Another semester, another poster

It's the classic story. Girl meet boy. Girl likes boy. Girl and boy date. Boy becomes distanced with work. Girl and boy decide to 'just be friends'. Typical story that happens to millions. Girl walks away with bruised feelings, but is thankful for the opportunity to get to know and meet someone she now cares for.

All well and good, right? Except when followed by the following typical story.... Girl wakes to phone ringing at 4:30 a.m. Boy's been shot. As her breath leaves her body, she can't believe what she's hearing... is this a sick joke? After feverishly ringing the hospital, which offers no information, she wonders if she should even go. Does he even want to see her? It's been a week since they 'talked' and though hours before 'the incident' they ran into eachother at an art show and interacted fine, she is unsure of her role. Where does she fit into the situation? She goes to the hospital anyway, "what do I have to loose?", she asks herself. After wondering around the hospital, trying to find information about the boy, she becomes more and more upset. As her feelings for him become stronger, she realized how much she cares for him.

The following tumultuous days were filled with overwhelming emotion about the boy while a conference deadline quickly approached. She miraculously was able to work through tears rising and falling from her eyes throughout the day as all she wanted to do was be with the boy and help him recover. In the short daily visits she was able to work into her schedule, the important conference became more of an inconvenient obligation. After a mere five days in the hospital, the boy was sent home, two and a half hours away. Happy for the boys quick recovery, but sad to not be able to see him, she rings him to see how his recovery is going. She hears back from him a few days later.

He is thankful for her visits to the hospital, is planning on returning to school in a week. She will be out of town at that time and the conversation ends with the boy saying he'll ring her later on. Filled with unexpressed emotions, the girl leaves for her conference, which is followed by a short holiday, all the while distracted by thoughts of the boy. In places new to her, she is reminded of him and wakes up from a dream about him... all the while trying to move beyond her feelings and what has occurred.

After returning from her trip and not having heard from the boy, the girl is informed he is dating someone. How quickly one is able to move on... especially when he did not want to be in a "relationship" with anyone, or so he told her. The untruthfulness of what has occurred hurts and angers the girl, allowing her to walk away, yet question why she let herself be disrespected.

Why is one who is so conscious of hurting others so susceptible to being hurt?

He speaks....

Yesterday, I went to see David Sedaris speak in Norfolk, Virginia. Surprisingly, even though he spent a large portion of his childhood in North Carolina, the closest venue to hear the comical short story writer speak was two and a half hours away. So, a friend and I decided to make a day of it and satiate our unrelenting yearnings to get out of Greenville and visit someplace different.

Having only spent a brief time in Virginia, consisting of the short drive throughs on my way to another state, I thought it would be enjoyable to see what coastal Virgina has to offer. At 8 a.m. Sunday morning we hitched our bikes to the back of my friends little white sedan and headed north through a series of long curvy country roads. Upon arrival, and with no real plan, we did what college student does when first arriving in a new place... found a quaint little coffee shop and settled into the events of the day.

After hours of riding around the city, a tour around a gigantic sailing boat in the process of sailing around the world from Argentina, and a visit to Virginia Beach, we were entertained by Sedaris' reading of some of his essays. With four books in print, we were unsure what the content of his readings would be. However, after listening to some new essays and the reading of one from his books, we left the theatre with sore stomach and tear eyed, laughing so hard we cried. We grabbed a super scrumptious veggie patty sub from subway, not available in good ole Greenville, and settled back into the little white sedan. As the odometer turned over 200,000 miles, we headed south bracing ourselves for the Monday that lied in wait for us in good ole Greenville.

In need of a break from the monotonousness of work, I decided to treat myself to a movie, albeit a matinee to lessen the impact on my wallet. So, I left work a bit early to head over to the cinema to see Feast of Love. Yes, a girlie flick if there ever was one, but with my recent strike out while up at bat at the game of dating I thought I could use it.... and I am very happy I went. One of the main messages that rang in my ears after the film ended was the concept of being with someone that cares for you as much as you care for them. As with my recent escapade this is an imbalanced component that seems to thrive in my relationships, romantic and otherwise.

Being aware and open to other's and their feelings is something that comes easily to me, and being one that likes to please others, this gift is highly utilized. However, I've painfully found that others do not commonly posses such perception and the result has been a continuous string of painful circumstances. So, what am I going to do now?

I don't know.

It seems the only thing left to do is wake up yet again tomorrow and make my way through the day, cherishing the fleeting often not present interactions with others. I mean it boils down to this, I want to be loved, like every other conscious living thing in the universe. This does not necessarily mean I want a lover or a partner, truthfully, what I miss the most are the close friends I once had. Now there is so much hurt clouding everything, suffocating simple conversations, to the point where I don't know how to or if I want to try.

I wonder, if like Chloe in the movie, I would have gone through with certain relationships, had I known their demise. At this point, questioning the benefit of it all, I can't say that I would have forged ahead.

