Earlier this week, I was on the phone with my best friend for two hours... TWO HOURS!!! That may not seem strange to some folks I know, as for me and her, it's unheard of. But if you think about it, with our work and life schedules, we see each other once every blue moon, even though we're about ten miles away. What was amazing about our conversation was that we both have found each other in a rookie 30's crisis.
For those two hours, her story aside (not my business to share), I just let all my thoughts, feelings, emotions and fears out... the outcome was amazing!!! Like I've said before, I tend to be a person of signs and a believer that God for whatever reason, will lay little cue cards out in front of you to help you figure out some of the more interesting parts of life. This past month has been no different.
People talk about how the thirties are the prime of your life; and so it far that statement to me seems true. But the thirties, with the excitement that it brings demands from us one thing: direction. I've arrived at that decade that I can't say, "you know what? I'm just going to work and party and start all over again in the morning." Instead, I've got to work with some kind of goal in mind so my life has a certain direction that it's going to follow, albeit if only for the next five years.
When I was in my twenties, I did the typical twenties things, partied, drank WAY too much, slept WAY too little, etc... I look back at those years and regret nothing. The mid to second half of that decade I was in my first relationship that I thought would last forever. (What can I say when you first fall in love?) Towards the second half, tragedy struck and I fell off the wagon. Only recently, have I started opening up to my siblings about my life after the passing of my dad; it's been almost five years and there are still moments where I just want to utterly break down and cry. My dad may not have been a perfect person, but he was still my father; a man that at that point I was only beginning to know.
Those first 2-3 years were horribly painful to me. I was lost, broken apart and had nowhere to really look for for help. I jumped in and out of beds looking for people who would care about me, faster than it takes most people to make coffee for themselves; I put myself in horrible situations where to this day, I don't know how I walked away unscathed. Almost five years later, I look back at those first few years and it scares me to think of the person I was, but it brings me hope to know that I can change for the better. During those years I was in another caring relationship that ended in a not so caring way; I learned that we can only be held responsible for our own actions and not those of others. What I did discover when I look back though were two things: at times the actions of another may have hurt us, but perhaps we both deserved some blame and second, I didn't spiral out of control. Yes the situation hurt me and I've been single since, but it also showed me that I can change for the better.
I look back at my twenties and they were full of joy and the spontaneity of a college student and the dream of living life to the fullest; yet they were also filled with alot of pain, self loathing, and complete disregard for the value of my own life. After the hardships of that decade, I glance over it all and see that for the most part, I fared pretty well. All I have to remind myself of my "lost" years is a post operative scar on my knee caused by my days of hard drugs, and my old reputation of warming the beds of the many Johns that in the end, cared nothing about me; as the years have gone by, that reputation I hope has begun to disappear. So onto the thirties I go...
I started this decade with a few pseudo permanent additions to my life. When I was 28, I bought a condo as a way to bring me to stability to my recently somewhat stabled out life. Again, I thought that God had laid out the signs for me, and I took it and ran with it; plus I was still in my last relationship where I thought we were going to move in together and so on. With that whole leap of faith, I decided to add in the addition of two fur balls as well. What's life without a little company right? And so my thirties began with an urbanized version of the white picket fence: a condo door, a tree lined balcony, a dog, a cat and the occasional corner side crackhead.
When I first got the condo, I thought that it was a spectacular idea. I mean why not? Not only do I have a roof over my head, but it's MY roof over MY head, no one elses. Yet as these last three years of condo living and almost five since my dad's passing have whizzed by, my point of view has changed a few times. After a year or so, I started looking at my condo like a shackle, binding me to this town, and my life as a lost soul roaming the streets of life asking for handouts on what to do. Three years ago, during the second half of the first year of my condo, I started a plan that was meant to bring me even more insight and adventure; I decided to take atleast one major trip to a place I've never been, screw the financial consequences. Since then I've been to Chicago, the eastern half of Canada, driven up and the down the East coast of the US, road tripped through parts of northern California, and as of recently, backpacked through western Europe. I did and continue to take these trips as my way of getting away from everything and getting back to the simplicities of lie.
It's been through my travels that I've seem to learn what bring me joy. For some it's relaxing on the beach with a drink in your hand, sunbathing to the sounds of the ocean. Or perhaps, it's taking one's kids to a baseball game or a park for a day. For me, joy comes from slipping a backpack on my back, putting on some good tennis shoes, grabbing a camera and journal, and walking to the next adventure. I've always been a nomad at heart, and if I could, I'd just travel the world, writing down all of my experiences and just savoring the joys of life that come with discovering new people and facets in the world. I've always been a dreamer and an optimist at heart, so traveling has always brought me so much happiness, even if it's never really been by the most luxurious means of living.
Something else I've recently have picked up on has been volunteerism. I've always enjoyed helping others who have been less fortunate, a trait of mine that I believe many have abused, yet a quality of mine that I try to use to help the world out. I look back at times now and wonder why I didn't start doing this more often and sooner; and the answer came to me quickly: excuses. I always made up excuses: I don't have the time. I don't want to wake up that early. I'm with someone so let me help them. The list of excuses is endless. Yet the reason to DO it is simple: to help others. I'm no saint, nor am I trying to paint myself as one, but I am trying to do right with the world and I do believe that if we can help just make one person smile and feel as if they're worth something, that our job for the day is finished.
At the soup kitchen I volunteer at, you don't know the story behind every person that comes for food, just like they don't know yours; all you see is gratitude and happiness in their eyes, and in yours, they see mercy and caring. The other day I had a man come up to me telling me how I looked like Lucille McBride. (It was probably the oh so fitting hair clip a lady let me borrow to keep my mane in control.) He spoke to me in ramblings and really had no coherent trail of thought, but when all was said and done, I just thanked him and smiled; turns out that man, I was later told, has never uttered a word to anyone, volunteer or guest. It made me smile, that although what seemed to me were the ramblings of an emotionally not completely intact man, were perhaps an attempt by him to show me his gratitude. I left the kitchen that day feeling great!
Aside from the volunteer work, I've also gotten back into music in ways I thought I'd never see again. Recording, producing, engineering... all these things I used to do years ago, I'm starting to do once again and it's just amazing the timing of it all. There's no better joy to me with music than to sit down with someone and see just how happy they are when I'm able to help them piece together a song of theirs and give it wings. I find it hard to describe the high that comes with musical collaboration; I'm hoping that this only continues to become a bigger part in my life as well.
All my babbling aside, seeing that I've written a novel today, comes down to one thing: pieces falling into place. These last five years, I've done many things good and bad that at the time had no real rhyme or reason, and as of recently, I left another situation that in the end seemed to be the right choice, even though I'm still licking my wounds (gotta love dating in Atlanta. Dating in this town is a whole other entry in and of itself), to find myself inadvertently, forming pieces of a puzzle that is by far greater than me. This was pretty much my two hour conversation in a not so succinct nutshell. But at the end of it all, it dawned on me, that all of the hell and happiness I've put myself through these last 11 years, mostly last 5 years, has been to transform me just like a caterpillar is transformed into a butterfly.
If all goes well, within two years I'll find myself doing something I wanted to do when I graduated college, which is to join the Peace Corps. After I graduated I made excuses again not to do anything about it; fresh out of college I wanted to enjoy life and get that sought after "stable" job so I could live that "stable" life we're all told about. Now after living in a materially stable life, and an ever more emotionally growing one, I've realized that now may be the best time for me to act. I've finally been able to survive through a lot of pain I've lived through, and even though I'm still growing as a person, I'm now only having to worry about myself; the time just seems right to focus and rethink my life.
So with that, I hope to register for the Peace Corps within an extremely short time. The idea of doing so excites me so much, because not only do I get to help people who are less fortunate, but I also get to travel and learn of other cultures and societies; I think that at times, we forget how fortunate we are to have so many simple things in life that others merely dream of. If for whatever reason, within the two years that I takes to process my application I don't get accepted, well then again, I'll take it as sign from God that perhaps there's another path out there for me. But for now, I look at this as not so much the solution to my life, but perhaps, the direction in which my life was supposed to go this whole time. In the end, only God and life itself can be my teacher.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
London Bridge is Falling Down
I was debating whether or not to write a new post or attach this one to the end of my second to last one; the latter though just made it seem as if my last entry would turn into an internet novel, so shortened it was. So this past week has been interesting; it felt like I had swallowed one of helluva a bittersweet pill. Like I said in my last post, sometimes it's those ghosts from the past that just keep refusing to let go of you; either that, or some really delayed karmic debt that I owe. I sometimes wonder if my reactions to events are a bit exaggerated, or am I just too old fashioned? Although I may seem like I'm a hard ass to many people that have met me, I actually am a teddy bear. My hard assed-ness definitely comes from years of making believe that I was an island. After many moons of living that lifestyle I realized that perhaps instead of ourselves thinking we're islands, perhaps we should views our individual lives on this earth as being a peninsula; we may try to separate ourselves from things as a protective measure, but still have a bit of us connected to the general landmass which is called Life.
