When there's nothing to say...

Talk about the weather, it's what I do.  It's the cliche conversation starter and to some a lame topic, but humor me if you will.  Everybody knows there's magic in snow, and the rain in its turn makes everything grow.  Calm skies is what I like, where I'm able to see a trees bare silhouette pressed against the moon as it hangs among the stars.  I envy that bitch.  I've been told my head is in the clouds, but I don't find that insulting, I dare to dream during the day and so be it.  I never actually check the weather, I like to be surprised upon awakening, what type of day is it gonna be?  I'll tell you, December and the last half of November, mother nature has been temperamental.  Up and down, wet and dry, snowy and icy....we've had it all so far.  This winter ought to be interesting, and I guess who you're talking about the weather with makes all the difference.

So, who wants to talk about the weather with?

Prajna* (wisdom)

 I say this December so far is way more like winter than it usually is this time of year, but my recollection is faulty.  True, we've had some mild winters these last 10 years but I'm not hinking of the years before that.  My life here is kind of separated by my time in the Army, I left and came back more of a man than the kid that I was.  It's all rather interesting the way things transpire, and I watch as the snow falls flurrying, inundated with thoughts as individual as the flakes falling before me.  I talk about the things that I find moving, and I'm not always sure that it makes sense to anyone but me.  I can only imagine that one day this, all of my writing here, will get buried within the depths of the internet, discarded in a wasteland of words and broken links that lead to nowhere.  That's kind of true to life though, we build ourselves up only to wither away back to nothing.  Like the earth spinning on its axis, we can't see it but we know it's happening.  Sometimes it's like we're standing too close to the mirror to catch a good overall glimpse of ourselves, and it isn't at all easy to separate mind from body in order to step away far enough to see the whole.

Buddhists have a word for emptiness, sunyata, but there in lies an idea, not just a definition.  Emptiness, by English definition, expresses a negative connotation or lacking.  The idea behind sunyata is that only when empty can one begin to add.  I share a lot of ideas, ideas I don't want to take credit for because they are not my own.  I simply apply them in life, share my experience and express them in the way I understand, and on a one on one basis I adapt the way I talk to the person I am talking to.  I'm learning about people that you can't always deal with everyone the same.  Over time you see about an individual what they need in order for them to hear what you're saying, to speak in a way that their perception can receive.  Wisdom is not in how much knowledge you retain, it's how much knowledge can you let alone.  Knowledge serves a practical purpose in life, yes, but I'll never know so much to not see the difference between ideas and definitions.  "Knowledge is power...," as the saying goes but they left out the rest of it.  A glass half full has room for more.

Haha, so I started with the weather in the Midwest and ended with a lesson in Buddhism...it is ALL connected.

*Pranja-In Buddhism, it is especially the wisdom that is based on the direct realization of such things as the four noble truths; impermanence, dependent origination, non-self, and emptiness.

ps.  My original "ps"  was fucking lame so I deleted it,  haha.

My little girl

I was giving her a look.  I glare coldly, eyes that will pierce right through you....I stood at the top of the stairs staring at her with all the seriousness I could muster.

"Daddy, why are you staring at me like that?"  She's asks, giggling.

It didn't even phase her.  Her tiny little brain doesn't process things that way.  I wasn't actually trying to intimidate her, I was more playing around and I definitely didn't succeed cuz I couldn't not laugh at the innocence in her question.  

She sings at night when she goes to sleep, makes up her own words and I have to admit, they're creative and she rhymes the lines, it's funny.  She gets lost in her own world trying to fall asleep, forgetting there's someone in the next room listening.  The world of a child is one that lacks boundaries, limitless possibilities.  

Last night she reverse psychology'd me.  She was eating spinsketti for dinner and proceeds to tell me "Daddy, I'm full but I don't want to stop eating."  I said "baby, if you're full then stop."  "Ok" she says sliding off the chair, sprinting once her feet hit the floor.  The speed with which she darted after I said stop tells me it was premeditated.  She's fuckin crafty, let me tell you.  Gwendolyn, my little swindler.

Pensive

I just made a cup of coffee and I used cream, only the powdered kind, and a little bit of sugar.  That's how I used to drink it, seems like ages ago.  At some point I cut out the cream and went black with sugar but when I joined the army, there wasn't any fixing that shit.  It was always in the standard issue stainless steel pot which I think they never emptied, only added more the next day.  Additives only made it worse so I got used to drinking it black, and I eventually acquired the taste for just black coffee, as I get older my tastes change.  I somehow manage to remember these minute details about my life, like when and how I changed the way I drink my coffee.  And then I manage to relate it to something currently going on in my life, rather my head.  Just an observation.

I don't mind change or seeing things a different way, from a different perspective, it can make old things seem new once again.  A different angle can show us a facet we've never seen.  Some people ask me how I can let go of emotions so easily.  Emotions are an instinctual reaction to whatever is happening, but most people dwell on those and can't let go.  If I'm angry or sad, even happy, I know that there is a reason for it, there always is.  It has taken me a very long time to get to this point where I can allow myself to feel something, understand it for what it is and move along.  I'm no longer a flash flood of reactions, rather like molasses, the time to decide how to act doesn't pass me.  

I like to think I have a good understanding of people, sometimes I take advantage of it but I use it mostly for good, I say that with a devilish grin.  I'm an extroverted introvert by definition, I swear, look them up.  I concern myself with everything around me but I internalize most of it, I think about things and then I let go of em.    My thoughts are like dough, I roll then around and play with them with the intent to create something. I share ideas with people as if they were a valuable currency,to me ideas are priceless, and their worth is whatever we choose to make of them.  I always like to bring a post full circle in a short display of the crazy way everything is connected.  A dude at work today told me "I like working with you.  You're always down to chill and there's always coffee on."  I absolutely say this with every humble fiber in my body, it made me smile inside.  Naturally I acted like my normal self and brushed it off without being rude, but it was cool.  Haha, it probably helps that I'm always down to run the crane and help out, but that's how I was shown by the old timers.  We hang out and break first then we ALL go to work and get our shit done cuz when the shit hits the fan around here there's pretty much no more breaking for the day, haha.  Those old timers had their shit together, and they stuck together, anymore it's every man for themselves and it's a fucking shame.  I refuse though, I know I can be a stubborn motherfucker but it ain't in me to be a punk like that.  You have people with great paying jobs act like this place and everyone in it owes them something just for being here.  I don't get it, I can't forget where I come from and even though my dad has been an asshole he's always been a hard worker, and there's some pride in that.  I even think it's safe to say at this point I've forgiven the man, even if more for my own sanity.  Whatever he was when I was growing up isn't who he is now even if it is only circumstantial.  And by that I mean I don't know if he's actually changed or if it's only because he physically and mentally can't pick on me anymore.  It's doesn't even matter the reason, it is what it is.  Even though he's never told me he's proud of me I'd like to think that somewhere under the facade he is, I don't know.  Life goes on as I drift from topic to topic, it's all related.

Everything and nothing all at once.

My coffee's getting cold.

That's my number

It's cold, unnaturally so for this time of year.  A brisk, mile long walk after my midnight shift affords me the opportunity to get lost in my head while trying to block out the frigid air.  It works, but all I could think about was being hungry, and not only for a hot plate with some eggs, but I'm hungry to feel more...to feel more of everything.  I use my big words such as insatiable to say that what I crave basically ain't attainable, unsustainable, it makes me feel kinda disdainful.  It's ok though, to feel more is only a small aspect of the whole.  I now know that I can, when for a long time there I thought I was destined for a life void of all emotion.  There are oceans that don't run as deep as me, and that's a bold claim which means everything and nothing all at once.  I'm a talking oxymoron, and I'm more on an onslaught than a kick cuz that's what I do with bad habits.  I'm a million fragments that somehow come together in a philosophical manner.  And I definitely take myself way too serious sometimes, it's just fuckin life, we live and hopefully laugh a little then we die.  This is my complex simplicity.  Don't beg to differ with me cuz that shit don't do any good, haha.  Yea.

