I don’t believe in new years resolutions, I think that the time to change is when you recognize a need for change and as someone who goes to the gym regularly I’ve been aware of the spike in activity that hits hard in January then completely disappears by mid February. When it comes to change I feel I’m getting older and find big events like the changing of the year a good time to reflect on what goals to set aside for the new year.

Goal #1 - Get a job.  This goal is self explanitory, struggling by is bad for the soul, and it’s good to have a job simply for that added reason to go to bed on time, and put on pants in the morning.   I also want more than I can afford and I get paid far better when I’m working than when I’m not.

Goal #2 - Get out of Salem.  Oregon is nice, and if I find work here I’ll work here. (I’ll work at the gates of Hades if I get a job there, I’m honestly that easy) I’d really like to get away from this location and start fresh somewhere (anywhere) else.

Goal #3 - Keep working out.  My gym membership runs out this week, watching that date come is a little depressing, but as I’m able I expect to keep bodybuilding.  It’s tragic that I have only recently learned everything I need to know about getting the kind of body I’ve always wanted.  I wish I’d started twelve years ago.  But I’ll start now and catch up fast.

Goal #4 - Work towards the five year plan.  I have a five year plan to be completely out of debt; I took a look at finances and added up my monthly debt expenses and determined that if I paid off my student loans and the car payment I could live on significantly less and have so much more disposable income.  This is another of those lessons I wish I’d known about when I was eighteen.

What are your goals for the new year?

Recently I watched a Knights Tale, a story of a commoner who believes he can change his stars and become this noble knight despite his non-noble lineage.  At one point in the story he and his friends write a love letter.  One line from the love letter caught me, and it’s what I based this little love story on.  The line “I miss you like the sun misses the flower in the depths of winter.”

Below is an adjusted version of the letter from the movie:

It is strange to think, I have not seen you in a month.
I have seen the new moon, but not you.
I have seen sunsets and sunrises, but nothing of your beautiful face.
The pieces of my broken heart can pass through the eye of a needle.
I miss you like the sun misses the flower.
Like the sun misses the flower in the depths of winter.
Instead of beauty to direct its light to, the heart hardens like the frozen world your absence has sent me to.
Hope guides me. It gets me through the day and especially the night. The hope that after you leave my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you.
With all the love that I possess…I remain yours…

I intend on re-visiting this topic, there’s a bedtime story about the sun and the flower that I’d like to explore in more detail and give it the effort it deserves.

It’s quiet, I look at the living room, cookies spread on the special Santa plate and spinach leaves for the reindeer.  A cup of eggnog waits on the piano bench near the tree for the white whiskers that will surely drink it later this evening.  This is a time of reflection, to share with the world what you’ve been doing with your year.  I’ll start.

From the Ghost of Christmas Past I’ve seen a year full of ups and downs, the ups are fun, and the downs add flavor to it, not all flavors are good, but a world without ups and downs might not be as enjoyable.  The year started strong, but while work was busy, the routine was exhausting.  I love the work I do, but part of me is desperately fearful of finding my groove and turning into an old man who takes his lot and finds contentment in that.

Summer came and went, with it the wind spun across our landscape, things change as they always do, but this time I cannot blind myself to the changes.  I have two children in school now, and my youngest runs… her eyes focused on the horizon it’s hard to keep up with her, and exciting to watch her move oblivious to a world where “limits” exist.  I’ve never seen such intelligence, and it’s exciting to be a part of it.  The boys and girls are smart, and growing.  My oldest surprises me almost daily now by saying something with real thought power behind it.  I don’t want to sound like I have ignored my children for their whole growing up experience up to now, but they haven’t always been the most fun to hold an engaging conversation with, and now that my son has reached a level where he can, I take joy in that.

