Meg's Musings

trailblazing.

The road began to darken, crickets chirping their sweet songs, the sun turning up low in the sky with brilliant orange hues swirled amongst the streaky cotton-swabby clouds.

The pedals on her bike slowed until the circles they made ceased. Her shoes were tight, exactly how she liked them at the start of a glorious ride and regretted the tightness later, after a mile turned into twenty, thirty on her best day. Her phone rang, interrupting the sweet stillness…the sounds of Jon Mayer’s “Say what you need to Say…” singing into the silent air.

“hello…” she murmured as she brought the phone to her ear.

“Immmmmmmmmmmm engaggggggggeeeeeeeeeeedddddddddd!!!!!” squealed the voice. The voice belonged to her best friend. Tears filled her eyes as she felt the pangs of joy that come with such a proclamation. They spoke a few minutes as the engagement story unraveled to her ever-ready listening ear. After the dishing had been done, the elated friend yelled, “Ahhh! I have to go, got to call my mom, she keeps beeping in!” With that, a click. Dead silence. Not even a cricket was chirping amidst the evening sky.

She was left standing on a dirt trail, the sunset becoming less & less pronounced, turning into a cool night with shoes that felt too tight and heart that was beginning to hum a bittersweet tune. Her left hand was bare and her ring finger felt positively naked in moments such as these. The aching for more than ordinary. People loved to give advice these days, as her 30th birthday stood looming like a monster in the distance. 30 blazing candles. Enough to set the cake on fire. Advice like,

“Oh honey, I’m sure you’re next.” “Darling, just catch the bouquet!” “Be patient, he’s on his way…” and every other Hallmark greeting card cliche along the way.

Well, where the hell was he?

Not cycling alongside her on these desolate trails, not sitting next to her on the couch at night, her feet tucked underneath his legs cause they were always ice cold…he wasn’t bothering her while she was trying to catch up on “Glee.” She wished he would. She wanted someone to bother her that wasn’t the microwave beeping to tell her her tea was ready.

He wasn’t holding her close at night, breathing her scent of snuggle fabric softener and vanilla lotion in…she couldn’t feel his breathing while she slept, curled up in her cocoon of silk sheets. She didn’t feel his tight embrace, his arm around her waist under a starry autumn night sky. He was not here, kissing her lips and whispering love into her ear. There were many days and nights she wondered if he missed her as much as she missed him…and had they ever even met? Had their paths ever crossed? These are the questions that seemed to litter the trail of her mind as she began to ride again. “Where does this trail end?” She thought to herself.

She had forgotten to consult the map.

For quite honestly, the wedding cake was beginning to taste stale, laced with bitterness, and the bridesmaid’s dresses- nope, you can’t ever, under any circumstance, “shorten the dress and wear it again.”

Oh, but she knew the joys. The joys sprinkled into that bitter culinary masterpiece of overpriced icing and fondant…a bride and groom on top. The misty-eyed groom as his princess floated down the aisle toward him was one of those joys that she would never get sick of. Or how about grandma having one sip too many of that wine, and showing her “Electric Slide” dance moves…or the bride’s exhilaration when the pastor exclaims, “You may now kiss your bride…” She had seen her best friends walk that aisle, time after time, beautiful beaded gowns and tiaras, flowers and white converse sneakers. So many ways to walk that aisle, and she had seen it all. Everytime she had been filled with so much joy for her friends, she could feel it taking shape in the tears gently slipping from her eyes. She had been there for her friends, over and over, picking colors, flowers, cake, holding their poofy dresses while they peed, hugging and kissing them goodbye and sending them off into the night in sleek limos adorned with streamers and coke cans hanging on twine off the back. Watched them smile that one last time and wave at her as they giggled and fell into the backseat with the groom.

She had remained. She had stayed. She was the one who received the phone call when it was baby news next, a sweet little bundle of drool on the way. A beautiful baby girl, or an adorable little boy they would all dress in overalls and baby converse shoes. She knew all about the latest baby names, cribs, birth methods, doulas, midwives, natural births, high chairs, she knew it all. But she didn’t really know it firsthand. All that knowledge and at the end of the day, she was greeted by a dark apartment and a beta fish who didn’t seem all that excited to see her. The only time her doorbell rang was when the next door elderly neighbor wanted to tell her she wasn’t allowed to park in a particular spot at the apartments or someone leaving a package at the door. That was all.

But she clung tightly to hope-

when she held her best friend’s baby for the first time and he clung ever so tightly to her, helpless in this new world, she felt like whispering to him, “I know how you feel baby…I know how you feel.” With those little tiny baby feet tucked next to her, she knew.

