remember when...

Ok, so here's the thing. Bear with this introduction, it gets to the story I swear. But its a long one.

I'm not going to say that I can read minds, because I can't. I can't "tell the future", and I don't see spirits or hallucinate. (That I know of). That being said, I do have mental ability. And no ability is not a euphemism for "issues". Haha to whoever went there. ANYway, I have this ability. It goes like this: A random person/acquaintance/customer/friend will cross my mind, and I will genuinely care and wonder about them. Then, in minutes or days they appear in my life. Usually they end up coming into the coffee shop. I can't deliberately put someone on my mind and have it work where they appear. It has to be genuine concern/curiosity. I'm not talking regulars that always come. I'm talking "oh I haven't seen them in a while WHOA THERE YOU ARE".

I kind of believe our brain waves are all connected somehow. There must be power in our minds that we somehow transmit or whatever, and it effects us. Even in scripture the mind is mentioned regularly as part of our Godly life: renew your mind, guard your mind, we have been "given a sound mind"....etc. It seems that if our thought literally and truly only effected US (the only people aware of them), then it wouldn't matter what we did with our minds, or our thoughts. Why valliantly protect what is only yours, and what you have the power to keep from any person? I conclude that what is in your head directly effects those in your life whether it is actual mind energy (I know...), or if it effects people because of how you personally react to what is going on, and people suffer indirectly due to your own neuroses.

ALL THAT to say.....it happened last week, on Wednesday.
I thought I saw her at my usual hang out of the Santa Clara Fred Meyer. It wouldn't have been that unusual. I didn't know for sure because I only saw her from behind, and the only clue I had to it actually being her was the hair style. It was very distinct. Tight, curly, short and with an element of "poof", and always the same. I couldn't properly assess her identity because she was the wall looking at shoes, and I would have to blatantly look her up and down with no baricade. I didn't want to veer to far away, as the shoe department is quite near the store exit. So, I slink around, slowly lapping the shoe department. I start to feel like a creep. I have been watching too much action television about spys and hidden cameras, and all kinds of "sneaking". I decide that any minute now security is going to report a suspiciously awkward character that smells of coffee and bacon looming around the shoe department. I can't handle my own weirdness...I give up. Ugh. If its meant to be she'll see me. I finally creep myself out so much that I move on to the bank, my original destination. As I'm leaving the bank, I see the aforementioned woman whose identity I coveted knowledge of....GAH!! It isn't her!

Three days later...she emails me. This is the kind of weird mind-thought coincidence that happens to me all the time. It was quite random, and weird considering I just conducted my own creepy manhunt days prior. She asked how I was doing, and wondered how that little coffee shop was going. Maybe she would stop in and visit me while stopping at Safeway on Monday.

I reply immediately.
Please come, I'll be there.

All morning Monday I had mixed emotions. I hadn't seen her in, what, almost 3 years? Was it a family gathering? I don't recall. What would we have to say to each other? Would it be awkward? Would we have to talk about her son? I start to coach myself, "Don't ask about him...don't ask about him....don't ask about him...." I decide its too weird to ask, and I leave it at that.

Well, she came, and we had a lovely time. We talked more as friends on this day, than when her son and I were "in love". I'm a little sad now, thinking of this. As she leaves we remiscince shortly or her husband, who at one time was my work study boss. A favorite past time was to harrass him and poke fun. I know his birthday was just the day before, and ask her to pass on my "happy birthday". She is touched at my rememberance, we hug again, she leaves. The moment that broke the dam of the following flooding of memory is when the conversation went like this:

Her: "Did you ever go out to Laura and Eddy's with us?"
Me: "Yes, I believe we had Thanksgiving there a few years ago."

As the conversation dies out, and we go our separte ways, the moment became real to me when I realized I said, "...a few years ago". I do have a history. I did exist before. All of a sudden I had to ask myself what happened. There was a time when we were family. We had history. We did holidays. We did life. And as I'm suddenly remembering this on a random Monday afternoon nearly 4 years later... the sadness came. This is history that is gone.

Its gone.

