Fresh start

Ah, life is good. Got a new job (same company) a few weeks ago, and with it came a new team, and a new focus on software...my old passion. I managed to avoid the layoffs (yay!) and land in a spot where I can really thrive. Also, I figured out how to refinance the house, make the bills, and just hang on until this damn economy improves. The last links to my old life are gone, and the new one has begun. Amy is 9 weeks away from graduation, we have a beautiful thing going, and I can't wait for us to be husband and wife...like we should have been all along.

I started riding again, after a couple months off. Not nearly as much as I have in the past, but it's a start. Amy has her eye on a 16-inch Fetish Seduction which should give her something easier to pedal than my Nomad, which she currently rides. An XL, 33 pound, 6-inch travel bike probably isn't the best for your average 5'6" female, but she loves it...and will that much more when she gets something sized for her. And I can't think of anything more appropriate for her than a black Fetish Seduction. I have an old set of Crossmax SL's that will look great on it...

Nothing hurts anymore. Getting up, going to work, dealing with kids, dealing with budgets...yeah, it's all trying and challenging, but nothing hurts anymore. The eggshells are gone. No ominous presence anymore to diminish your existence. Heck, even the old, hard mattress is gone, and I sleep better. (We got one of those tempurpedic memory foam mattresses...wow, what a difference...)

But I think the biggest difference is, I feel needed and appreciated. No, scratch that. I just feel engaged. The time I spend with my kiddos now is so much more involved. Heck, I'd rather take 50% custody and all quality time with my kids than to have stayed married to the ex and have maybe 10% quality time because mom and dad had so many issues to deal with. Would the kids really have suffered less had we stayed together? Doubt it. Yeah, it's not ideal, but its the best we could give them. I hope they understand that, and don't fall victim to the "life templates" that their mom and dad fell victim to. Now, I've got the rest of their childhoods to teach them how to listen to the gods and follow their own path, and not someone else's. Granted, there will be opposition, but they'll figure it out. As long as there is a voice of reason in their lives. As long as I'm around.

Integrity

...is saying what you do and doing what you say. It's quite simple, actually. I can accept if you're a kid, and you don't really have the capability to commit to anything yet. I understand kids whining and moaning if they don't get their way, as long as you, as a parent, remind them that it ain't gonna work with you.

But if you're an adult, and you can't back up your words, or the expectations you have set for yourself with others, then you better expect the consequenses. People with integrity are all around, and if you can't walk the walk, you better not complain when the piper comes calling. The metaphorical checks you write in life will be cashed, especially if they are written to a clan that has standards, and expects results. I can't stand people that are all talk and no action. But then I remember, life is a lot like the playground we all grew up in. And those who cry and whine and run to teacher back then will do it now too. They can't resolve their own conflicts, so they look elsewhere and...for lack of a better term...act like the children they still are. Bottom line - they are still weak, spineless...and scared, just like they always were. So sad.

But then again, the wise do not hold grudges...they just draw conclusions and their metaphorical crysknifes (See "the way of the knife") and move on.

Flagstaff, Vision Boards...

Amy and I are creating a vision board. It's one of her assignments for class, but also something we discussed as a joint venture. Just write down what we wanted and put it in a prominent place in the house, as a daily reminder to help us stay focused on what we valued. I know it sounds cliche, but it's turning into a fun project, partially because of how different our ideas of a vision board are. My idea was a medium sized dry-erase board in the breakfast nook with bulleted lists and roughly sketched project plans. Hers? Where to begin...magazine cutouts, quotes, one-word retirement plans, references to household projects, (including a menu for the irish pub we plan to open...someday...) The main takeaway here? retirement plans. The one word? Flagstaff.

We left Phoenix on Thursday after work and school, hooked up the mothership, picked up April, and headed north. This was the 4th of July weekend, but Flag has a no-fireworks ordinance, so we didn't plan to see any. In fact, I'm not even sure it being the 4th of July weekend is relevant here, because it could have been any weekend. But the kids were all with the exes that weekend, so we had a rare long weekend to ourselves and decided to take up April on her offer to go hang out with her and Nick, where Nick has an apartment that he uses on weekends. Nick is a part-owner of a business up there that does most of it's business on weekends (take a guess what it is, but there is a stage and his employees work mostly for tips) so he lives in the valley during the week in the house April rents a room from. I took my Nomad, optimistically hoping I'd have an opportunity to ride, but it didn't happen unfortunately. Too much to do, too much to see.

We picked a camp spot just up the road from the cattle guard on Shultz Pass road, near the creek and secluded. The usual camp site was occupied by people I didn't recognize in the dark as we drove by, but had K or any of the other regulars been there, we would have camped there. Anyhoo, after erecting the mothership, we headed back into town to hang out with April and Nick at "The Joint" and relax for awile.

The Joint is an interesting place. It's the only place of it's kind in Flagstaff, and as such, it can do well without a lot of capital investment. But, like all clubs like that, it's an awesome place for people watching, which Amy, April and I eagerly took part in. And the subjects were not too bad to look at (I've seen better) but the interactions between the employees and the patrons was priceless. It's fun people-watching from your own VIP corner of a club were the drinks are free and the view is uninterupted.

