Condensed Music (part 3)

My time has become more valuable over the years and I'm afraid that it's time to shrink my year-end lists down to a more condensed and manageable process. One of the unique experiences that I have with music is that it has turned into a wonderful inspiration for my storytelling flair to spread its wings. Perhaps this has always been the case as the parts of brain that process each element in its own way could easily be linked by some creative force that cradles the ridges and valleys of my cerebellum with electrical current that encourage me to sing sing sing in the most beautiful voice that I know. What that means is that I dig down within my subconscious and find a story to tell the world and it all comes from an impulse or feeling that registers when the songs fill my head. So here's a few stories that I wish to tell. Though they are condensed versions, I suggest you simply add water, click on the songs and cultivate the earth. In time, the full version may come to blossom there, where you sit and listen.

10. Anais Mitchell - Hadestown

When she first started singing with the company, she didn't know what to expect. She simply knew that she was hungry for an experience that would provide some nourishment in her life. It wasn't that she didn't love her husband. She still adored him the same as that day two years before when she promised to share her life with his. No, this was about something missing in her soul. So it was a complete surprise when the flirting began and she couldn't understand the flutter that she felt inside when the director raised his eyebrow at her. She had no idea how far that it would go and found herself reaching out to her husband as if he was a beacon in the night. Then there were the late night sessions after rehearsal to help a few of them get up to speed on the production and those eventually dwindled until it was just the two of them, alone on the stage. He was a strict man when he was directing the company but when he was only around her, he became a gentle lion. She knew that every move was a mistake but something drove her forward and it wouldn't take long until everything was ruined. In the end, it was her husband who saved her. He felt that something was amiss and he came after her, saw that she was falling through the floor when she simply wanted to lift her voice to the heavens. He went to the wife of the director and told her everything, poured out his heart. She knew how her husband could embrace his devious side and it wasn't long before the late night sessions ended. Everyone fell back into their assigned roles and the musical became a rousing success. Yet, in a couple of years their marriage was over and she would forever blame it one her descent into the underworld.




9. High Places - Original Colors



8. Souljazz Orchestra - Rising Sun



7. Baths - Cerulean

He finally understood what it meant to be a teenager. All those strange and confusing emotions that coursed through his body four years ago on the day that he turned thirteen were nothing but faint memories, just like the back-slapping from uncles with mischievous grins on their faces and the shiny-eyed smiles from forty-something women. He smirked at that child who he knew so little about the grand schemes of the world of adults. From the urgent need to discover fulfillment in the glossy sheen of playmate dreams to the drunken ambition to wander the dark streets of oblivion. From the street corner posturing of ritualized growth to the gradual development of an apathetic shield to ward away the demons of societal pressure. From the first schoolyard kiss to behind the AP building to the shadowy back seat of his parents where the residue remained on his lips long after she came and went. From the vicious hallway antics that brought down the middle school frown to the popular ascension on the path to the top of the hierarchical chart. All leading to a sudden awareness of this adulthood that was a mystery no more.




6. Destroyer - Kaputt



5. Glasser - Ring



4. MEN - Talk About Body

It had been just like a John Hughes film, one of those quirky high school threesome love stories between two girls and a guy but the boy wasn't in the middle. Now we were almost thirty and he was gone. I knew that she would be at his wake, even though they had split up five years ago. The only reason that I know all of this was because I couldn't help but keep tabs on her, with a couple of mutual friends keeping the vital fluid of information flowing in my direction. She meant more to me than anything that came before and definitely any of the relationships that I had since. She was the gift that confirmed my conflicted emotions. She was the dream that gave birth to my fulfillment. She was my first love and I was lost when she left me for him. I fell into torturous flings with girls that only caused more pain, for me and everyone else. Then, about the time that I heard about the break-up, I gave it all up. All the ache that had fueled my existence shed from my life and I settled into a healthier place. I allowed myself to be alone so that I could understand my life once more, then I hoped that I could find a moment to wrap my arms around love again. As soon as I entered the room, I knew where to find her, alone at a table in the corner reflecting on loss. I go to her with open arms.




3. Cotton Jones - Paranoid Cocoon



2. Washed Out - Within and Without



1. Hindi Zahra - Handmade

Condensed Music (part 2)

My time has become more valuable over the years and I'm afraid that it's time to shrink my year-end lists down to a more condensed and manageable process. One of the unique experiences that I have with music is that it has turned into a wonderful inspiration for my storytelling flair to spread its wings. Perhaps this has always been the case as the parts of brain that process each element in its own way could easily be linked by some creative force that cradles the ridges and valleys of my cerebellum with electrical current that encourage me to sing sing sing in the most beautiful voice that I know. What that means is that I dig down within my subconscious and find a story to tell the world and it all comes from an impulse or feeling that registers when the songs fill my head. So here's a few stories that I wish to tell. Though they are condensed versions, I suggest you simply add water, click on the songs and cultivate the earth. In time, the full version may come to blossom there, where you sit and listen.

20. Thievery Corporation - Culture of Fear

She liked to work with others when she expressed herself creatively. Open to the broad diversity that the world offered, she found that she was only able to overcome her own limitations with a collaborative experience. Alone, she noticed that people tended to fall back on convention and stagnated within the comfortable confines of reliability and safety but when she was forced to deal with someone else's perspective then her own, ideas evolved into a more amazing space. So she pushed and pulled and expanded and shrunk and embraced other artists around her who were willing to do the same with her. In this way her life was never left wanting.




19. Lia Ices - Grown Unknown






18. Portugal. The Man - In the Mountain In the Cloud

Her very first memories of him are faint but always happy. They're more of a feeling, really, being lifted into the sky with playful arms, riding upon his shoulders and breathing the musky odor of his hair. He was a hero, she recalls that as well. She was only six at the time of the first Gulf War and she didn't want him to go that day, standing on the tarmac clutching his leg as tightly as she could. Even then, she knew that nothing good would come of it, though he was going to fight the good fight and liberate the oppressed. He came back damaged, not physically but something else that had broken him inside. He wept over the slightest bit of joy and fell into dark dreams that he couldn't recall upon waking, though the evidence was there for all to see on the bodies of his wife and child. Ten years later, when the son of President sent more soldiers back to that awful place, she hit the streets with protest, locking hands with friends to unite with afront. Even though he was no longer around to give her strength, she carried his spirit like a child aloft upon her shoulders, a buoyant gift that welled out of her life. A father's true worth carried within the actions of his daughter.




17. The Books - The Way Out






16. Jolie Holland - Pint of Blood

She could easily recall the words of hurt that he unleashed upon her when they were young but old enough to find fault in their dreams of tomorrow. Well, that future world had arrived and she was just as shocked as everybody else about the guest he brought to the wedding. She knew that he would come to her room long after everyone else was asleep because he kept giving her strange looks during the festivities, as if he really needed to tell her something. He wanted to unburden his soul and dump out some of the sadness that lay like a shawl across his shoulders. She let him in, a drunken light shimmering in his eyes, and he hugged her with a deep love of camaraderie. They smoked some of her weed and then he asked her to hear his confession. He had been terrible to her because he resented the strength that she had to come out and stand forth with authenticity despite being ostracized by almost everyone. Doesn't the worst vitriol always come from those who understand your plight but turn away to hide the shame touching their cheeks? He admired her most of all in the family and remorse flowed out of him with warm tears and emphatic apologies. But he really just wanted to thank her for giving him power, even when he didn't deserve it, for he first began to live true to himself during those teenage years.




