Yesterday marked 2 years of marriage for the wife and me. We spent the day running around Dallas, playing arcade games, and catching a movie (Tron. It’s pretty awesome.)

I’m pretty wiped out, so all I have to say is that I love you, Kristen. And here’s to many more awesome years together.

(An on-going project to discover truth in and about ourselves. See the others here)

Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.

This is sort of a silly prompt. I don’t live my life for anyone. I live my life because it’s my life to live. It’s not a matter of selfishness, because I have often (and will continue) to give parts of my life to other people. Much of my life has been given to my wife, my family. But I don’t live it for them. I don’t stay alive because of them.

That’s not to say they haven’t been a source of inspiration in my life, a pick-me-up when I get frustrated or tired. How could they not be? I mean, when you’ve given so much of yourself to these people, it becomes a matter of making sure you can continue to do that. Perhaps this is the same thing as “living your life for them,” but I don’t think so. The whole idea presented in this prompt is a bit melodramatic, I think.

I picture a man trying to swim across an ocean, and the only thing that keeps him going is some lost love on the other shore. Otherwise, he’d just quit and drown. I don’t guess I’ve reached that point. I may have given up on a few select projects or what have you, but I don’t imagine I would have laid down and died.

I also realize that this post is, on its face, contradictory to my last post. But I also don’t think it is. Just because I can’t really fathom a life without my wife or family, that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it, or that I wouldn’t continue on. It just means that I don’t want to, not that I can’t.

In any event, I guess this is all a non-answer to the question. But I don’t think you should ever live your life for someone else. You can choose to include others in your life, and you can choose to give of your life to other, but in the end, it’s your life. Not anyone else’s. And if your life isn’t worth living but for another person? Maybe you should reevaluate your priorities.

(An on-going project to discover truth in and about ourselves. See the others here)

Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.

As I was thinking about this post, it began to dawn on me how incredibly selfish my answer to this question is. And how utterly unrealistic it is.

I hope I never have to watch a loved one die. Okay. There it is. It’s cliche and lame, and I know that, but it’s still my answer all the same. I do not fear death. I never really have. What I fear is living alone. My parents or my brother or my wife dead, and some how or other, I’ve survived them all. I hope I never have to see that happen. Even though I know I probably will, for some at least.

It’s an undeniable fact of life that it ends. I fear not that end for me, but for them. Because it means I’ll be left here alone. I know, right? That’s pretty disgustingly selfish, but I can’t help it. I really just can’t imagine how things will be without them. We may not always agree or get along, but dammit, we’re close. And I depend on all of them. In some way or other, anyhow.

I hope I never have to watch them die. I hope I never have to figure out how to pick up the pieces and move on. I hope I never have to sit in some church alone amidst the empty faces sitting around me. I hope I never have to give a heart-felt eulogy when I won’t even know how to feel inside.

I hope I never have to. But I know I probably will. And I hope I can handle it when I do.

(This post is inspired by Reverb10)

December 9 – Party Prompt: Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

Party. “a social gathering, as of invited guests at a private home, for conversation, refreshments, entertainment, etc.: a cocktail party.” (dictionary.com) Not pictured: Me.

I’m not a big social butterfly. I’m more comfortable with my laptop and a blanket than I am in trendy clothes with a bunch of people and loud music. It’s not that I don’t enjoy some company from time to time, but parties are so very often so impersonal and shallow. They get dominated by the most flamboyant, leaving the wallflowers like me to stand around awkwardly, wondering how long I need to stay before I can leave without being rude.

So, I can’t think of a single party I attended in 2010. And that’s just fine. I went, on several occassions out to dinner with a couple friends. I had a few friends over to the house and made them dinner. We had a beer or two, watched some movies. Had a good time. But no loud music. No rambunctious people. Just good times. Good friends.

Maybe my problem is I’ve never been to the right kind of party. But at nearly every one I’ve ever been to, I always just end up feeling awkward and left out. So, down with the parties, I say. Up with the smaller get-togethers. One or two people. Some good food, good beer, and even better conversation.

