life

Midnight Dancers

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one. two. three. four.

The ebb and flow, a contagious motion permeates across the room.   Without even speaking a crowd of people seems to be all connected. Through the rhythmic cadence that erupts from the speakers, I can tell, it’s a whole other world out there.

one. two. three. four.

I have to come out and say it; I don’t know how to dance.
I know, surprising.
This only comes up because I went out recently with my friends and found myself on one of these dance floors.  Trust me when I say, my relationships with that space is the same as two people who are introduced through a mutual friend and then are immediately left to their own devices, awkward and unfamiliar. This is not through a lack of desire to learn; it’s more that I never find myself in these situations, so I have never had the need to improve my non-existent skills.  I have a healthy appreciation for dancing, just no the wherewithal to do it.

one. two. three. four.

There is a larger lesson about letting myself be a beginner and look silly.  Instead of just sitting on the sidelines, unwilling to participate, I should let myself go. I can see it, in others, that ability to flow and feel the music, I want to learn to do that, but part of me doesn’t want to let it in. “What happens if I look stupid?”, Or “What happens if I make a mistake?” are usually the thoughts that roll through my mind. This unfamiliar territory scares me, highlights my awkward nature and inexperience, makes me freeze up.  It’s like banging on a glass between me and the rest of the world; I can see it, but I just can’t get there.

one. two. three. four.

Letting myself be free. I have trouble giving up the reigns, being out of control.  I built my whole life around bringing order to the chaos, but with dancing you have to be willing to add a little chaos back in.  I can learn all the steps and all the music cues in the world, but if I don’t let go it, then there is no passion which defeats the purpose of dancing.  It’s the love that I need, even with all the learning in the world I can still be wrong if I don’t provide the right ingredients.  It’s something that I put on the back burner; I trust that my knowledge and know how will see me through the day but my simmering passion is left to boil away unnoticed.  I need to trust in my heart as much as I believe in my head.

one. two. three. four.

At the end of the day, I admire dancing, this form of expression that for the moment seems lost on me. I have seen it, and I at least enjoy watching people do it.  Eventually, this full-bodied manifestation of feelings will be another outlet for me to connect with other people and allow me to travel to another world right along with them.

one. two. three. four.

Death.

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In the spirit of the holiday of Halloween, I wanted to turn my attention to the topic of death. Know this will be a bit darker than normal.

Death.  I’ve honestly been thinking about it lately.  The idea of death, what it would mean to die.  Now, I’ve never seriously entertained the thought of speeding up the process; I’m too Catholic for that. I have felt, though, as if I have wanted to die.  As if I wanted my existence to end,  and the suffering involved with pressing on to cease. Those moments, where it seems as if I’ve already messed up too much and it’s not going to get any better from here.  Where the world just looks like it’s against me, death becomes a choice.

Death is a self-involved choice, something that would be done without anyone else in mind, because the results of death effects not only but the people around you. The only reason I would do it to add a bookend to my life, to see the culmination of my life put together.   I would love to attend my funeral; it’s in the way to get the review of the book  that authors put on the back cover,  taking who I am and compressing it into something that some that understandable. The only problem with that plan is that I would have to be alive, and you can’t have a funeral for someone who hasn’t died yet. The question stands, when do we really die.  Is it when we give up on our last breath or is when we give up on our last dream.  Is it when our brain stops functioning or when we stop being remembered.

Whatever happens after death is for the living.  Funerals, burials, and rituals all stand to give that closure to those who are left behind.  Each culture giving some credence and someway to remember those who have come before us.  It’s then, on the day after Halloween, All Saints and All Souls day that we take a moment to remember all those who have perished. We all have our own way, but is something calls to be dealt with whether we like it or not.

What does death mean then, as it has no intrinsic meaning to it, it can only be given meaning. Unfortunately, the people around you can only really give you the answer.  With each different belief, we can only speculate as why someone lived and died in the first place.  Whether or not you believe in an afterlife or sorts, death is a very final act on show that is your life.

As of now, I can only say that death is a motivator to make sure the book of my life has a happy ending, and that it may be worth a read along the way.

Misappropriation

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The best way I can explain this is through the analogy of cooking. Imagine preparing a meal, and you are craving a particular flavor in the dish. Now, if you’re following a recipe, it’s easy to recreate any food with the taste you want. Without it, unless you’re a chef, you have to season and cook based on an educated guess. It’s one of those times when you taste and you say you need salt, but it comes to actually eating the meal you realize you needed pepper.

That’s how I have been feeling about life recently. I have all these ingredients which I’m trying to make a good meal with, the problem is, I keep putting the wrong ingredients in. I’ll feel like it needs spice, but actually need sweet. I’ll look to put in something exotic, but I’ll want a homely taste. It’s the inability to pinpoint what I want and needs that’s getting to me. I can’t seem to put my finger on the pieces that will satisfy me.  I seem out of sync with what I want, and my cravings aren’t going away.

