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The Long Straight Ahead

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Here I am, driving along this desert road with the smooth rumble of the wheels under my car along a highway acts as a lullaby.  Miles in each direction there is nothing but open expanse.  Hours ago I saw those lights slunk away, the views of my previous life. Now it’s just me and this road in the darkness. I want to squeeze down on the gas, speed towards where I am going, I feel stuck on this road, and it feels regardless of how fast I am going, I won’t make it to my destination any quicker. I know the roads and streets at my destination aren’t going anywhere. I want to see the lights out on the horizon before the lights go out. I want to look at the lights before the sun comes up and washes out the night.

I’ve been getting really excited recently, about my future. The science fiction of my childhood is finally becoming a reality.  The problem I am having is that I want part of that future. I want one of the hands who help shape it.  Each moment that passes by it feels like I am missing out on being able to dive head first into the water and make waves.  My journey is still has a long way to go.  Probably about 6 years before I start to have a little more control over my destiny.  I work at it every day, and yet I want to be there already.

I mean I’m nervous for the next transition, and maybe it is the instability of not knowing where the next step of my future will be.  The next couple months feel like that will help put on the correct path for my future and that weight bearing down on me is starting to crack me.  It’s hard because it’s all about chasing the right opportunities.  Go down this path but avoid that other one.  Make sure to do this, but also do that. It’s so confusing, and even though I’m supposed to be on a track, it feels more like climbing a tree.  With each limb I grab onto will change the next branch I can reach.  Hopefully, when push comes to shove, I will be tall enough to bridge the gap between branches.

It’s easy to forget that the journey makes the destination worthwhile. I need to take a second and evaluate my journey because I am so focused on this next point that I do not see the world around me. I need to breathe. I need to enjoy the endless road ahead because if I don’t, I’ll never make it to my destination and know to keep moving. The world is an endless adventure and the sun will rise soon enough, I don’t need to rush it.

Meta Self Contemplation

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I started this blog a long time ago with the intended purpose to think and put into writing aspects of my life.  It was always something I had wanted to do, keep a record of things as I go from place to place.  The record of my life as it is for both people to read and to go back on to find the steps I have taken on this journey. The motivation came from different sources, the deterioration of my personal relationships, the darkening of my outlook, my desire to change and be open with the world.  It has been what fueled me, but I have fallen short of my goals in some ways, though I keep at it, hoping to find the light out in the darkness.

I write because I like to write and think about my life.  It’s what I am good at, or at least thats what people tell me. I have been thinking about my life since I began to think, always wondering if those insignificant moments that pass me by would mean anything to me, if the person who lived through those moments would be remembered or evaporate like the morning dew from the onset of the heat of the day. I have largely kept these thoughts a secret,  for the scars on my heart seal up words within as a way to protect my being from the onslaught of unwanted spotlights.

This perspective changed though in my recollection of a midnight reflection, suffering in the silence over the lady I loved.  I sat there under the starlight in the quiet stillness of the early hours breaking down, unable or maybe unwilling to change.  I needed to do something, both for myself and for those around me, I needed to win and break out of this tumultuous cycle of inability.  So what did I do, the last thing most people would think I would do, write. I wrote because I could. I wrote because needed to. I wrote because every ounce of my being told me to.

So I fought towards the light, and though I lost much, I learned a lot.  In this journey, I ripped and sewed together pieces of myself in the hopes of righting all that I am, so in the future, I could walk taller than I did that day.  Each word I wrote was a struggle, years of grammatical challenges don’t bode well for self-confidence. But here I am and here I think, I have I really laid myself bare upon the page? Have really reconstructed myself from within.  Old problems still arise and each time I am given an opportunity to change, and truth be told, I fail more than I would like but I keep walking.

What is the point of this message then, what have I learned.  I have talked about being open and honest and yet at the keys I avoid or soften these truths about myself in fear and loathing, in pride and “protection”.  I know this keeps me from truth, and liberty of these thoughts and feelings.  It keeps me from really pouring my heart onto a page.  You can’t filter out your soul and expect people to feel it.

