Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide...

Well, Johnny gave me a song on his blog for me to have while he's gone (see the link along the side for the blog Requiem for the Underpaid), so I naturally need to give him one, too, to take with him.

I never knew I could feel like this--
Like I'd never seen the sky before.
I want to vanish inside your kiss.
Every day I love you more and more.
Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?
Telling me to give you everything.
Seasons may change winter to spring.
But, I love you until the end of time.
Come what may. Come what may.
I will love you until my dying day.

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place;
suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace.
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste.
It all revolves around you.
And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide,
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side.
Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide,
But, I love you until the end of time.
Come what may. Come what may.
I will love you until my dying day.
Oh, come what may. Come what may.
I will love you.
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place...
Come what may. Come what may.
I will love you until my dying day.
--from Moulin Rouge the motion picture

My friend, Foxx, showed me this movie a long time ago. I distinctly remember thinking, "No one will ever love me that much." But, someone does. And I love him that much. So, Johnny, 3 days left. Come what may, my love. Come what may.

It will be okay soon.

As the date for John's departure grows near, I find that I'm questioning myself. I really don't feel strong enough. I never lived entirely alone. I was out on my own a bit during the early college years living with roommates, but it's not the same. It probably would have done me some good to have been alone earlier in life, but it stands as it is now and I approach this lonely adventure in the afternoon of my time. I wonder how well I know myself -- am I afraid of myself? Do I really know God or have I been pretending? The world seems to put God in a box and define him in their own terms, rather than by his. I want to know his personality. I want to know his laugh. I want to see his eyes crinkle when he smiles in my mind. I want such raw familiarity that he can give me a verbal head-slap when I need one or stroke my hair as I cry into my pillow at 4 in the morning. I want to be talking to him constantly through the day; I want to be friends.
I need to be strong. I need to be more than this. I want to be able to take things as they come and deal with them as they come. At least I have dealt with my past. I don't know how I did it. The creeping shadows in my memories I looked over and said, "It's just something that happened to me and now it's over," and I released it like smoke into the air and watched the pain waft away. I don't have anger about it, I don't expect anything of anyone concerning those things. No matter what anyone should have done, nothing can be done now. Because it's over. And soon this dreaded time will pass and I'll remember what a hell it was for me and smile a little at how much I grew from it and I'll let this pain go, as well. Let it free, let it fly, let it disappear into the sky. But in a week it will be just me and my little cat against the world. But, no -- my team is just as small as I let it be. I'll have John's family and my family and his solider friends, our school friends, and so on. I've always had a lot of pride. I refused to make a sound from the pain through the months and months of physical therapy. I don't like to ask for help. I started to feel long ago that I shouldn't need anyone, that it was weak and wrong to ask for help. But fear of weakness is the ultimate weakness. I will have to sidestep that part of myself. I have this song that when I listen to it and close my eyes, I can see the person I was meant to be. She steps out of my body and stretches her cramped wings and looks up - she's so strong and so breath-taking and I just have to make it there before I die.
I'm not sleeping well. I cry several times a day. And my heart is screaming and rebelling against this with all it has but I smash it down inside and stand on it because I will not allow my stupidity to take away what John has dreamed to be since he was a little boy playing with his GI Joes in the dirt. How selfish I would be. He would do the same for me, I know. He's given me everything he is and was. "Love must never hold tight, but let go." So, I'm letting go like I did so many years ago. The more torn apart our hearts become the more the scar tissue binds them together. It will be okay soon.

Little things make the difference.

