Death, Grief, & Come What May

Come what may.

It's easy to say when things are easy. It's difficult to live out when every day is a struggle for composure, for normalcy in light of sudden tragedies.

In recent weeks, my husband has declared that it hurts tremendously to shed the skin of who you once were. Shedding this skin not only includes making peace with your childhood self or college self or even the self who occupied the entirety of last year; it also includes internalizing and moving past the deaths of loved ones.

Within the last year I have learned an excruciating amount about myself through such experiences.

As many of you know, I grew up with dogs - never cats. My dad was not terribly fond of them, so we stuck to canines. When I got married, however, I knowingly married a cat person, and without much effort he convinced me I’d enjoy the company of cats if we got them as kittens. So we did. A month after we married, we decided to enlarge our family with two furbabies, Sophie and Emmerich, both barely 8 weeks old as rescues.

They stole my heart from the very first moment these skittish balls of love came to rest on me of their own volition. I had no idea I had such a capacity to love cats so much, and I’m so happy Sophie and Emmerich were the ones who showed me. They made me a catmom for the first time in my life.

Then, a year later, we had to say goodbye to Sophie because her kidneys were failing. It turns out lily poisoning is fatal if not caught early enough. On August 28, 2018 I was reminded for the first time in ten years how much it hurts to lose someone you love.

About a year later, I was due for a painful reminder again.

Friday morning July 19, 2019 I cuddled with Emmerich on the couch while I drank my coffee, a ritual we’d established over recent months. I noticed he was breathing heavily but otherwise totally lovey and normal. Later that morning, Joseph took him in to get checked out. We thought it might be asthma or something similarly minor. Five hours later, we were taking him home in a box, taped closed.

Feline leukemia is a tricky little virus that manifests without much warning and with a smorgasbord of potential symptoms. Emmerich had been carrying the virus in his bone marrow and it chose to present itself and start shutting his body down. There was nothing we could have done and nothing we could do except hold him and tell him how much we loved being part of his life while the vet put him to sleep.

The suddenness and utter surprise of his death are what gutted me the worst; I realized with painful clarity over the following week that looking into the face of an old, well-lived pet is very, very different from having to unexpectedly put down an otherwise healthy two-year-old catbaby. You look at the latter and wistfully imagine a long life with them; you look at the former and experience a twinge of reality that says the possibility of them dying of old age increases each day. How could I look at Emmerich like that? His death due to any reason seemed so far off as to be intangible. I can and have looked at my 12-year-old dog, Maxx, like that though, ever since I moved out.

I try to visit my parents where Maxx lives once a month or so. I live two hours and twenty minutes away now - that’s not close but it’s also not far. But in the last year, the fruits of my maturity have come to light in how I’ve regarded Maxx every time I show up and he’s still there, howling his greeting and bounding up to give me kisses: I look at him very deliberately and think “this could be the last time I see him.” It is a bit painful and uncomfortable, staring the inevitability of death right in the eyes, but it provides a sturdy jumping off point for our subsequent interactions. They feel so much more meaningful to me and I practice a present mindfulness, appreciating the silkiness of his coat as I pet him, the sound of his baying as he launches out the front door after a crow. This could be the last time, I think, smiling a bit sadly while Maxx prances around the yard, sniffing for deer poop. So let me be here with him while I can.

The second chapter of my grief opened with the death of young Emmerich and continued in the last couple of weeks as a lesson on the many shapes and sizes grief comes in. It can come on suddenly and without fanfare much like a tsunami, and it can also arrive somewhat slow and steadily, but still end in a jolt.

Death, even when totally expected, still manages to strike deep and quick into the humanity of those left behind.

Chapter three of my grief opened suddenly barely two weeks after Emmerich’s death. My dog Maxx died on Sunday, August 4th of 2019.

Loss, of this rapid-fire nature, certainly makes it hard to breathe.

I remember taking Maxx out for an evening potty break when he was about a year old. My family were in the final stages of readying to uproot our lives and move to Peru, but we were uncertain whether Maxx could accompany us. On that walk, I kneeled in the leaves next to him and took him into my arms, crying into his silky coat. I wanted so badly for him to come with us; imagining this next chapter without him felt hollow and dull, so much so that the image alone brought me to tears next to this clueless, happily wagging animal in the trees behind our house in Virginia.