15. Twin Shadow - Forget






14. Bibio - Mind Bokeh

He searched for the presence of God in all things. Even after all of the seminary and catechism courses, after the confirmation, he continued to feel that he must search far and wide for the precious gifts that gave life to the divine. So he kept moving when he could and refused to limit himself to his assignment from the church. He traveled to Africa, South America, even took a trip to Antarctica one summer hoping to feel or hear something special in that sparse landscape. All of his travails were rewarded with wondrous teachings and helped him connect in a beautiful way with his soul but not once did he know the voice of God. It wasn't until decades later, following a life of giving, sharing compassionately with the people in his community, that it happened, almost by accident. He took walks in the neighborhood, throughout the city and then God began to speak to him. Softly at first, in the heart of a flower, in the whisper of the leaves or through the aroma of burning wood. Then more forcefully, a car horn or a shout down from an upper floor window to a friend. In an embrace that was filled with love. In the tears of a child. It was only when he became a witness to the mundane human experience that played like a symphony all around him that he truly discovered the presence of God.




13. Thao & Mirah - Thao & Mirah






12. The Villagers - Becoming A Jackal

The first time he went to the fortune teller, it was a lark, a goading prank from his fraternity brothers. He never imagined that it would turn into something so magical. She gave him access to the conspiracies of the old world, past lives that he knew in his heart were true. His life as a slave, when he discovered a love so powerful that the ache of his want resonated throughout every life that came after. The time his life was cut short in his youth and he became trapped as a spirit in the massive house where he had lived, not managing to escape until it burned to the ground centuries later. A feeling so old that it was only a hazy recollection of a musical instrument where his fingers made beauty. A frivolous existence of indulgence in unprecedented wealth when he e,braced others without passion, got lost in the sickness of drugs and disease and only felt misery. Before long his friends began to mock him and worry that he'd fallen under the spell of the mysterious woman with shimmering eyes. But even if the stories that she told him were only a means for her to extract money from his wallet, he still wouldn't give up his time with her. Because she gave him something so much more...meaning in his life.




11. Wye Oak - Civilian

Let's go in the water, she said. Something so simple but they had been drinking wine and were giddy with pleasure, so the spirits of the unforeseen made easy prey of them. Now he was numb from the suffering that had laid hold of his heart but they said that he was well enough to go home. Once he returned, his friends and family avoided the subject of loss and he didn't mind so much at first. Then it began to become a problem, this avoidance of avoidance, so he decided to open his eyes to the light and that's when the angels began to appear. Sometimes they came to the places where he felt intimacy, in the faces of those who loved him. Sometimes they jumped at him from the mouths of strangers, in the structure of new occurrences. He embraced this divine guidance and the path that began to unfold revealed an entirely different truth from the one he had held against his chest ever since that night. In this new awakening he could perceive that she was very much alive and this brought him the greatest joy, so much so that he was finally able to truly let go.

Condensed Music (part 1)

My time has become more valuable over the years and I'm afraid that it's time to shrink my year-end lists down to a more condensed and manageable process. One of the unique experiences that I have with music is that it has turned into a wonderful inspiration for my storytelling flair to spread its wings. Perhaps this has always been the case as the parts of brain that process each element in its own way could easily be linked by some creative force that cradles the ridges and valleys of my cerebellum with electrical current that encourage me to sing sing sing in the most beautiful voice that I know. What that means is that I dig down within my subconscious and find a story to tell the world and it all comes from an impulse or feeling that registers when the songs fill my head. So here's a few stories that I wish to tell. Though they are condensed versions, I suggest you simply add water, click on the songs and cultivate the earth. In time, the full version may come to blossom there, where you sit and listen.

30. Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter - Marble Son

A moment of fear grips her, then nothing but confusion takes over. Quick as that and everything changes. Everything is taken. Hope descends into anguish, love becomes a hidden torture, a blemish on their heart. Walking down the crooked road, lined with reeds, sticks thick with juice and hungry for the sun, she glances up at that warm face and is blinded with the white intensity. That's when she hears it, like a precious voice inside her head but coming from outside her, to her right. A weak cry, a message of new birth, calling to her, beckoning her. She turns her head and looks deep into the shadows, hears it again. Please give me breath from this night. She feels the darkness of the binding that suddenly surrounds her and for a instant she feels the fear that is so natural and honest that it's impossible to describe or explain. She hunches back, retreats from the menace scurrying away from her. Then the voice reaches out with delicate fingers and deep within her heart she knows that she can't look away, whatever the consequences. She reaches forth again with her hand, her head hanging down but her shoulders hunched back, the last of the strength she can muster. It doesn't matter. She's already gone. The blank space from where she left the roadside giving no trace of the person who used to be. There's no sound, just the sun beating down from an empty sky, harsh and white. She sinks and the current grabs at her. Turning her head she tries to look back through the thin slats for a brief reprieve of light in the darkness but she's sucked down below the surface. Gone. Eventually her body washes ashore. Then the mob follows and a tragedy occurs on top of a tragedy and a soft laughter can be heard in the wind.




29. Bill Callahan - Apocalypse

Across the terrain he traveled, with guitar in hand and a swelling following growing behind him. What kind of society was bound to erupt from this ragged sea of gypsies? This was the type of question that invaded his dreams when his fingers would lay down his emotions on the strings. His father, an ardent fan of the great philosopher Woody Guthrie, taught him how to reach through the heart of the instrument and make it a vehicle for inspiration, to become the power of a voice that might transcend all of the hate that drove the mice into the shadows. The world had grown tired of those fearful masked faces and now they turned to a fresh tone of change, of hope and appreciation. He couldn't say when the ears, eyes, hearts of the people began to turn his way but it never affected the energy that he gave to the cause. His spirit was the same as any great poet who came before him. It was the spirit of the people and it sprang from the earth as a natural spring wells forth with the clean fresh beauty of tomorrow.




28. Caroline - Verdugo Hills

After awhile, he forgot to count the years. It happens when you choose to spend the remainder of your life on a space station that orbited Mars. He could count the days since Mariel passed away and it wouldn't be long before they would be sending a new crew up to take his place once his frail soul decided that it would take no more abuse. Perhaps there would be no more missions, the last transcript from earth informing him of the growing instability of the New Order and it was true that the construction down on the surface of the red planet had yet to continue after the last tragedy that destroyed the fledgeling colony. But Wayne could care less about all of the insignificant plans of men who never truly had the heart to invest in the stars...for he had heard the voice of heaven. At first he thought it was Mariel coming to take him away from this frivolous life, immersing him within the essence of the universe. Oh, what a blessing that would be but then he began to notice that it was something else, even more beautiful than what he initially imagined. It was a voice that transcended any human expectation and it lifted him up beyond the limitation of the mind into a realm of magnanimity.