I'm Bad (and by that I mean good)

Sunday November 17, 2013

Two days earlier it was 19 degrees outside and today it hit the mid 60's, the sky opened up and just dumped massive amounts of rain.  Tornadoes touched down and I would have swore nothing could match the way I been feeling inside.  Emotions tumbling around clapping like thunder, the intensity been kinda shocking, lightning burns in my veins.  Tears wash it all away and when it's over suddenly you get a new perspective on the way reality reigns.  It goes with the territory, I swallowed the red pill a long time ago.  I've been unable to put it into words, staring at this blank page for next to 13 hours, I almost don't have enough of a vocabulary to describe what I'm saying.  Sometimes I hear what I'm saying and what I'm saying starts to sound a little crazy, but I hold onto that, it's a pinch so I know I'm still kickin.  On the way in to work this morning I saw this huge tumbleweed rolling along, and I made notice to the guy walking next to me.  "Hey, look, it's a fuckin tumbleweed." I blurted out.  I caught myself laughing at my unexpected excitement at seeing a big ball of weeds.  It can serve as a good metaphor, sometimes I feel lonely, like I'm roaming a dry desert floor.  Please don't resent my efforts to maintain some level of sanity, like I'm holding it all together with sticks and glue, the shit really isn't working out.  Sometimes I'm just a mess, cigarette stained fingers, and coffee drips on my t-shirt, a weed burning introvert lurks beneath the surface.  Absent mindedly I run my fingers through my messy hair, as if trying to pull thoughts from my head.  And when finally I've stopped trying, it all just comes to me and the words and the paper just sort themselves out.  And, by the way, I wrote this first by hand, it felt so God damn freeing, pen and pad.  Try it some time soon.

Untitled

The moon carries a hazy appearance tonight, serving as a backdrop for my twisted delight.  A couple vicodin might get me high, a useless plight, my life flickering like a wax candle dripping in the wind.  I'm mere inches from venturing over the edge, even though something's been telling me "it's an inevitable end."  There's no room for rational thought when it comes to emotional matters deeply inhabited, they tend not to make any sense.  I write rhymes with no reason and my secrets are written in between the lines if you can read them.  So this is a eulogy, proof of a new chapter exclusive to me and my ill habits.  This time I avoid catastrophic disaster, dreams combined like galaxies colliding, a poetic merging of star dusted souls.  No one knows, not even me.

Impeccable Defects

My coffee sloshed around my cup as I stumbled out the door this morning, and again when I sat in the car, burning my hand, because I'm careful with almost nothing I do yet I've found that I handle some things rather gracefully.  Perfectly adding words around the spaces to decorate blank pages with a symphony while smoking a cigarette, it's just what I do.  When I was younger I wondered with the same amazement that I do now, the only difference being that I have the words now to let it out.  I have a voice for the child that I never was, and a voice for the man that I am to become, and I wonder how other people see me.  Everybody catches pieces and only one has the whole, I'm truly vulnerable and it's interesting because I've never really been before.  I always keep myself guarded against people and ghosts, one I don't really want to find out about and the other will sap your soul.  Perhaps it's because I'm sensitive that I feel things like I do, winter has come quick and the cold always makes me feel kind of alone.  I feel better when the Sun's at play and my surroundings drown me out with the sounds of summer and the colors are embracing, I'll be waiting. I'm hoping the snow will come quickly, it's the only release from the gray days and dirty streets of the Midwest during the cold months of winter.  I feel it's abrasive touch, and it's cold breathe breathing down my neck and it makes me shiver, they get harder to prepare for.  

But I'm just being fuckin dramatic, and I can't imagine anybody would read my shit if I wrote like I talk with my haphazard use of four letter words and their various forms.  I'm a vulgar poet and I wouldn't change that shit if I could.  

Now I can exhale...

Just needed to get that out.

My lighter side

I'm not all deep thoughts and philosophical musings, obviously that's what you see here because it all makes for good writing.  I'm a heavy, intense person but I like to keep things light in general.  The world takes it all too seriously and that goes for me more so than anyone else.  I focus my energy on better things, I'm a joker, I like to get people to laugh, and snap them out of whatever serious shit they get lost in.  It's so much easier to get by in life getting along, and people feel comfortable talking to me.  I'd like to think it's because I'm trustworthy, and they will always get my honest opinion about everything.  I have fun wherever I'm at, it's just what I do.

Sitting in the kitchen with Gwendolyn making rhymes is one of my favorite pastimes.  She makes me smile with her blonde hair and cute little curls, she knows how to get ecstatic, and her enthusiasm for everything (save for naps) gives me a joy indescribable.  I hope for her that she never loses it, it's an attribute that more people could be imbued by.  She's on high all the time and it literally forces me to keep moving on those days I want to give in and lay down to it all, she gets into everything and can't be left alone for too long, but it keeps me grounded. 

Isaac is a 9 year old me, he gets the word play in the ways that I say things, by that I mean a lot of my witty remarks can have double meanings.  I can't bullshit him because he thinks rationally like I do and he'll call me on it even though sometimes I can see his trepidation in saying things, which only makes me proud because he does it even though he doesn't necessarily want to.  He doesn't bite his tongue around me, but I can see when he talks to others he pulls his punches, he gets the difference between people that want the truth and pretty much everyone else.  That is to say, his filter is better than mine, haha.  He's smart as hell too, and he loves science which is something I wished I could have explored more when I was younger.  Oh, and he beats my ass in chess.  We played exactly 5 games before our first stalemate and I have yet to put him in check since.  I was never very good anyway, but c'mon, he's 9!  It's all good, I love that shit.

After every storm the sun always eventually comes back and I utilize that same principle in life.  A Sun rising before my eyes ALWAYS makes me feel that everything is ok.  Endless beginnings whenever we choose to see it that way.  Recently I've seemed a little darker than usual and that's because I was feeling pretty shitty, but I write about it so I can see it in black and white right on front of me.  I let my anger, frustrations, joys and aspirations out so that I can see them and feel them and get through them.  If I write something angry and irrational I'm perfectly well aware of it and why.  The why is because it's my release.  I get mad and fuel it with profound words and witty sarcasm but it's ok because it's harmless and it isn't directed at anyone.  And then, usually sooner than later, I let it go.  I've been through the process many times and it seems to work for me.  Diligence is key in staying on top on of my natural feelings of melancholy.  I'm a misanthrope by nature due to the way I was raised but I can I see past these things which is just my old way of thinking trying to creep back.  I remove myself, and step back, so I can look at even me objectively, make better choices next time and just get on with life.  I always get by one way or another.

My disheveled existence

My silence is desperate, and if you listen closely you can almost hear its plea.  Boulders of heavy emotions hold me down so I can feel nothing but the emerging depression, my stomach tightens its knots.  I instinctively know it always gets better, and then worse again, and better still.  Normally I know the triggers, I can see it coming, but this time I was blindsided and my pride tells me "hurt every motherfucker in front of you."  It wasn't all that long ago I would act before I could really think, only now do I have enough self awareness to prevent myself from doing something stupid.  I'd like to think I played some part in my calming down, though I often wonder if it's simply a byproduct of growing up.  Most kids don't have the capacity to see how their actions directly affect them, and I sometimes feel like that kid still, inside.  The raw emotion that flourishes when adrenaline hits and the anger kicks in is almost like a sickness.  It slips in a backdoor and when you finally notice it's already too late, the damage is done.

So when you see me questioning everything about me and analyzing the fuck out of all that exists, know this: I do it because I have to.  The instant I let my guard down disaster crashes in and mayhem ensues.  I admit, I like a little chaos, but it's usually going on around me, not always in me.  In a strange way it makes me feel at home, comfortable, like an old friend I used to get drunk with.  It's ok to visit but I wouldn't want to stay too long, my inebriated brain might get stuck.

I play with fire and flirt with the boundaries most people shy away from.  It's in my nature to do things that are a little bit crazy, for if I don't I forget I'm alive, and I end up in a mundane existence. Half of the time I wind up regretting it, but even if I regret it I appreciate what it offers back in return which is some semblance of learning.  How much in life do we do without even knowing it?  My free flowing style of living leaves me brimming with experiences of every kind.  If I was only full of good and successful intentions my writing would be boring and untruthful.  

And all of this, it makes me a deviant philosophical heathen.  You've been warned.

I'm restless and discontent and the control to change it doesn't seem to be mine.  My disdain for people is an  effortless endeavor, left with enough venom to eat at the rest of me left over.  And it eats at  me.

Lost in translation

Telling someone you love, the person that has had your children, that they aren't fulfilling you is like ripping your heart out through your stomach.  You need desperately to be felt but it seems so fucking selfish and crazy in the grand scheme of things.  Next to my relationship with my children my relationship with my wife should be the most important thing in my life, everything else kind of dances around the outside getting fed with the leftovers, but it's not that way.  There is a huge part of me that has to live an inspired life or I crumble in a disastrous heap of depression.  It's hard not to think you're simply crazy or expecting unrealistic things when your needs get expressed but never met.  You begin to think this is normal, you should settle for less and make things work because life isn't always a dream.  It's not a dream, but it has got to fall somewhere other than a needling nightmare whenever I open my eyes.

How can you make somebody understand things about you that they don't naturally understand?  If it's forced, it loses meaning.  We see eye to eye on most things but there's a point where I keep going and she stops, it's a hard thing to say, and it's really hard to explain, but there is an entire being inside of me that needs something else.  It's quite likely that it's not even another person that I need, maybe some time alone, I don't know, but something has to change lest I get swallowed whole by the land of the tame.  I don't want to be tamed, it's not who I am. Every time I've ever tried to fight that fact it bites me in the ass and I get lost in translation.  Maybe I'm destined to feel alone forever.  Perhaps it's a condition that can't be changed, but I've caught glimpses of more and I just can't accept this is how it's supposed to be.  

