Tuesday, December 13, 2011
a slight change of pace
I know I go on about all sorts of sad things all the time on this blog- it's just that those are the things I need to express; but I wouldn't want people to think that that is all I see in the world, and my life. And so, for those of you who get bogged down by my stories- I apologize- and submit to you the following. Let me start off by acknowledging the many good people I have been blessed to know/have known. For the friends I have now, who have stood by me I am eternally grateful. (you know who you are- i hope) But not everyone is destined to follow along the same paths. Some people are only there for a time, and then move on toward their own destiny. This doesn't lessen their visit at all- in fact, it makes it all the more precious. My personality is such that most people I have met in my life only stayed in it for a short while. I've met thousands upon thousands of people I'm sure, and I remember so many faces, and so many moments that will never be remembered outright in writing or stories. And everyone of them has contributed to my life, offering lessons to be learned and taught. We as humans have a fascination with misery though, and often times it's the good stories that get left out of the memoir, replaced by the bad. I believe this is because we are more strictly motivated by the awful to effect change, than we often are by those heartwarming stories of love and kindness. I made the statement a few days ago to a friend, that I don't really want to be happy, because happy people rarely change anything in the world. (that's a backwards way of thinking I know- and I've only just recently had it presented so bluntly) I won't defend that position, because I know it must be flawed. Nonetheless, the things that upset me are the ones that give me words to speak and songs to write. And it's in those dark places I take my mind that I look out upon the good and am able to find meaning in it. Otherwise I have a terrible problem of letting it all just slip by with out smelling the roses. I realize that not everyone is this way- and i realize i'm a little backwards in the head- but, that is who I am. What I find absolutely fascinating is the effect that my outlook on life at any given moment can have on so many people; good and bad. Remember this: when a sad moment comes upon us, it can be preserved for eternity by words written- but because those words are the only ones written, it does not mean that eternity has been sad. When a moment of joy strikes me, I do not waste it by focusing on writing it down. It's in moments of joy and happiness that the books are closed and put away, because we are too busy enjoying life. So for those of you who read this blog, and wonder about my state of being, you needn't worry. My life isn't lived in these words, these are just some of the ones i'd like to leave behind, that don't always have a place in other works. My point for creating anything is to get its audience to see it with different eyes than their own. That is the essence of art.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
6:44 am
I can't sleep. I mean I can, up until the point of closing my eyes, then my mind reminds me of all the reasons I can't sleep. Truth be told I'd rather sleep than be awake with it all. When I'm awake I find ways to take my mind off those things, but I'd really rather stay there- asleep. There I don't remember that I'm walking in a memory, I just am. It's when I awake and feel the weight of the air in my lungs that I remember, this is the real one. I don't always wake up expecting something that's not there, but when I do it feels like something has died inside me, leaving me ill at the thought. I usually sleep the feeling away for just a few more hours. Have you ever had a dream that was so entrancing that you felt utter disappointment when you awoke to find it wasn't real, and so you force yourself back to sleep to try and re-imagine it again, hoping to have that experience for just a little longer? It almost never works. But I wake up every morning, for weeks now, from my dreams and feel that utter disappointment. I fall back to sleep not to re-imagine those things, but really rather to escape the thought of them for just a while longer; to let my body settle itself without my having to be a part of the discomfort. But instead of being whisked away by some lighthearted fantasy, or a random over-dramatic, slightly bizarre parallel universe, I get knocked back into that reality my mind would prefer. I would too, were it not for the fact that I must eventually wake from it. It's like waking up one morning with a gut wrenching feeling inside that tells you the day you just lived before never happened, and it reminds you of what seems to be days ago and says that was yesterday. And that day seems very much like this day. Whatever it was in between was not really your life at all, but merely the product of an over active imagination that has been suppressed thoroughly throughout the day into the places of the subconscious reserved for child-like beliefs and memories that are never to be recalled intentionally again. It's that same place we keep all those things we thought we've forgotten about until the memories are recalled for a moment by small details or phantom scents in the air. Some times it's just a shade of color that sparks those details of my memory that I would rather not recall for the time being. I can't think of a color that doesn't take me back to that other place, the life that's not mine. It's a strange thing to pass by a shop with money in your pocket, and think, "there's something I was going to purchase." But when you remember what it was, the reasons for buying it no longer apply.