Beaches and barrier islands

Returning from a camping trip on Ocracoke Island, the withdrawls set in. It is a barrier island off the coast of North Carolina that is only assessable by boat with a small village on the southern end leaving the northern portion uninhabited. Ocracoke was ranked America's #1 beach on Dr. Beach's yearly top ten. The village seems primarily survive from tourist, which reminded me of St. Augustine... making it even harder to leave on Sunday. It was so nice to be on the beach, feel the sun on my skin, and look out onto the water. I can't explain it, but it just feels so right when I'm on the beach. The trip made me realize that when looking for where to go after leaving NC in the spring, I need to focus my nrg on the coast. In being away from the beach and making it work elsewhere, I forget the simple nurturing that I find when being near the ocean.

The ocean is a powerful thing and every time I am near it, there is a humbling, contentment that washes over me and I know that everything will be ok. It is not that the ocean makes things ok in my life, it simply fills me up and in doing so, I am more able to endure life's little surprises and move more fluidly through turbulent times.

Living away from the coast, I become conditioned to what in essence is moving against the grain. Exerting endless amounts of energy to make things happen or to create what I think will make me happy, for the meantime, when all I need to to do is go to the beach for an afternoon.

Reflective times like these make me wonder why I have kept myself away from that which brings to much enjoyment and feels like an essential part of my life. Even more so, it makes me question why I am not looking to incorporate it into my future plans. I keep telling myself that I can be happy if I don't live near the beach, while all the time thinking I will return to it eventually, knowing it is where I belong... it is place I am the happiest.

Why then does it feel so far out of reach?

Another year has come and gone and I am one year older. Although I am still uneasy with the thought of growing old, my birthday was very pleasant. Unlike the majority of the population, the thought of growing old is frightening. Death I do not blink an eye at and often welcome, but the thought of growing old is one I do not think I will ever accept.

After years of dreading and ignoring my birthday, I welcomed this one with a big hug. Excitedly, I started the day, like a small child entrusted with a secret that only a few or perceptive people knew. It was not a secret, but it was one the little things, many would not acknowledge.

The day was pleasant, full of birthday wishes, cake, and a few thoughtful gifts. Although the day did not end as I may have hoped for, it was pleasant and fulfilling. To top it all off, I'm joining a few others this weekend on Ocracoke Island for a camping trip. It id the perfect way to end my birthday celebrations.

Waiting

She sits and waits... she has become a lady in waiting. Physically still, it goes unnoticed to others while internally, her mind races. She has been waiting for so long; sometimes she forgets what she's waiting for. Her thoughts lead her away, backward to the past and projected into the future. All the while the present has turned into the past and she missed it, like so many things in life, like her childhood. A time inaccessible as though it never happened, thrown into taking care of herself at a young age. Yes, it is a sad story, but pity is not what she seeks; it is understanding... and so she waits.

Shot of the day

Shot of the Day

Original image courtesy of Kolt Johnson

Going to Kentucky.....

What a motley crew
Me, Matthew [the groom], Ari [ the bride], Kat, Molly, Brian, and Reanna infront.

With mid August came a road trip to Kentucky. A few of the Geology folk loaded into a sedan and headed northwest through the mountains and into the "Bluegrass State." Unfortunately, no bluegrass was heard, but we did hop over the Ohio River and visit the Cincinnati Zoo, enjoy a relaxing evening in downtown Covington, attend a baseball game, [my first!], witness a beautiful wedding in the cathedral basilica, and partake of the celebration of Ari and Matthew's union [with the aid of an open liquor, beer, and wine bar]. Then, we were back on the road, Greenville bound. Leaving too soon.... but it always seem that way when returning to Greenville.

cute outfit ~= good attitude

cute outfit + compliment = good attitude



Why are so many of my perceptions and feelings based on others?

affable

easy and pleasant to approach and speak to; cordial. diffusing warmth and friendliness; gentle and gracious

... something not associated with me.

we see the world
thru our own 2 eyes
shaped and shifted
by lies, lies, lies

a farce of memories
lost in the pages
of a worn covered book
tossed away

Everybody has a story.... I miss hearing those stories. It's funny to think that years ago, I was sick of hearing people's stories. In the town I grew up in, people are always telling you their stories to the point where you come to not want to hear them anymore. But it's not like that everywhere. People don't seem to want to share their stories here.

An odd thing though is that a few books from past have been made into films. Recently, I saw that the book Into The Wild, written by Jon Krakaur, is the story of the life and death of Christopher McCandless, has been made into a film written and directed by Sean Penn. I remember really enjoying the book. It was a good story but was also very well written. The author did not just lay out the story chronologically, but relayed it as though you were uncovering the young man's journey, somewhat like a detective, trying to figure out what happened to Christopher McCandless. I look forward to seeing how it is depicted on the screen and listening to the story again.

