Second Star To The Right

The past couple of days have actually been pretty decent. I've gotten a lot done, and hope to continue with that pattern.

One intresting thing of note happened last night though. In the process of pledging with a fraternity, my fellow pledge brothers have become somewhat frustrated. So...we sat for about 2 hours last night talking about our feelings. I'm not used to all this sharing. My feelings are mine, I don't just go telling them to anybody. Of course, if you somehow manage to guess them, I'll fess up to them.

Then tonight I went and watched "Finding Neverland". I must say that it reawakened a part inside of me that had fallen asleep. I once again found myself dreaming. I found myself imagining. I found myself hoping.

You see, Neverland is out there, it's just hidden from us. We live in Neverland, but we just can't see it. Sometimes though, we catch glimpses of it. We see it in the hug of a friend. A glimpse is caught when watching someone perform an act of selfless sacrifice. It flashes before us, when we look at someone through eyes of unconditional love. Neverland is in the smile of a loved one, in the laugh of a child, in our hopes. Neverland is there, if you know where to look.

I'm finding my Neverland. Now go and find yours....

"It's the second star to the right and straight on 'till morning"
~Peter Pan

The Good Doctor

My head hurts...really bad. Of course, the days activities didn't help either.

Today was a long day, so of course I was a little stressed. After all my classes, I still wasn't finished. I had a seminar and a concert to go to.

The seminar was certainly....intresting. So many shocking facts and figures accompanied by the most I've ever had to talk about or listen about sex. We also talked about sexual harassment. According to the information I received tonight, apparently I've been sexually harassing people for quite awhile. Yeah, right....

The concert was absolutely wonderful! It was my cousin, Dr. Joby Bell, on the organ. He played an hours worth of music from memory! It sounded wonderful, and the organ was very powerful. Of course, it didn't really help my head any.

I did find out that I have played matchmaker to a couple. Yes, thanks to my assistance, I put two friends of mine together. They were crazy about each other anyway, all it took was a little encouragement. So, I did good. Next up, it's my turn.

"A hug is a great gift - one size fits all, and it's easy to exchange."
~Author Unknown

Time To Come Clean

Wow, two postings in one day. I guess I'm making up for the lost days last week.

Well, I guess you'll all eventually here it sooner or later, so it's better if you hear it from me.

I'm sick.

Now, don't get all worried. Apparently, I'm in no immediate danger of dying. However, I've apparently been sick for awhile. It's gone undetected until now, because I'm just now exhibiting the symptoms.

I won't be entering the hospital for treatment, because as of right now, there is no known cure. However, supposedly, with lots of love, support, and taking care of myself, I should be able to live a normal length life.

Ok....enough mellow dramatics. The physical illness is a cold. However there is a more serious emotional/psychological/developmental one. If you ask me about it, I'll probably tell you.

So that's it for tonight. May God keep you this and every night.

"I'm not afraid of death. It's the stake one puts up in order to play the game of life."
~Jean Giraudoux, Amphitryon, 1929

Storytime (Part 2)

Ok. So here's that other story I wanted to share with you. This one made even me cry.


In Phoenix, Arizona, a 26-year-old mother stared down at her 6 year old son, who was dying of
terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of
determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now
that was no longer possible..The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son's dreams to come true.

She took her son's hand and asked, "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life?" "Mommy, "I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true."

Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Greg, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine. Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you'll give us ! his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat-not a toy one-with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear
and rubber boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast."

Three days later Fireman Greg picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him
from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the
truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in
Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic's van, and even the fire chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local news
program.

Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so
deeply touched Billy that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible. One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition.

The chief replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open window 16 firefighters climbed up the ladder into Billy's room. With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him.

With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, "Chief, am I really a fireman now?" "Billy, you are, and the Head Chief, Jesus, is holding your hand," the chief said.
With those words, Billy smiled and said, "I know, He's been holding my hand all day, and the angels have been singing.." He closed his eyes one last time.

Wow...great story....

"Life is like a symphony. You play the melody. Everyone you meet adds their own sense of harmony. Eventually you meet that special someone that counters your melody perfectly. From then on out, you're playing a duet."
~Jeffrey Lazenby

I Love Storytime (Part 1)

So, there are a couple of stories I would like to share. Here's the first of two stories I would like to submit to you. This one came from a college newspaper.

