But, what if she says, "no."

I walked off the field muttering to myself. I chickened out, again. I have been waiting for "that moment" to ask her (though this could relate to anyone) out. Unfortunately I have this tendency to ask at the wrong time, in the wrong place, in the wrong way, or just simply the wrong person.

I struggle with relationships. I have friends. I have good friends. I have friends I don't see regularly and ones I do. I have friends that I won't see for years and carry on like nothing has changed. I miss them when they are gone, I'm glad when they are present, but true, romantic relationships have always eluded me.

I know my mothers' passing has something to do with my hesitancy in pursuing a relationship. If a woman can enter my life and leave so easily (through no fault of her own) is it worth pursuing something or someone that can cause me so much pain? Historically this answer has been, "no, it is not worth it." But I am changing (and hopefully I continue to change). My answer is no longer, "no" but, "no" or even , "maybe it is worth it." Needless to say, it is changing, slowly, to a, "yes."

And like that, my troubles, problems, and life feel so small compared to others. I just found out a very dear friend of mine lost her two day old baby girl. I have no words to express the sadness and sorrow I feel for her and her husband. I am so very, very sorry.

There are brief moments where I picture myself having children. It is mostly when I'm watching a TV show and see a father and daughter interact. I am most drawn to the ones where I see the dad being a father. He may have faults and be a little immature, but he loves his children and it is evident in his acting. I envy that feeling and very much desire to have a son and daughter (at least one of each, though this is subject to change). Someday, oneday, maybe I may have the opportunity to experience fatherhood. Today I can only cry because my friend had it and it is now lost.

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.

I feel I am stuck in my memories. Longing for things that will never come. They have passed me by. I feel like I'm trying to carry water with open hands. I want to grab it, hold it, seize it, but it slips past me. I want more than what I have, but what I want isn't related to anything I currently have. I don't want better this, or more of that; I want new, untapped, unexplored.

I am so very tired. I go to bed exhausted, wake up exhausted, and go throughout the day tired. I feel like I'm trapped in a cycle of despondency.

I have many good things going for me, but I can't seem to get over these thoughts. I will be graduating with a masters degree in a few months. I have excelled at my education. I have friends that I interact with often and I have the freedom to experience new and exciting opportunities in my life.

I met her so very long ago; 28 years to be exact. We have experienced just about everything together. We have fought, cried, grieved, laughed, and loved each other for everyone one of those 28 years. I don't see her as often as I want and miss her more than I thought was possible. She is constantly moving and always appears to be living, maybe even a tad reckless, but she is experiencing life. I am jealous.

She has two songs that will forever be hers. She has always loved this piece of art and it was because of her that I heard this song. I have since grown to appreciate both "Starry, Starry Night" by Don McLean and the painting by Vincent Van Gogh. I remember sitting in her room and listening to this song for the first time. I saw a part of her that I rarely noticed before. I saw her heart.

I'll share her second song another day. I have to have some content for other posts. I can't use up everything in this one.

Let me tell you a story.

Truck: I know you have spent a lot of money on me recently, so I'm going to behave from here on out.

Tire: I'm not with him.

Nail: HEY GUYS!!!

Me: ??? seriously!!!

... 3 hours later ...

Me: I hate *breath* you all.

Truck: :(

Me: Ok, maybe not you.

Remembrances

Like many Generation X'ers my grandparents were hoarders born out of The Great Depression. There are stories about my fathers' parents and the clean up of their house after they moved out. We found paper plates from my first birthday (this was during the mid 90's so I was a teenager) sitting in a small stack with other gently worn paper plates. Each one was tenderly rinsed by my grandmother after their use. There were coffee cans of worn down pencils, no lead, dull point, used eraser. The amazing fact was, the house wasn't cluttered at all. It was almost spartan, yet full of these random items. Habits formed from a difficult decade, compounded by time.

My parents are hoarders. Sheds, paid for storage, and garages are a legacy handed down to me.

These thoughts about belongings stem from an e-mail from my sister. She is attempting to break the cycle of "collecting" and I applaud her effort. I have more than enough to furnish a small house by myself. It becomes ludicrous when you add a flatmate to the equation.

