Rest and Just Believe

I'm always amazed at the graciousness of God and His presence in my life. I see it in the things that make me indescribably happy like my godson's smile or the peace that I feel when I'm attending mass. Further more, I'm humbled by (as a great inspiration of mine would say) "moments of unscripted grace." Here's on that happened today.

Lately, I've been feeling overwhelmed by the new role that been placed in my lap: responsible adult. Neither of these two words describe me very well. Nor do I aspire to become either.. not any time soon, anyways. I'm tired more often than usual; I have no time for myself; I'm frustrated and irritated more often than not.. It's not very good.

However, something happened to me today that just made me stop, throw my hands up, and give it to God.

This weekend, my mom came for a visit. She was helping me buy new clothes for my new job. More professional wear. Which, as you might imagine, I have little to none of. Anyway, I was really excited to have my mom come for a visit. Even more so because I knew my sister and brother-in-law would be going home. So it'd be just me and her. I know it's a terrible thing to say, but I know my mom prefers the company of my sister over me. It just is what it is. So I was doubly excited learning she'd be making a trip just for me.

Well, when she got to BR she told me she wanted to get on the road pretty early the very next day. Meaning she'd stay less than 24 hours. I was a little jolted and hurt because I thought she'd try to make time for a proper visit. Time for me. But that didn't happen.

I also wanted to discuss my car situation. I thought she'd have good news for me. I thought we'd discuss things. But when I brought it up, I found her evasive and, even more upsetting, indifferent to what I'm going through. She even took my sister's side on another issue that had upset me earlier that week. But, as I said, I've been irritated a lot lately, so maybe that could explain that. Oh well. Point being: I was upset. And hurt. And feeling.. overwhelmed and ignored. Which, in a person like me, is not a very good combination.

So, on the way to mass this morning my mom and I were listening to inspirational music and a song came on that just grabbed me. The words were just what I needed to hear when I needed to hear them. I can't describe the feeling I got hearing the lyrics as they played.. powerful is about as close as I can get. I was nearly moved to tears. Coupled with the homily of mass, this song really helped me relax and prepare for the week ahead. And the responsibilities that will come in the future.

It's called "All Things Are Working" and here's some of the lyrics:

Falling apart
and tearing at the seams
Tribulation lends a hand
and squeezes all your hopes, your dream
You say you retreat,
you say you just can't win
Before you let your circumstance tell you how the story ends

Know that His word says you can stand,
He'll cover you with His grace
Everything you need is in your hand,
So lift up your head and say

All things are working for me,
even things I can't see
Your ways are so beyond me,
but You said that you would
let it be for my good,
so I'll rest and just believe


I don't know what God has planned for me in the future. And this may be far from my trial, but I have decided that I will allow Him to take the wheel and do His will. I can't let every little problem and difficulty get my down. I have to trust Him and His judgement. And in return, I know He'll provide me with everything I need. Even strength and understanding I can't see myself having or helping. I will try my best to be patient (although it's not a strongpoint for me) have faith. I'll rest and believe.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Try not to Drown in This Stream

ad·dic·tion
noun
the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Sometimes, I really hate the person that I am, the desires that I have, the behavior I exhibit because of some deep-seeded need I can't explain or defend.

Lately, I've stopped trying to stop these actions and just giving in. And you know what? I find that I quite enjoy it. And then, I hate myself. It's an addiction, an obsession.. a guilty pleasure. Emphasis on the guilt. But I don't want to stop. I think about it more and more. Constantly. And then I fall slave to my horrible habit. But I find that the flames of Hell are quite warm... inviting, even.

Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment--doing these things, testing, escalating, knowing that soon it's all going to come crashing down on my head. And the pain will be so blissfully numbing that it was all worth it. Oh, that sounds lovely...

And it's no one's fault, really. A consequence of coincidence. A coincidence of consent. I can't say I was driven to this behavior by anyone or anything. I'm just.. drawn to it.