Thankfully his goofy butt was able to fly over with us and my life during that period of isolation and soul searching was the slightest bit sweeter because of his presence.

It’s amazing how meaningful these animals are, even though they can’t talk to you and don’t see the world like you do and can’t even begin to comprehend their own mortality. Maxx was alive for exactly half my lifetime. That’s plenty long enough to leave a lasting, profound, stinky paw print on my heart. He was my buddy, great for cuddling and singing but not so great for fetching. I will miss him dearly, but I rest in knowing he lived a full, well-traveled life with a loving family, and now he’s enjoying a vast field full of crows to chase, popcorn to munch on, and all the butter wrappers to lick clean whenever he wants. No pain. No tears. No strangers. Just love.

It’s easy to feel sad for myself in the wake of these deaths. One terribly young, the other approaching old; one like a child, the other more of a little brother; both unexpected in their own ways but woven of different hurts. And I have every right to fall to pieces at seeing a photo or talking about them while the wounds are still freshly glistening. But you know what is also true at the exact same time? I can, and should, keep moving forward. If I’m truly living out the Come What May permanently inked on my body for all to see, I can certainly dig deep into this grief - but that doesn’t excuse me from my habits and goals. I still need to take care of and stay true to myself and my family. Both grief and unrelated meaningful pursuits can happen simultaneously. And they will.

Some days it hurts to keep going, but each day I’m able to manage the weight a little better. For the first week after Emmerich’s death, coming home from work sent me into hysterics because of how he used to greet me after a long day. Now I can pat the arm of the couch where he would perch and await scratches and smile fondly at the memory, thankful I even have the capacity to remember such things. And it will be the same with Maxx. If I don’t keep moving forward, the grief will turn into quicksand and consume me. I have to keep getting up at 6. I can cry while I drink my coffee because the weight of how much I miss them hits me - that’s acceptable. But when I dry my eyes, it’s time to hit the gym and throw around some weight. Then I hoist up that backpack of grief and go to work. So far I haven’t missed a single day. Gotta keep moving. Then I come home and work on my book or clean the house or make dinner. Do my nighttime routine, go to bed, and do it all again tomorrow. The backpack won’t be quite as heavy then.

Death sucks. Grief hurts. Understanding our own mortality and the mortality of others sets us apart from other creatures. It is a heavy burden to bear, and it will happen to all of us. Come What May, you gotta keep moving. It’s the only way to stay alive.

That doesn’t mean I won’t miss these precious babies of mine like hell.

In memory of:

Sophie (1yo) ~ August 28, 2018

Emmerich (2yo) ~ July 19, 2019

Maxx (12yo) ~ August 4, 2019

Sophie

“For one so small, you seem so strong.”

~ You’ll Be in My Heart by Phil Collins

My family growing up were unashamedly dog lovers. There was a stint or two when I was too young to care much where my mother conned my father into getting a cat. I don’t remember a lot besides the day we tried bringing her home, which was a catastrophe inside the car.

It may not be honest that I tell people I didn’t grow up with cats, but fundamentally it is true in my mind – cats were never in my house long enough to leave an impact. I’d love on my relatives’ cats, but at the end of the day always went home to my dog. It didn’t bother me not to have a cat growing up; I had an assortment of odd animals pass through my life as pets, including a ferret, chinchillas, dwarf frogs, and a hermit crab, to say the least; I was not neglected by my parents in the realm of family critters. For the last 11 years or so, our dog Maxx has been the solitary family pet. All this is to say if I ever did decide to welcome a cat into my life that I could call “mine”, it would be special.

And it was.

On September 12^th of last year, a mere ten days after marrying the love of my life and moving to Baltimore, Joseph and I rescued two kittens. They were cousins – the girl, an orangey-brown tabby, we named Sophie; the boy, my silver prince, we named Emmerich.

They were 8 weeks old at the time. Little did I know how hard I would fall for them. I never could have prepared myself for the love and joy that these two babies brought me; and, by extension, the tremendous, breathless sorrow of loss that permeated our house just this week.

We celebrated their first birthday’s in mid-July and were approaching our first rescue anniversary. Unfortunately, our babygirl Sophie would not be able to celebrate with us.

