A Case of the Mehs

It's not often I find words inadequate, but today that seems to be the case.
Strange things are influencing my mood--
The death of a stranger,
Being shut off by my brother,
Having wonderful friends who still love me (even when I give them skunk-hair),
Curiosity over hypothetical situations,
A silly picture on a silly blog,
This horribly persistent cold,
Oddly touching moments between animated characters,
The two hundred year-old wisdom of a pilgrim,
And I can't stop thinking about those Towers.

I'm not unhappy, far from it. But I'm tired, and a bit dazed from the cough syrup I took.
There's something new headed my way soon, I can sense it.
But as to what it is, and how it's going to happen, I'm completely clueless.
All I have right now is a restless energy and a faith that You'll show me when it's time.
I suppose that's what I get for asking for patience.

The Pit of Inaction

The thoughts in my brain are bouncing around so fast, clanging against the inside of my skull, begging for release. But I'm sitting here, stuck in some sort of Life-Limbo, unable to free them.

I've no motivation, no inspiration and no energy to fight anymore. After a particularly rough week, with the return to school looming like a black storm cloud on the horizon, I can't pull myself out of this pit I've stumbled into. Every moment of focus saps energy, and it's easier to just throw up my hands and concede that there's no climbing out.

To me, this summer of inaction has been a curse. Now I can't decide if it's worse to continue in this vein, or to actually make some sort of effort. Deep down, I somehow know that going back to school is going to be a challenge. There are things that won't be able to stay unsaid, in so many different ways and I find myself panicking at the very thought.

But it may be that going back is the only thing that can pull me out of this funk. A vine is being lowered and I can curl up and ignore it, or grab it and hold on for dear life.

There's still time, though. For the moment, I'm satisfied to climb onto the roof with a bottle of soda and watch the stars. I'm content to linger in this place of inaction for a few more days.

Sometimes

Sometimes, no matter how much you want something, it's just not possible.
He wants that job he just interviewed for,
She needs not to be jealous anymore,
They have to learn to understand each other.

Sometimes, it's under your control.
Take the things you want,
Climb the mountains you can,
Believe in yourself.

Sometimes, you can't control it at all.
We're not miracle workers,
Don't waste your breath,
That's life.

Sometimes optimism doesn't win--
Sometimes, it's just devastating,
But occasionally you aren't done yet.
Sometimes you're in the middle of the story and there are choices yet to be made.

Sometimes life takes you by surprise.

Summer for Two

This is Summer.

It's intertwined fingers and shared lemonade,
The weeds and wildflowers of an impromptu bouquet.
And showers of rain on the most cloudless day.

It's fingers stained purple from blackberry treats,
And lips kissed the same color, both sour and sweet.
It's sharing your headphones; dancing to the beat.

It's talking past midnight, with nary a care,
Smelling a hint of the sea in the air.
It's realizing that you do have time to spare.

It's ice cream that melts and drips down your arm.
It's old movie marathons, full of wit, grace, and charm.
It's wading in fountains when it gets too warm.

This is Summer.

One Summer's Evening

Pinks, purples and oranges mix on the horizon as the sun begins to set, looking more brilliant than a master painting. The two race to the car and she wins, effectively calling dibs on driving. The key is turned in the ignition and the engine rumbles to life. Peeling out of the parking lot, she laughs and rolls down the windows, euphoric. In the passenger seat, he simply smiles his calm smile and turns on the radio.

She opts to take the back roads instead of the interstate, their desertedness encouragement to accelerate. The wind whips her long hair about her face, but she takes no heed, devoting her energy to belting along with the music blaring from the stereo. Their glances meet and her contagious grin prompts him to add his tenor with equal enthusiasm.

No feeling can quite match it. They are on top of the world, just the two of them. Cool wind blows in their faces, scented with honeysuckle and the promise of rain. It doesn't even matter what's on the radio; they sing with zeal, whether they know the words or not, making up lyrics when necessary.

It's grown quite dark now and as they pass a vast pasture, she stops, suddenly, and kills the engine. Only by the glow of the almost-full moon can he see her raise her arm and point. All across the field, tiny pinpricks of light fade in and out. Thousands upon thousands of fireflies illuminate the night, more beautiful than the most extravagant Christmas displays. It's like magic and a nostalgia for childhood fairy-tales sweeps over them both. Thunder rolls in the distance, but neither makes a movement to leave.

In the silence, her hand finds his and when their fingers twine together, they know contentment. And in the moment that he pulls her out to dance in the field of fireflies, they know joy.

An Epic

Sunken treasures, lost legends, secret passages.
Daring rescues, narrow escapes, life-alerting moments.
Distant planets, dimensions, kingdoms.
These are adventures. These are the experiences of heroes and heroines.

People who start out ordinary but inevitably end up becoming...more.
A boy who just wants to get through middle school, a girl who was only playing a game of hide-and-seek, a young man who is satisfied to sit at home and watch the clouds float by.
Somehow, they all overcome their fears and doubts to do great things.

They're all stories, but there's an inherent truth about them.
Something that keeps them alive and fresh for generations of audiences.
And I wonder for a moment.
Maybe there is a talking frog in my backyard.

All that I know for certain is that I crave it.
I need it like the moon needs the sun.
Wanderlust rises in my heart and I'm off.
Forgetting, for a while, reality that lurks nearby.

Why can't life be more like an adventure?
An epic tale rather than a ho-hum day to day existence.
Why can't I ride a dragon, talk to a lion or face an evil villain?
Why can't I become the hero that the books are written about?

Dive

Standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering with indecision.
Far below, waves crash and churn, anything but inviting.
An icy wind cuts through bare skin and a faraway gull laments.
It's time to choose:
Leap or Run, take a chance or play it safe.
Pulse thrumming, mind racing, rise up on tiptoes.
Eyes squeezed closed in fear of what's to come.
One last inhalation before giving over to gravity.
Cold air whips past on a never-ceasing downward race.
Hair flies wild and eyes open for a peek with one psuedo-comforting thought:
This is a decision that could end in disaster or serendipity.