Tag Archives: cryptic

Ellipsis.

You took a period and turned into an ellipsis.

I didn’t even have to answer for that change to go into effect.

You put into motion an eruption of emotion I didn’t know I was there. But it had to be expressed.

An ellipsis is fine. An ellipsis was the status quo for so long. But I had come to accept the period; an occasional question mark. The exclamations had passed.

But an ellipsis . . . that’s something I don’t know what to do with.

* * *

This post was written as a Just Write exercise. A good challenge to get the rust off and find my creativity once more. Bear with me while I attempt to find it!

Check out others’  Just Write posts here.

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The Line.

There’s this invisible line somewhere on our lives that changes everything. It can be a wide line–a thick boundary like the Mississippi River–or as undetectable as a precinct line. But it’s there. There’s this invisible line and you usually don’t even know you’ve crossed it until you’re well over on to the other side.

I don’t know where I am. I do, but I don’t. It’s like I’m wading in a murky river, toeing the line or straddling it. I can still see both sides very clearly,  but I have this pressing feeling one side will soon be farther than the other.

It’s like this: you’re a kid and you enjoy friday movie nights at home with your family. Then you reach a certain age and staying home on a Friday is the last thing you want to do. Then you’re to the point where you can’t remember the last friday night you spent at home, and then suddenly you’re craving it again.

It’s a bell curve, pretty much. (Bell curve courtesy of Economics Help.)

And now I realize this sounds like I’m talking about middle age, but I’m not. I’m not there yet. This is something else, so similar yet so different.

This is growing up.

Some hit that line sooner than others, by sheer will or circumstances out of their control.

And then there’s me.

It’s not an issue of maturity vs. immaturity–I get that. But priorities and comfort and contentment.  It’s what stimulates you and where you find your heart taking you.

I’m still figuring it all out. I tend to over-think things (when I’m not making rash decisions, that is).

It’s that point where going out becomes sad rather than fun (I’m not there).

It’s that point where renting gives way to home ownership (I’m not there).

It’s that point where running a mile becomes a chore (I’m there).

It’s that point where you learn to pick your battles (I’m getting there).

And maybe it’s not so much a single point but a set of points that together form a line and maybe that line isn’t a straight line and maybe that line doesn’t fall in the same place for every person. I’m getting that.

But the line is there and someday I’ll know I’ve passed it (be it by swimming, by air, by digging, by walking, or by closing my eyes and running as fast as I can through it).

* * *

This post was written as a Just Write exercise. A good challenge to get the rust off and find my creativity once more. Bear with me while I attempt to find it!

Check out others’  Just Write posts here.

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Grace.

grace /grās/: Simple elegance or refinement of movement.

* * *

I sat across from her today and was brought back to the last time I sat before her–when she had to deliver the news and I felt the crushing weight of knowing I had failed someone who I had such a strong respect for, someone for whom I had fierce loyalty. And I remembered how as those words dropped I quietly composed myself, hands folded on my lap, and looked her in the eye and said I understood and thanked her.

Grace.

Today, we were both the epitome of grace in that funny, comfortable, awkward way. It was needed. I may have let her down, but I hadn’t let her down. There are no grudges on either side, only grace. And laughter. And much needed chit chat.

Grace.

Some days I still struggle with pettiness and immaturity. I struggle to fight back mean words or speculation that would have no role but to stir things up and replace respect with distrust or annoyance. I won’t pick fights for the sake of picking fights or sweat the small things.

Grace.

Now, I try and think things through so I can properly communicate just what it is that is bothering me. If I say it to myself and it sounds hypocritical or juvenile, I sleep on it.

Grace.

It’s not perfection and it’s still a learning curve. And it seems each week there is something new I am learning to hold back or refine. (And this isn’t a lesson in swallowing my words or wallowing–it’s a lesson in finding the best way to express these things.)

I’m getting there.

* * *

This post was written as a Just Write exercise. A good challenge to get the rust off and find my creativity once more. Bear with me while I attempt to find it!

Check out others’  Just Write posts here.

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Flashback Friday

A new year! This week in the past: organization and returns to the dorm room, night time walks for the sake of cheesecake, adventures in Spain, being hard in Bloomington, caucusing in 2004, and had fun in new ways in Des Moines.

About Flashback Friday.

*Note: I will be discontinuing Flashback Friday after this post and instead focusing on Revisitation. I feel the Revisitation posts contain more value and more interesting content than just throwing up whatever I happened to have posted on livejournal this week in the past. That, and it almost makes me sick how many F-bombs I used to drop in my writing then. Ha! Continue reading

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Flashback Friday

This week in the past: post-winter break boredom, preparing for Europe, trips to Bloomington, and a call to action re: a classic wardrobe.

About Flashback Friday.

Continue reading

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