27. Toro y Moi - Underneath the Pine

Everyday after work they went to the club and danced, a primal imperative that had to be fulfilled, a need that was theirs alone. It never affected their other lives at home, neither her live-in boyfriend or his wife suspected them of having an affair, as long as they came home every night. This dance they shared was never about a desire to take their relationship into a passionate dream of sexual enticement. Their friendship was different, a unique connection that centered on the touch and swirl of the rhythmic symbiosis that could only happen on the dance floor. Their bodies were partnered in only one place, the club. His wife once suggested that the two of them take professional dance lessons to hone their craft but it wasn't about that either. A dance studio was too intimate and would ruin everything. Only the club could satisfy their need, to let down their hair and shake off the cubicle rust. One night he lightly said that the two of them must have been lovers in a past life, during an era when dance was transcendent, a genuine release for the human spirit. Who knows, maybe it was sometime during the seventies.




26. EMA - Past Life Martyred Saints

Emma Wocjekowski made a discovery and it was either going to kill her or make her famous. Very few laboratories around the world monitored the prism of quantum physics within the realm of possibilities as her lab. She was already considered one of the greatest minds in her field even after the controversy surrounding her theories on genetic coding conducted as a college student under the guidance of a Nobel Laureate. They say the man stole the prize from her and she has never truly disputed the claim, but it's something that is no longer discussed around her. Rumors are frivolous distractions, as far as she's concerned and she doesn't have time for distractions. Emma rechecked the equation and began to trace the length of the tail toward where it lead. Down the rabbit hole, she laughed to herself. Wasn't that the type of thing that she told those who inquired of her research. Well, the equations didn't lie and it appeared that she had found a source of energy unlike anything that had ever come before, tiny in scope but massive in intensity. She was about to blow the cover off human perspective.




25. Gold Panda - Lucky Shiner






24. James Blake - James Blake






23. Black keys - Brothers






22. Tom Waits - Bad As Me






21. Tosca - No Hassle

44 Months (the second act)

Getting the kids into bed is becoming an increasingly difficult task, so much that it is extremely draining and by the time we finally rustle them into their prospective cages, all I want to do is go find my own bed and collapse into the pillow (in slow-motion dramatic effect like I'm in some Hollywood movie that tries to capture the trials of parenthood but never manages to get it right because there is nothing that you could ever put up on a screen that will make you understand the complexity and confusion and exhilaration involved in all of these decisions that we deal with every day and when these false images are filtered down to us through the media of popular culture I simply want to scream at the screen, YOU JUST DON"T GET IT!)

But I digress.

We used to put all of it down to the notion that, since they no longer nap during the day, that they are so exhausted that their brains simply can't concentrate long enough to brush their teeth or put on their pajamas or clean up their rooms or...well, do anything that will help Christina and I some small fraction of sanity before another day has been lost to us (even Quinnie has now decided that napping is just such a two-year-old thing and since she's three-going-on-four that it is somehow beneath her dignity to lay her head down for an hour or two or even for thirty minutes so that some people in the house may have a moment of relaxation and it'll be better for her later anyway when she is trying to focus on the various necessities required of her in order to get her into bed without dragging her through the house by her hair and plopping her down into the warmth of her covers thumb in her mouth blankie on her cheek)

Whew!

Once I think about it, I suppose that most of these complaints are simply my version of acting out after becoming frustrated or tired from the heedless burden life can dump on our heads. Don't we all reach a point at the end of the day where we are fed up with the constant pushing and pulling of our attention and we either fall down into a heap somewhere and zone out or jump around and act out, attempting to diffuse some of those turbulent feelings jumbling around within us? I suppose that we are all looking for some healthy way to process these strained emotions and our children aren't any different.

We used to give them tea because that works really well with ourselves. A calming warm influence that brings us down to settle before the flames churning in our hearth, ruminating on the experience of being alive. That worked for Lucas and he probably needs it the most because he has a tendency to amp out of control when his brain begins to shut down. Quinn is a different story altogether. Yeah, she has her moments when her impish qualities are revealed through a strange source of energy that is hard to explain but much of her night time issues are from some really bad habits that she is struggling to break.

Quinn has a power inside that has the ability to go toe-to-toe with anybody's will. I used to call her stubborn but now I know that she is willful, in the sense that her will is bound to be the fullest of all when it comes to a showdown that she is determined to make. Right now, it devolves into lots of screaming and continuous use of the word "can't" and when I hear that word my will comes forth to challenge. No, "can't" is unacceptable because we can always try. That's the attitude I immediately take but not Quinn, not if she's decided that she is not going to do it. That's when it turns ugly real quick.

And that's when I truly find myself failing as a parent. I know in my heart that there are better ways to communicate to my three-year-old daughter that may empower her to try instead of cry but my ego has taken over and since I'm on the side of righteousness and she just doesn't get it, Quinn falls into a puddle of tear-stained red-faced cheeks as she squirms and shakes and anguishes against the unfair world that has crushed her soul. Then the shock of her behavior punches me in the gut and I realize that I am no longer a father. I have turned into an ogre.

I pick her up and I soothe her, do everything in my power to calm her down and it takes way longer than if I had simply used a calming influence ten minutes earlier. As the adult, shouldn't I be the one with the power to make decisions based on maturity during these difficult situations? When a standoff of wills occurs with my daughter, I always realize this basic truth way too late. Why can't I realize that she needs a calm and respectful voice to help her understand the value of these efforts? She's not at the point in her life where she's become so aware of her power that she's decided to use it for frivolous crap yet and it's up to us to make sure that she never reaches that point. She's honest and embracing and she simply is seeking a gentle connection that will provide some comfort. She's using these actions and her babyish behavior to help create that connection. She's pushing our boundaries so that we will pay more attention to her and love her and give our parenting attention to her. She knows what our role is and she simply wants us to play our part.

But how does that help her grow? That's the question we always come back to after every decision we make during their shifting and evolving journey. Are we creating scenarios that are causing more damage in the long run just because it seems easier to do it this way now? There is a purpose behind the design of discipline. So how do we help Quinn understand that it's so important for her growth as a human being for her to try to put on her own clothes and to pick up the mess she's created? These are basic life lessons that all people need to discover because we've all seen those who never learned a thing about being responsible.

Quinn is different. You can't win trying to use the strong arm of the law with her. She needs a softer focus that respects her, that looks into her heart and reminds her of the power that she has within her. She knows it's there because she can bring it out any time she wishes. We just need to be patient with her so that she can take the next big step in her journey. When I watch her and talk to her and hold her and really open my heart to her, I know that once she does take these steps she is going to really grow in dynamic ways. She has so much potential and her will is so full.

83 Months

So Lucas has started the second grade, somehow making it through grade number one in one piece. I know it sounds strange to be presenting it in such a way but we had some difficulties last year that tested our patience and aspirations for our first child.

Lucas is the type of child who faces difficulties in such a way that he can manage them but really would rather not. If something is challenging he has a tendency to get frustrated and want to disappear but as long as he perseveres, then the outcome most likely comes out on the sunny side of average. Yet, if he has the opportunity to avoid the challenge and get away with it, then that will be his primary choice in most situations. He likes to feel comfortable, to enjoy himself and indulge in the activities in life that bring a smile on his face. I don't blame him because who doesn't want to have a life with those type of outcomes, but when it comes to building character and developing into a dynamic human being that has the ability to face anything that this life can throw our way, then we must challenge ourselves.

