Wanted: Young John

For the greater portion of the working population, our job descriptions typically match our personal description. Ex.:

WANTED: Organized, professionally minded individual

capable of assisting, full time, a busy Law Firm.

Job Req. include office management, shipping

and receiving of confidential information,

assisting in staff prep. for meeting and transactions

and proper direction of a voluminous call center.

.

The above want at represents a need for a highly organized, helpful, personal individual with experience in an office setting.

Typically, the person for this job is a grumpy, ornery, overweight older woman, unmarried for a reason, who never says anything rude (without a smile.)

So then, you ask, just who is this Young John caracter? Have you any guesses? You have seen him here for over a year, had a chance to learn his deepest desires, some secrets, and some gossip about our not-so-hero. Is he a construction worker? A doctor, a Pastor, or a Lawyer, a clerk, or a pizza delivery man? Just what is he?

Does Young's profession define him, or does Young John Define his profession?

I will remind you of what you already know and let you decide for yourself.

Young, well versed in all musical styles, impacts, and artists, movements and sources, does not indeed, play a piano, guitar, fife, or cello himself.

Young, with a great respect for the written word and a love of classical and modern literature, who is not without a conversational understanding of French, Spanich, Latin, Yiddish, Jive and Russian, does not spend his days writing or teaching nor in analysis of literature as a greater part of his general profession.

He does not conduct a train.

Or deliver flowers, confections, medications, or advertisements.

Young would never expect to be hired as an executive chef,

No matter how greatful one might be to eat at his table.

He has not wasted years of schooling stocking shelves at a local Wal-mart either.

Young doesn't NOT have a job.

Young simply happens to be on of the very few stand out men who forms his own description, who rises above his mere position to grant the world a view of an unencombered Young.

Young works diligently to support his new bride.

Young loves his career as if it were a tactile extension of his very being and nature.

But Young is so much more and often times viewed as less than the tasks he performs to pay the bills.

Can you say the same?

Freedom?

I have been stewing about this for a few whole years now, and you get to see the result of all this pent up aggression. And yes, aggression is the correct term for it all.

If you know anything about me at all you know that while I am generally placid, I have my quirks. Some topics of which that are guaranteed to light my fire include:

• Oogies in my Orange Juice
• People who insist on asking stupid questions in lecture
• Chemical birth control

I have finally decided that today is the day i resolve my feelings, forget my pain an move on. And I'm not talking about confronting a pulpy orange juice, that is just disgusting. And you stupid question askers, you will feel my wrath for at least another 6 months. It is time to let go of my hurt and anger and horrible associations with "The Pill," "The Ring," and "The Shot." Here goes a lot of stuff...

Yesterday I read this article in the Baltimore Sun which just added on more delightful reason to my ever growing list, "Why I hate Chemical Birth Control (And why you should too.)" It is a simple, mostly harmless article about birth control and how it deadens our logic as women and causes us to prefer the pheromones our first cousin gives off to that of a person with completely different genetic make-up. A mistake that can lead to a host of awkward conversations at family events as well as the increased potential for miscarriages and birth defect and diseases such as Tay-Sachs.

After ingesting this information, I, in my usual way, shook my head, crossed my arms and sucked my teeth.

You see, I hate birth control and everything it means. I think it is the most ridiculous answer man has ever given to a question no one should be allowed to ask : What to do about that pesky side effect of Nature, conception? Touted as the answer to Women's Lib, we have been told for nearly 50 years that birth control is a sign of our freedom.

"We finally have a choice! To be pregnant or not to be pregnant, that is your decision! Don't count on HIM."

HELLO? Did anyone go to health class? It was our decision from the beginning. Long before you heaved that sigh in his ear and kissed that french kiss, you had a choice. Regardless of the moral consequences that the freedom to terminate an enumerable amount of lives has caused (In case you didn't know, the pill and the ring and other estrogen based birth control methods allow for eggs to be fertilized and grow into tiny, thriving blastocysts-yes, little babies- and then flushes them from your body like nuclear waste at the end of each cycle.) look with me for one moment at the physical side effects women put themselves through:

• Blood clots
• Hormonal imbalances
• Sterility
• Heart failure
• Low/ High blood pressure
• Anxiety, Depression, and thoughts of Suicide
• Extremely long/ short periods
• Weight gain
• Nausea
• Vomiting
• Headaches
• Dizziness
• Fatigue
• Bone Density Loss.... ETC ETC ETC

Why you crazy women choose to do these things to yourselves, I will never understand, nor will I try to. And this isn't even about you. Go on. continue to feed you ovaries caustic materials, if you don't mind, how can I?

This is about me, and how I feel, and the fact that this keeps me awake at night, strains my relationships with some people and really just ends in me embittered towards them. i have to resort to the old model of communication for how this makes me feel:

When you... Tell me to keep my opinions to my self

It makes me feel... sad and worthless

Because... I have thoughts too.

The system in our culture is imbalanced and tilted AGAINST my favor. It is acceptable and even "responsible" to use hormonal birth control, but for those of us that prefer to wait until they are capable and secure enough to support a child to have sex, we are shooed to the kids table while the adults go on Sex and The City and parade themselves around us in a high and exalted fashion. Or (gasp) those of us that, while we see the allure in another's eye, and while we fall in sexual sin, choose not to alter our bodies natural chemistry and opt for barrier or spermicidal measures of safe sex.

