tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-205810972024-03-07T02:54:55.814-05:00Life & Otherwise . . .Knowing there <u>is</u> no sense to this crazy, crazy world...<br>But it's something to do until the asteroid hits...Jason Hugheshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643595412184843553noreply@blogger.comBlogger73413tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20581097.post-53104459113406319782018-04-28T23:13:00.000-04:002018-04-28T23:13:20.392-04:00The Place...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Her fingers slowly caressed the detail, the molding, and pondered over who used to sit here every day until their death... <span style="color: #348017;"></span><br />
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This ancient chair had withstood where so many others were lost to compost and sawdust. She glanced across the grass to what looked like it used to be a recliner... beside it, a love seat of ghastly floral fabric, looking quite newer compared to most of the others. </div>
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She released the back of the steel chair, it's cushioning long since disintegrated, and resumed wandering through the field, pausing over whatever seat caught her eye, wondering at the past lives who sat upon them. A small high chair of sky blue brought a tear, but it was by no means the only chair here meant for a child. She paused under an old oak, a small stool top, its legs seeming to have long ago rotted away from beneath it. She bent down, brushed some decayed leaves and dust from its surface. Her fingers traced some of the faded painted lines... </div>
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A sound.</div>
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She glanced up and, a few yards away, spotted an elderly woman tenderly resting a hand upon a dining chair of some sort. <i>Probably lost her husband,</i> the young girl thought. <i>I hope someone else helped her carry the chair here... looks quite sturdy and heavy for someone of her age...</i></div>
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She stayed, bent over the stool top under the oak, just watching, not wanting to disturb the woman in her grief.</div>
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She wondered if the old woman had someone to watch over her... someone to carry her chair here when she passed on. <i>This is a morbid place, isn't it?</i> She glanced around the field, the chairs of all sizes and variety, hoping the woman had some sort of caretaker that had walked her here to remember her loved one. <i>Ah, yes, that must be her son,</i> she thought, spying a sturdy fellow a few more yards past the senior.</div>
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She stayed silent. To do otherwise would have seemed rude, and this long? Like spying. No, let the old woman grieve in peace, she'd be leaving before too long.</div>
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And almost as soon as the thought had crossed her mind, she did realize the late hour. A darkening of the light, a slight chill to the air. Glancing back, she realized the others were indeed gone. <i>Did I doze off?</i> </div>
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Standing, brushing the leaves from her dress, careful not to disturb the stool top, wrapped her shawl a bit more tightly about herself. <i>Mother would be wondering where I've gotten off to.</i> She sighed, did a small turn, trying to get her bearings...</div>
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She started off, darkness seeming to fall much faster. Fog began to roll in, and she stepped a bit faster. <i>How did it get so late? Mother will kill me!</i> Hurrying faster now, the strange sounds of night invading. Did she pass that chair before? It didn't look familiar... Was she? Did she get turned around?</div>
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"Sophie?"</div>
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She turned quickly in the direction of the sound.</div>
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"Sophie? Is it you?"</div>
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It was the old woman from earlier! She was sure of it. Spotting a shape in the fog, she cried "It's me, yes," and started down the small hill... <i>None of this looks familiar!</i> "It's me, Sophie, you are?"</div>
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"Sophie?" </div>
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Further away now. She paused, confused. This dastardly fog was helping anything! Started forward again and ran straight into a chair! "Ouch!" <i>Oh god I hope no one saw that!</i> She grabbed the chair to stand it back upright. </div>
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"Oommph!" Backed right into another! <i>Stop this, Sophie, just stop, you're frightening yourself! Stop, breathe. Focus.</i></div>
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She stood, re-wrapped her shawl. "Hello? Is anyone still there?" </div>
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No response. She turned slowly in a circle. Peered through the fog. <i>There!</i> She saw the path! The path back home! Stepping carefully, feeling for chairs in front of her, she made her way to the edge of the Place as quickly as she dared. She could see the torches, dim, but getting brighter as she neared the path, the path that headed back up the side out of the valley. </div>
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<i>So foggy!</i> was still on her mind as she finally reached the edge of the field, through the metal gates, and began following the trail up. She didn't help Mother with the younger ones, so she'll be cross about that. She wasn't there to put the chickens up either, but her brother was getting old enough to handle some things on his own. She hoped. </div>
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She stepped quicker.</div>
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Past the Meyers... There was Squid's cabin, yes, yes... Okay, getting close... Oh dear, a chair outside of the Cranshaw's door, she'd have to inquire who passed, she couldn't remember anyone being sick... The old sawmill, okay, getting close! It couldn't be too late, the torches were still lit down in the Tomas' barn... </div>
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Ahh, home! She raced up--<i>why is the door latched?!</i> She tried it a few times, wiggled. <i>But I see light... Mother must be cross!</i> She stopped, composed herself. Walked over the side to the window where generous amounts of light poured out--</div>
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Was that the old woman? From earlier? What was she--?</div>