Worst of all, I can't talk to anyone about it because it's so deplorable and irrational. I can't even explain it to myself! I guess I'm just hopeless, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for it to fall...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Science & Faith

Recently, very recently, like within the past hour, I read a very interesting and telling blog by a close friend. This friend has brought me through some of the craziest adventures of my teenage years and hilarious memories. And this friend has always been brutally honest.. with others and with himself.

I've always admired his bravery. So I thought "What the hell". I may as well be honest.

So I've been listening to The Script's album, Science & Faith. A-MAZING record! I try to listen to just one song and I always go through the whole cd. Start to finish. Everytime. Sometimes, I feel as if they're speaking directly to me, singing my memories.. my faults. Other times, I feel like the girl they're singing about.. the heart-breaker, the bitch.

Anyway, here's I song that really eats at my insides:

Where does that leave us?

Tried to break love to a science
In an act of pure defiance
I broke her heart.
As I pulled apart her theories
As I watched her growing weary
I pulled her apart
Having heavy conversations
About the furthest constellations of our souls. Ooh.
We're just trying to find some meaning
In the things that we believe in
But we got some ways to go.
Of all of the things that she's ever said
She goes and says something that just knocks me dead.

It leaves me in pain.. Which only you make better. And in a constant state of worry and confusion that simply go away when you're near me. It leaves me strongly desiring the joy that you bring me.

You won't find faith or hope down a telescope
You won't find heart and soul in the stars
You can break everything down to chemicals
But you can't explain a love like ours.

I need you more than anything :)

Ooohhhh
It's the way we feel, yeah this is real
Ooohhhh
It's the way we feel, yeah this is real

-------
This is song is perfect for us. Science and Faith. Two completely separate and powerful ideas. But ideas that are both necessary for living.

I don't know what it is we have. There's really no word for it. Then again, we've never been ones for labels or boxes. But whatever we have, whatever we keep fighting for, it's real. And I love it.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

My Heart and My Love

I can’t stop looking at this picture. I love it so much. I love the people in it more.

On my phone, I keep a picture of my godson, Tralynn, as the background because his smiling face always causes me to pause and smile too. Even when I’m stressed. Even when I’m frustrated. Even when I get a particularly upsetting text message. He’s always there, smiling back at me or just looking strange like “Why you so mad, Nanny?” And I smile. I just can’t help it. And I love that.

And my boyfriend, Chris Taylor. My amazing boyfriend. I’m really lucky to have him in my life. He’s so adamant about how much he’s changed because of me; how I make him want to be a better man. Don’t get me wrong, he was pretty great when I met him, but I do see how he’s changed to dedicate himself to our future. And I couldn’t ask for more.

This picture was taken Christmas day. I bought Tralynn a bike. Lightning McQueen, of course. Before that, my boyfriend put it together for me. I watched him as he laid out the parts and carefully read the instructions and worked with the tools, checking his progress to make sure the bike was safe for my godson. He caught me staring a few times and asked what I was doing. I tried to play it coy and said, “Oh, you’re just being all manly and stuff.” He smiled and grunted like a caveman before going back to work.

As I watched him, I got the strangest feeling: There he was, my boyfriend, the man I love, taking his time and energy to assemble something that would ensure my godson’s happiness. His willingness to do this task for me meant so much. More than he’ll probably ever know. I joked about how macho he seemed working with tools and stuff, but I think that’s because I was trying to keep myself from crying or showering him with appreciation.

When we delivered the bike on Christmas day, Tralynn was so excited. Chris brought it in and before we got inside, Tralynn ran to the door and screamed, “A bike! A bike! Bike!” And I told him it was his bike. He couldn’t wait to jump on his bike, so much so that he began “riding” in the kitchen. Chris and I followed him and tried to teach him how to ride a bike. Tralynn was very excited and determined to learn that day. We took it slow, Chris and I coaching him through the correct foot positions and how to propel himself forward.