Over the last few years I've slowly evolved from said island to more of an Iberian Peninsula lifestyle; letting in folks when and where it's necessary and wanted. I let people in with the hopes of sharing mutual land bridges to our respective islands; but ironically now, I know how people apply those famous words of "burning bridges". But here's a secret, bridges with me are seldom, if not rarely burned; perhaps that's a curse or a blessing. Why live a life worrying about all the bridges that you or others have burned in your life? Instead of doing that, we need to look at those same bridges and see if they're worth some kind of repair and fix them, or acknowledge them for what they are: a failed construction project that needs to be left behind. It's this path that is always difficult for me.
A few years back I'd look at all the burned bridges in my life and scream to the heavens the wails of "why me??", while downing God knows what kind of alcoholic concoction I had at hand. Yet as life has passed by, I've started to try and look at these bridges and learn from them. I haven't just looked at the bridges that have failed me, but also the ones that have succeeded and I just compare. The ones that have succeeded I take a careful look at because in the end, all bridges have cracked some, but it's been with repairs and improvements that they've become stronger. The ones that have failed I look and I can definitely admit, I did enough acts of arson on my own bridges to equal burning down the Amazon; yet as of late, it seems that more people have done the burning this time around than myself.
About two weeks ago, another drawbridge in my life cracked and splintered and I reacted the best I could: karaoke and some heavy handed drinks. Unfortunately, some bridges cause more of a shock wave when they break than others, and this one was certainly no different.
I love speaking in allegory some times, and this time is no different, but to understand it all, I guess I've gotta ditch the symbolism. I felt that I was hurt by someone; the cause was unexpected but regardless, music is a wonderful coping mechanism. I remembered my typical karaoke night being an odd emotional haze mixed with alcohol and my trusty horn. I remember that night playing while being on the verge of tears and just anti-social lunacy. Thank god for friends that make you laugh right? Anyways, as the days went on, the aftershocks still bugged me and then I was slammed with another statement that shook me to my core. If a bridge is my effort to trust and bring people into my life, my character and integrity would be the pillars of said bridge; and they were definitely rocked that night. C'est la vie I guess.
I've never been a great architect or mason, so I just pretty much patch up all the holes in my bridges and let time decide if they should be fixed or not. I usually repair most of my bridges nowadays, because what's the point of living a life full of broken bridges? But how stable and well re-constructed they are is always something that time reveals; bridges weather all kinds of storms and events, sometimes they survive, and at others they fall. I guess it all depends on the quality of craftsmanship and the time and effort that was put into building them in the first place.
Over the last few years I've slowly evolved from said island to more of an Iberian Peninsula lifestyle; letting in folks when and where it's necessary and wanted. I let people in with the hopes of sharing mutual land bridges to our respective islands; but ironically now, I know how people apply those famous words of "burning bridges". But here's a secret, bridges with me are seldom, if not rarely burned; perhaps that's a curse or a blessing. Why live a life worrying about all the bridges that you or others have burned in your life? Instead of doing that, we need to look at those same bridges and see if they're worth some kind of repair and fix them, or acknowledge them for what they are: a failed construction project that needs to be left behind. It's this path that is always difficult for me.
A few years back I'd look at all the burned bridges in my life and scream to the heavens the wails of "why me??", while downing God knows what kind of alcoholic concoction I had at hand. Yet as life has passed by, I've started to try and look at these bridges and learn from them. I haven't just looked at the bridges that have failed me, but also the ones that have succeeded and I just compare. The ones that have succeeded I take a careful look at because in the end, all bridges have cracked some, but it's been with repairs and improvements that they've become stronger. The ones that have failed I look and I can definitely admit, I did enough acts of arson on my own bridges to equal burning down the Amazon; yet as of late, it seems that more people have done the burning this time around than myself.
About two weeks ago, another drawbridge in my life cracked and splintered and I reacted the best I could: karaoke and some heavy handed drinks. Unfortunately, some bridges cause more of a shock wave when they break than others, and this one was certainly no different.
I love speaking in allegory some times, and this time is no different, but to understand it all, I guess I've gotta ditch the symbolism. I felt that I was hurt by someone; the cause was unexpected but regardless, music is a wonderful coping mechanism. I remembered my typical karaoke night being an odd emotional haze mixed with alcohol and my trusty horn. I remember that night playing while being on the verge of tears and just anti-social lunacy. Thank god for friends that make you laugh right? Anyways, as the days went on, the aftershocks still bugged me and then I was slammed with another statement that shook me to my core. If a bridge is my effort to trust and bring people into my life, my character and integrity would be the pillars of said bridge; and they were definitely rocked that night. C'est la vie I guess.
I've never been a great architect or mason, so I just pretty much patch up all the holes in my bridges and let time decide if they should be fixed or not. I usually repair most of my bridges nowadays, because what's the point of living a life full of broken bridges? But how stable and well re-constructed they are is always something that time reveals; bridges weather all kinds of storms and events, sometimes they survive, and at others they fall. I guess it all depends on the quality of craftsmanship and the time and effort that was put into building them in the first place.
Spooning for Advice
So I've had this horrible knack as of late of beginning blogs and not really finishing them, so my draft folder is starting to mount up to my standards, but in my defense, these last two weeks have been chaotic as all hell. I feel like I've been living the famous statement from Picasso that says, "from destruction comes creation."
Lately I've had to refocus myself on a lot of levels. After two to three months, I've finally gotten my place back to myself and it's been a matter of shifting life priorities and such to get back to my routine. I've taken about a two week hiatus from the bars lately (ok I fibbed. Went out one night but shhhhhh! Don't tell anyone. ;-) ) just to regroup myself. Took a hard blow recently that struck me on a bunch of levels, but I've learned something quite important: if you ever feel down and at a loss, help others to realize that your situation isn't as bad as you think it is. And so I did; I started to help out at a soup kitchen last week.
Volunteerism is something I've been wanting to pursue these last few months, yet I could never find a place to help at and I just made a million excuses for it. Oh I'm going out tonight. Blah, I don't want to wake up early. Etc... But in all honesty, I'm glad I'm doing it. Last week I went with a good girlfriend of mine and we had an absolute blast!! It's amazing the bonding that can be done rolling sporks and setting up cups. I spent that morning after my sporking session serving soup to the homeless and in need. It was an experience indeed! The scent of the kitchen was filled with happiness and smell of an amazing stew, while the cafeteria filled with the smells of need, abandonment and longing. Last week it was probably 100 people who showed up, while this week alone was filled with a cue of over 200 people. 200 people may not seem like a lot for a city of over 5 million, but it's not the numbers that matter, but the happiness that you bring to someone else... even if it's just temporary.
The first day I volunteered I was told such sweet things by some of the people who I served. I was told by one who stared me straight in the eyes and with a gentle smile told me I have a great personality. I really took that to heart, but at the same time, in the back of my mind I was thinking, "what do you know about me." It wasn't out of malice, but moreso from the point of view that I'm no saint and not really deserving of that statement. Yet after thinking about it, I look back at that moment and smile, because even if it was just a complete stranger who told me that, his statement came from complete sincerity. He didn't have to know me and I know him, to see the short connection we shared. That one simple action of ladling soup into a cup and saying good morning to someone was all that this person needed to smile; I saw this and continue to see it every time I go.
The lines fill up with a majority of people considered by "us" as social parasites, but in the end, they are just like us. They breath, they hurt, they walk and they seek kindness like anyone else. Others in line may not be poor but seek a sense of community and whether or not they come there for food or a sense of belonging, everyone leaves smiling, knowing that for atleast a moment, there are people who care about them.
Every time I've stopped by the help, my problems and trepidations are put on hold because I know that deep down, things can be worse, even if we don't see that right away. I've come across some people in this soup kitchen that have absolutely nothing, but a simple smile and a grateful heart.... sometimes I wonder if it's us or them who are truly poor.
Lately I've had to refocus myself on a lot of levels. After two to three months, I've finally gotten my place back to myself and it's been a matter of shifting life priorities and such to get back to my routine. I've taken about a two week hiatus from the bars lately (ok I fibbed. Went out one night but shhhhhh! Don't tell anyone. ;-) ) just to regroup myself. Took a hard blow recently that struck me on a bunch of levels, but I've learned something quite important: if you ever feel down and at a loss, help others to realize that your situation isn't as bad as you think it is. And so I did; I started to help out at a soup kitchen last week.
