Standing on the ground of a distant shore on a day far removed from now we shall meet again.
We will smile, awkwardly, as the moments since those last embraces melt away.
We stand before one another and together again.
We will be changed, yet the same.
You will be the steadfast friend, unwavering in your belief in and commitment to me.
You will be the earnest artist who sees the meanings painted betwixt the scripts you write and read.
You will be the eidetic eye who captures our imperfect moments perfectly.
I will be the steadfast shoulder and honest heart that belongs to you all.
The years will take their tolls upon us.
A million minuscule miseries will make us weep.
A thousand tiny victories will empower us.
Everwhen and everwhere we finally reunite there shall be no accounting of time.
There shall be only the soft knowing laughter and shared smirks of conspiracy amongst friends.
The Once Wonderful Wizard
Weary from their westward walking, our wanderers reach the Wizard
The Wonderful Wizard
The one who made the town emerald and the eyes green
The Wonderful Wizard
Who is larger than life
Whose compassion knows no bounds
The Wonderful Wizard
With several tongues
Wearing the story of life on his skin.
Weary from their walk, they wrestle with the Wizard.
The Wonderful Wizard
Who projects himself as strong and all-knowing
Who turns out to be a mere mortal after all.
The wall has fallen and the Wizard looks beyond
Wondering if he should seek his own rainbow.
Our wayward travelers continue west.
Weary from their walk, our wanderers realize
They never really needed the Wizard after all.
They'd walked so far on the saffron road together
Wondering how this would all come to end.
The straw woman wizened on her journey
She now knows she cannot stay in Oz.
The last we heard, she let the wind take her west.
The maple colored leo was searching for the antidote
The one to cure his pussycat ways.
This lion, once thought to be a coward,
Was right to turn tail and flee in the rain.
The metallic automaton was on a journey to find emotion.
The thing to make him fully human.
The Wizard chided him, called him scrap.
Told him to oil his own joints.
The tin woodsman cried back:
I am indeed a
clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk.
And one day I'll take off this tin armour streaked with rust
And follow the gilded road home.
On that day you'll realize that I do have a heart and you
Wizard
have no magic.
And that girl
The infectiously chipper girl,
(And her little dog too)
was disappointed most of all.
But at the end of this journey, the long westward walk
She learned that what she was seeking
Was with her the whole time
She learned though she's not in Kansas
or Kansai
anymore, she is home.
So she stayed. And they smiled,
The girl and her armoured companion.
What about the Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard is searching for blue birds.
And he, like our wayward wanderers, needs to follow this road through.
And we hope to see the Wizard soon.
And we hope the Wizard can tell us his stories.
And we hope the Wizard finds his magic too.
But he will never be the Wonderful Wizard again.
Nothing's changed much except the weather.
The job is... routine. Presently, I'm averaging reading a book a day while there. I've already re-read all of the books I have here and have started scouring the library for new selections. I was asked by the trainer who taught my class to assist in training the class that was hired after mine, and spent a week supervising them as they got acclimated to the business and various lines of service. Also, this past week I've been working on a focus group project and documenting discrepancies in service from partner companies. It's... not what I want to be doing for long, but as it stands I've already been noticed as someone who pays attention to details and is the go-to for those around me. As my supervisor put it to me, "It's hard for you not to stand out, isn't it?"
My private life may as well be dead. Friday night means having a few drinks at the bar with my friends Chris and Steve. Aside from that, I'm at home reading or watching television. There's been the odd occurrence of company, maybe twice in the past two months, but otherwise my time is spent solitarily.
The holidays are approaching and bringing with them everything I wish I could avoid. Simply going to keep my head down and my "bah, humbugs" to myself.
I'm not much given to flights of fancy when it comes to folklore, tending to view it with a grain of salt and interest in the story, not the origin. However, as last night was the year's end festival of fire (Samhain) on the traditional Irish calendar, it also marked the fourth move of the courts of the aos sí (people of the mounds, or, in other words, faeries). If one looks at the old calender, the court would have last moved May 1st (Beltane), which coincides with the beginning of a lot of a long string of odd, bad luck for myself. This was punctuated with my being run off the road early Halloween morning and spending several hours in the rain waiting for a tow truck.
Faeries are mischief makers and a lot of the things that have happened in the past six months do seem rather Puckish. Additionally, this morning as I rose and all day I have experienced a feeling of... change? Something in the air seems different.
Perhaps it's too much reading lately. Perhaps it's the distortion of time from daylight savings. But something genuinely feels different and I just cannot put a finger to it, save for old folklore. I laugh at the idea that the Fool and his Unseely court might have been having their sport of me, but I have heard stranger things. Seen stranger things.
It is cold and so am I.
As Summer has given way to Autumn, so too has one phase of life given way to another. Three weeks ago I started a new job. Nothing glamorous, but it will keep a roof above my head and let me replinish the savings I lived off this Summer. There's the faint possibility of advancement, but at this time I'm simply glad to be doing something structured.
The redhead from this summer tired of me, ending things with little communication. We remain friends, though I am still a little irritated at her choices in handling the situation. So it goes.
I'm puzzled by memories that have been coming up lately. Triggered by smells, locations, songs. Perhaps it's the time of year or something more, but I've been horridly nostalgic and maudlin. It's not all bad, though. The memories are good and the introspection does no harm.
The only real thing troubling me at the moment is my weight. Over the course of my unemployment and the depression triggered by it, I relapsed into binge eating as a coping mechanism. While I am still far away from the size I used to be, I still see myself in that state and the scant few pounds I've gained in the past few months only exacerbates my negative self image.
I guess there is no way around it. I suck at updating this thing. I wish I spent more time in self-reflection, but from the looks of it I never take a moment to record it all or ponder it all.
Maybe someday when time has passed you will understand the things I do. I make little sense at times and I know it must be frustrating to endure. I can do little but offer a nod and the phrase, "time will tell." I can only be who I and what I am, and I know that you cannot see that sometimes. I simply must trust that the revelation will come to you once upon a tomorrow and that will soothe your opinion of me.
Earth and moon would have been moved for you. There's nothing I would not have done for you, accomplished in your name. Time has shown me to be a fool, a jerk, an ass. I can do little to change the past, only affecting the future.
Drank all night at the bar for $4.25. Talked to the bartendress about school, life, people, and everything inbetween. She's an utter sweetheart. Kept handing me beers whether I asked or not. I actually had to turn down a beer when I was leaving.
What is it that makes people open up to me? Trust me? Talk to me candidly about everything? I'm not complaining, I just wish I knew what it was. It's not something I push, at least consciously.Talked to a friend tonight about my options as they stand. He offered a spare bedroom in Arkansas, should it come to that. It's closer than the other option I have, which is moving to Idaho to my mother's spare bedroom. Or perhaps D.C., to crash on Kristin's couch. all options I'd rather not explore. Pride is all I have left. Pride, that invisible bone that lets a man hold his head up. To quote Young MC, "[...] I don't have much, but it's mine. I worked for it. I paid for it. I earned it. I hate asking for help. I hate asking for anything.
We'll see what happens.
I miss Christina. I miss the redhead. I miss a lot of people right now. A quiet house and a lonely heart are not good for one's well being.
