...One More Time
Lately, I've been digging up a bunch of old journal posts for a project and it has been interesting to flip through the years and see what I was thinking on various dates/times. Most of the messages that I've left for myself aren't groundbreaking and can be akin to a whine at times (as opposed to my current love for rants) but they represent things that were important to me at the time.
Perhaps it was because I was already in this frame of mind that a message from an old friend dug up some memories of college. Looking back, there wasn't a strong sense of good or bad times necessarily, but just a general wish that I had gotten to know someone better. I don't know that we would have been the best of friends, but I think that there would definitely have been a chance to be able to rely as heavily on him as I do with some of my current friends.
As we made our ways through college, I never really found a way to verbalize the ways that I admired this person. Sure, I blogged about some things but never really found the opportunity to have that discussion with him face to face. And who does that, really? "Hey, let's grab coffee and I will tell you why you're awesome." Stuff like that just doesn't roll off of my tongue, but then again, I'm not a validator like that.
One thing that Bret said to me has stuck with me over the years, and might very well be his lasting legacy/impact. Over lunch one day after I had graduated, I mentioned all of the things that I wanted to do in life and the reasons why I was not going to make them happen. His response was simply "Why don't you?" As I've blogged before, I think that in some respect, many of my actions are dictated by a fear of the unknown or fear of consequences, and this straightforward question cut through all of that.
Now, I see that although life might not have initially turned out like it was planned, Bret's getting to do things that I assume that he truly wants to do. I am a little bit envious of the adventure and romance, but, when I take a step back, I can't say that I would trade positions with him if given the chance. I mean, that would entail me having to give up the wonderful city of LA for a stay in Omaha and...that's just not worth it.
While combing through my journal for my recollections of our previous chat, I came across an unrelated post that has also stuck with me over the years. I need to improve upon the entry and refine it, but I think that it's a good start for the story that I want to have about myself years from now.
______________________________________
"Well, not really. I say I am..."
"...But you aren't."
"Yeah, but..."
"I know."
"No, no, wait. Really..."
"It's okay, really, I know."
"C'mon now..."
"You don't have to explain."
The floor creaked as we made our way through the hall. You always forget the spot on the floor even though I've told you so many times. Annoyance colored your words, but I knew that you were smiling.
"Why do we have these arguments? You know I always win."
"I'm just saying..."
"Uh huh."
I slid my finger into your waistband and pulled close. The smell of you made me pause as I ran my hands over the thin charcoal t-shirt that was starting to fade. Through the fabric I felt you stiffen for just a second and then let go--your breath came hard as I began to exhale on the back of your neck. I ran my chin along the curve of your shoulder and bit down.
"You win." The words came out and lingered for a second before they were swept away by the low hum of a fan. I had intended to say them louder, but I could not speak above a whisper.
"I thought that you always win?"
"Maybe not this time."
In that space, I gave you everything--I gave you me. I could shout, I could articulate, I could come up with arguments out of nothing, and although I never failed to prove my point, you would always triumph in the things that mattered.
You sat at the foot of the bed staring off into your thoughts. You stood up slowly and began to undress--you knew I liked to watch. We fell down together and I saw alarm cross your face.
"Don't."
"But I'm..."
A finger across your lips and a smile told you that everything was fine. We began to move to the sound of the wind outside, to the rustling of the leaves on the lawn. Swollen lips. Finger tips. Flushed cheeks. A flash of light. Don't stop. Your face buried in the pillowcase. Your waistline moving up and down mine. Your clothes on the floor--my shirt's on the headboard. There's someone there? Don't stop. Don't stop until our toes cross. Don't stop.
"Don't stop."
Fingers cradle your head and feel the smooth coolness of your hair. I love the way your scent lingers on my fingers long after we're done. I smell the sweat and I feel the heat. There was a time when I needed to hear you say that you loved me--that was before I knew. My hand wound around you ear and down your body, finally settling on your stomach. We talked for a while, about what I can never remember. Tomorrow seemed so far away and yet morning came all too soon.
Perhaps it was because I was already in this frame of mind that a message from an old friend dug up some memories of college. Looking back, there wasn't a strong sense of good or bad times necessarily, but just a general wish that I had gotten to know someone better. I don't know that we would have been the best of friends, but I think that there would definitely have been a chance to be able to rely as heavily on him as I do with some of my current friends.
As we made our ways through college, I never really found a way to verbalize the ways that I admired this person. Sure, I blogged about some things but never really found the opportunity to have that discussion with him face to face. And who does that, really? "Hey, let's grab coffee and I will tell you why you're awesome." Stuff like that just doesn't roll off of my tongue, but then again, I'm not a validator like that.
One thing that Bret said to me has stuck with me over the years, and might very well be his lasting legacy/impact. Over lunch one day after I had graduated, I mentioned all of the things that I wanted to do in life and the reasons why I was not going to make them happen. His response was simply "Why don't you?" As I've blogged before, I think that in some respect, many of my actions are dictated by a fear of the unknown or fear of consequences, and this straightforward question cut through all of that.
Now, I see that although life might not have initially turned out like it was planned, Bret's getting to do things that I assume that he truly wants to do. I am a little bit envious of the adventure and romance, but, when I take a step back, I can't say that I would trade positions with him if given the chance. I mean, that would entail me having to give up the wonderful city of LA for a stay in Omaha and...that's just not worth it.
While combing through my journal for my recollections of our previous chat, I came across an unrelated post that has also stuck with me over the years. I need to improve upon the entry and refine it, but I think that it's a good start for the story that I want to have about myself years from now.
______________________________________
"Well, not really. I say I am..."
"...But you aren't."
"Yeah, but..."
"I know."
"No, no, wait. Really..."
"It's okay, really, I know."
"C'mon now..."
"You don't have to explain."
The floor creaked as we made our way through the hall. You always forget the spot on the floor even though I've told you so many times. Annoyance colored your words, but I knew that you were smiling.
"Why do we have these arguments? You know I always win."
"I'm just saying..."
"Uh huh."
I slid my finger into your waistband and pulled close. The smell of you made me pause as I ran my hands over the thin charcoal t-shirt that was starting to fade. Through the fabric I felt you stiffen for just a second and then let go--your breath came hard as I began to exhale on the back of your neck. I ran my chin along the curve of your shoulder and bit down.
"You win." The words came out and lingered for a second before they were swept away by the low hum of a fan. I had intended to say them louder, but I could not speak above a whisper.
"I thought that you always win?"
"Maybe not this time."
In that space, I gave you everything--I gave you me. I could shout, I could articulate, I could come up with arguments out of nothing, and although I never failed to prove my point, you would always triumph in the things that mattered.
You sat at the foot of the bed staring off into your thoughts. You stood up slowly and began to undress--you knew I liked to watch. We fell down together and I saw alarm cross your face.
"Don't."
"But I'm..."
A finger across your lips and a smile told you that everything was fine. We began to move to the sound of the wind outside, to the rustling of the leaves on the lawn. Swollen lips. Finger tips. Flushed cheeks. A flash of light. Don't stop. Your face buried in the pillowcase. Your waistline moving up and down mine. Your clothes on the floor--my shirt's on the headboard. There's someone there? Don't stop. Don't stop until our toes cross. Don't stop.
"Don't stop."
Fingers cradle your head and feel the smooth coolness of your hair. I love the way your scent lingers on my fingers long after we're done. I smell the sweat and I feel the heat. There was a time when I needed to hear you say that you loved me--that was before I knew. My hand wound around you ear and down your body, finally settling on your stomach. We talked for a while, about what I can never remember. Tomorrow seemed so far away and yet morning came all too soon.