Complaints and Constraints

Thought Provoking, Sleep Evoking

2011-02-16T01:12:00.000-08:00

You are a pawn in your own life.
Others dictate your movement, you thrive on hierarchy.
Sometimes you are removed from the game,
only to be told when to start playing again.
And again, you move where told.
And again, you mean nothing.
When will you realize that pawns haven't any impact?

Or perhaps it is the individual pieces that need re-thinking?
Dictatorship appears to have its perks.
In a life of choices, guidance should be more than welcome.

Viewpoints from a few points

2011-02-05T07:14:00.000-08:00

I looked toward the sky and the clouds,
and I am reminded of the day I made your eyes rain.
Such a blissful sorrow came crashing down your earthen cheeks.
And I stood there, smirking
as if I had earned a victory.

Talking shit about my pretty sunset

2011-02-01T01:43:00.000-08:00

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.
This needs to be let out, because I keep it bottled up for moral reasons.
It doesnt even matter, you probably dont read my garbage any more anyway.
Fuck you
Talking shit about a pretty sunset is the perfect way to describe this. You were my pretty sunset, there is no reason for me to have to talk shit about you.
But you know what? Fuck it. And fuck you.
I cant stop fucking thinking about you, our time together was the best fucking time of my life. Get the fuck out of my head.

I cant even listen to my favorite fucking band without tearing up because of my memories of you.

So this is to let out all of my pent up anger, my built up angst. As I leave my teenage years behind, I leave you behind as well.

Fuck you and what you have done to my heart. Better to have loved and lost? I think fucking not.
I rather be numb.
I rather be indifferent.

Why do I check for updates on your life? Why do I hope its you calling me even when you are drunk off your ass saying nonsense? Why the fuck did I enjoy it when you told me you needed me months later when clearly you didnt?

Why the fuck can't I move on from this stupid bullshit?

I am miles away from you, our lives are even father apart. Reality is that we will barely speak to each other in the future. So why the fuck am I holding on?

I know it is my own flaws causing this, but I blame you. I blame you for every emotion I feel at any given time because you fucked all of them up when you entered my life.

Get the fuck out of my head, leave and never come back. I fucking hate the idea of you and it is killing me every night before I go to sleep. Just to wake up the enxt fucking day so I can think about you some more.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

/rage

2011-01-12T00:41:00.000-08:00

I just cant think like I used to, can not feel like I used to.
The water gates have opened and are flooded with a bright liquid,
encompassing my creativity.
I have so much to be proud of and yet my shame is at an all time high.
This contentedness is too much to embrace.

My body and mind have the same argument daily,
fighting over what to miss.
Whether it be suffering or bliss, I can not decide.
I am no martyr, just a confused man stuck between reality and this strange commonality.

Perhaps it is the stale wallpaper I brought with me to my new life,
or a defective mind.
Either way, it would appear that if my heart is not broken, my mind is.

2010-10-16T13:16:00.000-07:00

Movies no longer emulate life, it is the opposite.
You can't walk five steps in Brooklyn without seeing a small shop full of Mac-owning youth.
The walls conveniently broken, the music so generic it is enjoyable, the coffee hot and plenty.
A disgusting breeding ground for the artistic and pretentious.

Story telling is key in today's generation.
No longer do you need a good personality, you need skinny forearms and an encyclopedia of tales to entice others.
Everyone has short hair and shorter personalities.
Their interests only lie in media and what it means to be young.

Travel to the underprivileged countries you so desire. Take some pictures, bring plenty of weed. Let's take a bet to see how long you can survive without your indie music and your predestined interests.

2010-10-05T21:00:00.001-07:00

Amazing how uncreative these individuals are.
Created to be creative, be unique. Stray from the path and take on the world's similarities.
We were all born to lead, and grown to follow.

So we group together and spew words other have written, have acted.
Relishing in the fact that we know the creativity of others. That we can quote them whenever the scene deems necessary.

The louder, the better.

Fall in line, act out a movie you never created.
Be scared of doing something original. It might just fail.
One creates a novel, one thousand read it.
One hundred make a cinematic, one hundred million watch it.

It truly is amazing that there are so few black sheep.
Black is the better shade to begin with.

2010-09-23T21:06:00.000-07:00

I normally don't do this, but I love these lyrics too much to not post them on here.

"But all your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down
Oh all your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down

Oh warfarin' terrapin
Unconfined undesigned
Undersigned bantering
Bartering bellowing
Barracking blundering
Pillaging plundering
Living and lavishing
Hammerings harrowing
Flourishing flattening
Levelling reveling
Wrecking and ravaging
Savoring savaging

Oh warfarrin terrapin
Unconfined undesigned
You've got me worried and wondering

All your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down
All your dreams are over now"

2010-09-11T15:23:00.000-07:00

My thoughts, they run.
Exhale. Breathe in that new life smell.
Enjoy your senses because they won't always be in your possession.
I know mine aren't.

Go ahead and scream, the duct tape holds strong.
Your voice is but a tool for the one that bought your soul.
Her name is whatever you need it to be.

So take a seat, lay down with the southern range.
You won't be moving anytime soon.

Collab Poem (in progress)

2010-08-23T20:42:00.000-07:00

This is a collaborative poem project set up by my sister. It features seven or eight different writers, and so in effect many different voices within the same setting. The bold+italicized writing is mine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I

An apartheid pallor sizzles. Walls on either side,
Brimming in the sweat of Agamemnon.
Where is Oresteia? Entre les rues,
Les journaux of eddying lizards, the posters flame,
Bleaching satyrs of their colors.

Descant of the watery sunrise,
Like the swelling of the Parthenon. Families “surface”
With what they have rid themselves of: their militant heresies
Westward plunging to an increate Thames. Now and then,

Their dotted remnants drift into conflagration,
Major-minor themes, or dialectic written and directed
By David Mamet. Punked-out in a billion flourishes,
Their voices tremble with the genius of their gearing slaves,
A geometry of theater submerged by Pentecostal fire.

II

Smelling salts do nothing for the members of this theatrical performance,
the fire, merely stage dressing.
These creatures of habit see and hear only the lines and the lights,
blind to society.
Blind to Aphrodite.
Coexisting with static characters, value none.

These Athenians smile only at Dionysus.
With cup in hand they cheer at the fictional scene before them,
ignoring the growing fire.
Believing that Hephestas is merely assisting the performance.
Sealing their fates as only the aristocracy can.

And down on the base of the mountain, among the sheep and blood soaked cottages,
the brazen citizens laugh at it all.
Velleity in their eyes as the hierarchy burns to ashes.

III

In Andorra my whole heart burned during dijous gras,
beating with the cool, white blood of night. This was childhood,
always blooming. I slept with my windows open and believed
in God.

We grow older and things change. In Tsiknopempti we
had to leave everything.
This was nothing like childhood,
not the puckered meat of a warm dead body,
the burning wine and lambs in red tavernas.

There was only fire now, the great sorrow of
all things finally breathing in,
glimpsing their memories
through fire and falling to dust.

A woman named Aegea hunched over
me in my sleep at the feet of Poseidon,

where is the water, where is the water?

Clean Monday is coming but everyone is dead,
riding pale foxes toward the sun. In the morning
Aegea will help me smell the skin of my Mother.

IV

One thousand years from now
above the Aegean Sea,
two metal beasts collide,
raining flesh and flames,
the scorch of burning skin.

Ashes of past beauty carpet the globe.
An age of punditry rages.
Safety is gone, its illusion revealed.

A voice commands turn back,
feel fully the space between once and someday.
Theseus's sword saved him from the queen of poisons.
Could we ever be so blessed?

