I Like.

I like you best when you're laying low.
When we have no money to blow,
And all we can afford is the time to grow.
I like you best when you're laying low.
And I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather go.


I like you best when you get a plan.
When you try to stick it to the man,
And I always play along with your scam.
I like you best when you get a plan.
And you convince me that we can.


I like you best when you keep it real.
When you are just trying to deal,
And you tell me how you really feel.
I like you best when you keep it real.
And together, we always find ways to heal.


I like you best any way at all.
When you are here, or there or just on call.
And no matter the time, our love is never small.
I like you best any way at all.
I love each piece of you; one and all.

Voz.

I would search for your voice if ever it became lost.
So precious it is to me, that I could never count the cost.
Your words and mine; so perfectly intertwinted.
I crave your sweet nothings that drip onto my tongue.
I simply could not go a day without them; my sweetest one.


Everyday, my mind is filled with the lyrics from your lips.
They have become our story, yes, even our script.
You are my better half; the reason I have to laugh.
This life is easier when I come home to your voice,
It is certain that I have made the best choice.


So, please, dear, whisper your love in my ear
To remind me that you are still so near.
Watch me smile, listening all the while,
To the voice that makes me full and whole,
To the one whose heart I finally stole.

Sole Searching.

Once, I had a really good friend. The type that was fiercely loyal, spontaneous, not afraid to be silly and knew me best. Most of my cherished memories from the past five years involve her in one form or another. In fact, I am positive that I could fill a book with our memories and what they mean to me.

One of our more recent adventures took place at an all day, outdoor summer concert festival. My friend had reminded me repeatedly to return to her a certain pair of shoes that she was bent on wearing to the festival. In typical fashion, I repeatedly forgot. It was now the day of the festival and I still had her shoes. I was driving forty-five minutes, while she was driving over an hour to meet in the middle at the festival. We would park, meet at the front gate, quickly exchange shoes and be on our way to a day of fun. Unfortunately, as history would repeat itself, things would not go this smoothly. Getting from point “a” to point “b” for us was always complicated.

I was about half-way to the venue when I got a frantic telephone call from my friend.

"I am so lost!" she exclaimed, without even saying hello. History was repeating itself. I was not familiar with the side of town she was on and could not offer directions, which only heightened her panic. I advised her to ask for directions at the nearest gas station and she would be fine. "You didn't forget my shoes, did you?" she did not forget to ask. I assured her that the shoes were right next to me, awaiting their reunion with their owner.

About twenty minutes later, I got a second telephone call from her.

"I am stuck in traffic and you will probably beat me there," she relayed to me. Thank you for the update, I was sarcastically thinking in my mind. And, because i was thinking it, I said it out loud. Little did I know my friend had a terrible morning, had been in an argument with her mother, had already been lost twice and was now stuck in traffic, alone. She proceeded to vent all of this to me, finished it with what she thought of me and my bratty attitude and ended with a sharp "Goodbye!". About two minutes later, I received an apology text message, which was typical. Fine. I'm sorry too. Let's just get there and we will have a good day, I replied.

Finally, I arrived at the venue and it was packed; people on top of people, music blasting from speakers and a sea of cars in the parking lot. I quickly realized it was going to be difficult to find her; like a needle in a haystack. My phone rang.

"I'm here. I'm in the gravel parking lot in the front." she informed me. I told her to follow the plan to meet me at the front gate and I would bring her the shoes. "I can't meet you there. Please meet me in the gravel parking lot. I will be inside my car," she said in one breath. There was a long pause. I asked her why she could not just meet me outside the gate. "Because!" she so vaguely explained. I requested more information. "Just do it! Please!" she exclaimed. I explained that it would obviously be more difficult to find her in a sea of cars than to just meet at the gate.

"I am not wearing any shoes!" she finally shrieked. Another long pause ensued, while I waited for the punch line. "I forgot to put any shoes on before I left and I just figured I would get mine from you when I got here." Forgot? To put shoes on?! I was thinking. "Yes, I drove over an hour here barefoot. Yes, I walked into the gas station to ask for directions barefoot. No, I will not walk across this gravel parking lot to meet you barefoot," she stated. I was speechless. How could someone be so clueless? So forgetful? I was infuriated as I stomped around, scouring the gravel parking lot for my friend. Everything she had done was unnecessary, annoying and ridiculous and there was nothing surprising to me about it. Finally, I saw her car and she was inside, pouting. I walked up and yanked open the driver's side door. She stared straight ahead.

