tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31381449411514007442023-11-16T07:03:20.422-06:00Beatific PonderancesA blog about the goodness in life (from my perspective) and where it leads me.Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-13333707640613490542014-06-02T08:49:00.000-05:002014-06-04T14:14:20.111-05:00Avi <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So, I'm pretty in love with this guy:<br />
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<a href="http://www.aviavital.com/" target="_blank">Avi Avital</a>, seriously, check him out. He's the most amazing mandolin player, I've decided to mold Royce into this man. Although Royce is not Isreali, and won't look anything like this, he will be a virtuoso mandolin player! I've already looked up teachers in our area. </div>
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Avi came out with a new album in January:</div>
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The "Sachidao" from the "Miniatures on Georgian Folk Themes" is my favourite. He truly is an incredible musician, and his new album is a revelation (insert smirk); but in all seriousness, it's not the typical Baroque or folk mandolin, it really does feel soaked in Mediterranean sunshine. And what I love best about the soundfeel (I just coined this term for the instantaneous feelings you get from sound) of Mediterranean sunshine is that it sounds like sunshine that comes from 10,000 moons ago. But alas, I wax poetic, so rock on Avi!</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-57637895936873668442014-05-23T16:11:00.003-05:002014-05-23T16:12:15.930-05:00Yesterday Part 2...a new yesterday, not a continuation of yesterday's yesterday.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My sweet boy has a slight meltdown everyday after nap time. It usually consists of me offering him 3-4 different snacks, him turning them all down, me saying that's fine and walking away, him screaming banshee style for 4 minutes; and then on my honor, asking for the first proffered snack<i> every time</i>. It's cool. But yesterday after that, he got hit on the head by something, and instead of my usual 3 second rub, kiss and sugary, "oh, did you get hurt? Mama sorry." I picked him up, set him on the kitchen island where I was standing and cradled him. Little legs wrapped around my waist, arms nestled in our sweet cocoon, and my arms wrapped around him, my hand on his head holding it close to my chest, tucked right under my chin. We were snuggled in, one of those I love being a mom moments, where I take stock, and reality focuses so that it's nice and close. And then things got real. This song came on right as we snuggled in:<br />
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Still holding him tight, I started to rock him to the music. Like 1+2 to the right, 1+2 to the left, then to the back, then to the front. Normally kids like that for like 15 seconds then, they look at you, laugh, wiggle. No Royce was locked in. He let me keep that little head attached to my chest as I funkified our little bodies to the beat. I had to learn how to mix it up a little here and there, because Royce let me go on for the entire 4 minutes, and half a Macklemore song. By the end, I had sweat in my elbow creases, and Royce had creases from my shirt on the cheek that was pressed against me. Like I told you, for reals we got down. It was one of those moments that I wanted to sear into my memory, if I could just experience this feeling again. I love those moments that smack of wonderful so hard, that I know right as they're happening that I want this one for the special room in my memory, the one with the silver lined memories. Then I can take it out, see it, feel it, hear it, and know that moment, even when my boy is a man, and he doesn't let me hold him, and he doesn't have the chubbiest, softest peaches and cream cheeks anymore, and his blue eyes aren't only for me. It really is the little moments.</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-23615659027015001742014-05-21T21:27:00.001-05:002014-05-21T21:27:18.075-05:00Yesterday part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday I went to Zumba at the gym...don't hate. The teacher is the most beautiful mature black woman. She's probably around 65, with that snap of life that just radiates from her, and she has the most beautiful curly silver bob haircut. I fell in love instantly; and let me tell you, she can shake that boody like nobody's business. I'm talking straight up street.<br />
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Then in the front row, front and center, there was a 50 something year old man, gently balding, moustachioed, and sporting a hardcore knee brace. He was very fit and trim, and before he even started dancing, I was like, "you go brotha!" And then, did he <i>dance, </i>dude could have been in Riverdance.<br />
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All I know, is that within the first 15 seconds of the music pumping and bodies moving, I had tears in my eyes, especially because of these two. I just had that overwhelming feeling of kinship, and awe at the beauty of all the people around me. I truly believe we are all brothers and sisters, and in that second as I sashayed across the floor, and bit back tears of joy, I was so glad that my Heavenly Father had given these two their beautiful talent, and sweet spirits that I could just feel across the room. They may have been different than everyone else in the room, and I can only pray that they've never felt that sting of being the odd man out; but, I appreciated them, and next time, I'm going to make a point of telling them so.</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-77900380634140616362014-05-06T22:00:00.001-05:002014-05-06T22:00:18.785-05:00Tuesdays are the Bomb<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My children tried to suck my soul from me today. I have been left tattered, but intact; I shall live to fight another day. I was probably a little bit of a monster too, I yelled a lot, and said some not nice things. I think I was so bad, I made poor Roycie act out, sir tot like a dog. I laid on my bed for one second before nap time, with a ,"just go to bed!" and Royce crawled behind my bed and peed, just peed right below my bed, just sitting there, having a jolly time. He finished on the pot though, good chap.<br />