Within about 20 minutes, Tralynn had learned to turn one pedal and push himself forward on his bike a few feet. He couldn’t understand the perpetual motion of cycling.. just yet. But it was fun to teach him the basics. Chris was so gentle and patient with Tralynn, holding his feet, supporting him on the bike, telling him to “Walk on it” and that he had to “Use both feet.” Tralynn even learned to turn himself around. And a new phrase: “Move Chris!” I watched the two of them, learning together and really sharing a special moment. My godson and my boyfriend. My heart and my love.

This picture says so much. I loved seeing my boyfriend being so mentoring, so caring, and so great with my godson. At first, I wanted to make sure the two of us were going to make it before introducing him to someone so important to me. Kinda like a divorcee waiting the obligatory 8 months or whatever before introducing her new boyfriend to her kid. I didn’t want to be the type of person who paraded different men around a child like Tralynn (his mother does enough of that). But I’m so glad I found someone like Chris. Someone who seems to get along with my godson, because he’s very important to me.

The experience this picture captured is best Christmas present I could have ever asked for. And I’m so happy to have it.

.:~o*’Kaylyn’*o~:.

Final Countdown

Da da daaa
da da da da
da da daaaa
da da da da da da
da da daaa...

Okay, that part was ridiculously hard to transcribe. But seriously, it's final's week. And for me, that means final finals. Le gasp!

So, here I am, Kaylyn.. completing college in less than a week. Kaylyn, who can't remember how to do simple high school geometry for work. Kaylyn, who still can't spell despite over 10 years of schooling and (very) soon a degree in English. Kaylyn, who watched two hours of Regular Show and laughed her ass off like it was Frasier. The girl who bought the Victorious album and blasts it in her car. The girl who kicks ass in Just Dance.. even when she's playing a 5, 7, and 10 year old (no mercy!). Sigh.. yeah, that girl. She's about to be post-grad.

I suppose I thought I'd feel different. More accomplished. More deserving. More educated. But, in truth, I still feel like the same girl I was 5 years ago. I'm just not sure how to feel about that.

All I've ever wanted to do was write. Quite honestly, I haven't been doing much of that lately either.. but that's for another post. In order to write, I was told I had to go to college, continue my education. It wasn't an option. And because of that, I guess I suppose I thought ending it would feel.. better.

I mean, yes, college had offered me opportunities I wouldn't have otherwise. But in one year, I've managed to have two of the biggest accomplishes of my life. I've been to England. I've graduated college. The only thing left is to publish a book... Although I'm not holding my breath on that one.

When my sister got married, people asked how she felt afterwards. She said, "I dunno, I just thought I'd feel different. Taller, even. Or something." I didn't understand what she meant then, but now I think I do.

I'm just not ready to graduate college. I'm not even sure what it means to be ready for something like that.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Cheers?

I can't believe I'm actually here, in London. It's been the place of my dreams for a lifetime and now I'm here, writing from a British dorm room located in a "posh" area. It's strange, exciting, and a little intimidating all at once.

Now that I've realized the dream of a lifetime, what else is there to look forward to? I've held on to this goal for so long and now that I've achieved it, I don't know what's next for me. If there is anything... Perhaps I've reached my pinnacle moment, my peak, the highlight of my life. Maybe everything after this will be drab and boring; I'll live a quiet life somewhere in Louisiana and History will forget my name as I forget this trip. Who knows?

I'm not really sure how to feel at the moment. It's such a strange mixture of emotions. What I do know is this is not how I thought I'd be feeling...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Trouble

My first experiment in free verse. No rhyme, no meter, no musicality; very unlike my usual stuff, I know. So it's going be bumpy. At best.

----

I've been having these thoughts
awful
wrenching
haunting
unyielding thoughts.
I thought I could write them down
bind them together
tie them up
imprison them
silence them.
Instead
they rebounded
they redoubled
they regained momentum and pushed through the recesses I had forced them in to.
Angry, they came in full force
thoughts
thoughts
thoughts
images
images
words
behavior.
A smile, a glance, a look
Touch.
Smell.
Wanting.
Curiosity...

.:o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Note: I can't explain what it means to write out these feelings. Though they may seem random, the words have meaning. This piece means a lot to me. It's a very troubling subject. I can't explain it. So don't ask.

