Ramble Into My Arms

Wow, it feels like I'm back in The Noughties! As usual, it's been a while and I'm sure you - my three faithful readers, have moved on to bigger and better things. But sometimes I guess it's good to backtrack and maybe even reassess.

Nearly three years have passed. I have become a bit older. My knees hurt from time to time. Looking at the date on that last post - August 18th, 2014, that was a week before I got booted from BigKite. You know how people say that there are significant moments in your life that define you as a person? I'm not sure if that was one of them, but a lot has happened since.

Anyway, I digress. There's this feeling... its like the swirling in your stomach that gets you so excited that you might vomit or pass out or both. Its unsettling, and is generally followed by some sort of sad realization that you are actually just helpless. Even worse... you are at the mercy of every single person around you. Until you are accepted into the tribe, you are an outsider. You are the threat. And even if your heart is exploding in hopes of reciprocated camaraderie, you cannot do a single thing about it.

And so you try.

It's hard to say why people do the things they do. Did you love that girl only in hopes of her loving you back? Did you try that extra bit harder at work because you care so damn much about the success of your fellow peers? Did you go to that party in the hopes of... what? what were you hoping for?

Or did you just do nothing. Sit on your balcony, watch the people go by and stare out into the sunset. Untouchable. I do that often. I think I like the possibility of maybe one day making friends with all those sidewalk people. I might tell them a story about my life that will impress them and maybe they will invite me to a party. But they keep walking before I can tell them my story... it's okay, didn't need them and their stupid party in my life anyway.

And do you actually think that you are the best version of yourself? I think you are. It's hard to be true to yourself these days, hoping that the people around you will accept the weird, unfiltered you. It's even harder when you actually do believe that this is who you are and then those people say "Nah, not for me...". It's heartbreak. And then that unsettling feeling crawls back into your stomach. That feeling that in reality, you will not be accepted into the tribe... not this time, not this tribe. Not for any fault of your own. You did what that TEDTalks guy said you should do. You did you. But maybe this time the message got lost somewhere along the way and some people got the wrong idea of who you were and now its all messed up.

I think I came back here for some reassurance. Some hope, pervious as it may be, that it's OK. Its okay for some people to just not get it, in the same way that you might just not understand the next person. That's what makes this whole mess bearable. Love, hate, indifference, irritation, disappointment, admiration... they will all happen. One is not more than the other. It's just people trying to be who they are.

So the next time you ask yourself "Why does that person not like me?", know that its okay. Aim to be a better person, a better version of you today and tomorrow and the next day. Maybe one day "that person" might just come around, and if they don't, you can always ramble into my arms...

Ordinary

Good morning to ya all. Sorry, it's been a while...

Something's been bothering me these past few days, and I thought I'd share it with you, my three readers. Often lately, I've been getting this recurring thought in my head. I go about my day to day stuff and I keep thinking to myself, Is what you're doing today just ordinary? Are you making any impact to the world at all? What have you learned about yourself and about the world today? And often it leads to the more heavy question, Is your life turning out to be just ordinary?

I think that this has become my greatest fear. Being just ordinary. And with each passing day, I think to myself, what epic thing can I bring to today, that will make my life extraordinary? I think its important to understand what that means, at least what it means to me. And maybe writing about it will help.

There are extraordinary people that we are exposed to through our everyday media that are doing awesome things in the world, inventing solutions to world problems, making art and music and introducing new thoughts, ideas and knowledge to millions of people. We see them on our facebooks and twitters, and they make an impact on our lives. Movie stars, billionaire entrepreneurs, sports icons... we are surrounded by the extraordinary... but our lives seem to reflect the contrary. We become the acknowledgers of extraordinary, not the architects.

And through this lens, we are given an impression of what it means to be acknowledged for your contributions, and we strive for that kind of achievement in our own lives as well. If tomorrow, this blog becomes the most read website in the world, I will become an achiever to you and to my friends and to people that I will never meet. I will become successful... or at least I will then be perceived as a successful person.

I guess that's pretty straight forward...

