Void Where Prohibited

I find it difficult to have any optimism when sailing in a wooden ship on a sea of lava. The best possible scenario is for me to just throw a few cedar chips down, close my eyes, and take deep breaths. That, and perhaps sprinkle a little ground cinnamon and nutmeg into the mix?

I'm realizing that I'm at that point again where it's difficult to be creative. My inner hipster judge keeps telling me that everything I'm doing is garbage. Everything I'm about to write has already been said. My feelings are all invalid. When I have a thought, it's immediately countered with another thought. "I can't write this because if I think things through,..." It's that sort of thing. Yet I DESPERATELY need to be creative. The lack of it is killing me.

The blank page, my arch nemesis. Alluring and frightening.

On top of that, my environment makes it increasingly difficult to stay motivated. Yeah, yeah...excuses. Fuck it, it's goddamn true! I don't have the leisure time I once had, and even during those moments I'm extremely limited in what I can actually do. Of course, I must own up to a portion of it, since I set myself up this way. The dice were rolled. The slot machine lever was pulled. It's my fault that my emotional bank account now has a negative balance, because I didn't know when to stop. Wait...that's a lie. I knew, everyone knows. It was denial. I said, "Hey, why not? It's worth it!" All I chose to see around me were the lucky ones, and so "Why not me?"

Maybe it was the dealer. Maybe I didn't read that Power Poker book well enough.

Maybe I should have just folded to begin with.

Nothing good in life is ever free. There's always a catch. If it sounds too good to be true, trust your fucking instincts!

Proving Ground

To the reader of this, you should know by now that this is the place I drop off all my demons. Not much good comes from it. It's cheaper than paying a shrink, especially with my craptastic insurance. And what would they tell me that I don't already know? (Fuck you spell-check! Craptastic is a word!)

I thought these pills were supposed to stop me from thinking this way! What gives?

Is it my environment? My life? Or just my perception of how things are, unable to be satisfied with it? Anger Management has to do with consciously understanding that things in life don't always go the way you want them to, and that's not always a bad thing. I've told myself over and over that I have low expectations, and so when even those aren't met I become discouraged and distraught. Perhaps I AM asking to0 much from the world and the people who inhabit it. My addictive personality makes it so I never have exactly what I'm looking for, yet I keep believe the treasure is there if I just keep digging. I'm following a never-ending rainbow to a non-existent pot of gold. The leprechaun is laughing his tiny little shillelagh off.

And I don't blame him one bit.

I know all of this is wrong. Material possession doesn't bring everlasting joy. People will never give you exactly the attention you think you deserve. So becoming obsessed with these desires is foolish. Why then can't I stop?

I want emotional support. I'm needy. I'm emotional. And mankind tells me this is wrong for a man. No one has any interest talking to a basket case guy! So, like the majority of people out there, I have to repress everything. Repress my moods. Repress my emotions. Put on a mask of confidence, for that's what people want. And more than anything, I want to GIVE what people want!

Connection. Empathy. Support.

Once perhaps I foolishly believed that admitting these things was a good idea, that someone gets me, that someone gives a shit. No one ever thinks that doctors need doctors too! And if they did, that would make those doctors somehow more vulnerable, which equates to less qualified. Of course I'm being general here. This can't be 100% true. I've not found any evidence to the contrary, though I still somehow have a morsel of faith left.

My modus operandi has always involved creating, building, fixing, expressing, and entertaining. Doing these things brings me joy. Connecting socially, emotionally, physically is pure bliss. Pursuit of happiness? That's me on car with my eyes on the prize.

And yet I seem to just be chasing that rainbow.

The Pillow To Muffle My Screams

Fuck you:

- Peers from middle school who acted nice sometimes, but mostly made me feel like shit. If I could find you on facebook, I'd explain to you people the 'degree of asshole' you fuck faces were, and probably still continue to be. Did it feel good to push and shove someone half your size? Did you get the attention you desired? And to those teachers, peers, guidance counselors: thanks a bunch for not standing up for that scared little boy.

- Women from my past who cheated on me. Good job, go out with me just so you can get bored and want to fuck some douche on the side. Thanks for fucking with my head. I'm sorry you couldn't deal with a nice, loving guy who only wanted to love you.

