benjamin

Ben·ja·min

/ˈbɛndʒəmən/ Show Spelled[ben-juh-muh-n]

–noun

1. a male name: from a Hebrew word meaning “son of the right.” Son of my joy.

Albert Camus wrote "One always has exaggerated ideas about what one doesn't know." He's genius, it's true. Things that are unknown have this way about them - lofty and bright, or dark and damned. Expectations and reality are not friends. They do not meet for coffee and chat about making lives easier. They bicker and divvy up people's feelings. I probably need a reality check. I'm having some sort of identity crisis. Or something. Sometimes, at night, when I'm alone with my thoughts I let them wander to places I've never been and books I've never read and foods I've never eaten. I feel like I'm betraying myself for wanting things I've never wanted before. Or thinking and feeling things that I have never thought or felt before, yet leave me with that strange, familiar lingering of deja vu. At the end of the day, when the night swallows the rest, I'm left. I've capsized. For a moment I think, surely it must be easier to tread water. But I'm too tired to kick and fight and would rather allow myself to be carried out to sea. I don't know how to marry expectations and reality. I'd rather hang tightly to my expectations, but that means I don't really know myself. Or anything else, for that matter. It's just so hard to make them fit.

MIA

Life happened, and I stopped blogging. Which is weird, in retrospect, because isn't that what having a blog is for - documenting aforementioned life? Strange. Here's a brief rundown of the last month or so, with a promise to resume blogging.

-We moved to Seaside, California. Yes, it is as beautiful and quaint as it sounds.
-I am unemployed. (And I miss my job.)
-We have a house.
-I'm slowly adjusting to military life.
-I have accumulated 5 knitting books in the last 4 weeks.
-The joys of having one's own washer and dryer have been discovered.
-We have found a nice church.
-I miss Tex-Mex food. (Tons.)
-I REALLY miss my friends.
-I started writing again.
-Jeremy is beginning to teach me to play the guitar.
-I am teaching Jeremy how to recycle his Dr Pepper cans.
-I'm still not pregnant. Stop asking.
-I learned how to tie a tie. Victory!

Forever

i have found what you are like
the rain
(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields
easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike
the air in utterable coolness
deeds of gren thrilling light
with thinned
newfragile yellows
lurch and.press
--in the woods
which stutter and sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss
e.e. cummings

musings

-I am very disturbed by the amount of sludge left at the bottom of my coffee cup at the end of the day. I probably should be drinking more water.
-I spend a lot of time talking about my cat. If I weren't engaged I'd be very concerned about the chances of becoming that crazy cat lady who volunteers at the school cafeteria.
-My microwave has been broken for 3 days, and I've decided it's too heavy to move. And then I realized this is why people use their old TVs as stands for their new TVs.
-I've decided wedding planning is where type-A people like me come to die. You think that it would be GREAT for people like me. But it turns out that changes like crab cake instead of salmon puffs reduce me to tears.
-I've recently discovered I'm completely unstable. (See above.)
-I miss writing, but I don't have the time. And yet somehow I managed to re-organize my tupperware cabinet. It had to be done, mind you, for fear that people would find themselves under a mountain of containers if they opened the cabinet door. But I still can't seem to justify the hour I spent purging food storage aids.

Thanks, Vera.

It's quite possible that I accidently bought a maternity shirt. It's also very possible that I am wearing aforementioned shirt. Maybe it's the pleated fabric and the tie in the front that makes me feel a little "with child." Maybe it's the piece of chocolate chip banana bread I had this morning with my coffee. All I know is that about 20 minutes ago I checked the tag to make sure I wasn't wearing "Vera Wang Expecting" and thanked the Gap gods that I wore "skinny" jeans to work today. What a weird morning...

letters

Nestled deep within my little mailbox today were three letters. All of them with my name carefully handwritten on the front in black pen. Each of them from different countries – Iraq, Japan, the United States. I sat for a minute on my couch with them in my lap, admiring the envelopes which seemed to mimic the senders’ personalities. There was a moment where I thought I might not open any of them; I could leave them unopened on my dining table until I had a day that was completely void of compassion or thoughtfulness. I could hide them away in my desk drawer until I had an empty day. Because sometimes I get so tired of being the one who speaks all the time. The one who writes the letters. Sometimes I neglect the sanctity of a moment to nourish my own spirit. And so I wanted to hold on tightly to these three letters that so advantageously turned up at the same time as a reminder that it is foolishness to think that I’ve been left alone. To make the mistake of Elijah and cry out in despair when there is a remnant. As a reminder that though the body of the woman was torn for the 12 tribes and scattered, it was still one body.

“Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, that without distance closeness cannot cure.” Henri Nouwen