Last Thursday I received some lilies for my birthday – lovely flowers with a lovely scent, and creamy orange petals. I immediately put them in a vase of water on the dining room table for all to see. Sophie, the one notorious for eating things she shouldn’t, took this as an opportunity to nibble on the new addition to the house. She swallowed a petal and regurgitated it shortly thereafter.

For those of you who are already shaking your heads in horror, I know it seems such a simple and obvious piece of knowledge. For those of you who are like us and have no idea, please pass this message along to anyone you know who owns a cat or is thinking about getting a cat: lilies are one of the most toxic things a cat can ingest. Even the water in the vase or the pollen or the stalks of the flowers are highly poisonous – all it takes it one little bite, one little sniff, and kidneys begin to fail.

We didn’t find this out until it was too late. 

A couple of days passed without much incident since she vomited the petal. On Monday morning, Joseph noticed she was moving stiffly and acting incredibly lethargic; I raced home from my errands and beat my way through traffic to take her to a local animal hospital. At this point we still didn’t know what was going on. If I read back through my texts from that day, I am still heavily under the impression that this is something she will recover from and we’ll be back home in no time. Still, the doctors checked her in and kept her overnight for some analyses. Nothing was certain yet, although I’m sure the doctors had their suspicions.

By the next day at 2pm, the doctors informed us that her kidneys had failed beyond recovery, and that it would be the best course of action to put her to sleep as soon as possible. Fluid had built up in her bladder, unable to succeed through the natural urination process, and if this was prolonged it would end up flooding her lungs. Joseph got the call while he was at work, and he called me during a break at the library. We rushed to Sophie’s side, spending her last few moments on earth petting her silky fur and calling her sweet names. She was a little uncomfortable, though thankfully not in pain. I think we bore all the pain she could have possibly felt, and much, much more.

The suddenness is what cuts the deepest. It’s one thing to see the death of a pet gradually coming when they’re approaching 10, 15, 20 years of age, but when you go from one day imagining those long years with the precious animal growing up with your kids to the next day where they no longer exist in your arms, where you will never again call them by name and have them trot toward you with sounds of pleasure and recognition…the brutal suddenness changes everything about the grief that rushes in.

We were not prepared for this. She was only a year old. She, and Emmerich, were our babies, the first additions to our newly bonded family. To lose her only a year later and so rapidly all-at-once is utterly devastating. The last time I lost a loved one (person or animal) was my grandfather 10 years ago, and I have never lost a pet in my adult years. This grief, as one so conscious and feeling, tears me apart, sends tremors deep into my bones. I loved Sophie so freely, so thoroughly, and she loved us unconditionally – I suppose it’s only fair that the gaping hole she left behind would ache so acutely.

This past Wednesday was the first full day without her in our lives. I couldn’t stand coming home from work without her fluffiness greeting me at the door that I collapsed onto the couch in hysterics. Joseph held me tightly to him, our bitter tears mingling. It hurts. My God, oh it hurts like hell. Her absence even after such a short bright time is absolutely unbearable. Every little thing reminds us of her, and the grief that follows floods my stomach and my lungs, rendering my appetite entirely absent and making it hard to breathe.

She was the most brilliant little light of my life. As John Smith says in the Disney movie Pocahontas: “I’d rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you.” If I could travel back in time and warn myself on September 12^th of 2017 that this tragedy would inevitably happen, that it was a fixed point that I couldn’t change, I would still have bundled her in my arms and taken her home. As much as this pain is all-consuming, I am thankful for the year I was able to spend with her. She taught me that cats can be more than grouchy balls of fur. We passed many hours with her napping on me while I wrote or read or slept. She nuzzled her way into my heart and before I even knew it, I was wholeheartedly in love.

Something that makes me feel more at peace is imagining this visual: God sits at his desk, checking prayer emails, and Sophie jumps up onto his lap like she did to us on a regular basis when we were at our computers. She snuggles into him and dreams of chasing flies while he pets her softly with one hand, typing with the other.

She went without pain to the giant windowsill in the sky, where there is eternal sunshine and an infinite supply of birds to chatter at. We did the right thing with the knowledge we had. Still, this wave of grief will lap at our heels for a while, and we will never forget our first kitty – our first baby.