I mention this to say that I keep these things because of the memories they hold. Trophy's for the games and seasons I won and played. Clothes that no longer fit, haven't worn in years, but I may wear them sometime. Games/toys for my children (if/when that happens). Each item kept because of the memory.

I look at this now and see all that I have accumulated and wonder, "will I ever use this again?" Stuffed animals, soiled due to storage and age, won't ever be handed down. Gadgets that have had their batteries leak and corrode from the inside out. These items get tossed, left by the wayside so that I can fill it with something new or modern.

All this and my thoughts linger on this aspect. Many years down the road I will rummage through my belongings, going through them for some reason. I will stumble upon some item that brings up a memory and reminisce. I will be thankful that I kept that item and remember all the others that I cast away. Each item kept means that many more were lost. Are the items I am keeping the ones I value and cherish the most? What do I value the most? Is it something tangible like a picture of friends from high school or the continued relationship I have with them?

I know, at some point, I will look back and be thankful that I kept these items. They were the ones to make the cut year after year. This will be part of my legacy left to those that follow me. Are these items truly worth establishing as an heirloom? But, really, do Lego's ever go out of style?

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.

I find a good deal of logic in numbers. They give me a perspective, something I can refer back to and declare, "that happened." Today there are a few numbers that come to mind.

She would be 62 if she were alive today. She was only 45 when she passed away 17 years ago. She was only married for 16 years and it has been this long since I've seen her. I was only a little sprite at the age of 13. I have since lived over 1/2 my lifetime without her.

Each of these numbers mean something to me today. This is the sadness.

There are better numbers though. I shouldn't always focus on the negative.

67 is how old my step-mother is. I have known her for 13 years and she has been married to my father for 12 years.

I am blessed to have 2 wonderful women look after me, care for me, and love me. Some people don't even have 1. This is the gladness.

So many numbers, each one carrying memories, thoughts, and feelings.

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened

Turning 30 came and went without too much fanfare. Calls from my parents and sister were welcome. A few friends wished me happy birthday on "ye' oldé facebook." My flatmate graciously took me out to dinner, even if he didn't want to.

I was asked, a few times, how I felt about turning 30. (I may have mentioned some of my thoughts on here previously) I tend to keep my answers dark and mildly sarcastic. My general reply is, "one year older, one year closer to death." I'm not sure my mother knew how to take it. Queue *mischievous grin*

I found out that the university is performing "Once Upon A Mattress" this Spring. It may surprise you but I happen to have some thespian blood in me. A long time ago, in a state far, far away, I was involved in this production. During the Fall semester the sophomore class (where I did my undergraduate work) would begin work on the "Sophomore Musical." I felt obligated to participate and was given the role of chorus and Sir Studley (I had lines fool, which I promptly forgot).

It was a fun experience and I really enjoyed it. It was full of dancing, acting, thespianing (???), and all sorts of other shenanigans (I love that word). I have a few memories of the performance, but there is that one stands out above the rest. Anyone who has been involved in performances knows that it can become stressful and a little tense at times (simply due to the pressure, not so much the primadonnas). Due to the nature of my alma mater, we cut a scene/song as it was deemed too "risqué."

The number was called "Man to Man Talk" and involved the mute King, his son Dauntless and an explanation of the birds and bees. Well the two characters could ham up a scene pretty well and through standard rehearsing they were pretty familiar with the scene even though it wasn't going to be performed. On more than one occasion they would break into the scene and begin singing the number and it would send the entire cast into fits of laughter.

I think I have finally decided on a song for her. My flatmate introduced me to Ron Pope a couple of months ago. I enjoyed him so much that I picked up his CD. There are several wonderful songs on the album. The album begins with "Stranded in Los Angeles" which leads into songs like "You're the Reason I Come Home" and ends with "A Drop In the Ocean." But it is one of the other songs that got stuck in my head and I had to listen to endlessly.

"Perfect For Me" is another one of those slow, acoustic songs I really enjoy. The song tells the story of a couple who have lived life together and enjoy the simple things each one brings and how much more full of a person they feel they are with each other.

I told you I was struggling with what song reminded me of her. This might be a rare instance where the song picked the person versus the person picking the song (in my mind). Don't place too much thought on the title, it's a little too, romantic to think that way. I like this girl, but (as with much in life) there are things that complicate the matter. I'm almost a decade old than her, she's a student and still has a year left. Some friends say, "no, it is too much" while others say, "go for it." And I'm the one who must, ultimately, make the decision.

