or so it may seem.im learning that reality may be somewhat different than the above statement.

im learning that people will very rarely ever change… anything. ever. human beings are inheirently creatures of habbit. and unless they are forced to change, like cattle herded from one field to the next… they wont.

humans are stubborn… it would seem, that they would rather stay in there safe little pasture – and choose to die of starvation – than to ::gasp:: face the threatening unknown of change and actually move to a pasture that holds the hope of food most promisingly.

very rarely will you find someone who will actually accept change gladly. and more rare still, are those individuals who will actually seek out change. wether to better themselves, or for the sake of a relationship….

and im learning, that those are the people that you consider friends. those are the people you invite into your deepest secrets. they are the ones who know most about you, even if you see them only on rare occasions. they are the ones who, when you look 10 years into the future, you know that even if you’re thousands of miles apart – you will still be in contact, if only because you know that the person on the other end of that line, will change with you… no matter what life throws your way.

people have learned that there is safety in numbers. and they will constantly cling to one another for support, for safety and for a feeling of ‘belonging’ to something. which is well, good and fine… unless life, or the Good Shepherd, is calling you to change.

for you see, the road of one who choses to change, is a lonely road. there is no denying that. because im walking on it.

i no longer fit into the “mold” of cattle anymore. i used to, i did. i used to have a normal family. live in a normal house. have a normal job in a normal suburb of a normal city. i – was one in a heard. not anymore. my family? fractured. forever. my lineage? destroyed. my house? sold. my job? gone.

and the looks on the faces of those who choose to not change… will forever be painfully burned into my memory as the faces of those who didnt know how to love.

for you see,

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails

love always protects. and to protect someone, you must be where they are. if you are not? than your love is only a good feeling… with no power.

ultimately, love means allowing someone to change. be it by there choice, or because the world they lived in was turned on end… love means allowing them to be real, and allowing them to change.

walking this path, im learning that ive only scratched the surface on love. i know ive got some wrongs that im keeping record of, and im struggling to let go.

but for now. and, for ever – i will always choose to change.

two words that seem to encompass much, much more than the sum of their parts.its what i yearn for.
its what, on some days, my heart beats for.

im trying to understand the -on some occasions- overwhelming desire for acceptance. for someone, anyone, to tell me im doing a good job. a “pat on the back”, or small words of praise. an accolade…

but then i realize, again-for the first time, that the things ive faced down… the demons i continually fight, the battle that rages on inside of my life… will never be battles that i can put on a resume. chances are, my boss will never say to me

“pj, good job on holding yourself together today while at work. its good to know you can shelve your personal life and feelings for the sake of the company”.

my victories, be they few, wont ever be shouted from rooftops, they’ll never grant me access to a ‘millionaires club’. and, quite honestly, wont ever make for a good conversation pice…

my only hope is that through it all, its working in me something of greater value.

to tell the truth, i dont know if thats my ‘only hope’ or just, the only thing i can cling too…

i dont know. what i do know is that im scared about what im capable of doing for acceptance. not somethin stupid, i mean – i know living for human acceptance is a fruitless and stress filled pursuit… but the joy that i feel, be it momentarily, when my boss compliments me – is amazing…. and that is what scares me. i dont want to live the rest of my life… this year… this week… today… or tomorrow… living for accolades from people who dont really matter…

im scared that im so fragile, and so reliant on those brief moments of joy that the rest of my moments are wasted working towards an fleeting and unfulfilling prize…

i want the quality of my work, and the knowing that i gave my all, to be the joys i live off of.

i want…

what i want… is to hear from my parents, that they’re proud of me…

it seems that no matter how many times i tell myself that ive fully realized what has taken place in my family… i havent.i spent the majority of today trying to ‘work’ simply forget the crap surrounding me. it was as if i was hit, suddenly, in the gut, with another “level” of realization.

and all of a sudden, my world stopped… again.

fast forward a few short hours and the night found myself standing 6 floors up on the roof of the parking garage. watching the city lights.

in my year of city living, i dont normally expierence fog very often, but tonite was unique. the fog was very very low. from where i was – 6 floors up – just looking across the street was somewhat obscured by the low hanging clouds. and the highrise buildings that are my neighbors? all but had dissappeard. but something else spoke to me up there…

a still, small voice…

that im trying to hold on to.

you see, just as those giant, imovable buildings were where they always were… even though i could not see them… in the same way, through the fog of grief, pain and hurt im walking through right now… there is a giant, imovable God who – though i may not see Him…

He is still there.

one year.
365 days.
52 weeks.