Rest in peace, Sophie. You were the best little kitten anyone could ask for. Your heart was too pure for this world.

Friends, I now ask two things of you: first, pass along the knowledge that lilies are lethal to cats – don’t assume longtime cat lovers know. As soon as cats come up, lay that fact down. Be aggressive about it if you have to. Sharing that little tid-bit of knowledge now might save a life later. Second, we would appreciate it if you could share photos or memories of Sophie in the comments section. Her legacy is one of love and softness, and we know that we aren’t the only ones who will remember her with fondness.

In Memory of Sophie

7/15/17 – 8/28/18

Fun Facts About the Happy Couple

     Hello duckies! Been a while.
     Today is mine and Joseph's first (and only) dating anniversary, and I figured we could celebrate by publishing a "fun facts" post for kicks and giggles, since I believe there are some tickling things people don't actually know about us or our story. Therefore, read on, be amused, and celebrate with us! We're so grateful for the love and support of our families and friends. Only 172 days to go until I'm officially a Winnard!
     With love,
     V

• It is a common misconception that Victoria chooses weight lifting for exercise because Joseph did it first. Actually, Victoria had been lifting weights regularly, on her own, for 5 months before she met Joseph. He has been a positive influence in propelling her to continue lifting, but her initial decision to start was completely independent - weight lifting was one of the topics of excited discussion that drew them together when they met
• They met in NYC at a psychology conference while Victoria was standing by a poster of research, though Joseph went to school in Maryland and Victoria in Virginia
• A candid photo exists, courtesy of Dr. Buchholz, of the couple mere minutes after initially meeting
• The second day of their quickly blossoming friendship, they ran into each other again and spent three hours talking nonstop about sundry topics of intense interest
• Victoria was the one to initiate swapping contact information
• A week after meeting, Victoria drove from Virginia to Maryland to spend the day with Joseph
• Ten days after they first met, they decided to date
• A month into dating, they took time individually to write out relationship goals, before coming together to share and swap them
• Victoria's parents' wedding anniversary falls on Memorial day weekend - Victoria and Joseph's will fall on Labor day weekend
• Victoria is approximately 2 and a half months older than Joseph
• Their first vacation consisted of Joseph surprising Victoria with a trip to Ocean City for a few days
• Three months after meeting, they attended another psychology conference together in Nova Scotia, Canada, and plan to go back for visit in the future
• The place they had their first kiss (the terrace-like 12th floor of the UB law building) is also where Joseph proposed
• On one of the coldest days of this winter season, they successfully replaced the power steering pump on Joseph's car by themselves (and a little help from Joseph's dad). Earlier in the season, they replaced the power steering hoses with the help of Victoria's dad. Neither have any qualms about getting their hands dirty and learning new skills!
• Between starting to date and their engagement, they attended three weddings
• In proposing, Joseph went the traditional route and spoke to Victoria's parents about it beforehand, asking for their blessing (and knowing he was going to get it!)
• Both Joseph and Victoria felt led to tell each other "I love you" for the first time on the same day
• During the first month of dating, 3-5 hour phone calls at night became a common and frequent occurrence

For more details and fun stuff about our relationship, you can visit these posts: 

http://thewritersinkworld.blogspot.com/2016/10/alma-led-me-here.html

http://thewritersinkworld.blogspot.com/2016/03/addressing-skepticism.html

Alma Led Me Here

“The soul may be trusted to the end.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

First Essays: Love

She didn’t tell me when I’d fall in love.

Alma, my soul’s asomatous guide, didn’t tell me that when I did, I’d feel as if struck by lightning, and that every romantic experience I had thus far encountered would be put to shame. She didn’t tell me anything.

I understood that she possessed a transcendental discernment that I would never know, but I resisted her pleads for my trust all the same. I didn’t believe in soul mates, and she all but gave up convincing me otherwise. Soul mates existed, she countered; beneath all the collected, clichéd goop there existed a bedrock of truth.

And so throughout my younger years I longed for a man I could love and tolerate, while Alma impatiently awaited her male counterpart. That’s how it worked, she said – each individual soul was not a fraction of another, but rather the male or female complement. I received many scoldings from her for even thinking about settling before she reunited with her mate. Saying things like that practically forced me into skepticism. What did she really expect?