Crossroads

I'm not good at a lot of things: I'm lazy, apathetic, and flaky. I forget. A lot. Despite my current employment, I suck at math. Hard. (Thanks again, Rachel!) I'm uncoordinated. I stumble, run into things, fall down. I've even been told "I wouldn't call the way you move dancing." Though that last one may have been a compliment...

I like to call myself a writer but I haven't published anything or even completed a project that wasn't for a grade. And most of those have been close calls. Or late altogether. I don't even have the balls to submit anything for professional critique.

Still, I can't help but feeling like I'm capable of something more.

This morning, I was in the library and found myself looking at grad schools. Again. UNO to be exact. While glossing over the admission requirements, I felt a certain sense of excitement and temptation. But I also felt lost and overwhelmed. And a little guilty.

For so much of my life - in fact all of it, I've been told what to do; pointed in the right direction. I became secure with that. I daresay I'm dependently secure in it. Now, it seems like all those guiding forces have left me and I'm completely and utterly lost. Alone. Confused. I don't know what I should do. I don't know what I want.

What do I want?
What do I want?
What the fuck do I want?

Such a question...

Even if I knew what I wanted, I don't know how to get it. I'm not even sure I have the ability to get what I want. I've never had to make decisions before. Can I be trusted to plan my future? How will I know it's right? Is there a wrong way?

I've been bred as a creature of submission: Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Give me parameters, restrictions and I'll perform well. Very well. It's part of being a Virgo. It's part of being a younger sibling. It's part of being the daughter of a protective mother. It's who I am. It's all I know.

Just do what you want.

That would be sound advice, if only I knew what I wanted...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Come to bed, honey

I was sitting in class today, noming on some animal crackers, waiting for the teacher to start. Well, I guess I had my hands too close to my face because the next thing I know, I have my palms to my nose and inhaling deeply with the biggest smile on my face. My hands still smelled like Irish Spring. Which is the soap my boyfriend uses in his bathroom.

I love staying with him. One night is never enough. Before we went to sleep, I watched him come into the room through half open eyes, pulled back the blanket and smiled. "What is it?" he asked. I just kept smiling. "Why are you smiling like that?" I simply answered, "Come to bed, honey."

Those four words felt so good to say. Come to bed, honey. Hold me close while I feel the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest against my back. I want to feel your arms around me, keeping me safe. I want to feel your lips kiss me gently on the forehead before you whisper, "I love you, Kaylyn." (whether you know I'm asleep or not). I want to fall asleep in your grasp and wake up to your face. I want this tonight and every night. So, come to bed honey. Come, stay with me.

Simple moments like these really ground me in our relationship. What it is now and what I hope it will be. Whether I'm making eggs for him or picking out a new dress shirt and tie combination for an event we're attending or just simply asking him to come to bed... I realize this is our life. Together. And that makes me indescribably happy.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Statistics

I utterly respect Lyfe Jennings. He's one of the very few hip-hop/R&B male artists actually saying something with his lyrics and trying to better his target audience. He speaks about love--real love, practical love, tough love, lost love... He's just great. Some of his songs include: Must Be Nice, Hypothetically, Never Never Land, and S.E.X. (a personal favorite of mine). Seriously, check him out. His music is smooth, very easy to listen to.

Well, Lyfe has a new song. Statistics. This song is, for lack of a better word, scary. Here's a bit of the lyrics:

25% of all men are unstable
25% of all men can't be faithful
30% don't mean what they say
10% of the remaining 20% are gay
that leaves you with a 10% chance of ever finding your man.

15% of all men got a complex
15% don't practice safe sex
20% come from a home without a father
so you have a 50/50 chance of marrying a coward.

Now I don't know where Lyfe got his information from or if he's talking specifically about Black men, American men, or what. Still... 1 in 4 chance of infidelity? 1 in 2 chance of marrying a coward (which, he's really unclear as to what that could mean). Eep. And let's not even talk about the 15% of men practicing unsafe sex...