Lucas still doesn't quite understand that concept. So, last year, when he was under the tutelage of a demanding teacher along with high quality peers that elevated the learning environment, he had to face situations that were outside his comfort zone more often than he'd ever previously been accustomed. He reacted with bouts of morose behavior that we have yet to see from our little guy. It was awkward and frustrating and sad, not just for him but for Christina and me, as well.

One of the defense mechanisms that he's learned over the past few years is to shut down and not express himself fully when he's struggling. It's something that we've really had to face over the past year as he often would come home sullen and snappy without any explanation at all. I believe that this habit of quiet defiance quickly develops in the school yard, especially when one is surrounded by peers with strong personalities who have developed abnormal competitive genes during this young blossoming time. Last year, Lucas came face to face with one of these personalities and it grew into his first ugly school yard incident.

Even though Lucas can shut down, we've also been very adamant with him that he has the right to express his opinion on any subject with us and others. It's important for him to learn to communicate with anyone in life, even those who he finds difficult. So, even though Lucas can be quiet at times, when he's in the proper mood he really has no problem telling people exactly how he feels. It's one of the great quandaries of life. When do we stand up to remain true to our genuine expression that defines our unique individual humanity and how do we express it in such a way that our message has the ability to touch people in positive ways? That's the goal that we have for him and the first step is allowing him to truly express himself now with confidence, especially when he's at age where he doesn't have a massive understanding of the world. But it's a habit that will eventually grow into a powerful force if we nurture it in the right way.

Well, I guess he didn't have a problem expressing himself with this other child in his class and it simmered into something that we needed to bring to the attention of the authorities at his school, his teacher and principal. I didn't have an issue coming to the school with this because my first response when it comes to my children is that I'm going to protect them no matter what and Lucas's behavior was definitely something of concern. But when it came time for him to stand up and defend his side the story, his anger and confidence with the situation dwindled into meekness. I was disappointed because I was emotionally invested and I felt that Lucas has manipulated me a little bit, but then I realized that it was simply a really difficult challenge that he was dealing with and that he was on an even bigger emotional roller-coaster ride than me.

One of the great challenges any human must face is how they are honest with themselves regarding the way that they face the world. If we are not honest with ourselves then we will never be honest with others. This is a tremendous challenge that has come to define Lucas after almost seven years. Christina is extremely motivating with how she handles these dilemmas of integrity that rise up with our son. Her message is always about how you lose yourself when you are not honest. When you start lying during challenging situations so that you don't get punished or because you are trying to hide from some ominous outcome, then you begin to lose connection to yourself. You go down a path where you may discover one day in the future that you don't know who you are anymore. That place is hell and no one, no god put you there. You chose to go down that desperate road yourself.

This is a vital message for children to learn and I am so glad that I have a companion who is so tuned in to its awareness that she can communicate it so effectively. It's something that both of my children must understand if they want to get anywhere in life. It's something that I had extreme difficulty dealing with when I was a child and it affected me dramatically when I became an adult. It took many years for me to reach a place where I truly felt healthy again. This incident that came up with Lucas and that we all had to face really raised some new challenges for us but we really came through the dank tunnel to view things with a new light. Lucas seems to be smiling more and believing in himself more. He's told me quite often this first month how much he likes his new class and how happy he is with his school mates. Of course, part of the reason for all of that is because his new teacher is so "easy" and he's really glad that the troublesome child from last year is no longer in his class.

43 Months (2)

Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I'm forty-years-old and that I have a seven-year-old son and a three-year-old daughter. But they're here and I'm still here and this little blog is still here, too. I look back on all of these entries that reflect my perspective on parenting and growing and learning about life and I'm stunned that this display has become so mature.

And despite all of my yearnings for empowerment and beauty and embracing the world around me with love, there are times I fall down into the nether-worlds of human behavior. I debase myself and the world around me with inferior lessons. We all do, at times, and our attempts to overcome this devilish nature that we have in ourselves is the ultimate struggle that we must face. It's been a long time since I completely lost myself to the foolish game of disrespectful behavior in order to escape the deep need for responsibility. Something I often did in my youth, instead of confronting the twisting feelings within me that I had such trouble understanding.

My current musing on these issues doesn't have anything to do with a confession that I'm about to make or revelatory pictures of stumbling blocks that I've recently had to overcome, but actually simply come down to this invisible barrier that I've recently crossed and which has occupied my mind of late. The dreaded forty-year-old line in the sand. Isn't this the time for a mid-life crisis? I say that with complete honesty but I'm not talking about the stereotypical mid-life crisis paths that we always see in our culture; divorce, sports car, cocaine, strip clubs and desperate rendezvous in the dark corners of our minds. I can't help but look at all of this from a different perspective.

The real reason I'm discovering this new attitude simply comes down to the fact that now that I'm actually forty-years-old, I feel responsible for the state of the world. I look around at everything that is going on around me and truly see this complex human interactive environment that we've created. I can do this simply because of human ingenuity, a truly amazing gift of our evolution, but when I really look at our society, I find that the picture that is currently being revealed isn't very beautiful at all. I'm not particularly proud of what we've built here in the 21st century. In fact, it really looks like the complete opposite of ingenuity, something truly ugly that tears down the monument of human endeavor. It's destructive in so many ways and terrifying to watch it unfold due to the causes of human behavior, due to causes I myself have made.

When you turn forty, you get to take responsibility for your life. I never realized that this was happening but suddenly I was very aware and tuned into the reality that my life was just as important as anyone else. My opinion and perspective on the world is just as important. This was always true, of course, but we are so often burdened by the false prophet of insecurity in this new modern culture that it is easy to lose faith in ourselves. Somehow, I suddenly don't worry about any of that now. Maybe it's because I don't have time to worry about that type of thing when I need to worry about providing for and teaching two little kids. So I've finally come to understand that that all of those messages of shame that we've received for so long are nothing but a distraction to pull us away from our true potential, a foolish symptom of a diseased society.

But that's why I think a mid-life crisis is in order. A new type of mid-life crisis. Something that I'm going to call a crisis vow. Because I believe that it is imperative that we as human beings shift our focus in life toward something meaningful. We are truly living in a time of crisis. There is great upheaval all around us, a tremendous conflict of disparity that is constantly on display. We cannot seem to escape the seething tremors of discord that envelope all of our human interaction and we are all looking for a new path out of the disastrous mess we've made of things. For me, it's a perfect time to reflect on my role as a human being in this life, right here and now. What can I do to make life enjoyable for myself and others?

So this is my crisis vow.

I vow to respond to the world around me in a way that provides value and I vow to confront the prejudices and negativity that seeks to hinder that value that I wish to create.

If each and every one of us base our lives on those two small determinations then we can change the course of tragedy that our society currently treads. If we begin with our hearts and follow with our minds then we have the ability to alter the destiny of humanity. We can change the way that we perceive value in this life. True value doesn't come from money or possessions but from the way we treat others. The only worth that we shall have once we are gone is what we have left behind, whether we are dead or have simply said goodbye. I can see this truth every day in the bright smiles upon my children's faces. How can we possibly say that we care about these precious beings when we continue to cut funding for education so that we can build more bombs? That is an example of the shameful way our society has turned away from humanity, something that I am finally coming to understand, now that I'm forty.

