Does it ever feel like you are sitting in the bleachers, watching your own life play by play? Like you can see the place that this path of yours is leading you to, but you never seem to be getting any closer? Does it ever feel like you wish you were living a legendary, epic existence, but it never feels like that in this moment? Like you wish you had explored so many more places, and seen so many more things, and done so much more mischief. That you feel like you need to burst out of this skin and let out your crazy chi. Like you need to find out what you are actually capable of.
Does it ever feel like you need to be alone? Like you need a breath of silence and calm, so that you can hear yourself again. So that you can become conscious of your presence again. Like you need to take a deep breath and start this over. A clean, fresh start. Does it ever feel like you want to tell those thousand other voices to shut up so that you can listen to your own? Like you need to stop becoming the consequence of someone else's life, and start becoming your own anthology? Like you need to be selfish, just this once? Because just this once, is all you have...
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Write write write!!!!!
The summer is over alas and we must all return to the fairytale time that is fall. Too presumptuous to call this cold weather winter, we brave on with our hearts shivering into the day, listening to moody songs and thinking about better days.
Yesterday was a significant deja-vu scene for me, sitting at the end of the bench at one of my intramural basketball games. I've been here before, at the end of this same bench, watching this same team, trying to find it in my heart to support them. I'm not used to being at the end of the bench. I was always the one to be picked first. I always thought of it as a given. I was the leader, the captain, the one that people wanted to watch play.
Now there's someone else. There has always been someone else for the last 2 years. Someone else that was picked over me. Someone else to take my place. There's this emotion. One of the most complex emotions I have ever had. It starts with the sharp ping of depression, knowing that you are dispensable. Knowing that if you were gone tomorrow, this scene would be the same. Knowing that you didn't matter. And then it's followed by the even sharper jab of jealousy. Anger, rage at that new kid in town. I hate the way he plays. The way he takes that unnecessary extra step. The way he makes that loose pass, it makes me furious. The way that in spite of his flaws, people still prefer him.
I've never said the right things. Never done things the right way. And I know that working the system has always been my greatest shortcoming. I could never please people like this new kid can. But it's moments like these that begs me to question, what is it that I'm trying to achieve? Why is it that every choice that I make sends me into a spiral of disgust. Why is it that the things that I say, never reflect the person that I am. Why is it so hard for people to see the real me through this wall of reality. And then I return, in reflection, to that same question that rings again and again at ROTD. When did all of this become about me?
There are many ways to get to your goals. Most of the time it is through the strong support of the people around you, and through the high of recognition and acknowledgment. Being in the limelight and proving everyday that you belong there. Seems to make sense....
The toughest path, however, is when you can achieve a height of satisfaction through the accomplishments of others. Even though they might not even know that you are there, standing right behind them, pushing them to be better, stronger, faster. Even if it isn't you that's out there dropping 20 points a night, that new kid is dropping 25 because you whispered to him to not make that loose pass, or to take that extra step. Knowing that you don't need appreciation from anyone if you know that you've done your job. Knowing that you don't need to be dispensable if you decide to make yourself useful. It's a rocky path that requires you to step out of yourself, and to open your eyes to the depth of your world.
In the years and years that I've played team sports, the latter has never occurred to me. And as I think about it, I can slowly feel the jealousy drain from me. Instead, I now see opportunity.
That's a good thing.
p.s. Sorry, its been a while.
Yesterday was a significant deja-vu scene for me, sitting at the end of the bench at one of my intramural basketball games. I've been here before, at the end of this same bench, watching this same team, trying to find it in my heart to support them. I'm not used to being at the end of the bench. I was always the one to be picked first. I always thought of it as a given. I was the leader, the captain, the one that people wanted to watch play.
Now there's someone else. There has always been someone else for the last 2 years. Someone else that was picked over me. Someone else to take my place. There's this emotion. One of the most complex emotions I have ever had. It starts with the sharp ping of depression, knowing that you are dispensable. Knowing that if you were gone tomorrow, this scene would be the same. Knowing that you didn't matter. And then it's followed by the even sharper jab of jealousy. Anger, rage at that new kid in town. I hate the way he plays. The way he takes that unnecessary extra step. The way he makes that loose pass, it makes me furious. The way that in spite of his flaws, people still prefer him.
I've never said the right things. Never done things the right way. And I know that working the system has always been my greatest shortcoming. I could never please people like this new kid can. But it's moments like these that begs me to question, what is it that I'm trying to achieve? Why is it that every choice that I make sends me into a spiral of disgust. Why is it that the things that I say, never reflect the person that I am. Why is it so hard for people to see the real me through this wall of reality. And then I return, in reflection, to that same question that rings again and again at ROTD. When did all of this become about me?
There are many ways to get to your goals. Most of the time it is through the strong support of the people around you, and through the high of recognition and acknowledgment. Being in the limelight and proving everyday that you belong there. Seems to make sense....