"I am sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, not wearing any shoes," she said, without making eye contact with me. I shook my head and sighed as I tried to think of a suitable reply. Finally, I could not help but smile, as she was looking so pitiful. I began to chuckle, which turned into a giggle that exploded into a genuine laugh. My friend followed suit and without saying a word, we laughed until we cried. I told her she was crazy as she recounted the story to me again while lacing up her old shoes. "One thing is for sure, I will never walk barefoot into a gas station again," she promised, with a shudder. I shook my head again with a smile and we set off to finally begin our day of music in the sun.

After that day, we saw each other less often. She moved. I moved. Phone numbers were changed. Life got complicated and eventually, we lost touch. I still regard her as the best friend I have ever had. Life was always interesting when she was around. The preceding was one of my last memories with her. I hope, wherever she may be, that she has a similar friend who would give her shoes when she is barefoot, share a meaningful laugh without saying a word and meet her in the gravel instead of the grass. For me, there is no replacement for her. Yet, I often catch myself searching for a happy medium; a seat filler, by comparison, until the time is right that we should meet again.

Go The Distance.

Would I traverse the globe just to hear you sing?
Yes, one sweet melody would mean the world to me.
With a grin on your face, it is your presence that I would embrace.
Hear me out and wish me well; soon, I will make your heart swell.
The moon guides my path tonight on this red-eye, spontaneous flight.


Your atmosphere will hold my heart secure.
And now, I have never been so sure
Of my father's words to me, his smile so aglow,
"When you know, dear, you will just know."


Now, the world is hushed and the sun has gone to rest,
So, I lie awake while my thoughts take me out west.
I need your voice to sing me to sleep; to rock me gently until I no longer blink.
I know your pillow will be next to mine soon,
And I will hear your smiling whispers as I lay in our sweet coccoon.

Millie.

A few years ago, I was asked by family friends to pet-sit their new basset hound puppy while they went away on vacation for a week. They promised food in the cupboard, the freedom to come and go, and even financial compensation. As a teenager craving independence, I agreed to the job. I had pet-sat before and I was confident in the skills and experience I had developed. I was ready for anything - or so I thought.

The first night I stayed over, my sister thankfully came to help. In hindsight, I wish she had stayed the entire week, considering the events that ensued. Walking through the front door on that first night, I immediately realized my work was cut out for me. Millie, the basset hound puppy, was holed up in the laundry room, behind a baby gate. If she had been sitting quietly, awaiting my arrival, our first impressions of one another might have been different. Instead, she was howling at the top of her lungs, barking repeatedly, stepping on her long, droopy ears and running in circles - all in a pile of her own feces. I tried to stay positive and tell myself that she was just left alone for too long on this particular day. I decided that Millie needed freedom! No sooner did I attempt to remove the baby gate, that she had knocked it over, trampled it and taken off running at lightning speed through every room of the house, depositing pools of saliva and other puppy fluids everywhere she went. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

We decided to entertain Millie for awhile, which might make her feel more comfortable. Thirty minutes, two bones, and one half of a chew toy later, it was obvious she was only getting more excited and we were quickly running out of entertainment. By this point, it was getting late. My sister took care of Millie while I unpacked my things and began to get ready for bed. However, the puppy quickly escaped my sister's watchful eye and took off toward the bedroom! My bag of clothes happened to be half open, lying on the floor next to the bed and she had already spotted it. I turned around just in time to see half of Millie's body inside my bag, rooting around as if she had discovered hidden treasure - paws kicking every which way, snout snorting and throat growling, while all caution was thrown to the wind.

"Millie!" I exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing?" I yelled, completely disgusted with this animal.

