Reluctance
Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods
         And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
         And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
         And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
         Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
         And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
         When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
         No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
         The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
         But the feet question "Whither?"

Ah, when to the heart of man
         Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
         To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
         Of a love or a season?

     I've always loved this poem.  I discovered it years ago when I was only in high school, and at the time, I don't think I fully understood what it was about.  Even now, it's hard to know exactly what Frost is talking about here, but for some reason, the imagery really speaks to me in a different way now.
      I haven't taken the time to add to my blog in a long time.  Perhaps I've been hesitant to write for quite a while because I feel void of inspiration.  There have been several times when I wanted to sit down and pour some words out, but I just couldn't find the motivation.  A lot has happened to me since I last visited.  Since November of last year (when my last entry was posted), I can honestly say that I'm not the same person who used to vent his frustrations online just to get a response from anyone.  I'm not here to vent about the bad stuff, nor do I plan to write a truly inspired poem or prose piece in hopes of garnering praise.  That is not what motivates me to write tonight.
      Instead, I want to tell you of all the places I've been, the challenges I've faced, and the profound ways that life as I know it continues to change.  I suppose the first momentous event to take place following the November entry was the completion of my senior thesis (known as my St. Mary's Project, or SMP).  In the weeks leading up to the final product, I spent countless hours revising my work, throwing out chapters, writing new ones, and constantly debating how my fictional story would end.  At times, I became so overwhelmed with the academics of it all; you know, the deadlines and the technical editing and the grade at the end of the journey.  However, as the end drew near, I began to realize how much my project had changed me.  Or maybe not changed me, but brought something within me back to life after a long absence.
      The story was called My October Coffee.  In all honesty, I started with a title that sounded good, but was pretty ambiguous.  I mean, what could an October coffee possibly mean?  Would the story be about coffee or a place that sells coffee?  Would it be about October, or the general change of seasons?  Why is this title so attractive to me?  Will anyone else be intrigued enough to read it?  All of these questions leapt around in my head from the beginning of the process to the end.  But I continued doing what my advisor told me to do: Write what you know.  I was eventually able to stifle the constant critic in my head for long enough spells at a time to reach far into my conscience and write.  Words began falling onto the page, and I didn't know why they came to be there or what force they were coming from.  All I knew was, these words were becoming special to me.  See, My October Coffee is all about memories.  The story is, more than anything, a montage of ideas and recollections seen through the eyes of a dying young person.  It's about being okay with ends and beginnings.
      Anyway, the project reached a resting place, I presented it in front of family and friends, and that was that.  Winter break came and went, and suddenly, I found myself fresh out of words.  My SMP had run me into the ground.  I felt very proud of it, there was no doubt about it.  The personal fulfillment brought a distinct feeling of relaxation.  I was finished with my thesis, and I had a concrete product I could hold and call my own.  However, I spent the final semester of my college experience wondering what the hell I was still doing in school.  I was taking classes to fill time, not to get any requirements (those were all taken care of).  I wasn't loving my courses, and I couldn't bring myself to write anything even for fun.  Needless to say, my days became somewhat lazy.  Not that I didn't have fun.  In fact, I bonded with my college friends more than ever during that final semester.  We would party, watch movies, and do a lot of singing.  I did a great deal of music arranging and outdoor running.  As the days got warmer, the clock seemed to tick faster.
      Graduation was upon all of us, and our last week at St. Mary's (senior week) proved to be a very poignant, carefree time in my life.  There was drinking, cooking out, escaping to the beach at midnight, dancing in fancy clothes, and sleeping late.  Graduation day was a swarm of emotion, everything from elation to deep sadness.  The campus was bustling with grads and their families, and the sun was able to chase away the rain by the end of the ceremony, making for one of the most memorably gorgeous days on the riverfront.  Once the apartment was gutted and all of our things were packed into cars, my friends and I said goodbye to St. Mary's, the place that truly defined us.  I look back on the school that once used to be my worst enemy, one that caused me to rethink everything in my life as an incoming freshman.  What was once a place of great loneliness became a sanctuary I didn't want to be shut out of.  Of course, I knew that staying there any longer beyond that final afternoon would betray why I loved the place to begin with.  The memories were gone, and none of us would ever really be able to return to that time.  Staying in the same place wouldn't make it any different. College was over, and I was absolutely stunned at how quickly four years had come and then disappeared.
