I am the patron saint of lost causes
A fraction of who I once believed (change)
It's only a matter of time
Opinions I would try and rewrite
If life had background music playing your song
I have got to be honest, I tried to escape you
But the orchestra plays on, and they sang
Oh, things are going to change now for the better
And oh, things are going to change
Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you
Lines and phrases, like knives, your words can cut me through
Dismantle me down (repair)
You dismantle me
You dismantle me
... Ill be damned if I haven't heard a better song in years. Justin and Kristin, seriously... thank you for introducing me to Anberlin. I'm obsessed.
Showing posts with label existential meanderings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label existential meanderings. Show all posts
6.20.2009
9.25.2008
God, what do you say?
So… the other night I had a dream that I want to relate. In the dream, there was a hero. He looked a bit like me. As I watched, I discovered the world he was in was our own, but in the future.
In the future… after the second coming, the apocalypse, Armageddon, the rapture, whatever you want to call it.
As I listened to him talk to a passerby or a companion, I know not which, he described what had happened. God had returned to our now (not the dream-world now, but this current day and age) to call his faithful home, and to judge and punish the wicked.
The unfortunate thing was that so many had lost faith in the one true God, and had worshipped so many things other than him – their own “Christian” religion among those idols they had raised up – that very few truly faithful people still existed. Many of these people immediately turned on God, spewing hatred and evil, while others held on to the beliefs they had always had, claiming this wasn’t the true God, not the one they believed in, but some imposter god. The other people, those who had been neutral or aligned differently in their religious outlooks in life… most of them stayed that way.
It was a dark time, but would only get worse. God decided to cleanse the world of what was left. This he had decided to do with an army of angels, that surely no human could withstand. What he hadn’t counted on was the spirit and fire of human will, not to mention the selfish, devious lengths any human would go to “win.” As such, most of the remaining people allied themselves with all manner of demons, devils, evil creatures and malevolent spirits.
The combined army of humans and devils was too much for God’s angelic army. The war raged on and on, destroying the natural beauty of the earth, leaving it nothing more than a wasteland. Eventually, the will of humanity won out… and God’s angel were all either killed or expunged from the earth.
The remaining people then began to war with their once demonic allies, for control of the either. God looked down, and sighed. Many humans remained that had tried to remain neutral, and still more were born of the wicked humans who turned away from evil ways.
The hero was one such child… a person born of evil but turned to goodness because of the amount of evil in the world. He was a crusader.
His words to his listener, this passerby or companion, were harsh, true, heartfelt.
“God is not dead,” he said. “God simply failed. He failed because he gave us power, the power of choice and the power of will. Maybe we both failed, God and us. He still exists, and he is still a being of love, and even now, he cares for his children, even the ones he failed to destroy.”
“We live in a new age, with no rules, with no Christ, with no boogey-men preachers that tell us how to live, with no book-thumpers who make us feel guilty for the choices we make. It is a world where survival of the fittest rules. It is a world of humanity for humanity’s sake. To be good is simply enough. To be evil is simply enough. To be neutral is enough. There are lines drawn in the sand.”
“Today is what we make it. Tomorrow is what we make it. It is my choice to walk this broken world, bringing hope to the broken, bringing justice to the wicked. I serve the true god, the god that failed, the god that wasn’t strong enough to protect and correct his own creation. But the old prophets disciples got one thing write. Christ was enough to teach us all that God does love us. So maybe he was our savior after all? Doesn’t matter now. What matters is what we do this day, what we do tomorrow, and that we try not to kill and curse everyone we cross in our path.”
“Maybe one day we’ll right our own wrongs. To hell with what anyone thinks. It’s time to live for the sake of living, to hold on to goodness.”
The hero turned to walk away. The passerby or companion raised a fist, and in this fist was a knife, and he lunged to stab the hero in the back.
The hero spun and shot the listener dead. He spat on the ground. He looked up to the red-black sky, the scorched sky, and then looked down at the scorched earth.
“It is my choice to walk this broken world, bringing hope to the broken, bringing justice to the wicked… bringing peace, love, and goodness to the deserving. I am broken and serve a broken god… but each step brings hope….”
The hero walked onward.
I woke up later, and wondered to myself… was this a dream, or reality?
Am I the hero, or the listener?
Am I dead, or truly alive?
Is this all dream, or reality? What wickedness controls our daily lives? Where is the hero with hope for the broken, is this, the most broken of ages?
Should I go back to sleep?
In the future… after the second coming, the apocalypse, Armageddon, the rapture, whatever you want to call it.
As I listened to him talk to a passerby or a companion, I know not which, he described what had happened. God had returned to our now (not the dream-world now, but this current day and age) to call his faithful home, and to judge and punish the wicked.
The unfortunate thing was that so many had lost faith in the one true God, and had worshipped so many things other than him – their own “Christian” religion among those idols they had raised up – that very few truly faithful people still existed. Many of these people immediately turned on God, spewing hatred and evil, while others held on to the beliefs they had always had, claiming this wasn’t the true God, not the one they believed in, but some imposter god. The other people, those who had been neutral or aligned differently in their religious outlooks in life… most of them stayed that way.
It was a dark time, but would only get worse. God decided to cleanse the world of what was left. This he had decided to do with an army of angels, that surely no human could withstand. What he hadn’t counted on was the spirit and fire of human will, not to mention the selfish, devious lengths any human would go to “win.” As such, most of the remaining people allied themselves with all manner of demons, devils, evil creatures and malevolent spirits.
The combined army of humans and devils was too much for God’s angelic army. The war raged on and on, destroying the natural beauty of the earth, leaving it nothing more than a wasteland. Eventually, the will of humanity won out… and God’s angel were all either killed or expunged from the earth.
