New Year???

Tonight at midnight I'll still be me, with the same dreams, the same mindset and the same lingering questions and drive to find my place in the world.....12:00 AM or 12:01 AM it's still just another night full of dreams and endless questions.........Happy New Year's Eve beautiful world.......switch out your mindset .....not your calendar ;)

People have an obsession with new starts with fresh connections, with clean slates, with new beginnings. It’s as if this start of the New Year completes a wash cycle in their lives, as if any prior digressions from the previous year are marked clear at midnight. People wait for these new beginnings, these dates marked by the masses as marking of a profound new beginning. When truthfully all that you really need is a new attitude to have a fresh start. Once in 365 days we feel that we are given a new start, we are given a chance for change, a chance for something better than before, but in reality fresh starts can occur at any point. It’s as if people have this fear to up and change in the middle of a different path. As if their peers will judge their actions as irrational and mislead.

What I feel, that most people around me don’t understand, is that if at any given point I want to change mind about something I feel I freely have the obligation and duty to do so. I don’t feel guilt or self continuous about it although sometimes I feel my peers may want me to be more continuous of it. I feel it’s my right…..to myself to change anything that I feel needs to be tweaked and it’s also my right to myself to be who I truly am even if who I truly am happens to change more sporadically than others. And honestly it’s more likely that I change my goals, than my mindset. I am conditioned to be a wanderer, roaming aimlessly in my own world, that is a mindset in its own, that is a lifestyle.

 But dreams, thoughts those change and it’s ok to work through them and with them. You don’t have to be afraid of them, they are part of your imagination and that’s probably the most rewarding gift you could have been offered at birth. So this sick obsession that people have with scheduled change and conformity should cease. It’s detrimental to creativity, to imagination, to time, and to change itself. It’s quite trivial in the grander scheme of things, and if you are unwilling to change on June 23rd, September 4th or October 15th then more than likely I doubt you will change much on Jan.1st.

A Day Much Like Today......

Do you ever have a day, not unlike the ones that precede and follow it, just a day where the sun still rises and the moon still falls, and the stars still settle. A day where you just feel inspired. Where the small things seem to gleam a bit more than usual, where laughs echo a bit louder than normal, where food tastes so much better, and being broke doesn’t seem to bother you. A day where walking feels good, and solitude feels nice, where watching life pass you by through other people’s eyes feels perspective and alluring. Where you just stop talking for a minute, and open your ears. Opening them to other people’s conversations, opinions and ideas. Where observation is such a sweet disposition, and motion seems to slow to a hum. Those days come much more often than not in my world, there presence is serene and frightening. I hang on to them by a thread afraid that while growing up they will dim, and my imagination will begin to falter and elude me. I can only hope that they do not, and enjoy the stimulation while it lasts.

Those days seems to shine through my seven day progressions more and more. I feel like at most times I partake in the reactions and actions around me, I sit between two different realities. I fall in love with ideas, dreams, and figments. I fall in love with the things that surround me, and the things I imagine that could one day surround me. It’s all in the matter of the mind; this overtly powerful tool, this place. This very open field that you can do absolutely anything in. You can create anything you want and then it exists, just like that, in a moment. It’s something I have been perfecting my entire life. I create these elaborate illusions in my mind, and I try my best to depict them with paper and pen, but never successfully giving credit to my mind proper. I could never depict the images entirely, nor will they ever fully exist in this world, but they still in exist in mine.

It’s a difficult concept to explain to others, but I still attempt to put it out there. I think one day, one hour, in one day, into one morning, into one idea, into one daydream I will completely surrender myself to the concept of fiction and give happily into an idea about a world different from this. I will walk there for hours, or days, or years and find myself complete by finding stillness in the creation of something I have been building in my mind for years.

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Not crazy, from the rest,

Not that it be any lest,

It’s just an idea unlike the rest

It’s just a concept that my mind is fond to test

The world behind our eyes

Is nothing but reality in a muted guise

I could try and bring you into my dreams

But believe me it’s much more difficult than it seems

I have tried for years to create it with ink and paint

But the self creation is much too faint

One day, a day not far from now I will take you there

First I have to find the address and ticket fare

But once I arrive, and I settle into something that has been mine

Once I settle into a dream, that I have created over time

 

You won’t be finding me around here much more

Because where I am going there exists no doors

 

No ceilings, no roofs, no floors, no gates

You will only find me cosseted behind my fate

And that locality is something that even I will have to wait

And it is a notion that never is late

Eyes wide, mind open, strong heart

That’s all you need for an effective start

 

It is all about the way you see your world, not the rest

Don’t let reality be your sole test

Powder Daze.

In life we are all creatures of organization. Since we were small children we are taught to makes plans, we have ideas, we make goals, we have desires, we spend most of our day daydreaming about what we want, what we want to be, where we want to be, what we want to see, what we want to have. We spend years building this mental path in our own minds and we feel guilt when we stray from the path. We feel  commitment to this ghost plan.