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I spent the morning reading over CNN, and found their article on why the world isn't really paying attention to all those kidnapped little girls, and was like, "yeah, indignation." But then I found their article on what new shows were coming out on Netflix in May, and I was like, "what, season three of Scandal!?" and I was once again ashamed at my love for pop culture over all else. Darn you Gen Y.</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-53555456539127155312014-05-01T11:39:00.000-05:002014-05-01T11:42:33.278-05:00I wrote this about my emotionally exhausting day yesterday and couldn't muster the strength to post until today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you've read a good portion of my blog, you know that I have a multitude of social anxieties: <a href="http://bponderful.blogspot.com/search?q=god+bless+america" target="_blank">library fines</a>, body image, and other weird crap like asking for refills at fast food restaurants. Seriously, I remember being being five, and having someone tell me I couldn't have a free refill, and my life went downhill from there. I'm sorry, I have a problem, alright? So I thought I'd share this little gem with you. Here's how my day went:<br />
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6:45 "Mama, mama!" Royce, wakes up earlier than usual. I find that his sheet is soaked because he's overfilled his pull-up; and he found the lip balm Vida left in his bed and has eaten 95% of it.<br />
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Strawberry sorbet for breakfast dude, rock on.</div>
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7:30 ate this awesome breakfast as posted on <a href="http://instagram.com/p/navY9CwN0l/" target="_blank">instagram</a> </div>
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9:05 get to the gym 10 minutes before bodypump starts, but daycare is already full. Head to the park for an hour, see turtles and ducks. Head back to gym and blah, blah.</div>
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Really, this post has a<i> real </i>point that is approaching,</div>
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11:20 picnic at a different park</div>
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1-2:00 kids run wild while I book a flight for Brandi to go back to his homeland next week! Bully for you bud!</div>
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Here comes the real stuff: I then head out for a consult at a purveyor of laser hair removal. Body hair is a big conversation point in our house. I'm half Mexican, excuse me, my family prefers<i> Hispanic, </i>so I'm a prime candidate for space age lasers melting my hair off. I heard on the radio that for Fiesta, which is this strange 18 day holiday here in San Antonio, that's about drinking, parades, and collector pins of this variety: </div>
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(back to the radio ad) "hey we're offering 50% off all hair removal!" and I was like, "Hey, I could do that!" But the deal ended today, and so I had to take my kids to the consult. </div>
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Mistake number one. </div>
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This was a high roller place, up in the WASPy part of town; I'm the type of person who should only be having this done out the back of a van, by a women named Juanita. This place even had candy out in bowls, so I bribed the kids with two pieces of bite size candy each. I set them on my chair and Royce preceded to ask for the next 10 minutes, every minute, if it was time to eat the candy yet.</div>
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Mistake two.</div>
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Mistake three boils down to this, I signed up for $4700 something of laser hair removal. For two areas on the body. I blame it on the fact that Royce drew on the carpet with a crayon, spilled a mini water bottle on the carpet and played in it like a puddle with Vida...although it did clean up the crayon; and smeared some peanut butter cup on the chairs. Also I am very dyslexic with numbers, like for reals, I always switch the middle two numbers. The chick was so nice, and she just drew so many numbers on the page. It was $140 a month for three years. I'm telling you I'm the biggest sucker. She left the room so I could call Brandon as traded our savings for baby smooth skin, he said if I thought it was a good deal, and thought I had done my research (which usually I do) then it was ok. It was not ok! Oh, and she told me it was like braces, I couldn't just pay some and then cancel. I signed a deal with the devil. I know what you're thinking, seriously, it sounds like the worst deal ever, and like I'm the biggest dolt alive. I drove home as my stomach started to hurt, I was running out of gas, and I was on one of those stretches with no gas station. I now have serious pains running from right under my heart down through my stomach. I kept the panic going even as I thought how pathetic it was that people are worried about starving to death and I'm having a panic attack over LASER HAIR REMOVAL and running out of gas.</div>