But what about the people whom we don't hear about. The people that live silent lives and still lead extraordinary existences. I can't even tell you about them because I haven't heard of them on my facebooks and tweeties, but I'm sure that they exist. That guy who writes songs with his guitar in his soundbound room, or that girl who paints the most insightful canvases and keeps them under her bed. Or what about that man who gives his time every night to help at the local homeless shelter. What about them?

I once read somewhere that the true test of one's character is what they do when nobody is watching. This is the kind of extraordinary I'd like to pursue. I want to be able to say that I lived my life for me first, and I did the things that I did for my own acknowledgement and recognition. I want to make an impact on people's lives and be okay if they don't even realize it. I want to see me shine. And then, maybe I will learn something about myself...

Figuring Shit Out....

May is here! And as ROTD coolly crosses the 10,000 hit mark, I thought I'd give you, my three devoted readers, a blog post!

2014 has been an interesting year for sure... lots of ups and lots of downs... mood swings aplenty... You know there's a feeling when your thoughts are so fucked up that you're thinking two hundred things at once and it's all jammed and you can't really think of anything at all and your head starts spinning and hurting and you just gotta sit down for a minute? Yea... that...

I've been contemplating this 'life plan' thing quite a lot, and been trying to decide what direction my life should take... what do I want to be doing... how do I want to be defined... all very difficult questions...

And then I realized that I was just being madly unhappy. Not because I was unhappy with my work or my money situation or my life in generally... Just because in my mind, everything was so effed...

Its a tough situation, to align reality and what goes on in your head. Maybe that's why so many extremely successful people are just so miserable... not to say that I'm successful... but I'm most definitely lucky to be where I am.

And then I reached a saturation point, where I was like wait a second.. I can deal with all this shit... I'm capable... All I gotta do is get going and just get this life shiz done... Que Sera Sera and all that shit you know?

So fuck it... It's May... fuck planning shit... let's rage...

To Fall In Love.. A Valentine's Weekend Hangover

What does it feel like to fall in love? To have tingly feelings about a person. To look forward to hearing their voice and seeing their face. To appreciate and respect them. To care about them more than you care about yourself. More than you care about anyone else. I wonder if it's the same for me as it is for you....

Honestly, I don't know. I don't know if love is just attraction, or respect, or just a simple recognition of another human being.

When we were young, we chased after our crushes through subtle notes and smiles from across the quadrangle. We asked friends of friends to drop the hint and gather recon from friends of other friends, and of course, there was MSN. And then when all the stars aligned, you got to spend an hour alone with them and all of these crazy emotions flew out of you. You held hands until your palms were sweaty and you shared naive kisses in the shadows. You kept all of it a secret except from your best friend, but sooner or later word got out, and you just loved to deny it over and over again.

That seems complicated. But man were those simpler times. There was no iffyness or flip-floppyness. Sex was not even in the thought process. You enjoyed those lame make out sessions, and you learned how it felt to fit into another person's arms. It was easy to know how you felt because you didn't even know how to over think things. Saying 'I love you' was just something you said to show how you felt at that moment. And if things got messy, you experienced the heartbreak, and moved on to the next crush.

I wish it had stayed like that. But sooner or later everyone grows up. Now there's sex, and commitment, and you feel the pressure to say the right things and do the right things. Make a move at the right time or else you lose out. Be extroverted or you won't get noticed. Approach strangers at the club. Use those weird online dating websites... It just seems like a real convoluted path leading to unhappiness.

I want to be a kid again. I don't want the pressures of giving a fuck about what people think. I want to experience those love tingles without having to analyze their greater meaning.

I want to unlearn how to fall in love so that I can feel it for the first time... again...

A little bit of truth...

This is a bit of a harsh post. And I'm not going to deny that there is much self loathing within it. But I'm going to write it anyway. Also, I'm writing this post in the first person. But try and imagine that you were this person. Read it as if you wrote it.

***

I used to love the first day of school in a new grade. Empty notebooks, fresh pages. To me it was like hitting a reset button on life. I get a chance to do over. But that's just some sort of illusion that I created and it worked because nobody really cares what a child does anyway. That's not how life works.

