Stage

Posted on October 21 2011 by J.W. Richmond

People who know only the fringes of me sometimes think
                       I don’t ever participate
                             or I’m shy.
     Or if they really have no idea who I am at all,
         they might think I’m defiant in some way
                because I don’t follow the crowd
             or because I don’t want to stand on a stage
                    in front of a lot of people
                         and talk about myself,
                because I don’t want to stand on a stage
                     in front of a lot of people
                    (unless – maybe – I am playing a character),
                because I don’t want to talk about myself
                     in front of a lot of people.

I will have fingers left on the second hand if I count the people I know who would be okay doing any of those things. There would be most left on the first, except I happen to know a handful of public speakers.

I may fit into that noncompliant bracket for this.

But by definition only.

Maybe
     I’m the only one
          who will speak up
                   for myself – and for those who are afraid to.

The different responses have been funny
                                               strange
                                         and not so strange.

There is the one
     who is upset that I think – and sometimes do things – differently.

And there are the many
     who high-five me and smile, trying not to laugh out loud.
And those who almost cry – or do –
     when they privately thank me later for speaking up
                         when they feel like they couldn’t.

I am starting to see a pattern.
And it has been interesting
              and a little unreal to find out
                   that when I do speak up,
                      I actually have a lot more – silent – supporters
                                       than I knew about.

Need

Posted on October 18 2011 by J.W. Richmond

My friend suggested that I don’t tend to ask for help –
                       in the middle of things.

Maybe afterward, after I’ve cleaned myself up a bit,
                       after I’ve come out of the crap a bit
                                                            (or a lot).

But not when I’m in the middle of whatever it is.

She may be right.

Jeff and I have a similar argument. He would probably say same. But it’s not.

He gets upset that I don’t ask for help – for things I don’t need.

I do ask.
          A lot.
                But not enough – according to him.

I love that he wants to be needed.
And I know he needs to be needed.

It’s so clear on my end: Of course I need him. I have never said or thought or insinuated anything else. I have only affirmed that need over and over. Internally and outwardly.

Sometimes I think I might need him
                        too much.

I ask for silly things: For him to pick up something from the store on his way home from work. I tell him about a problem with the computer or car or fireplace so he can fix it. I ask him to take the laundry out of the dryer because a kitty is cuddling with me and I don’t want to miss out.

And real things: When my back is killing me, I ask him to vacuum the stairs. When anything bad happens – or anything good happens – I tell him. And ask for his thoughts. First. When I am not sure what to do about a situation, I ask him. When I’m insecure, I spill those things to him. I cry on his chest about him dying and leaving me here without him.

How else do I define need?
Because I don’t need someone.

I need him.

Degree

Posted on October 15 2011 by J.W. Richmond

My life could be such a different life with just one slight movement.
                                                               One degree.
                                                               One decision.

What if I had chosen a different college? Or not gone to college at all? Or dropped out of high school? What if I stayed working at Subway as a Sandwich Artist or In-N-Out as an Associate or at the job where I may have been working for the mafia – where I could have been wrong, but wasn't going to stay around long enough to find out?

God would still be God.
My family would still be my family.
Some of my friends would still be my friends.
But what about Jeff? What about us?
     Was I meant to be with a type of guy?
     Or anyone at all?
     Or were we meant to be?

Because I cannot imagine being with anyone else.

I picture any other guy
                     and I can’t help but laugh.
The thought of ending up with anyone else is ridiculous.

I chose him and he chose me. And I choose him again every day.

But we still – somehow – met in the first place.

Is that fate?
         Destiny?
         Kismet?
         Chance?
         Free will?
Is every little detail planned?

How do I reconcile that with people who have been abandoned?
                                                                   Or divorced?
                                                                   Or widowed?

Were they not meant to be with that person?
Or with that type of person?

Were they meant to be alone?
Or later remarried to someone else who is also great?
Or were they supposed to wait for that person they eventually ended up with and skip the first?

What about the terrible
                        horrible
                        abusive marriage
                              that resulted in an amazing child –
                                     who wouldn’t have existed otherwise?

My head spins at all the possibilities.

I may be told by people that if is the wrong question.
But what would I be missing – if I didn’t ask?

Trivial

Posted on October 11 2011 by J.W. Richmond

I see God there – for other people.
                Guiding.
                Healing.
                Caring.

But the rest of the time, I wonder where He is.

Is He like an elusive shooting star that I can’t see if I look for it straight on? That I can only (maybe) see in my peripheral vision? With the rods but not the cones?*

Other people see Him in a parking space
                                  or chamomile tea
                                  or a potato chip.

