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Readers, welcome back. It is currently 12:15 AM, and I have a 3600 word paper due in about twenty four hours. So the obvious thing to do is waste one thousand words of effort into a blog post. You’re damn right it is. This is not a waste. I aim for this to be a wake up call. Whether or not it achieves its purpose is not up to me or the quality (or lack thereof) of my writing. The time for elongated intros has passed. It is now time to move on. Here we go again.
I have pondered, and I have found an answer to an equation posed via another blog. The answer is that you forget about one variable. This is known as illogic. And while that sounds like a word I just made up to answer the question (it actually might be, for all I know), it is the correct answer. There are things that defy conventional thought. They take reason and tell it to smell its farts. Optical illusions, brain teasers, the idea that we invaded Iraq because Osama bin Laden attacked us are all examples of things that make no sense. And yet they occur. Every day logic is told to shove it. You question how your equation does not work. As a professional dick, I have to point out that the mere fact that you two were even a thing is a testament to all that is illogic. And that’s not a shot at you or your relationship. Even you saw how improbable it all was when it first started. To question why is pointless. Why leaves you holding your heart in even more pieces than when it was first broken. Don’t ask why, man. It only hurts more.
Now I’m going to address the main point of this blog. As I have successfully solved your equation (successful being subjective to my terms of success), I will pointedly discuss this whole business of your last post, mainly concerning your last little bit. I am going to try, and ultimately fail, to keep civil. I know you’re hurting, and I know aggression does nothing more than irritate that wound. There comes a time, however, when a line must be drawn. I vowed to be your counter, your check. Was it my place? Don’t know. Don’t care. It has never been my business to please people, merely to entertain. But I will be damned if I let you spout of nonsense without doing my utmost to show you how wrong you are in this regard.
You wish you had died twenty years ago? Why? Do you even mean that? I don’t think you do, but for arguement’s sake, we’ll go with yes. Think about how much you’ve grown as a person in twenty years, man. Yeah, these last few weeks have been rough, but that is not a blueprint for your entire life. You’re well-read, knowledgeable, cultured, and open-minded. These things are the make of a guy who’s got it together. In the twenty years since your accident, can you really say you’d been better not having grown at all?
What about your family? How do you think the kids would function with zero positive male influence in their life? Had you not grown as a person, would you be as good a parent, and yes I used that term, as you are now? Were you not here, would they turn out as well as they eventually will because of your guidance? We both know the answer is no. How then, is death two decades ago helping thus far?
Finally, although not most importantly, there’s our group, and to get more specific, me. There is a reason that it is your house we congregate at. There is a reason that we all go to your house to chill out and unwind. And although this may come as a surprise, it’s not because of Shaky. It’s you, man. We flock there because of you. You’re unifying, you appeal to something in all of us. Your span of influence is more than you’ll ever know. I’ll take the leap and speak on the other folks’ behalf when I say that you have been a pretty sturdy constant in the time of our lives that has been the most shifting. I know you didn’t ask to be, nor was it your responsibility to be, but you were there, and that’s all that we, or at least I needed. To say you wish you had died essentially means robbing four close friends of the person that brought them together. Who would I be had I not started visiting? I cringe at the thought. Where would I have found any sense of reason or solace in my time of despair? I fear for my life in that scenario, I really do. It bothers me to a great degree to have to ponder this stuff, because so much of what I have become goes back to changing my views of things, which goes back to opening my mind, which goes back to you.
You wish you had died twenty years ago. Well, I thank God you did not. Is that selfish, robbing you of your wish? Yeah, it is, and I don’t care. Because it’s equally, if not more, selfish to wish to cop out of life by having not lived at all. You don’t get to be meaningless from past to present just because you’re fucked up right now. The Truth of the matter is that you being here has meant a better future for a lot more people than you not being here.
All these emotions you feel, they rock your world. I understand that. Do not let them define you going forward, or they will crush you for as long as you’re submitted to them. And that feeling, my friend, is exactly like death. I do not want to see you like that. I saw me like that. It’s not a good look.
That does it for me. I know I let my emotions get the best of me. This will inevitably do more harm than good. Yet, I post it because I need to say it. It’s honsesty, raw and uncut. If it offends, then so be it. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. I am a trainwreck.
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Hello readers. It is time for me to do my best to not be a hypocrite, and inevitably fail. For it has come around that I should dawn the armor of defense and, if not so much preach, then contend my opinion in regards to this perpetually confusing subject of love. I know that in doing so my credibility is all but gone (if it were not already), but I feel that there must be a counter voice. Left unchecked and without restraint, a person can be dragged to the brink of his sanity, contemplating something incredibly stupid. Regardless of how much I disagreed with my counter voice in my time of darkness, I thank God every day that there was somebody to challenge me to look beyond my immediate emotional distress. So, here we go. Let me premise this by saying again reality is subjective, but here is my version of the Truth.
I’m not sure if you feel as though she took advantage of you, Jamaal. And it’s not really my call to say one way or another, but from a third party’s perspective, she was just as emotionally invested as you were. And maybe you were speaking generally, in which case I would say that those who did take advantage of you were never truly close to you to begin with. Is that a bit harsh? Perhaps, but that’s not a slight at you, at least not as I intended it. Regardless, you two were extremely close. She never had malevolent reasoning or conniving motives. It simply did not work out. Telling that to a heartbroken male is foolish, and the backlash will be deep-cutting for sure. I know. I’ve been there. It’s ass, and I don’t blame you for letting go some serious emotional bombs.
You are creating circular logic when you speak of apathy and douchebaggery. ”The douchebag in me will keep those in this world at arms length. Then if somehow they still wanna get to know me, be friends, whatever, (dramatic pause)…Apathetic Man is there to not give a fuck.” You cannot keep somebody at arms length and then say, “Stay there we can be friends, but I don’t really care.” It doesn’t work like that. Part of being friends is dropping your guard. You can’t be Apathetic Arms Length Man, get upset when somebody goes away from you, then point to distance as the problem to prove your point. Apathetic Man creates the distance, douchebaggery exacerbates it.
As for your quote, they say one example can totally disarm a point. Your point, essentially: Those that love you are going to leave you. My example: I’m not going anywhere. That is all.
I agree with you that in hindsight, everything seems so distant. And while thousands of reasons race through your head to not give up, the fact remains that the feeling is not mutual. And that is what cuts the deepest. Your vulnerability has been revealed and stamped down. I’m going to take two lines from a poem I wrote a while back that I think best defines how this feels. “Bowed to emotion, willingly submitted. Love can fuck you up when it’s unrequited.” It stabs to your soul (which you have, otherwise you’d feel nothing), it pierces your mind and completely destroys you as an emotional being.
