Friday, December 19, 2008

A Penny for Your Thoughts...A Thousand for Your Soul

I was walking down the street the other day and saw a penny on the ground. The face was looking skyward, so I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I heard you are supposed to pick up pennies if they are face up so that you can have good luck. I’m not exactly superstitious, but there’s no point in taking chances. I didn’t notice the guy across the street. I was on my way to visit a friend I have known since second grade. She had moved to an apartment in this neighborhood about three months ago, but this was the first time I could finally come by. I was unfamiliar with the area, so I stopped to pull out a piece of paper from my pocket, the pocket without the penny. I already knew the address by heart, but I checked it again anyway for the hundredth time. I can be compulsive that way. I looked up to check the number on the building, and, for some reason, I turned around to look across the street, even though I knew I was on the correct side. That was when I noticed the guy.

He was standing on the sidewalk, and he was wearing a brown bomber jacket and a rabbit fur hat with ear flaps. He had his hands in his pockets. It looked like he was staring right at me, but I’m not conceited enough to actually think I was the center of his attention. He was also wearing sunglasses, even though it was the cloudiest day in recorded weather history, although I’m not sure if the weather people actually record cloudiness. I couldn’t really tell if I might possibly know or even vaguely recognize him. Not to be a profiler or anything, but he looked like a serial killer or a terrorist or maybe just a creepy guy who likes to stand on street corners. I started walking again towards my friend’s apartment, and I allowed the strange man to slip from my thoughts.

I finally reached the right building, and I looked up at the tall brick structure. It looked like all the others I had just passed. My friend was on the second floor, number 202. Don’t ask me why, but instead of entering the building, I glanced across the street. The bomber jacket guy was there! He was staring at me. I know it was me this time because I was the only person on this side of the street. Should I be scared? Who was this guy? Why was he wearing a jacket and a fur hat in the middle of summer? My stomach decided to move north into my throat, and my bowels threatened anarchy. It was a good thing I had reached my friend’s building. I had never been stalked before, so I didn’t really know the correct protocol in handling the situation. I suppose I could have screamed and flagged down a car, but I think I would have come across as a paranoid girl with too much time on her hands. I decided to do the next best thing: I turned my back on the guy. Denial isn’t so bad. If there had been a pile of sand nearby, I would have stuck my head in it.

I yanked open the main door of my friend’s building and sprinted up the stairs. I quickly located number 202 and pounded on the door with both fists. My friend cracked the door open just enough to peek out. She had a startled expression because I had not stopped pounding the whole time. I pushed open the door and slammed it shut behind me. I told her there was a creepy guy following me and that he was across the street. We both raced to the front window to see if he was still there. He wasn’t! It was nothing after all. Boy, did I feel silly. I breathed a sigh of relief and we turned around.

The guy was standing in my friend’s apartment wearing his brown bomber jacket and rabbit fur hat with ear flaps. He still had his hands in his pockets. My feet took root in the carpet, my tongue made its way to the roof of my mouth and stayed there, and my ears started ringing. My vision blurred, and everything looked like a freshly painted water color with too much water. The room was slowly melting into the floor. I was pretty sure I was going crazy, but there was no doctor around to confirm my suspicion. I guess I could still be asleep and was just having a really bad nightmare. Or this could mean I was dying and life as I knew it was finished. Or maybe I just ate too much cheese last night and this was the result. All I knew for sure was that even though I could no longer feel my body, I was positive I had just peed my pants.

***

I couldn’t tell how much time had passed, a minute maybe or a year, but coherent thought finally returned, my vision cleared, and the ringing in my ears faded to a not-so-unpleasant melody. I was relieved to notice my pants were dry. I was sitting on a couch and holding a sandwich: ham and swiss on whole wheat. There were two bites missing. I was sort of sure I wasn’t responsible because I didn’t have that lingering sandwich taste in my mouth. I could hear my friend talking in another room, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. As I finished analyzing the sandwich, I noticed the coffee table in front of me. I saw about fourteen open jars filled to the brim with pennies. The jars were lined up in rows like coppery soldiers. Their penny smell wafted up to my nose, and my upper lip curled up in disgust at the brassy odor; they smelled like blood. I suddenly tasted ham in the back of my throat, which meant I really had taken those two bites of the sandwich, and those two bites were clamoring to get out. I swallowed really hard, and I tossed the sandwich across the room. The bread fell away, but the ham and swiss kept going until they hit the wall. I could tell my friend was coming back because her voice was getting louder. “You wanted a Bloody Mary, right?”

I looked up at her, and I noticed she was wearing a brown bomber jacket and a rabbit fur hat with ear flaps.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
~ by Christopher Marlowe

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountains yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair linèd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

*******************************
Ken,
I promise you the moon, but I can only deliver myself. I want to give you nature, but I can only give you art. I wish to stop time and capture the moment, but change surrounds us always, and the future beckons. Forgive my clumsiness and ignorance as I strive to care for you. God has entrusted you to me, and I beg you to accept the only thing I have to give:
love

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Weathered Wood Upon My Rooftop

Unrestrained weather attracts and repels me.
I have an outrageous desire to know the weather personally, but if that should happen, I would pray for deliverance and forgiveness. I would pray for the sunny weather that is safe and free from peril.
Thunder, lightning, sleet, snow, hail, vigorous wind, torrential rain.
I am afraid of it all, yet I tingle at the thought of the violence, the unpredictability, and the frenzy.
I am never more alive, nor more afraid, than when the weather mocks me.
The weather mocks my sense of order and routine, my tenuous grasp on a security that does not exist and never will.
The weather breathes on my neck, whispers in my ear, thrusts me into the maelstrom, and whips my brown eyes into chocolate milk. It lures me to the window to run my fingers along the quivering glass...and wait...and expect . . . and tremble in anticipation.