Volunteerism is something I've been wanting to pursue these last few months, yet I could never find a place to help at and I just made a million excuses for it. Oh I'm going out tonight. Blah, I don't want to wake up early. Etc... But in all honesty, I'm glad I'm doing it. Last week I went with a good girlfriend of mine and we had an absolute blast!! It's amazing the bonding that can be done rolling sporks and setting up cups. I spent that morning after my sporking session serving soup to the homeless and in need. It was an experience indeed! The scent of the kitchen was filled with happiness and smell of an amazing stew, while the cafeteria filled with the smells of need, abandonment and longing. Last week it was probably 100 people who showed up, while this week alone was filled with a cue of over 200 people. 200 people may not seem like a lot for a city of over 5 million, but it's not the numbers that matter, but the happiness that you bring to someone else... even if it's just temporary.
The first day I volunteered I was told such sweet things by some of the people who I served. I was told by one who stared me straight in the eyes and with a gentle smile told me I have a great personality. I really took that to heart, but at the same time, in the back of my mind I was thinking, "what do you know about me." It wasn't out of malice, but moreso from the point of view that I'm no saint and not really deserving of that statement. Yet after thinking about it, I look back at that moment and smile, because even if it was just a complete stranger who told me that, his statement came from complete sincerity. He didn't have to know me and I know him, to see the short connection we shared. That one simple action of ladling soup into a cup and saying good morning to someone was all that this person needed to smile; I saw this and continue to see it every time I go.
The lines fill up with a majority of people considered by "us" as social parasites, but in the end, they are just like us. They breath, they hurt, they walk and they seek kindness like anyone else. Others in line may not be poor but seek a sense of community and whether or not they come there for food or a sense of belonging, everyone leaves smiling, knowing that for atleast a moment, there are people who care about them.
Every time I've stopped by the help, my problems and trepidations are put on hold because I know that deep down, things can be worse, even if we don't see that right away. I've come across some people in this soup kitchen that have absolutely nothing, but a simple smile and a grateful heart.... sometimes I wonder if it's us or them who are truly poor.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
14 Days of Flyer Miles
A few weeks ago, I got to take a two vacation from the hustle and
bustle of work; I've gotta say, I couldn't be any happier to get away.
At that point I was ready to just start snapping off the heads of anyone
who questioned me; I guess that 6 months with no down time can do that
to you. I was hoping just have a simple stay-cation at home: clean up
my place, rest up and recharge, you know the usual things when you're
broke and burned out. Instead I flew down to Miami and DC those
following two weekend.
While in Miami I got to visit my brother, his wife and two beautiful kids. Folks always asked me, "Dude! Did you party some?? Get trashed??" The answer was no. It was nice to be with family, even though I'll say that kids at this point are not in my future. I swear kids are definitely a calling; that particular call has not yet to come through on my line. It was great to catch up with them and the kids and just see what a truly domesticated lifestyle looks like. I guess being gay, the term "domesticated" seems to carry with it a different meaning. Seeing a domesticated straight couple is like going to a museum. "Oh! That's what those folks look like with kids and pets and a stable life."
Aside from the babies crying in the middle of the night, (God bless those munchkins) the trip was peaceful and really enlightening. It's good to just be able to catch up on life with no real judgments or anything, and to just talk and express yourself.
I left Miami even more exhausted than I was when I got there, but it was well worth it. I came back for two days to celebrate my birthday. My birthday..... It was really nice to see a group of friends come from everywhere to just be with you. I believe that it was about 8 of us, nothing huge, nothing to write home about; but the amount of people didn't matter, it was just nice to see my friends and those I care about around me. Aside from butchering the Proclaimers "5000 Miles" at the top of our lungs, the night was filled with laughter and drunken energy; it was a great release and a great way to bring in the 31st.
After the birthday and the following day of a horrible hangover, I was DC bound to visit my other brother. I hadn't been up to DC in over 5 years, so needless to say, I'd have a lot of catching up to do. In 3 or 4 days I did the typical touring of the monuments, but also got to sail and sing under the stars. My brother and his girlfriend showed me some really interesting parts of the city, while sacrificing their own comfort levels, which I really appreciated. DC itself is such an odd but huge city! The zoning, or lack thereof, makes the city appear to be a hodgepodge of roads and buildings; one minute you're driving through a beautiful park and then the next you want to blow through every red light you see. For an area supposedly built by the Freemasons, you get the impression that it was erected in the middle of the night using a candle for illumination.
But the climax of the trip, aside from visiting UVA in Charlottesville, was sailing up and around DC, Maryland and Virginia. Even though the trip got started off late, (good ole hispanic timing) it was just very peaceful and pleasant, filled with the smell of the water and hamburgers. The best part was when we all laid back and started to sing some songs that hadn't been sung since my dad was alive. I was flooded with so many memories at that point, and yet, I could have stayed out there forever it seems.
Well at the end of those two weeks, I found myself back in Atlanta. It's been three weeks since then and my world has been shaken. I think I came back a wiser man some, a more adventurous man and yet one who seems to be haunted with the past. On one side, I was able to just sit down and think of what to do with my future long term; I've got a few options out there, but for once things seem to be taking form for me. I guess with a little more clarity of direction I've been able to just hunt down more activities and events that appeal to me. But still with some insight, still comes past struggles...
While in Miami I got to visit my brother, his wife and two beautiful kids. Folks always asked me, "Dude! Did you party some?? Get trashed??" The answer was no. It was nice to be with family, even though I'll say that kids at this point are not in my future. I swear kids are definitely a calling; that particular call has not yet to come through on my line. It was great to catch up with them and the kids and just see what a truly domesticated lifestyle looks like. I guess being gay, the term "domesticated" seems to carry with it a different meaning. Seeing a domesticated straight couple is like going to a museum. "Oh! That's what those folks look like with kids and pets and a stable life."
Aside from the babies crying in the middle of the night, (God bless those munchkins) the trip was peaceful and really enlightening. It's good to just be able to catch up on life with no real judgments or anything, and to just talk and express yourself.
I left Miami even more exhausted than I was when I got there, but it was well worth it. I came back for two days to celebrate my birthday. My birthday..... It was really nice to see a group of friends come from everywhere to just be with you. I believe that it was about 8 of us, nothing huge, nothing to write home about; but the amount of people didn't matter, it was just nice to see my friends and those I care about around me. Aside from butchering the Proclaimers "5000 Miles" at the top of our lungs, the night was filled with laughter and drunken energy; it was a great release and a great way to bring in the 31st.
After the birthday and the following day of a horrible hangover, I was DC bound to visit my other brother. I hadn't been up to DC in over 5 years, so needless to say, I'd have a lot of catching up to do. In 3 or 4 days I did the typical touring of the monuments, but also got to sail and sing under the stars. My brother and his girlfriend showed me some really interesting parts of the city, while sacrificing their own comfort levels, which I really appreciated. DC itself is such an odd but huge city! The zoning, or lack thereof, makes the city appear to be a hodgepodge of roads and buildings; one minute you're driving through a beautiful park and then the next you want to blow through every red light you see. For an area supposedly built by the Freemasons, you get the impression that it was erected in the middle of the night using a candle for illumination.
But the climax of the trip, aside from visiting UVA in Charlottesville, was sailing up and around DC, Maryland and Virginia. Even though the trip got started off late, (good ole hispanic timing) it was just very peaceful and pleasant, filled with the smell of the water and hamburgers. The best part was when we all laid back and started to sing some songs that hadn't been sung since my dad was alive. I was flooded with so many memories at that point, and yet, I could have stayed out there forever it seems.
Well at the end of those two weeks, I found myself back in Atlanta. It's been three weeks since then and my world has been shaken. I think I came back a wiser man some, a more adventurous man and yet one who seems to be haunted with the past. On one side, I was able to just sit down and think of what to do with my future long term; I've got a few options out there, but for once things seem to be taking form for me. I guess with a little more clarity of direction I've been able to just hunt down more activities and events that appeal to me. But still with some insight, still comes past struggles...
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Rising Sun, Distant Dreams
Isn't funny how sometimes growing up we hated to do certain things? I hated eating veggies!! I would try to nobly stand up against the vegetable tyranny my family used to impose on me as a child with various tactics: the waiting game, public displays of vomiting, you name it and I did it. I always hated waking up hearing my mom making a commotion in the kitchen getting breakfast ready for the whole tribe. Our mornings at my house were inevitably interrupted with plates being moved, the shuffle of my mom in her slippers and the infamous espresso machine among others. You would think my mom was a sadist waking us up all so early with this carnival of noises; I know I did, but oh how times change.
Fast forward a few too many years and I do the same thing now. Right now, I already started my typical thursday tradition: wake up, light some incense, play some music and hear the coffee percolator grind away at the soon to be caffeine on tap. Before I always hated being awoken by all of that noise, but now it's I who does it all, and you know what? I don't see that changing anytime soon. Apparently, the domestic musical soundtrack has been passed down to me; from one generation to another, some traditions are just best kept alive, even if done so with a more calmer and meditative twist.
