Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Walking in the stylish shoes my sister got me makes me feel taller and hotter. I wish I could know if she notices.

Have you passed through this night?

Last night I dreamt that we were a couple, we were finally together.

And when I woke up, it was Christmas.

Merry Christmas everyone, and have some safe and happy holidays.

Monday, December 24, 2007

I never leave my house because it might rain again... and it's so nice and warm and cozy in here.

Last night I dreamt that he didn't exist, and, resting in bed, Moonlight Sonata methodically playing between my ears, the morning light exploring the grounds of my room, and the faint aroma of coco from the night before, I came to the realization that it is in dreams that we define what our dreams are.

And for the first time since discovering what would make me happiest, I woke up crying.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

As I stood outside watching my breath merge with the cold air and starlight, I realized that she might never need me as much as I need her to need me.

I know what is most important to me right now. I know what I hold dearest. I know what means something in my life. I know what means everything. And I would do all that is in my power to hold onto that. I want to make your dreams come true; to give your fantasies, your hopes, your wishes, those which are quiet and those which are screaming, life. The things the past hasn't been able to give you or let you have, the things which seem so graspable yet are despairingly difficult to reach, I want to bring to you. I've seen the sadness in your eyes from the past and I don't want to cause any of it. I want to prevent it as much as I can. But when you are swept over with the disease which is sadness, I want to be the cure. I want to be the blanket which warms you, cozies you, the blanket which you look forward to so much to wrap around you in front of that fireplace on a cold, lonesome night. I want to be the dimness in the lights, the reflection in the puddle; I want to be the color in the evening sky, the magic which makes your heart soar. The world is full of sparkles and excitement and joy and everything I want when I know you are smiling; I want to do and be everything which brings you that smile. Nothing makes me happier than to see you happy.

But I'm beginning to wonder, when I compare what I would do in your shoes to what you are doing in them, what makes you happiest.

For the first time in his life, he went to that place where dreams are born.

I don't mind working;
Marry me, stay at home and take care of the children.
Just make sure to water the plants and feed the cats
and close the window - the Alaskan draft is quite bitter.
Requiem for a Dream by Calvin

Saturday, December 22, 2007

I am beginning to think there is nothing beyond this physical world that neither caffeine nor Wendy's nor peace will ever satisfy something inside.

For years, I lay in bed sleepless, scared out of my wits by a faint scratching coming from the attic. One night, I summoned all my courage and went up there, armed only with two glasses of milk and cookies enough for both of us.
Tiny Ghosts

Friday, December 21, 2007

Strange, terrible, brute monsters rumble through the foothills. Every evening, as I walk past, I can hear them softly sobbing.

The scientists say that inside a black hole, all information is lost and everything that goes in is forever irretrievable. If I could just get this damned rocket ship finished, we'd finally be able to rid ourselves of our mistakes.
Tiny Ghosts

You're here to tell me that she's not coming home, aren't you? I think I'm going to need to be brave now.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

The demons of loneliness and failure are never far from me.

I'm so lonely that it makes me sick. It's not like I don't try to socialize. I try - I really do - but somehow I just feel like I'm not good enough and it's not right. I know I'm not a bad person. I just want someone to tell me that I'm not. They don't even need to tell me that - I wish someone would just come out and tell me anything. Just talk to me. Someone who is motivated solely by themselves. Deep down inside want to talk to me, so they do, and not worry about what I may or may not think about them. I'm just so lonely. I hate this place that I'm at.

I'm not important to anybody or anything. I'm not happy. Beyond those two things, is there really any point to this life? I don't know if there will ever be change.

I just wish someone cared. That's all I want. Someone who sincerely, from the bottom of their heart and soul, cares.

Under my bed, I keep a box full of notes of great things people have ever told me. Things people have written to me or things people have said to me. Things that struck emotion into my life - things that made me feel good inside. Things that filled in the hollowness of this life.

When I'm lonely I look at them and dream of what could have been.

Pragmatic Magic by Tom Edison

we are not different
from the first

the first
cave painters

who stood
enveloped in the dark
and the damp

making wishes

My imagination of the future will get the best of me.

After a time, so many people had been buried that the whole planet was one big graveyard. Tombstones scattered across the grounds covering from farms to fields to hilltops to canyons. Across the lands laid millions upon millions of burial grounds which so much love and care had been put into. As more and more died, the amount of effort going into the deceased's quarters was upped a peg. Each cemetery would attempt to out do the last to honor their loved ones more than previous did. Eventually, disputes arose amongst the common folk.

We love our deceased more!
shouted the heartbroken individuals with recent family or friends gone from their lives, You shall not insult them with your outrageous burial standards! You must follow our way, the traditional - the right - way!

When the words shouted between the disputers became no longer tolerable, fights broke out. All across the lands men fought men for right to bury their deceased in the fashion they chose. The fights became more and more brutal - once the first shot was fired, no longer were they fought with sticks and clubs. Bullets and rockets soared through the air; the light from the battles made night never come.

The bodies stacked.

After decades of fighting, few remained alive. Those that did, however, realized what they had done and were ashamed. The lands were covered with corpses and it was a constant reminder of the tragic events, enveloping those who lived with depression and grief.

The living got in their rocket ships and left for greener worlds, but I stayed behind because someone had to keep placing the flowers.
By Calvin

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

My titles are on the cusp of requiring more than one sentence.

I have the most pure thoughts in my mind. But when I try to explain them - verbalize them - I find that there aren't words for what I am thinking or it doesn't come out the way I understand it in my mind. And you don't even know... You don't even know what it feels like to understand these perfect thoughts - to have them flow in your mind so naturally - and know that they could help so many people and help in so many situations, yet you are unable to express them.

Someone asked me once, If you had a ring that made you invisible, what would you use it for? What if it also made you invisible to God? I sincerely thought about it - what would I do? No ethics or morals to follow, the world at my disposal without the aftereffects to ever get to me. Money, cars, assassinating world leaders, torturing my enemies, trips around the world - anything I could imagine, without consequence.

Eventually, I came to a conclusion and responded: I'd spend the rest of my days finding a girl who would use this ring without any malicious or greedy intent, and I'd get on one knee, hold out the ring, and ask her to marry me.

I need help and I have no one to help me, only people who suck me dry and leave me when I am down - because they know I won't do anything about it.

Taken from an anonymous online forum based on the idea of "Confessions":

I feel pretty bad when I think of all the times I've screwed someone over emotionally.

You always have those few who are CONVINCED you're their soulmate, but there's really nothing you can do but tell them you don't fele the same way.

What's even worse, is that I always run back to my exboyfriend.. mostly because he knows me really well and unconditionally loves me. So even though I could never marry him or go out with him again, it's still nice to be around him.

But when I leave, I wonder how he must feel.. that we do so much but there's no hope at all of us getting back together

i miss my first boyfriend. i cheated on him twice and he never forgave me. everytime i have sex with my current boyfriend, i think about shaun and pretend i'm having sex with him. i really miss him and i wish we were still together.

i told my boyfriend i'd never cheat on him again. then a guy who hadn't called me in three months asked me to come over. and i did.

I cheat on my boyfriend on a regular basis. I really love him, but he just never puts out. I hate that.

I was horney one night and I called up the guy I was currently dating. He didn't call me back so I ended up hooking up with my ex and made him cheat on his current girlfriend.

ive been with my boyfriend for a long time, i cheat on him alot but it's mostly because im afraid he dosent really love me or im insecure. i love him alot i just wonder if he wants to be with me because i know there have been times he didnt want to be but was affraid of hurting my feelings.

Why do you heartless, weak, sex-powered, selfish jerks break the hearts of innocent loving people? What really gets me - past the fact that you get what you want even though you deserve none of it - is how many of you aren't even ashamed of yourselves. So many of you can sleep at night - while I can't.
If I promised that the music
would never go away,
If I showed you smiles and laughter
when tears got in your way,
If I gave you hearts and candies
for every single day,
If I told you that I loved you,
would you stay?
Be My Sunset by Calvin

Monday, December 17, 2007

It has been years since that night, but I'll never forget what she did for me.

