I Am One With The Wind And Sky

I Ate The Last Mango In Paris

"Well i guess this [really] is growing up.

I'm disliking getting to the bottom of things I never asked to understand. I never wanted to realize that this state of mind existed. This state where I walk around in a constant battle against my own thoughts and petty struggles in my oh-so-important life. I don't think its morbid or pitiful to wish I had never been born. And I'm thinking it is very possible to be thankful I'm alive at the same time. I just see myself getting older and accepting this feeling more and more with each passing year; maybe even gaining a new insight now and then. That's what I see when I look down the road into mid-40's. "Well I guess this [really] is growing up." Its not how I thought it would be. I was looking over my 'interests' that I typed in so long ago when filling out my LiveJournal profile. Some have changed, some have stayed the same... Some I don't even remember. Come to think of it, any friend I've ever had could fall into one of those three categories. I use the phrase "any friend" pretty loosely there. I'll always remember the true friends. They'll always remember me. Both of them. Heh. Where would the benefit be in blocking out this all-consuming plague of life? If I floated through every day without a thought in my head exceeding 'I'm hungry. Let's play pool. That was funny. LiveJournal LiveJournal. I'll do homework, take notes. Heavy jacket it's cold. What will happen this weekend? Wow this pillow is soft. I need to get gas. I'll call him later. Doctor's appoinment at 12. Charge the slide phone. Don't be late. What should my away message be? This ring goes on this finger. Don't touch the curling iron its hot. Try not to swear out loud. Oil change every 3,000 miles. Send a thank you card. "Fine thanks, how are you?" I need gum and chapstick. Black belt-black shoes.' I'd hate myself for being such an empty shell walking around wasting an abundance of oxygen. But the thoughts that run through now... should I? 'How could he have done that to me? What does that make me worth? Nothing. She hates me and I can't fix a damn thing from eighty-six thousand miles away. Of all people, to falsify my own conceptions of you missing me just makes me want to bleed horizontal straight from the wrist. I do nothing, I hate the way I feel here. I'll never find the one; I'll never bother to look. I hate mirrors like a best friend; they draw me close and hurt me every time. I miss God and my fake-ass attempt at loving Him like He deserves. I am the cheapest investment He's ever made. The way I sit back and condone/mimic my family members idea of how to live is sending them straight to hell. I might as well pull the lever and join them shortly after. I starve for attention and drama and regurgitate it all like a bulemic whore when it comes my way. My past haunts me and I am more than positive it will be the death of me. My nightmares of the skeletons in my closet refuse to leave me alone until I fall asleep at night; I dream of them all day long. I gain your respect and throw it to the ground and stomp on it just to see what you'll do next. I'm so fucking sick and I've lost the will to cry.' Matching belts and shoes versus the latter self-loathing plague of life. What would you rather consider every waking moment of your life? Because those are my two options and to be honest, they are both killing me slowly and painfully. People say everyone's dying, its just that some are getting there quicker than others. Well this is my way of dying, disguised as living. Those two optional thought processes. Its torture. I know all of this is could be covered over by love. A relationship. But I can't think of a cheaper way out of dealing with everything. Covering your worries up with a person's role in your life, pretending they make all this stuff go away... that's ridiculous. I know that's why I haven't found it. People like that will see one day when they dig up the the fact that a person can't dissolve your problematic life for you. They'll dig it up under hours and hours of kisses and cuddling and love letters, long talks on the phone, and pretending they're better than everyone else in the room, that they're special, and fighting and making up/fighting and making up, holidays together and ditching the world for each other. Then they're stuck with a world of pain that I won't even begin to describe when they realize that hey- that's not gonna cut it for the next sixty years. I'm adding in here that this isn't a knock on every relationship, because what do I know? Some people make it work. I'm just saying I'm not ready. I tried it for a minute or two and all my predictions were set in stone. I've seen it too many times, they end up with so much pain that could have been avoided from the start. I'm sure they'll say it was all worth it, but I just couldn't do it. And maybe when their hearts are being painfully stitched back together I'll still be in the same God-awful situation I'm in right now, but at least I didn't take that cheap escape. I'm dealing with this all on my own. Completely by myself. I don't think that's right either but I've found its my only choice. This feeling. Right now sitting in this chair. This utterly miserable feeling of knowing who I've become. It makes me wonder if chapstick and soft pillows isn't the way to go. I'm out. Maybe for a long time."

 

Annie Carter, Just want you to know that we all miss you. You really were ahead of your time.  Even after all the feeling you put into that last bit of wisdom you gave us, it surprises me how many people would never believe that coming out of you.  Or that we would all wake up on November 29, 2004 in a world where you no longer were.

 

But at the same time, we have to wonder what happened to prompt that particular rant?  That is not something one usually just goes off like that about.

 

That.

Was.

A.

Thing.

 

I feel that I am not doing a particularly good job of honoring your memory right now.  For this, the tenth anniversary I am making it a priority to become The Best Version of Myself.

 

And honestly, so should we all.

A Day That Brings The Promise That One Day We'll Be Free...

Dear Kevin Smith, JJ, Disney and Co...

