Succinct

The Fall Woods – Me

I can be honest, writing has been hard these last few months, to the point where I had to leave the page unattended to feel free of the burden that comes with this regular exercise. I can blame all of this on the pandemic and the crappy year that 2020 has been but that would only reflect a small portion of the tumult my life has felt. I needed to take a step back, reevaluate my personal processes.

It’s been fruitful, being inconsistent with my writing. It has allowed me to realize that though I like to write a certain way there are always ways I can improve. That things can be made more understandable while still retaining my own flourishes. A need to cut down on the words but improve on the prose. That is what I here to do now, to write in a more compact way because I was allowing my brandishes to obfuscate my true aims.

This time has given me also the ability to contemplate how far I have come and how far I still need to go. I have realized and had to reassess my foundations and my beliefs because I am invariable drawn back my past as I fight for my future. For now I am writing to pledge once again to start this dance between statements and sentiments.

Move, Pain, Repeat

To Start Over Again – Shal.E

It’s actions which define our days but our habit’s which define our life. But what happens when our habits fall apart, and our actions become strained. What would we do to try and regain control?

I’ve been having trouble sleeping and trouble waking up. I lay in bed late at night, after all my tasks are done and my body feels strained, wondering if it will be few minutes or few hours before I finally see the sandman. I sleep for as long as I need to or can before I start the day again, knowing I am missing some parts of my preparation and others of my coping.

It’s because I want accomplish things that I feel my body turn against me. I have resorted to super charging which makes my muscles feel strained the next morning from how tense it becomes. I feel sore the next morning, not from exercise but from the toll on my body all this energy comes. Like a double edge sword, stealing power from tomorrow to use today, indefintiely until my body feels like it’s slowly falling apart from just moving.

The good thing is that all this energy my body in place so I can be a puppeteer to a marionette. Moving myself in a way that makes the show go on, that gets my work done, and makes me feel as if I am finally getting things done. They don’t tell you about the strain on the strings though. Creaking loudly throughout the day as they continually push against the burden of a resistant self.

I question whether life at the moment is a series of trade offs and balancing acts, and for a man who wants everything this becomes problematic. To I push my body through the ringer to get my body to follow my mind wants or do I let me body continue to delay workings of the mind and soul.

I come up on this dichotomy and my decision usually is to throw myself through the pain and anguish if it means that I can get what I want. What is one more step full of pain if it means I can get the life that I want. I just feel the strain right now, the pain in my muscles and bones, but it’s the price I am willing to pay for the moment, but who know what I giving up in the long run.

It worries me though, that I may be giving up too much. That these things shouldn’t need all this extra help and I should just be able to persist without all this extra help. What is happening and has happened to me and what might that missing ingredient be in all this. That would make me feel whole mind, body, and soul.

For now, there is no time to worry, I will just keep pushing through until one thing finally gives.

Tar And Feathered Words

The Wanderer by Dániel Taylor

I am always afraid that as I put words to a page that content of those words become meta. Words talking about words, language talking language, and yet I can’t divorce myself from these words. This language for me is as muck and tar, stretching and pulling me inexhaustibly to get stuck and dirtied. I fall back into them because of this apparent mismatch between me and them. Like an abusive relationship where I am betrayed over and over again by these things that I give my heart to only to fall back into their arms again.

It’s in a lot of ways the an inevitability as I am so scared of my own voice for it to ever learn to fly. So afraid of my words evaporating into entropy, crumbling into dust in those who they happen to reach. This why words become so focused, like a fetishism that my words are never allowed loftier dreams and goals as I just want them to work in the first place.

If only their were a tangibility to these abstract figures. To manipulate more fully with my hands aside from the language we have all agreed on. To put my mind down on paper, to transcribe these inner thoughts and feelings in a way that does justice to them.

The destruction of this fantasy is what spurs these regular meta commentaries about my inability to articulate in my everyday life. I keep telling myself to be more deliberate with my words, less is more and more is less but I spew them as a safety net as saying something always feels better than doing nothing. A fallacy I repeatedly find myself falling into, but trudging forward just the same.

