Chasing the Wind

I went searching for (and found an abundance of) poems and tributes and songs and sites, and as I read through them this particular one stood out for me.

I read it and see a desperate, lonely child who misses his father and I flash back to a conversation I had with a colleague who told me of his divorce and how his ex wife, in a counseling session while they were still married, finally comes out with the truth behind their marital problems. As it turns out all that she wanted from him was his sperm and an alimony check, as she was a subscriber in the notion that she (and other women like her) could raise a child, work steady, and be completely, independent and autonomous from a man. She believed that men (husbands, fathers) were purely a barrier to successfully raising children. And I find that completely sad. Sad for her past that brought her to this belief. Sad for her children which will not know a loving household. Sad for those who, for the sake of their own “independence,” enslave their children to the life of childcare and parentless-nights because of their own selfish ambitions. And then I see this from a child who longs for her (his?) father and is saddened by the loss and lack of his presence and guidance.

This is one of the saddest things to me that has resulted from those who would use terror and might to rob families and this nation. And we haven’t even touched the religious, moral, or national consequences that we could discuss.

SPECIAL GARDEN (A Child cry to his Daddy)

In my garden, I will plant some of Daddy’s things

The hat he wears for his favorite baseball team.
His special notes he wrote to me.
His favorite songs he likes to sing.
His special collect cars he bought last spring.

His favorite tie that has grease stains.
His favorite fishing pole, even though he has never caught anything.

And I’m going to plant some of my tears, these come from me.
Every night before I go to sleep, I will go out to my special garden
and pray over Daddy’s things.

(c)copyright Natasha Flowers 2002

…so let’s call the po po!

So brief update: Since March of this year I’ve relocated from OC to near San Fransisco to be in the same town as my beloved, her hometown of Pleasanton. After a number of seemingly random things I’m living in Jessica’s folk’s newest house up at a country club and she AND her folks have moved in until her new place is finished being remodeled.

Fast forward to now: at 2:30 am I hear car door slamming (strange time of night for this neighborhood) and rush to the door (without shoes OR a weapon…strange for me) only to peer out the window and see a running car waiting on the street with lights on and the light of a flashlight roaming around the cars parked at the house across the street. The beanied caucasian late-teen/early-twentysomething male makes his way across the street my way to the house next door. I imagine getting shot but proceed to unlock the door and turn the lights on, yelling, “HEY!” and stepping outside toward the street only to see the fella run downhill and the car pull forward after him. I run out, barefooted and get a license plate (although I think I may have been wrong about the last three numbers) and the culprits get away. Meanwhile I have awoken the household and my girlfriend and her father have come out of their subsequent rooms and proceed to ask me what happened. I stammered what I saw and immediately go to my room to write the plate numbers down and dial 911. I tell the dispatcher from the Sherrif’s Dept. what I saw and heard and finally went for a knife and flashlight to check the house for anyone who may have been left behind. Of course there was no one and the night suddenly slowed down from its strange and sudden excitement. Later another car arrives and I rush out again only to find two Sherrifs and tell them what little I told the dispatch.

Now it’s just about 4 am and I’m finally going to try to get some sleep. But I’m not taking my shoes off. Not tonight at least.

If only I had more time.
If only I’d been more prepared.
If only I had more money.
If only I had been born into affluence.
If only I had a better job.
If only I hadn’t procrastinated.
If only I didn’t make excuses.
If only I would take the blame.
If only I would get off my butt.
If only I would not take no for an answer.
If only I wasn’t afraid to be the jackass.
If only I used my head more than my time.
If only I listen and learn and do.
If only I would appreciate the second (and third…et al…) chances you’ve graciously given me.
If only I can humble myself and seek the help that is at my fingertips.
If only I would stop looking to the past and be thankful for who and what I have now.
If only I would listen to you and trust you more. Lord, please help me to look to the past only for lessons and memories and look to the future for everything else. Help me to see the value of money and not merely the possible sins therein. Forgive my haughty pride and teach me the humility of stewardship.
If only I could grasp what is in your hands and in your control. With your help I can and I will. If only I will let you.
And I will let you. You only.

Yeah. That just about says it all.

No not MYself beauty. My girlfriend, who is beautiful! Ha! Had you fooled there for a moment, eh?

This is Jessica. She rocks me to my toes. And yes, she rocks my face off!

I am a lucky man. Or blessed, rather.

Click on this big monster of a photo:

Evidently I haven’t quite got the photos figured out yet…but you get the idea!

…but in a different way.

Basically I don’t take the time to blog. And that sucks. I want to. So I shall.

8o)

More to come…

Meanwhile, my suckiness has lessened severely, and there is a new certain someone in my life. Anyone still reading, she’s a beauty. And if I can figure out how to post a pic, I’ll do just that.

…at work (Starbucks). It happened sometime after an awkward phone call from some fella who called himself Frank, and complained about some bad beans… Possibly a story for another time.