I told her.  I told her everything regarding how I feel and she doesn't even get what I'm saying.  You can't make somebody understand you, they either do or they don't.

 I haven't really been able to post photos because I'm always going mobile and blogger isn't up to date on technology.  I just can't post photos from my phone or tablet, and because I've been on blogger for a damn decade my blog isn't linked with Gmail which is the only option they offer for logging in to their app. Brilliant me, I feel like I found a fucking loophole remembering I can go old school mobile and post through email.  I'm a God damn genius, loopholes and shit!  Just kidding.

Anyway, I'm just trying it out with this cool picture I took yesterday morning.

-Edit...attempt number 4.   Maybe I'm not such a genius.  I might have  spoke too soon.

"I can't go back to yesterday I was a different person then."
C.S. Lewis  Alice In Wonderland

 Moving forward by staying in the moment is the only way I know how to do things. This applies to life and almost any situation I can imagine.   Every day I change in every way,  physically and mentally,  but what's expected of me is to live inside this box and just do what people do.  What I mean is that I don't deal with things in the same way most people would,  the reason being that I don't see things the way others do. I was trying to help my son,  Isaac,  with some homework and there were questions whose answers seemed obvious  even to me because I could tell what they wanted. Whereas at first it seemed like they were asking a completely different question  which, as  it turns out, I was  right about.  I explained it to someone else and what I was thinking was perfectly logical. It took my ass right back to 5th grade sitting there staring at homework which I would eventually shove in my book incomplete with every other days homework.  I  didn't realize then that I wasn't misunderstanding the questions,  the people writing them were asking poor questions in the first place.

 I'm fortunate in that I learned a lot throughout school even though I didn't do the work, I managed to scrape by thus  allowing me to grow into a  self-thinking  human being.  But I can only imagine how many kids get left behind in this way simply because they don't see things like most people and they get frustrated and give up. I'm not like against education and whatnot I just wished it wasn't so one track minded. And that's the institution as a whole, at least here in America, not teachers as individuals. I had a few through the years who saw through all the bullshit and gave me enough encouragement for me not blow my brains out. It  was an all consuming frustration,  y'all.  Perhaps I was in a worse place due to outside issues,  but learning has always been sensitive with me. I'd get beat for getting bad grades when it's not that I didn't care or really didn't even understand, only overlooked.   And I do appreciate to this day those few people who didn't.

 It struck a nerve in me,  but to bring it back to that quote,  the day I became free from all of that was the day I became aware that I wasn't the same person.  I was no longer restricted to think like the system,  it was ok.   Sometimes I don't think others want to let us become other people because it scares them,  they're afraid of all the things they never held onto,  or the dreams they never chased because they were different. Take a look and see who you are today cuz chances are you're not  the same as you were yesterday.   It's liberating to let go and see things a new way.

Randomness

Its been a long time since I've had to work a 16  hour shift in the crane.  I forgot how insane you can become by hour 15.  I been getting it up here,  y'all. It's hard to explain exactly what I do but in the crane,  we move steel coils,  some weighing up to ninety thousand pounds,  it's no joke.   An average 8 hour shift I make about 300 lifts,  you do the math.

I just dug deep and found some Run DMC,  damn that shit brings back memories.  I say this shamelessly, I dance (although it may not actually qualify as such).  That's right,  when I'm in the crane and I got the iPod on random rotation once in a while something surprises me and I just gotta get up and move a little bit. Now,  if you really knew my awkward ass you'd see the amusement.  But I'm really only halfway awkward, guess it's better than being all the way awkward. Hey,  the things I think about at 5 a.m.  when the deleriousness (new word) is kicking in.

 Big Pun definitely didn't live to his full potential. That dude could rhyme.  This is  the part where you go to YouTube and watch a Big Pun video because my bitch ass smart phone is too dumb to post videos,  apparently.   Or it's just me,  which is quite possible considering my lack of sleep mixed with the ridiculous amount of coffee I've had tonight.  Hmm...

 Ok,  time for me to wrap things up here... gotta quit fucking around. (like that'll happen)

I'm right until I'm not right...

I can see my breath and there are still a few crickets out there playing their song,  fading remnants of the summer passed. (I never know if it should be passed or past,  and it irritates me that I don't)  The thought process never stops,  not during waking hours,  anyhow.  Earlier the thought dawned on me,  the one in the title,  and it hasn't left me alone all day.  As much as I'd like to think I know everything,  that logic is faulty.  Being readily able to admit when I don't know things, and that's only true because it's easier to save face later,  but I live my life as if I'm right,  all the time.  That is not to say it's good or bad, it's only an observation of myself that seemed strikingly important when it happened, so I'm paying attention,  even if it is a little narcissistic and ocd'ish.  I don't have a need to be right for the sake being right, I need to be right for the sake of being closer to the truth.


 And that's me thinking out loud.  Nothing I say is set in stone,  my brain and its ideas are like a puzzle,  I have 10 million pieces and I'm trying them all out together to see how they fit and work together.  How can I live with an idea I haven't tried out?

I just keep trying them out.

 The shadows from the trees dance in the sunlight cast upon my wall,  rippling thoughts  will have me lost before I finish my first cup of coffee.   Where am I going?   Where have I been?  Touching on a little bit of everything, I just let it wander while I chase it.  This morning I was told I'm like a bull in a China shop, which is only half true.  If anything I liken myself to the elephant in the room, people think they know me but they don't even know the half of it.  I may even be a skeleton in the closet, and while we often have them I wonder how rarely we become them.

On the other hand...

I feel pretty good.  The cool air is settling in my veins and I can feel that something is shifting within me.  I don't think it's a bad thing,  in fact,  just the opposite.  I can't describe it but I know it's there just underneath the surface.  A couple random plans are coming together, and people generally irritate, yet fascinate, me all at the same time.

Make sense?

Little ever does.

We All Have Hiding Places, I Think.

 Temptation can be quiet and sneaky and it likes to try me when I least expect it,  completely off guard.  I found a couple vicodin in a hiding place and the addict in me doesn't even want to tell you where exactly that is,  always plotting a way to keep one last hiding spot.  The bottom right pocket on my golf bag,  you see,  I'm telling on myself because I know better.  A decision presented itself which I hadn't planned on making today,  do I take them or pass?   You would think it shouldn't be an option on the table,  but however brief it may have been it's always there waiting to be captured.  I could already feel the warm sensation that starts in the belly,  eventually warming you head to toe.   The euphoria leads to desperate measures,  there's no way around it.   The only way it ends is by not starting,  it's just that sometimes that dark side wants a thrill ride.   Knowing better is only half the battle,  the action that follows is what actually matters.  The only way to ensure I don't think about it later was to crush them up and put them in the garbage, and a  piece of me went cold for doing it.  Most days I don't even think about it,  some nights I dream about it,   today it was just easier not to give in.

 The accumulation of rain we should have had through the summer came down last night all at once.   Massive amounts of water beat on the roof for hours,  the downpour had me locked inside my head,  thoughts run amok.   Picking up my son from the school library yesterday I recognized the quote painted on the door: "Go confidently in the direction of  your dreams"  with no credit to good old Thoreau.   It amused me that I never noticed it before,  I've been walking through that door for 5 years now, yesterday it happened to be propped open.  I might ask somebody to correct it,  I'll do it myself if I have to.  I wonder who put it there and if they know what a genius that dude was.  I think he deserves credit,  and the possibility that his name may stick inside some of those children's mind's.   Ideas that transcend time and apply just as well today as ever.   The boy said he had noticed  it in the past,  he even recited it when I asked him if he knew it was there.   He was actually interested in knowing who wrote it,  and  he wants to read Thoreau.   I'm almost tempted  to let him try if for no other reason to explore his curiosity.   My mother was a lover of books and there were always bookshelves full of a variety of books,  and I remember vividly picking up some large volume that may as well have been written in Latin,  but it fed  my curiosity.   And to this day it remains.   I'm glad I can share these things with my kids,  and while I may not be the best at making it to every baseball game or basketball practice  the bond I share with those kids is unbreakable.   This morning on my way to work I thought about Gwen,  my baby,  and how she's growing up.   She's in preschool now and her interest in words makes me soft  to the core.   She's rhyming whole sentences now and when her teacher asked what she learned this year  she told her she wants to learn how to write,  which I think is awesome.  I hope one,  or both of them,  picks up a knack for writing, there's no telling where they can go,  they know no boundaries or limits.   My intent is to never let them believe that they can't do something,  and I see in their nature to talk freely about whatever comes to them.   Unlimited imagination set  free.