Until one day, one trip, one person, one song, one idea serves as a catalyst and changes everything. This one thing has the power to stop you dead in your mental track and wipes the entire track clean. It scares the shit out of most of us and we do not know what to do with ourselves. There are usually two choices that linger in this precise moment. One…..you can embrace the unknown and take a leap and create a new life, a new path, a new goal or none at all….simply live. Two, you can run unforgivingly back to the old path and commit fully to it, never to stray so intensely from it again and live a very structured and maintained lifestyle.

Well I have strayed. I think I have strayed for quite some time. And I will admit it’s frightening at times and highly stressful. I have my self doubts at times, but in the end the rewards are much higher than the risks.

Right now I am in Vail, Colorado. It’s 7 am and I am awake staring at the window of my apartment. There is fresh snow on the ground, icicles hanging ominously in my window; it is what we call a powder day. Fresh tracks are ready to be made and the mountain will be opening soon. I live here, I tell myself that every day, because it is still so unreal. I’m 26 and I have not a cent to my name, my car is almost at its wit end, I did not know a soul here and I am completely fulfilled and happy here. I am surrounded by 18-22 year olds that are out here on a break, or finishing up school and having one last ho-rah. But this is me, this is not a last anything or a first, there is no break, there is no looming plan. This is it, and after this…….no idea. This move is not a self actualizing period although it may turn out to be.

I used to be a planner. I used to be that career go getter. I strived for academic achievement and I gained it. I strived for success in the corporate world, and I gained it. But out of those achievements I did not find myself..... I just gained an experience. You know I have no idea what the future holds, I do not have a plan like I used to, I don’t have an idea of where or what I will be doing next year like I used to. But I will adapt to change and I will just enjoy the ride. And to be honest…..when you give up on ‘the path’ you’ll find that your life will somewhat make one of its own without even informing you.

It will be scary to find yourself alone in the forest searching for a marker, but that is when you will experience the most intense utopic experiences. They won’t happen unless your mind is open to them. So that’s where I will be but right now all that I plan on is fresh snow, walks down white train tracks, long rides up the gondola, cold days and runny noses, making exceptional Eskimo like connections in the cold, breaking icicles, having snow ball fights, making pb & j’s, and carving my way off the mountain everyday on my board. That is good enough for me, that is my world at the moment. It is perfect in fact.

Life is beautiful and inspiring when you drop everything and just allow your life to create itself. You’d be surprised how perfect the world is when you stop having expectations and allow yourself to experience what fate has in store for you. Those dreams that only you see, behind closed eyes, they aren’t always fictitious, sometimes their just life’s way of telling you to wander off the path for a bit………just do it.

Closure.

          There are some things in this world I will never understand. I will never understand biochemistry or the table of elements, I will never understand the quadratic formula or why E=mC2, I will also never understand war or hatred or voluntary death. Most of all I will never understand the dynamics of my mother’s brain.

          This is a much more weighty blog than usual, and for most it might seem out of character for me. I know that most of you characterize me as a generally cheerful person, and I am. I try to find the beauty in everything, and the light in the typical day…… which is not at all a hard thing to do if you just keep your mind and heart open.

        But before the positivity in my mind was born, there was a really really dim period in my life. A childhood where each day wasn’t marked by the colors, lyrics, and laughs but by torment and misapprehension. But in no way am I writing this to ask for pity and understanding. I write it because if you are taking the time to read it you need to know who I truly am and know that I am truly confused. I truly would like to understand just what it is that makes my mother a disturbed woman, a woman scorned, a woman with so many deep and tragic problems.

      The reason I even bring this up is because today I received a very random phone call. My uncle whom I was close to as a kid, but have lost touch with over the years called me. I missed the phone call but when I checked my messages the only words I heard in the scrambled message were liver failure, and “I thought you would want to know”. I knew this day would come of course because my mother lived inside a whiskey bottle for most of my childhood. I know it’s been eight years since I have seen her, but I doubted that anything had changed. Anyhow I called him back and sure enough she had called him from the hospital to let him know that her liver was indeed failing.

       What struck me at that moment was the fact that he said she called him. Even in this dire of a situation when maybe she thought it could be the last call, she didn’t mention my name she didn’t think to ask my uncle or the nurse to call her one daughter. Even at that moment. I do not understand the hatred. And I know that may seem selfish, I know that I shouldn’t be thinking about my own well being in this situation. But I mean…..she created me. And this could be her dis-creation and she did not think to include the one thing she had given life to a call.

       I know my mother had her own dreams as a beautiful artist to do more than have a child in her early twenties, but had I really turned out to be such a disappointment that she’d rather live her life this way…..alone. Was it really her only option to treat me the way she did growing up, doing the things she did. What makes a person have so much hatred towards someone they created? I will never understand her; I tried for many years too. And sadly enough I do not know what will happen today or tomorrow or if she will die with peace or somehow fight the struggle and live. But I am here, I always have been and it breaks my heart to know that people in this world create and duplicate and recreate lives and their own. And they take one another for granted. What is that about? I know each and every one of us has battled our own wars and no one has had a perfect upbringing. We all face our own hardships, but in moments like this I get silent and numb and it’s hard for me to open up. Unless of course it’s through writing.