(An on-going project to discover truth in and about ourselves. See the others here)

Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

This is a tough one. As a general rule, I don’t stay mad for very long. At least, not any more. In days past, I was quite the grudge holder, but it’s become apparent to me that holding such grudges doesn’t result in anything positive or productive, so I tend to get mad, get over it, and move on whenever someone has wronged me in some way.

The movies and TV have a common trope, “I’ll never forgive you for that!” But, really, I just don’t see that working out in general practice. I mean, I suppose this could be possible in theory, if you were to catch a cheating spouse, or something along those lines, but I’ve never run into that before.

If I had to choose, I have one instance in mind, but I haven’t really thought about it in a while. I once had a person in my life with whom I grew quite close, we’ll call her Susan (since being vague can be confusing). Susan was a great friend. She believed in me, encouraged me, saw talent potential in me that no one but my parents had ever really seen, or at least verbalized. She even helped me through some dark times.

Until one day, there was practically nothing. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know why there was such a sudden disconnect, but disconnect we did. The break was dazzlingly abrupt, and will forever go without explanation. I was pretty disenfranchised with people when this whole thing went down. I just couldn’t imagine how drastically a relationship could shift in such a short time. I was bitter about it, and I was angry. But, I worked around it. Was able to continue on anyhow.

And I guess, I just got over it. It took time, but I’ve found motivation in myself and in the others around me to continue to push, to reach my goals, even if I don’t think anyone really quite gets my goals as well as she did. But, when it’s all said and done, I’m okay. I’m moving forward, if a bit slowly, and that’s what counts.

I forgive you for just suddenly disappearing. It was tough, but it’s all worked out okay.

As I mentioned in my last post, Kreestone and I got a puppy last weekend. She got around to posting some pictures to Facebook, and since we’re not all friends there, I’ve rehosted them and thought I’d let you see our puppy. I’ll tell you a little about her, too, but after the pictures.

We think she’s pretty awesome. She’s a 4-month-old Pembroke Welsh Corgi, and she’s got tons of energy. Well, sometimes. She can run around in circles, chasing who knows what, but sometimes, she’d rather just sit. Particularly when she’s on a leash. In fact, the first time we put her on the leash, the only reason she moved was because the electric door of Petsmart closed behind her and scared her. She’s a special one alright.

We’ve named her Thalia (Tall-ee-uh) after the Greek goddess of festivity, and muse of comedy. She certainly fits the bill with her rather strange demeanor. She’ll run around exploring, but when she gets tired of that, she’ll come into the room, look at you, and promptly flop on her side, as if some invisible hand suddenly pushed her over. Sometimes, though, she forgets to stop running before she does this, and proceeds to slide for a few inches before coming to a stop. We’re hoping she’ll figure out how to lie down.

One of the best things about Thalia, though, is how she acts when she gets tired. We already knew she had some trouble lying down, but she has picked one spot in our office that she likes, even more than the little doggy bed we’ve provided for her. It’s, well, just have a look:

That’s our dog, alright.

So, I logged in, and began dusting off the surface around this place, and decided to let everyone know just what’s been going on that I’ve been neglecting this place for so long.

First of all, I’ve been spending lots of time with my girlfrie…err fiancee. That’s right, I got engaged back in mid-October. The real surprise is that we’re getting married soon. Like, in December! While we’re not doing the big traditional wedding thing (much to the chagrin of her family), we are going to be having a spiffy reception. If you want to come, or if you just want to buy us some pretty stuff, I’ve setup a small site with the basic info on it, so give it a visit and make sure to check out the registry page.

So, in keeping with the getting married theme, we had to find a house, and quickly, since her lease on her own place was up on the first of this month. Given that we got engaged only a couple weeks before that, we had to hurry. We both spent a lot of time making phone calls, talking with possible landlords, and the like. Ultimately, we found a place, and it’s perfect. It’s a small 1930s 2 bedroom, 1 bath, and it’s really pretty much just perfect for the two of us.