We quietly laid there for hours.

I leaned over and gently rested one arm on top of her and stared directly into her eyes. Avoiding eye contact, she grasped my hand. I broke the silence with care and affection:

Lying on the roof like this, watching the sunset reflect in your green eyes... I can't help but feel this is what heaven looks like.

I paused. She still stared into the horizon's abyss. I took a deep breath and tried to enjoy every bit of it. I attempted once more:

After thousands of nights alone, hundreds of hours wondering, two years of searching, and an endless length of questions without answers, I've finally found what I've always been looking for... in your eyes.

Another pause.

They have a profound effect on me.

Hush now, she told me softly, squeezing my hand tighter. The show's about to begin.

I continued to ignore the display in the skies as I focused on what was much more beautiful. She continued to look away from me. I waited and waited, hoping that she would look up at me, until I couldn't wait any longer. My heart skipped a beat and I rolled over onto my back and began to look at my thoughts, staring right through the sun's performance.

A tear crept out of my eye.

Don't feel alone, she said to me, still looking away, clutching my hand tightly. You're not the only one who's dying inside, you know.

We quietly laid there for hours.
By Calvin

I will never live in a world as bright and beautiful and alive as I did when I was six.

Perspective, please.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Sigur Rós - Glósóli

The stories behind what I write are experiences, but I almost feel as though they never happened; Dissociation... is this me or not?

I'm a lost little boy. Paranoid. I have no idea who I am or where I'm going.

I worry that the person I present to other people is not who I really am, because that would mean that nobody knows me. I have a small repertoire of small talk which gets me through day to day but wears thin around the people closest to me. Am I nothing? Are you?

My vision of the future is crashing down. I work hard while maintaining balance. I thought somehow that because of my genuine passion and some elbow grease that I was deserving something. I am wrong. We are deserving of nothing. Some will fall into luck. Others will have to work for everything and get no where. I'm not sure which one I am, or which one I will be.

Because of this, I am disgusted by humanity. It really makes me sick. I want it destroyed. Every single part of it - gone forever. I want to be alone... except for maybe this one girl I just met. She's pretty cool. I just wish she would save humanity and take care of me.

I know I'd be so much happier if everyone just left me alone. I worry too much about people when I have to be their friend. All I do is worry. Life is miserable and they aren't helping. Stop it with all the pressure and expectations...

Saturday, December 15, 2007

I have a hard time remembering that what you did was unforgiveable. I wish I could stop missing you (and that you'll rot in Hell).

I hate women. I love how they look and I love how they feel. I hate how they never want to do what I want to do. I hate how they are so illogical. I hate how they make me so illogical. The better they look, the less likely they want to be with me. The greater the risk, the more likely they want to be with me. I sometimes think I would be better off without sex. I love women. I hate women. I can't live without them. I hate to be with them.

What I should do
What should I do
about all the things
I've done wrong
I can't take this
My head will explode
if i think for another minute
So I feel bad
I feel so bad
about everything
I didn't want it to be this way
Everything would be fine
if I could forgive you
and I don't know
what I should do
What should I do
What I Should Do by Calvin

Friday, December 14, 2007

I'm a confused human being.

I was pretty popular in high school, I had small friendships with just about everybody, but people always thought I was a little odd. I had a dark streak in me and not many people got it. I never bothered to explain myself to them - not like they would listen, anyways. They would never ask, either. So they never understood me.

I hated all my friends. I hated all their spoiled rich asses. They knew they were pretty and wealthy and had it handed to them on a silver platter. And they just smiled and asked for more.


Because of thoughts like this, I get the idea that I'm an asshole. A stronger person wouldn't judge, wouldn't compare his strengths or weaknesses to others. Wouldn't think worse of a person because of what they do or what they have.

But, I hated all of their rich spoiled asses. So I guess I'm not a stronger person. That was in high school, though. I've forgiven them since. I look at people in a new way, now.

The people of today, the people I see on a daily basis, don't know what I think about them because I'm always pretending to be upbeat. I always pretend that I'm smiling. I mean, sometimes I am. Sometimes I'm just like those asshole friends in high school, just smiling along being ignorant about it all. But not when I have my guard up. Not when I'm not being ignorant about my surroundings. The people around me today see what I want them to see. I keep all of my thoughts to myself because I know I'm better than to share them. I'm not the kind of person to go explaining to people why I don't like them, or what I do like about them. To point out their faults, imperfections or strengths. I just let them live their life, make their mistakes, do what they want to do, and I don't judge them about it. Secretly, yes, I do make judgments. But I don't verbalize them. I don't show any of my thoughts. Because I don't want to hurt these people. I really try not to hurt them. Sometimes I make mistakes, but that's only sometimes.

My real thoughts about them? I actually like them. All. I like who they are as people. I respect their involvement in my life and often encourage them to continue. I don't, however, always respect what they do. Often times what they do is exactly what I don't like. But I still like these people. I like them all.

How can I come from the feeling one of the strongest of human emotions - hatred - for my fellow peers and move from that and go to appreciation and respect? Am I a better - stronger - person, now?

God, just grant one of my wishes. Just one. I just want a girl to love me...

I feel like there is no purpose in life whatsoever. I know there isn't. Religion is obsolete in my mind, and ideas of salvation are but a mere invention to avoid our conscience to fall into the abyss. We are no different than ants, fish, or bacteria. Evolution shifted us to a different path - but that is no reason to believe we will live beyond our bodies.

I watch with a sympathetic smile to those who talk to me about God and their prayers. I see them preparing themselves to die wrapping themselves in a lie, like a little rodent in a mousetrap preparing its body under the unconscious certainty of death.

...Yet, in a place in my mind, that I try to avoid, I always wonder if God is looking at me with the same sympathetic smile.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

My heart is worn out by this

Tomorrow she will ask me why I left her sleeping alone, passed out from gin and fully clothed without a warm body to hold when she wakes, and I won’t tell her that it could have been the first time for her to see me cry. If she had seen what I saw, if she had seen what I had to destroy, she would understand. She would have seen a body as warm and alive as a tender child, chest heaving in and out slowly, with flesh peaceful and subsisting. She would have seen a soft body that will be made to shudder violently with painful tears. She would have seen the breasts that will be clenched and cradled when the body that contains them is left abandoned and alone. If she had seen what I saw, she would have cried, too, because I will never love her.
Anonymous online confession

The grass is browner

Some girls, they're all about the candy hearts and flowers. Others like long walks on the beach, or private holidays in Spain. If your partner is the creative type, she might melt your heart by writing you a song. Or perhaps the sweetest thing you can imagine is your boyfriend giving you his original Boba Fett action figure. Maybe good old fashioned candle wax and a little light bondage is your thing.

I've certainly got a list of things that make me go all warm and smooshy inside. But in my mind, the most romantic thing of all is just hearing that one little phrase:

"I don't need you."

So much of our romantic mythology revolves around finding That Special Someone. Someone who will 'be your other half', complete you, fill your empty spaces. Someone who will make all your problems disappear, or at least keep them from being the most important thing in your life. Someone who will love you. Support you. Make you happy. Someone who will be there for you when you're old and wrinkled, who will stave off the loneliness and warm your feet up in bed. And I'm all for that. Having warm feet is important, and most of that other stuff is pretty good too. It's the "someone" part that bothers me.

I don't want to be "someone". I don't want to be with a person because he has a position open for That Special Someone and, conveniently, I happen to fit the bill. When I'm in an intimate relationship, I want to be an end in myself, not just a means to some other purpose. Because if I'm just 'someone', that makes me interchangeable with someone else. And if my partner is with me because she needs someone - even if that person happens to be me - then there's no reason for her not to trade me in on 'someone' who fulfils her needs better, if she chances to meet one.

Likewise, I don't want to be with a person because he can get stuck lids off of jars, or reach things on the top shelf, make me laugh and feel good about myself, or comfort me like no other. These are all qualities I value in a partner but they're not reasons to be in a relationship. Granted, getting benefits out of your relationship is not tantamount to using your partner. If you weren't getting anything positive from it, that would probably be cause for concern. But those benefits - no matter how great - shouldn't be the point. They should be a bonus, a perk-style side-effect to the real reason: The person you're with.

