation. Congratulations to my husband for making it! I'm so proud of you, honey!

An appropriate poem for these times . . .

Love After Love

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

--Derek Walcott

This poem has touched me. As I read it, I think about how so often when I confront myself I am not welcoming myself. Instead of telling myself that I need to relax and just 'feast on my life,' I lecture and abuse myself. I found this poem in The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. A great book. A science-fiction love story. Anyway, I thought that I would just share this poem because it is encouraging. Let me know what you think or feel about it.