Running in a July Thunderstorm

July 9, 2010

Wearing my jogging pants and a gray t-shirt, I slipped on my black and gray Nikes and stepped outside. I had my iPod wrapped up in my pocket with the ear buds laced up through my shirt and appearing at my neck line so the cord wouldn’t bounce around too much as I ran. Putting a bud in each ear, I pushed PLAY and sucked in a deep breath. As I picked up my feet and began my jog, “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” by Death Cab For Cutie began playing in rhythm with the pit-pat-pit-pat sounds from my feet hitting the pavement.

Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark…

My feet were hitting the pavement in same steady rhythm: pit-pat-pit-pat. My breath was coming in even gasps while I focused on the lyrics of the song rather than the ligaments in my knees aching in protest at my urging to move faster and loosen up already. Lightning brightened the night sky, reflecting off the low-hanging clouds over the trees.

… The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
In the blackest of rooms

If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no’s on their vacancy signs

If there’s no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I’ll follow you into the dark
Then I’ll follow you into the dark.

I felt the first drop of rain hit my cheek. Another on my nose. Then my arm. Next, my neck. I began to blink quickly, attempting to keep the rain from piercing my eyes. Then, “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol began to play, steadying my pace while the pitter-patter of rain picks up, mingling with the pit-pat-pit-pat of my feet falling on pavement.

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?...

A car drives by, its headlights illuminating the penny-sized raindrops splashing onto the pavement, revealing the little splattering explosions of rain water as they hit the ground.

… I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?...

More flashing in the sky—the lightning welcoming the booming thunderheads as they roll in from the North. I keep my pace steady as the lightning continues to periodically illuminate my surroundings in the darkness between the streetlamps with a dull bluish-gray hue. The thunder was nearly drowning out the sounds of the song, but I kept listening as I ran.

… All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes
They're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things
Will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?

With the lightning flashing all around me and the thunder following shortly after each bolt, rain speckling my face and falling in my eyes now, sprinkling my shoulders, I urge myself on with “Dolphins Cry” by Live beginning to play.

The way you're bathed in light
Reminds me of that night
God laid me down into your rose garden of trust
And I was swept away
With nothin' left to say
Some helpless fool
Yeah I was lost in a swoon of peace
You're all I need to find
So when the time is right
Come to me sweetly, come to me
Come to me

Love will lead us, alright
Love will lead us, she will lead us…

The rain is soaking through my shirt now. I can feel my clothes sticking to my skin as I continue to run. I turn to face the mountains just in time to see a bolt of lightning strike the deepest part of the valley, illuminating the two majestic peaks, crackling as if it were splitting the mountain range in two.

… Oh yeah, we meet again
It's like we never left
Time in between was just a dream
Did we leave this place?
This crazy fog surrounds me
You wrap your legs around me
All I can do to try and breathe…

… Come to me

A man with his pet dog hurries by me, moving quickly in the opposite direction. I nod hello and he does the same to me as “First Time” by Lifehouse starts to play.

We're both looking for something
We've been afraid to find
It's easier to be broken
It's easier to hide…

I put my head down and keep running, hoping the rain will stay out of my eyes so I can see the ground beneath my feet.

… Looking at you,
Holding my breath,
For once in my life
I'm scared to death,
I'm taking a chance,
Letting you inside.

I'm feeling alive all over again
As deep as the sky under my skin
Like being in love, she says, for the first time
Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right
Where I belong with you tonight
Like being in love to feel for the first time

We're crashing
Into the unknown
We're lost in this
But it feels like home…

In the shadows between the streetlights, I find myself. Running—I feel so alive—lungs bursting while I think of you, knowing that you are thinking of me too, at this very moment, under the same stormy, night sky. Knowing what we both know brings me hope. Knowing that we both feel the same way brings me peace.

Serenity - Poem

Serenity

Azure blue sky
Mistaken for
Serenity.
Calm winds blowing
Across the field
Strewn before me—
A waving sea,
Bobbing barley,
Silent watchers,
My audience.

By Jennifer Broadbent Real
June 14, 2010

Part 2 of Rootbeer Beer

Some of you might remember my post from December last year on my dad's "Rootbeer Beer."

Well, June 2nd was my dad's 50th birthday and he threw a huge party that night for a ton of friends, business colleagues, neighbors, and family. I decided to make an appearance and see some of the old friends and family members I haven't seen in a while and of course to wish my dad a happy birthday and all.