I've been to a handful of strip clubs in my time, and the interaction there, the "value transaction" is unique. For 10-40 dollars, a man (or a woman, for that matter) can get 5-10 minutes of uninterupted attention, adoration, appreciation, and general ego-boosting by a semi-naked woman that is most likely way out of the patron's league in the looks department. (Author and present company excepted, of course...)

I've never been the type to really "get" that interaction...I mean, I see it, but I feel weird participating in it. A good friend (thanks Mike) replied quickly, ""Oh, well, you're gay then".

Uh, no. Amy will vouch for that. But nice try dude. Not that there's anything wrong with that...

In fact, that weekend, the only one who paid for lap dances was Amy. I will admit though, knowing her, it truly was from the artistic perspective. But it was fun to watch.

So I have to ask, why do these places exist and thrive? I would venture, from the male perspective, it's because there is a general lack of appreciation in society for the need to value, love, adore and appreciate your spouse or significant other. I would further venture that a lot of that is brought on by the judeo-christian belief in God-centeredness, (which leads to church-centeredness) posession-centeredness, self-centeredness, or the myriad other centerednesses (is that a word?) that distract from the people in your life that actually deserve and need your attention. I'm sure the most active patrons at "The Joint" (meaning, the ones spending the most money) are the ones with the biggest gaps in their soul.

Let's face it, most people are needy.

If you have decided to set up a mutually-beneficial domestic arrangement (commonly known as marriage) that doesn't take into account the higher needs of the human pshyche (beyond air, food and shelter) you are potentially caging a soul and setting yourself up for failure. Some people (Surprise!) have evolved beyond the need for just food, air, shelter and social acceptance. They need constant intellectual stimulation, challenges, and goals...as well as recurrant reminders of love, appreciation and adoration. Why? At the risk of sounding like a Eugenics supporter, is it because these are the advanced members of the species, the Darwinian genetic experiments, and they deserve it, just as much as the more normal members of society deserve respect for thriving without needing to really try?

If you are "normal", are you are not evolving?

If you are "high-maintenence", are you merely a natural genetic experiment?

Whoa...where was I going? Oh yeah, back to Flagstaff...

I don't think it's really a matter of evolution, tribal superiority, whatever...I think it's more a matter of individual integrity. In other words, it doesn't matter why "we" do what we do, it matters why "we as individuals, disinct from the masses" do what we do. Being true to yourself matters more than conformance. Conformance at the expense of the individual equates to social disaster, on any level...family or nation.

Carl Jung argues that the individual...outside the dictates, doctrine, or dogma of the State or the Church, is what must be respected and the only true indicator of what is "real". I've chased other people's dreams or ideals. I've been in a place where I feel comfortable with myself, as dictated by others and as long as I was living by the rules or dictates of some organization that defined what was real or acceptable. But at the end of the day, that was an infantile state; a feeling of security based on what the outside environment could provide. Like the paradise of childhood...no real responsibility, and no reckoning for who or what was going to pay for my existence. Just follow these rules, be this way, and you will be safe.

In other words, not my reality. I lived in someone else's. Shame on me.

Do I value what prophets and preachers, kings and presidents say? Sure. As long as it makes sense and its well thought through, conceptually and fiscally. And, as long as I don't think they are bullshit artists.

That Flagstaff weekend ended as it began...undocking the Mothership in the parking space next to the house. We had a blast. Every minute with Amy is an awakening, a reminder that I have so much yet to learn, but that I am so valued by the gods that I am given so much. Screw the Church and the State. I am what I am, and being true to that is the greater contribution.

Mountain biking is still fun

It's a blast actually. One of my passions. One of my passions that I have been neglecting lately, however. Of course, getting back together with Amy and every day now waking up with the mutual realization that you are with the love of your life can be distracting. But now that we're settled, back in our groove and working with the reality of raising 4 kids together, life is different. For one thing, there is joy in the mundane. Simply making dinner together, feeding the kids, doing the dishes, putting the kids to bed, then sneaking into the bedroom for really mind-blowing sex trumps the need to be anywhere else. But, that being said, I have recently gotten back on the bike after about a 3 month hiatus. Here is what is different now:





-I am a slow sack of crap. But I still love it. I suffer more for less gain, but the thrill, rush, attraction, whatever you want to call it, is still there. Knobby tires on dirt. Love it.





-Biking is not an escape now. It's true recreation. I still ride for me, but me isn't crying out for more pain, suffering or other feelings to drown out the suffering in other parts of my life. No more compartments to navigate, no more shifting gears when I get home. Life just is.





-I don't care about the "scene" anymore. I am sometimes riding solo again, and now I remember why I got into the sport in the first place. It's liberating for the soul, but that only works if your soul is in the right place. I sometimes wonder how I got into this sport, the initial fitness curve being what it is, but then I remember; true love.