When I'm with someone, I want to be with her not because of what she does for me or how she makes me feel, but because I like her, love her, desire her, and want her to be a part of my life - in whatever capacity we've agreed on - because of something that has to do with her, specifically. Who she is. Because who you are is not interchangeable. If your partner is with you because he needs you, then he might always find someone who's better at fulfilling his needs. If he doesn't need you and is with you only because he loves you, he'll never meet someone who's better at being you than you are.

Most social interactions are founded on a basis of exchange: You get something from me and I get something, hopefully of equal value, back from you. This is easy, it helps society run smoothly, and it describes the majority of interpersonal interactions I'll have over the course of my life. That's fine. It's how society functions on a mass scale. But when it comes to the most significant and intimate, personal relationships in my life, I don't want them to be based on expediency. I want to form them around true, complete, three-dimensional connection between individuals - derived from an active love for and desire to be with one another specifically. Regardless of what additional benefits we get out of it. Even if that might be a little bit harder and take a little more work.

'Cause don't get me wrong, here. "I don't need you" is a scary thing to hear. I'd been telling myself for years that I didn't need my partner and wanted him not to need me - and the first time he told me he didn't, it still scared the hell out of me. Standard patterns of intimacy often teach us to navigate our relationships by way of a thousand tiny acts of emotional blackmail. So if someone doesn't need anything you have to give, then you no longer have any leverage over the choices they make with their life. Including the choice to have a relationship with you or not. And what if your partner wakes up one morning and doesn't love you anymore? Then she'll have no reason left to be there, and you'll have no way to make her stay. The most you can do is have faith that your love for each other will last. Which is a very scary place to be, if you've yet to build that kind of confidence and trust in your relationship.

But the thing is, although it's seductively dependable to start with, the power of coercion wears out with repeated use. Meanwhile, given time and practice, mutual trust only grows stronger. If I want to build a relationship that might last a lifetime, which material am I better off building with? Co-dependence is a powerful force, but only so long as everyone involved is equally dependent. As soon as one person because strong and self-sufficient enough not to need the other, the relationship breaks down. If a relationship is based on shared and mutual independence instead, then strength and self-sufficiency aren't detrimental to it. This leaves the people involved free to encourage each others' personal growth and development, without fear that it might harm the relationship. And what better goal for any relationship than to support and encourage the people in it to become their best selves?

Also, by being as strong, independent and self-sufficient as possible, I'm better able to be there for my partner in a crisis, and vice-versa - in the hardest moments of life, when we really will need somebody. You see, just because I don't need my partner doesn't mean I never have needs - and it doesn't mean my partner can't be the one to meet them. I just want to know that I could be getting all my needs - emotional, physical, material, social, sexual, intellectual, and even keeping my feet warm in bed - met by other means, maybe even met better than my partner could ever meet them, and that even then, I'd still want my partner in my life. Not because of what he does for me, but because of who he is.

That's what "I don't need you," means to me. It means, "Despite the fact that I'd be okay without you, I still want to be with you - for no other reason than because I like you, care about you, want you, and love you completely for the person you are." I like rose petals and ice cubes as much as the next girl, sure - but being truly loved without being needed, what could be more romantic than that?

The Sweetest Thing written by Never

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Words of finite wisdom

I find it hard to relate to people my age - So I just keep quiet. Let me attempt to explain.

I ran into an old friend of mine the other day. Someone I used to play school yard games with. We were both in a rush and had decided to get lunch another day.

The following day I called him up and we agreed to meet at a coffee shop. When I arrived, I saw him before he noticed me, so I approached him. The first few moments of my typical abrasive conversation-starting attitude clearly threw him off. I could see his mind scramble for words as he just attempted to respond with the most basic answers.

How is college going for you? Are you doing well? What school are you attending again?

Oh, yeah, it's uhhh, it's alright. Umm, West Valley Community College.

I read his nervous thoughts - they were asking him, Is my hair alright? Are my pants up high enough, does my shirt crease appropriately? Is there anything in my teeth, does my breath smell bad? His mind was so interested in impressing - pleasing - me with his physical appearance, that it couldn't focus on my questions, or even, my presence. I was clearly making him unnaturally tense.

He was unable to remember my name.

At that moment I understood what I needed to do. I explained to him that I needed to make an urgent phone call that I had forgotten about and I apologized for interrupting our conversation. This would give him some time to recuperate and prepare for the next assault of questions I had been preparing since the days I had left. While I was on the phone with myself, I blatantly made it obvious what my name was.

I returned to our conversation and was pleasantly surprised by his new interest in it. He must have remembered some details about me and now had some support for his defense against the onslaught of my words and questions.

After 20 minutes into the discussion of such agonizingly general topics such as, How has the weather been, or, Have you seen anyone else since you got back, I had realized he had shifted the tide of the battle and it was now I who wanted to escape. Anytime I would bring up a conversational topic that could actually lead to something thought provoking, he would give me short responses and eventually just change the topic entirely, as if I had not even cared about it. His lack of interest of anything important exasperated my knowledge bank of questions and left me with only general and basic discussions, of which he enjoyed greatly - possibly for their simplicity.

Throughout the conversation, however, there was some important information that we got out of it. We discovered that I had become more successful - I decided to go to an out of state college and therefore am away from home defining myself, understand what it is like to live independently, and, most importantly, starting the beginning of my life. He, on the other hand, decided to go to an in-state local community college, and therefore has basically never grew past the maturity level of a high school student. Talking with me brought back the realization of the bad choices he has made, and the consequences that have followed because of them.

I was there because I wanted to catch up on lost times and to discover what this man was now about - to compare his opinions and actions of his childhood to those of today. For him, he seemingly was there because he felt he had to be. If I had never asked him about it, he never would have gone. It wouldn't have even crossed his mind. From the first impression we made on each other to the list of unimportant questions we were going through, he just wanted to leave. Our conversation was like a ticking time bomb and he wanted to be around it only for as long as he was chained down.

This is one of the reasons which makes me feel like I can't relate to anyone my age. Sure, this was a bad event. But it's a bad event amongst many bad events. These bad events have now become the medium - and this is why I keep quiet.

I make people feel bad. Possibly because they see that I am what they could have become if they had made better decisions in their crossroads of choices. Or possibly because they just don't like the way I think - and this is why I find it hard to relate to people my age.

People say
that optimists think the glass is half full,
pessimists think that it's half empty.
But which one are you
when you just find yourself wondering
why the majority of glasses are completely empty?
Glasses by Calvin

Some things aren't taught in schools

I took this poem off of the side menu because I needed to add some contact information. Putting it here for safe keeping.

I don't know how
to find a girlfriend
because the girl I'd like
is probably sitting at home
spending time on her computer
reading this message.

Come find me.
Author unknown

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

And, the creature, for one bright shiny moment...

Terrific animations drawn for very convincing poems written by the brilliant American poet Billy Collins. Are the detailed thoughts those of which are sprung from insanity? Or do they come from a place more sane than anywhere we've ever been?

The warner turning into the face on the matchbox and the subtle allusion to torch-lit rallies are all beautifully done.

The images disappearing reads the poem to you.

Time spent alone

(copyright crappygraphs.com)

Monday, December 10, 2007

We die to each other daily.

I Ask For Nothing More

While you are sleeping,
I read your words again
and am reminded of our past.
I cry at the sad places
and rage against my mistakes.
I wish I could make those things right.
Then I find the gentle places
of what you write and laugh at the odds.
It seems to me
that I do make you happy -
I don't know how this came to pass,
but damn, it's all I want
for as long as it lasts.
Your Words by Calvin

I'm too old to cry but I don't think I'll ever be old enough to understand.

Don't jump! I shout at the suicidal blanket hanging out of the window on a four story building, Don't jump...

A crowd gathers and traces my pointing finger to the window where regrets and mistakes leaned.

People begin to stare at me.

I look at them and then gesture again at the horrific event that lay in front of their eyes. Why do they not scream and shout? Why are there not woman crying and children running home to tell of the dreadful news?

