just got really bummed out by something so silly. my mom cashed in this bucket of coins, that i thought we'd agreed not to cash in. it was my dad's, and we jokingly made it my "dowry." but we seriously spoke once about it belonging to me and now the bucket's empty with bills.
i know it's silly, i just miss my dad and get sad when my mom goes through these purging stages, when she gets rid of things that were his because they're useless to us now. they're not useless to me. they're his things, and they make me feel like he's closer.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
excerpt.
i reread this tonight, and got teary for only the millionth time. it's an excerpt from the velveteen rabbit.
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
Sunday, July 12, 2009
a poem for now.
to hope for seconds
hurts worse than no hope at all
to believe for a minute
hurts worse than a meaningless lifetime
these things end
expire
dissolve
reality is that
no hope
no belief
is so far less painful
than the disappointment
the sorrow
the burn
of having never
believed
or hoped
or dreamed
at all.
hurts worse than no hope at all
to believe for a minute
hurts worse than a meaningless lifetime
these things end
expire
dissolve
reality is that
no hope
no belief
is so far less painful
than the disappointment
the sorrow
the burn
of having never
believed
or hoped
or dreamed
at all.
Friday, July 3, 2009
i have to focus on the positives today. like i'm going to be an auntie! and how many wonderful, true friends i have. that i live in COLORADO, and that everyday i wake up to fresh air. i have to focus on truth. like the Lord. that he loves me, even though i feel nothing. that heaven is truly moments away, though a lifetime stands in the way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)