      The next adventure came about a week later.  Many of my friends and I embarked on a journey to Italy as part of a college study tour.  We were part of the music festival in Alba, Italy, a celebration which brought together several world-renowned musicians for two weeks of performances.  It was, without a doubt, the most magical trip I have ever taken.  As a recent graduate, my friends and I saw it as our last hurrah to mark the end of our college experience.  We spent our time in Italy rehearsing, performing, staying up late every night, eating Italian cuisine and drinking Italian wine, wandering cobblestone streets, laughing with each other to the point of tears... So many of my favorite things in the world were combined into a perfect experience.  I witnessed accomplished musicians perform onstage and offstage, sometimes wishing I could be like them; you know, the kind of people who know from birth what it is they are meant to do for the rest of their lives.  Hearing and watching players perform with such passion almost brought me to tears, because something inside of me wished for that kind of conviction in life.  I wanted to work hard toward one specific thing and know that I could do it well.               
      That's just the luck of the draw, I decided.  I figured I would never be someone with clear vision, but rather someone who sees pieces of everything and tries to make sense of the good and bad together.  I'm indecisive and scatter-brained; it's something I've always known, but only recently have I been able to come to terms with it.
      The Italy trip fell at the beginning of the summer, and the rest of the season was spent traveling to the mountains of West Virginia for a weekend, witnessing three weddings (one of which was my sister's in our front yard), performing in three intense stage shows (Taming of the Shrew, The Miracle Worker, & Little Women), enjoying yet another family reunion, and saying a lot of goodbyes.  Until the end, it all lent itself to a summer experience you might find in a fiction novel.  I was wildly busy and flustered and frustrated and lacking direction, but it still proved to be one of the most memorable summers of my life.  I found myself traveling from place to place, taking in every moment I could.  I was made privy to a lot of beautiful things that summer: Smiling faces, growing children, invigorating sunshine, cool nighttime, people laughing, crying, dancing, singing, and the promise of goodness to come.
      Summer was gone before I knew it, and with its exit came some painful farewells.  I was in a place in my life where I knew it was time to walk ahead alone.  My ideas of the world were just beginning, and I needed independence to explore who I really was.  I was whisked away to New York City on a whim to live with my brother.  I didn't know who I might meet, what I was going to pursue, or how I was going to pay the bills.  But I did it anyway.  I got to the city, and it wasn't long before I started establishing that sense of independence I had been looking for.  I set up a new cell phone, got hooked up with a temp agency, found lucrative work, went to some vocal auditions, lost five pounds (on the poor man's diet), and was generally okay with how things were moving along.  Not necessarily happy, but accepting.
      But the city wasn't for me.  I stand by that even now.  The longer I stayed there, the more clarity I was able to garner for myself in terms of where I didn't belong.  I couldn't stay there, because I feared that I would spend years of my life working jobs that depressed me and made me feel worthless, coming home to an apartment at 7:30 p.m. and fixing dinner for myself before watching television until it was time to sleep, and feeling like I was missing the whole point of New York City.  I loved to sing, and I still do, but making a living for myself there like that was not my calling.  I came home to Garrett County after three months.  That decision initially made me feel like a failure, but I think it was the best I could do, given the circumstances.
      I have gotten into grad school, and I hope to attend American University in DC in the fall.  It's really for the sake of not having any other solid plan in my life at the moment, but at least it's something to move toward.  I still don't know where I stand in the scheme of things.  Who among us does?  I don't expect to know all the answers.  Often times, I do pray for some kind of direction, but so far, it seems I'm just meant to be in limbo right now.
      For so long, I've been angry and frustrated with how things are moving (or not moving, I guess).  I want to try something new, go somewhere different and see how life pans out.  DC is calling me.  Or at least I think it is.  I'm here at home working a 9 to 5 job that, yes, I am lucky to have, but it's one that pushes me further into my own psyche to the point of insanity.  I can't stay here much longer.  Don't get me wrong, I love Garrett County.  It will always be my true home.  But I am young.  I have a life out there, wherever and whatever it is, and I need to break free from convenience and the logistics I "should" follow.  I don't know what's keeping me from going to DC right now, other than the fear of not having a plan.  Why am I so afraid?
      Robert Frost was a wise man.  As scary as it is, we should not "bow and accept" the tedious cycle if we don't want to.  What is keeping all of us from what we really want?  Perhaps it's a bit of a paradox.  We often don't know what we want, and that keeps us from getting it.  But if we ever truly discover that light at the end of the tunnel, why don't we race toward it?  Is it because the darkness becomes familiar and, in a way, safe?  Though I'm continually made more aware of how life at home is placing me in a personal rut, I am still lucky to have a home to brood in.  I just don't want to become so comfortable in a mediocre life that I stop searching for what I really want.  That, I suppose, is my biggest fear.
      I look back on all of these events of the past year and realize that I have changed, maybe not in a big way, but in several small ways.  I know myself better, and I've proven to myself that I can make decisions and survive the consequences.  I need to trust myself more and take the road that defies "the drift of things."  I need to stop waiting for the net to appear and just take the damned leap.

