One of the things people have always depended on about me is my innate organizational abilities and the fact that I'm a reasonably neat person. That said, even though it's oddly satisfying, dusting is a really pointless endeavor.
19 March 2011
can't stand
One of the things people have always depended on about me is my innate organizational abilities and the fact that I'm a reasonably neat person. That said, even though it's oddly satisfying, dusting is a really pointless endeavor.
15 March 2011
lost. found.
Digital cameras have spoiled us. It used to be that we'd have to be selective with the images we capture, the images that would fill our hallways and photo albums, but now we have the luxury of snapping as many moments of time as we'd like since we can go back and delete the bad ones. The truth is we can't delete the bad ones . . .
I wrote that in March of 2007.
It speaks to my current philosophy of life.
This blog has hit on the subject of psychological meandering, social cleansing, and emotional stagnation in varying degrees before. Today's query: five things that you have lost and where you think they went.
(1.) YOUTH
(2.) PAST RELATIONSHIPS
I will stop there. I recognize that I am immediately drawn to the bigger, meatier subjects when posed when this question. Why does my mind work like that? Why couldn't I just ponder that nifty pencil with the cool eraser from the third grade that never left my Trapper Keeper without my say so? Or the Fall Guy lunchbox I remember having, but certainly don't recall discarding.
Frivolities tend not to interest me, so I do end up entangled in what others deem seriousness.
What sorts of things are ever really lost? People move in and out of our lives, love has been known to come and go, jobs are supposedly a dime-a-dozen, and possessions find incidental new homes. What really stands out to me is that the things we lose often open up our lives for significant gains, thus allowing us to reform into stronger, more valuable, more genuine, and better people. Ideally, anyway.
And I think this was a stupid question.
I wrote that in March of 2007.
It speaks to my current philosophy of life.
This blog has hit on the subject of psychological meandering, social cleansing, and emotional stagnation in varying degrees before. Today's query: five things that you have lost and where you think they went.
(1.) YOUTH
(2.) PAST RELATIONSHIPS
I will stop there. I recognize that I am immediately drawn to the bigger, meatier subjects when posed when this question. Why does my mind work like that? Why couldn't I just ponder that nifty pencil with the cool eraser from the third grade that never left my Trapper Keeper without my say so? Or the Fall Guy lunchbox I remember having, but certainly don't recall discarding.
Frivolities tend not to interest me, so I do end up entangled in what others deem seriousness.
What sorts of things are ever really lost? People move in and out of our lives, love has been known to come and go, jobs are supposedly a dime-a-dozen, and possessions find incidental new homes. What really stands out to me is that the things we lose often open up our lives for significant gains, thus allowing us to reform into stronger, more valuable, more genuine, and better people. Ideally, anyway.
And I think this was a stupid question.
musically inclined.
I have posted fifteen of my approximately 30 Day Challenge and have just encountered one that's right up my alley and will be incorporated into this blog soon - watch for it:
(01) a song that you love to dance to
(02) favorite song to sing in the shower
(03) a song that makes you think of your loved one
(04) a song that you only know the chorus to
(05) a song that makes you think of kissing
(06) a song from that would be played when you kill someone
(07) a song that reminds you of being warm
(08) a song that you want to play at your funeral
(09) a song that makes you laugh
(10) a song that gives you the chills
(11) a song from your favorite band/artist as a child
(12) a song that you would sing as a lullaby, but isn't a traditional lullaby song
(13) a song that turns you on
(14) a song that makes you fall asleep
(15) a song that you know all the words to
(16) a song that you listen to when you’re happy
(17) a song that you listen to when you’re angry
(18) a song that you wish you could play
(19) a song from a band/artist you hated as a child
(20) a song that no one would expect you to love
(21) a song whose title is a name you would want to have
(22) a song from your favorite album
(23) a song that you listen to when you’re sad
(24) a song that reminds you of middle school
(25) a song that reminds you of your first crush
(26) a song that surprises you that you like it
(27) a song that you used to love but now hate
(28) a song that you can play on an instrument
(29) a song that describes you as a teenager
(30) a song that you wish you had written
---
(01) a song that you love to dance to
(02) favorite song to sing in the shower
(03) a song that makes you think of your loved one
(04) a song that you only know the chorus to
(05) a song that makes you think of kissing
(06) a song from that would be played when you kill someone
(07) a song that reminds you of being warm
(08) a song that you want to play at your funeral
(09) a song that makes you laugh
(10) a song that gives you the chills
(11) a song from your favorite band/artist as a child
(12) a song that you would sing as a lullaby, but isn't a traditional lullaby song
(13) a song that turns you on
(14) a song that makes you fall asleep
(15) a song that you know all the words to
(16) a song that you listen to when you’re happy
(17) a song that you listen to when you’re angry
(18) a song that you wish you could play
(19) a song from a band/artist you hated as a child
(20) a song that no one would expect you to love
(21) a song whose title is a name you would want to have
(22) a song from your favorite album
(23) a song that you listen to when you’re sad
(24) a song that reminds you of middle school
(25) a song that reminds you of your first crush
(26) a song that surprises you that you like it
(27) a song that you used to love but now hate
(28) a song that you can play on an instrument
(29) a song that describes you as a teenager
(30) a song that you wish you had written
---
day owl
Some of my earliest memories were of the night time.
Perhaps I can liken it to the fact that I was born in the late evening. I can recall being jet to the hospital during one of many childhood close calls, lying in my mother's arms, watching as red lights and strip malls smeared past us nearby, everything in those timid tones of seventies Polaroid, or of waking up overnight, bursting out of sleep in that padded sandbox I slept in during my first several years. After that it became late night vicarious literary thrills under quilted cover by flashlight or those restless nights that would find me strung up by bed sheet and covering at obtuse and acute angles across the bed.
It wasn't until I got a bit older that I would embrace my love for the four o'clock hour, when the sky is pitch black and there is a surreal post-apocalyptic stillness in the air. Time slows and recognition of how alone we all are becomes far more apparent or maybe just more within reach. It's a time of day when I have often been more able to get in touch with my soul and inner workings, where I would catch sight of my muse and write freely and live less inhibited. For years there was a small window of pure joy of this sort that the remainder of life could never quite compete and paled dismally to by comparison.
I have been a chameleon for years, blending into wallpaper and disparate groupings of people with aplomb, noticed only by a select view. Recently my brother-in-law, with a lick of judgment, posited that I was no longer the night owl of old. I also don't think I am quite the morning person I have been referred as, either, though. I adapt well. I think there is truth to be had in both. I believe I am in a warm place of personal soulful wellness that has allowed me to live every hour with complete verve.
That said, your last night out elicits thoughts in me about all of the local freebie rags full of college students looking buzzed, drunk, and overcome with cleavage. My life is full, but I don't keep myself overly social and full of alcohol to dull the pain like I have before. I still find my second wind when the moon is bright and drool over the thought of karaoke, which is where my last official night out would have occurred. It was low-key, drinks light on the mixer and heavy on the sting, and brimming with serenade. The pictures I have of it are stuck in my head. The camera comes out more frequently these days, but the sharing with whom-ever factor has dissipated to a point for want of a little more sacred.
that said . . .
a sampling of the results of our sense of romance
& a sense of my last evening out
Perhaps I can liken it to the fact that I was born in the late evening. I can recall being jet to the hospital during one of many childhood close calls, lying in my mother's arms, watching as red lights and strip malls smeared past us nearby, everything in those timid tones of seventies Polaroid, or of waking up overnight, bursting out of sleep in that padded sandbox I slept in during my first several years. After that it became late night vicarious literary thrills under quilted cover by flashlight or those restless nights that would find me strung up by bed sheet and covering at obtuse and acute angles across the bed.