I will change that though, now:

I am a mixture of self-confident, and self-depreciating, never letting me fly too high because I am worried about the fall, but also crushed when I miss my opportunity in be in the sky
I am afraid of my scars and memories, I flinch when coming across old moments and triggers. I reminds me of who I was and I fear if I stay to long I will return to this powerless younger self. I spend time moving through to heal but I still feel the marks on my soul.
I try to be a good friend and family member, and it is a work in progress. Years of trying to distance yourself from other people has that affect on you.
I love from the bottom of my heart everyone one in my life.  I could be from the shattered self-esteem of my youth but in growing into who I am has taught me to appreciate those moments I have with other people because in my eyes they are you are your own personal miracle.
I am bad at telling people how I feel about them.
I just want to help people, know what it’s like to suffer and struggle, know you are not alone and I am here to give what I can.
I am bad at asking for help.
I am afraid I am not enough great things, that I am destined for mediocrity.
Whenever I think I am smart, the universe seems to want to remind me that I am not as smart as I think I am.
I have been through major depression twice in my life.
I have been through major depression twice in my life.
For a long time, I was afraid to love because of a worry that it will never be as deep and full as the love I had before.
I don’t understand why people like more or want to be around me.
I don’t believe people when they tell me I look nice.
I honestly just like being a nice person, no strings attached.
I sincerely believe that anyone is capable of pretty much anything, the bad, and the great alike, you just need to find your way of doing it.
I am religious (Catholic), and I don’t really know why I just like it and I am still trying to figure it out.
I like to learn about politics and listen to new opinions, but to be honest, I think most of what people are saying is kinda stupid, nothing is black and white and yet most of politics treats the world that way.
I believe most people want to do good out there in the world and are innately good.
I do have common sense.
I want to be one of the great minds of the twenty-first century.
My greatest fear is to be forgotten.

In laying this out, I hope to clear this veneer that lays between me and my thoughts.  I want to be better, so I will do it, one step at a time.

 

To Touch The Sun

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Always so close, I reach out and try and touch that perfect ball in the sky, but as it seems, it still slightly out of reach.  When will I be able to grab it and make it mine, when will I touch it and finally obtain perfection? Will these waxwings hold up long enough to reach, or will the sun always be meant for those who were born to touch it?

I know the notion of perfection is more of a novel pursuit than an achievable goal.  Even when I get there, I will always think about how I could have done it better or where the next bar is.  Then again this type of thinking might be keeping me from achieving my elusive desire.
It confuses me, in my humanity, I find the varied levels of flaws that make us beautiful but see the skill and determination to overcome these flaws to achieve something real.  Watching practiced experts and driven people accomplish these feats of seeming perfection only to fall short constantly myself and fall into frustration.  Like the analogous frog at the bottom of the well, wondering how much to jump before I learn to fly.

Truth is, I screw up way more than I would like.  Fall short, and never entirely getting there, this repeated failure is starting to gripe on me.  It’s frustrating me to no end that I can never get through anything without making a mistake.
Maybe it’s practice I need or patience.  Maybe it’s confidence or talent.  Maybe there is something inside of me that keeps me from achieving this ridiculous goal, and that something was embedded in my very soul. I just don’t know, and it shouldn’t bother me, but it does.  Why can’t it just be 100% right, why must there be cracks and nicks in these foundations?  How can I build if I know that at any given moment it can fall because of my mistakes?

I feel fractured, weathered, and worn, like a forgotten statue beat by the sands of times, eroding and missing pieces so its once true self is lost and all you can see is a resemblance of what could have been.  I know this is dramatic, but this seeping frustration kneads itself into my heart.

It is an unrealistic standard that will only play as a detriment to my future. If I am only worried about perfection, then the mountain of work will become sheer and unclimbable because each move will be individually meticulous. It’s always about that balance because the sky is not only filled with the sun but also the cloud. Clouds which are formless and beautiful in their own right.  I want things to be perfect but choosing where to put this effort to reach out, and where to let the wind take me is all part of life.