A few thoughts

By nature I am not a happy person, I can be mean and sometimes brutal.  I've learned to control it but once in a while it shows its ugly face, a rage that dwells deeply even though its settled just underneath the surface.  These aren't negative feelings about myself,  it's the truth about who I am.  I don't hide it,  in fact it's pretty well known,  I've had to apologize to almost everyone I know at some point in time or another.   There is no excusing it so I don't make excuses but I have to look at why I'm doing it.   Usually something is bothering me and that can only mean one thing,  change is coming.   Ideas have rooted themselves in my mind and it's almost like part of me is fighting it,  trying to take over by causing a commotion....growing pains,  me versus my alter ego.  (not so much it just sounded good)   I've drawn a line in the sand and crossed over it,  there's no turning back,  just go with it.

Hangin by the tracks

The squeaking and squealing of the trains rolling through, you get used to it,  at all hours of the day and night. Their takes have always represented a path to me,  one of dreams and mystery,  of the far off places they can take you. Curiosity makes me wonder where they lead. As I'm building this metaphor I get a text from a friend "The doc is giving me oxy's next. Don't wanna get on that train... Don't want surgery either though."  Oh, I know the train of which he speaks, it's all too familiar to me.  Once you get on the exit is guaranteed to be  excruciating.  I don't preach to the dude, he don't want to hear it. I do make him aware of the simple fact that going to something harder only means it's more difficult to get off, and you're one step closer to the ceiling of what they can give you.  I honestly think he's figuring he'll die before he gets there, he's got other health problems and the men in his family don't live that long. It's the reality he's created for his self,  who am I to tell him it's wrong, when it simply just wasn't right for me?  I've never had a friend before who I knew, without a doubt, would be my friend no matter what I did, until I met this dude. He's seen me act like a crazy asshole,  and he just rolls with it. When I took a few college courses he worked shifts for me so I could get there.  And when it was time for me to kick the pills he never once tried to prevent me from doing anything. They say misery loves company, but any way I look at it, the guy is happy. I'll be there for him whatever he does, unconditionally. 

I kinda lost where I was going, but not really.  Like those tracks I don't know where my path in life is going to take me, I just have to go with it. All kinds of interesting opportunities and prospects open up I have to be willing to be flexible though, and to be uncomfortable, always uncomfortable. It's a Saturday and I'm actually off, let's see what kind of trouble I can get into

My liquid thought process

 There are times that I inhale everything I can possibly read,  and other times I exhale everything I can possibly think. Earlier I thought that if I could murder time, I would.  It's always stealing from me those moments  I most want to  hang onto,  or laughing in my face, antagonizing my idle mind.   That idle time is  what often gets me in predicaments, I do crazy shit just to see what happens.   Not something I would suggest to the average person, I only know that I learn by taking a look at my mistakes.

Sometimes it's as if the universe is against me,  or better yet,  karma is getting me.  I don't really believe in superstitions such as that,  but I do often wonder if I've done something majorly wrong in another time and place.   Obviously,  that's the way I feel it with my emotional mind,  my rational mind tells me that's just how it is,  surely it's  the same for everyone.   It's this process  of thought which affords me the opportunity to step back and see things as they really are.   How life seems to be and  the way it is are usually two different things.  I say this to people and  they react like I'm speaking another language.   Perhaps I am.

Dusted off thoughts make their way to the surface,  they haven't seen the light of day in a while.  Old ideas to be confronted with a new me in this new place in time,  and while I am physically the same person, my mind,  my being is  constantly  changing.  Trials and tribulations effect us all,  and that's kind of an understatement.   There is no peace  without because there is no peace within,  the world is a direct reflection of us and our sinful sins.  The road I walk is a little off beat,  but it works for me, I somehow see everything so fluidly...

... my thoughts under scrutiny.

Purging...

Mind drifting with the smoke from my lungs,  I've needed to write for days now.   It's a maddening feeling when your heart wants purge but your brain can't find the words to release. Late nights in the shed,  alone with my thoughts to steep in the intoxicating air around me, I rather enjoy them.   My solitude is golden to me.

I've been hearing a common theme among some bloggers lately and its been on my mind quite a bit.   I have to turn things over in my mind many times before I am comfortable with them, comfortable enough to talk about them.  And this isn't necessarily directed at those blogs I read,  it really applies to most people in general.  People appear to sell themselves short so easily,  they give in and turn to prayer or give up.  I agree that those things alone aren't bad things,  but we as people have a tendency to expect unrealistic things to happen.   Prayer is an interesting thing in my opinion, people set aside these moments to look within and listen for a minute and really focus attention on whatever it may be.  I think it's unreasonable to expect miracles from prayers,  but what I think most people are missing in the moment is the only one they can really talk to, themselves, ourselves. The only one who can set anything into motion on this earth is our very own selves.  Intention is everything, and the minute we give up our power and leave it in the hands of another anything we have essentially removed ourselves from the equation.  Anyone can take anything and perceive it however they like but this quote makes me think that I'm not the only one who thinks this way,  my ideas are not original.

"As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth,  so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind.  To make a deep physical path,  we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. " Henry David Thoreau

I don't intend to change anyone's beliefs only offer my experience as new ideas.  I don't know if there is a God or there isn't a God but I do know that the closer I get to me,  the more I know about myself, the closer I'll get to the truth. Often times it takes digging through a mile of shit to get to the bottom of things but the simple reality once you're there is unsurpassed.  I say you,  me and we a lot, I think that everyone can benefit from getting to know themselves better.  I do, however, mainly speak for myself,  I need reminders frequently. The more I frequent that path the more second nature it becomes.  I have gotten
to know me closely,  and though I sometimes lose sight of where I'm going I always find my way back.  I've ventured near the edge a few times in my life and I talk about it so maybe others don't have to go there.

"What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us. " Thoreau

"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. " Thoreau

Sorry, the dude just said it better than I ever will.

I have a dark side that sometimes makes me shiver, I cringe at the thought of what he's capable of.  I keep it at bay for the most part,  but sometimes it gets  the better of  me.  I can try to fight it but a handful of vicodin later and its completely taken over,  and I damn sure don't miss it.   Once in a while I need a reminder to keep that shit in check.   Those nightmares about it seem to do the trick.

It's a rainy day and i can hear the raindrops at play,  making music off the window pane.   We haven't seen much this summer, I suppose we do need it, I rather enjoy thunder and lightning,  it's striking,  beautiful yet frightening.  It's the perfect metaphor for life,  storms roll through but it's always so  wonderful underneath.   The sun still shines behind the clouds when they weep, I dream of writing inspiring scenes from under a willow tree.

 I'm getting uncomfortable, I feel some change is on the way.   Only the days ahead will unfold where I'm going.   I've been to the bottom and there's only one place to go from there.

Brain's Storming

Write a paragraph... delete.

 Write a page... delete.

 It happens often,  mind bouncing off the walls with ideas,  having a hard time grabbing something.   It kinda builds over time and spills over,  once I break the seal I almost can't control where it goes next.  I enjoy the whirring of my fan,  it calms my mind and slows me down.

Smoke fills my lungs... exhale.

Sometimes I get stuck on an idea and I can't table it until I've rolled it over in my mind a few times.   People are people and I mean we all think the same, be it about different things, we  all go through a specific process whether we realize it or not.   I've gotten good at paying attention to the film real running through my dome constantly.   And I love to see others become aware of their ultimate reality.

 We're all flawed in some way shape or form and it isn't an easy pill to swallow,  but I've found that's it's easier to move on by accepting it.  Telling yourself you're hooked on pills and need to get off ain't easy,  but once I accepted the reality I moved on.  Its been 6 months,  and my leg still shakes,  and I still dream of vicodin,  waking up feeling the withdrawal all over,  and  it goes to show the control a mind really  does have when it can make you feel something that isn't even there.   And that being aware of thoughts is  key,  those  dangerous things are sneaky,  they creep in back doors when we're sleeping.   Subconsciously  feeding the wrong needs,  but I see.

 One thing is certain,  my head is full again.

On my mind...

 The nights are getting cooler and lasting longer,  the year has grown old.   Time is the perfect oxymoron in that it is so absolute and precise yet there is never enough and it seems to constantly run faster.   What I'm after is a little satisfaction mixed with some laughter.  Sometimes at night I inhabit dreams in waking hours imagining masterpieces amid chaos and disaster.    Sinister synapses firing on all levels,  I've been told I was cold before, but for some reason  those are always the ones who end up trusting my ears.   Hard times breed creativity,  depending in which way we're looking everything leads to opportunity.   There are plenty of things I don't know and am unsure of,  but one thing I do know is that the only thing that matters is the now.   It sounds fuckin cliche, I know,  even saying it's a cliche is a cliche,  but unless I'm starving or currently dying a painful death I'm doing good.  And somehow knowing all that makes me understand people better,  and I'm  not sure how that works  so I'll spare you that process,  it may be rather long and drawn out.   My mind is spacing out,  the pauses are getting longer,  and  if you know what I mean it is worth every bit of the hype.   Calm  during the clatter.