It wasn't until I got a bit older that I would embrace my love for the four o'clock hour, when the sky is pitch black and there is a surreal post-apocalyptic stillness in the air. Time slows and recognition of how alone we all are becomes far more apparent or maybe just more within reach. It's a time of day when I have often been more able to get in touch with my soul and inner workings, where I would catch sight of my muse and write freely and live less inhibited. For years there was a small window of pure joy of this sort that the remainder of life could never quite compete and paled dismally to by comparison.
I have been a chameleon for years, blending into wallpaper and disparate groupings of people with aplomb, noticed only by a select view. Recently my brother-in-law, with a lick of judgment, posited that I was no longer the night owl of old. I also don't think I am quite the morning person I have been referred as, either, though. I adapt well. I think there is truth to be had in both. I believe I am in a warm place of personal soulful wellness that has allowed me to live every hour with complete verve.
That said, your last night out elicits thoughts in me about all of the local freebie rags full of college students looking buzzed, drunk, and overcome with cleavage. My life is full, but I don't keep myself overly social and full of alcohol to dull the pain like I have before. I still find my second wind when the moon is bright and drool over the thought of karaoke, which is where my last official night out would have occurred. It was low-key, drinks light on the mixer and heavy on the sting, and brimming with serenade. The pictures I have of it are stuck in my head. The camera comes out more frequently these days, but the sharing with whom-ever factor has dissipated to a point for want of a little more sacred.
that said . . .
& a sense of my last evening out
13 March 2011
gossamer wings
Love is in the air
Everywhere I look around
Love is in the air
Every sight and every sound . . .
Asked to define love, what would be your response?
My thoughts run plenty of directions, but none of them are solid or definitive. There are innumerable types of love. A flurry of lyrics and poetic tidbits make their way through my mind. These are followed by a series of scenarios and ways that love demonstrates itself. Then it rolls to opposition statements, revealing what love is not and what it could hardly mean. We bat around the word when we have little else to say, describing what we think of a band, movie, or flavor explosion.
I feel it arrives at our doorsteps in its own unique fashion, in many ways different for everyone. When we're young we attempt to mimic the ways and means of what we see in our small worlds. It takes time and growth to fully find yourself in its reflection. I have loved much in the past, whether it was favorite toys or high school girlfriends, but with life's changing tides the word hardly means the same thing.
Perhaps that's the point. For each of us, the word means something different depending on where we are on our life's path. A year ago tonight saw the closing night of the last play I directed. Due to more than the challenging intensity of the piece, it was an extremely trying one fraught with behind the scenes drama, but one that offered one-of-a-kind experiences for its audience. For all of the warts and scars of getting there, I absolutely loved working that show. One could perceive that it took me at least eight years of toiling in and around the arts to get there.
The winds had already begun to change for me by that next week. I have come to find that opportunities cross our paths when we are ready for them, whether we are looking for them or not. With this came a love like I have never felt or shared before. Suddenly the lyrics to love songs started to make sense as did so much more. One epiphany moment after another transpired, and my life continues to quake with the ripples of this. The love I believe I felt for the little girl I married in the first grade isn't even part of the same emotion as what I feel for the goddess in my universe now, but I also wouldn't incorporate the complexity of Miles Davis' later years or the aleatoric nature of John Cage into a Music 101 course either.
Everywhere I look around
Love is in the air
Every sight and every sound . . .
Asked to define love, what would be your response?
My thoughts run plenty of directions, but none of them are solid or definitive. There are innumerable types of love. A flurry of lyrics and poetic tidbits make their way through my mind. These are followed by a series of scenarios and ways that love demonstrates itself. Then it rolls to opposition statements, revealing what love is not and what it could hardly mean. We bat around the word when we have little else to say, describing what we think of a band, movie, or flavor explosion.
I feel it arrives at our doorsteps in its own unique fashion, in many ways different for everyone. When we're young we attempt to mimic the ways and means of what we see in our small worlds. It takes time and growth to fully find yourself in its reflection. I have loved much in the past, whether it was favorite toys or high school girlfriends, but with life's changing tides the word hardly means the same thing.
Perhaps that's the point. For each of us, the word means something different depending on where we are on our life's path. A year ago tonight saw the closing night of the last play I directed. Due to more than the challenging intensity of the piece, it was an extremely trying one fraught with behind the scenes drama, but one that offered one-of-a-kind experiences for its audience. For all of the warts and scars of getting there, I absolutely loved working that show. One could perceive that it took me at least eight years of toiling in and around the arts to get there.
The winds had already begun to change for me by that next week. I have come to find that opportunities cross our paths when we are ready for them, whether we are looking for them or not. With this came a love like I have never felt or shared before. Suddenly the lyrics to love songs started to make sense as did so much more. One epiphany moment after another transpired, and my life continues to quake with the ripples of this. The love I believe I felt for the little girl I married in the first grade isn't even part of the same emotion as what I feel for the goddess in my universe now, but I also wouldn't incorporate the complexity of Miles Davis' later years or the aleatoric nature of John Cage into a Music 101 course either.
10 March 2011
tear jerker
I've had a thing for sour candy since I was a kid - Sour Patch Kids, Sour Straws, and the list goes on - anything harshly acidic and tart. Perhaps it was originally to prove my tolerance level was high, but ultimately out of pure enjoyment. Publix grocery stores used to stock big ol' bags of sour gumballs called Tear Jerkers that were all the rage with certain demographic. My response to atomic fire ball cinnamon candy was always a bit more heated.
I can equate my attraction to the intense, lip wrenching candies to my taste in film. I like 'em dark, harsh, and visceral. There's something amazingly pleasurable to me about the squirm factor. However, as I ponder my ability to digest flicks with edge, especially those that are rife with the controversial, mature, and often graphic material, I wonder whether they would warrant the tear jerk response.
Tearjerkers make me think of that gender debate during Sleepless in Seattle wherein it was An Affair to Remember versus The Dirty Dozen. Stereotypes, anyone?! What I realize is that many of my favorite films are several steps beyond that response. They are in ways so painful and saddening to watch that you simply can not respond that way.
The Ice Storm, Dancer in the Dark, Away from Her, and Maria, Full of Grace come to mind. These are pure, devastatingly beautiful films. I know I'm just not quick to emote in this way, but Kramer vs. Kramer hit me that way. On TV it was various episodes of Rescue Me and Six Feet Under that left me numb from empathy. I think it comes down to how much you allow yourself to fall into the world being created. I don't think we need to find ourselves in the characters so much as the potential that we could.
I can equate my attraction to the intense, lip wrenching candies to my taste in film. I like 'em dark, harsh, and visceral. There's something amazingly pleasurable to me about the squirm factor. However, as I ponder my ability to digest flicks with edge, especially those that are rife with the controversial, mature, and often graphic material, I wonder whether they would warrant the tear jerk response.
Tearjerkers make me think of that gender debate during Sleepless in Seattle wherein it was An Affair to Remember versus The Dirty Dozen. Stereotypes, anyone?! What I realize is that many of my favorite films are several steps beyond that response. They are in ways so painful and saddening to watch that you simply can not respond that way.