I believe He is everywhere. He created everything.

But I do not believe He is in everything or everything is God, like a pantheist** or gnostic*** would, not to be confused with an agnostic**** who thinks you can't know if He exists in the first place.

My chips are just chips.
I’m thankful to have them, but they’re chips.

And as convenient as a parking space may be, it seems so trivial
                                                                              so minor.
     Am I limiting my view of Him if I ask for one?
               Maybe it depends on whether it is Black Friday or not.

But I doubt it.

I want to believe He is in every part of my life. Every detail. (Except maybe the bad ones. It’d be okay if He disregarded – or erased – those.)

I believe He can do anything.

And I don’t know why He won’t do some (okay, numerous) things. But He’s not a little genie I can rub to get what I want, or need even. He’s so much bigger than that.

He is bigger than all the stupid, trivial things. And bigger than the big things too. He’s big enough that I could never even comprehend Him. No matter how hard I try.

But I don’t know where that line is.

Am I trivial?

Because I see Him guiding
                         healing
                         caring for
                                    other people…

 

* Georgia State University (GSU) HyperPhysics: “If you see a dim star in your peripheral vision, it may disappear when you look at it directly…You can detect motion better with your peripheral vision, since it is primarily rod vision.”

** Pantheism.net: "(all=god)."

*** The Gnosis Archive: Resources on Gnosticism and Gnostic Tradition: “…all is God, for all consists of the substance of God.”

**** What Is an Agnostic? by Bertrand Russell: "An agnostic thinks it impossible to know the truth in matters such as God and the future life…Or, if not impossible, at least impossible at the present time."

Busted

Posted on October 8 2011 by J.W. Richmond

I am not good at putting myself out there – especially to people I don’t know very well.

I admire my friends who are able to be vulnerable
                                                        transparent.
I tend to gravitate toward them
             love them more
             appreciate them.
     And wish I could (sort of) emulate them.

It’s not that I don’t do the sharing thing – eventually. But for me, trust takes time.

          Sometimes a lot of time.

And I don’t know how to bring things up – organically
                                                             naturally
                                                             simply.
     As part of the conversation that is already happening.
     Without interrupting.
                  Breaking in.
                  Making everything super awkward for you
                                                                   and me
                                                                   and everybody else.
            And steering the conversation in a weird direction.

Or by the time I do speak up, we are 8 subjects past that and I would be the one trying to go back. It makes me feel like a 5-year-old who doesn’t know any better – who has no basic social skills.

I’m (usually) willing to share. But how do I do it without being completely socially awkward?

It’s so much easier when I can enter into a part of the conversation that is already happening. Just go with the subject that we are already talking about.

               Or just shut up.

And I don’t want to be one of those people who totally overshares. That person who is super E.G.R.*

My friend recently called me out on that.

She asked – stated: Do I really think I would end up as that person? Do I think I would cross that line – or even get close to it? Or is it an excuse I tend to fall back on?

Busted.

 

And ouch.

Yes, I think some of it is valid. I don’t want to make things super awkward. I don’t want to interrupt or share more than what people are ready to hear. Go beyond what is appropriate for the context.

But she was also right.

I can have a 3-hour conversation about philosophy, beliefs, music or you, but when it comes to me, I’m not so great at that.

(The trust thing is a whole other issue.)

But once I do have some level of trust,
          my fear of oversharing is probably unfounded
                                                            unrealistic
                                                            overblown – like she said.

So <deep breath> I’m trying.
Working on it.

Stepping out.

*E.G.R. = Extra Grace Required

Scissors

Posted on October 6 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Mannerisms.
Facial expressions.
Habits.
Addictions.
Medical/Emotional/Mental illnesses.
Feelings.
Reactions/Responses.

Products of nature or nurture?
Probably both.

But I hope mostly nurture. Because that means change is possible.

So many things get passed down to the next generation(s). Sometimes new stuff enters and intermingles. Mixes. Blends with the junk that is already there. Or morphs into something worse – and reproduces.

Those things were probably never meant to be – noticed. Or even acknowledged. Certainly not questioned. Examined.

And repeated
       repeated
       repeated.

One thing resonates for me:
                             Disappointment.

I wasn’t good enough
           smart enough
           conscientious enough
           athletic enough
           school-spirited enough (or at all)
           family-oriented enough
           human enough.

An A- didn’t measure up to an A.

I didn’t measure up.

