Back from two weeks in WA

I remember being here in central Illinois for three months during college.

I would open my eyes in the morning. Lay there, eyes open, wonder what I was doing to myself ...
why would I put myself through this ...
was it worth it ...
had I failed ...
am I a failure ...
had I let my father down ...
why did I leave Florida ...

Sixty degree days gradual warming to seventy-five degree days.

I often found myself in the park, running. I ran nearly 10 miles a day then. I would run and run until I could barely walk, my legs were JELLO. I escaped into an idea of love, and felt dejected as she called to tell me of all the other men. She would tell me of how evil I was. Even if my legs were JELLO, I would soon find myself running again.

Somewhere in the back of my mind ... I have made this my experience of Illinois.

YET!

Why do we have new emotions, new thoughts, new brain cells (not one cell in my body is the same) if we must dwell and make the past our present. I am not nearly the same man. I have had so many crazy times since then!

I must finish this position into July, and I must make something out of it even if it means revamping my thought process, pretending I am in a tropical paradise or some golden future awaits me at the end.

I must cultivate my garden.

A rant on genes.

My face resembles my ancestors. My thoughts and feelings use some of the same synapses, conduits and processes. As genes flow down from one generation to the next, I carry some of the same gifts, some of the same afflictions.

Yet I know nothing about my ancestors ...

I do not know if they succumbed to their afflictions, living a life of poverty while the world went on around them. Or did they aspire with their gifts, fight off any sense of disparity and conquer the world around them? Or did they simply get along with a laugh and a smile?

I want this world to be of my own making, but it would be nice to see how my ancestors handled certain situations. Roads I should consider, maybe roads I should stay away from ...

But I am different from many of them. They may have been racist, they may have been less educated, in a world with less technology, in a world with more or less despair, more or less known problems. The possibilities could go on.

But one great member of my family smiling at me through my genes would be nice. Does not everyone wish his or her ancestors overcame great obstacles. Does it not give the sense of a certain special attribute. My brother and sisters have red hair. Does that mean I am Irish, and the gift of reading and writing, the gift of literature fuels my heart and fires my existence? Or is the gift of literature just a stereotype fitted within a culture, meant to offset the overpowering culture of the drink that followed that culture.

Or are my genes, viking genes? The ruthless genes that sought out adventure and warfare. My brother has committed his life to the military. And I have a life committed to rock climbing and going on crazy adventures (if I can actually work it out to go on some.)

Yet my attitude of life is to focus on today and now. No past. No future. No beginning. No end. I am one with my ancestors. I am my own self.

Life in the flatlands.

I had my reasons for coming back to central Illinois.

I must walk away from the Midwest, not run.

Part of this place adds to me ... It is the place I learned how to ride a horse, the meaning of hard work and the importance of family.

Boredom-fueled imaginations delivered some truly crazy times.

However, I also felt an insatiable burning to get away. Colorado, my refuge, was the place where my mind grew and formed. It is there I gained an understanding of life, morality, hope and open-minded thinking. Colorado introduced me to climbing and a fulfilling life.

I have been too excited to leave for far too long. I must face this and must leave with a smooth step so I never have to return.

It is this I came back to face. I have to face my fears and my demons. I must do it constructively, or part of me will always be trapped in this place.

I am young. My patience waivers. It must grow. I will never endure otherwise. My thoughts must move inward, on bettering myself not only by actions, but by thought, papers, reading and philosophy. I must meet this challenge with deliberate action.

Long days wait for me, but I have many goals. I am building something here, and my job goals are noble. I am to connect a small liberal arts college with the surrounding communities, help develop programs and build a framework from which others may work in the future.

It is the good fight. It is a reason to stay until July, to face the demons I must face.

I stopped writing in this journal long ago. I hope to bring it back.

a long entry

Some days it will be warm evoking my jovial side. My happiness reminds me of times past when the weather had been the same: warm days in Florida, warm days in Portland, warm days of my youth - days roaming in pastures and wooded areas.

Here it doesn't remind me so much of Colorado. The air was dry there. The sun could warm me up on a cold day or burn in the heat. Colorado woke up the primal side of me. The side that wanted to survive, that wanted to thrive or dive into something full force and never let go.

The warm here wants me to breathe deeper, bury hope and live within a single moment. A deep breathe is all I have. It is the only moment. I don't like to think of tomorrow, of a goal, of a test ... of anything other than right now. Though, I do let the past creep up on me now and again.

But that is only when it is warm.

When it gets cold here. I hope for warmer days. With few cold-weather adventures, I seem to hold my breath. My greater work goes unfinished, and I wait for a moment when I can breathe again. I know I'm making too much of it, but I am really getting sick of the cold.