         Mainly the only purpose of this blog is for me to find some type of closure. I know many friends think I should go see her, but I think it could do more harm than good. I’ve gotten advice to write her a letter, and believe me I would love to but the few of you that know of my mother, sensibility and rationality have nothing to do with her character. A letter would do nothing but anger her, and my presence would possibly send her into theatrical peevishness. So instead I’ll just say it here…..I forgive you mother. I can’t understand you, and I can’t see you, and I can’t hug you or tell you that I love you because I do not really know who you are. But I forgive you, because with all the pain you have caused to myself and others I am more than sure that the pain you endure mentally and physically every day is much much more raw than anything I can fathom.

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Amor Fati
G

To wander, To feel.......

     
          This last year and a half has been one of immense change and grounding. I think that I have gotten a pretty good idea about the person I am and what exactly it is I plan on achieving in the couple of decades that I get to be present on this rotund space. I think no matter how well put together our life may seem at times, no matter how strong our minds and hearts seem to be, no matter how much we put forward……little my little the small things can un-seemingly etch at our hardest surfaces.
         I remember times in my life now, where I look back and have no idea why I made the decisions I did or why I held back on some of the decisions I was never strong enough to make. But it’s always a affable speculation when in retrospect. Amor Fati.

          I spend most of my days cruising by daily routine on my bike, I feel resilient in the fact that I am not stuck behind a desk or within the confined walls of a corporation. But at the same time I spend countless hours staring into the trees, or into the lake’s water ripples asking myself exactly what it is that I think makes me so dissimilar and distinctive as to be able to escape and squeeze through the corporate loop hole. What it is exactly anyway that I think I am escaping from …..and too. My mind wanders a lot, my heart drops at the most nominal things but doesn’t quite comprehend the more grand scheme of things. I break for no one but put in times of weakness place trust in the least accountable factors. I think sometimes it’s good to just let yourself …..feel. Even if it is short lived or unwise or painful. Sometimes it feels really good to just let go and let in. I am not quite sure where my mind is lately.

My mind is elsewhere, my thoughts are ethereal dreams

Nothing I think, nothing I do, nothing I say is what it seams

 

You may not understand my stream of consciousness, but then again neither do I

I’ve been in mêlée with this disorder for quite some time

So I sit staring, hazy eyed into the vivid lights beaming through the sky

Asking myself, asking everything around me …..Why

 

It’s a daily schism from routine, that keeps my mind in function

But to be honest we all know to expect the universe to answer is a soiled injunction

 

Never the less, ill still stare into the green, the blue and let myself come unglued
Hoping that one day, for just a moment my question may be ensued

Play on Words.........

Playing with words, is painfully entertaining. It becomes an addiction for the stifled and bored. It becomes a drug from the under enthused. To recreate something as boring as ink and paper, and bringing words to life. I play with words in my free time. It's Saturday morning, the sun is out, I will climb out of bed soon but for now I am reading Henry D. Thoreau and wandering what kind of life he led while all alone with his pen and paper out at Walden Pond. Solitude? Years? How? For now I will just read and write but in minutes or so I will climb out of bed and join everyone else. It's a beautiful day to play I can't imagine a life of complete desolation. How did he do it ?

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Reformation, being a deformation of your current and dull declaration.

It’s a re-creation of individual validation, in what we call a free born nation.

In all its glory it’s the instigation for potential vibrant education, and newly found origination.

No more stirring around in mental stagnation, only the need for innovative imagination

For re-creation without hesitation is needed in the mind that's withering away due to creative starvation

No matter the situation, it’s a cause for celebration

Because

For once, for now, you have ailed the mind's mental desperation.

Walking away, walking to, trying to fight what it is that is in between, trying to be anything less than hidden or unseen, trying to be anything less than obscene....

 For fear of rejection, not wanting to hear the objection, over and above the speculation, it is just a self inflicting reflection, trying to cut the thoughts by their sections, trying so hard to lead the congregation, wanting an encore of more than and above standard regulations, it’s an above average retaliation.....


Of what cues have put into my head, how I have tried so hard for them to be reread, trying to ward off what they may have said, so that I can learn from what I myself have actually read, not caring about the lies that have been fed


To Me……fed to them, to you, to us, to him, to her; to it…….it’s a ridiculous cycle of never-ending shit. It goes on and on with unclever and irritating whit, while most just sit, taking another hit, to afraid to get up and hit, everyone sits, noone stands up to cause an uproar or fit


So the few stand alone, owning up to the web that all have sewn, we try to fight the mendacity and undertone, but who are we kidding thoughts never broke any bones, so we all sit glued to our computers and phones, reading other’s thoughts...... to afraid to come up with our own, each and every one of us feeling more and more alone


Until one day someone, something muses inside or outside the exterior of our frames, and we all stand up and take the blame, no one was ever the same, but no one was ever clever enough to feel the fame, of being the catalyst for the call of the game


It happens in a split second, inspiration if you will, it is the only things that can fight fates will, it is the only thing that can seal the deal, it is the only thing that causes an uproar or brings fighters to the hill, and it alone is what we are all expecting to foot the bill…….


So when you finally decide to bring some original thought to the resistance, don’t give up in one small instance, don’t blame everything else on your inconsistence, and don’t waste our time without some innovative deliverance.


