tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-142020652024-03-12T19:23:55.387-07:00artistic in mind, free in spiritLife is short. I live today.nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.comBlogger354125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-11096355094274621962017-04-22T12:12:00.001-07:002017-04-22T12:13:28.159-07:00In the end, I know many will leave my life. I leave each place. This time it is on great terms. My boss seems to think I will become a great attorney. However, in one week I do not know where I will go.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have let my life come to standstill. </span></span><br />
<br />
I am afraid of what is to come. People <span style="color: #bf9000;">pull</span> me to the Midwest. People <span style="color: #f1c232;">pull</span> me to the coast. People <span style="color: #bf9000;">pull</span> me toward Boise. Some <span style="color: #7f6000;">pull</span> me in other directions. Each one has its own set of distinct possibilities. Truth is ... I'm tired of moving. I'm tired of developing awesome friendships to watch them go away. I'm tired of having no roots and feeling like I cannot build something better.<br />
<br />
I must pick a direction and move. Tomorrow or today, I will make a final decision. This life is up to me. I won't go out without a fight. <span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'll find deep connections, truth, love, and adventure again</span></span>. No one has to believe in me except myself. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-47636578100449791722017-03-28T00:38:00.003-07:002017-03-28T00:38:54.650-07:00It's a metaphorI came upon a rose. I stared at its crimson leaves, and tried holding it in my hands. My fingers bled as I pricked my fingers against its stem. I felt the wound in the moist air, and I held my breath. It was much better than feeling nothing. I feel better when I bleed. <br />
<br />
<br />nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-1911677887301358762017-03-23T16:11:00.002-07:002017-03-23T16:11:45.205-07:00Walking in the spring weather, life drifts eternal as a steady wind sweeps through the North End. It is a comfortable silence, and I feel the my soul's steady rhythm as I prepare for another night that will go until 2 or 3am. Soon, music will cue up for another night of punk, folk, indie, techno, and soul.<br />
<br />
Life has been hectic lately. I never thought so much would have happened since I bought these tickets. Now, I am glad I did because this is a good release from the steady torture of the uncertain. Will my ambitions eventually kill me? Who knows.<br />
<br />
While I have a soul and while there is a need, I must keep trying to make the biggest difference I can. I have been gifted to have the life I have led so far. Therefore, I must keep striving and believing in change and helping one another. It is scary, but I feel so close to finding my rhythm. I feel close to finding a sense of home again. Wish me luck. I certainly need it. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-12335664390243215602017-02-14T18:29:00.003-08:002017-02-14T18:29:41.025-08:00How will I measure my life? Today, a young tax attorney told me to read the book, "How You Will Measure Your Life" by Clayton Christensen. It comes hard on this day of all days. It is not only Valentines Day, but it is a day filled with memories of planning for birthdays, of trips, of romantic encounters, and small adventures. I wonder if he knows how much I relish the idea of family, the idea of building something else in this life, how much I adored the ones who came close to me, how much I regret an existence away from my closest friends.<br />
<br />
Though, not all is depressing ... <br />
<br />
Recently, I have felt the heat of battle. My cases involve consumer and housing issues. I help people battle a system that treats people as chattel. It does not appreciate their full, living, breathing, loving human selves. My opponents talk as if they are cogs in a machine not able to do what they feel is just. Imagine an 80-year-old getting evicted because of a "problem with a toilet" or a blind man who is told he has two days to find another home.<br />
<br />
The law protects these individuals. However, it is only as good as their access to it. No judge stands up for these people. Most people do not even see the insides of our courthouses. They are tricked into taking default judgements, told they have no recourse and no justice is found in those halls. Now, our Congress is trying to dry up funding for my organization and many like it across the country. The only reason I could think of is to fully exploit the poorest in our population. It's a real travesty. Blah. <br />
<br />
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<br />nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-28945882906353641712017-02-13T06:23:00.001-08:002017-02-13T06:23:10.452-08:00Sometimes, I must go back and read these posts. I must see how I was feeling at the time to truly reflect on my present. The beauty in writing is that one can capture those emotions while in the thick of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
As of now, I am an attorney fighting for the public interest. I do civil work on behalf of low income people. My bills seem to be falling in to order, and I get outside enough to satiate my more wild side (at least for now). I have blisters on my heels from miles and miles of classic cross country skiing in MT. I never imagined it would be such a physical workout, but my adventure partner is nothing more than a machine. <br />
<br />
I go head to head with attorneys, and I hold my own. Nearly all the cases I have taken have had favorable outcomes, which has surprised me.<br />
<br />
Still, it's not very ideal. I am alone constantly and when I make plans people cancel at the last second. I am surrounded by Trump supporters and people who think money should rule the world. I take trips and visit great people, and they make me wish I was building this life elsewhere, which gets me into a pretty big funk.<br />
<br />
I have time. I must return to writing for catharsis' sake. <br />
<br />
<br />nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-48321381021544577002016-04-19T12:50:00.000-07:002016-04-19T12:50:05.284-07:00Decision to Rebuild My PassionsRalph Waldo Emerson once wrote: “Sow a thought and you reap an action; sow an act and you reap a habit; sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a destiny.” I have become an anxious man filled with habits that do not align with his spirit. This has had an unsettling affect on my demeanor. It is as if my true self, the one I am most proud of comes out in short spurts to feel the sunshine, to breathe the moist air, to smell the flowers for their beauty, to write with my heart, and to speak with the voice of my own soul with all its flaws, strengths, grit, and integrity etched in by the blunt knife that has been my life.<br />
<br />
So how do I get back there from this Depression that has blossomed into my life. How do I start to climb out of this pain-ridden, lonely existence within a life that I dread?<br />
<br />
