There Are No Words.

He folded open the pages of his mind - yellowed and fragile - smelling of sulfur and rot. Much of the inscriptions had surrendered to age years ago, fading one word into the next, and then again back into the paper, but his atrophied eyes coaxed forward a few ghosts of meaning.

"I'm seeking yours. Dream again."

Dream again. His atrophied brain tried to recall the last time he dared to indulge his heart, but his atrophied memories turned to dust in his hands. Yet not a moment later, hope - that most dangerous of drugs - began to swim in his veins, returning senses that were given up for lost.

I breathe for new beginnings. Every moment is a time to clean out, repair, indulge, trust, play, hope, feel, think, write, learn, heal, love and dream. Every moment is a dawn.

step 2

I mentioned getting ahead of myself in my last post, but I really had no idea.

Yesterday I was officially awarded a project editing an "e-book."

Ya. I know.

So I didn't really know anything about editing three or four days ago, but for some reason I decided that surely I could do it. I took a few tests to see where I stood with my grammar and sentence structure nowadays, and scored surprisingly high. So, "What the hell?" I thought.

Now its today and I'm googling "the responsibilities of an editor."

Ya. I know.

But I've learned a surprising amount of information, and I'm still as ambitious as ever so I'm going to take the job. It pays a hell of a lot better than that crap job I had last week, and I actually feel like I'm putting a God-given talent in its proper place, so I'm actually pretty excited. That's an understatement. I couldn't even sleep last night, I was so stoked.

So apparently, I'm going to be doing something between "hard editing," and "copy editing." Copy editing is just a step above proofreading, while hard editing involves rewriting, reorganizing, making structural changes, suggesting rewording, etc. I told you I learned a lot. I got the manuscript today, burned it to a CD, took it to Staples and had it printed out and put in a binder. I know I sound like the biggest dork alive, but I can't stare at a computer screen for hours.

Anyway, this really feels like a "dear diary" post. I hate those kinds of things. Thanks for reading, though. Next time I'll say something truly profound, I swear.

Until then.

Shalom.

fifty dollars worth of glory

Today I completed my first paid writing assignment.

It feels a little strange, like I've taken the first step into a desire that has lingered for years in the back of my mind. It was in a place named "Unrealistic" and "Impossible." Granted, I didn't get paid much, and the work was near drudgery with absolutely no literary value, but it still feels like a step forward. And honestly, that's what I live for. Forward motion. Taking the potential and transferring to kinetic. It's invigorating and exciting. It's a rush. But mostly I just want more. Oh believe me, I plan on celebrating a little tonight, but the last thing I want to do is bask in this so long that I don't take the next step -- whatever that step is.

So, I guess my goal is to start writing something that is worthwhile. I have a few ideas for some online publications. I hope that if I gain a little rapport with them then I will soon be able to sell some articles for their physical publications. Wow. Am I getting ahead of myself?

Maybe...

Regardless, I'm going to bask in my fifty dollars worth of glory and maybe have a beer...

right now

I write a lot of things here that verge on, "vague," or even, "cryptic." I think this time it might be refreshing to write something free from the haze of ambiguity. So, how 'bout an update?

I recently moved from Nashville, TN to Salem, OR. I'm sure the first thing in your head is, "why?" and then the second must be, "I'm sure it's for a girl." If that's what you thought... well... you're entirely correct.

I am engaged to a beautiful west-coast woman. I am living with her parents at the moment, which I'm sure sounds like it must be a nightmare. Surprisingly, it isn't. In fact, it couldn't be a more pleasant arrangement. Their generosity and grace are perhaps their strongest qualities.

I don't have a job yet; I also am lacking a vehicle. I should probably be overwhelmed. I'm not, though. Well, not all the time at least. I am more just excited to see how things pan out.

I'm also trying to establish myself as a person apart from my fiancee. As proud as I am to be associated with her, I don't only want to be "Aly's fiance" in the minds of others. What I'm really praying for are even just a couple solid relationships with people my age. I'd prefer guys (I already get my fair share or estrogen), and I'd love someone I could play music with.

