Love Hesitates

Computer Science.

What is computer science?

I haven’t the foggiest.

Curious how I’m now a computer science teacher.

Love.

What is love?

No clue.

Funny how I’m married then.

I suppose its that warm fuzzy feeling you get inside around Christmas time.

Or that feeling of being full after Thanksgiving.

Or that sensation you get when you drop on a roller coaster.

Or maybe its that feeling when you hug somebody.

Not, any somebody, but one of those somebodies that you hug and it feels just right.

Not too tight or tall or short or big. Not a lame loosey goosey hug, but a firm, supportive, warm embrace that fills you.

Maybe that’s love.

Or maybe love is reading a really good book that sweeps you out of your desk and into another world.

Or perhaps getting an A in a subject you’re not good at.

Then, I guess love can be blurred with Happiness.

Like how you love you’re favorite candy bar and you’re happy when your mom buys you one unexpectedly.

But Love should be able to exist without its friend happiness, right?

I mean if you’re having an unhappy day, does that mean you can’t show love?

Or Shouldn’t show love?

Yet how much love does an unhappy person show?

I don’t know, I’m not really a philosophical person.

Just an ordinary computer science teacher.

But really love and happiness do go together.

If you love someone you’re happy with them.

And if you’re happy then you’re probably more likely to love.

Really it’s a good thing love and happiness are friends.

But sometimes Happiness is fooled.

When happiness runs off and becomes friends with other characters that may look like love: Money, Fame, Lust, Acceptance.

When Love Hesitates,

That’s when things start to go wrong.

But what do I know?

I’m just a computer science teacher.

Goodbye

Goodbye.

Au Revoir.

Auf Wiedersehen.

Adios.

Four languages.

Four distinct peoples, places, emotions.

An array of foods, cultures, jokes.

So different, yet so alike.

How much different does an American look from a Frenchman?

Or a German?

How different can a human be?

Spread out over a plethora of land and climates, divided by mountains and rivers and wars.

United in experience, drive, peace.

Why do we fight, then?

I suppose it’s our nature to outlast, survive, fight.

But when we can survive, are surviving, why should we fight for survival?

Why build walls to protect if no weapons are needed to destroy?

Why tear each other down?

If fighting is only for survival, then why wage war?

If one side stops, if the bullets stop flying, if the bombs are silenced, the war cries suppressed, then the “enemy” need not fight for survival.

I guess, then fighting no longer has a synonymous companion with survival.

Then fighting goes with opinion, arrogance, perception, God?

No not God.

Men may fight in his name, but it is for their own glory, not his.

No not God.

Some say the human race is flawed.

How can it not be?

But, why couldn’t our flaw be something less destructive?

Why couldn’t our flaw be loving too much? Or an uncontrollable need to help our fellow man?

Why do we have to fight?

Why not just be content to survive?

Why can’t nations get along?

Why can’t human kind get everything straight?

Why can’t many languages become one?

Hola.

Guten Tag.

Bonjour.

Hello. 

18 Years

                I look up from the boring school book.

                Just a couple more pages,  I tell myself, And you’re done with final book of High School.

                I swivel my chair around and look out over my backyard.

                18 years I had looked out of this window. 18 years I had played in this back yard. And soon when I look up from my work, I would hopefully be seeing a different setting: The lush green trees and old bricks of Williamsburg.

                18 years had passed.

                18 vastly, short years.

                I looked around the yard. That patio wasn’t there at first, but that crooked tree was. I used to climb up and jump off of it as if I wear jumping out of an airplane. And the play set used to stand there. I would swing for what seemed like days, soaring through the sky like a bird freed at last. There’s the shed that my dad built. I remember there was a week where I would climb up there and read a book or just stare out over the yield behind the yard and be content to do just that. And there’s one of the sticks that I would yield as a ninja or a knight or a super cool spy kid or whatever my fancy was. Any my bike, oh I would ride around the neighborhood imagining that if I hit a magical button it would transform into a pod that would fly me to the moon.

                The memories I had in this yard, In this house. The laughing, crying, fighting, imagining, thinking, dreaming.

                I still dream like a kid, but its harder to dream once you’ve known reality.

                I look down at the book in my hands.

                I so badly wanted to go to college, but at the same time, I don’t. I want to stay in this backyard forever. I want imagine and dream without reality crashing in.

                Like Peter Pan, I don’t want to grow up.

                18 years

                18 vastly, short years.

Petrificus Totalus

You nervously tap your foot as the elevator rises up floor by floor.

            Hummmmm.

            The elevator buzzed my feet as I was pulled away from the earth and higher into the tall boring building.

            A million times I had watched the floors creep past.

            2…3…4…

            And heard the faint ding as each passed.

            But today was different. The ding seemed distant and the familiar elevator compartment felt cold and strange.

            5…6…7…8…

            My office was on the twentieth floor but today I was going to the fifteenth, particularly an office of a lawyer on the fifteenth floor.

            A lawyer kept busy in today’s loose and shallow society, but I never expected that I would be seeing him. You hear about it all the time happening to friends, family, co-workers, but never you. You were different.

            You were wrong.