Yet, I know that we have so much to give, so much more that we can do for our society and for our children. I see it every day in so many ways. In the way a parent walks their child to school. In the care of preparing a hearty breakfast. In a hug, a touch, a smile. In the way that I feel so fortunate to have this life simply because others have made the effort to create this space that provides that fortune. We need to do that for our children. We need to do that so that the life of tomorrow is a place of happiness for all. That is the type of life that is worth creating. Not one that causes pain or destroys or preys on the weak. We've developed some bad habits that are causing us to further our own doom. We've allowed our devilish source to cause the destruction of the world, even if that only meant that we turned our heads when visions of atrocity came upon us. But no matter how blind we became, our hearts always understood the truth of such wicked games and once the heart knows, you can never find appreciation and gratitude within such ignorance.

I want to create an environment where we rediscover that sense of appreciation for our lives. That's why we are here, after all. So this is my mid-life crisis, a vow for discovery, a new perspective that shall enlighten tomorrow.

82 Months

Lucas is skinny! Man that kid is all bones and elbows and knees and shoulders and shins. The most hilarious part about watching this skinny kid develop before us is that I know that was exactly how I looked when I was his age.

Over the years I have been accused of not having fat on my bones. Aside from an uncouth comment from my old roommate's father, who happened to know me from my high school years, I have never been deemed overweight. I have unconsciously poked Christina with a sharp knee or elbow more times than she can remember. I have annoyed fellow school mates with my long skinny arms allowing me certain advantages during playground games. I have eaten and eaten and eaten just about anything I care to eat with limited consequences. To this day, there are people who will question how I remain so thin after eating my fill. I am fortunate that I don't have to worry about my weight, a rare gift having lived through the age of fast food abundance.

Lucas has developed some healthy eating habits. He hardly ever eats more than he needs, even if it's something sweet and delicious. He usually will try everything that we give him. After a couple of years of fighting and persuading and bribing, where he wouldn't eat practically anything, he is finally coming around to understand that there are hidden delicacies within strange dishes. Yes, we do have some evenings when his willful nature rears forth once again and he refuses to eat anything but he's come to understand that the consequences of that decision means that he's not going to eat anything that he might actually enjoy. So he's gone to bed without dinner a few times this year but it doesn't really faze him. He's not the type of kid who has to eat, who's crying desperately if you don't give him what he wants. He simply deals with it in his quiet way and accepts the repercussions of his actions with dignity...most of the time.

I love to watch him use his body and his brain. He is growing into his frame, skinny as it is, and becoming more comfortable with the advantages and limits nature has bestowed on him. He loves to run and jump and I recently revealed the phenomenon of parkour to Lucas and he loved it!. Ever since, he's been jumping and running whenever and wherever he has the chance over whatever obstacle that he can find, occasionally with unintended painful results. But he simply gets up and moves on, best as he can. It's truly a delight to witness these formative years that are so fundamental toward creating the person that he will become. I want him to be absolutely gratified with who he is, both physically and intellectually and he truly seems like he's in a more contented frame of mind nowadays.

That doesn't mean that we can stop encouraging him or nurturing these beneficial traits that he's been embracing. Christina and I are always thinking about the different paths of training that will make him grow to be even more amazing than he already is, such as martial arts defense classes or gymnastics or rock climbing or anything that helps him learn more about his abilities. Lucas is very open to so many ideas, as well, and that's one of his most admirable attributes. He's very malleable when it comes to following through with the demands presented by the cultural and educational opportunities that we wish for him. Another attribute that reminds me of my youth.

I hope that he continues to strive forward with all of these accomplishments that I'm gushing over as a devoted parent. I know that there will be days when my perspective on his development may become constrained and that we will both have to evolve along the parent/child continuum, but right now I truly feel like a lucky dad who can appreciate the gift of life that was bestowed upon me. Hopefully the next time he climbs on my lap because he wants to be held and his bony knees dig into my thighs, I will recall this beautiful perspective of fatherhood and embrace him with all my heart. Maybe that will somehow dull the stabbing pain forced upon me with every shift of his skinny body.

42 Months (dos)

"I love all the songs in the world!"

This is what Quinn tells me as we drive, while listening to Elliott Smith. I totally believe her. If anyone was capable of loving every song in the world, it would be Quinn. She has such enthusiasm for life that if she really wanted to embrace something as big as the concept of music across all genres and regions and forms and styles and agendas, then she has the energy and imagination to pull it off.

What a humongous heart she has! She often looks at the world through the rosy-tinted frames of love and beauty. When something touches her heart, she unabashedly exclaims how beautiful it makes her feel. When something is colorful or creative or gentle, then they are beautiful. When a song reaches her ears and caresses her little soul then she loves to tell me how beautiful that song is to her.

I love this so much, of course, because I'm constantly digging music in every possible way so that I can gleen some nourishment from the dancing dreams that float on the winds with the songbirds. I search for beauty in music and I search for drama and pleasure. I search for angst and anguish and yearning. I search for all of these things in songs because they are a special part of who I am and music can help me understand that aspect of my nature.

I think that Quinn just gets that. I think that she has a natural awareness that is so unique and honest that I often am simply amazed by the power of her expression. It's beautiful for me, as a parent, to see such hope flowing out of the eyes of my child. She has a wonderful hopeful belief in the world as a place of beauty and she wants to embrace it. When Quinn taps into that aspect of her nature then I am so profoundly proud and hopeful, as well. She may truly grow into a person who has the ability to settle into the center of the earth, where she is intricately aware of her connection to all things.

It's not easy to discover this special place. We are all searching for it in a way, a true understanding of our place in this life, this precious existence that we've come to know. The root of all spiritual journey comes back to discovering this amazing perspective where we are able to find a true expression of happiness that is not influenced by all of the distractions that occur around us, that occur within us. A place where we are immune to the waves that crash over our head, submerged within the peaceful blessing of life.

Then again, Quinn is just like any other kid in so many ways. She wants people to listen to her as if she were just as important as anyone else attempting to express the way that they feel. She desires the tempting displays of our culture, so much so that sometimes she'll fight for them. She gets frustrated and cries and struggles and wants to give up. She sulks like a little kid when she doesn't get what she wants.

But then she is a little kid! She's not even four-years-old yet. Sometimes it's so easy to forget that when you simply want some peace of mind at the end of the day. So she's not a perfect little angel in any sense of the word but there's something that I try to remember when it comes to the struggles that we have with certain aspects of our children that tend to drive us crazy. Everything about them (and us) can be nourished and turned into a powerful positive experience in this life.

And during those times when they claim to love every song in the world? Well, that's when we are getting an intimate glimpse into the amazing human potential that our children (and us) possess. Quinn, with her shimmering eyes so full of hope and delight, lets us in on so many secrets that reveal all of the inherent beauty of this earth and I am truly grateful that she has become a part of my life.


These are her songs, for the most part. I added a couple that remind me of her.