Just something to think about...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Inspired Inklings

You know, I had originally planned to frame this in a story. To mask my thoughts with quotes and narrative so that I could distance myself from this and its critique. But you know what? I'm tired of hiding. Part of being a writer (I think, at least) is knowing when to step back and write just for yourself sometimes. So here it is: a completely raw, honest look inside my head as I see it:

How do you know you're in love with a man?

You know you're in love with a man when you find yourself laying beside him, gently running your fingers through his hair watching as each strand folds under the pressure of your hand and springs back up again, poised and ready to be petted again; and you smile because you realize what a great head of hair he has and wishes he didn't cut it as often so you could appreciate moments like this all the time.

You know you're in love with a man when you begin to move your hand down to his face; carefully outlining his lips with your thumb, feeling the soft brush of his mouth against your finger and you sigh because you realize how gentle his kisses can be when placed upon your forehead, yet fiery and passionate when planted on your lips.

You know you're in love with a man your hand begins to turn and your palm scrapes against his chin and jawline; feeling the stubble he hasn't shaved yet because you surprised him by coming over so early (though you would have called ahead of time so he could properly prepare but you just wanted to see him so badly, you rushed right over without a second thought) and you realize he's perfect just as he is still in the t-shirt he wore yesterday and with bedhead.

You know you're in love with a man when he begins to stir from all your touches; when he smiles without opening his eyes and sighs, "Hey honey"; when he outstretches his arms to beckon you closer and you realize in his arms is exactly where you want to be.

You know you're in love with a man when you place yourself beside him so that your curves contour to his shape and he takes you in his arms and pulls you closer; and you realize your heart is beating faster.

You know you're in love with a man when he begins to slide his hands under your shirt, one over your bellybutton and the other rests on your chest, and you realize it doesn't matter whether you're sleeping in a big bed or on an old futon: this is the best position to fall asleep in.

You know you're in love with a man when you begin to drift to sleep yourself; when walls of the apartment fade away with each breath and you realize there is only one breath in the entire room: the two of you, together.

You know you're in love with a man when the rise and fall of his chest against your back in time with yours is like a gentle lullaby and the warm breath on your neck like a soft blanket enveloping you in security; and you realize this is how you wish to fall asleep every night for the rest of your life.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Kids Say the Darnest Things

Okay, so if you've talked to me in the past 2 months, you know I hate my job. Well, I guess I shouldn't say that. I can't complain about making $8.10 an hour, 6 hours a day, 5 days a week; never working past 6p; and having weekends and holidays off. But the children...!

I confess I do have a few favorites. Those are the ones that constantly remind me of the wide-eyed innocence of children, the carefree happiness that comes with no responsibility, and the stress-free outlook that accompanies not being able to think past age 12. I love those kids.

The problem is: There's only about 5 of them at daycare.

The others are selfish, temperamental, whiny, self-centered little bastards. Seriously. My coworker was approached by a crying little boy complaining about his classmate. "What's wrong?" she asked. The little boy sniffled and said, "Him won't play with me. Him said him not my friend." I looked over to see who the little boy was pointing to. The irritation seethed in my being. The crying boy was pointing at a kid I can only describe as a mini psychopath: All the crazy, half the size. I rolled my eyes and said, "Adam (that's the psychopath's name, Adam) is being a dick." Before this job, I would have never used that word to describe someone. Let alone a 9-year-old.

Still, the kids manage to teach me things. They open my eyes to how kids now see the world and what they're being taught by the media.

For example: There's this girl at daycare. Her name is Tatjana. We call her "Tot" for short; like Tater Tot. Tatjana is going to fifth grade. She's 10. And she's on a diet. One day while I was making my rounds about the lunch tables she shows me a picture of an outfit and says, "When I get skinny, I'm going to dress like this." Tatjana breaks my heart. Honestly, she does. She tells me things like, "This is part of my eating plan." It's part of her diet--which, according to her, is not just a diet but a "lifestyle". 10 year olds shouldn't have lifestyles! The saddest thing is Tatjana is not overweight by any means.