The Ice Storm, Dancer in the Dark, Away from Her, and Maria, Full of Grace come to mind. These are pure, devastatingly beautiful films. I know I'm just not quick to emote in this way, but Kramer vs. Kramer hit me that way. On TV it was various episodes of Rescue Me and Six Feet Under that left me numb from empathy. I think it comes down to how much you allow yourself to fall into the world being created. I don't think we need to find ourselves in the characters so much as the potential that we could.
turn on
my turn-on's include molotov cocktails, long walks on the beach, & people who don't litter
The concept of turn-on's stirs up myriad responses and yanks at the repressive strands of my youth. Our culture has always been lost somewhere between the Meese Commission and Mary Carey for governor or Janet Jackson's unadorned tit and Hooters family restaurants. We've clearly all got our proclivities. Some choose to advertise and others are simply in denial.
As someone so far from prudish, the inclusion of anything remotely sexual in this blog is still a completely new prospect. I know there's a whole different person behind these words than the one who started to write five years ago. Over time, I have found within myself a man far more comfortable with many more facets of himself than ever before. I'm not saying that I am about to adjust this blog's settings to block youthful eyes, but I also wouldn't neglect the idea of starting such a page either.
So, what turns you on?
It's one of the seven questions all of the great (and tepid & bland) actors have been asked on Inside the Actors Studio. I don't believe Hugh Grant said hookers in parked cars nor do I recall Gwyneth Paltrow answer the sound of my own British accent, but then again candid honesty is sometimes in short supply.
For someone who has spent so much time behind the scenes, behind the camera, and quietly observing from a distance, it should come as no surprise that I am full of voyeuristic intent. Perhaps sociologically and maybe for entirely perverse reasons I adore things like the blog, 25 Things About My Sexuality. And I love seventies music with its sauntering rhythms that subtly eke out sexuality, signifying round asses in hot pants and sexual freedoms. But turn-on's comes in loads of shapes and sizes. What are those things that wake you up in the morning or disallow you from sleeping at night? They can be your kinks, or merely your passions and pleasures.
A lot of times it's those things we do in secret or what we choose to do when we have a few minutes to spare. I remember as a kid hiding underneath my blankets with a flashlight so I could hustle my way through yet another book. Lately I've been writing more than I have in years, resurrecting long forgotten stories and obviously keeping up with this page a hell of a lot better. I feel totally inspired, turned-on, and my soul's valves feel fully open.
So, what does it for you?
09 March 2011
coming soon
We're having technical issues. Will return shortly.
(01) Introduce yourself - INTRODUCE YOURSELF
(02) Your first love - FIRST LOVE
(03) One of your scars - DELICATE SCARRING
(04) Moments that changed your life - PLOT POINTS
(05) Lyrics that apply to your current situation - LYRICALLY SPEAKING
(06) You truly being yourself - I ALONE
(07) Your beliefs - MICRO-COSMIC VIEW
(08) Your special someone - MON AMOUR
(09) Most stimulating thing you've learned this week - BOUND LESS
(10) Favorite smell - FAVORITE SMELL.
(11) Picture of you from your younger years - MINUS TWENTY+
(12) Something that turns you on - TURN ON (editing)
(13) A movie that makes you cry - TEAR JERKER (editing)
(14) Love
(15) Your last night out
(16) Favorite fruit
(17) 5 things you've lost & where they might be
(18) Picture of your handwriting
(19) Something you don't like
(20) Big purchase you'd make if you won the lottery
(21) Celebrity you'd like in your bed
(22) Something you bought from an adult store
(23) Your side of the bed
(24) Five things in reach of you right now
(25) List of songs that make you emotional
(26) Anything
(27) Photo of you from your last social event
(28) Something irrational that you think or do
(29) Song you want played at your funeral
(30) Your favorite place
(12) Something that turns you on - TURN ON (editing)
(13) A movie that makes you cry - TEAR JERKER (editing)
(14) Love
(15) Your last night out
(16) Favorite fruit
(17) 5 things you've lost & where they might be
(18) Picture of your handwriting
(19) Something you don't like
(20) Big purchase you'd make if you won the lottery
(21) Celebrity you'd like in your bed
(22) Something you bought from an adult store
(23) Your side of the bed
(24) Five things in reach of you right now
(25) List of songs that make you emotional
(26) Anything
(27) Photo of you from your last social event
(28) Something irrational that you think or do
(29) Song you want played at your funeral
(30) Your favorite place
05 March 2011
minus twenty+
When I was a kid I really looked forward to going to junior high. By the time I got there, though, the name had been abandoned for middle school, which took all of the mystique and wonder out of the whole affair. I arrived there with a 2.1 mile commute on a bicycle vaguely too large for me, off the heels of winning the seemingly prestigious Kiwanis award for my fifth grade class. I was never gifted or even felt particularly bright, but I did coast along with due effort for some time. I feel this all changed during the year represented in this picture. I was in sixth grade, headed toward seventh, crushing on my first year Reading teacher and in my debut semester playing alto saxophone in the school band.
Seventh grade would be the year my grades, social life, and happiness would take a nosedive. Coincidentally it was also the year I got braces and stopped following in my big brother's footsteps and found a passion for filmmaking and writing. In my spare time I was listening to classic rock, writing science fiction short stories, devouring American Movie Classics and head over heels for a girl named Kelly, who my good friend stole out from under my hormonal gaze.
04 March 2011
favorite smell.
tension tamer:
peppermint
cinnamon
ginger
chamomile
lemongrass
licorice
catnip
tilia flowers
lemon
bound less
I drink coffee every morning. I rarely think about the process of it. When you do something so often it becomes rote. Even the thought of changing up the measurements to make a different amount can be done by eyeballing. This creates a consistency and familiar flavor that makes every cup taste equally as good as the one before it, and more contingent on the quality of the coffee than the expected subtle variation from day to day.
The worst cups of coffee are often those full of mucky grounds. These are those rare cups wherein the process becomes faulty. The beauty behind something as simple as using a coffeemaker is that the filter lets only the good stuff through and leaves behind the unnecessary bits.
It's important to have divisions in life. Boundaries. Unfortunately in the wake of a storm like divorce, the levees don't always hold up and all relationships within their tide can become weakened and murky.
03 March 2011
mon amour
Sometimes words escape me.
I will borrow some.
. . .
We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won
as we sailed into the mystic
Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly
into the mystic
And when that fog horn blows,
I will be coming home
And when the fog horn blows,
I want to hear it
I don't have to fear it
And I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And magnificently we will flow
into the mystic
When that fog horn blows
you know I will be coming home
And when that fog horn whistle blows
I got to hear it
I don't have to fear it
And I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will flow
into the mystic
-Van Morrison, Into the Mystic, 1970
micro-cosmic view
I don't believe in superstars,
Organic food and foreign cars.
I don't believe the price of gold;
The certainty of growing old.
That right is right and left is wrong,
That north and south can't get along.
That east is east and west is west.
And being first is always best.
. . .
Well, I don't believe that heaven waits,
For only those who congregate.
I like to think of God as love:
He's down below, He's up above.
He's watching people everywhere.
He knows who does and doesn't care.
And I'm an ordinary man,
Sometimes I wonder who I am.
-from "I Believe in You" (Don Williams)
My worldview is insubstantial.
However, five years ago I decided to break ground, creating my own forum to share many of my insignificant thoughts and ideas. Gazing at my arbitrary tags on this blog would offer far more perspective on what matters to me than could any staid belief system checklist. At 100 posts, introspection wins out. Varying degrees of art, delusions of life, and musings on family and friends are not far behind. This sounds about right. These are the things that fuel me, drive me forward, and demand my concern.
Frequently I drive around, noting the bumper stickers people decide to attach to their vehicles. The more you look, the more often you discover that people become a certain collection of thoughts. I feel that people get so quickly swooped into an agenda and a set of ideals. It's one of the reasons I loathe so much politics and the structure of political debate. People blindly stumble for the vernacular and position that suits others like them, often for fear of reprisal. I have spent many years exceedingly irked by people supposedly like me.