Bring it out, or bring it not. Life’s too short a time without some characteristic thought, instead of standing in a stagnation of immobility, get up and cause some novel hostility. The world won’t forget your name if you cause a scene, but your mind…..your truth….. loses its clout when it remains unseen.


.G.

Random, New, Borrowed, and Blue

I’m painfully aware of my surroundings and condition lately. The sickness of a dreamer, the vivid life you create behind and within is something that can easily be engulfing. If you’re not careful the imagery can devour you and never take heed in your escape. It’s ironic you know, the way the education system works out. I mean 8 years of school, two degree’s later, $62,000 towards a B.A. and MPA and all that I learned is that I do not ever want to work to make money for someone else, and that all I want to do is create. What do I want to create? What is my master plan? What do I want to accomplish? Unfortunately this changes from day to day or burgeons.


I’m not a one way street; I know that’s the safe route. I know that life has fewer collisions when you’re going in one direction. But then again I have never been one to evade a crash. I suppose I welcome and embrace chaos into my life. The impracticality of what could happen intrigues me. I guess that’s why Austin has been such a dead ringer for me. For once in my life I found a home, a seed. I like planting my feet here. I know I’m a bit nomadic in the fact that I’m one to greet the flight or fleet strategy when stagnation stirs inside me. But something about this city keeps me grounded internally even if I’m not tangibly here.

Austin is a city you don’t just have a weekend fling with. It’s a kind of city you commit to, the kind of city that can cause longevity even in the ficklest dreamers’ mind. There is something to its presence, its ambiance, its edge.

I have been walking a lot lately. I have always been a walker, I can walk for hours just studying the environment around me. Anyhow, I was walking around Town Lake and I saw graffiti on the pedestrian bridge that cut straight to the point. It said “Chose a point, and breath.” Sometimes I think my mind is wandering so aimlessly that I forget to breath. I over analyze so much that I suffocate myself.

Realistically, no one knows exactly what their next step is. We are all looking for that one thing that completes us, the one thing that has always been in us, and we all want to bring it out but sometimes we are in fear of showing it to the world. So I have decided I am just going to do everything…….yeah, that’s right, everything. We shall see how this works out. But for the time being I'm just going to immerse myself in the things that make me happy, even if they don’t always make sense or scare the living shit out of me. I am sure there is a lesson to be learned from this specific point in my life. But for right now I am just going to bathe in my impulsiveness.



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Sometime my mind proper, boggles itself. Not quite sure how things are run up there, but at times it somewhat takes over the entire thinking process which I have no part in. Sometimes I'm not sure why i write things that I do, sometimes they don't pertain to my own situation or knowledge but the words spatter across the pages as if they know what they want to say. I looked back through some older writings that I i had lost yesterday and found a couple of random entries. I wonder when I wrote this and what it's importance was at the time.

On, "Overcoming Love"?

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Just one mind, two eyes, one mouth, two lies

One heart, two arms, one embrace, resilient to charm

Made of cotton and steel, this heart's been built up on a cherry hill

Looking out and above the trees, the sky giving off its natural hue

Life never seemed so sweet before, so much easier to walk out the door

Eyes clear and dry, voice withered to less than a sigh

The vanilla pages emptied into the wind, who knows when the ink will be used again

Ode to the Dreamer.......

My heart is racing, it's beats heightened from my dreams

The images run and hide from my eyes, too deep to redeem

I run to get my pen, but the ink has run dry

The words in my head slowly fizzle and die

The world that I enter when I close my eyes

Has me short of breath, waking with a cry

The heat from the sweat gathered in those intense sets

Is too much for my body to recycle and reset

So I lie here unstirred until the beats dissipate

I close my eyes, envision and renegotiate

With my mind’s theatre and the tickets just sold

I beg the ticket master for the prior to be retold

Because sitting in this theatre without any memory from before

Leaves the dreamer empty handed with a mind so sore

Fighting to break those mental blocks

Has me wondering if these dreams are stored in some cerebral lock box

Ode to the dreamer because I am one of you

I’ll lay here in my bed overheated and used

My mind just stole another story and left me here confused……

Feel-osophy

Volumes Filled

With Secrets Revealed

Lips Sealed

Not at all the Ideal

Making fiction a little more unreal

We only allow truth in segments at a cautious will

The Ink Unveils

What the Mind Wills

But cannot be said

By fear of what thoughts about objections other will be fed

So the thoughts lay dormant on paper and pen
Until the thinker gets the courage defend

Until the truth lays in front of subjective eyes
The words become intangible, and are but shallow lies

You cannot expect progressive change or revolution

When you hide unique creation with shallow substitution

A very sore sight for the creative mind
When they know the answer but chose to be blind

Emerson, Nietzsche, Thoreau, Whitman and Marx

All had their opinions on the Philosophy of the Arts

Emerson and Marx may have strayed
But Thoreau and Nietzsche to their minds they played

Multum in Parvo ‘much in part’

A small foreshadowing for a revolutionary and progressive start

Still two hundred years later most do not see

That life is a bit more simple when relating you heart to philosophy

It’s not the magnitude of the life you seek
It’s the intensity of the realization that makes your life a little less bleak

So instead of writing your pities or crying them out

Try to be optimistic……even simple……that’s what the great’s were all writing about

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    I have been burying my nose in Nietzsche’s writings for years but this month marks my fusion with Thoreau and his thoughts on Escapism and Naturalism. Don’t you find it a tad bit interesting that 5 of the great classic thinkers were in the same area in the early 1800’s? I mean they attended the same cocktail parties and social gatherings. They read the same newspapers and lived the same lives.