The rooting and grunting immediately stopped as Millie's body froze. My sister appeared in the doorway, since realizing the puppy had gone missing from her care. We both converged on the puppy in one, fluid, almost slow-motion, movement. But Millie had a plan. She zipped the front half of her body out of my bag and became a greased pig - there was no catching her. She ran under foot and, like a flash, had disappeared from the room again with a piece of my clothing. After countless, dizzying circles around the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of it. Millie had looted my underwear from my bag! And she was running all over the house with it in her sloppy, dripping jowls! I wanted nothing more than to catch and put an end to this dog that was creating such mayhem. Eventually, we backed her into a corner and I received my underwear back, somehow in tact. Sleep that first night was virtually impossible, considering all of the howling and crying from the other room. For the rest of the week, I always had one eye on Millie and one eye on whatever else I was doing. She was not to be trusted.

Over the course of the week, the puppy destroyed my toothbrush, some reading material I had brought with me, one of the remotes, and the blinds on the patio door. She also ingested toothpaste and a plastic Coke bottle. Coming home was terrifying, because the Lord only knew what I would find. Sometimes, I wonder how either one of us survived that week.

But there were a few sweet, precious moments that I cannot leave out. Even though Millie was a puppy, she was already probably 20 pounds. She loved to cuddle, imitating the lap dogs she saw on television. Even though I received bruises on my thighs because of this, I still enjoyed it. She also knew how to make you absolutely, positively cave into her every need and want. All she had to do was look up at you with those big, sweet, sad eyes - like all puppies do - and blink a few times. The world was Millie's oyster and she knew it. The bad definitely overshadowed the good, but I think the puppy had a wonderful week away from the family who made her obey so many "arbitrary" rules like peeing outside, sleeping in her own bed and not devouring an entire pizza off of the coffee table. I believe Millie had decided the joke was on me - she was acting out, doing what she wanted and not making excuses for it. I had to hand it to Millie. I was jealous of her inhibitions. After that week, I never pet-sat again and Millie was never left alone with someone besides the family.

A year or two later, the family had to put Millie to sleep because of her health. My sister was the one to tell me the news. When I heard it, my heart definitely sank. But as I recalled our crazy week of events, I could not help but smile. Millie only lived a few years, but her legacy will live on. Even though both of us barely survived each other, I am glad the puppy will remain safe in my memory and that she had her one week of absolute freedom and pure joy.

"Millie was a good dog," I concluded, with a smile. Because even bad dogs are good dogs.

Black & White.

He sat calmly across from her at a linen-covered table, as she spoke to him with the widest smile he had ever seen. She had barely touched her lunch, as she had been carrying the conversation since they sat down. She recounted to him tale after tale; each with a continuous theme.

"I am in love," she plainly stated, with a sigh of contentment. It sounded different coming from her lips this time. Her smile reminded him of when he first met her and how young they once were. Her hair had fallen into her face and his instinct told him to brush it back, as he always had before. And her eyes were charged with such an electricity that he was sure it could be seen from across the room. "I am sorry. Is this too much?" she nervously interrupted his thoughts.

"No, not at all," he found himself quickly saying. They sat in a silence that seemed to linger, as he deciphered which of his thoughts to divulge and which to save for himself. "I am happy for you. I am happy that you are have found someone to love," he finally spoke, slowly and deliberately. He never thought he would be saying those words and meaning them - not to her anyway.

"Thank you. That is all I need to know," she gushed, with a smile and a sigh.

The woman he had always loved was in love with someone else. Yet, he found himself at peace as he listened to her. Their complications had died out long ago; it was now quite simple. She was loved, she was happy and she was safe. He would always love her. And these were the only things he needed to know.

As he listened to her stories of happiness, he concluded to himself that true love is not always so black and white.

She vs. Him

A crush is such a rush. And inside all of us is the hope that something new will turn into all we have ever needed.

* * *

She is watching her phone with bated breath. Hanging on every moment, as if it could be her last. Hoping for this dream to become a reality. Feeling as though it was just she and him; the last, two remaining individuals on the planet...

She was a girl completely infatuated with the idea of being in love. At times, she was obsessed. She had seen him fourteen business days in a row at her favorite coffee shop. They each took their coffee the same way and she took this as a sure sign of good things to come. He finally mustered a shy "hello" on the fifteenth day. She admired him. On the sixteenth, there was quaint conversation about the weather. For the next three days, there were no words, only smiles. Finally, phone numbers were exchanged on the twentieth day, after an agreeable conversation about the song being played as they waited for their coffee. She had hoped for this all along and she was ecstatic, as she found it hard to meet a good man. Things seemed to be falling into place and he seemed like a good man who was at least casually interested in her.