I grew up in an environment with parents who changed their political party based on their opinion of the man in the Oval Office and who seemed to use God and religion to prove a point. As a formative structure, it doesn't surprise me in the least that most of my life has been far more replete with questions than with answers. I still think it's important to question and to grapple with ideas. However, I don't take it for granted that I feel far more centered than I ever have in the past. Any of us can say what's important until we're blue in the face, but actually following through with those same ideals is more powerful than the claim.
I remember a very uncomfortable car ride with my brother more than ten years ago. Our opportunities to interact have been staggered over time and he chose this moment to get caught up with me. So, he ran through a bevy of discussion topics like God, death penalty, abortion, and homosexuality. I don't know if I believe these to be the rubric on which one can base their knowledge of another. I think life is much more basic than that, and I choose to connect with people instead of divide myself from them.
I don't care about politics. I have never protested or picketed, but I have signed petitions to whose enactment I might otherwise disagree, because it jived with the party line. These days I am happily less than political and feel far more myself because of it.
What's important is love. I don't care how trite that may sound. From within all of us are a deep swelling of positivity and genuine love that when shared and allowed to ripple from being to being can have the most profound effect. Maybe it's God. Maybe it's indigestion. There are innumerable sorts and ways of expressing it. All I know is I find it impossible to argue with the existence of it, and of any of my beliefs that I hold close and often won't reveal, it's the only one I want to impart and impose on others.
Organic food and foreign cars.
I don't believe the price of gold;
The certainty of growing old.
That right is right and left is wrong,
That north and south can't get along.
That east is east and west is west.
And being first is always best.
. . .
Well, I don't believe that heaven waits,
For only those who congregate.
I like to think of God as love:
He's down below, He's up above.
He's watching people everywhere.
He knows who does and doesn't care.
And I'm an ordinary man,
Sometimes I wonder who I am.
-from "I Believe in You" (Don Williams)
My worldview is insubstantial.
However, five years ago I decided to break ground, creating my own forum to share many of my insignificant thoughts and ideas. Gazing at my arbitrary tags on this blog would offer far more perspective on what matters to me than could any staid belief system checklist. At 100 posts, introspection wins out. Varying degrees of art, delusions of life, and musings on family and friends are not far behind. This sounds about right. These are the things that fuel me, drive me forward, and demand my concern.
Frequently I drive around, noting the bumper stickers people decide to attach to their vehicles. The more you look, the more often you discover that people become a certain collection of thoughts. I feel that people get so quickly swooped into an agenda and a set of ideals. It's one of the reasons I loathe so much politics and the structure of political debate. People blindly stumble for the vernacular and position that suits others like them, often for fear of reprisal. I have spent many years exceedingly irked by people supposedly like me.
I grew up in an environment with parents who changed their political party based on their opinion of the man in the Oval Office and who seemed to use God and religion to prove a point. As a formative structure, it doesn't surprise me in the least that most of my life has been far more replete with questions than with answers. I still think it's important to question and to grapple with ideas. However, I don't take it for granted that I feel far more centered than I ever have in the past. Any of us can say what's important until we're blue in the face, but actually following through with those same ideals is more powerful than the claim.
I remember a very uncomfortable car ride with my brother more than ten years ago. Our opportunities to interact have been staggered over time and he chose this moment to get caught up with me. So, he ran through a bevy of discussion topics like God, death penalty, abortion, and homosexuality. I don't know if I believe these to be the rubric on which one can base their knowledge of another. I think life is much more basic than that, and I choose to connect with people instead of divide myself from them.
I don't care about politics. I have never protested or picketed, but I have signed petitions to whose enactment I might otherwise disagree, because it jived with the party line. These days I am happily less than political and feel far more myself because of it.
What's important is love. I don't care how trite that may sound. From within all of us are a deep swelling of positivity and genuine love that when shared and allowed to ripple from being to being can have the most profound effect. Maybe it's God. Maybe it's indigestion. There are innumerable sorts and ways of expressing it. All I know is I find it impossible to argue with the existence of it, and of any of my beliefs that I hold close and often won't reveal, it's the only one I want to impart and impose on others.
01 March 2011
i alone
self
definition of one's identity, character, abilities, and attitudes, especially in relation to persons or things outside oneself or itself.
Even though I have often considered myself a photographer, my blog has always been focused on the words. Found and supplied images have always been there to support the words. I have begun to gain pleasure from posting the reverse. The original root of the sixth item on the '30 Day Challenge' list was 'A picture of you being yourself'. At first glance it would seem like a very straightforward task: point camera at self and post. Time and experience have shown that our personal compasses are quick to lose their magnetic north.
I am more than how I look on paper.
I am more than the contents of my wallet.
I am more than what's represented by these 200GBs of memory.
I am more than the man I am when I'm in my element, carving art and design from a place there was none before.
I am no single idea or image.
I am all of these.
definition of one's identity, character, abilities, and attitudes, especially in relation to persons or things outside oneself or itself.
Even though I have often considered myself a photographer, my blog has always been focused on the words. Found and supplied images have always been there to support the words. I have begun to gain pleasure from posting the reverse. The original root of the sixth item on the '30 Day Challenge' list was 'A picture of you being yourself'. At first glance it would seem like a very straightforward task: point camera at self and post. Time and experience have shown that our personal compasses are quick to lose their magnetic north.
I am more than how I look on paper.
I am more than the contents of my wallet.
I am more than what's represented by these 200GBs of memory.
I am more than the man I am when I'm in my element, carving art and design from a place there was none before.
I am no single idea or image.
I am all of these.
lyrically speaking
lyrics that relate to your current situation
What I want, you've got
and it might be hard to handle
but like the flame that burns the candle
the candle feeds the flame
yeah, yeah
What I've got's full stock of thoughts
and dreams that scatter
you pull them all together
and how, I can't explain
oh yeah
well, well, you
you make my dreams come true . . .
On a night when bad dreams become a screamer
when they're messin' with the dreamer
I can laugh it in the face
twist and shout my way out
and wrap yourself around me
'cause I ain't the way that you found me
and I'll never be the same
oh, yeah
well, cuz you
you make my dreams come true
Well listen to this...
I'm down on the daydream
oh, That sleepwalk should be over by now
I know that You
yeah, yeah
you make my dreams come true
-You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oates, 1980
Now you've got that song stuck in your head.
Ha.
What I want, you've got
and it might be hard to handle
but like the flame that burns the candle
the candle feeds the flame
yeah, yeah
What I've got's full stock of thoughts
and dreams that scatter
you pull them all together
and how, I can't explain
oh yeah
well, well, you
you make my dreams come true . . .
On a night when bad dreams become a screamer
when they're messin' with the dreamer
I can laugh it in the face
twist and shout my way out
and wrap yourself around me
'cause I ain't the way that you found me
and I'll never be the same
oh, yeah
well, cuz you
you make my dreams come true
Well listen to this...
I'm down on the daydream
oh, That sleepwalk should be over by now
I know that You
yeah, yeah
you make my dreams come true
-You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oates, 1980
Now you've got that song stuck in your head.
Ha.
plot points
I have often pondered the action-reaction principle and the manner in which this sort of thing flows with the amorphousness of life. The moments that have the lasting impact are not always the moments one expects, at least that's my philosophy. One of my, as yet, unfinished writing projects that is dearest to my heart began as a screenplay idea nearly ten years ago.