It is as simple as climbing. It will take courage and blind faith in my own abilities. It is like standing up and looking up at a challenging sport climb. The first bolt is sometimes very high. Sometimes, I think that I could break my leg if I fall before it. Sometimes, I think of the second bolt and think, if I fall at that bolt, I could do even worse. I could die. If I do not do the route, it facilitates a process of becoming a person I do not like. It facilitates me falling away from loving what I love. The cowardice slips in and begins to poison every part of my life. When fear erupts, I sit and await death in a malaise that once knew what it was like to live without fear. I am held in its grasp like a weak, infant duck captured in the gator's claws.<br />
<br />
That is why, when I staring at this climb. My soul smells the fear coming on. My mind weakens in its resolve, and I begin to back away. The fear consumes me. Yet, I go forward with the fear. I feel it slowly release as I begin to act, to move, to stretch and feel the rock beneath my hands. I begin to loosen up as the sun reaches around the corner, and I begin to feel confident as I get to the first bolt and more confident as the second bolt comes. The third bolt is clipped and I really begin to feel the movements again. It is no thing to start with fear in the heart. However, it is crucial to act when fear rides in and paralyzes our actions. It is only through this that I can become the person I was meant to be.<br />
<br />
That is what I shall do to climb out of this hole. I will not take the normal path. I will act in ways that terrorize me. I will act in ways that I "know" will lead to failure. I will move every day and keep moving. When I am weak and tired, I shall slowly move, but I shall move nonetheless. Each step forward from this point will be wicked, full of fear, full of unknowns, and bewilderment. Yet, I will act in the present to get closer. When I am alone, I shall walk out to act. I shall write. I shall push my body to the limits. I shall strive to rebuild a work ethic and a passion I once had.<br />
<br />
I can live no other life than my own. I must not wish to be wealthy, to be safe, to be secure. That is a path left to the ones not ready to lead the climb. I have felt the lead, the danger, and I relished in its glory and the excitement of truly living. I shall strive to go forward in my own fashion, to feel free, to inspire others and to build relationships in only ways I can. I shall be open to any path where I can be close to my true self.<br />
<br />
I strive to leave this mental slavery I have forced upon myself. Utmost, I strive. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-7593556674991033072016-03-27T15:18:00.003-07:002016-03-27T15:18:36.225-07:00EasterThis is a day for families and loved ones. So, in essence, it is a day that reminds me that I have neither. I am one small catastrophe from utter failure, and I center myself to try not to be bitter. Because <span style="color: #660000;"><b>bitterness is and always will be a pill that ruins my spirit</b></span>. <br />
<br />
I would take a boring Easter. I would take one with religious fundamentalism, one with family members that I do not wish to be around, one that makes me wish I was alone. I would take <i>that</i> Easter because I know all too well that this one ends without a smile.<br />
<br />
Some say alcohol ruins the health or cigarettes ruin the lungs. Loneliness, however, ruins everything. Lately, my health has been no grand experience. My legs feel lethargic on my runs, and my body carries too much water weight. I spend entire weekends not seeing a sole I would call a friend. That has been most of my existence since moving to Idaho. Everyone I meet is either leaving or leaving me, or I am an automatic outsider in their group. <strike>Stephanie</strike>, the name on my tongue makes it feel vile, says all my answers lay in counseling. I could take some pills and not care, and maybe then I could watch with a smile as my life descends into chaos. I am starting to believe that I fall in love with smart, but uncaring people. They know how to work this game that is this life, and I do not. I have these ideals that force me to care about people, care about my path, care about doing something worthwhile. I thought it was the path to happiness, but all it has given me lately is loneliness and despair.<br />
<br />
Steinbeck once wrote that the miserable man carries despair within his heart wherever he goes. While at a dock on the Mexican Coast sailing down to Sea of Cortez, he witnessed the young men of a small town carrying a solemness that pervaded the very air. However, I think the true travesty of these young men is that they had each other, but they could not see the adventure. Poverty is such a trap of the spirit. Steinbeck was poor in California with the richness of good friends, freedom, and booze. Being poor and at the whims of another is true poverty.<br />
<br />
Also, as of late, I fear too much. I fear for my body because it does not act like it should. My hands flush red and purple. My legs feel weak. My legs ache and my gut sometimes dances madly. My rhythm is gone, and I constantly try to convince myself that I am traveling on a fine path. However, I cannot convince myself. This legal world is a rich man's world. It's all about connections and too many people say things as if words (when not in some legal document) were but whispers caught on the wind. They hold no value, and they cease to exist the minute they are unleashed.<br />
<br />
I think of building. I think of it constantly. I want a family. I want a job that pays me for once, one that can help me stabilize my life in this world where the dollars you make determine your value and level of freedom. Yet, I do not want to give up my love for others, my desire to not work solely for the rich, my desire to make a difference. Yet, I have no access to this world. These jobs seem to be held by people given a silver spoon from a young age. To them, it seems like it's a trendy experience and they earn their meager wages while getting supported by the parents who are part of the very system they seem to want to upset. I find it more than bizarre. <br />
<br />
All these words will look differently in a couple months when I am done with law school. However, I do not know where to go, nor what to do. I still wonder if I will have the funds to get to July, to pass the bar. Afterward, I may be properly fucked. However, that is a day that will come at some other point. Maybe I will be the homeless guy who passes the bar. That would certainly be better than the homeless guy who does not. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-46989078155374005392015-12-24T10:59:00.000-08:002016-03-27T15:23:57.145-07:00In Boise, I am far from the things I need. "Golden light flickers at the edge of the room. It gathers a warm glow against her red hoodie as her hazel eyes glimmer, set deep against the pages of an old book. She smirks, lifts her eyes to mine. We find each other. We dance with a shared smile."<br />
<br />
I wrote these words in the absence of anyone. I am constantly in these long distance relationships. My friendships are far from me. My family is mostly fairweather.<br />
<br />
I sit here on Christmas Eve. I was told my funding for my job will mostly dry up starting next year. I was also told by an environmental organization that I was overqualified for a job I applied for.<br />
<br />
I am an outsider in everything right now. I am no climber. I am no close friend. I am no family member. I am no lover.<br />
<br />