I empower my voice in efforts to awake them and shout once more, Please don't jump!

But it is no use - the crowd has already formed their opinion of me.
By Calvin

Everytime I didn't say, I love you, I lied III

"I think that maybe... maybe we're already dead."

I lay my pen down against the worn table and try to focus my eyes on the pile of papers that stack in front of me. I know I can focus on them, yet they appear so blurry; the hours in this library have tallied on too long and my eyes tell me to rest. Another story completed and added to the many. I place my head against the table with the mindset of not lifting it until a number of sheep appear and pass over me.

Excuse me, the girl of my dreams says, I saw you laying here asleep. I don't want to startle you, but as I saw you sleeping here I took the opportunity to see what you were working on.

A pretty girl read my stories today. You must be really sad inside, is all she could think to say.

Not anymore, I explain, for I have met you, girl of my dreams. Would you like to sit with me and discuss my stories?

Oh no, I can't. My brilliant and literate boyfriend is here for a book signing. It's his seventh published book, you know. He's a terrific writer and an even more terrific boyfriend.

I collect my things and start to leave the library. As I exit, I toss my papers into a waste bin and begin to cry.
By Calvin

But you said...

Hidden Meaning

She sends you a song
You ask your friends if it has a hidden meaning
They all shrug
Girls are complicated
You all agree

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Everytime I didn't say, I love you, I lied II

I stumble over the loose carpet outside of the theater bathroom. I turn around and look back to see what exactly caused my trip and to make sure no one noticed what a clumsy fool I am. Still moving forward with my eyes peering behind me, I bump into the girl of my dreams.

I'm sorry, I blatantly lie to her (for of course I would want to touch her elegant body!), I didn't mean to bump into you. However, I enjoy your company, girl of my dreams, and I would like to know if you want to join me to a feature film of your choice?

She looks me up and down and replies, Oh, don't worry about touching me. I'm used to it. My strong and handsome man touches me often. We are dating, you see, and he drives expensive vehicles and smokes quality cigarettes. I am going to see my favorite movie with him.

I look again at the movie stub in my hand and then fixate my eyes onto the ground as to prevent future stumbling. I toss my cheap cigarettes into a nearby trash can and begin to cry.
By Calvin

Unfortunately, everyone else is asleep when I'm awake

I sit on this wall and wait for you
Who ever you are
Where ever you may be
I've been siting on this wall since I was 15 years old
Just waiting for you
Just praying for you
Who ever you are
Where ever you may be
To find me I shall sit on this wall for the rest of my life
If need be
This Wall

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Everytime I didn't say, I love you, I lied

I walk passed the toilet paper and paper towels and head over to the shaving supplies. I peer in between two shaving brands and see the girl of my dreams. She is in the other isle looking through some canned peas. She catches a glimpse of my eyes as I notice her developing smile.

I say, Hello, girl of my dreams. Would you like to help me shop?

Her gentle face leans to one side and responds, No, I can't shop with you right now. I need to find my peas. But my handsome boyfriend can help you. He is very muscular and makes a lot of money.

I pick up the sharpest razors I can find and begin to cry.
By Calvin

Everything in 10 seconds

Close my eyes and count back from 10
9 been waiting all my life been waiting
all my life 8 7 it will happen it will
happen 6 5 seconds left I am
completely breathless 4 not
sure not sure loves me
loves me not 3 don't
go don't go 2
seconds remain
nothing ventured
nothing gained 1
please stay...
Everything in 10 Seconds

I think of death these days as a companion I long to meet.


Are you there, Bob?


Why don't you just come take me now, take my life... now.


That's bullshit! I'm going insane! I can't live anymore like this! Either get out of my fucking head right now, get out of my life, out of my home, out of my dreams... or kill me!


So I was right from the beginning. It has always been your goal to kill me.


I'm an experiment.


I've never had a chance...


I don't believe you.






I told you! I hate this! I hate myself, and everything around me!


Are you real, Bob?




When you first came to me, I was not doing bad things! I was a baby girl! I was nothing... I was all goodness... I was happy!


I could talk to you forever and never learn a thing.


I don't want to hear about fire.


Who are you... really?


Enough. I understand. It's enough. I have to go. Go away now. Please. Just... leave.


I have gone insane. I won't be talking with you for a while.

One of the remaining found pages from the the secret diary of the insane Laura Palmer.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

This is an adventure.

The Life Aquatic By Steve Zissou, directed by the brilliant Wes Anderson, is one of my all time favorite movies. Although strong in the department of dark comedy, I find the movie's greatest qualities are both the exciting and dramatic aspects to it but mainly the tied in deep philosophical questions. Characters in the movie are asked what in life is really worth going after and at what point is it too late to go after them. Are dreams ever out of reach? What is worth sacrificing for such dreams?

Bill Murray plays the character Steve Zissou, an oceanographer nearing the end of his career. Having money, relationship, family, and career problems, Steve Zissou discovers his largest (and most important) problem in life is finding something to enjoy anymore. Steve Zissou sets out at at sea in pursuit of a shark who ate his best friend and with the proper motivation, he escapes pirates and mutiny, forges the bonds of fatherhood, places his arm around his wife, finds the monster of the deep, re-establishes box office credibility, and discovers a reason to smile.

I've seen the film countless times now and felt that I should share some of my favorite parts. There are many memorable quotes in this transcending film and below I have listed a few of my favorites, in no particular order, with a little explanation tied in above them.

When Steve Zissou and the Zissou Team are in the midst of the Lightning Strike Rescue Operation: Ping Island, Steve accidentally falls down a flight of stairs. Suddenly getting hit with a side of reality, he begins to fall into a state of despair.

Steve: Did you get that, Vikram?

Vikram: Uh, yeah.

Steve: Good. We'll give them the reality this time. A washed-up old man with no friends... no distribution deal, wife on the rocks... people laughin' at him, feelin' sorry for himself. Can I have a word alone with my son, please?

Kingsley: Are you all right?

Steve: Not really.
When Steve Zissou first meets his bureaucratic companion who works for the bank (being assigned to follow the Zissou Team around to make sure they stay on the legal side of the world) he doesn't necessarily greet him with the respect he, apparently, deserves.
Steve: I hope you're not gonna bust our chops on this on, Bill.

Bill: Why would I do that?

Steve: Because you're a bond company stooge.

Bill: But I'm also a human being.
Towards the end of the film, Steve Zissou is greeted by his publisher, who, for the first time in the film, greets him on a level of reality Steve Zissou can relate to. They both begin to realize that it isn't them who has changed, it's the world which has.
Oseary: We're a dying breed.

Steve: Yeah. I guess we were all right while we lasted, though, weren't we?
After Steve Zissou overheard a conversation in which people were mocking his most recent film and his adventures in general, he finds it very unsettling.
Steve: People say that when someone says something like that, it's because they're jealous. But it still hurts. It hurts bad.
My favorite quote of the film are the last words spoken. Steve Zissou tells a nephew of one of his Team Zissou members about the reality of life.
Steve: This is an adventure.
In one of the last scenes, the Zissou Team and others finally discover what they had all been looking for. During the moments in the presence of his dreams, Steve Zissou depressingly realizes that he wishes he was remembered by who he was, and not who he has become.
Eleanor: It is beautiful, Steve.

Steve: Yeah, it's pretty good, isn't it... I wonder if it remembers me.
The scene I wrote about above is extremely well done. It is artistically powerful, uniquely spectacular, and dramatically moving. I did a little searching on YouTube.com and was able to find the scene. If you aren't afraid of a little spoiler, check out the clip below; if this movie fits your taste, I'm certain you'll enjoy it.

