You Are So Beautiful To Me

--"You Are So Beautiful", Joe Cocker

BEAUTIFUL
by E. Patrick Taroc

“Am I beautiful?” you ask me
As if any other reply
Could be returned but yes, you are--
More beautiful than most by far.
“But,” you ask, “where is this beauty
To be found? When can it be seen?
Most importantly—to me, I mean--
Is the eternal question why?”

“You are beautiful when you smile,
When your dimpled cheeks crease your face
Like tiny ripples on the ocean--
A hushed tempest of emotion.
And that beauty lingers awhile
When I see you laugh like you've won
A long five-hour marathon
While others are just starting the race.

You are beautiful when you cry,
When the world is proving too rough
For little 'ole you to handle;
Through your tears still shines a candle.
Grace is not ours to question why;
That's God's question to bear
For me waking to your brown hair
On my pillow is proof enough.”

Copyright 2010 E. Patrick Taroc (08/28/10)

Oh, Once In Your Life You Find Someone, Who Will Turn Your World Around, Bring You Up When You're Feeling Down

--"Heaven", Bryan Adams

I met Jina first in December of 1992. We bonded over our shared love of Avonlea, thought we didn't quite get off on the right foot since Jina called Sara Stanley, my favorite character on the show, "boring." However, once that small faux pas was behind us, we got along swimmingly. I found her intelligent, funny, and possessing a strong sense of spirit that I find lacking in most individuals. If anything, I thought Jina and I would be best friends forever. It's her that I immediately hit it off with and not Breanne.

I didn't meet Breanne until July of 1993. We got along fine, but at the time we met I was still infatuated with Jina so I treated Breanne like the writer she was. I thought she was going to be someone who contributed to my 'zine, Our Magazine, and nothing more. I mean--I kept in touch with a lot of contributors, but none of them save Lucy did I eventually consider a close friend. We joke about it now, but the truth is we were both put off by each other in those first few months. I found her stubborn, quick-tempered, and rather vain. If somebody had told me that she would be the one person I would come to depend on for just about everything, I would have told that somebody he or she was crazy.

I guess that's the danger of basing your future with a person around a first impression. First impressions are often misleading. Well, that's not true, I still find Jina intelligent, funny, &c... but I no longer feel that sense of connection that we once shared. My opinion of her didn't exactly change. The only thing that changed was the circumstances surrounding her.

My mistake with her was attempting to move our interaction with one another to a level that it was never meant to go to. I was an idiot, plain and simple. I mistook my burgeoning fondness for her for something resembling love. When she didn't reciprocate my gut reaction was to destroy everything that the two of us had built up. I gave her little choice but to give up on me. Again, I think I was led astray by this notion that she and I were meant to be together forever. This idea that it was our destiny to end up lasting for all time made everything I did at the time seem justified. When you build up this picture of how everything will turn out it's heartbreaking when this other person cannot quite see the same picture. That's what happened between Jina and me. We started off seeing ourselves one way, but gradually I saw us moving on and she didn't.

The same wasn't true about Breanne. I didn't think we would amount to anything in those first few months. Indeed, it wasn't until Jina and I had our falling out that those ideas of ending up together started being focused on the Little Miss Chipper. I mean--I liked her. I thought she was a good writer. I liked talking to her. But even in those early days she and I would have screaming matches that would make me consider just cutting her out of my life. It seemed every other week we would find a new subject to disagree about which we would blow up into a shit storm that wasn't truly warranted. Fight after fight left me with the impression that she and I would just never be that close despite how much she made me smile during all those other times.

Taking a look at that, that should have been one big clue about how Breanne and I were fated to end up together. Whereas Jina and I had one huge fight that caused us not to talk for ten years (!), Breanne and I have been pretty much fighting all our years together. Yet one fight has never been enough for me to back away completely from her for very long. The longest we have gone without talking to one another in the seventeen years we've known each other was eight months. Eight months sounds like a long time and it probably is, but it's nothing compared to not talking to someone for ten years.