I am a law student. I am an advocate. I work on research. I share shallow jokes. I make people smile from time to time. I enjoy short dates where shallow kisses fall on the deaf ears of my heart. I run now and move my legs to go through the motions. I am not inspired. My heart's passion sits in a lull.<br />
<br />
Am I hated now? Am I so alone because I deserve this? Do I sit on the precipice of homelessness? I am told by law professors that I am smart. I have rave references. I make people laugh. I strive to do something with my life. Yet, I am alone.<br />
<br />
My mind never shuts off. All I want is a family, some connection, some purpose in this life. I never thought it would be like this. I never thought I would be so far from the most important things. How do I stay somewhere if I am always told how much I don't belong?nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-80279560112057847462015-05-17T11:06:00.005-07:002015-05-17T11:06:43.613-07:00Praying for a normal MRIToday, I contemplate many things (as is often the case when I make these blog posts).<br />
<br />
I feel as if I am too inward-thinking. Yes, I do think much about the outside world, but recently I've been wondering about my insides ... more like worrying. My senses feel off. I cannot separate the psychosomatic symptoms from the real ones (if any). Tomorrow I go in for an MRI. Wednesday I will sit with a neurologist and talk about the results.<br />
<br />
I want to be brave, but how can one be brave when he knows absolutely nothing about what is in front of him. In my lifetime, I have lost such special people; I have confronted poverty; I have faced down bullies; I have run until my legs feel like jelly; I have cried, face down in the grass on a hot summer day with no regard to how perfect the day was; and I have risen to such great heights of happiness even on a cold rainy day. I have overcome many fears and stepped great distances from my comfort zone. Yet, this feels like nothing else. At 31, my body and mind might be betraying me. My body's abilities may fall off steeply, and I may be destined to ride out my days in a wheelchair; I may lose my ability to speak, to act, or to think. <br />
<br />
I am scared, and I want to be brave.<br />
<br />
How will I do what I want to do? How will I reach my goals like this? I am praying that these results come back negative. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-87932981774223861162015-04-29T10:28:00.001-07:002015-04-29T10:28:38.843-07:00Rant on. My body can be a ferocious beast. It can travel hours over mixed terrain and ascend up a vertical face. Honed, it can do hours of cardio. Honed, it feels refreshed after laying in a bed after a full day of outdoor activity.<br />
<br />
Yet, my body is a vessel. It carries a mind that taxes it with stress and uncertainty. It pulls it through low nutrients and inactivity. I stare at computer screens for hours and only my fingers twitch. Lately, I have been lazy. I try to keep working out and fail. Slowly, I can feel my body fall into disrepair. Two days ago, my leg went numb while laying in bed. As I tried to move it, nothing happened. I flopped over in bed, awaiting the numb, tingly feeling to come but nothing happened. I panicked. I flopped my body to the side, hoping that my leg was just numb but working. When I got to edge of my bed, my body collapsed onto my leg. I sat there for a moment and wondered what to do. Immediately, my overactive imagination jumped to stroke. Given the stress, poor nutrition and inactivity, I felt it wasn't too much of a long shot. Given in to despair, I called my roommate into my room. As he came in, maybe the way I shifted my body made a difference and my leg was working. I told him sorry for wasting his time and made an appointment with the doc. A nurse checked me out for stroke and said I did quite well (in other words, nothing indicated a stroke). The doc wanted me to see a neurologist. However, I've been down this road before with my insurance. It is stressful going to the doctor. It is even more stressful trying to cope with the medical bills. So I will wait to see if it happens again.<br />
<br />
I went running afterward and felt weak. My body is in no shape to run, and it makes feel slothful. I want to run and feel free like old times. I want to be able to run three miles and not feel like I'm going to die. Lately, I can barely run one mile. BLAST IT!<br />
<br />
The semester is wrapping up and I feel obligated to finish a paper at the last minute. I had to pick the topic while I was worried about finances and not thinking about school. So, needless to say, I got the topic wrong. Being that it was too late to switch the topic, I find my theme and all my conclusions to be contrived.<br />
<br />
I hope to escape this summer and get my thesis done. I only want to connect to people on a deeper level. I want to make some new friends and have some new adventures. I want to press my body to be active again and away from this depressing environment. It still doesn't feel like I'm leaving Moscow. I guess I am just as worried that Boise will be much of the same. I learned last weekend that even though everyone has been nice upon my return, some talk constantly saying things they wouldn't dare say to my face. I say these people are cowards. Yet, uncertain of who they are, I am pushing everyone back.<br />
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It is unsettling to be in this atmosphere. I value genuineness and sincerity. I believe this fakeness is the failing of leadership in this country.<br />
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Rant over. <br />
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<br />nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-1851401449438921932015-04-12T10:35:00.001-07:002015-04-12T10:35:16.689-07:002L year ramps up. Summer unknown/scary. Feeling down, but Alive. Where is this big world I used to know so well? Where is adventure, achievement, a challenge worth attempting?<br />
<br />
Where are my friends? Where are those kindred spirits who long for deep connections, deep experiences, truth, and adventure?<br />
<br />
My routine has become disjointed, too busy with law school to breathe, too busy trying not to stress about my summer. It gets closer, and my plans still hang in limbo. I have again reached outside of the ordinary to try a new approach. It has yielded little results. But I fear I must approach the very precipice of my own destruction before I turn away.<br />
<br />
I have come too far to give up now. <br />
<br />
I am down this morning.<br />
<br />
Last night, I wrapped myself in an old blanket and shivered myself to sleep. I didn't want to close the window. The air was too fresh, and oh how I have missed fresh air. I slept alone which is probably for the best. Too many times, I get close to the wrong people. Too many times I get close to people who are on some different path, and we must always part. Many times, I wake up and would like to see a family. Instead, I see my alcoholic roommate shuffling around recovering from his latest lonely bout of drinking. He is not a good conversationalist. A bitter law student, nearly every conversation turns into him trying to prove he is right on a topic, but I fear he rarely is. So I turn to him as I pass to leave and say something generic like, "Hey, have a good day today." It keeps it positive, but let's him know I am not really in the mood for conversation (at least not with him). <br />