-ajs

***Please critique- this is just a draft (in other words, far from perfect).***

Quiet

Love hides in bonfires
like a playful spark
waiting to be chased by surprise.

When people meet
and share nervous smiles,
the anxious predator
scares the dancing star
from the heat to the air,
and like a Shakespearean enchantment,
both mortals breathe with
unnoticed excitement.

Once love rests in the lungs
of the ignorant,
it shall never again harbor elsewhere.

Whether or not the soul
can feel the tingle,
and whether or not
it wants to feel the spikes,
love will want no other home.

Love lingers, knowing it is drenched
in beautiful complexities.
It waits through every gesture,
every confusing brush of the hair,
every seductive conversation
of the eyes.

And then one day,
when everything seems like
it was made for another lifetime,
love peers out from human lips
and speaks for the first time in
a thousand languages.
Its music has always
graced the insides
of the sad and the wise,
and now love itself cries to be heard.

How wondrous
that something so quiet
can remind us of our lifelong
friendship with it.

-ajs

Lonelies

This is the time of night
when wild strands of madness
wrap around the starlit eyes
of wanderers who think
they work for a greater god.

Loving the land for the journey
and stopping to see
what others leave untouched
are what these lonelies do.
Over and over
they stumble across the dregs
of a world which once grew
so rich with life,
the skin of the earth swollen
with rain of every color,
where knees rested on grassy banks
and young hands touched
the swift, mysterious waters
without expecting more
from a place called heaven.

This is the time of night
when the world shows us
who we've become.
Sliding past the hours we've been given,
we continually pray for a summer storm
to clear every path
and to shatter every bolted door.
We hope to forever answer
our own questions, forgetting that
silence
is our only companion.

We are living for all of us,
and that wondrous face
we summon for sweeter tastes
may simply be watching
from his own window, saying,
“Can you not see?
What you have now
is already full of magic,
full of greatness.”

-ajs

Humble Companions

Showers

Never doubt the wisdom
of the trees.
When it rains,
when the world weeps
only because it must,
we never see the tears
running down their
mysterious bodies.
With skin so rough
and full of history,
these creatures merely glisten
in the surrounding rhythms.

Like the faces of elders
who sit near smouldering memories,
the great nostalgic trees
smile
and absorb
and admire
and wait.
They accept the watery dance
with a proud stature,
and we stand beneath them
for hope,
for comfort.

We should all be so lucky
to find solace under such
loving branches,
to sleep in a soothing embrace
with these strong watchers,
and wait for the inevitable showers
to fall and pass away.