The remaining people then began to war with their once demonic allies, for control of the either. God looked down, and sighed. Many humans remained that had tried to remain neutral, and still more were born of the wicked humans who turned away from evil ways.
The hero was one such child… a person born of evil but turned to goodness because of the amount of evil in the world. He was a crusader.
His words to his listener, this passerby or companion, were harsh, true, heartfelt.
“God is not dead,” he said. “God simply failed. He failed because he gave us power, the power of choice and the power of will. Maybe we both failed, God and us. He still exists, and he is still a being of love, and even now, he cares for his children, even the ones he failed to destroy.”
“We live in a new age, with no rules, with no Christ, with no boogey-men preachers that tell us how to live, with no book-thumpers who make us feel guilty for the choices we make. It is a world where survival of the fittest rules. It is a world of humanity for humanity’s sake. To be good is simply enough. To be evil is simply enough. To be neutral is enough. There are lines drawn in the sand.”
“Today is what we make it. Tomorrow is what we make it. It is my choice to walk this broken world, bringing hope to the broken, bringing justice to the wicked. I serve the true god, the god that failed, the god that wasn’t strong enough to protect and correct his own creation. But the old prophets disciples got one thing write. Christ was enough to teach us all that God does love us. So maybe he was our savior after all? Doesn’t matter now. What matters is what we do this day, what we do tomorrow, and that we try not to kill and curse everyone we cross in our path.”
“Maybe one day we’ll right our own wrongs. To hell with what anyone thinks. It’s time to live for the sake of living, to hold on to goodness.”
The hero turned to walk away. The passerby or companion raised a fist, and in this fist was a knife, and he lunged to stab the hero in the back.
The hero spun and shot the listener dead. He spat on the ground. He looked up to the red-black sky, the scorched sky, and then looked down at the scorched earth.
“It is my choice to walk this broken world, bringing hope to the broken, bringing justice to the wicked… bringing peace, love, and goodness to the deserving. I am broken and serve a broken god… but each step brings hope….”
The hero walked onward.
I woke up later, and wondered to myself… was this a dream, or reality?
Am I the hero, or the listener?
Am I dead, or truly alive?
Is this all dream, or reality? What wickedness controls our daily lives? Where is the hero with hope for the broken, is this, the most broken of ages?
Should I go back to sleep?
9.08.2008
No trade-backs
I had an interesting conversation yesterday evening. The setting: helping my friend Scott play a gig at a sorority on the campus of Indiana University. Apparently, said sorority (whose name I don't remember) was friends with a fraternity (again, don't remember) and those boys were there helping out. Scott is also a member of that fraternity, and to give him his due credit, he was right, they were not all total douchebags. Only a few.
Still, I marvelled at the youth, the arrogance, the hubris, the total lack of self, some of these "men" epitomized. There were more polos and khaki shorts than you could shake a stick at. As for the girls... I was very proud of that particular club, because not all the girls were thin and blond and super attractive. Most of them were average or just a shade on the pretty side, and a few were a shade on the other side... or worse... not at all bad or ugly... just not what you would expect from a place like IU where the greek system is ruthless, heartless, and soulless.
Those were my impressions when I went to school there, from 1999 until 2003. I was glad to see both a frat and a sorority moving in a positive, more-normal-people-friendly direction.
As I was saying... I was there to play guitar and help back up Scott. One of his frat brothers introduced himself and we began talking. He seemed like an alright kid, maybe a little confused and maybe a little less than a rocket scientist, but generally a very nice kid. The thing that shocked me... he had SOOO many questions for me.
What's it like in Indianapolis?
Why aren't you working in your major?
Why do you live with other people?
What's it like working a real job?
Do you ever miss college?
Did you party much when you were down here?
Did you party much when you left?
Why are newspapers dying out?
There were many more questions, maybe not phrased exactly the same way, but just inquiry after inquiry. Many of the questions all seemed to point to one simple thing - responsibility after college, or life as a real adult (however you want to phrase it, that's what it came down to).
And you know what? I gave him answers. I tried to tell him that it'll be completely different than college. And I thought the whole time, "kid, you don't know how good you have it right now."
I hope I maybe imparted some wisdom to the young man. I hope maybe I prepared him for the future, the real future, not the one where they (high school teachers and counselors, parents, etc.) tell you that you can be anything you want to be when you grow up - but the one that really exists, where the only things anyone cares about is that your ass is in your chair 5 minutes before work begins, and your check is in the hands of the power company and mortgage company the day before it is due.
All in all you are just another brick in their wall.
So what is it that moves you, and keeps you from being ordinary? That's the task you have to focus your free time on, so you're not just another number.
Still, I marvelled at the youth, the arrogance, the hubris, the total lack of self, some of these "men" epitomized. There were more polos and khaki shorts than you could shake a stick at. As for the girls... I was very proud of that particular club, because not all the girls were thin and blond and super attractive. Most of them were average or just a shade on the pretty side, and a few were a shade on the other side... or worse... not at all bad or ugly... just not what you would expect from a place like IU where the greek system is ruthless, heartless, and soulless.
Those were my impressions when I went to school there, from 1999 until 2003. I was glad to see both a frat and a sorority moving in a positive, more-normal-people-friendly direction.
As I was saying... I was there to play guitar and help back up Scott. One of his frat brothers introduced himself and we began talking. He seemed like an alright kid, maybe a little confused and maybe a little less than a rocket scientist, but generally a very nice kid. The thing that shocked me... he had SOOO many questions for me.
What's it like in Indianapolis?
Why aren't you working in your major?
Why do you live with other people?
What's it like working a real job?
Do you ever miss college?
Did you party much when you were down here?
Did you party much when you left?
Why are newspapers dying out?