Why, then, do we go into the maelstrom if we know the consequences and outlook is dire? It is because we seek that which we believe to complete us. You thought, as I did once, that you found your other half. Positive, even. Fate dictates otherwise. We are fools to think these things? I disagree. We are not foolish to even be wrong. Because in that moment in time, at its peak, we weren’t wrong. ”There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.” You had it. You loved and were loved. One’s feelings cannot be wrong. And subsequently, the reaction to the loss of love cannot be wrong either. Therefore, the search for what gives us this bliss, albeit momentarily at times, is not worthless, it is simply human. If nothing else, I take comfort in the fact that my best friend experienced something I really thought impossible. And while I know that it hurts so much now, in hindsight, I would never trade where I came from. Nor do I think at heart would you.
To your poem: I’m going to tweak it because I’m taking liberties, and because I like it. Actually, I’m going to assimilate some of it into the poem I quoted.
The Scriptures preach that Love patient and Love is kind.
Humanity concerned, it is the blind who lead the blind.
I don’t have all the answers, but nobody really does.
When asked, “Why risk your heart?” I simply say, “Because.”
Love makes you do funny things; pull down your heart from off the shelf.
Love blindly takes the risks. Love cares not about itself.
A long ways to fall when you are so high.
And as you crash, you see the memories pass by.
Whatever you thought, well, you were wrong. You feel betrayed, broken, and misled.
Broken by the one Love chose, how many times we’ve plead.
Bowed to emotion, willingly submitted.
Love can fuck you up when it’s unrequited.
Alone in more ways than one; isolation becomes the norm.
It feels like Love is gone, but its only changed its form.
Your thoughts drift darkly, deeper into your loathing.
Cynicism is at your side, Depression’s with you, strolling.
And they say:
”Done with this world.
It’s been done with you for years.
Done with the pointless heartbreak; done with the tears.
Done with soul, cast the blame to God.
The premise of soul mates was always a fraud.
Nice premise, nice notion, nice thought.
In the end, all it taught; love is a lie.
Now leave me to die.”
Locking oneself away disallows one to discover.
A heart must fully break before it can truly recover.
So I used your poem to better mine. That probably makes me an asshole in some parties. Oh well, not my intention. In any case, my closing bit is this. Do not become what I was. This I ask because I know that it solves nothing. I know that now. And to preach from my current vantage point is wrong, because my love life is fulfilled. Right now, I’m in that peak moment, and it seems that it’s going to last forever. So for me to sit here and tell you this is wrong and that is wrong is the real foolish act. But I do it anyways, because I know that some of what I say holds merit. It took being called out when I was in the doldrums to realize that. The irony coarses through my veins, but so does the Truth. I mean not to offend, only to counter and check. Adieu, adieu, and again adieu. So long, and thanks for all the fish. Exeunt. Fin. Later.
That is that, folks. Did I accomplish anything? Probably not, I rarely do. I type a lot of stuff in hopes that a tiny morsel will be able to be mined out of the droves of garbage. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. I’m always here.
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Hello readers. This is a post from a long dormant blog, I realize. I’m guessing that this probably will shock all of the five people that read it. Yes, I have actually posted. Congratulations to me, and all the adulation that goes along with it. To those readers who also have a blog, I have now upped the ante. Two consecutive posts to your none! Get on my level, yo. (Side note: Probably the last time I will ever use ‘yo’.) Anyways, I cannot sleep, which is always the case when I blog. So, here we go. I’m hoping this will be worth posting, but I seriously doubt it.
My title is both a statement and the name of a poem I penned about 20 minutes ago. It is not what I deem ‘good’, but it was a stream-of-consciousness thing that I felt I needed to jot down. For the first time in a while, here is me posting a poem.
I get to be different.
I have to be different.
My drive dictates this.
Becoming a number fuels an ongoing battle.
I’m losing right now.
Recurring depression settles over me.
Insecurity
Insecurity
I deliberately attempt to break free from the norm.
Why?
Because the masses are just numbers.
And I refuse to be a number.
I have to be different.
I have to be better.
Indeed. This is my personality as best as I can define it. I loathe the idea of being the crowd. I’ve been the crowd. I made a conscious choice to break from that garbage and think for myself a long time ago. I get to be different because I chose to be. I don’t have to like awful musicianship just because the message is positive. That’s idiotic. I refuse to acknowledge auto-tuned repetitive thumping as legitimate pop. Go soak your head. Stupid, sparkling vampires can suck my toe. Yes, I read, and I read a lot, contrary to most of my generation. If I reference “Treasure Island” or “Huck Finn,” and you tell me I’m stupid for reading, my thought process then is consumed by both the irony I’m hearing, and your destruction. I watch documentaries on TV, and reality TV is not included. I want to drop kick a cat when watching reality TV. I love nothing more than delving deeper into music and the world of famous (legitimate) musicians and their lives. I feel it is necessary to know about the lives of all the difference-makers of the world, and know a lot about them. Knowledge, culture, the drive to know and to learn, that is what is important to me. I feel that this makes me different from a lot of people. Even among some of my friends, I feel like I am still a bit isolated from them.
My biggest, deepest fear is that I will end up a fucking number. I don’t want to sound pretentious or overly vain, but the following statement will ultimately come off that way. I truly believe that I am destined to make a giant difference in the world. Something in my mind just knows it. Maybe not even in acting. Ideally, yes, but I cannot be sure. I know I will definitely do my damnedest. But it’s never the numbers, the nobodies, the mediocres that do anything. It’s the different. That’s what pushes me. But at the heart of that, there is insecurity. Which is funny, in a sense. Someone who sounds off on being destined for greatness, you’d think I’d be completely self-assured. And the overwhelming majority of the time as well as areas, I am. But sometimes, I question myself. Am I legitimately talented? Why did I get this part? What could somebody with my personality ever do of any significance? And this angers me, because it’s childish and stupid. I thank God for the person He has allowed me to become. My intelligence, culture, and thought process are all due Him, so how could I fail?
So here is another poem. This one also is not up to my standards of previous work, but it’s something I wrote down as a passing thought. I sat down here tonight and recalled some of my summers in the past, then got a little sad at my lack of time spent back home. This is untitled, so I’m titling it “A Kid’s Yesterday.”
It seems so long ago and yet just like yesterday.
My biggest fear was losing at 2K.
Maybe drink too much pop.
Little did we know then we were on top.
The world’s up and changed.
And gone are those days.
Some grew up, others never did.
Things were easier when I was a kid.
Never thought about tomorrow; only relished in today.