The soundtrack of the movie is quite unique. From Mark Mothersbaugh to Sigur Rós, I'd recommend looking it up on iTunes if you have any interest at all; it's quite spectacular. I found this selection quite moving. It is played during the moment when Steve Zissou dramatically comes to the realization that he needs to express his feelings for what he has while it is there, because you never know when it may leave...
The Zombies - The Way I Feel Inside

Should I try to hide
The way I feel inside
My heart for you?
Would you say that you
Would try to love me too?
In your mind could you ever be
Really close to me?
I can tell the way you smile
If I feel that I could be certain then
I would say the things
I want to say tonight

But till I can see
That you'd really care for me
I will dream that someday you'll be
Really close to me
I can tell the way you smile
If I feel that I could be certain then
I would say the things
I want to say tonight

But till I can see
That you'd really care for me
I'll keep trying to hide
The way I feel inside

When I ask you to listen

When I ask you to listen to me and you start giving advice, you have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me and you begin to tell me why I shouldn’t feel that way, you are trampling on my feelings.
When I ask you to listen to me and you feel you have to do something to solve my problem you have failed me, strange as that may seem.
Listen! All I asked, was that you listen - not talk or do - just hear me.
Advice is cheap; ten cents will get you both Dear Abby and Billy Graham in the same newspaper, and I can do for myself; I’m not helpless.
When you do something for me that I can and need to do for myself, you contribute to my fear and weakness.
But, when you accept as a simple fact that I do feel what I feel, no matter how irrational, then I can quit trying to convince you and can get about the business of understanding what’s behind this irrational feeling.
And when that’s clear, the answers are obvious and I don’t need advice.
Irrational feelings make sense when we understand what’s behind them.
Perhaps that’s why prayer works, sometimes, for some people, because God is mute and he doesn’t give advice or try to fix things. He just listens and lets you work it out for yourself.
So please listen and just hear me.
And if you want to talk, wait a minute for your turn; And I’ll listen to you.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Sometimes I feel like a freak for still being single.

I'm sick. In more ways than one, but currently I am physically sick. My head aches like never before and I can hardly move my legs without them screaming at me. My left shoulder feels as if there is no blood pumping through it. My upper neck and back smolder in agony, causing me to hunch over. I can't sleep. But that isn't too uncommon.

My shower is broken, not sure why. I don't really intend to find out either. Simple problem, simple solution. And there is always the temporary solution of using my neighbors shower. The shower head looks like someone hit it with a hammer. That isn't too hard to imagine, either, with the company I'm with.

But that's enough of me complaining. Everyone gets sick, bad things happen to shower heads, I'm nothing special. What is special, though, is the agonizing reality that I have finals tomorrow. And I can't control my mind. I can and will deal with it, though.

Every time I start to get down, feel depressed, or just get mentally messed up because of the people around me - when the things people do just don't make sense anymore, just seem illogical or irrational - I try and think of Charles Bukowski's poem, this is free, take it, and feel better:

bad-natured people are everywhere like flies upon a dead horse in a
hot summer
they are set upon objects, things, situations
in a rather congenial viciousness
that is most often mistaken for courage
but generally
(setting aside bad companionship, bad diet, bad breeding)
most acrimonious nerves (setting aside bad elimination of wastes and so
forth) are caused by
and they fail
because they are simply incompetent at what they try to do or
and second
because of an educational system
and a
national philosophy which
beckons them higher than they are
in other words, they are not failures
but unrealistic forces and demands make them feel to be
and so business is good for the
psychiatrists and psychologists
and the jails and the mental
(which are only dumping grounds for the overload
like unhappy homes, thieves, skid row and etc.)
there is no such thing as failure, there is only the
comparative grind, there is only the concept of
and a $175-an-hour shrink won't even tell you
he's been taught by the book
just like his victim.

so take this poem and keep it somewhere for
ready reference

because it might not only save you
it might also save your
sad and angry

Maybe I'm just a confused person and what I see and what I feel is what everyone sees and feels, and I'm just the only person who doesn't like it. I'm the only one who doesn't get it, or doesn't understand why no one talks about it.

I can hardly handle it - how can others?

I know I am a strong person. I have very strong willpower because I know "that spiritual is stronger than any material force; that thoughts rule the world." I can contain myself better than others.

So it gets me thinking, if I'm on the verge of just wanting to seclude myself from society because of the people around me, how could other people handle it (if the thoughts I have are shared amongst all)? How can the people who are clearly brainless, the people you see on CNN who do the most ridiculously stupid things sometimes, how can they handle it? Why don't the criminals and murders go on a rampaging killing spree?

Since they don't do that, either I have a lot worse of an image of the common person, or no one (or not many) understand what I'm talking about when I say human actions are excruciatingly ridiculous.

Sometimes I start thinking about what kind of person I would be if I were 1% less me. If I were just a notch down, just a tad less keen, a bit less brilliant. If I wasn't just quite as smart. Not significantly, no. I'm saying one step down. If I were just a bit less of a person, what would I do? Would I be the same and the only difference would be my small choices on random occasions? Paper instead of plastic. Donate a penny instead of keeping it. Or would I be significantly different? Would I be the one going on a rampaging killing spree just because that one notch - that one grain - was the only thing keeping me from going insane? More insane? Is that one bit of me keeping me from falling off the edge?

Monday, December 3, 2007

It was the worst of times, continued and concluded

The following post contains a true real-life story which cannot be told in a single blog entry. My apologies, but my thoughts just will not allow for that. This event will be told over multiple entries submitted across multiple, spread apart, days. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.... In the movie Bull Durham, the character Annie Savoy explains so truthfully:

The world is not made for people who are cursed with self-awareness.
...As I've said before, I'm not very certain of much anymore. I used to be, but I think I explained that previously.

All the moves I make seem to follow paths and ideas I haven't previously used. Paths that I'm not too comfortable with. Every decision I make seems to be a battle of choice between what's right and what I want. And I still don't know what is better. What would benefit my life. What I really need right now.

I'm prude. I'm a prude person, I guess. I try to uphold common courtesy throughout the day. I respect my fellow people, I follow appropriate manners, and I'm nice. I don't know if being these things makes me prude. Or if prude is even the right word. Maybe I'm just good? Healthy? I haven't been able to find a general word to summarize my lifestyle. Let's compliment myself. I'm being realistic when I say: some positive things about me (positive in my opinion, at least) are that I'm kind. I'm nice and I'm considerate. I'm very appreciative of peoples company. I'm very appreciative of people. I'm humorous when the occasion arises. Very comical, indeed. I've been told I have an uplifting essence, an aura, that surrounds me. Apparently it appeals to people, and when I'm around, people have a good time. I'm clean; I smell nice and I'm well kept. I'm smart; I consider myself an intellectual. Although I may not have the book smarts as many other people that surround me do, I do have smarts of some sort. ... I'm deep. I can uphold a conversation for hours. I'm an very good listener and a soft speaker. I never intend to hurt someones feelings. I never intend to hurt anyone. I'm a pacifist. I don't have radical views. Politics don't interest me - I'm apathetic. Religion doesn't bother me - I'm agnostic, and apathetic to it, too. I'm really indifferent to a lot of topics. I don't try and force my opinions onto anyone; rather, I try and give advice. I like to be helpful. I assist when I can and attempt to assist when I can't. I'm beneficial to society. It's people like me that keep the statistics up.
What constantly knocks me off my feet is why I'm always alone. I mean, I can think of some obvious reasons that I don't really need to write on here. But, really, how does a person like myself, who attempts (successfully) to live a good, healthy life, end up being alone all the time? If this isn't what people want, what do they want? Should I be like every other inconsiderate, unappreciative, selfish, no-good bastard? Do people want me to be rude and disrespectful? Unappreciative and greedy? Is that what people want? ...

... So I stay away. I constantly feel like I'm being used. Abused. Unappreciated, not respected. I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll help you with everything I can. Just say thank you. Make me feel appreciated, that's all I ask. I know that if I was a stronger man I could take the abuse. But I can't, so deal with it by giving me the gratitude I deserve.

My whole life I've been alone. I really don't want a lot of friends. One or two has always suited me well. What I have always wanted, though, has been a companion. Someone who is constantly there with me, who lives with me daily. Who enjoys the same things I do, listens and sees the same things that I do. Who I can tell anything to, learn anything with, and enjoy everything by their side. I never knew how much I wanted - I needed - this feeling ...