Then there's Emily. The funniest, liveliest, ...loudest girl at daycare. Emily's going to third grade. We were riding the bus on our way back from The Children's Museum and I was texting. When I was done, Emily caught a glimpse of my wallpaper. She looks at me and says, "Is that your boyfriend?" I told her yes. Instead of asking his name or how long we've been dating or even if I love him, Emily asks "Is he skinny?" I was floored. I asked her why she would ask me a question like that and she replies flatly, "Because skinny is better." If Emily were about 10 years older, I would have gave her some quippy response along the lines of Not if they're an ass. But Emily, being a kid, knows nothing about tact and says exactly what she thinks. All. The. Time. She's brutally honest, emphasis on brutal.

Another one is Isaac. Isaac is a little less favorable than Emily or Tot. He's a spoiled brat. Full meaning on both words. At daycare, we have a video game console. And the children each get a turn to play for a certain amount of time. They share and take turns. Now, while some of you may be following this concept perfectly, Isaac has a hard time grasping it. He wanted to play the game after Adam (Yes, mini-psycho Adam). I told him I'd come get him after Adam was finished playing. Well, Adam was playing with 2 other boys who got off the game before their turn was up. I told Isaac he could go play. He goes over to the game and refuses to play. I asked him what the problem was and he says, "I want to play the game!" I told him this was his chance. He starts to get upset saying he wanted to be first player. I explained to him that Adam was still playing but if he wanted to play (like he asked to), now was his chance. He starts huffing and puffing and getting angry saying, "But I want to be first player!I never get to be first player! I never get anything I want!" Because Silverstone doesn't run on vegetable oil, I use all my strength not to hit this little boy. I told him very calmly that I'm giving him exactly what he asked for: to play the game. Isaac storms off and starts crying angrily. He screams he hates daycare, wants to go home and never come back. If only I could have gotten that in writing...

These kids have taught me so much this summer. I feel I have a better understanding of the next generation. And I'm pretty scared.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Unexpected Inspiration

I was unexpectedly hit by a bit of inspiration in a very unlikely place: While watching So You Think You Can Dance. While the context of this quote is unimportant (and would require entirely too much explanation for those not familiar with the show), the quote stuck with me. Nigel Lythgoe, one of the judges and executive producer, said to one of the dancers: "Sometimes we forget to dance because we let the steps get in the way."

This stood out to me because it spoke to me. Sometimes we forget to just dance because we let the "steps" get in the way. The way we were taught to do things. They way we think they're supposed to be done. The so-called correct way. I've dragged some of my more reserved friends to clubs many times and they tend to echo the same sentiment, "Oh, I'm not sure I can do this. I can't dance like that." But dance, much like life, is not about the method. So often we are caught up in how we're being perceived that we forget how we are being presented. When I'm out on the dance floor, I just ride the music and forget everything. I forget how I'm being perceived and what's presented is confidence. And a little bit of sexy on a good night.

Lately I've been battling a lot of combating thoughts and trying to balance a lot of mixed emotions. I've been trying to learn the steps. Learn the right way to handle this situation I find myself in. Tonight I realized that I just need to dance. To live. To follow my instinct and just feel it.

Here I go...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Stroke of brilliance..?

So I've just been hit by possible inspiration. I dunno. But I'm typing very fast to get this down. and I'm putting it here because a) I want to find it and B) I want to put something less depressing up.

Okay. So. My new(est) idea is this: Orphanarium.

What happens to abandoned ideas? Books that are never completed? Songs that are never sung? Paintings never finished? ...They go to the Orphanarium.

The Orphanarium is a place like no other: Where it's inhabitants are characters from stories that haven't been fully developed; it's walls are covered with incomplete art; over the loud speakers plays bits of music that haven't been finished.

But what happens when the Orphanarium's newest residents begin to make their own lives? Complete their own stories...

Awesome right?

Ironically, this idea will metaphorically end up at the Orphanarium. Haha.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

[i'm]perfection

There's no such thing as a perfect human. There couldn't be even if I believed in such things. "Perfect human" is a definition oxymoron. (As is "normal human" but that's another discussion)

All of us are the sum of our actions. Think about it. When your friend mentions someone, what's the first thing your mind goes to? "Oh, so-and-so? Is the one who did that small, insignificant thing that one time?" Yeah. Case and point.