I don't know--I just think it's funny that the one person I pinned all these hopes to ended up almost fading into obscurity a mere three years after I met her and the one person I was sure I wouldn't see after a few years ended up sticking around for almost two decades now.

It gives me pause about the theory that we're destined to find one and only one person who will change everything. Or rather it gives me pause that we're capable of recognizing such a person right from the get-go. I mean--you hear all this talk about people knowing they would fall in love with a person upon gazing on them from across the dance floor. They have no qualms in their heads that it's their destiny to be with that person. I have yet to meet one of those people myself. Everyone I know it's always been the same; the people who stick around in their lives were the people they didn't think much of at first. It's always the people who snuck up on them in their daily dealings that ends up becoming indispensable and not the person they put the effort into. Call it a quirk of fate or the gods' having a little joke at our expense, but nobody seems to roll the pass line right from the get-go.

What I can buy into, however, is the idea we do meet the one person who has the power to change our life around. It happened to me and I've heard it happen to other people. It's not so hard to put faith into the theory that certain people were put into our lives to transform them into something better. I mean--if we had the power to better ourselves eternally I don't think there's a single person who wouldn't choose to do that on their own. Sometimes we need others to kick start out lives into overdrive. Sometimes all it takes is to find one person who believes in us when we don't quite believe in ourselves all the time.

They don't even have to do that much. They could just leave a message on your phone at four in the morning saying, "Don't give up, Patrick. Please try again." They could call your parents to explain all the stuff you can't explain to them personally. They could just IM you just to say, "Hey."

I know I'm blessed to have someone in my life who means so much to me. I guess I'm just thinking how astonishing it is that I overlooked her for so long. It's true what they say; sometimes you really can't see the forest for the trees. That's the difference between something that's meant to last and something that isn't--the difference between Jina and Breanne--one thing falls apart despite all your efforts to keep it together and the other endures no matter what happens to try to kill it.

If it's meant to last--if a person is meant to be with you for the long haul--there's nothing that can be done under the sun to change that. I'm stuck with Breanne... and that's a good thing.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Our Last Wishes Know We Cannot Chase, One, Played Calm, The Song Strings Belong, But Please, For Keys, I Turn To Hear You Sing A False Reprieve

--"An Anniversary Away", Reverie Sound Revue

In a few days it will officially be ten years (!) since I first moved in with DeAnn. First in Ontario, then later in Fontana--we stayed together for about fifteen months. Some of the days were better than others, but on the whole it was a very trying experience.

At the time I thought she would be the only girl I ever lived with and, so far, it's proven to be true.

I can't place the blame on her, though. The bad taste I have in my mouth regarding with living with someone you're romantically involved with might stem from my own proclivities. I am probably a hard person to live with. I know in the time I spent with DeAnn during those months there were stretches where I just didn't want to be around here. Even having my own "study" wasn't enough to subdue the feeling of being trapped with her 24/7. It didn't help that I also had to see her at the office. I don't think any relationship which is rocky to begin with can stand up to the pressure of seeing that same person at work and at home.

It lead to a lot of arguments that had nothing to do with the subject of the argument and everything to do with the weariness of having to deal with the same person over and over again. It's brought me to the conclusion that were I to live with another woman I'm involved with it will be after serious consideration. If there's one thing that living with DeAnn taught me it's that the surest way to doom any relationship is to move in to soon with a person. I don't think I was ready for that step at that age. I don't think either of us were. And maybe that was a sign in itself that the foundation of our wanting to be together wasn't really strong, but a part of me believes that if we had just waited everything might have worked out.

If I live with someone else it'll be because I can't imagine spending a second away from them rather than the idea that it's the next logical step. I want to be able to say that ten years after moving in with someone that, incredibly, the desire to keep right on living with them is still there.

That's the kind of anniversary I'm looking forward to next.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

What's Written In Sand Disappears In The Rain, With Life You're Never Sure How Close You Came, It's Turning To Dust, It's Turning To Gold

--"Days", Sambassadeur

I had the opportunity to look through my senior year yearbook yesterday morning. Leafing through, it surprised me how much I've forgotten of those formative years. Every other page had me remarking, "I remember that," in mild surprise. It's remarkable that in seventeen short years I've managed to obscure some of the facets of my life I used to think vital to my existence.