There were many more questions, maybe not phrased exactly the same way, but just inquiry after inquiry. Many of the questions all seemed to point to one simple thing - responsibility after college, or life as a real adult (however you want to phrase it, that's what it came down to).
And you know what? I gave him answers. I tried to tell him that it'll be completely different than college. And I thought the whole time, "kid, you don't know how good you have it right now."
I hope I maybe imparted some wisdom to the young man. I hope maybe I prepared him for the future, the real future, not the one where they (high school teachers and counselors, parents, etc.) tell you that you can be anything you want to be when you grow up - but the one that really exists, where the only things anyone cares about is that your ass is in your chair 5 minutes before work begins, and your check is in the hands of the power company and mortgage company the day before it is due.
All in all you are just another brick in their wall.
So what is it that moves you, and keeps you from being ordinary? That's the task you have to focus your free time on, so you're not just another number.
8.29.2008
The man upstairs is through with all of this noise...
... and I'm through with screaming.
Is the man upstairs listening? Does he care? Does he care how I approach him, how I reconcile years of denial, how I admit to moments of utter brokeness and bitterness, often directed at him?
God is a curious being, for sure, for sure.
I am constantly plagued by big questions - why here, where going, what doing, who with, et cetera. It's been a while since I threw off the blanket of my protection, tore down my walls, opened up and ran free. In short, I haven't stopped to smell the roses in... a while.
I could and do sometimes complain all day - I'm overweight, overworked, underpaid, underappreciated, used, taken advantage of, live in a world of idiots who can't drive a car, have o time, et cetera. But, I am tired of looking through pessimistic eye glasses. Tired of looking through lenses that only see one shade.
God knows, as I've debated with him so often before, that there are many shades of grey. There's not just clean and dirty - there are many subtle levels. The difference I'm wanting now, the change I'm seeking, is to start focusing on the lighter shades of grey, not the darker ones.
Life can be sinister. Life is hard, to be blunt and cliche. With the situation I am living in, I feel stuck in a rut. I have not the time nor the financial power to break out, so I've got to find other means. I have always said that the best person to break one's self out of a rut is ultimately one's self. No magical romantic love affair with a woman is going to make it happen (neither is a magical love affair with a man - because if it would, it might be worth compromising my morals and personal preferences... just kidding). No magic paycheck is coming. No lottery. And... no hand of God is reaching down to get me back into school, to build the perfect wife (and make us in love and compatible), to fill my wallet with cash and my bank account with positive numbers.
No. God isn't doing that. He breathed life into me, smacked me on the ass, told me a few things, and sent me on my way.
So it's up to me. But it would be nice to know He's listening. 'Cause I am so through with screaming.
Is the man upstairs listening? Does he care? Does he care how I approach him, how I reconcile years of denial, how I admit to moments of utter brokeness and bitterness, often directed at him?
God is a curious being, for sure, for sure.
I am constantly plagued by big questions - why here, where going, what doing, who with, et cetera. It's been a while since I threw off the blanket of my protection, tore down my walls, opened up and ran free. In short, I haven't stopped to smell the roses in... a while.
I could and do sometimes complain all day - I'm overweight, overworked, underpaid, underappreciated, used, taken advantage of, live in a world of idiots who can't drive a car, have o time, et cetera. But, I am tired of looking through pessimistic eye glasses. Tired of looking through lenses that only see one shade.
God knows, as I've debated with him so often before, that there are many shades of grey. There's not just clean and dirty - there are many subtle levels. The difference I'm wanting now, the change I'm seeking, is to start focusing on the lighter shades of grey, not the darker ones.
Life can be sinister. Life is hard, to be blunt and cliche. With the situation I am living in, I feel stuck in a rut. I have not the time nor the financial power to break out, so I've got to find other means. I have always said that the best person to break one's self out of a rut is ultimately one's self. No magical romantic love affair with a woman is going to make it happen (neither is a magical love affair with a man - because if it would, it might be worth compromising my morals and personal preferences... just kidding). No magic paycheck is coming. No lottery. And... no hand of God is reaching down to get me back into school, to build the perfect wife (and make us in love and compatible), to fill my wallet with cash and my bank account with positive numbers.
No. God isn't doing that. He breathed life into me, smacked me on the ass, told me a few things, and sent me on my way.
So it's up to me. But it would be nice to know He's listening. 'Cause I am so through with screaming.
8.04.2008
I'm Still Alive
So... maybe I shouldn't be so callous... or shouldn't think of becoming more calloused. I mean, there are only so many punched one can take before it doesn't hurt anymore, before pain becomes all past tense, before your dreams die and you just do what you can to get by.
I don't want to just get by. But, then again, I don't want to deal with any more drama than I have to.
The thing is, when the dynamic is working, I have a truly wonderful group of friends. They definitely are a support system.
And... I am still hear. Maybe with a growing collection of scars, but still here, still standing, still fighting for some of the things I believe in.
I haven't given hope... just trying to redefine where it is aimed at.
I don't want to just get by. But, then again, I don't want to deal with any more drama than I have to.
The thing is, when the dynamic is working, I have a truly wonderful group of friends. They definitely are a support system.
And... I am still hear. Maybe with a growing collection of scars, but still here, still standing, still fighting for some of the things I believe in.
I haven't given hope... just trying to redefine where it is aimed at.
7.17.2008
I Can See For Miles and Miles
Ah, what a strange, dynamic world I live in. My ruminations on these things probably aren't worth much, but... I am nothing if not a writer. So, I'll tell you my b.s. opinions and you'll tell me yours, and together we'll drink 7-7s into the sunset. Or something like that.
So, I brought in my "burnt CD wallet" (a CD wallet containing only burnt CDs) from my home/car into work a week or so ago. This gives us a myriad of listening options at work, and those who know me know I can make one helluva mix tape, so there's some really good stuff on disc being played in my office.
