Stupid Thoughts

I have a bleeding yearning
A picturesque promise of pain
My heart bounds at the notion
That makes me feel all but lame

The stench of love wafts by me
In now the season of death
When our impulse should be to find shelter
And try to eliminate threats

What timing do I have
That these feelings start to well
With no home to anchor
And no way to quell
So they feel like they want to fester
To grow fat in the absence of purpose
It is dangerous
For feelings that were spurned without purpose
Look for a place to attach
Then it is love without meaning
Like a well in a swamp

I hope that in my troubles
That I am able to let this feeling pass
To move towards a future without sorrow
Or chance of relapse

I want to change but to change requires discipline
Discipline to say not to what pains me
To think, measure, and act
I want to strike this balance within me
And not worry about what I may lack

I hope I am busy tomorrow and the next
I hope that I will be stressed
That way when I come across it tomorrow
I don’t have time for it even on my breath 

my breath

Vignette, 1

the sky that lifts over the far off horizon casting a royal blue backdrop against strips of clouds.

a dusty car that travels down a dark road in smooth silence as it hugs the curves around a city that is sleeping.

a cool wind that seems to blow through though everything you are.

a concrete path baking in the sun as it stretches into the horizon, only a few know its unrelenting strength.

the stillness of a warm afternoon that requires nothing from you.

a stiffness of body that grips someone who spent a little too much time in bed.

the cloudiness the comes to us all when the night presses on a little too long but the conversation seems to keep going.

a heavy back pack that hugs your shoulders trying its hardest to pull you down to the ground.

the cripsness and friction of new paper as it touchs hands for the first time.

a small break and breath of air in the midst of a cloudy and chaotic day.

the satisfying first gulp of water after seemingly endless exersizes.

the dust as it settles on objects that remain ever viglenent for use.

a park doused in water from sprinklers in the dead of night leaving only traces of dew for those who touch the grass in the morning.

a bustling room of people that feels both warm and distant at the same time.

the way the light bounces around a room even though it only creeps in through the cracks in the curtains.

the the small unabiding smile and glint in the eye of someone who is utterly and incandecently happy.

A person sitting at a computer, reflecting on life as the thing he needs to do keep stacking up… whoops…

Ill.

I have gotten sick more times this year than any other years I’ve been alive.
I wonder if it’s a sign,
A symbol that I am doing something wrong
Or I am pushing myself too much
It doesn’t matter really,
Can’t stop until I get what I want.
So sickness, you get to take a back seat, to my life.

Sorry.

Hair

My hair
something that is important to me

it changes with my whims
my emotions

I change it when I want to change
when I crave it

When I am moving to something new
I cut it

It’s almost a ritual
it’s something I must do

My hair
it defines me

It creates an outlook on life
an attitude

It sets the chapters in my life
like headings

Some are longer than other
some very short

But it doesn’t change the fact
that my hair is important to me

On The Therapist’s Couch

There is it is, the ring again, just when my dream was getting good. I have to turn over now and turn off my alarm, but my body feel heavy and lethargic. It seems early, and as if I haven’t gotten any sleep. My eyes are having trouble staying open as my arm flails about trying to find the source of noise. Five more minutes I tell myself, five more minutes and everything will feel okay, and I’ll be ready for the day.


I’m late, and now I have to rush through my morning routine.. well not morning but get myself ready for the day. Why does everything feel so slow, do I need to get out and go to the appointment? I don’t even really want to go… well I do, and I don’t. It feels kind of stupid, but even if I think it is I am still spending all this time getting ready. Do I think this will make me seem less disorganized? I don’t know, but now I have to go.


Traffic at least wasn’t bad. The building I pulled up doesn’t look all that that unique; I would have driven past it on any other day.
I make my way to the elevator. The third floor; easy enough to push the button. The ride up feels like it;s taking forever, maybe it’s because I’m running late.
I wish the walls along this hallway were more exciting, having more pictures and fewer names on them but what can I do, it’s not my building, so I guess it doesn’t matter.
327 I need to find 327. It’s an unassuming brown door with a couple of names along the side. I open the door and enter slowly.
The waiting room isn’t anything spectacular, but did I expect? An upscale, luxurious lounge?
There is a woman at a computer, probably the receptionist, she looks like she is  deep in thought, I don’t want to bother her.
She’s looking at me now, I should probably say something…
“Hi… I’m Charlie. I think I have an appointment with Dr. Wence.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here. Take a seat until he calls for you.”
Her voice is stern and straightforward.
I mean to say thanks but it just doesn’t really come out when she immediately goes back to what she was doing.