For instance, a lot of pages journal my exploits in campus ministry and public service. I used to be the poster boy for volunteerism and peer guidance. And while I was never overly religious, I believe I was a lot more spiritual in my youth. I even went so far as to meet the former Archbishop Roger Mahoney in recognition of my efforts on behalf of campus ministry. It was a different time and I think I was a lot more centered on believing in something greater than myself even if that concept did not fit the construct of God or some higher power. Having that sort of philosophical foundation used to, at least partly, define who I was.

It's no secret over the years I think I've gotten more self-centered and less concerned with the way fate, fortune, or divine intervention has either assisted or hindered me. I stopped believing that what I did directly affected the world at large and, conversely, what the rest of the world did affected me. Somewhere in the intermittent seventeen years I started changing my world view to be less concerned with how everybody reacted against one another. Somewhere in those years I started to realize that, in the end, what we do only matters to us and whether or not we're happy.

I also noticed how much more involved I was with the school at large. I mean--this ties into the aforementioned point, but it also speaks to how much more active I was in some kind of community. Aside from my friends, I don't really have a group of people I actively seek to enrich. Yet I don't think this is so far out of the norm. Most people my age don't really belong to a collective of people outside their circle of friends. Gone are the days of the sewing circles. I don't know a single person who belongs to a book club. The only people I know of who actually belong to something are people like Lucy who are actually involved in various charities and foundations. Aside from that, I don't think I'm alone is saying people just don't go around joining clubs for the hell of it. Indeed, I would even classify my involvement in my board gaming group benefits me more than my benefiting them. I don't run around actively boosting them--not like at La Salle where I would get involved with activities and truly participate to make the club better for having had me.

I see all the clubs listed below my name in my senior year picture and I can scarcely believe I divided my time helping out so many different groups.

----

Marion was talking to me on the phone a few days after she got her senior year yearbook. Everything to her was so fresh and new. A lot of the stuff she was relating to me had only happened a month or even a few weeks prior. It didn't occur to me at the time, but to her she wasn't talking about history yet. Not really. To her senior year was something that was present tense. She still was this person. Those events and activities she talked about were still affecting her, were still helping shape her.

I wonder how long it will take for the present tense to shift to past tense. I wonder how long it will take her to reach the point I am at, where everything that happened in high school stops being an influence on her and only continue to exist as something that molded her once.

I don't know--I'm getting to the point where school in general stops being this great ghost that haunts me. I still have my specters of the past, but they're starting to originate more from my personal persona than my school persona. People always tell you that school and high school specifically changes you forever. Well, it's done it's damage already. I'm starting to see that what happened there can't hurt or help my any more.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I've Liked You For A Thousand Years, I Can't Wait Until I See You, You Can't Stand To See Me That Way, No Matter What I Do, No Matter What I Say

--"Scott Pilgrim", Plumtree

When Scott Pilgrim vs. The World opens this Friday one can expect me to be there. I have been anticipating this movie for some months and I'm glad it's finally coming out. I mean--this is right in my wheelhouse. It's basically a romantic comedy with farcical elements and a very radio-friendly soundtrack. I also appreciate that the whole premise is predicated on video game tropes since it's been well-established that I'm of the generation that grew up playing video games in both arcades and at home. Plus, there is no way I'm missing both Michael Cera and Mary Elizabeth Winstead, two of my more favorite up-and-coming actors, playing off each other.

But I think the surprising thing about the movie is how much I already appreciate it--even before seeing it. You see, without Scott Pilgrim, the film, I would have never chanced upon "Scott Pilgrim," the song. And without that I would have never discovered my new favorite old band, Plumtree.