V

For blessings indeed are entombed in doom.
Accounting for loss is a paper task, and
counting the gain is a look back through ash
or forward into partitions of possibility.

Consider the giddy spine of delight
that rises in a ridge along the shell of
horror we wear in fearful times. Consider
the thrill of every scorched breath

drawn in the company of those that breathe
no more. List now those values burnt, but
feel the future freed of the weight and echo of
the crumbling, logos-silenced Parthenon.

VI

The Parthenon is in want of a new pantheon,
The statues are gone, let us scatter marble
Like crumbs and try to spread the seed
For temples to bloom in new Cimmerian lands,
Athens, Rome, Alexandria, Constantinople,
This list of resurrections is a great one,
But we have too many millions to fit inside
One agora, one amphitheater, or even the Piraeus,
I fear too much or too little resuscitation,
Much is still covered in ashes and refuses
To be the ground for new legends to grow in,
Pericles dies in Dallas from a stranger’s gun,
Socrates has his liver pecked out in the East Village,
Homer’s son goes mad in a Tuscan prison
And grows sane in a sanctuary by the capitol,
While Euripides dies at his Hollywood typewriter,
Even Alexander finds little hope for change
In the mountains by the Khyber Pass,
Babylon burns, good enough, yet Persepolis
Threatens ever again, Ahura Mazda and Zeus
Still battle for the crescent with their minions,
Bright Apollo’s light and lyre reach the few
As ancient frenzies attendant to Dionysus
Mix inside the painted porch with the Eumenides,
Oh terrible repetitions, we have only taken
The torchlit forms from history’s cave wall
And ruled here with homemade shadow puppets,
Plato, will the fate of one who has seen this,
Alerted the others, and met with disdain,
Reenact the end of your allegory with real blood?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More to come in the near future.

A grand entrance through the door marked "exit"

2010-08-15T21:47:00.000-07:00

There seems to be a bittersweet tension between the youth in this room. That we all have the same idea on the tips of our tongues but cannot quite speak it. So instead we consume poison and spirit away to the past. Reveries of immaturity and spelling mistakes.

I can smell the excitement and fear as I stroll between breathing spaces. I can hear the fruitless attempts at social interaction way past its prime. These memories will never be ripe, just a glimpse at a last ditch effort toward no goal.

We are merely youth in revolt at our own decisions. Balancing the existential and the monotony. I can see it, even in the mirror.

Complaints

2010-07-03T21:48:00.000-07:00

Life is unfair in the way that in works my mind. It is more than just angst, more than depression. Less than a suicidal nature but more than just crazy thoughts. I have this itching feeling in the back of my head, this voice that speaks all of my inner desires. My wishes, my hate. I have these thoughts that protrude through the membrane of my mind and steal away my jovial attitude.

It is unfair, the way some judge by the shape of their body.
How magnetized some people are to more socially acceptable people.
It is unfair not being able to turn off your ears to those who cannot properly use their mouth in conjunction with their brain.
It is unfair that "artists" get assistance from substance and are praised for it.
It is unfair that those who do not are looked at as safe and undesirable.
It is unfair the way that I can absolutely hate those that I love.
That I can utterly loathe and have to keep it restricted, binded inside.
It is unfair that I crave others when I am alone, and want nothing more than privacy when I am surrounded.

Life tends to make its own rules in conjunction with souls. Rules attached to personalities that can not be removed, no matter how hard one hates it. Life is unfair in the way that treats its subjects like puppets without regard for these feelings we are all given. Life is unfair that emotions are passive, not operational.

"Stars"

2010-07-03T21:41:00.001-07:00

Forget what they told you about the stars at night,
they lie.
They are mere illusions, facades to keep us from dreaming the wrong way.

The sand at monmouth beach is a catalyst for conceptual realization.
Seek the truth and smell the barriers, they are before you.
Closer than you might think.

Because all the stars are projectors, projecting the world to the sand dunes and the mindless individuals who frequent them.
We see these gas giants, and believe that they are the same as our precious sun.
And yet, who can confirm their legitimacy?
Who can place trust in word of mouth?
Faith will only get you so far in your own reality.

Look up at the stars from a sand dune so close to the sky.
They twinkle the faint light of human creation.

Transit minds.

2010-06-13T20:03:00.000-07:00

On the train with myself and lonesome
the paltry hour drifts as I sip at forgetfulness, laziness.
The conductor in the worn suit slips me a ticket and jets away
his daft hand assists the other passengers, accepting money for a ride to their fantasies.
And as I watch this
I question.
Pondering about the impeding seats between souls.
The barriers of the train, so closely resembling society.

The hard knocks, the smelling salts we call catastrophes.
Why do we wait for dire straits to act?
Situations that call for action.
Nothing happens until the situation arises.

So us lovers, time wasters, we fumble along on this train of fearless antiquity.
Telling ourselves that this moment, this existential period, is but a facet.
That things will get better.
That our lives will change after we depart from our seats on the train.

2010-05-31T14:20:00.001-07:00

What happens when the lights go out?
when the turn table stops
and your eyes adjust to the darkness
What happens when the blood slows?
when the setting changes
and the birds sing a different song

A momentary lapse of tranquility
and the fist comes falling down.
Reality sets in and nature follows suit
it rolls in on that red carpet of trust
of lust
of persuasion
and delivers swift defeat to hungry hearts.

So what happens when your speech turns real?
when your eyes can see past illusions
and your hands can grip the future

A fleeting glimpse of short lived romance is left in the dust

Paralysis

2010-05-25T04:31:00.000-07:00

An unending paralyisis
the impeding reality approaches
and the fear ensues
The fear of your return
your tales
your nights alone without me

So paralyze me, keep me immobile
fill my ears with music and my eyes with distractions
anything to evade the truth,
the harsh words on a B line to my heart

My hands tremble despite the paralysis
the butterflies are ravenous kamikazes
attacking and destroying me, from the inside, out
the nervous jitters I once had, now but a burden on my soul
So I will embrace the paraylisis
cover my ears
shut my mouth
and cower in a corner, dignity absent
the fear is too much this time.

Comments

2010-05-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

Finally, these things decide to work. Leave a comment or two, let me know what you think. I feel like kicking myself for not having figured this out say, a year and a half ago.

A conversation between the mind and silence

2010-05-02T21:05:00.000-07:00

These late nights, they call for reminiscence
thoughts and feelings roam like unbridled mercenaries
and though my memories suffer from apartheid
I look on

I need the morning, the freedom it brings from the bedtime silence
because it is then that I long for whats gone
I need the morning, and the enthusiasm it promises
Still, I look on

You infiltrate my head, sly as a love bird
My heart, hidden like a sky scraper
Blood, safe like alcohol
I desperately try to look on

A Celebration

2010-04-25T13:57:00.000-07:00

I traded in my ticket stub for a pre-made dream. I traded it for an abstract view of normality. Keep me away from the congregations, show me the room for three. I rather the solace of solitude than trying to keep up with the masses.

The scene: a hot mess evaporates in the corner, ignoring familiar faces. He feels awkward around these supposed friends, longing for an escape. To escape those that frequent the life he left behind. Guilt devours him, comfort absent from the area.

The mind set: Eye contact would be the worst. Stop looking up, stop it. What do you want? To ignore or to embrace? Make a decision. No you don't have to talk to people, but eventually they will inquire what is "bothering" you. The alternative is forcing conversation. Both are unappealing. Stop looking up! Get a beverage, make a joke or two, use the bathroom every five minutes. Check for messages every twenty seconds. Keep yourself occupied in their presence. What is wrong with you?

So that is what the trade got me. That which resembles malaise, a feeling that everyone hates. To be out of place somewhere that is most welcoming. But it is too late now. I have made the decision to thrive my own way.