The problem - more than I remembered, a vast majority of discs in the collection are mixes I either made for a particular ex-girlfriend, or are mixes made to reflect my mood at the time our relationship began to fail and spiraled down into the depressing, hurtful, and sometimes hateful thing it became.
So my artist's tears drip down in my heart as the blood machine works, and yes, yes I am so sick. But Marah still makes me smile wistfully, Blue Merle makes me think of the Columbus Zoo and driving around Ohio, and Over The Rhine still makes my heart flutter. Through it all, so much music is the soundtrack to my life, it'd take a hundred discs a year to explain it all.
Gatsby's American Dream say it well: thinking that I can make this right, in fact I know I've got to make this right... I'm done fucking around with the guilt engine.
Or the D.B.T.'s, who mean it when they say "This Highway's Mean" - because sometimes it is. Sometimes we can't be "Bothered." Sometimes the glass is only "1/2 Full." Sometimes life leaves you "High and Dry" - - and you wonder if you'll ever feel the way those songs make you remember feeling.
Some days, when the girl you like won't call, and you wonder if she ever will, you really do with you'd be done fucking around with the guilt engine. 'Cause that fucker runs overtime, all the time, until the wheels come loose and you're dead. All the rhetoric in the world can't save your ass when the big hand comes to take us all away.
And whether or not God is up there and listening at all (and like Billy Corgan, I really wonder if he is), that doesn't matter to me right now. What I want is to feel the way I want to feel, and someone else holds that key, and she won't open the lock. I wander around in my existential conundrum, but wandering and wondering gets us nowhere. Cliffs surround, walls close in.
Change comes slowly, quickly, never and not at all and all at once.
It just doesn't add up. And that's why math is dead to me now.
So, I brought in my "burnt CD wallet" (a CD wallet containing only burnt CDs) from my home/car into work a week or so ago. This gives us a myriad of listening options at work, and those who know me know I can make one helluva mix tape, so there's some really good stuff on disc being played in my office.
The problem - more than I remembered, a vast majority of discs in the collection are mixes I either made for a particular ex-girlfriend, or are mixes made to reflect my mood at the time our relationship began to fail and spiraled down into the depressing, hurtful, and sometimes hateful thing it became.
So my artist's tears drip down in my heart as the blood machine works, and yes, yes I am so sick. But Marah still makes me smile wistfully, Blue Merle makes me think of the Columbus Zoo and driving around Ohio, and Over The Rhine still makes my heart flutter. Through it all, so much music is the soundtrack to my life, it'd take a hundred discs a year to explain it all.
Gatsby's American Dream say it well: thinking that I can make this right, in fact I know I've got to make this right... I'm done fucking around with the guilt engine.
Or the D.B.T.'s, who mean it when they say "This Highway's Mean" - because sometimes it is. Sometimes we can't be "Bothered." Sometimes the glass is only "1/2 Full." Sometimes life leaves you "High and Dry" - - and you wonder if you'll ever feel the way those songs make you remember feeling.
Some days, when the girl you like won't call, and you wonder if she ever will, you really do with you'd be done fucking around with the guilt engine. 'Cause that fucker runs overtime, all the time, until the wheels come loose and you're dead. All the rhetoric in the world can't save your ass when the big hand comes to take us all away.
And whether or not God is up there and listening at all (and like Billy Corgan, I really wonder if he is), that doesn't matter to me right now. What I want is to feel the way I want to feel, and someone else holds that key, and she won't open the lock. I wander around in my existential conundrum, but wandering and wondering gets us nowhere. Cliffs surround, walls close in.
Change comes slowly, quickly, never and not at all and all at once.
It just doesn't add up. And that's why math is dead to me now.
7.08.2008
My Brain... via "Baba O'Riley"
Out here in the fields - you know, I grew up on a small ranch. Small town kid. A classmate of mine died just yesterday... and everyone from my high school crawls out of the woodworks. It always took a tragedy to make us all see eye to eye.
I fight for my meals - I've been pretty damn lucky so far, and haven't had to do this too much. That said, I am way too damned broke, and it ain't getting any better.
I get my back into my living - you can say that again. Jobs kill me, I think. I start out loving it, then end up hating it when stress takes control. There is no escape. I used to think the bible was silly, what with all it's toil and hard work stuff... now, not so sure.
I don't need to fight - but I always do. Now, I just wish I had something worth fighting for.
To prove I'm right - yet, unfortunately, the thing I want to fight for, I can't. The things I want to do, I don't have the fortitude or the guts to do. I am, to say the least, shallow on the inside.
I don't need to be forgiven - God and I have been having this argument. Damn him, he always wins...
Don't cry, don't raise your eye - I don't cry much anyway, not anymore. I gave it up after shedding far too many tears for two or so women. I should've learned the first time.
It's only teenage wasteland - damn right it is. Angst, envy, lack of patience, anger and hate, misplaced love, broken hearts, tortured artist soul... all here for the world to see.
Sally, take my hand - still looking for a Sally...
We'll travel south crossland - I'd love a vacation. I need a vacation.
Put out the fire, don't look past my shoulder - ah, but I never, never want the fire to go out. I stoke that bitch all night long... and still, she burns me.
The exodus is here - I've been waiting a long time. A long time.
The happy ones are near - thank God for great friends and wonderful family.
Let's get together, before we get much older - but no, we're all becoming damaged goods. We all got baggage now. It makes life interesting, for sure. But we ARE getting older, and yet things remain the same. Still waiting on that exodus.
Teenage Wasteland! It's only teenage wasteland - yes, it all comes back to this... hope, love, faith... disappointment? Again?
We're all wasted! - well, I'm not. Maybe I should be. Never was my thing.
I'll stick with the Teenage Wasteland part, thank you very much.