The toughest path, however, is when you can achieve a height of satisfaction through the accomplishments of others. Even though they might not even know that you are there, standing right behind them, pushing them to be better, stronger, faster. Even if it isn't you that's out there dropping 20 points a night, that new kid is dropping 25 because you whispered to him to not make that loose pass, or to take that extra step. Knowing that you don't need appreciation from anyone if you know that you've done your job. Knowing that you don't need to be dispensable if you decide to make yourself useful. It's a rocky path that requires you to step out of yourself, and to open your eyes to the depth of your world.
In the years and years that I've played team sports, the latter has never occurred to me. And as I think about it, I can slowly feel the jealousy drain from me. Instead, I now see opportunity.
That's a good thing.
p.s. Sorry, its been a while.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
In the mood....
It seems that I am in the mood...
Sometimes I really really hate movies. Mostly because they all end with everything 'working out'. It never seems like that in real life. My Summer of Love is proof. It's not that I am unhappy. I guess I'm just looking for familiarity. Movies are unfamiliar to reality. Good movies push those empathetic buttons. People should make more good movies.
A good movie is like a good friend. An even better friend is a good song. I remember as a seven year old, spending hours sitting in front of my dad's Technics amplifier, with his expensive Sony headphones plugged in, listening to Dr. Hook. It was my junior sanctum. Just sitting and listening to that CD over and over and over again. You know how if you listen to a CD enough times, you know what song comes after the one that's just finished. I sat with the little booklet that comes in the case, reading the lyrics and singing along in my head. It's amazing how lyrics of a song can stick in your head clearer than your most important memories. I guess good songs make memories too, just like good friends.
I love to complain about this era of music, and the dying radio that succumbs to big names, big money and big masses. I wonder if seven year old kids still get the chance to find their sanctum in this iPod age. Maybe it's a different kind of sanctum, however progressively unromantic it tends to become. I think that's why we love to hold on to the past. The past is always more romantic compared to this present. Like a transformation of soft, comforting silk into a tough plastic.
A little bit of color never hurt. An unreasonable whim, or a surprisingly soft spot for a love song. A secret love to write poems under candle light, or a song that you cant resist closing your eyes, getting on a table, and making orgasmic faces and vulgar gestures to.
So today's exercise girls and boys. Drown in cliche. Become that day dreaming fool that people make movies on. Walk around in naivety, and find romance.
Sometimes I really really hate movies. Mostly because they all end with everything 'working out'. It never seems like that in real life. My Summer of Love is proof. It's not that I am unhappy. I guess I'm just looking for familiarity. Movies are unfamiliar to reality. Good movies push those empathetic buttons. People should make more good movies.
A good movie is like a good friend. An even better friend is a good song. I remember as a seven year old, spending hours sitting in front of my dad's Technics amplifier, with his expensive Sony headphones plugged in, listening to Dr. Hook. It was my junior sanctum. Just sitting and listening to that CD over and over and over again. You know how if you listen to a CD enough times, you know what song comes after the one that's just finished. I sat with the little booklet that comes in the case, reading the lyrics and singing along in my head. It's amazing how lyrics of a song can stick in your head clearer than your most important memories. I guess good songs make memories too, just like good friends.
I love to complain about this era of music, and the dying radio that succumbs to big names, big money and big masses. I wonder if seven year old kids still get the chance to find their sanctum in this iPod age. Maybe it's a different kind of sanctum, however progressively unromantic it tends to become. I think that's why we love to hold on to the past. The past is always more romantic compared to this present. Like a transformation of soft, comforting silk into a tough plastic.
A little bit of color never hurt. An unreasonable whim, or a surprisingly soft spot for a love song. A secret love to write poems under candle light, or a song that you cant resist closing your eyes, getting on a table, and making orgasmic faces and vulgar gestures to.
So today's exercise girls and boys. Drown in cliche. Become that day dreaming fool that people make movies on. Walk around in naivety, and find romance.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Extreme Rant: End of a Beginning...
A lot has happened in this Summer of Love. I can say with a mild lucidity, that I did indeed fall in love. I went through the drama of it even though it may not have been apparent to me at the time. For now, my Summer of Love has been like a mud path, as many are, with a winding sort of direction, and pretty flowers on the way. And as always, I encourage naivety with your thoughts, for then we can forget about the more unimportant, yet necessary physicality at hand (as it were), and focus on the rest (however less impressive, and entertaining, and interesting, and in all, just plain boring) that might be. So for the lack of anything really of substance to show off about, or rather to bother writing about at all... read on.
So yes, The Summer of Love has brought me to a number of conclusions, let's call them the 'utter rubbish' findings, about well, people in general. The most interesting of them is that as individuals, we all choose our personalities. That sounds pretty obvious, I know, but what I found peculiar, is how often those personalities, or rather, portrayals, are almost always in one way or another, disconnected with who we really are. Maybe it is a wanting to become that personality that drives us to be the artist or the intellectual or the mystery or the lustrous, but how close to our bare nakedness is that true to?
