In the past four or five months, I’ve attended two things that I’ve never attended before, yet I’m sure I will again: a funeral and a wedding.
I just attended the wedding a few weeks ago. What a great, great event. And there is not a hint of sarcasm in that. I can already tell I much prefer weddings to funerals. That’s rather obvious of course.
Yet, what struck me after I left the wedding was how similar weddings and funerals are. And I don’t mean to say that the wedding I went to was very morose or that the funeral I went to was very lively or anything like that. It’s just that both “events” (I’m not sure if that’s quite the word I’m looking for, but so be it) are an expression of love. At the funeral I was at, there were so many loving words spoken about my grandfather, and at the wedding, there were a lot of loving words spoken, and love was just in the air.
I once heard this guy mention how he thought laughter and crying were very closely related, and how he thinks they’re a lot closer then they are farther apart. When you think about it, you often stop crying by laughing, and many a time, laughter will lead to tears.
It’s such a rare experience to see two people so in love, like I did a few weeks ago. And everyone was celebrating their love and celebrating their happiness. And there was no jealousy, no anger.
And at the funeral, to see a celebration of life, and what a wonderful life my grandfather led.
It’s great to see such love in this world, it truly is. Some might call it a shame that we can only express our love at such dramatic events. I call it a blessing. A blessing that that love is there and that we, as humans, are lucky enough to enjoy such a thing.
So even if I only get to witness such love on rare occasions, I’m happy to know that it’s there.
“Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live.”
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Ain't That A Kick in the Head?
One of my best friends, this best friend being a girl, has a mortal enemy, this enemy also being a girl. Well, my best friend, let’s call her A, told me stories about this “chick,” let’s call her C. Seeing as they are enemies, none of these stories were good stories about C.
Now, I should mention that C is relatively attractive. She’s not drop dead gorgeous, but she’s pretty. And I, a red blooded male, found her attractive. However, my loyalty has a friend was far more powerful and I didn’t consider the notion to even remotely strike up a conversation.
Did I mention that I’m male? Because I think that should earn some understanding as to why I did strike up a conversation with C. Now, now, before you protest and insult me, understand that I myself had no reason to hate C besides the fact that she was an enemy of A.
But, C’s attractive so I figure what the hell? Now, A had told me that C was quite the bitch (that was actually one of her tamer insults) but I hadn’t seen that at all. She seemed very kind.
Until I struck up a conversation with C. Man, what an incredible bitch. Seriously. I understand why A hates her.
So the moral of this story—if there is one—is that sometimes friends do get it right. The more obvious one is don’t judge a book by its cover, or something like that. Well, whatever the moral of the story is, here’s to you A. You called it right.
Now, I should mention that C is relatively attractive. She’s not drop dead gorgeous, but she’s pretty. And I, a red blooded male, found her attractive. However, my loyalty has a friend was far more powerful and I didn’t consider the notion to even remotely strike up a conversation.
Did I mention that I’m male? Because I think that should earn some understanding as to why I did strike up a conversation with C. Now, now, before you protest and insult me, understand that I myself had no reason to hate C besides the fact that she was an enemy of A.
But, C’s attractive so I figure what the hell? Now, A had told me that C was quite the bitch (that was actually one of her tamer insults) but I hadn’t seen that at all. She seemed very kind.
Until I struck up a conversation with C. Man, what an incredible bitch. Seriously. I understand why A hates her.
So the moral of this story—if there is one—is that sometimes friends do get it right. The more obvious one is don’t judge a book by its cover, or something like that. Well, whatever the moral of the story is, here’s to you A. You called it right.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
A Motto
Life is too important to be taken seriously.
-Oscar Wilde
I really can't put it better myself.
-Oscar Wilde
I really can't put it better myself.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
God Only Knows
It’s been awhile hasn’t it? But I have made my return! Life has been…just like life I s’pose. Lots of new things to report but I’m not writing this to update you on all the events in my life. I come here (and by here I mean this blog) to let my mind wander. Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream…
I made a Beatles reference in the first paragraph. Gotta love it.
Enough beating around the bush. Let’s get down to why I opened Microsoft Word to start writing this new blog.
About a month ago, I was in bed, trying to sleep but not really. As I’m oft to do, I started talking to myself and my thoughts drifted to my grandpa. I was talking to myself as if I was telling a story to someone about my grandpa’s illness and how it all came about. I won’t recount that story just yet, but I’ll take you through the beginning because it involves why I’m writing this blog.