            9…10…11…12…

            A divorce lawyer’s office was my destination.

            13…14…15…

            Ding

            The door slid open to reveal a long ordinary hallway stretching to a doorway with the most extraordinary woman standing in it.

            He blonde curly hair was pulled back into a bun and she was wearing the most exquisite pinstripe pants suit that was ever created.

            Few women could pull off this look and she was one of them.

            I felt my feet move themselves forward out of the elevator onto the ugly maroon carpet.

            Each muddled step brought back a memory as I stared vacantly at my beautiful about-to-be-ex-wife.

            Step.

            I shuffled past college kids sitting in bean bag chairs and plopped down on a couch in between a blonde curly haired girl and a guy wearing a pointed black hat and had a lighting bolt scar on his forehead.

            In front of me the first Harry Potter movie film flickered on someone’s bed sheet as everyone gathered for the annual Harry Potter marathon watched.

            Harry, Ron, and Hermione were about to leave the Gryffindor common room when Neville Longbottom suddenly stood up.

            Annoyingly enough someone in the front row did the same.

            Down in front, I thought, but he didn’t budge. I instinctively pointed at him and mumbled, “Petrificus Totalus.”

            To my surprise I had said it in unison with Hermione as well as the curly blonde next me, who was also pointing at the guy in front.

            I blushed and smiled sheepishly.

            “Harry Potter is kinda a big deal with me,” I said.

            She laughed.

            Step.

            We were on our fifth date. We sat under a willow tree, her head in my lap as I read from book four.

             Step.

            I sat across from her on a park bench in Harry Potter world. She smiled radiantly at me with her eyes closed as I reached around her neck and clasped a necklace into place.

            “Ok, you can open your eyes,” I said.

            She opened them and looked down at the time-turner on her neck. She smiled even more brightly.

            “It’s so we can never run out of time together,” I said as I knelt and pulled out a ring.

            “Marry me?”

            Step.

            Friday night in our big back yard. We ran around like five year olds, pointing our authentic wands at each other, and yelling, “Stupefy!”

            Friday nights were duel nights at out house.

            Step.

            I wrapped my arms around my wife. She was crying at the end of Movie seven part one where Dobby dies.

            “It’s alright,” I mused. “Drink.”

            I handed her a butterbeer and she set her head down on my shoulder.

            Step.

            The wands were away and nothing magical was in the air. We screamed at each other, yelling about who knows what. The spark was gone, taken by the burdens of marriage and life: Money. Jobs. Taxes.

            Step.

            I was walking into the office.

            I signed. She signed.

            No confrontation, no spells.

            I turned around and walked back down the long hallway.

            Horcruxes came to my mind. Rowling said that killing tears the soul.

            Divorce tears the soul.

            I stepped into the elevator. Where was the other half of my soul?

            In the time turner around that beautiful woman’s necklace that stared blankly at me.

            I lifted my hand and pointed as the elevator doors slid shut.

            “Petrificus Totalus.”

            But the spell was already done.

            Her body rigid and her heart cold. 

Cloudy with a chance of Insanity

It’s pouring rain. Include a ring pop

                Either I had missed my bus or it was an hour late. I had probably missed the bus, but I was far too stubborn to accept that. So here I sat on a stump, with pouring rain splashing off of my little sisters tiny Dora the Explorer umbrella. Needless to say my knees were soaked, but my bull headed head was dry as a bone and thus refused to accept defeat and walk back down the block to my dry house.

                I was going to win this battle, even if I caught pneumonia and died, I was determined to sit right here on this stump until a large yellow bus came and picked me up. The weeks stress had built up to this point and I actually think I might have lost my sanity. I mean honestly, I’m sitting out in the rain in a ridiculous rain coat with a Dora the Explorer umbrella. And know I’m talking to myself. Geez kid get it back together.

No, I yelled back. I will not make a voluntary effort to go back to that place of torture again. I knew this was only a justification for my insanity, I really didn’t mind school all that much, I just didn’t like homework and was furious that I had to involuntarily wake up so early.

I love sleep.

                I scowled at the thought of my warm bed. I started to get up but I stopped myself. Remember, your insane right now. Going to a warm dry place makes too much sense. Slowly the rain didn’t seem to bother me so much, and I lost feeling in my feet, but oh well I was sitting anyways. And I was going to stay there forever, if necessary to petition against school .

Just go, the reasoned, sane part of my mind urged. You only have two more weeks of school left anyways.

Nope, insanity said, I will not accept reason right now.

Sanity argued with insanity as I sat content staring blankly into a puddle shaped uncannily like the country of Uganda, when all of a sudden a very large squirrel holding an big pink umbrella walked up to me. And by large I mean human size.

I heard it squeak, “You realize you’re sitting out in the rain?”

“Ha,” I laughed in a silly manner. “Ha, ha, ha. Well duh, captain fuzz butt! But don’t worry,” I smiled, “I’m insane right now.”

The squirrel rushed off and might have turned into a large woman with frizzy hair, but that made too much sense. I decided to laugh some more cause it was fun.

“Ha…ha ha!...Ha ha”

This was waaaaay better than school.