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Got home, Brandon very nicely explained to me that there was no way that anyone ever goes in there and pays $9000 (because remember, I got 50% off! $4000 was 50% off, kill me) for two relatively small areas of laser hair removal, no matter how high tech their lasers are. I agreed, cried a little, because there's nothing more shameful than being an idiot, and being a wrong idiot is the worst of sins in my mind. I begged him to call them for me and tell them; guys, I wish I could explain to you the type of panic I was in, I literally writhed on the couch, cried some more, and offered Brandon any barter under the sun, to make the call for me. He said that as an adult I had to fix this myself, and face my fears. Now, even in my wildest moments of deepest irrational despair, I always know that there's no reason it shouldn't be fine to call and cancel something, return some library books, ask for a refill. But, and it's a big but for me, there's that 1 in 100 chance that they say no, and start giving me their rigamaroll and I cave; or you know, I rack up $100 in library fees, or they refuse me a refill.</div>
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It took me an hour to make the call, the chick said fine, because I hadn't had the first treatement, and kept $100 of my first payment. My jaw hurt for hours with leftover tension. </div>
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The moral of the story is: I used four or five colons in this post, don't ever purchase laser hair removal unsupervised, and don't ever read one of my posts that looks longer that 14 long run ons. </div>
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It's pretty obvious I have some serious hangups. </div>
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-44316769798128503712014-04-23T15:25:00.000-05:002014-04-23T15:25:11.222-05:00rollin' around<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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1) It's NBA Playoffs season, so I have a lot of husband free nights right now. Took the weekend to watch awesome films. </div>
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Ralph Fiennes (at all things) but especially directing, is really starting to get me (looking at you <i>Coriolanus</i>). This films not perfect, but beautiful and intriguing, and about Dickens' secret life, I mean come on. Do you ever have a problem with really great historical figures leading crappy personal lives? Like every man alive having trouble keeping their pants zipped? (I'm looking especially at you Thomas Jefferson)...<br />
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and I watched <i>Inside Llewyn Davis;</i> also meandering,and all internal like. Solid, beautiful music, a few brilliant moments.<br />
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2) There was a threat letter sent out in San Antonio about some potential violence happening at an unidentified school here tomorrow, so let's pray for safety, and hope nothing goes down; glad I don't have any kids in school yet, or that I don't have to be a teacher on a day like tomorrow.<br />
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3) Bought these beauts on Ebay, so excited.<br />
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4) I threw a very informal seder for YW mutual activity last night. Made some rockin' charoset, it was awesome. I love the house of Judah, wish I was an LDS Jew. I like the idea of remembering our heritage a little bit more; and I love the haunting beauty, and heaviness of the memories and ritual that the Jewish faith carries. Shalom.</div>
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5) Brandon's growing a sweet mullet for the summer, I'm sure a full unveiling won't be until July. </div>
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6) Shout out to all my homies reading in far flung places. It always makes me happy that after America, my blog has the most hits from Russia (haha, winning). And sometimes I have obscure hits; so hello to my lone reader in Azerbaijan. I hope you didn't have to pay like 10 manat at some internet cafe to read this crap post. </div>
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XOXO,</div>
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O.</div>
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-81916560514702003122014-04-15T15:26:00.001-05:002014-04-15T15:28:39.533-05:00Lalalalalala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Oh Dear Me!!! I just found out about a little site called <a href="http://documentaryheaven.com/" target="_blank">documentary heaven</a>, I'm gunna go put on a new pair of pants now (that's how excited I am)!!! There was one doc I was looking for in particular, one that I saw when I was 16, and have never been able to forget. Years later, it was on Netflix, but was taken off before I watched it again. It's called <a href="http://documentaryheaven.com/the-realms-of-the-unreal/" target="_blank">THe Realms of the Unreal</a>. It's about Henry Darger who wrote and illustrated, a 15,000 something page book about some crazy stuff. It's about a group of girls, and they find in these children armies against evil, etc. No one knew he had written them at all, he just kept to himself his whole life, and his neighbors found them right before he died. I would highly recommend it, stuff like this makes reality seem all the better.<br />
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Here's the trailer....dream on.<br />