I’ve already said too much so I shall leave it for now, but I am wise enough to know this is not the end but just another step on long journey.

Recoil

Maryannemade

Dark days and nights give way to for desire for the sun but a call for rain. A look to the sky speaks to the wanting, the waiting for the lightning to strike to feel the easiest reprieve for the karmic destiny that has befallen me. Wondering why not just take it all, why leave me then to weather the storm and give the hope for brighter days ahead. It’s under that rain and wind where I feel like the world and I are finally aligned.

It’s that recoil from the sweet, the pleasant. It hurts at times to be helped because in the my mind, it feels as if I am the poison that would corrupt and corrode all those around. The sweet that gives me shade as the barriers begin to crack and break, the adrenaline which I used as fuel begins to get used up, and all I feel how much the frustration and despair turn to pain and sadness. The way I had always learned to cope it to continue to push forward unrelentingly because I knew if I stopped, I might never get up again.

It’s in watching the sky as rain falls do the tracks tears begin to form. A welling up of emotion finally begins to overflow, and the water of the world becoming indistinguishable from this water pouring out from within. There is some solace in it as it assures me that I exist. The cold no longer bothers me as the clarity of the moment lets me breathe easier. The up and down stabilizes as these emotions I had been holding inside begin to settle.

I spend many moments there, sitting under the sky wondering what my purpose in this world, and if there would be a purpose to my suffering. Those nights when lying in bed become easier as the exhaustion from those emotions put me to sleep quickly. By the time the morning comes, the clouds have gone away, though I know not forever. I will appreciate the sun while I still have it as I try to find peace within myself and quell the storm brewing within. Long days and nights are still ahead, but the whether it’s one storm or many, there can be peace in the recoil from both the pain and the promise.

A Quiet Courageous Deliberate Distance

an_excuse_to_do_nothing__by_pascalcampion_ddreaxn-pre.jpg

An Excuse to Do Nothing – Pascal Campion

It’s what I want to say that seems to get caught up in my mouth like feet among vines and brambles. A problem that speaks to my apparent lack of the ability to directly speak about anything with anyone. It’s become so problematic that words seem to drop out of sentences and the examples given are only an abstraction of an abstraction. Language seems to be leaving me in such ways that I lose all semblance of what appears to be reasonable and just. It time to reassess this small moment, this difficulty and give myself the opportunity to grow.

I find myself in a pattern of need. One that speaks to a desire to better myself. In the reflection and expansion into this world, I find it troubling as though it seems that there is so much farther to go. As if I require multiple lifetimes to truly understand a single moment of the infinite and the eternal. What is this truth and am I blinding from this reality? There is always room to grow and change with every passing day and I need to take the opportunity afforded by the morning sun to change the path of the oncoming twilight.

A quiet courageous deliberate distance is what I need. To take the words I so hastily speak and transform them instead into ones that are introspective and meaningful. I fill the air to prevent the discomfort with the silence around me which does me no favor as the words them become just a new type of air I have to breathe to survive. To brave the storm and the stressors and cut through both my anxieties and my barriers to seeking what I want instead of what may be easy. It’s to be deliberate about when I speak. Adding value to them with each utterance or abstaining from them otherwise. It’s finding the purpose of each step taken, the weight and drive forward for each action done. It’s to restrict to doing what is then not a grasp into the ever flowing chaos but a reach for the next string in the reality I seek to bring into existence. It’s the need to move back from myself and my circumstances, to be able to look critically at what is going on and determine what I should go from now on. This distance, for which I speak, one which requires me to step back for a moment instead of pushing my way through. To give my self space to consider what those quiet courageous deliberate distances can bring.

