Three Years Ago Today

There years ago today, I was acutely aware of what was going on around me.  Some people say it goes by fast, while others remark that it seemed like only a dream.  But not for me.  Every breath, every heart beat, every second slowly ticking.  I don't know that in my lifetime there will ever be a more important moment of my life.  So engrained are the details that there are times I am struck in awe at such a day's magnificence.  Indeed, there is no day worth more remembering than this.

Three years ago today, I married her.

 Every day I still marvel at the way we met.  A path so laughably woven and uncoordinated that only a master matchmaker could have overseen it's creation.  Indeed to believe that such an unfathomable union came about all because of a blind date, one of the most ridiculous blind dates ever imagined, is unbelievably extraordinary. Yet that is how this miraculous event came to pass.

Three years ago today, I accepted my role in that miracle whose groundwork had been laid many years before.

In full disclosure, I must admit that this was surely not my plan. Certainly not while entertaining the idea of enlisting in the military, nor while I was bouncing around higher education between all manner of majors. I would've never thought a delayed graduation could've offered significant benefit over walking earlier alongside all the friends and colleagues I had entered college with.  Singer and songwriter Andrew Peterson has a song that evokes a lot of what I feel on this matter.  Here are a few choice quotes from the lyrics:

"But I don't remember anymore
Who I even was before
You filled me up with love
Filled me up with love
And you help me stand 

So come on with the thunder clouds
Let the cold wind rail against us, let the rain come down
We can build a roof above us with the love we've found
We can stand our ground
So let the rain come down 

Because love binds up what breaks in two
So keep my heart so close to you
And I'll fill you up with love
Fill you up with love
And I'll help you stand [...]

This is not what I was headed for when I began
This was not my plan
It's so much better than"

Three years ago today, I set forth on a plan that was better than all my failed ones before.

As I funnel my emotions through my typing fingertips, I realize that no four words have ever meant more to me.  Many people like to elevate such golden questions like "Will you marry me?", but beneath such lofty evaluations I am left unfulfilled.  As I look over the metaphysical horizon of my life alongside her, I don't find a question to be the lingering presence on my lips.  No, as I survey the endless sea of possibilities, I am left with nothing but awe at the gravity of the weight that stands behind us.  These immortal "Ebenezer"s leave lasting testament to the wonder of what we have traversed, from where we originated, and to that which we have accomplished.  I need no destination, when I have the confidence of a devout and holy guide as imparted to us by the story our lives enact.

Indeed, the words "three years ago today" speak volumes to me.  Volumes from a book crafted by a master artisan, filled with the beautiful calligraphy of love, commitment, devotion, honesty, truth, and lastly time.  Time which builds and grows upon the roots of our history.

Three years ago today, I humbly formed a bond that grows in significance with each passing day.

I will not forget this life-altering transition that transpired, nor will I neglect the hands involved before it began.  I realize wholeheartedly the only credit to due my name to this elaborate design is my mere acceptance to this agreement.  All I had to do was make a choice.

Three years ago today, I choose a path that was better than any of my own imagination, I announced my need for a savior and accepted that my own wisdom and understanding was insufficient to prepare me for the future, I accepted my role in a plan that was beyond anything I could dream or believe, and ultimately I married someone that I adore so wholeheartedly and encompasses me so rapturously and whose being is so indescribably incredible that no words yet or will exist in any human lexicon to sufficiently distinguish the enormous emotional reaction she so subtly evokes through her simple, mere, and continued existence.

At the point my mind identifies all of these statements at the beginning of saying "three years ago today," I have no escape but to ponder in awe.

Sadly, I must bring this post to a close; indeed I could go on pontificating its magnitude.  Borrowing from Andrew Peterson again, I leave you with this one line from the same song that also rings true.

"I'm saving my vacation time
For Disneyland"

Less than five weeks.


I think I'll be dialing things back a bit, turning in new directions, and trying to spice up the blog of life... or at least, the blog of my life.  Less weepy, whiny, self-opining, nostalgia drama.  More pictures, day-to-day, and fun fun fun fun.  Even Rebecca Black would be proud.