-I think about Amy and my kids when I ride. How lucky I am. I don't need the trinkets on my handlebars reminding me I have little ones at home. They are there with me. I'm not shutting out parts of my life by riding, I'm embracing all of it, the "oneness" of everything now. It's hard to explain, but it's better now.





Life is fun. Yes, there is still the lingering grief over the death of my first marriage, the occasional reminder that things are not what they used to be, and that bittersweet nostalgia for the past. But that joy I used to extract from dancing with singletrack has now superimposed itself on every facet of my life. Getting up in the morning next to the love of my life and feeling that excitement that the new day brings is very similar to that feeling I get when I first start turning the cranks on a trail I am excited about. Like riding National. You don't know what's going to happen, but you know it's going to be good, because it's her, and she's never gonna let you down. Why? Because she knows what she wants, and isn't afraid to ask for it. She can commit. She has integrity. She never played games, and though others played with her, she stayed true to herself. She had the strength to take action and get a divorce, after giving her marriage all she could, even if it meant working for nearly minimum wage. She had the strength to educate herself and get her degree, magna cum laude from ASU, even while raising 2 kids. She had the strength, and still does, to put it all out there, day after day, even of no one cared. Well now someone cares. Now she has someone that did the same, day after day, even when no one cared. Now she has someone with the strength to take action and be honest with themselves and others.





This is the foundation I wanted, this is how I wanted it to play out. I may be far from perfect, but the gods sure dealt me a sweet hand. I knew this journey would lead somewhere, and for awhile I thought I knew where it was leading...but then I got rudely reminded that I should have listened to my initial instincts, the ones that started the original journey and that periodically come back to remind me to keep turning those cranks. But, as Stu predicted, I got bitten by one of the bottom-feeders, right out of the gate. Learning experience, or re-learning, for sure. But as Amy says, everyone before, for both of us, was a stepping stone to the right place. So once that got re-aligned I was ready. It's funny, both Amy and I went through the same experience at approximately the same time. We put it all out there for someone that claimed to want it but we both eventually found out that they were full of shit. And we both had the same initial instincts about them that we didn't follow. Crazy. Do we hate them? No, not even close. Pity? Nope. We just look at them as fellow souls seeking the same thing we needed, just haven't found it yet. Our advice? Be true. Be available. Quit blaming others. Be willing to step it up. Amy and I did that, and as much as it hurt at times, here we are. If you can't commit 100% to those 4 things, get out of the game. You're lying, and you're just hurting others.


I am convinced that true love is possible, that soul mates exist, and that that old addage about becoming the person you want to marry, getting yourself ready, is true. I would add though, that "becoming" does not mean "sell yourself out". I am also convinced that that person is often closer to you than you think. Every time I get on the bike, there is somewhat of a psychological homecoming of sorts. A connection to good feelings that I have experienced my entire life. Amy provides a similar connection, and every time I am with her, I am reminded of who I am, where I came from, and where I'm going. I'm a crazy, inexplicable Celtic/Castillian mix that only she understands. My brother Stu said he did nothing special to "find" Angie. He was just true, available, accountable, and willing to act. After all that, he says he was just extremely lucky to have found and married Angie. Good job, little bro.

Tangent alert.

I think things happened for a reason, for them and for Amy and I. One thing we all did was to release religion and embrace spirituality. (The difference? Religion is for people that are afraid of going to hell. Spirituality is for people who have been there) We jumped off that train and started down our own path. That path is not entirely pre-set, but neither is it entirely up to us. Do the gods reward integrity? Hypocrisy is chaotic, and there is plenty of chaos in the universe. Maybe there is some connection. Ha, easy trap to fall into.



Well, you can stake that claim

Good work is the key to good fortune

Winners take that praise

Losers seldom take that blame

If they don't take that game

And sometimes the winner takes nothing

We draw our own designs

But fortune has to make that frame



We go out in the world and take our chances

Fate is just the weight of circumstances

That's the way that lady luck dances

Roll the bones



Why are we here?

Because we're here

Roll the bones

Why does it happen?

Because it happens

Roll the bones



Faith is cold as ice

Why are little ones born only to suffer

For the want of immunity

Or a bowl of rice?

Well, who would hold a price

On the heads of the innocent children

If there's some immortal power

To control the dice?

We come into the world and take our chances

Fate is just the weight of circumstances

That's the way that lady luck dances

Roll the bones

(End of tangent.)

Amy says the only constant in life is change. I agree with that, but also believe that underlying that change are a few constants that only you can define for yourself. For me, that is my biking, my family, and my Amy. They are the three things in life that have never betrayed me or let me down. And that's why all three are still fun.

Captured Moments

Semi-darkness. Lighting. The eyes. Hazel-green dowsed with wisdom, 17 going on 50. Red hair. The smile.

I'm the same as I never was.

But I'll never be the same.

Her temperament, her demeanor; So complex, yet so easy to navigate. And I know complex...I know myself. Soon, I will know her again.

Together, we 6...I work tomorrow, and work I will. For we 6.