My dad called me on a Friday. June 19th or 20th or somewhere around that day. Definitely a Friday though. I was on my first few weeks of summer break from high school, so my sleep schedule was a bit off. He called me in the evening, but I was sleeping. The phone call woke me up, but I was sort of out of it when I answered. He said that my grandpa, his dad, was going in for surgery on Monday and to keep him in my thoughts. After I hung up, I distinctly noticed that he hadn’t mentioned what body part my grandpa was having surgery on.
My grandpa was a rather obese man and had had heart problems in the past (I think he may have had a bypass surgery) and so I figured it was that again. Anyway, my mom got home and I mentioned that Dad had called and said that Grandpa was having surgery and I asked her if she knew anything about it. My mom sort of got tight lipped and was very hesitant to tell me anything. Eventually, I got it out of her that my grandpa had been having like seizures and stuff and they had scanned his brain and found tumors and such. The surgery was gonna try and remove as many of the tumors as they could.
Needless to say I was a bit shocked.
But, Monday comes around and no word from my Dad through out the day. I should mention that I was flying out to Kansas the next day to visit my relatives out there (Mom’s side of the family).
So finally my dad calls my mom and says they got nothing out, that the tumors were too deep in the brain and they couldn’t get any out. I asked if they had given a time table, and she said at this point, they hadn’t.
I wasn’t exactly in the best of spirits when I flew out the next day. I called my mom and asked for an update and I don’t think she gave me anything but I can’t quite remember. I also called my dad and asked about grandpa and Dad said, rather nonchalantly, “Oh he’s fine!” Keep in mind, he has no idea I know anything aside from my grandpa was having surgery.
I think it was Wednesday when I called my mom and she told me that my grandpa was given six months. Now that’s not exact and he was going to go through chemo and stuff, but six months was what it stood at. I was a bit upset, but I wasn’t crying or anything. Trying to enjoy my vacation.
I don’t remember if my dad said something to me when he had called me that Friday or if it was sometime after I had talked to him, but he said something along the lines of “say a prayer for Grandpa.”
Now, I believe in God. I believe in Him wholeheartedly. But, I never really prayed. Maybe once a year I would say a quick little “help me find my Gameboy” or something, but I never really said any prayers of substance. But, when your grandfather is this close to passing, it’s time to step up and say some prayers.
So, I did. And I didn’t pray for a miracle like “remove the tumors from his brain and rid him of this filthy disease!” because I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I would pray for stuff like “be with our family in this troubling time” or “help us get through the grief when he dies.”
And I noticed that I could pray for other things. So, I did. Personal stuff I’m not going to get into, but I prayed for it.
And then my grandfather died on November 8th and it was very, very hard and it still is, but our family’s getting through it.
Now get this. I’m telling this story to myself about a month ago when these words came out of my mouth: “and I noticed that when I was praying, I felt a tremendous comfort in it.”
And it was like an epiphany. I don’t know where those words came from. I know it sounds foolish to say those words came from God, but I almost feel like they did.
Because that was my prayers being answered. As I was praying, they were being answered. Because I’d ask for His help and he would give it to me—through prayer. All the help I was asking for, it was coming and I realized it because I obviously kept praying, but I didn’t know I realized it. I hope I’m explaining myself right.
Even though my grandpa’s dead, I still pray every night and I don’t see that tradition being broken anytime soon. Because maybe I can’t see His effect right now, but all it might take is something as simple as a little conversation with myself to notice.
I made a Beatles reference in the first paragraph. Gotta love it.
Enough beating around the bush. Let’s get down to why I opened Microsoft Word to start writing this new blog.
About a month ago, I was in bed, trying to sleep but not really. As I’m oft to do, I started talking to myself and my thoughts drifted to my grandpa. I was talking to myself as if I was telling a story to someone about my grandpa’s illness and how it all came about. I won’t recount that story just yet, but I’ll take you through the beginning because it involves why I’m writing this blog.
My dad called me on a Friday. June 19th or 20th or somewhere around that day. Definitely a Friday though. I was on my first few weeks of summer break from high school, so my sleep schedule was a bit off. He called me in the evening, but I was sleeping. The phone call woke me up, but I was sort of out of it when I answered. He said that my grandpa, his dad, was going in for surgery on Monday and to keep him in my thoughts. After I hung up, I distinctly noticed that he hadn’t mentioned what body part my grandpa was having surgery on.