2010-04-20T19:44:00.000-07:00

Muscles relax, loss of tension.
Vertebrae collapses, loss of mobility.
Mind numbs, loss of focus.
Of feeling.
Loss of reason.
These episodes result from your witch craft. Your voodoo charm.
The novelty that has worn but remains in the finger tips, it's your magic.
You kept the dark permanent, for so long.
With a stroke of luck, a stroke of light will appear.

For the college bound kid

2010-04-17T09:18:00.000-07:00

She smiles at the weather, be it rain or shine
appreciation in her soul, envy in her eyes
she writes her woes away, with but a touch of simplicity
and envelopes the words before you without animosity

Memories are pathways to her heart and soul
recorded in her head, dialogue and all
she sings praises behind a hidden fort
stranger to life, she is nothing of the sort

Now decision made, shes headed to PA
Unsure of the road, she will get her BA
It is bittersweet, she will be missed
I'm calling it again, within 14 years, she will find bliss.

2010-04-06T18:48:00.000-07:00

I have this driveway, long and worn
the rain has its grudges
as do my feet

I feel every piece of gravel under me
every pot hole
every twig from the walls of dying trees

I pass the engraved dragon, a displeasure for drivers
I dodge the craters where meteors fell
And finally reach the ant-infested mailboxes
the small, moss-covered bench
the out-of-place boulder that fits so appropriately

This is my reality in the morning, my journey
my pilgrimage to the outside world

A Decision

2010-04-02T23:04:00.000-07:00

Finalize and mobilize
the world will not wait for your decision
your wanton heart will end you

As I sit on my chair, rocking to and fro
the wind on my cheeks
salt on my skin
hate under my eyelids
I enchant myself with thoughts of pleasure

I have seen your indecision
savored your fervor
banished your resolve

Atop my rocking chair,
with sea breeze in my lungs
and false hope upon the dunes
I judge, absolve, release

Atop my rocking chair,
I issued your wanton heart
I pressured your decision to finalize,
to mobilize.
All atop my rocking chair.

Complete

2010-03-25T12:23:00.001-07:00

Whats done is done is done is done
The world will shift
the cracks will close
the lives will no longer be in calamity.

Those with fears, absolved
those with broken spirits, mended
those with impossible dreams, reality struck
Whats done is done is done

Love has brought together the good and the bad
the happy and sad
the times shared are forever set in memory
Whats done is done

History

2010-03-19T06:48:00.000-07:00

Push forward and smell the matutinal breeze
it surrounds you like a frothy foam, liberating the nasal passages
lying to the brain
convicting the eyes

Her skin,fair
along with her heart
Life excludes her from its pleasantries
because she attempts to create her own

He slips out,unconsidered
Unfufilled, unloved
He fights the endless fight of forgiveness
between prayer and promise

They move apart and up
Both break down and prosper alone
with each other

Wake up and smell the matunital breeze
it is a break from reality

Love strongly

2010-02-23T05:15:00.000-08:00

Love strongly, the world around you
the beasts will thank you
the trees will grow for you
the insects will buzz around you

Love strongly, the people near you
the grass that grows beside you
the light that heralds the path before you
the gravity that grounds you

Love strongly, the world around you
for the world appreciates you
and protects you
and houses you

The world is yours
live in it as such.

Dreams

2010-02-17T09:19:00.000-08:00

Falling from the Empire State building
Fighting off three men, and failing
Discovering bones and a skull after the water drains in a bath tub
My dreams, they are nightmares. Strange occurences that hardly make any sense
These so called dreams, they are merely fodder
Something to keep me occupied when I am sleeping
Real dreams are those that pop up when my eyes are open.
Ones that consist of escape, of liberation
Life outside the monotony
Personal growth
Bliss
Because I miss out on those when i am sleeping, I will have to experience them in real life
Make them my own goals, my own dreams.

Growth

2010-02-08T13:36:00.000-08:00

I tend to recede backwards, away from reality. Toward the unobtainable, resolution through silence. A mistake on my part. Life cannot be fixed with ignorance, with fear of the ridiculous.

She makes me mobile, she trains the deep dark of my soul. She brings the light where there isn't any. My love for her will transcend my insecurities, be it difficult for me. I will close the door to the cave, and bask in the luminescence before me.

Thank you.

To blame Scarlett

2010-01-16T19:34:00.000-08:00

The lava flows
a deep Scarlett, reminiscent of life itself
it flows so damn easily
Mr. Volcano has it, Mrs. Volcano does as well
and sometimes
when things get rough
Mrs. Volcano is covered in Scarlett

Grandma Volcano is covered
and Neighbor Volcano
and every damn Volcano in the neighbor is covered

And who is there to clean the mess?
Who else than Mr. Volcano?
But say Mr. Volcano is covered in that deep, lavishing Scarlett...

no one cleans him up
no one lends a handkerchief
not a single damn Volcano

And they have the gall to dress themselves in Scarlett
The very same shade that Mr. Volcano happens to be garnishing.

The lava flows, unrequited, unchallenged
that selfish Scarlett that seems to hate Mr. Volcano so very much

Distinction

2010-01-03T20:55:00.000-08:00

I walk the streets with hands and fates
combined, entwined.
We stroll along with conviction soaring,
only to be torn asunder by the very future that befalls us.
They tell us to let go and empty our cups.
To dismiss this golden age we are enveloped in.
To accept the shinigami's, the death god's decision
To move on.

And before my eyes, an image imagined by imagination ignites.
A world of grief, without the cozy rainbows I once danced with.
There is medicine to keep us young, school to keep us relevant, and problems to keep us busy.
Yet there is someone missing.

Just like that, my eyes revert back to the present. With a hand in my own, and a feeling of warmth.
So we banish the shinigami.
We refuse the chance to change.
We do not move on, but move forward the way we were going.
With hands and fate combined, entwined.

We cannot falter, for the vision I saw is the only reality possible if ours fails.

Moonshine Project

2009-12-17T16:32:00.000-08:00

Inspired by Dancing Choose by TV on the Radio (Dear Science)

He is here and there, that newspaper man. The man that will either brighten your morning or disappoint you. He'll bring you a paper full of apartments or one of expensive dreams. But this is not his goal, no not in the slightest. He wishes to dance about, making himself a success, adorning his home with the most expensive of accessories. He has seen his dreams personally, with butterflies in the corners and clean dancing shoes in his closet.

He rants and raves, becomes animated over the smallest details. He has alibis for every situation imaginable, yet no one addresses him. He is but wallpaper in an abandoned building, with no one to talk to but himself. Delivering the news and retreating to his mind, a cycle of monotony for this man. Monotony covered in monochrome.

An American, Apparently.

2009-11-18T16:57:00.000-08:00

Coldness is a symptom of your love
your profession is first
you come second
and I am somewhere after, possibly between

Fret not, for I am content
Ill love it all despite my selfish nature
And I'll prove useful
And I'll prove bearable
And I'll prove sturdy for you

You have and always been what I needed
I'll be the wings for your mind
I'll fly you to tranquility
I'll set you down safely with a warm ride and a chocolate on your pillow

And I'll be waiting at the landing area
Ready to depart when you are

Word thief

2009-11-06T17:34:00.000-08:00

Glee is the downfall of my literary prowess. I try and write something profound, and yet it crashes and burns. I blame you. You and your smile, your tendencies, your beauty. You took my life and did a 180 degree turn with it. Now I am happy, and in exchange for that I cannot write. You and your love, your affection, your determination to keep me amiable. I blame you for this block.

And I would not have it any other way.