A couple of nights ago, I was checking my email or something and the phone rang the weird ring that meant the other handset was paging it. So, I answered it, knowing it was Johnny. "Could you come into the living room, please?" he asked in his romantic voice. I scurried down the hall and peeked around the corner and there he sat on a blanket he'd spread out with a bottle of sparkling cider and some nice cheese we'd gotten earlier. We watched an Act of Cyrano de Bergerac (with Derek Jacobi, a rare find but soooo worth it) and then we went to the grocery store to pick up some food. We decided to each choose an anniversary card and not let the other see it. We also bought some chocolate cake with caramel all over it. When we got home we each scuttled sneakily to our own corners and wrote as sappy a note inside as we could muster and then exchanged them and didn't bother to hide how misty we both got. Then we indulged in the cake with more cider and Cyrano. That's what my Johnny does that makes me fall in love more and more all the time. So many guys I dated were so self-centered they never cared about doing special things. But, Johnny gives just as much as he takes -- actually much more than he takes. He never expects anything, he never feels entitled. He's always trying to make me happy. Now I want to be sneaky, too, and make him feel special. I love that he still seems so surprised by how much I love him. It's so cute. I love even the weird little things. I love the way he scrapes his cereal bowl with his spoon until he's gotten every little grain of cereal. I love the random things he'll organize, like lining the gameboys up along the entertainment center. I love the snuggling noise he makes in his sleep when he's burying his head deeper into his pillow. I love how ticklish he is and that once you tickle him you can't touch him for like half an hour or he still bats at your hand. I love how much he softens around me; I just wish other people could see that side of him. I love that he lets me call him idiotic pet names, like puppybear. And I love that he'll smell candles with me when we're shopping. The little things are the most important to me because they're what memories are made of.
Anyway, I had to illustrate how wonderful he is again. He only has two workdays left and then we get him ready to go. Next week is our last week. It kills me one second at a time. I have no idea how I'll bear it. How can I? I'd better get a lot stronger a lot faster. I realize I've taken him for granted a little. I want to appreciate him like this always and never forget. Every second counts.

Hold on tight.

I was a piano teacher for 4 years or so. I guess I'll be starting it up again soon. I taught this little red-haired boy with a constellation of freckles across his cheeks. I told him about the owls in our trees at the old house we were renting and about 20 minutes after I'd sent him home, he came back to the door and told me the biggest one was clearly visible. He'd been standing under the tree all that time searching. I actually hadn't seen them yet, only heard them. The great horned owl stood two or three feet tall on his thick branch, glowering at me. We could only find him by looking for the speckles of white and yellow on his tummy. When it got close to Christmas time - about 12 days before Christmas - we started getting presents on our doorstep every night. John was working 18-20 hour days delivering all the crap people ordered at the last minute for Christmas, so I was often alone or he'd just gotten home and those nightly presents appearing at the door became a sanity for us. I also taught the little boy's two sisters and one day the little one slipped and said just a bit too much and I knew it was their family being sneaky. The last day we found a nativity set. We'd left a card labeled "For the Elves" on the porch for them, telling them what a hard time we'd had that Christmas and that their present made it bearable. We were looking a the cute little nativity when there was another hurried knock and scurry at the door. We opened it to find an envelope that read, "Merry Christmas." Inside we found $200. Johnny and I couldn't even speak, we just cried and held each other. Now we could pay our gas bill.
Today I learned that the same little boy was mowing the lawn on their riding mower. He didn't see his little two-year-old brother wander in front of the mower. The little one became trapped underneath it. He was life-flighted to the hospital and will need surgeries. What could I do to help them? His mom had brought dinner for us with her to pick up the kids from lessons a few times. They were always helping us. What do you give, what can you say to someone who is experiencing that? There are no words, no right flowers, no correct gifts, no cards with just the right nauseating little poem inside. But, I had to do something. I gave them a pear scented candle and a card expressing how much we care about them, offering to help them however they need. It seemed horrifically not enough. And I hadn't seen them for a year. All I kept imagining was how his mother felt, how her insides must have jarred, her emotions choking her, pain shooting through her at the thought that all her fears were realized on the lawn. Her baby. How I would feel if my sweet, precious child were trapped beneath so many blades and my other child was ashen and terrified at the accident. How was she strong enough? I just pray that God will wrap them up inside himself and find a place for them to heal. For my student to forgive himself and never say "what if." I fiercely hope that one day I can be such a mother as she. Fathoms of strength yet to be revealed.