“Charlie,” A simple and direct voice calls out to me.
I stand up immediately, pushing off the soft couch.
“Charlie, Dr. Wence will see you now.”
I walk by the reception desk to catch the small friendly, but fake smile return to a serious and stoic look as receptionist turns back to the computer and continues typing and clicking. I reach a dark brown wooden door and turn the metal knob slowly as the door fails to creak open like I assumed it would. Now I have to knock to get Dr. Wence’s attention. I don’t want to do this; I know I can back out now.
I stand in the doorway indecisively as Dr. Wence looks up from his desk. He rises and comes over to introduce himself with his hand outreached.
“Hello, My name is Dr. Carl Wence, you must be Charlie.”
“Yes, I am.”
His hand is both gentle and stern; I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with him even though it seems those are his intentions.
“Please, take a seat on the couch, I’ll come to join you in a moment.”
The couch looks moderately new with a vivid green color and beautiful green-blue patterned pillows. I sit down; the sofa doesn’t feel worn in yet.
I sit looking around the room at the various things. The books, certificates, and nic-nacks. I wait for a couple of minutes as he puts away the stuff on his desk and retrieves a well-used notepad from one of his drawers. He comes over and sits in the considerably worn chair across from me.


“So how are you feeling today, Charlie?” He says that with a smile as he gets comfortable.

“Okay, I guess.” I don’t feel like starting into this, the whole thing about my emotions even if I am here.

“Well, from what I heard from Alex that you were having a hard time, and that’s why you wanted to schedule an appointment. Could you tell me more about that?”

“uh… um.. I.”  I can’t say it outright; the words keep getting caught before they ever reach my throat

“Don’t worry Charlie; this isn’t a test I want to take a time to get to know you a little better. So maybe we should start with an easier question. What do you do, as in for work?”

“I work forty hours a week at a store.”

‘What kind of store?”

“A clothing store.”

“Do you ever come across anything interesting while working there, I remember back when I worked in retail, there was always one or two crazy customers a week.”

“Mmm… no, it’s pretty normal, people come and go, and sometimes they buy stuff. We get a few people who regularly come in but most of the time it’s months before I see a customer again.” I didn’t want to start into all fo this; I didn’t even want to think about work, especially on my days off.

“Okay, maybe something else then.” He says with a pause. “What would you like to talk about Charlie?”


To Be Continued…

The 5-W’s and one H Way of Life – Fake Speech

In moving forward in life, people ask themselves how to live properly. To answer this most important question we must investigate what language gives us.
We are given the tools from the way we ask questions; and each time we ask a question, we are getting one step closer to the truth we seek.

Starting with “What”. What do we want? What is there for us?  Determining what we want from the world should always be the first step. Getting this idea however vague starts to give us a path to tread. “What” is the gatekeeper, it starts us on this journey, and though it may change along the way, getting us moving is important.

Then comes “why”.  Why am I doing this? Why does it matter? “Why” is the motivation, the fuel behind the answer.  If you don’t have an answer for “why” or if the reply is weak, when you come across difficulties you will lose your way.  Reaching for the easy explanation instead of the right one, “why” is what inspires you and everyone to find the truth.

Next is “who”.  Who do I need to be to locate the answer? Who else can help me with my journey?  Identifying all the people you need to help will go a long way.  When faced with a vague path, it’s good to get as much help as possible. It is to recruit yourself, because if you’re not on board, then no one else will assist you along the way. It’s okay to ask for help; great things don’t happen without it.

In comes the duo “Where” and When”. Where does the answer lie? When should I get started? We are starting to get to more practical, setting plans. “Where” is important because it lays the groundwork for the plan we will make.  With “When” there are two things to think about how much fuel we still have to strike with our plan and when is the best time to act. Never leave something you can do today for tomorrow but if tomorrow is a better time for it because you can get more from tomorrow then today then we must wait.

Lastly, comes”How”. How do we find our answer? How do I get what I need to complete my quest?  Using how and making our plan specific and concrete to destroy the vagueness of early plans. Each actionable step makes it increasingly possible.  Detailing each step makes its that much more real.  Once we know “how” the rest is a matter of execution.

When all the questions are asked, the answer is will be close behind.  Finding a good life is different for everyone and the journey is too but as long as you are asking questions, then you will find your answer.

 

 

My (Millennial) Generation

I was in Personality Psychology class when the teacher had a little musing about California choosing a quite confusing piece of legislation that attempted to do away losing and make kids have better self-esteem which now has adults accusing this (my) generation of cruising.