There comes a point in life where the things you do and say actually do matter. And there's never a reset button for a stupid decision. I'm saying this because I always imagined that I would make the right decisions. Everything would fall into place and I would have no regrets. That's really not how life works.

Life is messy. You make mistakes. Sometimes you learn from them, and sometimes you need to make that mistake again. It's messy though. Really messy. When you look back, it's just a shit show. You hurt people. People hurt you. And even though you know you're a better person than that, you can't help but have regrets. You would do over if you had a choice. You would do over because you are a better person than that. But that's not how life works.

And then I got to thinking. Why do I care so much about my perception both projected and reflective? Why do I dwell on these questions at all? And I keep coming back to this: What will they think?

I started this blog nearly seven years ago. I did it because it was hip at the time. But it excited me. It excited me that people would read and leave comments. I liked the attention. I took up music nearly ten years ago. It gave me a thrill to be on stage. To have people shout your name and cheer for you. I took up sports because subconsciously I knew that the sporty types were the cool cats. They were respected. They got the girls. Every time my name was called out at a school assembly, I loved it. I loved that feeling of being recognized. Put on display for everyone to see and talk about.

When I look back today, it seems that everything that I have done has been to get that little more affection. Doesn't matter if I create any real connections. I just need that feeling. I'm writing this post to get that feeling. I'll be coming back to it and checking the hit counter every hour. I'll read it to myself, and re-read it. It's shameless but it's true. And the truth is what it is... 

I like attention. I seek that attention. I like to know that people enjoy my company, and that people notice me. I like having loads of friends and knowing people. I like being relevant. Being that person that you can rely on.... and slowly I've become that person. I've become the person that would do or say anything to gain favour with you. I'll be your anything as long as you like me. 

And you will like me. I guarantee that. But you will never know who I really am.

Purpose

Have you ever reached a point in your life where you just run out of things? Run out of things to do, to say, to make, to be.. just run out? It's a strange feeling. Just blankness, both physically and mentally. Really strange....

I'm sitting at my desk at work, waiting on a meeting to start. I've done most of my to-do items for the morning, and now I find myself just sitting. I open up a web browser, and since I've been on a brief hiatus from the vortex that is FaceBook, I stare at Google, wondering what to do next. So I open up CraigsList and check out the Guitars and other instruments that people are selling. I fantasize a bit about moving out of my apartment and check out the Housing page for a bit. I'm already bored and it's occurring to me how useless I'm being. 

I attempt to think of creating a new project, or a list of things that I have to do. I come up with a few. Laundry, finish that painting... can't even remember the rest of the list.. that's how dreary it seems. The point I'm trying to get to here is this... I know that I haven't run out of things to do. I have shit tonnes of things to do. Some of them even fun things. But I still feel this looming sort of 'meh fuck it' feeling. 

It's a tough question to ask oneself... What is my purpose? What should I be doing with my life. What do I want to be doing with my life. What will make me happy right now? 

It's times like these that I turn to the wisdom of Denny Crane:

Denny Crane: Edwin Poole's problem is he doesn't like being Edwin Poole. From time to time he'd look in the mirror and ask, "What's the point?" I never do that. Questions like that'll kill you.

Alan Shore: Questions like, "What's the point?"

Denny Crane: Look--take you for example. Tomorrow, you're gonna go into court and argue that some little fat black kid should be able to play a little skinny white one. What's the point? You don't ask-that's the point.

I don't have any answers here... only this feeling... I feel that a change in some way is needed... lets try that first :).

24 Hours

You know how some people say, "I just have no time, I'm so busy!"... or maybe at some point in your life you've said it too? I know I have. And every time I've said it, I've been lying....

I always have time to do things. Things that I want to do, or even things that I should be doing. I've got time to go to the gym or to make a new painting, or to practice some drums or to do all of those things that I should be doing. But instead I lie in bed and do nothing. I watch TV shows from start to finish, I rearrange the things in my room and call it 'cleaning up', and the best one of them all, Facebook time. 

