Archive for August, 2011

Life is a fickle thing in the way that it repeats itself. Genevieve thought for the second time in 24 hours. Indeed, though she did not know it waking up that day, on an airmattress in the middle of her great aunts living room, it would be her main thought for the remainder of her stay.  The day started warm n joyous, as is tradition when one stays with family. For the first sound that she heard that morning was laughter, and the first smell smelt was coffee. Both promises of a grand day seemingly pulled Gen to her feet, urging her to get ready.  Each year in august her family went out east for a reunion. Well at least they tried. This was the first one Gen had attended in 10 years, so she hardly knew a soul outside of her party staying in town. Not that she minded. She enjoyed talking with her elders and listening to the stories from when her aunt and mom were girls. Even when grandma and her sister (her great aunt) talked. The only way to describe it was rich soil. Coming back to ones roots in family can only be described that way.  There was community, there was trust. They shared everything. Laughter and hurt. On the way out to the party they stopped near a small two story red brick building that had its windows borded up, and a prison of weeds around it. Tucked behind a housing development she was told that this was “the old farm house” (which meant that this was the house her grandmother and siblings grew up in, and where her mom and siblings and cousins had took holiday at in the summer) visiting it could only be described as going to a funeral. There were smiles in some of those sad eyes as her elders remembered all the good times. And there was reproach as they knew that they had to move on, that there wild and reckless times were now over and Gen would (along with her cousins) take wing.  She walked around to the back of the building and discovered a window had been opened and the board pulled off.  Hesitating momentarily as she was in a skirt (a white skirt at that) she eventually just decided to go for it and hoisted herself onto the the windowsill and peeped in. It was an addition to the original house and the roof had quite disassembled itself to the floor. She had entered on the window of an old bathroom. There was still a porcelain washtub in the corner and the top of the sink lay atop the debris that covered the floor. Even the wall seperating it was missing and the doors.  Her mother stopped her for a second, telling her to be careful of nails. Then let her go in, for she knew Gen was as determined as her in her youth.  The trip inside was exhilerating and heart breaking as she glanced in to what was only the remains of a home that was once brimming with life. Now it was worse than dead in its disrepair and vandalism.  She only scoped out the one room she had seen through the nonexistent wall then made her way back. Not having the heart to disturb the corpse anymore.


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What in the world.

What in the world. Im am writing tonight simply cause i can do nothing else. I am not tired, though i am exhausted. And i am in a hotel somewhere in Pennsylvania. I am not tired because  every time i shut my eyes there appears in my minds eye a spider.  If you know anything at all about me is that i detest spiders. The second harry potter nearly killed me. But i am not concerned with the spiders at the moment. No. At this particular moment after a long day of music and reading C.S. Lewis i am questioning why they are there in the first place. I havent thought about them nearly all day. (Except for when i saw a web on a tree). So why do they come unwanted and unremovable? Lets start with disecting (ooo bad pun) what spiders stand for.  (To me at least) they represent fear, disgust, and hate. Meaning that i fear them, find them disgusting and think they hate me as much as i them. To my imagination (if thats what it is) they are as stubborn (if not more so) than me. And im a red headed scottish woman whose vertically challenged!  But if i did not put these images there who did? And for what purpose? If i detest them so much then whomever is putting these images about must detest me more. But why? And by what power? Certainly it is not human power. Because it is in my minds eye and i did not put it there. And it is not God for He says to focus on whatever lovely, true, excellent and praise worthy. No where is spider in that bible verse! Ahhh so if it is not God and it is not human, then that leaves one answer.  Give you a hint, its lived spelled backwards. Yep thats right. The prince of the power of the air himself is wasting time keeping me up at night because he thinks that will keep me away from God. Guess what blockhead it wont work. So go away.  See so often we take annoyances and quirks (yes im calling this a quirk for lack of a better word) as just things and fail to scrutinize why and for what purpose do they happen. We complain and dont do anything about it. I tonight have written about my quirk (ok ok one of them) in hopes it gives light to a common issue and to vent some anger.  So there it is. My inkling for the day.

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days of old

Do you not miss the olden days? When pirates were villianous creatures who could not be trusted at any cost? Where pixies, more self serving and trixy than considered cute? Where the pugnent smell of dirt and adventure hung in the air untinted by electricity and complacency? Listen! Can you not hear the quiet? The stillness of no automobiles and wildness of animals calling? Perhaps you have forgotten, worse yet, perhaps you are of the race that has never known the breath taking ability of dreams that come alive. Whether or not reality or make believe but the scares on your heart are still there. They are pounding in the back of your mind like a war drum ready for battle. They are begging at the door crying to be let in.

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