Aly and I met with her pastor last Thursday to see if he'd perform the ceremony. He is, and he will also be offering us per-marital counseling for the next few months. Oddly, I'm really excited about it. I know it's probably going to be something that is more difficult than it sounds, but I also really feel good about having someone with an outside perspective offering advice an input into our relationship and the inevitable challenges we'll face adjusting to incessant togetherness. He gave us a book with matching workbooks to begin on called, "Saving Your Marriage Before it Starts." Even the first chapter has been seriously eye-opening. It's a bit of a buzz-kill, but it is really giving me, I think, more realistic expectations for Aly as a person, and for our relationship in the future.

About a week ago we visited the location for the wedding. It is about 30 miles South of Salem in between the more rural communities of Albany and Corvallis. We turned off the highway and towards what seemed like a road curving into nothingness - just fields and their accompanying farm houses almost disappearing into the distance before being stopped abruptly at the foot of the Cascades. After not more than 5 minutes we pulled into a driveway next to a small house. This isn't a commercial wedding site. It's more like a word-of-mouth location. A small old lady with less than perfect hearing lives on the land, which is comprised mostly of intricate gardens. She must spend all of her time tending to them; thats what she was doing when we pulled in, anyway.

We walked on a footbridge over a rushing stream, and Aly showed me around, describing how she is picturing everything. Occasionally she would glance at me with a hopeful and inquiring look, as if to ask, "Do you like it?" I did. It felt like Narnia. The grass was a deep green. Cows lulled in the mid-ground. In the distance snow-caped mountains completed the picturesque setting. It was truly surreal. Now, having no plan B, let us all pray it does not rain in Salem - or how about anywhere in Oregon, to be safe - on July 7, 2008.

Until then, however, I need to catch up on some sleep. And get a job. And a car. And save some money. And help plan a wedding (kinda). And plan a honeymoon. And THAT (pause for emphasis) is about all that is going on right now.

déjà vu

today is my awakening. it feels like a new birth. it feels like a moment of truth. but i'm also clouded in this dream i've had a million nights prior. so why is this one real? it feels like a dream. i need a grounding. i need a line to pull myself back in. like an astronaut drifting pleasantly away. i'm suddenly jerked to a more terrifying reality: what if i wake up again? what if this ends like every other dream.

tonight is a moment of truth. this week is a moment of truth. this holiday season will be a long moment of truth. man, truth is scary as hell.

i don't want to slip into drama, but i hope i can be new again. thats the thought that is pounding in my head. with every single pulse that hope is giving me life. its this idea of waking from dream that feels so so real. like vanilla sky, you know? i wouldn't feel this way if i hadn't already dreamed today over and over. and now its happening like a deja vu.

i can feel my own body. i can voluntarily think whatever i wish. i can stand up and walk into a new room. i can choose all of these things, and that tells me that "the now" is real. however, anything that i think or do i am almost entirely convinced has happened before. its eerie. and its strange. i need something to connect me with the ground. but at the same time, i'm almost more afraid to just "snap out of it." i feel like there is so much riding on this moment that i can't just abandon it.

and now i realize that i must sound like i've taken a few pills, smoked some vegetation, or ingested some fungi... but i assure you, the reader, that i have not. existence just seems to be having its way with me and i'm having a little trouble adjusting.

oh man, i really need to stop writing but i feel like THIS is my anchor. THIS is connecting me to something so that I don't drift away into a vacuum.

ya, its happening... i feel like i should write "help" but that won't matter by the time anyone reads this... and whoever is reading this. "i'm sorry you felt you had to read this."

end.

dal mio cuore e nei vostri orecchi

how do you write the words that
a million hearts have already sung
while a million hearts sang along?
how can you make that new?

it occurs to me that those hearts
they don't have a clue
and those words
they aren't nearly as true.

because they weren't written for you

desire and fulfillment

Art.

It's something I feel. It's something so deeply embedded in my being. I need it. It's fulfillment of a desire to express. It's the appreciation of another's desire fulfilled.

But it is also elusive. I'm stuck somewhere in the tension between desire and fulfillment. For writers its called writer's block. I don't know what you call it for anyone else. I'm one of those people that when I reach out my hand I don't know whether it will grab a guitar or a pen. And if I touch my pen to paper, I don't know whether it will write or draw. Sometimes I feel without a niche. But other times I just feel lucky. Right now I feel stuck.

Between desire and fulfillment.