Oh, and I listen to both sides of my head...

Today has been nothing short of surreal, at least in my heart and my head. I couldn't tell you why I feel so devestated today, but I know that I do. I tried explaining to a friend/co-worker, and he understood the sentiment, anyway... and had some good advice.

I do wonder if the heart of my issues, right now, is the same disease that I've been worried about so frequently, lately... a loss of faith. I just don't believe in anything anymore. God, love, faith, sex, music, people, healing... I don't believe in them.

And as bad as it sounds, it did all start with another girl, another heartbreak. Oh, this one was quick, for sure, and didn't hurt as bad as some. But that is part of the problem. It was like I went through 3 months of a relationship in 3 days.

A friend of mine calls me a man-whore. Only half in jest. I surf the internet, looking for something, anything, that'll spark my heart. I've tried not caring. I've tried just letting loose, being confident.

I wonder how many people can see how soulless I am?

There is a fight going on, but the part of me that is shouting, "you are good, you are worthy!," the part some would say is from God, telling me he loves me... is losing. I just don't give a damn about much of anything anymore... and even music is losing it's meaning. I can barely stand to play my guitar.

I wish I could cut out this cancer, whatever it is... but then again, I think I'd half to cut out most of me to kill the cancer.

This must be what growing old and losing hope feels like.

I will hold the candle, 'til it burns up my arm...

I am at war today. I need a break, badly, from anything and everything negative. I need to not be told how flawed I am. I know I am flawed, I've lived with it for damn near 28 years. I know I fall short.

Where did this come from? I am not sure I even believe in God anymore, and yet I have always believed in spirituality. It seems as if there is a war of good and evil raging in my soul. I want to tell all my friends off, I want to disappear, I want to start over, I want to be angry, I want to hate myself, and I want to blame me for all of it. At the same time... I want to apologize, I want to be good, to do good, to please God.

It's said that God doesn't punish us (any more, not New Testament, JC as savior Christianity), but that we punish ourselves, or that it's the work of some devil. I alternate between thinking God hates me and thinking he doesn't really exist.

There is a lot of love in my life. I try to constantly remind myself of that. I might not have all the kinds of love I want, but I do actually have most of the love I need. If, IF, God is love afterall, then maybe I can say he has provided some light through the darkness. And, truth be told, the darkness and the light... well, it all just depends on which direction I am facing.

I've got problems by the boatload, most of which a few friends have been hammering on lately, however unintentional or intentional that hammering may be. I have little to no money, and need money to do the things I want to do. I am lonely. I am tired. I feel unappreciated. I feel like I am walking on eggshells. I am paranoid. I am in debt. I am unhealthy.

But that is just looking in one diretion. I have a wonderful, loving family. I have some pretty great friends. I have a nice place to live, food to eat, clothes on my back (not that the necessities are good or bad - they're just essential; still it is nice to have them!). I am employed. I have a few fun hobbies.

The world doesn't come with rose-colored glasses. I take things hard, but life really is hard. And, while I feel unhinged, like the feelings inside me are being pushed there - by some kind of spiritual warfare, that good and evil are fighting within - I know it's not all me. I wish there was something more I could say. I have things good, but that still doesn't mean I need a break from getting kicked in the balls every damn day by friends, love, bills, finances, etc.

I still wouldn't mind a break. Really.

I will walk with my hands bound...

Right now, I feel like my hands are bound. I can't even play a fucking video game without pissing someone else off. I mean, what the fuck? I do not want the world to revolve around me. I am sincerely trying to take a look at myself, and every day I am trying to take some time for personal reflection. The odd thing is, some of my friends have really thrown some hard curveballs my way, and I am apparently striking out left and right.

I am only human, only a man, only a normal, ordinary guy trying to find my way, right my ship, all that other bullshit cliche stuff I could write here.

I just want a fucking break. You know? Some fucking space where I am not a fuck-up in the eyes of someone, an asshole in the eyes of another, getting told how I missed something here or there, being held to some unholy fucking high standard that Jesus would fail trying to reach.

One friend. One friend who hasn't been stepping on my balls lately. Ok, two. Musicians both, they seem to be the only people I can find solace in at all, at least in my social circle. I feel my relationships with two of my closest friends (not those two) deteriorating rapidly, all because of standards and all else and whatever.

I was raised to respect other people, to not kick someone when they were down, and to keep to your word. I don't run off and chase trim and leave my friends high and dry... and I would never think about doing it, either. Not if I gave my word. And I did my best to not get angry, to bite my tongue, and it's all over now... and then someone else comes along and punches me in the balls.

