It's Bittersweet

Independence Day

meburke — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 18:34:39 +0000

I came across this poem I wrote for the school literary magazine when I was a junior in high school. It’s very strange to look inside my 17-year-old head. Although parts of this poem still ring true today for me…

Independence Day
I’ve never seen the fireworks
Perhaps my eyes are not as keen as others.
The 4th is a magical night,
they say,
With colored flames stealing the scene
from the stars that burn like candlelight
Some years are better than others,
they say,
as the night grows late, and the sky dark
the captivation increases
the summer heat releases
The luring lights entice you to stay
For the Grand Finale is on its way.
And when July does call
And I find myself between 3 and 5,
Sparks will not satisfy me
Only dynamite in the sky.

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One Accord

meburke — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 21:54:25 +0000

The other day I was desperately searching for an outlet to plug in my phone only to find they were all occupied. Camera, i-pod, laptop, alarm clock- take your pick. I went on a rampage, rearranging all the furniture in my room in hopes that one outlet had been hiding all along behind my bed, or my bookshelf, or in the depths of my closet somewhere. There was even a power strip completely full of plugs.

‘Where did all these electronics come from?’ I asked myself. And how did I ever get to the point where I don’t have enough outlets to accommodate all the cords in my life?

Trying to stay plugged in can be a daunting task in today’s society. With breaking news and 24/7 Internet access, we set up newsfeeds and Google alerts to stay on top of current events. We bookmark blogs and follow twitter. We’ve become compulsive clickers of the “refresh” button, and yet never feel fully refreshed. In fact, in my race to stay ahead of the game, I always end up feeling one step behind. I can quote the latest Gallup poll, but I have a pending phone date with my mother that’s been outstanding for two weeks now. Clearly, that relationship needs some recharging.

But no matter how hard I try to keep everything plugged in, at the end of the day, something dies. Whether I stay late at the office or miss church on Sunday morning or forget to call my mom, something will not be operating at full capacity.

Maybe the answer isn’t more outlets, but fewer cords.

“These Are a Few of My Favorite Things…”

meburke — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 21:29:32 +0000

In honor of my grandmother’s favorite song from The Sound of Music, I’ve decided to post a few of my favorite things. I challenge you to create a list of things that you LOVE. Not things that you like to do, or things you do often. But things that truly make you feel alive.

In no particular order, I LOVE the following things:

Flying Kites (especially on Easter Sunday)
Fireworks
Playing keyboard in church
Making crafts (friendship bracelets, greeting cards, etc.)
Dr. FU shows (who doesn’t love a good 80s cover band?)
Karaoke
Making margaritas for my favorite girls
Swimming (in a lake, none of this poolside crap)
Being on stage
Hanging out with my little sister
Writing ridiculous raps/beat boxing
Going to hear The Messiah at Christmas time

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To Give or Not to Give

meburke — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 05:35:52 +0000

Have you ever caught yourself thinking something shamelessly cynical and then shuddered at the realization that, if spoken out loud, your thought might find company in the community room of a senior center?

I have those all the time. And as a young professional with a fairly bright future ahead of her (we can debate that in some other post if you’d like), that worries me. So then of course I’ll console myself with inspirational sayings I remember from the walls of my elementary school. Or I’ll just pump up my favorite i-pod tune until the cynicism goes away. Tom Petty’s a pretty good cure-all.

But it’s hard to keep the faith when the world lets you down. You have to get creative—find new ways to stay inspired. It’s like convincing yourself that your daily Slim-Fast strawberry protein shake really does taste like ice cream.

Well yesterday I decided to fight the cynicism.

A woman approached me on the street, absolutely hysterical. Her eyes were swollen and lines of black mascara stained her cheeks. I had never seen her but I knew what was coming—she needed money.

As she inched closer to me, pleading her case, the red alert went off in my head. I watched her hands to make sure they didn’t end up in my purse or my back pocket. I scanned my surroundings to see who was around in case I needed help. And just as I was searching for an excuse and an escape, the thought occurred to me—maybe she really did need some help. She was hysterically crying, after all, and once I stopped to listen it was obvious she was frightened and upset.

I was about to give her my usual brush off—“Sorry I can’t help you.” And then it hit me: Had I really become so jaded that I wouldn’t even hear her out? The cold objectivity scared me a little bit, no matter how rational.

So I stayed and listened. I could at least do her that service, right? She was new in town, wound up stranded that evening and needed cab fare to make it home. She insisted I give the money directly to a cab driver to prove her honesty, and then proceeded to write down an address and phone number where she could be reached. She intended to pay me back. How rare, I thought. A beggar who only wanted to borrow money?

So I took a chance. I wanted to believe her pain was real. I wanted to believe this city is more than a bunch of con-artists. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t so jaded after all. So I pushed aside all my lingering questions about the character of this woman and pushed forward a $20 dollar bill.

“Only $20?” she asked. “Don’t you have a little more to get me where I need to go?”

My little social experiment stopped there. That’s all I was willing to gamble. And it would take more than $20 to get this woman where she needed to go in life. No amount of money—no government bailout—could take her there. Only she could.

I called the next day– not to ask for the money, but to wish her well.

The number had been disconnected.

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