Prostrate Prayers
Tiny Chronicles: 4th of October, Two Thousand and Eight:
Tonight is the night. Something occurred to me last night before I went to bed. I guess in light of yesterday's mysterious spate of text messages, it would've been predictable for her to call or text and suddenly have to cancel tonight's date. That would fall exactly in line with one of the theories I was batting about, that I've been passes over. This did not happen. I wonder if that should cheer me somehow. I suppose I may as well let it.
With each passing minute I'm getting closer and closer to seeing her again. I'm excited but not as excited as I was before all this crap happened. It's my hope that I'll be able to tell within five minutes if something is up. If nothing is up it'll be a weight from my shoulders. I'll be able to have fun. Of course I still can't stop sneaking the suspicion that I'm on borrowed time. That shoe may drop at any moment. It's a bit like having a piano suspended over your head on a frayed length of rope.
To hell with that. I'm going to get my mind off this pickle. I need to hit the bank and get a haircut, and I was thinking I'd go to Target to get her something cheap and goofy for her, just as I would if there were nothing... off. Because there may very well BE nothing off.
I seem to be getting away from best practice and first principles. What can I ask of people that they wouldn't readily give? Nothing. And what should I ask of them? Only to be who they are and nothing more. And if they are drawn to me that will happen without my pulling, and may very well happen whether or not you worry, so you may as well not worry. You're a little stressed and it's clouding your thinking, and understandably so. There are questions hanging around, smoking cigarettes and looking like they're up to no good, but you're doing fine.
Can I tell you something that you have to promise to keep a secret? Pinkie swear? sigh... okay:
I think I might have... um... (prayed) last night. I think. I'm not sure what it was. I was in bed with all my blankets pulled up. I'd just settled in for the night. Stayed up later than on a weekday but didn't really hit the town, so I was very tired and heavy and had eyes filled with sand. I tried to clear my mind and to settle in, to leave the day next to my shoes on the floor where I could find it in the morning. It wasn't giving itself up. The claws of the day were dug in fast.
I started to speak. It was quiet, tentative, childlike maybe? Nah - not childlike, just a little worse for wear, the voice of an emancipated adult that burned a bit too much oil for too long.
"If you are there," I said, "I wanted to ask for something." I began to trail off straight away, my voice resounding through the pillow and ricocheting inside my skull. "I know I'm not supposed to 'ask' you for things. I'm supposed to ask... at least I think the point is I'm supposed to ask for the strength to get through what you've got laid out for me. You're not a request line. I don't go to you to get MY way: I'm to go to you to get help to understand YOUR way.
"I know that. But... I just... I know you'll give me what I need, but I was wondering if I could ask that what I need to also be what I want. Just this one time. I'd really like to reach over there and touch her, and to know that my touch is wanted there. It's simple. I just want to get through tomorrow."
I suppose I kept rambling until I fell asleep. I even hit a point where my mumbling was waking me up. Sounds like a lot of drama for one girl you barely know, doesn't it? I agree. I'm sensitive but I'm not insane. And I suppose it's a lot to call in some divine power to help you through this. That stuff should probably be saved for being in a sinking ship, or alone with a lion on the Serengeti.
But then again: a lion could eat you while you scream, or your last breath could be filled with brine, and if there's no love in your heart you couldn't call that a tragedy. Hell, a lion gobbling up a heartless person would be doing that guy a favor. I'm not sure life should be measured by epic experiences. The true character of life is made up of smaller episodes, of moments, of much smaller ordeals and simpler questions. Without love in your heart you'd be hard pressed to get through all those little moments, wouldn't you? It would make you sour and angry and cold through an infinitude of slings and arrows, and gone would be the blue skies and light breezes that give a life balance.
That's what I'm afraid of. It's not so much Chickenhead A, Chickenhead B or Chickenhead C. It's the sheer volume of experiences I've had that didn't work out for one reason or another. All these years without a thunderclap, for a guy like me? For someone who, like it or not, is defined by the emotional content of things? It may seem melodramatic, but in a tiny way I'm beginning to feel like Job out there in the desert. I'm afraid that I'm going to harden, to turn bitter and cynical, to lose the very things that I think make up my core.
THAT'S why I want this to just work. Without pushing it in any direction. It doesn't have to go anywhere, ultimately, but I'd just like this experience to wind up being a net plus. If I'm not looking forward with this person - and NO, I'm not seriously suspecting I will - then I at least want to be able to look back without her and say, "This experience was a good one."