My Wife keeps on keeping on.  We had the occasion to spend nearly every recreational hour watching the television show “Angel” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” since August.  It’s funny how a series that never merited our attention suddenly occupied so much of our time.  I wept tears of joy when the last episode ended, suddenly able to find time my own again, it was a beautiful thing that I still haven’t fully adapted to.  In a time where vampires are so popular it was wonderful to find a vampire series that stuck to the core fundamentals of the lore.  I did find that in Joss Whedon’s vampire lore the nightmares glowed in the sunlight there too… but only as long as it took for the flames to consume them.  One of the most valuable and unexpected lessons we were able to take from Angel is that when things are dark and you don’t see the end, just keep on keeping on.

I’m surviving.  I found a well of strength, friends provide comfort against the darkness, and family helps me balance the boat.  Going through the tough times makes you appreciate the dawn when you see it and the few times that I’ve seen it have been inspiration enough to keep my heart beating.
From the ghost of Christmas Present I have to admit that things are what they are; I long for the hope of tomorrow, and I try not to let the past trip me up, I let it inspire me as I take each step as it comes.  I trudge, I carry my weight and move forward one foot in front of another.  I’m inspired by ways to look for work, I’m eager for that horizon showing me the next step and I don’t fear to take it.

I’m in a state of pain, I want more than I have, and I have so many wants.  The pain doesn’t entirely come from what I don’t have though; a lot of it comes from my new inspiration leading me to work out with fervor that I have never approached the exercise with in the past.  I have an amazing friend who for my birthday got me a gift certificate to bodybuilder.com I used it wisely to pick up the most exquisite quality supplements.  With every work out I see immediate results. (Not steroids, just creatine) I feel very much like the hero in the movies who just now discovers his hidden potential.  I’m guilty of spending more time in front of the mirror than I should, but I feel fantastic!  Furthermore my limits have been removed; I can lift heavier weight for longer periods of time.  I leave the gym more pumped than I’ve ever felt.  I highly recommend body building if you’re bored and need a hobby.

The ghost of Christmas Future is a friend of mine, we spend a lot of time talking about the “who’s” and “what ifs” of tomorrow.  I love having a future, having freedom and potential and possibility.  One of my favorite things in this life is that we have a choice and the freedom to make that choice come true.  In the next year I want to continue working out, if I can maintain this kind of pace for a year the end results will be the body of a 23 year old, and physical abilities I’ve never fully enjoyed before.

It’s not all about my vain ambition to be sculpted; it’s a lot about that, but not all about it.  This next year opens with a bright new tomorrow.  The holiday season is a nightmarish time to look for work, and once it’s done I anticipate using the stored energy I horde from each work out so that when the gates open I’ll be able to hit the track with a burst of spirit, speed and inspiration never heretofore experienced.  As much as I hate the idea of settling down, there are people I care about who need me to wear the harness, and it’s something I keep in mind as I do my search.  I will find something that’ll give us the security for the time being that we need.  I have a five year plan that involves a lot of patience and simply pulling the plow.

I’m hoping for you the very best this year with all my heart.

I think I hear reindeer.

A Wal-Mart Christmas is gauche - I see lawn displays that are made to simply plug in and it will automatically and “magically” bring the Christmas spirit to your home or yard.  At first when I saw these oversized lawn ornaments I thought “how clever” but now about three years later they are the instant do it yourself solution to putting real thought or effort into a holiday display.  Every year I look at the Christmas lights I could hang around the outsides of the home and I stop at the place where effort meets intention, but this newest trend makes me cringe as China sings out with a unified voice “Americans are fat, and lazy, and will buy anything!” and while I look at it pains me to find my heart of hearts agreeing and I fight not against holiday cheer, but against the inevitable holiday tear. (hehe, I’m clever with my rhyme)

Christmas Songs aren’t required to be good – It may have always been this way, but my memory of the holiday as a child is painted with silver bells, jingle bells, and silent nights.  I was once told that you know when an artist is at the end of their career because they start making Christmas music.  I believe that as I wildly flip through the channels on the radio before pulling out my favorites from the ipod.  I do believe that the meaning of the song is important, but like a work of art, if you cannot recognize it when you’re done, then it only has value to the artist.