Actually, my daily web browsing introduced me to some 52 writing prompts, and I think I'll start doing those each Wednesday.  A "Writing Wednesday" if you will.  Name subject to change, of course. Anywho, let's get to the pictures.

This is a picture of the top of my computer monitor at work.  Toy soldiers.  Arguably the best toy for little boys everywhere.  I got this from an arcade that I went to with her, though I honestly can't remember the name or place.  It might've been the old GameWorks that was at the Pike, but is now noticeably absent (though there's a nice $1 book store down there!).

These were some of the cheapest items you could redeem for and for good reason.  Looking at the above, the guy on the left seems alright.  The guy in the middle, tossing the grenade, has a wonky base.  And the guy on the right looks like he came out of a cartoon.  Just look how the nozzle of his gun is drooping!  But before you think Commander Green is doing alright, make sure you get a closer look.

Those are some of the worst bug-eyes I've ever seen!  Sorry for the fuzzy pic, my camera finger isn't used to such bloggy-photography.  Not seen in either of these pics, the grey soldier's eye is sliding off his face.

The ironic part is, despite these being poorly made toys, I kind of like having them hanging around the office.  They were certainly not my first choice for office decoration (I'll probably share more of it later on), but there's a nice sense of playfulness they bring.  I can daydream and imagine that they are giving me covering fire while I make a phone call or that they are on lookout for when my boss drops by my desk.

Or I can just laugh at the cheap paint job.  At ease, soldiers!

Other Significance

This was a post I intended to make last Friday, but time got away from me.  Or rather moody selfishness did, but that's a tale for another time.

Friday was a terrible day for me.  Just one of those foul-mooded, rotten, wish I had stayed in bed, kind of days.  The days where other people reap rewards, but in return you just feel even more miserable.  Flashes of green, wailing cries of broken dreams, and all that is usually included with such sour visitations.

Friday was terrible.  But leave it to her to snap me out of it.

That's one of the things that annoys me about her.  She has this nasty habit of not letting me stew over such mired emotions.  As a resident depressant, I must contend that I enjoy letting deep seated feelings of hurt boil and bubble.  There's none of that now, but that's what makes her significant.  She has the gentle touch to viscerally rip me away from such dark place.

It caused me to stop and ponder over the term "significant other," and where it applies in the matrix of relationships.  To offer up my own definition, a significant other is the kind of person who reads you instantly.  When I step in the door, it's no mystery to her just exactly what I'm feeling.  Likewise, a significant other knows how to affect those feelings.  I know the kinds of words I can use to help or harm her, as comic books often remind us... "With great power comes great responsibility."  It's the type of person that can make you want something you didn't want.  The type of person that can pull you up from a low point.  The type of person that will stop the clock and enter a midsection in the space of cosmic reality with you, leaving you the comfort and emotional assistance necessary to both grieve and grow. Words do little to describe with what incredible expertise these persons use wordless deeds.

I'm often one to champion her as some tantamount elevation in my personal existence, and it should come as no surprise since it inhabits part of the title of this blog.  But largely, I feel it is simply my duty to uphold and cherish her.  It is not perfection that I describe, but rather the imperfect joys and revelations of a relationship so finely crafted and designed that dares to touch upon the outskirts of perfection.  It may not be perfection, but it is perfectly-suited for me.

New Habits

For the last couple days, I've found myself starting a new trend.  When I get home from work, I change out of my business attire and immediately put away yesterday's dishes, wash any new dishes, and clean out both cat boxes.  It's "amazing" to her, but I can't see what is incredible about doing a daily task.

I know too well that as soon as I sit down on the couch; I'm leaving all responsibility behind.  I don't want to be sitting there, watching the judging eyes of the digital clock, constantly chastising me for idleness.  I don't want to be lazily admitting "Just one more episode of Friends" before it's far too late for me to lift a finger.  Plus, I want to live in the "now."