 

To St. Patrick’s Day (Late)

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Dear St. Patricks Day,

You know I have always loved you. You’ve been the representation of a culture that has always opened the door for me. From the generation of my grandmother, you have shown me nothing but acceptance, even in the days of my darkest identity crisis. St. Patrick, though I know your history, you represent so much more. Each and every year you come in the midsts of the season of Fasting, but an indulgence in you feels nothing like a sin. It’s an acceptance, a proving grounds of blood ties that I know flows through my veins. It’s the unquestioning nature of this aspect of myself that I find serenity, like a cornerstone on which I can build a future.  It’s in knowing you that I know the lack of my other identities, from their sliding and uneasy nature fall away and I reach that small serenity.
Oh St. Patrick, you are called so well, the holiday of a people’s who live across the sea.  We share in that connection, we share in that praise because we know that we will be together with you at the end of our days.  We can connect, and be free, it’s what this holiday represents to me.
And here are my final words for such an important day, it doesn’t matter where you come from, or where you might be going, it doesn’t matter how much money you make, or how you might be born, as long as we celebrate together, you can become a little Irish too.

Most Sincerely,
Me

How To Cultivate A Thought Parasite

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It’s happened again, these crises of the mind and spirit.  I feel it in my bones, fear. What am I to do. The rising tide of anxiety washes over me, drowning me it’s dense waters. Leaving me gasping for air in the cold abyss of failure. Grasping for air, and hoping to get out.

This past week I was confronted by the smallest of the invasive thoughts that fed and grew in the back of my mind quickly.  It’s the lack of sleep I said, or perhaps the hunger.  I’ve just been pushing myself too hard, but that’s it’s breeding grounds.  When my mental defenses are lowered, it strikes at me, claiming more and more of my brain, consuming me and my thoughts.  There I am, battling against the creature who uses the voice in my head to try and convince me that I am no good. Trying to convince me to lay down again and begin to die.

It often follows those highs of experience, I know mine does. This one came after a let a small daydream free, and it became a nightmare.  The thoughts in my mind surging after this mental parasite to stop the spread but it was already too late, it implanted itself in my insecurities of the past, fertile ground for a thought so sweet. A feeling of grandeur turns to ash as my capability comes into question.  “You will never be good enough to get this far,” it says,  “Turn back, collapse, you know your just setting yourself up to fail.” I don’t know what to do, the foundation I build for myself feels more and more like a house of cards teetering on the precipice of collapse.  What is this, will it be good enough. My path once more becomes obscured and dark.  How far will I be able to go, and even if I give it my all, will that be enough?

I realize I’ve invested now, that was my mistake.  I am invested in a future I want so bad that my heart cries out to me as I speak it.  This is where I went wrong, didn’t your childhood teach you not to do this. Not to invest in one way or another because you will be let down again and again. I can’t help myself, I want it so bad that I am willing to give all away for a second in that world.  A passion that erupts and drives me forward, that want’s to turn into the crazed obsession of a madman with a purpose and a goal.

“You just are strong enough” it retorts, “You never have been, and you never will be.”  This thought, drawing back blow after blow to strike at me is right.  I feel like I’ve had so many chances and through these chances I have successfully squandered my dream in the pretense of comfort and mediocrity.  I just hope, time after time, hour after hour, that I will wash away these inadequacies and show the world that I am someone. I don’t know though, my guard is down, and my weakness is revealed, my self-esteem takes a blow. All I am is human, and maybe I am not enough.

Truth is I am weak.  I am weak and at times incapable.  I am an emotional creature who waxes and wanes on the mood of the day. At times unable because of the wall of inability that rises up ahead of me. I’m loud and think before I speak.  I sometimes say some funny things and do even weirder ones. My brain fills up sometimes, and I feel like an idiot because I don’t understand what is going on.  I know this, this is just what it’s like to be human. I know this limitation, and that’s okay because that’s all we all are. Being human, and together we can actually do some good and make life beautiful. As long as I know that, I will be okay. As as I know that, I can get rid of the parasitic thought in my brain.