That paper in your pocket gets heavy after that. It's funny how an awareness of the thing you've been carrying all along tends to change the gift into burden.
I sleep better in the day. I sleep deeper. It makes it harder wake up.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Monday December 05, 2011, 4:01 am - 4:46 am
I don't mind acknowledging that I have issues; and I don't expect everyone to understand or accept them. I mean, everyone has issues right, if mine affect you in a negative way, then that's up to you how you deal with that. I gave up along time ago believing that there will be people out there who I can relate to in depth. Sure, there are aspects of everyone's life that are common, and easily relatable. And I'm sure there are some unlucky people who have lived similar lives to my own. I just haven't met any. Everyone is unique, and it's not their experiences that make them so. Experiences are common and often repeat; but like a shuffled deck of cards, you will rarely see the same deck twice; and life has more than 52 cards. So for every ace you see, there is also a choice made of how to play it: as a 1 or as an Ace. Neither is negative. It depends on the hand you're dealt. But for every Ace that works out, there are dozens more that fail. Life is built in runs. You have to play the odds. Assuming you've got a grasp on the game and know the number of cards in your deck. After all, you can only play your hand, and not all the cards are available to all the players; if they were, all our aces would fail. I play a lot of cards (if you hadn't guessed) and one lesson that took me a while to learn is not to hold out for the best hand. Some one else's luck may be closer in line than yours is, and you may well go bust believing you were entitled to what they now have; and now that you've risked and lost everything on that sure thing, you no longer have a seat at the table, and all the luck in the world won't make a bit of difference. On that humble road back to the ATM, you might do yourself the favor to remember that risk is part of the game, while absolutes are not. You may even build up the courage to play a few hands that aren't as strong as Aces, but are easier to get away from, and not commit yourself to. It's usually that less than sure thing that works out to be the most productive. I've always held out for the "sure" things in life, never risking much on those things I couldn't project the prospects of. There's no better way to squander your time than by planning it; And there's no worse way to lose what you have than while taking it for granted.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
a disconnected thought
I've asked myself why good things happen when they do, to the people who they do. I've asked about the bad things that happen to decent people. It's not that I'm looking for some place to lay blame on, just searching for understanding of the rules of the game- how it all works. I've rarely stopped to think of myself being that source, in my own life and in the life of others. Happiness I'm sorry. I didn't treat you right. Some one can do everything right, keep all the rules, and be on the good side of things, and still be victim to some one else's selfish behavior. Both sides are awful to be on. I've been the victim, and I've been the victimizer. I've kicked myself for both, for years. I still don't forgive myself for what I've done. I don't really expect forgiveness from you. But maybe now that I'm on the decent side of things I can expect some sort of balance in the game. At least for a while.
Everything I write is for some one. I'd be surprised if the people I'm writing to ever read this blog- and I know that I can never make up for things here. My intent for this blog has always been to express things freely, in ways that might allow the mind of it's reader to glimpse inside mine. I know I have a different way of seeing things than others. That's not just a way of explaining away my differences; I really don't live in the same world. My world starts out like yours, with a sunrise, a day- a night, things in between; people come and go, experiences, expressions, pain, and happiness. . . But your world is composed like a film, whereas mine is like a painting from a masters hands. You have dozens of hands crafting, editing, reviewing what goes where and how. They see it in sections big and small, and as one complete work from start to finish. And in the end, there are few who get credited or criticized for the journey. A film is constructed to tell a near complete story, with mystery where it needs it, and answers when they are called for- all to keep the viewer engrossed in the journey from beginning to end. That is your world.