Not a bad thing to ask for, am I right?
Tonight is the night. Something occurred to me last night before I went to bed. I guess in light of yesterday's mysterious spate of text messages, it would've been predictable for her to call or text and suddenly have to cancel tonight's date. That would fall exactly in line with one of the theories I was batting about, that I've been passes over. This did not happen. I wonder if that should cheer me somehow. I suppose I may as well let it.
With each passing minute I'm getting closer and closer to seeing her again. I'm excited but not as excited as I was before all this crap happened. It's my hope that I'll be able to tell within five minutes if something is up. If nothing is up it'll be a weight from my shoulders. I'll be able to have fun. Of course I still can't stop sneaking the suspicion that I'm on borrowed time. That shoe may drop at any moment. It's a bit like having a piano suspended over your head on a frayed length of rope.
To hell with that. I'm going to get my mind off this pickle. I need to hit the bank and get a haircut, and I was thinking I'd go to Target to get her something cheap and goofy for her, just as I would if there were nothing... off. Because there may very well BE nothing off.
I seem to be getting away from best practice and first principles. What can I ask of people that they wouldn't readily give? Nothing. And what should I ask of them? Only to be who they are and nothing more. And if they are drawn to me that will happen without my pulling, and may very well happen whether or not you worry, so you may as well not worry. You're a little stressed and it's clouding your thinking, and understandably so. There are questions hanging around, smoking cigarettes and looking like they're up to no good, but you're doing fine.
Can I tell you something that you have to promise to keep a secret? Pinkie swear? sigh... okay:
I think I might have... um... (prayed) last night. I think. I'm not sure what it was. I was in bed with all my blankets pulled up. I'd just settled in for the night. Stayed up later than on a weekday but didn't really hit the town, so I was very tired and heavy and had eyes filled with sand. I tried to clear my mind and to settle in, to leave the day next to my shoes on the floor where I could find it in the morning. It wasn't giving itself up. The claws of the day were dug in fast.
I started to speak. It was quiet, tentative, childlike maybe? Nah - not childlike, just a little worse for wear, the voice of an emancipated adult that burned a bit too much oil for too long.
"If you are there," I said, "I wanted to ask for something." I began to trail off straight away, my voice resounding through the pillow and ricocheting inside my skull. "I know I'm not supposed to 'ask' you for things. I'm supposed to ask... at least I think the point is I'm supposed to ask for the strength to get through what you've got laid out for me. You're not a request line. I don't go to you to get MY way: I'm to go to you to get help to understand YOUR way.
"I know that. But... I just... I know you'll give me what I need, but I was wondering if I could ask that what I need to also be what I want. Just this one time. I'd really like to reach over there and touch her, and to know that my touch is wanted there. It's simple. I just want to get through tomorrow."
I suppose I kept rambling until I fell asleep. I even hit a point where my mumbling was waking me up. Sounds like a lot of drama for one girl you barely know, doesn't it? I agree. I'm sensitive but I'm not insane. And I suppose it's a lot to call in some divine power to help you through this. That stuff should probably be saved for being in a sinking ship, or alone with a lion on the Serengeti.
But then again: a lion could eat you while you scream, or your last breath could be filled with brine, and if there's no love in your heart you couldn't call that a tragedy. Hell, a lion gobbling up a heartless person would be doing that guy a favor. I'm not sure life should be measured by epic experiences. The true character of life is made up of smaller episodes, of moments, of much smaller ordeals and simpler questions. Without love in your heart you'd be hard pressed to get through all those little moments, wouldn't you? It would make you sour and angry and cold through an infinitude of slings and arrows, and gone would be the blue skies and light breezes that give a life balance.
That's what I'm afraid of. It's not so much Chickenhead A, Chickenhead B or Chickenhead C. It's the sheer volume of experiences I've had that didn't work out for one reason or another. All these years without a thunderclap, for a guy like me? For someone who, like it or not, is defined by the emotional content of things? It may seem melodramatic, but in a tiny way I'm beginning to feel like Job out there in the desert. I'm afraid that I'm going to harden, to turn bitter and cynical, to lose the very things that I think make up my core.
THAT'S why I want this to just work. Without pushing it in any direction. It doesn't have to go anywhere, ultimately, but I'd just like this experience to wind up being a net plus. If I'm not looking forward with this person - and NO, I'm not seriously suspecting I will - then I at least want to be able to look back without her and say, "This experience was a good one."
Not a bad thing to ask for, am I right?