Thursday, March 31, 2011

Rambles from the office as I stare out the window.

Late night as I walk in trees' shadows cast by the yellow lights, my mind feels as free as the wind. The silence seeps out from each branch. It covers my overworked, frantic mind. It silences it as well.

I walk in these warming nights and recover a part of myself. We live in such a crazy world. We surround ourselves with media at every point. I spend the day near a computer, whether it is designing, composing or writing. I frantically pour through research articles, law journals and court cases. I have to decipher this complex code of each word and phrase with a contextual history. It is challenging. It is invigorating.


If we don't allow our brains to rest, what use are we tomorrow? Tomorrow I would only be half the man. Tomorrow, I may not even be a tenth of the man. How many years did it take for me to realize the importance of letting my brain rest, of knowing it would take more than a beer and sometimes a beer would be no rest at all? How many days did it take to realize that some of the most strenuous and physical things were the greatest rest for my brain? A hardworking man may feel pain in his bones. Yet, he feels a deepening of the mind.

I feel a productive day coming on tomorrow. It is 8pm. I'm still here in the office. Yet for some reason I'm not too tired ... I feel hope gaining in my heart. I deleted my Facebook more than a week ago. I feel a rush of life returning with the trees' new buds.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

A hopeless, wandering soul

I slid down and fell beside you. I didn't know you. Then I knew you in a second, and as you laid your head on my shoulder, you said, "I think it's going to be OK now."

And This was the destined two not finding anything other than solace in another. A feeling of courage crept into both hearts and spread outward in an emancipation of joy, a bond formed and not forgotten.  It was a bond to laugh at the world and maybe even almost destroy itself in the torrent - a bond felt in the midst of this perennial storm.

Atoms jumped from one to another as if not even a single difference existed. For love made us the same element crafted and designed a million years ago for just this purpose.

And I slid beside you and accepted it. It was a desire fed from a common isolation in a world of billions.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011


I want to redefine Innocence.

Does it matter where one comes from? If I were to ask a friend about his early days in Africa, and he told me about the slaughter of his family, his days as a child soldier and all the horrible atrocities, could I then say "this man has lost his innocence?" Is the love of a woman who has never slept with another man more valuable than one who has slept  with many men, maybe even some women? Is someone who never got lost, never felt down, never indulged in some self-destructive act more valuable than I?

I say no, not necessarily.

How I hold my head in the morning is innocence. It is the bright optimism gleaming from the faces of the youth as they stare up at us wondering what the world will hold. It is the moment of optimism in a sea of despair.

When I awoke this morning, I knew I had again captured a piece of my innocence. I wanted to believe in myself again and scour the world for all the hope and imagination I could rustle up. I didn't draw this from another, but rather from my imagination as I dreamt. For when my eyelids fell, someone came to me with all the optimism and character of an innocent. She inspired me again to care, to be myself, to listen to the world and try to see the goodness in it all. Yet not all was as it seemed. As we became closer in the dream, she told me she had secrets which she could never tell me. Deep secrets that would ruin our time. Even so, I pressed her to tell me. I said I needed to know. (My fear of secrets and silly lies even rears ugly in my dreams.) She told me that she had been with many people before me. She told me she used to be a stripper. She wept uncontrollably. Was all lost now? Could I be inspired to be innocent by one who was clearly not so? NO! She was innocent! She believed in the optimism to smile, to believe, to be her best and no matter what past pushed her down, she had the inspiration and courage to find her true self again.  AND at least to me, THAT is the real quality of life. When we have gone down such a path and feel steam building in our heart to break free and be just a moment in our true forms again ... When we have had enough ... When we peer out again knowing what damage the ravages of love has caused before ... When we stop believing the naysayers ... When we stop accepting the table scraps from those who say we should accept things for the way they are ... When it is in your heart and you feel that push for freedom ...

Then dance, sing, love uncontrollably, revolt! Whatever a person must do. I, for one, will not believe in innocence being a part of a singular moment only caught then lost. For we are all fading in and out of our innocence.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Why is it that I cannot accept the ordinary?

When I was still very young, I ventured out into a herd of cattle to really see if those white things (salt licks) were the same salt that I ate at the kitchen table. I trespassed on all the land near mine (and even some not so much) in search of apple orchards after stumbling on some one day. I stole grapes from a family friend's small vineyard, even after she protested that I was doing so.

When I was a bit older, I ran wildly down the streets. I sat up games racing neighborhood kids to the bus stop from further and further points. When we saw the bus on the horizon, we would all start running. If a kid was slow, he would miss the bus. Someone always seemed to miss the bus. I sometimes missed the bus. I wanted everything wildly and blindly. I wanted life in the most pure sense.