I should have relied on her more. Wiser than I gave her credit for, she was guided by something I could neither see nor understand, and she tugged me away from the wreckages of relationships before they became unmitigated catastrophes through ill-formed foundations of commitment. I thought I knew what I was doing, but she knew better.

I was stubborn; if my affections were a ship, I was white-knuckling the handles of the wheel on one side, and she the other. Eventually I was taxed beyond my means, and when I fell to the deck in exhaustion, Alma took command of the vessel with unfettered gusto. Finally serving as captain for the first time, she steered us right into the heart of New York City. She didn’t tell me we were close to her counterpart there, but she accepted my apologies without judgement as I genuflected before her, relinquishing any and all authority over my affections. The consequences of my poor relational decisions previous rendered me weary; she could call the shots from then on. All I needed was for her to tell me where to be and when.

Eastern Psychological Association Conference, New York City - March 4^th, 2016

No memos appeared in my dreams, no ethereal hints prodded me on. Alma didn’t tell me that with one look I would know. With one look, I would recognize a man whom I had never met. With one look, I would feel the heart of the universe beating inside me.

Marbled eyes of orange-flecked green met mine and Alma wept in the long-awaited embrace of her mate. Burrowed deep in the plush hallways of a hotel conference room, lightning struck me in the form of a man named Joseph.

Alma prepared me for none of it. She didn’t tell me I’d fall in love with the way he said psychology. She didn’t tell me he was a man of deep faith, words, and intellect. She forgot to mention the profound attraction I would feel toward him in every conceivable realm of life. I trusted Alma with my soul, and what did she give me in return?

A man beyond dreams, ideals, and expectations – a man crafted by divine hands to be my match. A man suited for me beyond perfection itself. The male permutation of my own soul.

Alma led me here. 

---

I'm posting this here to commemorate my engagement to the subject of this piece. I wrote this on May 2, 2016 - almost six months ago. Like I said in Addressing Skepticism, when you know, you just know. 

Have a drink for us. We are blessed beyond belief to begin this new, exciting chapter of our lives together!