As I usually do, I went spelunking for how the comic book which the film is based on came about. That's when I read that the author named his character after an obscure 90's Canadian indie band song. 90's? Canadian? Indie? There just isn't anything in that description that I dislike. I immediately had to know more about this song and this band. That's when I discovered Plumtree which Wikipedia describes thusly:

Plumtree were a Canadian all-girl indie pop band... [which] formed in their hometown of Halifax, Nova Scotia in 1993 after meeting through their music teachers. The original line-up included Lynette Gillis (aged 14) on drums, Carla Gillis (17) on guitar and vocals, Amanda Braden (15) on guitar and vocals and Nina Martin (16) on bass and occasional vocals.

yeah!

It was love at first listen. The Plumtree sound hails from that decade when Grunge was everywhere and sophisticated lyrics weren't as important as attitude and plain musicianship. "Scott Pilgrim" has only six lines of lyrics which are repeated, but damn it all if it doesn't stick in your craw hours after you've listened to it. The guitar work, the disjointed harmonies, and the passion with which the track is played all beg for your attention. It's the same for the whole album it comes from, ...Predicts The Future. It reminds me of all those classic 90's bands I used to listen to in high school--Lush, Letters to Cleo, The Sundays, The Cranberries. It's definitely not the polished emo fare we have these days.

So you see, I'm already vested in the movie because it had me hooked at its soundtrack. It's my theory that if they can spend this much time nailing the musical vocabulary of the picture, then they'll probably spend as much time making sure all the other facets are up to par as well. I really can't wait for this movie to come out.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

The Way That You Look At Me Now, Makes Me Wish I Was You, It Goes Deep, It Goes Deeper Still, This Touch, And The Smile And The Shake Of Your Head

--"A Night Like This", The Cure

When I wandered in from the hotel hallway I didn't know what I was expecting. I had left Breanne sleeping in the bed while I had gone exploring the rest of the hotel. Rather than wake her I had decided to go wandering, which was pretty much my standard routine when I don't have anything else better to do. I wasn't gone that long--twenty minutes at the most. When I came back I fully expected her to still be sleeping.

No such luck.

I came through the room door hearing the distinct sound of someone running the shower. But as soon I shut the door behind me I saw her peek her head around the bathroom door. Her chestnut brown hair wasn't even wet so she must have been just about to get in.

"I was about to get ready to come find you, sugar," she said lazily.

"Well, here I am," I answered her.

"Hold on one second. I'm coming out to you."

I made my way to the bed, all white and disheveled, and waited for a few moments. Normally, I would have been curious at the messy state of the linens since she's usually the one who insists on making the bed every morning, but I had other concerns on my mind. Besides, she probably would have made them right before heading out to meet up with me I rationalized. I didn't really know her schedule that well. Most of the time she would get ready first and tidy up when it was my turn. For all I knew she had little pixies do all the heavy lifting while she sat on her ass supervising.

"There, all better," I heard her say, coming out of the bathroom. She had on her Athens t-shirt and pair of red shorts from the night before. I watched as she made a beeline to sit next to me on the bed.

"It wasn't nice of you to leave me all alone this morning, Eeyore. Not nice at all," she announced half-heartedly, the hint of a smile on the corners of her mouth. "I woke up reaching for you like some anteater sniffing around and you were nowhere to be found. It was very disconcerting."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful. You know how I get, once I'm up I'm up for good. There was no reason for both of us to lose sleep."

"You have a point. Maybe next time leave a note or something, you know?"

I saw the look in her oceanic blue-green eyes. It was her usual mix of playfulness and stubbornness. It always reminds of the look my mom gives me as if to say, "it's fine for now, but let's not do that again." Rather than try to boss me around, which would inevitably lead to confrontation, Breanne has this habit of couching her commands as quasi-suggestions. I mean--if she really wanted to she could have told me directly to leave a note, but, as she says, I'm not her employee. The prevalent attitude is that we're supposed to be equals--even if it doesn't always work out that way.

The trip up to that point had been everything I could have hoped for. Three days with the woman you probably have loved the deepest in your life isn't something you complain about. But, as she herself says, you can only be you--no more, no less. My nature is to worry when the other shoe would drop. I had gone into the trip assuring her and assuring myself that there wasn't anything that could dampen my spirits. I was determined not to let the doubts and insecurities about the ethical implications of what we were doing ruin our time. Yet the more time I spent dwelling on it, the more it seemed that somewhere somehow we might be treading into murky waters. And that thought and others like it were beginning to occupy more of my time the later in the trip it became.