Dear Child,

   I'm sitting here writing to you because I believe I owe this to you, and ultimately to myself. I would imagine that you are still too young to have made it through your adolescent years, and that sometimes you probably feel incredibly lost in your life. Given the choice, I would never want live those painful and confusing years over again.
   So yes, I'm here to tell you that the road which lies before you is a brutal one. You are afraid of what is to come, and you have a right to be. You will soon be living a life which will seem so unfamiliar and dangerous. You will lose loved ones along the way; some by death, others by distance, and still others by time. There will be many throat-straining arguments and many tears shed, and you will frequently find yourself asking the all-too-ambiguous question, "Why?" You will feel like hating one person while wishing yourself out of love with another. You will feel as if you've hit the very bottom of yourself. You will feel helpless. You will, at times, want to kill yourself. You will lose the passion in who you want to be, and when the time comes, it will be unbearably difficult to let go of home. The world is undeniably a scary place, and you're only just starting to get acquainted with it.
   I cannot speak much further about your future, nor would I want to, but you must remember this: the person you are destined to become is a happy one. I want you to believe that. For though there are countless trials ahead, you should be comforted to know that the best years of your life are also forthcoming. There is no such thing as constant bliss, but one day you will come to learn that there are much more important things in this world than absolute perfection. You will get to know love more closely than you could ever imagine. Endless laughter and breathtaking beauty will surprise you in the darkest of times. You will become inspired by a world you yet know nothing of, and in asking the bigger questions about your place in the universe, you will inevitably become connected to a magnificent power far greater than yourself. It's an exciting adventure, my friend.
   Your loneliness is an undoubtedly real feeling, but you are in fact not on your own. Believe me when I say that with every question, there are many who stand beside you awaiting an answer.
   This letter is not a warning, but an invitation; an invitation that you may be reluctant to accept, but you frankly have no say in the matter. This is your life. You will want to give up and run away, but in reality, there is no giving up. Every choice you make will push you forward, whether you want it to or not. Someday you will be happier, stronger, and wiser than you ever thought you could be. So take this life for what it is; there is so much excitement in store for you.  Do not be afraid, my young dreamer- It is time to make your journey extraordinary.

Sincerely,
Yourself

Good Grief

Where glassy water lies between the mountains,
the sun slides down the smooth and spotless sky.
Its twin approaches from the silvery mirror
to meet it in a sweeter by and by.

A dreamer sits conversing with his beagle
and lets his feet relax upon the lake.
The canine sits resigned and free of troubles
while Charlie Brown mulls over each mistake.

I'm wishy-washy, insecure, and pensive.
I've tied my heart to someone I don't know.
My doctor is an immature enigma.
My closest friend won't let his blanket go.

My sister whines when I can't give her answers.
The music geek is hopeless and alone.
My dog knows more of life than I could hope for.
The one who calls me "Chuck" is on the phone.

The day I kick that football, I'll be stymied.
My flying kite will spark the end of days.
I've yet to lead my baseball team to victory;
they have no grounds to shower me with praise.

I always overthink life's modest questions
and get depressed when Christmas rears its head.
A valentine will never reach my mailbox.
A careless sleep will never grace my bed.

So there he sits, a young distraught escapist,
with no one else but Snoopy at his side.
Upon a quiet dock of contemplation,
he seeks to find a happiness denied.

Perhaps he seems to think his life is empty,
that nothing ever goes the way it should,
but Charlie is a champion of wisdom;
a journeyer of pure, relentless good.

Throughout the years, he'll know his fate is certain,
wrought with all the luckless turns of chance.
The little red-haired girl will never love him,
despite how much he aches for true romance.

For though he'll never find the strength to kiss her,
the angel whom he pines for in his mind,
his love will be enough to keep him happy,
sheltered in his heart, forever blind.

He's only eight, and yet he's still our teacher
for never holding back his constant pride.
The winner is the kid who fought and conquered,
but Charlie is the hero 'cause he tried.

Our confidant is noble in his failures.
His grief is good, his friendship's there to take.
Today, he looks for questions, not the answers.
He's just a lonely boy across the lake.