Plane Musings

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Time. Here I wish the day stretched one more hour, to have moments perhaps that will slow down and stop. Remembering to stop and breathe has never been so conscious to me before. I find these moments in the cracks of disroutine. When I deviate from my ordinary plan to step into the present and not live in the constantly unfolding future. What I need is a little time, little time to remember to look at the sky and remember how lovely the cloud look.

I’m sitting on a plane when writing this, a plane that is crossing the United States for the distinct purpose of transporting 100 people with all different lives and intentions to its destination. Intention fuels this plane, pays for its gas, keeps the employees employed, an intention that can’t be touched but malleable like the air I float on. I am on this journey in an attempt to move closer to my dream. A dream that remains unrealized, but finally appearing within reach. These next few days, though not critical in the fulfillment of my dream will drive push me to exhaustion in an attempt to extract every last ounce of potential form it. It’s here, 30,000 feet above the world staring down at the clouds below that I know that I have to make the most of these little moments, to make it possible for me to be successful in the big ones.

I wish I had more time to stop, and breath to be honest. Everything feels so crucial essential right now, though I understand that I have a type of tunnel vision of my goals. Even if I did have an extra hour in the day, I don’t know if I would be using it to rest, more likely, I would be using my energy to push myself even harder than before, with proportionally less time to recover. I know this is problematic, but I finally feel like I am where I should be and doing what I should do. My endless hope is that at the end of it all, with all the work I put in, I will finally get what I want. If not, well, I guess I will figure it out then.

One day I want to be that person everyone looks to surpass, the milestone that people look to exceed. I want people to see me not just what I have done but how I inspired others too. That I know is something that will only come with time. I hope one day I’ll look back at this moment and smile because that’s exactly what I did.

The Wall of Dreams

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I’ve seen it now, the wall that I am to defeat. The one on the far end of the frontier of ability, at the edge of talent, and potential.  I saw but a glimpse of it, that day when I reached the end of where my body allowed me to go.  I saw it, the sheer concrete slap that rises high above the treeline of my life.  It’ stands there as a challenge to goad me in attempting to scale its heights. It was there, far off in the horizon that I saw it, almost mythical off in the distance, but as I closed my eyes it was gone, but I know I will see it again, but next time I will be stronger in its presence, next time I will where to begin.

If there is anything about this past year that has stood out to me, is the number of times I have gotten sick.  For a guy who regularly gets only ill once per year this past year has been a wake-up call that something is changed that my body doesn’t agree with.  It’s doesn’t take a genius to make the observation that going back to school has taken its toll on me.  This last time getting sick, I realized I am pushing myself too hard without letting my body recover.  The stress, lack of stable sleep, new exercise regiment, and irregular eating habits are great at breaking down my body but only time, rest, and taking care of myself are the only defense to this destruction.

This time was different, I felt so unable, so weak. I had come so far as to put out all these fires in my life but when it came to working progressively toward my father off goals, I was unable.  I am expending so much energy and had nothing left to give. It’s a strange feeling, having worked up to that point but feeling so powerless to keep going but I wanted to keep stretching my arms out for just a little bit more.  It wasn’t a feeling I liked, a helplessness to it, a bittersweetness of knowing I have reached this point because I am only human but knowing I can learn to do so much more because I am human.   As I laid down to recover in my short reprieve from work, I thought about how I can become better at this, which ways I can be more efficient at this. How can I strip everything down to rebuild myself stronger? In the moments before fading to sleep, I think of the things that allow me to keep going, the things that keep my mind sane as my body breaks down. The things which in sacrificing would feel like destroying parts of myself. I hold these things sacred because they are a sanctuary, a resting place for me to catch my breath. Where I can finally let myself recover from the torrent and the storm.

