| "And I'm staying up all night again writing songs about where and when..." |
[Feb. 5th, 2012|12:10 pm] |
"...I could hold you 'til you rest your head to sleep..."
Is this the point where I should act my age? Because I'm not so sure this has been anything but slow-step wonderful, like a grade school romance on recess hours. I swear I tore through this library of songs I never really understood for ages. Picked through this emo king catalogue of ups and downs for far too long before I was really able to hear the grin-laden tracks that were standing out right in front of me again. And oh, Jason Lancaster, you took me through it all. Left me with sore vocal cords after screaming fits in the car trying to hit the passion like you do, drumming on the steering wheel and clearly being a spectacle for the cars around me. Brought me down to 1st gear by punching me in the chest with everything I was going through, in some of the most literal lyrical scar comparisons the genre has ever offered me.
I kept it careful and held back on recommending some incredible songs to people for fear of being too blatant. Played the gentleman as far as I could and as proudly as I could muster as I put my "any other..." back together again. I know myself well enough to know that I was beating myself up for all the wrong reasons, instead of remembering what I had and looking for the next step on my path. I let the summer stroll by, cautiously stapling ideas to my future, tagging my arms with sharpie marker notes, pinning points on the map and letting my travel itch guide me through winter. I've had a hell of a journey since this time last year; I road tripped for music, caught up with old friends over new beers, planned a life changing trip to a temporary city in the desert, picked up a handful of new recipes, watched love unfold on camera, fell for my friends all over again, saw towers and ancient ruins, led projects and power-housed through two promotions and their respective raises. I planned new tattoos and made myself promises that I'm working real hard to keep. And all the while I was trying to figure out my goals, my passions and my loyalties. Striving for purpose and balancing a career I didn't realize was such a good fit. Learning to trust again and fancy someone who made my day. Trying hard to figure out a way to throw the spark that would ignite this all in the best ways possible. I just wanted to make her believe in what she was resisting for so many honest reasons.
If the coast takes her away, I don't know what I'll do... but there's half a year to explore and we were running shy of reasons not to dive in headfirst before...
And when pulling on her hair and scribbling notes in crayon finally showed her reason enough to play "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" (music collections, of course...) I was surprised how openly my words came back. How diligently I set to the task of preparing the best of the best, and how excited I was to feel something alive again. A breath of fresh ocean air for these rusty Midwest lungs, and I still can't believe it. I know I warned of what it could be, how it could feel and what this really means, but I'm so glad she finally let herself feel it. If August calls her to shore, I don't know what will become of this phonograph romance. But its not here yet, and the future months are as much a blank slate as the day we've landed feet first on, so I'm not as worried as I should be. There's so much world out there for us to explore; so much I haven't even come close to understanding, and with that shiny new passport in her pocket there's new doors in every direction. I never realized how much it means to really take it slow, and how liberating it is to ride on the edge of your seat for each kiss. To cherish every second of contact until your chest is ready to burst. To be the Phinneas or Jason I've always strived to be. To show her that this doesn't need be just a fling. More than a moment in this fleeting age we live in, but something beautiful. The concerns are real and valid, but so far away and so worth it. This feels like something as real as the movies make it seem; as warm as the records that captured it in the era we think this passion was born in to begin with. Every time she asks me to sing I feel like I'm on stage again, breathing to the beat that my heart skipped in my head as her eyes become the spots. If I could only be the Sinatra I envision in my ego...
"Come fly with me..." |
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| I found your hearts while unboxing my Christmas tree... |
[Dec. 5th, 2011|12:45 am] |
The little silver coiled rings with the tiny blue hearts fishwired in the center to make them look like they're floating...
I never noticed that much detail in them until tonight. Because they remind me so vividly of the light they shone into our bedroom from in front of the LED bulbs that lined that little tree.
I miss it. The good times. The times that felt warm and unquestionable, like this season's all about. The times we had that were uniquely our own and beautiful in their own right.
Because it's not just the little tree. That was mine before us. The little silver and slate blue bulb ornaments that dotted its branches were mine too.
But those 3 Ikea heart rings pulled the whole thing together. They balanced the color, steered the eyes toward the good glows, tightened up the look, and made it stand proud and really feel complete. And it was perfect every minute it was up like that.
I selfishly wanted to keep them and see if you noticed, but couldn't muster up the guts to do anything but poem and prose my way around my head and heart tonight. I had been sitting here on the cusp of figuring out how that tree's going to feel right with those blank patches of plasticine needles showing through for far too long, and that's when I remembered that little tree used to brighten this whole room here before it changed scenery. No doubt it looked its sharpest to date last Christmas, but it still looks pretty damn cool matching the sheets and the walls of this family bedroom. I appreciate the memories and moments those hearts reminded me of and the warmth they brought to who I am, and take comfort knowing that even though the hearts will leave in the morning with the rest of your holiday decor, there was still a time that they pinned that tree upright and smiling, and that can't ever change. I love that feeling.
