I'm just so damn tired...

When people form opinions based solely on emotion it's called passion, when people base opinions on irrefutable facts it's called logic, and when people base opinions on their emotional attachment to conveying cohesive facts it's called passionate logic. How is it that someone can justify in their own mind and then aloud their emotional attachment to non-existent facts? Bush caused Katrina, 2Pac is alive, Al Gore invented the internet, lose 20 pounds in a day, Lady Gaga is a hermaphrodite, "I did not have sexual relations with that woman", Miley Cyrus can sing, Sarah Palin would've made a great Vice President, gay marriage is wrong, Obama isn't a socialist, etc.


Listen up people, I know you fulfill a need in American society but I certainly don't need to hear you speak of anything that doesn't directly involve what I want from the Chick-fil-a menu (Gawd, I love Chick-fil-a...). Politics are a sham, America is a disgrace and the citizens are cowards. We don't want to fight for our rights in wars, we don't want to pay for the things we buy, we don't want to earn the money we make and we certainly don't want to play fair. Give us a leg up and we'll forget whose hands our feet stood upon as soon as we reach the top. We're more proud of being Celtics fans than we are of being Americans. Nothing comes from the heart because no one seems to have one. It's constantly about us. People actually pay other people to listen to them talk about themselves. There wasn't any TIME for that a hundred years ago. Most people were too busy wondering if they were going to eat dinner. People earned what they had and they died for their freedom. Feeling convicted? Feeling as if you're part of the problem? Feeling victimized?

Because there's a difference, and you should see it

I watch people, and please don’t confuse “people watching” with what I’ve just confessed. I sit, stand, hover, crouch, lie and watch people. What draws my attention to them is unknown to me. It’s clearly some kind of attraction but the formula that connects me is never the same. The only fact that remains constant, is that I’m addicted to watching. I’m consistently evaluating who will ultimately receive my full attention. And please don’t confuse “full attention” with ignoring the people who are engaging me in conversation. I am completely invested in each and every one of you in a group, but am most definitely watching one of you effortlessly. If you aren’t speaking, I’m analyzing each movement you make because I’m fabricating your story. A story that I begin to weave in my head. I ponder what your mannerisms mean. Why do you have a small scar on your cheek? Do you look more like your mother or father? You bounce your leg incessantly which means you have other nervous behaviors. Cracking your knuckles? Playing with your necklace, earrings or the ring on your finger? Tapping on the table? I’ll keep an eye out. What will your order to drink? Will it contain alcohol? Why or why not, and if it does, what attaches you to that drink? Is this the first time you’ve ordered it, your favorite or just a security blanket drink. Why didn’t you order something alcoholic? Are you straight edge, Mormon, a recovering alcoholic out with your friends for the first time trying to show them your sobering progress? How do you know these people and how well do you know each of them individually? Are you wearing a guise right now, and if you are how ensconced in it are you? What types of music do you listen to? And do you use the poetry of the lyrics and enchantment of melody to immerse yourself into your emotions? Are you happy? Do you love yourself? Do you know how to love? Was your childhood pet a parrot, gerbil, cat, dog, horse? Did parents read you bed-time stories? When you revealed to them that you wanted to be a Ninja Turtle when you grew up did they scoff disdainfully and painfully remind you that was, of course, impossible? Or did they gently take your hand and softly kiss the top of your head while encouraging you to be absolutely anything you wanted. Do you sleep well? Reoccurring nightmares? Are you Christian? Do you even believe in a God? What drove you away and why? Have you ever experienced profound loss? More, more, more I need more. Which is why I’m still watching, placing, remembering. I have to know, I have to see and understand so that I will know. I have to see.

I’m enthralled with your complexity. These things, these details, your pieces are important to me because I need to study them. Turn them over and over in my hand til I’ve memorized their jagged shape and soft edges. All these varying sizes and shapes placed together to form what is. It’s important that I know where to place each detail in the disassembled masterpiece that is you. Getting it right the first time means not having to own up to my wild presumptions. I place some recklessly due to impatience and others carefully with truth. It’s in this way that I’m gently, violently, avidly constructing. Desperate to unravel the intricate design, flip the puzzle and finally reveal the picture, thereby destroying the very conundrum that motivated me to
start this, to continue this until...

Eventually I lose interest. It’s inevitability and it’s one of my truths. It may be 3 minutes, 10, a few hours, days, a late night phone chat I’m anxious to disconnect, weeks, years a lifetime. I move on to the next enigma. There’s an undetermined amount of time that will elapse until my eyes and brain have decided that they know you and you’re no longer a mystery to solve. Your habits and stories, their origin is known and there’s nothing left to learn, because I’ve seen you, ya know? You’re a wreck, just as I am. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing you weren’t. Wishing that you were the one human being on this miserable earth who locks eyes with me and convey that you saw me, even briefly, fleetingly. Because you’ve been watching too and you see me.

