I don’t know why I picked up that magazine, or why I had the time but as I sat there, I was entranced by the photographs that the magazine. I flipped slowly and carefully through each one of the pages, never looking at any page too deeply. My fingers flipped through the pages as I double took on some of the more enticing ads and articles that they had, but one, in particular, caught my eye. I was surprised to see it, there laid out before me, I stopped leafing through that book and took it in. What it was for escapes me but there before I was a woman, loosely clad, faced partially obscured by the limitations of the frame, leaning in and grabbing her chest.
The pores of her smooth skin were apparent as the camera’s clarity brought about every detail. Small folds of her breast shown through minute shadows radiating away from the hand that was holding firm. There was a coy smile that painted itself on her face as it knew something much more than me. She seemed to have all the control and grace, as her hair was pushed off the way as not to obfuscate her body.
The image felt larger than the page and emanated a sense of both lust, and intimacy. A playfulness that jumped out reminded me of time long past and impressed the feeling of a sense of love and closeness. It might seem strange, this photo might give all those things but its the expression through the body that say there was no worry, no fear, just a bit of fun because I trust you. There were dark shades of color, as the backdrop of the bedroom came into view. It makes you wonder what she was thinking about when that picture was taken, or if she was thinking at all.
The illusion of closeness and affection cast its spell on me, throwing back into my mind as I searched through buried memories of times when this feeling was more apparent. First came a sweet remembrance of love and touch but soon turned sour as my heart came to realize its absence. I began to miss intimacy, the bond of confidence and simple singular purpose that combines and intertwines the sense of body and spirit. Being on that same stage with another human being, feeling the world vanishing as two beings remove themselves from the fold to enter a universe all their own. I began to miss that feeling of no really caring about what about what was on the other side of that door because whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore. I began to miss the quiet moments where hearts would if only for a moment connect.
Taken on a trip, my skin felt like it wanted to cry out for touch, to cross that physical barrier of the page to reclaim this lost feeling in a remiss heart. I was filled, just as blood coursed through my veins, with a desire in each of my limbs to reach out and grab whatever I could to bring me some sense of relief. My heart called out “Come closer and listen to me, you have neglected me for too long and I want this”. My eyes scanned the page to find some sense of truth that seemed to be lost to them and my brain remained silent, instructing my hands to turn the page and forget all of which I saw.
night
Hey Chicago Girl
I saw you in my dreams, and it felt like you were almost real to touch, I wish I didn’t have to wake up.
We met in Chicago, a city that I haven’t been in. I just remember all the buildings looking down and in on us, slopped at the top as if they were sinking slowly into the ground.
I can’t remember how we met, might have been on the train, a plane, or maybe in a room. I just remember having to go up to you, wanting to talk and get to know you.
You were much shorter than I was, dark hair and pale skin but kind of verve in your brown eyes that lightened my spirit, no wonder after I was awoken by my cat I decided to go back to sleep to hang out with you.
Oh Chicago girl, you showed me around your neck of the woods, showed me the city you grew up in as we talked and talked, smiled and laughed, getting to know each other. You had a cool job, and you seemed to have everything together as you moved through the world with a energy and joy. Even though it seemed like moving through a city normally, it felt like an adventure with you.
I didn’t want to leave but I knew I had to, I had the feeling as if I had a plane to catch to go back home. I got a nagging feeling that I would regret if didn’t at least get to know her name or some way to contact her. I decided to ignore this call to leave for back home, to spend more time with you in Chicago, squeeze out every last drop.
The night began to decend and we spent more time together. We went through a scary maze with monsters and hung out in the upstairs of a house were we both got comfortable just living life as people came and went. I got the chance to really look at you and it made me happy, made me feel at ease.
We talked about where I’m from and you were so excited to listen, made me feel somehow exotic. We swapped stories and ideas, when sitting across from each other.
This is when the my dream broke, and I couldn’t hang onto it much longer. I was sitting across from you but in reality the morning was calling me to awake. You just sat there at looking at me as I was torn away from my dreams, not knowing what was happening or that I was fighting to stay.
Every moment that pass a little of you crumples away like most dreams, this one sticking with me a bit longer. I am forgetting the features of your face, the topics of conversation, the building around us and what we were doing. I’m am holding on for as long as I can, this feeling that we shared in a dream.
Maybe I am hopeless but if your out there in the world Chicago Girl, if you are real, I would be love to share a dream with you again.
Invasion Of Thoughts
I noticing myself drifting off again, drifting into space where thoughts pervade my consciousness. Sitting there staring into the distance, imagining the horrors of existence.
It happened again, once my mind is tired from the day, or just don’t seem to have enough energy to fight off the coming storm. It starts with a small “You can’t” and builds from there. These invasive thoughts that cross my mind like floodwater during a storm, I am helplessly trying to block the current as it drowns everything in touches. I start to think negatively, working to fight back against this onslaught of thoughts and feelings I don’t want. Once the gates are open, I just have to wait for the storm to end because I don’t have the endurance to fight against these persistent waves. All I can do is watch and know that it will let up eventually.