If I have a task to do, I want to get up and do it.  I'm a grown-up and I get to set my own priorities, and I want to have the integrity to see them through.  If I'm going to do the dishes every day, then I am going to do them.  It's an oddly empowering feeling.  Some might view it condescendingly or consider it a punishment, but there is a real sense of purpose when I come home, finish my tasks, and busy myself with entertaining, extracurricular activities.  The positive sensation is what encourages me to keep with it.  And while it's too early to tell if I'll continue these jobs in such a timely fashion, I can't but help appreciate their regular completion for the time being.

Besides, if it makes her happy, it can't be that bad.

Drifting Between the Seams

My boarded ship of dreams sets sail
And I find myself so silently
Drifting between the seams of this tempered reality

Where solemn eyes see quietly
The isles of coulds, and woulds, and shoulds
But without wheel this ship means well
Floating aimless as can be
An unknown destination awaiting me

The salty air splashes bitterly,
But I have already escaped its sweet embrace
Down below in chambers deep
Where mind crashes against body sleep
With hands too weak to feebly grasp
And feet too scared to move on past
I lie anchored to this vessel's mast

Daybreak wakes
And upon these tired shoulders stands
The stumbling figure of a man
With foggy mind and cloudy dreams
A husk that's travelled through the seams
Distant memories like weighted chain
Where worrisome burden has been lain
His footfalls sound so carefully
As mirrored self begins its voyage across reality

I Am What I Am

There's nothing quite like a new year to make an introvert turn introspective, though granted it doesn't take much to spur an inspection of an introverted life.

In years past, I've had a tendency to dwell on what I was not or could not be.  I wasn't popular.  I couldn't be cool.  I wasn't funny.  I couldn't be social.  High school was a trying time, and I was largely a shadow of who I have become.  It is an often told story of how it wasn't a joyous time.

I always wanted to be one of those cool or arty people. The ones who would divide cinemas between "film" and "movies," offering some air of elegant arrogance concerning all things evocative.  Be it art, music, or more.  But I grew up in a stable home with no cable.  I didn't have MTV or IFC to watch at night, let alone a TV or sound system in my bedroom.  Sure, I expressed interest.  I even feigned interest in things I knew little about (or barely comprehended).  There's nobody better at saving face for being ignorant of something than me (I do it quite frequently to this day).  Truth be told, I was in to all those things that sixteen-year-olds who smoked were into.  Only I never smoked or visited record stores or smuggled liquor to church outings.  I guess I didn't have the credentials to really fit in.  I didn't ride a bike or have much money.  I was just an amorphous blob that sponged life from others' interests.

Over time, I've grown in different directions.  Now I'm the "game" guy.  All things games.  Board, computer, video, card, you name it.  If it's a game, it'll probably pique my interest. To be honest, it scares me a little bit how into games I've become.  In the absence of hobbies or active social life (like high school or college), I guess it isn't surprising an activity I often do alone has become so primary in my life. Now I'm that guy who wears funny shirts, whom you roll your eyes at when he talks. A bit surprising coming from someone who once wished that he might leave a profound impact somewhere in his life (hopefully more profound than a witty shirt's anthem).

Despite my better efforts, there are some things I have long thought impossible that I've attained.  I'm married, living with cats, and on my way to hopefully owning a house within a few years.  I was lucky enough to attend E3, which is considered the largest expo in the video game industry.  It has been exciting to be me.  But sometimes I still wander down the road of who I could be.  The number of funny shirts in my wardrobe has declined, though I am hesitant to fully discard such a self-comforting attire.

And there are still things I think I cannot be or will not.  Some days I still want to be arty or into the scene of the day.  Some days I would like to be all a buzz with social media, running an interesting and exciting blog and twitter feed.  But there are other days I know this is not what I am and not what I ever will be. Pinterest annoys me, Instragram is frustrating, and I seriously will never understand the fascination with owls or other fashionable animal life of the day/month/year.

I am what I am.  I'm glad that I am, but more frankly I'm glad that it makes her glad.