And now I’m reminiscing and dreaming of yesterday.
So self-assured.
The law was our word.
Our swords were our wit, our shields the same.
What else would be effective with our bodies and frames?
We wielded these with expert precision.
Analyzing each other’s position.
The world’s up and changed.
And gone are those days.
Some grew up, others never did.
Things were easier when I was a kid.
Never thought about tomorrow; only relished in today.
And now I’m reminiscing and dreaming of yesterday.
Talking away hours and days.
Recalling them now; it’s all a haze.
Endless topics of nothing and more.
Meanwhile always bitching about the score.
The world’s up and changed.
And gone are those days.
Some grew up, others never did.
Things were easier when I was a kid.
Never thought about tomorrow; only relished in today.
And now I’m reminiscing and dreaming of yesterday.
A safe-haven from despair.
Just to have somewhere.
Allow the mind to go.
And let my heart repair.
The world’s up and changed.
And gone are those days.
Some grew up, others never did.
Things were easier when I was a kid.
Never thought about tomorrow; only relished in today.
And now I’m reminiscing and dreaming of yesterday.
The future looks bright, for most of us at least.
We’ve all found happiness somewhere.
Complexities arise that dictate the times.
And I occasionally hang my head in despair.
I miss it like crazy, the days and the nights that we had.
All for a laugh and nothing more, because we just didn’t care.
The world’s up and changed.
And gone are those days.
Some grew up, others never did.
Things were easier when I was a kid.
Never thought about tomorrow; only relished in today.
And now I’m reminiscing and dreaming of yesterday.
Indeed again. While it’s true I miss home a lot, very a lot, I really miss the lazy summers lounging with our group at Jamaal’s. I hold firm to the idea that those were the best summers, and even winters. Just talking, watching movies, laughing, and being ourselves. No fronts, no facades, no need for that. Friends chillin’ for the sake of it. Regardless of how others may or may not see it, I will attest to its keeping me alive, metaphorically and physically. It’s depressing in a sense, although not totally unforeseen, the fact that it’s more or less a shell of its former self. People grow up. Well, most do. And now we see each other in stints, and hardly ever at the same time. Whether it be theatre, women-folk, studies, women-folk, or women-folk, most everybody has one and more of these that have changed their lives for the better. To that extent I am happy, but do not begrudge me if I occasionally yearn for weekend of reminiscent indulgence.
That about does it for me. I’ve nothing left to offer, written or otherwise. Otherwise is never really an option anyways. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. I love you all.
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Good evening, readers. It is 2 AM, I have a headache, a slight case of horrid nostalgia, and insomnia. So, as a last resort, I turn to this. I don’t have anything in particular to vent or anybody to destroy verbally. I just need some sort of catharsis in order to sleep. Here is my attempt at a self-purge. Help us all, we may all end up dead from my effort alone. (No.) On a side note, I’m going to attempt to blog with music again. So if this comes off as country bumpkin, blame George Jones and Merle Haggard. Okay, back to the task at hand.
The only problem with this task is that I have no idea what it is. I am highly stressed, but have nothing to be stressed about. My life of recent and not-so-recent has been relatively easy and amazing. Obviously there is always a little underlying tension when I’m home due to my having to leave again, but it is nothing worth mentioning, irony realized.
I think what is bothering me is my own cursed mind. Typically I do not over-think things. I am adept at going with the flow simply because the flow is easy, and I am lazy. But recently I have been pondering a characteristic about myself that I feel may portray me in an ill light. Through personal experience and discipline, I have achieved a pretty high level of disconnect from what I would label as ‘feeling’ emotions. Like legitimate sadness over circumstances I should be sad over. For instance, I found out recently that my grandfather was in pretty dire straits. I love this man dearly, and the idea of never being able to see him again should wreck me. Nothing. Not a twinge or a tear swell. It is not that I wish terrible things to happen, I just simply cannot feel what I see everybody else displaying. Thankfully, he pulled through and things are looking way up compared to a few weeks ago. But still, it’s almost annoying.
And to a point this disconnect, or feeling of static separation flows into my personal life beyond ‘feeling’ emotions. Truth be told, there are three to five people (maybe) that I feel I can fully open up to. From those five, I really only do that to threeish. Things that should concern me simply roll off my back, and I come off looking apathetic and coarse. It’s never my intent. I feel love, I feel it deeply. I don’t display it outwardly because it makes me uncomfortable, like I’m putting on a show. Internally, I know what everything means and how it makes sense in my own little world, but explaining that world to everybody else seems overly complex and anathema.
I took a few days from the previous paragraphs and pondered before continuing now. I believe I have found out what exactly happens to everything in my mind. Most, if not all of you will think that I am full of shit. Smart money would probably support that theory, but I am legitimately proposing this. Sadly, it does nothing for my character, at least nothing positive. In fact, having thought this out, it makes me look pretty terrible in every respect as a human. Oh well, here is my proposal.
I believe that my quirk, glitch, ability, or whatever you would call it is not that I don’t have ‘feeling’ emotions, it’s when I do. Recapping, I never feel sadness when I should due to having felt a crap ton (check Google for conversion to Standard units) at one point. However, when I need to, I can channel up ‘feeling’ on a dime. When would I need this, you ask? Acting. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. I submit to the jury that I subconsciously store my negative feelings to be used at a later date for my benefit. I find this despicable and lecherous, but at the same time, it makes sense to me. The strongest feelings of sadness, despair, depression, anger, etc. all come when I am inside the mind of a character. Even reading, I portray how I would play a certain person, and it all flows so easily. Again, this could be me full of my own ego, but I really think this puts a lot of things into perspective. ’Feeling’ emotions have always seemed like a show to me, so why not use them to their fullest extent? This may or may not make me a debauched human being, but in the realm of all things sinful, I think this is pretty low on the list.
My pressure relief is acting. A laugh soothes the soul. Expunging pain and hurt through comedic stories takes the bite out of reality. It’s cruel, and I cannot say I altogether approve of what I perceive myself as doing. At the same time, I would rather it be this way than to constantly wear my heart on my sleeve, blathering on about how much I hurt and how it never goes away. I was that person once, and it was gross. I am happy with my life, make no mistake. But if you see or hear me performing or telling a story about my asinine life, you can now know that there’s always a little truthful pain involved. Somewhere deep inside my being, I’m depressurizing. My brain is making sense of a situation long past that I’m just now coming to terms with. And it exits, purging itself as the audience, or you, reader(s), chuckles, never the wiser. Until now, of course. Laughter truly is the best medicine. For me, it just happens to be the laughter of other people.