My world is not so complete. Answers can't be expected when they're needed, mysteries are not so intriguing as they are frustrating; and when the lights come up and the critics begin in, there is only one who bares the harsh conflicts of reality. Because the Master painter needs not explain himself, there are often more questions that arise from his work than there are answers given. His image is intentionally obscure. His secrets are cryptic and vague. Faces are often implied, and actions are cut as if from stone, yet fluid. Sharpened edges distract the eye, as clear lines are often the enemy of his grand illusion. His gift is not of story telling. Instead the Master captures life through a filter of his own design. It is often sad without appearing so, but the image depresses you, and so you know it is sad. It's also playful and cheery at times, with a warmth that rivals any heart. It is the cold complacent gesture of colors that make up his scenery, with a symbol here and there for your relation, with subtle and often incomplete features. If you look you will see everything intended. If you look again, you might begin to see what's missing. Looking a third time you may not even see the image anymore; instead you will begin to obsess over the things not there that you could swear had been. In a long steady fourth look, you may begin to see through the Master's eyes. Because this world contradicts your own, the unsettling feeling that you get from a woman smiling will send you into frustrational fits without knowing why. And if you care to come back to look again, for a fifth time, you might begin to understand that the woman smiling, with all her warmth and gleam in her eyes is in fact, not happy at all- but broken hearted and distraught. She is worth a sixth look, if you dare. But perhaps you'd rather focus on another portion of the painting. One less piercing, or disturbing. The harmless sway of a field catches your eye. A golden field caught up in a soft breeze has little to hide. It as only the weeds to bother it, and is home to many small and harmless creatures. It is also home to a small shack you never noticed before. It's off in the distance some; you never would have thought it would be a part of the story. But there you go again, thinking about the story. The problem with stories is that they are all linear, like a movie. ;) But a painting isn't linear. And neither is life. Now that you've discovered the painting in 3 dimensions, you are distracted away from the little shack, and begin to see all manor of things you never did before. There are flocks of black birds in the field- those tiny little blips behind the now deeply saddened woman. Straining your imagination, your eyes, and your will power, you begin to see a horizon you didn't notice before. A tiny blip again; perhaps a man. He could live in that shack. He is little more than an elongated splatter on the canvas; and yet so much more. The sadness of the woman is now completely lost in this little black dot. You smile. You've found some one that didn't exist before you imagined him. Look back at that woman now. Is she sad, or complacent?
Everything I write is for some one. I'd be surprised if the people I'm writing to ever read this blog- and I know that I can never make up for things here. My intent for this blog has always been to express things freely, in ways that might allow the mind of it's reader to glimpse inside mine. I know I have a different way of seeing things than others. That's not just a way of explaining away my differences; I really don't live in the same world. My world starts out like yours, with a sunrise, a day- a night, things in between; people come and go, experiences, expressions, pain, and happiness. . . But your world is composed like a film, whereas mine is like a painting from a masters hands. You have dozens of hands crafting, editing, reviewing what goes where and how. They see it in sections big and small, and as one complete work from start to finish. And in the end, there are few who get credited or criticized for the journey. A film is constructed to tell a near complete story, with mystery where it needs it, and answers when they are called for- all to keep the viewer engrossed in the journey from beginning to end. That is your world.