I guess I've been wondering lately if people change. Do I believe people can change? Can I? Have I? If I did something once, what's the possibility of me doing it again? Even if the thing was a horrible deed that I would never want to do again... What distinguishes between mistake and habit? How do I know if it was a one-time thing or the beginning of a pattern?

I'm scared. I used to not trust other people. Now I'm not sure if I trust myself. If I can be trusted. If should be trusted. I don't think I want to keep another man's heart only to break it. I don't want to cause anymore pain.

We're supposed to learn from our mistakes. What have I learned? Did I even give myself time to learn? Sit back and look at my choices... I'm trying to put everything in order much too late, I think.

One day I'll have the answer to all these questions.

One thing's for sure though: I can't do this anymore.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Unfinished Business

I want to complete something. Anything. Just take a story through a complete arc with an exposition, climax, and resolution. Just to present a character and have my reader(s) follow them through their journey, discovering more about that character with each step. Is that so hard to ask?!!

Well, considering the author, yes.

I've never finished any story. Ever. Oh sure, I've started a few... but they never really close. Sure, I have some ultra short, 2-3 pagers that I've completed but that's more of a newer thing.

I never finish anything. I know this. After 19 years, I should know this. But it's not for lack of wanting. I just... don't. Could it be some inner insecurities about having my writing judged so I protect myself by never finishing, shielding everything from the public eye? Or maybe I'm just a future suit-wearing, pencil-pusher who naively believed through her teenage and young adult years that she was creative or special in any way. I dunno.

I also don't know why I keep setting myself up for failure. NaNo. Script Frenzy (which page's count is currently 0/100 with 18 days to go). Collaborations with friends. Gaia.

Fail after fail after fail... And yet I keep writing.

Maybe I'm just impatient. Maybe I just haven't given myself enough time. Or, rather, devoted enough time to one project. I always get distracted or intrigued by a new idea and abandon a project I've labored over for weeks for a shiny new one. I get distracted very easily. Rome wasn't built in a day. Some novels take years to complete. And that's with writing everyday!

I must be crazy. But, hey, aren't the most interesting writers always?

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

3 Small Words, 1 Big Difference

A very good friend of mine once wrote that love is "indescribable trust." And when I first read these words I don't think I knew what he meant by that. But an experience this weekend made me realize he's right.

My boyfriend and I were watching an episode of Nip/Tuck and I was having trouble focusing. My thoughts made it difficult to concentrate on.. well, anything really. When he asked me if I was alright, I of course said yes. He said it seemed like something was wrong. I apologized and we went back to watching. Well, he did. I looked over and noticed he was looking at me. "What?" I asked. He said something just didn't seem right, I seemed distant. After about the fourth round of this back-and-forth questioning, I finally told him what was bothering me. I should have known better than to try to hide something from him.

When I confessed, I broke into uncontrollable crying because my thoughts were so deep and scary. He gathered me into his arms and let me cry on his shoulder, touching me gently and softly whispering it's okay. When I calmed down enough to speak, we talked about everything I was thinking and feeling. He put me at ease, letting me know my thoughts weren't unwarranted, but that I had nothing to worry about. He told me he loved me. And love him for that and so much more.

What I realized from that moment was that I can trust him with even my darkest insecurities. And that's an amazing feeling, to know you can be so open and honest with someone and know you won't be met with opposition or ridicule for being foolish or not trusting in them. Or yourself. It took me months to realize this, but I now know I fully trust him. I love him. And he loves me.

I think I had a problem with this in the past. I loved someone, but I didn't trust him. I didn't feel I could tell him what I was truly feeling; my insecurities about myself or the relationship. And ultimately that was our downfall. Now I know you can't have love without trust. Not real, deep, true love. And I'm so sorry I had to hurt someone before I could figure this out.