You met her a few months ago, and somehow she managed to seep into your subconscious like that "Suga how you get so fly" song. Just like you have no clue who the hell sings it, you don't know why she's there. But she is, whether you like it or not. You know her cell phone, her room phone. You can dial her Aunt Doreen's house in West Springfield (where she goes to do her laundry every two weeks) faster than you can peck-out 911. But she doesn't know.

Her screenname, that generic one with her first name followed by three to five random numbers or UMass, has its own category at the top of your buddy list. Not only do you know what a "Buddy Alert" is, you've rigged your computer to play "Fat Guy in a Little Coat" from "Tommy Boy" every time her screen name changes from gray to black. Then her away message comes down, and you have a decision to make. To IM or not to IM? These are the ridiculous games that you play on a daily basis. But she doesn't know.

She's it. All right, so maybe not "it" it. Not necessarily Ms. Right, but closer to Ms. Right-up-there-with-Anna-Kournikova-and-Lizzie-McGuire-on-your-list-of-people-you'd-give-anything-to-be-stranded-with-on-a-broken-down-elevator. But it's about more than that. When is it ever about more than that? Never. Not like frilly white dress, overpriced catering, embarrassing drunk in-laws more, but closer to UMass sweatpants, two D.P. Dough Roni Zonies, a futon and a movie you have no interest in seeing more. But she doesn't know.

She's gorgeous, but gorgeous is an understatement. More like you're startled every time you see her because you notice something new in a "Where's Waldo" sort of way. More like you can't stop writing third grade run-on sentences because you can't remotely begin to describe something ... someone ... so inherently amazing. But you're a writer. You can describe anything. That's what you do: pictures to words, events to words, words to even better words. But nothing seems right. More like you're afraid that if you stare at her for too long, you'll prove your parents right: that yes, your face will stick that way. But you wouldn't mind.

You wouldn't mind that the questioning, "Hello?" on the other end makes you want to smile and throw up at the same time. You wouldn't mind worrying about what to get her for her birthday and spending $300 when you only have $17.50 and a Triple-A card to your name. You wouldn't mind that she left your TV on and the blaring infomercials wake you up at 4 a.m. ... because it gives you a chance to watch her sleep. You don't mind that you've slipped up twice when you were hammered and hinted at how you feel, but she was too drunk to remember. So she doesn't know.

Sure, she's pretty, but it's about more than that. You two connect. Anything you throw at her, she can throw right back. You figured out what's going on in that predictable head of hers in under five minutes, but something tells you her heart would take about five years.

You remember everything she's ever said to you, and when that freaks her out you blame it on your photographic memory (which is a lie, you have a 2.7 GPA). You can't remember your teaching assistant's name, and you can't remember that your Puffton rent check was due four days ago, yet you remember the middle name of the kid who tripped her in fifth grade and gave her that cute little scar on her shoulder. Maybe it's because you actually listen when she talks. When do you actually listen? Never. But she doesn't know.

But she has a boyfriend. The kid is a tool, and you are not. He has no redeeming qualities, and you have about 38, even when you're hung over. You could kick his butt, and you've never been in a fight in your life. He treats her like crap, and you would treat her like the princess she believed herself to be on Halloween in 1988.

But she loves him. He wouldn't know what he had even if she slapped him across the face and dumped him, but somehow she still loves him. And somehow she still doesn't know.

Then, out of nowhere, she slaps him across the face and dumps him. She comes to you. You've been there before, so you seem like the smartest guy on earth. She cries, but your corny half-joke, half-compliment somehow gets a smile out of her that almost makes you feel ashamed that you're the only one around who gets to witness it. It looks like you might make her realize that all guys don't deserve to have rocks thrown at them.

But nothing changes. She doesn't know. You get that library elevator feeling in your stomach that she'll never know. You get that feeling that you'll be forced to write a cheesy Collegian column about her that makes "Sleepless in Seattle" look like "Girls Gone Wild."

You go to sleep. You wake up. She doesn't know. You're not in love. You're not obsessed. You blame it on the fact that you just need to get some, but still, it's about more than that. It would just be nice if once in your life, things worked out the way you wanted them to.

So ___________, it's about time you know

So there's a little bedtime story for you....now can I apply this story? We'll see... we'll see...

May God keep you this and every night.

"Love one another and you will be happy. It's as simple and as difficult as that."
~Michael Leunig