I don’t care if it’s a bouillon spoon. I’m rolling with it. (it’s pure, it’s unclean – it’s black, it’s blue, it can be small, or as large and full and without bounds as infinity.)

“When a thing is finished, we should let the curtain fall and go on to the next thing without making comparisons..”

-Joyce Meyers

“The human mind is inspired enough when it comes to inventing horrors, it is when it tries to invent a HEAVEN that it shows itself cloddish.”

-Evelyn Waugh

And “better,” is a relative word.  -Aun Aqui

**

Hello, world.

Not much is new, like usual.

Chris and I have jobs.. he starts working at Panera tomorrow, and I’ve been working at this new Cracker Barrel for about a week now.  He was supposed to start yesterday (and I was scheduled to work yesterday), but, neither of us could make it, because we’ve been

super sick.

I was up with him for hours Monday night; he had a high fever, chills, a headache, sore throat, a stuffy nose, nausea, muscle pain and bone aches.  It was awful.  I went up and down the stairs several times, getting whatever things I thought might make him feel better.  First, he was out of water.. so I went downstairs and re-filled his water bottle.  Then, his head and neck were so hot he could hardly stand it, so I returned downstairs to grab two ice packs out of the freezer.  Later on, he was beginning to feel nauseous and the water had ceased to soothe his sore throat — he thought Gatorade might do a better job.. and so, I journeyed downward for the sought for, orange-flavored, Gatorade.

I sat up in bed and let him lay his head in my lap; it seemed like, after hours of tossing, turning and moaning, that was the only position he was comfortable in.  I sat there and stroked his back, head and neck, softly, looking at him, thinking, praying.  I couldn’t sleep — one, I was worried about him, and two, it was an awkward position to go unconscious in.

And it was my pleasure.

**

I began this entry DAYS ago.  Never finished it.. anyways, Chris and I are both better now.  I’ve worked (so far) 3 days “in a row” this week (generated a little over $200) and Chris worked his AM shift today (5-10).. but anyways, here’s what I wrote in my journal TODAY, just a few moments, sitting outside on the concrete.  I was leaning up against my car, which provided a nice, cool SHADE, thinking about life in a general sort-of-way.  It,.. the product, the composition, the entry,.. is a pretty good synopsis of “recent life.”

(L-R: me, chris)

 

Sketchpad: “Fulfillment? Yes–no.” -ARY (that’s me now.. ARR, history)

You’re starting to hurt, when the bleeding is done.

you’re feeling the pain, the ache, the burn

You’re wanting to run, now that you’ve been caught.

you’re forgetting to breathe, to live, to love

And it always leaves you

WANTING –

every dream you’ve ever dreamt that came

true..

it’s like you’re always waiting for,

something..

is it old.  is it new.

You’re catching your breath before you run

You’re feeling the heat, the chill, the cold

and You’re positive that you’ve already won

Even before the race has begun

And it always leaves you

Satisfied.

The dreaming apart from it’s end.

And you picture yourself as

crucified

so willing and ready

to let them win.

**

October 13th.

I’m feeling a lot.  And deeply.

My emotions are strong, clamoring for attention, at the front of my mind, on the flesh of my heart.  The air is colder than it has been and the sky has taken on a deeper, darker blue..

I find myself in it’s honesty – in the singleness, of it’s hue.

(And i wish it was somehow permeable, that I could push my way through and

reach you.)  AA

Work, sucks.  The other day, was quite awful.

I had a whole dining room to myself (around 20 tables), and it was during the “dead hours;” 2-4 pm.  Somehow, we got busy enough to where I was “double sat..” but, anticipating no trouble, I felt competent to “handle the situation.”

I brought out the drinks and put in the orders of both tables and.. looking out into the first dining room and scanning quickly, noticed, I had just been “sat,” again.  For the third time, in like, 5-7 minutes.

“Good thing the other two are content for now,” I mused to myself.

Immediately, as I turned from the computer, where I had just rang in the second order, my name echoed from the kitchen.

“AmbuhhRose!”

“Yes?” I queried, already nervous and expecting undesired news.

“We’re out of the lunch special.”  It was Monday.

It was baked chicken and dressing.

WELL, lovely Christina.. I never got THAT memo.  Really, had anyone called out an “86” ANYTHING all day?

“No! Seriously?” I implored.  “There aren’t ANY?”

She shook her head, her eyes quizzing mine.

“This suckkkkks,” I breathed, snatching four menus and returning to the dining room.  I still hadn’t been over to greet table 151, but, perceiving that they were elderly, I generously assured myself that they’d love to have a few moments to themselves, that they might look over the menu REAL good two or three.. four times.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated to both tables (whose orders I had already taken), breaking the news.

“We are out.. of the baked chicken and dressing.”

