For You.

Your voice, is a song, still sounding in my ears.

And that song, up close, I haven’t heard for years.

So I go and I stay, my heart’s running a little late, I stop myself from moving on,

And I sit, and I wait, for you to play your song;

I still sit, and I wait, but your music is gone.

Bury a piece. It belongs with him.

I remember how nervous I was, the first time I stepped foot on a stage, yet I knew it was where I wanted to be…needed to be.

You were there. Of all things, I played a prostitute who sexed you up. We rushed around backstage everytime the scene crept closer, messing my hair up, smudging my lipstick all over you. We would quickly take your shirt off and pull my skirt down a little, take off my tall boots, and finally look at each other and laugh. We waited for our cue…knowing that we we entered from stage right, the response from the audience would be exactly why we did this in the first place.

The gasps, the laughter that we heard…made it worthwhile. It was my very first appearance on stage, and you were there, right beside me, encouraging me along the way.

The years went by… every play, skit or musical, we were there…together. Prom went by, (your date was my hot exchange student best friend from Brazil) but we were still there…together. I remember when I would sit in the mini living room in the back of your aunt and uncle’s house…I mostly remember sitting there one night, listening to Outkast together…the Roses song…Carol and Aaron were there…you kept rewinding it, singing it in the most hilarious voice I’ve ever heard.

How I have managed to lose you and have your presence taken out of my life forever is an incomprehensible concept for me right now. Your gorgeous face, your beautiful smile, your contagious laugh and your all-famous derogotory comments will never escape my memory.

I think you’ve always had a piece of my heart. You were there when I needed you in my life. You watched me grow up. You were an inspiration to me on the stage and when needing guidance there, you were the only one I looked to because on that stage, everytime, you were utterly perfect. You were my big brother, my support and my encouragement through adversity.

“I miss you” doesn’t really express the way I feel at this point. A piece of my heart is empty. The peice that you held and will carry to the grave. I know that no one will be able to replace the role you had played in my life.

To my brother, the one I wished at one point so desperately was actually related because you fit the criteria so perfectly….that piece of my heart will be lost forever, but forever it will be with you. Thats where it belongs and thats where I’ll let it stay.

Derek Scott, I love you. I miss you. Terribly. I’ll see you soon.

Yeah, thats the one.

When you try your best, but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down on your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you’re too in love to let it go
If you never try you’ll never know
Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And I…

Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I…

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

 

 

Thanks Coldplay.

..And the 3rd story brought a lot of Insight that night..

Last night I had an unexpected and surprisingly meaningful conversation.

My balcony is 3 stories up and in the middle of two big trees. It’s nice in the morning but I have been really appreciating the serenity of it at night as of late.

I met our property security guard about a month ago. We talked for about 45 minutes the first time and see each other around the property and wave from time to time. He knows I live alone and checks to make sure my car is home every night.

Last night while sitting on my balcony at about 11:30, he passed through the courtyard and spotted me sitting. I’m not quite sure how it happened but we wound up talking for about an hour, all the while sitting on the third and him standing below.

The conversation surprised me and who knows how it happened but we wound up getting really in depth and talked about life and God and some serious details surrouding it. Details that mattered to us. It was good to have someone listen, genuinelly listen to me and care. It was good to listen to someone else and learn how their mind operates. Overall, it was good.

So what if it’s unconventional, I’ll look forward to my late night chats with the security guard. It is his job to keep an eye out, monitor the safety of the property…and he pays special attention to making sure I’m safe. But it’s not his job to care about any other aspects of my life. But he does. And I appreciate it.

Black. No Cream. No Sugar.

So a few times a week the agents will come into the office to get some work done. I’m still unsure as to what this “work” entails but thats beside the point.

So there is this new agent. He will remain nameless but he does in fact remind me of Kevin from The Office. They have the same awkward personality so let that paint a picture in your mind.

So “Kevin” could fall into a lot of categories. Potentially one of the following:

-Unmarried and completely incapable of doing any common household task.

-Married and spoiled by his wife so that he doesn’t have to do any common household task.

-Married with children who fall in the age range of 5-10.

-Married with children who fall in the age range of 11-21 and are dumb as rocks.

Now, the reason I can safely assume the above lifestyle scenarios of “Kevin” is because he has been repeatedly using a form of psychology on me for the past few months.

This brings us to coffee.

Every morning when I get into the office I start my pot of coffee. 2 cups. Everyone else that drinks coffee here drinks it at home. So I get to fix the coffee as I want it. It’s a very freeing feeling. Until now. “Kevin” wants coffee when he is in the office. Which is fine, but there are rules to making coffee in the office. “Kevin” is unaware of the rules.

Now for the part that ties it all together. “Kevin” never makes/starts the pot of coffee, even if he is in the office before me. He always waits until I get there and says “There’s the only girl that makes a good pot of coffee in this office.” Now at first I thought, that’s sweet, now, not so much. “Kevin” does this everytime he is in the office, without fail. It has become the most irritating thing. Clearly “Kevin” could be in every category listed.