<br />
My life has become a series of small connections with many people. I work on legal research or my studies during the day. Sometimes, when I close my eyes I can still see the glow of fire against the swaying trees, the silhouette of rocky shores, Curt and Al strumming their guitars. Or I see the red crimson cliffs of Zion as I ascend downward into a slot canyon slipping down into the water, disconnecting my rappel and slowly treading to the other side. I look up and a tiny slit of blue stands above towering red sandstone cliffs on each side. It is like caving without the claustrophobic tightness. I see the gray Eastern sandstone as I ascend up a rock wall. I see my friends around a table for dinner. I see many old faces filled with laughter. I see a community. <br />
<br />
My life is better for these memories. Yet it is a curse all the same. I truly miss feeling connected. I long for some stability in my life, and I long for a family. I long for beauty and poetry. I long for talking about the finer things, and I long for those days when I didn't fear the future so much. I felt on a path, and I felt wise for being there. Now I feel like I got lost somewhere along the way, and all this was a horrible mistake. I have lost friends, loved ones, experiences, and family. Yet, I still cannot stop.<br />
<br />
On any given day, you'll see me laughing, making light of a situation, and saying that everything is OK. Why? Because if I continue downward all day: I will never see the canyon walls of Zion; I'll never be able to introduce children to the wilderness; I'll never hear another jovial strum around a campfire; I'll never hold one woman's hand into the future forever; I'll never be able to connect to my family; I'll never get out of this hell I've stepped into.<br />
<br />
So I will find ten reasons to laugh today. I will find a reason to run or climb. I will find a reason to make someone's day better.<br />
<br />
<h1 class="quoteText">
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have
done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in;
forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin
it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old
nonsense.” RWE</h1>
nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-59511936023234955782014-11-15T11:40:00.000-08:002014-11-15T11:48:34.429-08:00To last year and my free spirit. It survives. I sometimes look back and question the <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: lime;"><b>meaning</b></span></span> of this blog. Did I use it as a form of self expression or open honesty with my friends<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">?</span></span> Did I intend it as an outlet for my <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #7f6000;">writing desires?</span></b></span><br />
<br />
In it, I have captured instances I never would have remembered, of passions I once held so high. In it, I can see both my <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>rise</b></span> and <b><span style="color: red;">fall </span></b>as a <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">free spirit</span></b>. I can see areas where I had more <b><span style="color: #38761d;">self discipline</span></b> (and much less.) I try to keep my silly notions of love far and away from this place ... Yet they <span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>creep</b></span></span> in.<br />
<br />
So today, hopefully, I will start again. I should write about the current political atmosphere, the unjust nature of a society that allows a strong middle class to disappear. Yet ... I shall not write about these things because they are <span style="color: red;"><b>out of my control</b></span>. With all my knowledge, I realize every day how <span style="color: red;">powerless</span> I am in this society. I am powerless both in society and for myself. Every day, I believe I know less about people, about me, about the world. <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">Yet, I can know the moment and focus on what I can do write now. </span></b><br />
<br />
I find myself writing in the bustle that is the COOP during a late Saturday morning rush. Every table is full with people in their conversations, drinking coffee and eating the COOP's delicious food. A woman maybe in her 30s sits at a diagonal from me. She sits alone, stares into her drink, and then scans the room. She does not seem anxious, but maybe a little lorn as she breathes across the top of her steaming cup. Men sit and stand around, dressed in their camouflage jackets and hats. Some have the regular hunting orange. Most others seem to be college students or faculty.<br />
<br />
I randomly told a barista today <span style="color: red;"><b>that I may never know Moscow</b></span>. It is a quiet place during one of the most <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>busy</b></span> and <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>controversial</b></span> phases of my life. I long for so much while I am here. It all started with Steph. I always thought I would marry her. I thought I could finally move on with some of my larger life plans, like kids and family. But the other side of me kept <span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>pushing my career</b></span>. I thought, back then, if I was not moving forward, I was falling behind. So I came here to Idaho and left her there with her goals. It thought it was fitting to leave her there with her goals so I could focus on mine. However, I slumped into what I now deem was something akin to <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>clinical depression</b></span>. My body started shutting down. I drank too much. I barely held onto strained connections with the people around me, and I felt I was <span style="color: orange;">coming every closer</span> to the <b><span style="color: #990000;">disastrous consequences of being too poor in America</span></b>. Once down there, I felt my life would be awash with waste, no way out, no matter how talented I may be. I asked myself <b><span style="color: orange;">what really separated me </span></b>from those who I had helped in the past? I <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">lost my faith</span></b> in life. I soon lost my hope. So the idea of Steph was the only thing I hung onto. I became <b><span style="color: #660000;">more sick</span></b> and <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">more stressed</span></b>. Soon I found myself leaving school to be with her. I needed a restart, but my spirit even when returning to Denver <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>was still dead</b></span>. So I malingered there, first with Erinn then with Steph. My
uncle did not send the money he promised to send, the $1,200/month (for three months) I was counting on to find a job. His business was falling on hard times, he said. So with no money, I
again fell into the spiral of poverty. <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>But there is something about Colorado that