So she waits. And she thinks. Her head swirls with images of their first dinner alone, sweet nothings being whispered between dessert and the cab ride home, telling friends of her recent good fortune, meeting his friends and being introduced as his new girlfriend. She believes that each daydream will eventually come to fruition in its own way; maybe not the way she has imagined, but in some, real-life way. Does she believe in fairy tales? Of course not. Does she believe she is the exception? Absolutely. Her hopes are high as she is at his mercy; waiting on the phone call that could change everything. Admittedly, she does not mind at all. On the contrary, she is intoxicated by the simple thought that he just might be thinking of her.

The moments creep. Her heart beats faster, then slower. The rush of anticipation surges through her veins. A few days before, the future had seemed bleak and now - it was blissfully wide open.

The story itself is recycled and generally predictable. But just like any other girl, she has been waiting like this all of her life, time after time, just wishing and hoping that this time she has finally found him.

Comfort Food.

I wrote this piece a few years ago. It is generally accepted as a true story.

* * *
Comfort Food: Food prepared in a traditional style having a usually nostalgic or sentimental appeal. - Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary

"Comfort food provides individuals with a sense of security during troubling times by evoking emotions associated with safer and happier times." - Encyclopedia.com


While searching the cupboards for something for dinner tonight, I was surprised to find a new box of cereal that my mother had recently purchased for me as part of her "Feed the Poor" program. The cereal is called Crispix. It is, perhaps, Kellogg’s greatest triumph. On the bright, blue box, the cereal is described as, “crispy rice on one side, crunchy corn on the other”. Toss some into a bowl, add milk and a dash of sugar and you have yourself a tasty treat.

The moment my eyes saw that box of cereal, a wave of peace and comfort came over my body and a smile spread across my face. It was the first time ever, perhaps, that a cheap box of food had made me feel so completely happy. During the same moment that I was so peaceful and smiling so goofily in my kitchen, my mind raced with images - images I had forgotten of my sister and I getting ready for school each morning: lumbering out of our bunk beds, dizzy with sleep, sharing the same bathroom with my long-suffering mother, searching our small house for any inch of privacy that might exist and always ending up in the kitchen hurrying through our bowls of soggy cereal so that we could catch the #7 bus at 7:35 a.m. Our cereals of choice were usually Crispix, Cheerios or Rice Krispies (my mother - the health nut). Somewhere down the line, we ditched those cereals for sweeter ones like Fruit Loops, Lucky Charms or Cocoa Puffs. And at that point, I never saw another box of Crispix again... until tonight.

Yes, this is a blog about cereal. It is truly a love of mine. But more importantly, I revisited some cherished memories tonight that I thought I had forgotten. It is amazing how the mind works and how complex we all are. The very image of a simple blue box of cereal can conjure up the warmest feelings an individual could ever have. The days when things were not so rushed and stressful. The days when everyone was a friend and the word "enemy" did not exist. The days when grandma and grandpa were always around. The days when your family was functional - or at least you thought they were. Each day held a simple routine - with simple questions, simple answers and simple treasures. Those were the "good, old days" that are long gone and maybe even lost, until you stumble across your own, personal comfort food.

You must be aware that I had the most special dinner in years tonight. Yes, I enjoyed a cold bowl of Crispix, milk and memories. At the end of it, I called my sister to share with her my delight and to see if she remembered things the way I did. To my surprise, she informed me that, inside of her pantry, she also had a box of comforting Crispix just waiting to be opened.

Beau.

I am a huge Jimmy Stewart fan. I am a huge dog fan. I am a huge fan of poems that make me feel warm and fuzzy. If you could care less about these three things, but you have had a family pet, then I am positive that you will relate to this. Find a quiet place to watch and listen. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

Burn Out.

And so I followed his lead, as we ended up in the valley of deep shadow and foolish regret.

... My map had predicted this, if only I had believed.

Without a plan, without a helper and past all moral sense, we fell deeper and deeper. There was no roadblock; no stopping us from being passengers on this fast track, downward plummet. It was dark and cold when I realized that I had been alone all along. I should have listened to you and to them.

... But I crumpled my map and I burned it up a long time ago.