I fight for my meals - I've been pretty damn lucky so far, and haven't had to do this too much. That said, I am way too damned broke, and it ain't getting any better.
I get my back into my living - you can say that again. Jobs kill me, I think. I start out loving it, then end up hating it when stress takes control. There is no escape. I used to think the bible was silly, what with all it's toil and hard work stuff... now, not so sure.
I don't need to fight - but I always do. Now, I just wish I had something worth fighting for.
To prove I'm right - yet, unfortunately, the thing I want to fight for, I can't. The things I want to do, I don't have the fortitude or the guts to do. I am, to say the least, shallow on the inside.
I don't need to be forgiven - God and I have been having this argument. Damn him, he always wins...
Don't cry, don't raise your eye - I don't cry much anyway, not anymore. I gave it up after shedding far too many tears for two or so women. I should've learned the first time.
It's only teenage wasteland - damn right it is. Angst, envy, lack of patience, anger and hate, misplaced love, broken hearts, tortured artist soul... all here for the world to see.
Sally, take my hand - still looking for a Sally...
We'll travel south crossland - I'd love a vacation. I need a vacation.
Put out the fire, don't look past my shoulder - ah, but I never, never want the fire to go out. I stoke that bitch all night long... and still, she burns me.
The exodus is here - I've been waiting a long time. A long time.
The happy ones are near - thank God for great friends and wonderful family.
Let's get together, before we get much older - but no, we're all becoming damaged goods. We all got baggage now. It makes life interesting, for sure. But we ARE getting older, and yet things remain the same. Still waiting on that exodus.
Teenage Wasteland! It's only teenage wasteland - yes, it all comes back to this... hope, love, faith... disappointment? Again?
We're all wasted! - well, I'm not. Maybe I should be. Never was my thing.
I'll stick with the Teenage Wasteland part, thank you very much.
6.09.2008
I will hold the candle, 'til it burns up my arm...
Damn. I am trapped, and I feel like I am suffocating. I do not want to lose what might be the greatest love I've found - or the recognition of such potential - and I don't know how to keep that from happening.
Patience. Time. I am scared to death, but now I'm scared for different reasons. I know what I feel in my heart, that what burns in my chest, is true. I recognized the potential for something great, and now it feels like it is slipping away.
I think about all that has been said... that she's such a sweet person, that we've been down some very similar roads, that we've both been hurt and have had such heartbreak and loss in our lives. I know she said she'd never want to make someone feel that same way.
Being open and bare is just simply terrifying. I understand that, so very much. Being so close to something that feels so wonderful, though... losing that is terrifying.
I just worry that time will not bode well... that it might put out the fire, or that it might give rise to too many complaints... that instead of being taken at honest face value, I'l be demoted or dismissed for myriad reasons beyond my control. I am scared I am being picked apart in her mind (not her heart) right now, that somewhere a small devil is convincing her that this is bad, is teaching her to ignore the goodness and the wonderful feelings that accompany the fear of something new and so quick, the fear of another heartbreak.
I will not break her heart, and I will not make her look like a fool. But can I tell her that? How can I say something and not seem like some lovesick idiot? It is one thing to be in love, and that is not the case here at all. But it is the case of seeing the potential to be in love, there and waiting. You can't hurry love, no you just have to wait, it's a game of give and take, right?
I don't want to miss this chance. I know deep in my heart that this is what I've searched for, waited for, prayed for, and paid the price for. To step so close to it, and to feel it slipping away... is suffocating.
I just want to breathe... to talk, to exhale, to share more thoughts and feelings, to be scared together, for different reasons.
God, you know my heart. Help me through this.
Patience. Time. I am scared to death, but now I'm scared for different reasons. I know what I feel in my heart, that what burns in my chest, is true. I recognized the potential for something great, and now it feels like it is slipping away.
I think about all that has been said... that she's such a sweet person, that we've been down some very similar roads, that we've both been hurt and have had such heartbreak and loss in our lives. I know she said she'd never want to make someone feel that same way.
Being open and bare is just simply terrifying. I understand that, so very much. Being so close to something that feels so wonderful, though... losing that is terrifying.
I just worry that time will not bode well... that it might put out the fire, or that it might give rise to too many complaints... that instead of being taken at honest face value, I'l be demoted or dismissed for myriad reasons beyond my control. I am scared I am being picked apart in her mind (not her heart) right now, that somewhere a small devil is convincing her that this is bad, is teaching her to ignore the goodness and the wonderful feelings that accompany the fear of something new and so quick, the fear of another heartbreak.
I will not break her heart, and I will not make her look like a fool. But can I tell her that? How can I say something and not seem like some lovesick idiot? It is one thing to be in love, and that is not the case here at all. But it is the case of seeing the potential to be in love, there and waiting. You can't hurry love, no you just have to wait, it's a game of give and take, right?
I don't want to miss this chance. I know deep in my heart that this is what I've searched for, waited for, prayed for, and paid the price for. To step so close to it, and to feel it slipping away... is suffocating.
I just want to breathe... to talk, to exhale, to share more thoughts and feelings, to be scared together, for different reasons.
God, you know my heart. Help me through this.
