At one time, conversation could be considered a rich and complex form of communication, perhaps celebrated as an art; a medium through which the wise and clever could impress one another, in a time when books and songs were of epic length and grandeur which is now unimagineable.  Since then the art has slowly died, replaced instead with a need for that which is fast and simple and at pace with today's busy world.  A form of art now out of place, unneeded, forgotten.

This post mourns the loss of things precious and beautiful... lost not through a glorious, dramatic death, honored and cherished and missed; instead, things lost as they faded away, forgotten, lost simply because they no longer have a place in this world.

Hardened, strengthened, humbled by the crashing waves and swirling torrents beating down, tugging relentlessly, dragging me under, crushing the breath from my lungs and life from my body, I grasp desperately as I'm pulled under the current.  I search for something to hold onto, something to steady me in the tide; my hands close upon something.. but as I grip, I feel it crumble in my fingers, and once again I'm surrounded, pressed on all sides again by the cold darkness.

For Leron.

Here's to rediscovering paths lost and dreams forgotten.  Hard to believe a year passed us by already.. it hasn't been easy for any of us.  Just know you're never, ever alone.

What a feeling. The winning shot in the last few seconds of the final quarter. Years of learning, months of practice, honed skills and a rush of adrenaline, all culminating in a few seconds of anticipation, the deep breath, then the realization that it's over. The feeling of accomplishment, of having brought your own unique abilities to a group as talented and dedicated as you. Knowing that it was all riding on you at the last moment. Knowing that you didn't let them down. Knowing that you were a part of something special, something great, something few people get the privilege of experiencing.

Why was I not surprised as I watched, and realized that I had felt the same thing.

I'd do anything for a smile
Holding you 'til our time is done

I watched an old series a long time ago, and one particular scene always stuck with me.

A woman gave a speech, and in it she explained how her language does not have a word for "goodbye".  Instead, her people, in parting, use the expression "until next we meet".  Because, even if it's the last time they will ever be with that person, they look forward to seeing them, perhaps in the afterlife.

I don't know why, but since then I've always made it a point to never say goodbye.

When everybody loves you
You can never be lonely

My fortune cookie:
Courage comes through suffering.


My brief glimmer of happiness is already over.  Too short.  But worth the wait.  Someday, I'll find a real home.

There's something incredible about reaching a new level with someone.  When two people intelligent enough and intuitive enough collide, the result is.. indescribable to anyone who hasn't experienced it.  When you have so much respect for someone's skills, and they have so much respect for yours, that you can interact on a level above and beyond the norm.  When conversation becomes a dance between what is said and what's implied, and words are tools for both revealing and hiding, catching the other off guard, testing them, saying too much and not enough at the same time.  The interaction is breathtaking and dangerously delicious.

Two finals down, one to go.  The first, I barely squeaked by with, and only from serious help from an incredible friend.  Whether it was charity, or pity, or sheer enjoyment at sharing his world with someone else.  Thank you...

Home comes at the strangest times from the places you'd never think.  Had I always known, somehow?  It's everything I pictured and more.  Please, let it last as long as it can.