Why is it ok for you to mock, shame and even make me feel left out of the cool club because of my choices? You truly don't know enough about me, nor do you care enough to have the right to treat me disdainfully.

And your answer to me is "Well, keep your opinions to yourself and no one will judge you"

Excuse me?

You can flaunt your choices left and right, throwing your judgement on me if i don't follow suit, telling me about your health issues while I sit, lips pursed unable to solve your problems for you? I don't judge you, I just tell you the truth and how I feel.

But you? You can judge me?

Sorry for caring.

Do you care? Have you ever once asked me why I feel the way I do?

Perhaps you said that I am an extreme conservative when I say that if you don't like condoms, maybe you shouldn't have sex, or you should be in a committed and stable relationship and place in your life.

Perhaps you tell me that I only adopt my views to threaten your manhood, and that I would gladly give into the next man that comes around.

Perhaps you don't listen to any of my outcries and you threaten to take away your approval of me if I don't comply. Maybe you're the one that holds my arm down on the table and forces me to make a decision I will regret for the rest of my life because you want to break my spirit into a million indeterminable pieces.

Maybe I am just an old-school, back woods, baby loving extremist.

Or maybe, I am a respectful, loving, calm, truthful heart with a story to tell that if you cared about for one moment-who knows- I might change your life.

Sleep Dreams, Sweet Well.

After a series of terribly fitfully nights of sleep, I have come to a few conclusions:
I am too much in love.
I want things from you that scare, worry, and even embarrass me.
I need to go to bed earlier.

How can you be too much in love? Being too much in love is when your heart is ahead of you. Being too much in love is needing something from another person that you can't put into words. Being too much in love is representative of every challenge in my life.

I spend most of my day in a sort of half-reality, daydreaming about you. Which is useless, in my opinion. Daydreams serve no purpose other than distraction.They can't bring into being all the things I wish of you. They can't be representations of real truth in any way.

They are just the idle wishes of a girl very much in love who sees a great many things on the imaginary silver screen of her life with you.

Idle wishes and thoughts that take me more than a few miles ahead of you ad your patient heart that I love so much. Lofty ideas of grandeur.

My daydreams don't help you.
Or me.
Nor do they make you're life any better.
And is that not what this love is about?
Loving you positively, putting you first in all things, effecting you for successful change.
Is love only useful when is produces a positive change?

And what do I want from you, Boy? Everything. I even intimidate myself with that admission of need.

I don't think I can do this. I just don't think I have it in me to love you- well anyone- this much. I don't have the capacity to give you everything. I already tried this and he just ran with my everything. My dreams, my realities, my love, my heart, my future were wrapped up in him. What if you run too? What if you take this little bit I offer with you? My simple, sweet trusting soul? My time, my energy, my patience.

They always do go, you know, Boy. They never want me for a family. They never want to commit. They never can bear it for long.

But if you want it-
If you will truly take everything I have and stay right here with me-
I will flourish.

I will find more and more everyday to give you. I will shower you with gifts from my heart until you have no where else to hold them. I won't even beg much of you. Just be here. Just take what I give you with the understanding that ever breath I breathe on your neck, every kiss I bestow on your lips, every dream a whisper to you on a Sunday morning when getting out of bed is just a fruitless effort because we two are much happier there where we can hold eachother and hear every smile and sigh every sigh together, is precious.

I just want you.
And that is why I am too much in love with you. I want things from you that I can only assume are impossible because no one has ever attempted them before.

Love is...

Warm.
Quiet.
Calm.
Sharing moments together.
Expressible in 160 characters or less.
Sunday Mornings.
Sunlight in your hair.
Long lonely drives down a rainy highway with rocking tunes blarring.
Trusting you from the moment I laid eyes on you.
Knowing what we are is right.
Feeling sad because someone hurt you a mllion moments before I ever knew you.
Not needing to argue. Ever. About anything.
Telling the truth, even if it means getting in trouble.
Unassuming.
Being unable to talk, think or write about anyone else.
Trusting me to party on my own.
A Rocking chair in the bedroom.
A kiss on the hand.
A lost moment.
A lingering eye.
Ticklish.
Being excited to be alone with you.
Young John.
A long beautiful song.
Tennis rackets.
NOT never having to say you're sorry, BUT knowing WHEN to say you're sorry.
Frosty beverages.
Open minds, open hearts and most importantly, open lips.
Simple.
Scrapple.
A smile that says as much as, "I love you and need you and can't wait for you."
Quietly admitting me into your life because it works.
You.

What We ARE Doing

is simple, and clearly meaningful.

The Boy and I had a chat last night in the afterglow of my television on XM Lucy.

I am learning a lot about him and liking what I see more and more.

After a very delightful weekend of essential nothingness (hanging out in the mall, dinner with the family, lunch with the friends, a movie that we loved together etc.) we were in the midst of a very nice feeling and we began to just chat about everything. And I admitted something very candidly for the first time out loud.

It's something you and he probably knew, but I wasn't admitting just yet (just in case) In case of what, you ask? In case he didn't like it, I suppose.

"I just see a lot of potential in this relationship."

Because I do. I am very much looking forward to the forward motion we are achieving. The "I like hanging out with you" to the "I like you" to the "I love you" was such a smooth set of transitions, that the "I am so glad I found you" to the "I want you around for a very long time" to the "Look what we did with our love" phases are just a thrilling thought.

Very thrilling indeed. I feel like I am flying, but this time with a net and a parachute and tandem.