... and he said, I'm sorry. Let me give you something you deserve. Let me give you something you've been waiting so long for. You have been so good, so very good. You deserve only to be happy, and you've just had so little of that. I'm so sorry. I responded: If you want for my happiness, then you know what you must do.

Anything was better than nothing, I kept telling myself. It could end tomorrow and I'll still be a better person.

... It felt so right, I explained to myself. Why give up what feels so right? Why follow societies conventions on relationships. Do what you want, listen to your heart.

... I know how relationships work: they don't last. Especially when they are separated. Long distance? You kidding me? What are you, new? I don't care what your heart says. It's illogical, unreasonable. And besides, I'm the perfect man for you. I have a heart, I care for you. I want to be there for you, I want to help you. I want to listen to you at night, I want to crush that which saddens you. I want to love you.

... I started to fall off of the trail of my life. Understand, though, that I don't have that much of a problem with that anymore. I don't know whether I should have one, though. I don't need to set guidelines or a foundation for my life. Just live it, feel it, express it. Enjoy it. I understand that now. But, during this event and after it, I didn't understand that. And that may be the problem of it all.

I'm not sure if I believe there is one person out there for everyone. I know I don't believe it. I want to, though, I really do. I want to believe there is magic and love and Disney movies. There aren't, though. And that is why life sucks. For every person you meet, there is always someone out there who is better. It really depends whether you want to wait or look for that person, though, or put up with what you have.

... To remove all that joy and happiness and amazement and exchange it for pain. The kind that kills. Hurts you, scars you, forever.

I asked, will it destroy you? The answer: No. But it will set you back. It will take you off your feet and throw you, hurl you back to a place you've never been and never want to go. A deeper state of depression, sadness, terrible feelings that no one wants to, or could even imagine, feel. It will bring you to a state of mind that corrupts your every decision, your every move. Bad choices, and a lot of them. Bad feelings, too much of them.


I'm foreclosing my life because the law makers which are her words are asking me for too much.

... I make no mistakes. Every move I make is an attempt put another foot in front of me, one positive move from another. Every word I choose to say is of excellent choice; it has meaning - more meaning than you can imagine - behind it. I say nothing that has no second underlining deeper meaning. I think in perfection, I feel in strength. I am made of no mistakes.


I see relationships all over the place. Couples, friends. And, in my eyes, they almost always have one thing in common: they fight. They don't work, it just isn't happy all the time. In my ideal world, that shouldn't happen. The people you hang out with are the people you should want to hang out with. There are so many couples all over the place that just bicker, that just fight. Denny's, theaters, malls - even in my house. My room. I hear people fighting all the time, stressing over things they need to learn to get over or deal with. Constant bitching, complaining, about things that don't really matter. Am I alone when I see this? Does no one else see the problems with these people?

This is what really gets me. Because the girl of my dreams doesn't bicker. She doesn't fight, argue, or obsess about things I do. She enjoys every second of my company, appreciates it, loves it. Not because I need that, no, not at all. I want it, yes. But she doesn't do it because I want it. She does it because she wants it. She understands, comprehends, what a great guy I am. I don't just do this shit for fun. I do this because I want people to remember be as the guy who didn't fuck his life up. The guy who cared about his choices, his decisions. The guy who matters in this society. Because that's who I am.

If you aren't saying no, you're saying yes. ... Don't put yourself into a position where you have to say yes or no and you won't have to choose! It's that simple, god damnit. How hard is it to understand?

By even spending time with these guys, not even physical time but mental time, you're telling me I'm not number one. You've said to me it's not a numbering system. And I understand that, but if you don't immediately choose me, then it isn't right for me. It isn't right for you, either. If I'm not number one, I'm number zero, in my mind. Life just doesn't work like that.

... I don't make plans. I try not to, at least. It's only a quick way to make regrets later. Here's the thing: men and women are different. Girls want to stay in contact with their ex-lovers for the rest of their lives. Yeah, this is a generalization. But it's a generalization that's usually true. They want to stay friends. It doesn't always work like that, though. It's much easier for a girl to do this than for a guy too. To a guy, it's hard to look at an ex-lover the same, once they've been together. It just doesn't work out well. ...
My whole life I've wanted to be a savior. I've wanted to save someone. I wanted to be there for them and save their life. But now I realize that you can't do that. Relationships can't work like that because people need to save themselves. I understand that now. It's what I've learned from all this. I can't save them.

... I think everyone has a purpose in this life. Not in some kind of fairytale way, no. I mean, I honestly believe that there is so much in this life that there has to be something you are made to be good at. You are best at. And I honestly believe what I am made to be, what I am best at, is being there for someone. Being with someone, caring for them. Loving them. I am made for a relationship. ...

Does love have limits? In the movie The Hole, the character Liz Dunn is a replication of a human being who expresses the deepest and strongest form of love. So strong, are her feelings, that all morals and ethics are thrown out the window, just for her to obtain the man she loves. She murders a man, watches her best friend die of dehydration and sickness (while she is dying, she asks her for relationship advice), and even forces her lover to lose his mind and kill another man - all to just be with him. Now, obviously Liz is insane. But, I think the deeper questions the movie ask are important: does love really have any limit? Is there anything one can do, while in love, that is unaccountable for? Unreasonable?


It's like when a man hits a woman. First of all, a man should never hit a woman. Ever. And what I'll tell my future daughter(s) one day, is that once a man hits you you never let it happen again. Because you're gone. That's it and that's all. You leave at that point. When he struck you he also struck the relationship, because you and it are over. Because if you stay after he hits you, you're saying that what he did is alright. And you forgive him. And you can't. You cannot forgive him.

... I'm not certain of much anymore, but I'm no more certain of anything than that. I do not deserve to be treated like this. When you see me you should instantly be saying to yourself, I can't do anything to harm him. I don't want to risk losing this guy. If those aren't your thoughts then it wasn't made to work from the very start. ... I'm a star, and if you don't see that then you don't see it, and that's all. There is nothing I can do about it. How perfect we are for each other means nothing if you can't appreciate what you have. ...

I'm better than all this, I honestly believe. I've put up with a lot of shit in my life, a lot of things I didn't need to. But I did, I did deal with them, and this is who it has made. This is me. We are the sum of our experiences. And my sum is nearly negative - I've dealt with so much crap. This is just another thing I don't need to deal with. For the first time in my life, I'm not going to put myself into a position where I'm going to get hurt. Where I'm going to get crushed.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

It was the best of times, continued

The following post contains a true real-life story which cannot be told in a single blog entry. My apologies, but my thoughts just will not allow for that. This event will be told over multiple entries submitted across multiple, spread apart, days. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

Before I continue with the story, let me set out a foundation. Let's give this some kind of structure. Or attempt to.

...I read once that it is impossible to ever understand your own mind, and thus impossible to attempt to explain it. It is only possible, however, to understand someone else's mind, and thus only possible to explain someone else's.

Why my life is an unjust series of failures caused by forces out of my control destroying any lasting pieces of hope or self-confidence I may have gained through lies and disgust.

I'll attempt to explain myself.

I'm not very certain of much anymore.

I use to be, though, very certain of much. I use to think I had everything figured out. No, not like all adolescents who immaturely believe they grasp the concepts of the world and don't need the education a college, or even a high school, gives them. No, not like that at all....

...Indifference. I feel indifferent to anything they do, anything they say. People rarely upset me, people rarely change me, affect me, do anything to me. Things people do just don't matter to me - I don't know why. I care so little about it all, I guess. I have no care for them for a reason. Maybe it's because I feel as if I can't relate to them. I've never felt like I can relate to anyone. I see kids around me forming bonds; friendship bonds, relationship bonds, just anything that can link them together they can find. They find these things in each other that they like. Common interests, for example. Well, I've been able to find that. ... They just seem so simple, so clueless. So innocent, so young. So immature, so weak.

If I get around these people for too long I feel like I start to lose my mind.
I know I start to lose my mind. I don't want to do anything about it other than get away, just separate myself from them. I don't want anything to do with these people that surround me. To me, they are all so intolerable. Isolation is the only thing that keeps my sane. These people make me feel so alone, so very alone... It's the most crushing feeling, you know. To be alone.