Even though we're not together, I hope no matter where you are, you can still feel some part of that too, deep like a memory that doesn't need to leave you, for the rest of your life. That little fire in the very back of who you are that can pitch in and warm your heart when life gets cold. I pray this season finds you well, and that just like mine, the same part of your heart glows with something wonderful when you come across not only the ornaments I gave you, but the ones we received together.
And I know that come morning when those silver hearts get picked up and strung up two towns across the street, they'll do a wonderful job of stitching together your Christmas tree and bringing a little more sparkle to your living room. And maybe one day they'll stick out on that tree and make you smile, just for a moment... and maybe luck would have it that I would smile too, just because.
It's Christmastime, and with a few extra sparks thrown my way this week, I'm looking forward to creating new memories, feeling new heartbeats and finding time to wind down and settle into the safety nets of close friends, a great family, and once a year food, just in time to celebrate them all.
This season, I'm not really in love; I simply love, and I'm so lucky to have such blessings.
Merry Christmas. |
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| "Dont need no drugs..." |
[May. 17th, 2011|02:16 am] |
You're my chemical.
I wish I had more words to say or more hours to pretend with. I'll be killing this MP3 player's battery softly as I face the ceiling and try and sink into the back of my pillows tonight.
The world as I know it has changed so many times since I last struck the keys in an attempt to scream outloud to myself. The fear has kept me at bay, pensive and paranoid about the silence that was rolling out my fingers where once whole sentences and entire bits of prose sung. This entry is now a mere footnote in a long winding inner monologue. A prose form completely incapable of capturing the most minute of the things going on in my head (which I am having trouble dictating). It will have to do for now though.
Tomorrow (today) is a new day and a fresh start. My prayers ask that it all gets figured out in bells. My nightmares still have us friends.
I'll take those odds. |
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| Thank you... |
[Nov. 27th, 2010|02:32 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Galena, IL | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | Sleepy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The furnace | ] |
"Sometimes taking off can open up your eyes to everything that lies in your heart."
There's nothing quite like getting out of the house and into the quiet, especially when that quiet is in Galena. This house is warm with so many memories now, from the early morning calm on days like this, to the fevered evenings built atop great food and a well stocked liquor porch. This log cabin house is so much a part of my year that I cannot imagine not having these weekends to look forward to. And I want so badly for us to continue this tradition for years to come, to the point of grey hair if possible. This year I missed the boat on sending out my usual fanfare of Thanksgiving cards, but in the spirit of that practice, I wanted to share a taste of what this life has blessed me with, even if I need to painstakingly type it out and post it from my phone.
I am so grateful for my family. For showing me how to love, and how to have fun, and for bringing me up in a safe, comfortable, and creative atmosphere to nurture my caring side. For showing me that a proven recipe for success is to follow your heart and wear a smile while doing so. I'm thankful for my mother's hard work and devotion to her four boys, for pulling together an incredible life experience for us all while holding down the fort alone. I'm thankful for Nana, who's sharp wit and even sharper tongue helped mold such a tight knit family, and for the running commentary she provides on the vacations we take. And I'm thankful for all the holiday cards I got from her while I was growing up, even if I thought they were cheesy at the time. I'm grateful for my Aunts and Uncles, for always being there when we were young, and for treating the Tregler boys like we were their sons too. I'm thankful for the late night babysitting they did, and for staying so close to home that every weekend could be a family reunion without breaking a sweat. I'm surrounded by good role models to show me that there are always options and that with the right attitude, any life or career goal is within reach. I am so blessed for all of the things they've shown me, from how to cook bacon, to how to be an amazing parent and husband, and I cannot wait to fit those roles in the years to come.
I am so grateful for this army of friends alongside me in every stride I take. For the impromptu get togethers that turn into benton game blowouts, and the inside jokes that turn any night into a string of quote-book worthy conversations. I'm thankful for the conventions we attend, and the fact that even if the programming hits a slump, we always manage to have a blast. I'm thankful for masquerades and gameroom walkthroughs, for cosplay and panel audiences, and for 3am hotel stumbling adventures. I'm thankful for vacation getaways that don't involve conventions, like going to the Dells or the Dunes and our yearly cabin getaways. I've grown so fond of the company I keep that it makes me want to sing it all out loud. I'm honored to hold so many unique and interesting people close.