Snow is amusing – This last week has been a white one, I’m from the great white north, but here snow is a novelty and it provides me with hours of entertainment watching other people drive on the streets; or going to the store only to find that it’s mostly abandoned by those hunkering away from the quarter inch of white stuff.  I do not complain about the snow though, it makes this place look new, fresh, and totally unrecognizable.  The wandering spirit inside of me takes heart and breathes easier.

Fire is cozy – I am so grateful for the winter weather, there are few crafted memories to equal sitting with my feet near the fire while the tree glows against the window, and though I sit in silence I am neither bored, nor discontent.  It’s for moments like these that this truly is the best time of year.

Snow - Snow can stop Church.  What a relaxing Sunday!

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.”

But soft – Through the darkness the light breaks through, not so bright as to cause my maladjusted eyes pain, but soft and beaconing. 

The light… unexpected, I don’t imagine Romeo was out for a peep, so it was a pleasant surprise to see that this light from yonder window was the very person whom he was pining for. 

These are the words that come to my mind first whenever I want to be romantic.  I roll them over with my tongue like a wine taster exploring an exquisite selection.  They bounce around the confines of my mind searching for meaning and truth.  My first major exposure to this sad love story was through the 1968 movie.  I wonder if when writing this story Shakespeare grinned knowing that in the end he’d kill the two lovers so.  Romeo with his poison, then Juliette in mourning with her dagger it makes me want to call out to Romeo “Just hang on!”

“For never was a story of more woe,  than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

I’m not sure what’s inspired this though… I had a dream the other night I was singing on a stage the featured song from the 1968 movie and halfway through I forgot the words.

 —  —  — 

So much snow looking out the window, there’s a sense of beauty and wonder that comes from a world clothed in white.

The migraine is a symbol of pain, agony so deep that the weight of is oppressive, it stifles breath, crushes hope, and worst of all it takes my imagination and punishes every thought.  A pain beyond description filters through me and my every daydream is fragmented and repeating. 

When pain overwhelms me and the next step seems too steep I find my comfort under the pouring water of a hot shower.  Music is silent, a guide for my scattered thoughts to find each other.  The heat is healing, and one by one I organize myself, forcing a label to my thoughts until one is followed by two and then shortly after three.  It’s almost amusing how chaos has a way of destroying order and leaving only pain in its wake.

The spray of water is calming, I feel my shoulders release, the weight on my chest doesn’t go away but the surety that this will pass does.  Sighing helps me breathe; crying helps me filter out the pain.  The music is dim; the only light is candlelight, a muted guide that pulls me onward.  I am filled with the sound of running water which tried to occupy the empty space that burns from the vacuum left behind by the tortured energies consumed by the migraine.

When at last I crawl under the covers, the bed welcomes me, I feel the weight with every stuttering breath, darkness welcomes me and I find that as my mind escapes the burden is lightened.

 — -

It’s hard to explain… but I’m back and expect to write more.

Welcome to the Sunday Mangled Poem.  A mangled poem is a poem that started out with the best of intentions but somewhere along the line it was derailed, the rhyme breaks, the rhythm is destroyed, or the author simply not blessed with the capability of pulling off their noble intentions.  Mangled poetry is a celebration of all published poems and songs that at some point during their recital cause a nerve in your brain to twitch and a tear to come to your eye… but not a tear of joy.

This week’s mangled poem is based on a celebration of the holiday season and some of the songs we sing so lovingly through the years.  Just as “Jingle Bells Batman Smells” stole our hearts, so may our mangled poems this week take us back to our days of yore, and to make it even more difficult I hope to do it all without rhyming “cart”.  I believe everyone has had a song that catches their attention but the words never do.  We sing it to ourselves and make up our own rhymes, they are not always good, and when trying to amuse children they can be even worse.
Candle Light

Everyday I think of you
Our romance a state of grace
I think of how I have some kids
And then I think of poo
Even as they grow there is a trace
Of smelling landing skids
I couldn’t have made it more mangled.  Please share with me your favorite inappropriate rhyme.  It’s the holiday season, do you have a version of Batman smells you can share with us?