And the joy and power of building a kingdom is back. A kingdom, and not just a cold grey fortress. A beautiful, vibrant kingdom made beautiful by what she brings.

Made beautiful by the moments we capture.

Road Trips

I've done lots of road trips in my time. Early on, I was a passenger on my parents road trips to see relatives or to go play in the snow or to visit Disneyland. Eventually as I got older I became the driver and those trips took on a flavor all my own. Some were better than others, some not so good. All were fun, to some degree, but what makes for the perfect road trip? I didn't know until this past weekend.

Amy and I decided to head up to Sedona. I had been up there a few weeks ago to ride my bike with a large group of mountain bikers. She had been there many months ago when she decided it was time to end her marriage and continue on her journey. When I was up there a few weeks ago, I was completely scatterbrained and unable to focus on the ride. I cut it short for myself and headed back to the car. Wasn't sure what was going on, I just couldn't tune in. So much going on in my mind that day. The night before I had more or less made nice with D and she was clearly okay with letting me know she was still around. Good for her. (By the way D...your prince is still out there. Keep looking and don't give up on the dream. He will appear, but you have to keep summoning him...) But nothing could get Amy out of my head, as usual. And now that she was back in my life and we had begun to slowly to rekindle what was once there, the tunnel-vision again started to set in and I began to understand why I was so scatterbrained. Forget dark angel, light angel, bar angel, and all the rest. Why bother? I knew where I needed to be, and if anyone tries to gets in the way, all they will hear about is how awesome I have it and how they can't compare. Yeah, the bar is set high for me, and now it's carried by a true angel, well beyond what mere mortals can touch. A few came close, and one in particular gets honorable mention, (thanks for the perspective, MG) but the standard was set 15 years ago and as much as one would like to believe that there are many soul mates, which I don't disagree with, I know where my heart lies. She is simply my angel. No descriptors needed, just my angel.

We left late Saturday morning after she dropped off the kids and headed north. There are a few elements needed for the perfect road trip:

-Tunes. No shortage there. iTunes + Genius+ late nights catching up = recurring line item on my monthly budget now.

-Vague destination with accommodations booked in the general area. "Sedona" worked this time, but allowed for exploration of places like Arcosanti along the way, and for bar-hopping in Flag that night.

-Booze. You know, fer drinkin and drivin.

-Time. Can't be on a tight schedule. I struggle with this because I tend to pack in all kinds of plans beforehand because I can't seem to shut my brain off when it comes to planning these things...

-Experiences. Ah yes, the experiences. Ne plus ultra, experience is the reason for being on the road in the first place.


We started with a visit to the church on the rock and got some great pictures. Such a peaceful place and such a view, and such a simple and elegagantly designed building:







Amy and I sat there for awhile, just contemplating things, enjoying the moment. I managed to catch this one:

Of course we couldn't leave without leaving a donation.

Thank you, come again:




We then headed out of the church and up the Chapel trail to chicken point to catch the views from up there as the sun was setting and the colors were becoming more fierce:





After the hike we headed back toward Sedona and ended up at Oak Creek Brewery, enjoying a fine steak and a really good amber. Oak Creek was one of the places in Sedona Amy went to contemplate the end of her marriage a few months prior. There we sat on the upper-level patio, waiting for a table, hand in hand and eye to eye, trying to not get any ashes on the people passing by below when Amy tells me that was the spot she was at when she made her decision to leave. Oh sweet irony, because that was the night that it hit me that I was really still in love with her. Again. (For the first time, for the last time...) It was still early in the renewed relationship though and we still had a lot of settling in to do together, but I didn't care. Everyone was telling me to take it slow. But I knew what I felt, I knew how there was NO ONE that ever made me feel even remotely close to how she makes me feel, and damn it I'm old enough to know what I'm doing. We were in love once before and though circumstances didn't permit it at the time, those feelings never went away and spanned 15 years. That definately counts for something more.


After Oak Creek we went up to Flag and checked in to our fabulous 2-star hotel. A couple hours later (we needed some "rest") we headed to Flagstaff Brewing company and proceeded to close down the bar. Nothing like a brewery in a college town on a Saturday night. During the course of that evening, we found Waldo, a gay lumberjack, named our band "Small Town Gay", and watched some white people dance. It was a hoot. And that was before we started playing the "what's their story" game.


"What's their story" is easy in concept, but hard to pull off because you have to find a neutral third party to confirm/deny the story. The game basically goes like this: You pick out a person or a group of persons at a bar, then each player takes turns "telling their story". The person closest to the truth wins. We lucked out, and let the bartender (Booty the cutie) in on our little game, and he refereed. Amy kicked my ass. She called it 9 times out of ten, on the items Booty could verify for us. First dates, soul mates, room mates...she had em figured out just by looking at them. I got a few...daddy issues, anger issues, armpit hair, jealous girlfriend, eternal student...but Amy's got this game nailed.