So maybe I'll live in Hawaii this summer. I no longer expect anything. I make tentative plans and flow with life. The other way is too painful, too shocking. A book on Buddhism made it seem controlling to ever make resolute plans. Why should we ever think we can control life?

I sent a letter to someone I haven't spoken to for a very long time. She was an ex of mine from way back in the day. I read something that reminded me of her, and I thought it was time to apologize yet again. I don't know if I'm really sorry for anything or the way it all happened. I grew so much from the experience. But I still think it affected her so badly. I hate it when my actions cause distress to another. It doesn't trouble me anymore, but I would hate to think anyone has to go on hating me or ruining good times with even a glimmer of me. I don't apologize much on that account, sooner forgotten ... sooner gone.

If I could really get a grip on one real opportunity for the future, I would let loose a whirlwind of hope. I think I could be great. But I feel all the hope that I've saved, accumulated for this very hard period is seeping from my soul. It leaks out like a mist. So I always seem hopeful, but deep inside it stays buried. I always thought my trial by fire would come all at once, in a single moment, proof for myself. But it's not like that at all ... It's a persistent trial. It stings at my heart, draws away, permits me to rebuild, brings me nearly to death and allows me to rebuild yet again - all this in a circle.

Mais, c'est la vie. J'espere.

Atheist.

What can a person say when everything in his past is challenged, and then it fails? A certain essence lent to a reality to give a more hopeful appearance ... lost.

I used to think all injustices would someday be rectified. I thought in this long term thought process, one which would stem thousands and thousands of years. Now I truly (no more doubt) believe I only have so many years. Then poof.

What a scary idea. Even scarier is I feel more alone than ever.

I think it will be for the best. I just wonder about so much right now.

c'est la vie

on a long trek, the narrator jabs his middle fingernail into his thumb when he'd think negative thoughts. he would do this sometimes until his finger bled. it would remind him of his negative thoughts and keep him in a better disposition.

i think i should adopt this philosophy. the negative aspects of my life circle my soul like buzzards waiting for last flicker of movement, the last sense of life's rebellion. i can feel myself slipping into the negative - day by day.

i won't try to sound positive. this whole situation is ruining so much.

losing

What could I write?

I could write an inspiring message of hope ...

some message of how blessed I am to be living in such a great world ...

about a day of beauty and hope ...

But I won't because it's not the way I feel ...

I can't say how I feel.

Because I just don't know anymore. If you asked me if I was happy, I wouldn't know what to say.

I need a job, need a path, need some form of worth.

Middle Ground

"I hope it was worth it," I said as I sat alone in a room filled by two people.

Confusion...

7/7/07

Does not seem to be my lucky day.

Swallow

I am feeling more and more situated in Portland. I have now seen more of the outside, been climbing in a newly developed area and started working a job that seems to suit me. However, there are still some difficulties. My whole attitude shifted last night as I overdrew my account. Feeling like a failure, I re-examined a million little things about my life right now.

I am not doing enough. I will wait out the training for this job (for that is the promise I made when hired,) but I could be doing more. I could be investing my time into some bigger cause or a more fulfilling job. Part time at a rock gym is not going to cut it for my ambitions.

Someday I think my ambitions will swallow me whole.

Until that day, all I can do is acquiesce to the inner desire to be something more.

at times scared, but relishing the challenge.

Miss my friends ...

Miss laughter and climbing ...

Miss a purpose ...


Standing at the concert last night, I realized, this is my home. I have went out onto the edge of a dangerous precipice, wind roaring at my back.

So this is the real world?

I wonder how I will do...
A mysterious life sits in front of me.

a hike above tree line.

I look up at that jagged peak. I ascend that jagged peak.

This is life to me. Nothing is impossible. Our lives are mysteries until the end, but we have the control to make them beautiful. Sitting back and reading books, exploring my mind and coming to conclusions about my own unlimited curiosity thrills me. Doing what seems hard to look back at an easy ascent enlightens me to the stress my body might be able to take.

And when emotions grip me, it is wonderful to see how passionate I can become.


When in unison, the heart and the mind spring to the expectations of a grand and great adventure - an adventure for the storybooks, an adventure that soothes the soul.

in ireland (this hostel smells funny)

A million miles away from all I know with someone I barely know. Yet he is someone I should.


For all the crazy and fun adventures on this trip, I really wish for those friends who know me the most, who know me the deepest. My trip is almost done, and I will be another million miles away from everyone who knows me.

Yet this is the adventure. This is the life of a man who will not settle.