kept me afloat</b></span>. I decided that it was the only thing that might save me. I needed to be a man of action so I moved in with Steph. I soon found myself healthier each day, but spiritually still dead inside. Her words were cold, focused on her own goals. It would take a fight to elicit any emotions from her. Maybe that's why I initially loved her. <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>She was focused</b></span>, and I had enough spirit for both of us. Yet, with my then bankrupt spirit, it was not enough. Soon, I was offered a job in Carbondale IL. I reluctantly accepted. I felt it was a wrong move, but back then, I felt as if everything was the wrong move. I trusted the people inviting me though, and Steph urged me on. So with a great deal of inner conflict (I had just interviewed for a job at a small research firm and had a second interview), I left.<br />
<br />
My time in Southern Illinois was both <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>depressing and magical</b></span>. I would awaken in a cold, smelly, mouse-infested camper or a muddy tent most of the time. When the cold lifted, I was covered in seed tick or mosquito bites. During this time, I would go to the hospital once with an allergic reaction and feel sick many nights from worry or stress. Yet, I soon started to emerge from my spiritual sickness. <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>Curt</b></span> strummed away on his guitar singing John Hartford songs around the campfire. <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Al</span></b> sang, laughed and cut me with his deep, meaningful conversations. Meanwhile, <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Teresa</span></b> gave me a cold outer core that would warm into a friendship. It made me feel as if my actions were satisfactory, as if my life had some purpose.<br />
<br />
Most importantly, the children and nature encompassed my life with their relative <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">antithesis</span></b> of what I had become. <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>Life and hope</b></span> was what they were to me. I felt joy and laughter when working with them. I remember a vivid vision of standing in a <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">torrential poor</span></b></span>, my hood pulled over my head, cold to the core, slightly shivering, (feeling more alive than ever) talking to a 12-year old girl about the difference between <b><span style="color: #990000;">perceived risks</span></b> and <span style="font-size: large;"><b>real risks</b></span>. She did not want to do an element on the challenge course that rose six feet from the ground. She had seen her classmates do it, but she still feared it. It reminded me of so many times on the rock face <span style="color: red;"><b>when all I could see was the fall</b></span> even though I knew I had the power to do it. I had spoken to this girl a few times before. She was nerdy, interested in science and had a very inquisitive mind. I saw great things in her future, but I also thought of me at that age and the people who had inspired me. I said to her that life has two kinds of dangers: <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>real</b><span style="color: #f1c232;"> and</span> <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">perceived</span></b></span>. If one started to confuse the two, it would <b><span style="color: orange;">lead to a life not lived</span></b>. It would lead to fear, and one would be at the mercy of whatever society wanted. <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Real risks come with real consequences</b></span>. However, <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>perceived risks may seem scary, but they are no more real than the boogie man that used to stand in the closet during our childhoods</b></span>. So feel I told her to feel it out with her mind, and I told her to have faith in those whom she trusted to guide her. She said she trusted me, and I soon saw her conquering the element. The smile of her face, of her mom's face (one of the chaperones) and the laughter of the group soon ensued. <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>So there we were, in the pouring rain, on a 50-something degree day, shivering and so happy. </b></span></span><br />
<br />
Moments like this were akin to stepping into the <span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>sunlight</b></span></span> from a <span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>deep dark cave</b></span></span>. The moments <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #f1c232;">wrapped me up</span></b></span> in their warmth and reminded me of who I was, whom I had become, and <b>the<span style="color: #38761d;"> path back</span></b>. This world and its fears stripped me of my true nature, and suddenly it was coming back. The situation with the girl was not the only incident. There were others: <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Al</span></b> (a guy I viewed as legendary) telling me he would miss me and our conversations; jumping off <span style="color: #38761d;">Curt's</span> boat<span style="color: #7f6000;"><b> in the moonlight</b></span> with two of my best friends: Thaddeus and Tyler; a boy telling me that a moment in the dark, in a group, not talking, by the lakeside, <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>surrounding by a cacophony of singing tree frogs</b></span> was the most beautiful of his life; pulling Teresa's niece back from a copperhead snake; Thaddeus's offer to stay at his place after my allergic reaction; Anne's offer for me to stay with her even though I knew she was annoyed by me; the <b><span style="color: #38761d;">random canoe trip </span></b>back from a lunch spot with two boys to grab the food I had mistakenly left where I saw two beautiful women on the camp's beach (of which one would ask a colleague if I was single); the random trip with the climbing girl to exchange some canoes where she would tell me that I was a handsome man (I had really lost any confidence in appearance).<br />
<br />
Recalling it now, nearly a year later, I know I have forgotten more than I remember. But I needed to put this down on a page. Because now, I work with so many people who I do not know. I connect with people who know me so superficially. I hide behind a mask here in Moscow. I am so busy. I am so poor. I doubt myself at every corner. I have no friends in my back corner. This journey seems to be a rock climb where no rope exists. Either I make it or I fall to my own demise.<br />
<br />
So like any rock climb, I try to let go of the past, try not to focus so much in the future. <span style="color: #7f6000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I try to focus on each movement</b></span></span>, it's beauty and not the fall potential.<br />
<br />
<b>It is only then I can keep climbing.</b> <br />
<br />
<br />nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-30169921572466726152014-04-26T07:42:00.000-07:002014-04-26T07:43:10.808-07:00Alone.<span style="color: #7f6000;">Sunny light</span> reflects off the <b><span style="color: #38761d;">budding green</span></b>, <span style="color: #7f6000;">showering speckles</span> across the brown bark of the deciduous forest. Little creatures like <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>frogs and turtles</b></span> surround me. <b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Dragonflies</span></b> will soon alight and bring an essence of summertime.The <b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">calm breeze </span></b>moves silently among the new leaves and ripples the water. <br />