- Judgmental pricks who you can never impress. Continue putting down everything everyone enjoys in their lives. Continue looking for fights to win and earn achievements for. Make your shitty opinion heard loudly and keep trying to manipulate others into thinking just like you. Also, great work calling out that guy in public for his minor, trivial mistake, because everyone's better off for you making that clear.

- Sociopaths. The 4% of the human race on this planet that consist of you guys are great at making the lives of others miserable. You are the reason people wear their masks, hide their feelings, and lose their trust. Too bad you'll never know what love and empathy are, though we can only hope that you fuck up sometime along the way and get killed in the process.

- Creepy people. Did you get what you wanted from me? You spent some hard time trying to convince me you were fun and generally caring, while instead you actually just wanted to use me for your fucked up impulses. Thanks for making me falsely believe there was someone out there that would understand me.

- Mass news media. Great work at perpetuating the lie. No one will ever be content, but instead always yearning, purchasing, easily influenced to make bad decisions that you can exploit. Even if someone finally sees through your garbage, they'll never be able to convince the others of it.

- Majority of organized religion. In the name of love, all you've done is hate and create hateful, selfish people. You gave an excuse for some to feel superior over others just because they won some good nerd points with memorizing the book. Continue exploiting those words for your own personal agenda and don't let me stand in your way of leading well meaning, lost souls out there into your carnival of rip offs and false dreams.

- Telemarketers and door knockers. You prey on people's good will and only end up hardening their hearts. The physical world has become so disgusting with you in it, and because of your actions, well-meaning people only get lost between the cracks. To listen to what you have to say for even a second is the equivalent of letting a snake eat me whole, just because he's hungry.

- Sane world. Where the fuck are you!? I was told you exist, but I've searched for so long to find you and haven't had any new leads lately. At least give me a clue!

Within Rubble

"muffled cries

cold lament

silence heard

below cement

on deaf ears

voices mourned

without a chance

no one warned

visible hand

yearns for love

weeping woman

the mother of..."

Wireless Connection

My son has had some real behavior issues lately. It's not that he's mean or hurtful, but more that he cannot sit still or put a stop to his OCD tendencies. It breaks my heart because I love him to death and the last thing I want is for my son to be at a disadvantage in this ridiculous, competitive world. My fear is that this inability will negatively affect his growth and development. I want him to make good social connections. I want him to 'get' the bigger picture. I want him to stay out of trouble.

Now I fully understand the perpetual look of fear that used to be in my mother's

eyes.

He's been in speech therapy for quite awhile. At age five, he is at a 2nd Grade reading level at the very least, if not higher, and he's not even begun Kindergarten yet. The mind of this boy is just never satisfied though. Hands are always twitching, legs are always moving, mouth is always talking. Then he looks up, and reads to us from a paper he wrote on. "I love my Mommy and Daddy and Ian!" and then says "Mommy, you're the prettiest girl in the whole world!" followed up by a big, generous hug that only a child could give. Needless to say, I would die for this amazing kid.

Abrupt transition of topics.

Last Friday I had a performance that went really well, better than expected. Even if it wasn't a large crowd I still felt great doing it. It's probably cliche, but I think that I have the spirit of an entertainer. There is this craving in me to be on that stage and get a reaction from people. It's not just the claps either! The mass connection with others is the nourishing food for my soul. As anxious and depressed as I get at times, performing in front of people feels so right, as if I've finally found the exact place I'm supposed to be at. It's therapeutic. It's cathartic. It's wonderful. Perhaps in a previous life I was a prolific public speaker?

It could be the praise...to be told "You are above adequate and your art is meaningful." That would be nice.

Falling Star

"...have you seen the light,

from the falling star,

as it fades away,

have you become so blind?"

-line of sight

The Big Blog

I'm not sure if it's just circumstance that I bought and completely fell in love with L.A. Noire recently, in that I've had an attraction to Film Noir and detective stories. Sure, my favorite movie of all time is Blade Runner, hands down, though in these last few months I've really become interested in this genre of entertainment. For an early Father's Day present, Nina bought me a 150 pack called "Best of TV Detectives." It's one of those Mill Creek collections. It then inspired me to download all the old time radio episodes of Dragnet and begin listening to them on my Zune HD while I'm working.