These were the moments in life that made your heart beat faster, kicked it into high gear, made you fall in love, all the while, punching you in the gut. So these memories she tucked away for safekeeping, tried not to think of them too often…for they stung her eyes with salty tears…and she kept pedaling that bike up that trail. She didn’t know where this road was going to take her, but as the sweat from her brow began to mix with her tears and fell to the ground, she knew better than to stop pedaling.

I’m becoming an old woman.

Two months shy of my 25th birthday and I seem to become more and more old lady-ish by the day. Here’s the thing:

I like tea a lot more these days. Now I’ve always liked tea, especially having a British Grandmother who practically swears her health by it…but we are talking hot tea. 4 or 5 times a day. In a decorative mug. While I am at work. I might as well start knitting blankets at work and buy a space heater for my cubicle so I can invite co-workers for tea in my “home away from home.”

And another thing: I like my routine. I like having an hour to take a lunch and go home to my apartment to clean and do laundry and have just enough time to make a Boca burger. I like watching Dr. Oz and then stress out about the various medical ailments he “uncovers the truth about” all while wearing scrubs and hugging his “special lady volunteers” a little too closely in my opinion. I think I might very well be the only 24 year old female in America who watches The View a couple times a week. Only for “Hot Topics” and then the sound of Joy and Elizabeth Hasselbeck’s arguing and whining over things that no one really cares to know their opinion on really gets under my skin.

I hate loud noise and the fact that the people who live upstairs trample around like elephants to the point where I think they might fall through my ceiling. They literally think it’s decent to run the vacuum at 6am and when they were decorating for Christmas they had some little Christmas toy that sang Christmas carols very loudly. So I would hear the carols daily while they laughed after it was finished. Every.Single.Time. I sincerely hope they don’t have things like that for every holiday or I might be forced to leave them a cheerful post-it on their front door stating why the incessant noise isn’t really working for me.

So you see, I’m getting old. Or maybe it’s just part of growing up. You know, like when you realize that a text just can’t really replace the sound of your friend’s voice. Or when Facebook starts to become only interesting when people post new photos. And you’d rather shop online to avoid all the pre-teens searching for Twilight t-shirts at the mall… One of my friends tells me I have an “old spirit,” which is most likely the case. I just think it’s kinda funny. But it won’t be humorous to you when I start knitting you afghans for Christmas. ;)

I have a new vice.

I CAN’T stop eating salt & vinegar chips. This is a problem. I even have them stashed in my desk at work to munch on in between editing press releases. Just FYI. :)

Hello Kitty Meets MAC & Meghan Meets “Heaven…”

It’s official. My favorite line of makeup and my favorite little cartoon kitten are colliding in what must be called the most girly thing to happen to the universe since Barbie met Ken. Or since Barbie met her first pair of hot pink heels. But this collision is far more epic in my opinion.

MAC cosmetics are making a line of Hello Kitty cosmetics that will be available right before the black holiday that commonly sucks the souls out of innocent “single,” therefore blacklisted bystanders. [i.e Valentine’s Day…a consumeristic holiday that plagues the hearts of everyone who doesn’t have a significant other or maybe just have a preference to live with 57.8 cats alone over a snoring husband or wife.] Enough on that tangent…but the makeup line comes out Feb. 12th in stores. Needless to say I’ll be in line for the makeup…and so will my inner 6 year old. :)

Ahhhhh, it’s the simple joys in life isn’t it? :)

Home.

Heart wrecked like some twisted piece of metal one would see on the side of the highway, swerving to narrowly miss it…whatever it was…crushed, obliterated and yet still “something.” A fragment of metal hanging on to it’s former life, it’s dreams and aspirations of what it once was.

“I asked for it, I asked for this Lord,” she silently whispered into the dead and darkness of night. The tears coming so fast she could no longer feel them stinging her cheeks, wasn’t sure how many more could fall. It was all she could do to reach for a pulse. She pressed her fingers to her wrist…nothing. No signs of life. Not even the quietest beat could be detected…her life line, cut out. Laying on the side of the highway just waiting to be struck by another car not sure quite what it was. No one could even blame the drivers…not a soul could decipher the mangled mess as being human in the least bit.

Panic gripped her heart like she’d never felt before…her dead pulse beginning to pound in her ears…it was all in her mind, she was losing it…”Am I still here? Am I dead?” The questions began to pour out of her mouth like smooth honey, dripping down, oozing all around her until she was not only out of questions but out of breath. Slumping to the floor, she just layed in the honey. It wasn’t nice like when you put it on peanut butter & honey sandwiches. It was sticky. And all the tears in the world couldnt’ remove it’s adhesion to her broken body.