Well, that seems to be the end of my schpeel. I feel a bit better, and at the very least I did some writing. A shout out to the other people that my blog links to, BLOG! When I’m the most frequent at every three months, it’s a bit ridiculous. I would like to read something other than my old posts. Booooooring, even for my vanity.
Alright, that does it for me. I am off to try and sleep. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. Never be afraid to think.
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Good evening, my cult of readers. I now instruct you to drink the Flavor-Aid. Psh, I wish I had that kind of power. Who wouldn’t want that kind of massive influence? Lot of responsibility, though. Almost too much for a lazy man like myself. Come to think of it, I don’t want your damned power. Why did you thrust this upon me? What cruel fate hath given me this burden of illustrious persuasion?…And scene. See that? That was my incredible acting. I will take this one bit to pat myself on the back for getting into the BFA Acting program at the college of my choosing. I’m one step closer to being an out of work actor. Let’s move on, now, before my ego gets too big.
There is always a trade-off. Always. For me, writing is the product of anger, pain, misery, or general annoyance. Happiness negates this. I’m a willing participant in the latter, so I accept the lack of the former with a smile. But, at least for tonight, I’m temporarily re-visiting the annoyed realm for the sake of catharsis. I figure I can work out what I’m thinking and feeling if I write it down, at the cost of a night’s sleep. What’s one more night?
Continuing the theme of trade-offs, my life. Because of my career choice, I’m gone from home. It’s taken a toll on everybody involved, and I know I’m to blame. I have always been sort of the mediator within my family, and been the person to talk/vent to for my brother, and more currently my lady-friend. So my brother is going through some pretty bumming stuff, and all he can do is text me. It sucks, because I went through the same things two years ago. And I cannot be there for the person that probably looks up to me more than anybody. It isn’t fair to him. He willingly watched me for the year and half of my wretchedness, listening whenever I cared to use him as an out, kept up on all my posts, and was just there in general. To not be able to return the favor, at the very least, it kills me. I am sorry.
Also, I know that others have suffered. I’m not as good of a friend I could be, I’m never home, and I’m always doing something. I know, I know. It sucks, I hate it.
And it seems it has taken the biggest toll on the lady-friend. Not that this was entirely unexpected. Underestimated, perhaps, but I fully realized the strain I was putting on us. I moved forward because I was that confident in us. As Hunter S. Thompson said, “Our energy would simply prevail.” We just click. To blather on just allows for terrible hyperbole, but really, it fits. We’re a match, in my eyes. Whatever pushed me to pursue her last December was clearly the enzyme for what, if clearer heads prevail, should be the remainder of my time upon this planet. And now it gets sketchy.
The distance has manifested itself in the form of heightened insecurity on her part. For the record, I’d like to point to my record of having never cheated as proof that this insecurity is ill-placed. Regardless, I have been patient, telling her over and over and over that there is nothing to worry about. This hiccup of a few years is nothing, relatively speaking. And yes, it sucks that I cannot be there to comfort her at every turn, but at the same time, I don’t think I should have to walk on eggshells in order to maintain her fragile demeanor. This is like accepting her insecurities as valid, rather than quelling them once and for all. For instance, I had homework tonight. This being the case, I told her that I probably couldn’t talk to her on the phone tonight. She then responds by asking, “Why don’t you want to talk to me?” (Insert face-palm here.) So I shot off a response about how anytime I couldn’t talk she seemed to take it like I didn’t want to talk to her or that I hated everything and everybody and all that jazz. Simply put, I snapped a little. I realize that, but again, it’s frustrating to have to constantly gauge what I say in order to keep the peace. I am not there, it sucks, but you’re not the only one dealing with that. Figure out that I’m not going anywhere. I need nothing but to love you. Really, I’m good. This is why it seems like I’m dealing so easily. Believe me, I know the feeling of lonely nights pretty well. At the end of the day, though, I know that at some point this will all be over and done with. And everything will be hunky-dory. I am determined to get us through all of this nonsense. Constantly stressing about me not talking is unhealthy, and unwarranted. Throw what you think you know about relationships away, because that isn’t who I am. I am everything that is opposite of your past. I am me.
So I’ll probably catch some flak for that bit of popping off. Oh well, I’m done treading lightly. I’ve steeled my words long enough. Here’s to a decent rant. Here’s to the inevitable response. Here’s to love and change. Love is the change.
That just about does it for me tonight. As far as anything else interesting, all I have is SKYRIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *Said casually* It’s okay, I suppose. *Real reaction* Dear sweet holy figure I do quests like heroin. I snort monsters and the Assassin’s Guild like cocaine. And any other drug-game references you prefer. Basically, it’s pretty sweet. Beautiful scenery, huge map, and what looks to be an almost limitless amount of side-quests.
Alright, I am really going to go this time. I have nothing more to say to you peasants. Just kidding, thanks for reading. ”Thank you for your time, you’ve been so much more than kind. You can keep the dime.” Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. I have a serious Jim Croce addiction.
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Hello again readers. Right now you are probably dropping dead from shock. Two posts within a couple weeks of each other? I know, I’m a bit surprised myself. I’m not really angry, not that I was in my last blog. Although some may consider that was me being angry, I think I would consider it “pointed.” Regardless, I have no intentions of pointing out how stupid and ignorant a certain person is, at least starting now. No, no, this post is exactly about what my title implies. Also, I am attempting something different this evening. I’m going to try blogging with music going. Normally this is a major block, but I refuse to give up my Jim Croce binge for a measly blog post. Bear with me, and here we go.
First, the rejuvenation. As you may well know, I have enrolled in college to pursue a career in acting. For quite some time, I was very ‘meh’ about it all. My classes have been so monotonous that there wasn’t really anything getting through. Lecture, lecture, assignment, lecture. It’s annoying. But today was the first time I actually had the opportunity to ‘act’ in class. Granted, it was only two one-minute skits, but it was an enzyme to my lethargy. I remembered exactly why I loved doing what I’m studying. The rush, the idea of entertaining others, and yes, the attention. If that’s vain, fine, I can just attribute it to being an actor. Kidding, of course, but I really like knowing that people are getting satisfaction from my acting. It will give me enough of a high to keep me going until the next time I get to perform, whenever that is.
(A pause to let you know that I, again could not finish this in one sitting. The forthcoming part was typed almost two weeks after the former.)
It has been only with a great amount of effort and mental wrestling that I tackle this next subject. I have pondered it numerous times, but until now I did not think I could properly do it justice. Personally, I doubt even now that I will, but I’m feeling sprightly this evening.