Then I set fire to my bridges and I left without a word. Where did I think I was going? I wonder if you are thinking of me tonight, as I lie in this bed I have made. Now I understand what you were trying to say to me, with your tear stained cheeks and your heavy heart. But my watch has stopped and I am afraid it is too late. All I can taste now is the bitterness of flirting with disaster.

... Please send me a map and I will crawl out of this hole back to you.

Sweet & Sour.

Creating relationships with others, in my mind, is the stuff of life. Yet, a few of the most important players in my life would lead me to believe otherwise. For example, some feel that all of us are better off alone; that taking the effort to build a relationship with someone will only lead to disappointment and the resulting failure of the relationship. I am not a risk taker by nature, however I do believe in "taking the plunge" when it comes to getting to know another individual.

What is it that keeps some from developing new relationships with others? Is it really the disappointment of another's mistake that inevitably breaks their heart? Or is it the anxiety that someone might see through to the real them? Is it possible they are too afraid to dig within themselves to see what they are truly made of and give that to another individual? On the other hand, what is it that keeps some craving the development of new relationships with others? Is it the spark that ignites and excites a new relationship; the possible beginning of something beautiful? Could it be the give and take or the highs and lows that add color to an otherwise bland life? Or is it the comfort of looking back on years of sweet memories that belong to you? I will keep my answers to myself for now.

In my opinion, friendships, relationships and individuals are worth fighting for. Being afraid of disappointment, failure or even of yourself, is no reason to live life alone. Friends and lovers play pivotal roles in life's experiences, for better or for worse, that cannot be replaced. There is nothing quite like meeting your best friend for the first time, staying up until 5 AM chatting, realizing you have never met another person like this in your life. Falling in love with the person who takes your breath away and drives you crazy at the same time. The experience of your first heartbreak. Finding it nearly impossible to sleep soundly again after letting go of the one whom you should have fought for. Realizing you have been stabbed in the back. Trying to forget your crazy ex. Trying not to be the crazy ex. Feeling safe knowing there will be the one with whom you can always pick up where you left off. Each of us have them in our lives; they just have different names and different faces. At some point, there was a struggle of some sort between us and them. And it was worth it. It was worth it because it added a dimension to our personality that was previously missing; a dimension that defines who we are right now, whether we want to admit it or not.

While I might not ever agree with the other side of this argument, I suppose I can live and let live. Whatever works for you, works for you. Do I believe that those on the other side are missing out on some incredible relationships because they choose to live life behind a brick wall? Absolutely. Yes, it takes courage to allow another individual to search through you to find your very core. Yes, you will still feel lonely, even in a crowd of people. Yes, you will get your heart ripped out and you will definitely be disappointed beyond belief at times. But now and then, you will strike gold by finding the most beautiful individuals with which to surround yourself; those that make you feel alive and infinite. And only then can one realize that the sweet is never as sweet without the sour.

Genesis.

I give up. The time has come for me to have my own blog. Even though I feel the pressure to be consistently creative, I feel safe knowing I will have a creative outlet whenever I feel like it. Here goes.

* * *

My dad recorded "The Late Show with David Letterman" on our VCR each night while I was growing up. He would screen it for my innocent eyes - skipping over the boring guests or the raucous skits - and we would watch the highlights the next evening over dinner. No matter what, though, we always watched the top ten list. I can confidently say that because of David Letterman, I am a life-long list lover. They rule my life and I believe each individual should have their own top-ten list - a personal history or just some fun facts about themselves. Here is mine.

1. I have never seen myself living anywhere but Indianapolis. Don't hate.
2. I have played guitar and written and recorded music for ten years, but because of my shyness most people that know me have never heard me play.
3. I never went to college and I don't mind you knowing that.
4. I place great importance on interesting, thought-provoking conversations, but I have been known to overuse the phrase, "talk is cheap".
5. I struggle with an addiction to McDonald's Diet Coke.
6. I believe in having a handful of proven, trustworthy friends, rather than an arsenal of acquaintances.
7. I will forever be a dog person. Cats (NOT kittens) are extremely lame.
8. I have very little fashion sense and mostly rely on others to plan and approve my outfits through the use of mobile phone picture messaging capabilities.
9. I believe Chef Boyardee to be a culinary genius.
10. I have to sing my ABC's to recall alphabetical order and I still count on my fingers. Perhaps #3 needs more consideration.

Nice to meet you, too.