-ajs

Life is funny sometimes. Here I sit once again in my old room with nothing but the sound of an occasional car passing by outside and a light breeze coming through the open window. I look around and see old books, clothes, and blankets strewn across the floor, and I remain planted in my computer chair as I glance over my last blog entry, which was posted three months ago. The world seemed significantly different then. A few months ago, I was waiting for something. I was overwhelmed with all the negative aspects of last year's turbulent experiences, and I wanted to return home to find exactly what I had been missing for so long. Without realizing it until now, I instantly stepped out of college life and into a new and exciting world. Having had the time to truly reflect on everything I've been through lately, I can honestly say that this has been the summer I was looking for, and so much more.

I have been blessed with the most caring, understanding, hard-working, fun-loving friends anyone could ever have the pleasure of knowing. When working in the theatre literally every day of the summer, you can't help but create an inexplicably strong connection with your fellow actors. You become familiar with their mannerisms, you laugh at their stories, you comfort them when they feel low (as they comfort you), and you feed off of each other's energy. In short, you create something with them. You become aware of an ambiguous force that somehow holds everyone together no matter what.

Our little acting troupe did three shows this summer; we began by brainstorming our options, and the journey soon continued with read-throughs, exhausting rehearsals, set building/designing, advertising, and ticket sales. We plowed through four weeks of performances, and yet in the midst of it all, we were able to enjoy each other's company outside of the theatre. If we weren't stuffing our faces after a show, we would be camping or whitewater rafting or swimming in the lake at midnight or having a group nap. Whatever it was, we were certainly creating something amazing. My hopes have been fulfilled more than I could have ever anticipated, for I've learned so much about myself because of these wonderful people. I came home and experienced exactly what I needed: liberation, entertainment, laughter, connection, creative inspiration, and catharsis. It has been so long since I've had a single regret about my life; I've spent so much time doing what I love to do that I have no reason to stop and think about the bad stuff. My mind hasn't been this calm in long time, and I finally feel like my emotions are in the right place. I've grown up so much, and yet the little kid inside of me has had a hell of a ride with these people.

All good things must slow up, however. I haven't seen the last of the theatre world by any means, but yes, it is time to face my junior year of college. Today marked the final performance of our inaugural season at the theatre, and it brought about a bittersweetness that was inevitable and expected by all. Following the show (which went brilliantly, by the way), we cleared the stage that had become our second home. Everything we had unpacked six weeks before had suddenly gone back into storage, and after a while, we were left with an empty stage. Not quite knowing what to do next, we all just sat there. We formed a circle on the black stage and looked around at one another, as if it was time to set up a new show. But of course, we were fully aware that this was the end (for a while), and the tears began to flow. I think within about two minutes of our conversing, sobbing, and hugging, we all became aware of how lucky we have been. We all grew to love one another in a very poignant and indescribable way this summer, and the goodbyes were difficult and strange.

But as I drove home from the theatre this afternoon, I thought about things. For the first time in a while, I took the time to absorb everything I've been through these past few months. Low and behold, I was happy more than anything. Though it was sad to see our first season come to a close, I knew that I was proud and overjoyed to have been part of such a dedicated, exhilarating group of human beings. People often think that theatre is appealing because it presents everything in a hyper-realistic way. If you go to a musical, you suspend your interpretation of the real world and accept the moment when the actors randomly break into song. When you watch a comedy, you don't question the fact that everyone on stage is firing witty remarks to one another at an impressive rate. It's very true: seeing a show pulls the audience out of real life for a while.

However, as I sat on the stage today in those last moments, I understood how much I've learned about reality simply by being a part of the technical and artistic operations of this theatre company. Sometimes we work so diligently for an end product, and whether we're being watched by 150 people or two people, a great deal of gratification can come from the mere act of fulfilling a creative vision. When you can't find an ounce of energy within yourself, you can accept it from the many generous people around you, if you choose to. When the colors of your environment aren't enough to inspire you, you can always count on surprises from people on both sides of the theatre. And there are times when you find yourself in the middle of an empty stage, awaiting the next step, asking the question, "Alright, when does it get good again?" What you don't always remember is that you're never alone on that empty stage. What makes the darkness bearable is the fact that you're surrounded by others who are asking the same questions.