I have examined, at great length, my current state of being in comparison with my previous state. I haven’t realized until awhile ago just how happy I am. It’s tough for me, writing about being happy. Misery is so much easier because it’s kind of a cop out. It’s easy to vent, it’s not easy to explain happiness without coming off looking like a snarky douche, but I shall try.
I still stick wholeheartedly to the statement that lost love is a more powerful emotion than love. I know this to be true, which may sound contradictory to my whole happy schpeel, but bear with me. I am quite certain I’m in love, again. I’m very high on positive emotion, and it’s a great ride. I know, though, that were I ever to have this emotion taken from me, what would fill the void would hurt exponentially more than the good it did me. I don’t know if that’s a particularly healthy way to gauge how happy you are, but it’s the only terms I can put it in to explain it to myself. I understand how much I love her based on the fact that were I to lose all of this, it would kill me more than the happiness it has brought. Hmm. Odd.
I was obviously slightly fogged by my emotion of bitterness and cynicism back then, and I know I wasn’t the greatest person to be around. I think, for the most part, I have reconciled that. I act happier because I am happier. I wake up knowing that I have another half (this is getting cheesy), and that my ivory tower has been scaled, invaded, and toppled (albeit only a few floors of toppling). I’m tempered a bit, and my tongue has become a lot less sharp, generally speaking. I reserve the incredibly shrewd for when it needs to be done. (Most of my readers may be able to pull a few recent references of this.) I am more social, not entirely by choice mind you, but I think it has done me some good. If nothing else, I get to meet more people to bitch about. I find that even though I’m incredibly happy, my distaste for people in general remains very strongly. More on that in a bit.
It is very, very tempting to compare relationships and amounts of happiness, but that wouldn’t be fair at all. Too many extraneous factors and circumstances that are beyond human control prevent any reasonably fair comparison to be made. Maturity, age, distance, etc. all are vastly different and not something that would make for a….Okay, let’s just stop there. I’m trying to level it out in my mind, and I don’t want to. I want to go with the notion that I am soaringly content, in regards to the here, now, and the recent past. To say this once and for all on this blog, I love you, Morgan. Ah, relieving. Now, let’s revisit my dislike of people.
Well, not complete distaste as it is so much a completely different wavelength. My mind runs on a very different plane than most folks. That sounds snooty, doesn’t it? It isn’t meant to be. Jamaal, Allen, Garic, and Drew (kind of) all have the same wiring, more or less. It’s off the beaten path, even for somebody into Theatre. I find that my sense of humor is not like many people’s. I cannot quite explain it properly. How I tell a story within my circle of close friends seems to work only for them. Outside of that, people don’t seem to get the ridiculousness of the situation. I think it is because only we perceive the situations to be odd. A solid example is that of my ex-ex lady friend, the one that I refer to as crazy. Mountains of stories abound in regards to her, and each is as humorous as it is asinine. If it wasn’t first hand accounts, I’d have to say most of it was fictional. In any case, the little group has had countless hours of laughs at my expense, as have I. These conversations invariably lead into odder and stranger scenarios, causing more laughs. However, when I recount these same tales, and others, to the folks around me, it’s like I’m just ‘meh/courtesy laugh.’ I’m not offended, I just don’t get it. How can a select few find something raucously funny, but nobody else? Silly question, I realize. I could say they just don’t ‘get’ it, but that’s douchey. My very dry, but somehow outlandish, sense of humor is not the norm. Oh well, I refuse to give in to Will Ferrell and that nonsense. I’m rambling, let’s wrap it up.
This has been a shitty post. I know, bite me. I am tired, and my apathy and need to express overrode the quest for quality. This is what you get. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. If yourself sucks, change it.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Ridiculous, isn’t it? I think so too. Hello, readers, and how are you this evening? Probably asleep, in which case, I envy you. For some reason, the sleep eludes me tonight, and I have it in my head that writing on this here blog o’ mine will fix that. I’m sure it’s put more than a few of you to sleep at least a couple of times. The most annoying aspect of this is that when I write, I have to abandon my musical adventures, which sucks because I was really digging some blues. Anyways, I figure I may as well do a little venting, then head off and see how many sheep are in my mental capacity tonight. Here we go.
I find it incredibly disingenuous that I said, “Here we go” without actually knowing where this post is going. Hmm, let me think. Well, I suspect one of my friends to still be going down a path of stupidity. Refer to a few posts earlier, add in that I gave him a complete verbal-lashing, and that now it seems that it has made no significant impact, and you have why I am slightly annoyed. Like before, I have no indisputable proof, but, I wasn’t wrong before. Oh well, part of me hopes it all goes to shit so things finally get cleared up once and for all. Damn shame to see it go down so poorly, but there doesn’t seem to be any hope left.
Moving on from that travesty of idiocy, and moving into another. I have recently undertaken to consistently arguing with a lady on Facebook who spews stupidity like a baby spews…spew. It’s a fun little game, to be sure, but at the heart of it all, I am truly appalled that the Christian faith is being represented by somebody who shows us in such a bad light. Needless to say I have my faults, and many they are, but I think that I balance out for the most part. Yes, I am an insensitive prick of the highest degree, but I won’t judge you on things you cannot change. I expect the least out of humanity, but I hope for peace, love, and oneness. You won’t see me waving the Christian or American flag in your face or throwing the Bible at you, but at the same time, if you want to know about God, I’ll do what I can, and I believe that it is the right of the people to believe what they want and live how they feel is best for them. So when I see somebody who is as blatantly racist, ignorant, hateful, propaganda-based, fear-mongering, and all around stupid as she, it really harshes my mellow. It’s people like her that propagate the idea that Christianity is a bunch of crazy Bible thumpers. While that label works for some people, I simply do not fit that bill. I love me some Jesus, and I think it’s a fundamental law that He loved everybody. That means straights, whites, blacks, Left, Right, and yes, even gay people! I know that may shock, and even offend some idiots. Deal with it, already. People like her will almost never be convinced out of their beliefs, sadly. Idiots of her making are so entrenched into greedily licking up the fear/hate propaganda ejaculate of the media that’s fed to them that reality has no way of penetrating a mind so densely filled with fallacy. And again, that’s sad. I know that I’m supposed to look upon such souls with empathetic eyes, but I think it is my, and people in general, duty to first defend those that she (and any others like her) bigot against. Not to put myself up on a pedestal and claim I’m some amazingly glorious activist or some malarkey, I’m not. And like I said, I’m sure that nearly none of what I say has any affect on such a diseased mind, but there has to be a counter-point to somebody like that. I take great pride in being that counter-point. I stand firm to the ideals taught to me by my parents. Love people for who they are. Do not hate. Everybody, regardless of what they do or what lifestyle they lead, is a person. People have rights, and based on those values, I very strongly support human rights. That folks, to make myself look incredibly vain, is Christianity. Love, love, love. Unconditional. We do not get to set the conditions of what constitutes acceptance, because not a single one of us could ever live up to God’s standards. So who are we to say others aren’t worthy? Who are we to deny people basic human rights? I’m absolutely sick and tired of utter morons going unchecked pigeonholing certain groups of people. Ignorance is an umbrella term I use to define a lot of things, but I think I could interchange it with you and still be pretty accurate. I sincerely hope you read this. I have, up until this point, been incredibly nice, polite, and overall gentlemanly in my arguments. I challenge you to respond. The cards are on the table. I fully recognize the irony of me preaching love and then lambasting you within the same post. I ignore it. Not only because this is my blog and we now play by my rules, but also because when it comes down to it, people like you are dangerous. Disillusioned, misinformed, and with a great burden of hate in their heart, yet you still have a voice. Freedom of speech is such a double-edged sword. It can be used as a great peace-making tool, like Dr. King. Or, as you have chosen, it can be made into a disgusting Mr. Hyde/Fred Phelps version of the former. A tool used to shove hate and bigotry down the throats of others, foolishly thinking that you’re doing God’s work. In no way is depriving/pigeonholing/discriminating/bigoting a group of people God’s work. In this respect, I would like to apologize on behalf of whomever sorely misguided you. I’m also deeply saddened for the people you turn away with your words. Because of the things you say, the Christian faith will never know how many people we have lost out on. I cannot fathom the insecurity you may have caused within some people’s hearts and faith, simply because they aren’t “Bible perfect.” Look at yourself, at the things you post. Examine all of the crap that litters your mind, your public image. From a religiously fence-riding standpoint, would you even think about God if your Facebook page were the example that you had to go by? Personally, I’m glad I knew Christ before I knew you.