The Bible says:

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. 1 John 4:18

And I realize that I've been punishing myself for about 10 months now, afraid to trust anyone but Rachel with my concerns and insecurities.

Finally, I'm ready to stop doing that. I'm ready to trust completely, indescribably. I'm ready to have a perfect love. Even though I don't believe in the word perfect, I'm willing to try.

And I hope you're ready and willing to try with me.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Of Windows and Mirros

So, my 11:30a class got canceled today. And I have a bit of time before my 12:30p class. 7 mins to be exact. But, anyway, after a conversation with my sister, I have these thoughts I wanna put down for now and I'll clean this up later.

Basically, I told my sister the events of this past weekend. My godson's 2nd birthday. Some dude named Andre. My boyfriend cheating on me. The whole thing.

Her response wasn't what I expected. Or, rather, not what I wanted. Instead of shock and disappointment, she responded with general curiosity and seemed to enjoy playing the role of Devil's advocate. Or, I guess, in this case, Nikki's advocate. She said, "Well, I mean it's not really my place to tell you who to be with and whatever... but I guess where she was coming from is kinda what everyone was thinking when you brought Chris home. You know? People see you and then they see him. But, you know, they don't see what you see in him." (or something to the effect of that)

And this kinda struck me because, well-- for one, she's right. I don't see why anyone can't see what I see in him. And I don't understand why. He's sweet, charming, funny, creative, imaginative, and, oh, those eyes... But why is it that no one else seems to see this? According to my sister, they see older. Period. And, she says, he never really seems to be as great as I make him. She says, he's a bit boring when she meets him. And quiet. I try to explain that he's usually tired from working or I've woken him up early to come hang out in the day.. but she doesn't get it.

So, I guess my question/thought is: If the eyes are the windows to the soul, can they also function as mirrors? Can we get a reflection of someone just by looking at them or a reflection of ourselves in someone else's eyes?

Case and point: When I look into my boyfriend's eyes, I see him. I see me. I see love. I see a me that he imagines. The me he loves. But I don't know if I necessarily live up to that in anyone else's eyes...

I dunno. This is very messy and I will clean it up later because it's 12:32p and I have to go now. I just needed to get this down.

A Bit of Perspective

It is appalling to me how little the American audience has advanced. I know not everyone has the same ideals, beliefs, etc.. Still, I would think that here in the "Melting Pot," we would learn to accept (or at least respect) other lifestyles. And it really irks me to be wrong in this aspect.

This is what I'm talking about:

Today, I went to see Valentine's Day with one of my closest, dearest friends. Cute movie. I had tears. Twice.

****SPOILER ALERT*****

Anyway, there's a part in the movie when the newly-outted sports athlete is met by his lover who, for most of the movie, seems to be hitting on Julia Roberts. The twisting reveal that Bradley Cooper's character is gay has little time to settle before a heart-warming gesture between him and his star athlete boyfriend takes place. Lover. Man. Person. I dunno, it's not clear exactly how serious their relationship is. Still.

While this is a very sweet moment in the movie (I think), the rest of the theater did not seem to agree. Mel and I clutched each tightly, waiting for them to kiss. The rest of the audience began to groan and audibly express their disapproval . "Ughh... no! Uh, man! Yuccck. Gross."

And it really bothers me that a man can play a philandering adulterer and get more approval than a faithful, loyal boyfriend---even if he's boyfriend to another man.

Ahhhh. It just kinda agitates me.

Yeah. So that's my schpeal. I probably would have more if someone were to ask me about this in person.

Thoughts? Comments? Agree? Disagree? ..Anything?

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Ghost of Lovers Past

There are certain things I should know by now. There are certain things I just shouldn't do. I should just know better by now.

And yet, I find myself chasing ghosts of the past for some sort of closure. And the funny thing is, I don't know if I'm after these spirits, these memories, this person to help them move on... or myself.

I hate this power you have over me. I hate this thing--whatever it's called--between us. I hate that I can't forget you. I hate that I don't want to.

I love him.
I love us.
I love now.

Begone spirit. Haunt me no longer!

I beg of you.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.