Relevance? Unknown

I had.. the most bizarre dream last night.

And you were there.

And so were you.

I don’t remember all of it.

Hell, I don’t remember much of it.

Is it odd for an atheist to pray?

Isn’t a thought released to the air really just the same thing?

What is a prayer exactly?

Another time.

Another story?

This one is just about a wish.

Yes, yet another wish.

Because if you can’t dream it, you can’t realize it.

If you can’t realize it, you can’t actualize it.

If you don’t know what you want, your odds of getting it.. well, they just aren’t as likely.

A discussion with my roommate last night bid some inner reflection.

I was exhausted.  Yesterday was a long one.  But even when my body begged me to stop, I just kept going.

I had to ride out the storm.

I had to punish myself so I knew when I was finally there that I’d deserved it.

But I deserve everything along the way too.

The heartache.

The pain.

The levity.

The letdown.

Talking.  More and more talking.

I’m fortunate enough to be surrounded by such a wonderful support group.

“The thing was.. over the past months you were with him, you grew up immensely.  He, on the other hand, just remained the same.  If anything, he regressed.”

My head is…

I’m so…


the grip

Mr Parker

the panther

etcetera. etcetera.

There’s alot you don’t know… that you’ll never know.

“I think you’re reaching far too low than you should be.  You are worth so much more than you have been giving yourself credit for.” said another good friend, regarding business affairs.

But the statements…

“Women seem to have it either one extreme or the other.  It’s either full fledged all out full of themselves intensity or no self esteem at all.”





I was about to go to sleep when he messaged me.  He just won’t let me let him go.

“Is there ever a time when you’re not amazing?”  I asked him.

But that’s yet another story.

I “prayed.”

I wished.

I dreamed.

And you were there.

And so were you.

I don’t remember all of it.

Hell I don’t remember much of it.

I couldn’t see faces.  I can only remember one name.  I’m not even sure if it was the person in the dream.

I remember very little.  But what pieces I do, I remember vividly.

I was sitting across the table from a gentleman.

He asked me:

Why couldn’t I be your first choice? Why am I not your first choice?”

And I said:

“You already are. You always were.”

And then I woke up.  I tried to remember more of the dream.  I couldn’t.  It was driving me batty.

I forced myself to get back to sleep, determined and vigilant to uncover the subliminal messages underlying within.

I remember one name:

yours, Mr Parker.

Even still, I’m not sure.  I woke up again.

No answers.

Just stillness.

Is it odd for an atheist to pray?

Isn’t a thought released to the air really just the same thing?

I just kept going.

I had to ride out the storm.

I dragged myself out of bed.  I saw Mr Parker online.

“You should call me.  I miss your voice or something.”

“Or something… ” he said, as if he already knew.

…Or something…

I drove to work.  The words stirred in my head.  Everything about last night.  Everything about this morning.

I pulled into my spot and went to walk upstairs.  I lifted my eyes up and there you were.

What’s the meaning of all of this?  I’m unsure.

No answers.

Just stillness.

I have to keep going.

I have to ride out the storm.

Muse for Hire

An awakening occured that morning.  It set forth a fire that burned for 3 glorious days.  The muse had found her muse.

Once upon a time, on Valentines day, a muse found her muse..

But like all tragic love stories, despite the perfect timing it initially had, it wasn’t the right time.

It may never be the right time.

But that’s not going to stop her.

This Veruca Salt became determined to hold onto that rareity. She needed to learn patience. And so she turned to an old legend…

There is a legend far older and magical than the story most commonly associated with it. It is, in some ways, the same story.

In Japan after the bomb dropped in Hiroshima, there was a little girl named Sadako.  She got leukemia from the radiation, and laid in a hospital to die.

It is said that if you make a 1000 paper cranes that you will be granted one wish.

She wished to live.  Sadly, she died before she was able to accomplish it.    However she will always live on through the story.

I too have a wish.

That upon completion I would be reunited with my muse.

I’ve learned that I’ve been too much of a “Veruca Salt” of sorts.  I’m prone to being spoiled and unappreciative.  I dread standing in lines.  I tend to read the last few pages of books before reading the rest of them.

In a nutshell, I suck at patience.  Particularly when it comes to a relationship of any sort, albeit friend or otherwise.

As I’ve grown older, I’d like to think that I’m getting better at it.

This is the work in progress of the journey to my muse and the paths it takes me on.

This is the story of the girl and her quest to create.
Because some things are worth fighting for.
Because some things are worth wishing for.
Because sometimes wishes may actually come true in real life.

I will be posting bits and pieces of the documentary while it is in the progress.  I also started a twitter devoted specificially for this project.

It is the start of many to come, and will all be hosted on my main site for that: just as soon as I can possibly get it in order.

I appreciate your patience so much.

Here’s a video of my pathetic attempt to make the first crane.