A Holiday Rant

Facing the Holiday season I feel less like celebrating this year than in many years in the past.  I look at putting up the christmas tree so I can take it down in a couple of weeks.  I look at parties I’d rather not go to and songs I’d rather not listen to.  I have noticed that a lot of times when songs “come from the heart” they no longer have to exhibit talent. 

I think the hardest thing this year is that I’m in the same house I was in last year… for a gypsy this is difficult, that and I’m noticing the darkness more than I ever have in the past.  I know it’s almost 4pm when the sun goes down.

This is not a trend, just a rant; I’ll post something glowy and bright with lots of lights and trimming later.

The light in the cavern reflected from a lamp placed on a table near the entrance.  Because of the texture of the walls that white light covered almost the entire space.  In this cave there was a sense of quiet and of peace.  When I held still the silence rang through my ears like distant angry banshee, my mind honing in on the sounds all around me, I heard the beating of my heart, the natural ringing in my ears, and my slow reverent breathing.

Stepping towards the edge of the light I looked at the ancient stone carving, on the left and right banisters were carved into the rock wall leading towards a stairway about fifteen feet wide.  The ceiling curved down with the stairs but at ten feet in height it still defied the claustrophobic feeling that sometimes comes with being under the earth.  The ceiling area was carved to represent clouds and I saw where the sun had been placed in what looked like a morning position.  The hand rails were carved to be serpentine, long scaled dragons offering their backs for the traveler to lean on.  What looked like a dragons treasure was carved behind the serpentine rail.  The ground lacked significant carving, the symbol for eternity wove a continual linking pattern from the top of the stairs and disappearing in the darkness halfway down.

I took a steady breath, let the cool wet of the cave settle into me and took my first step.  I felt my fear leave me.  I glanced over my shoulder in wonder and saw a ghostlike copy of myself, a shadow that embodied all of my fear.  I took another step and felt another part of myself stay behind.  I suddenly felt calm as I never had before, the ghost over my shoulder was glaring and angry, what made him mad I thought I might be able to understand if I thought about it more, but I was smiling too big to worry about that.  Another step and I felt doubt stay behind, with another angst stood behind me, he looked towards where the first two shadows were fading out. 

More steps before me, with the next one I felt a rush of energy as though possessed by life itself, vitality surged through my body and the look on my face must have shown with total bewilderment.  I saw a shadow in front of me, I stepped forward and felt excitement about the future, I had walked right into hope and it came as another surprise.  The treasure sculpture behind the dragon reflected images related to each step, these were faded and I didn’t let myself get distracted.  The ground made a scratching noise, with this step I felt joyous, happiness swelled in my heart like a wave, tears began to flow down my face and I had to hold onto the arm rail to keep moving.

My hand felt the scales and it could have been imagination but I felt it move me towards the last few steps.  Each step brought more tears to my eyes as comfort crashed into me, peace, tranquility, and acceptance.  As I took the last step I was in a room that echoed luxury and a world of harmony.  The walls intricately carved and the floor carpeted in a tapestry that felt older than time but shimmered with new life.  The feeling of being underground was gone, the sculpted ceiling reflected blue skies and light white clouds, a sun that felt warm despite all logic stating to the contrary.

I looked around, and then caught my breath.  There she was, I had told her I’d meet her at the bottom of the stairs, but I had forgotten that promise; and now I was complete.  Her white gown drifted with her movement as she took my hand and the room shone like the surface of the sun.

This week’s mangled poem is based on the idea that everything should rhyme, no matter what.  I’ve done poems like this where the entire poem is built around a rhyme scheme and words are included that might not fit with the original intent.  While this poem style is along the same lines, “they” have taken it and made it so much worse.  This poem will rhyme no matter what ‘even if I have to make up words to do it.’

Making it

I’m squeezing out a coin
I’m making it roin
Finding it irregular
Making it terrangular
I hate to think I’ll flounder
Making it making it counder

Believe it or not, making up words in poetry can be kind of tough.  It goes against my instincts, but some people do it very naturally.  Please give it a try and share with me.