What I would like to say is I am thankful to all the people in my life that I can take a moment to talk to, for however long the conversation may be, it offers a reprieve from the insanity.  It gives me strength knowing that ultimately there is love in the world like this that may bloom in the moments of small connections like a wildflower after the rain. I may only see you once, but your beauty leaves a lasting mark. With all the strength I get from you, I  dare to dream of conquering the wall in my life, the one in which the fulfillment of my dreams lies on the other side of.  There I will be happy knowing I didn’t do it alone, I was fortunate to bring a little piece of everyone with me.

The World In The Life Of A Guy – Part 12 – Putting Two Together

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Before I start, I wanted to say that this series has been a great way to reflect on the various ways men and women are different, as well as how those differences really impact how we go through the world.  After this post, I want to take a bit of time away from this series as a means to collect myself and to try new regularized topics to write about, I will come back intermittently to post about these topics, but after a year I am ready to try something new. Thank you for following along with this, I have enjoyed it.

As I started, so shall I end.  With sex and relationships.

I’ve spent a long time asking women my age about their relationship experiences, what it is like to be with a guy, and for what they tell me, I’m surprised a lot of them keep wanting to be in one. Stories I’ve heard, go into great detail about the enormous breaches of personal trust and faith in the partners they were with.  Stories of being forced or compelled to do things they didn’t want to do, harassed or abused, or even worse.  The stories were not all doom and gloom, but the sheer regularity of these negative experiences among people I have talked to is disheartening.  With each stories told to me the list of things that haunted me.  Haunt me, telling me of what I could be, but compelling me to go out to heal and not to hurt.  I don’t shy away from these stories, and I am supremely grateful for those who have shared their experiences with me, it keeps me aware of how bad it could be. In the end what bothers me how people can people can think so little of others, or feel entitled to something that should be shared. The bar for relationships a lot of women is a lot lower than it should be.  Women aren’t perfect, women are just people, and should at least be treated with the decency of an ordinary person, and sometimes they fight to get that much.

It makes me fear my own missteps, vivid things I may have done better. Progress is all about learning from my mistakes, to be better but with people and keep moving forward. Through it all, I’ve got scars on my heart from it, scars that seem to be growing and I don’t know what to do.

I think I’m afraid of sex, that powerful act that like a void, never seems to be satiated completely.  I think I always have been.  I can give you every excuse in the book for this fear, my religious upbringing, my less than stellar early life experiences with girls, or just the world of cold videos of porn on the internet but each of these would just seem to be a contributor or symptom of a much bigger issue.

Expression.

My experiences have taught me to that care is to give, and what else is there to give but myself.  I gave up pieces of myself to appease people early on.  Destroyed bits of my heart and soul to be okay with it.  I remember in high school, among the many strange things that happened to me was a girl. I had liked her at some point, and she had liked me, but the only thing was that our timing or wanting to be with each other ended up being off.  In liking me, she wanted express that in some way, so she ended up sending naked pictures of herself to me.  This is where curiosity kills, this might sound weird, but the curious part of me wanted to know more, but my heart and soul weren’t in it resisting me, telling me to stop this, that doing this was hurting me and wasn’t right.  She knew that I didn’t want a relationship because I told her that I wasn’t interested but she kept on with it (though I should have been more active to stop it). I didn’t though, not directly because I had always been told this was a good thing and that I should savor it and enjoy it even though it killed me inside. At the end of it all, in some strange way, it felt like someone was at least expressing that they wanted me to be that person in my life which felt good and started me down this road.

The experience sticks with me because it was the first of a lot of experiences that felt just not right for me. I may go into detail another time but for now, the point is I’ve had my fair share of good bad experiences, and it’s what I learned though that matters. In some way, I think most guys see similarly to me, that sex and sexual things are a form of intimacy and expression.  It is about power, desire, and in the best of times love.  The little voice in our head whispering that the only way to feel the connection is through that expression of two bodies of self. That the negation of advances recounts itself as a rejection of this expression and a rejection of expression means a rejection of self.
This type of thinking is ridiculous, but when feeling and desire is only expressed through such limited avenues, how else is that to come off.