I think, probably, I have done enough damage for this evening. I really found my direction quickly, didn’t I? Well, it just kind of bled out of my mind. It’s been a long time since I have had a post like that. If I’m lucky, it’s a sign of things to come. Another upside, I can sleep soundly now. Such a shame I have to get up at 7:30 AM. Another quick shout out to Jamaal for finding happiness. Seems redundant, but I’m glad for you, man. Hope your blessings keep abounding. You deserve them. That does it for me. Until next time, America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. Love is all you need.
Filed under: Uncategorized
I don’t particularly want to do this, but then again I do. Good evening readers, I hope this post finds you well. The mere fact that you are capable of reading this probably means that you are in decent enough conditions. I assume none of you folks are currently being held hostage and found a clever way to access the Internet just to see if I blogged. Of course, it’s not beyond the scope of possibility, but it’s highly doubtful. Well, that was me trying do delay this sharp-tongued post. I know what I have to say is right, but for some reason I am still reluctant. I suppose I will start by talking about something else.
One of my four best friends (my brother having recently achieved the rank, although I think I subconsciously always acknowledged him) has a…hmm…situation, for lack of a better term. Jamaal is reconnecting, I guess, with a lady he knew (she knew him, he recalls her sister) from his past. I cannot really explain any further without messing it all up. All I can say is that I find it highly odd, but at the same time, right on for him. Who am I to say ‘yay’ or ‘nay’ to something that makes somebody else happy? Well, I actually do that all the time, but he is one of the exceptions. And while on the surface he says he doesn’t want to give up his lazy life (which I totally believe, and respect), I think that somewhere not too deep down he enjoys the contact, and clear affection, of somebody aside from his niece/nephews and we chaps who go over there. If there anybody that deserves some good karma thrown their direction, it’s him. Whether or not this situation pans out to be good karma has yet to be determined. For now I remain skeptically neutral, if there is such a thing, but not cynical as per my usual self. Because of that, I have made a vow to myself not to be an over-prick should I happen to chance upon them during a meetup. I figure he’s given me so damn much, why not let him try to be happy? And I know it sounds like I’m applauding myself for nothing, but then you would be underestimating how easy it is for me to zing my sharp tongue around and not even know that I’m offending anyone. So, there you go, it’s no longer just to myself. I promise not to be a dick when/if we meet, and I wish the whole thing the best, whatever the best may be.
Oh, sweet deity, this is the part I’ve been avoiding. If the first subject seemed half-assed, I apologize. It wasn’t, but I was just trying to think while I wrote. I have decided that the best way is to post a poem about the upcoming subject, then dive right into the whole kit ‘n’ caboodle. This is my title. I have taken it upon myself (to both my joy and dismay, if that’s possible) to say what needs to be said. Well, here we go. This poem has no title, so I’ll dub it “I’ve Been There.”
A waste of talent is a wasted life.
Deceit runs thick and imbeds like a knife.
Loyalties taken for granted.
With the plants you’ve sewn from the seeds you planted.
Yeah, I’ve been there, I’ve fallen.
I’ve been there, I’ve crashed.
I’ve been there when all that’s left were memories and ash.
But when everything is said and done, and we’re the only place to turn.
You’ll look and find there are no more bridges you can burn.
Who are you now?
Do you even know?
With every question, my impatience has grown.
Self-delusion is your illusion.
God given gifts, tossed aside, thrown.
Yeah, I’ve been there, I’ve broken.
I’ve been there, I’ve cried.
I’ve been there when all that’s left were endless nights and lies.
But when everything is said and done, and we’re the only place to turn.
You’ll look and find there are no more bridges you can burn.
Stop trying to be what you’re not.
Because reality is nigh.
Find your way to solid ground.
Because the tide is getting high.
Yeah, I’ve been there, my darkest hour.
I’ve been there, I’ve “defied”.
I’ve been there when I thought all the love around should die.
But when everything is said and done, and we’re the only place to turn.
You’ll look and find there are no more bridges you can burn.
The curtain is falling on your charade.
The game is up, the tune’s at end.
And a single tear escapes my eye.
What the fuck happened to my friend?
Yeah, I’ve been there when you fallen.
I’ve been there when you crashed.
I’ve been there when all that’s left were memories and ash.
Now everything’s almost said and done, and I’m still here for you to turn.
But you’re pissing it all away, and I’m done with being burned.
Yep, there ya go. Anybody familiar with myself probably has a general idea of who I’m talking about. Sadly, I must say that in that poem I just got through lambasting one of my best friends. However, I’m switching it up a bit. Instead of the normal friend I chew out, Allen, I’ve gone another route. Drew, his brother, seems to have completely lost his way, and this annoys me greatly.