I'm thankful for pixie sticks and Ping's grandfather's hat; for pretzels and sleeping cat tattoos, for power hours and wrestling masks and too many balls. I'm thankful for seamstresses and wolf fetishists, girls who dig whiskey and 'Thank you for shopping at Dominic's' stickers. I'm thankful for sexy small business owners and nerds with courage and steel nerves capable of proposing in a crowd. I'm thankful for electric hairlines and chest tufts, hard working graceful women with eyes for eyes, for late night Say Anything sing alongs and stylish Hot Topic champions with hearts of gold. I'm thankful for rockstars in training with a cult bakery following, mohawked bass players with histories of body piercing, femme fatal renaissance warriors and rude boys who accidentally the whole car and were able to laugh about it just hours later. I feel so grateful to know all of these complex and amazing characters, and to know that they will be there when the year rolls out and we grow up just a bit more. Its incredible to know that each and every one of these important people will be there to celebrate with me as I wed the most wonderful person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.
I am so grateful for my Love, my Jacqueline. I am thankful for the direction she has steered my heart and my mind. I'm grateful for the moments we've shared over the years that shaped our relationship into such a strong base and allowed us the spark to ignite a beautiful passion. I'm grateful for the way she breathes music and the way she sings to me. I am spoiled by her hands when they caress mine and I cannot imagine long weeks without them. I'm a sucker for the lipgloss taste of her kiss and am so grateful to be the one who's shoulders she throws her arms around. I'm thankful for the sound of her boots and for the look she gets when she's got a secret to tell. I'm so lucky to be the one who gets her support and her advice. I'm thankful that she sees me for who I am and what I want to be, and I'm crazy for her in every way I can imagine. I'm excited for May and I cannot fathom that she could look any more beautiful than she does now, but I know I haven't seen anything until she walks down the aisle. I am thankful that bit by bit, the pieces of this wedding keep falling into position and that our honeymoon keeps sounding more and more real. I am thankful for another Christmas to spend with my baby, in our home, curled up to exchange gifts as we both wait with bated breath to see what the other had up their poofy sleeves.
I am thankful for a beautiful and rewarding future, especially with so many goods to come. I feel love so strongly these days... |
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| "Lucky to be coming home again..." |
[Sep. 16th, 2010|09:03 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  calm | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Jason Mraz, Albert Smart | ] |
The windows are open tonight in Itasca. There are O'hare bound planes overhead, strangely beautiful as they cut the skies above this home. I pray that in their wake, they'll open the clouds and let out a rain to wet the streets and force a ceasefire, because my heart has been so swollen with love and hope as I brush my hands across the keys, trying to say something worth a suture. Its difficult to pace the steps alongside and know that sometimes, the best I can do is wrap my arms around her; but there's only so much a band-aid can do for a bulletwound. Life, love, family and future. I'm watching a juggling act and knowing it's damn near impossible to keep them all in motion at once. It was hard not to feel the weight every time one of them nicked the ground and had to be grabbed back up, but its incredible the grace with which its pulled off. Like watching a breathtaking triumph of the human spirit; akin to a Jigsaw puzzle with less blood on the line.
As the days blur and the weeks crawl across the calendar, it seems like my much needed vacation simultaneously cannot come soon enough and shouldn't be here so soon. Summer throws in the towel in just seven short days. I'm not sure I'm ready to look back on what this season held for me and let it go, but with work in between and a wardrobe ready for the temperature shift, maybe I can be at peace. Or maybe I should wear my swimsuit one more time before next Thursday; just because. At least it will see more use come October. I'm all too excited for the opportunity to watch the leaves change from a hottub full of friends, and I know if I just keep my head up and blink enough times, Galena will be just days away and I'll have a chance to panic about the plans. I cannot wait to panic about the plans.
Which reminds me that I still have to finish working out the details for the greatest day of my life. I still need to outfit my men in the right shade of teal, and take care of the invitations, and finalize details with the caterer, and get to work on that incredible wedding present I've had planned for months and some people already know about. Thats right, I'm already certain exactly what I will present to you, my bride, on the day of our wedding. I have a secret gift this time, a perfect little piece of everything we are, coming together in an incredible journey of a way and I am so excited to give it to you that it almost hurts sometimes.
I cannot wait to feel the evenings where I can take her hand before bed, close my eyes as she curls under my arm and my mind replays the first dance, and the last dance, as a smile splits my face so fast I'm afraid it'll be stuck that way. And that would be just fine.