In my life, I've met many people.
Why do I
still feel
so alone.
In a world, with so many people.
Why am I
sitting here
all alone.
Walking past, go so many people.
How I wish
that I was
safe at home.
Looking out, at all these people.
Do they all
feel just
as alone?

Feeling Alone by Dean Thorpe.

Seeing the whole world, all the people here.
All the people to fall in love with. All the things to fall in love with. All the things to enjoy. ... I've lied to myself, even, and done things that I didn't even enjoy, just so I'll have something. Something of my own. Something that I appear to enjoy. But, usually as soon as I find myself happy, or at least content, I get the overwhelming feeling of loneliness again. Usually it just strikes me down out of no where. I think what it is is that I forget what I see around me. I try and hide it, or ignore it. I ignore my true feelings and just let that ignorance build. While I hide the truth, I get to live a normal life for awhile. Eventually, though, my poor decisions catch up with me. And it'll hit me. It hits me in the knees, knocking me to the ground, keeping me from leaving, from moving. It'll hit me in the head, swelling my mind, crushing my thoughts, impairing my judgment. I'll make poor decisions and I'll fall into despair, depression, sadness. Then, as abruptly as it came, it will leave. I'll be normal - well, normal in the sense of status - again. Maybe it's like karma. I pretend to be someone else - claim ignorance and look away from the world as it truly is - and I get to live life for a little while. But one-sided benefits never work out. I create a debt that needs to be payed. And that's when karma comes in.

I know there has to be something out there for me. Well, I hope. I really do think there is, though, and I just haven't found it yet. Something or someone out there to help me keep my sanity. To bring back my sanity, even. Pull me into reality and live the life I see everyone else so cheerfully living out. It doesn't even need to be cheerful. See, that's the thing. I'm not a needy person. I don't want to be rich, famous, happy, anything. I just want to feel alive. To feel real. I want to understand this, all of it. I feel like I've been slowly losing my mind, losing reason and purpose to just about everything. I can feel it drip away at night like a leaking water faucet not turned quite tight enough. Just inching out, bit by bit, tiny little droplets separated by short intervals of time. So abrupt does it sound in the night, causing you to wait. Wait for the next drip, longing for the next drip. The next drop of water to fall from the faucet and land gently onto the bottom of the sink. Yet so loudly does it land, does it splash, onto the base. Keeping you awake, alive, waiting for the next bit to drop. This is how it feels; this is my life. My mind slowly loses itself in the time between the dripping, one at a time, ever so slowly, creating panic and chaos, yet putting me to sleep. Keeping me asleep. This is the night, what it does to me.

...I was huddled up with a group of kids on my friends front deck at his house. We were looking out over the deck and then I noticed that the moon was full. I took a look at it and stared. I didn't look away. The other kids did, though. ... I looked at the moon and saw it ways I know they didn't. I saw it as it was, in the sky, ever so far away. I saw it as a two dimensional image, a flat object. I saw it was a sphere, floating around Earth. I saw it as a form of energy, something powerful. I saw the craters on the surface and noted their depth, their size, their immenseness. It's hard to describe how I felt; I didn't think these things, I knew them. I felt them - I perceived them. These other kids saw the moon and said oh, that's the moon. I saw the moon and said nothing.

... You either understand it or you don't. Don't pretend to, please, because you won't fool me. I can't fool myself.

Our gaze is all about perception

When you walk around at night, do you ever look to see what is around you? Do you ever pay attention to the environment that you pass ever so casually during the day? Everyday? Do you ever take the time to actually look? Not just with your eyes, but with your mind. As you walk, let your mind wander with you. Dissect things, interrogate them; take what you know and throw it out. Take a look around you and look at everything in a new perspective. Let your thoughts run wild because through this way we can establish a vision for our individual lives. A vision that lets us understand ourselves better. Understand everything better.

I do all these things and sometimes I get scared thinking that maybe I'm the only one who still does. Or ever did.

I put my hood up
and it's cold.
Not daftly bitter,
just cold.

Cold enough to bring your cheeks alive and to open your eyes up a bit further to see the full moon silver and gray glowing with clouds that drift quickly past it above the auto repair sign that hangs on a wire fence with an aged barking mutt protecting an old wrecked house with a boat in the yard and some dead cars.

On the way to a Seven-Eleven on foot for a bar of chocolate with a cup of tea that she always wants late in the evening on the warm sofa in front of the heater which is too expensive when you have no money.

But the moon over the auto repair shop sign is free
and the cold air that brings my cheeks to life is free.

But the fish and chips I had earlier aren't so I get the chocolate, turn around, notice all the things you can only notice walking, pay, get in my car and drive right at the big flat moon that makes the night.
You See More On Foot by unknown author.

I told the truth about my sickness. Now I wish I had lied.

A long while back, I remember writing a short piece of literature about the Bart subway which travels all throughout the Bay Area of California. It asked simple questions about your choices on a daily basis. What do you to do other people? What could you do to other people? Would you do something to someone else if you knew it would make their day, even if it was out of the ordinary? I remember I made many copies of this story, asking all these questions appearing so simple, yet obviously deeply complex to the keen eye. I took all those copies and placed them in a pile where people could pick them up, if they wanted. If they wanted to read something I wrote. If they wanted insight on how to live a better life, or what I imagined would lead to a better life.

I tried to look for this narrative but I couldn't find it. It's long gone. It wasn't very long, so maybe one day I'll try and recreate it.

Anyways, I remember thinking, day dreaming, that maybe someone would pick this short narrative up and decide that maybe there was something more meaningful to this existence than just going through the motions. Than just following the sheep. Maybe I could wake up people, I thought. That's all I really wanted. Even if it was just for a second, for just one thought of their day. Maybe I could get them to open their eyes and see the world as I see it, as it truly should be seen. I remember imagining what would need to be said for that to happen.

Then - poof - it hit me. Why do I need to change these people? Do I really want them to be like me? All I do is add confusion to their lives, if anything. I make them think things their minds weren't meant to conceive. So, I came to the conclusion that, no, I don't want anyone else like me. I don't want to wake these people up.
Is it selfish to think like this, I wonder. To want people to understand what I say, to understand where I am coming from. To see more than needs to be seen, in any situation. To want them to be able to understand this, yes, that would be a good thing. But I would not want them to do it all the time, no, that would be a bad thing. Where would it leave me? What good would I be? This is my gift, this is my curse. This is my plague, this is my mind.

Occasionally my mind drifts off of this fact and I start talking to people again. I try and talk to them, making poor attempts at knocking down their mind's walls and letting me inside. Let it be understood, I want none of this.

If it leaves me in a life of solitude, then let it be. I know there is someone out there who understands what I think. What I feel, believe, understand. There is no point in trying to wake these people up around me. I need only one person in my life. I don't know when I'll find that person, though. If I ever will. I thought I have in the past, and maybe that's still the truth. But for now, I'm left alone again.

...but your hopelessness is beautiful

I grunt. Leaning down and over from the position I'm at doesn't agree with my back. I plug in the power adapter into the wall port next to the hotel bed as quickly as possible. Snapping back, I roll over to a new position to adjust for the new items in hand. I pull the covers tighter, closer to my body, and place the case of hardware on top of my legs. As the laptop begins powering on, I feel the components wizzeling in the fashion they were made to do. Reaching over to my right, I lift up my iPod. Stella was a diver, huh? My thumb pushes the black circle explaining to the nuts and bolts that I don't want to listen to that song. Brand New Colony. Above You. Why Does My Heart Feel So bad - yeah, that's the one. I place the iPod down to my right side, where it use to rest. About 20 minutes of battery. That's enough. It always is enough.