I think we all are really busy, just not necessarily busy 'doing things'. Our minds are so switched on nearly all of the time that we just feel exhausted. At least I do. I'm so super connected with the world, and I'm taking in so much information (mostly useless internet things), that I feel like yes, I am so busy and I just have no time at all! I have to be constantly checking my three emails, my WhatsApp, Facebook, Skype, SMS and on and on and on. If I were to figure out how to use this Twitter thing and Instagram, my brain would probably explode. If someone is trying to get in touch with me, twenty different electronic devices start frantically buzzing and beeping. I mean what insanity is that! Just think! Thats fucking insane!!

I don't think it's that sinful to be connected online, or to procrastinate or just be lazy. I think that it hurts more when we start doing these things unconsciously. When we are unaware of exactly how much time we spend burning energy while we think that 'this is downtime'. 

Nobody can be a hundred percent productive. Nobody can spend 24 meaningful hours everyday. So these are a few questions that I start asking myself today: I have 24 hours today. How much of that time do I need to be switched on, and what do I need to do so that I can switch off. Do I absolutely need to be connected at every conscious moment, and if I do, then how much energy is that taking away from me? 

Honestly, I don't want to be counting hours and keeping track of every single thing that I did or did not do. We are constantly under this pressure to DO things in our lives, to become somebody, to avoid fading into oblivion. That's a lot of fucking pressure man. Damn. I guess I'll get to it after this episode of Suits. 

One Year On - Chapter 1-Point-Restart

It has been exactly 52 weeks since my last blog post here, and for someone who has spent a reasonable amount of time studying numbers and the beauty in symmetry,  it feels like a good time to write something.

I've grown up a little. I've done some life things, and I feel like my perspective on life has changed quite a bit. Next month will be five years in Canada. Looking back, It's really been a story of ups and downs, and it's always true what they say; you always remember the downtimes, and so easily forget the good times. I think looking back and reminiscing on ones achievements is healthy, but it's also important to have the ability to have your failures close to you to push you to be better and better and better.

I work now. Desking, at a computer for a good portion of my day, with the reality of tasks, and the unwanted luxury of time to think.  I think that the one thing that has drastically changed my attitude, is how I have to set my own goals now. Life goals. Character defining ambitions and dreams. There's no basketball tournament to train for. There are no final exams to study for. Those were all just pseudo goals getting you ready for this moment. The moment that you realize that it's all open court now. Anything goes, and you are your only pagemaster. You dictate the plot, the strife, the reward, and if you're lucky, the character you will play. You might not know the twists and turns yet, but you have the power to always write another page.

Something About The Blues

You know how people say, "Life is like a blahh blahh blaahh blahhh bladebladeblah..." Well, I try to refrain from talk like that as much as I can, mostly for aesthetic reasons, and also so as to not sound like a pretentious prick. But then people who think about sounding like a pretentious prick mostly always are pretentious pricks anyway, and they are just afraid of other people noticing... oh well...

Life is like the blues. It's a quicky and it's a slow swing. It's about love but mostly about love lost. It's about tragedy and sadness, and at the same time, it's about the triumph of the soul.

Life is like the blues. Mostly up, and mostly down. Simple and yet so very intricate. Life is consumed in the smokey basement jazz rooms with scotch on ice and a woman on your arm. Life is a long meditation, a contemplation of things beyond understanding, but audible in the slow soft backbeats on the snare, and that understated double kick, just reminding you every once in a while, to breath. And all the time, the cymbals keep in time, pushing and pushing and pushing this beat to the next and the next, just like time itself.

Life is that fleeting thought on the piano, those notes running away on the guitar. A sad note held, only to be broken by an orgasmic shrill of the sax.  Things so difficult to express. Concepts like love, life, betrayal and happiness, so easily communicated in those notes. Everything you need to know about life is right there, in between those keys and frets. All you have to do is listen.