Life's little showers

As she opened the window, to listen to the falling rain drops, she could smell the earth. It was as though the rain brought the earth to life, awakening it from a hibernatious drought. The grass looked greener; the leaves sparkled as the sun reflected off the water droplets and there was a silence, except for the falling rain. In moments like this, it feels like time stops. Yet, she knows, with each raindrop that falls, so does a second pass. It is within these moments, she wishes to stay, to breath in the heavy air and feel alive.

She's always loved watching storms. She reflects on a memory, one of her fondest, of enjoying a solitary afternoon on the beach, listening to the waves crashing on the shore. Then, as the dark clouds down the beach started moving closer, and the tourist ran for safety, she smelt the rain in the air, felt the temperature drop and heard the waves pick up. She watched the summer shower pass down the beach, gently moistening the warm sand crystals, and then it was gone. Like a wave on the beach, it had come and gone with little impact.

With the beach deserted she noticed there was one other person who had not ran for safety with the tourists and others. As he came into closer view, she realized she new him. It was Marc Sweet, the brother of a grade school friend. She had spent every weekend and some holidays with his family for the better part of 6th through 8th grade, although she had not seen any of them in a few years now. Marc was one of her friend Ruby's older brothers. There was also Lee; Lee was the oldest. She had had a tremendous crush on Marc for years, but everyone did. The whole family was very attractive. When she was younger, she often wondered if that was how it always was. Good-looking people get together and have good-looking kids.... it makes sense, using kid logic. If you were good-looking, you would be attracted to someone who was also good-looking and then your kids would automatically be attractive as well.

After the general salutations, Marc says, "Oh, can you believe Ruby's getting married?" A little surprised she said no, she hadn't heard. Not that she should be surprised. Ruby and Ralph had been together for years and everyone knew they would eventually get married, yet it some how did surprise her. "Wow," she said, "I didn't know." "Yeah," Marc replied, "it's weird that she's getting married before me, with Lee married." Then there was a silence as she took it in. It was the first one of her friends to get married, although she didn't really considered them friends anymore. She hadn't heard from Ruby in years. Still, it was a defining moment for her somehow.

While she was still taking it all in, Matthew wondered back to his truck, packed up his board and drove off. She thought how attractive he still was and remembered the childhood crush, yet those memories seemed so distant. She felt like the storm was in a way, introducing her to a new part of her life. Though she didn't know it at the time, she was entering the a part of life where, friends go their separate ways, get married, have kids, start careers, though not in that particular order.

As she sat at the window, looking out, she thought about how distant that memory now seems and how many summer showers she's watched come and go. Though she enjoys the storm and life it brings, she is still grappling with the friends she's lost along the way. As the sadness settles in, she realizes the rain has stopped and the clouds have moved on. She feels the sun's rays intensify and hears the birds begin to sing; she tries to relinquish the sadness and focus on the positive. She thinks of the many storms to come and friends she hopes to meet.

She thinks a lot about the past. Too much, she thinks, of people who have come and gone. Why do people have to go? Go, go, go is all people ever do. So much time has passed. She knows because her hair is long. It is long enough to cover her chest. The ends are wavy and when she sees them, it reminds her of the ocean and she smiles.

As the wind gently blows her hair off her shoulders behind her; it laps against her back and she can smell the moisture in the air. These are the days she loves. The air is heavy, weighing down, like a light blanket and comforting as such. The temperature is hot, but the rain brings a cool intermittent breeze. She falls asleep listening to the rain knowing when she wakes, the rain will be gone, like those she once held close.

Finally

After a frustrating struggle, last week there was a breakthrough with work and I am happy to announce I have finally found the backbone for the paper I've been bumbling through. Now I just need to finish writing it. While being unable to make headway on the paper. I've been complementing the infinite stack of scientific papers with some fictional works so as to igniting my appreciation for writing and word usage. In addition to doing so, I am currently trying to write a little every couple days, the first of which I posted here and will continue to post them as they come.

Anger filled her body, running swiftly through her veins, the residue of a bad dream. It seemed too real and the anger was all too familiar. She rose from a long sleep, yet exhausted from the dream, the way emotions are tiring. Turning on her pmp she steps into the shower. As the water temp is adjusted she hears it, one of his songs. Just a song to anyone else, but it is distinctly his in her mind. As thoughts of him weight on her heart she wonders why she hasn't deleted it, that song and every other thing that reminds her of him. How can she live her life being reminded of him, but she can't just delete everything that is associated with him. It would be a different life.

As the song changes, she pulls herself back to the task at hand: a shower. Let's not start the day sorrowful, she tells herself. Even the shower reminds her of him. The smoothness of his skin and his scent next to her bare body. It felt so comforting and safe to be in his arms, she remembers. How can he have hurt her... and now be with the last person she was close with. Hadn't he ruined her life enough?

There was nothing she could about it now. What was done is done. She focuses on her morning chores of watering the plants, caring for the dog, and making coffee. As she finishes up she notes the time and heads out to make her 10 o'clock appointment. As she listens to her bicycle tires on the pavement diligently and smoothly thrusting her forward in time and space, she wonders when the memories will fade. It's been two years, when will her life be her own again and not haunted by the past?