Madi > Recent Status Updates

But when it does work, it can feel like an actual, honest-to-god miracle, which is what love is, after all. That's the whole point. Any long-term partnership, really, is an act of stubborn faith.
[…]

We entered into all that chaos together, certain of only one thing, and that was that we'd be better off facing it as a team.

Our marriage is what we launch from and land in, a place where we can each be thoroughly, comfortably, often annoyingly ourselves. We've come to accept that this sphere we dwell in together, the energy and emotion between us, may not always be tidy and ordered, or exactly how one or both of us wants it, but the plain and reassuring fact is, it endures.

What I want more than anything is for them to prioritize learning the skills of independence-how to make a living, how to keep themselves healthy, fed, and happy—well ahead of signing up for a lifetime spent with another person. I tell them to focus on becoming whole people, able to stand on their own. When you know your own light, you are then better prepared to share it with another person.

I DIDN'T KNOW what she was thinking or feeling Her body had become unfamiliar to me. And yet, at the very same time, I recognized everything about her. My sister, Fern. In the whole wide world, my only red poker chip. As if I were looking in a mirror.

I don't know that I've ever heard the voice in my head so audibly. She didn't sound like me.
Who was that then, steering the clown car between my ears? What did she do when she wasn't talking to me? What mischiefs, what detours? I'm listening, I told her, but not out loud, in case I was being watched. She didn't answer.

Newness, in general, almost always requires an extra degree of caution. But here's the thing: We also sometimes over-accommodate our fears. It's easy to misinterpret a jolt of fear or a wash of anxiety as a cue to step back, stay put, and avoid experiencing something new.

I’d love to produce a clear, bullet-pointed set of steps to help you conquer every uncertainty and hasten the climb to whatever heights you hope to reach. I wish it were that simple. If I had a formula, I'd hand it right over. But keep in mind that I, too, lie in bed at night sometimes, wondering whether I'm good enough. Please know that, like everyone else, I find myself needing to overcome.

I’ve seen Stephen King correct his son’s writing (on twitter) before, and here’s an opportunity for me to do the same haha.

“He might of just gone to wash himself off.”

Joe - it’s “might have” not might of. Sheesh.

“I had to remember to trust, just trust that I was where I was supposed to be in that very moment. Maybe I wouldn’t know why, but soon enough, when I was ready, I would."

I w

“A deer suddenly leaps into the road, right in front of the car, the headlights making its eyes glow.”

You’re kidding me right?

A lot of things aren’t making sense. I’m not sure if it’s due to an unreliable narrator anymore, or poor writing.

Excerpt from “Pop Art”

“One afternoon I told her about Art.

That's so sad. I'm so sorry.

she wrote to me in wax pencil. She put her hand over mine.

What happened? Did he run out of
air?

"Ran out of sky," I said.”

This is is going to sound crazy, but I want you to listen to me without laughing, because either I’m right or I’m going off my rocker and need sympathy.

Even though she’s my older sister, it hasn’t felt that way in a long time. Age doesn’t always mean maturity. Sometimes it just means they’ve spent more time on earth, and the only things to show for it are diminished bones and skin etched with deep ridges. Not wisdom. Not value, just time.

But sometimes we’re not the people we want to be. We just are.

I pass by medical staff and patients. Every one of them looks tired, and I don’t believe it’s from a lack of sleep. I think they’re tired of life. Sometimes life gets old before we do.

It’s nearly impossible to hide anything from Beth. She was the first one to even suspect my addiction.

[…]

My mother knew next, but it took her longer. Parents have a blind spot for their children.

I don’t want to cry. But it feels like I have to, like I don’t have a choice in the matter. I read about crying once, when I couldn’t stop after Dad left. I wanted to know why it happens or what the point of it is. What I learned is that no one knows for sure. One theory is that it tells others we’re in pain, triggering a human connection.

The flapping butterflies are gone from my stomach, the ones that Brian always conjures up. In their place is a sinking feeling, a warning that something bad is about to happen. I know this because I’ve felt it before . . .

That’s how he and I are—a misshapen thing that was once made with love and molded to perfection. Even the most perfect things crumble under pressure.

My stomach drops then flutters up toward my lungs. My heart races faster than I used to be able to run.

Addiction is exhausting for both the users and the ones they use.

Death reminds us that life isn’t infinite and that one day, our time will come too. We pause to listen to that reminder, to acknowledge it, to show it the respect it demands, and then we spread out into the world like pappi on a dying dandelion, waiting for it to call us again, hoping the next call will be to gather, rather than to be gathered around.
Knock, knock.
Don’t worry. It’s not for you...this time.


[2/2]

Nothing brings people together better than death. It’s like the sound of a high-pitched whistle for a dog that has strayed from its owner. When it happens, they always come.


[1/2]

Life was such a wheel that no man could stand upon it for long.
And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again.

“We’re in Boulder again,” Tom murmured softly. “We really are. C-I-T-Y-L-I-M-I-T-S, that spells Boulder, laws, yes.”
Stu clapped him on the shoulder and tossed his cigarette away. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s get our bad selves home.”

“I think maybe we’re going to get to Boulder, Tommy. I think we were meant to get there from the first. I’d like you to wear that, if you don’t mind. And if you ever need a favor and wonder who to ask, you look at that and remember Stuart Redman. All right?”


2/2

“What is it, Stu?”
“It’s a Greek symbol. I remember it from a long time ago, on a doctor program called ‘Ben Casey.’ It means infinity, Tom. Forever.” He reached across to Tom and held the hand that held the medallion.


1/2

Tom burst into the Convention Hall. Saw the big projector set up, completely threaded. Saw the big convention movie screen pulled down. Saw two folding chairs set up in the middle of the huge, empty floor.
“Wow,” he whispered, and his expression of naked wonder had been all Stu could have hoped for.


[2/2]