Let’s give a little back story. Drew is incredibly smart, gifted in art, decently athletic, and overall a good guy. We were really close throughout Junior High up through my Junior year, and I shall always rank him among my closest and truest friends and confidantes. During that time period, however, something happened that has caused him to careen off into this downward spiral that has a high probability of exploding in his face.
He dated this chick during his Sophomore year for a bit, and they broke up, much to his dismay. Now, when I say much, I mean way much, as in he’s not had a legitimate relationship since. He fell in ‘Drew Love’, which is I term I made up about fifteen seconds ago. I say this because he has no true concept of the concept (Is that grammatically acceptable?). And that seems mean and hateful, which it probably is, but at the same time, they only dated for a handful of months…maybe. They weren’t ever “the perfect couple”. In fact, he caught flak all the time because she was still in Junior High. But he claims to have loved her, so I use “Drew Love” as a compromise, although I don’t exactly see it flying well. Meh, I’m in over my head already. Moving on.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably going back over the droves and droves of posts I wrote about my lost love. Fair is fair. Of course there is a stark difference between the two relationships. Our feeling was mutual. To what extent, I can never be sure, and at this point it is no matter, but I do believe that while we were dating, she loved me. This was not close to close to close to being apparent with his lady. At best, she looked uncomfortable all the time. Alright, now let’s fast forward a few years to a bit in the past/present day.
Drew’s not having a romantic interest has been a running joke for quite some time. His insistence that he is ‘smooth’ makes his complete lack of evidence of said smoothness exponentially funnier. I have to say, though, that this whole dung heap of a situation with the younger lass across the street is aggravating more than just me (Probably wrong of me to speak for others. Apologies, folks.). And I know they’ve both denied everything. Malarkey I say. I think there’s a chigger in the woodpile, and I think we’ve been told half-truths and outright lies. I figured we, of all people, would be worth your honesty. Piss on you, then.
Above everything, though, I find his lack of motivation for education to be the most annoying. His fatal flaw is caring (deeply) what others think of him. The image he tries to portray is not only not him, it’s not even a good fake. Anybody can see that the front you put up is not what you’re good at. He’s taking a year off because he doesn’t know what he wants to major in while everybody on God’s green Earth can see that he should be an Art major; but, since it doesn’t fit his ‘image’, he’s blown it off totally. I’ll take a step back from the rant and toss you some free advice.
Embrace what you are. Who gives two shits what people say? I act, so I guess I’m gay, right? Who cares if people think that? I’ll get up on stage every night and love every minute of it. You are not a jock, you are not an All-Star athlete. You’re a fair to decent ballplayer who is an amazing artist. I’ve seen you when you draw. It’s something to behold. You’re never more focused, more intent and attentive. That’s you. Be that guy. Do you not realize how much it frustrates all of us to see you pissing away your talent? Chucking away your gift, why? I challenge you to respond. I think at the very least you could explain yourself. Until then, you sir, may kindly fuck yourself. For one, it’s a lot more le…nevermind. And secondly, it would take the middle finger out of God’s and our asses from pulling all this shit.
This will not go over well, of that I can be sure. Harsh criticism is not really up his alley. I do not care. Drew, I love you like a brother, but I cannot stand silent anymore and watch you fuck off what could be a pretty amazing life. There, I’ve said what needs to be said.
The funny thing is that I don’t feel like I did a good enough job. This is the first time I’ve ever seriously doubted the effectiveness of my writing. When I bitched before, I knew I would get a rouse, but now, I fear he’s too far gone to admit to us/himself that shit needs changing, or that he just doesn’t care at all. Here’s a quick shout-out/plug to God/Christianity asking for my words to have the effect needed.
Well, that does it for me. I await either a response or a punch in the nose. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. Never be afraid to think.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Good evening, readers. It has indeed been quite some time. I would use my hectic schedule as an excuse, but I cannot. To be honest, I have been spending the majority of my time with my lady-friend (who is glorious). Although it has greatly detracted from my writing, I do not care. I am incredibly happy, more so than I have been in…forever, I think. Now, before I cause the sequel to Vomit Fest, I will move on from this introductory paragraph to something more titlesque. Fun fact, I love Hunter S. Thompson. Alrighty, onward to glory, and maybe a Johnny Depp cameo.
Today is July 4th, better known to us Yanks as Independence Day. If you know me, then you know I find ‘patriotism’ completely stupid. Facebook posts talking about how you should re-post if you’re an American that, if you love Jesus that, and ‘Join if you think that walruses are a result of habitual crossbreeding and incest of mammoths and seals. (A group of which I’m a proud member.) Okay, so that last bit was a little off track, but you see my point. So, by connecting the dots, you would come to the conclusion that I hate Independence Day.
And you would be wrong, you stupid assuming motherfuckers, you. I really like this holiday, because as much as I bitch and moan about the people in this country, you won’t find a better set of borders to live inside. You just won’t. I mean, we have a holiday to blow shit up just to remind the blokes across the pond who is really who’s Daddy. If that’s not freedom, I know not the meaning of the word.
This is where the fear and loathing come in. 
There are people out there who in fact do not know the meaning of the word. I hate these types of people. Why? One, because they are stupid. Two, because they think they know what freedom is, making them even stupider. If you watch TV, I am sure you have borne witness to the ridiculousness that they spew. It’s the people that think the government is oppressive, that our freedom is being taken away, that we have no rights. Scare tactics that incite fear and loathing into people. It’s how elections are won, and lost. And what gets me the most is that nobody seems to realize that simply by bitching about how we are losing so much do they totally contradict themselves. Free speech is an unalienable right that people exercise all the time to show that we are being oppressed…what?
Do these folks not see how liberal of a country we are? That word scares people, liberal, but it should not. It defines who we are. The United States is highly liberal. If we weren’t, we would be a totally different country…like China, or the United States of Nixon.
I love George Carlin, but I really disagree with him when it comes to this fact. We have rights. I couldn’t post this in a lot of places, because it’s too critical. I can here, because we’re just that awesome.
It simply doesn’t make sense to me. Some of the things people regularly say here would get you thrown in the clink in other countries. Shit man, some of the stuff would get you killed. People try and come to the U.S. illegally just to be able to speak their minds, and yet people here complain because they may not be able to buy fully automatic AK-47′s. The amount of pointless arguing and talking and talking and talking and talking about how fucked up this country is, and how we’re headed for doom is enough to drive me insane. Just stop. You cannot fool me. You cannot scare me. I’ll put your head through a damn table and paddle your ass until you start blubbering on about all of those times your Uncle Jim poked you in your boom boom. Ah, you people piss me Right off. (Yeah, it’s supposed to be capitalized.)