I am learning and realizing that again I have so much farther to go. I am seeing myself and rehashing my history and my behavior I see that there are these things that are buried down deep and are hard to reach. That there are things that I haven’t finished or even attempted to fix. I need to spend time to understand how to become better, to find closure, and settle within myself. If I don’t seek this knowledge and face these harder truths I will become fixed and rigid, unable to grow anymore. It’s difficult and uncomfortable but necessary. It all needs to start with the question “why” and ends with the statement “I can do better”.

Its in these times I spend reflecting, 40 days and 40 nights, to bring myself closer and become a better person at the end. The time is an excuse, one made in the pursuit of bitterness.

Lion’s Song

You always told me about the fantasy land I live, that tomorrow reality would come and I would understand. You told me that “Soon you’ll wake up and you’ll be able to feel realities sting and realize what you’ve known from the start but weren’t willing to accept”. Reality doesn’t do what you want just because you want it to, it’s doesn’t warp to our whims or our fancy. That even in being unreasonable and fighting against it, at the end of the day there are some distances you can’t overcome.

You’ve always been more tempered than I, in both action and emotion. Skeptical of what could be because you don’t want to hurt or be hurt. A mechanism that kept you from going to far into the land Oz and Eden, from straying too far without a rope to pull you home. “So much is there!” I always claim, “A world that could be not just the one that is”. You assured me that even if I find something sweet inside doesn’t mean it can be real, at least in the way we want it regardless of how much we try. “What am I to do?” is my question to you “When I can go to fantasy land and find you?”. What am I to do if I want to hold on to that fantasy for one more moment and dream a little longer so that I can see the future I can’t have but want.

Like a dream I don’t want to wake up from, it’s a story of close encounters and missed opportunities. Like to lines growing infinitely close but never to touching. No wonder I want to stay where I am here in this fantasy because, for a moment, I can forget the world and enjoy the time I am left standing with you.

It’s not fair that we can laugh so easily and so often together. That we have fun just by talking and sharing. It’s not fair of all the things that work so well between us that we never get to realize what is so evidently possible. It’s hard to see the strain and reserve in your eyes when you are having so much fun but pull yourself back because you are afraid of being too happy with a dream that, at least for the moment, cannot be.

It’s no fault of anyone, which makes it so hard. It’s the truth that at times when chasing your dreams that you come to realize that the pursuit will tear you away from things you like and love because the world persists not in black and white but shades of uneasy grey. That there are no pure right and wrong choices, and that all things come at a price. That reality is what I can feel so strongly for someone which fate has deemed infinitely unavailable not through means but through circumstance.

So allow me these moments, these fantasies with you for just a little longer. Come dream with me because I know you feel it too. Close your eyes and dream of us because soon the sun will rise and that dream will need to fade.

I wish, and I want to say so much more. To be so unreasonable and try but both of us care too much to let the other go through that sort of pain. At the end of the day, we are still here together, wandering through life like we always have. I might not have all that I want but I still have you. Reality might strip away those rose-colored glasses but it doesn’t change what I see. We are in this thing together even if we can’t be all that we can be.

 

 

My Ugly and Beautiful Daughter

mononoke

Princess Mononoke – Hayao Miyazaki

I have these moments, these wonderfully terrible and beautiful moments being crushed by the humility of my weaknesses. It’s when I am tired that it becomes more apparent, when everything taught simply refuses to be retained. These fantastically tragic thoughts lead to one amazingly cataclysmic conclusion, one I come to often. I am simply human.

I’ve talked about this before, this empowerment of being human. It’s the knowledge of the human legacy that gives us strength. We stand on the shoulders of giants but we ourselves all have the makings of a human colossus. This time though, I can see the amazingness of those around me, feeling the strain of their strength against my inability and weakness. It’s bittersweet but motivating as part of me needs to do tough things, things no one thinks possible, all so I know anyone can. I’m not special in design or function. I am a bit strange in operation, but outside of my experiences, I really am like anyone else.  That’s why the power I give in the words of advice is not talking in any way to distance myself or make it seems that I stand above. No, it’s the simple fact that I want people realize too that this idiotic smart person managed to stumble his way through life and found an answer on the other side. An answer which given may at the allow you to struggle much less than I have.