Form

2009-11-01T17:31:00.000-08:00

Shape my heart
shape it the way you need it
with those clumsy hands

Stray closely

2009-10-20T11:04:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in here, in this same place but in a different spot. I am with the people I see everyday, people whom I share my life experience with. I am seeing their faces, their expressions. I am sharing emotions, questions, the reality of life and its intricacies. This is what life is supposed to be about, being with others and sharing with them.

Though my soul yells at me, it tells me to remove myself from them. My heart wants attention, and my body craves abstinence. I live for both myself and for them, and it is tearing me apart. What is this conflict that I am constantly experiencing? Why do I want nothing to do with them, but crave their looks and gestures? What is it about humans that make us act without logic, think without reason?

Blood loss

2009-10-18T20:25:00.000-07:00

The temptation comes in waves
with you in my hand, and the other empty
and you leave
and they are both empty

Smart is the hand that stays empty
doesn't experience cold
doesn't feel the blood loss
doesn't accept the change

It doesn't have to

Smart is the hand that stays empty
Smart, and alone.

Look up

2009-09-29T21:03:00.000-07:00

A catastrophe. A drought? The disappearance of law enforcement? No. People's thoughts falling from the sky. All the repressed feelings and desires, all the temptations we all have on a daily basis, a torrent of deepest secrets. What if the heavens became an outlet for all of that, and it rained chaos? Would it be the truth that gets to us in the end?

Those leading true lives, a bitch slap of ignorance
Those who fed the storm, they become relieved
Those who hit the bottle beforehand, well their desperation saved them this time

The children, they get a chance to learn the truth earlier than most
The poor, more incentive to complain to the government
The back ally drunks, they gain another reason to protect their alcohol from the sober

Corporate America, just another event to make money and take from the people
Blue Collar workers, more reasons to skip family night for a White Russian
Bartenders, well this would be a field day for them.

Tremors in the soul

2009-09-14T11:57:00.000-07:00

Scare tactics, I need scare tactics. I need a slap in the face, maybe a glimpse of the future. I could definitely use a distraction. I need to get out of my own head, because right now it is my antagonist. My anti-hero. Filling my thoughts with desires so far from my reach, and making them seem realistic. Justifying the impossible. My heart feels it too; it receives the pain that my brain uses as fuel to create these alternate universes. And I am torn. My brain tells me to pursue the elusive. My heart screams for me to awaken.

How does one dismiss their own fantasies, and manage to listen the signs from the heart? Because apparently, my body is willing to take the consequences from my mind's schemes.

Hollow Words

2009-08-29T00:24:00.000-07:00

Hello hollow words, welcome back to the crowded space of my mind. Your visitations are used up, and you are no longer welcome. Stop sneaking in. Stop persuading me, saying this time will be different. Nobody here in this godforsaken space likes you very much. Not my guilt, my anger, my lust, my jealousy. Especially my love, that one straight up hates you. So hollow words, make your living elsewhere. Or maybe change, maybe if there was some substance to you beside utter disappointment, then we could work something out. There may be a chance for you, if you didn't get my hopes every time you showed your face. If you didn't tread on my insecurities, or exploit my weaknesses. You and your teasing ways, kindly exit back to the mouths you came from. The ones that represent pain, and truth, and choice, and other poison devils.

Go back to you, and you, and you, and you. Get out of my head, you certainly overstayed your welcome.

Selfless Selfishness

2009-08-18T23:58:00.001-07:00

You and your inconsistencies, I'm fed up with it. I look one way and you run the other direction. You look in my direction when I am conveniently not there. It all seems like a pattern. A pattern of smiles and exchanged pleasantries, all tucked into a Chinese box so it cannot be accessed. You escape the day for errands and the like, and show up at night like there is no issue. I may be selfish, and I may be expecting reciprocation despite not deserving it, but I need more than this. I need more than the occasional comment, those repeated words with no meaning behind them, I need something tangible. Something to justify my investment.

I need all this more than I need to be free of it all. More than you could understand, and a lot less than how you probably feel about it all. 'Blah' is all i have to say. I need some spice, some change, and a lot less bull.

Chronos

2009-07-29T19:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes timing is your worst enemy. Whether it be the deciding factor for an interview, or you buy some vegetables just before hearing of ebola being spread around, or maybe that one TV show was actually on at 9, not ten. Or possibly you meet someone at a bad time in their life, and you miss out on what could have been. Timing can truly ruin a good thing. The worst part is, as humans, we can do nothing about it. We can try our hardest to right the wrong, but we have no control on the other part. We cant force the train to arrive on time for the big interview, we cant wish we payed more attention to the news. We cant re-meet somebody three months earlier. The best we can do is work for the best possible outcome, and if that isn't optimal, then we try again. We remove ourselves, and we hope for better results the next time around. Rinse and repeat. Trial & error.

Time doesn't exist, but it would make us all feel a whole lot better if it did. Because then we would all have something to blame when time screws us over.

Luck

2009-07-26T20:15:00.000-07:00

This night is a concurrence of makeshift hopes, of distributed dreams, of cases from the textbook on "loss." It is a melting pot for all things ill: storms, tornadoes, broken hearts. And yet, as if some being flicked a switch, it turned around. With a friendly smile and a promising new friendship, the night refrained from ruining everything. Now when you listen, you hear the darkness in it's stillness, as opposed to the calamity that was pushing forth before.

This is more than weather change, its a revelation. One that speaks common sense, which is easily lost when it comes to romance. To dwell is to restrain oneself, and most humans tend to dwell on others. Why would we restrain ourselves for another person? It lacks all sense. Luckily, I'm starting to learn that. I believe the sun will be bright tomorrow, bright enough to keep me looking forward, where the shade is.

Mental Siege

2009-07-26T08:25:00.000-07:00

My sanity is lost when observing the scene. All reason flies out the door, hiding from what it has just seen. I try to interpret, make sense of this mess. I strive for understanding, as well as happiness. But both are as elusive as you. I have pleaded innocent, I have raised a white flag, I have sacrificed sleep. All to get a bit closer to what I want. Not what I had in the past, but what the present seemed to be, or what the future could have been. My mind consumes itself with a double standard. It focus' on the task at hand, the friends and the activities, while thinking about my trial. Its exhausting and unnecessary, profound and fixable.

This needs to end. Because every night I turn my head on my pillow, and see the gift you gave me. The living reminder of the potential bliss we could have had.

Breaking the Hinge

2009-07-01T10:05:00.000-07:00

I had lost myself in a merry-go-round. I saw colors of the same value over and over, definig monotomy in it's truest sense. I sat up, shoulders slumped, confined by a seat belt for longer than any person should have been. But I managed to get off the ride, for a short time at least. Time enough to see what the rest of the park had to offer. Which is where I found a new ride. A new experience for myself, one with brand new attractions. With my favorite colors, and a welcoming line that screams for the same thing that I needed.

You have rescued me from myself. Brought happiness to my life again, given me hope. I truly believed I was destined to stay on that merry-go-round forever, to experience the pain of the rusted handles, to be fooled into thinking the seat belt wasn't a noose. But your radiance lit up only a few steps away, and I realized where I wanted to be. This is more than just the glee of liberation, this is the butterflies that have taken nest in my stomach. This is the nervous bead of sweat I get when I approach. This is the novelty that I want to make last. I was more than freed, I was enlightened and loved. Let me give my money to an attraction that will actually accept. It is time to enjoy a brand new ride, and I couldn't be happier.

Escape

2009-06-19T20:35:00.000-07:00

Is there a way to get away from something without thinking about it? Hope is out the door at this point, which was the last thread of this mess. And yet the thread stays taught. Tying me to the cage, with the door wide open. I can see everything outside, but I'm stuck on this thread. My hands rest upon the button titled "reset," which makes everything worse. I reset to before I was tied up, and somehow I always manage to get caught in the same exact way. With freedom at my view, and a cold wall to my back.