My grandpa was a rather obese man and had had heart problems in the past (I think he may have had a bypass surgery) and so I figured it was that again. Anyway, my mom got home and I mentioned that Dad had called and said that Grandpa was having surgery and I asked her if she knew anything about it. My mom sort of got tight lipped and was very hesitant to tell me anything. Eventually, I got it out of her that my grandpa had been having like seizures and stuff and they had scanned his brain and found tumors and such. The surgery was gonna try and remove as many of the tumors as they could.
Needless to say I was a bit shocked.
But, Monday comes around and no word from my Dad through out the day. I should mention that I was flying out to Kansas the next day to visit my relatives out there (Mom’s side of the family).
So finally my dad calls my mom and says they got nothing out, that the tumors were too deep in the brain and they couldn’t get any out. I asked if they had given a time table, and she said at this point, they hadn’t.
I wasn’t exactly in the best of spirits when I flew out the next day. I called my mom and asked for an update and I don’t think she gave me anything but I can’t quite remember. I also called my dad and asked about grandpa and Dad said, rather nonchalantly, “Oh he’s fine!” Keep in mind, he has no idea I know anything aside from my grandpa was having surgery.
I think it was Wednesday when I called my mom and she told me that my grandpa was given six months. Now that’s not exact and he was going to go through chemo and stuff, but six months was what it stood at. I was a bit upset, but I wasn’t crying or anything. Trying to enjoy my vacation.
I don’t remember if my dad said something to me when he had called me that Friday or if it was sometime after I had talked to him, but he said something along the lines of “say a prayer for Grandpa.”
Now, I believe in God. I believe in Him wholeheartedly. But, I never really prayed. Maybe once a year I would say a quick little “help me find my Gameboy” or something, but I never really said any prayers of substance. But, when your grandfather is this close to passing, it’s time to step up and say some prayers.
So, I did. And I didn’t pray for a miracle like “remove the tumors from his brain and rid him of this filthy disease!” because I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I would pray for stuff like “be with our family in this troubling time” or “help us get through the grief when he dies.”
And I noticed that I could pray for other things. So, I did. Personal stuff I’m not going to get into, but I prayed for it.
And then my grandfather died on November 8th and it was very, very hard and it still is, but our family’s getting through it.
Now get this. I’m telling this story to myself about a month ago when these words came out of my mouth: “and I noticed that when I was praying, I felt a tremendous comfort in it.”
And it was like an epiphany. I don’t know where those words came from. I know it sounds foolish to say those words came from God, but I almost feel like they did.
Because that was my prayers being answered. As I was praying, they were being answered. Because I’d ask for His help and he would give it to me—through prayer. All the help I was asking for, it was coming and I realized it because I obviously kept praying, but I didn’t know I realized it. I hope I’m explaining myself right.
Even though my grandpa’s dead, I still pray every night and I don’t see that tradition being broken anytime soon. Because maybe I can’t see His effect right now, but all it might take is something as simple as a little conversation with myself to notice.
Friday, November 27, 2009
In my life, I love you more
At the times we need Him most, our belief in God is often challenged. Even if we do falter a little in our faith, he does not waver in us. Even if we get angry with Him, the fact that we recognize Someone to get angry at makes all the difference in the world. He’s still with us even when we say we don’t want Him.
In November, God took two souls with Him that I know of. Of the two that he took, I only knew one of them personally, but I do know that Heaven has been blessed with two of the brightest souls on Earth.
Even though he’s new there, I hope my grandpa is showing Aiyana around Heaven and maybe cooking her some barbeque.
The friends and families of both will miss them terribly, but we’ll forever have our thoughts and memories to keep us company. And in that, Louis and Aiyana will be with us forever.
In November, God took two souls with Him that I know of. Of the two that he took, I only knew one of them personally, but I do know that Heaven has been blessed with two of the brightest souls on Earth.
Even though he’s new there, I hope my grandpa is showing Aiyana around Heaven and maybe cooking her some barbeque.
The friends and families of both will miss them terribly, but we’ll forever have our thoughts and memories to keep us company. And in that, Louis and Aiyana will be with us forever.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Look out there's a sign post up ahead!
“There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.”
God those words are so good. I love, love, love the Twilight Zone. It’s sort of a guilty pleasure of mine. A couple years ago I was really into it, much more so then I am now. I still love it, but I don’t go out of my way to watch it like I used to. But, if it’s on, I’ll always flip to it.
It’s still so…intriguing. I think that’s the best word. The stories are still great. While it is at times dated, that only adds to the flavor of it. It aged like a fine wine, becoming a source of entertainment not only in the actual narrative of the episode, but also as something of a cultural study.