At the party, my dad offered to let me take home a bottle of his home-made rootbeer. He and my brother Jared had brewed it up fresh... just 10 days before. Of course... we are talking about the yeast-carbonated mixture that happens to have a wee bit of rootbeer extract in it. And I guess my dad has been brewing more than just beer (I mean rootbeer) because when I was a teenager, I found this book that has all sorts of different brewing recipes in it. Gingerale is probably the most tame and widely known beverage recipe contained in that book. I vaguely remember getting this book for my dad one summer. I want to say I found it at a festival or something... you know those 4th of July and 24th of July things they do in the park or in front of the court house or something... I think I found it at one of those little stands and picked it up. My dad went on and on at his birthday party how that book was the BEST PRESENT he's EVER received, etc. etc.

So when the evening was over, I took home my little 12 oz. bottle of rootbeer that had been bottled up in an 80's style glass Sprite bottle. I thought my husband would of course want to taste the beverage of choice from my childhood, seeing as how my dad's homemade rootbeer has such sentimental value to me, being involved in a lot of my fond childhood memories. Casey REFUSED to even TASTE it! "I've never drank alcohol and I don't intend to start now!" I tried to reason with him. Come on... my dad wouldn't knowingly feed his elementary school kids ALCOHOL! It's just a joke we make about my dad making his own brews, etc. etc. Casey could not be reasoned with. M'kay then. 'Guess I'll have to enjoy this all by myself. *Pop Hiss* and immediately Casey said, "WHOA! That IS alcohol!"

*Blank look staring up at Casey* "Are you serious?" *taking another swig of "rootbeer"* "Jen, I don't know how you can't smell the alcohol in that..."

"Well... I guess if that's what alcohol smells like, yeah, I can smell it, but if you recall... we got married when I was 20 years old and you don't drink alcohol so it's not like I've had many opportunities since I've been old enough to legally drink to actually hang out at a bar and actually figure out what alcohol smells like..."

Casey couldn't believe that I finished drinking it. He says he could smell the alcohol on my breath for hours after I drank my dad's brew. Casey wouldn't let me drive any more that night either. Not like I just drank a 2-liter of it or something. Though... you'd have to wonder just how alcoholic my dad's rootbeer actually is. Casey can't wait to give my dad a hard time about giving his daughter alcohol, though that little conversation is probably a long time in coming since Casey and I spend as much time away from my family as possible.

Oh well. I knowingly consumed my dad's alcoholic rootbeer. It was good though!!! I could seriously pick up a bad drinking problem if I wasn't careful here. Raised on alcoholic rootbeer, accustomed to the taste, lovin' every minute of it. Ahhhhh... *lounging on the couch with pants unbuttoned* That rootbeer beer sure is good though.

Take Care...

The words “Take Care” in my world mean a lot of different things:

* Don’t forget to take care of yourself.
* I hope you are safe and well.
* I wish the best for you and the people you care for and love.
* If I never get to see you again, I want you to know how important you are to me.
* You have blessed my life in more ways than I can count.
* Your friendship has meant the world to me.
* Thank you for being there for me when I needed a friend.
* Be yourself because that’s the best part... that’s what I love about you.
* I wish for your happiness more than I wish for my own.
* My life wouldn’t be as good as it is without you in it.
* I hold you in the highest esteem.
* I admire the qualities that make you who you are.
* I often think about you when we’re apart and wish for your health, strength, and happiness.
* Until we meet again, you will be missed.
* Stay safe on the journey.

… and much, much more.

I could be saying any or all of these things to you if you’ve ever received something signed, “Take Care” from me. In many ways, I’m telling you that “I love you” in all these different ways when I add that “Take Care” at the end of my note or say it as if in passing when we part ways or just before we end the phone conversation. You can’t just go around signing e-mails and letters “Love, Jen” all the time. A lot of people would take that the wrong way because too often, “I love you” is reserved for lovers, husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, immediate family, etc. But really… that’s what I mean. I love you like a sister would love a brother. Like a friend loves their best friend. Like a kid loves their hero. Friends are the family you choose, so why can’t you love your friends?

So, if you see or hear “Take Care” from me, it means I am thinking about you in some of the ways I’ve listed above. Take care. Thank you. Be well. Be safe. Be yourself. I love you. I miss you. You are amazing. You are a special part of my life.