What about a new coat of paint? A new string perhaps? If I must stay in this awful place, lets change it up. Lets make it so the "reset" button is labeled "alter" so that my mind won't suffer this humdrum experience in the same way at all times. I realize that I will most likely be stuck in a room like this, with the world at the windowsill that is my eyes. But can't I get away without thinking about where I am?

2009-06-10T20:21:00.001-07:00

Its my first time in the big city. Billboards are everywhere, advertisement is more abundant than air. Despite the passerby's ferocity, there are plenty of people watching me. I can smell the fast food joints, and I can hear the jingle of the cafe's doors swinging. I can see the gyms and their members, and I can feel the hair on the back of my neck sticking up. Its all a bit much, but my destination isn't all that far.

Yeah it's my first time here, and I'm quite unprepared. The reason my destination is so close is because I can chose anywhere to go. I just haven't yet. I can make my way to a writing convention. Maybe those tough looking computer geeks need help? That guy on the bench looks lonely and depressed. So many choices, and yet I can only stay for a day or so. I rather have a hand drag me by the collar and place me where I should be. If I concentrate, I can take a step in a direction. Any way is fine, as long as I am moving.

Fruitless

2009-05-31T16:57:00.000-07:00

Its a room full of pictures and molasses. Its been that way for quite some time now. I need to enter it everyday, and it's always difficult to remove myself. Its so binding, and the images are so vivid. How do I even begin to clean this filth? There aren't even any windows in the room. The door locks up when I come in. I can hear laughter, oh so familiar laughter. There isn't an inch of the walls that is absent of photographs. And every day I need to trap myself in here. I need someone to help me find solace, its obvious I cant do it by myself.

I have tried. I have tried desperately to get out of this gunk, this entrapping substance. Its as strong as any emotion, it even emulates them. I am powerless against it, and my eyes are adjusting to the dense dark before my eyes. I have a custom concern for my well being at this time, and its time to break out. Lend me a hand, Ill be taking my time to separate myself from these pictures.

A new wind

2009-05-26T21:45:00.000-07:00

We have traveled the paths of maturity, and immaturity. We have both grown together and apart, yet nothing changes. Yes, I have distanced. Its true, you have taken the other path at the fork. In the beginning, the path seemed rocky. Impassable even. Yours seemed smooth, but now I'm not so sure. Your strong though, stronger than you think. And that strength has been passed on to me. We will both traverse our paths, we will both come out richer than before. And maybe our paths will parallel? Yeah, they definitely will. Sooner rather than later, of which I am sure. We will both be content, and the sunlight will touch our faces, and we will learn to live with each other. And at the same time with out. I have faith in us, I always have. We have been through a lot more than just rocky roads together. This is nothing we cannot surpass. You don't need my arms any longer, your balance is there.

Movement

2009-05-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

I am ready. I am ready to move. I am ready to traverse the world around me. I am ready to un-do my seat belt and shatter the limitations of the car. Now is the time to take advantage. Now is the time to not look back in what I will be missing. Now is the time to grab the reigns of the future, and hold on with a firm grip. It wasn't anyone else that needed help standing, it was myself. I was stuck in tar, I was scared to jump from cliff to cliff. But your decision was exactly what I needed. Somehow you knew that, that I was a bird stuck in a fence. You knew to push me out, you always have known.

Thank you. Your constant guidance has finally set me on the right path. You could have housed me, but I think you had my happiness at heart from the start. You cared so much, that you had to let me go. I think I finally understand, and I will respect that. All this time, it was truly you who was caring for me, not I for you. So thank you, to the nurse who loved me.

Sobriety.

2009-05-03T17:38:00.000-07:00

My love is a mass of garbage. Something you just don't want. Time and again you throw it out. Your love is like heroin. One taste and i was hooked. But it isn't my heroin is it? Its everyone's, its running dry, and the high is turning into pain. But the times when the money was good, and the drugs were abundant, I can't help but look back in envy. You always manage to do something to ruin the good times. I have been at fault myself, but this is a whole new tier. With this, you sold me a dirty needle. An empty needle. Found in the garbage you have so effortlessly refused. There was a point where I truly believed the two of us could perhaps go to rehab, and enjoy each other, without the drugs. But you have relapsed, and I'm looking for a way out.

I'm rambling, but is the only way I won't do something that I wont regret. I have refrained from ruining my walls with my fists. I haven't eaten and I know I won't sleep well. This is detoxing at it's worst, with a heart in a million pieces.

Forward and backward at the same time.

2009-03-28T22:40:00.000-07:00

So I travel this path again. It leads me to the light emitting from a lamp inside a tunnel. Where my home town is. I see these same faces, grown older. The same buildings, grown taller. The same weeds, grown heavier. I see my old house and my old swing set. I watch the new children play without any of the worries they will once face. I see the spring settling in, with the cherry blossoms signs reading "almost ready." I see old love, bearing new fruit. I see old friends, waving and calling. Smiling and frowning. I see change, whether it be good or bad. I hear music, a song that fits the situation almost perfectly. I can smell the abundance of nature, and the absence of something important.

This path has been traveled many times now, but the setting has changed. Time is something we no longer have to fight or embrace, but just acknowledge. Scratch it's back, and maybe life won't be so rough. Its time for this new seed to bloom, exactly where its parents grew. New and yet the same. Safe, risk free, but still managing to be calm and content.

Finite kindness

2009-03-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

Finally, your vice grip is off my neck and around your own. The dry film that collected over my eyes has gone and stuffed itself into your ears. I can see clearly, I can breathe. You on the other hand, you have done this to yourself. I will run around in bliss, making friends with the kindness of the world. You can stay in your car, and hold on to the single person that gives you comfort. I will no longer be weighed down, my legs are tired from being in one position for so long. While I walk along the road surrounded by green plants, you can say hello to the tumble weeds for me. My canteen is full, and the closest oasis to you is outside of your car. Eventually you are going to need to step out of there. Why can't you see that your running out of water? Everyone else can.

First time losing the battle with time.

2009-03-03T18:58:00.000-08:00

Dear friend, what I would give to trade with you. I want everything that you have. I want your problems, I want your worries. I want your happiness. Your goddamn abundance of happiness. I want your charm. I want to change this persona, this image of utter irrelevance. I'm sick of sympathy, of all the same advice. I'm done with being a hypocrite, with not being able to cry. If i could shed just one tear, a tear to represent change....

You don't know how well you have it. Maybe I don't either, but my jealousy cant be helped. I'm selfish at heart, and if I could sieze it, I would. Anything to lift myself from this hole.

Amber Sunlight

2009-02-03T17:14:00.000-08:00

My small, dark eyes widen at the sight of the amber sunrise. Ironic, in a way. The same color as the warning signs going off in my head and my heart. A stronger color than my own decision making skills. This very sunrise is as much a part of me today as the hair on my head, as clothes on my back. It's view brings clarity to the miasma that is my feelings. This amber sunlight revitalizes my skin, it cleanses my soul. If only I could give back, repay the luminous energy that gives my life so much hope, so very much prosperity.This amber sunlight will stay with me at all times. When I am down at wits end, reality out of grasp, depression overbearing, the sheer memory will lift me up. This ethereal emanation gives reason to my actions, gives color to my words. Provides ink for my pen, and thoughts for my mind. This fire-roasted ray will give me the stability I need to let go of it one day. Or maybe, I am forever addicted to its sovereignty.