I still pick up on that feeling
               like a magnet
                    when I see
                            notice
                             sense
                                  criticism,
          whether it is directed toward me
               or someone else.

This path didn’t have to continue.
And it didn’t.

Through many sorrys
                     apologies
               and transformed behaviors
                                   this course was corrected
                                                         changed
                                                         healed. (Mostly.)

I still carry some of it. I still pass little bits of it on.

Sorry, Jeff.

Even though this course has changed,
     I can see some of the other lines
                                  other ripples
                                  other sources
             see the pattern continue in other ways
             see where it could lead
             see where it already has.

I am so proud of the choices
                            changes that have been made
                                      to go against the learned responses
                                      to be someone
                                              something else
                                      to do things differently.

But I know that doesn’t change the pattern entirely. Intended or not, remnants of it still exist.

I just want to take scissors to it.

And it hurts that I can’t.

Design

Posted on October 2 2011 by J.W. Richmond

I believe God created and designed the world.

We are too intricate and detailed to be accidental
                                                by chance
                                                     evolved outside of the basic
                                                              specified, specific
                                                                      species
                                                     completely figured out
                                                                        and replicated.

Nothing I have been told
                          or read
                          or researched
                               makes sense
                                    apart from some sort of Designer
                                                                    Creator.
                    And my
                           our reason and intelligence
                                     could never come close to His.

I don’t think He is farfetched
                        unreasonable
                             or
                        uninvolved.

He clearly cared about the animals and plants He made, and the earth as a whole. The land was good (Genesis 1:10). The vegetables and plants were good (Genesis 1:12). He blessed the birds and creatures of the sea (Genesis 1: 22). And the rest of the animals He created were good (Genesis 1:25).  

Everything He created was good (Genesis 1:31).

And He made humans in His image
                                in His likeness (Genesis 1:26).

He didn’t create anything else that way.

That means something.

Humans were made
                    created
                    formed to be significant.

Both my job – and my entire life – depend on this.
Believing this truth.

And I do.

I believe that is how He made (other) people.

I want to believe that includes me, but I’m not sure I get to be part of that.

Yes, my logic gets a little shaky at this point.
I am included in humankind – as a whole.

But.

But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But. But.

I’m not sure I am significant.
I’m not sure I am a part of His plan
                                           to do
                                               be anything.
I’m not sure I matter in that context.

I don’t want to be big
                         famous
                         recognizable by everyone.
     But I wish I could
                         matter
                         be significant
                         be a clear
                                intentional
                                obvious part of His plan.
                         
Maybe that is my own selfishness.
Maybe it’s asking too much.
Maybe I am meant to just trudge along and never know the ripples (if there are any).

But I have to be
        long to be
        need to be – significant.

                Somehow.

Halloween

Posted on October 1 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Mortimer
Mortimer

I love Halloween.

I know I should probably say I love Christmas or Easter. And I absolutely appreciate and fully believe in what those holidays represent.

But as an actual holiday, (I think) I prefer Halloween.

There are no obligations, demands, schedules to figure out, expensive dinners/gifts to buy or strings pulling me like a marionette.

I can just relax
             have fun
             enjoy it.

And bonus: if I want to be someone else for a day, it’s actually encouraged.

Jeff isn’t so big on the dressing-up part, but I think it’s fun.

I like carving pumpkins, even though I’m not very good at it. I don’t particularly like digging out the crud from them, but the baked pumpkin seeds are worth the work.

I look forward to handing out candy to the kids walking around our neighborhood. I was so disappointed when we lived in an apartment and hardly anyone came. We were lucky to get one knock on the door – and it was usually from the kids who lived downstairs. They would get a lot of candy from us since they were the only ones who showed up.

I enjoy silly traditions like watching the Scream* movies or E.T.** or the “Treehouse of Horror” episodes of The Simpsons*** with Jeff, while we wait for the doorbell to ring.

And of course, munching on the candy in between doorbell rings doesn’t hurt – too much.

During those off years, if we don’t feel like being around people, we can turn the lights out and hang out in the dark. Which is actually a very Halloween thing to do.

And it’s okay.

But I think what I like most about Halloween is that I can enjoy it like I used to be able to enjoy most holidays when I was a kid.

Before the pressure.
Before we had to juggle multiple families
                                             houses
                                             schedules.

[Which is probably the norm for people whose parents are divorced, who have had to do every holiday like that for years.]

Before all the responsibilities
                  requirements
                  strict – unwritten – rules.

Most of that was probably there, but I didn’t have to deal with it. That fell on the adults.