-Not married–”Kevin” honestly does not know how to make a pot of coffee.

-Married and spoiled–”Kevin” honestly does not know how to make a pot of coffee and is used to his wife making it for him. Therefore, he will never ask how to make it. He likes it this way.

-Children between 5-10– “Kevin” is used to using a slight form of reverse psychology with his small children and is mis-interpreting my age by about 11-16 years.

-Dumb Children between 11-21–”Kevin” uses the above psychology with his children to get what he wants. They are dumb as rocks and still fall for it. “Kevin” mistakes me for his dumb children.

Finally, once I have made my/”Kevin’s” coffee, he proceeds to doctor it up. He puts milk in it. There’s just something about a man who puts milk in his coffee. C’mon guys, if we pour a cup of coffee at the same time and I drink it black, there is an unspoken man rule…wait. Wait until I leave the room if you are going to add milk, cream, sugar, or a little umbrella for that matter. Then hide…Hide until your caramel colored barely brown coffee is no longer in your cup. No one wants to see a man drinking white coffee. It just doesn’t work that way. If you are getting a specialty coffee at a coffee place, thats a different story… I can understand and respect your seasoned taste for coffee. But if we are brewing a pot of Folgers at the office, you need to get over it “Kevin”.

You’re coffee etiquite or lack there of is wearing thin.

Holly, Interrupted

This post is inspired by anger turned grace.

Stress. Strange as it may sound, some people actually enjoy living a stressful life. Some kinds of people can accomplish more in a stressful environment. Some miraculously become more productive when the pressure is on.

I am not one of these people.

I usually don’t have a situation or specific thing that stresses me out. I tend to be stressed by people. People that I expect things from. Expectance of a level of respect, loyalty and appreciation.

Luckily, my strikingly gorgeous counterpart knows how I operate.

When I verbalize my stress, it’s no big deal to him. He knows how to listen to me vent and offer up a stress-free outlook. I wish that were my initial reaction to people and their callous behavior. Since it’s not, I have to find an alternative way of coping. I think I have found one. At least one that will work for me.

I looked up the word “stress”.  As I scanned the countless definitions, I found the one that struck a cord with me and my personal situation.

[stress]

1. emphasize something–to place emphasis on or attach importance to something

This is what comes to mind….

You mean like this, dictionary?

Here’s to de-stressing.

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later…

It’s taken a bit and I knew it would happen eventually.

I am content.

I am happy.

I couldn’t be happier.

I love life.

I love my life.

I can honestly say these things and mean them.

It feels good.

Bigger and better?

I was listening to the radio this morning on my way to work when I heard an interesting subject arise.

Apparentely Jerry Jones has no problem spending the big bucks… especially if it’s not his.

His latest and brightest idea; the new cowboys stadium will house the biggest video screens in the world.

160ish feet wide and 70 feet tall. (4 Dart buses wide to give you a visualization.)

Any guesses on how much the biggest screens in the world will cost, not Jerry Jones, but the City of Arlington?

Try 35 million a piece.

Identify.

I moved into my very own apartment, alone, about 2 weeks ago. I found out very quickly that being alone isn’t something I prefer. I have always been a social person. The majority of time spent alone since I was a baby until the present were in sleeping hours.

I began to analyze this semi-constant need to be around people.
I don’t mean I go to Target and walk around just to be surrounded by people. Nothing creepy like that. But I have a desire in my heart, my being, to be around my family and now more so, my friends.

I thought of the pros and cons of this behavior and what it means for me to feel this way most of the time. I know most who read this probably have key words flashing in their minds like “insecure” or “scared”. And honestly, that’s what I had initially thought too.

I’ve come to the conclusion that it really is just pretty simple with me. Not everyone finds it easy to talk to people, to listen, to truly care. God gave me a gift/quality that I value now more than ever. I can talk to people. I can talk to anyone. And I can listen. About anything. And truly, truly care about what is being said. I have a compassionate heart that has made me naive but I’ll take it. My heart loves people. My heart loves the company of people. My heart wasn’t made to be alone. I have too many things to share with the world. The world has too many things to share with me. I don’t want to miss a moment of it.

I still value my alone time. That time that I talk and listen to my God. But ultimately, He tells me to get out there and share my heart with the world. That there are too many people who have not seen my heart. Too many hearts that I haven’t seen. And too many people that want to be a part of my heart weather I’m right there with them, or sitting at home, alone, in my apartment.

I do love Grey’s Anatomy, but the original video for this song is not available to copy anywhere else from YouTube. This is the only one. Completely unintentional. Just listen to the words. You’ll see the connection.

Educate.

1:15 p.m. At work. Friday.

No one has any work for me at the office. I’m told to just “hang out”. Of course I go back to my desk and surf the internet. For some odd reason I decided to educate myself on quite a random subject.

Serial Killers.

My boredom has know resulted in a detailed knowledge of Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer, and of course I had to find out about a local: Charles Albright from Dallas.

I’m mildly fascinated with the bios and stories of serial killers. And today, I got paid for it.