Foreboding Turbulance

2009-02-02T18:24:00.001-08:00

Alone in the dark can be both frightening, and enlightening. One can truly observe themselves, learn what causes the emotions they experience. In the light, amongst loved ones, the little boy tries to please everyone. He whines and complains, and doesn't take their advice. Maybe that was a good idea, considering the fact that he is content when left by himself. He can think somewhat clearly. He doesn't constantly deceive himself. He can have trust in his conscience, and defend his actions. When left in the dark, the young, naive boy can sit and say to himself "I am happy, and no matter what will happen, I will take responsibility for my own actions. I will trust in the path I follow, because at this present moment, its leading me toward bliss."

This boy is trying so hard to justify his actions by "living in the moment." Yet he still worries that that isn't the way he should be approaching life. Maybe he shouldn't thrust the gas pedal. Maybe he shouldn't look straight ahead while walking. Maybe the little boy is still very much afraid of falling down and scraping his knee. But he promised himself, he would give it a shot. He will trust his conscience, not his head nor his heart. This time around, the boy will fly without a destination, but with a path. He wont stray, but wont land either.

A step forawrd doesn't exactly mean your moving forward.

2009-01-26T14:41:00.000-08:00

Two steps forward, one step back. An over abundance of bliss. A masochist and a saint. Not literally of course. Unison among the regularities. Banded together, supporting weak infrastructure.

One step backward, three more steps back. Two souls forward. Officially unofficial, separated by language. Blatant confusion dispersed between hidden smiles. Unappealing and yet rather enjoyable.

Three feet forward, one conscience back. Love divided by two, distributed amongst the crowd. False promises, dirty deeds, disappointment. A moment of silence for the rinse and repeat fashion.

Ten toes forward, ten fingers back. The path is spotless, almost perfect. Tentacles made of time machines. A weak light that reveals where those limbs should go. Extravagant emotions, bottled up by the universe itself.

We're always meeting in a car crash sort of way

2009-01-24T16:02:00.000-08:00

It all boils down to it being my fault. I wish that each of our meetings weren't like a car crash. That one of us has to always have some kind of hands down, full blown epiphany of a complaint about the other. I wish that we could have our peace like we once had. That our friendship wasn't a silent battleground. That our love wasn't such a massacre. That my words didn't ruin something that meant no harm. More so than your love and acceptance, I yearn for this war to end. For the Calm to come wash away the muk from our souls.

We are the trees, setting fire to one another, even though our roots drink from the same water. Our branches protect the same birds, our canopies lay shade for all the crawlers of the night. We tear everyone else apart with ourselves. We need peace more than ever, if not for ourselves, then for those that support us. Because they are victims as well.

Defeat

2009-01-20T16:33:00.000-08:00

Im on a hunt.Im pillaging the town houses. Searching as if my life depended on it, because at this point my sanity does. I am in a dire need for some outside presence, some sort of foreign sovereignty.Ill rip through the old barns and ravage the light towers until I find what Im looking for. I need a sense of co-dependence, a partner in crime. My longing will haunt the halls of mansions, my jealousy will infect others like myself. Ill run across each continent, erasing my tracks behind me.

Im tired of this search. Falling down, covered in filth. My search seems futile. Solace is out of my grasp. The sunlight is under a veil of disingenuous practices. Its so damn dark.....

Breathe.....

2009-01-15T19:20:00.000-08:00

Its absolutely incredible how a single event can turn the tide of ones emotions. Just by releasing my jar of flies, I can relax my arms and enjoy what life has to offer.

Erroding Pillars and Decaying Foundations.

2009-01-15T15:05:00.000-08:00

There was once a boy whose main objective was to please. He traded his sanity for others. Taking their worries, and absorbing them like thunder to rubber. Taking the tiniest bit of negativity at a time, storing it subconsciously. As time progresses, this boy finds that the brim of his storage is overflowing with anger, resentment, feelings so foreign to him. How could he possibly let this happen? This foolish boy, relinquished all of his feelings for that of others, and is now furious with those that he has tried to help. His just wants to strike something down, destroy something beautiful.

The worst part of his predicament, is that he doesn't know how to deal with this situation. He never had unyielding rage before. Where can he turn to in this personal crisis? Everyone is so used to being helped by him, it would be strange to listen to his woes. The boy was a pillar of fortitude, of infinite understanding. How could someone so experienced at helping others, not help himself?

The boy needs to get it through his thick skull, he cant help people if his mind is in chaos. One's self comes first, then the world. Memorize it.

A Twenty Hour Process: Hum Drum activities and Dilly Dallying about.

2009-01-13T18:31:00.000-08:00

You think about all the nothing you have done. Woke up, showered, caught the bus, then went to classes for seven hours. Caught the after noon bus because you didn't have practice, and you hang out with a friend for six hours. Get home, wash some dishes, ignore your homework, and watch videos about animals doing outrageous things (namely, a hamster sitting on a piano, eating popcorn, with the catchiest of tunes accompanying it.) You check your facebook, say hello to you mom in person for the first time that day, and eventually look to see what is left to do before you lay down. You haven't done your homework, so you feel the need to do something productive. Which leads you to this, a half-assed blog post so that you can feel like a somewhat, not-totally useless human being.

Lights off, sitting, leaning forward on your wooden chair. Fingers resting incorrectly on the keys of your filthy keyboard, waiting to find some words to be inputted. Eyes wide open from a severe lack of sleep. It feels like the substance that connects your eyes to your head is missing, and they could fall out at any moment. Being awake for twenty hours, doing absolutely nothing will have that effect on you.

Your not really sure you wanted to waste an entire day like this. But it is a little late for that now, isn't it? Go to bed, maybe you will find some hidden initiative screaming for attention tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be the day that you acquire the motivation you need to make yourself not feel like crap.

My own personal temple.

2009-01-08T16:20:00.000-08:00

Standing in the lime light that was my un-divided attention. My deep affection. She sat on a pedestal in my personal temple. Setting an example for all the viewers of this particular station. She was of urban youth, wielding toilet paper, spray paint, some rainbow colored chalk. She defaced the temple. She colored over the walls, she threw the toilet paper across the other deities located there. She spray painted graffiti where she saw fit. Not a serious crime, but a mess that would take some time to clean up.

Did the monks that upheld the temple miss her? Of course. They didn't want one of their own leaving the faith. But it was not some sort of catastrophe. They we caught off guard, this being the first time its happened. And all though they will need to fill the void that became of her pedestal, its not the end of the world.

In fact, they are more prepared now.
And as for her, well she is free.

Its a win, win.

Admittance.

2009-01-06T14:21:00.000-08:00

It's as if my mind is the most fickle of my organs. I find out what it is i want, and as easily as the wind changing direction, I change my mind. At first I thought I could continue, and then I realized that that would be an impossibility. I crave what was once previously mine, a desire that sickens me. What my social self wants is to climb new hills, broaden my own horizon. What my private self wants, the one that matters, is to revert back to when I knew I was happy.

My feelings don't want to take a chance. They find what is comfortable with them, and they make sure I know it. I can't win with them, no matter how hard I try. They reject new goals, they avoid what could bring me true happiness. I just wish I had control over them, so that the glee I deserve could finally reach me.

Although I respect myself, and know the path I have chosen as a human being is a respectable one, I sometimes wish I could walk in someone elses shoes. I want to not be afraid of putting my feelings before someone elses. I want to take advantage of someone. I want to feel in control, and desired. I want to feel like someone needs me, the way I feel like I need them.

Straight from the factory line.

2009-01-05T15:13:00.000-08:00

I am what you would call a machine. I strive to please, I ignore my well being. I do the absolute maximum to achieve the the bare minimum. I follow my orders like the good worker bee that I am. I avoid conflict, I work towards their goals. I am sick of this. I resent life not going my way. There is a war raging inside of me, all of these avoidable feelings are storming my sanity.