Last night I went to bed dreaming about a distant dream... I envisioned myself in an old historic home, or perhaps a bungalow of sorts, with so many windows in it that no matter what hour of the day it was, it was always full of some kind of natural light. A small town where I could walk around and be at peace with a simple life, just being happy knowing that life was great. Don't get me wrong, I like my life; I just hope to one day have that simple life I crave. I struggle with what I want though at times when it comes to living somewhere; sometimes I feel like I can live without the hustle and bustle of the city, but at other times, there's nothing better than a peaceful night with the crickets singing and the stars covering you like a baby in a blanket.
I've had Oregon on my mind lately. Granted I've never been there, but the idea of visiting that state excites me so much. All my friends and even people who barely know me have told me how much I would just jive with the energy of a state like that. If I had to stay in the states, I could most likely see myself living in either the New England region, or perhaps Portland or Seattle; and if those spots don't work, there's always Canada. I've just been told that both those areas have such a simpler way of living and just have a different set of values when it comes to life.
Nowadays we're always all in a rush to be somewhere. The alarm goes off and BAM! jump in the shower, grab a quick breakfast if any, and run out the door for dear life to get to work. We never wake up, take a deep breath and just let ourselves soak into life; instead it's always a crash course into reality. Why do we do that to ourselves?!?!?! I'll be the first to admit, sometimes I look at Panda and Lily as some of the worlds biggest hindrances. Lily will wake me up in the middle of the night demanding attention and just her dead weight alone is enough to wake me up when I want to roll over and I have her furry butt to kick out of the way. And Panda, always laid back, but I'll be damned if he's not loud about his intentions. Yet at the end of the day, my life wouldn't be the same without them. They're family to me and hopefully, I to them; we have our days where we want nothing to do with each other, and then there are days I'll spend petting them both and talking to them about my life. On my typical day, I wake up two hours before work and just naturally let myself wake up. At first I hated it!!! Who would want to wake up so early just to have to go to work?? But with those two hours, I walk Panda and see the city at a time when so few see it, have a small breakfast and at times, watch the sunrise with some music in the background. This summer I haven't been able to do much of that due to circumstances, and I guess that's why today I'm cherishing it. It's totally true that saying, "you'll miss things when they're gone."
I haven't had a morning like this in a good minute. But this morning I woke up, the sun rise filling my place and Lily up and at em, purring away to greet me. Panda, curled up in his usual morning place, next to my front door greeted me with his tail. Shortly after, the room was filled with music, incense and the smell of coffee being made. It's those same noises that haunted me as a kid awakening me at the wee hours of the morning that I cherish now. Wow, can the irony be any louder?
Fast forward a few too many years and I do the same thing now. Right now, I already started my typical thursday tradition: wake up, light some incense, play some music and hear the coffee percolator grind away at the soon to be caffeine on tap. Before I always hated being awoken by all of that noise, but now it's I who does it all, and you know what? I don't see that changing anytime soon. Apparently, the domestic musical soundtrack has been passed down to me; from one generation to another, some traditions are just best kept alive, even if done so with a more calmer and meditative twist.
Last night I went to bed dreaming about a distant dream... I envisioned myself in an old historic home, or perhaps a bungalow of sorts, with so many windows in it that no matter what hour of the day it was, it was always full of some kind of natural light. A small town where I could walk around and be at peace with a simple life, just being happy knowing that life was great. Don't get me wrong, I like my life; I just hope to one day have that simple life I crave. I struggle with what I want though at times when it comes to living somewhere; sometimes I feel like I can live without the hustle and bustle of the city, but at other times, there's nothing better than a peaceful night with the crickets singing and the stars covering you like a baby in a blanket.
I've had Oregon on my mind lately. Granted I've never been there, but the idea of visiting that state excites me so much. All my friends and even people who barely know me have told me how much I would just jive with the energy of a state like that. If I had to stay in the states, I could most likely see myself living in either the New England region, or perhaps Portland or Seattle; and if those spots don't work, there's always Canada. I've just been told that both those areas have such a simpler way of living and just have a different set of values when it comes to life.
Nowadays we're always all in a rush to be somewhere. The alarm goes off and BAM! jump in the shower, grab a quick breakfast if any, and run out the door for dear life to get to work. We never wake up, take a deep breath and just let ourselves soak into life; instead it's always a crash course into reality. Why do we do that to ourselves?!?!?! I'll be the first to admit, sometimes I look at Panda and Lily as some of the worlds biggest hindrances. Lily will wake me up in the middle of the night demanding attention and just her dead weight alone is enough to wake me up when I want to roll over and I have her furry butt to kick out of the way. And Panda, always laid back, but I'll be damned if he's not loud about his intentions. Yet at the end of the day, my life wouldn't be the same without them. They're family to me and hopefully, I to them; we have our days where we want nothing to do with each other, and then there are days I'll spend petting them both and talking to them about my life. On my typical day, I wake up two hours before work and just naturally let myself wake up. At first I hated it!!! Who would want to wake up so early just to have to go to work?? But with those two hours, I walk Panda and see the city at a time when so few see it, have a small breakfast and at times, watch the sunrise with some music in the background. This summer I haven't been able to do much of that due to circumstances, and I guess that's why today I'm cherishing it. It's totally true that saying, "you'll miss things when they're gone."
I haven't had a morning like this in a good minute. But this morning I woke up, the sun rise filling my place and Lily up and at em, purring away to greet me. Panda, curled up in his usual morning place, next to my front door greeted me with his tail. Shortly after, the room was filled with music, incense and the smell of coffee being made. It's those same noises that haunted me as a kid awakening me at the wee hours of the morning that I cherish now. Wow, can the irony be any louder?
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Jumps Along the Moon
Ok I'll admit it... it's been a while since I've been on here.; so much for trying to keep up with things right? Well like I was told by someone many moons ago, "there are many reasons, but no excuse."
Writing is my key to sanity and as of late, I've felt the door to that realm pounding and busting at the hinges. Right now I'm doing something I haven't done in so long; just laying on the couch with the fur balls by my side, watching the sunset and listening to some beautiful acoustic music. I miss these moments so much sometimes... To just sit here and just trying to find peace in my world that has recently become so chaotic. Some of it has been my own doing and the other has been the way life has just led me.
The last month or so I've been thinking about what to do with my life. Deep down I'm just a bohemian at heart, but have yet been able to find that city that I can truly anchor myself down to. Although my feelings for Atlanta have gone from hatred to more of a loving relationship, I feel like I need to seek an affair with another lady that can offer me more. A lady that is progressive, more established, yet simpler in her manner of being. A lady that I feel calls my name every morning and seems to wait for me everyday; the one I can come back to and call home. That damsel is out there, and until I find her, I'll continue to travel in search of this elusive love.
In an attempt to get some direction I decided that being a big boy now, I've gotta give myself some kind of path instead of wandering aimlessly. Even though I believe in that saying "all who wander are not lost", I still feel like I have to give myself some kind of options so I can pick a path. First choice would be to pursue law. Ever since I can remember my family has always said to me that I should become a lawyer. I've always struggled with that decision because I've never liked suits and formalities imposed upon me; I'll gladly wear a suit or a nice outfit when I want to, but I never liked it to be obligatory. Immature I know, but now I've taken it into serious consideration. Hopefully I'll be studying for the LSAT starting in a month once things settle down. I'm still iffy about this path, but I've always wanted to help those who are abused by the system; there are so many people out there that get steamed rolled just because they don't have the money to afford a good lawyer or just have no knowledge of the law. I'd like to change that one day; which leads me to my second choice.
I've always liked helping others and thus I've juggled with the idea of doing volunteer work abroad. I thought about doing the Peace Corps, but I've never had the patience to wait two years for admittance; so much can happen in those two years and with my nomadic thinking who knows where I'd be in two years. So for now, I settle for helping at soup kitchens and organizations like that. The experience alone of going abroad to help those less fortunate has to be spectacular, and who knows, maybe I'll be there; but in the meantime, bringing a smile to someone who has little to nothing in the form of food or a smile does it for me.
Third choice would be just to move to a city or town where I can just have a job and just be. This third option just calls my names sometimes; I get so much pleasure of just trying to live a simple life. Unfortunately in Atlanta, trying to live a simple life is a bit of a task with the constant sense of superficiality that this city exudes sometimes, but hey, nowhere is perfect. Something that I find funny is that no matter where I travel, Atlanta is still a city I miss and it just feels nice to come home to. I've never been to Portland, Seattle or Vancouver, but I hope to explore those this year; I've been told by many people that I would be quite happy in those towns, so I'll see where those travels take me.