Whitman, Melville, Emerson, Hawthorne, and Thoreau lived in the same area of Concord at some point in their essential lives. Amoung the rest of society they just happened to be men that were more outspoken or mad, but to the rest of the literary world they have become intellectual idols. We have lived by their mottos, their words for almost two centuries. They all died unappreciated and more or less unknown. Why is it that the people that influence us the most in life have to be intangible? Why must they die first for us to take their “living” more seriously? Irony, right?

 Multum in Parvo- spoken by Thoreau. “Much in Part”- it was his conviction that it is not the magnitude but the intensity of realization which counts in life. He insists on the contrary, that reform begins with the individual and that if men would only come to their sense society would, become what it should be. Live simply, think highly is what I get from his writings. It took a man secluding himself from society and placing himself in isolation for years by a pond….for people to take his words seriously and reform their own lives. Although he tried to break from society…..I just want to be a catalyst for change in a broken society. I don’t want to turn my back on it.

“We walk to lakes to see our serenity reflected in them; when we are not serene, we got not to them” –Henry David Thoreau.

Life can be as simple and beautiful as you want it to be. The more materials, possessions and burdens you place on yourself…..the more of the simplicity you lose. Life isn’t supposed to be some difficult task you were given, it’s supposed to be a gift for you to enjoy.

Live simply…….Think highly



Waste of Time......

A thought, one thought, one moment, one action, one idea……can cause a monumental change in the way you process your thoughts, your psyche…..in essence you. That’s happened to me before; it’s happened to you, it’s happened to each of us. When you’re just sitting there thinking, sometimes, you think hmmm I could do this or that’s just not me, there is no way I’d be interested it that, or there’s no way I’m strong enough for that. Then one day you just adjust, something inside you ignites and something changes. We aren’t meant to understand it, but the strongest of us are the ones that are able to adapt to the change. The ones of us that are inspired to embrace the unobserved and new.

I look back on some of the decisions I have made, and some of the ones I haven’t yet made. I look back on the things I once found pleasure in, and the things I still don’t. I look at the people who shaped my being, the people that touched my heart, and the people that broke it. And I appreciate every step I’ve taken. When you let your body and mind hold in hate for people then you only hurt yourself. I have been there, I have been broken, and we all have. But at some point you have to let go, you have to know that there was a reason, you have to know that life goes on. Everyone seems to welter in their own pain, forgetting that we all go through the same progressions at different rates and different speeds in this short life. The longer you let the past inhibit the present, the longer your mind will be stifled and congested with unnecessary baggage. So just let it go, let it all just float out into the universe. You had it for long enough, let someone else deal with it. It’s made you grow, right? Let someone else learn from it. Some of the most uninspired moments in my life were spent dwelling on old arguments, old loves, and old news. Get over it, best advice anyone ever gave me. Life goes on, and on, and on, and on. And whatever it is that you think is so horrendous in your life at the moment, I can almost guarantee you that someone has been through far worse, so stop being selfish.

People are so accustomed to keeping negative influences in their life. We congratulate those that don’t as if it’s a myth to be able to let our baggage go. We award it, it’s almost if we put it in a scrapbook and honor it every day. I mean what is it about being human that makes us so attached to misery. If you had a job and you hated it and you got fired, then why are you upset? Why feel like a failure, you didn’t belong there anyhow. If you loved someone, and they broke your heart, don’t find comfort and solidity in them for the next five years just because you’re afraid to let go. Just because you loved someone or something doesn’t mean you owe the rest of your life to that memory. You can appreciate something and love it, and when it no longer makes you happy ….let it go. No one is going to judge you if you don’t look back, they will probably be jealous of the strength you possess to simply walk away. I think it’s probably the hardest thing for most of us and it should be the easiest. Something makes you unhappy…..walk away. Don’t return, don’t grieve, and don’t make a memory bank. Move on, let it go, appreciate it while it lasted and……let it go.

Then again the most inspirational moments in my life have been in times of complete freedom from regret or anxiety. Worrying about trivial matters is just a way of resisting movement. We get bored in our everyday lives so we fixate on these things that don’t mean anything to us, we find something to worry about, gossip about, talk about, and criticize. We find anything that will take our mind of what matters; we find comfort in the old so that we don’t have to adjust to the new. All it does in stifle time and lag it along until you’re ready to face reality. What’s the point, you may as well get to work?

It’s a very disgusting thing, such a waste of time. All the time I have spent worrying about the actions of others, worrying about people’s perception of me, worrying about nothing, worrying about issues I created in my own mind. Such a waste. If I could take all that time back and create something worth meaning, create something positive, really just create anything I’d take back all that wasted time in a heartbeat. But I know now what I didn’t know then, so I’ll just start all over again.