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-82192420379200899002014-04-08T17:29:00.000-05:002014-04-08T17:29:07.944-05:00Losing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What is it that makes those certain moments, or people, in your life stick, long after their gone? Why is it that something small and insignificant can change the way you look at your dreams, and alter the flow of your memories? The way the sun filtered through the trees as a song playing in the car sinks into your heart, on a crisply warm autumn day. The feelings of regret that still linger on the back of the tongue from careless words that seem to have no consequence now. Why when we lose some things, they fade softly into the night, and others burn more vivid with each passing year. I've never been particularly good at keeping (or making) friends, but there are a few gone who I will always ask, "why? ". Why are you gone? Why do I still feel as connected to you as ever? Why were we brought together at all? Strange the things we learn in this life---and the people---the way we learn them. How often do we know how we truly affect the soul of another? Is it always mutual? I'd like to think it is; I'd like to think that even though our days have passed, a part of myself still burns in them with the same strength, like maybe our paths will cross again; perhaps our souls have more to learn from one another. I don't know why these glimpses of past catch at me, but I gather them up and horde them away. They're like dense, smooth stones I keep in my pockets, I rarely take them out, but like to run my fingers over them from time to time. I'd feel lost now without that little extra weight.</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-57390785199150538722014-03-13T11:56:00.001-05:002014-03-13T11:56:40.454-05:00Playlists and Cookies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Soooooo I made B-Man a little mixed CD for Valentine's day, but because I'm me, I didn't give it to him, and then I thought I'd give it to him on his birthday (March 2), but we were in Utah, so I didn't. <i>I </i>listen to it every day, and he knows I bought all the songs, because the itunes receipt goes to his email, so I thought I'd blog about it and maybe feel forced to hand it over today. Here's the mix:<br />
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The Man- Aloe Blacc (B's current pump up jam)<br />
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Invisible- U2 (obligatory U2)<br />
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Give You What You Like- Avril Levigne (let me just clarify that this mix was my interpretation of my husbands musical tastes, he loves Avril, this is about one of the only songs I can stand; it's new and its not about whining or pretending your a 17 year old girl)<br />
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Dreams- The Cranberries (classic)<br />
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Lil Love- Bone Thugs-n-Harmony ft. Mariah Carey and Bow Wow (silly little gem, but theoretically, how can one go wrong w/ BT&H or Mariah)<br />
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Lovers and Friends- Lil John and the Eastside Crew ("Cause your all grown up like Rudy Huxtable.")<br />
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All Of Me- John Legend (yeeeeeeaahh)<br />
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Adore You- Miley Cyrus (I give myself 10 lashes on the back every night for liking this album so much)<br />
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It Won't Stop- Sevyn Streeter ft. Chris Brown (I have a problem, alright?)<br />
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Once Upon a Dream- Lana Del Rey (oh dang, it's so good)`<br />
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Dark Paradise- Lana Del Rey (B got a little music crush on Lana. Can I blame him for liking women with beautiful voices and pouty lips?)<br />
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The Mother We Share- CHVCHES (if you've never heard anything by them, do it now)<br />
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Lullaby- Chester See (so sweet, I wanna cuddle after I listen to this song)<br />
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It's not the best mix I've ever produced, but it'll have to do, because I wouldn't shell out the extra dollar to buy the CDs that are re-writable.<br />
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That was a joke.<br />
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BONUS: The kids and I decorating our Coconut Flour Sugar Cookies that I was going to mail out to the Grandparents (we even bought cute containers) but we ate them all instead. I'm the worst.<br />
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If you look closely, you can see how Royce likes to stick his hands in a cup of water and slick his own bangs down to the sides. And I don't think Vida is wearing any pants.</div>
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Bangin'.</div>
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-758550584877905022014-02-14T08:30:00.004-06:002014-02-16T18:21:45.577-06:00The Man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My sweet man is a good deal of things that I don't understand, all mostly shining qualities that my coarse mind is still grasping at; that's why I love him. I still have to strive everyday to be a better person so that we can progress together. I love him for who he is and what he's done to me. To commemorate our 7th Valentine's Day of knowing each other I will tell you a few of the reasons I fell hard, right around this time, all those fabled years ago!<br>
<br>
His smile lights me up<br>
His gentle spirit<br>
His incredible drive<br>
The fact that such drive and sweetness is combined is really beautiful to me<br>
His crazy thick thighs (it's like standing next to a horse) mmmmmhmmm<br>
And best of all, he made/makes me feel so safe.<br>
<br>
He is the the man; and I'm really quiet glad he's my man.<br>