<br />
Yet, today I found out that I can't again pay my bills. When did it come so hard to cover the basics? I feel myself sliding toward homelessness, destitution, and a life unimaginable.<br />
<br />
Fear being alone, having no family, no friends, and no love who will have your back in the darkest of times.<br />
<br />
For that makes one lose sight of the beauty that surrounds us.<br />
<br />
My hands shake as a type. <br />
<br />
I am alone. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-46773201929025181362014-03-25T00:29:00.000-07:002014-03-25T00:29:28.767-07:00Everything is spinning. I feel best when I am <b><span style="color: #274e13;">part of something</span></b>, when I feel <b><span style="color: red;">as if people need me</span></b>. I sit here tonight. Someone said it would be about the same if I left. It was, I feel, the last person that I may have felt needed me.<br />
<br />
And as I sit, I feel <b><span style="color: #674ea7;">more alone than ever</span></b>. To another, I say, "Even if it was a 'no,' a simple response would have been nice. <br />
<br />
I feel as if I have made <span style="color: #7f6000;"><b>friends</b></span> in each place I have been, but stupidly I have clung to this idea of Colorado being home. Now, here I am. I feel <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">more unwelcome than ever.</span></b> I cling to the hopes of a job, of some stability. I have no other place to go, and the one I love, I fear, does not care if I stay or go.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #7f6000;">Dark days, some say, test the mettle of a man</span>.</b></span> I say that these dark days can be done and over with. <b><span style="color: #274e13;">I yearn to laugh </span></b>once again, to <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">see the rhythm among the chaos</span></b> and the opportunity to choose levity.<br />
<br />
For tonight though, I sit alone, suited up to go outside and walk the city streets, my uncle's condescending words <span style="color: red;"><b>ringing in my ears </b></span>that I am just like my deadbeat father. Those words cutting so deep inside. Right now, I am <span style="color: #b45f06;">Depressed</span> and longing for something that I do not feel I deserve.<br />
<br />
Dear Brian, I say to myself, hold on. For someone may need you still or be wrong in the present assessment. <br />
<br />
I cling to the thought of a <span style="color: #274e13;"><b>warm breeze sifting against the leaves</b></span>, fresh mountain air, a heartfelt hug, a smile of someone I love, the <b><span style="color: #0b5394;">heavy rain</span></b> during a summer storm, the feeling of something accomplished, the feeling of <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>challenge</b></span>, the <span style="color: #7f6000;"><b>daring adventure</b></span> and the thought of someday feeling part of a family. I cling to it as <span style="font-size: large;"><b>I cling to life even when I descend deeper into this torrent, no clue where I will end or where I may begin again</b></span>.<br />
<br />
Everything is spinning. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-21413811978025631952014-03-24T10:39:00.000-07:002014-03-24T10:39:43.036-07:00Colorado, do you welcome me?It is not the idealized Colorado of my past. Since my return, I have applied to 40 plus jobs resulting in four interviews emphasizing that I was "overqualified" for the positions. One person even mentioned the fact that he wanted to interview me just to meet me. Another said my resume was intimidating.<br />
<br />
Today, I sit in limbo. One manager from a consulting firm took me to lunch where he concluded that I should meet his fellow partners. He says that he thinks I have a really great background. Four or five months is the wait, he says.<br />
<br />
This past Tuesday, I interviewed for another position that I desperately want. A lady from D.C. gave me a "9.9," and said that it was a pleasure talking to me. I am very educated about the different facets of this position, proficient in the way nonprofits work, a perfect match for this organization, willing to take a lower salary because it is public interest work. In other words, it would give me some form of fulfillment unattainable by money alone. Alas, the world does not always work on capabilities. So I fear that another opportunity may be slipping from my grasp.<br />
<br />
Still, I hang on to <b><span style="color: #38761d;">HOPE</span>.</b> It is that essence, the feeling that tomorrow will be a better day. Hope is that relaxed element even in the midst of painful, wretched torture that fuels a joke and a relaxed demeanor. Holding on to hope tells the world that I am strong. It shows the world that I will not be so easily broken.<br />
<br />
Today, I sit on the edge of homelessness. Tomorrow, I may be stable, happy and productive. On the fulcrum, my weight shifts first towards ruin then to glory. I am careful on the fulcrum. One slight mistake may make me fall the wrong way. It is that hope that keeps me balanced. My education and love for learning help me to focus and stay resilient. My great past keeps the hope alive that it may someday return.<br />
<br />
If life is a climb, I fear that this moment is a crux. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-78568909801399664812014-01-16T20:41:00.000-08:002014-01-16T20:41:37.445-08:00The body tenses and relaxes. My tender pectorals and abdomen wince with each movement. Only hours ago, I twisted and flexed and flexed and twisted with a splash and a breath for a mile. Swimming. It is a custom I have been getting into while I deal with the stress of being destitute, let down, and bewildered. Never has my confidence fallen so low. When I left Idaho for Colorado, I knew it would not come easy, but I underestimated the shit storm that would ensue.<br />
<br />
To keep my head up, I swim. I run. I hike. I try to surround myself with friends. I try to take any opportunity while the debt collectors call and harass. I feel sorry for those collectors, led down the path to earn money by harassing those who have fallen on hard times. Hopefully, my stint is brief. Some days are better than others. Some days, I feel an interview coming. I apply for three to seven jobs a day. I meet people who tell me that they can help me find jobs. However, I feel nothing materializing.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I take a breath to reorient myself. That which was planned never was, and that which is always is. I must remember a saying by an old hero, RWE. <br />
<br />
<div class="quoteText" style="text-align: center;">
“Write it on your heart<br />that every day is the best day in the year.<br />He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day<br />who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.<br /><br />Finish every day and be done with it.<br />You have done what you could.<br />Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in.<br />Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day;<br />begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit<br />to be cumbered with your old nonsense.<br /><br />This new day is too dear,<br />with its hopes and invitations,<br />to waste a moment on the yesterdays.”