This is why I am so afraid of sex because to me, its a giving of myself, leaving myself open and yet it can so quickly be given and taken from you. It can become from meaningful to meaningless swiftly and easily. Why would I want to do that to myself, to satiate if not only temporarily the urges that my body afflicts upon me? Used as a mechanism to fill the void of lonely disregard of heart, a cry for help and a stopgap for meaning.  Each time disregarded, carves away at our heart so that less and less of it comes back to us.  I want something more because I know more is out there.  I want to be open to the love of a different kind and nature. Expression of which can comes in different types and forms still foreign and mysterious to me. I don’t want it to be only about sex, there should always be more to it.

We keep coming back to relationships though, after each of our experiences to try again.  I don’t know why, I don’t understand it and I know I won’t go for a while but we keep trying out there, hoping and working for change.  The world of girls and guys is different in a lot of ways but this one is the same, we want a better future and we are, if not slowly, moving towards it together. I hope it will be one we can be proud of.

Save The Crop: Feed The Earth

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I can see a field of flowers in my mind.  Strung across a vast expanse, blooming fields flowers lead the way on an accompanying path that only speaks of life.  The path extends outwards toward the horizon, but as I leave the path, the flowers seem to struggle to press on.  Less and less they grow, and the healthy bloom gives way to fallow land.  This dirt is just as robust as the others, but its empty. Why is this field empty, flowers are able to grow. This field was empty because no one took the time to sow.

I’ve never been especially stellar at relationships.  It’s certainly not from a lack of feeling. My problem lies within the action. Like a burning flame, the father I get from them, the harder it is to remember the warmth. The fire is always there, burning red hot, flickering in the darkness, it’s just about stoking the fire even though I might not close to it. I feel at times like I become a ghost, a piece of fiction until I am seen.  I grew up this way because the relationships around me felt largely part-time.  As if my existence required me not to get too close, because too close can cause pain, and energy and I needed all the energy I had to keep me from the pain. I know it sounds dramatic but when you’re not involved with anything you had now way of being let down.  It’s not a great way of thinking, a personal flaw I never intended to have but one I have to contend with regularly.  What troubles me though is this growing bud, resting within my heart that calls out to tend the garden of good relationships I have the great fortune to have.  Allow them to take root and grow. Grow so that it can bear fruit and transist itself into something much more than the sum of its parts.  There are so many people around me who bring light into my life, and it’s shameful that I do not put more effort into cultivating these beautiful relationships. So now comes the time to do away with the ghost and shed light on the myth, to come out from hiding and be accountable for my inaction.

I am growing up slowly and I look around to realize that there are some things I have always wanted, somethings money cannot simply buy or find. I will chase these things, and do better than the me of yesterday as it always comes down to where we invest our time because most of the work in relationships is just showing up. There is a saying “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago, and the next best time is today.” So here’s my pledge, to sow the seeds of the future, let the fields of flowers bloom, tend the gardens of relationships, so that the path might not simply be gilded but shine brightly with the sight of a full life.

I Think My Phone Is Trying To Kill Me

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It sits there taunting me
Asking me to play
I slowly reach over
And begin my day

On and off the screen goes
With it in my pocket
Tracking every move
I know it’s trying to kill me,
I just need to figure out how

Maybe poisoning my mind with all sorts of stuff
Showing me picture and videos of things I don’t need
Until I can’t even think anymore
It finally just succeeds

Maybe it will be more blatant like shock
With a slip up I find
When the camera facing inward
It leaves me wanting to be blind

Maybe it is to just  make me unaware
Walking down the sidewalk
Watching a video, it seems
Might be my undoing when hit a pole with ease

My phones trying to kill me
And I can’t figure out how
Because each time I use it
It feels like I am dying a little on the inside.