My world is not so complete. Answers can't be expected when they're needed, mysteries are not so intriguing as they are frustrating; and when the lights come up and the critics begin in, there is only one who bares the harsh conflicts of reality. Because the Master painter needs not explain himself, there are often more questions that arise from his work than there are answers given. His image is intentionally obscure. His secrets are cryptic and vague. Faces are often implied, and actions are cut as if from stone, yet fluid. Sharpened edges distract the eye, as clear lines are often the enemy of his grand illusion. His gift is not of story telling. Instead the Master captures life through a filter of his own design. It is often sad without appearing so, but the image depresses you, and so you know it is sad. It's also playful and cheery at times, with a warmth that rivals any heart. It is the cold complacent gesture of colors that make up his scenery, with a symbol here and there for your relation, with subtle and often incomplete features. If you look you will see everything intended. If you look again, you might begin to see what's missing. Looking a third time you may not even see the image anymore; instead you will begin to obsess over the things not there that you could swear had been. In a long steady fourth look, you may begin to see through the Master's eyes. Because this world contradicts your own, the unsettling feeling that you get from a woman smiling will send you into frustrational fits without knowing why. And if you care to come back to look again, for a fifth time, you might begin to understand that the woman smiling, with all her warmth and gleam in her eyes is in fact, not happy at all- but broken hearted and distraught. She is worth a sixth look, if you dare. But perhaps you'd rather focus on another portion of the painting. One less piercing, or disturbing. The harmless sway of a field catches your eye. A golden field caught up in a soft breeze has little to hide. It as only the weeds to bother it, and is home to many small and harmless creatures. It is also home to a small shack you never noticed before. It's off in the distance some; you never would have thought it would be a part of the story. But there you go again, thinking about the story. The problem with stories is that they are all linear, like a movie. ;) But a painting isn't linear. And neither is life. Now that you've discovered the painting in 3 dimensions, you are distracted away from the little shack, and begin to see all manor of things you never did before. There are flocks of black birds in the field- those tiny little blips behind the now deeply saddened woman. Straining your imagination, your eyes, and your will power, you begin to see a horizon you didn't notice before. A tiny blip again; perhaps a man. He could live in that shack. He is little more than an elongated splatter on the canvas; and yet so much more. The sadness of the woman is now completely lost in this little black dot. You smile. You've found some one that didn't exist before you imagined him. Look back at that woman now. Is she sad, or complacent?
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Either Way- Wilco
Maybe the sun will shine today
The clouds will blow away
Maybe I won't feel so afraid
I will try to understand
Either way
Maybe you still love me
Maybe you don't
Either you will or you won't
Maybe you just need some time alone
I will try to understand
Everything has its plan
Either way
I'm gonna stay
Right for you
Maybe the sun will shine today
The clouds will roll away
Maybe I won't be so afraid
I will understand everything has its plan
Either way
The clouds will blow away
Maybe I won't feel so afraid
I will try to understand
Either way
Maybe you still love me
Maybe you don't
Either you will or you won't
Maybe you just need some time alone
I will try to understand
Everything has its plan
Either way
I'm gonna stay
Right for you
Maybe the sun will shine today
The clouds will roll away
Maybe I won't be so afraid
I will understand everything has its plan
Either way
Friday, November 18, 2011
Is there anything graceful to say?
Sometimes I find myself with so much to say that I can't find the words to say it gracefully; and so I'm silent. I'm not even sure anybody reads this anymore- my life has taken a great detour from where all this began, but this has always been a retrospective effort. I'm listening to Pablo Blaqk right now- an artist I've had the fortune of knowing for several years now, although I could not claim a close relationship; nonetheless, I've the opportunity to see and listen as he has risen into the artist he is now. It makes me wonder if I might have passed up opportunities to do something with my own music. I know I'd never meet the success that he has, or will- but i had a goal. . . a goal I haven't met, or even worked toward in the last few years. I haven't played a lick for over a year until recently- i bought a cheap guitar, and tried to rediscover something inside me. It's buried so deep, I've had trouble remembering my own song. (you know the one, that everyone likes) I've written over 100, and barely remember them. I can still play the one tho.