At a fork in the road

I  have a knack for dealing with difficult people,  or situations,  and I'm not sure why or where it comes from,  but I have found myself in quite a few situations where I was almost literally " talking someone down from a wall."  I rarely talk about any of it because it sounds so freakin narcissistic,  and I'm not looking for a pat on the back, I do it because it comes natural and I have a genuine concern for people and their struggles.

 When I was 17 my sister's boyfriend,  who I am now great friends with calls me when his dad it's drunk and high on everything imaginable and literally had a gun in his mouth.   He  lived right around the corner so I ran over there.   Mind you,  at the time this is my sister's high school boyfriend who I didn't really know,  much less his father.  I walk in his living room and here is a giant of a man  wearing his blue work uniform,  eyes glass over,  with a gun in his limp,  right hand.   His name is Randy,  same as his son,  so I talk to him like I know him.  " What's going on,  Randy?"   He mumbles something,  and begins telling me he was getting high on huffing glue.   He work with industrial tires,  patching things with adhesives,  and he's been sniffing it for days.   I'm thinking to myself " clearly he's  absolutely wasted,  you can't really reason with that."   But I just keep talking to keep his mind off that gun.  I ask questions because I want them talking,  but you have to be careful of what you ask so as not to piss him off.   He kept answering so I kept asking.  I asked what he was gonna do with the gun and he told me he was gonna end it cuz he couldn't deal.  I told him he didn't have a chance if he used the gun,  making him think about the act of using it.   Saying "kill yourself" is so easy to say and had no real meaning behind it.   He kept saying nobody understands,  to which all I could say is I'm trying to understand,  explain.   He was only giving half answers and mumbling a lot but I sat next to him,  this bigaass  man I met only minutes ago,  taking a gun from him.   I told him I understood, I had my head buried  in enough toilets at 17 to have a real understanding.   I've dealt with alcoholics and drug addicts my whole life, I know how they think.   He somehow trusted meenough to give it to me,  and he  grabbed my hand and just started crying.  I got him in touch with someone from AA and he's been sober ever since.... that's all him though.  I took the gun away and he did the rest,  and I've watched him do it and it's awesome.

 I've talked my mom down quite a few times,  and believe it or not, a few others.   Most recently,  my mother.   She's out of her near death experience  from the alcohol withdrawals and was fighting tooth and nail not to go to a rehab facility which was only physical,  though she insisted it was a mental hospital or something.   If she didn't go willingly she was going to get strapped down and go anyway.   My sister having to go there to court to gain temporary guardianship of her I told her I'd go with,  she'll listen to me.   My sister it's hard nosed and mean about everything so she definitely doesn't help,  though she's great at keeping my mom's shit in order,  but it ends there.   We met with the social workers and they're like "She is being combative and insisting she wasn't going."   She said " we've all talked to her, I don't think it's gonna help."   " Yea,  ok lady with your psychology degree."  iswhat I'm thinking.  I tell em give me 5 or 10 minutes,  to their condescending smiles.   I won't go over the whole conversation,  which was difficult due to the damage she's done to herself,  but she still trusts me.   She knows I know her better than anyone  else and that when she's finally incapable of making decisions on her own,  she trusts that I know what she wants.  I just asked her some questions she couldn't deny the answers to do that  she could see  it was best for her considering  her current state.   We emerged from her room,  she was smiling and prepared to go on her own.   Everybody looked relieved.   They said " what did you say to her?"  I just told them  that sometimes you have to talk to people like they're children without TALKING to them like they're children.

 You know,  sometimes it's like a curse because I often have to explore the dark side of people in order to help them understand  that they're the only ones worn their answers.   And if I'm asking other to openly explore that in themselves I often have to openly explore my own.   What would make a professional seem unprofessional is exactly what helps me help others help themselves.   In the end it's always them, I don't do anything but talk.   They do all  the work.   And I've often seen success stories like Randy and it in itself is payment enough.  I don't know if I could ever take money for something like that,  but helping people is  what I like to do,  and I'm still working in a steel mill.   What a waste.

My Spot

 There's a little courtyard just outside the building I work in,  it's small and surrounded  on all four sides by buildings.   There are all kinds of trees grown up in here somehow.   It's open to the air so I can see the sky.  There's an old picnic table,  with peeling green paint,  that I sit on  to think.  Nights like tonight are the best, 60°  and clear skies.   Now what's unique about my little spot here is that with the way it's enclosed there's not a drop of light in here so I'm actually able to see more stars than usual.  I rarely see anyone else out here,  it's my place of solitude in this place of noise and machines.  I often wonder what their intentions were for this space,  or how it came to be,  but I'll never know.   There's nobody left that's been here long enough to know.   My back is aching and  makes me crabby,  especially when nothing I do relieves the pressure.  I had a dream about vicodin the other night and I'm positive the two are related, but the dream came due to the pain not the other way around.   I'm kind of careless in the things I do even though my back hurts so I suppose it's partially my fault,  but at the same time it's work and I have to do what I have to do.   I've been here for 12 hours with 4 more to go and it drags on.  Now this screen is polluting my night sky and I don't want to taint the atmosphere  with my electronic devices.

 It's August 4th already,  people.

 Guilt shares no place among remorse.  And pity  is  for  those who have given up.

 The lady at  the gas station this morning had to  snap me out of the playground between my ears.  I asked her for a pack of smokes and  she told me "Only if you quit looking so evil first."  I just smiled because I know exactly what the hell she's talking about.  "So I guess that's a deal?"  she says, "Yea,  that's a deal."  I said laughing a little.

I absolutely love when this happens,  and you might be surprised at how often it does,  it's interesting.   Every once in a while someone will say something of that nature and call me out, I get so damn lost in thought sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it.  It says something about the other person,  too.  I mean,  maybe they really do it unknowingly,  but I like to think they know exactly what they're doing.   And I always thank them,  too,  usually to  an inquisitive look.  Often times I try to do the same for others when I'm not so lost in my own shit.   Catching people lost in space  I'll say something to make them laugh or just more aware, a gesture to let them know they're not alone.   Perfect strangers changing the course of my day,  that's some powerful shit.   And what's even more powerful is that I'm capable of letting them,  cuz it wasn't always that way.

Me, lately...

 Philosophy is my  life.  I live it, I think it, I sleep it and breath it.   Everything can be philosophical,  it's just the way my brain works.  I talk about it constantly,  and I write about it.  But what I think people don't always see that I live it too.  I am a conflicted human being on many levels a lessonsf it comes from having the mind of an anarchist with a  Zen (i try)  demeanor forced to live among "civilized" primates that walk upright.  (that's a little sarcasm)   I've got a constant battle going in within about one moral issue or another.   I'm faced with an ethical dilemma,  and I'm writing about it so as to figure it out, I don't exactly desire input.  I  don't wish to sound crass but that's just how I am.  I usually know when I need to ask for other ideas,  and do.

My mother,  suffers from severe mental illness,  bipolar disorder,  but she's also an alcoholic/pill abuser who doesn't take her meds right.   I've dealt with it my whole life.   There were stretched of good times followed by the darkest depressions you can imagine.  I suffered through all of it with her by choice,  because I always felt a responsibility to her.   She's the only person who ever really understood me,  and I her.  .  More friends than mother and son.   Because of her illness she has  had all kinds of ups and downs in life.   Her illness started to progress rapidly.   Now if any of you know anyone that's bipolar,  they are difficult people to live with,  almost impossible.   And this isn't a stereotype,  it's the truth.   Especially one who doesn't take their meds right.   About 6  years ago I offered for her to live with me so she had no financial worries,  my only request,  that she take her meds right and she try to do something that makes her happy.   She was cool a while and then she started her abusing medicine and drinking binges,  and I gave her one warning while sober.... "if this happens again I will have to ask you to leave.  I won't have my son see everything I saw growing up."   She didn't even try and I asked her to go.   She has bounced around from relative to relative over the last six years and ended up in Wisconsin,  living alone.   That's the worst thing for someone like her,  trust me. You know,  in between her leaving my house and now I have tried to offer solutions and help and I don't blame myself for any of it.   We all make decisions,  and while she is mentally ill she had her own choices to make about taking meds and seeing other methods of relief.  I am a lot like my mother abd I suppose this is why I am so adamant about staying on top of where my thinking goes.   When I say I'm walking on the verge of insanity, I kid not.  I  mean it literally.   If I let that madness take hold and do what it wants,  I'm fucked.   I've been there, I know.   And so I do have my own experience in battling my dark side and managing to do it pretty well for the most part.    

But because of this gap between her and I now we've lost touch,  and she literally is no longer the person she was.   All traces of HER are now gone.   I've grieved and learn to let go of the old her and had to learn to set boundaries so as not to enable her to walk on me.   Its been difficult learning lessons in morality.   Which continues. She's been drinking non stop for months now and nobody knew.   Alcohol withdrawals are probably the most life threatening of any drug.   It will kill you.... and it almost did her.   Now my sister tells me we should have her put away somewhere that she's not a threat to herself and people will monitor her meds,  for life.  I don't agree with it.   That's not living life.    I don't agree with locking anything or anyone up for my  own comfort,  because essentially that's what it is.   To make my sister feel better.   I'm open enough to know that not everyone will deal with things the same as I,  and I accept it,  but I want to tell you how I would feel if I were her.   If I had lived her life and were where she is now I would rather die than live my life in a room being forced to take meds I don't want to take.   To me,  life ends when you're locked up like that,  with someone watching over you waiting,  waiting for someone to come and they never will.   So, I am conflicted.  I love my mother,  but I know her suffering and it fucking sucks to think that my logic would be to give her what she wants because I want her pain to end.   Now,  that poses a deep ethical question,  probably many of them,  actually.   But the truth is, I would feel the same for myself or anyone else in this scenario,  and I'm reasonable enough to not change my mind just because it is my mother.   This woman was beautifully creative as a painter and writer, and all of that is but a mere memory to nobody but me.   My sister's don't know her like I do,  they never understood her,  and they don't understand that this would not be what she wanted.   She wouldn't want to live that way.   She survived this time and I need to make sure she knows that she changed me in ways unimaginable,  and I'm sorry I can't do anything to save her,  only wish she could be free of misery.   And this is the first time I've cried about it,  and emotions aside I still feel the same.   There are other health issues at this point that make it so even if she were taking meds her brain is too far gone,  there's not much left there.   It's sad,  but that's life and one can do nothing but  watch it happen at this point.   We've tried to get her help over and over and she refuses,  and I suppose it go to the point where I had to cut her off because it was affecting my family.

 I'm certainly not going to argue with my sister over it.   It's hard to say "just let her drink herself to death "  and  that's not exactly what I want either  if you know me by now you understand,   but I do wonder why it's so easy to say,  put her in a place where someone will force her to live a life she doesn't want.  I don't know.  My mother has impacted my life greatly and I'll do anything I can within my limits.  I can't make her want anything.

A little subconscious

My mind is all over the place lately, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.  I like to watch it wander sometimes, from a distance.   To become the one doing the observing is key.  I wonder,  in amazement, at the wandering that goes on.  Stepping back and seeing the subconcious work and react to life, it's almost an out of body experience.  The first time I realized this, about eleven years ago,  I was beside myself in awe at the way the world suddenly appeared.  I suppose we can call this an epiphany of a sort.  Now, dont miss take what I'm saying as some new age wackadoo stuff, and its fine if thats what you're into, but the brain functions on all kinds of different levels so there has to be some physiological reason behind it.  I believe there are reasons for everything, and I don't mean some mystical reasons out there somewhere, something we cannot see or know, there is a real, logical reason for everything even if I don't understand it.  I'm a little off track here, it would seem, because I write the way my subconcious thinks and I do believe it's part of what makes my writing a little different.  I just let it flow, and it does, from one thing to the next. Effortlessly the words pour out and before I know it, I'm sitting there wondering where it came from, and then it comes back to me.  A simple "Ah ha!" moment and it all makes sense.

And that was a mouthful, I will admit, but it's summer and I have been doing what I do best, asking questions and finding answers.  It has become apparent to me that I enjoy pain.  You know, pain kind of makes you feel alive, and I do believe that to a certain extent it's fairly normal, but I have an affinity for it, I tend to push all limits to see how far they'll go.  The truth is they tend to stretch pretty far, so I push it further still,  and the world goes round.

My most recent question to myself "What impact do we as individuals really make in this world?"  If life as I know it ceases to exist after death my time here is all that really ever mattered.  What did I do with it?  Did I make a difference in the way people think?  Maybe not many, but even a couple.  Nothing really carries on but the only thing we can't actually see, our thoughts and ideas.  Haha, for a man that needs concrete, physical proof of anything to look to something as abstract as his thoughts to carry him on is, well, rather ironic.  And so my logic goes...

There'll be more to follow, I am sure.

The Thought Police Are On To Me

I was in the shed yesterday, um,  doing what I do,  and I saw an old,  dusty ass box sitting in the corner. Curious, I take a peek and steal a glimpse  of half a dozen books or so. These books are familiar,  and I dig for my favorite of the bunch, 1984.   It's there,  tattered and torn,  yellowing pages falling out.  I can't help myself, I sit back down,  light up a smoke and turn the page.   Memories come flooding back to me,  ideas which I no longer hold,  though I do hold them close to me.  You see, 1984  is the book that began my love affair with reading.  Not only that,  but it changed the way I looked at things.  I no longer took things at face value,  it made me see that to question everything is to become closer to the truth.   The truth in me,  the truth in you and the truth in the world around us.  Freedom lies in the ability to think outside the boundaries and limitations set by those who know not what they do.  I was no longer a slave to the thought forms bestowed upon me by every unknowing soul I had ever entertained an idea with.   The fact is, I may not be sitting here writing to you the words I write had that seed not been planted.

So, it is in that vein that I celebrate our independence.  I believe it was upon these ideas of free thought that this country was built on.  After all,  action always originates in an idea and it takes a real sense of freedom to express ideas not viewed as commonplace or acceptable.  Real freedom breathes new and revolutionary ideas into the face of life and  shares a grin with oppression.   Ideas are all we've got if nothing else  in this life.   I've  kind of made it a mission of mine to help broaden the minds of those around me, and offer an opportunity to look outside the box,  and I have to admit the tree is fruitful.   Knowledge is power and to question the seemingly unanswerable  will always keep me asking for more.

 Live free or die!

Head In The Clouds

 My back feels relieved laying on my awesome anti-gravity chair,  my father's day gift,  and I don't care what anyone says,  it might just be a lawn chair,  but my back feels better laying on it.   Anyhow,  the sun just set with just a little bit of light left in the sky,  it's a bit darker than  usual,  missing the normal pinkish tint.  I've been waiting all day for this.   You see, I worked midnights last night and stayed over days today which is absolutely insane,  but I made myself stay awake for this.  Lets just say I've only had a couple hours sleep over the last 48,  but whatever,  it's worth it.   It's beautiful and it moves me,  soothes  my soul and keys poetry flow.   Now,  there's a couple things that I do know.   The sky induces awe,  and that everything is simply explainable,  though it's not that easy.  I try to see things objectively,  and rationally, I don't know any other way to be.  I mean,  there is a reason for everything but it's not just some abstract thought that lies out there,  something we just say because it sounds good.   To me it motivates questions,  and while I may not always find answers it leaves me open to indefinite endings,  possibilities galore.   Some people can't handle this about me because I call bullshit when I see it,  some people like the matrix, I don't know.   Reality to me is all I seek,  and while some of it is up for interpretation such as the beauty of my sky, some things are  not,  an inch will always be an inch,  no matter how you look at it.  Unless you break it down further,  but that only proves it to be what it is more so.

 Yea, I got lost with those clouds an hour ago,  I'm speaking from deep with in my.... my soul.   Whatever that is.

Untitled

A new me emerges from yesterday,  entertaining ideas and toying with thoughts.   Time passes  frosting over moss covered musings and I try to dig them out,  knock the  bullshit from em.   Not so different if I didn't know myself so well,  and I don't say it to boast,  only that I know me better than most,  and sometimes it's lonely.   Not that I mind,  I'm accustomed to it.   Many times I had only me to get through some thick shit,  and I manage,  somehow,  to see my way through it.   Dark days do reclaim light again.   And I do always write again in spite  of the doubt the swirls around me,  and sometimes I do even find my own shit kind of astounding.   Down,  deep down my pretty flows.

 I've been talking about pictures,  but I've been to lazy to post them.... haha.   Anyway,  here they are,  the Rocky Mountains.   It's a beautiful place,  and the pictures don't really do it any justice.

The Journey Isn't The Destination

 from the rustic cabin in the woods to a hotel off the freeway just outside of Denver, I sit outside in the windy,  warm early evening desiring the sounds of the river over the trucks flying by.   they are eerily normal, however, and the train in the distance sounds like home.   six stories below,  in the courtyard of the hotel,  people are  no longer worried about the mountains in the distance,  but are captivated by an electronic device of some sort,  wirelessly hard wired to this system of technology.  I ain't mad, I embrace the art of technology and appreciate untouched nature.   they're staying connected,  doing their thing and who am I  to judge?   the feelings are always mixed going home from an adventure,  you don't want to leave but there is something to be said for sleeping in your own bed, and back to the steel jungle I go.   it's daunting,  and it fills me full angst but gives me  something to dream about all the same.   now I'm trading the smoke filled,  forrest fire air of the west to return to the wet and cool Midwest,  storms brewing,  and waiting.   perhaps it only seems as it does because of the way I see it,  and it's quite possible that I'm  learning to live right where I am,  it's the only place I can be.   sometimes I just gotta test a theory,  haha.   if you people only knew.   there will be pictures to come.

The rolling hills turned into foothills and then mountains as my mind wandered off with the river a while back, not that I mind.   meandering through the mountains in pitch black  darkness,  exceeding the speed limit by only a little,  hugging the yellow line cuz I can't see the rigid rocks to the right, I know they're there.  I pull over to catch a glimpse of the stars without the light pollution of the city, I counted 5 shooting stars.   absolute darkness,  surrounded  on all sides by  rocky walls so that no light passes through.   it's utterly amazing,  and it's kinda creepy to completely let go and stand in the darkness,  vulnerable to  anything that can see me.   damn,  this is a beautiful place to be, I can hardly wrap my mind around it.  I only see this kind of shit on tv,  but it's real personal to me for some reason.  I like things in their natural,  raw state I suppose,  or as close as one can get.   skyscrapers can be beautiful,  but they ain't got shit on the mountain I'm looking at,  or the river running below me.   what a sound, I never want to leave it.  I'll exchange it for the screeching and grinding of steel on steel any day,  and some people will never understand that.   fortunately some do.   anyway,  this place is awesome,  really.

 somewhere in the middle of Iowa the flat lands turn into rolling hills,  and my soul felt a little kick.  I can see the sick air of the industrial Midwest behind me now,  its thick depression has lifted.  I expand my mind and I see things differently,  and people wonder why I'm stuck in my own world most of the time.   all I see before me is the highway and wide open opportunity.   here is the place I will always be,  never really getting anywhere if I don't accept that first.  I can be surrounded by mountains or rubble,  it doesn't matter,  but the white caps and foothills  help me gather a moment in time when nothing  else can distract me and I can just be.  peace.

Traveling

it's the eve of my journey west and I almost can't contain my excitement.   there is something very freeing about being on the road,  it's like the flood gates lifted from my soul,  suddenly I have no containment.  I am to travel a thousand miles to be where my heart desires.  I don't quite understand my attraction to these mountains,  but for something with such a solid foundation,  they sure do move me.  I don't want a gps, I want a road atlas and some sunglasses, a cup of coffee and good music to lead me to the quiet and solitude of nature.   hardly adventurous to ride in such comfort,  but I guess there are benefits to sucking air at this particular time,  haha.  I intend to share here what I experience,  and it should be quite an experiment.

I absolutely can't wait to see the darkest sky full of stars.

Will never be titled

 mind drifting off on copious notes,  rolling smoke,  throwing stones through houses of windows.   don't miss take me,  I've got glass of my own, which can be broken,  no picking bones.   my slang may confuse you,  but I assure you, I can add $2 dollar words to these $100 dollar rhymes if I choose to.   I'll lose you before you can realize you been bamboozled.   yea,  I'm real smooth, too,  my game is tight,  downright brutal.   I'll tell you the outright truth,  through and through,  as I see it from my point of view.  disastrous youth with a pattern to use, a little scatter brained, mad  hatter has captivated you.

 just a late night rhyme from the shed.

Philosophically Thinking

The word philosophical is defined as pertaining to philosophy, obviosuly.  It's a word I use to describe myself, a word whose use I beilieve has become kinda fad-ish.   People  seem to throw the word around a lot, but it isn't often anyone can actually give me the definition of philosophy,  instead I get their own idea of  what it is.  We complicate everything.  And I'm not one for using labels but if had to find a word whose definition describes me, philosophical, thus phiposophy, would be good one.  Philosophy has a number of defininotions all relating to the same thing.  Three of which describe me perfectly.

Philosophy-
1. The rational investigation of the truths and principles of being , knowledge,  or conduct.
5. A system of principles for guidance in practical affairs.
6. An attitude of rationality, patience, composure, and calm in the presence of troubles or annoyances.

From dictionary.coie I may not always fulfill those definitions 100% of the time,  I do strive to live by them.  Now, for a person that hates living within boundaries and guidlines you can see my trepidation in calling myself anything, but philosophies can vary from person to person, so here I am, finding my own philosophies to live by, and only by living can one find true philosophies anyway.  I am not a scholar nor do I want to change the world, but I do firmly believe in living a life lead by intention, with purpose and reason.  I have spent so much time in life living as others would have me live, to some degree or another, that I became numb and calloused and emotionless.  Held back by fear of making my own decisions and standing by them no matter what, and having to decide whether or not I would explain it to people.  That isn't to say I'm never wrong, not at all, in fact quite the opposite.  By owning what I do and say it cuts out all the bullshit fights one might find themselves having internally.  it has certainly helped me.

It has taken me a long time to even be comfortable on this path and it has taken every bit of my 32 years of experience to come to this juncture in my journey.  I have arrived nowhere, this I know.  I merely keep walking in order to come to the understanding that nothing means everything and everything means nothing, all at once.  I thrive on complexities, mine and yours, and come to understanding by way of simplicity.  Everything can be broken down to it's simplest form  leaving nothing to the imagination to concoct or imply.  Removing emotion from situations is often necessary in dealing with things rationally.  This is something I am just now beginning to see.  That is not to say that life requires me to be an emotionless robot all of the time, although this was my approach  for many years.  I find it useful in its rightful time and place.  Recently I have become more open to being open and emotional when I need to be and its brought a little bit of life back to the death trap I had become.  I mean that literally and figuratively.  And there is no shame in saying that for a while there I had become toxic to myself and those around me.  I call it like it is,  no bullshit.  Only by accepting that can I understand and move forward so as not to do things that cause results I can't live with.   And that's what this is all about,  living life,  simply,  humbly,  and with some sense of reason and purpose.  I  definitely have my way of doing things,  and I'm glad my ramblings are somewhat philosophically entertaining.   This blog,  my writing,  is one aspect of the process I use to get  through life, philosophically speaking.

Dancing With Insanity

dancing on the verge of insanity I abandon ideas seeping in, seedlings, needling at my peace. I have to stay on my toes, though I feel like I'm stumbling, abruptly struggling to see clearly. I fear the dark, and I'm afraid of making nothing of the little bit of something I've been given. I don't mess with ghosts, though I've got some skeletons in my closet, deep secrets which I attack with a pad and a pen. untamed thoughts break free from their sentence confined to my mind, an unending stream of conscience, and my conscience is full of illogical nonsense. and as I progress in my maniacal professions and unethical questions, I sense a hesitant confession, my obsession with beautiful things, flowers and white mountains. I'm astounded by mother nature's sexy ways, and her sometimes bitchy behavior. living life mixed with a little bit of danger, what can I say, I'm a heathen with a philosophical nature.

The rain beats down, I can see it pouring through a hole in the roof. Not my roof, the roof here at work, it's full of holes. I've heard stories about the holes in this roof, but they were only stories. I can see the light flashing off t he walls and the ceiling above my crane which is fucking me up if I'm being honest. You see, the crane runs on electricity and all the electrical stuff is on top of this old, raggedy ass crane. When you have spent as much time up here as I have and seen as many malfunctions as these things have you begin to notice things. Early warning signs of something going wrong. So, normally crazy arc flashes off the wall or ceiling means something is wrong, check it out. With all the lightning it kinda takes that away from you, but you get used to it I suppose. I've been doing this now for almost a decade and a change is needed. I don't know when or what but something has to give. I love what I do but the atmosphere in this place will swallow your soul and not think twice.But I think twice every day when I have to come here and that is no way to co-exist. It's a love hate relationship and the hate is beginning to outweigh the love. I can be confined to this 5x5 box for the rest of my life, that's not the problem. The problem lies in being confined to the ideas and sick thinking of this place. Worry about yourself first and fuck the rest. That's not how I operate. I'm way overdue for a vacation, a real vacation. Like getting in the car and driving far away kind of vacation. We're headed west again, something draws me to the place... probably a combination of mountains and fresh air. I suppose that alone is good enough reason to be drawn in. So, I'm sure I'll be posting more about that journey to the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. Went Yellowstone a few years back and I've been itching to go again ever since. We're gonna stay in Denver for a couple days too, maybe... there is no strict plan. It excites me and wakes me up. Only about 3 weeks to wait. And I wait...