Part of the attraction is the old black and white film quality. Another part is the fedoras. The music also plays a role. The common theme in all the stories is about finding the dark truth behind the world you thought you knew, which may be the central reason I'm finding this all so fascinating. I imagine myself as that hard boiled, cynical detective that's solving these cases, getting closer and closer to what's beneath the surface each passing day. At times I even find that, in the end, the person I'm truly chasing is myself. Some aspect that I've been denial about. Some part of me that's manifest itself in the world around me, that I believe is only external. My fears and paranoia. Some force is out there, ready to pounce. Some barrier standing in the way of success. Some persistent parasite that sucks my body dry.

When will I finally realize that I'm my own worst enemy?

It Pays?

I keep hoping the economy will get better, while deep down I fear that it'll instead become more horrific. I've pretty much given up on keeping up with the news. When they boast high earnings and job growth, are those numbers just optimistic half-truths? When they promote a message of doom and gloom about unemployment and the higher cost of living, are they just trying to boost their ratings? The closest thing to the truth I get to learn about is from my friends and family, whom many of are without work and waking up each morning greeting their days with fear. This is something I do as well. I know how great I have it! Then again, as good as it is there is no guarantee that it'll last. Tomorrow I could get laid off. What then? Compete with the 10%+ of the population dying to get a job and health insurance to take care of their families?

Perhaps this is why I felt something for this salesman today.

Next week I have scheduled a visit from an insurance rep. I'm assuming he wants to sell my wife and I life insurance and whatever else is on the list. I've been debating back and forth whether or not it would be worth it. Obviously it exists just in case the unforeseen happens, though it's very morbid to think about. Some part of me believes that the equity in my home, the 401k, and the 30k policy my company provides for me should be adequate. Perhaps he does Homeowners insurance and we could get a better rate with him. If we were to take that instead, which is an absolute necessity, the guy would at least get something out of the deal. Most likely homeowners insurance though...

Man do I miss being a kid. I barely remember how it was like to never worry and always have fun. What I truly miss is having someone who would calm my fears and assure me that everything was going to be okay, no matter what happened.

Up Stream

I'm pretty sure if I were a fish it wouldn't be an issue. That, and the law of gravity makes things quite difficult.

Perhaps the bigger dreams in my life never actually manifest because of my consistent goal/desire to avoid problems and making people upset. I find myself saying less and less these days. If I speak too much, there's a much greater chance of putting my foot in my mouth. This may be a reason why I've gravitated toward online journal/blog writing. When I speak in a blog, I'm not judged. I'm not contradicted. I don't feel fear. I'm not constantly worried about retribution. I'm allowed to be pretty honest.

Honesty is a great thing, though what I desire more is something I refer to as candor. There's a difference. Candor is usually solicited, objectively constructive, helpful, and loving. I'm pretty content with my ability to empathize with others and use candor.

And then there are THOSE people. Everyone knows THOSE people! The ones who openly celebrate how 'honest' they are. The ones who insult you, then get immediately defensive stating meekly, "I'm sorry but I'm just being honest." It always baffled me...who in their right mind consciously desires conflict and confrontation? I sure as hell don't derive any joy from battles. Arguments and debates don't make me feel better about myself. Is it the 'high' people are attracted to from being 'right'? At the end of the day, asserting that righteous indignation must just be more pleasurable than anything. The feeling of power!

Smug Ass: "I'm right, you're wrong. I win!"

I guess it's inevitable that these people exist. Unfortunately they don't live in caves, isolated from society. We all have to put up with them, and that's really what the problem is. As much as I try to ignore and eradicate these people from my world they always have a way of showing up again. They seem to desire people like me that won't question them, and just say "yes" to everything they say. Of course I'm insincere to someone like that! They walk all over people! They don't deserve even an ounce of my honesty! You want to know why everyone hides their opinions around you? Because you, sir, are a fucking prick.

When someone goes "I love baseball!" I don't instantly shoot back, "OMG Fuck sports!" It's true I don't give a shit about them, but so what? They aren't for me to enjoy then!

My wish is for more people to read Dale Carnegie's "How To Win Friends and Influence People," and put those principles into practice. I'm sick of so many people out there acting so selfish and manipulative around me. If you call someone out in public on some trivial piece of information that they may have gotten wrong, then go fuck yourself. Seriously, go right ahead. And preferably away from us in a cave somewhere, where only the trolls dwell.