I deleted everyone from my facebook save a few, and family. From nearly 300, now around 62. I really wanted to delete myself. But that's not very practical, is it? That would only prove right all those people who somewhat expect it of me. I just got tired of pretending that there were so many people I cared about, or called friend. There's has really only been a small handful of people who have ever meant anything to me. They all leave eventually. Sounds pathetic, but it's true. Family stays around, conditionally- but mostly because they are obligated. I guess everyone is conditional. People stay because they love you- because you continue to be who they love, and they continue to be who they were when they loved you. But if either of you change, the love is subject to as well. That's not sad. That's not pesemistic. That's just how it is. I've never been completely happyu with who I am- I always want to be more. I feel like I've been moving forward. But now I don't know if I'm the one changing, or the one staying the same. I don't do the same things I used to; so that's change right? But all the same things keep happening to me; so i'm the same?
So about the facebook thing. . . There have only been a couple people who I've really loved. Not just had feelings for, not just loved, but who I could find that place with- that peace, that joy. (Oh, and I know the BS that you're gonna say- "no one can make you happy- no one can be your reason for being happy- only you can choose that- yada yada" Yeah ok, well that's all bull sh** and you know it. If you don't know it then try this little experiment: imagine everyone you care about was gone, or dead or whatever- not in your life. How happy would you be? Oh, sure you'd go on- move on- find- what, new people? Duh!? Yeah, you'd get over it eventually because you'd just replace those people with new ones and find a way to be happy again. If you lost your family you'd find a new one. You know it's true. Even tho you may never fill that void- you would still replace them. So lets not have the bull.) So yeah, of those few people in my life that I've ever cared about, yes we are talking about 'the one.' The one who ruined countless others. The one has always been there, who always will be, despite any distance the world has to offer. That one that I don't know what I'll do without. The one who has defined my life as it is.
I abandoned my life before- and I'll tell you why. My first ten years where a completely wasted childhood. Oh sure they where fun, and filled with great stories and character building experiences- but as for caring those times into my teenage years; forget about it. Ok, teenage years. . . well those you might think are generally wasted anyway right? You have know idea until you live an hour from the nearest dump of a town, and maybe get to see another human being outside your family twice a week- and even then, it's church, and scouts- (but generally just church) And you might think, 'what about school?' Well I didn't mention it for a reason; nonexistent. So now I'm 20 right, parents getting divorced, I'm a little more than 1000 miles from what I feel is home, and have no job, no money, no friends, no social skills, no way to get back home, and no reason to anyway- this is how the last ten years started. So mental wreck, social retard, confused angry uneducated adult with an undiagnosed learning disability, and severe anxiety disorder. (we're talking don't go outside in the day light, hide under the bed from the doorbell, can't answer the phone, can't look people in the eye, sit in a corner and shake yourself to sleep anxiety disorder!)And that pretty much sums up the first half of the decade. Amazingly, I somehow was able to find a girlfriend- at 24- get my GED- work at Ozz- and start the beginnings of what appeared to be a life. Finally! Well she broke up with me just after Christmas- the day after- (hence my hesitation to love the holiday- it was the fist time, but not the last.) So in my, i need to learn how to be a human being, because I'm heading down that serial killer road and I don't much like it stage, I wrote many songs, poems, and the like and found a way out of my own head by singing. I always liked to sing- privately- but in the long isolated hours of what was sometimes madness, and sometimes just boredom, i discovered that I really had a voice; and that maybe, just maybe I could do something with it. Hmmm. . . Now we're almost to the part where this whole blog begins, remember that, the whole theater part; my ultimate learning to be a person experiment. Well if you're new to my blog, you really need to start from the beginning, because now is just about when things come full circle. Remember that girl- the one on her bike, wearing a green hoodie; well that was in '08. (don't worry about the years in between- that thing about sitting in the corner happened allot- not much else to the story there) That girl! Well I don't know if I mentioned this or not, at least I didn't say it plainly, but just before I met that girl, I made the biggest mistake of my life up to that point and hurt some one I really cared about- and yes I mean one of those few I mentioned before- So I made a promise, to myself, to God, and to the future, specifically the next girl that crossed my path, that I would treat