The kernel of which was this figurative crying baby that kept me up that first night and many since. It has always felt like a bit of an overwhelming opus that I would write measures for periodically over time. So much of it revolves around lofty concepts with interwoven characters. Everything about my vision of it has steadily shifted over time as life has imitated art and vice-versa. The main beats are the key turning points that would forever alter the characters existence. They are at times seemingly insignificant and at other instances dramatically overblown. Mostly it's about how each of these moments could have endless arrays of outcomes and it is within these outcomes that significance lies, which brings me back to the subject at hand.
Picture some of the moments that have changed my life. What DVD chapters have I encountered so far? I think about birth, death, firsts, lasts, beginnings, and endings. It's the meat in the center that means the most, but it always comes down to these lines of demarcation.
Finality is often just a formality, however, and new beginnings are often in motion long before we realize change is coming. For me, this is why life can have so many water-related analogies.
The way I see it, I could probably come up with a dozen significant events in my life that created what was to come up to this point. That might be an interesting exercise, but I don't know what value it would have since a couple months down the road that list could change. What I find is your concept of where you are plays a huge role in determining how you think you got there.
28 February 2011
delicate scarring
If life is such a miracle then why do newborn babies look like three day old slow roasted peanuts? It's only after they've been cleaned up and get some shuteye that they start to look like the miniature treasures they are known to be. Newness is gorgeous, youth is briefly admirable, and in our culture we hold onto it for far too long.
We don't value age. Age is often treated as a failure. Old is even a synonym for tiresome. Vanity comes in the form of wigs, snoods, toupees, face lifts, lypo, vaginoplasty, and Botox injections. It's the texture of life that's interesting. Life shows itself in the cavernous depths of wrinkles, the sharpened peaks of a widow's, striking rivers of veins, and the harsh memories of scars. Walls that can talk have always been far more interesting to me. I would rather discover a patina finish or a pentimento surprise than get stuck with the emptiness of a life left breathless and sealed in its original collector's box.
Since I decided to undertake my own version of this '30 Day Challenge', I got to thinking about scars. It drew me to thoughts of lost limbs, adventurous accidents, and daring feats. At first glance nothing about me felt right for this challenge. I have been known to spend my time a bit too cautiously with nary a broken bone or traffic ticket to my name. But to me those are the obvious location of scars.
It's said that your body holds your history. All the heartache, every argument, every act of violence, and every time you stumbled into a wall drunk off your ass. If these rings of your theoretical tree could truly talk I wonder what would be said. We each have our zebra stripes, our unique design that tells the whole story. On the one hand we have the answer guide and the other shows our attempt to follow along, eternally painting outside the lines. Our paw print of sorts holds an ever-changing canvas, able to express everything we could never voice.
We don't value age. Age is often treated as a failure. Old is even a synonym for tiresome. Vanity comes in the form of wigs, snoods, toupees, face lifts, lypo, vaginoplasty, and Botox injections. It's the texture of life that's interesting. Life shows itself in the cavernous depths of wrinkles, the sharpened peaks of a widow's, striking rivers of veins, and the harsh memories of scars. Walls that can talk have always been far more interesting to me. I would rather discover a patina finish or a pentimento surprise than get stuck with the emptiness of a life left breathless and sealed in its original collector's box.
Since I decided to undertake my own version of this '30 Day Challenge', I got to thinking about scars. It drew me to thoughts of lost limbs, adventurous accidents, and daring feats. At first glance nothing about me felt right for this challenge. I have been known to spend my time a bit too cautiously with nary a broken bone or traffic ticket to my name. But to me those are the obvious location of scars.
It's said that your body holds your history. All the heartache, every argument, every act of violence, and every time you stumbled into a wall drunk off your ass. If these rings of your theoretical tree could truly talk I wonder what would be said. We each have our zebra stripes, our unique design that tells the whole story. On the one hand we have the answer guide and the other shows our attempt to follow along, eternally painting outside the lines. Our paw print of sorts holds an ever-changing canvas, able to express everything we could never voice.
25 February 2011
first love
Everyone has a story about their first love. A tale about that one boy or girl for whom that very first spark of interest and longing sent off shock waves of pleasure through the pitter-pat place located somewhere between the left and right atrium and is suspiciously left off all of the scientific notations. Mine was a girl named Holly. We had many an interaction on the bus to and from kindergarten. She lived down the block from me. She had red hair and heterochromia iridum. That's about all I can recall, which is really the trouble with firsts of this nature. I remember far more about the girl I married in the first grade. But I don't know if literal firsts like this really count. I am happily not a literal person, as those who truly know me can attest.
That said, honestly, my first true love was music. It's the early passion that counts and the one that truly had an impact. I was the only kid in my fourth grade class who had a music collection. I was the only one who knew from Jefferson Starship and Jefferson Airplane, who could tell you about the members of Fleetwood Mac, The Who, and Led Zeppelin. To keep things on balance, I was also the only kid bummed when Journey and Wham! broke up, and I owned the "Eye of the Tiger" single. I collected music anyway I could, whether it was buying tapes from Specs, Peaches, or Musicland, dubbing copies of records from the public library, or taping Casey Kasem off the radio. Movie soundtracks were always a good way to discover a cross-section of music one might not otherwise become exposed. I was rabid about music, to the point of losing the privilege of my music for a week because my mom caught me listening instead of going to school one late Tuesday morning.
I also used to play-pause-play, stop-play-rewind, et al to hear and write down lyrics to songs whose album's liner notes were left wanting. I also began writing my own songs at a young age. To me, I hit all the marks of a hit song: repetitive chorus, bridge, a couple of verses, guitar or drum solo. Long gone are my actual recordings of these hackneyed gems. Lip syncing and air guitar before patient friend's mothers, joining school band, and trying my hand at a few extracurricular instruments were all soon to follow.
I also spent some time drawing up entire album sleeves for fake acts whose greatest hits were many. A few years ago, these formative ideas returned to me upon taking the raw versions of these pics:
THEORETICAL ALBUM COVER:
THEORETICAL ALBUM BACK COVER:
iTunes, MP3 players, Pandora, Vh-1 classic, pop-up videos, satellite radio, karaoke, and Rock Band were created for people like me. Even though I am far more than a one trick pony, my trivia team always reserves the music categories for me. I have nearly 900 songs favorited on my iTunes, although it always seems small compared to my enthusiasm. For years I listened to hours of music collection informercials by Time Life and the like just to hear small snippets of many favorites and many forgotten ones. I am a sucker for music of varying genres. To me music needs no explanation, just the time to hear it. Music reminds people to love, to dance, to live. It condenses time and it passes the time.
Music is always on a constant shuffle in my life, to the point that my former father-in-law once wondered whether ever second of my life had a soundtrack. Certainly, I like the sounds of other things, the cacophony of life. I just think music conveys the best of them.
That said, honestly, my first true love was music. It's the early passion that counts and the one that truly had an impact. I was the only kid in my fourth grade class who had a music collection. I was the only one who knew from Jefferson Starship and Jefferson Airplane, who could tell you about the members of Fleetwood Mac, The Who, and Led Zeppelin. To keep things on balance, I was also the only kid bummed when Journey and Wham! broke up, and I owned the "Eye of the Tiger" single. I collected music anyway I could, whether it was buying tapes from Specs, Peaches, or Musicland, dubbing copies of records from the public library, or taping Casey Kasem off the radio. Movie soundtracks were always a good way to discover a cross-section of music one might not otherwise become exposed. I was rabid about music, to the point of losing the privilege of my music for a week because my mom caught me listening instead of going to school one late Tuesday morning.