6.08.2008
Makes much more sense to live in the present tense
One of the oldest posts from my old blog:
"SO here's what I am thinking. I am thinking I didn't get enough sleep last night. I am thinking that I have to clean my house tonight, to prepare for Saturday's shin-dig. I am thinking that I hope some of my friends hang around and we have a blast Saturday night. I am thinking that the Pacers best beat the Heat in Game 5 on Saturday night. I am thinking that my stomach is not built for less than 5 hours of sleep, is not built for stress and worry, is not built for running the machine of wonder, creativity, and general wackiness that I am. I am, indeed, thinking that my stomach, which JBQ refers to as my "power plant of love," and which I have aforely mentioned that I think it isn't built to handle any of my current conundrums, I am thinking that my stomach is mad at me for trying to get rid of it through diet and exercise. I am thinking that it is funny that I say it's not built for anything, and yet I am trying to diminish its size and therefore its productivity, of love, stress-handling, no-sleep-kicking, and other witty conundrums. I am thinking that besides all this, I am a cute, witty, loyal, honest, enduring, endearing, and genuine man. I am thinking that I love where I am in life, because life is a journey and an adventure, and I feel like no sleep and stress and cranky tummies all mean that I am living quite an adventure, and for all that, I am thinking that I am in a damn good mood this morning. I am, for sure, thinking that guys are crazy for loving gals, and gals are crazy for loving guys. I am thinking that God (or whatever grand creator you believe or don't believe in) finds this guys/gals thing quite humorous, and I am thinking he laughs at us with joy because of the silly creatures that we are. I am thinking that I am truly blessed with awesome friends. I am thinking that I am truly blessed with an awesome life, and that I am going somewhere, and that I am willing to smile, and to give that smile to someone, to everyone, to someone special, to creation, to creator, and yes, even to my cranky stomach. I am thinking that, beyond this, I know nothing. I am thinking that knowledge is the key.
I am thinking that I am thinking too much. And I am smiling all the way through it."
What, what, what does it all mean? God, this analytical mind can be a blessing and a curse. I need a worry stone.
6.06.2008
Small my table, sits just one
Not sure how long I can keep up this Pearl Jam-themed, "song lyric = entry title" thing. But I like it. And, in answer to my own question - I can probably keep it up a while. I'm a nut like that.
So... I love my little devotional book. Today's entry was about being, as a child of God, not doing.
I am. I am who I am.
Je suis. That was the first thing we learned in French class - well, other than Je m'appelle ___ (my name is blank). Je suis. I am. To be. Etre. To be.
Perhaps it is of no little significance that God loves us for who we are. It is an interesting idea... that God loves me, warts and all, mistakes and failures... and of course successes and triumphs, too.
To be is to be. To know thy self is to know that you are imperfect. To accept that you are imperfect is a tacit recognition that your imperfections are ok, that in many cases they make you a better person. For me, it is also a recognition that God loves us not despite our imperfections, but because of them... for not all imperfections are "sin" (and I'm not getting into what that means, yet...). Even if they were, God loves us just the same.
I know myself. I am.
And I am more than happy with that. It is good to be, to exist, to walk this earth as me.
So... I love my little devotional book. Today's entry was about being, as a child of God, not doing.
I am. I am who I am.
Je suis. That was the first thing we learned in French class - well, other than Je m'appelle ___ (my name is blank). Je suis. I am. To be. Etre. To be.
Perhaps it is of no little significance that God loves us for who we are. It is an interesting idea... that God loves me, warts and all, mistakes and failures... and of course successes and triumphs, too.
To be is to be. To know thy self is to know that you are imperfect. To accept that you are imperfect is a tacit recognition that your imperfections are ok, that in many cases they make you a better person. For me, it is also a recognition that God loves us not despite our imperfections, but because of them... for not all imperfections are "sin" (and I'm not getting into what that means, yet...). Even if they were, God loves us just the same.
I know myself. I am.
And I am more than happy with that. It is good to be, to exist, to walk this earth as me.
6.05.2008
Your light made us stars
"May love act as a bridge... over the very least of your exchanges." - David Teems
As I read this phrase (yes, out of a devotional) last night, it felt like I had been given a key to the gates, and punched in the stomach at the same time.
As I have dealt with my own search for love and companionship, I have watched my friends search, too. I have shared in some of their successes and some of their failures. But... my point is, when was the last time you stopped and thought about "love" as something universal and all-consuming... not just a romantic relationship?
Anyone who knows me knows I think a metric-ton about love, it all its myriad forms. The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis is one of my favorite books. If you're looking just right, you might catch me tear up over silly or emotional displays of affection, beauty, appreciation, eros, AND divinity.
Love in all its form is a lost commodity. We as human beings need to bring it back. Put that currency back into circulation.
It's starts next to you - just being polite, thankful, helpful.
I always liked that commercial, I think for Prudential, where they talk about being responsible - and the lady stops the pizza guy from crossing a busy street in front of a car he didn't see. He in turns stops someone from doing something dangerous, and they help someone pick up something, and on and on, until it returns to the orginal lady character, who is helped by someone, and then helps the pizza guy again.
Another great media example is the Dave Matthews Band video for Everyday (I think), the one where the fellow goes around offering complete strangers a hug, for no reason other than... hey, people need hugs.
Maybe that currency could be in wide use again. Maybe it still is, maybe it never was. But let's not let the semantics bog it down - whether you believe in God, or or whatever you call it, or nothing at all... it still never hurts to spread a little love around.
As I read this phrase (yes, out of a devotional) last night, it felt like I had been given a key to the gates, and punched in the stomach at the same time.
As I have dealt with my own search for love and companionship, I have watched my friends search, too. I have shared in some of their successes and some of their failures. But... my point is, when was the last time you stopped and thought about "love" as something universal and all-consuming... not just a romantic relationship?
Anyone who knows me knows I think a metric-ton about love, it all its myriad forms. The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis is one of my favorite books. If you're looking just right, you might catch me tear up over silly or emotional displays of affection, beauty, appreciation, eros, AND divinity.
Love in all its form is a lost commodity. We as human beings need to bring it back. Put that currency back into circulation.
It's starts next to you - just being polite, thankful, helpful.
I always liked that commercial, I think for Prudential, where they talk about being responsible - and the lady stops the pizza guy from crossing a busy street in front of a car he didn't see. He in turns stops someone from doing something dangerous, and they help someone pick up something, and on and on, until it returns to the orginal lady character, who is helped by someone, and then helps the pizza guy again.