I am a machine. I'm mass producing these thoughts, these feelings, and I'm doing it well. I will have to break out of this self imposed strife eventually. And when I do, it will be the best day I could possibly have. The best day a drone like myself could experience, anyway.

Indulgence

2008-12-18T17:45:00.000-08:00

It was a succulent fruit,not quite ripe but we were hungry. We ate it in a matter of seconds, and didn't have a chance to appreciate each sweet, sugar-filled bite. Now we regret not pacing our bites. We are left with the pit, the roughest part of the fruit, with the least amount of flavor left over.

....Maybe we can plant that pit? Maybe, with the right conditions, the pit can grow into a fruit bearing tree. With the right love and care, we can have more delicious fruit. We can wait for the fruit to ripen this time. We can pace ourselves, and appreciate every single morsel that these fruit will have to offer.

Existence, and its many facets.

2008-12-15T20:16:00.000-08:00

"Every place you've never visited doesn't exist until you visit it. Meaning, we can imagine places all we want, but until we see them, they aren't real. And once we return to our homes, they cease to exist, and never did exist.

What do you think about these crazy-ass thoughts?!"

What exactly defines existence? Do things exist by extension? Like if you have never been to India, but go there, you now know India exists. But do the people inside India exist, because India exists? And for the matter, if you meet someone from Switzerland, that person now exists, but does Switzerland exist? Unless something effects you directly, it does not exist. So by making somewhere or someone exist, do you make everything that exists to them, exist to you?

On a more vague scale, do pictures of places constitute existence of the place they show? Or is just the actual picture itself exist? If a person dies, do they still exist? Does belief for a god make the god exist?

This is all very abstract, and sometimes a lot to take in at once. But it is delicious food for thought. Yum.

A Ray of Buoyancy

2008-12-03T18:54:00.000-08:00

In times of despair, desperation, disestablishment, we look toward the ones we love for comfort. We search for sustenance, for pleasure, for the phrase "its going to be okay." In times of false hope, of poor choices, of illness, we yearn for fixation. Whether it be something so insignificant as not seeing the one you love for an extended period of time, or be it an economic crisis. We all want to fix the disequilibrium that has infiltrated our daily routines. We long for the hand on our shoulders, telling us its okay to feel sad, or upset, or angry about whats happening. We pine for someone to fix it all. And yet, despite how poor ones life becomes, there is always hope. A small feeling of tranquility when you can stop, and breathe. And think about how great it will be when you find what you have lost.

A mutual unison.

2008-11-30T18:06:00.000-08:00

With this, he can run. He can glide. He can soar along the wind itself. This inner sense of absolution, of dependence and duality, this faith in the other that was so long missing has granted him evolution. It has given him a reason not to think or act for himself, but to do so for the other. Its as if his pointer finger had been broken, or missing, for so long. He has come to relish, and appreciate, how wonderful it is to have that piece of him. He can say anything in comfort. He can reveal his most hidden ambitions, he can feel human. With this partnership, he has finally been liberated from monotony. Each new day brings something that wasn't there before. Time has become something of an illusion, and only his feelings measure his actions. Sleep has never been so difficult, with his mind racing at all times. This new development, this contingency of beings, it is so intense that it leaves him at a loss for words.

An ode to nuclear warfare

2008-11-25T17:18:00.000-08:00

Birds diving, Children crying
Hiding under your desk
Momma save me from the bomb

Its in the air, its everywhere
Buying canned foods
Papa save me from the bomb

Flashing light, That's so damn bright
Radiation in your eyes
Sister save me from the bomb

Fallout, Fall down
Debris scattered on the ground
Brother save me from the bomb

Forget sobriety, Underground society
No escape from this insanity
Uncle Sam, please save me from the bomb.

An observation of sorts...

2008-11-24T13:01:00.001-08:00

There is this person I know. This friend, of the female persuasion. She is very dear to me, I hold her close to my heart. My heart that was once lonely, as if one of it's chambers were missing. She helps fill the gap, the empty part that longed for her presence. This girl, this lovely, amiable girl, is the light to my world. Her smile alone makes my own come out.

This feeling, we call it love. But in reality, this feeling limited when put into words. Us humans just try to comprehend it, define it, when it actually dictates our actions. And yet, we do not complain. Because this feeling, this love, is exactly the kind of thing that we want controlling us. Its the reason there is art in the world. Its the reason I care about this person, this one of the female persuasion. I've come to realize its the reason I wake up in the morning, the pursuit of this feeling.

But the best thing of all, is that it takes two to create this feeling. And i have found someone incredible to help create it with me.

Past's Clarity

2008-11-10T17:23:00.000-08:00

Previously, he never went out of his way. Never went the extra mile to make life more enjoyable. Never took risks. It was part of his defense system. It was subtle, almost passive. Never did he think of it, it just was. Life was so clear, his definition was clarity. Never did he worry about dramatic relationships, cause he didnt put himself up for them. Life was event-free, and excitement-free. Pain-free. Love-free. Life happened as linear as he planned it, and he wondered why he was so bored and lonely.

Finally, he digged his tunnel. He tried the news toys in the store. To his amazement, he accepted them as they accepted him. Life changed for him, but not quite enough. During the daylight he would work on bettering himself. During the night, he would retreat to his cowardice ways. He felt people could sense it, and he felt he needed a change, again. His mish mosh attitude and poor execution would have to be renewed.

Now, the boy is feeling incredible. He no longer makes time for himself. He loses himself in others. He feels love, and gives out all the love he once bottled up for himself. He is amazed at what can happen to a person, if they just step down the stairs. His life is going at full speed now, and hes feeling the burn. He knew this was the sacrifice he would have to make if he wanted to be truly happy. But he must learn the balance. A balance of personal dedication, and outgoing emotion. He must learn to quell his new found business to accommodate his sanity. And that, will be the next path he will take.

Friendship

2008-10-29T06:12:00.000-07:00

How do people evolve without the tools of their childhood? How does one go off to college and become an adult without the crutch that is our friends? It seems so unlikely that I will keep in touch with all of my current friends after they have all moved on to their careers, and that scares me. I want to have that "childhood friend" that I've been with for years and years. A friend that can come and meet my children and tell them stories of the crazy antics we pulled back in our youth. A friend that my children can feel safe with. Someone they have known since they can remember. I want that. In reality, most people will move away, and think about you once every couple of years. Maybe skip your high school reunion so they wont have to feel shame when seeing your face. I think about these things, and they are so viable that it is frightening. Why is it that friends can't be nearly as close as an actual blood sibling? Some things in life, I will never understand.

Classic Rock

2008-10-28T15:34:00.001-07:00

Talking Heads
The Rolling Stones
The Who
Blue Oyster Cult
The Animals

I cant get enough!!!!!!!!!

A Tale of a Fledgling Phoenix.

2008-10-26T08:59:00.000-07:00

A reincarnate of sorts, he must learn to do things again. A hiatus of sorts, its been too long to remember. A phoenix of sorts, he must rise from the ashes and begin again. In his former glory, he flew high with his golden wings and fiery tail. His distinguished feathers, his sense of direction. His was a glorious bird, top notch in avian standards. And his time came, he peaked. He flew higher than he should have, and the sun burnt his wings down to ashes. It was a long process, but his feathers are coming to redeem themselves. A revelation of sorts, he has matured. A second chance of sorts, he will learn to respect his boundaries. A new life of sorts, he will learn to live again.

Blind Faith

2008-10-20T17:07:00.000-07:00

Can you see the real me? I'm standing right here, and you seem not to notice. You must be blind. That has got to be it. There isn't anything obstructing your view. No dust in your eye. Your not even sleeping. Your wide awake, during the day time, looking in my direction. Yet you do not see, not me atleast. And the saddest thing is, we are the only people in the room. What must i do to aquire your attention? Must I dance for you? Must I make a fool of myself? Must I change the way I am?