5 Years and Counting

I know I just posted a giant post yesterday, but I had to let you all know that today is our fifth anniversary! Five years ago we were both really nervous at this time and scrambling to get ready for the day. We got married in the afternoon on what I think was a Friday. John threw up because he was so nervous. Neither of us had realized that people would be staring at us while we got married. We had a reception that night that felt like it took forever. We'd made a reservation at a bed and breakfast for that night, but it was closing in on 9 pm when we finally got away from the reception. We didn't even get to eat dinner. And my wedding dress's bustle had murdered my back! Now we say we'd make it simpler and shorter -- and we'd have gotten food. But, the core of that day was that I chose to be with this sweet boy with gold eyes for the rest of my life. I never could figure out why he loves me so much. I really don't deserve him. I know that. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. It's just gotten stronger over these 5 years. It's like we breathe together. Our hearts grew into one a long time ago, and I can feel every beat. And he's leaving in a couple of weeks and it gives a small sting to the day. But, you know, I never want to take it for granted. We'll just get stronger the next few months. Let life try to tear us apart; bring it on. What's wrong with having to fight a little for us, anyway? This is what I meant when I said I'd do anything for him five years ago. I'll let him follow a dream that scares the shit out of me and I'll wait for him while he does it. I really meant it. Here's to another five. The last five have been full of sparkle and sun. Luvu, baby. And thanks.

So, I'm the dork with the rocks.

First of all, I think my cat might be trying to bump off my teddy bear. My teddy bear, Hugs by name, has a few times in the past ended up moving from the bed to face-first on the floor. Yesterday I set a stack of hangers on top of a box. Hugs happened to be next to the box on the floor. When I returned later that day, the stack of hangers had plastered my bear. I've also noted that Miles is extra cautious around the white fluffy toy and that he'll actually spy on it at times. I'll keep you all in the loop if anything else happens in future.
On to other news. We're moved in but it'll be a while before we're unpacked. I'm sick of moving.
I made a rock collection when I was in 5th grade. It expanded to quite a large amount over the years and I couldn't let go of my big bag of rocks. The "collection" had been mounted on a board and labeled and such to make it look really official. I took it and the big bag in to show my Geology 101 teacher when I was thinking of changing my major from English over to Geology. I learned, to my dismay, that most of them were labeled far and away incorrectly and that most of them were quartzite. (Pretty much any rock in Utah you find is quartzite.) So, as I was packing a couple of weeks ago, it was just bugging me. Lugging that stupid board around with incorrect labels. So, I grabbed a flathead screwdriver out of the toolbox and had at it. I pried them all off the board and threw it away. And now I feel better. I realize that's what I've done to my life. I was an English major, even though I didn't want to teach, edit, or become a technical writer. Also, frankly, it was beginning to annoy me to no end. It's an entire major based on opinion. I like a certain word choice in a poem I've written, but if my professor doesn't and I don't change it... you know the grisly truth of it. Science is in my bones (no, really). The more I look over my childhood, the more I should have realized it. I got better grades in science than I did in English all through school. (That and the fact that I have an emotional attachment to a bag of rocks.) It all came down to one science class I took in high school. We basically were told to read the book and the teacher went in his office and sat there. I didn't understand the class very well. So, I decided I wasn't smart when it came to science and that was that. I drew myself into a little box and stayed there. I'm so glad universities require general education classes. That Geology 101 class made me remember my passion for those things. I was imagining myself on digs, in labs wearing the ever-coveted white lab coat, finding a geode bigger than me... I ripped that box apart. Now I'm working toward a new goal. Taking calculus and chemistry and physics -- classes I'm still not sure I am smart enough for. But, I don't care. I will try as hard as I can because I want to understand. I'm not the jackass in the back of the room asking when I'll ever use this. I know when I'll use it and that my career will depend on how well I can use it. It's so invigorating! Some people around me liked the other me better. But it wasn't really me. It was me-playing-it-safe. Now I'm who I didn't dare to be before. And I'm on the edge of my seat.