V

Suddenly Your House is On Fire

     What do you grab?
     Out of every single possession, what's the one thing you would save from the flames? There aren't necessarily any right or wrong answers to this common hypothetical scenario; however, there are some silly ones. Leo Buscaglia's book Love referenced an actual occurrence of this where a woman, the unfortunate owner of the flaming house, found herself running out to the street for safety carrying years and years of personal tax reports. Tax reports! That was the first place of importance her mind went, so she grabbed them and ran!
     This scenario has intrigued me quite a lot in recent weeks. I think I'm more interested in the overall loss of the other possessions rather than hung up on the single thing I would save. As far as what to carry with me to safety, my mind jumps to the most expensive things I own, and therefore the most costly things to replace: my laptop, which is quickly depreciating in value (already four years old), my cell phone (also old - it's an iPhone 4S), and my external hard drive, more for preservation of what's on it rather than how much it would cost to replace. These are boring, expected, and don't honestly boast much value. Even if I couldn't save any of these things, I wouldn't feel too badly about it. They're all just things. 
     Which brings me back to the rest of the hypothetical belongings perishing in the hypothetical fire. Some days I think it would almost be good for me to lose everything I own to something beyond my control. The tenacity with which we hold on to earthly possessions can reach terrifying degrees at times. It's grandma's good china from Germany; it's your children's kindergarten fingerpaintings; it's photo albums of long-dead relatives and friends. There's sentimentality and the desire for preservation. I get it. But you and I will no longer have the conscious of mind to care about all those things when we're packed six feet under. 
     Dark? Maybe. Difficult? Of course.
     Thoughts such as these really convicted me a couple weeks ago, though the seeds had been sown by my good friend Joanna at college just before graduation. Toward the end of this year she's going to India to be an amazing presence there teaching English. One of her first responses to such a calling was to get rid of literally everything she owned, as it would only weigh her down knowing she had so many belongings sitting in storage while she was away indefinitely. She was inviting friends to come raid her room, including her desk, dresser, and in the bins beneath her bed (I was one of those friends, and I took most of her office supplies as well as her perfume collection and some kitchen items). I was gracious in receiving these things without her asking for payment (I'll figure something out, just you wait Jo), but it baffled me how easily it seemed she was letting everything go. She watched numerous people dig through her things and take armloads away. 
     It wasn't necessarily easy, she told me later, but knowing it was the right thing to do was enough to help her remain steadfast in her decision. I knew without a doubt that I needed to maintain this type of attitude the next time I planned to pluck through my things. 
     And that just so happened to be a few weeks ago, when it accumulated into a ball of unnecessary stress, and the only way to alleviate it was to do a cleanse.
     I had too many clothes and too many books occupying the small space of my room - hell, my dresser barely contained only half of my stash of shirts! The rest remained in an unpacked suitcase, neglected since I moved back home after graduation (May 7th - over two months ago now!). I feel I have perpetuated this problem for years. Something had to be done, and with the help of Joanna's example, I had to force myself to get over any attachments that existed. I had to be incredibly frank with myself. My two requirements for this cleanse were 1) if I didn't wear it, I didn't need it, and its new home was the donation bag, and 2) if I had worn it threadbare or stained it, it went into the trash. No exceptions.
      There was a peaceful sense of detachment that happened during this process and I was able to execute it without much pain. It was a cleanse, a much-needed purge - it didn't need to feel like I was stripping myself bare. Those shirts were mere things, and very replaceable. 
     I ended up getting rid of a large, bursting trash bag and two smaller bags worth of stuff. I probably could have pruned back more, but my main goal was to fit it all comfortably in my dresser, and I achieved it, for the first time in years. It is liberating to know such a thing.
     Now, while I certainly hope your house doesn't ever catch on fire, I would encourage you to ponder your earthly possessions and any attachments you may have to them. If we really broke it down to the most primitive level, none of those things are necessary for survival if they don't fall into the categories of food, water, or shelter. I saw for myself through plenty of instances in Peru that the amount of stuff one has does not directly equate to the level of happiness. The true genesis of happiness exudes from within (but that's a post for another time). I am merely asking for your awareness here; what's your focus in life? What's your end goal? And how does stuff fit into that equation?
     V

Welcome to 2016 - A Year of Improvements

(Post pulled from group blog: StalkerSubtext)
     Just as the title says, Happy New Year! 2015 was definitely a year of learning, humility, and listening above everything else, which is to be expected. I began doing my own research in the Psych department at school, went to two marvelous concerts, celebrated my 21st birthday, did a ton of visiting with my immediate and extended family, finished my third year at college out of four, celebrated my Grandpa’s 75th birthday, broke off a relationship that was doing more harm than good (one of the best decisions of my life, let alone my year), started a workout routine, and made some priceless, awesome friendships. Overall, it’s been a wonderful year, and I have learned from all of these things how to best approach 2016.
     I know the bottom line for every year is going to be that I am blessed beyond measure. I’m in good health, have breath in my lungs, and am loved by numerous people. Can’t get much better than that.
     However, I know for a fact that I can actively take part in my own life and make it even better. How, you ask? Well, first of all I’m avoiding any New Years Resolutions - they’re usually cold turkey, drastic, or a 180 degrees turn around and therefore incredibly difficult to maintain. The amount of instant self-discipline and motivation needed generally doesn’t match up to how much one is willing to put forth for very long. My personal goals for 2016 are to keep up the routine I’ve been maintaining hardcore since the end of September, which entails lifting weights 3 times a week, eating healthy (no coffee, much less sugars, less dairy, more veggies and red meats, and no processed junk if I can help it), doing Lumosity and Duolingo (in Spanish) every day, and reading the bible and journaling every morning. Seems like a lot to keep up, especially when adding my final semester in college into the equation, but I already know I’ve maintained all but one of these things during this past semester, which was easily much harder than the one I’m about to begin. It’s feasible for sure.
     One new thing I’m planning to introduce to 2016 is something called the Praise Jar. Every day I will write down something I’m thankful for, or something I’ve been praying for, and drop it into this jar. The point of this is to accurately reminisce about 2016 on New Years Eve and see what all I was thankful for, and possibly what all prayers got answered. It’s just a fun thing to put into perspective the power of positive thinking and how the year really went. I decided to use paint swatches from Lowe’s as the cards I write on to give the jar color as I go.