I guess after reaching 30 I don't want to live with the idea of passing the years doing nothing. Someone once told me that I'm a person that needs a cause; I didn't believe them, but the more I think about it, I think that they may be right. I just don't want to waste my life away. I could be traveling the world by foot everyday and I'd be happy because I would be growing on a personal level. What's life without growth?
In that sense with growth, I've grown a bit too; probably not enough, but I've grown definitely over the last few months. I've started to realize that I don't need things, but want things. I want a slight makeover, atleast fashion wise. At the moment, I look like a stoner Jesus; I don't plan on cutting my hair, but now since I've got alittle money saved, I've been buying some clothes to fit me and where I'm at in life. Honestly it's been quite liberating even though I think I have a HORRIBLE fashion sense. I'm still decorating the condo that's been a 3 year work in progress, but you know how us guys are slow at that; hopefully I'll finally have my walls that I've had empty for years full of some things. Stuff that I want for the most part are just things that I haven't really allowed myself to enjoy; new clothes, decorating the place, exploring the city and its many different facets more. What I need is a road trip... another open road to just escape on for a few days. What I need is to eventually choose a path in my life. What I need is to continue to grow and smile everyday for which I wake up healthy and breathing.
A while back I thought that I'd need more in life; I mean let's be real, we all need and want more things than I've written, but for brevity, I've just named some things on my list to just draw up an image. But back when, if anyone knew me, they'd think I always needed to be with someone; I used to think that too honestly. Having some time to myself though over almost two years, I've gotten to learn more about myself and realized that I can stand on my own two feet quite well, even though at times I struggle and need to turn to others for a temporary crutch support. I guess being summer, chick flicks run rampant on every channel; I feel as if at times I'm stuck on a 24 hour Lifetime movie track. I guess they call them chick flicks for a reason.
I am a hopeless romantic and dreamer which is a double edged sword at times; yet I have hope that one day, I'll find someone who won't spend millions on me and buy things for me everyday and just build up my ego, but instead will great me with a smile everyday, a hug, a caring question, a shoulder to cry on, a person that will do some of the most simplest things that just mean so much to me and so on.... I'm definitely no saint, but I've come to realize that I don't deserve to be treated as a mortal sinner either. I'm flawed like anyone else, but I deserve a chance to be the one that gets to cry and the one who gets to struggle. I feel as if most of the time I'm too busy trying to fight the image of being a rock and just wanting to be a person, a flawed and cracked person like everyone else. As time has it, I would never have realized this had I not given myself time to be alone and now I have an idea of what I want; I don't need someone by my side at the moment, but it would be nice to have someone by me who's faithful, caring, considerate and all those other swell traits. I would love to have someone by my side that would just leave everything and we could just run off into the horizon and just know that it'll all be alright. I have faith that that will happen one day but until then, I'll continue to try and grow on my own as I've been doing and just try to be a good person.
Wow! No idea how much I've written, but it's been a good minute since I've been sitting here. The sun has officially gone down and I'm still lounging on my couch writing. I told myself I'd be in bed by 9 tonight, but I guess that plan changed. I don't know... just a lot of thoughts and emotions have been going through my head these last few weeks and months from pure anger to utter happiness. On one side I feel as if I take so much for granted and don't realize how beautiful life is, but on another, I feel like I've been burning the wick from both ends. I guess that's why evenings like this, where I'm just with my family (fur balls), listening to music and writing seem to bring me some peace. It may be a bit noisy with the music, but it's just peaceful. It's simple. It's laid back and worry free... it's me.
Writing is my key to sanity and as of late, I've felt the door to that realm pounding and busting at the hinges. Right now I'm doing something I haven't done in so long; just laying on the couch with the fur balls by my side, watching the sunset and listening to some beautiful acoustic music. I miss these moments so much sometimes... To just sit here and just trying to find peace in my world that has recently become so chaotic. Some of it has been my own doing and the other has been the way life has just led me.
The last month or so I've been thinking about what to do with my life. Deep down I'm just a bohemian at heart, but have yet been able to find that city that I can truly anchor myself down to. Although my feelings for Atlanta have gone from hatred to more of a loving relationship, I feel like I need to seek an affair with another lady that can offer me more. A lady that is progressive, more established, yet simpler in her manner of being. A lady that I feel calls my name every morning and seems to wait for me everyday; the one I can come back to and call home. That damsel is out there, and until I find her, I'll continue to travel in search of this elusive love.
In an attempt to get some direction I decided that being a big boy now, I've gotta give myself some kind of path instead of wandering aimlessly. Even though I believe in that saying "all who wander are not lost", I still feel like I have to give myself some kind of options so I can pick a path. First choice would be to pursue law. Ever since I can remember my family has always said to me that I should become a lawyer. I've always struggled with that decision because I've never liked suits and formalities imposed upon me; I'll gladly wear a suit or a nice outfit when I want to, but I never liked it to be obligatory. Immature I know, but now I've taken it into serious consideration. Hopefully I'll be studying for the LSAT starting in a month once things settle down. I'm still iffy about this path, but I've always wanted to help those who are abused by the system; there are so many people out there that get steamed rolled just because they don't have the money to afford a good lawyer or just have no knowledge of the law. I'd like to change that one day; which leads me to my second choice.
I've always liked helping others and thus I've juggled with the idea of doing volunteer work abroad. I thought about doing the Peace Corps, but I've never had the patience to wait two years for admittance; so much can happen in those two years and with my nomadic thinking who knows where I'd be in two years. So for now, I settle for helping at soup kitchens and organizations like that. The experience alone of going abroad to help those less fortunate has to be spectacular, and who knows, maybe I'll be there; but in the meantime, bringing a smile to someone who has little to nothing in the form of food or a smile does it for me.
Third choice would be just to move to a city or town where I can just have a job and just be. This third option just calls my names sometimes; I get so much pleasure of just trying to live a simple life. Unfortunately in Atlanta, trying to live a simple life is a bit of a task with the constant sense of superficiality that this city exudes sometimes, but hey, nowhere is perfect. Something that I find funny is that no matter where I travel, Atlanta is still a city I miss and it just feels nice to come home to. I've never been to Portland, Seattle or Vancouver, but I hope to explore those this year; I've been told by many people that I would be quite happy in those towns, so I'll see where those travels take me.
I guess after reaching 30 I don't want to live with the idea of passing the years doing nothing. Someone once told me that I'm a person that needs a cause; I didn't believe them, but the more I think about it, I think that they may be right. I just don't want to waste my life away. I could be traveling the world by foot everyday and I'd be happy because I would be growing on a personal level. What's life without growth?
In that sense with growth, I've grown a bit too; probably not enough, but I've grown definitely over the last few months. I've started to realize that I don't need things, but want things. I want a slight makeover, atleast fashion wise. At the moment, I look like a stoner Jesus; I don't plan on cutting my hair, but now since I've got alittle money saved, I've been buying some clothes to fit me and where I'm at in life. Honestly it's been quite liberating even though I think I have a HORRIBLE fashion sense. I'm still decorating the condo that's been a 3 year work in progress, but you know how us guys are slow at that; hopefully I'll finally have my walls that I've had empty for years full of some things. Stuff that I want for the most part are just things that I haven't really allowed myself to enjoy; new clothes, decorating the place, exploring the city and its many different facets more. What I need is a road trip... another open road to just escape on for a few days. What I need is to eventually choose a path in my life. What I need is to continue to grow and smile everyday for which I wake up healthy and breathing.
A while back I thought that I'd need more in life; I mean let's be real, we all need and want more things than I've written, but for brevity, I've just named some things on my list to just draw up an image. But back when, if anyone knew me, they'd think I always needed to be with someone; I used to think that too honestly. Having some time to myself though over almost two years, I've gotten to learn more about myself and realized that I can stand on my own two feet quite well, even though at times I struggle and need to turn to others for a temporary crutch support. I guess being summer, chick flicks run rampant on every channel; I feel as if at times I'm stuck on a 24 hour Lifetime movie track. I guess they call them chick flicks for a reason.
I am a hopeless romantic and dreamer which is a double edged sword at times; yet I have hope that one day, I'll find someone who won't spend millions on me and buy things for me everyday and just build up my ego, but instead will great me with a smile everyday, a hug, a caring question, a shoulder to cry on, a person that will do some of the most simplest things that just mean so much to me and so on.... I'm definitely no saint, but I've come to realize that I don't deserve to be treated as a mortal sinner either. I'm flawed like anyone else, but I deserve a chance to be the one that gets to cry and the one who gets to struggle. I feel as if most of the time I'm too busy trying to fight the image of being a rock and just wanting to be a person, a flawed and cracked person like everyone else. As time has it, I would never have realized this had I not given myself time to be alone and now I have an idea of what I want; I don't need someone by my side at the moment, but it would be nice to have someone by me who's faithful, caring, considerate and all those other swell traits. I would love to have someone by my side that would just leave everything and we could just run off into the horizon and just know that it'll all be alright. I have faith that that will happen one day but until then, I'll continue to try and grow on my own as I've been doing and just try to be a good person.