I can't get my mind off of May 14th, and I'm glad. I've been a beaming fool at work, excited to talk about plans and compare notes with guys who pretend they can't remember. Guys who act that way until you hit just the right detail and they fall into a rumbling explanation of why the DJ played the perfect song just as she was warming up on the dance floor and if the photographer hadn't gotten that shot of her throwing herself at him with that gorgeous laugh, he might not be able to convince everyone that she really did like him an awful lot. And since I can't get my mind off of our day, our night, our plans, and our Jamaican getaway next year, I may just sink into the couch and let it wash over me.
I'm crazy. I'm spoiled. I'm feeling good tonight. I'm lucky.
Its just another night in, where the music led me to notepad to keep my brain awake until she's home from class. To keep me dreaming of when she comes through that door... I'm so lucky. Lucky I'm in love with my best friend... lucky to have been where I have been... |
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| Sunrise ramblings of a man in love... |
[Jun. 6th, 2010|05:34 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sleepy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Michael Buble | ] |
After staring at this empty notepad document for the better part of an entire weekend, I feel as though I'm on empty for a complete lack of reasons. Every valid thought or argument I had in my head that was worthy of drawing a pen out for or hunkering down like I am now to work out the keys simply faded by the time I was ready to let it out. Whether it was the change in the weather or the fact that my muse is 1399 miles southeast, I've found myself out of inspiration and with a complete lack of creative substance for anything other than text message reminders of my love and less than three filled messages.
And maybe that says something all its own.
It is crazy sometimes how quickly your life can become so tightly wound and woven with someone elses, to the point where a simple wrench in the day to day like a vacation you knew about for weeks can throw off your whole sleep schedule and make you look like a fool on facebook or everywhere else you clamor about, hoping to throw a smile your love's way before they return home.
Today, When the phone didn't ring and no invites rolled in for evening plans, I welcomed the chance for some quiet time, and found myself doing what I always do when I get the apartment to myself for more than 3 hours. Cleaning things; doing laundry, and when the second dryer proved to still be a punk, I found myself struggling through Google in an attempt to locate a 24 hour laundromat without heading into the city, just so I could feel like I had finally gotten caught up. I was handed the perfect opportunity for a bachelor-esque weekend and I've filled my time with Clorox and microwaved leftovers. Even this Friday, when I was ready to go, the workweek caught up with me before I was able to define the word drunk, and I ended up in bed early on and off with friends still drinking in the livingroom.
If the white collar married man is what I've already become, so be it. There are feelings I cannot describe when I come home from the daily commute to the most beautiful woman in the world, wearing her glasses and her comfies and looking like a pinup girl just the same. It's all the little things that are still here, just as when we first started dating, that turn me to mush when she's away. The way my heart cranks inside my chest and pulls at my throat in an attempt to short me of breath everytime she looks me in the eyes. The way she looks when she rolls over after I get into the shower, calm and collected, and the little noises she makes when I kiss her goodbye after I get dressed for the day. The smell of her skin and her hair, and how as soon as they're missing from beside me, I feel like I've somehow found my way into the wrong bed. Waking up to the opening lines of Dine, Dine my Darling and hearing her voice come through soft and wonderful, should've been the lullaby I needed. I don't know if I was hearing it wrong, or if her voice shook just a bit when she was saying "I miss you..." as if she'd been away for weeks with no promise of coming home. It was what I needed, a nudge from my muse, to get the will to sleep. But only after I did a few things first. She called me at 4:26, and with our conversation ending so close to sunrise, the bed just couldn't hold me.
So here I am now, after the sunrise from our balcony, feeling refreshed, and knowing I can go to that bed now, knowing that tonight, I get to be the one who calls her "love". Tonight, I get to be her picture perfect pickup from the airport after a weekend away. My Jacqueline, I miss you. I hold wishes for you to have a wonderful Miami Sunday, and oh I know that the music's fine like sparkling wine. Go and have your fun, laugh and sing, but while we're apart don't give your heart to anyone. But don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be. So darling, save the last dance for me. <3 |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 27th, 2010|04:19 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Dine Dine My Darling" -Alkaline Trio | ] |
Well there's a lump in my throat, a swell in my chest and tingling in my fingertips.
A count 42 to half that something is much better than expected.
You see, she lay sleeping in the other room and my sneak is only for the itch nurtured in me over 6 years ago.
An itch to stay close to life, to bring with the evening only the best plans for night and to keep music in the wings of every thing I remember.
To recall every whisper of Chicago songs, to draft a future with the ink stains of teardrop lyrics and smear the lines between friendship and forever.
To connect the dots between comfort and lover.
Lover and bride.
I was clueless. Screaming in tune to the songs all along.
Star-crossed, waiting on a storm or a signal to smash my defenses and toss me in.