Now, I have never been one to associate with a lot of my classmates but regarding this debate of how we equate to generations that tend to throw hate,  I have to take the bait and state that we may frustrate all those who wait for us to integrate and domesticate. The thing is our trait is to try and deny fate and operate in the way that will allow us to navigate the society that we create.

Though I can’t deny that we amplify the problems we have and that we do magnify the things that don’t seem to matter. On the other hand, we do not stand idly by to when it comes to demystifying and indemnifying the problems laid upon us.   Though we are young, we at least work to clarify all that we need to rectify to in some ways we purify the system and all of its problems.

We are a young generation, filled the brim with electronic temptation. Our biggest complication is our unwavering desire for confrontation with the previous generation. We want a type of reformation to occur in this great nation before we can even think about respiration.

I am afraid that we deny aid and when we make progress things will simple retrograde. It is foolish to try and barricade ourselves in a crusade that involves nothing more than a tirade. What we should do is sharpen our blade in the art of persuading so that we evade the cascade of the dismayed.  We are portrayed as little more than a charade, and until we dissuade that notion, it will be like eating nightshade.  It’s more about working on wading through the masquerade so that others will be swayed.

I know what we do seems silly, but really, we are working towards a better future.

No one knows how the future will juxtapose what we do with what gets done.  So I suppose that we have to wait for life’s dominoes to disclose how it goes.  So before I exit the throws of prose I want to enclose my woes about lows of my generation. I would personally dispose of all the complaining that arose over not being superimposed when we reached adulthood. I feel like we hit it on the nose the economy froze, and we composed a story about the close of our future opportunities. I propose we impose new ideas that will help everyone at the end of the day.

My (Millenial) Generation is coming to play.  Now I know we usually don’t stay in one place but if I can keep the complaints at bay when I say, that today we are trying to light the way so people won’t have to pay for the problems of yesterday.  Please all this little display to grant leeway for us to purvey the dreams without delay.

 

 

Back To Basics – Beginning Of Writing Exercises

I have been reading a lot lately,  in doing so, I feel like I have been able to improve my writing prowess. That was until I started reading a book about writing. The book “A Sense Of Style” is an interesting read, gave me some important insight on the mechanics of writing. What I did realize in reading this book is that my grasp of the English language is subpar. It’s more like a parrot copying a phrase than actual understanding of language.  My ability to write well will be essential where I want to go in life and is a necessary for improving my prospects. So I decided that the only way to improve was to work at it. Go back to simple basic mechanics and work my way up.  My hope is to post different lessons I learn in engaging ways that will be both fun to read and thought-provoking. I will keep improving, and as time goes on, this creative space will be used as a record of how far I’ve come. Thank you for reading, and let me know any writing tips or tricks you may know.

My Small Musings

The bright L.E.D. backlight of my laptop has illuminated my face for the evening. My eyes have grown accustomed to the light as the absence of the day left me with a darkened room.  The sound of my clicking keyboard is the only thing that sounds even remotely like life. I have sat, at this point, for hours. The various images and clips that I’ve pulled up on my screen have been countless, as my mind races to find some activity stimulating enough to catch my attention for more than a couple moments.  I resort to what usually find myself doing, watching top ten lists of various aspects of movies or tv shows.  Inside I know I need to do something, something to feel like the night means something, but it’s already late, and the list of tabs with video grows and keeps me in this space of indecision as my night floats on without me.

I did reach out to see if some of my friends wanted to hang out earlier, but alas no dice.  To me, it feels like one of those evenings to talk about sad things, to swap stories about scars, about failures, about lost passions and rejection.  To wallow in the center of intense emotion, finding some bonding in the darkness of the heart. A time to listen to heartwrenching songs and watch horribly sorrowful scenes of tv shows or movies. The kind of things that brings tears to the eye but happy in a way that we can be moved so much by them.

Well Alternatively, I could have gone driving around and see the night as I passed by the people out and about.  Drove through the bright neons of Hollywood, the incandescent lights of the suburbs, or found some quiet, dark road that makes me feel like the whole universe disappeared.  Doesn’t feel like one of those nights, especially with no one to share the moment.

I could start my next book, a book about the psychology of persuasion.  I’m still not over the last one, processing all the messages I got from it. Trying to institute some sort of change in accordance to its recommendations given to the main character.  I know I will get to it later this week so there is no rush.

Inside I know I have to write, I have regularly been writing to make a habit of it. Trying to make it an addiction, an obsession.  Something to keep me up at night, something I have to do or else I feel off.  It’s the romantic in me that has always wanted one of these kinds of obsessions.  So I sit here, illuminated by the L.E.D. of my laptop with the clicking of the keyboard being the only thing that sounding remotely like life as I spend time thinking about the world and writing.