I am in debt up to my neck. My career feels like it is getting nowhere. I ain't get older, skinnier, funnier, better-looking. I have worked so hard all my adult life to control my problems - to be less intense, to not give into anger, to be a selfless person, to love instead of hate.

And... today, I hate myself, and want to be angry just so I can find some fucking peace.

God, if this is what you meant by back breaking toil, I guess I must be a sinner, because I am really sick of all of this, and lately, it seems like it is all you keep giving me.

All the love that she had was just wood that she burned...

So, in my normal routine, I am reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, and, with a bit of time on my hands last night, I dived right through two and half chapters, waiting at an auto-place to pay $130 to replace my car battery.

One of the things that Miller makes it a point of saying is how broken humanity is. And you know, he's right. Highlighting that we can't change what's wrong with the world without recognizing that the problem is us... as in me, I am the problem. And you, you too are the problem... but this is my blog. You deal with you on your time, buddy.

Anyway... yeah, how selfish are we? CS Lewis wrote a poem that Miller highlights that contains this line: I never had a selfless thought since I was born.

Neither have I. Not really, but pretty much. I mean, how often do we do good things, not because it truly delights us to do something good for someone else, but because of the recognition we will get out of it?

As I am reading this book, and examining my own broken spirituality and broken Christianity and the mess that my heart/mind is in, I was thinking about how I have changed, and how I had changed. The thing is, though I may not feel "lead" by God, or driven by the spirit, or whatever jumped-up mumbo-jumbo voodoo that you want to claim is how it works... the thing is, despite my distance from that, I still think I do a halfway decent job of not being selfish all the time. I bend over backwards for people. Too many friends have told me that, sometimes, I just have to do what's right for me.

I've had relationships destroyed because I was bent until I broke, and left broken, feeling used. I get stressed and frustrated at work because I help and help, and sometimes no one helps me. I won't yell at my roommates when they don't pay their share of the bills on time, and I end up in the hole in the bank, or running out of money and having to live off of a credit card.

I'm not pointing out I can be selfless for recognition purposes. What I am saying is, it strikes me as odd that though I may not being the perfect model of Christianity (which I never would be anyway) and while currently my spirituality is pretty dead (that, then, is the part I truly worry about), I still apply the lessons of selflessness - ultimately, of love - throughout my life.

Love may be the wood that I burn up for myself, but at least I don't let it get all stacked up, moldy, bug ridden and wasted. Or something like that.

More on this later...

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.

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.

It's ok, it's ok! You don't have to run and hide away...

So yeah... it's ok, you know? Not much more to say than that... things are pretty good right now. Work has been busy-busy-busy. I haven't had much time to exercise lately. I haven't had any time for music lately... and I lack a little of desire in that regard.

All in all, though, I am ok. I am a work in progress, and right now, the progress is slow.

I worry about the same things as always... love, happiness, financial matters, music, where I'm going with my life, where the journey is heading. Yeah, I need a vacation. But things aren't that bad.

There was a time in my life when I faked myself into an era of positivity... which then begat it's own positivity. It was a spiritually motivated time, and though my heart was much more of a barren, rocky wasteland than I let on (oh, the emo imagery in that statement...), I acted like everything was all ok, and acted very positive.

A funny thing happened. I became more positive, and not fake-posi, but true-posi. Good vibes. Good times. Connections.

Yeah, I can look back and say there were some bad times, and that some people took advantage of my giving, caring spirit at the time. But I was truly happy, and less stressed.

And if I don't stop the stress level from rising in my life, it's going to kill me. No joke.

So... here's to fake-quasi-positivity, and the hope that it turns and returns into real positivity.

Familiar, yet, can't seem to place it...

Sometimes, I forget how much I like a certain song, or a certain band. I recently read an article about a band called Over The Rhine (on the Aquarian Drunkard music blog), just a short, fun little interview. And it of course reminded me how amazing floored I am by the work of this band, these two people, this husband and wife songwriting team. Lennon and McCartney are good. But so is Over The Rhine... and sometimes in my eyes, and more importantly my soul, equally good, or even better.

So... why haven't I listened to them in forever? Past relationships. What a waste. I can't listen to one of my favorite bands of all time because of an ex-girlfriend? Well... if you were there, you might understand that. I mean, we met on the band's message board, went to several shows, had little rituals wrapped around so many songs.

But... fuck it. If I'm going to do this singer/songwriter thing, I've got to get over my emotions... so I can dig into my emotions. Time to exploit this pain, dammit.

The journey continues on and on... I need to keep on strumming.

And listening to great music that inspires me.

And... stay away from girls.

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 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.