Drunk as skunks, we wandered out of the bar and sat down on a planter outside, and that's when the honesty came out. Honesty as in, we professed our love for each other, and confirmed that it never died...years and distance and marriages and children aside, we still had a place in our hearts for each other that never died. It also dawned on us, that over the last 3-4 years, we had been summoning each other. Our sorrows and needs, joys and gifts, and subsequent actions were identical over the last 15 years. We both married someone else in order to forget each other. We both gave it the college try. We struggled to keep our marriages together, despite of our ex-spouses indifference. We initiated the counciling. We went in for the therapy. We tried to get our exes to give a shit, to live up to what they promised when we married them. To just pretend that we mattered to them, that we were respected or valued. But to our eventual dismay, they just didn't have it in them, and likely never did. We were simply an accessory to their life, the sperm donor or the uterus provider. And when confronted with this, they both reacted the same...too bad, sorry you feel that way, get over it, because they weren't changing. We married on the assumption that we would evolve into each other, that through osmosis we would absorb and become the best that we saw in each other. Never happened, and so lesson learned. Opposites may attract, but eventually they rub each other raw. And the one capable of feeling the friction pays the price. So we left.



On the topic of opposites attracting, I have one thing to say to the proponents of this notion and that it can be the basis of a long-lasting, happy relationship. Fuck you. Fuck you with a big, sharp, pointy stick. That is a baby-boomer notion, one used to soothe and comfort those that got stuck in such a relationship and couldn't get out. So let's make it funny, ha ha, mommy and daddy hate each other, that's so funny. Lucy and Ricky. Ray Romano's parents. Ha ha, so funny, look at all the fucked up kids that produced. Ha ha, so funny. Fuck that.



The next morning, we woke up (around noon) and headed down to Sedona again, after a quick stop at Denny's for breakfast burritos. Sobriety that morning did not dull the feelings we expressed for each other the previous night, in fact, it only enhanced them. Almost 2 months later here I am finishing this blog entry and I can confirm it's for real. Now that our kids have met and we have spent nearly every waking minute together, it's only getting better. Daily. Anyhow, so we headed back down to Sedona to do some souvenier shopping and found Alex Ogburn. Alex is a local musician with pipes like Sting and the look of a conservative Dave Navarro. We sat on the balcony overlooking the courtyard where he was playing and soon noticed that he kept looking over at us. As we started listening to his lyrics (original songs, by the way) we realized they were written for us. Love songs about loss and rediscovery, sad previous relationships, and love and adoration for the love of your life. We are looking forward to his CD and future engagements. He plays a lot of weddings, apparantly.



That afternoon we headed home, sad that our trip was over but happy for having had the chance to have the weekend together. Real life soon set back in, except it was different now. We knew at that point that we would be together, going forward. And suddenly, the drudgery and mundane tasks that made up our lives took on new meaning. We were going to build our lives around each other. The possibilities suddenly became endless, yet within reach.



And the best Road Trip yet begins...

Amy

Where to begin this one. Amy. Quite frankly, I'm still somewhat in shock over the events of the last couple weeks, much less the last 15 years. Suffice it to say, we just never knew.

I met Amy in January of 1993 at Itza Pizza where I worked delivering pizzas in the afternoon and evenings. I was a freshman at ASU, she was a senior at Dobson High School. At the time, I had dropped out of college for the semester to work full time and figure things out. I hadn't had the most successful fall academic semester, and figured it was time to feel things out and see what I wanted. Rather than blow another semester's worth of tuition at a time when my dad was out of work, I decided to work full time and see what that felt like. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was going with the flow for the first time....no plans, no formulas...just work and see what happens.

The first time I saw her she was sitting on the patio outside the pizza shop, coolly smoking a cigarette. She was the sexiest thing I had ever laid my eyes on. Faded jeans, Birkenstocks, black t-shirt, wavy dark brown hair, and dark eyeliner outlining these amazing, piercing hazel-green eyes. Beautiful eyes. Intelligent eyes. I said "hi", or something. She took a drag, blinked slowly, and said "what's up" in the sexiest radio-DJ voice I had ever heard. I don't recall all my thoughts at the time, but I was smitten. How could I ignore this? She had all the elements to catch my attention. Clearly she was not like the rest. I could feel her intelligence, her vibe emanating like a beacon. It was as if my radio was tuned to static my whole life and suddenly she tuned in and the music started. She was not like all the other girls. This one had that kind of edgy, sexy, confident appeal that I had never seen before, except maybe in the movies. I thought I didn’t have a chance.

The next couple weeks we danced around each other, acknowledging each other while I tried to figure a way into her sphere of attention. There were a few other guys that worked there that consumed most of her attention, but only because they already knew her. I was a newcomer, and had to find a way in. So, over lunch one afternoon, my buddy Chris (who also worked there) challenged me to ask her out. He even bet me a pizza I wouldn't do it. I won that bet a few days later. She answered the door in flowing black top, silver hoop earrings, and those eyes. We went to see "A Few Good Men" and did Olive Garden for dinner. Yes, Olive Garden was still cool in those days, I think. She sat on my left, toward the back of the theater, and yes, I reached out and held her hand. We were a little guarded that night (it was a first date) but I enjoyed every minute. After that we started looking for reasons to spend time together, like going out during the day to put flyers on apartment doors for the pizza shop. And then we were dating.