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Sophie knocked on the glass, "Mother! Mother, it's me, I'm so sorry!"</div>
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She could see the old woman holding her mother's hand across the table, but neither of them looked up or acknowledged her. She tapped harder on the glass, "Mother! Mother! It's Sophie! I'm ever so sorry I'm late, please let me in, please!"</div>
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"Mother, this isn't funny, please open up, I'll catch a chill!"</div>
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<i>Oh, she is cross!</i> Sophie leaned against the glass with both hands, "Mother! Please!"</div>
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They glanced up and she waved at them excitedly! "I'm sorry, Mother, I'm so sorry, I... Mother?"</div>
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"I don't understand..." They were ignoring her! They just turned away, started talking again as if she weren't standing right there! </div>
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Getting angry... </div>
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"Mother! Let me in!"</div>
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***</div>
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"She's here, you say?"</div>
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"Yes, very close now... Closer than earlier."</div>
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"Is she all right?"</div>
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"Not at peace, no... no, not at--"</div>
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<i>tap-tap-tap!</i></div>
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"That was her! At the window, just now!"</div>
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"Oh no! My poor daughter! No-no-no-no-no-no! Why? I don't understand?"</div>
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"Her chair, you know it's her chair!"</div>
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"But it's all I have of her! I can't let it go, I just... I can't..."</div>
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The old witch placed a consoling hand on the sobbing mothers head.</div>
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<i>TAP-TAP-TAP!</i></div>
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"Oh god, oh god, why doesn't she stop?!"</div>
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"Until you place her chair in the Place, her soul will try to come back! Always! It's why we started the Place! The souls will always come back to their chair! By keeping it here--"</div>
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"I just wanted to keep a memory..."</div>
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"I know, dear, I know..."</div>
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<i><b>BAM-BAM-BAM!</b></i></div>
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"The whole house! She's--"</div>
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The front door slammed open--</div>
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"Sophie! Stop this at once!"</div>
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A cold wind howled through the door, putting out the candles, pitching the house in blackness...</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://feeds.feedburner.com/LifeOtherwise</div>Jason Hugheshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643595412184843553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20581097.post-88555354262260452362017-12-04T20:59:00.002-05:002017-12-04T20:59:09.642-05:00Unlearning...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
He was upset. Visibly upset. I hovered on the edge, like I do... <i>Think, Jason, what can you do? What can you say? How do I make this better?</i><br />
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I had nothing though. Absolutely nothing. So I just sat. Listened to him talk. Reached out a hand...<br />
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And as I sat there, just listening, unable to fix the issue, it dawned on me.<br />
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<i>I wasn't being yelled <u>at.</u></i></center>
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I had to stop listening to him as my brain asked me to listen to it. He didn't seem to notice. It seemed to be enough that I was just sitting there, listening, <i>Uh-huh</i>-ing...<br />
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<i>I'm not being blamed either... Huh...</i><br />
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This was new and exciting for me, though I hesitated to show it. I mean, he was still upset, talking about his issue. How odd would it be for me to start grinning like an idiot during his time?<br />
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I shut my brain off, kept listening...<br />
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And he just talked. I offered some advice here and there, a word of encouragement...<br />
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But it was all so... <i><u><b>non-dramatic.</b></u></i><br />
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Bizarre, right? No screaming. No yelling. My animals were all just laying around, pricking an ear in our direction every now and then. Phoenix yawned from the coffee table. Merlin napped peacefully in his lap as he spoke. Gizmo slept on the cushion behind my head. The other cats, Beaux and Artemis, were off being all catty, content with their god-like status for the moment...<br />
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I was still baffled, but another part of me whispered, <i>This is how it's supposed to be...</i><br />
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I'm usually the calm, chill dude. I'm not a <i>wave-maker</i>. <i>(Maybe that's why I never cared for <u>Wind Waker</u>? Nah... too much of a stretch...)</i> I go silent when upset, will spit out a short sentence or two, and I'm done for the most part. It's rare I nurse a grudge <i>(consciously)</i>, I'm just "go with the flow," as it were...<br />
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To have someone else responding in a similar manner? I was a bit off guard. For the next few hours, he was fine. I was waiting for another shoe to fall. "Sure you're good? Nothing else you want to say?"<br />
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"Nah, I'm good."<br />
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"Okay," I replied warily... I wasn't trained for this... this <u><b>calm</b></u>. This serenity. This "I had an issue and I processed it and I'm good" scenario... Surely a storm was coming, right? <br />
