And then I remembered in a burst of sudden clarity, I wrote my brother an email. It wasn’t nice, I mean it said I loved him, but it said other stuff too.

I believe everything I wrote, and I’m not angry. But I’m worried I’ve hurt him in my mad rush to tell him how I was hurting. Maybe I should’ve waited. Or maybe I did the right thing, or maybe I didn’t.

My brother is a huge part of my life, I’ve never stood firm about something with him, nothing ever felt this important.

I just want to do the right thing. So at least there’s that.

When we were little I was a pain in his rump. I wasn’t a terrible kid, but I wasn’t as nice to him as I wish I would’ve been. He is mine afterall.

I am now in the throes of yet more drama with him and I feel awful. Low, down in the dust… I want to cry and stomp and make him see inside my heart, to see the me, the little one deep inside. The one that wouldn’t hurt him. But he doesn’t see it and that hurts big.

Relationships are hard.

I am job hunting, trying, and I will continue to try. I will work hard and not be vengeful or mean. I think I am paying for past transgressions. I hope to be clean when this challenging time is finished. I hope to start fresh.

One thing is for certain. As long as you’re breathing you’re alive, and if you’re alive? You can do anything.

Here’s to fresh starts and trying all the harder when all you really want to do is quit.

Recently she stole something from me. It was nothing big, or expensive, or something she needed. She just took it. She admitted she took it in an email, and now? Now she didn’t take it.

Whatever.

She came to my house, she sat in my kitchen and she was enjoying herself. I looked her in the eye and told her “what I am going to tell you is going to hurt your feelings, but it’s true and right.” Then I told her if she ever stole from me again I would rain hell down onto her head, I would call the police and press charges. I would leave her with the police to think about it.

She is now quite angry with me. That’s ok, I love her. I told her I loved her. She is so wrapped up in herself she cannot see how she hurts others. I will sacrifice how she feels about me for the betterment of her. I only hope that someday she’ll realize it. That someday she’ll love me again.

She cooks and bakes and really loves it. She’s going to school to be a chef.

When she was small she became very ill. The was a bit there where we were all scared to death. It was then I saw her strength, her quiet understanding and her ability to move on. She’s amazing.

I breathe easier knowing all the kids are on earth, and today I celebrate this one. Happy Birthday Mal!

I am a fan of books, movies, music… I am fan of stories, stories that are either told visually or verbally, musically or a combination of all.

I love soundtracks. I have seen movies that aren’t great, but the soundtrack made the whole experience. Think about the movies Gladiator, 28 Days Later, The Godfather, Eight Mile, Black Hawk Down, True Romance and I Am Number Four… Odd mix of stories? Yes, but everyone of them had a soundtrack that stuck with me.

I collect soundtracks, I love Hans Zimmer, Thomas Newman, Howard Shore, Yan Tierson, Eddie Vedder (Yes, the one from Pearl Jam), Eminem (Yes Slim Shady)… you’ve probably never heard of most, but they have all touched you during movies. What would film be without music? Odd, not as enthralling, not as beautiful or memorable.

So next time your seeing a flick, take a moment to listen, it may just be that you like the music better than the story.

Here are few of my favorites:

Eight Mile

Into the Wild

Gladiator

Hear My Song

Any Woody Allen Film, but especially Hannah and Her Sisters

Black Hawk Down

Requiem for a Dream

The Little Princess

I am Number Four

Battle Star Gallactica (the series)

28 Days Later

Emma

This is short list, but well worth checking out. Listen up and you might just be surprised.

What I see is a great deal of judgment (ok, I’m judging just by saying this). Judgment of who we love, what we eat, the music we like, if we smoke, if we drink, how we live, what church we attend, if we wear something to cover our heads, if we don’t wear something to cover our heads, what color our skin is and finally how much we earn and if we share the correct percentage with the “church”…

So while the God-fearing people of the world are busy worrying about what the rest of us are doing, saying, wearing, loving and reading… What are we doing?

I see Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton being worshiped. Why? Because they are wealthy. We worship riches, beauty, skinny little women who look like adolescent boys. We are more interested in Brangelina than we are in our troops DYING overseas. I am not talking about everyone, but enough of us.

Not long ago I was trying to remember the name of a country in Africa, no one could tell me any of those countries (those in my conversation), but two of them could name all of Brangelina’s children.

And, with that being said, why can’t we leave those poor kids alone? Why do they have to grow up with flashbulbs going off every time they walk out the door? I am as guilty as the next, it’s interesting, but is it my business? Is it information I need to know? No, it isn’t.

I need to know about my family, about my job, my place in the world, my own beliefs. I need to remember what to worship, and while I keep that private and don’t share? I do worship.

Neil Gaiman’s “American God’s” looks at this a bit. What the old gods do when the new god’s come in. I think he had a point. What we believe and watch and think effects those around us. What if Einstein had been wondering what the Kardashians were doing instead of wondering about the clock in the town square?

We are an intelligent people, I think we just forgot to think…

Fall seems to be coming to the Mid-West earlier this year. I’m happy about that, I love the Fall. There is something about this season that inspires me, makes me feel like more is possible… No sure if it’s the planet’s location, or the sun’s or just mine in the world.

My Dad is still with us, all is well at home, I am still looking for work and trying really hard, but it all feels ok.

Rain away, I’m happy.

Now I am a member I find so many new things, see pictures of never seen before babies, hear stories from across the world, keep friendships alive.

Usually I am not good at keeping friendships going if there is any pain involved, I am the first one to run. I am bad about this and I am going to try to get better. I need to be a better person. I want to be a better friend.

I suppose it’s the pain that keeps me away… regardless if they caused it. I just have a horrible time getting past it and going back in there. Then it’s too late to go back in there… I’m not angry I’m flippin’ anxious! I am trying to learn to get over this.

So if you know me and I am haven’t been around? Well, you can be pretty sure I’ve been in some form of angst ridden torment about it. I love people. I love my friends. I just have a very hard time getting past myself. Sorry.

I have a digital reading device, and I use it, so I am not one to criticize, but I am worried.  Things are changing and I’ll miss the smell of a book store, and the way a book cracks when you open it the first time. Standing in line and starting the book prior to buying it. The way ink smells on paper, the way the paper feels.

Books take up space in my house, and in my head, I just hope they continue to take up space in my world. Those words on paper are not just words, they are a package, a tactile experience, a safe place for us geeks to congregate and shop for the next big idea, or great story, or just to be surrounded by a million ideas at once.

Here’s to Borders and all of the bibliophile establishments…