<br>
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-35678487188232174712014-02-11T10:10:00.001-06:002014-02-11T10:10:07.204-06:00Happenings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Not much going on over here in ol' San Antone. If anyone wants to come visit, we'd be tickled pink. I figured I'd like to write something down on here, so I'm going to jot a little grocery list of things that have happened.<br />
<br />
- Potty trained Royce, dude's an animal.<br />
- Chaperoned the youth Valentine dance/talent show at church, and they're the bomb! I love serving with the youth.<br />
- Brandon rolled his ankle playing basketball (again), so we're pretty much looking at reconstructive surgery now.<br />
- It's been pretty frigidly cold here too, the other day there was a record snowfall: .6 inches! But it really has been freezing.<br />
- Did a 10 day juice fast with B, and Ryan and Lea, B's brother and his wife.<br />
- Two weeks till our trip to SLC for Brandon's mom's upcoming wedding. I looooooove Utah so much so I'm very happy. Plus the family time, blah blah blah ;) We roll in on the 26th, and stay till the 3rd, so we can celebrate Brandi's B'day on the 2nd.<br />
- Pretty much I feel like a fat lazy turkey writing this list, but I always like to hibernate in winter, so bring it on Spring!<br />
<br />
<br />
Know that I'm ashamed to write such a lame post. Blushing right now as you read this.....<br />
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This is a sample of the photo that Vida leaves on our phones everyday. It's almost always the same.<br />
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-51274246415002993062014-01-06T10:23:00.000-06:002014-01-06T10:23:00.468-06:00Masterpiece<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you ever read this Mr. Anderson: choose me.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/1Fg5iWmQjwk" width="560"></iframe><br />
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Ever so excited for this.</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-65045841845507285292014-01-05T15:50:00.000-06:002014-01-05T15:50:09.799-06:00art<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://america.aljazeera.com/watch/shows/talk-to-al-jazeera/interviews-and-more/2014/1/2/jr-talks-to-tonyharris.html" target="_blank">spread it</a></div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-38630952496127907792013-12-16T15:58:00.001-06:002013-12-16T15:58:27.687-06:00good tidings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Our advisor in Mia Maids shared this yesterday in our discussion on spiritual gifts. I love it!</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-67207204107772156272013-12-13T08:53:00.000-06:002013-12-13T08:53:13.282-06:00ego<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Insatiable: the hunger you never escape.<br />
Like Cronus I eat all that I create.<br />
Too afraid that no one---no, nothing will ever<br />
Stand as tall.<br />
<br />
Infallible. The right to define the truth<br />
is reserved for those who take it.<br />
A battle ax, more cumbersome<br />
than the weapon sharpened to a fine point.<br />
<br />
In finite I exist. Not infinite am I.<br />
Flesh and bone surrounded by a nebula<br />
of thought; the nihilist rises.<br />
Unanticipated the hope hidden in anticipation.<br />
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<br />
<br />
You know, just the typical stuff I think/write about while I putting the laundry away in the afternoon (that's been sitting in my entryway for two weeks). Whatya do?</div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-87818882939085844212013-11-10T12:01:00.001-06:002013-11-10T12:01:41.014-06:00Sunday Musings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Be not afraid of the unknown. The glory of God is intelligence, and the more we explore the closer we draw to Truth. The more our struggles become the map of stars to new worlds, instead of fetters that tie us down. The hole in my heart keeps tearing open, and it hurts; but it's a sweet ache, a plague of love and compassion for others. Make your mind, heart and soul a holy place, that your spirit might become a mountain for others to reach their highest point.<div>
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Peace,</div>
<div>
O.</div>
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-12710260673780747172013-10-07T11:04:00.000-05:002013-10-14T08:52:28.428-05:00Late morning breakfast<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
*As I made my breakfast in the kitchen this morning, my heart was full, and I cried tears of joy, of being completely overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions, and growth. I wrote this stream of thoughts to share with you, my lovely readers. I have left it unedited, and un-filled in. It just is. Take what you need. Love you. *<br />
<br />
<br />
When all you can do is beg and plead and wrestle with the part of you that is one with the Lord.<br />
When dancing and singing, and crying, flow from your body like branches from a tree, like leaves spiralling out to fall to the ground and nourish the earth.<br />
When aspirations and dreams are both the most important thing, and yet mean nothing in the moment, for you are content with the world in front of you.<br />
When the prospect of life ahead is so full of pain you almost wish that you could go home now, safe and finished; but you know that you love so many here.<br />