A Night I Just Can't Quite Remember

It was dark outside and we were huddled by their front door. I say "we" because I can't remember their names. A boy and girl. I don't remember our age differences or which sibling was older. Funny that I can't. It must've been a one day play date. Not because it went badly, from what I can remember, just that I didn't see them often enough to retain their names. Or perhaps it was just one of those times that your parents take you to a friend of their's and what was supposed to be "just running in" turns into "come in for a beer". They have kids as well, and soon you're acquainted and playing with their Ninja Turtles as if you've known them your entire life. I remember their Turtle Blimp and explaining that I had the Turtle Van (my most prized possession at that point) but this Turtle Blimp was quite obviously the coolest thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. I'm sure I asked a thousand questions about how they'd acquired such fabulous accessory to find that they'd had no idea. Apparently a Christmas or Birthday present. I remember holding it up to my dad and exclaiming something like,

"LOOK DAD! IT'S THE TURTLE BLIMP!!!"

I can guarantee he wasn't nearly as impressed as I was. Though I'm sure I held it long enough to burn in both of our memories to ensure that the very first opportunity we had we MUST get one. We because I made all the money during that time too...

Seriously? It's clearly the most badass thing the Turtles have ever driven...

I know I talked about it the whole way home and I'm sure quite animately. I wonder what he thought about my excitement, how fleeting my fascination with it actually was and how used he was to me falling in love with things and forgetting about them the next day. I wonder if those kids appreciated their rad Turtle Blimp even more when I left, or if they were perhaps just as enthralled with the knowledge that I had a Turtle Van and how amazing it would be if they had one as well. Memories like these are important, I suppose. I've held onto it for a reason, right? Maybe I just really need that damn blimp...

Breakage

The thing about inevitability is, simply, that your best efforts to resist are futile. So I grit my teeth, steel my nerves, and take deep breaths. I convince myself that emotions are something I can keep at bay. Breaking is out of the question and I refuse. But the more I keep it away, the closer it draws. I fight it and I suppress the urge to give in. My fists clench and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder trying to stave off the sneak attacks that feelings often try. The most unfortunate thing about pain is that it always comes when I’m at my weakest. Like a deep horrible sinking wasteland that invades my heart, mind and finally my soul. My earth shatters violently and without warning. All that resolve, all of that strength I possess is depleted and though I veraciously attempt, I can’t draw on it anymore.

Perhaps the most horrific part about breaking is that the first crack is just a prelude of the hurt to come. That first crack is just a reminder of how human, fragile and vulnerable I am. Sobs wrack my body and slowly, reassuringly the pain begins to subside. That last shuddering deep breath and small sniffles that follow afterward. The eye of the storm is above me. A bird chirps, a deep breath, the breeze ruffles my hair and I feel it through my clothes. I extend my arms to lose myself in the clarity of this moment because I’ll need its strength to face what’s to come. There’s still work to be done. Ever so gently, bit by miserable bit, I’m meant to feel the breakage until finally I’m shattered. My very being lie on the ground scattered in a myriad of pieces. I’m finding that my mistake has been that I’m always reaching for the pieces, hoping to catch them before they fall, forever attempting to cram them back together to rebuild what was lost. That strength, that resolve! I need it back! This is my realization and my discovered truth about pain; it’s not about restoration, it’s about creation. The pieces that fall to floor are not to be reattached in the form they once composed. I am broken. Now all of my pieces form a new shape entirely. I can’t go back, I am not to be restored and through this realization, through the pain and destruction, I am created.

"Searching for a peace of mind, like the spiders in the corners that are never there"

All of me is all of you

I am good, I am just, I am strong

I am what you have made me

Where I am blind, you see

Where I am bound, you are free

When I am sorrow, you are glee

When I am cut, you bleed

And I follow you wholeheartedly

There's No Way Around It

Is having limited control of your mouth a fallacy? Are people too sensitive for me to be insensitive toward? Is honesty REALLY the best policy? Can I tell you the truth? Think before you act, or act before you think? Amend the advice to "Live life as if you'll die tomorrow in moderation". Is it possible that some people do not OWN common sense(not the pamphlet)? Are some people beyond hope? Is there hope to be found in every situation? Do people live in separate realities? Is it true that all things happen for a reason? Is it possible that nice guys truly DO finish last? Is the Golden Rule silence or is it treating everyone as you wish to be treated? Are there any truly helpless homeless? Do paranormal entities exist? Aliens? Are conspiracy theories REALLY all that unbelievable? Do humans have the innate inclination to be evil? Would you eat the forbidden fruit? Have you?

It's delicious.

Through the Dark

As I've probably conveyed in my recent musings and public knowledge information, I've been quite lost these days. While driving the other day, my iPod spit this tune out while on shuffle: KT Tunstall's Through the Dark. Sometimes a song explains my emotions to me precisely and inspires me to create something visual.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0m_ZGGyhyJU

As I walk away
I look over my shoulder
To see what I'm leaving behind
Pieces of puzzles
And wishes on eyelashes fail

Oh, how do I show
All the love inside my heart?
For this is all new
And I'm feeling my way through the dark

I used to talk
With honest conviction
Of how I predicted my world
I'm gonna leave it to stargazers
Tell me what your telescope says

Oh, what is in store for me now?
It's coming apart
I know that its true
Cos I'm feeling my way through the dark

Trying to find a light on somewhere
Trying to find a light on somewhere
I'm finding I'm falling
in love with the dark over here

Oh, what do I know, I don't care
Where I start
For my troubles are few
As I'm feeling my way through the dark
Through the dark
I'm feeling my way through the dark