her the way the lord would have me- the way all Gods children deserve to be treated- according to there inner beauty. (Well this will make more sense now going back and reading up on how we met.) Anyway, if I hadn't made that promise, I can almost guaranty that she would not have been in my life for very long, because the truth is- well she made some mistakes of her own shortly after we met and no one would have blamed me if I never spoke to her again. (now I must say before I go on, not to let your imagination get away from you- I wouldn't want to leave a false impression in your mind about some one I obviously care deeply about- Just consider that within the time frame of first knowing some one for only two weeks, there is not a very high level of tolerance for mistakes) Anyway, mistakes were made, feelings were hurt, and I didn't have much reason to believe in 'that girl' at that time, where it not for that promise I made, and the feeling that it brought to me, that I should do everything I could to be her friend at that time. It wasn't easy. Our friendship lasted for a time until it was so strained that we cut off all contact for several months. And now we come full circle. That summer I decided at the behest of my brother to audition for a show- that story you know- that fall I enrolled at UVU. Long story short, so did she, and surprise surprise we are both in the theater department- (did i mention she's loves theater- and is an amazing actor and singer?) anyway, I bite the bullet and decide to call her and make a mends, and at least clear the tension between us. This time she is receptive- which might surprise you if I told you all the fun details- not that I did anything to deserve it mind you- it's just complicated. So the air is clear, and all that good stuff- long story shorter, I had the chance to direct a student project for a class and needed an actress for a part, that was already chosen for another- so i thought, hey i know a great actress! (no I'm not stupid, I suggested the other director cast 'that girl' and I would cast the one i needed) and so, from those meager beginnings our friendship finally began. Wow! This story is getting long... Ok so you know where this is going right? I've loved her since the first day I saw her. It's been over three and a half years since we met, about three years since we've been close friends- we've dated twice in those three years, had a few false starts as well. . . and recently dated for two months- that ended a little over a month ago when . . . well, I won't go in to details- other to say she broke it off, and decided not to be my friend anymore- maybe-idk . . . Wow, yeah i guess this story doesn't have as much meaning when you don't really know how things happened completely- but if i tell it, that would only be one side. And honestly, I don't have the grace to tell it without saying some harsh things. About us both.
So what's the point to all this? It's 3:48 am and I have to be somewhere for an interview at 1pm tomorrow- because I had this really awesome job, and they fired me for no reason- downsized they said- but I later found out they just didn't like me- and so yeah, I'm depressed because it's winter, I've lost my best friend who also broke my heart for no reason, and I lost a good job for no fault of my own, and I'm laying here on the floor on a room i rent, that I can't really afford, wondering if it's gonna get better before it gets worse, knowing that I'm doing everything I know how to do, but also knowing that there may always be that some one out there who just doesn't give a ***k about anyone else, who potentially has the power to F*** with my life in a bad way. But that's not new is it!? I guess that's the point of all this. You can call me a downer, you can all me defeated, you can call me whatever the hell you want. But forget you! You haven't been through my shoes, and you only know a fraction of the story- because clearly, I have a lot of free time on my hands and I can't even come close to spilling it all out here. I just covered Thirty years. Congratulations if you feel like you know me a little bit know- you don't know even half of me.
I deleted everyone from my facebook save a few, and family. From nearly 300, now around 62. I really wanted to delete myself. But that's not very practical, is it? That would only prove right all those people who somewhat expect it of me. I just got tired of pretending that there were so many people I cared about, or called friend. There's has really only been a small handful of people who have ever meant anything to me. They all leave eventually. Sounds pathetic, but it's true. Family stays around, conditionally- but mostly because they are obligated. I guess everyone is conditional. People stay because they love you- because you continue to be who they love, and they continue to be who they were when they loved you. But if either of you change, the love is subject to as well. That's not sad. That's not pesemistic. That's just how it is. I've never been completely happyu with who I am- I always want to be more. I feel like I've been moving forward. But now I don't know if I'm the one changing, or the one staying the same. I don't do the same things I used to; so that's change right? But all the same things keep happening to me; so i'm the same?