01. Margot & the Nuclear So and So's - Paper Kitten Nightmare
02. Luna - Moon Palace
03. First Aid Kit - Hard Believer
04. Gang Gang Dance - Sacer
05. Bonobo - Animals
06. Elliott Smith - Waltz #2
07. Jens Lekman - Your Arms Around Me
08. Glasser - Apply
09. Micah P. Hinson - Diggin A Grave
10. Rogue Wave - Catform
11. Josh Rouse - Sweetie
12. Lia Ices - Grown Unknown
13. Caroline - Pink Gloom
14. Emiliana Torrini - Bleeder

81 Months

Kids are exhausting! Sometimes they knock me down, kick me in the ass, push me around, make me crazy, dumbfound me, shock me, cause curses to rain from my mouth, force the red veil of damnation to cloud my vision, make my blood boil, terrify me, pull down on my neck with the heavy burden of responsibility, test my patience, again and again and again. Sometimes they make me cry because I have nothing left to give. Sometimes they cause me to absolutely lose my temper, to the point of despair where my head tells me to wait but my body is going going going to the limit, raging and taking it out on them in some overt psychological display that will probably stain their reflections of me once they've grown out of their little frames. Sometimes I lose track of my heart when I'm around my children because they wipe me out!

And the worst part about all of this is that sometimes my kids know it. They are acutely aware that they can manipulate me by pushing on the frayed edge of my sanity with their relentless energy that I am growing unable to handle at times. They just go go go, push push push, shout shout shout and spin me rapidly out of the calm shadow that I wish to hide within. Just give me a moment, please. Some time to rest and catch my breath. Just let me have some space so that I can reconnect the delicate hooks that hold together the lost imaginings of togetherness that consumes the musings of capacity that help me believe in my unlimited capabilities. Let me hold onto that precious faith just for a moment. Please.

I'm not sure that they do it consciously or with determination. No, I don't think that it's that sinister. I just know that there is a part of them that smirks at the weakness in human nature, that swoops down with vultured wings to pick at the soft flesh huddling at the side of the road. It's not as malicious as it sounds, just that lower self that revels in the miserly contempt toward life. We all have it. We all understand it a little bit and we all have the choice about whether or not we wish to act on it.

Lucas acts on it sometimes and I must say that it sometimes causes me to act accordingly, which really means that I respond in much the same manner. The reaction that I then receive back from him is never something that fills my heart with pride, but there are times that I just don't care any more. Not to the extent that I continue the behavior without regard for his feelings but stern enough that his calls for comfort are left in the passenger seat. Those are the times he gets a long lecture from Daddy. You see, I'm pretty good at lecturing my children when my mind has sharpened for confrontation. It's a part of my nature that kicks into gear when a conflict arises that needs my attention but in the case of my son crossing a line that I'm not happy about...well, let's just say that I often bring out the whetting stone.

I must say that I never lose my mind enough that I knock him around or anything as terrible as that, acts that make my blood curdle, but I definitely have given him the voice. The one he hates. The one that reminds him how small he can become. It's always a moment that I grow to regret because I recognize this voice. It's one that I hated when I was Lucas's age and it also made me feel so small every time it pointed in my direction. I will never be happy when I make my boy feel that way. My heart aches at the memory of his tangled face conflicted with urgent thoughts and anxious attempts to squirm away from the spotlight that has descended upon him. Lucas is so much like me in that way, if only to escape the pressure of failure for a brief instance so that we may recover from the madness. Something we are totally capable of, recovering from the shock of cold water upon our brains, just give me a moment so that I can feel the warmth again.

This is my struggle as a father. How do I make sure that my actions are helping my children grow beyond their limitations? And that doesn't just mean the times when they want to run and hide, an obvious weakness that most of us have to deal with. It also means that I need to find a way to respond to them in profoundly positive ways when they are feeding the mean wolf, the evil demon within that wants to push at people to knock them astray. Demeaning Lucas so that he despises his own skin will never allow him to confront the bad behavior that caused me to demean him in the first place. It will only cause him to push down those impulses until they want to break free some day, possibly years from now when my guidance may not matter so much anymore. That would be a horrible mistake because he would spend too long sifting through the sad ashes of unhappiness until he somehow manages to clean away the muck enough to stand up for himself. A tragic road that so many of us travel, a journey I made myself, and there are even some who never manage raise themselves up.

No, I definitely do not want that for Lucas.

So even when we are exhausted and at the end of our rope, we must remember that there is so much that is precious in the children that we have. We must try to discover the delight and magic within them that fills us with so much joy. We must nourish the light that shines out of their beautiful hearts. It is the beacon that will bear gifts, of amazing people who will shape the future landscape into a wonderful place that brings happiness more often than despair. With this vision we are reminded that our efforts to be good parents will not go in vain, no matter how many times they make our tired bodies collapse into bed with a beggar's prayer upon our lips.

"Please, protect these precious gifts that have been bestowed upon us by the universe. May my guidance help fulfill the glorious aspirations that we wish for their lives, so that their dreams may contain the deep possibilities of hope."

41 Months (part two)

So Quinn tells us a story regarding one of her past lives. She informs us that she used to be someone named Padresher and that she lived somewhere else, somewhere far away. In this other life she didn't live very long because she was burned in a fire and once she realized that her life was over, she came back to be with Mommy in this life. She didn't say these things with any sense of concern or fear or terror, though my initial reaction was something along those lines. In fact, when she spoke about being back with Mommy here in this life, she was expressing it as if she were very happy about it.

I have mixed feelings about these strange stories that come out of the children. For one, I am extremely intrigued and mesmerized by the incredible imagination that is flowing through their little brains. When they speak with the tongue of a storyteller, the worlds that they create are alive and beautifully detailed. It's an aspect of childhood that I recall vividly and that creative spirit has always been something that I loved to develop in my own life, as we can see on this very site. Plus, since I have a deep connection to these two little wonders of human existence, I also am quickly pulled into their narrative like a life-long fan. Even the seemingly ordinary happenings in their lives come across as interesting or amazing at times. They light up the world for me and that draws me into the story just as any good storyteller would.

But there are also aspects of these weird tales that make me wonder what is actually happening out there in the universe and in what way are we connected through time and space. I'm no physicist but I love to play one when I have the time to dream about the amazing wonders of the cosmos. Even though we know very little about our place as it relates to everything else in the universe and beyond, we are learning so much all of the time and many theories are constantly being examined that shed new light on many of our perceptions about what is actually going on in life. We don't know that reincarnation is true any more than we know of the existence of God. It's all speculative and strange and ethereal, so when people try to tell me that they absolutely know exactly how these theories play out, I always turn a skeptical head away and try to become enlightened in other meaningful ways or I attempt to engage them in rational dialog in order to come to a better understanding on the subject.

On the other hand, we have come to accept certain truths about the cosmos that have been verified by scientific observation throughout the ages. One of those truths is that energy never just disappears. Energy transfers from one form to another and the idea of nothingness is just latent energy that hasn't manifested in any physical way yet. When you turn off your light at night, the electricity doesn't just vanish along with the illumination. The energy circuit has been stopped via the light-switch on the wall but the power of that energy is still very much alive at that point of contact that has been broken by the switch. We perceive that the electricity has been shut off but the light has simply gone latent in anticipation of the switch being flipped back the other way.

What happens when the life-switch that is human energy is switched off? Where does that energy go? This is the eternal question humans have been wrestling with as long as the idea of death could be formed into a cohesive thought. The idea of reincarnation is that the energy from a human life has simply gone into a latent form waiting to manifest into a new existence, whatever that may mean? Is it actually possible that the energy entity that is Wade Pavlick could completely manifest into another human being that has some karmic connection to who I am in this life? Do I have some karmic connection to human beings that lived long ago, famous or not? Personally I don't think that energy manifests so concretely and obviously but I really don't know that much about it. I've read that our cells are actually transforming themselves through some micro-process of energy transfer manifestation in such a way that every ten years we are no longer physically the same people we were before. But we also are dragging along some form of karmic or habitual awareness with us so that, even if we are not physically the same, our brains are generally perceiving the world through similar eyes as the Wade from ten years ago. Or, as some may like to say, our souls have not changed. Our hearts and minds are still connected to that other entity.