To All That Doubt

There is something to be said,
How you seem to have misread.

Misread..... what it is exactly that you think I am,

Maybe how you thought I’d give a damn.

You stifle your own fears and place them on me,

You blame them on my break with the rules of society.

You tell me I am not doing enough,

That I am making excuses…..

But....excuses for what

I get your fear; I get your resistance to my choices and goals

But I don’t expect you to get it, Dear

We have been life type-casted into two very different roles.

So just stand aback, be bewildered and perplexed.

I promise you, my path is a warranted choice, not some heinous vex

I am actually great as of late

If you really took the time to look at me

Then I think you would finally see

The person you fear for and sometimes pity

Actually pities you, and the light in me that you are not able to see

So next time you want to judge

Exactly what it is that you deem is your expertise to stand higher than

Remember I am stronger than you........ in the fact that I am absolutely confident in what I do, and who I am.

So keep your judgmental eyes off the axis that is paralleled with me

And point them inward, and let your own insecurities finally be freed

Transit.....

I’ve been reading a lot lately. Books about things, books about places, books about people’s self actualizing journeys across the globe, books that make me …….feel. And I feel like I’ve left my fair share of footsteps throughout the world’s continents but every time I find myself back home ….. and I always want more. I start thinking, fantasizing, and planning these epic journeys in my mind. These thoughts fill my dreams, they fill my days, man they fuel my daydreams and they send me off into tangent thinking throughout my entire day.

I don’t actually believe in empty moments……you know? Those moments when you ask someone, “Hey what are you thinking about” and they respond “Oh, nothing.” I don’t think I have ever had an “Oh, nothing” moment in my entire life. I mean, really, are there actual moments where your mind just sits on a bench and takes a break. That’s a reality, or is it just a notion? I mean hell, if my thoughts took a break maybe I wouldn’t be so hyped up every single waking moment. I feel like if something isn’t on my mind, or I’m not thinking about something then I’m wasting ……space? I don’t know, I feel restless, I feel strange. I have too many ideas, and creations throughout one day that I cant even write fast enough to catch them before I forget they even existed somewhere in my cerebral world.  My mind must be exhausted.

So any way’s these books I’ve been reading. This one specifically that I’m reading right now by Stevenson is called Grounded it’s about this couple that lives in DC. They become completely bored with their daily routine, the same coffee shops every morning, the same tired conversations with co-workers they have nothing in common with, the same bars visited when they need to relieve stress. So they pick up, they quit their jobs, they take all their belongings and they store them. They decide to circumnavigate the world without any air transportation. Believe me the book reveals some interesting stories when it comes to travelling the courses of seven seas. Anyhow the book is just another catalyst for my mind to catch a wave on another wavering tangent. I feel like, yes, I do travel a bit, yes I am lucky to have seen what I have, but I want more.

Maybe these 2 to 3 month backpacking trips are just preparing me for something bigger. Maybe after my winter season in Vail I can save up and really take a trip. One where I load up all my important belongings, sell the rest and just hit the road. Where too you ask? No clue, my ideas on that change every day. Especially when it comes to reading travel books or checking out travel sites. I can always see myself in every examined destination.

 Reading about surfing in Bali totally relates to me because I could see myself out in the ocean waiting to catch the perfect wave until sunset, only coming in to grab a plate of traditional Balinese food on the beach. Waiting around to watch the monkeys hop around while trying to scam me out of my food. Then again reading about working a boarding season in France is totally up my alley as well, because there’s nothing more amazing than spending days waking early and hitting fresh powder until your legs go numb. Or I could easily see myself chasing music festivals across the world, and working in the crew schlepping music farers around the festival grounds on a golf cart with three well working wheels, and one ancient wooden one.

I want to go somewhere different, I mean completely out of my element. I want to go somewhere! Somewhere where my mind, my body, and my ideas are challenged and I’m completely out of my norm. Where too then…..where too?

Morning Light......

The morning light sits stagnant on the dust covered floor, becoming this incessant pool of orange that in the dusk I sometimes deplore.

 It is just another thing that I have seen so many times before, it’s just a signal to most that it’s time to rise and walk out the door.

But I irritate the restrictive signal by laying here for some while; it’s not as if there is some wake up guideline chart that I am here to defile.

I'm no catylst to the progression of change, I embrace it, but I am asking for a few hours to possibly be rearranged.

The Brown walls and sheer green curtains seem to be unfastened to the pooling of light. It is as if the sheerness invites the plight.

It’s as if the photos and paintings on the walls are luminescent as they are lit up by the sight.

But I bury myself deeper under the sheets as if to say no, no to the daily succession because I am not ready to let go.

Not ready to rid myself of the dreams from the night before, not yet ready to progress to a new day and what it has in store, feeling as if I have seen it all before.

But as expected, Here it goes, feet planted to the ground, moving slowly not to make a sound.

I get myself unbound and rewound for the routine of what is approaching me. It is not really as awful as I make it seem.

My life is open, my day’s are free, most of the time I am reading or just being.
But then again I hate to wake up when I am not ready; I wish the sun would hold it steady.