Another great media example is the Dave Matthews Band video for Everyday (I think), the one where the fellow goes around offering complete strangers a hug, for no reason other than... hey, people need hugs.
Maybe that currency could be in wide use again. Maybe it still is, maybe it never was. But let's not let the semantics bog it down - whether you believe in God, or or whatever you call it, or nothing at all... it still never hurts to spread a little love around.
6.04.2008
Saw things so much clearer.
Rearviewmirror.
It is sometimes much easier to see what, why, and how - when it is over. I wish I could tell my friend to let go, to cut ties, to kiss his past goodbye. It is not easy to look at someone who is travelling a path you walked yourself - you know that load, you bore that pain, and you how it ends. And, you know how it feels.
But... you also know how it feels to come out from under that cloud. Been a whole lot happier since the bitch left town (little miss, little miss, little miss can't be wrong).
I've hurt. I've lost. I've been lost. I've been there before.
And I've seen the other side. Once you let go... you have freedom.
And that gets us back to risk vs. reward. And I'm the CEO of my heart, so I'm the one that makes the decision to risk what, how much, when. It is a tough call to make. It's damn tough. Having felt the heartbreak, that momentary loss of soul... it is harder to give again.
It is hard to open up.
You need someone who has the key.
But it also makes you more discerning. The bar has been raised. You have standards, morals, values. Sometimes it is too much. But you test, you try, you drag and kick and fight... and then, hopefully, you get it right.
Then you wait for your time, wait for your shot, wait for you moment in the spotlight.
Wait for the chance to risk it all. You don't love like you've never been burned - you love like you know what that feels like, so you love harder, stronger, deeper than before. Your heart, mess that it is/was, opens up more, larger. You take chances.
Sometimes... life can be circular. Life can be a cycle. Sometimes... you live to hurt again.
But I once believed that Love Conquers All.
And.
I still believe that Love. Conquers. All.
Sometimes it is hard to admit it. But faith, hope, love... they are all still there, lurking somewhere beneath the surface... waiting for their moments. They ebb, they flow, they churn into a maelstrom and burst free like a tidal wave.
They are the essence of being human.
I can't say I haven't hurt. But from the rearviewmirror, I can say that, having hurt, I'm better off for it. I'll appreciate what I see when I see it. Love gets sweeter and sweeter, in every possible way (thanks Julie Doiron and Wooden Stars).
So... you hope for your friend, you hope for yourself. You stand on the corner of thought and reason, watch it intersect with love and romance... you stand with your scarred self and stick out your thumb, hitching a ride.
It is sometimes much easier to see what, why, and how - when it is over. I wish I could tell my friend to let go, to cut ties, to kiss his past goodbye. It is not easy to look at someone who is travelling a path you walked yourself - you know that load, you bore that pain, and you how it ends. And, you know how it feels.
But... you also know how it feels to come out from under that cloud. Been a whole lot happier since the bitch left town (little miss, little miss, little miss can't be wrong).
I've hurt. I've lost. I've been lost. I've been there before.
And I've seen the other side. Once you let go... you have freedom.
And that gets us back to risk vs. reward. And I'm the CEO of my heart, so I'm the one that makes the decision to risk what, how much, when. It is a tough call to make. It's damn tough. Having felt the heartbreak, that momentary loss of soul... it is harder to give again.
It is hard to open up.
You need someone who has the key.
But it also makes you more discerning. The bar has been raised. You have standards, morals, values. Sometimes it is too much. But you test, you try, you drag and kick and fight... and then, hopefully, you get it right.
Then you wait for your time, wait for your shot, wait for you moment in the spotlight.
Wait for the chance to risk it all. You don't love like you've never been burned - you love like you know what that feels like, so you love harder, stronger, deeper than before. Your heart, mess that it is/was, opens up more, larger. You take chances.
Sometimes... life can be circular. Life can be a cycle. Sometimes... you live to hurt again.
But I once believed that Love Conquers All.
And.
I still believe that Love. Conquers. All.
Sometimes it is hard to admit it. But faith, hope, love... they are all still there, lurking somewhere beneath the surface... waiting for their moments. They ebb, they flow, they churn into a maelstrom and burst free like a tidal wave.
They are the essence of being human.
I can't say I haven't hurt. But from the rearviewmirror, I can say that, having hurt, I'm better off for it. I'll appreciate what I see when I see it. Love gets sweeter and sweeter, in every possible way (thanks Julie Doiron and Wooden Stars).
So... you hope for your friend, you hope for yourself. You stand on the corner of thought and reason, watch it intersect with love and romance... you stand with your scarred self and stick out your thumb, hitching a ride.
6.03.2008
The quest we're taking on together
Sometimes, just sometimes... there's never enough time.
Enough time to write. Enough time to say what's to say. Enough time to read. Enough time to listen, to talk, to feel.
When the blow falls, which way do you run?
How do you advise someone you don't want to get hurt? Do you explain what you've been through, advise caution? Or do you remember when you yourself threw caution to the wind, and said the hell with it, and went against your gut to go with your heart?
When do you celebrate how you feel once you are out from under that dark cloud?
No risk, no reward.
To love is to risk getting hurt, to risk (another) heartbreak.
But to love is everything - god, self, glory, righteousness. To pursue excellence in that, does it not mean to take that risk?
Risk?
Risk.
Risk.
Enough time to write. Enough time to say what's to say. Enough time to read. Enough time to listen, to talk, to feel.
When the blow falls, which way do you run?
How do you advise someone you don't want to get hurt? Do you explain what you've been through, advise caution? Or do you remember when you yourself threw caution to the wind, and said the hell with it, and went against your gut to go with your heart?