This is distressing to me because all I ever want is roots. I just want to build the history that makes you have people. And when its not being stripped away from me, I'm destroying it myself.

Back to the moment, now I am just overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions. Even before her son (refered to from now on as"OJ", which does make sense, worry not) and I were anything, the family was part of my life. I worked for OJ's dad for almost 5 years. My college years were entwined with memories and experiences with all of us together. We were close, and this fulfilled a strong desire of mine to BE close to the family of whomever I ended up with. And I know that isn't always an easy or natural thing. But I meshed incredibly well with OJ and his family. Even during the times when we broke up, and had to have the awkward "we're back together" moments, his dad would hug me and say, "I hope I don't have to have you leave us again." But you can't be with a man that isn't for you, even if his family wants him to be.

When the conversation ended it was a bittersweet moment. I am so thankful for whatever "energy" put us on each other's minds, whether it was God or whatever, I don't care. I'm so thankful for her email; for her willingness to look past the awkwardness and sadness of lost love, and to be drawn to what once was. She acknowledged that our history was something; that "that time" was something. For one hour I was able to live in the real memory of something that was once lovely, and I didn't have to pretend it didn't happen.
As I watched her walk away, I felt like she was walking away with my history.
But really, she was walking away with new history.

yes.

Jesus said that when we see him, we have seen the Father. It's these words that I so desperately cling to. I desire more than anything to really know the father. It is also said that God is love. In mathematical terms "is" would be synonymous with "equals". God = love. Love = God.
I do not love as I should. I crave the mind of Christ. I passionately want to know him intimately. I do not quite understand what that actually means, as it is difficult to grasp what intimately knowing a spirit being means, as we exist in flesh AND spirit. The flesh confuses the spirit. I want my spirit to confuse my flesh, and maybe that is what's happening now. Maybe my bodily confusion is a good thing. It might mean my soul, or my spirit are on the path to knowing him.
Forgive my lack of love.

before

Hello out there, demented blog followers. Whoever you are. (Hi Kristyn, I appreciate your openness about you dementia)

Anyway. I'm in kind of a "blah" mood, whatever that means. I was thinking today about Jesus. As I was reading Luke (and no, this is not a pious attempt to out my Bible reading, making me look like a good Christian. I am FAR from a good Christian. In fact, I don't even want to be a Christian most of the time, but I can't help it because half the time I'm scared, and half the time I believe.) I came to realize that Jesus was accomplishing his purpose while on earth. His mission was filled before he died. In fact, (heresy warning) I wonder if his death and resurrection were merely acts of symbolism for the Jewish people that God performed for the sake of their following. To show them. The mission of Christ today is to heal, reconcile, and set free. That was the same mission he had before he died. Before people could receive the doctrine of his dying and rising, Jesus was out forgiving sins. He was forgiving before he died. He was calling for love before he died. Maybe that's what salvation is. Maybe that powerful phrase belted out at the birth of Jesus that is lost so much to holiday tradition today really was what he was about. Peace on Earth. Goodwill to men. Peace. Love. Love your neighbor. Love your enemy. Well Jesus, that sucks. But then I know how my heart is softened towards people that love me, when they really should hate me. Love others, or as I like to say, prefer others over yourself. That is the kingdom of God. I suck at it. But I believe in it. I want to love much, because I have been forgiven much. I have been forgiven of so much.