Wow! No idea how much I've written, but it's been a good minute since I've been sitting here. The sun has officially gone down and I'm still lounging on my couch writing. I told myself I'd be in bed by 9 tonight, but I guess that plan changed. I don't know... just a lot of thoughts and emotions have been going through my head these last few weeks and months from pure anger to utter happiness. On one side I feel as if I take so much for granted and don't realize how beautiful life is, but on another, I feel like I've been burning the wick from both ends. I guess that's why evenings like this, where I'm just with my family (fur balls), listening to music and writing seem to bring me some peace. It may be a bit noisy with the music, but it's just peaceful. It's simple. It's laid back and worry free... it's me.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
What Lies Within Closed Eyes
Music has always been such a great method for me to just be myself. Interestingly enough though, whenever I play my saxophone, I love to play with my eyes closed. There's nothing better than playing in front of a crowd, yet there's nothing scarier.... At its peak for me, I feel as if I'm floating on air; I'm sent away to another place that no one can hurt me and that I'm just completely free. What's scary though is that I lay myself out there for everyone to see for those "x" amount of minutes: raw and exposed.
There are times that I play, that I feel as if I've got to be one of the worst musicians ever. I battle with the idea that any moment, someone will walk away saying that they've heard better, or even worse, that someone gets up, grabs their sax and plays next to me. But then, there are those moments that I feel as if I'm flying through the sky, free as a bird and just smiling over the world. My struggles come out when I play: my pain, my hurt, my emotions, insecurities. They all come out in a bundle of notes and melodies, masqueraded about by a simple searcher of life.
When I look back at it all, I'm thankful that I can play by ear. I don't know why I was given this gift, but it helps me escape from my surroundings. I guess that's probably why I choke when I sing karaoke. I'm singing songs that I don't feel from my heart and have to keep my eyes open to read the words while noticing dozens of eyes looking at me from all over. When I play though, I let my inner self come and fly about the world. For those few minutes, I have an existential moment of smiles and tears; I take a piece of my heart and hand it to every onlooker so they can see me at my most vulnerable.
Music is that powerful to me; even if I'm not the best musician out there, when a child comes up to me and tells me that they started to play an instrument because they heard me play... That's enough for me.
There are times that I play, that I feel as if I've got to be one of the worst musicians ever. I battle with the idea that any moment, someone will walk away saying that they've heard better, or even worse, that someone gets up, grabs their sax and plays next to me. But then, there are those moments that I feel as if I'm flying through the sky, free as a bird and just smiling over the world. My struggles come out when I play: my pain, my hurt, my emotions, insecurities. They all come out in a bundle of notes and melodies, masqueraded about by a simple searcher of life.
When I look back at it all, I'm thankful that I can play by ear. I don't know why I was given this gift, but it helps me escape from my surroundings. I guess that's probably why I choke when I sing karaoke. I'm singing songs that I don't feel from my heart and have to keep my eyes open to read the words while noticing dozens of eyes looking at me from all over. When I play though, I let my inner self come and fly about the world. For those few minutes, I have an existential moment of smiles and tears; I take a piece of my heart and hand it to every onlooker so they can see me at my most vulnerable.
Music is that powerful to me; even if I'm not the best musician out there, when a child comes up to me and tells me that they started to play an instrument because they heard me play... That's enough for me.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Treading on the Heels of Dreams
Well it's been a minute since I've been able to sit down and write
again. Life's been keeping me busy with work, side projects and
thinking. It may not come as a secret to a few of you, but to those who
don't know.... I'm a total closeted chick flickoholic. I have this
weird tendency to relate my life to a bunch of chick flicks; don't ask
me why, I guess life is better with a story line at times. For every
major area in my life, I can pretty much assign myself one or two chick
flicks to relate it with. Relationships? Breakfast at Tiffany's and
Pretty Woman. Work? You've Got Mail. Life? Eat, Pray, Love and
Almost Famous. The list goes on. I'm sure it's quite the unhealthy way
of looking at life through the eyes of movies, but perhaps that's just
my inner idealist coming out.
Idealism. It can be good and bad depending on how you look at it. Being an idealist is probably one of my best qualities, but it also is one of my biggest weaknesses. For example, I've always wanted that relationship where I'm swept off of my feet and truly loved through thick and thin for who I am; where I come home and my partner wants to know everything about my day, where we can laugh and talk the night away while sipping wine or hot chocolate and just enjoy each others company. Yet the downside of this kind of thinking is that we don't consider how the imperfections that we carry as humans can end up bursting our merry bubble of glee: cheating, not accepting your partner who they were/are, the list can go on. I try to only wish and see the good in it all, even when reality may be trying to make me question my naivete; I guess that when something bad does come my way from my partner, it hurts me that much more. I allow myself to live in this fantasy world where I try so hard to see something that may not exist, because I've craved it for so long. I've never claimed to be perfect in relationships, but I know that if I care about someone, there are things I just wouldn't do to cause them pain; most of the time, I've let myself think that I've found the one and my Lifetime movie love story has commenced: that's blown up in my face more times than I would like to remember. Yet I still see myself applying this sense of idealism in every facet of my life, from work, to ambitions, to signs... everything.
I want to keep believing in the ideals of life, but I've come to learn that even ideals need help. These last few years I built my life on what I thought was my "perfect" life. A partner, pets, home, a job that I enjoyed... all I needed was a white picket fence and a newspaper thrown at my doorstep every morning. Fast forward to present time and my hunt for what I thought was happiness is completely different. I'm single, still have my pets, still have my home, and the white picket fence you may ask? Well I've got that in storage for when I need to bring it out.
My life at the moment isn't the utopian paradise I fantasized about in my head now, but just like every chick flick, the main character always goes through a time of self discovery and change before happiness reappears. So these last few weeks I've been seeking just that: change. My condo, something that for so long I looked upon as an anchor to my free spirit, will undergo a change. It's been the same for the last almost 3 years I've had it; I need to change it to start anew. I've got bring it up to speed with where my life is now and where I want it to go in the future. There are memories that are still strong in these four walls, others that have to go and more to be made; I just have to finally take those steps that are necessary for positive change in my life. I'm starting to get back involved in music and helping fellow musicians out, which I'm truly enjoying, because through that, more doors to opportunities and friendships are presenting themselves to me. I just don't know how to explain it, but my life needs change; for once in a long time, I think I'm at that point where I can finally say I'm ready for it.
It's been a hard road, with a lot of pit falls and scars, but perhaps it's been through these hard times that my ideal world has started to slowly reveal itself to me. Maybe I've been trying so hard to see the world through these rose colored glasses of perfection that I truly have lost the ability to see the beauty of the imperfect. Picasso once said that every act of creation is first an act of destruction. That's what I've slowly been doing lately; I have had to destroy pieces of me in hopes of becoming something better. It's going to always be a work in progress, but it's a step forward. I still stick to my ideals and my fantastic world, but I've started to allow flaws and imperfections into it more and more. It's through these flaws that beauty is shown to us and it's these flaws that make us human. One of my flaws may be that I'm an idealist, but this imperfect idealist is starting to realize that perhaps its reality, with its flaws and all, that is already leading us all to our own ideal worlds.
Idealism. It can be good and bad depending on how you look at it. Being an idealist is probably one of my best qualities, but it also is one of my biggest weaknesses. For example, I've always wanted that relationship where I'm swept off of my feet and truly loved through thick and thin for who I am; where I come home and my partner wants to know everything about my day, where we can laugh and talk the night away while sipping wine or hot chocolate and just enjoy each others company. Yet the downside of this kind of thinking is that we don't consider how the imperfections that we carry as humans can end up bursting our merry bubble of glee: cheating, not accepting your partner who they were/are, the list can go on. I try to only wish and see the good in it all, even when reality may be trying to make me question my naivete; I guess that when something bad does come my way from my partner, it hurts me that much more. I allow myself to live in this fantasy world where I try so hard to see something that may not exist, because I've craved it for so long. I've never claimed to be perfect in relationships, but I know that if I care about someone, there are things I just wouldn't do to cause them pain; most of the time, I've let myself think that I've found the one and my Lifetime movie love story has commenced: that's blown up in my face more times than I would like to remember. Yet I still see myself applying this sense of idealism in every facet of my life, from work, to ambitions, to signs... everything.