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For the next few hours--okay, okay, <i>days,</i> who am I kidding? I waited. Surely something would be thrown, a verbal insult. An attack on my character. A blame for something I had no control of yet he did... I played whole scenarios in my mind, coming up with plans to prevent the issue, a snarky comeback or three, I argued with him in my head, so I would be prepared, you know? I'm supposed to not only be prepared but fix, mediate, control! That's what I do!<br />
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<b>Nothing.</b></center>
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The lack of drama was... disconcertingly nice... Strangely epic, if I can use so grandiose a word for its antithesis. The next day, the day after even... <i>Zen...</i><br />
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"Thanks honey."<br />
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What?<br />
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"Thanks for listening the other day. I really appreciated it."<br />
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And that was that. The end.<br />
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I wanted to cry, oddly enough.<br />
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I'm still fighting the demons of the past, as we all do. The demons we gather in life, through trials and tribulations, through troubles and scars. We are trained, taught, conditioned...<br />
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And something comes along and doesn't <i>add scars.</i> Doesn't <i>add pain.</i> Doesn't <i>create storms.</i> Doesn't <i>add drama for dramas' sake.</i><br />
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It's disorienting.<br />
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I'm left dizzy <i>because nothing happened.</i><br />
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I have some unlearning to do. <br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://feeds.feedburner.com/LifeOtherwise</div>Jason Hugheshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643595412184843553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20581097.post-21295188167638639652017-11-04T23:09:00.001-04:002017-11-04T23:09:06.323-04:00What is Love? Baby Don't Hurt Me...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Love is like oxygen!</i></center>
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Or so we're led to believe, aren't we? When you're growing up, love is a weird lesson to learn. Even as a small child, kissy faces, being told to tell people you love them <i>(we even start this with babies learning to talk--"Do you love momma? Say I love you Momma!")</i>. Then the movies, stories, television commercials, billboards... Love is advertised as everything and anything, the most ultimate prize and goal, the way things <i>should</i> be, with that <i>special</i> person, your <i>soul mate...</i><br />
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As you get older? First crushes... teases and questions from family... more movies...<br />
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<i>Love lifts us up where we belong!</i></center>
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And let's not forget other factors... Eternal love and all that... Unconditional love... Unrequited love... So many kinds! It's like you go from the simple shit most of us experience <i>(parental love, sibling love, etc...)</i> to all these other loves... boyfriend or girlfriend... best friend... random acts... And so you filter these through your brain while others growing up around you <i>(and not around you, the world over)</i> get their definitions of "love" through their cultural examples and families and friends... Everything is tainted and rose-colored-lensed and culturally based and you run in to more and more differing types of people with differing backgrounds and different concepts...<br />
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And the whole while you are supposed to find your "perfect match," your "one and only."<br />
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The romantic in me loves <i>(there's that word again)</i> that notion... The realist in me scoffs at it. The jaded grumpy old man in me says "Pshaw! Get off my lawn!"<br />
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<i>All you need is love!</i><center>
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I am a firm believer in unconditional love. I think if you profess love, and dissect your feelings and find a person you may be compatible with, you take them, faults and all, to the end...<br />
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Or, at least, I used to. My defition has changed a bit after this last go 'round...<br />
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Not that I think you can't <i>love</i> unconditionally. But "love" is not "like," and "love" is not "love" if said love makes you unhappy... And I'm also not a proponent of happiness being a goal either--happiness isn't and shouldn't be anyone's goal, in my opinion. Contentment? With what you have? But being able to still desire the best you can have while content with what you already do possess? It's a mix of all that, sure...<br />
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But one thing is clearer to me now, something no one had ever told me until very recently... You can love someone and still not put up with behaviors and actions that are harmful to them and you--especially you. You can love someone and not have to live with someone. You can love someone? And sever all ties with them.<br />
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<b>And that's okay.</b><br />
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And it's also okay to find love again, as long as you remember lessons of the past, while keeping hope for the future...<br />
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What is love? It's a complicated fucking ideal that is simultaneously unattainable and still realistic. It's scary and weird and childish, yet still one of the most adult choices you can make. It leaves you strong AND vulnerable, nervous AND confident, giddy AND somber...<br />
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And as I once again embark on a new chapter and journey, fear-filled, anxious, excited, vulnerable, and stronger? I once again ask myself "What is love?"<br />
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And my heart whispers back <i>Baby, don't hurt me... don't hurt me no more...</i><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://feeds.feedburner.com/LifeOtherwise</div>Jason Hugheshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643595412184843553noreply@blogger.com0