Maybe it could wait to intrude just this small space; it just seems to much a waste.
Maybe it could let me complete that one last night’s dream, it may be more important than it seemed.

Once upon a desert Night......

I had this idea while sleeping under the stars, in a desert with a dry heat that makes Austin look cold. I had this idea that I like the way I feel........

I like the way I see things intensely. I like the way I feel about my life, my friends, my relationships with the world around me......

Have you ever seen " numbness", I know we have all felt it, but look around. More and more people are "numb"......they are walking around completely void of any feelings whatsoever. It's tragic.

I look around, I sit, I walk, I write, I listen, and I see so many sleepwalkers. That’s the ironic pleasure of being a freelancer. Your days sometimes may seem empty but just “being” in public and watching the world revolve around you can be exhausting to the mind. I just got back from a trip to the desert. I spent 5 days with 7 amazing friends. Spent 4 nights under the Chisos Mountain's stars, and opened my mind a little more so than it already is. Sometimes I feel like if I open my mind any more that I'll cave right into it, unable to escape, and becoming a mad women to the outside world. But unlike so many at least I'll have some feeling on the situation and I may even enjoy the madness, ok, so I would definitely enjoy the madness.

 So many people sleep away their lives just waiting to be awoken. As if one day an eternal clock is going to alarm them into feeling. People just waiting, waiting to feel anything, like they may have used too, or waiting to feel anything at all. Always waiting for someone or something to come along and shed light into their lives. Standing in line at the local supermarket daydreaming about things they think will never happen, sitting in traffic hoping for the day to be over, taking a longer shower than usual just to escape the daily routine that awaits you beyond the bathroom door.

Even at this moment, writing these words, I'm perched up on my favorite stool at Whole Foods (my second home), and I can see numbness in so many eyes in scares me. It's as if its become some kind of disease that takes on the average person as their youth slips away. After some time, after natural daily routine, after the cubicle has gotten the best of many, it is as if people give up on movement.

 Life shouldn't work like that. It’s fleeting, and it’s always one step in front of you. You may choose to chase it for answers, but you will never catch it and along the way you will waste months, years, even decades. What seems a long life is really a short life in such an infinite space so why waste even a moment. The only way to awake is to move, move things around in your mind, redecorate your thoughts, your lines, and your barriers. Start looking instead of seeing, start moving instead of letting your routine map out your life, listen instead of just being in attendance of your life.

 Just because your living doesn’t mean you are, alive. After all living is what life is about, right?

My biggest fear is that one day I'll start to believe everyone when they tell me that I need to settle down, I need to commit, I need to choose a path, I need to choose a favorite color. I like to rearrange my likes and dislikes. It works for me, change looks good on me, I think it looks good on most people. If you go numb, and can't even feel your own thoughts and dreams.....how is anyone else supposed to 'feel' about you.

All of those urges in the back of your mind, maybe they aren’t so crazy, start listening to them before you wake up one day in silence, unable to move, completely blank of creativity. Immobility of the mind and body, that is something to fear my friends. Change on the other hand is not, embrace it. You never know, it may change your life, it may change many. But either way its movement, it’s progressive. Do not let your mind digress; don’t let your dreams die. A world without change, without imagination, without movement. It’s a beige beige world and the people there are epically bored. Believe me no one wants to live there…..so move.

I sit....

 

 

I sit down, trying to focus on what it is I want to convey, what it is I want to accomplish with the next dozen of lines, what it is I need to delve from my head and smear across pages, what it is that I think I know. Writing is this literal and verbal upheaval that almost cleanses your head. So in all those thoughts about what I’d say about life, about "my" life, about "their life", and "the life" I decided instead I'd write about .......

What is this secular obsession with perfection?

When did it become such a disaster to unveil your imperfection?

When did we commence to alter time and age?

Is this the change, or is this just a phase?

When did we all become judges?

When did our clothing start defining who we are?

When did our group of friends define our mindset?

When did we let media dictate our opinions on politics, world affairs and sports?

When did we all become so tuned in, that we literally became so tuned .......OUT?

It seems really that it’s more of us changing, than it is of the world changing.

The only way to change the world is to change the way we view it.

And it seems that most of us are too busy rushing through it to notice the incomprehensible damage we are causing our own futures.

So, I guess I’ll just stop, stare, marvel, and appreciate the little things.

Because tomorrow they will be gone

And we will still be rushing past

And I’m not ready to give up on today

A Biker's Philosophy

I  have this idea that when fate decides to charm you with its faulty presence, others see it in your face. 

They see it in your actions, through your words, and beaming from your eyes.

Something about you becomes illuminated and ever more attractive. 

A light in your eyes draws the weary in.

Something about your words fill others' ears with inspiration and ideas.

The graced fateful for the time that fate bestows them, become catalysts for change.

They stir emotion and raise voices.

The make the quiet not so quite. 

They make the colorful more vibrant.

In a world of grey they shed light. 

Even if just for a moment in an infinite space, the light up.....

Although their light may become bleak with routine after time

For just that moment they created something.

They made emotion become motion.....in a world of still minds..