     Needless to say I am ridiculously excited for 2016. My final semester in college will be the best so far, without a doubt. I’ve got an awesome group of friends, sweet possibilities for the future, and a very healthy relationship prospect.      Cheers, my friends. Remember that getting out of bed every day is a victory in itself and that you are never alone. Godspeed, and let’s make this the best damn year yet!
     V

Dear Future Husband

(à la Robert Morgan, Dark Energy) 

Love me like Jesus loves the church.

Affirm your commitment with words;

songs or poems or handwritten

letters. Buy me office supplies:

pens and notebooks and notes that stick.

Curl my belly with your witty

morbidity, and don’t forget

to let the dog in at night. Live

with passionate ambition, tell

me every tiny detail while

I whip up two mugs of fresh brewed

tea. Be a reader, sponsor my

love of language. Activate your

soul’s depth with exercise; please join

my yoga sessions later in

the morning. Don’t make a habit

of spitting, and pay attention

to the sidewalk under your boots,

the drumming patterns of raindrops.

Remember to treasure me all

of our lives, for someday, darling,

when dim stars edge the ebbing blush,

I will return to ash and dust.

Press Play

The following is an exercise I worked on for my advanced fiction class spring semester 2015. We had to tell a story in an unorthodox, non-linear way, since stories usually are intensely linear and follow a distinct storytelling pattern. I chose to create a playlist using existing songs to tell the story, placing all the emphasis on the song titles as opposed to song meanings or real intentions. Ever since I discovered music and the capability of creating playlists, I've essentially captured stories and emotions with them, as I'm sure many other music fanatics have. It was only fitting to submit this as an exercise.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Ta~!

-------

Press Play

Be Alone//Paramore

Anonymous//Three Days Grace

Close Your Eyes//Future Of Forestry

Daydreaming//Paramore

Think Of You//MS MR

You Have My Attention//Copeland

You Had Me At Hello//A Day To Remember

Looking Up//Paramore

Is This Love//Whitesnake

Fall For You//Secondhand Serenade

Start Of Something Good//Daughtry

Love Affair//Copeland

Made For You//OneRepublic

Adore//Paramore

Sweetness//Jimmy Eat World

Falling Into You//Mae

Hold Nothing Back//Copeland

D-I-E 4 Y-O-U//Family Force 5

Any Way You Want It//Journey
Love Addict//Family Force 5

Addicted//Saving Abel

My Hero//The Foo Fighters

Communication//Mae

I Belong To You//Muse

I Want You To…//Jem

Marry Me (Overture)//Hans Zimmer

Believe It Or Not//Nickelback

So I Thought//Flyleaf

The Awakening//Demon Hunter

Careful//Paramore

Careful Now//Copeland

Misguided Ghosts//Paramore

Secrets//Onerepublic

God, Drugs, & Sex//Anberlin

Love The Way You Lie//Eminem Ft. Rhianna

Dance With The Devil//Breaking Benjamin

Control Freak//Copeland

Toxic//Britney Spears

Decode//Paramore

Under Pressure//Queen

No Excuses//Alice In Chains

Had Enough//Breaking Benjamin

No More Love//Shinedown

Cry For Help//Shinedown

Dear Agony//Breaking Benjamin

Damn Regret//The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Forgive Me//Jars Of Clay

In Fate’s Hands//The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

All I Wanted//Paramore

You//Future Of Forestry

Never Again//Nickelback

Jar Of Hearts//Christina Perri

We’ve Got A Score To Settle (Red)//The Dear Hunter

I’m Sorry//Flyleaf
Hate Me//Blue October

It Ends Tonight//The All-American Rejects

The Grim Goodbye//The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Misery Business//Paramore

Are You Happy Now?//Michelle Branch

Hello Alone//Anberlin

Hello Cold World//Paramore

Someone, Anyone//Anberlin

Tell Me It’s Okay//Paramore

Running From You//Saving Abel

I Fade Away//Pillar

Where’s My Head//Copeland

Harder to Breathe//Maroon 5

Save Me//Jem

Save Me//Queen

Save Me//Shinedown