Other Side of Wherever

On my way home from the dripalator the other day I got stopped by the train. We have several different sets of tracks here on the east side of town so inevitably ones path will be blocked by at traversing train which is a pain in the butt in a way. But hearing the night's distant whistle is soothing to me so I don't mind really. I love trains. Love 'em. Before my parents divorced my dad had a model train track set up on a piece of particle board in the basement; little buildings, a mountain, etc. I just liked to stare at it. My neighbor had a huge one, filling up at least one large room in his basement; it had different towns and different trains (you totally can't believe you are friends with me right now, can you). In college I used Amtrak for almost any visit elsewhere; countless trips home, to Boston, to NYC. I loved taking the train because it was so low stress: show up (virtually no security), get on board, find a seat, fall asleep, wake up, do some homework, get a beer, fall back asleep. Trains are so quiet and couple that with the rocking motion its like taking an Ambien with a chaser of vodka. I loved seeing the other side of towns and places, not the good face they put on for airports and interstates. And the train from Syracuse to NYC to DC goes through some of the less than prettier parts of the eastern seaboard (here's to you Baltimore and Philly). I mean, wow.

I've met some strange characters on trains, one of whom I kept up with for almost two years, one who was a roadie for the hairband "Warrant". One day I'd like to travel across the country by train, stopping off in cities for a few days to sight see and then hopping back on to what lies ahead. The thing I hate about planes is there is no time for adjustment; all too quickly you find yourself on the other side of wherever without a whole lot of understanding behind how you got there. Trains at least let me see my progress. Sometimes knowing just how I got to where I am is worth infinitely more than the time I save taking a short cut.

Current Listen: Guggenheim Grotto's “I Think I Love You”.

Not a Mite Would I Withhold

So I got robbed last night. That's fun.

My little car was broken into through a cracked window while it was parked on Coxe Ave while I was at Quizzo. Took my 60G video iPod, my portable CD player, a $20 cigar and about $80 in spare change that I kept in a piggy bank for parking meters—all in all a little less than $500 (interestingly enough left my $120 Petzel climbing harness and my $400 Moonstone jacket as well as my bible, my EZ Pass and my “Lookin' Good For Jesus Lip Balm.” apparently not outdoorsy or into the Jesus...or drive the Thruway much). It's probably the last thing in the world I needed right now. I feel like I'm barely holding on anyway, this just made it a bit harder, like someone stepping on my fingers while I'm dangling from the ledge. That iPod has been my best friend since the day I got it (anyone who worked with me at Windy Gap knows this—it's the only reason I kept my sanity all those hours working alone) and now it sort of feels like my situation is being mocked—a “if you think that was bad, wait for THIS,” game the heavens seem to be playing these past few months. My heart and my confidence are completely shot. There is a lesson in all of this; something I am supposed to come to know. I truly believe God loves me and wants the best for me—deeply I believe this. It aches how much I believe this, even as nothing in my present situation testifies so. It is in my core that this is a Truth. There are blessings in store for me because I am loved. I have to keep telling myself that over and over, keep telling myself He will be faithful to supply all of my needs when my needs keep getting bigger by the day, get more complex and personal, get more savage and carnal. If ever there was a time for God's loving blessing to be poured it would be now. I'm ready to leave all this wreckage behind me.

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and everyday have sorrow in my heart?....
Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.
Give light to my eyes or I will sleep in death...
But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation,
I will sing to the Lord
for he has been good to me.” --Psalm 13

(the title of this post is taken from the hymn “Take My Life and Let it Be”...the line is 'take my silver and my gold/not a mite would I withhold/take my intellect and use/every power as you choose.' Ouch.)

Song Lyrics I Really Don't Believe

"Can't forget to stay real...to me it's like breathing." --Jennifer Lopez
(memo to J.Lo: breathing must be very, very difficult for you if staying real is something you have to be reminded to do. I sure hope you insure your lungs for the same amount you insured your legs. But thank God that's really you on Oprah. And here I thought it was just a roboJLo)

"I'm never gonna dance again. Guilty feet have got not rhythm." --George Michael
(I don't know...I mean OJ is a pretty good dancer and we all know how guilty he is)

"Never gonna give you up, let you down, run around and desert you."--Rick Ainsley
(Rick...oh Rick. You are just too ambitious. You make your girl sound like she's a dodgeball.)

"I'll make love to you like you want me to."--Boys II Men
(Well...what if I don't to make love? Did you think about that Shawn? Huh? No you didn't.)

"I'm all out of love"--Air Supply
(Dear Air Supply: love isn't like ice cream; you can't just run out of it. Also: love doesn't give you gas the way ice cream does if you are lactose intolerant)

"I was born in the back of a greyhound bus goin' down highway 41."--Allman Brothers Band
(Somehow I think your greyhound bus driver would kick your momma's ass off that bus long before you was ever born. Maybe you were born on the side of highway 41 after your mom was kicked off the bus, but on the bus? Nope. Side of the road is probably cleaner anyway.)

"If I had a million dollars I'd buy you a green dress."--Barenaked Ladies
(If all you bought me was a green dress with your millions...well let's just say you better HOPE you were lying. Maybe a green dress and some cows for the Heifer Project.)

"I still go to Taco Bell."--Fergie
(No you don't. You probably eat gold plated tacos.)

McSweeny's Clip of the Day

I read these a while ago and think they are hilarious. This is why I love McSweeny's.

Pros and Cons of Top Twenty Republican Candidates

Pros and Cons of the Top Twenty Democratic Candidates

I mean really. Wonderful. Remember kids, only 454 days til the inauguration of the robotic superbees. Or Stephen Colbert.

Bla Bla Bla

Isn't it funny how different we become based on our circumstance?

When I am settled, when I am provided for, when I am secure in where I am, I am more inclined to be secure in who I am. They all seem intricately connected unfortunately. I don't question my worth the same way, I don't struggle with bouts of doubts or worthlessness. It is much easier to be when being is fairly mundane and straightforward.

It is when I am so dirty in the process of living, when nothing I have (or don't have) is of any mention, when money is stretched so tightly it sings—it is then that the whispers of doubt become shouts. I hate the truth in that statement. Everything about me is called to testify and is found wanton through some court of private scorn and public image. And I hate that is happens over and over again, a lesson I am missing along the way somehow. I seem to only believe my worth when it is empirically obvious.

Sidebar: got a splinter under my fingernail on Saturday. I can't get it out without cutting my fingernail all the way down, and I really like my fingernail. But that shit hurts.