Amy was skittish at first. Her parents were divorced, her Father whom she rarely saw lived in Alaska with his new wife and family, her mother was having trouble getting settled, so she and her sister lived with their Grandmother. The tough exterior was the result of disappointment after disappointment growing up. She didn't trust easily at first, I remember that, but eventually after a few dates she did come around. And when she did, her smile was enough to light up any room. I loved that smile. Still do.

I had a similar toughness, but for different reasons. My parents were together, but distant, and I never really had a space of my own growing up. My mother ran a daycare out of our house, and for as long as I can remember, I had to share my room and my Mom with napping children and screaming babies. I would come home from school to a dozen toddlers wandering all over my space. My dad was a corporate drone at the time, present, but in absentia. So I spent a lot of time away from home. As much time as I could. Football, drumline, summer tours, anything. Ever since then, my personal space has been sacred. I was a bright but needy kid. Still am to a degree. Amy fulfilled a need for me that up until that time went unfulfilled. Beneath the exteriors, we discovered the little boy and little girl that just needed some attention. But attention was just the beginning.

I remember our first kiss, up on the south side of Camelback mountain, standing up through the sunroof of my Celica, looking at the city. I vaguely remember something playing on the car stereo, and I’d like to think it was something by Depeche Mode, later a staple of our music collections, but I think I’m going to have admit it was Red Red Wine by UB40.

We spent the spring and summer together, parents and other "adults" worried that we were spending too much time together and getting too involved. Worried that if we continued, I wouldn't be able to serve an honorable 2-year mission for the church, because that's what boys of my faith did when they turned 19. I had a commitment to fulfill, and I never heard the end of it from my parents who paid the bills and my faith that paid for my sins. I owed them something. I was 19. It was time to go. 2 years out of the 20 I had been on this Earth was a reasonable 10% tithe to the organization that would cleanse my soul, right? Never mind the fact that I had learned to live and love according to the dictates of my soul, something very few people in this life accomplish. Maybe they were jealous?

Amy and I were in love. We did everything together. We found joy in the mundane, peace in the presence of each other, and joy in the experiences we shared. It wasn't just infatuation, it was real. That was the only time in my life that I didn't have any "what-ifs" about other women. I was just happy. We held nothing back. We were fearless together. We talked about our future children. I remember one night, sitting outside her mom's apartment talking about children, a cat jumped down in front of us. He lingered for awhile, like he was listening. Amy surmised that maybe the cat was the spirit of one of our unborn children. We weren't afraid of conversations like that. She didn't know this at the time, and this is difficult to describe, but when we were sharing that special intimate connection I remember feeling the innate desire to have a child with her. That was the only time I ever genuinely and naturally felt that, without some timeline or checklist driving me. It wasn't forced, necessary or required, it just was. That whole year, we never used any birth control. Somehow, those children never arrived. We let ourselves go, clumsily maybe, to a special place that no one could touch, yet everyone at the time seemed to be against.

We spent the month of June at her friend Jennifer’s house. Jennifer’s parents went to Europe for the month, but left Jennifer and her brother Brian home. Brian spent the month elsewhere, with friends, and Jennifer had the place to herself. Amy and I basically moved in. Party time. I sometimes wonder if Brian ever suspected what happened in his room during that month. Or on their kitchen counter, for that matter. Or the pool. Or the lawn in the backyard. We discovered that Amy (and eventually Jennifer) was bold enough to go “hey dude-ing” at the local Circle K and get older guys to buy us booze. (“Hey dude, will you buy us a couple 6-packs of Zima?”) It didn’t hurt that Amy was as sexy as she was, either. I mean, what would you do if those eyes and that body and that voice walked up to you and asked a simple favor? Show me a red-blooded ‘Merican man that would say no and I’ll show you the Loch Ness Monster. Jennifer was cute but I don’t remember her being as successful as Amy. We watched from afar and it was like shooting fish in a barrel. If I remember right, even though we would give them money, we got some booze for free from a few charitable souls that may have appreciated what she was asking for more than most. Yeah, we were into Zima in those days.

I got sick late that summer. Mononucleosis, with some complications that affected my liver. My mother told me it was a sign from God, and that maybe I should listen to it. I laid in bed for a few weeks, taking prescription steroids, drinking Gatorade, taking in the words of Rush Limbaugh (douchebag) and Cleon Skousen, the Mormon Philosopher, amongst others. I buried myself in the right-wing weirdness of my parents reading library.

What happened next, I don't fully understand, but it happened nonetheless. I got angry. I got angry at the fact that I was sick. I got angry that I wasn't progressing with my education. I got angry at myself for not living up to my parents expectations. I got angry at the people at church that wondered openly when I was going to put my papers in to serve a mission. I just got angry.