A warmth began to tingle her wrist…a hand that felt nearly angelic rustled her hair…”I must be dreaming…even in death I’m dreaming…Lord, if my heart isn’t still beating where am I?” The warmth again at her wrist felt like a thousand laughs on her skin. If laughter was a touch, this was it. If there was any joy in this world aside from the sacrifical love of Jesus, this touch felt like joy to it’s fullest magnitude. A tender stroke of her hand by the warmth and her eyes snapped WIDE open. Colors everywhere, blinding her. Her mascara was smeared she knew from the steady flow of tears…Up her hand reached instinctively to wipe it away, clean herself up…but the warmth caught her hand and held it steady.

“You’re more beautiful than I’d imagined. He told me you’d look this way, but I…” the voice of a man trailed off. How did she recognize such a voice? It was the voice of her dreams somehow, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Who…who are you?” her voice trembled and she could feel the tears beginning to form, threatening to spill out all over her already messy canvas of a face.

“He sent me. Sent me for you. He…told me it was time your heart begin to beat again, at least this side of eternity…I’m afraid I’m frightening you…you’re trembling…” cautiously he touched her hand again, softly, ever so gently.

” Are you…him?…I’ve been praying for you for so long…do you know how many nights have passed while I’ve waited? I’ve been so lonely…I…could almost feel you breathing next to me so many nights to wake up and you aren’t there…I…” she began to sob quietly…”I thought you’d never come…”

And it was then she saw his eyes…the most magnificent colors of blues and greens she’d ever seen, and they too were shrouded by tears.

“I know…I didn’t want you to have to wait too. I knew you were being mistreated by others and your heart couldn’t beat much longer, but He insisted. He told me each night it wasn’t the right time. I begged and pleaded…but He was firm. And I know why now. It’s as if every story that ever meant anything to me in this lifetime is told to me through your eyes. If I hadn’t have waited, it would have cheated me of this moment and a thousand moments like this to come.”

“Is it really you? Because I can’t take much more of this sh…” cutting her off before she could say something she would regret his lips caught hers in a kiss unlike any she’d ever felt before or would ever feel again…his lips were clinging tightly to hers in the softest touch she’d ever know. It was as if her lips were made for his. Beating heart restored…she felt the blood pumping again and her lips felt the tingle of it last…
“It’s really you…you came for me…” she whispered softly her lips still next to his…their faces pressed together so whose tears were whose were unrecognizable…
It was as if she was flinging the door of her heart and soul wide open and walking into a house called joy.

She was home.

hello, love.

I’m new here on Tumblr. I have always just blogged on myspace so this will be a new adventure. A few things to know about me in case you care, which you probably don’t. ;)

— My name is Meghan. With an H. Most people call me Meg or Meggers.

—I’m an aspiring journalist in my last year of college. If I could work anywhere it would be for CNN but I know that I have a tough road ahead of me if I want to make it there. I’m okay with any changes in the roads along the way; I just want to write. I dream in words. Words are truly my passion.

—I recently decided to become a vegetarian. It’s been two weeks without meat. And I suppose I will share my challenges with this along the way…it’s probably gonna be tough considering I’m allergic to SOY! Whooooooo. I made this decision after visiting meetyourmeat.com or something of the like. I am utterly disgusted with the way animals are treated in this world. Protecting life in this country, including animals is not seen as  priority and that brings tears to my eyes. If you are a meat eater, I will not give you a lecture, I decided to do this to me because I could not be certain that my meat was safe from hormones or whether my meat came from an sick or nearly dead animal just prior to slaughter. Killing is never humane, but if there were slaughterhouses that didn’t torture and maim animals for grins & giggles I would be more apt to eat some meat. Possibly. But considering the amazingness I have felt in my body since my switch, I don’t know that I will ever go back.

—I’m love God…I am a Christian and when I say that I don’t claim to be better than anyone else…I’ve met “those Christians” and don’t think that is ever how Jesus intended his followers to be. They forget the most important element in this nitty-gritty life we lead— LOVE. Simply LOVE. Love in the most tangible and visual ways…loving people who spit in your face and talk behind your back. Loving people who have absolutely nothing to offer you but a smile and a warm embrace.

—I want to feed the hungry children. I sound like an Angelina Jolie humanitarian ready to adopt by the thousands right now…but this is my heart. Take it or leave it. But I hope you take it. I want to go serve the poorest of the words by working in an AIDS orphanage in Africa for a few weeks next fall. A smile from a child who has nothing to smile about aside from the fact that they still have breath in their lungs brings tears to my eyes every time. I wish I had a heart that grateful…

—This sums my life up in the Cliff’s Notes Version. Email me at browneyedgirlmeg@gmail.com if you have questions. Direct hatemail to my secretary. Bwahahhaa. :)