Then, of course, after we found a house in record time, I had to move her in. Her work schedule didn’t afford much time for her to do it, so I grabbed a buddy, and the two of us spent a Saturday moving what she’d packed over to the new place. The rest of that weekend was spent getting things settled in the house.

As it turned out, the fiance doesn’t so much like to stay at the house alone, so we got ourselves a welsh corgi, who we’ve named Thalia (Tall-ee-uh). She’s a little special, but she’s awesome. Pictures to come at some point in the future.

So, I’ve been busy just about every weekend for the last month and a half, but that still leaves the weekdays, you say. Well, it would, but since I’ve been gone every weekend, I’m having to spend more time during the week on homework. I’ve got to make sure I do well, because I’m graduating in December now, not in May. So, you know, if you want, you can get me a nice graduation present, too.

In any event, apart from homework, things have settled down a bit, and I think it’s time to just hit “Mark all as read” and jump back into blogs now, rather than catching up on the couple thousand posts that have amassed there. Sorry, but I’ll try to go through archives and catch what I missed later on, though.

A new poem for you all. I hope you like it.

Grey

Monochromatic amidst the chiaroscuro haze of time
Memories lost, found, forgotten, repressed, fade into
The background—grey.

Standing wondering staring into nothing,
Stumbling on memories, looking from afar;
The colors faded—grey.

A lifetime of struggle and heartache she’s faced—
Disappointment, pain, sadness, fear—
But none of it mattering now—grey.

Emptiness and loneliness leaving her feeling
Small, helpless, forgotten.
Wanting to fill the void—grey.

Slashing violently through the grey,
Glowing green and growing,
A swathe of color begins to shine

The heartache of the past further obscured,
Further separated, further healed.
Light breaks, contrasts sharpen

She sees herself mirrored,
Magnified, reflected back. All the memories,
All the history, all the haziness of time torn away

The void takes shape; the shape begins to fill,
As her heart is mended, slowly, and as the scabs
Fall away, she looks again—grey.

Grey changing, bubbling, mottled now with
Points of light, bright and clear
Her background begins to disentwine,

And the colors become clear,
Darks and lights, neons and mutes,
What’s clear is it’s no longer—grey.

She is who she is, her past
The palate from which her canvas
Is carefully colored

The streak of green keeps growing,
Glowing verdant against the colors
eschewing from the grey beyond.

Her heart thaws, warms, beats,
A fire, viridescent flame, emerald passion
Envelops her, born for the growing green form

Her prayers answered, no longer alone,
She begins to take heart, she embraces
The virid figure taking shape,

Turning the girl from grey to white—
All color encompassing, infinite possibility—
And the void is filled,

The background vivid and colorful,
Imprinting their hues on the girl,
But she’s encompassed them all,

Not despairing, but sublimating,
Taking advantage of the lessons learned
Looking forward, entwining fingers

With her emerald companion,
The world takes form and color,
And washed away is the—grey.

A few days ago, I was going to dinner with my girlfriend. Close to her house, there is a 3-road intersection, that does not allow any turning while the light is red because right turns are not necessarily protected there. Turning right illegally at that intersection happens to be one of my girlfriend’s greatest pet peeves.

We were talking, and I wasn’t particularly paying attention to driving, so I came up to the red light, stopped, saw nothing was coming, and instinctively took my privilege of turning right on red. She (rather overly, if you ask me) emphatically told me that I wasn’t supposed to do that. How could I not have seen the sign? What if I got a ticket? What was I thinking? I sort of shrugged it off, and we parked at the restaurant which wasn’t too far away.

As we were walking in, she asked again what I would do if I got a ticket. Rather smugly, I said, oh, I’d just tell the judge that I had…” WHAM. Right about that time, my shoulder met with the corner of what I assume to be the electrical switch of the large, lighted sign for the restaurant. Much to my surprise (and chagrin) the encounter was less than amicable, and the resulting and sudden pain in my shoulder prompted me to flail my arms up defensively, tossing my phone in the process.

