Forgiving Love

Is love forgiving? Or forgiving Love?
Sometimes it feels you make me stand on my hands
with my legs dangling above
Sometimes it's the looks that you don't give
when I'm just dying to see them
Love doesn't always fill the empty spaces
Or light up all the dark places
It doesn't always remember your name
Sometimes it's angry, and frustrated and rude
It's sometimes just a shell of something you knew
Love is desolate and then alive and open and then the Great Divide
And then it's something new and old and borrowed and blue
And there'll be weddings and anniversaries and birthdays with you
Then you and I will split apart
You at the head and I at the heart
We'll shuffle the pieces laid out on a table
Then staple them, or glue them or sew them
In the heat we'll circle like tigers
trying to figure out which side offers safety
In June we'll love like bunnies do
Covered in grass blankets with dew
Love is not always forgiving it's too hard to forget
So we place the regrets in a box with a lock
And try hard not to look
Not to pace in front
Forget what's not
Remember what is
Love is restless

Insomnia: The Waiting

I don't sleep like you.

I don't wake up in the morning ready for the new day.

I don't feel refreshed or energized.

I don't sleep like you.

I sleep perhaps four hours at any time, only to be rudely awakened by sirens, or a whirling fan, or my cat's stinky breath. Or sometimes, I just wake up for no reason at all. On occasion I can simply roll over or adjust myself and fall back to sleep. But tonight, like the majority of nights I'm wide awake. I suffer from insomnia. Maybe not severely, I'm not going to start a fight club any time soon, but I'm definitely awake. I find things to do, clean up quietly, watch tv, write emails, search the web; sometimes I sit and stare out the window. And I began to wonder why. Why is it so hard to sleep through the night? Even if I get up at 8am and don't take a nap, I'm still wide awake. I think it's because I fear tomorrow. I don't like it. I don't like knowing I have to deal with things I don't want to; remember failures or start again from the ground up. I know that not every tomorrow brings those things. Sometimes it's waiting for a friend to arrive, or a concert to go to or another event worth happiness. But overall, I worry. I worry and sit and pace and pause and stare out that window wondering what will happen next. I'm absolutely riveted to the silence. It's as though I'm waiting for easy street to appear, for things to line up, for some good graces to befall. Life isn't easy for most of us. For others, there are only small bumps. I know the path I chose. I'm aware of the choices I've made, the sacrifices, the mistakes, the headaches. I also know that some devastating things happen out of my control. Those, I'll never be able to control. And I guess that's why I worry. I'm stuck between not caring what the world thinks, or my friends and family thinks and leading with my heart and then again, putting that aside and assuming the responsibilities, letting others go first, knowing where my "place" is, conforming to what I feel I should be. I hate the waiting. I fear what will happen when it becomes daylight because for now, it's solitude and peaceful and it's all mine. I feel like I can achieve things, like I can get out there and do it! And then Tuesday morning comes, or Saturday morning, or Monday morning...and I am left paralyzed, terrified of the magnitude of the world and how short I have to live and how much I want to be and do and suddenly, suddenly this is all too much. It's too much to ask for. It's too much to try and live. i suppose I feel a little like Atlas with the world on his shoulders. Perhaps I put it there myself you say; I knew you would say something like that. And perhaps I did, but don't we all? And the rest, the rest is out of our hands, out of our control. It's the loss of control that haunts me.

I don't sleep like you.

But I bet you worry like me.

I Debate You

I'm a passionate person, the oldest child and some form of a feminist. I love my family, few friends and chocolate. I'm usually laid back, organized, and don't mind going with the flow. However, I'm also a very passionate debater. I love debating, or as some see it falsely, arguing. It could be the stubborn blood poured into me from both sides of my parents; it could also be the fact that as an oldest child your reasoning has to be twice as good as the next one in line, because honestly, they do have an easier time getting what they want; or it could be the fact that I am not always a proud owner of a fiery temper and when I get going you had better sit down because it's going to be a while; or it could be my mother, who was similar to me in the above and whom I loved debating with.

Now, the definition of debating to me is probably different from you. Usually in school subjects it's arguing the side of pro against con. I don't enjoy the word arguing in this sense. To me, arguing surrounds a intimate subject or comment between two or three people. Such as husbands and wives, siblings, parents and children, friends, etc. In debating, I don't tend to take things to heart or take them too personally. I don't debate personally and I don't like it to BE personal. I'm simply doing it as a way of expanding. I like challenges, I like to be challenged. Debating subjects or opinions allows me to expand my thoughts and ideas, playing them back and forth either as the devil's advocate or the angel's helper. It allows me to think of things or sides that I hadn't turned over and taken a good look at yet. It allows me to become more tolerant of other's opinions or views because of how they see the world, of how I see the world and of how Christ saw the world (or the way we each believe Christ saw the world).

I'm not looking into getting huffy and puffy about subjects. I'm not looking for someone to give me the two thumbs up or down, say that I've impressed them or say I've opened their eyes. I am simply, honestly here, I am simply trying to back you against the wall as much as you are me so that we have to be alert, focused and dynamic on our respective sides. I'm not going to walk away from you thinking you are the worst person in the world, most likely. Sure, sometimes I feel like a fool and my natural reaction is to strike out at you emotionally or verbally; but most likely we'll both walk away thinking about things a little differently - at least if you're open minded you will.

Love, success, affection or anything else emotional is usually void in my arguments. I'm debating with my head, for pure mental stimulation or exercise. That's it. That's all. I enjoy being pressed and pulled and swung at and applauded for. It's like a game of Chess between your two heads without the pawns. And really, is there an absolute truth in either argument? Can one of you definitively be called 'the winner'? In politics there is no truth. In life there is no clarity. Everyone and everything has been dissorted by their own experiences, their own cultures and their own intelligence. There is a kernel of truth for every stone of lies. And it already shows that whenever someone tries to impose the "truth" on someone else, there will be blood in the streets. Even love, or beauty the two things most commonly sought after have no true definition. Beauty could be Heidi Klum, or it could be ground zero at 9/11; love could a caregiver or a flexible sexual partner.

What I want to sum it up in is this: debating is just that - debating. It's simply two ideas brought against each other under the mircoscope, looking for truth in the lies. Maybe one will have more than the other, maybe both will be unclear. But it's just debating people. It's not like I'm burning your favourite teddy bear.