Lift your head and feel the sun, smell the flowers, watch the ants crawl on the earth. They've said it forever, and I will say it again, because this whole earth was created for you, for beauty, for exploration, that we might worship a Creator more infinite than our minds can reach; but it feels so good to stretch, to reach higher than we can. And we reach those moments where it begins to hurt, to tear because we can reach no further. I sometimes feel that I am lost, that I have gone too far, that there was no purpose in the wanting, in the search; and then He reaches down to me. I kiss my baby's back, and I know that the Savior had a mother who loved Him, who kissed His back, she who loved the spirit inside Him. Who grieved for those terrible things that had happened, who feared for the future; who was only human, and could only pull back glimpses of angels in all the weaving, baking, washing, tending, walking, living that there was to be. And she who shed so many tears, to wash away an old world that her child might build a kingdom. That my tears might wash me clean that I might build, that my children might see. That we might all see, that we might all give. I want to give, I want the Lord to take. Take my best, take my worst. Give to whomever needs it, I don't care who they are, what they look like, what they're doing. For I am no better than any other; we've all been there. We all hurt, we all want. We all want what we can't have. And yet, we could have it. So lucky for all that I have, so cursed for the excess I let get in my way. I go round and round in circles that I can't understand. But I read books, and listen to music, and hug and kiss, and birth, and talk, and watch and sin, and write, and cry, and fight and forgive, and serve, and I sort into categories, and I make "reason" of things that I can't see from one end to the other, and I pray. And through all of it I grow through His grace, and I believe that it will serve a purpose. that I will serve a purpose. That we all will. It's what we're all meant for, that nothing is ever wasted. Every feeling, a tiny bird that flies home. Bringing you one flight closer to home, to Everything. To whatever you need.<br />
<br /></div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-75065277997848160562013-09-09T08:25:00.000-05:002013-09-09T08:25:51.821-05:00oh all right!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since I just passed 10,000 page views I'l throw you a bone.<br />
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THE ANNUAL SUMMER PHOTO DUMP!!!!!!<br />
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Roycie fell down the stairs at the lake</div>
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Sandpoint</div>
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4th</div>
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painting with cousins</div>
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Rach's baby shower</div>
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cousins</div>
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church at the lake</div>
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typical beach wear: Andee's baptism shoes</div>
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in need</div>
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happy six year anniversary!</div>
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Church in San Antonio</div>
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only this is us "ditching" and going to the nice, new building closer to our house,</div>
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instead of our own chapel. Rebels I tell ya.</div>
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these stinkin' kids</div>
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sweet nephew Everett </div>
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night swim</div>
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Grandma came for V's bday</div>
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SA temple</div>
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Riverwalk with G ma</div>
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Vida's birthday door</div>
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pretty crappy comprehensive, but, you know...</div>
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-30457055509482730842013-08-06T11:30:00.001-05:002013-08-06T11:30:54.417-05:00Fantasy in a minor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Beautiful, fantastical story told by five suffering souls. I love books that ache, but in a dreamy light way, like floating on a rain cloud. I highly recommend it.<br />
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-15731347685387102762013-08-02T15:39:00.000-05:002013-08-02T15:39:26.399-05:00Diurnal Urinal <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Everyone reaches the point in their life were they say, "I can't live like this anymore." Maybe it happens everyday, wakes them up like a whiff of coffee percolating not far off. Let's say it happens only twice a year; connected to the poles of the earth, a biannual flip flop for solstice celebration. Or perhaps it happen only once in a lifetime---an earthquake that opens a chasm that can never be closed. Does it matter how many? Are they all different, or the same? Do they come from the same place? Does the child who's secret love has kissed yet another boy on the playground, and never him, feel the same as the alcoholic who crashes his car through the center divider? Is it the same pain, the same gaping inability to see God in that solitary moment. And I bet you're sitting there saying, "No, no, they're not the same; of course one is different, some are worse, some are better. Some get better, some get worse."<br />