I also used to play-pause-play, stop-play-rewind, et al to hear and write down lyrics to songs whose album's liner notes were left wanting. I also began writing my own songs at a young age. To me, I hit all the marks of a hit song: repetitive chorus, bridge, a couple of verses, guitar or drum solo. Long gone are my actual recordings of these hackneyed gems. Lip syncing and air guitar before patient friend's mothers, joining school band, and trying my hand at a few extracurricular instruments were all soon to follow.
I also spent some time drawing up entire album sleeves for fake acts whose greatest hits were many. A few years ago, these formative ideas returned to me upon taking the raw versions of these pics:
THEORETICAL ALBUM COVER:
THEORETICAL ALBUM BACK COVER:
iTunes, MP3 players, Pandora, Vh-1 classic, pop-up videos, satellite radio, karaoke, and Rock Band were created for people like me. Even though I am far more than a one trick pony, my trivia team always reserves the music categories for me. I have nearly 900 songs favorited on my iTunes, although it always seems small compared to my enthusiasm. For years I listened to hours of music collection informercials by Time Life and the like just to hear small snippets of many favorites and many forgotten ones. I am a sucker for music of varying genres. To me music needs no explanation, just the time to hear it. Music reminds people to love, to dance, to live. It condenses time and it passes the time.
Music is always on a constant shuffle in my life, to the point that my former father-in-law once wondered whether ever second of my life had a soundtrack. Certainly, I like the sounds of other things, the cacophony of life. I just think music conveys the best of them.
24 February 2011
introduce yourself
introduce yourself
-Faith No More
'Introduce yourself,' or some variation therein has been a part of the job interview process for some time now. I believe it was added as part of the politically correct era, as the corporate world began to recognize that there might be individuals hiding behind all of those buzzwords. So often I have found myself faced with that question, whether during an interview or even as part of the slightly reworded social introduction, and I could feel all of the lumbar in my back steadily stopping its support of me.
Over time I have been through one existential crisis after another. Perhaps I can blame my parents for using the well-worn 'who do you think you are' phrase on me so many times during my youth. Or maybe it's the inner conflict I have had between my dreams and my reality that are to blame. Frequently I have had misgivings about the query itself. It is a loaded time bomb and one that I have been tampering with in this blog and my other writings for many years.
One's identity comes pre-packaged with dispositions generations long and genetic code that designates what the key fight will be in your life, add to that a heaping helping of concepts of nurture and first foundations of how to relate and interact with others, and then throw in the wants and needs that arrive lickety split from the photo negative of that life you begin to lead. It all has varying shades, but the main color is that of the human animal.
I am human and I need to be loved.
Even though I have had a love-hate relationship with Morrissey fans and that moody web they weave, I can fully relate to this concept. Everything comes back to love - or more specifically, passion. I would dare say that I am, or at least strive to be, a passionate person. I have been told I wear it in my gaze and have been known to make people uncomfortable with the intensity of my eye contact. With varying results I have always been a person who stepped wholeheartedly down many roads rarely taken, giving my all until my heart wears of it and seeks something else entirely.
-Faith No More
'Introduce yourself,' or some variation therein has been a part of the job interview process for some time now. I believe it was added as part of the politically correct era, as the corporate world began to recognize that there might be individuals hiding behind all of those buzzwords. So often I have found myself faced with that question, whether during an interview or even as part of the slightly reworded social introduction, and I could feel all of the lumbar in my back steadily stopping its support of me.
Over time I have been through one existential crisis after another. Perhaps I can blame my parents for using the well-worn 'who do you think you are' phrase on me so many times during my youth. Or maybe it's the inner conflict I have had between my dreams and my reality that are to blame. Frequently I have had misgivings about the query itself. It is a loaded time bomb and one that I have been tampering with in this blog and my other writings for many years.
One's identity comes pre-packaged with dispositions generations long and genetic code that designates what the key fight will be in your life, add to that a heaping helping of concepts of nurture and first foundations of how to relate and interact with others, and then throw in the wants and needs that arrive lickety split from the photo negative of that life you begin to lead. It all has varying shades, but the main color is that of the human animal.
I am human and I need to be loved.
Even though I have had a love-hate relationship with Morrissey fans and that moody web they weave, I can fully relate to this concept. Everything comes back to love - or more specifically, passion. I would dare say that I am, or at least strive to be, a passionate person. I have been told I wear it in my gaze and have been known to make people uncomfortable with the intensity of my eye contact. With varying results I have always been a person who stepped wholeheartedly down many roads rarely taken, giving my all until my heart wears of it and seeks something else entirely.
retro fit
Alright, I'll play the game too.
meme n. A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another.
The internet overflows with so-called memes of one sort or another. Mostly it comes in the form of a simple duplicated process like changing one's networking site pic to the dictator you most resemble or the like. Recently one has insinuated itself onto myriad blogs. It's the '30 Day Challenge'. In some cases, it's purely photo focused and in others it suggests a blog subject - each running their course over thirty days or more likely thirty posts over a longer length of time.
Much like the antiquated game of telephone, subtle changes occur to on-line questionnaires and their brethren with continued rotation over time. Before deciding on a list, I scouted out a number of different sites to try and find the most interesting collection for myself, removing all references to Justin Bieber and the phrase 'dream cell phone' from the mix.
Then I put it on shuffle and here we are - left vague for a reason, leaving open the possibility for words, pictures, and my usual meandering:
(01) Introduce yourself
(02) Your first love
(03) One of your scars
(04) Moments that changed your life
(05) Lyrics that apply to your current situation
(06) You truly being yourself
(07) Your beliefs
(08) Your special someone
(09) Most stimulating thing you've learned this week
(10) Favorite smell
(11) Picture of you from your younger years
(12) Something that turns you on
(13) A movie that makes you cry
(14) Love
(15) Your last night out
(16) Favorite fruit
(17) 5 things you've lost & where they might be
(18) Picture of your handwriting
(19) Something you don't like
(20) Big purchase you'd make if you won the lottery
(21) Celebrity you'd like in your bed
(22) Something you bought from an adult store
(23) Your side of the bed
(24) Five things in reach of you right now
(25) List of songs that make you emotional
(26) Anything
(27) Photo of you from your last social event
(28) Something irrational that you think or do
(29) Song you want played at your funeral
(30) Your favorite place
(31+) Should any of the above fail to incite my interest when I broach them or if I tear through them and want more, these are my runner-ups:
[taking suggestions - come on, I'm spontaneous]
meme n. A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another.
The internet overflows with so-called memes of one sort or another. Mostly it comes in the form of a simple duplicated process like changing one's networking site pic to the dictator you most resemble or the like. Recently one has insinuated itself onto myriad blogs. It's the '30 Day Challenge'. In some cases, it's purely photo focused and in others it suggests a blog subject - each running their course over thirty days or more likely thirty posts over a longer length of time.
Much like the antiquated game of telephone, subtle changes occur to on-line questionnaires and their brethren with continued rotation over time. Before deciding on a list, I scouted out a number of different sites to try and find the most interesting collection for myself, removing all references to Justin Bieber and the phrase 'dream cell phone' from the mix.