listen to me

Sometimes I feel demented for the things I write on this blog. I just think you should all know, that I know how weird it is. I know I've touched on this before in a prior post, but part of me being demented means I don't really remember yesterday. Anyway, its almost like the blog is emotional voyeurism: me hoping you randomly read what is in my head, and me never knowing really who is looking. Invigorating. However, I have recently decided that you guys who read this are actually the disturbed ones. My posts are usually some obscure weird thought that randomly pops in, or some kind of drunken rambling about "poor me" or something like that. Yet you keep coming back...curious...
Okay, so Christmas just happened. I'm not quite over it, it all happened so fast. I saw my family. It was like going into the twilight zone because hardly anyone I know knows my family, and they don't know anyone here. So I have one world I'm in all the time, and another world I'm in 3-6 days a year. Very strange. Was it a bad time? No, it was fine.
ANYway. So the whole point of me writing is to express something. I'm trying lately to be a better listener, and in that I am constantly noticing how people listen. Here's where I'm going...
I have somethings I want to express, but I feel like they are continually invalidated. For example, I have a lot of anxiety over family gatherings. Do I know why? yes yes, not the issue. Do I want to be over it? Uh, yes. So, when a family gathering approaches, someone will ask me "Are you looking forward to it?" And I'll say some thing like (depending on the person of course) "I'm looking forward to it, but I don't know how to talk to my mom, and every time she asks me personal questions I cringe, and I can't physically take when either of my parents touch me". If ever this has come out of my mouth (which isn't often) I get a response that most resembles "Oh, they're your parents! They just love you and want to know how you're doing! Its their job to worry!".
Really. I had no idea.
Here's the thing, I know that. I know. In fact, you telling me that only helps the guilty feeling I already have over the issue get bigger and bigger. People tend to identify with the parent, feeling very sorry for them, and wondering how on earth I could feel such a pathetic thing. Then I have more regret for even bringing them into my thought life.
My point: listening. If someone is telling you they have a fear or a paranoid delusion, or an obsessive irrational habit, the last thing they need is to hear how irrational that is, and that they are just paranoid. In fact, they probably already know. Sometimes you just need to get stuff out; to be accepted in your paranoid delusions. Then once you realize you're not totally crazy for being crazy, its almost like you're Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and you find the way out yourself. The person who patiently listens is the good witch Glinda (yes, "Glinda", not "Glenda". Don't believe me? Google it.) and they simply reveal that you've had the ruby slippers on the whole time.
Okay, I have successfully forgotten what the hell I'm talking about.
Oh god. I really am crazy.

.......................

Guess what.
Guess.
what.
guess what.

this and that.

Today as I was driving around, I realized what a weird concept driving is.
We are in these little tin cans (for the most part) and we drive at lethal speeds toward each other on the road, trusting the other person not to veer 6-12 inches over towards us and collide head on, most likely plunging us to an untimely death. We do this everyday.
AND, while we're naively trusting strangers to stay on their side, we drive while eating, talking, doing make-up, singing, etc etc. Not a care in the world. I, of course, am one of the worst offenders when it comes to driving and multi-tasking.
It really is amazing there aren't more car accidents.

Speaking of texting, what the heck is that? We write little notes to each other in little boxes, and it travels through outer space, and then outer space tells my little box what words to show me. And all in a matter of seconds.
Crazy.

Also on my mind today, this whole airplane security thing. I have all these lofty, rebellious plans of how I would protest. But really I'm just as big a part of the "herd" as everyone else. But anyway...this whole full body image scanner or full body pat down thing really does freak me out. It makes me not want to fly. I'm so annoyed by some large "anonymous" force deciding things like this. Yes yes, for our safety. Its alllll in the name of safety. On one hand I'm annoyed by all these precautions because its inconvenient and kind of invasive. The rebellious side of me wants to go through the line, and when my turn to choose "scan" or "pat down" comes, I just want to strip down right there in the line, making the whole experience awkward for everyone. BUT, then i would be carted off, probably arrested, probably on the news, and I would also miss my flight. So I'll keep quiet and let the TSA grab my ass. Only for the sake of safety though.
Now the other hand....this whole scenario kind of reminds me of what parents might go through. They give "really strict" rules their kids. To toddlers and younger kids: Don't play in the street. How awful! The street is an undiscovered, uncharted territory filled with a vast amount of play time options! The mystery! The thrill! Why oh WHYYYY can't I go in the street??? Then you grow up and realize, uh yeah. I could have died. So that's what I'm likening this whole airport-molestation thing to. Partially to make myself feel better, and partially because it coulllldd be true. Its just a little inconvenient. A little weird. But hell, we're alive, right?

hey.

Hey. I'm home.
For those of you who knew I was gone,
or care that I came back.
You can call me and text me like you usually do.
Wait. Like I usually hope you will.
Because an "anonymous" blog is my family now.
I'm back.
yay.