It takes me the dark alleys of my mind and makes me deals with all the backhanded things that have ever popped up. These are the things that don’t even come up on my radar normally but are apparent deeply seeded in my brain. Things like my fear about never amounting to anything, my hesitation with not knowing if I am on the right path, a constant stream of thoughts about not being good enough. As a whole, these ideas throw me for a loop and even though they are not truthful, the ideas have already taken root and tied themselves to my very being. Will they go away, probably not, but will become easier to manage if I continue to work at it.
These thoughts are something I can’t avoid but at times are remedied simply by a good meal. Makes me confused about the validity of the ideas. I wonder if I should take them seriously and if there might be some small truth to it all aside from highlighting my insecurities. I don’t know if I should follow them down the rabbit hole or I should be weary that it might just lead me to a sewer. The thoughts can poison a day or a make a good moment sour. Like with weeds, if unattended they multiply. Is my mind giving me a dose of reality or just some sick fantasy I never knew I had?
I snap out of it, only a moment has passed but it leaves a mark on me. A smile that was once there disappears along with the gleam in my eyes. It will be a little while before they truly return. I keep at it, moving forward knowing there could be another storm waiting for me right around the corner.
A Resolute Resolution
What will I become in this new year?
I see a vividly a version of myself standing upon a hill with back faced to me. A much larger more powerful person stands before me, confronted with the future, ready to take on the challenges of tomorrow. He has a grin as if he knows what the future hold and how to move about it. This man standing at the other end of the year is challenging me to catch up.
Resolutions don’t work, at least no the majority of the time. Trying to change yourself in so many ways all at once and expecting result immediately is only setting yourself up for failure. Anticipating the arrival of the new year to have some sort of bearing on how well you are able to do something is a bit silly. Moments should be grasped when the motivation is at hand, not when we feel like the motivation should come.
This is why I don’t have a resolution but a resolve. I want to be better, stronger, more compassionate and helpful. I want to be that man on the mountain I see before me, not just stuck staring at the back of what I could be. I want to the one who is more of a man of action, one who is less hesitant and less likely to be paralyzed by fear and indecision. This might seem vague but what I am to do is eliminate the feeling of being able to do more by actually doing it.
In learning all I can, I came upon a concept of deliberate practice. The practice that you do to continue to push your ability and skills to the next level. This is the way you become an expert at something. This is something I must learn to do, deliberate practice of life. To make it so I am constantly pushing the boundaries of what I can and can’t do. Learning how to get to each of the next stages in my own life.
This is my promise to myself that I will be that man I see on the hill, that man who is challenging me now, so by the time next year comes around, I will be able to challenge my past self too and welcome the next challenge with a smile.
This is my resolution, this is my resolve. I hope to all of you that we are all successful in our pursuits, but I have a back to catch up to, and I have to get started now!
twitch.
I look in the mirror this morning, and something was off
in the corner of my eye was a twitch that I can’t seem to shake.
No matter how much I rub or wash my eye, it won’t disappear.
It twitches when I am stressed
It pulls when I am tired
It shudders when I don’t want to deal
Every time I think of it, it twitches
The constant turning twitch feels like an itch I can’t scratch
I have seemingly no control over it maybe it’s indicative of my state of mind
Maybe it is trying to remind me something important
Either way this twitch
This involuntary muscle spasm
Won’t be missed when it’s gone.
Thread and Binding
Do you believe in fate or destiny? Do you believe that the world has some grand plan or all of what will happen is written in some book somewhere? Do you believe that something is turning the cogs in the great machine of life, or do you perhaps we are all here by chance and change alone.
I can’t refute fate, it is something that I fight against frequently. What is my fate and how does that reflect on the world. Does fate exist or does this grand narrative fall short because it’s what I want from the universe? That’s not what I want to talk about now. I want to speak of the fate that connects me unknowingly to those who are around me.
I have been fortunate to have great people surrounding me in my life. Friends, family, peers, and acquaintances. I have had the chance to develop relationships with people from all different backgrounds, creeds, cultures, nationalities, and ideologies. Each one is connecting to my personal story, each one helping to shape the narrative of my life.
Each chapter is filled with different interconnected strings, ones that may go off in strange directions but is all connected to me in some way. We are all an odd mix of connections for whom we are the catalyst. As my relationships grow so does the strength of the string, and eventually I find myself covered with them, which keeps me warm when the world is cold.
It’s the thread that I feel pulls me towards people in my life. It connects me to them, sometimes by the hand, and other times by the heart. These interconnected threads weave together the pages of my book of life, creating a coherent message from start to finish.