I want to keep believing in the ideals of life, but I've come to learn that even ideals need help. These last few years I built my life on what I thought was my "perfect" life. A partner, pets, home, a job that I enjoyed... all I needed was a white picket fence and a newspaper thrown at my doorstep every morning. Fast forward to present time and my hunt for what I thought was happiness is completely different. I'm single, still have my pets, still have my home, and the white picket fence you may ask? Well I've got that in storage for when I need to bring it out.
My life at the moment isn't the utopian paradise I fantasized about in my head now, but just like every chick flick, the main character always goes through a time of self discovery and change before happiness reappears. So these last few weeks I've been seeking just that: change. My condo, something that for so long I looked upon as an anchor to my free spirit, will undergo a change. It's been the same for the last almost 3 years I've had it; I need to change it to start anew. I've got bring it up to speed with where my life is now and where I want it to go in the future. There are memories that are still strong in these four walls, others that have to go and more to be made; I just have to finally take those steps that are necessary for positive change in my life. I'm starting to get back involved in music and helping fellow musicians out, which I'm truly enjoying, because through that, more doors to opportunities and friendships are presenting themselves to me. I just don't know how to explain it, but my life needs change; for once in a long time, I think I'm at that point where I can finally say I'm ready for it.
It's been a hard road, with a lot of pit falls and scars, but perhaps it's been through these hard times that my ideal world has started to slowly reveal itself to me. Maybe I've been trying so hard to see the world through these rose colored glasses of perfection that I truly have lost the ability to see the beauty of the imperfect. Picasso once said that every act of creation is first an act of destruction. That's what I've slowly been doing lately; I have had to destroy pieces of me in hopes of becoming something better. It's going to always be a work in progress, but it's a step forward. I still stick to my ideals and my fantastic world, but I've started to allow flaws and imperfections into it more and more. It's through these flaws that beauty is shown to us and it's these flaws that make us human. One of my flaws may be that I'm an idealist, but this imperfect idealist is starting to realize that perhaps its reality, with its flaws and all, that is already leading us all to our own ideal worlds.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Stepping Gravel... Where's the dust?
Beep.. Buzz... Boom... AHHHHHHHHHH!!!! So much noise and such little time to think!!! I'm starting to believe that I'm going stir crazy without my car. Granted, I came back from my trip two weeks ago, I'm still craving the open road. To some, peace comes in the form of an airplane flying from point to point, or a train ride from one stop to another. Traveling wise, peace comes to me in a car. I roll down the windows, play whatever music I want and head off into the sunset. Usually when I grab rubber, I really have no real end destination. The joys of cars right?
People ask me all the time why I hate flying; but when you compare the options you have in a car against the few you have in a plane, is there really a need for me to explain? Most of the time, I can pass the hours, music off and hand waving through the moving wind coming through my window. That to me is peace. What's been so difficult about not having a car for so many blocks of weeks or months, is that in Atlanta, you really can't walk anywhere with the sense of achieving anything. You walk a few miles and you see more buildings... Or a parking deck... Or a gas station. The city is so spread out without adequate public transit, that walking is almost pointless, unless you decide to travel within your neighborhood area. Yet, the city with all of its flaws, still has this mysterious charm about it that makes you miss it when you're gone. I wish that I could tell you what it is, but even today, it still evades me.
But this is all beside the point... I'm just craving the open road. I've been asked alot as to what I find so appealing in nature and just smaller towns in general; for one, less noise. When camping, nature provides you her own soundtrack which usually helps me sleep so many countless hours. The beauty I see in smaller towns is the pure simplicity of life; I'm sure such simplicity for some could be extremely boring, yet as for myself, every so often those towns do the trick.
Sometimes I feel that I write with no real point, as if my road trips that I so yearn for, come out like my writings: no end came... no destination. Tonight there is no real destination in my head, just my thoughts all racing around on an open highway leading me who knows where.
People ask me all the time why I hate flying; but when you compare the options you have in a car against the few you have in a plane, is there really a need for me to explain? Most of the time, I can pass the hours, music off and hand waving through the moving wind coming through my window. That to me is peace. What's been so difficult about not having a car for so many blocks of weeks or months, is that in Atlanta, you really can't walk anywhere with the sense of achieving anything. You walk a few miles and you see more buildings... Or a parking deck... Or a gas station. The city is so spread out without adequate public transit, that walking is almost pointless, unless you decide to travel within your neighborhood area. Yet, the city with all of its flaws, still has this mysterious charm about it that makes you miss it when you're gone. I wish that I could tell you what it is, but even today, it still evades me.
But this is all beside the point... I'm just craving the open road. I've been asked alot as to what I find so appealing in nature and just smaller towns in general; for one, less noise. When camping, nature provides you her own soundtrack which usually helps me sleep so many countless hours. The beauty I see in smaller towns is the pure simplicity of life; I'm sure such simplicity for some could be extremely boring, yet as for myself, every so often those towns do the trick.
Sometimes I feel that I write with no real point, as if my road trips that I so yearn for, come out like my writings: no end came... no destination. Tonight there is no real destination in my head, just my thoughts all racing around on an open highway leading me who knows where.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Fortune Cookie Fairy Tales
These last couple of days I've been stuck with one question in my head, "What's happiness?" I've never been good with these rhetorical questions; it's not as if you can crack open a fortune cookie and ta-dah!: the answer is found after enjoying a meal of chow mein and General Tzao's chicken. As much as I love chinese food, my search for happiness has to extend beyond the culinary.
When I ask most folks what makes them happy, it usually leads to the same answer: money, money, and money. To each their own in my eyes; I can see how money can lead to happiness for some... hell, with money you can buy your house, travel the world and abandon all to start a giant ant farm in some remote land. But for me, it's not about money; I want to feel fulfilled. I want to go to work and walk into it thinking as if I'm accomplishing something. I want to wake up and think to myself, "today I will feel fulfilled." I've been trying as of late, to wake up and do some kind of mental chant to myself like what was just mentioned, to help start my day off right. Sometimes it works, and at others, I think of myself as a rambling fool.
My road to happiness need only to lead me away from one thing: misery. There's nothing worse in this world than to feel miserable. Let me clear the air though: I'm not miserable; but I am stagnant. Stagnation is such a burden on the soul. It's as if you're walking into a fog, with no idea where you're going. Do you A) let the fog clear or B) go wandering with no direction into the mist in hopes of getting out of it? I guess everyone has their own preference. I just choose to not be stagnant. When I went on my trip, I had many come to Jesus moments, and discovered that I just don't want to be stagnant anymore.
I may be lost at points, but I want to move. As long as my feet aren't standing still or moving backwards, I want to keep walking and getting my life into motion. Lesson one of many from my trip, I've gotta seek fulfillment. I need to continue to smile and seek what makes me smile. Don't get me wrong, money is always nice to have; but life isn't about fortune and being a slave to your work. I don't want to find a job where I make so much money, that I then have to find another one of greater earnings so I can maintain my new found lifestyle. I could be raising pigs, creating micro credits for impoverished societies or be a portfolio manager, but as long as that sense of fulfillment remains non-existent, I'll still continue to look elsewhere... money or lack thereof be damned.
So that's where I'm at right now; somewhere in between stagnation and direction. All I know for certain is that I no longer want to remain still; I want to continue to find what makes me tick inside and how I can continue to pursue it. I tasted a bit of what I have been missing for some time, and I want more! I'm sure there's a fortune cookie out there with my name on it.
When I ask most folks what makes them happy, it usually leads to the same answer: money, money, and money. To each their own in my eyes; I can see how money can lead to happiness for some... hell, with money you can buy your house, travel the world and abandon all to start a giant ant farm in some remote land. But for me, it's not about money; I want to feel fulfilled. I want to go to work and walk into it thinking as if I'm accomplishing something. I want to wake up and think to myself, "today I will feel fulfilled." I've been trying as of late, to wake up and do some kind of mental chant to myself like what was just mentioned, to help start my day off right. Sometimes it works, and at others, I think of myself as a rambling fool.
My road to happiness need only to lead me away from one thing: misery. There's nothing worse in this world than to feel miserable. Let me clear the air though: I'm not miserable; but I am stagnant. Stagnation is such a burden on the soul. It's as if you're walking into a fog, with no idea where you're going. Do you A) let the fog clear or B) go wandering with no direction into the mist in hopes of getting out of it? I guess everyone has their own preference. I just choose to not be stagnant. When I went on my trip, I had many come to Jesus moments, and discovered that I just don't want to be stagnant anymore.
I may be lost at points, but I want to move. As long as my feet aren't standing still or moving backwards, I want to keep walking and getting my life into motion. Lesson one of many from my trip, I've gotta seek fulfillment. I need to continue to smile and seek what makes me smile. Don't get me wrong, money is always nice to have; but life isn't about fortune and being a slave to your work. I don't want to find a job where I make so much money, that I then have to find another one of greater earnings so I can maintain my new found lifestyle. I could be raising pigs, creating micro credits for impoverished societies or be a portfolio manager, but as long as that sense of fulfillment remains non-existent, I'll still continue to look elsewhere... money or lack thereof be damned.