Nevermind that my phone flew directly in front of my girlfriend. She was too busy already doubled over laughing to try to save it from a death-drop to the concrete. Thanks.

Rubbing my shoulder and picking up my phone, “I’d tell him I had my mind on other things,” I finished, but at that point, I decided I should probably shut up, lest I run smack into the doors of the place. Besides, it’s too hard to talk when the both of you can’t stop laughing.

Today, I will tell you two stories. One of these stories affirms my rapidly dwindling faith in humanity and one that rebuts it.

Story the first:
Today in my Marriage and the Family class (I am getting a minor in Psychology), we were talking about the roles of gender in the family. The questions were raised, as they always are, about what makes a person a man or a woman, apart from the obvious anatomical disparities. People began rattling off answers about how men are providers, stoic, leaders, etc. I’m sure you can name the stereotypes. For the women, answers such as home maker, mother, and the rest of those commonplaces were thrown around.

I sat quietly, listening. When the answers slowed down, I raised my hand to chip in my thoughts on gender (which you might remember). Basically, I think gender is overemphasized, and that in today’s increasingly androgynous world, gender lines are getting blurred, and I don’t see the big reason to worry about it. I pointed out that I am not particularly stereotypically masculine in a lot of ways, which has come up in previous discussions in the class.

Today, though, I guess the topic came up one too many times, and from behind me, I heard one of the guys say , “Fag.” Much muted sniggering followed. Typically, I’m not too phased by this sort of thing. I’m quite comfortable in both my masculinity and in my heterosexuality, so I don’t really have anything to hide, but being that I go to a Christian University, and given that this is an upper division course, I figured my thoughts and ideas would be met with a bit more decorum and respect. I would be lying if I told you that it didn’t sting a little.

Story the second:
Being that I go to a Christian school, we have mandatory chapels. Sometimes, these chapels are just onerous, but every now and then, we get a good speaker who really catches our attention. The speaker today was of the latter sort, and I was delighted when I heard he was speaking. He told us a modernized version of the Woman at the Well story. In the end, the woman in the modernized vesion was asked what she would want if she had three wishes. It ultimately came out that she wasn’t so much interested in money or being away from where she was so much as she was wanting forgiveness, a way to start over, and someone to love her.

The speaker concluded by challenging us to ask someone who looked down or alone what they’d want if they had three wishes, in an attempt to try to help them out a little bit. Later that day, as I was sitting on a bench outside, letting the sun wash over me, someone I had never seen before walks up to me, and with a half-smirk asks me what I’d want if I had three wishes. Apparently, I looked depressed.

I looked the person in the eye and said, “That’s not really a hard question for me. I’d like someone I love very much not to be sick. I’d like for the world to stop spiraling into war. And lastly, I’d like for every family who has lost someone in the war to get an answer for why they had to sacrifice a loved one.”

The person stammered for a minute, before I assured him (or her) that it was ok if no answer was coming. No one else seemed to have one. The person said thanks and walked off. A few minutes later, the person came back and sat down next to me. Apparently, this person had lost an uncle in Afghanistan a while back. I had no idea who I was talking to, but I just listened. I just sat there and absorbed every piece of information offered about her uncle, his unit, when he was supposed to come home. After a few minutes, the person looked up at me and said, “Thanks. I needed to get all of that out,” and left.

I don’t know who it was, and I don’t know if I will ever see him (or her) ever again, but that was a day that got better not because I was doing anything, but because I looked like I was in need of some cheering up.

Life’s funny that way. Sometimes you set out to help someone out, but you end up getting the help you need instead. Maybe we aren’t so screwed up after all.

I’ve got an idea that I’ll post about in a few days, after I let it roll around in my head, letting the gaps fill themselves in Katamari style. In the mean time, what are your stories of human kindness or of human cruelty that you’ve seen or experienced? Either post them in the comments, or leave a comment with a link to your own entry, and I’ll put them all together in a nice list and post it in a few days, after you’ve had some time to write your own stories.