Now, in the realm of feelings, this gets a little bit more involved.  The formula of life events seems lost to me, and a lot of the time I don’t know what I need until I am experiencing it first hand. I had a recipe that I was following, but I am out on my own now, having to learn which pieces I need without having them provided to me.
I’m an observer, a tester of sorts, one who likes to learn information about the world and myself from the way life unfolds in front of me.  So it’s infuriating when I can’t figure out the pattern, learn how to adapt to the problem.  I keep thinking the answer is one thing and I am proven wrong time and time again.
I need a solution, and brute force isn’t much of a method.  I need to start writing things down, keeping a closer eye on what makes me happy and what is draining.  I find that it’s an information problem, one that can be solved if I am willing to take note and be aware of myself.  That is to say, as long as all the thinking doesn’t get in the way of what I am trying to achieve, happiness.
I think too much and feel too little; I need to use my feelings as a kind of compass, to let me know whether or not I am on the right path.  They need to work hand and hand with one another, but I am a feeling skeptic, I don’t accept my feelings at face value.  I need something more tangible, instead of a notion of how I might want things to be.  It’s this balance within myself that I need to strike, instead of guessing of what I may need I need to learn to talk within my “heart” so I can stop guessing.  I will make things work, one way or another, that’s just who I am.

Love.

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I wanted to make a post about love, about the love in the world and how it accents the moments around us to make life beautiful.  I wanted to do this by sitting in front of a computer and thinking about all the way I think I feel about love, and in which way I can remember love.  Inspiration didn’t come to me, stuck with the blinking line after a bad opening paragraph and a couple catchy sentences I figured that maybe if I wait the words would come to me.  It didn’t make sense, though, the idea of thinking about feelings to express how they are leads us nowhere. I could no better explain a sunset to someone who has never seen one, the only way to understand love is to experience it. So I wanted to try my hand at describing how I experience love, maybe then it will make sense.

I have no control over love, of all the emotions that I can deny, put off, it’s the one that’s loudest in my heart. It shouts if I am ignoring it, so loud that until I take the time to recognize it, I can’t think of anything else. It’s a feeling that extends through me, electrifies me, and gives me strength to tackle anything the world throws at me.

Love keeps the light on in my soul. A light which illuminates the dark and the sometimes cruel world. It allows me to see what the creatures are in the darkness; hurt souls looking for closure.
Love is the part of me that provides a safe haven from the dark.

Love is in the hand I extend, the one that bandages the wounds, guides the way, and offers aid.  It’s cut, scarred, and bruised but is always is extended waiting for someone who needs it.
Love is the part of me that feels compassion and wants to raise the world up.

Love is the well settling in my chest, one that’s full to the brim with pure water on the cusp of spilling over.  All it takes is an ounce of love, and the water will pour out onto the world around me.  It’s the smiles, laughs, and tender moments between people that have filled it to the brim, and wants to help share it with the world.
Love is the part of me that wants to share the wonders of the world.

Love is my eyes that see the world and its beauty. It sees the clouds coalesce in the sky making magnificent portraits that last for a moment. It sees the smiles on people faces, the light in their eyes, the silent moments between two that can only be expressed if you know what it is like for the whole world to disappear.
Love is the part of me that sees all that is good and holds out hope.

Love is in my grin, the one that I can’t help to have. It forms without me knowing or against my stern demeanor. It’s the smile that extends out from me touching the world around it. It’s love that gives me boundless energy to live life to the fullest.
Love is the part of me that is happy and spreads joy and zeal.

Love is in the wrenching feeling that I get in my gut when I see someone in pain or having a hard time.
Love is the voice that calls out and wants to know if they are okay. It’s in the words that speak the truth in that I would do anything to stop their pain, even if just for a moment to reignite the flame in their heart.
Love is the part of me that feels empathy for others and drives me to action.

Love is the intense feeling of wanting to connect, to wash away the pains of the world, to start each moment anew.
Love is what crushes me, compels me, and cages me.  It’s a feeling that is complex, with each iteration of it feeling slightly different than the last.  Of all my feelings its the one that wants to walk beside me.
It hurts, and it heals, that is love, a contradiction.I think about love.

I reflect on love; I consider whether or not it is real, or just some organic byproduct or if that even matters.
I know love is great and horrible. I know love is a catalyst for these intense feelings, and crazy notions.  It’s a big part of me; I can’t explain what compels me to love.

I love the world and people in it and I would do anything for love.

grit.

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Sometimes all I can do is sigh in the intervening days between where I am and where I want to be. I sigh in frustration, and in exhaustion, because these days seem to be spiced with flavors I don’t like.