Here is what I would like to see with regard to Star Wars Episode IX:

Jay and Silent Bob are the Sith Lord and Apprentice selling the Star Wars version of weed outside of a convenience store on one of the many many commerce levels of the current Death Star.

That is their only ambition. Sell drugs. Not galactic domination. Just sell drugs.

Force carry a potential customer over to where they are, wave the hand in front of the customer's face "This is the drug you are looking for." "This is the drug I am looking for." repeated blankly by the customer. Money changes hands.

Whoever the Jedi heroes at the time are finally manage to track them down, look at them shrug and move on. Throw in a couple of apathetic, cynical shopkeepers yelling at them every now and again, some stupid customers and insane situations to round it all out.

Sorry, did I just describe Clerks 3 in space? My bad.

Play That Funky Music Right

The 2014 Pumpkin Chuck

I've Got That Cat Scratch Fever!

For the cat lover who is too lazy to actually pet their cat!

My Shangri-La Beneath The Summer Moon, I Will Return Again

I looked into the mirror tonight after I shaved.  I look like I've lost ten years.  Ten of the most odd, eventful, dull, heartbreaking, extremely joyful, normal, stupid years of my life.

I was thinking...Given the option to go back in time and change one thing, would I do it?  The answer is probably not.

Even though things were stupid there for a while, it looks like it is all starting to shake out and calm down. 

I can only hope.

The year of our Lord 2014 has been extremely rough and extremely joyful.  I'm hoping to top it off with a change in job, but we shall see.  I can but pray.

I Guess I'll Just Keep On Ramblin'

So this is me sitting in Starbucks. 

More than ten years after it opened.

Still coming here.

Still sitting and thinking and listening to people gossip and talk to each other.

Still learning about the Human Condition by being a passive observer.

I sit and think about what it is that brings me to this point in my life. What decisions led to other decisions that led to me sitting here.

I have decided that I need to write.  At least one small thing here every day like I used to be so very good at until about ten years ago.

Even if the things do not make sense.

I am well aware of the fact that no one actually reads this. And I am sort of glad of that fact for now.  Maybe one day I will make the rest of the world aware of the existence of this little corner of the internets, but I do not believe I am ready for that day.  Maybe when I have the last twelve years (at least) of writings and ramblings posted, and all of the photo adventuring posted. And all of the paper writings scanned and put where they need to be.

I really hope that when this tapestry...My tapestry is woven (for better or worse) that it is not a tapestry of a shallow, callous person who is only walking through this existence in a haze and simply using oxygen.

I have recently realized that I genuinely want to be a person who makes a difference somewhere to someone, somehow.

And I realize how ego-centric that sounds.  Although for the first time, I feel like I can apply that particular label to me.  So maybe there is hope?

Anyway, peace out, yo.

If You Cut Every Corner It Is Really Not So Bad

So I am going to install a ceiling fan in the bedroom I plan to use for an office. Flipping breakers today trying to find the correct one. Turns out the one marked "Basement" also does the last bedroom upstairs and tthe bathroom also upstairs. 
On the off chance that I actually buy this house, I am just going to rip out all of the walls and wires and do it correctly, because wow...Just wow.

The Crazed Birds Raid The Trees

Explanations are in order with regard to date/tagging practices on this here blog.

Two of the tags will always be the year the post was created and the blog it started out on.  Seeing as this Blooger account did not exist before 2014, there may be some confusion with regard to the photo posts that are tagged with blogger before 2014.  I'm trying to keep all of my adventures in chronological order and since they haven't been posted anywhere but Blogger, well. You get the idea.

Any questions?

No?

PERFECT!

I Get Up In The Morning And It's Just Another Day

Recently I was thinking.

Thinking a lot about the things I have seen, done, and allowed myself to be pushed into doing.

But mostly that last part.  Mostly how much that last part has been true for my life.

I sort of allowed myself to be pushed into joining the Army. That was a fun experience that I will not regret.

I had a couple of bad weeks at Arby's one year and someone made a job offer that seemed too good to refuse. I planned to spend a few months at it and go back to full time at Arby's ready to move up and get a good life set up.  Instead I allowed myself to be pushed into a job I neither like or care about.  Then there is the part where my current living situation is sort of prohibitive of moving away from it.  Although that part is changing.

I also allowed myself to be pushed into a living arrangement a few years ago that I...Am just going to leave it at that for now. I am still not quite all together mentally from that.  I was reading back through the past and wondering what had to be done to just feel like Me again.

I feel like I have gotten a pretty decent start on that.  Looking into a career change, one that possibly involves relocating. Which is fine. Reconnecting with some people from years gone by is always nice. I am going to have some fun in a forest with some pretty awesome people next weekend with a camera if all goes as planned, so that will help. 

Worst case I could always go back to Arby's for a while...I guess?

But I have always been of the belief that where jobs are concerned the past is in the past, and each new day brings a different opportunity. I just have to see what window is open as the old door swings shut on the way out.

Peace out, yo.

If They Freed Me From This Prision, If That Railroad Train Was Mine

Sadly, probably the last time I will be going to the CSK Train Depot in Carthage, Indiana.

The man who owns it (I didn't realize it was still an active thing) was forced out of business due to costs of maintaining a "functioning railroad line" and has resorted to selling it off piece by piece. Several cars were already gone by the time I made it out here.