Anyways, the feeling was just nagging, almost like an “I’m not supposed to be here” feeling. Similar to that feeling deep in your belly when you’re in a room where you shouldn’t be, and you think that if you get caught you’ll be in big trouble. I remember that feeling when my second grade teacher would ask me to stay in at recess to help prepare something while everyone else (including she) would be gone for the ten minutes. I knew that I could do things and totally get away with it (although I didn’t really want to), and I’d get that belly feeling. Tonight’s feeling was similar to that, just not as strong and much longer.

I’ve been praying about what to do about a career, and whether or not to stay with Starbucks even if they do offer Assistant Management. The more I pray the less I want to be “here,” but nothing specific comes to mind to replace “this.” All that I know for sure is that I want to pay off debt and leave the country. Perhaps some travelling? Long-term Missions?

I didn’t know if the Spirit was trying to tell me something, or if it was more biological and less spiritual than all that.

Sometimes I want the Thunder to speak to me, instead I seem to get the still, small voice. My problem is that I don’t slow down long enough to listen. At least not often enough.

Don’tchya just hate it when you learn something, get into habits, and then go back to re-learn it just to find out how many bad habits you’ve developed?

Yeah, that’s what it’s like for me right now.

I first picked up the guitar when I was 16 up in Grass Valley, and when I came home to share with Kenny and Tim. They both picked up on it pretty quickly and they went to town with it, while I just kinda sat content strumming (a little off on my rhythm), just enough to get by. So now that I’m helping with the music at church on Sunday mornings I’m getting a lot of flack from Kenny, and it’s basically been an “I don’t wanna hear about it unless you’re going to do something to help better the situation” kind of thing. So last night he and I sat down for some time trying to develop better techniques in rhythm and pick-holding and strumming-from-the-wrist (as opposed to the elbow). Good stuff, I tell ya.

But yeah, this is going to take some time…

So I’m working my mohs job in Santa Ana today, just about to cut the last patient’s tissue, when everything electric in the room flickers once, twice, and then dies.

No biggie for me; the machine’s cold and I have light enough for the task. But the doctor had to take an unexpected field trip to another office, microscope in hand, just to find out that the patient was still involved.

The power came back on, then back off, and now it’s on…for how long?

Such is life! 8o)

Good morning!
This is God.
I will be handling all your problems today.
I will not need your help.
So have a good day!

Firstly, thank you, Geof, for the fun new word:
balk·y Pronunciation Key (bôk)
adj. balk·i·er, balk·i·est

1. Given to stopping and refusing to go on: a balky horse; a balky client.
2. Difficult to operate or start: a balky switch; a balky engine.

Secondly. Yeah, I just wanted to say that.

My friend Kirsten (Love Muffin) is now in Magala, Spain for a two year mission trip with Malaga Media Center, in Malaga, Spain. Directly from her site:

The Malaga Media Center, in Malaga, Spain, broadcasts the message of God’s love to Muslims in North Africa. For some, this may be their only chance to receive the gospel.

Through a combination of radio and television broadcasts and followup programs, the Center (MMC) is spreading the gospel into the closed societies of North Africa.

Kirsten will be working for two years at the MMC with Arabic and Spanish video production, the MMC and Arabic ministry websites, and will also be developing the use of 3D animation as a ministry tool.

Kirsten arrived on Tuesday, April 4th and will be gone for a total of two years. Hopefully she’ll be back every six months or so…but we’ll see how the Lord works that out.

We love ya, Kirsten! And congrats on you and Tim gettin’ engaged! We may get to see the guy who made her wedding/engagement ring at the Renaissance Pleasure Faire!

Next thought… So I was hanging out with Kenny, Sarah and Tim (what else is new?) and we were running around looking for the perfect slice of steak to jump up and say, “Bam! Eat me! (mooooo!).” Ok, so we were shopping for a barbeque, but anyways, I’m the only one of the group that really listens to country, so Kenny put on the country station 93.9 KZLA and the DJ said to call in for a prize. I jumped on my phone (well, not literally) and kinda yelled at everyone else to do the same. Long story short, Sarah got through, handed the phone to me and we won! Tickets to the Renaissance Pleasure Faire of Southern California! I’ve been a couple of times and I love it!

Anyways, I’m still a barista, still a Mohs Technician, and waiting for my review at the Buck. Talk atchy’all later.

William

Edit: Oh, and I don’t know that I mentioned that I’ve been single since just before Christmas. I’ll prolly write more in the near future, as I have at least one afternoon where I’ll have some free time this week…

Dude…I’m back online (yay!), and I just saw Ice Age 2!

It was fun.

I miss having time to blog.

More to come.

I’ve not been ’round these parts for quite some time.

Well, since last here I’ve had a birthday (24th), started a new job (I’m a Mohs Tech, not a histotechnician. I’d need a degree to be a histotech; I cut up chunks of skin and make frozen biopsy slides of cancerous tissue for dermatologists), and have been to Africa and back.

Fun times, no? 8o)

If I’ve got any readership, drop me a hello and I’ll see ’bout writing more updates.