Does that mean that I suddenly believe in reincarnation because my three-and-a-half year old daughter told me about a past-life existence? Of course not, but this isn't the first time that I've noticed strange occurrences that really have no plausible explanation. When our dog Mishu was about to give birth to puppies, Christina woke up in the middle of the night from a dream and immediately told me about it. One of the puppies was going to be black with beige spots on the face. Neither one of our dogs were black, Mishu being extremely blond and Schmokie carrying a light brown sandy coat. I didn't think much about it except for the fact that she was very descriptive regarding this future puppy that would soon be in our lives, which I was shocked to discover turned out to be true in exact form. I've had very strong instances of deja-vu that cannot be explained, as I'm sure anyone could also say. I've also often wondered why it is that we are attracted to certain people and repelled by others. Not just in a romantic way but just in every day interaction, such as having a conversation or watching how someone moves their body. I know that there may be some scientific explanation for all of this but sometimes it just feels more nuanced than that.

That doesn't mean that I'm going to go around spouting off about the absolute truth of the Flying Spaghetti Monster but my awareness of this life has been greatly altered by the two children who have entered into it in a very dramatic way. My life revolves around the three people in my life who have become my family. I have put a lot of energy into this family and that energy transfers through me with profound devotion. So when Quinn decides to explain to me, with complete earnestness, about a previous life as a human named Padresher, then I am going to listen with my whole being. Because there is very little in this life as precious as your own children expressing new ideas with their developing brains.

For all that we know, it may simply be an elaborate metaphor for the difficulties that she's facing and that her mother is the person who makes her feel the most safe right now. Or she may have been talking to Lucas about their life together and it may have awakened her to the unique dream of the ways humans interact with the universe.

80 Months

Lucas says, "I love to read, Daddy."

These are beautiful words to my ears. A joyous chorus rises up and little drops float out of my tear ducts. All the hard work of bedtime reading, all the time spent cuddled up on the couch as he stared over our shoulders, all the patience keeping the damn teevee off, all the training regarding the important things in life...some of it is actually paying off!

It's so true, though. Whenever Lucas sits down for a moment to do some inane everyday thing that doesn't require brainpower, he'll grab a book and multi-task. When we hop in the car to run errands, he'll dutifully ask if he can bring Calvin & Hobbes along for the ride. Whenever we venture down to the local library, he'll bring me book after book that he wants to check out. He is becoming a voracious reader.

We had a sit-down with his teacher and one of the few aspects of his education where Lucas is a little bit lacking is in reading and comprehension, along with his writing skills. It's definitely something that Christina and I were already aware of but it's not something that concerned us too much. Mostly because he really does enjoy reading as much as he is capable. So it was a bit of a relief when his teacher added that she also was not very concerned about his lagging ability regarding this subject. The reason being that children Lucas's age, while really advancing with their reading skills dramatically, aren't at that stage where they truly comprehend the complexity of storytelling just yet. She said that Lucas is going to find out how magical books can become when he really starts to read about stories that grab him. You see, Lucas isn't going to have a problem once he reaches the next stage of his reading evolution because he already has a wonderful imagination.

His imagination is one of the parts of Lucas that has always drawn such appreciation from me. It's something that I truly understand and when I see it in him, I am reminded of amazing tales that captured my youthful energy. I could spend entire days out in the wild canyons of Chula Vista and never think once about the sterile world inhabited by parents and guardians. It's also something that I am eternally grateful for discovering, for embracing and learning about. I find myself truly appreciating the fact that I wasn't allowed to watch teevee very often or that the personal computer wasn't something that was constantly present occupying my time. I recall vividly the world of video games, which were extremely popular at the time, and there were definitely a few years when my only dream was to visit the arcade every day to play Galaga or skip over to a friend's house to play Mission Control on his Atari or to even possibly get one of my own. But my parents weren't interested in video consoles or cable box television. It just wasn't important to them and that ever-present ethos has carried over into the way I parent today.

I was a kid who always had my nose stuck in a book. I was ridiculed and cursed at and scorned but none of it phased me. I wasn't an avid socializer and only had a couple of close friends who didn't ask too much of me. So it was easy for me to go down into the world of a book and feel like I might somehow find a more glamorous existence, that I might somehow bring that feeling out of my very soul. That's why I eventually wanted to become an author. The dream of being able to convey stories and ideas in a magical way really tapped into that euphoric portion of my brain and provided rich nourishment for my soul.

I know that Lucas also has a very rich perspective on life. I can see it in his smile and hear its enthusiasm when he tells me about some idea that he came up with. It's so rewarding to realize that some of the nurturing is coming to fruition, to watch it actually grow as he grows. It's a nuanced and weird experience for a parent to witness the evolution of their child and there are many times when the process can turn a certain direction that you never expected or couldn't even imagine. But mostly it's wonderful, much in the same way that a good story develops and grabs your attention. Most the time you recognize many aspects of their development that remind you of pleasant memories that you may have forgotten or warm feelings that lay hidden in your subconscious or even something so completely expected that you exult with happiness when it happens.

That's how I felt when Lucas told me that he loves to read. We always knew he would. He's surrounded by so many books our house probably feels like a library to him. Both his parents continuously carry books around. We've even talked about starting a reading hour every evening if we can manage to pull ourselves away from these damn ever-present computers that occupy so much of our time. So it was no shock to hear him say these words, yet it still makes my heart soar to watch my little reader, my little author dance about in the scholastic playground.

Cream Puff (a novel)

(start at the beginning)

Chapter Seven: A Mighty Heart [Darren]

It's so crazy how things can change so quickly. One minute you're feeling so incredibly happy that you can't believe all the amazing turns the world makes, then before you know what hit you, you're feeling the exact opposite.

For two weeks I was miserable. Angelina wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. Whenever I tried to approach her at school or tried to get her attention in some way she would turn away from me. It was like I ceased to exist as far as she was concerned. It didn't help that her head was permanently connected to Tiffany's. They were like Siamese twins, going around leaning so heavily on one another that they could've been sharing internal organs as far as I could see. Nothing that I did penetrated the shell that had enveloped around my sweet angel since the day her Dad walked in on us with rage flaming in his eyes. It looked like she was truly lost to me.

I was devastated. At first I just couldn't believe that she would let her father control her in such a way. I was positive that she wasn't that type of person. I knew her in my heart, for chrissakes, and to be so thoroughly dismissed due to parental guidance just seemed absolutely insane! Love wasn't bound by the rules of the overly mature, not at our age. Didn't we have a natural ability to deflect the overlords of reason when it came to the pulse in our bloods? Wasn't that part of the beauty of youth? But there I was being rejected by the most unnatural force alive! I was fucking angry and frustrated and felt like melting down all the time. I wanted to scream and punch somebody in the face and my father wouldn't even allow me into the pizza parlor after a few days of continuously insulting everyone who entered the front door. Susan gave me a wide berth whenever she entered the same room and my Mom decided to spend a week in a permanent alcohol fueled coma or what is officially known as the greatest health spa this side of the border according to their brochure. She usually takes 7-10 day vacation in their lava suite every ten weeks or so. I guess one of my glares sent her scurrying for the hills. Yeah, I was a prick to just about everyone I knew and before I could deal with the malady, it was all over.