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And I say,"Yes!"to all of that. But, all that begins in the moment after. Whether one changes their life, or lives through their life, or dies right then and there; that all comes after that prickly gnawing feeling in the middle of your abdomen. Like a tiny hedgehog took to hibernating beneath the ribs, and now that fuzzy, sharp little fellow is opening up right there, right inside. After that feeling comes the decision to change, or move, or do nothing. But in that one moment, I think we all feel the same. We're bound together by a common thought wave descending from our Mother Eve. She was the first to feel the pull. She took that bite because she couldn't live like that anymore. Her gut told her that everything she knew was a shell; she was just a doll, and she wanted so badly to be real. And so she bit down; she threw away her shell so that she could feel pain, so that she could love, and so she could experience that final moment where she would say, one last time, "I can't live like this anymore." One final scary moment separate from God before her spirit left her body; refined to too fine a material for a life like this.<br />
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We are all the same, and we are all different. We all go up, we must all come down. My moment will never change me in the exact same way the moment changes anyone else. We many never share the same joy, or wallow in the same depths of sorrow, but I am almost sure that each breaking point, for one infinitesimal moment, is exactly the same.<br />
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I don't know that any of that matters; but it made me feel squiggly inside today, none the less. </div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-67132899483784823492013-07-29T21:24:00.000-05:002013-07-31T07:59:57.408-05:0010 frings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
1. I've never colored my hair, ever. Not even highlights. Now I can't, I'm just waiting for it to get too grey, and then I'll do some funky town on the 'ol bean.<br />
2. I've never been in a tanning bed. Thank goodness.<br />
3. Claire, my college roommate and bf, and I were once seriously addicted to solitaire. Many, many hours wasted, classes failed because of computer solitaire. I had to quite cold turkey, and I barely came out alive.<br />
4. I've spoken of my love of miniature things, and my love of all things weird and supernatural many times; so of course, it only makes sense that I used to collect sardine bones, teeth, and kind of dead sick thing to keep in empty Altoid boxes lined in tissue.<br />
5. I put hot sauce on just about everything.<br />
6. I'm pretty much obsessed with healthy eating; but I will never give up pizza, doughnuts, or McDonald's french fries. I don't even eat them regularly, and I feel sick when I do, but I reserve that God given right.<br />
7. <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/02/europe/gallery/cult-of-vladimir-putin/index.html?hpt=hp_c4" target="_blank">This</a> was the best thing that happened to me all day. I josh you not, lights up my face like a Christmas tree.<br />
8. I used to say that if I wasn't married by 30, I was going to become a lighthouse keeper, a cloistered nun, or the appalachian goat woman from Cold Mountain.<br />
9. <a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/safetynotguaranteed/" target="_blank">This movie</a> is so good I was screaming at the end. Literally screaming, it was that tickling. Watch it on Netflix and tell me I'm wrong.<br />
10. I was once upon a time in a hand bell choir. No lies, I even played hand chimes before I could work my way up to the bells. I <3 nerds.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-21088348506897021312013-07-23T22:34:00.001-05:002013-07-23T22:41:43.549-05:00pin me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here are some of ze things I have been pinning as of late:<br />
<br />
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051126769/"></a></div>
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051101993/"></a><br />
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051130378/"></a>
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051104888/"></a>
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051101668/"></a>
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051097484/"></a>
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051100860/"></a>
<a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://pinterest.com/pin/174303448051096845/"></a>
<br />
A little throwback tune:</div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/84i7zQ_ACnU" width="459"></iframe>
<br />
I used to drive around listening to this song, thinking how awesomely it would fit into a crazy, rainy car crash scene in a movie. The music video still tears me up.<br />
<br />
And to end on a lighter note...watch the movie Butter, on Netflix. So good, so good.<br />
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/05/Butter2012Poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/05/Butter2012Poster.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
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Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-42870940474671347012013-07-17T23:33:00.000-05:002013-07-19T10:04:15.404-05:00stars daisies babies King KongI have a bad habit of feeling empty. I try and cram, cram, cram as much in as I can. I'm a junkie for knowledge, affection, style, the internet, and wishful thinking. But, as you know, the junkie never gets enough, hence the bottomless pit.<br>
<br>
Oh, and I <i>do</i> very little doing. Not enough to stretch the mind, or the body.<br>
<br>
Bad combo, that thinking and not doing. A breeding ground for fear. Fear from all the things that could be done. Fear of never being enough. Fear that eats dreams, like Kobayashi eats hotdogs.<br>
<br>