Wisp In Transition

We moved all our big stuff yesterday. It was exhausting. And in the evening we moved Miles (the kitty), too. He is not a fan of the car. He yowled the 20 minutes drive and burrowed his head into me, quivering. He hid under the bed (which isn't where it's supposed to be yet, but we slept on it anyway) until later that night and he came out and investigated. Finally, he flopped in the bathtub, so we figure he approves. He spent all morning lying in the breeze of the swamp cooler and apparently swimming on the carpet. It is so relieving to be almost done. The new place, cluttered with boxes and furniture as it is, feels more like a home than our other apartment ever did. Of course, when little kids are trying your doorknob at all hours it's hard to feel cozy. Now we just have a few things left at the other place. However, we'll be a bit phoneless and such until later this week so our internet and phone will be at the other place. I love good change. Johnny has fallen asleep on the floor with my shoes on his stomach. We're supposed to be hauling more stuff out to the car. He wore himself out yesterday. Our help all had to leave and then it was just Johnny and my dad for the last several big pieces of furniture. Did I ever mention we've been living on the 3rd floor? All of us will have more tone to our butts now, though, so it has it's benefit. We've found the right place for Miles and I to live while our Johnny is off getting training.
I must warn you all that school is looming ahead. I started going to school again over a year ago and went straight through the first year, including the summer semesters. This year I had to take a break. I am so glad! But, it's coming. School starts for me the same day Johnny will be flying out to basic training. That totally sucks. I'm sure I'll be a joy to sit by that first day. (I'll take one of those travel-size tissue packs with me.) I'm enrolled for Calculus (yes, I'm insane), Paleontology, Chemistry, a geology seminar I'll get to take 4 times, and a class about the New Testament. I'm glad to get some structure back to my life, but if it feels like too much I might drop something. I'm weak. So, if my posts get random and scattered and somewhat bitter, please don't give up on the wisp. I'll need to write stuff down sometime. And you know you'd miss my sarcasm.

But I gotta eat...

So, I guess there's a possibility that I could be hypoglycemic. My little brother is and my older brother is borderline, according to his doctor. I think I might also be borderline. My problem is that when I wait too long to eat I get sick. I get a headache and dizzy and tired (and fairly mean *sorry*) and it's like I hit some kind of slump and just want to lay down, which doesn't help. Only eating helps. Yesterday I was pale and shaky and tired (circle all of the above), but after I ate I was fine again. My little brother thinks it's very possible that I could have the same problem. He was given a list of foods he should eat and was told that he should be careful with how much sugar he eats. I've been trying to eat better and eat more healthy. I love cooking, but when I'm cooking just for me I have a hard time being motivated. Especially if I could use our ingredients to make dinner for the two of us. Well, Johnny is leaving in a few weeks and then most of my meals will be just for me. So, if anyone that reads this odd little blog has any suggestions for things that are healthy to make for one person, I'd appreciate it. Cause, I gotta tell you, I am so sick of freezer food. And I won't have the cash to eat out a lot (and that would get old fast, as well). I'm actually fairly weak and hungry right now, but I tell myself I'll just wait for Johnny and eat with him. I should have noticed something before. I was annorexic in high school (idiotically) and I thought that my body just rebelled and would act up if I waited too long to give it food. Even John has conceded it's a possibility. I haven't seen a doctor about it. I'm hoping that I'm just borderline like my older brother, since my problems aren't as severe as my little brother's. He's been having a hard time with it. I'll try to eat healthier and more regularly to see if I feel better. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks, folks.

Who?

Well, the actual moving of stuff to our new apartment has started. I am glad, but stressed. I have so much to do! We're moving to a smaller town than where we presently live. Johnny and I were standing on the steps of our new little place and I heard an old familiar sound from when we lived in an even smaller town last year. An owl! Owls used to live in our pine trees in a little old house we were renting and I got used to their company. I'd listen to them hoot when they woke up around 4 pm and I'd watch them swoop out in the evening. When we moved to more of a city living in a giant apartment complex listening to people argue, I realized just how much I would miss them. And now somewhere near my new apartment is an owl's roost. I am so excited! It immediately felt like home. There's a part of me that loves the city - but the big city like Las Vegas, not this hole we live in - but part of me also loves the countryside. I also realized I am comforted by the whistle of a train in the distance. I grew up hearing one periodically each day and now if I listen carefully and the jerks in the next building aren't yelling I can hear the same train farther away whistling and things feel okay again. Funny how much sounds can affect life. I hear an annoying child screaming like a banshee right now. Soon, my friends, it will be owls hooting! Owls!!!