School ended and that was it. That Friday night when we had a brief moment together, the night we flirted and danced, when I assumed that we had first touched one another's hearts to the fire, Angelina had informed me that they were heading back to Southern California immediately after the last day of school. That was yesterday and I was so desperate that I ran all over campus, screw any sense of order that our teachers tried to impart on our rampant adolescent hearts, trying to get one last word in before she vanished for three months. I couldn't live with that, knowing full well that she might find the strength to develop a powerful shield against my existence or fall into the arms of some ex-guy who reminded her of everything she was bound to miss. There was no way I was going to allow her to lose sight of me so easily. I skipped class. I interrupted other classes. I barged into the library and other parts of the school that had already closed up to the chorus of the chatty inane issues of teenagers. I chased every shadow around every corner hoping to at least get one last glimpse of this angel that had turned her back on me, damning me to hell, but she wasn't there. I ended up in Marsden's office, forced to listen to a lecture on responsibility for myself and others that I really could never take heed because my misery had grown so complete that it was impossible to ever be responsible again.

Which led to last night, another Friday night, and you don't want to know what happened and even if you did, I wouldn't be able to provide any details because there weren't any left after the large bottle of Jameson and the most potent strain of green Wyatt had at his disposal. Thank God Gus wasn't there because I was bound to do something foolish, something truly irresponsible at that point and being incoherent the night I lose my virginity isn't a plan that I have on the table.

Okay, yeah, we should probably talk about this concept of me still being a virgin. Crazy, I know, but for some reason it doesn't bother me that much. It's actually something that I hold close to my heart and still bears some sentimental meaning for me. My friends razz me about it all the time but they can't dent the fabric of my constitution. I want that moment to be special, that's all. I can't help feeling that way even though I have my suspicions that it probably won't be all that special after all is said and done anyway. Does anything in life really hold that kind of power? But I can admit that it's still important for me and I want to wait until I actually love someone to do it. Not in that can't-have-sex-before-marriage-bullshit-philosophical-religious-identity type of way but more sincere, you know, more real than most things that I feel in my life. Maybe that was another reason these past two weeks were so difficult for me because I actually felt that Angelina might be that person, the one who would take me to a very special place in my heart and hopefully even somewhere that was defined in my dreams.

Well that dream turned into a nightmare.

But just like I said at the start of all of this, things can change before you know what hit you. This morning the sun still rose in the sky despite my best efforts to avoid all aspects of the future during the night before. I somehow dragged myself home from the crumpled spot on Wyatt's living room floor where I found myself this morning and dumped a thousand gallons of scalding water on my head. After raiding my mother's medicine cabinet for some coveted vicodin, I decided to spend the rest of the weekend wallowing in thoughts of lost love and the only other possible concoction that would either bring me some solace or cause me to go absolutely insane. Both scenarios were better than the alternative so when the doorbell rang, I chose to ignore it as I surfed through the entire library of instant view movies at my disposal that featured the Goddess. But then there was something in the soft muffled tones between my sister and the interloper at the door and when it became clear that the person was here for me, a peak of curiosity rushed through me like a freight train. Was it actually possible that something was going to turn out okay for me, after all?

More so than I could have ever imagined. Let's just say that I have never felt such immense joy as at that moment when Angelina walked into the room. I could feel Susan peering at us from the other room but her spying eyes couldn't have been more absurd. All that mattered was this beauty that stood before me and the smile on her face told me that all of the doubts that had developed over the past two weeks were about to dissipate like a nasty stench floating down upon a brisk breeaze. She was here tonight so that we could share in one another's company, so that we could discover the true meaning of love and hold it with tendrils of flaming congruity. My angel had come to lift me up to heaven.

I close my eyes as I feel her head in my lap. No, it's not like that, nothing animalistic and rapturous going on, that's not what we had in mind. Not tonight and definitely not with Susan watching from the shadows. We wanted to find a gentle place together, tender and generous. So we snuggled up on the couch and I put on the perfect movie for the occasion, “A Mighty Heart”. It felt like a great metaphor for what was beginning here tonight.

But first she gave me the rundown on the past two weeks. She wanted to obey her father but she didn't want to, as well. She couldn't do both and since she had already decided that she wasn't going to get caught up in any kind of romance during her short stay up here, it just gave her an excuse to avoid me. It was harder than she ever thought it would be. Every time she saw me looking at her with those forlorn eyes of mine, she wanted to break down and grab me and hold me forever but somehow, keeping Tiffany close to her, she managed to refrain from the temptation. She knew that she was torturing me endlessly and was acutely aware of my unraveling soul but as she looked into her father's stern face every night and could honestly say that she hadn't betrayed him. That was important to her and there were times when she definitely felt some goodness in the choice that she had made.

That was yesterday and today he was gone, flying back to California a day early for a conference that was promised from their old lives that now seemed so far away. All day long she tried to forget about everything that she felt about me but she said that it kept popping up until she couldn't think about anything else. The worst part about it all of it was that it came so easy to break her restraint now that her father's presence was no longer there to remind her. She quickly found justification for her wavering resolve in some heated ideas. Shouldn't her father trust the ways in which he raised her after all these years? She was a good daughter compared to so many of the reckless youth that surrounded them, couldn't he see that? Then before she knew what was happening, she had walked right out the door and came straight to my door, somehow enhancing his failures as a parent while believing that what she was doing was only validating his faith in her in some strange twisted version of the father-daughter relationship that was ordained to occur through the endless pass of time. She decided to stop thinking about it at that point because she no longer wanted it to be wrong.

And God it felt so right!

We held each other and talked and sunk deeper and deeper into the sofa. I put on the movie and we touched each other in small significant ways. She held my hand and slowly ran her fingertips along every etched lifeline. I ran my hand through her hair, each tress of burgundy night leaving a residue of solace on my heart. She caressed my knee with a soft searching elegance, feeling the muscles in my legs flow underneath the fabric of my jeans. I touched behind her ear, smooth skein of silk weaving around tender folds and delicate canyons of listening. She heard my heart beneath my chest, resting gently with the rise and fall of my breath. I caught the scent of vanilla almond extract and it was so subtle that I couldn't tell if it was from her perfume or the hint of her shampoo or the natural aroma of her skin or some combination of all three. She curved her chin into my belly, pushing playfully, her nose wrinkling in amusement as I squirmed a tiny bit beneath her. I ran my hand down the back of her shirt, brushing past the clasp of her bra. It could be so easy to push it further, a quick twist of my snapped fingers, a soft sigh escaping her lips, reaching down deeper into zones of delight that would cause her to turn toward me, her mouth so close to my crotch.

But the night isn't asking that of us and we've found a place that doesn't require that loss of attention. We shall remain in the warmth of a new embrace, a giddy and precious teenage idea of love, without a demand for urgency. For now our love shall remain in the dark, lit only by the quiet blue light of faded dreams as we watch her permed namesake scramble to save her own version of the dance, which played out in the dusty streets of the Middle East.