It’s in this constant contradiction of wanting to both eviscerate myself and all that I am and desiring unrefutable immortality that life’s absurdity and our place within it become perfectly crystal clear. The looking for purpose but living in an uncaring universe, divining of our own lives but being tied inexplicably to the forces beyond our control. The culmination of all things and thoughts up to this point have happened before and are purely original. When accepting these things that I find peace within our humanity. The struggle of those who are much greater than I could ever be fighting against this constant onslaught of unknown chaos, edging out a sense of peace and order in this crazy world we live. It’s these unceremonious baby steps that allow us to make large leaps. These conversations that only a few experience that send waves through history. It’s the quiet moments that pass by that resonate within our soul, allowing for the cacophony of spirit to arise.

It’s the existence of the duality of man, the ability to be capable of all things that drives me. We are peace and destruction. We are savior and sinner. Within all of us lies that history of all things and a blank slate to begin anew.  We can be anything, darkness, and light. It’s then our choice as to which side of the coin, which hand to extend. Our lives are long, and millions of choices are made, each one with the opportunity for any answer. We are all human, and there is nothing simple about it, but there can be simplicity within it. This brings me peace as it means all of us are capable of anything and nothing at all.

Home (Bitter)Sweet Home

3 weeks, I was given 3 weeks to make good all on all the things I left behind. So for those few precious weeks, I haven’t stopped, not even for a moment, trying to jam in all that I can so that by the time I return home to DC, I feel full enough to make it those next several months without all their presence. From the moment I touched down, I have kept moving, to the point of tire, to the point that my eyes burn and my head’s gone fuzzy, sprinting, trying reach, touch, and hold onto anything and everything I have so longingly missed in my days across this vast land. It’s my days, counting them down like the New Years’ clock, moving desperately to try to hold off that zero-hour tic before the clock resets and, I start again.

I only have a limited time left here, cobbling together all that I can do, filling days with people, and unfortunately not a lot of work. Each day moving so quickly that it feels as if days are racing to the end along with me. A feeling emerged that this trip is both too long and too short.  That I am always counting down the moments, knowing that there is not enough time to settle myself, especially with no room to return to or a familiar place to lay my head. It’s been trying, both emotionally and physically, though I hope to find solace and closure within it. Ending the strife and getting the answers regardless of how hard it might be to hear them.

All in all, I am happy to be home but I just never realized how hard it could be to return. I’m battling time and emotions, but it’s a learning process, doing something that I have never done before. Never time will be easier as progress is made, and routine is established.

Soon I will go back to my home in DC. Reiterating that I have no problems with where I live now, in some ways I rather do like the space. It’s been hard, though, transition, as leaving the familiar, is no easy task.  Even then, I recognize that part of me was left here, under the grey and clouded sky of Los Angeles, a part left unresolved and wanting.  That’s what I am here to clear up so that when I go back I feel like it will be different, easier. The space will be more familiar as more who I am transitions with me. I am not starting from scratch anymore, I have friends and spaces I know to belong. More of me will go, and less will stay, but that’s life, and it keeps moving along with me.

For now, I will keep racing the clock, filling my time and making the most of the moments I have while I’m here no matter how hard they may become.

Happy New Year.

 

 

 

 

Words, My Eternal Struggle With Language: Revisited 4

image

It’s been 4 years since I started this blog, a blog meant in a lot of ways not just for words but for thoughts, feelings, and ideas. A blog representative of who I am and my progress as both a writer and a person. It’s so strange to think of who I am compared to the person I was 4 years ago. How much has changed each time I sit down to write this post, a post about the progress and the frustration I have with writing. Things are so different, and yet so very much of the same. If I were to look through time and see myself right there on the keys, would I recognize him?  Are we different people now, through things not just beholden to experience but through, in a way linguistic transformation. Have I come to another place beyond which I could foresee back then. Even in the matter of words, I can not tell you if I have achieved anything. Though try as I might to shorten the distance between them and me, there is one thing I have yet to achieve, the one thing I see as the ultimate goal, total synchrony. This being the 5th time I’ve come to this, where exactly am I?