So about the facebook thing. . . There have only been a couple people who I've really loved. Not just had feelings for, not just loved, but who I could find that place with- that peace, that joy. (Oh, and I know the BS that you're gonna say- "no one can make you happy- no one can be your reason for being happy- only you can choose that- yada yada" Yeah ok, well that's all bull sh** and you know it. If you don't know it then try this little experiment: imagine everyone you care about was gone, or dead or whatever- not in your life. How happy would you be? Oh, sure you'd go on- move on- find- what, new people? Duh!? Yeah, you'd get over it eventually because you'd just replace those people with new ones and find a way to be happy again. If you lost your family you'd find a new one. You know it's true. Even tho you may never fill that void- you would still replace them. So lets not have the bull.) So yeah, of those few people in my life that I've ever cared about, yes we are talking about 'the one.' The one who ruined countless others. The one has always been there, who always will be, despite any distance the world has to offer. That one that I don't know what I'll do without. The one who has defined my life as it is.
I abandoned my life before- and I'll tell you why. My first ten years where a completely wasted childhood. Oh sure they where fun, and filled with great stories and character building experiences- but as for caring those times into my teenage years; forget about it. Ok, teenage years. . . well those you might think are generally wasted anyway right? You have know idea until you live an hour from the nearest dump of a town, and maybe get to see another human being outside your family twice a week- and even then, it's church, and scouts- (but generally just church) And you might think, 'what about school?' Well I didn't mention it for a reason; nonexistent. So now I'm 20 right, parents getting divorced, I'm a little more than 1000 miles from what I feel is home, and have no job, no money, no friends, no social skills, no way to get back home, and no reason to anyway- this is how the last ten years started. So mental wreck, social retard, confused angry uneducated adult with an undiagnosed learning disability, and severe anxiety disorder. (we're talking don't go outside in the day light, hide under the bed from the doorbell, can't answer the phone, can't look people in the eye, sit in a corner and shake yourself to sleep anxiety disorder!)And that pretty much sums up the first half of the decade. Amazingly, I somehow was able to find a girlfriend- at 24- get my GED- work at Ozz- and start the beginnings of what appeared to be a life. Finally! Well she broke up with me just after Christmas- the day after- (hence my hesitation to love the holiday- it was the fist time, but not the last.) So in my, i need to learn how to be a human being, because I'm heading down that serial killer road and I don't much like it stage, I wrote many songs, poems, and the like and found a way out of my own head by singing. I always liked to sing- privately- but in the long isolated hours of what was sometimes madness, and sometimes just boredom, i discovered that I really had a voice; and that maybe, just maybe I could do something with it. Hmmm. . . Now we're almost to the part where this whole blog begins, remember that, the whole theater part; my ultimate learning to be a person experiment. Well if you're new to my blog, you really need to start from the beginning, because now is just about when things come full circle. Remember that girl- the one on her bike, wearing a green hoodie; well that was in '08. (don't worry about the years in between- that thing about sitting in the corner happened allot- not much else to the story there) That girl! Well I don't know if I mentioned this or not, at least I didn't say it plainly, but just before I met that girl, I made the biggest mistake of my life up to that point and hurt some one I really cared about- and yes I mean one of those few I mentioned before- So I made a promise, to myself, to God, and to the future, specifically the next girl that crossed my path, that I would treat her the way the lord would have me- the way all Gods children deserve to be treated- according to there inner beauty. (Well this will make more sense now going back and reading up on how we met.) Anyway, if I hadn't made that promise, I can almost guaranty that she would not have been in my life for very long, because the truth is- well she made some mistakes of her own shortly after we met and no one would have blamed me if I never spoke to her again. (now I must say before I go on, not to let your imagination get away from you- I wouldn't want to leave a false impression in your mind about some one I obviously care deeply about- Just consider that within the time frame of first knowing some one for only two weeks, there is not a very high level of tolerance for mistakes) Anyway, mistakes were made, feelings were hurt, and I didn't have much reason to believe in 'that girl' at that time, where it not for that promise I made, and the feeling that it