Hoping my clothes were cool and my hair looked okay ravaged by the rains.
So I paced along city streets with my hand in hand, ready to swear to deals and differences.
Nothing beyond this point.
So I pushed it.
I ripped at the floodgates to see the same colors I knew there were.
Drenched our shoes and splashed our shirts with the color of your smile.
The taste of your lip gloss.
In the wake of the flow, we stood for months in embrace. Painted our home with reminders.
I dropped to the undertow and asked if my future was perfect.
You said "yes". |
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| ...and a phone call away... |
[Nov. 30th, 2009|12:44 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Carpentersville | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  Productive | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Starcrossed Love" Dorian Minor | ] |
...is a baggy eyed, restless me. My better side, is all I sleep on. Or sleep next to.
Here I lay, just a stones throw from the City, but there's no envy.
I've got Chicago's heartbeat breathing sweetly in the sheets next to me.
Dreaming of bigger things far beyond the slings and arrows, the scattered shell casings from the day to day.
Drifting off toward morning as I stare at the ceiling and spell out the dates and differences that led us here.
Like letters drenched in self-righteous pronouns and text message alerts of clear skies.
Broken eyes, or harsh goodbyes and the therapy sessions in diner booths.
Picture perfect, shot scene by scene; a script of the new American Dream played out in black and white and blue.
Curled into blessings of she who tends my wounds as I lay awake and listen to the trains.
Her eyelids are battered from the storms of machine gun crossfire, but she's smiling tonight.
As I trace her scars along the shoulderblade, she shifts, smooth along the bed to take my embrace.
No more words, thoughts dim to midday naps and the curves at my fingertips as I let myself slip into her dreams.
Memories of fireplaces and light night swings, game nights and dancing in the kitchen.
Free of the pester of insomnia, free to relax by her side. Free to dream of bells and beams, of hands and rings...
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| These colors surround me in their whites, blacks and blues... |
[Sep. 29th, 2009|08:00 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | MIS, DesPlaines IL | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | ! | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Recording studio next door- Bass & Drum tracks in progress | ] |
And all I see is the same hue, indicative of my days and the lifestyle of my heartbeat.
Baby girl, I'm a blur. A panic! of things to do and places to be. An unusual and sickly example of the human condition; the Americana of things wanted less things brought to be. In love with the motions of coming to find me, and too spoiled to let go of the chains that bind me down.
The horizon is the brightest it's ever been, and these weeks between are like hot coals just itching to burn the bottoms of my feet.
Just breathe. I've been running these lungs under night skies and power lines to prep the poetry that makes it all right for what feels like a decade under the influence. Just reach out and grab it. It's beautiful, you see?
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| I'm still waiting for the news that.... |
[Aug. 26th, 2009|06:20 pm] |
Once again I find myself wrapping up the butt end of a three day assistant stint at a slow retail establishment far from home and wondering why I didn't spend the whole time with pencil and paper drawing the middlepoints in my master plan for the next twenty years. What I have accomplished here in this white box during round 2 of psychoanalysis is far less intense, but equally life changing.
As I watched the hours pass and performed my remedial computer duties, I scrawled out the details for the next four months of my future as soft tissue cuts into the walls of my head. The headrush from the bloodletting was a welcome distraction that kept me operating. Not that this job is hell, but this sterile hole in the wall became a prison months ago. The opportunity to close up shop for a breath of fresh air and a trip to the local post office came as a much needed break when my face wanted to boil over. Because though I live in overdrive and work equally as fast, this crawl of a workday still messes with my mind. Despite the attempts of the automatic air freshener and pinesol flooring, this place still smells like crying and confusion to me.
Thankfully, the warm welcome of the suburbs I call home always has the cure for what ails me after the workday blues. Whether it's a smile ridden roadtrip for perfectly chosen and elogantly matching black wooden furniture or the invite to get lightly bricked and watch a coming of age story in 3D, the nights always take me back down to a casual pace of breathing and comfortable set of forward focused eyes.
Though the summer is coming to a close for many, I feel as though, weather aside, I'm just starting in a three month spread that most beg for, as though I was approaching my own warm months of carefree vacations, late nights or excitement for freedoms and the comfort of loving company.
I cannot believe how real my life is becoming so quickly, how carefully and perfectly things are falling into place, as though the blocks were in place a while ago, but that last straight line shifting toward the wall to drop hard finally has me set up for the Tetris that bumps me up into my dreams.
I feel incredible, and things are only on their way to getting better... and that's a strange feeling sometimes, an unreal mindset that strikes more like a dream than a reaction.
...Happy emo kids... what is this world coming to? |
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