Jake and Sam

** Writer’s Note*** Names have been changed to protect the privacy of others.

Regrets. When I think of mine, I think of many things, but two people come quickly to mind. Jake* and Sam*.

Let me sidebar here and explain the grandness of a homecoming mum: It was a flower that your, usually boyfriend (sometimes dad), bought you to wear for football homecoming. The mums were the size of a grown man’s hand and adorned with ribbons, bells, and anything else you wanted to pay extra for. The whole thing went from your shoulder to about your waist line. They were very expensive, so one could not just afford to give them as a simple thinking of you gift. They were serious business. They were also delivered to you while you were in class, so it was a big social standing event.

Jake was the first and last person to ever buy me a homecoming mum. That was in Jr. High. I was so caught up in trying to keep up with the acceptance and expectations of others that I never publicly appreciated it or him. But now as my kids take friendships for granted, or are taken for granted themselves, I hurt. It is not a mere lighthearted memory anymore.

Sam was my first true love. Everyone knew it. I was a junior, he was a senior. That love turned into an engagement and the engagement turned into turmoil. The encouragement, concern, and counsel from some was little or none. “You’re too young”, “He’s doesn’t make enough money” and so on. Not that any of this was not true for the time, but the approach was very abrupt and crude. “You’re stupid, foolish and just trying to get attention”, “You’ve caused enough trouble already”. It ended. With no explanation from me. Not one deserving of him anyway. It is a bitter, bitter feeling I carry with me today. You see he did a lot of things for me: he lifted me up, sobered me up, gave me a reason to grow up and all with no expectation from me, except love. I let him down. After the break up I went back to the old ways, old things and new troubles.

To Jake and Sam, for all of it, I am sorry. I would take it all back if I could.

I have been re-visiting my past a lot lately. It’s not good, for every smile there is a tear, and for every tear there is torment. My hope is- that with the torment will also come some clarity and healing.

familiar territory

so today in a conversation i found myself comparing a job change to domestic violence.

she knows it’s not helping the situation by staying.
she knows it’s not healthy.
she knows it’s not where she should be.
she knows that she should want more for herself.
she knows that’s she’s living a lie, when she smiles and says that things are fine.

but it all she knows.

she may not be comfortable, but she is familiar.

where else would she go?
what else would she do?
who else could she be?
how can she possibly start over at this point?

i find myself noticing this in more than just a job change, but in many areas of change. schools, friends, churches, towns, neighborhoods, families. the list could go on and on. the question is why do we hesitate? some will answer that they just need more time to think it through or to pray about it. others will answers in a manner of logistics- timing is wrong, economy is bad. others are in simple denial.

we have always been warned not to get too comfortable. when we do we lose our sense of desire, drive, determination, passion. it’s my opinion that being too familiar is just as detrimental to one’s soul. to one’s spirit.

we have always been told that when one ceases to grow, they die. can one really continue to grow in an all too familiar surrounding? or is it a must that they uproot, replant. in new ground.

we’ve also been told “it ain’t gonna be easy”.

send in the replacements…

i actually got to set through an entire service tonight. from the first beat to the last amen. that doesn’t happen very often ever. but i’m only going to comment on the music.

anyway. if you really know me, you know i tell it like it is. and it was good great it rocked.

i never even noticed the “core” drummer was out, and the replacement was in.

play til the whistle blows girl!

write, wrong

okay so i decided i was going to start writing. right? right. so i went online to look for a “writing job” and most of what i found is… yes you guessed it, scams.

the most interesting so far is the place where i have to bid on how much i want to make in order to write an ad or an article. if i underbid, i get took. if i overbid, the job gets took! that is after i pay a membership fee to even be allowed to bid on the jobs.

another one wanted me to write about my experiences with shopping, eating out, etc. i could do that. well except for the part where they wanted me to travel, shop and eat, at my expense, in order to have something to write about. buy hey they would pay me a smooth and easy $15-$40 for my write up.

so here i am, blogging about not being able to write.

i’m not sure i’m cut out to be a starving artist.

more later.

i could get used to that

with laptop in hand, (insert hand clap and a yay!) i’m thinking of all these different thoughts and making up stories in my head. then it occurred to me… i should write this stuff down.

now i have always been an imaginative person. it probably comes from watching a whole lot of tv when i was younger. or maybe it comes from the longing of wanting to be one of those people on tv, or in the movie. i don’t know. but no matter the origin, i have the gift.