It’s hard to gauge whether I’ve gotten better or worse at writing up til now, progress is hard to measure without a tool of measurement. Do my words come more fluidly? In a lot of ways, yes, though at times too quickly for my hand or lips to keep track of. Am I any more intelligible than I was then? I’m unsure, though I’m a lot more honest and open.  Why is it that continue then? Knowledge, knowledge of that it does help, that I am a better person because of this writing that I’ve been doing.

Here in this place, who I am is always called into question. Not in a way that is strictly adverse, but in a way that world I currently live in is not filled will constant reminders what pushed me forward in the first place. New spaces can be places for significant growth and triumph but not so far from the cradle of despair as the paths set out before us are not ones that have been tread. No, they are the ones waiting to be walked and built with tireless conviction to keep pushing forward and find the right path. I, at times, lose my way. Opting still to continue walking when I don’t even know the destination. Maybe it’s wisdom from above or just perpetual foolishness, those motivations long gone leaving me with a pattern and mold to fill in my own way until I find myself again.

Maybe in some ways these words are descending into ether, trying in some strange way to fill this void empty spaces with a cacophony of letters and prose.  Who knows how many are required before it is full,  but the task itself, though on the surface fruitless, is never wasted as one day, maybe far in the future, I will get there.

It is then to reflect upon my year, the year of unyielding trials and broken triumphs. I can honestly say that it was unexpected, though grow was not measured I am certain that growth was achieved. I feel as though I am starting to understand the world a little bit better, though in saying this I am almost assured to be proven wrong by the world soon enough. I have more scars, more memories, and more metal in me than I had before but the doesn’t change the fact that I am still a firm believer in the beauty beholden to this world and my desire to be someone important within it.

In looking to the future now, what is it that I want? Comprehension I would say. To ease both myself and other’s effort in trying to understand my thoughts and words.  Part of that comes from slowing down a bit and thinking a bit more before I speak. It’s in this though that I am grateful to have this mechanism to self reflect so that the me in the future can know where all this change may have begun.

I hope you all have a great next year, thank you all for reading, there is still much more to come.

Year One | Year Two | Year Three | Year Four

A Degree of Discordant Disorganization

 

 

You know the celebration and recognition of having written this blog consistently for the last 5 years should be a joyous one. One that comes with a sense of accomplishment to it, as that would mean for the last 260 weeks I have posted at least once a week. It’s though a bit bittersweet, as I am happy about the accomplishment but saddened by the inability to write the last week. This perfect streak of Saturdays was broken because of a lack of time and energy to write for such an integral thing in my life. My life has been getting busier but not in a good way, one that I know will pay off in the end, but I am finding the difficulty with the amount of work I have to do now, but that’s what I signed up for, and that’s what I will see through to the end. I can’t blame that for all of it though, part of me can’t keep it all together, all the things I need to do.  I am doing so much more work than I need to for the sake of moving forward. My life feels messy and undisciplined, disorderly, to say the least, so it’s time to start picking up the pieces once again.

It’s the pieces, broken and scatted like the shards of window from my car on that fateful night. One of those things I lost were the habits and discipline that I had built up for many years. One I learned and built up through the fires of frustration. Without that pilot light and the time to build that spark, all I am left are smoldering coals of once was that raging fire.

I want it to return, with me going through those all those motions trying to maintain that streak I previously had. It’s that tire that stands between me and it, that need to keep pushing forward through these unsettled months haven’t allowed me to catch my breath, and find that part of my soul I feel like I am missing.

The work keeps stacking, and I will get through it, but the difficulty I have with it directly relates to my ability to build those habits into this trying time. I may not have the moments, but I have the will to change. A will built into knowing if I can accomplish this, then I can continue stepping towards that dream I so dearly want, but without it, I will flounder and fall short of what my heart sets me out to do.