Keep on writing.. never stop writing.... ladedadedadedaa

It seems that with the saturation of the internet, spaces like this one have become near to obsolete... like an old shoddy desktop computer that you bought ten years ago and even though you now have a fancy iMac, you still keep that desktop computer up in a cupboard somewhere to watch it's slide into oblivion. Yes I know what you're thinking... that analogy turned very dark very quickly... well it's just one of those days I guess.. deal with it.

While we are on the subject though, I've been thinking a lot about this sort of past translating into present kind of thing. I guess I'm in the the phase of my life where I have to figure out what comes next... but the 'next' bit is the rest of my life... which makes it a little more interesting to think about. So I look back at what was before, and as one would like, try to find a progressing trend of things that would hint towards the future.

So there's what I study, which is kinda boring... then there's the fun stuff like writing this stuff, which wouldn't really pay much... so what's left? It doesn't really help that the entire professional world seems to flip with every whimsical trend. Yesterday it was "Lawyer, Doctor, Engineer". Today it is "Businessman, IT guy, Consultant". I know you can say that one mustn't get swept with the trends and one must find salvation within and be content with that self reflection, but NO! I want to be influenced. Also! What's wrong with old school? What's wrong with using a typewriter or a record player or a film camera. They are simple, mechanical and intuitive! Not like this devil's box of a contraption that is my laptop! How can anyone ever be bothered to look into it... the screws are sooo tiny! and even when I do open it up it makes no sense to me whatsoever!!! Damn you fancy fucking smartphones and all this voodoo wirelessness! Seriously what the fuck is our obsession with technology! There are no fucking answers in the silicone bumps... just fucking confusion and misery... well for some atleast... well ok maybe just for me... meh...

Aah I digress.. we were at the what's left part. That's where I'm stuck. Oh well.. maybe this summer of contemplation will have some answers.. 

31st of May

Since it's the 31st of May, let us have a blog post :).

The 31st of May is probably one of the most confusing days in the year for me. It's generally just like any other day. Wake up late, go to some place and do something, but since it's the 31st of May, it's supposed to always mean something a little more special to me atleast.What is somebody supposed to do on their birthday anyway? spend the day with their friends and fam fam I guess, but very little actually changes. It still feels nice though :) to be remembered for a day.

So I guess to clear the confusion, I can use this day to start something epic. I started rewriting on The Indian Reverb again. I think that's going to be pretty epic! Agaami.com is back and running again which is always epic, and there's always the Summer of Deeze.

So let's get this party rolling, what say you?

Reminiscing

Better late than never...

This post isn't really about reminiscing... well maybe it is.. aah fuck it...

How old is old enough to indulge in a memoir? Well as soon as you do, I guess it means that you're done with this life at least. Maybe that's why people don't like thinking too much about their pasts. But it creeps in now and then, just to remind you of who you are, or rather who you were and what you have come to be. You know how there are certain memories that really stick out in your mind? Significant or completely trivial, they stick out like really pokey thorns in your thoughts. I have a few that I think about almost daily. Somehow most of them are regretful memories, but sometimes they are just perfect moments that you wish you could live through again. I like memories. Sentimentalness (yes that's not a word) is underrated.

There's a general progression, that as you grow older, you begin to speak less and less. You begin reflecting rather than acting, until one day, all you have is your reflection, and nothing left to say. I think that's why the stereotypical spiritually enlightened have very little to say, because they are too preoccupied with their thoughts. Maybe the experiences that we go through in life are just illustrious metaphors for some deeper understanding of the divine. That would be nice I guess.

So I guess that there are no good experiences or bad experiences... just experiences that are personally tailored to deliver a subliminal message of understanding. Or maybe I've just got it all wrong and everyone isn't really thinking about worldly questions, but rather procrastinating on their Facebook feeds. There used to be a time when I wouldn't think twice about what I was doing and why I was doing it. If I was on the tennis court, it was because I was on the tennis court. Not because I was competitive, or I wanted to be a better tennis player. It was just because I was there. I don't think I remember a single trip from my Golden Sands 2 building down to the courts, but somehow, after school, I would magically find myself there. There was no decision to be made.