My life is in no counts bad, quite honestly I count my blessings daily.  The problem lies with the issue I have of when my plans will finally gain some traction, and I can move to the next level in life.  I work towards my goals, in my way, though a lot of the time I don’t feel like I am doing enough because I am not getting the results I want.  I am attempting to see the big picture in it all; it’s still difficult to see the forest for the trees.

I find that perseverance is the only way to deal with the hand I have. Again it’s not a bad hand; it’s just not a winning one.  I lay somewhere in the middle, having a hand that if no one at the table has anything I have nothing to worry about, but it wouldn’t take much to top.  In these types of games, it’s about waiting for the opportune moment.  Looking at my bets and investments, hoping my card come up but having a plan for when it doesn’t.  I have to keep playing, know the table, make strategic moves and know that even I lose in a round the game is not over.

This is my the great lesson of this year, grit. The ability to keep at something no matter what comes my way. Its to get an understanding of the bitter flavors the world has to offer but not losing heart.

It’s hard, bouncing back after each blow, luckily after I’ve taken a lot of them I’ve gotten used to it.  Standing up after each hit is hard work, at points I want to break down, forget it all, and leave what I have accomplished at the table.  I keep going until it becomes more habit than thought.   I know what I want, and at the moment,  I need to keep working at it if I even hope to stand a chance.  Life is a tough opponent, but I am fighting back.

Grit is something that I am learning, and I will keep at it. Changing my life is about doing, not talking about what I should do. I will make sure that my blood, sweat, and tears are working toward the future I want and towards shaping the person I will become.   It’s hard work, but sometimes the best thing to do is to grit your teeth. It will get better, I’ll make sure of it.

Ill.

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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.

A Touch of Solitary

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Dark nights, blank walls, and quiet rooms. I find myself here frequently. It’s a yearning for interaction, a desire to connect that settles within my heart like snow in a snow globe, just waiting for me to shake things up.

I grew up learning not to rely on people. I learned that all I needed were the worlds that I created for myself as a barrier to keep out the chill. I chose not to involve people with the goings on in my life, and it made things simple.
As I’ve grown older, I realized that it was unsustainable. Eventually, I had to venture out and face the world.  This is partly because of my aspirations, and partly because I, unfortunately, was exposed to the alternative to my fantasy, reality; given experiences that provided me then unknown satisfaction.

It’s been ramping up, my desire to connect with people, with each year that passes. I am a mixed breed of one part introvert and one part extrovert which makes things complex. I want to stay home and work, but I crave the adventure of conversation that awaits around every corner.
People are important in my life; it’s a fundamental part of myself that seeks out these relationships. Each one is providing me a key ingredient for getting through the week. It’s within them that I get to enjoy deep conversation, talking about controversial issues, conversing about the basic building blocks of the human condition

I don’t know how much is enough, or when I will be satiated with interaction but when I am not purposefully alone that I feel the chill and pull to going out and connecting.  I do take time for myself when I need it,  but it’s like going to a cafe; when you are there alone on purpose, it can be a sweet relief but when you are waiting for someone to come it can be awkward and nerve-wracking.

Life has taught me something; I can’t expect these relationships to appear out of thin air either.  If I want something I have to ask for it; people won’t simply know I need it. Last year I had expected it all to come together without any effort, which leads me down a lonesome road.  This year I know that I want to work for what I want and how important these relationships are to me.

So, to end this, I want to say that thank you all for the conversations we’ve had, the stories that we’ve told, and the experiences we’ve shared. You all are important to me in different ways, so know that you make a difference. I hope to see you soon.
And to all the people I haven’t met and talked to yet, I am thrilled to make your acquaintance.

Mixed Messages

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A message is only as good as its delivery.
If given a message that is negative or critical it’s important that you include a methodology of how to fix the problem, or the message falls flat. It’s then only half a message, an incomplete phase that unfortunately can resonate within someone. It’s these messages that we receive that make a difference in how we perceive the world.

I am a critical person, not on those around me but myself. I am infinitely hard on myself, because of my belief that if I want something to change I have to be the catalyst for it.  I found that I have been giving myself these unfinished messages, these incomplete statements of criticism.   Stopping at the what I am doing wrong, and never getting to how to fix it.

In this state, life just gets heavier and becomes hard to be productive.  Things that I have been working on for months become more involved when I can’t reach the expectation I desire.  Habits I have form become weights that bind me.  It’s in these times that I have to recollect the purpose which I am working.  Positive changes shouldn’t feel like punishment, but when with a crossed message, it can feel grueling.