"Will do."

What we were doing didn't break any laws. It wasn't going to lead to anyone dying. On a cosmic scale it was insignificant, but on a karmic one it had serious repercussions.

Looking at her, though, she looked happy. Wasn't that the important matter to focus on, I asked myself. She'd been so sad for the months leading up to this vacation. Her and Greg weren't getting along, and she's the one who suggested that taking a break from who she had become might, indeed, be a good idea. She's the one who said that perhaps remembering the kind of person she used to be might just be the cure to whatever was ailing her. I traced the smile on her dimpled face with my eyes. There wasn't a hint of mawkishness there. All there was a relaxed demeanor and a pleasant lilt to her every feature. Asking anyone, you'd be hard-pressed to convince them that this was the face of someone who was torn up inside or someone who was wracked with guilt.

"So, Mr. Patrick, what should we do today? Do you have any bright ideas?" she asked.

"Not a one. Never have, never will."

"That's good to know. We could go check out some museums today. You mentioned you wanted to do that some time. Today's as good as any."

"Sure, we could do that. Let's do that."

I had practiced out in the hotel what I was going to say to her. I had a mental list of all the concerns I had. I knew it was going to ruin the rest of the trip, but I thought it best if we cleared some of the air. Mostly thought It best if I let her know that I wasn't a complete bastard, that I was fully capable of accepting some of the responsibility for what we were doing there. It was only fair since, as they say, it does take two to tango.

I watched as one of her pliant bangs slid in front of her brow. Like I had done a hundred times before, I gently brushed it away from her face. The act itself was simple, yet it brought me no end of contentment once my fingers made contact with her skin.

She, in turn, placed her hand over mind and glided both of them down to her cheek. Then, she kind of leaned into my hand softly.

"Breanne?" I asked aloud.

"Yeah?"

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, but I don't quite know how to phrase it."

"Well, you can't go swimming without getting your face wet, as my daddy says. You might as well just ask away," she replied with her head still in my hand.

I had a decision to make. What I said next could make or break this trip for her. On one hand, I could regurgitate possibly everything she'd be worrying about all along. She could come to the realization that what we were doing, what she was doing by being there with me, was a mistake. The whole trip could come caving in around us. And on the other hand, I could let it go. We both could go on believing that the world outside didn't exist. We could pretend that she wasn't married and that what we were doing wasn't looked down upon by any civilized or even decent human being. I could go on letting her be happy for the next four days just be leaving the spell unbroken.

I wanted to be the better person. But the way she looked up at me just then made my decision for me. It wasn't even a contest really.

I've done a lot of acts that I'm not particularly proud of. I've said words I wished I could take back, lashed out at people I should have never raised a finger to, and overall just been a complete idiot. But there have only been a few times where I'm not exactly sure which side of that line I fell on. That day in Chicago was one of those days. I'm not sure if I came out a better or worse person for keeping my mouth shut when so much of me wanted to spew unpleasant thoughts. The only thing I know for sure is that it preserved the whole mood of the trip. It's the one time I've spent with my Breannie where we were just in a state of bliss the entire of time. All I remember of that trip is how much we laughed, how much we danced, and how much we just realized how happy the other person made us. And I remember that day as being the one time all of that could have changed by my speaking my mind.

"Hell's bells, Eeyore, what is it? What is it that you want to ask me?"

"Oh, I was just going to ask if staying inside this lovely hotel room of ours and ordering room service sounded like a good idea to you."

I listened as she shook her head in disbelief. This was quickly followed by the unmistakable hurricane sound of her laugh.

"What do you mean? You want to order in breakfast, darling?"

"I'm talking about the whole shebang--breakfast, lunch, dinner. I think it'd be fun if took full advantage of this room's charms and just made a day out of it."

"You're serious."

"As a heartbeat."