As I grew a little more, there were more decisions to be made. Should I go out, should I not. Should I sleep or stay awake. Should I play the drums or the guitar. Should I pick up the phone. I think circumstances make the setting a lot more interesting. As children we are not concerned about one less day to live, or an aimless life, and we end up experiencing a lot more. And as we go through the immensely complicated tutorial of the burdens and responsibilities of this urban system, we become hesitant to experience. Our lives become streamlined and aimed in a direction.

To be honest... I don't really know where this is going... but at least I'm writing... maybe to stop thinking, and start creating memories instead of reminiscing. So here is to forgetting direction and order. Here's to chaos and anarchy and to have one more good memory to make.

Painting Red

I want to paint but I only have red, and I don't really have anything to paint on.. so I guess I'll just blog instead :)

Another year, and another empty room with clear white walls. Another struggle to carry boxes of nothingness to the next empty room. And another reason to reflect on moments gone by. It's difficult not to refract back to my thoughts so I guess I should just give in once again...

It's funny how one's ideals are formed. Are you left or are you right. Is left right or is right wrong? What would be the most pleasing thing to say and how could I say the right thing so that I get to be a part of the gang. It's difficult when you speak another language and people look to your words to look at you and in the process you are lost to everyone but yourself.

But I guess one must put on a show for the time being... until the dialogue is unnecessary it seems. One must paint the walls to make this empty room feel like home, or make this home feel lived in or make this life feel full... so I put up pieces of paper that are pieces of people that are a part of my life. A stranger's glove from a familiar place and a random painting from a flee market, or a whimsical sketch from a schoolchild naivety of days gone by. But I know that a year from now, when I'm taking down those pieces once again, and I have white walls stare at me late in the night, I will feel this feeling again.

That bareness, it's so confusing. On one hand, I feel naked and alone, but on the other hand, I feel more conscious of my own self, and not the white noise of those hundreds of conversations and stories that build the characters covering the walls of my room. I enjoy the clarity for a while. Reminds me of Ikea brochures and empty canvases... so white, and square and straight. Clear, but not colorful.

So today I wonder on who I was, who I am and who I want to be. Do I want to be a wall filled with bumps and raises and splashes of blue red green yellow, or do I want to be an empty white walled room, no distractions, no confusion, just myself.

Revival Rant 2011

Off late I have contemplated giving up ROTD. I have come to the realization that diplomacy rules all, where a secret ritual becomes meaningless if it is shared, or a heavily opinionated judgment could genuinely hurt someone. The blog posts I used to write were full of those scandalous thoughts and I didn't really care to think about who I was writing about or even who I was writing for.

Aah, but we all must grow up and I think it's happening to me too. Not so much so that I am maturing, but rather that I am understanding that people take you seriously because they think that you should know better now. I can't not be serious now because it is simply not allowed. I would be thought of as irritating and childish.

So I continue to do grown up things but now I can't blog. My vocabulary has shrunk down to the dictionary of diplomacy and self-censorship, and living becomes a day to day chore of making sure that I am in good standing with my community. It is frankly, the most boring and dull thing that I have ever been through.

A few years ago, I used to contemplate happiness quite seriously. I remember I came upon the conclusion that one can become happy instantly just by deciding to be happy in that moment. It is truly and simply a consciousness of your radiating vibes, and you do decide whether they are happy or sad. At that time, I thought that I was the ultimate guru of enlightened happiness, and in my own way I was. But it seems that I have forgotten a lot about who I was and the ideals that I had set out for myself.

I spent the last few days reading through ROTD, backwards. It's amazing how you can see transformation in thought patterns through the time. And I did notice that I had begun to become very serious in my writing and in my thoughts as well. That last post gives me a headache if I try reading it now.