I realize that my posts have been concentrating on this negative aspect. These lessons I have been learning through blood, sweat, and tears are what spend the time to write.  It’s then when I continue to struggle, that I give no closure to the problem, and the weight is placed once more on my shoulders.  I continue to take the time to look inwardly to find other lessons I can learn, consequently never finishing the lessons that came before.

One or two of these things is something I can handle, but as the weight stacks I become lethargic. It’s this closure, a focus on the solution, rather than the problem that I need.  The lesson the weight is to come to terms with the issues that I face, and allow myself leeway to finish what I have started.

What I need most is to finish my messages, allow myself to end on a high note.  Giving myself a path to travel allows me some relief.  So I will give myself these words, finish the day on a high note, and give myself closure to the problems that I face.
So I will end this with the message that I can make things better, change the way the messages comes across and continue to push forward into making these messages to create a brighter future for myself and those around me.  After all, I am the catalyst of changing my fate.

How to Define A Line

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It has come to my attention that I have trouble defining who I am. It is something that I look to others for insight.  Using others a mirror of sorts, looking for feedback. I can tell you that when everything is right, this isn’t a problem, but when thing takes an unexpected turn sometimes, my whole identity is shaken.

It’s not as dramatic as it sounds, it takes time for the layers of me unravel.  The longer the detour, the more I have trouble with this.  Only after unraveling everything I am gets called into question. Who am I?  What do I mean to other? What role I play in their lives? How do they see me and is that how see myself? These are questions I have asked myself FAR too many times.  I try to be as self-aware as possible.  Knowing my faults and working on them. I have a worry I cannot see everything, and that I am missing a glaring imperfection in my personality.  I am hard on myself for that reason, looking for errors so that I can fix them.  That is under the juvenile pretense if I can fix myself enough people will love me.

It’s silly and ridiculous, the notion of needing to be good enough for love.  I can give a long history of reasons as to why I feel this way, and knowing enough about people gives me the insight that that idea is purely internal. I know it’s wrong to feel this way, but my other concern is the feeling come and goes as it pleases, not to when it pleases me.

At this point, I have trouble with who I am.  Doubt is born within my heart and mind.
I am smart, but I don’t get treated like I’m smart so maybe I’m not.
I am fun to be around, but no one seems to want to be around me so maybe I’m not.
I am dependable, but no one depends on me so maybe I’m not.
It’s these ridiculous things that I hate in myself.  It whispers in my ear, telling me that I am not, and I will never be.

I am consistent, having learned to fight through it. I found traits based on my perceptions.
I am healthy.
I am a deep thinker.
I am serious and have a dry wit.
Adding to my lists, I am creating a building that requires no one to keep it standing.

I don’t know if cutting people out of this process is a right or wrong, but I do know it does help with sanity when I can lesson the load on I expect from others.  Self-esteem is not my strongest trait, alternatively, self-efficacy is.  I may not be the most confident with who I am, but I am confident with I can do. Anything I put my mind to.

Maybe I am too caught up with the man in the mirror and should be more concerned with what he does than who he may be.

Funny Boy

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I have a serious nature by default, one which I inherited from my father along with a sarcastic tone.  That’s not to say that everything has to be serious, but the words that I speak carry a dry wit, a calm sensibility, or an almost ridiculous notion on every utterance. Truth be told, I can’t help it. It’s a consequence of my always overthinking nature – which as I have said before gets me in more trouble than it’s worth.  Now, that is to say; I do have my moments of comedy. But in the grand scheme of existence, I default to talking about the nuances of life instead of saying something funny.

It’s problematic, as you might know, to constantly bog down a conversation with reality.  It makes for conversations that carry too much weight and (much to the chagrin of social scientists everywhere) people don’t want to talk about that type of stuff all the time.  Against my best efforts, my conversations can become humorous and light. Which are always a joy to have but I don’t know how to get there except frequent happy accidents.

What can I do, this reflection all came to head with the fact that I became unfunny, which to some isn’t a huge difference. But, it was something that I had taken for granted.  For the life of me, I couldn’t comprehend how the change happened. What was left is seriousness and the weight it carries.

Usually, that’s not usually an issue; I am young and healthy so I know how to wear the weight, it’s just that my favorite thing in the world is people’s smiles.  Now try to get someone to smile when you are talking about the various problems of life and history.  Usually, that only makes a handful of people happy.

Humor is, at least to me, is about taking the world and changing it in such a way that sad thoughts can become a happy one. My goal in life is to understand pretty much everything this world has to offer and that includes what makes people happy.

Now I am not going to say that I have to change my serious nature; it keeps me on track and surprisingly calm about most things in life.  What I do need is to lighten up a little, allow things to be stretched and skewed a little bit. That little twist is sometimes the thing that changes crying from sadness and crying from laughter. So wish me luck on this endeavor, god knows I will need it.