That show was made from 1959-1964, at a time when the future seemed just around the corner. I love the curiousity that show displayed. I love to discover things and when I get it in my head to learn something, I learn it. I can tell you the back story behind just about every Beatles song. I can tell you if it was released as a single, what album it came on (and probably what track number it is on that album), what song comes before it and after it, etc.
But while I love to find out about all the Beatles records, I’m always somewhat disappointed because it loses some of the meaning that it held for me. “I Am the Walrus” is just John saying a bunch of random words, not some deep song that I had always thought it to be. John said that he was disappointed with the way that “Strawberry Fields Forever,” one of my all time favorite songs, turned out when I think it’s just perfect.
I guess what I’m trying to get at is I love the mindset that they had “back then.” I wish I didn’t know everything about the Beatles because it deadens the imagination. If you know everything about a particular subject, you no longer have to fill in the holes with your brain. I don’t particularly enjoy hearing a teacher tell me how to do something because I much prefer to do it my own way.
I think I’m getting off track again, so let me get back on subject. In 1959 the world was a wonderous place full of new discoveries waiting to be found and explored. But, now that we’ve explored everything and discovered most of life’s great secrets, what else is there? Are we any better off knowing that Mars is millions and millions of miles away and that it can never support life? While I know this, I always like to think that maybe there was an epic battle on Mars and billions of people were killed and all the sand was stained red. I don’t know why Mars’s sand is red but I can find out with a quick little Google search. And while I hate not knowing, part of me loves it. So I think I’ll stick with my Martian civil war. It’s not logical in the least and all of my atoms are screaming out for me to research it. But, my version is much more fun then anything that science could tell me at this point. And, frankly, fun tastes much better then knowledge sometimes.
What I'm listening to: Plans, Transatlanticism - Death Cab for Cutie
God those words are so good. I love, love, love the Twilight Zone. It’s sort of a guilty pleasure of mine. A couple years ago I was really into it, much more so then I am now. I still love it, but I don’t go out of my way to watch it like I used to. But, if it’s on, I’ll always flip to it.
It’s still so…intriguing. I think that’s the best word. The stories are still great. While it is at times dated, that only adds to the flavor of it. It aged like a fine wine, becoming a source of entertainment not only in the actual narrative of the episode, but also as something of a cultural study.
That show was made from 1959-1964, at a time when the future seemed just around the corner. I love the curiousity that show displayed. I love to discover things and when I get it in my head to learn something, I learn it. I can tell you the back story behind just about every Beatles song. I can tell you if it was released as a single, what album it came on (and probably what track number it is on that album), what song comes before it and after it, etc.
But while I love to find out about all the Beatles records, I’m always somewhat disappointed because it loses some of the meaning that it held for me. “I Am the Walrus” is just John saying a bunch of random words, not some deep song that I had always thought it to be. John said that he was disappointed with the way that “Strawberry Fields Forever,” one of my all time favorite songs, turned out when I think it’s just perfect.
I guess what I’m trying to get at is I love the mindset that they had “back then.” I wish I didn’t know everything about the Beatles because it deadens the imagination. If you know everything about a particular subject, you no longer have to fill in the holes with your brain. I don’t particularly enjoy hearing a teacher tell me how to do something because I much prefer to do it my own way.
I think I’m getting off track again, so let me get back on subject. In 1959 the world was a wonderous place full of new discoveries waiting to be found and explored. But, now that we’ve explored everything and discovered most of life’s great secrets, what else is there? Are we any better off knowing that Mars is millions and millions of miles away and that it can never support life? While I know this, I always like to think that maybe there was an epic battle on Mars and billions of people were killed and all the sand was stained red. I don’t know why Mars’s sand is red but I can find out with a quick little Google search. And while I hate not knowing, part of me loves it. So I think I’ll stick with my Martian civil war. It’s not logical in the least and all of my atoms are screaming out for me to research it. But, my version is much more fun then anything that science could tell me at this point. And, frankly, fun tastes much better then knowledge sometimes.
What I'm listening to: Plans, Transatlanticism - Death Cab for Cutie
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Norma Jeane Mortenson
I must admit to something. I have an…obsession is the wrong word. Fascination. I have a fascination with Marilyn Monroe.
Not because of her beauty, although that does play a role. Everyone knew how beautiful she was and she really was. Amazing to think that almost fifty years after she passed, and she still ranks up their as one of the most beautiful women ever.
I think the reason I love her so much is…pity isn’t the right word. Maybe sympathy. I’m not sure. Sympathy + sadness. I feel sympathysadness for her.