So that's where I'm at right now; somewhere in between stagnation and direction. All I know for certain is that I no longer want to remain still; I want to continue to find what makes me tick inside and how I can continue to pursue it. I tasted a bit of what I have been missing for some time, and I want more! I'm sure there's a fortune cookie out there with my name on it.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Walking cane and handshakes
There's a guy who lives in my building who suffers from some kind of physical disability; he's one of the nicest people you could meet. Tonight I ran into him while walking back home and we briefly caught up. I just like his energy; what makes him even more special is that he greets everyone with a wave and a smile, no matter who they may be. In this day and age, where we're all to busy sometimes to acknowledge each other on the street with a simple salutation, it's so refreshing to see someone who can still make us pause and wave due to his wonderfully kind nature. Some may look at him and think belittling thoughts because of his disability; yet I believe it's that same disability that makes him so special. Perhaps through this obstacle in his life, he's been able to see through so much superficiality that we still bog ourselves down with; perhaps we're the ones who have a disability with life and not him. He's truly a good person to have around in this world, and I wish him many more years of happiness.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
First things first
So I've decided to officially start my own blog. Geez, I haven't written one of these in eons. The last time I wrote online was back in the days of Myspace. Myspace!! Times, they be a changin indeed, yes sir!
Well my blog is called the "Ramblings of a Wandering "...-ist." What does that mean? Well I was thinking the other day, we're so used to labeling ourselves as something or another: pessimist, pragmatist, optimist, etc... Why can't be just be an -ist? Give ourselves a break and some leeway to just be just that: ourselves. Some days I'm a realist, others a pessimist, and others an optimist. Between you and me, I think I may be more of a closeted realist/pragmatist than I reveal myself to be. But again, who knows? Even better, who cares? Let's just let ourselves be what we feel to be.
I just got back from a two week whirlwind European backpacking adventure. It was life-making, not life changing. What's the difference? For me, it's just semantics. I walked out of this trip feeling as if I had made some good steps forward in my life. I realized that the biggest challenge for me was to achieve self fulfillment. Done are the times that money controls everything or that I've got to settle for someone who doesn't fit the role. Done are the times where I just sit around in utter stagnation and let the days go by without any sense of worth. Done are the times that I wake up and just go "blaaaaahhhh." This trip opened my eyes to so much! To those who have never been abroad, I strongly suggest that you try to do it; it works wonders on your mind.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying I found Jesus or anything, even though in Amsterdam there were some funny neon Christ signs. (Who would've thought?) I just had some time to decompress. There's nothing more humbling than wandering by yourself in places that you have absolutely no idea how to communicate. French? Spanish? English? Sign me up! Dutch? German? The only word I knew going into Germany was leiderhosen. I totally butchered that word; but doesn't it have a fun ring to it? Just rolls off your tongue. It can be lonely at times when you're put in a situation like I was, but after a while it becomes so liberating. Why you may ask? Because no one cares that you're American. No one cares that you speak English. Everyone is just happy being who they are. It's always fun trying to communicate though. In Rotterdam I remember ordering from this little joint in a not so pleasant part of town and between me (Non dutch looking white boy) and the dutch speaking Asian with very little English, I felt like we were playing Pictionary with the menu. I just pointed at items and used words that I had no idea what they meant; hell, the words looked nice and flashy on the old 1980's looking lit up billboard hanging over the counter, so why not take a chance? What I ended up with was a mix between some kind of chicken curry and looked to be potatoes. Let's just say my stomach wasn't a fan, but man was it delicious!!
From interesting culinary experiences to frustrating airport debacles, the language barrier was definitely a challenge but also a blessing in disguise. It was completely humbling to know that it wasn't going to be easy; nothing that's meant to be of worth ever is. It all just opened my eyes.
So many stories to share, so many debacles to laugh at, so many miles traveled and so little sleep gained. This is definitely an adventure I will forever hold deeply in my memories and one that I will look back and laugh at for years to come. I had moments ranging from loneliness to pure bliss and then some, and at other times, moments of reflection and just some meditation. Through the many miles traversed to the hours of sleep I'll never get back, I'm finally back in Atlanta dealing with the wonderful world of jet lag. Not quite the experience I was hoping for, but it'll pass. I still look back at the trip and just laugh at so much. The stories are too many to write down, but the memories are ever lasting.
I decided to start this blog because I wrote many journal entries on my trip. I already have the memory of a two year old, so I didn't want to take a chance and forget anything. Writing though, was one of the few things I decided I needed to start doing again; it brought me peace and relaxation. So here I am now, trying to use this blog to find my inner "-ist." Some days will be full of laughter, and others some sadness, but I look forward to just writing and sharing again my thoughts and stories to whoever is willing to listen to them. In the mean time, my ultra non-tech savvy side of me will try to make this blog site of mine a wee bit more interesting, instead of the odd pastels it's currently drowning in.
I hope this finds everyone well and let's all look into our inner "-ists", we may be surprised at what we find.
Well my blog is called the "Ramblings of a Wandering "...-ist." What does that mean? Well I was thinking the other day, we're so used to labeling ourselves as something or another: pessimist, pragmatist, optimist, etc... Why can't be just be an -ist? Give ourselves a break and some leeway to just be just that: ourselves. Some days I'm a realist, others a pessimist, and others an optimist. Between you and me, I think I may be more of a closeted realist/pragmatist than I reveal myself to be. But again, who knows? Even better, who cares? Let's just let ourselves be what we feel to be.
I just got back from a two week whirlwind European backpacking adventure. It was life-making, not life changing. What's the difference? For me, it's just semantics. I walked out of this trip feeling as if I had made some good steps forward in my life. I realized that the biggest challenge for me was to achieve self fulfillment. Done are the times that money controls everything or that I've got to settle for someone who doesn't fit the role. Done are the times where I just sit around in utter stagnation and let the days go by without any sense of worth. Done are the times that I wake up and just go "blaaaaahhhh." This trip opened my eyes to so much! To those who have never been abroad, I strongly suggest that you try to do it; it works wonders on your mind.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying I found Jesus or anything, even though in Amsterdam there were some funny neon Christ signs. (Who would've thought?) I just had some time to decompress. There's nothing more humbling than wandering by yourself in places that you have absolutely no idea how to communicate. French? Spanish? English? Sign me up! Dutch? German? The only word I knew going into Germany was leiderhosen. I totally butchered that word; but doesn't it have a fun ring to it? Just rolls off your tongue. It can be lonely at times when you're put in a situation like I was, but after a while it becomes so liberating. Why you may ask? Because no one cares that you're American. No one cares that you speak English. Everyone is just happy being who they are. It's always fun trying to communicate though. In Rotterdam I remember ordering from this little joint in a not so pleasant part of town and between me (Non dutch looking white boy) and the dutch speaking Asian with very little English, I felt like we were playing Pictionary with the menu. I just pointed at items and used words that I had no idea what they meant; hell, the words looked nice and flashy on the old 1980's looking lit up billboard hanging over the counter, so why not take a chance? What I ended up with was a mix between some kind of chicken curry and looked to be potatoes. Let's just say my stomach wasn't a fan, but man was it delicious!!
From interesting culinary experiences to frustrating airport debacles, the language barrier was definitely a challenge but also a blessing in disguise. It was completely humbling to know that it wasn't going to be easy; nothing that's meant to be of worth ever is. It all just opened my eyes.
So many stories to share, so many debacles to laugh at, so many miles traveled and so little sleep gained. This is definitely an adventure I will forever hold deeply in my memories and one that I will look back and laugh at for years to come. I had moments ranging from loneliness to pure bliss and then some, and at other times, moments of reflection and just some meditation. Through the many miles traversed to the hours of sleep I'll never get back, I'm finally back in Atlanta dealing with the wonderful world of jet lag. Not quite the experience I was hoping for, but it'll pass. I still look back at the trip and just laugh at so much. The stories are too many to write down, but the memories are ever lasting.
I decided to start this blog because I wrote many journal entries on my trip. I already have the memory of a two year old, so I didn't want to take a chance and forget anything. Writing though, was one of the few things I decided I needed to start doing again; it brought me peace and relaxation. So here I am now, trying to use this blog to find my inner "-ist." Some days will be full of laughter, and others some sadness, but I look forward to just writing and sharing again my thoughts and stories to whoever is willing to listen to them. In the mean time, my ultra non-tech savvy side of me will try to make this blog site of mine a wee bit more interesting, instead of the odd pastels it's currently drowning in.
I hope this finds everyone well and let's all look into our inner "-ists", we may be surprised at what we find.
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