The threads always are pushing me to expand myself into a different area, and I wonder why these threads pull me from one place to another. Each place I go I find out some more about the world, about others, and about myself. This is what makes my relationships always worthwhile. Are these strings the ones I create or was the thread pulling me there beforehand. Was my book already written in or are these chapters something of my creation? What matters is that I have these relationships and I don’t take them for granted. Each one is important, and I should treat them as such.
Truth be told, everyone has these relationships in their lives, for better or for worse. Where would we be without them? I wanted to take this first week of December to highlight something I find much more valuable than any present in the world, my relationships. Thank you for existing, each and every friendship and a familial relation have shaped me in some way, so you are all partially responsible for why I am the way I am. If that’s a good thing, thank you. If you feel it’s a bad thing, then it’s all your fault.
I want to continue to work at my relationships into the future, but I do need help, I am not perfect. I am always happy to talk with you, so feel free to reach out to me and remember in this holiday season how much these relationships mean to you. Letting people know can make all the difference.
The Echos Of The Coming Cold
Cold magnifies and multiplies this world. The small silences become eerie calms, the sound of steps ring out across the air, frozen hand and fingers grasping and rubbing for the chance of once again being warm. This is my favorite season, not because of the cold for which I despise but because of the listless echo the everything emits. An echo that reverberates and multiplies across the hearts of all those there to experience it. It is the season where everyone hurts a bit more, feels a bit more, tries a bit more, and is a bit more aware of the world around them. It’s that cold sting that never lets us drift into our fantasies. The chill keeps us acutely aware of the present moment, forcing us to face the feelings we have inside.
It’s in these next couple months that the world makes way for change. It’s a time for reflection as we slowly recluse ourselves into our spaces. It’s what we fill these spaces with that make all the difference. Even on the coldest day, a room full of happy people can feel as warm as the hot summer sun. Though the opposite is true, even on a mild day am empty room can freeze you on the spot. It’s these contrasts that I like. The cold and calm paints its picture with deep tones and dark shades to illustrate the heavy feeling that the chill can bring; the warm and welcoming shows up with an abundance of color presenting the vibrancy of life in the depths of this cold.
Now the main reason I like these things is that it allows me to reflect on and enjoy the times I have. It condenses the experiences and feelings like water, making it, so it’s easier to get more out of them seemingly less time. With all the holidays, and the longer nights there is so much to be felt in these next couple months. I just hope that this year will be a more positive one than the last. Ultimately that is up to me, and what I bring to the table. I am open and ready to knock winter out of the park, much more prepared than I was a year ago. So, as December arrives, I will be ushering the new year with open arms with all the new things that the world can bring, and with a reflection on how far this year had taken me. A few short months and we will be away from this echo, this cold and after all the chaos of winter comes spring. With new life, we are able to create the world we want to see inside and out.
So let’s enjoy this cold, this winter as it comes in because it too is essential to the process we call life.
A Superman State Of Mind
I have a problem. It’s not a huge problem, and for the most part, it may sound like I am complaining about nothing but its a problem just the same. It started when I was younger, and as an off-hand joke. Being a tall, dark haired white guy in a group of mostly Asians lead to one of my friend’s parents calling me Superman. Now I have never taken this seriously; I find it endearing more than anything, but then it happened again, and again… and again from various people. I don’t like this designation, and it’s not because I can’t take a compliment. It’s because I don’t like the idea that what I do is super human, it discounts all the work I did to get to where I am
I don’t understand why but I would like to believe it’s because of my overactive conscious. I blame my parents for that one. My mind and body just hate it when I not following the high road or attempting to do something that might be considered wrong. Now over the years, I was able to calm down, so it wasn’t as daunting, but it doesn’t change the fact that my default is to try and help people the best I can, even if I fall short of that. I work hard to have the ability to help people whenever I can.
It’s a mentality that I am both proud of and drives me crazy. Whenever I see someone suffering or a person in need, I react. I have a deep disdain for suffering in other people, in my ideal world, people would be happy more often than anything else. It’s burdensome; there are times when I want to rush in and save the day, but I realize that people are sometimes better off having learned the lesson for themselves. Sometimes I need to step back and let people struggle and grow on their own. It’s the responsibility of the people who know how to help, to know when to give it.
I am fortunate to have been able to have these types of feelings. I am lucky to have the ability to help. At points, my thoughts and interests on the matter can be a bit idealistic, but it’s that I believe in the goodness of humanity, and our capability to do good things for one another. It’s with these thoughts that I hold myself to a high standard. I do this to prove the point that an average person can do extraordinary things not because I am more capable but because I believe that I can and am willing to do the work.
I don’t mind becoming Superman if it means that I could represent all the things we could all do, all the things we can be. I will always believe in people; that’s just who I am. Every day I work a little bit harder towards my dreams and to making the world I want to see. If it means I can help people, then I’ll be whoever I need to be, Superman or just me.
Midnight Dancers
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.
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.
Too Human 