This is all speculation of course, and it’s entirely possible I’m entirely wrong, but I think that Marilyn Monroe was putting on a great big act for all of us because she a.) wanted to be famous and knew that that was the only way how, and/or b.) she much preferred her “act” as Marilyn Monroe to her normal Norma Jeane.
Bah I’m probably not explaining myself very well here. I think that Marilyn Monroe was very aware of her sexuality and exploited people—especially men’s—love for her to get what she wanted: fame. But I think that later on in her life, she realized that this may not have been the path that she truly wanted. I think that later in her life she wanted to just be Norma Jeane.
But she couldn’t because she would probably be hated by everybody and because she knew there really was no going back.
I think Marilyn Monroe was just putting on an act for us all because she knew that it would make her succeed in life. But, unfortunately, there was no end to her act. She could never revert back to Norma Jeane because no good would ever come of it in terms of success.
And I just think that’s so sad. That no one ever knew Norma Jeane. Or, rather none of us, the masses, ever knew her. And that’s just incredibly sad to me.
I’m sure I’m all over the place and you, the reader, are probably very confused, so allow me to summarize. I think that Marilyn Monroe put on the act of the dumb blonde and put on the act of sexuality because it would make her popular and help her succeed. And I also think that she regretted it later. Maybe fame wasn’t what she thought it was, or maybe as Marilyn, she never found what every girl (everybody really) wants: true love and all that jazz.
If you don’t believe me here’s a quote by her: “I knew I belonged to the public and to the world, not because I was talented or even beautiful, but because I had never belonged to anything or anyone else.”
Understand now?
If you’re still skeptical, here’s another quote from her: “I have too many fantasies to be a housewife. I guess I am a fantasy.”
How about now?
And, I’m not the only one who’s come to this realization. Look at the lyrics for "Candle in the Wind" by Elton John.
“Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man in the 22nd row
Who sees you as something more than sexual
More than just our Marilyn Monroe”
What I’m listening to: The new remastered Beatles CDs. They’re 23948324583 times better then the originals! What are you waiting for, get them now!!
Not because of her beauty, although that does play a role. Everyone knew how beautiful she was and she really was. Amazing to think that almost fifty years after she passed, and she still ranks up their as one of the most beautiful women ever.
I think the reason I love her so much is…pity isn’t the right word. Maybe sympathy. I’m not sure. Sympathy + sadness. I feel sympathysadness for her.
This is all speculation of course, and it’s entirely possible I’m entirely wrong, but I think that Marilyn Monroe was putting on a great big act for all of us because she a.) wanted to be famous and knew that that was the only way how, and/or b.) she much preferred her “act” as Marilyn Monroe to her normal Norma Jeane.
Bah I’m probably not explaining myself very well here. I think that Marilyn Monroe was very aware of her sexuality and exploited people—especially men’s—love for her to get what she wanted: fame. But I think that later on in her life, she realized that this may not have been the path that she truly wanted. I think that later in her life she wanted to just be Norma Jeane.
But she couldn’t because she would probably be hated by everybody and because she knew there really was no going back.
I think Marilyn Monroe was just putting on an act for us all because she knew that it would make her succeed in life. But, unfortunately, there was no end to her act. She could never revert back to Norma Jeane because no good would ever come of it in terms of success.
And I just think that’s so sad. That no one ever knew Norma Jeane. Or, rather none of us, the masses, ever knew her. And that’s just incredibly sad to me.
I’m sure I’m all over the place and you, the reader, are probably very confused, so allow me to summarize. I think that Marilyn Monroe put on the act of the dumb blonde and put on the act of sexuality because it would make her popular and help her succeed. And I also think that she regretted it later. Maybe fame wasn’t what she thought it was, or maybe as Marilyn, she never found what every girl (everybody really) wants: true love and all that jazz.
If you don’t believe me here’s a quote by her: “I knew I belonged to the public and to the world, not because I was talented or even beautiful, but because I had never belonged to anything or anyone else.”
Understand now?
If you’re still skeptical, here’s another quote from her: “I have too many fantasies to be a housewife. I guess I am a fantasy.”
How about now?
And, I’m not the only one who’s come to this realization. Look at the lyrics for "Candle in the Wind" by Elton John.
“Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man in the 22nd row
Who sees you as something more than sexual
More than just our Marilyn Monroe”
What I’m listening to: The new remastered Beatles CDs. They’re 23948324583 times better then the originals! What are you waiting for, get them now!!
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