Rest assured though, they are all 'honest' people!

Verbigeration

I have to compete, right? There's an entire ocean out there of eager word-smiths dying to have others listen to their gill movements.

Okay okay, enough's enough. I'm just being cynical yet again. One can't help thinking about how insignificant they are when there's an exponentially, overwhelming amount of voices out there. Actually, this has always been the case, but now the internet makes us a bit too aware of it. Twitter is filled to the brim with everyone's snark, everyone's promotions, everyone's agendas. We fool each other into thinking that the majority of people may one day give a shit.

The fear comes from the illusion, the dream we were taught as children that one day we all have the possibility of being culturally significant. If we try hard enough, it's actually inevitable! I envy those who don't have this mindset embedded into their consciousness; it's one of my many flaws. (No...I'm not talking about the 'envy' part...though that's also one of them) The joys I've known in life seem to have stemmed from entertaining others and the feeling of being 'important.' Yes, I know, we're all important. We're all unique snowflakes. I get it. That's not what I'm talking about.

I'm an only child...with siblings. "What does that even mean?" you ask me.

...or you don't...but I'm sure you at least THINK about asking the question.

My youngest sibling is 14 years older than me. Our relationship is a bit different; she's always been a second mother to me. Since the other 2 siblings lived very far away, and were MUCH older than me, I wasn't very close to them growing up. For the most part I had my parents undivided attention, as well as my sister's. They'd take me places, buy me things, and generally showed appreciation for everything/anything I did. I learned very early on to be creative, because it was a fun job that paid well! Praise and compliments! At the time, I didn't realize that I could simply just deposit those into a bank account and retire at the age of 18 as a self-made millionaire of self-worth, so foolishly I spent every polite smile, every pat on the back, every "Good Job" I could get.

I was living the high life! Although I was very dependent on it, I had no idea that one day my fortune would be gone. I'm not sure of the exact date, but at some point during my middle school years I became emotionally bankrupt. The environment I had been put in consisted almost exclusively of emotional criminals, thieves that stole my positive energy on a daily basis. Needless to say, the bank foreclosed on my home and I was thrown out to the streets. Homeless. Eating fish bone compliments straight from metal garbage cans. Always begging for scraps. Many nights it would rain cold drops down on me as I attempted to sleep on a park bench, clenching tightly to the one soaked newspaper that wasn't completely torn to shreds. On the dry side next to my face, my eyes were fixed on my horoscope each night, waiting anxiously for the one that would read, "Today, people will change their mind about you. So long have they had the wrong idea, but now they'll see the error of their ways. Look forward to moving into that mansion next week. Also, your lucky lotto numbers are 3, 4, 15, 29 and 42."

I ended up just gathering and selling aluminum cans, enough to eventually buy myself a tent so I could live in the woods next to the highway. You'd be surprised how many people just throw their beer bottles out there! Cha-Ching!

Faultlines

When one attempts to analyze the probabilities of potential failures that await them in the not-so-far-away future, it can lead to quite a bit of stress and anxiety. Perhaps my focus needs to shift over. Rhonda Byrne's book "The Secret" suggests I'm creating the negative world by thinking about my fears, that I'm in fact manifesting the things I don't want to happen. My subconscious is trying to sabotage me!

I just spent a period of time today coloring with magic markers on graph paper in my son's room, and was very serious about it. Man do I wish I was kidding. My creations were copied works from the great artists of 8-bit history...A pixelated Mario, a pixelated Goomba, and a pixelated Kirby. If I were pretentious enough, I would just consider it "Pop Art" and own the hell out of it!

It helped take the edge off of my son's anxiety of the dentist. Had to get that tooth removed, one way or another. The funny part was that he was fine with the local anesthesia, just not the bubble-gum flavored Novocaine gel, the bubble-gum scented nitrous oxide, or the *gasp* rinsing water. Needless to say the dentist and his assistant had quite a fun morning, and stayed in good spirits by pointing out how purple his hands were as a result of me restraining his wrists.

The tooth was successfully removed, so I suppose this counts as a 'win' for the home team?