Someday I will be home. I will keep those friends.

Maybe someday the greatest adventure will be the smallest instances in everday life ...

What a horrible experience! So why do I constantly jump into the role of mediator? Why would I put myself into such an awkward situation?

I could easily burn for everything now that I am playing that role. Yet, I must.

It was the right thing to do.




:*( - I wish I could just call someone and vent. I hate feeling so distant from everyone.

Eureka

Found my glasses in the weirdest place! I thought I lost them.


This makes me so happy!

Connection

I went bowling with some people from camp last night. It was all good fun, some funny conversations, great jokes and great pictures.

But I saw something on the way that made me remember the mountains for what they mean to me. It's not as if they are not daunting anymore, but I now feel the same connection I once felt. In a moment, I was comforted.

Slick blades of raw rock protruding upward into the clear sky. Snow hangs nowhere except the peak. These rocks are raw and unaltered, letting everyone know they could stand alone, breathing in the fresh mountain air for eternity. In the rain, a mist surrounds the bold face and briskly flows around it. And in the bitter cold, it's face is dabbled but not covered with complete snow, again letting everyone know, nothing could detain it. But in the summer, it's true beauty comes out as a brilliant sun and blue sky create such a contrast as for some tourist to say, "Hey, hunny, now that's beautiful."

And so I feel a connection. I'm sure I could stand alone for an eternity only breathing in the mountain air. But I know somewhere out there is a blue sky and brilliant sun, metaphorically speaking - of course everyone knows there is a blue sky and a sun.

Amy mentioned something in an e-mail to me a while ago. I was telling her about everything going on in my life, and she responded how she knew it was right as long as it met certain conditions. And in a moment, I knew it was a lie, and maybe it was just an escape for me. So some people really do know me. Let me just call them kindred spirits. So rare they are, yet so close to me in every single way.

On another note, after eating breakfast this morning, something happened and made me want to do one of those Irish-Leprechaun-jump-in-the-air-with-your-heels kicks. And for the first time, I did it perfectly. Maybe it is the elevation ...

As white mountain peaks surround me on each side, so does nostalgia.

Coming back to Colorado, back to the mountains of my youth, I am taken back to a time when I was just learning to be passionate, to be driven, to see the world for how it is and make it better. Much of that has now been tempered with different experiences. I've learned that things never quite go as I want them, and even the best situation can crumble.


So I've learned ... and now what do the mountains mean to me? Why do they seem so daunting, so unreal? They are not the same mountains from my childhood. They don't feel like my mountains anymore. They feel like everyone else's, and now I'm just this outsider. I really hope this feeling goes away.

I haven't heard from my brother in a little while. It is so close to Ireland. Maybe that is getting to me more than anything. He was so good at getting back to me before.


Uncertainty surrounds my future.

Lost Poems

So here I sit packing for this huge, scary world I've heard so much about and I find some poems from freshman year in Colorado ...

outcome
tender heart, do not cry
when sun dims
when clouds throw tears,
a child cries from want,
the passion is lost,
love loses trust,

because,
the sun will rise again,
the Earth will heal with cloud's tears,
a child will bring peace,
passion is never lost inside your soul,
love losing trust doth not yield love.

Twitching

curiousity becomes my soul,
depression my very existence,
a sun rises - outcasting pain,
clouds hasten overhead
delivering contemplative thoughts,
grandeur sits, awaits
lowly existence prevails, exists
my moment is yet to come
have patience

Math 127
Iridescent light shined from tip to top,
meager, weak sounds overcame all
greatness subsided, beauty slipped,
walls condensed further in
stripping myself of integrity, purity
of the inert nature of freedom
and the wild streak resigned
under the conformity of a cubicle world


Unnamed
The cold pierced through my heart,
pain drawn up inside, condensed,
wretched truth be known,
I should do unto you the same,
I should let you feel the pain,
Yet,
I never would,
Since I never could.

How much my life has changed since freshman year ...

the end of college?

Beyond some early-morning editing, my undergrad is done.

Tonight, I shall buy a 40 and celebrate with many friends. Sadly though, I just won't feel like it is done until tomorrow.

One week.

On these warm, summer nights, my heart fills with a void. And that void strongly resonates until I know I may not sleep without some far reaching hope consuming my dreams. And it is on these nights that my ambition to live every single second with heartfelt greatness is checked with fear.


'Hope will conquer all,' I think to myself.

I will never give up. I will find great love. I will find great adventure in life. I will find my true path, or it will find me. In one week, I will have my degree.

In one week, I will finally allow myself to be free from all the burden I've placed on my life. It will be my turn to decide where my life will go.