Then a ginormous yellow ring pop turned the corner and floated down the street. It came to a stop right in front of me and my stump. I tilted my head as part of it slid open showing a man dressed in a tutu sitting on a crystalized seat. I could faintly hear him call out my name.

I tilted my head the other way…hmmm this was a bit too weird

Black.

I heard voices all around me. I opened my eyes to a bright light.

“Ring pop?” I mumbled. My vision came to focus. I was in a hospital room with my mom sitting right next to me and a bunch of nurses around.

“Honey,” She said soothingly, “You caught pneumonia waiting for your bus.”

“Did the bus come?”

“Yes,” she said.

Ha…haha ha!

Victory.

The Guardian of Air

One day you wake up and you have no power.

            Darkness.

            She could hear voices, but couldn’t make out words.

            Confusion.

            She tried to remember. She could see the dim faces of friends.

            Darkness.

            She remembered the whole world going dark. Her world ending.

            The garbled words slowly started to form words in Bethany’s ears.

            She gradually began to feel her limbs again. They ached as if she had been hit by a hover bike.

            Hover Bike, she thought. Images flashed through her mind of being chased through city streets.

            The voices she began more frantic.

            Racing through city streets on the back of a hover bike. A smell suddenly came back to her memory. The smell of guy, her hands tingled as they were wrapped around the guy driving the bike. He looked back at her but her vision was fuzzy. It flickered to black and her senses dimmed. His face was handsome and familiar but she couldn’t focus. She fell back into darkness.

            A real noise came to her ears. A long beeping tone resonated in her every pore. She could see his face again.

            Billy.

            Her memories came crashing back in.

            Caronia.

            Fighting for her life against darkness. Protecting the Temple of the Elements. Time slowing down as the two brilliant beams of lighting met over the temple. Bethany sitting helpless as the Temple crumbled to the ground. The ground shaking so violently that she was thrown to the ground. She reached out her hand to Billy.

            The beeping grew louder.

            Billy’s terrified face as the world imploded.

            Louder. Louder.

            Bethany opened her eyes and shot up out of the bed that contained her.

            Air.

            She needed air. Bethany struggled to fill her lungs with her glorious domain. She called it to her but it wouldn’t come. She gasped at the thought that air didn’t want her. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and something covered her mouth. Air poured into her lungs as she collapsed back onto the bed.

            Darkness.

            She breathed deeply, treasuring each bit of oxygen she could take in.

            Her eyes slowly opened.

            She was in a hospital room that looked like it was back from the late 1000’s.

            A woman in an odd shirt covered in hearts walked in, sat down a plate of food, and left.

            The food looked normal enough, except…What did that say? Jell-o? What’s that, she thought.

            Bethany peered out the window. Cars bustled past, but they were still on wheels. And a strange starred and stripped flag whipped in the wind on a pole.

            Where am I? Bethany thought.

            A cup of water sat a foot away from her arm. She willed the air around it to move it to her mouth. It didn’t budge.

            She tried again. The cup sat immobile.

            She lifted her right arm slightly, wincing at the pain.

            She commanded the air to swirl, but the room stayed silent and still.

            Her eyes widened. Her powers were gone.

            She was no longer the Guardian of Air.

This is a bit from a novel I'm writing.

Jasmine

A huge grin spreads across my face. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, as my best friend steps out of her car.

                “Hey, how are you doing?” I ask as I embrace her thin figure.

                “I’m great,” she says as she squeezes me.

                I smile into her pale blue eyes.

                I loved her eyes. I loved everything about her. The playful freckles that danced across her face. Her thin delicate brown hair that gleamed in the sun. The way she laughed so loud and obnoxiously, yet spoke so gently. I loved how one moment we could be talking about our love of God, and the next shooting Nerf guns at each other. How we could be content watching a movie on the couch and then suddenly laughing so hard our abs hurt. I loved the intoxicating smell of her skin and how every time her name left my lips a butterfly danced in my stomach and I just had to smile.

                I loved her.

                “What?” she asks, bringing me back from my daydream.

                “Nothing,”  I say, “It’s just…nothing.” I give her a reassuring smile and mentally punch myself in the stomach. Just say it already, I think to myself.

                We start to slowly walk through the park catching up since the last time we had talked.

                I stop abruptly.

                “What now?” she asks playfully.

                “I love you.”

                The words burst out like a freed bird. A river of emotion rushing out with no restraint. My insides turned into a frozen wasteland. I had said the forbidden words. The words that had been bottled inside of me for years. The words that could gain me the love of my life or scare off my best friend.

                She smiles at first, thinking it was a casual ‘I love you,’ but my face tells me otherwise.

                “I love you.”

                She looks down in confusion. I die on the inside, realizing I had done it. Our relationship was gone.

                Tears glisten in her beautiful eyes as she stares deep into mine.

                The butterflies freeze and crash down. I just want to run. Hot tears gush out of my eyes as I turn to walk away.

                Suddenly the butterflies flutter faintly. Her hand is on my shoulder. Her touch makes me quiver. She doesn’t say a word but, leans in until our noses touch. Her soft lips delicately brush against mine. The butterflies dance in my stomach just like when I say her name:

                Jasmine.