And I could just have fun and enjoy the day.

I hope someday I can figure out a way to get back there and enjoy other holidays again, like kids can. Or at least get in that general vicinity.

Before figuring out I was allergic to dogs and can’t breathe around them. In some ways, ignorance was easier, because even though I suffered just as much, I didn’t cause so many problems with that knowledge. Now I have the choice: Breathe. Or force myself to go somewhere I know I won’t be able to.

But for now,
   I am thankful for Halloween.

 

*Scream Movies ©1996, 1997, 2000, 2011
**E.T. The Extra Terrestrial ©1982
*** The Simpsons ©1989-

Goals

Posted on September 29 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Goals = fail.

          I could qualify that with:
                                       sometimes
                                       in my life
                     or I’m sorta feeling that way – at the moment.

               But that’s not the full truth.

It’s not that I don’t try (hard). Work (hard). Reach (far).

But there’s something about saying it – out loud – that causes that goal to become a commitment. A promise.

And I have (so many) issues with breaking promises.

          Feels like lying.

My interests
      phases
      captivations change.

Which is why I could – should – never get a tattoo.

          Well, that and the needles.

What could I get
     that I might actually
                      still like 3 hours
                                   months
                                   years from now?

Smiley faces, stickers, blue, Frappuccinos, M.C. Escher, rollerblading, Ireland, lemon everything, Green Day, scrapbooking…

I still like those things, but I don’t love them as much. Not nearly. I’m not as sort-of-obsessed with them as I once was.

          Tastes
          phases
   (dis)likes change.

          Or I do.

And what if I do try (hard), work (hard), reach (far) and still miss? Still mess up? (Fail.)

I know I do
            have
            will.
    And survived – so far.
But why set myself up to fail? (Fear?
                                              Of?)

I’m not settling for mediocrity.
          (I don’t think.)
          (Am I?)
I’m still striving. Just not out loud.
                            Not outwardly.
                            Not for everyone else.

Maybe for me… Maybe for what I could have possibly been designed to do?

Enter a thousand questions
                        specifics.

Did He design me – personally – to do
                                                 be something?
                                                     Anything?
       Do I even get to have that?
       Why is that so clear for other people and I still have no idea?

Where does living for everyone
                              anyone else
                                    start
           and living for me end?

Which direction do I go
                             run
                             pursue?

After Him, Christians answer.

Well, yeah.
But where is that?

 

So I am left trying
             to follow Him
             to find where He wants me to go,
                 find some direction –
                            that isn’t me
                                      or someone else,
                            that isn’t selfish
                                      and also doesn’t make me a doormat
                                                                      or a wuss.

                                           Preferably at the same time.

Nuclear

Posted on September 25 2011 by J.W. Richmond

Toom-ayt-o. Tom-ought-o.
Ape-ricot. App-ricot.
Suppos-ed-ly. Suppos-ab-ly.
Nuke-leer. Nuke-you-lure.

Right? Wrong?
Accent. No accent.
North. South.
Left. Right.

I still know what you mean.

When we are in a conversation,
     or you are speaking
                     writing
                           conversationally,

It.doesn’t.matter.

You.
Matter.

If you are writing something that needs to be published, and needs to be put to some sort of standard, then we’ll talk.

It’s not like I can’t figure out what you are trying to say.
Or guess – at the very least.
Nuke-leer. Nuke-you-lure.
What other words come to mind in that context?

You write it’s or its and I know what you mean.
I’ll correct it, but only if it needs to be corrected.

You say a word a little funny – and I’ll wait – for the context.
To try to figure out what you mean(t).

I read change and chnge and I know the intended word. Yes, for clarity and the value of the English language, I will correct it for publication.

And I do (tend to) correct words in my head – automatically.

But conversationally,
      relationally,
             that isn’t helpful to you or to me.

What matters is you.
And what you mean.

I generally will figure out that you say what you say
             because of where you are from
                           and I’ll understand what pronunciation to use
                           and what is appropriate for the context.

If you happen to know German or you read your Bible in the (New or Standard) King James Version, then you may be able to pick up on when people are supposed to use whom vs. who.

And that’s probably still a long shot.

(I think) as an English major who really does enjoy the English language, I can say this:

If you say who instead of whom,
who(m) freaking cares?

The actual, intended and inferred meaning doesn’t change. And – at least in English – no one needs to know the difference to understand the meaning.

The reality and the often unspoken truth is: It.doesn’t.matter.

Except maybe to an English teacher.
 

Sory iff yoo we’re myne.