brought to me, that I should do everything I could to be her friend at that time. It wasn't easy. Our friendship lasted for a time until it was so strained that we cut off all contact for several months. And now we come full circle. That summer I decided at the behest of my brother to audition for a show- that story you know- that fall I enrolled at UVU. Long story short, so did she, and surprise surprise we are both in the theater department- (did i mention she's loves theater- and is an amazing actor and singer?) anyway, I bite the bullet and decide to call her and make a mends, and at least clear the tension between us. This time she is receptive- which might surprise you if I told you all the fun details- not that I did anything to deserve it mind you- it's just complicated. So the air is clear, and all that good stuff- long story shorter, I had the chance to direct a student project for a class and needed an actress for a part, that was already chosen for another- so i thought, hey i know a great actress! (no I'm not stupid, I suggested the other director cast 'that girl' and I would cast the one i needed) and so, from those meager beginnings our friendship finally began. Wow! This story is getting long... Ok so you know where this is going right? I've loved her since the first day I saw her. It's been over three and a half years since we met, about three years since we've been close friends- we've dated twice in those three years, had a few false starts as well. . . and recently dated for two months- that ended a little over a month ago when . . . well, I won't go in to details- other to say she broke it off, and decided not to be my friend anymore- maybe-idk . . . Wow, yeah i guess this story doesn't have as much meaning when you don't really know how things happened completely- but if i tell it, that would only be one side. And honestly, I don't have the grace to tell it without saying some harsh things. About us both.
So what's the point to all this? It's 3:48 am and I have to be somewhere for an interview at 1pm tomorrow- because I had this really awesome job, and they fired me for no reason- downsized they said- but I later found out they just didn't like me- and so yeah, I'm depressed because it's winter, I've lost my best friend who also broke my heart for no reason, and I lost a good job for no fault of my own, and I'm laying here on the floor on a room i rent, that I can't really afford, wondering if it's gonna get better before it gets worse, knowing that I'm doing everything I know how to do, but also knowing that there may always be that some one out there who just doesn't give a ***k about anyone else, who potentially has the power to F*** with my life in a bad way. But that's not new is it!? I guess that's the point of all this. You can call me a downer, you can all me defeated, you can call me whatever the hell you want. But forget you! You haven't been through my shoes, and you only know a fraction of the story- because clearly, I have a lot of free time on my hands and I can't even come close to spilling it all out here. I just covered Thirty years. Congratulations if you feel like you know me a little bit know- you don't know even half of me.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Little Lion man
There was a boy who loved a girl, whose name is pure as heaven.
She held him up, and cooled him down- yet heat grew deep within them.
He loved her so- She loved him too- yet something came between them.
His wandering soul, her wandering mind, played no small their sin.
With tears and courage, words are spoke. They know they may regret.
Their tethered tongues and breaking hearts can't undo what's been said.
The Lioness has made her stand, with vague and cryptic speaking-
"Be strong my little lion man."
Yet, both of them are weeping
She held him up, and cooled him down- yet heat grew deep within them.
He loved her so- She loved him too- yet something came between them.
His wandering soul, her wandering mind, played no small their sin.
With tears and courage, words are spoke. They know they may regret.
Their tethered tongues and breaking hearts can't undo what's been said.
The Lioness has made her stand, with vague and cryptic speaking-
"Be strong my little lion man."
Yet, both of them are weeping
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
April 2011
I offer the following from Jack London's The Call of The Wild to summarise my position:
So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that each day mankind and the claims of mankind slipped farther from him. Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But as often as he gained the soft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love... drew him back to the fire again.
-Jack London
So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that each day mankind and the claims of mankind slipped farther from him. Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But as often as he gained the soft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love... drew him back to the fire again.
-Jack London
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