Grace and peace, y’all

-William

All week long I’ve been hitting thrift store after thrift store in search of the perfect pants. While there I also peruse the shoe section in hopes of finding a pair of old-school looking sandals to accompany the garb. I already have a sweet shirt, but I’m having difficulty setting up the rest of the outfit.

Normally I’m not this anal about what I wear. Heck, as long as I feel comfortable I don’t mind looking out-of-the-ordinary. But this weekend is kinda special. I’m heading out to the Renaissance Faire with a friend from work, her boyfriend, his folks, and perhaps a few others. I’ve already got a tan colored, rustic-looking, tie up (not button up) shirt that looks the part, and I’m planning on not shaving the lower part of my beard to fill the rural, farmer/hunter/gatherer look of the period. I’m not sure what most everyone else is wearing, or even if they plan to dress up for the faire, but I was out shopping with Linda a couple of weeks ago when we found this amazing 17th century looking dress that fit her so well. She said that she already had sandals to match, so she’s pretty well set up for the day.

The last time I went to a Renaissance Faire was waaaay back when I was 15 and learning how to drive. Ruthy (my second-to-oldest sister) was teaching me the basics of Stick Shift the week we went. I remember the dusty walkways and so many people dressed up in era-appropriate garb that it made the day fun! Plus I was with Ruth, and I tend to enjoy myself thoroughly with her. I’m looking forward to this weekend!

And Thursday momma and I went to the fabric store and picked out some linen that contrasted the shirt, and she’s probably going to sew me a pair of pants that look the part that’ll last me the day, and maybe I’ll keep ‘em for pajama bottoms or something! 8o)

Be jealous. Or be happy for me. Or just be.

SO yeah, I’ve not been around much. My net crashes on me on dial-up (Kenny thinks my modem has taken a plunge…so he’s prolly gonna get me a pcmcia one…)

The BIG DAY I was talking about in my last blog (waaaaay the stink back when) was a cute little night that I helped my best friend get engaged!

So here’s how it went. Kenny and I had been planning this for some time. He’s been with Sarah for over a year and half now, and it’s been time for him to solidify that for a while now. So in December I took him to Robbin’s Brothers (the worlds BIGGEST engagement ring store) and we sat down with Chan, the nice salesman, who asked us (well, he asked Kenny, but I helped answer a few) lots of questions about Kenny and Sarah and their relationship and all sorts of cute stuff. So we parused through the store and a few cataloges and Kenny gave us a good description of what he thought he was looking for based on clues that Sarah had given him. Kenny decided (and Chan and I agreed…rightly so!) on a white gold band set with a 50-point diamond and two 15-point sapphires, one on each side of the big stone. Simple, and yet beautifully elegant.

On to the big night!

So Kenny and Sarah’s first date was at Huntington Beach. I don’t know all that they did, but they walked under the pier and maybe even on the pier. But on this date, they started at Disneyland, as they both have annual passes. Kenny gave Sarah the excuse of checking out the steering in her car, so they didn’t take his. We figired that if she was expecting a proposal she might expect it at dinner. So he took her to eat at D-land and then over to Main St. Huntington Beach. He’s got the ring in his pocket and it’s practically burning a hole.

There was a small Christian coffeehouse by the name of Streetlight Espresso Cafe, and that weekend was the last night of its doors being open. So Kenny and Sarah wanted to stop on by one last time. They had parked on the top level of the parking garage there on Main St., where Kenny and I used to park a lot when we went to the beach when we were a little younger, and although he’d never parked there with Sarah, she didn’t think much of it. So after parking, they went down to Streetlight.

There had been (still is) some things going on in my family, and Kenny made the excuse of calling me to find out the latest info to tell Sarah, so he breezed into the restroom (it was quieter in there) to call me. That was our cue to come out of hiding.

You see, I was down the street with Sarah’s best friend, Britni, waiting at Starbucks for the signal. We had bags in hand, lighter in pocket, cameras in bag, and silly grins on our faces. Once we’d gotten the sign we zipped on up the elevator to Sarah’s waiting car to have our way with its external decorations. We started out with streamers on the hood, roof, and trunk. We wrote things on the windows such as “Will you marry me? Check one: yes, yes, or yes,” “Kenny loves Sarah,” Kenny + Sarah,” S + K,” and a few hearts, all in tempura paint. We lit a few candles (the wind blew one of ‘em out, unfortunately), and waited with our zoom lenses until they came up the elevator.

When they turned the corner and saw the car they both stopped dead in their tracks. Sarah looked at Kenny, excited, surprised. Kenny looked surprised, too, evidently not expecting it to be quite so fun decorated. He turned to her and said a few things that he’d been rehearsing all night long. He got on one knee, pulled the ring out of his hot pocket, slid it on her finger, rose, and picked Sarah up for a long-awaited first kiss as an engaged couple.

We got a few pictures and celebrated with a drink at Starbucks. The girl at the counter even gave Kenny a free drink to say congratulations.

And that, my friends, was my BIG NIGHT.

p.s. I’ll try to get a few pics from Britni…mine didn’t come out and I wasn’t expecting to write this today, so I didn’t have ‘em handy. 8o)