I've let fear tell me my whole life that there are things about me that need to be hidden, sensitive bits that were hurt long ago. But they were beautiful bits, and now sometimes I think they've rusted in their hiding places. I call them out, and they come slowly. It takes a lot of work tug the nightmares of children from the bones of sleeping adults. I personally find that talking helps; I'd probably love to talk to you, if I already don't. I'd love to tell you how I feel about the decline in population of large cats, or food, or anything in your life. I'd like to talk to you about my crazy family, and my crazy life. I'd love to talk to you about God, and about what you think your potential in life is. I'd like to comfort you, and tell you you're good. A small word, that 'good', and often underwhelming; but I find sometimes, that it if said just so, just straightforward enough, it feels clean and strong, and warm. Like old bare wood. Sometimes when I'm around adults, which I don't get to do vey often :) I talk so much I get jittery. I get a buzz off words. In fact, I'm usually quite ashamed after this, like any tipsy party girl. I talked too much, too loud, too bold. Funny things slip out when you hurt inside, don't they? And then, something strange happened as of late. We moved, and I talked, and I walked, and I stripped things away. My possessions, my family, Vida's health, our safety, bits of B's and my relationship. And I just kept feeling, like I was losing feeling. I kept seeing myself as this cup, and I was emptying out; and the fear kept filling it in with nothing. Because when nothing is inside of you, it becomes something. And I jut kept praying that I would get filled up. I prayed that I would be filled with things that would make me a better me. That's all. It was like a crucible; sometimes we do have to burn it all down.This time it was so intense it was like nothing was holding me here; here on earth. I just waited, and felt ok with waiting. And I kept thinking this should feel scary, but it didn't. It just felt like a bubble; quiet, and muffled, full of space, and at the same time so taunt, so precarious. And then the bubble must have popped, because I'm back. And I feel it; I feel my life inside of me. So now I'll do, I'll do something for a while, and then I'll probably cycle back through some other interior passageway. I love to take adventures inside myself, it's like Magic School Bus up in this hizzy everyday. I highly encourage you try one sometime.<br>
<br>
Peace,<br>
O.<br>
<br>Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-51331931132522960552013-06-06T01:53:00.000-05:002013-06-06T01:59:35.376-05:00Dinner Date with the StarsIf I were going to throw a beautifully organized dinner party, for any five historical dead figures, they would be as follows:<br />
1) Princess Leia, hands down the most bada**, capable female lead character I've ever seen on film. I mean, she choked Jabba with the chain he had her tethered to him with. Girl be what I like to call a roll model. (And yes, I'm counting her as a 'historical' figure)<br />
2&3) Sofia Tolstaya and Leo Tolstoy: Tolstoy has always been a hero of mine, and I recently finished reading War and Peace. Did you know that Sofia was scribe for him on that weighty tome, and copied it out, by hand, a total of seven times. That's true love! Tolstoy's depiction of marriage, and love, in W&P, gave me one of those moments, where like, a little piece of emptiness opens up inside my chest, so that I can start to fill it with new emotions and feelings, after experiencing something so enlightening. But, if you've seen the Last Station, you know that their marriage had its down side. They'd be perfect to see in real life.<br />
4) Hans Christian Andersen: That dude be a freak, and I like it. His stories are so twisted and beautiful. He had to be pretty nuteriffic in person. Wikipedia tells me this: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"> Shortly before his death, he had consulted a composer about the music for his funeral, saying: "Most of the people who will walk after me will be children, so make the beat keep time with little steps." </span>Moribundus; I can dig it. And yes, I already have the music picked out for my funeral; I'm going to be lowered into the ground as the song 'Blinded by the Light' is blared.<br />
5) Cleopatra: Not original, I know, but the reality behind her story that is so constantly repressed by modern depictions is fascinating. You know, the not actually being Egyptian, her real political ingenuity, and ruthlessness. Since studying her as a young child, (along with my obsession for paranormal phenomena there is a close second for ancient cultures, I mean come on, the egyptians swirled brains around with a stick, and drained it out your nose!) I combined my love of paranormal and egyptology, and fancied myself the reincarnation of Cleopatra. It explains my love of power, and seducing men by rolling out of carpets.<br />
<br />
<br />
Bon Appetit!Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3138144941151400744.post-29943112701699794712013-06-03T23:38:00.000-05:002013-06-03T23:38:04.107-05:00Is It You?If you think time is linear, then you're a fool.<br />
My heart beats hollow sometimes, there's a trap door there.<br />
It leads to the past, which, I constantly think about becoming my future.<br />
It takes me under you, around you, through you;<br />
But never to you.<br />
<br />
There is no such thing as 'space'.<br />
The distance between us is always the same.<br />
It fits half way across the world, and in between old embraces.<br />
If you called me there, I would already be THERE;<br />
But will you?<br />
<br />
There is a difference between joy and contentment.<br />
I will have one without you, but not the other.<br />
One can live a whole life with a smile on their face,<br />
For a memory that isn't there.<br />
It is you.<br />
<br />Beatific Ponderanceshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02956663794417090981noreply@blogger.com0