Take care,
Jen

Out to Breakfast - Short Story

Vanessa glanced disdainfully at the yellow and maroon wallpaper as they walked into Village Inn. “Why do we have to come here? It’s so… uncivilized.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with Village Inn,” Roger, her husband, said back to her, closing his palm pilot and placing it in the inside pocket of his tailored suite jacket. “I like the French toast here,” he explained offhandedly to her.

“The French toast is burned, yet soggy. It’s a wonder they can pull off both of those attributes at the same time.”

“Stop whining,” Roger said as a waitress came towards them with a questionably large grin plastered on her face. “Maybe I like the eggs then,” Roger muttered to Vanessa under his breath.

“A table for two in the non-smoking section,” Vanessa said to the waitress, carefully keeping control over her perfect model of politeness.

“Come right this way,” the waitress said cheerily, showing them to a corner booth.

“Thank you, Tiffany,” Roger said, smiling brightly at her as he sat down.

Vanessa took a seat across from Roger and promptly pulled out a cigarette, a cigarette holder, and a lighter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Roger asked, almost incredulous.

“Roger, we’ve been married for years. You know I always smoke at breakfast.”

“I thought it was a little odd that you asked for a non-smoking booth,” Roger muttered behind his menu.

She heard his snide comment, and chose to keep her cool. “The only reason why I asked for the non-smoking booth was so I could smoke where I’m not supposed to. If one expects me to suffer through this meal, I should say I have the right to smoke anywhere I want to.” Her attention was distracted by the crumbs left on the far end of the table, and the collection of dirt, dust, and more crumbs between the plastic seat cushion and the wall. She curled her lip contemptuously.

Tiffany the waitress came back and took their orders. Vanessa repressed the urge to plunge the butter knife into her husband’s chest when she noticed him appraising Tiffany’s retreating form with a lusty eye. She couldn’t kill Roger. No… he was too useful for her to do that.

“Is she to be your next lover?” Vanessa asked in a dangerously placid voice.

“What do you care, whore,” Roger said in an equally level, ominous tone.

Vanessa hissed with rage. “I wouldn’t care how many affairs you had if you were actually doing something with yourself! But no, you sit around idly, content to be the mid-upper class worker that you are. Sure, we have money, and we have some influence in society, but we could have more!”

“I don’t want more. I only want to enjoy life,” Roger explained, letting his eyes wander over towards another alluring waitress, bending over a table taking orders.

“We could be at the top, but you are content to dwell among the low-life scum, at Village Inn, no less!” Her voice was getting shrill now.

“Shut up, woman,” Roger insisted. “You’re making a scene. Then where will your reputation be, if you can’t even be civilized among these ‘scum’?”

She composed herself once again. Turning a frosty glare on her husband, she said with a superior air, “At the top of the political pyramid, there is wealth, prestige, social standing, power, and all the cheap waitresses you want and more. Life would be very, very enjoyable as the most powerful man in the country.”

Roger actually looked at her over the top of his palm pilot to weigh what she had just said.

A sly smile spread across her face.

c. 2002 - 2003

Made me fall off my chair laughing:

Emoticon Mishap

Okay for all of you who know about emoticons and use them regularly, you might get a kick out of my little emoticon mishap while instant-messaging with my boss yesterday morning.

Just so you know what was going on, I needed to get some approvals for spending a chunk of the company’s money on a big order of supplies. I instant messaged my boss to see if he could help me get the approval done and he said he would check with the CFO on when my boss and I could come meet with the CFO and discuss the pricing and what quantities to order, etc. My instant message response to my boss?

“Okay, sounds good. I’m wide open. :()”

OH NO!!!!! What a horrible time to have an emoticon mishap! I only meant to say my schedule was flexible and I could meet at any time and I attempted to put a nice little “ :) ” after that to ease the pressure of my boss's already overwhelmingly packed day. What is wrong with my fingers?!?! Sick little B******s trying to impose possibly sexually oriented wording accompanied by an equally could-be-sexual emoticon which directly relates to the possibly sexual wording on my BOSS!!! When you put those two things together, it could be taken waaaay too literally and waaaay the wrong way. Ugh. Luckily for me, my boss only laughed at my blunder, rather than e-mailing my accidental emoticon mistype to HR and claiming sexual harassment. What a morning it turned out to be!



No, just kidding--I was not fired over the incident. Hahah.