When do you celebrate how you feel once you are out from under that dark cloud?
No risk, no reward.
To love is to risk getting hurt, to risk (another) heartbreak.
But to love is everything - god, self, glory, righteousness. To pursue excellence in that, does it not mean to take that risk?
Risk?
Risk.
Risk.
5.27.2008
Some Die Just To Live
The existential journey continues, just like it should. Today, there's been some interesting thoughts swirling in my mind... about relationships, music, and cigarettes.
I am addicted to the promise of what could be. Say that again - the promise of what could be. It's a rediculous idea, almost, but it is so pure, so simple, and so very real, at the same time.
For instance: Jeff Buckley. I mean, really, does any more need to be said? Jeff Buckley. A pure shot of genius, gone before it was fully realized and developed, gone before we could fully appreciate it. Of course... we would've grown bored, maybe even angry with it, maybe tried to destroy it. Isn't that the American way? (Is produces isn't?)
For me, many things are like Jeff Buckley. I am addicted to the promise of what could be. I don't see it as a bad thing, but it can sometimes be a sad thing. I have high expectations, for myself, and sometimes for others.
But mostly, like anyone else, I want to do something meaningful, want to be remembered.
I think Reznor said it best: "I want to fuck everyone in the world, I want to do something that matters."
Sure, that's a little extreme, but damn, the sentiment hits home, very hard.
I just hope that I am never left as the promise of what could be. As I said... I am. Hopefully, what I am is good, becoming great. Fully Realized. And destined for destruction at the hands of American Culture.
I am addicted to the promise of what could be. Say that again - the promise of what could be. It's a rediculous idea, almost, but it is so pure, so simple, and so very real, at the same time.
For instance: Jeff Buckley. I mean, really, does any more need to be said? Jeff Buckley. A pure shot of genius, gone before it was fully realized and developed, gone before we could fully appreciate it. Of course... we would've grown bored, maybe even angry with it, maybe tried to destroy it. Isn't that the American way? (Is produces isn't?)
For me, many things are like Jeff Buckley. I am addicted to the promise of what could be. I don't see it as a bad thing, but it can sometimes be a sad thing. I have high expectations, for myself, and sometimes for others.
But mostly, like anyone else, I want to do something meaningful, want to be remembered.
I think Reznor said it best: "I want to fuck everyone in the world, I want to do something that matters."
Sure, that's a little extreme, but damn, the sentiment hits home, very hard.
I just hope that I am never left as the promise of what could be. As I said... I am. Hopefully, what I am is good, becoming great. Fully Realized. And destined for destruction at the hands of American Culture.
5.26.2008
Don't Sell Me There Can't Be Better Ways
I recently had a discussion with a close friend of mine. In this discussion, she brought up that I frequently seem to be trying to make everyone around me happy - that I focus more on trying to please everyone all the time, and in doing so, frequently stretch myself beyond my means. She may be very right - case in point, she reminded me that I seem to shut everyone out on the last day of the week, just to be able to do my household chores and, more importantly, have some time for "just me."
It strikes me as odd... I fear being a selfish person. I mean, I want what I want, but I don't want others to see me as selfish. I have standards, goals, values, ideals of near-perfection I would like to see met - and, truthfully, differing levels of drive and ambition to find or reach the goals (my on again-off again exercise schedule can attest to that). Some things I stay locked into and refuse to let go of, and others get pushed away or but aside until a more convenient time.
Maybe I should be more selfish, and try to seize what I want? I like to think that a balance is needed in this realm... as in all realms in life. But... maybe I have let myself go for to long, that is is time to do something for me?
You know, like reading ancient chinese philosophy...
It strikes me as odd... I fear being a selfish person. I mean, I want what I want, but I don't want others to see me as selfish. I have standards, goals, values, ideals of near-perfection I would like to see met - and, truthfully, differing levels of drive and ambition to find or reach the goals (my on again-off again exercise schedule can attest to that). Some things I stay locked into and refuse to let go of, and others get pushed away or but aside until a more convenient time.
Maybe I should be more selfish, and try to seize what I want? I like to think that a balance is needed in this realm... as in all realms in life. But... maybe I have let myself go for to long, that is is time to do something for me?
You know, like reading ancient chinese philosophy...
Who are you... who you are.
"Is and Isn't produce each other.
Hard depends on easy,
Long is tested by short,
High is determined by low,
Sound is harmonized by voice,
After is followed by before."
from Tao Te Ching
I recently read that stanza. It really hit home, especially "hard depends on easy," and "after is followed by before."
When I get into my existential moods, my mind tends to turn in circles. This weekend was very existential... with a little more prayer than I've been used to lately, some philosophical reading, and watching some good television that made me ask all the right, big, important questions. Of course, my parents grilled me a little about girlfriend issues, and I spent time with a married couple I am friends with, and heard another friend's "going out" stories. It is all relative, and is yet not.
I am who I am. I am. Simply. Inexplicably. Forever, and yet finite. I am the long and short. I live the hard and easy. I am the after and the before.
But, best of all... I am.
Hard depends on easy,
Long is tested by short,
High is determined by low,
Sound is harmonized by voice,
After is followed by before."
from Tao Te Ching
I recently read that stanza. It really hit home, especially "hard depends on easy," and "after is followed by before."
When I get into my existential moods, my mind tends to turn in circles. This weekend was very existential... with a little more prayer than I've been used to lately, some philosophical reading, and watching some good television that made me ask all the right, big, important questions. Of course, my parents grilled me a little about girlfriend issues, and I spent time with a married couple I am friends with, and heard another friend's "going out" stories. It is all relative, and is yet not.
I am who I am. I am. Simply. Inexplicably. Forever, and yet finite. I am the long and short. I live the hard and easy. I am the after and the before.
But, best of all... I am.
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