Then I put it on shuffle and here we are - left vague for a reason, leaving open the possibility for words, pictures, and my usual meandering:
(01) Introduce yourself
(02) Your first love
(03) One of your scars
(04) Moments that changed your life
(05) Lyrics that apply to your current situation
(06) You truly being yourself
(07) Your beliefs
(08) Your special someone
(09) Most stimulating thing you've learned this week
(10) Favorite smell
(11) Picture of you from your younger years
(12) Something that turns you on
(13) A movie that makes you cry
(14) Love
(15) Your last night out
(16) Favorite fruit
(17) 5 things you've lost & where they might be
(18) Picture of your handwriting
(19) Something you don't like
(20) Big purchase you'd make if you won the lottery
(21) Celebrity you'd like in your bed
(22) Something you bought from an adult store
(23) Your side of the bed
(24) Five things in reach of you right now
(25) List of songs that make you emotional
(26) Anything
(27) Photo of you from your last social event
(28) Something irrational that you think or do
(29) Song you want played at your funeral
(30) Your favorite place
(31+) Should any of the above fail to incite my interest when I broach them or if I tear through them and want more, these are my runner-ups:
[taking suggestions - come on, I'm spontaneous]
22 February 2011
am i
AND THE THINGS YOU CAN'T REMEMBER
TELL THE THINGS YOU CAN'T FORGET
-Tom Waits (from Time, 1985)
People seek commonality and connection nearly as much as they look for ways to set themselves apart and appear like original molds. One of the best things in life seems to be the ability to change, evolve, and adapt. These are parts of our core construction. We look back, forward, and around us and respond to the same weather conditions differently depending on the hue of our mood ring.
Although I am contemplating one of those '30 Day Challenge' blogs as any follower of the communal stadium wave might, in the meantime I am going to resurrect an on-line personal survey I did about two years ago.
(1). I've come to realize that my chest-size . . .
THEN: is a seemingly irrelevant concept and deterred me from initially posting this questionnaire. But while we're on it, I've often thought myself too lanky.
NOW: is surprisingly adequate. I realize that this brings to question one's own self-esteem about their body, whether male or female. I actually feel good about myself in that regard these days.
(2). I've come to realize that my job . . .
THEN: is not located in this town.
NOW: is something that is ever-evolving, an accumulation of many differing things, and does not always pay very well, but often allows me to have an impact on people in some sense and that in itself is satisfying.
(3). I've come to realize that when I'm driving . . .
THEN: I am far more destination focused than I used to be.
NOW: I am in control and can really feel nearly twenty years experience shift through me.
(4). I've come to realize that I need . . .
THEN: more sunlight than I once thought.
NOW: a whole multitude of different things from life than I was getting before.
(5). I've come to realize that I have lost . . .
THEN: certain aspects of my personality along the way, whether out of age or necessity.
NOW: more than I previously thought possible, but feel what I have gained to be exponentially more significant.
(6). I've come to realize that I hate it when . . .
THEN: people hate.
NOW: people are lazy, pessimistic, and act entitled.
(7). I've come to realize that if I'm drunk . . .
THEN: I will speak my mind and act accordingly.
NOW: (tie) I'm more likely to feel it the next day. And I'm completely uninhibited.
(8). I've come to realize that money . . .
THEN: is only money and a bit of a trifle unless you need it, which is more often the case.
NOW: often comes at too high a price.
(9). I've come to realize that certain people . . .
THEN: never let themselves change and grow.
NOW: need to remain a part of the past, and fighting against this notion only causes harm.
(10). I've come to realize that I'll always . . .
THEN: find a way to be unexpected and in rare form.
NOW: be considered intense, weird, and any number of other often incorrect descriptions before people really get to know me.
(11). I've come to realize that my sibling(s) . . .
THEN: are distinctly different than myself, but still people with whom I would like to spend more time.
NOW: ebb and flow within my life could use a stronger current.
(12). I've come to realize that my mom . . .
THEN: could do well to not assume she knows everything and its nuance now and again.
NOW: needs someone to look up to.
(13). I've come to realize that my cell phone . . .
THEN: isn't active enough with calls from people I would like to chat with.
NOW: is still just a tool, and really a piece of crap compared to the models I sell on a daily basis.
(14). I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning . . .
THEN: I'd overslept and I didn't feel the least bit guilty about it.
NOW: the temperature might have been cold, but the company wasn't.
(15). I've come to realize that last night before I went to sleep . . .
THEN: there was no where else I would rather be.
NOW: balance, peace, and love fill my life these days.
(16). I've come to realize that right now I am thinking . . .
THEN: life could use more dancing.
NOW: a whole slew of things, many of which won't be shared today.
(17). I've come to realize that my dad . . .
THEN: will never be happy or resolved with all of his regrets.
NOW: doesn't know how to relinquish control and fears being seen as vulnerable.
(18). I've come to realize that when I get on Facebook . . .
THEN: I don't really know most of the people who are my 'friends' and something tells me in many cases I never will.
NOW: it doesn't feel like a time waster like it once did.
(19). I've come to realize that today . . .
THEN: I am present and accounted for.
NOW: is one year since I directed "Bug" and I really wish I had a play in the works this season.
(20). I've come to realize that tonight . . .
THEN: is all booked up, and I think I prefer it that way.
NOW: will flow just right.
(21). I've come to realize that tomorrow . . .
THEN: can be manifested, if I really want it to be.
NOW: is not determined, in detail at least, but I know I'm on the right road toward getting there.
(22). I've come to realize that I really want to . . .
THEN: be more open to possibilities.
NOW: keep letting go of what's not and fully embrace what is.
(23). I've come to realize that life . . .
THEN: is whatever you make it and however you perceive it.
NOW: offers more than one way out.
(24). I've come to realize that this weekend . . .
THEN: will be all about relaxation and fun - guilt-free.
NOW: will likely have good eating, hard work, hot sex, and pictures to prove it.
(25). I've come to realize that I am no longer . . .
THEN: as reserved as I used to be.
NOW: misunderstood.
(26). I've come to realize that my friends . . .
THEN: actually enjoy my company, which surprises me since I have been known to tire of it.
NOW: are an entirely different group of people than I would have expected, suggesting actually that you can't completely choose your friends either.
(27). I've come to realize that this year . . .
THEN: all bets are off.
NOW: has been one of my favorites so far, and I am foreseeing wonderful things in the future.
(28). I've come to realize that my ex . . .
THEN: is one of my best friends.
NOW: and I both have long roads to travel, in different directions, for now.
(29). I've come to realize that maybe I should . . .
THEN: find the time.
NOW: [pondering]....
(30). I've come to realize that I love . . .
THEN: much more unconditionally than I realized.
NOW: fully, completely, with ease and give mine to a woman who has recognized aspects of myself I thought no one could see.
(31). I've come to realize that I don't understand . . .
THEN: more than I do.
NOW: people who garner little or no enjoyment from anything yet still call it living.
(32). I've come to realize my past . . .
THEN: is gone. Mostly I remember the music.
NOW: (I'll keep it).
(33). I've come to realize that parties . . .
THEN: are a necessity to happy living.
NOW: can be made or broken by the music. And the people. And the food.
(34). I've come to realize that I'm totally terrified . . .
THEN: of giving up.
NOW: of fewer things than ever before.
(35). I've come to realize that my life . . .
THEN: is not even remotely what I thought it would be, but sometimes I think the surprises and unexpected twists and turns are really what make it all worthwhile.
NOW: is mine. I don't ever want to lose sight of that.
There it is.
An arc of the personal learning curve.
TELL THE THINGS YOU CAN'T FORGET
-Tom Waits (from Time, 1985)
People seek commonality and connection nearly as much as they look for ways to set themselves apart and appear like original molds. One of the best things in life seems to be the ability to change, evolve, and adapt. These are parts of our core construction. We look back, forward, and around us and respond to the same weather conditions differently depending on the hue of our mood ring.
Although I am contemplating one of those '30 Day Challenge' blogs as any follower of the communal stadium wave might, in the meantime I am going to resurrect an on-line personal survey I did about two years ago.
(1). I've come to realize that my chest-size . . .
THEN: is a seemingly irrelevant concept and deterred me from initially posting this questionnaire. But while we're on it, I've often thought myself too lanky.