So guess what I did. Following a pattern I have discovered repeats itself when I contain my feelings, I went on an angry rampage. (Note: these are the times I need people that really understand me to talk to. I need fellow tribesmen with no hidden agendas. And as I have since learned, I really need to listen to them.) I ditched the hippie clothes and bought a whole new look, so I could look "more respectable". I resumed classes in the fall. I ignored the now. I ignored the journey. I ignored the flow. I ignored the gods. And in hindsight, I ignored my soul. Instead, I found some new goals and focused on them with single-minded determination. I didn’t bother to run them by my soul, I just took them at face value. This was good and bad. It was good in that I learned drive and determination and learned how to create momentum in my life. It was bad because I didn’t consider the consequences. So I moved forward. Consequences...and casualties...be damned.

Amy was a casualty of the next few months. She loved me. And I loved her. But I didn't take her with me on my journey then. I don't know if I could have, but the fact that I didn't really try will always haunt me. I had changed. Not entirely, but I had changed. I ignored the gods and tuned in to the "spirit" of going on my mission and getting my education completed. This, I was told, or perceived, was not compatible with my relationship with Amy. I was too young to have that kind of love. I was too inexperienced.

Or maybe I was too much of a rock star for those fat pathetic bastards behind the podium to accept.

I remember thinking, fuck this...I'm going to go get a job, an apartment with Amy, move out of my parents house, and go on with my life as my soul dictated. I remember apartment shopping with Amy. I remember planning it out...school loans, budgets, etc. I remember discussing the details. It was all very exciting. But the reality at the time was that I didn’t have it in me to take the jump. I’m sure Amy would have come with me. And who knows how it would have turned out? That is a what-if that will be with me forever.

But we had different journeys to follow. This I cannot deny…we were not meant for each other at that time. My mistake was in not acknowledging that to Amy and telling her, straight out, like a man, that we needed to go our separate paths for awhile. Instead, I got focused on school and work, and the phone calls and dates became few and far between. By the time December rolled around, I had already planned on moving to northern California to audition for the Blue Devils and spend the summer touring with them. At that point, we were so distant, yet still technically together, that I don’t even remember if she knew I was moving. Our relationship just vaporized.

I very clearly remember the last time I saw her before leaving for California in January of 94. She came over to my house in a car that her Grandma’s boyfriend at the time had given her. She was so happy. She had a job and school lined up. I sensed then that she was moving forward too, and I wonder if that night was a sign that we could move forward together. If it was, I didn’t read it. I just gave her a hug, didn’t invite her in, said something like “that’s great”, and essentially blew her off. I can only imagine how much pain I inflicted. I never really knew, but I knew.

California was a big change. Alone, finding new friends, and working my ass off to get established. I started calling Amy’s Grandmother to get a hold of her, but I never got a call back. I think I started realizing that there was a comfort in her presence and proximity, and without it there was definitely something lacking in my universe. The sad part is, 16 years later, that void hasn’t been fulfilled. But the Blue Devils had a reputation for working hard and playing hard, and that lifestyle kept my mind busy and helped me dull the pain and ignore the void. So I continued.

2 months later I decided I had enough. I wonder in hindsight if Blue Devils was just an illusion, something I had created and built up in my mind to get away, because I knew if I stayed home I would have to continue down the path towards the 2-year mission. I wasn’t ready to be out there, and I wasn’t feeling what I thought I would be feeling. I was depressed, far away from home, and alone. Blue Devils had changed and my expectations were wrong. It wasn’t my vibe. So I left.

I left quickly. I packed up everything I owned into my red Toyota MR2 and headed…south. Didn’t even know where, I just started driving. I intended to take the Pacific Coast Highway south until I came to a decision. I drove out across the bay into Marin county, drove around for awhile, then back south across the Golden Gate bridge into the city. It was on that bridge that I decided I had nothing else to chase. I remember the moment well. It was on the bridge, and the sun came through the clouds just as “All This Time” by Sting came on the car stereo, one of my all-time favorite tunes. It was time to get ready to go on a mission, and I just had to accept the fact that I had to do it. Later, I also decided, that no matter how much I wanted to, I wouldn’t try to contact Amy anymore. I had to leave her behind and move on. But I never could.

And all this time the river flowed
In the falling light of a northern sun
If I had my way I'd take a boat from the river
Men go crazy in congregations
But they only get better
One by one
One by one...

We ran into each other in June of 94, at the Coffee Plantation down on Mill Ave in Tempe. That was one of the only “cool” places (along with Hippie Gypsy and Trails) that underage kids could hang out at, so it was always packed back in the day. We went there often. That night happened to be a night of weakness for me…I had gotten drunk and decided to go hit Coffee Plantation with my good friend Levi, for old times sake. And there she was, sitting at a table with Jennifer and Jennifer’s future husband. I sat down.

“Hey…I thought you were dead!” I said, full of drunken energy and excitement. She reciprocated with “I thought YOU were dead!”

We had these big, fake smiles on, trying to not be awkward. It was a quick, cold conversation. I probably confirmed what she suspected; that I had turned into the typical college douchbag that we used to make fun of together. And I probably did to some degree. I had left behind the artist that I loved to chase some fake glittering dream. I decided to choose rather than embrace.