But the real question is; Are you worth it?

~A Dedication to a dear friend.

Decisions.

2008-09-23T10:57:00.000-07:00

I walk to the wall. It stinks. It is so broken from the hand grenade, there are chunks of it lying around on the floor. Scorching pieces, still steaming from the blast. I can tell they want to be whole again. Inside the wall, you can see the pipes that run through the house. The same pipes that provide the kitchen with water to wash the dishes. The same pipes that transfer the mess from the shitter.Its all a big mess, cause by one little grenade.

Eventually I woke up in a bed, hooked up to machines that kept me alive through the night. And somehow, I realized what happened. And I regreted everything I ever did to punish my body for being healthy. The dream I had, it was real. My wall really was ruined. I threw that grenade. I fucked up my own house. Nobodie's fault but mine....

Happiness

2008-09-16T16:12:00.001-07:00

In so many ways I experience happiness. It could be the simplicity of wearing a new pair of jeans. Or perhaps taking a shower and becoming clean once again. Some of the little things in life make me so happy, and yet I ignore them because there are things in larger scale. Smaller details that bring happiness are pushed aside unjustly to make room for more interesting topics.

For example, I Could go around telling my friends that I absolutely love washing my hair and then picking the left over shampoo out of my ears. Despite the level of truth to that, they would just think I'm odd and probably change the subject. The problem is that things like "The Hills" and yesterday's football game are appreciated more openly than the things that bring us the greatest amount of bliss. Society needs to avert more attention to finding the last blueberry poptart buried in the pantry as opposed to the most recent Shwayzee single.

The Laughing Stock

2008-09-15T17:40:00.000-07:00

I recently tried out for my school's fall play, a production titled "The Laughing Stock" which is a modern day farce. It depicts the struggles of actors that perform Dracula, Hamlet, and Charley's Aunt. To my surprise i got casted and landed the role of Henry, the designer for props, sets, and the like.

I wont give away much from the play, but it seems to be a hilarious look at a few actors trying to put out a good show in a hot barn during the summer.

Mondays at WHRHS

2008-09-15T09:59:00.000-07:00

The feeling of melancholy drifitng the hallways is so abundant that it spreads like a virus. It is all negativity. Weekends chock full of homework that needed completing. Projects due the day you get back from your two, very short, very sweet days off. It creates a feeling in the student body that is so hum drum and discontent, you just pretend not to notice anything that goes on around you. Everyone is moving, but only through muscle memory. You know you have to get to your destination, but you leave your mind behind in the fray. You struggle to contemplate the time left to suffer in class. Monday is the excuse for lethargy. Monday is the reason we regret going to bed at two A.M.

Photography Class and other school related topics.

2008-09-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

I find myself in photograph class again, learning theoretical photography. We have yet to take a single picture. I believe that one cannot learn to suspend time with pictures just by studying the ideas about it. One must initiate the act of preserving memories.

Big news in my life today. After much peer pressure and encouragement from my mother, I have decided to try out for the school play. I do not except to land a major spot, but that is okay. A lot of good friends are going to be trying out as well, and this should give me something to do after school. Despite my fears, this should be a lot of fun.

Yesterday in my last post I promised to create something worth reading. I must apologize ( especially to my special RSS feeding friend ;D ) because my blog hasnt had much substance lately. Tonight will be the night I create something interesting. Ive been thinking of topics to write about, and all I have to say is that a story of fiction is coming.

*P.S* Take note of the *Follow this Blog* function at the top right of this page. If you read my page, be sure to let me know of it!

The Monotony of School

2008-09-09T05:20:00.001-07:00

I am currently in first period of my fourth day back to school. Despite having an all new,fancy pants schedule where we have a different schedule each day, school is still humdrum and loathsome. It doesn't matter that i don't have to have physics and algebra each day, I still hate being here.

I guess i shouldn't complain, it beats sitting and rotting in my room for the rest of my life. I apologize to my readers for this average post, but nothing interesting has come up lately. Ill try hard to think of something great to write.

Ideas for writing:
-A story about a young man aspiring to become a cowboy?

more later....

Knowledge

2008-08-27T01:58:00.000-07:00

My mind has twisted it's way around the idea of knowledge, and the quest for it. The idea that knowledge is far great than any amount of gold one could obtain. An idea that my mind likes to ravel and unravel before I fall asleep at night is if a scholar had the opportunity to have a wish granted. If said scholar were to wish for all the knowledge there is to know, what would become of them? Initial thoughts are usually about all the secrets one could come to understand. Others may vary from secret lock combination's to hidden treasure. I ponder what would physically happen to the them. If one were to gain all of the knowledge available, all at one time, they would gain what it feels like to be tortured. Or enslaved. What it would be like to die. Considering what one can gain from knowledge, it becomes a double-edged sword.

Since the invention of the internet, our minds have grown to handle such enlightenment. The internet provides such an enormous amount of obtainable knowledge, it is frightening. What scares me is that our minds have become numb. Due to all of the information we take in constantly, it is near impossible to focus on point for long. It is near impossible to have strong feelings for something when there are so many other topics waiting around the corner. One cannot put forth the sympathy for all the disaster in one area, because we know exactly what is happening in the next. Due to everything we have access to, it is hard to legitimately feel sorrowful for something, because we know that elsewhere someone has had the same experience, if not worse.

This has mostly sprung from my recent viewing of the movie titled "Blood Diamond." It some ways i understood the crisis occurring in Africa. They are working as slaves to find diamonds to sell to us. The ignorance that people have shown, despite all of the knowledge handed to us, is unthinkable. How could someone put an entire continent through what it has experienced, just for the sake of personal gain.

All people are born good. But there is a point in one's life when they decide what is important; their struggle or others. And sadly, those who choose others, end up living in prosperity. If a god is present on this Earth, he should know to correct this flawed system that goes on year after year. One's life is not to be treated as tool, but to seek happiness that does not jeopardize another's.

*END RANT*

Ive discovered it is a good idea to write one's feelings down. This blog will help articulate my thoughts, through the power of words. Now as for my mentioning of the movie "Blood Diamond," I suggest all who have not seen it, go out and rent it now! Its a heart moving tale of the struggles that Africa endures, even to this day. Diamonds being sold illegally, and kept secretly just so the demand of these rocks stay high. It really twists your gut when you see the result of this, which is civil war. Children brainwashed that in order to fight the government, one must kill his neighbor. I am so fortunate to live in a stable country, that i do not have to worry about some of the things that they do. And it sickens me that they have to experience this. Althought childish, i desperately wish at times that somebody would come and fix everything that is wrong with the world. It just isnt fair to those that suffer. Everyone has the right to life.

What I think: "A Child Called It" & The Tempations

2008-08-11T20:32:00.000-07:00

Today I started reading a book titled "A Child called It" by David Pelzer. It is a true story of his outrageously horrible child hood, and his struggle to live through it. I haven't gotten very far, but already the book has me feeling so bad for this child. Some of the things in this book are beyond one's imagination. How a mother could treat their child like this is beyond me.

On a happier note, I picked up The Temptations' The Ultimate Collection, and I feel stupid for not listening to it earlier. What an incredible group they were. There is something about their music, its just pure emotion. Older music has that quality, as opposed to some of the popular music of today's media. Older music such as the Temptations is a breath of fresh air from the monotony of MTV and their rehashed rap singles.

The beginning

2008-08-11T01:59:00.000-07:00

Today is the beginning of this blog. But I have been up the entire night, so something interesting will have to wait until tomorrow.