so in effort not to waste it, i’ve decided to start writing. i can go to different places to get different feelings to evoke the different stories: a porch to bring out a story of romance or nostalgia, a park to jog the memory of childhood, chase an ambulance to make the heart beat faster for an action adventure, watch more tv and movies! oh wouldn’t it be nice to get paid for this? yes, just to puts my thoughts in print and receive a check. i could get used to that.

short stories mind you. i don’t know that i have the mentality or the patience to right a novel. however i have been cooking up a screenplay in my head for some years now…

more to come.

honey i’m home! did you miss me?

after much consideration and, advise from wise council, i’ve decided to start blogging again. for however long i may be able to do so (censorship and all, you know).

i have truly missed being able to impart my witt and charm upon the masses (or the handful of people who read this). because that is why i started blogging to begin with. it was never my intention to post a daily devotional, to give you suggestions on what books to read or what music to listen to. yeah no i really just wanted to write about my everyday life. the random thoughts that are inside my head, thus the title “inside the chele”, duh. that’s it. i just wanted to… relate.  with all the appropriateness i can muster.

so starting now i’ll be picking up where i left off. well maybe not right now, it’s 4:30am and i do have church tomorrow.

and i might add this would be so much easier if i had a laptop [insert sigh]. am i promising a daily post? whatever! but keep checking in, you never know!!!

milk

i came home sick today, due partly to the change in the weather, but mostly from exhaustion- with the sole purpose to sleep. couldn’t. that’s murphy’s is it not?! so i put in a movie, one of the two that usually knocks me out. not that they are boring, just predictable and slow moving. today’s choice: Cinderella Man. didn’t work.

now, since i stayed awake this time i paid more attention and got more out of it. at one point in the movie, when he’s made his comeback and the reporters ask him why he thinks he can make it this time, he tells them, because now he knows what he’s fighting for.
let’s recap a bit shall we… he was a boxer, prime. then he got older, things got broken and broken again. not so prime anymore. then the great depression came. lost everything. no work. no money. no food. getting older still and tired. a wife, three little kids. how to support them? where would the resources come from? another chance at being a prime boxer. although some weren’t so sure.

so when the reporter asked him what he was fighting for he answered “milk”. you see before, when things were good and taken for granted, the reasons were… wanted. but now the reasons are… needed.

it seems that we’ve lost sight of the fight in our homes, businesses, dare i say churches. maybe we never had sight. a-ha! that would explain a lot wouldn’t it?

what are you fighting for? milk or milk money?

now i’ve done it

i’ve went and built a facebook page thingy. it was peer pressure i tell you it was. i’m some what confused as to how the whole thing works, but i’m gonna try it. i picked some sort of weed this morning from AMac… and i’m not sure if i want to be poked. i poked Becky to see what would happen… i dunno.

i might this new adventure, i always thought i was more of a twitterer than a blogger anyway.

let me tell you about my experience thus far:

after i entered all my info. (high school, college and whatnot) it brought up a list of “people i might know”. this is truly great, because i know alot of people and i couldn’t possibly search them all out by name. however, the majority of the list were the children of the people i knew! sad but true i know. even sadder, those children are almost adults! oh and i must comment on the pictures that some of them use to represent themselves… fer shame, fer shame. if their parents would’ve came up on my list, i would have advised them to monitor their children more carefully.

i won’t leave the blog world behind. you will still be able to enjoy my witt and charm through wordpress!

must go now. i need to read the writing on the wall.

j day

12 today, justice is.

okay michele, don’t cry

yesterday Cal asked that if anyone was being held captive by anything to stand. my son stood. at first i thought that he was following someone else’s lead, but as i looked around the only other person standing near him was an adult that i’m sure he didn’t know. so he stayed standing. with his eyes closed and his hands raised singing as if no one was listening. all the while tears were streaming. mine.

this afternoon one of our 3rd grade boys came in to talk to Becky about accepting Jesus into his heart and will now be getting baptized on Sunday. i was a blubbering idiot.

ricsha’s kids and mike’s kids just came in running and (in their inside voices) yelling. all 6 of them. i just wanted to stop what i was doing and love on them, but instead i just cried.

this is the norm for me.

it’s a good dysfunction to have.

that’s all for now.

i need a tissue.