Let your imagination roll with this, okay?  In the restaurant business – in the waitressing world – telling a guest that their desired food entree is not in stock, cooked, or available is the equivalent of a doctor, in the medical field,  informing a patient that his leg needs to be amputated.. he has cancer.. or his child is dying.

I waited, eyes and ears attentive, to see and hear the response.. bummed, devastated, angry.. a few seats exchanged glances and “looks” and they murmured that they’d need to look at the menu again.  “Again, I’m really sorry,” I offered as I turned to check on the other table.  I received silence.  That is the customer saying, “I hate you. And your tip, is history.”

LONG story short, one table requested dessert “on the house” (to which my manager irritably agreed) and the other actually left me five dollars.  The third table I, somehow, found time to assist, along with the tables proceeding the incident.

I had begun feeling nauseated about five minutes into the crisis.  Chris picked me up around two hours later and I was still very nauseous.  I hadn’t eaten for about eight hours, and when we got home, I laid down immediately.  He went downstairs and prepared ‘dinner.’  It was very sweet and thoughtful of him.. I really appreciated it.. but I couldn’t finish the meal.  It took a lot of concentration and persistence just to coax my body into “okay” ing applesauce.

It was Monday, so we were supposed to record the radio show at the church.  I didn’t want to be away from Chris, so in spite of my sick estate, I tagged along and cried, quietly, in the car – distressed at how often I feel this “kind” of sick and how unexplainable, unaccountable for

it is.

We arrived at the church and I hurried in to the bathroom, bracing myself for a possible and likely unpleasant experience.  I didn’t throw up, but the nausea remained.  Right outside of the bathroom is a couch.. and, dazed – in a sort of stupor, an altered state-of-mind – I stumbled over to it, laid down, and fell asleep.  I awoke to the sound of Kirstan (a friend of mine) and Chris asking if I was “okay” and my cell phone, ringing.  The nausea was gone,  I still felt exhausted.  I was hungry now.

“I’m taking you to Olive Garden,” Chris said.  I ate and retained what I ate.  I also thoroughly enjoyed it.

 

 

So yes – work, sucks.  I’m making good? money, but it isn’t “worth it,” you know?  I’ve applied at three other places for three different positions.. OTHER than serving:

1., at Whole Foods, for a cashiering job.

2., at a bank, for a teller position.

3., at the police station, for a dispatching job that pays 40k annually.  We’ll see what happens.  Hanging on to what I’ve got until the Lord gives me an opportunity to do something otherwise.

Aside from work.. school plans are unchanged.  I’ll be educating myself – following up on my own interests and pursuing my own inclinations – until the next fall semester.  I will then be, once again, a legal Alabama resident, capable, financially, of attaining a degree in teaching.  (The majors I’m planning on pursuing are education and English.  I love writing and teaching, and I always have, so I safely assume that I always will.)

Social-wise.. I’ve been too busy for friends.. sadly.  The only people I spend time with are Christopher and my mother, my two best friends.  Regarding the latter, our “time together” consists of (and is confined to) phone conversations, short emails and snippet, superficial text messages.  I hate living far away from my mother.  Sometimes, I question the timing of things..

but the evidence of God’s providence, leading and blessing..

is undeniable.

On the note of music, I’ve been too busy for it also, which upsets me.  The Lord reminded me recently, through my mother, that music is one of my gifts.. composition – songwriting – is a gift that I’ve been neglecting, and leaving undeveloped.  I have resolved to spend more time writing.. playing.. and feeling.  I am going to begin praying for songs again, like I used to.  I remember, very clearly, the Lord always answering those prayers.

In the name of RELIGION, I’m doing “better.”

Christopher and I both have been taking measures to read more, and better care for, our bodies.  I’ve been eating wayyy less sugar and more like a “100% vegan.”  I know it’s the right thing to do.  God is blessing.. I feel healthier, happier, and more clear-minded.

The plan for the holidays (only one of which I celebrate), is to stay in Alabama.  Chris and I both, this early in our working careers, aren’t able and can’t afford to take time off work.  We need to build up savings and a good relationship with our employers.  The plan is for Chris and I to drive down to Florida in January, when Micah and Amy will be visiting from NJ.  That way, it will be a “for real” family reunion.. I’ll see my parents, brother, grandparents, aunt, uncle(s) (if Junior is out of jail by then) and cousin again.

Isn’t life interesting?

Heartbreaking? momentous, defined, Beautiful?

It’s water-like.. in that,

it drips, it flows.

It rushes on madly, then stagnates.

It fights to go upward –

it finds it’s current tending, drifting, downward..

it’s pure, it’s unclean –

it’s black, it’s blue,

it can be small, or as large and full and without bounds

as infinity. -Aun Aqui (ARY)

“It occurred to me once, that love could be a great illusion, that makes fools of brilliant thinkers everyday.” -Copeland

 

(Note: credit for the PRECEDING pictures is not mine — it’s various Google photographers.)

This last picture..

mine.  -AA

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