</div>
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<br />nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-64541228567377886472013-11-15T14:49:00.000-08:002013-11-15T14:49:22.539-08:00To reminisce of a time once passed, and relived again. "You always want to see as much of the <span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>sky</b></span></span> as possible." - Flatliners<br />
<br />
I have only been as lonely as I am now one time in my life, and that moment was a short-lived, 9-month stint in Jacksonville, IL. I was miserable, and my body went through much of the same thing. I felt out of place, <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">ostracized</span></b></span>, and defunct. I worked hard, and I felt nothing for my endeavors. I felt lost. <br />
<br />
When I got to Northwestern University, I doubted everything about myself. I felt defeated. If I couldn't make things work at a lower-level school, how was I supposed to make it work at a prestigious university like Northwestern?<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Yet I thrived</span></b></span>! I remember biking around Chicago after work. I did not know anyone, but soon found myself awash with friends. After watching my relationship disintegrate during my last few weeks, I soon found another woman, an inner city school teacher, who had a <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #bf9000;">heart of gold</span></b></span>. I danced around the city, attending a free event here and there. I felt the thrill of walking past Cabrini Green, a once-infamous housing project. I <span style="color: #bf9000;">walked on the edge</span> as I rode my road bike down into the south side during a 60-mile bike ride! And soon, my body returned to normal, my rhythm at work progressed quickly. I was doing more and more, and soon I was part of a team at a prestigious school. Suddently, I was getting good reviews. <b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: orange;">My confidence steadied</span></span></b>.<br />
<br />
I do not mean to run away, but something is not right here. I hate whining, but <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>it feels like my body knows me better than my own mind</b></span></span>. Silly as it seems. I thrive for <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>adventure</b></span>, for a <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">challenge</span></b>, for <span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>big mountains</b></span>, or <b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">new experiences</span></b>. I thrive for working and being around people. I thrive for <span style="color: #f1c232;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">being productive</span></b></span>.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I thrive to build. </span></b></span><br />
<br />
Law school seems to fuel none of this. It has turned into yet another academic endeavor. It feels like another hoop to climb through before I can move onto the next stage of my life.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>It feels pointless.</b></span></span><br />
<br />
The worst part is that I feel <span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>utterly alone</b></span></span> as I go through it. <br />
<br />
<br />nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-29254539716040515742013-11-06T09:19:00.001-08:002013-11-06T09:19:48.747-08:00I fear death when I no longer feel alive.As of recent, my body has returned to mostly normal. My limbs are limber again. The pain that has set so consistently in my abdomen and sometimes chest fades. I swim a little over a mile every other day. I run miles on the other. I have lost a little over 10 lbs, and I am a step away from climbing again.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for all these changes. Yet, a tiny notion sits in my head. Must I keep this diet forever? Do I have food allergies or is something malfunctioning? Two nights ago, I had a protein shake and then a grilled cheese and everything happened again. My doctor doesn't seem to think it is my gallbladder. My family heartily disagrees.<br />
<br />
It baffles me that the body can control our temperament, our ability to focus, our ability to love fully, and our ability to live in the present. I am so thankful for these days when things begin to return to normal. I have all but said good bye to law school. If it was the stress that did all this to me, I want no part in it. I want to feel as I do now. I want to feel my feet, light and quick, rising from the ground and pushing my body forward. I want the flexibility and lightness to climb trees, to hike big mountains and scale giant cliffs. I want to sense the world and not live in fear.<br />
<br />
I fear death when I no longer feel alive. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-11257596430590504192013-06-02T10:09:00.001-07:002013-06-02T10:09:03.928-07:00Boise, the beginningThe realities of the heart transform into the realities of the body if you are as I am, a very passionate soul. During the past several months, my heart has felt the void and my body has crumbled. Only while reading the words of Wallace Stegner as an old man have I realized the truth of these words. <br />
<br />
"It is remarkable how apt bacteria and other agents of the moral sense can be, how readily they infect and afflict us when we need affliction."<br />
<br />
What a wake up call it has been, an even slower path to recovery. I have been carrying a great weight of sadness, and my legs finally buckled. I am relieved I made it through my first year of law school. My uncle attributes this to my strength to keep going. I attribute it to my folly and a near miss of disastrous proportions. But I am often too hard on myself. <br />
<br />
I sit here now in the late morning breeze, speckled shade while birds sing and voices faintly call in the distance as they navigate the green of the golf course. I have come to live with two people whom I respect and feel great for their company, much like their son who first became my friend. <br />
<br />
As I start to lift my heart, my body slowly starts to recover. Climbing sits only moments away and long bike rides seem easier and easier. <br />
<br />
Now is not the time for many choices. I think my recovery is still key. However, soon I will have to shape the next few years and that time is growing near. So much sits on the horizon and like any other time in my life, decisions stand near.<br />
nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-39210273798341933912013-05-15T18:06:00.001-07:002013-05-15T18:06:59.955-07:00RejoiceFor we are creatures made of tiny little stars swirling around in atomic clouds. Laugh with friends. Find new adventures! Forever follow and do justice to love. Forever hold on to an optimistic spirit.nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-15880422491635041882013-04-28T12:06:00.000-07:002013-04-29T16:20:03.467-07:00Worth. <span style="font-size: small;">A law school dropout, now director of a theater department smiled and spoke about truth. The only thing he said mattered was truth. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Yet, where is truth when it feels as if society drags us constantly from it? Where so many people hide behind the <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>mask of some rationalization</b></span>, truth is a lost concept. Some hide behind advanced degrees, never wanting the world to know their own intellectual impotency. Some, outwardly beautiful people, will forever feel insecure in their beauty. Their worth ebbs and flows on the extrinsic energy of the group. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">However, inner c</span>onfidence gives rise to a classic comfort. This comfort gives rise to a classic, key emotional stability that helps us stay as a steady as a clock when all the world storms around us. As Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote, "<span style="font-family: georgia;">Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunder-storm." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: small;">I have watched my confidence dwindle this year. I wrapped it up in another, and another, and another until it was out of my control - a stormy mind in a stormy world. Yet, today, I take a step back as my mind begins to quiet, as I start to see the world again for how it is. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: small;">Being strong in this world means <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">carrying a quiet mind through the raging storm</span></b>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: small;">Camus once declared that within the midst of the winter, he found within him an invincible summer.This summer, my invincible summer, my personal fire, I have thrown in many directions lately. I have spread it out over 2,000 miles and felt only empty words in return. I have spent what little energy I had in a fruitless endeavor. My body crashed against the shore of lost hope. It is a hard thing for me to know something is possible, but a realistic impossibility.<b><span style="color: #7f6000;"> As with everything, this is a learning experience. </span></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-90164039722200612112013-04-13T17:27:00.000-07:002013-04-13T17:27:02.629-07:00Exams then BoiseDancing meant so much then. A head rested on my shoulder. Our hips shifted at the sway of the rhythm. The solidarity of movement helped captured a certain essence of our <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #bf9000;">humanity</span></b></span>. Once one has touched those<b><span style="color: #38761d;"> truly beautiful</span></b> <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">moments of life</span></b>, every other little thing is only a distraction from those moments. In other words, a man who has<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #f1c232;"> seen the sunlight </span></b></span>will never accept the pale glow<b><span style="color: #f6b26b;"> of artificial light.</span></b> It is a connection not to be lessened with our <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>rational minds.</b></span><br /><br />Now, I dance and twist in wild rhythms trying to capture a freedom I once possessed. The alcohol courses through my veins. <span style="color: #93c47d;"><b>It peels the brain's onion</b></span>, and all the bad decisions flow forth without guilt. And when <b><span style="color: #bf9000;">a sober thought</span></b> reaches me, I think of those deeper days when I was a better man. I think of the children I could have inspired, the <span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>projects</b></span> I could have poured this time into … I think of the useless and boring days here. <br /><br />Lately, I have been running. I also run to feel free. <span style="color: #bf9000;">Breathing rapidly</span>, <b><span style="color: #e69138;">pulse buzzing</span></b>, <b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">sweat perspiring</span></b>, <span style="color: #7f6000;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">an aliveness encompasses my spirit</span></b></span>. Endorphins emerge and maybe I am not so lost as I seemed only hours ago. Yet, I run with a certain notion of bittersweet angst. No goal sits on my doorstep. I am where I worked to be, and now sometimes I just want to leave. I found love only to reject it. Now, I am a but a fragment of what I once was. However society may see me, I have fallen and <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>am in the bitter struggle of climbing out.</b></span> <br />
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I need this to be leading somewhere. I <span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>need</b></span></span> my life to mean something. <br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">It is not within me to give up. </span></span>nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-27480734220242003812013-03-20T13:55:00.002-07:002013-03-20T13:55:59.994-07:00Standing in the downpour, countless hours of writing awaitWhen shit hits the fan and everything dwindles in the prospects of oblivion, all you have is your belief in yourself. Never forget this, because it is the very essence of this belief that will help keep your will, your drive, your composure to focus, to get done what needs to get done and to live in the moment with all its insanity.<br />
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Let come what will. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-72518557799474423762013-03-17T12:23:00.000-07:002013-03-17T12:23:45.214-07:00The days march on with small stepsFor all the whining I do, the <span style="color: #bf9000;">days are not so bad</span>. Woke up today to the sun and another onslaught of snow. However, for the past five days, the weather was moist and warm. The clouds did not part as they do today, but it felt a little like Spring.<br />
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I cannot fathom what is at the heart of so much disinterest in something I care so much about. I feel as if it is more of a feeling that I will try hard and nothing may come of it. I hate to see a well-educated barista who for all his/her education does nothing more than serve drinks. What a selfish use of an education. However, how is this different from the professor whose research is esoteric and metaphysical? He gets grants to expand our educated minds ... but does this really have a real impact on the world. Does he use his talents in any other way?<br />
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So I sit here sometimes, disinterested for only the fact that I am <span style="color: #6aa84f;">so lonely</span>, that I may not be of use. It kills me because I feel so close to my goals.<br />
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Tonight starts the toiling away into the morning hours with work. I feel that <span style="color: #bf9000;">if I focus <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">only on this</span></b>, this school and Moscow ... that I will be able to finish in good fashion.</span> Then with a clear head, I may start to see this school and town more clearly. I may then decide to stay or go from this course. nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14202065.post-33681771808041566952013-03-14T10:52:00.000-07:002013-03-14T10:52:12.698-07:00What I would really like to do with my summer ...I'd like to drive into a small town/city/suburb, sit down at the counter, and ask someone, "Let me hear about your life. Then I want you to <b><span style="color: #7f6000;">tell me what <i>you</i> think is right and wrong about where our country is going.</span></b>"<br />
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I'd ask mayors, the homeless, business owners, construction workers, truck drivers, amusement park workers, the young, the old, the middle aged ... <span style="color: #7f6000;"><b>get a canvass of everyone</b></span>. Hopefully I'd find the optimistic, the pessimistic, the realistic and even the true cynics. I'd pick two big issues per person, write about his/her life (where he/she is coming from with the opinion), then I'd write some background on the subject and where he/she thinks we, as a country, should be moving. Topics would range <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">from big, overall, national debates</span></b> such as gay marriage <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">to local, specific issues</span></b> such as <b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">water rights</span></b>. <br />
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I'd update this all on another blog, unconnected to this one. As I snaked my way through the country, I would have an update a week with a new person every week. I'd camp out or sleep in my car/ stay with friends or stay in a hotel when a shower was in order.<br />
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If not me, someone should do this. I feel like the <b><span style="color: #38761d;">pulse of America is still there. However, it is hidden by big interests and talking heads, the ideas that separate us all before we even where the other stands. </span></b><br />
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If I had the funding, I'd dedicate my summer to this. This would be a great idea, and a great adventure. <br />
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nairbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13868511239752632570noreply@blogger.com0