I close my eyes.

2009

So the new year is looming . . . 2009. I'm ready and I'm not ready. I'm excited about grad school and going back into the classroom, but I'm also nervous because it will be hard. I'm hoping I'm up to the challenge, but . . .

Another thing that must happen in 2009 is a job! I really need to find a job. I must rescue Ken from that stupid place that has stolen so much from him over these past 20+ years. It's time I lived up to the promise I made to him a few years ago. I will find a good job so he can retire. But I'm afraid. I don't want to sit at a desk eight to ten hours a day, every day. I've done that--a lot. I want something more, but I don't know what. I guess I wouldn't mind the cubicle if it didn't come with all the corporate baggage. I still want to edit, but I'm not sure I'm ready for the path that would take me there.

I'm at sixes and sevens, and I am not sure how to right everything!

Perhaps I should give it to God. He has never abandoned me! Everything is possible through Him--I know this very well. Maybe I'm not listening, or maybe I don't like what I hear. I'm sure I don't know, but I will put my trust in Him. I will greet 2009 with an open heart, and I will be ready for whatever God has in store for me :-)

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Blandishment (Sonnet #2)

A smile, a secret, a compliment to share;
I do not fear because my heart is mine.
I'm lovely you say--my lips, my eyes, my hair;
Laughter escapes because your lust is why
You talk and dream of what you cannot have.
I walk the cobbled streets and long for home.
Flattery is why a kiss I gave--
Say goodbye and ride away alone.
What I have is all I'm living for!
My lfe is here not there, and so I know
My heart is full, there is no room for more--
I cannot chance to let my true love go.
I must say I'm happy that I'm here,
But your words will be forever dear.

~ RC Jones 2008

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Brave Love (Sonnet #1)

A delight to warm my hardened heart has come!
You play and love and show to me in time
How I cannot allow the world to shun;
It must be fate because your traits are mine.
Flee my love and hide your silken face
From those who chance to see your fear let go.
It is but I who knows your qualm; I chase
Your trembling core concealed beneath your coat.
A burden rains down and changes you in and out!
I deny the truth and leave you all alone
To cope and cower behind your soulful pout.
I try too late to save my friend, mine own.
I miss your heart and beg you to forgive;
My love for you grows every day I live.

~ RC Jones 2008

Monday, December 1, 2008

Catching the Train

When you read the choppy sentences, can you feel the choppy movement of the train? Amtrak is not the Eurostar!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
All Aboard!

Traveling on Amtrak--The Texas Eagle--is an adventure. The 29-hour ride from Texas to Illinois is long, silly, and fabulous. If only the bathrooms could be cleaner. Did someone say adventure?

Ahhh! the thrill of boarding the train and settling into the roomette. Checking out all the gadgets. Figuring out how the door works--and not getting too worried when you can't get it open again. It will open--you don't have to spend the next 29 hours stuck in your room. Looking at each other and laughing. Turning on the lights and off again. Adjusting the seats. Closing and opening the curtains. Folding down the table. Feeling adventurous and childish - what's wrong with that?

The train starts to move promptly at 7:00am. "Who wants to ride backwards?" The smallest one easily gives in. The smallest one also gets to sleep in the upper bunk later tonight. That's okay, you're not scared. It has a harness so you won't fall out. Breakfast in the room because the dining car doesn't open until after Austin when the dining crew comes aboard. You're too excited to eat, but Ken isn't.

Walking through a moving train: Walk with your feet wide apart--"like John Wayne" you tell Ken. Walk fast before you can bang into the wall, or worse. Standing in the room to check through the overnight bag for reading material while the train is flying down the track is an adventure all by itself. If you weigh seven stone, you will probably lose your balance. Ken will catch you. Ken will hold on until you can sit down again.

There are two buttons to open the doors between cars. Kick the bottom one with your foot, especially if you are carrying an orange juice and coffee. Don't dwell on the floors between the cars. It's normal that they move up and down and side to side. Kick the button and move on.

"Shall we check out the sightseer car?"
Find a seat and look out the window. Go downstairs and peruse the snacks in the lounge. Return to your seat and admire the scenery. Is that another discarded tire? Was that an abandoned hot tub next to the tracks? Wave to the people who are waiting in their automobiles behind the red and white striped bar, clanging bell, and flashing lights. Who else is in this car doing what you are doing? People watch. You know they are watching you. Everyone is in this together.

Eating in the dining car means you will probably have others sit at the same table. It's fun to meet new people. Everyone has a story and something to contribute, even you. The menu isn't too bad. "Where are you from?" Where are you going?" "Have you ridden Amtrak before?" "No, but we have ridden the trains in Europe. "



Night.
Catch 40 winks. The train stops throughout the night to greet new passengers and say 'so long' to those who detrain. You don't know or care because you are dancing with the sandman. Or maybe it's only the swaying of the train. Either way, you are in full swing.
Night Night God Bless.


Never underestimate the concept of the sleeper on such a long journey. Everyone should experience the art of sleeping on a train, especially in the top bunk. A net for those necessary items you might need during the night is the work of a genius. Turn over and let the sound of the train whistle make you smile and the movement of the train lull you to sleep or maybe cause you to speculate if the train could sway too much and tip over.

Is it morning? Is it wise to apply mascara when you are on a moving train? Breakfast in the dining car and more new people to get to know. Polly and Fabian are happy to take your order. "Coffee please." "Which state are we in?"

Next stop! Yours.

****
Ride the train: Discover your country * Discover new ways to spend time together * Discover yourself.

Shhhh

Stop talking
Keep quiet
Zitta!
Go back
It worked well
Keep mum
Tick a lock
It is safer
It is smarter
Shhhh

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