1 friend whos been with me through it all… and right now… i need to go tell her how thankful i am.

ok… why exactly do i NOT HAVE a vsb?

its amazing how many things i realize only in the context of explaining that ‘thing’ to someone else.like, why on earth was i NOT notified of my mother having my father sign papers? i mean… come on.

how am i supposed to feel if i wasnt told of anything until AFTER the decision had been made for me?

what decision? oh yeah… my father is now NEVER allowed back in new york.

home.

my father is never allowed back home.

my mother made this decision… and i was not told until afterwards… its not like i would have argued or fought the choice, but come on. im 23 years old…

im old enough to be on my own. have my own apartment. to pick up the shattered remains of our house and get it in shape to be sold. im old enough to have handled more than most 23 year olds but im not old enough to have been told about something that will directly impact the rest of my life?

how was i supposed to feel? im not sure.

but ill tell you how i do feel. betrayed. hurt. and suddenly… very very worthless.

how much value is placed on how im feeling through all of this, if i wasnt even valued enough to be told of it before it happened?

all of this hit me, in a single moment. while, in explaining to a friend how i was feeling, i let a sentence trail off. and in the silence following…

the truth began to scream.

facing the past. the facts. and the future.im hoping that tonite.. will at least accomplish some of that.

see, ive been keeping myself insanely busy over the past 2.5 weeks for a very specific purpose. march 19th 2002. my parents officially filed for divorce.

i hoenstly didnt believe that knowing it was officially official would be that hard. i was wrong.

i know for a fact that im sitting here trying to make myself feel what i know is boiling inside of me. but even tonite i know im barely scratching the surface of whats going on inside of me. see, what i would like to do, would be to keep everything inside in a pretty lil box with a cute lil bow on it and only take out the items in the box when i have time, and the ability to deal with them. but that seldomly happens. besides, i cant tie a bow to save my life…

what does happen is that the pressure continously builds until ‘pop’… or ‘kaboom’ or ‘insert loud explosion sound of your choice here’.

anyway, along with the new look to the site, a new title. shamelessly copied from ‘the beautiful letdown’ by switchfoot….

::drumroll::

this is my life.. am i who i want to be?

tada. [insert any and all fanfare here]

well. obviously my session of attempting to deal with the inner turmoil is going nowhere. fast. so i am going to call it a nite. and just click post and maybe pay my verizon bill.

sounds like a plan….

it isnt fun. its never something we ask for. its something we’d just as soon avoid. sometimes, we even run from it.but at the end of the day…. when all i have are the thoughts in my head… it all comes down to that word.

i feel so frustrated by the extreme lack of the english language to convey how intense, how passionate, how crushing… my emotions are.

take for instance the word “miss”. as in “i miss so and so”. that is the most understated word you could use for what i feel about my family.

new topic.

for the past 18 months ive lived without the direct influence of my parents. as of last week wednesday, i will now never again live with the influence of my father. and its funny, im hurting for… longing for… craving… all of a sudden… for the type of relationship that he and i never had.

thats it… im done for tonite.
but i will leave you with this…
there is no lonlier feeling on this earth… than to go to bed with no one to say goodnite too. its a simple thing, i know. but id give all i have for one more goodnite kiss from my mom….

new view for the site… tell me whatcha think… that is, whenever i get comments back up here.

sleepless eyes open wide
under heaven i stand again
if there is no winning this war tonite
could you please stop my spinning head?

history

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