So anyway, here is to returning back to the old, happy, donut loving, jumping, frolicking and funning blog that I had started out with. And if anyone is ever offended by my lack of diplomacy, I would suggest they do some growing up themselves :)

Late night rant... A pseudo masterpiece

Write a masterpiece, write write write! Don't be forgotten, not now no! Write to be seen, to free your ego, to feed your ego, write write write! don't ever stop writing, for if you do, you might just stop breathing. Don't stop those thoughts, let them flow like the wildest rivers of the world. Let them flow flow flow! Flow away into the horizon, where the sun fades away, a never ending goodbye, the greatest promise of tomorrows rise, the greatest lie. And I struggle, oh how I struggle to believe you, but I will sleep tonight, because I am tired, and naive, but I keep tense with anticipation. sleep sleep sleep! Oh how sweet are the child's dreams. How happy he lies, with a smile on his face. Sleep forever, never awake to this harsh reality. Sleep if you can for just another moment. Just sleep and never awake.

But the world is running, and if you close your eyes, you might just miss this life. So start running after your ambition. Run run run! Run, for if you fall behind, you will be left behind forever. Oh what potential to do great things. Oh what a waste. What a waste waste waste! But who are we to judge. Who are you to judge? Who are you? Keep your sympathy in your pocket for a rainy day. Live now in silence, for we need to hear the spirits dance and sing. Don't talk for with every word that is said, this soul gets tainted, darkened and dulled. Aah the fear, to be dulled to oblivion. No, don't forget me now, for if you do, I will cease to exist. I grab on to this existence with both my hands. I grab onto you with both my hands, for I am hanging, on the edge of my mind, on tilt, forever hanging.

Feel this earth under your feet. Feel that it is real. Feel feel feel. Feel how it tremors through your body, and lays the weight of the world on your mind. Oh the decisions decisions decisions. Like quick sand, it pulls you closer to your roots, where you came from. Pulling pulling pulling you with your own thoughts. Burdens of infinite lives, but you are just one man. Just one man. Just one. Small, insignificant, what can you do? Can you change the world? Do you have the answers? The answers to the mysteries and phantoms that can save us. Have you arrived, our savior, our messiah, our godsend.

Or are you just like me? Normal and ordinary. Are your words as empty as the wind? To be carried away into the moonlit night. This beautiful candle light. This beautiful candle light. If your words mean nothing, the let us stop here. Stop for a moment, and collect all that we know and search hard for a tune that fits this still moment. And let me take you by the hand, and if the tune is right, then we will sing. We will sing sing sing, in a language unknown, for the lyrics will not matter, in an alien tune, for the harmony will become only ours and only for this moment.

I miss you. Your soft, small face. Your eyes, weightless, as if you saw a different world. All the promises we made, to invest our love and our lives in one another. All the dreams we shattered... I thought I could forget you, but you linger on my mind, like a song stuck in repeat. You would never know it, but I miss you.

Aah but it matters not. Not in this superfluous world. Fill your sorrows with ipods and ipads and blackberrys and green fairies. Fill your life with a cloud of people you cannot see, or touch or feel. Meditate and lose your reality, for all that is left to experience is death. And we shall tread on until we are ended, or until we have begun.

Tread on into another day, into another promise, but don't stop writing. No don't stop writing, for if you do, you might just stop breathing...

No words today...

Twinkle... part 3

Click here for part 1, and here for part 2.

She sat on the sofa, in her jammys. Her thick square plastic framed glasses on the edge of her nose. She was reading a book. One of those fat fantastical novels that she loves. I knew she was concentrating hard because she was nibbling on her lower lip and had on a hint of a smirk. The power had gone out again, so she sat by a tall candle whose flame flickered near her face. The tiny light seemed to lay itself so gently on her skin making her cheeks glow with contentment, and cast the most delicate shadow on her nose and lips. It was as if the candle was painting reflective lines of thought on her face. And as it did so, her simple, calm chi filled the room with a cozy warmth. Wisdom and understanding danced with her youth. She was aware of everything around her, and everything seemed to gravitate towards her, just like that fluttering candle-light.

And as I stood in the shadows of the doorway, hoping that the power would stay out for just another moment, I wondered hard on what I had ever done to deserve this much happiness.

Does it ever feel like...

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...

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.

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.