There are many things that I'm willing to do. Many more that scare me. There are even more that should scare me, but I would do them because they must be done. I could see myself fighting in a war knowing everyday I could die or be told to charge into battle because someone must lead the way. I could speak in front of a large group of people and be nervous (happens just about anytime I'm teaching a course or instructing a group of people). I could climb hazardous mountains, swim treacherous oceans and rivers. I could get caught on railway bridges hundreds of feet above a river being stupid. But asking a girl out on a date is one of those rare situations where it almost paralyzes me.

By the time I ask her out I have given a good deal of thought to the situation. Why shouldn't I? This has the potential to be a life changing event. I feel it would do the situation a disservice to give it anything less. What happens is that I let the situation pass me by while I sit and think and when I finally do decide to "make my move" the time, opportunity, chance has passed me by. I've never been known to have great timing and I fall short here so very often.

One last note about the song; it is songs like these that make me really want to pick up my guitar and play until my fingers bleed. It's these songs that give me hope to believe that some day I will actually be able to play. Singing, that's another story, but if I could play I pray the singing would come along in time.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

Oh, this is still around? Interesting, I would've thought you would have tired of me and left to go about your own business. How kind of you to still be here, waiting patiently for me. I am back, for how long no one knows. Until then, please enjoy my company. I don't believe I'll be staying long.

Many events have transpired since last October. So many that to begin would bore you, so I will share what has been on my mind recently.

I near an end to another chapter of my life in but a few days. My twenties have been good, though they could've been better. I enjoyed them, but failed to live them to my fullest. I am beginning to fear that, as I look back upon my life, it is full of a good deal of regrets. Some in lost opportunities for advancement professionally. Some in romantic endeavors. Some in pain and sorrow for friends and family that I have treated poorly. I fear these regrets may begin to define me more than the character that underlies them. I fear I may be remembered not for who I am, but for all the missed opportunities I did not pursue.

As I grow older (and maybe, just a little bit wiser) I begin to realize how true the statement is that you never really know anything. It isn't so much to say that I know less now than I did 10 years ago, but that there is so much more to know and I am beginning to realize I do not know it. The story doesn't end there, it is ever increasing.

I forget where I left off with my music and romantic interests. I may have already listed both her and this song (in a blog of ~6 posts I could go back and read, but that would feel rather defeatist at this point). I meet her maybe 3 years ago in a different life. (A poetical way of saying that I was working for the same organization, but in a different capacity.) She was a GA, an indentured servant, for the university. She was given a group to shepherd and would bring me a task to do that was mildly tedious and I would give her a hard time for doing it (but if she were to ever asked me to something even more laborious I would perform it diligently and without question... "as you wish").

A little over a year ago I began to advance my education and was thrilled to discover that she was in the class and we would be going through the program together. I saw this as a wonderful opportunity to learn about her, who she was, and be in her presence. I sat wonderfully content knowing that we would have 2 years together to cultivate a relationship.

Oblivious to the realization that this class, for her, was redundant as she had already achieved one degree of mastery and another was but icing on the proverbial cake. The time came where she was going to find herself no longer here. Her own romantic interests, passions, and life decided that her season here had ended. A missed opportunity.

I have liked Jason Mraz for a good deal of time now, but I never really knew what songs he sung or truly pursued him as an artist. Through some weird convergence of events I purchased his "Live & Acoustic" album. I enjoyed the album very much and, as I am wont to do, narrowed in on one song that stood out from the others.

I guess my core genre is adult contemporary, but I have found the sub-genre of folk and/or acoustic/live sets. One of the last songs on the CD is called "Zero Percent." The album is live. There may be an accompanying band, but here they seem to fall off. The song ranges from a quick tempo to slow audience participation and even some minor cultural influences. He breaks into an "our house" course from a popular '80's song. It ends with a little reggae. It is a unique, yet intoxicating blend of styles mixed together into a wonderful song.

I can't help but think of this song and this woman together. This is her song. It was August, the windows were down, the wonderful northern breeze was blowing and I would drive, blaring this song out, and think of her and what could've, might've been one day.

A missed opportunity, one of many in this short life.