That was the extent of our conversation. No mention of unpleasantness was ever made. I took a perfect chance to get to the truth behind the song and dance we were in the midst and let it waste away. Sometimes all it takes is seeing what's so right about a situation to make you think twice about altering even one bit of it... even if it is for the best in the long run. There are some times where looking at the big picture will just ruin things. There are some times where all you want to do is look at the small picture, some times where all you want to remember seeing is the look of her face.

"Then I know the first thing we're ordering, sugar."

"And what's that?"

"Ice cream--and lots of it."

That's how we spent our morning, not in the midst of tears, but in the midst of more ice cream than any two people have the right to eat.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Don't Unplug Me, Or Just Shut Me Down, Please Just Love Me, With Your Steel Heart, I'd Reboot You, If You'd Look At Me, With Those Cold Eyes

--"Don't Unplug Me", All Caps

The problem with fighting with one's friends is that it never ends well. No matter what the root cause or who started what, fights with people you care about inevitably lead to truths that probably weren't worth revealing. I mean--I'm not talking about the tiny quibbles that blow over in the span of a day or so. I'm speaking about those knock-down, drag-out fights where two people don't speak for months (or longer). Those are the fights that kill, those are the moments that spoil the soul.

And the problem with me is that invariably I can't see the fault ever being mine, which I realize is a problem with a lot of people in these situations. But it isn't even that I refuse to admit it and am being simply stubborn; I honestly can't ever wrap my head around the concept that anything I do is wrong. Maybe it's from having such a malleable sense of ethics in the first place, but whatever it is, it's sometime been a problem in my dealings with the world in general.

I'm especially bad when it comes to people making decisions about their own life that would invariably take them away from mine. I'm not too keen on people seemingly wanting to get away from me. Epcot says it's because I have abandonment issues, which is probably true. However, I feel it has more to do with the fact that I never feel like people feel the same way I do. I always have this sense of isolation that I'm the only one whose ever felt the way I do at certain times. I have this sense that the way I look at the world is unique and not altogether healthy. And when people find out--when they find out, I mean--they get all weirded out. That's why they leave. All I can do is protest vehemently and not altogether nicely. I feel like I want to punish them for thinking I'm strange. I want them to suffer for making me feel like a weirdo when the truth is that a lot of my oddities are self-imposed.

----

When people like Toby say they want to take a break from me and from all that we've built, I take that personally. I take that as an affront to what I have to offer her. I mean--she's probably right in saying that it's only temporary. But you can never quite tell about sabbaticals. People go off to take a break from everything they've ever known and they just might find they like this new place better. It makes me nervous that I truly am expendable. It makes me feel she's learned she can from me and is discarding me like so much garbage.

What I really at times is a way to preserve how people feel at certain moments in their lives. I get the sense that if we could only "go back to the way things used to be," I could actually be happy forever. Nothing good ever comes of overhauling the way one person deals with another--not all at once, at least. I've found that when the change is gradual it tends to be for the best; when it's immediate and all-encompassing it tends to be for the worst. Think about it, nobody up and decides to a full-blown commitment. Most times you're lead there. But when people part, it's mostly due to a rash decision or some kind of emotional outburst. Yes, people might be lead there too, but it isn't nearly the same. You don't have to repair somebody wanting to get closer to you the way you have to mend yourself when somebody decides they don't want to be a part of your life.

When Toby says that she's "turning off" the life she used to have, it bothers me. I'm not something you can turn off. This isn't something you can turn off. As much as I wish I could just walk away cleanly and come back to my feelings like that, I'm not so easily capable of such stoicism. I tend to get hurt a lot when other people make decisions for me, decisions that concern me.

Yes, I get pretty temperamental when I'm upset. And, yes, I tend to take it out on those I should be playing nice with, but I don't how to deal evenly with something I consider somewhat monumental. Even if I can leave somebody without ever saying good-bye, it's only because I know they're coming back. When I have to mean it, when I have to say "good-bye" for real, I'm incapable. Because if it were my decision, I would never leave the people I really care about. No way. There are so few people who truly touch your life in such a way as to make it livable. Why on Earth would I choose to give that up? Why on Earth would I ever sit by and watch that walk out of my life?

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers