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.