And despite the pile of unwrapped gifts on the floor, the crackling fire, and the christmas music... I feel so.... heartbroken.
Not home sick. Not anything I can actually relate to or put a finger on.
I just can't shake this sadness that's been casting shadows over my head for the past few months.
I just can't stop thinking about a line from my only favorite chic flick, You've Got Mail... When Frank asks Kathleen "What about you? Is there someone else?" She responds, "No. No, but... but there's the dream of someone else"
07 December 2008
15 September 2008
Well,
Off to the boat soon.
Dear Lord... I know I'll see you out there on the water...
In a way, we sailors, we too walk on water, for months at a time. Working, sleeping, eating, praying.Every day is like the one before, with little variation. Structured, I call it. Others call it monotonous. But for me, it's like a sweet release. A month out there becomes a single moment in time, where I can take a deep breath of salt-heavy air to clear my head, and sort out all the current craziness in my life. Then, forgetting it all in the rush and attention to detail that is involved in staying alive on a flight deck the hours fly by. Tumbling, whirling the hours become moments and before you know it, you're calling dibs on a shower, and you're soon climbing into a tiny rack. Tiny? well for some. But for my less than five foot two stature, the rack is not tiny. it's perfect. it's my safe haven where I can think about everything without distaction. Where I can reason, argue, see all sides of each story, and finally come to a conclusion. All by myself. A place where I can make decisions to change the things I can, and to accept the things I cannot change.
And a place where I can talk to God.
Like I said, dear Lord... I'll see you out there.
Love, from Dayna
(i posted this in another blog... not linked to this one, but the subject was worthy)
Dear Lord... I know I'll see you out there on the water...
In a way, we sailors, we too walk on water, for months at a time. Working, sleeping, eating, praying.Every day is like the one before, with little variation. Structured, I call it. Others call it monotonous. But for me, it's like a sweet release. A month out there becomes a single moment in time, where I can take a deep breath of salt-heavy air to clear my head, and sort out all the current craziness in my life. Then, forgetting it all in the rush and attention to detail that is involved in staying alive on a flight deck the hours fly by. Tumbling, whirling the hours become moments and before you know it, you're calling dibs on a shower, and you're soon climbing into a tiny rack. Tiny? well for some. But for my less than five foot two stature, the rack is not tiny. it's perfect. it's my safe haven where I can think about everything without distaction. Where I can reason, argue, see all sides of each story, and finally come to a conclusion. All by myself. A place where I can make decisions to change the things I can, and to accept the things I cannot change.
And a place where I can talk to God.
Like I said, dear Lord... I'll see you out there.
Love, from Dayna
(i posted this in another blog... not linked to this one, but the subject was worthy)
13 September 2008
10 September 2008
A poem I wrote in another blog
cloudy eyes and sailing thoughts
Again on watch, as my poetry goes
It seems like my only inspiration these days.
The olympiad sounds from the screen behind
But it's near three am so it's all replays.
If you'll wait a moment, I'll make a note
In the duty log, zero three hundred -- secure
Four and a half hours left, thank god!
Then out of this uniform and in bed for sure.
I'm distracted you know, so much going on
In my head: a constant tornado of sorts;
And I'm exhausted, can't wait for my thoughts
-Dissapointed ships- to secure in their ports.
So, driving home, soon - not soon enough
I'll breathe "Deo Gratias" at the thought of my bed
I so welcome sleep, which keeps me from thinking
And for a moment erases the things that were said.
(the url for this blog came from the title of this poem)
Again on watch, as my poetry goes
It seems like my only inspiration these days.
The olympiad sounds from the screen behind
But it's near three am so it's all replays.
If you'll wait a moment, I'll make a note
In the duty log, zero three hundred -- secure
Four and a half hours left, thank god!
Then out of this uniform and in bed for sure.
I'm distracted you know, so much going on
In my head: a constant tornado of sorts;
And I'm exhausted, can't wait for my thoughts
-Dissapointed ships- to secure in their ports.
So, driving home, soon - not soon enough
I'll breathe "Deo Gratias" at the thought of my bed
I so welcome sleep, which keeps me from thinking
And for a moment erases the things that were said.
(the url for this blog came from the title of this poem)
Wow
I have so much to say, and so little time. Guess it doesn't help that I can't type. But that's besides the point; for now at least.
I just want to say that this blog was inspired somehow by a certain friend who writes down random thoughts...
My sister assured me one day in response to my "I just don't feel pretty today" that I was beautiful on the inside... angry, but beautiful.
She's right you know. And I've been telling people that for years. No ever seems to believe me. Steven might; and I only say this because a couple weeks ago, i told him that the rental car lady was getting on my nerves, and his response was "don't hurt nobody"... Kind of funny actually, since I can't remember the last time I did physically cause someone pain. Nevertheless, his assessment was accurate. And Cassie's too. She does know, for sure.
I am angry on the inside.
This leave was supposed to be good. It was. However, certain circumstances have caused that anger to rise almost to the boiling over point. Good thing I have my sisters to vent to. The whole house thing... mom... matt... oh, just thinking about it makes me seethe! As often as I jokingly say that I'm going to punch (such and such) in the face... man, I really think that I'd feel a whole lot better if I could accomplish that goal. But I know that there are better ways of releasing one's frustration, and here we have this blog. . . secret, somewhat, yet so public.
I am angry on the inside.
Yet those with whom I work, and those who see me often tell me that they almost never see me without a smile on my face. Well, it's true I am a cheerful person... I guess that's where I have been so blessed: the cheer in my nature blances out the anger in my heart.
If I write more, I'll not get to sleep, so good night.
I just want to say that this blog was inspired somehow by a certain friend who writes down random thoughts...
My sister assured me one day in response to my "I just don't feel pretty today" that I was beautiful on the inside... angry, but beautiful.
She's right you know. And I've been telling people that for years. No ever seems to believe me. Steven might; and I only say this because a couple weeks ago, i told him that the rental car lady was getting on my nerves, and his response was "don't hurt nobody"... Kind of funny actually, since I can't remember the last time I did physically cause someone pain. Nevertheless, his assessment was accurate. And Cassie's too. She does know, for sure.
I am angry on the inside.
This leave was supposed to be good. It was. However, certain circumstances have caused that anger to rise almost to the boiling over point. Good thing I have my sisters to vent to. The whole house thing... mom... matt... oh, just thinking about it makes me seethe! As often as I jokingly say that I'm going to punch (such and such) in the face... man, I really think that I'd feel a whole lot better if I could accomplish that goal. But I know that there are better ways of releasing one's frustration, and here we have this blog. . . secret, somewhat, yet so public.
I am angry on the inside.
Yet those with whom I work, and those who see me often tell me that they almost never see me without a smile on my face. Well, it's true I am a cheerful person... I guess that's where I have been so blessed: the cheer in my nature blances out the anger in my heart.
If I write more, I'll not get to sleep, so good night.
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