Serenity
(is there anything better in the world)
Peace.
For all the times that people want excitement, that people want adventure, and that people want something to do on Friday or Saturday night, there is nothing more fulfilling than simple serenity.
And I had it.
Have it, really. At least for this.
On Saturday night I went out to Finnegan's Wake, which is a pretty cool Irish bar near PNC Park. I was invited by Margaret, who knows of my love for Irish music and also knew the opening band - Jackdaw - as one of her favorites. I have to say, they were awesome. They are a kooky collection of disparate elements that make up one drunk, fun-loving Irish bar band. It's great. Their five-piece band include a bass, a guitar, a violin, drums, and an accordion/bagpipes. The guy who plays the violin is very quiet; the bass is totally nuts; the guitar/singer looks like he's stoned; the drummer looks like he's in another world; and the accordion/bagpipes guy looks like he's crazy and loving it. The accordion/bagpipes guy's name, I believe, was either Mike or Dave (we'll guess Mike, but I could swear Margaret kept telling me a different name every time I asked) and had a mohawk, tatoos, a kilt, and a mean penny whistle. Incredible stuff.
We walked back to the car (parked on the other side of the river) and, on a beautiful star-filled night, talked. About everything; the past, the present, the future, intentions and expectations, hopes and laments. It was part truce, part agreement, part apology, part... well, let's just say there were a lot of emotions and tears were shed. And I need to write that down in this blog because I can't afford to forget it; I needed this blog four years ago, to sort out my conflicting emotions and get my thoughts in some semblance of order. But what was so - beautiful - about Saturday night was that the past melded into the present into the future, without reservation. We discussed how we felt about our past, and how it affected us now, and what it should mean for the future, and for the first time... peace. It's said that time heals all wounds, but that's not exactly true. Time gives the perspective of distance, something critically important because of how hot and searing the reality was. For a long time, looking back at that time was as painful as flicking away a barely formed scab, something I couldn't open my mind or heart to without a world of pain and regret that I could only manage to take in small doses. But the beginnings of a truce months ago - and getting to hang out with Margaret, and interact again - lay the groundwork so that this time, I could take away the scab and put a Band-aid on it. It will now heal, something that never happened before. And while there will always be a scar, it no longer will be an open wound; and things can again grow normally.
I don't know why I slip into a lot of symbolism sometimes, but it is so apt. So apt.
So we will be friends again. Are. Will be. That's all. And I am so happy about it that I could scream - except it's not euphoria. The emotion is intense, but peaceful. Like drowning in an open grassy field next to a murmuring stream. Because for the first time - and as I type these words I realize they are true - I think back to those days and they are painless. Still tinged with regret, maybe, and sorrow - but now there is hope, that those days will not go unavenged, that they will not burn and plague my soul with no recourse for years to come. And I look back upon those days now with a sense of wonder - because I can look back at them without the pain in my heart or the hatred of my decisions - and tears nearly come to my eyes, here, at work, because the intensity of the pain hid its source. Because being friends with Margaret - simply friends - were some of my best times with her ever. I have other amazing friends - good 'guy' friends like the Moulden 108 crew, amazingly talented friends like Martin or Luke, friends that stayed through the years like Jess, friends that never forget like Barbara. But Margaret was something different; a curiousity, intellectual yet creative, thoughtful yet fun, and a loyalty that could burn you from twenty yards away. And it took losing that to realize how special that kind of friend was. You don't know what you have 'til it's gone.
But now that thought, that damn thought that I had to bury lest it pain me forever, is painless and I can look back and remember the great times without regret. I can remember the fun and the interests and the inside jokes and laugh and smile and remember fondly. Forensics. Lockers. Drawings. Writing. Stories. Meetings. Writing stories at meetings. Lunches. Dancing. Parks. Movies. Presents. Friendship. They bring a smile to my face now. Not pain or loss.
Oh, peace. Oh, tranquility.
Serenity. A fictional place no longer. How fitting!
I might look back on writing this entry and think it is overly melodramatic, or over the top, or both.
But somehow I don't think so.
Martin's profile and my good mood are collaborating on this one. This will go up on my IM profile and be updated there, but I think I'll make the first entry here.
Current Obsessions (in no particular order)
Dodgeball - Team Hit The Deck, Defending Champions, .628 winning percentage (2nd seed)
Volleyball - Team Try 8-1
Basketball - Team Want It, 1-2
Drawings of Caissa
Warcraft III - Mat Lv 13 Orc Blademaster, Stoph Lv 13 Night Elf Priestess
The Flames of Resistance - Chapter 2, Things That Burn
Fantasy Football - 2-2 Friends, 2-2 Family, 0-4 Work
Pittsburgh Penguins
Pittsburgh Steelers, 2-1
Misery by Stephen King
Burnout Revenge, 19% complete
Burgers with spinach salad
Peace.