5/11/13

I haven't been writing much lately, which is fine, I'm living life.  Life becomes full of things to pull me away from electronic devices  this time of year.  And even when there isn't anything to do, sitting outside staring at an empty, blue sky is more appealing than staring at a blank page or a blinking cursor.  Writing kind of gets set aside for a while, saved for the months when I'm stuck in the house and everything is gray.  It's my escape when the burden of winter becomes too much.  But it's May, my favorite time of year, and things are much brighter even though we catch a cold day here and there.  Their numbers are limited now.  I am back home, making things work.  Once everything had a chance to calm down and talking, to include listening, became possible it made it a lot easier to be here.  I really  don't ask for much in life, I'm just at a point where I'm  becoming my own person and it's causing growing pains for others as well, it's not necessarily good or bad it   just is what it is.  There are some things about me that have to be accepted if we wish to co-exist because these are things that I could otherwise live with and be comfortable in my own skin.  There's a fine line between necessary selfishness just to get by in the world and keep your sanity and selfishness that hurts other people, and it seems to be that people often confuse the two and take some things in a way they shouldn't.  We all have to pick battles in relationships and sometimes way may not like what others do but if it's not harming anyone who are we to stand in their way?  At least, this is how I see things.  And I'm asking others around me to see things this way as well, and it's difficult.  Not impossible, but difficult because it requires looking at oneself.  And I know better than anyone else that sometimes it takes drastic actions for a person to becoming willing to do so.  My philosophies in life are simple and I wish to maintain that, and encourage the people around me to do the same.  All the difficult things that go on in life, we don't need to add more on top of the pile, and I choose not to worry about small things, rather go with the flow.  I'm not perfect, I get caught up in day to day shit just like everyone else, but at the end of the day when I can reflect I'm able to let most of it go.  You know, I've become good at keeping things separate in life and not letting emotions from one thing spill over into another.  Work stays at work, and home pretty much stays at home, and I don't take things out on the kids or my wife, I always let things go.  The stars are still in the sky and I'm still alive to see them with the people I love, how serious is any of the other shit, really?  It's a simple concept but very difficult to live, yet I try.  As long as I'm trying, I'm doing alright.

The boy

I had a conversation with the boy today, the type I've grown so fond of during his almost 9 years of life. Whenever i pick him up from school, we talk. We talk about all kinds of things. He's always curious and asks me a lot of questions. I'm honest with him because he understands, or at least attempts to. Today he was asking me about making communion. You see, he goes to a catholic school but we aren't catholic. Well, both my wife and i were raised that way but neither of us follow any faith. I think my wife simply doesn't care where i have made a conscious decision that I'm not a religious person. I'm not an atheist and i don't profess to know anything, i just kinda roll with it. Anyhow, the rest of his class is making this act of faith while he is not. I ask him how he feels, if he feels left out and he insists that he doesn't, i believe him. I asked him if he understood why they're making confession and communion because he does still have to do the classes and go to church and all, and as i suspect, he doesn't. I didn't when i was his age, going through it, it didn't make a bit of sense to me, which is where my issue lies in having children do things they don't understand. Anybody, really. I try to live a life of intent where i am aware of the things I'm doing and why. I can't fathom doing things senselessly or simply because its what I've been taught or what others do. As I'm being oh so profound with this boy who is getting it, I'm driving. We pass through an intersection and the police have the road blocked due to an accident. Everyone is taking a detour through the parking lot and i follow. Isaac asks me are you supposed to be cutting through the parking lot? I said I don't know, but everyone else is doing it. I started laughing cuz he was laughing and trying to tell me that i just said i do everything with purpose, i don't just follow....and here i am. I understood what he was saying and it was quite funny catching myself being mindless while being profound and its humbling to know that I'm only human. And none of that even really matters, it's more about the relationship i share with this kid and how he feeds this curious side of me. If i don't have an answer for something he asks, we find out together, i don't have to know everything only be willing to find out with him and therein lies a lesson greater than any ego trip i could be on trying to know it all. I'm a lucky dude to have two kids, so completely different, but both just like me in some way, some fulfilling way that life has never given until now, and it was well worth the wait. I hope they know it.

Mid May Morning

I love the fog on mid May mornings, scenes splashed with morning glories and crazy colored daisies. Dew rolling off of everything, and you can see your breath in the air. There's a calm in the silence just beyond the song of the birds, and i feel wrapped in life, held tight by mother nature. I find very few things comforting in this way, but i wait all year to feel it again. To feel human again, renewed by the warm breeze that rolls in to burn away the haze left by dawn. Sometimes i sit on my stoop, and close my eyes momentarily to feel it, take it all in. Or I'll stare at the moon fading into the day, and just wonder with amazement, it wakes the curiosity in me. It encourages the poetry in me to spread itself across a page and paint for you a picture of the unique way in which i see life. I relate lyrics from songs to circumstances in life and recite them to myself, or perhaps create my own soundtrack to it. I meet interesting people everywhere i go and i get some bit of experience out of each and every chance encounter. With every tomorrow comes a new chance to step out of the old, and nothing reminds me of this fact more than a spring morning.

A Little Feverish

Nothing like getting strep throat on the nicest week of the year to date while on vacation.  What a way to spend half my week off, right?  Well, it's all good.  I'm sitting outside on the deck and I just watched the sun set beyond my garage and some trees.  Chemtrails streak the blue sky in every direction and I wonder where the hell all those people are going.  I'm stuck here in my own little world writing to you and the whole world bustles around me, people going about their business.  My business is always the thought at hand, spinning and twirling its way through my thought processes.  No matter where I'm at, being lost in thought is only seconds beyond my reach at any given time.  I can hear the words to a song anp'll solve something I was working out in my head days earlier.  Somebody will say something in a conversation that'll give me an answer to something I was talking about with someone completely different.  And my mind keeps rolling.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm not so stuck in my head that I can't enjoy the beauty around me.  Getting lost in the stars with my son is one of the best things I can think of.  Or taking my Gwendolyn to the park...I've never know laughter like that before. Or to sit in my garage and listen to the wind rustle the leaves on the trees.  And to sit and write as the day turns to night and I get absolutely lost in what I'm telling you. Ah yes, I do fully enjoy the present moment and to find the balance between it and being lost in my own head.  I can appreciate both.  And I can appreciate times like this  when both can come together and make me feel more alive than ever.  Things without sparks something within and the words pour out of me and onto this page what would otherwise get lost among the other thoughts up there.

I know it wasn't much, but that's all I could squeeze out of my sweaty, feverish state.  Not to mention the other 2 I wrote which I decided to scrap.  Oh well.  Hope spring is good to everyone.

Flipping The Script

Here recently life has changed in a very odd way for me. For as long as I can remember I have been the black sheep within any circle I join, whether it be family or otherwise. I take my own approach to almost everything I do, and my outlook on most things is different than the majority of the people I've come into contact with in my life. So, Ryan does and thinks about things in his own way, very surprising, right? Seriously though, it wasn't until this last 8 or 9 months that I've grown to accept some things about myself that I have been beaten down over, which I now see is mainly my own doing. There has been an influence on the way I view myself, little pieces that I've taken along with me from all the bad shit I've ever been told about me, and over time it became my own view of who I am. Its never been about anyone else....well, not since I've been in the place where I could separate myself from those people. Since the moment I became free of them it has been my choice of whether or not to hold on, and whether or not I actually knew at that time, I did hold on. I've been holding on to those old ideas for a very long time now and the point has come where I could no longer do so and live happily. I am what I am, and I am happy with it, so people are going to accept some of it. At least, this is what I was telling myself.

Now, somehow, here I am on the other side of all that and all of a sudden Ryan is no longer the family scapegoat. Me calling myself out on my own bullshit in the face of everyone caused a curious chain reaction, one I didn't see coming. It wasn't like a meeting with family and friends and everyone started spilling their guts. I've been sharing a little bit more of myself with some of the people around me, on an individual basis, and not necessarily the same things with the same people. It's almost as if it has sparked something in them that created a desire to change. Mind you, all I've done at this point was share some of my own personal shit that I keep guarded, hidden from the masses, my own shit to wallow in when I feel the need. I don't ever talk to people as if THEY need to do this or that, I only ever speak of my own experience, as I do here. So, in a matter of a few months I went from being the black sheep, the one that's always fucked up, to the one that isn't so fucked up after all. And everyone started putting all their shit out there to me and the whole thing just seemed rather twilight zone-ish.

This isn't about me being any better off than anyone else and I don't wish for it to sound that way. I only ever intended to help myself in this situation, as selfish as it might sound, it's the truth. At the same time, I know that the best way to influence other people isn't by talking, it's by acting and showing as proof of what you say. It becomes a relief when you accept who you are and decide that it doesn't matter if anyone else likes it or not. Putting myself out here was just the first step in trying to open myself up in face to face life. And I have been doing more of the latter, which I think is why I've been writing a little less, which is fine, I'm always about finding the balance even if trying is only as far as I'll ever get. Before all action is intention and we'll never get anywhere without it. So, if you're thinking about doing something, keep thinking about it and eventually you'll be forced to do it. In my experience, at least.