Or maybe it works the other way and I've got it all wrong. Maybe you choose a personality to channel yourself to reality. Because otherwise you would be too bare and trivial to feed your existence. Hmm...
It happens though, in a haste of subconsciousness, that a tone or a look or a bunch of words leak out of your personality. It's like a moment of public nakedness, that you silently and shyly realized too. Like speaking before you've thought of what you're saying. And that reflexive glimpse is so harsh sometimes, that you might surprise yourself. But It is in that moment, that I can see you. That moment has made all our conversations and interactions worth while. Because that glimpse tells me the truth that is hidden...
**********
We all love beauty. We all want to be around beauty. We all want to be beautiful. And we will manipulate our ideals and our decisions to tailor that need. Beauty is comforting and exciting and unpredictable. It's almost like a drug that takes us away from the true reality of things. Beauty, even in the most obvious sense, is never real. Not this beauty. Not the beauty I was looking for in the Summer of Love.
There is a beauty though, that lies beyond our personalities. It is shameless. It is clueless. And it is naive. It is often mistaken for the sleeping, but I know now, that I need to be woken up.
.
So yes, The Summer of Love has brought me to a number of conclusions, let's call them the 'utter rubbish' findings, about well, people in general. The most interesting of them is that as individuals, we all choose our personalities. That sounds pretty obvious, I know, but what I found peculiar, is how often those personalities, or rather, portrayals, are almost always in one way or another, disconnected with who we really are. Maybe it is a wanting to become that personality that drives us to be the artist or the intellectual or the mystery or the lustrous, but how close to our bare nakedness is that true to?
Or maybe it works the other way and I've got it all wrong. Maybe you choose a personality to channel yourself to reality. Because otherwise you would be too bare and trivial to feed your existence. Hmm...
It happens though, in a haste of subconsciousness, that a tone or a look or a bunch of words leak out of your personality. It's like a moment of public nakedness, that you silently and shyly realized too. Like speaking before you've thought of what you're saying. And that reflexive glimpse is so harsh sometimes, that you might surprise yourself. But It is in that moment, that I can see you. That moment has made all our conversations and interactions worth while. Because that glimpse tells me the truth that is hidden...
**********
We all love beauty. We all want to be around beauty. We all want to be beautiful. And we will manipulate our ideals and our decisions to tailor that need. Beauty is comforting and exciting and unpredictable. It's almost like a drug that takes us away from the true reality of things. Beauty, even in the most obvious sense, is never real. Not this beauty. Not the beauty I was looking for in the Summer of Love.
There is a beauty though, that lies beyond our personalities. It is shameless. It is clueless. And it is naive. It is often mistaken for the sleeping, but I know now, that I need to be woken up.
.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Earthed
It seems that I keep trying to find a reason not to write, and end up finding no reason to write. But either way, words are for free, and time is in abundance. So as they say, let's fuck... umm
This post was initially going to be about a lot of things. And then I realized that all it really was, was a string of YouTube videos. And sometimes it's funny how the most trivial things can sometimes express and reveal some of your most intricate feelings. Like a drunken thirty second sob in a friend's arms, or a shy glance from across the room.
And sometimes it's the other way around, when the most trivial things can spark epiphanies and symphonies within you. Like the warmth and smell of a hot cup of chai, or a Christmas card with a story of what could have been, that you come across while cleaning up your room.
When I think about it, everyone or everything that I make part of my life, is like a string of twine, tying me to someone or something else. A song or a drawing or a kiss or a bracelet, or even an ideal, a thought... they all act as strands of attraction, binding me to this life, and keeping me in this place. Keeping me earthed.
When I started this post, I wrote down that I would not spew out some spiritual bs rant rubbish that's pleasing to hear... so I think I should stop now before this get's ugly. Comment people!!! I want some TLC!!! Also, if you think this post has ended unjustly, here are some youtube videos that express what I was going to say anyway....
This post was initially going to be about a lot of things. And then I realized that all it really was, was a string of YouTube videos. And sometimes it's funny how the most trivial things can sometimes express and reveal some of your most intricate feelings. Like a drunken thirty second sob in a friend's arms, or a shy glance from across the room.
And sometimes it's the other way around, when the most trivial things can spark epiphanies and symphonies within you. Like the warmth and smell of a hot cup of chai, or a Christmas card with a story of what could have been, that you come across while cleaning up your room.
When I think about it, everyone or everything that I make part of my life, is like a string of twine, tying me to someone or something else. A song or a drawing or a kiss or a bracelet, or even an ideal, a thought... they all act as strands of attraction, binding me to this life, and keeping me in this place. Keeping me earthed.
When I started this post, I wrote down that I would not spew out some spiritual bs rant rubbish that's pleasing to hear... so I think I should stop now before this get's ugly. Comment people!!! I want some TLC!!! Also, if you think this post has ended unjustly, here are some youtube videos that express what I was going to say anyway....
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