For all the times that people want excitement, that people want adventure, and that people want something to do on Friday or Saturday night, there is nothing more fulfilling than simple serenity.
And I had it.
Have it, really. At least for this.
On Saturday night I went out to Finnegan's Wake, which is a pretty cool Irish bar near PNC Park. I was invited by Margaret, who knows of my love for Irish music and also knew the opening band - Jackdaw - as one of her favorites. I have to say, they were awesome. They are a kooky collection of disparate elements that make up one drunk, fun-loving Irish bar band. It's great. Their five-piece band include a bass, a guitar, a violin, drums, and an accordion/bagpipes. The guy who plays the violin is very quiet; the bass is totally nuts; the guitar/singer looks like he's stoned; the drummer looks like he's in another world; and the accordion/bagpipes guy looks like he's crazy and loving it. The accordion/bagpipes guy's name, I believe, was either Mike or Dave (we'll guess Mike, but I could swear Margaret kept telling me a different name every time I asked) and had a mohawk, tatoos, a kilt, and a mean penny whistle. Incredible stuff.
We walked back to the car (parked on the other side of the river) and, on a beautiful star-filled night, talked. About everything; the past, the present, the future, intentions and expectations, hopes and laments. It was part truce, part agreement, part apology, part... well, let's just say there were a lot of emotions and tears were shed. And I need to write that down in this blog because I can't afford to forget it; I needed this blog four years ago, to sort out my conflicting emotions and get my thoughts in some semblance of order. But what was so - beautiful - about Saturday night was that the past melded into the present into the future, without reservation. We discussed how we felt about our past, and how it affected us now, and what it should mean for the future, and for the first time... peace. It's said that time heals all wounds, but that's not exactly true. Time gives the perspective of distance, something critically important because of how hot and searing the reality was. For a long time, looking back at that time was as painful as flicking away a barely formed scab, something I couldn't open my mind or heart to without a world of pain and regret that I could only manage to take in small doses. But the beginnings of a truce months ago - and getting to hang out with Margaret, and interact again - lay the groundwork so that this time, I could take away the scab and put a Band-aid on it. It will now heal, something that never happened before. And while there will always be a scar, it no longer will be an open wound; and things can again grow normally.
I don't know why I slip into a lot of symbolism sometimes, but it is so apt. So apt.
So we will be friends again. Are. Will be. That's all. And I am so happy about it that I could scream - except it's not euphoria. The emotion is intense, but peaceful. Like drowning in an open grassy field next to a murmuring stream. Because for the first time - and as I type these words I realize they are true - I think back to those days and they are painless. Still tinged with regret, maybe, and sorrow - but now there is hope, that those days will not go unavenged, that they will not burn and plague my soul with no recourse for years to come. And I look back upon those days now with a sense of wonder - because I can look back at them without the pain in my heart or the hatred of my decisions - and tears nearly come to my eyes, here, at work, because the intensity of the pain hid its source. Because being friends with Margaret - simply friends - were some of my best times with her ever. I have other amazing friends - good 'guy' friends like the Moulden 108 crew, amazingly talented friends like Martin or Luke, friends that stayed through the years like Jess, friends that never forget like Barbara. But Margaret was something different; a curiousity, intellectual yet creative, thoughtful yet fun, and a loyalty that could burn you from twenty yards away. And it took losing that to realize how special that kind of friend was. You don't know what you have 'til it's gone.
But now that thought, that damn thought that I had to bury lest it pain me forever, is painless and I can look back and remember the great times without regret. I can remember the fun and the interests and the inside jokes and laugh and smile and remember fondly. Forensics. Lockers. Drawings. Writing. Stories. Meetings. Writing stories at meetings. Lunches. Dancing. Parks. Movies. Presents. Friendship. They bring a smile to my face now. Not pain or loss.
Oh, peace. Oh, tranquility.
Serenity. A fictional place no longer. How fitting!
I might look back on writing this entry and think it is overly melodramatic, or over the top, or both.
But somehow I don't think so.
Martin's profile and my good mood are collaborating on this one. This will go up on my IM profile and be updated there, but I think I'll make the first entry here.
Current Obsessions (in no particular order)
Dodgeball - Team Hit The Deck, Defending Champions, .628 winning percentage (2nd seed)
Volleyball - Team Try 8-1
Basketball - Team Want It, 1-2
Drawings of Caissa
Warcraft III - Mat Lv 13 Orc Blademaster, Stoph Lv 13 Night Elf Priestess
The Flames of Resistance - Chapter 2, Things That Burn
Fantasy Football - 2-2 Friends, 2-2 Family, 0-4 Work
Pittsburgh Penguins
Pittsburgh Steelers, 2-1
Misery by Stephen King
Burnout Revenge, 19% complete
Burgers with spinach salad
posted by Mat | 1:46 PM
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