What do you do
when you are stuck?
You can't decide
what you really want?
All the choices that should matter
mean nothing to you anymore.
Do you stay behind
or do you go ahead?
Do you do what is right
or do you do what you want?
What happens when
what you wish for
doesn't come true?
What happens when
what you wish for
never comes true?
It comes true for others,
just not for you.
What do you do, then,
when all you want
and all you need,
never appears?
What do you do then?
What Do You Do? by Calvin

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

The following post contains a true real-life story which cannot be told in a single blog entry. My apologies, but my thoughts just will not allow for that. This event will be told over multiple entries submitted across multiple, spread apart, days. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

People get themselves into situations that they often don't want to deal with. Situations that they can't handle or don't want to handle, but in either event it's a situation that won't be lasting. Most people try to get themselves out of them as quickly as possible. Whether the situation gives them pain, anger, sorrow, or maybe just feelings that they don't want, it's always a troublesome event.

My question about it all, though, is maybe sometimes it's better to stay in those situations. Maybe it's better to just deal with the pain, the grief, or whatever else that may be felt. Because maybe the ending outcome's reward outweighs the emotions it took to withstand the event. Does this happen? I'm certain it does. A lot of people go through something like this at one point in their life. From something small, like washing your car, to something larger like dealing with your job. Many people don't like paying their taxes, but the benefit they get out of it is they don't go to jail. So, sure, often times it is worth going through it. It's fair to assume that it is a pretty common aspect of life.

So then I ask: what if you multiply the emotional pain you have to go through? However, rather than increasing the gain, as with most things in life (bigger risk, bigger reward), the gain is unforeseeable. For a reward that may not ever exist. Or, if it does exist, it may be so large that it dramatically changes your life, and even the lives of the people around you.

Now, does it seem worth it? What if the emotional pain is so strong, so intensely powerful, that you can't even recognize yourself anymore. You start to preform actions unlike yourself. You do things that you know aren't right, but you do them anyways. And, above all that, every thought out of your mind only makes it worse. A constant, unnaturally awful, regret full of guilt which questions the very foundations of everything you've ever accomplished in your life.

Is it worth it? The greatest risk for possibly the greatest benefit, but also possibly no benefit at all.

Will it destroy you?

A while back ago I wrote a short narrative about love. Well, it was about many things, but the excerpt I chose for this entry is about love. It took me a little digging around to find, but here it is:

Since I was a little boy, I have observed love. The act of loving. The entire experience of loving. I know people that love. I have seen them with my own eyes. I have felt them. Love is a feeling, is it not? Yet, I have never known what it is to love. I can write those words, know them to be true, but feel only the regret that a tone-deaf man must feel because he can't appreciate music, a regret less keen because it is for something never known, not for something lost. So, then, how do I experience love? Is love attainable? Will it inevitably knock on my door, surprising my life in an unexpected yet welcoming fashion like family on a Thanksgiving eve? I sometimes feel as if it has knocked. It has waited at my doorstep, waiting for me to let it inside so it may embrace me with its wide open arms. Including me to the long list of those who have been loved. But I have not let love inside my door. I am unsure of what is to happen. I am unsure of what might happen to my life. Does love change you? Certainly some degrees of love will change you. An unbalanced form of love would most definitely change your viewpoint on the subject. Is this a cruel thing to experience? Or even crueler to share to someone else? What if I love but I am not loved back? Have I ever been loved and not returned the favor simply because I have not experienced the true feeling? I cannot recall of a time in my life where someone has loved me. My family shares their love. Is it the same? If I were not birthed by my mother, if my father did not teach me under his wing, if my sister had not grown in the same household, would we still love each other? No. We want to save our love inside of us to give to someone some other day. It is not something we want to waste. I do not love a man on the street simply because he walks there. I cannot. I may respect him, I may honor his existence, I may appreciate his company on this lonesome rock, but I cannot love him. That is not what love is. So, simply put, I have not been loved. If I were, I would know. Otherwise I would sense this feeling, it simply cannot exist without acknowledgment. I have not been given the true feeling of love. I want this feeling. More than ever do I want this feeling. I need this feeling. My existence is futile without this feeling. Someone’s existence will remain in vain until I have loved them. I must share my love because without doing so people will not know how to love. If these people cannot love, how will I be loved? How can you appreciate real love until you have had this experience? I want to be loved like no one else. I want someone to feel as if their life means nothing without me by their side. I want to live a life where my love exists in two parts, not just one. The part I share for someone and the part they share for me. It is then decided: To be one day loved, I must love. However, it is not merely something that can be tossed around. I must save it inside of me to give to that someone special one day so that it truly means something. When will that day come? I think we all ask that question. For now, I know I must wait. Love is a waiting game won by the most patient of men. Patience, is that what fuels love? If I save my love, patiently keep it inside of me, holding it in for that one day of grace when all this time spent will be worth it, all this time will mean something deeper and more powerful than I could ever imagine, if I wait all this time, and I give this time woven love to someone who I know deserves it, and they don't love me back, what will happen?
What I wrote on that day was how I felt on that day. I can't say I feel the same way anymore. I have new insight about the subject now and I know if I were to rewrite that same narrative today it wouldn't look anything the same. Let's just say people have changed me.


There are things I can say, and there are things I cannot say. Obviously, there will be consequences for whatever I choose to say. I'm not afraid to say the truth, though. I really am not. I think honesty is one of the most important things a human can do. People who live honest lives should be given badges, they really should.

That reminds me, there aren't enough badges in this world. That's a fact. If I had any control over it, there would be badges awarded for more important things than army service and all that jib jab. When people are dying, or maybe just when they reach a certain age point, like every 25 years or something, people in all black suits should drive up to your house, pull out an all-black velvet sealed case and hand it to you. And just as quickly and abruptly as they showed up, they would vanish. You would open that little case and see the badge you were given. The badge you deserved. The Honesty Badge would be one of the most important ones a man could get. It would be colorful and unique. Articulate designs would cover both the front and the back. Getting The Honesty Badge would be a great achievement in any man's life. Because that's all that really means anything anymore. All that matters. Honesty - the truth. Why should anyone believe what you say if you aren't honest? How can a man live a rightful way their whole life, but then decide to steal one day, and immediately get labeled as a thief and lose all credibility while everyone knows if a man is honest their whole life and then tells a lie, they lose no credibility. They are to be believed just as they were any other day. Even if they are caught lying! Sure, if a president or someone important lies, that's a whole other story. All I'm trying to say is to be honest. It really counts more than anything in almost every situation. But don't be honest to the point where you are hurting people - your ugly friend will need that litany of support sometimes. Use your judgment, but deserve The Honesty Badge.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

A new hope

I have finished posting old material that I've had hanging around. I intend to start posting new material as soon as I have time.

It has gotten to the point where this is something I'm really looking forward too. I have had all these events I've wanted to write about for so long and finally I'm going to be able to do it. This is, as hard to believe as this sounds, the most exciting thing in my life right now. Finally, I have something to look forward too, again.

I am so tired...

A poem which attempts to explain what it feels like to live a life without anyone there with you - whether it be physical or mental presence. Is there anyone out there who truly can see what I see?

I am tired...

Tired of always being alone.
Of not having anyone to love.
Tired of not having anyone to talk to.
More tired of not having anyone to listen to.

I am tired of not being able to laugh,
to really laugh and to giggle like a fool.
Tired of not having anyone to laugh with.
Tired of wearing this painted smile of a clown.

Tired of always being Rick of Rick’s Café
And never being Victor.
Tired of finding diaries and realizing that
they are not written about me, but someone else.

Tired of always fighting for what is right.
Right prevails -- but I ultimately lose
all of the important things
that were right for me.

I am tired of hope that is always deferred.
My heart grows sicker waiting and hoping
for simple things that will never be.
The wait for nothing to happen is excruciating.

I have cared about everyone in my life.
Even cared about and for strangers in need.
I am so tired of being left behind and forgotten.
My heart has grown weary and sick.
Tired that no one cares about me.

I am tired of pouring my heart out in poetry.
Poetry that is never read by those it’s written for.
Poetry that sits in a dusty box on a basement shelf.
Words of love written in vain, words disguising
all of my intense inner pain.

I am just tired of being lonely.
Tired of living in memories and tired of weeping.
I am tired of looking at the stars and wishing upon them
and never getting my wishes, even though they are so small.

Tired of caring,
tired of loving,
tired of waiting,
tired of the deafening silence...

I am so tired...
I'm Tired