Jennifer sensed the awkwardness and indicated it was time to leave. We said out terse goodbyes, and she walked off as Levi and I stayed at the table.

That was the last time I saw her.

(Many years later in February of 2005 at a pub in Denver where Levi was living at the time, we talked about the Amy/Jennifer summer over beers. I found out that Levi had found out through a mutual friend how angry Amy was about the whole thing and how she had written me off completely. That discussion and revelation sigificantly intensified and renewed the regret I felt.)

1994 continued. I left on my mission in January of 1995. While at the MTC and while in my first area, I wrote 3 or 4 letters to Amy, trying to set the past straight at first, then just reporting on what I was doing. I never heard back, so I figured that was it…she really didn’t want anything to do with me. But I still held out hope. What I didn't know at the time was that my parents never delivered those letters. They warned me not to stay in touch, and I suspected they would hesitate to deliver them. I was right. I could have sent them to her Grandmother, but I was afraid she would do the same. In any case, they never got delivered. A year later, at a zone conference, I ran into Elder Martin. I found out he went to the same high school as Amy and graduated the same year. Of course I mentioned her, and he replied “Oh yeah, she just got married a few months ago.”

My heart sank.

At that point, I knew that I absolutely had to let it go.

Amy was happy, presumably, and moving on. The door was now shut, locked, and forever barred. Many years later I looked her up on classmates.com and found a picture of her and her husband and 2 kids. She looked happy, and that was enough to forever keep me from trying to contact her. I probably needed to, if anything just for closure, but something kept me from that.

They say a city in the desert lies
The vanity of an ancient king
But the city lies in broken pieces
Where the wind howls and the vultures sing
These are the works of man
This is the sum of our ambition
It would make a prison of my life
If you become another's wife
With every prison blown to dust
My enemies walk free
I'm mad about you

I'm mad about you

I married in August of 1998. At the time, I was packed and ready for the long haul of eternal marriage. I married a good girl. Smart, beautiful, disciplined, but different from Amy. Not that Amy lacked those qualities. But my new wife did not have the same soul as Amy. And, in hindsight, it was Amy’s soul that ultimately, outside of the eyes, the demeanor, the sense of humor, the morbid curiosity, the smile, the laugh, the taste in music, her taste, the sense of fashion, the appreciation of the unknown, the love of life, the willingness to explore the human experience…it was her soul that fulfilled me, way back in the summer of 93.

I still ask myself why I never contacted her. I suspect what kept me was fear of seeing her again and having my feelings towards her renewed. The years had dulled the pain, and hopefully it had on her side too. Why risk re-opening old wounds, or worse, re-discovering old love and ruining two perfectly good marriages? However, my ex-wife once looked her up. Not sure why, or what she was thinking, but her good friend advised her it was a bad idea. I honestly can't image what my ex hoped to accomplish by doing that, but I'm glad she didn't follow through with that idea.

Amy would show up in my dreams occasionally, and I would feel that summer again. Every time those dreams ended with me waking up and feeling the same heartache. It was 6 years into our marriage before I confronted my demon, and told my wife that I still had flashbacks to the days of happiness I had with an old girlfriend. That was during one of the many times our marriage almost crashed and burned. That revelation didn't go over so well, and led to the aforementioned research project to find Amy, which of course fortunately never happened. In any case, I decided to fight for the marriage, to put the past to rest, and to move on. I can honestly say that I did. Over the next 4 years, the dreams nearly went away, became less vivid, and I moved on. Regardless of that self-healing that took place, every so often the subject of Amy would come up, and I would keep getting the same advice; look her up, get closure. Most of this came from my mom, who had a similar demon, and an even crazier story. Some of it came from the women I saw after I separated from my wife. But I never did. Didn’t feel right.

So where does this story end?

My divorce was final on March 3rd, 2009.

A few days later on March 11th I got an automated email from Match.com with my “daily matches”. Amy was one of my daily matches on that day. I have since found out that she separated from her ex-husband of 13 years the week before my ex-wife and I separated.

Her divorce was final on March 4th, 2009

We went to dinner for my 35th birthday last week.

And the journey continues.

Thinking about thinking of you
Summertime think it was June
Yeah think it was June
Laying back, head on the grass
Children grown having some laughs
Yeah having some laughs.

You made me feel like the one
Made me feel like the one
The one
You made me feel like the one
Made me feel like the one
The one

Drinking back, drinking for two
Drinking with you
And drinking was new
Sleeping in the back of my car
We never went far
Needed to go far

You made me feel like the one
Made me feel like the one
The one
You made me feel like the one
Made me feel like the one
The one

I don't know where we are going now
I don't know where we are going now

Wake up cold coffee and juice
Remembering you
What happened to you?
I wonder if we'll meet again
Talk about us instead
Talk about why did it end

You made me feel like the one
Made me feel like the one
The one
You made me feel like the one
Made me feel like the one
The one

I don't know where we are going now
I don't know where we are going now

So take a look at me now