NOW: is surprisingly adequate. I realize that this brings to question one's own self-esteem about their body, whether male or female. I actually feel good about myself in that regard these days.
(2). I've come to realize that my job . . .
THEN: is not located in this town.
NOW: is something that is ever-evolving, an accumulation of many differing things, and does not always pay very well, but often allows me to have an impact on people in some sense and that in itself is satisfying.
(3). I've come to realize that when I'm driving . . .
THEN: I am far more destination focused than I used to be.
NOW: I am in control and can really feel nearly twenty years experience shift through me.
(4). I've come to realize that I need . . .
THEN: more sunlight than I once thought.
NOW: a whole multitude of different things from life than I was getting before.
(5). I've come to realize that I have lost . . .
THEN: certain aspects of my personality along the way, whether out of age or necessity.
NOW: more than I previously thought possible, but feel what I have gained to be exponentially more significant.
(6). I've come to realize that I hate it when . . .
THEN: people hate.
NOW: people are lazy, pessimistic, and act entitled.
(7). I've come to realize that if I'm drunk . . .
THEN: I will speak my mind and act accordingly.
NOW: (tie) I'm more likely to feel it the next day. And I'm completely uninhibited.
(8). I've come to realize that money . . .
THEN: is only money and a bit of a trifle unless you need it, which is more often the case.
NOW: often comes at too high a price.
(9). I've come to realize that certain people . . .
THEN: never let themselves change and grow.
NOW: need to remain a part of the past, and fighting against this notion only causes harm.
(10). I've come to realize that I'll always . . .
THEN: find a way to be unexpected and in rare form.
NOW: be considered intense, weird, and any number of other often incorrect descriptions before people really get to know me.
(11). I've come to realize that my sibling(s) . . .
THEN: are distinctly different than myself, but still people with whom I would like to spend more time.
NOW: ebb and flow within my life could use a stronger current.
(12). I've come to realize that my mom . . .
THEN: could do well to not assume she knows everything and its nuance now and again.
NOW: needs someone to look up to.
(13). I've come to realize that my cell phone . . .
THEN: isn't active enough with calls from people I would like to chat with.
NOW: is still just a tool, and really a piece of crap compared to the models I sell on a daily basis.
(14). I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning . . .
THEN: I'd overslept and I didn't feel the least bit guilty about it.
NOW: the temperature might have been cold, but the company wasn't.
(15). I've come to realize that last night before I went to sleep . . .
THEN: there was no where else I would rather be.
NOW: balance, peace, and love fill my life these days.
(16). I've come to realize that right now I am thinking . . .
THEN: life could use more dancing.
NOW: a whole slew of things, many of which won't be shared today.
(17). I've come to realize that my dad . . .
THEN: will never be happy or resolved with all of his regrets.
NOW: doesn't know how to relinquish control and fears being seen as vulnerable.
(18). I've come to realize that when I get on Facebook . . .
THEN: I don't really know most of the people who are my 'friends' and something tells me in many cases I never will.
NOW: it doesn't feel like a time waster like it once did.
(19). I've come to realize that today . . .
THEN: I am present and accounted for.
NOW: is one year since I directed "Bug" and I really wish I had a play in the works this season.
(20). I've come to realize that tonight . . .
THEN: is all booked up, and I think I prefer it that way.
NOW: will flow just right.
(21). I've come to realize that tomorrow . . .
THEN: can be manifested, if I really want it to be.
NOW: is not determined, in detail at least, but I know I'm on the right road toward getting there.
(22). I've come to realize that I really want to . . .
THEN: be more open to possibilities.
NOW: keep letting go of what's not and fully embrace what is.
(23). I've come to realize that life . . .
THEN: is whatever you make it and however you perceive it.
NOW: offers more than one way out.
(24). I've come to realize that this weekend . . .
THEN: will be all about relaxation and fun - guilt-free.
NOW: will likely have good eating, hard work, hot sex, and pictures to prove it.
(25). I've come to realize that I am no longer . . .
THEN: as reserved as I used to be.
NOW: misunderstood.
(26). I've come to realize that my friends . . .
THEN: actually enjoy my company, which surprises me since I have been known to tire of it.
NOW: are an entirely different group of people than I would have expected, suggesting actually that you can't completely choose your friends either.
(27). I've come to realize that this year . . .
THEN: all bets are off.
NOW: has been one of my favorites so far, and I am foreseeing wonderful things in the future.
(28). I've come to realize that my ex . . .
THEN: is one of my best friends.
NOW: and I both have long roads to travel, in different directions, for now.
(29). I've come to realize that maybe I should . . .
THEN: find the time.
NOW: [pondering]....
(30). I've come to realize that I love . . .
THEN: much more unconditionally than I realized.
NOW: fully, completely, with ease and give mine to a woman who has recognized aspects of myself I thought no one could see.
(31). I've come to realize that I don't understand . . .
THEN: more than I do.
NOW: people who garner little or no enjoyment from anything yet still call it living.
(32). I've come to realize my past . . .
THEN: is gone. Mostly I remember the music.
NOW: (I'll keep it).
(33). I've come to realize that parties . . .
THEN: are a necessity to happy living.
NOW: can be made or broken by the music. And the people. And the food.
(34). I've come to realize that I'm totally terrified . . .
THEN: of giving up.
NOW: of fewer things than ever before.
(35). I've come to realize that my life . . .
THEN: is not even remotely what I thought it would be, but sometimes I think the surprises and unexpected twists and turns are really what make it all worthwhile.
NOW: is mine. I don't ever want to lose sight of that.
There it is.
An arc of the personal learning curve.
21 February 2011
assemblage 34
I recently turned thirty-four. I remember a time long ago when I considered that old. It's equally intriguing to take another look at movies or shows from our youth and find ourselves older than the oldest primary characters. Age can be funny that way. Lately though, I've been in the mindset of the older I get, the younger I feel. It's a good place to be and I highly recommend finding your own version of it.
18 February 2011
no return
Salted wisdom assures us we can never go home again. Yet Lassie made the trip, so did Dorothy, and the fifth little piggy too. RVs were seemingly invented to ensure folks they could skip the leaving all together.
For the past eight months I have been driving with that little fellow sitting on the console. Paper cranes are significant in many cultures, standing for any number of blessings, and they are a memorable part to me of a favorite "Northern Exposure" episode.
It draws my attention back to the concept of 'home'. Much like my inanimate travel companion, I think we want to have something that remains the same regardless the weather, our mood, or the shape of the relationships in our life. For better or worse, we have to take life on its own terms, as a warts and all Polaroid one chance type experience and not get taken in by the ease of fixing it all in post, as we do in our digital world.
Strange as it may seem, but I have looked at that tiny yellow piece of three-dimensional paper during the changing climates of these past months and realized that it sits there like a compass of sorts, always headed in the direction I am going without judgment.
It's nice to have that.
For the past eight months I have been driving with that little fellow sitting on the console. Paper cranes are significant in many cultures, standing for any number of blessings, and they are a memorable part to me of a favorite "Northern Exposure" episode.
It draws my attention back to the concept of 'home'. Much like my inanimate travel companion, I think we want to have something that remains the same regardless the weather, our mood, or the shape of the relationships in our life. For better or worse, we have to take life on its own terms, as a warts and all Polaroid one chance type experience and not get taken in by the ease of fixing it all in post, as we do in our digital world.
Strange as it may seem, but I have looked at that tiny yellow piece of three-dimensional paper during the changing climates of these past months and realized that it sits there like a compass of sorts, always headed in the direction I am going without judgment.
It's nice to have that.
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