Then I got older and realized the ephemeral nature of things. I fell in love with the first girl who appreciated my poetry. I lived and died by her word, and when she broke my  heart I could not understand. At the same time, I started losing key family members to disease and accident. Shocking how everything changed so fast in those days! I crawled into a shell for a bit, but found my self again while in Colorado. My family and the people I met there kindled my wonder and hope. I picked my head out of the books and started to try to personify my favorite protagonists. Adventure seemed to follow me in those days. I spent the school year in Illinois waiting for my return to my Colorado. Meanwhile, I would buy calling cards with my own saved money from working various jobs to call those friends whom I left in Colorado. On many occasions, I begged my mom to let me move, to let me find another way outside the Midwest.

So there are my foundations ... along with many life lessons on loss, pain, coldness, love, tenacity, loyalty, drive, failure, bullying, fighting, education v. knowledge, imagination and spirituality (back then only known as religion).

So that is why I cannot accept the ordinary. I cannot sign up for your casual marriage, casual kids, casual job and Friday night potlucks, though at times I do crave to fall in the fold and accept this. I want a love that will set the other hearts ablaze with jealousy. I want a love with solid foundations with kids who will know if nothing else that their parents love them and they love each other. I hate to see the pain being brought into all of these families by an inability to stand one another. I also do not want to live in a place where adventure is casual, where the climbs are low and the threat of failure may mean just a few nights in the woods or a sprung ankle. I want to feel the pinch of death as I start on my journey. I want my logical nature to fend off the wild, the uncontrollable. I want my ability to survive to hold out over the threat of death. I do not want to feel myself becoming soft. I would also like to continue on my path of knowledge. I do not want to feel my mind slipping into the apathetic malaise that plagues our society.

Lately, I think I have let go of a lot of this. Thought maybe I could just try to fail and accept the ordinary. Saying that I lost too much this time ... Saying that I always lose so much in my journeys. But I returned to my place of solace and found myself again. I guess my true nature was sitting on top of some granite peak, chilling out, waiting for me to come back to it. I like to think it could have set up there in the cool breeze, gaining composure and strength while the what was left fought my demons.

Please, let me find a path to optimism among those who will support me. Let me find the things I really crave from life. Let me find the courage to help those around me. Let me find the strength to persevere and keep hold of my true self.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

A Western Wind

It is the possibility that brought me back. The jutting slab of the granite holds the aesthetic sense of my mind. The open sky pours sunshine from a thousand feet closer. The intensity burns my head. Later at night, the cold rushes in and spreads against the land. It would be warm in summer. It is chilly with frost. I walk down small streets and catch eyes gleaming up into mine. Yet this time I do not return the gaze.

I have changed since my last visit. I am more optimistic and sadly more realistic. I wish to shuck off the outer protective skin that keeps me distant from so many. Yet, I know it is this skin that is not easily removed for just anybody. It is this skin that will keep me safe until I can have my next adventure, until I can help out that next person, until I can find the great depths of my soul sustained. This trip has confirmed yet again that I do not belong in the Midwest. I am holding my breath there, afraid to breathe, terrified to speak, to cheer, to risk ... fearful of life.

I dreamt last night of a certain possibility. Only here would I have the bravado to think I could attain this. That is why I must keep striving and escape the confines of the Midwest. It is only outside of that place that I can imagine and see myself for who I am

Tuesday, March 08, 2011


I step back from this mess. I take a breath. It is this breath that sustains me. I keep asking myself as I lay here not able to sleep, "How did I get into this mess? And since when did I ever need their validation?"

Damn it, man. I am trying. Yet, I have lost so much ... so much ... thus far in the process. So much of me ... so much of my soul. It seems sometimes that I am just trying to get pieces of it back. I gotta believe something is there in the future. I have to believe that some day the solidness of great friendships, good spirit and aesthetic scenery may  ...

I have tasted what life can be. I have lived with purpose and direction. I have felt wild, loose and free. I have roared back in the faces of those who would keep me down. I have laughed uncontrollably and spilt tears of joy. I have loved enough to stand on the edge of the precipice, uncontrollably languishing for the other. 

Don't write me off yet.

Tuesday, March 01, 2011


"Live. That's all you can."

I wish sometimes I could do better. I hope I can survive all this. Each day, I put my head down and hope I can keep moving without thinking too much about it all. I'm always the bad guy. I'm always the one apologizing to others for my actions. Yet, I am just trying to live. I am tired of always getting left in the dust. For when I am weakest, the people who are closest always disappear.

I hope I find the strength to finish all this. I hope I find the strength to keep moving until I can stand on some more solid ground. I hope those around me can understand that I can afford no luxury of having anyone close to me.

"Don't ... Don't sink the boat that you built to keep afloat."


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Ambitiously enduring.