My point in all of this being, enjoy this country. It’s great for a reason, because people (braver than the assholes on TV, and less lazy than myself) gave their lives to a cause. Granted, the cause is not always what we see as favorable, but we have the right to talk about it. But instead of always complaining, why not shutting the fuck up and being happy? Take me, for example. Month after month blathering on about the same monotonous crap. I take a moment to be happy, and it infects me. I don’t see the need to bitch all the time, now. Why? Because happiness is what the United States is. People have truly lost sight of that, I think. Always moving on, more, more, more, money, money, money, power, power, power. And when they cannot attain more, it is the fault of the country, and those running it.
Do not complain because you cannot have more. Breathe, relax, enjoy, love. It has done wonders for me. To quote John Lennon, “I’m just sittin’ here watchin’ the wheels go ’round and ’round.” Indeed, and I almost feel sorry for those who are constantly worrying about the state of the country, where and how we will go, and who should lead us. Meh, if we do one thing right, we survive. Regardless of who is President, if they’re capable or not, public opinion, issues, anything, the U.S. has always managed to keep her steady as she goes. Just take it easy, man, as The Dude says.
So yeah, I enjoy Independence Day. Freedom of expression, ya know? Another one of those unalienable rights. And as I sit in my room, locked away from the fireworks, hearing the thunder of the explosions, it again shows how awesome we are. Where else in the world could you hear explosions outside of your house and not even think twice?
Well, that does it for me. I have no clue when I will blog again. It’s whenever something semi-inspirational hits, I suppose. I’m highly shocked that this panned out to be over one thousand words. I really am amazing. Until next time, Independent America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. Totally pulled of the cameo. Just sayin’.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Good evening readers. Tonight I want to attempt to put away all ridiculousness and petty jokes. Needless to say I will fail, but it’s worth a try. I would like to tell you about a place that has helped me find who I am, and undoubtedly saved my life, both in the metaphorical and literal sense. It’s not church, or school, or a basketball court, or any other movie-ready place. It’s just a house, but to leave it at that is a grave injustice. The people who have spent the most time there can attest to the fact that their lives are better for it. This place, Jamaal’s as it is commonly referred to, holds an incredibly special place in my heart. I will see if I can explain via timeline.
I first went there with my good friend Drew. I was a young chap, making his way through the world by assimilating and blending in. I didn’t particularly care for anything outside of what the standard at the time was. So, I would go over there and be voraciously torn apart in Halo, and other miscellaneous games. This was my perceived purpose of the house at the time. It was entertainment, it was something to do, and it was glorious. I was just entering my teenage years, so I was an idiot. Shallow-minded, typical Southeast Kansan douchebag.
Things change, regardless of whether or not you want them to. I found this out pretty suddenly. After a semi-hiatus, I began going over there on a regular basis, until one summer it was just part of the regular flow. Weights, home, Jamaal’s. Fuckin’ a. It was here that I began to find myself becoming increasingly disgusted with what I saw as the norm. I started to really value knowledge, intelligence, culture, reading, etc. Music was a big player here. I have Jamaal, Allen, and Drew to thank for kicking it with me that summer. It changed who I was, and set me on a path to give the middle finger to this commercialized crap culture swirling around us today. It was a summer of Classic Rock, NBA 2K, and running to and from Bronson on fumes of fumes of gasoline.
And then things changed again. My parents split up. It didn’t tear me up or anything, because I knew it was for the best, but sometimes I felt like I was trying to juggle too much shit at once with school, a crazy ass ex ex girlfriend, and a father who had proven himself moronic. Jamaal’s was there again. It was like a defragging of my mind. Go there and shoot the shit. Just talk, be with the people who were always there simply because it feels right to be there. I gained a lot of depth, I think, over those couple of years. A continuing of music indulgence, reading, and venting really kept things in tact. Again, I have Jamaal, Allen, and Drew to thank just for being there. Because of them, I had an out, a way to just be me, whoever that was. I was finally beginning to figure that out, when everything came crashing down around me.
The vast majority of everybody who have perused this blog probably has a pretty good inkling as to the upcoming story. I don’t care. It’s important in the development of both myself and this current blog post. So, for functionality’s sake, I’ll briefly retell the story. I fell in love. It was glorious. She ended it. I was really fucked up. That’s the gist of it.
Extending that second to last sentence a bit, I was horribly fucked up. It hurt beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, and I had no idea what I was going to do. She was my world, and I had become so wrapped up and lost in it that once it was over, there was no guide to get me the fuck out of Dodge. Again, I had a fall-to in Jamaal’s. The day it happened, within the hour, I was over there. Laughing my ass off at something completely ridiculous with the three people who had always been there. It didn’t kill the pain, but damn, it really took it down. Only three people really have a firm grasp on how bad I hurt, because it was the same folks who were keeping me going on a regular basis. Giving me music, steering me into different directions with respect to reading and games, talking, theorizing, shooting the shit, anything that kept my mind off the lingering feeling of nothing. At my lowest, I’m not really sure I can say with 100% confidence that I wouldn’t have done something very fucking stupid without them. Now that I’m all hunky-dory in finding love again, I look at how idiotic I was. I refuse to discredit anything I said back then, but I do take it with a grain of salt.
I grew more in that period of time than any other in my life. Up until my third semester in college, basically. Watching them deal with all their own problems, and still having time to listen to my whiny ass. I cannot thank those guys enough for what they have done. Countless gaming hours, talks, meals, and arguments just because. I’ve loved every second of it. It’s made me who I am, saved my life, and kept me sane.
It’s incredible, the bonds and conversations that place has created. Over the past yearish, we’ve drifted. Drew with his basketball, myself with Theatre, and Allen with…college, we’ll say. (Ha.) I’m not blaming them for that. I know that we can’t be like we were forever, which is slightly regrettable. All I can say is that I’m forever thankful for that place, and the people that hang out there. As my title states, it is the house that Truth built. Angry, heartbroken, crazy assed ex, family issued, etc. Whatever it is, it’s Truth.
The terrible thing is that even after all of that writing, I’m doing the whole thing wrong. There is so much more to this place/story that I can’t explain it properly with words. It’s hard to explain feelings as is, but for somebody like me, it’s damn near impossible. I don’t really want this post to sound like I’m wrapping up a chapter of my life, or our lives, or whatever. I know that’s how it will sound, but that isn’t the intent. I simply felt the need to express my gratitude to my three best friends, and the place that really mashed us all together. Thanks.
What’s funny is that I actually had something to bitch about, but fuck it. I see no need in screwing up a half-decent post with some mindless babbling about an idiotic somebody really grinding my gears. Perhaps next time. Welp, that about does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. Never be afraid to think. I love you guys.