So I shall head back to school in a few weeks. This time around, I can be assured that everything is going to be okay. I have been uplifted this summer. I have a better understanding of what it means to be a friend and how happiness can be found in the most secret places if you look for it. I've forgotten what it is like to worry about something going wrong. Instead, I'm ready to live my life without overanalyzing it. I feel I have made the most of my time at the theatre this summer, and now I need to give that love to others. I now know that there is so much good in my life.

To Lynn, Leah, Meghan, Danielle, Kristina, Keith, Jennifer, Nate, Josh, Jamie, Ryan, and Evan: Thank you for bringing me back to life. I love you guys.

Peace.
-ajs

   When I was a kid, playing outside and getting filthy was one of the greatest things about life.  When we were all growing up (my three cousins, three siblings, and myself), nothing pleased us more than being out in the yard and finding entertainment in the most mundane activities.  I watch old home videos and remember how simple everything was, and every year when summer starts easing its way in, I can't help but have a profound hope that we might be able to return to that place, if only for a few months.  Of course, it never seems to happen like that.  Being in college, I have to focus on final papers and moving my stuff out of the dorm and preparing myself for my summer job(s), so this time of year has lost a little of that anticipation.  And yet, I do believe that this summer is calling me home.  It's not that I don't like school; I love it, actually.  I can't imagine myself being anywhere else in terms of my college career.  It's just that......well, sometimes loving is not enough.  I've learned that the love of a place or an idea or a person is never a simple concept, and we all reach moments when we feel like disappearing from our own lives for a little while.

   So it's time to go.  It's time to leave St. Mary's for a breath of fresh air.  This year has become a series of long days fueled by the drama and misunderstandings among friends who used to be incredibly close to one another.  When I first arrived on campus my freshman year, this place was terrifying and depressing.  Soon enough, however, I found friendship.  I found love, I found productive activity, and before I knew it, my first year was over and I wanted so much more.  Last summer had its fantastic moments, but when all was said and done, they only made me miss my college home even more.  So, with a confident stride, I approached St. Mary's once again for my second go-around.  Despite the difficulties I had faced not long before, I was willing to enjoy everything as I should.  I knew it would be a constant swing between bliss and sadness, between contentment and anger.  Now, I'm just tired.  I'm tired of trying to make sense of everything, so I've stopped.  I'm tired of pushing for friendships that are ultimately fruitless, so I've stopped.  Now, I feel as though I'm treading through a muddy swamp.  The light at the end is there- I can see it.  But hell...it sure takes a lot of muscle to get there.

   I love my friends.  I know I will miss a few things here and there as I pack up my car once more and make the long drive home.  Who knows?  Maybe we'll grow up even more than we have.  Maybe we'll grow even farther apart.  Whatever happens, I'm willing to accept it.  I'm ready for a new routine, and I know that cutting myself off from the rest of my college community is not exactly the right way to move forward, but sometimes it's okay to go about things the wrong way.  And ya know, maybe I won't move forward this summer.  Maybe I don't need to move forward.  I might just need to be who I am without the aid of the college crowd.  I know I must be rambling by now, so I don't expect any of this to make perfect sense.

   For some reason, my mind keeps returning to a "Wizard of Oz" motif.  It's interesting to think about the famous line, "There's no place like home."  It doesn't really resonate with the rest of the film, does it?  I mean, what Dorothy considers "home" is a desolate, black-and-white tornado ground where no one understands you.  Oz, on the other hand, is an incredible place that offers companionship, adventures, and lots of colors (even though it has its share of problems).  It's about the journey, not the destination, right?  So, why do I want to go home so badly?  I am truly a better person because of college.  I've made friends, lost friends, found inspirations in the strangest places, and yet, like I said, it's still time to go.  Maybe it proves that happiness does not last forever.  Or maybe it means that going home is just another rung in the ladder.  Whatever it means, I need detachment, and hopefully when the new school year rolls around, I'll be ready to be back in Oz.  Nothing is lost forever.

   For now, I think I should be playing outside and digging up the old things I've been missing.  Have a good one.

-ajs