-G-

I'm beginning to think the things going on around me are ever more linked than before. Fate has its way of working through hard times and showing us the light in the good times. Not that I could allow fate to take all credit for my life's blessings. Much of it comes from hard work, ambition and taking the time to open the doors that are left locked to us. I'll have to say that the last year has been an amazing up rise to a low tide from years before. I think it took me awhile to really find my strengths and weaknesses and allowing myself to be completely alone to figure out how to use both characteristics to my advantage. Whole foods, Yoga, Art, Biking and Music have sent me into a year of creation that I haven't had yet, I'm going to stay on the wake until the wave crashes but i am hoping it will stay with me for awhile. Life's to f***ing short to blend in, eat too little, move minimally, or spend with people that are f***ing boring or judgemental. It's all about luminescence my Love's, its all about the stage, and it's all about believing in yourself even when other's don't.

Sunday Mornings

Its been a bit since I have written on this blog. My journal has been spoiled while travelling but I figured I'd divulge in some online spattering for a moment. It’s a typical Sunday morning. I’m sitting on my roof, listening to the sounds of morning. Not so much enjoying the wet feeling of humidity on my skin, but nonetheless performing the every Sunday routine of early morning writing on the roof. Another weekend, another 7 day weeks passed. Except I’m not 26 and no longer 25. I think with most people, we are creatures of habit, we find comfort in performing the same tasks over and over, indulging in the same or similar activities and staying in touch with those close to us on a daily to weekly update. Sometimes I find it hard to write because I feel like my words are just updates on an old article I’ve written several hundreds of times in my journal that over the years may only show difference with the choices of words. But nonetheless I write….why? Because I too am a creature of habit.

Sometimes I ask myself, what it is exactly that I am supposed to be getting out of my life. It’s beautiful in its own sincere messy way, but either direction that I chose I feel societal pressure. Not that it matters because I have never been one to really give into pressure for what’s right or wrong, I’ve always done pretty well at standing on my own opinions. But when you see things changing around you, friends, your city, your own skin, things become a little less than…..Ideal. I want to make the right decisions, if there are right decisions, but I have gotten to a point where making, ANY, decision scares me to death. I don’t want to make the wrong decision, I feel like I’ve made many in my past. Although none to blame because every road I have taken has led me exactly to the point I am now, and I am pretty happy with the person I have become and the life that I am leading but I am just afraid I have gotten to a point where believing in fate leading the path is a bit juvenile. Is this me growing up? Or is this me embracing change? I really don’t know anymore. People ask me so what now? I have no idea. I have been jet setting my way around change the last four years. When things become mundane I fly to Spain, or take a boat to the Bay Islands, or walk around Argentina for air. Travel, art, love, color, photography: all elements that diffuse any type of pessimism from the outside world . Any time I feel any type of negativity seeping in I turn to those elements to coddle my fears. I find contentment and achievement in the extreme elements of life, not something I am willing to give up at any age. Life is about the movement.

So do I stay now, or do I run. Do I embrace change, or do I try to manipulate it? Do I give in or do I stand my ground? I hate labels but I’d have to classify my think as a Realist suffused in Romanticism but can u be both? I want to be.

Ideally I’d like to be a realist

Realistically I’d like to be an idealist

How many times a day would you have to look up at the sky

Before it began to look back down on you

Is it novice to pray in terms of mindful disputes?

Is it logical to believe in fate or is just another fairy tell we are told when young

Is it just another topic that seems to be written about in books or in songs, sung?

What is it that we are supposed to grasp for support?

We are just left in this unstable and vague rapport

The more questions I try to diffuse

The more answers I seem to be refused

I run from the end of the world and back

But upon my expected arrival nothing has changed, and the answers I still lack

The unexpected is enlightening

Keeps things exciting

Maybe I like the chase

Is it a waste?

Does it just stall the inevitable?

Or is the inevitable, unpredictable?

More questions, less answers, more ideas, more letters

Letters that form words, that form sentences that form books

Books about nothing in particular, books about nothing read

My thoughts fill pages upon pages, nothing really to be said

That’s it…..

No answers, no aid, no structure

Just lines

Upon Lines

Upon Lines

Of endless and unanswered questions….

Let it rain...........

The clouds move in, the temperature drops
It seems like the world around you has begun to slow and stop

The streets grow slow, the lights turn low
People seem to come and go

All at once, the feeling has lost and found you again
Where you feel like you just can’t win
But the feeling seems calming as the rain hits the tin


The roof top plays your favorite beats
The beads of water gather at your feet


Standing, dancing in the rain
All insanity, not at all, lost in vein

It’s a foreign feeling when you fall for the rain
But then again I was never the one to obtain


The definition of normality
Always served with a small side of insanity


So I sit staring over the balcony as the rain falls to the ground
At once feeling somehow safe and sound

Standing, dancing, moving with the wind
Nothing left around for me to defend


Words, thoughts, opinions all owned in my mind
A time where the world becomes blind


To what it is I do in my own time
A chance for me to stop, to pause, to rewind

So let it fall on me, let the rain fall with purpose
Let the sky open and the sea fall in surplus

Never let it dry, never let it cease
Because it’s too much of an addictive release

With every drop spilt,
There is a little more of me that's dealt

A little more of me is opened up, and as my pores begin to seep
I gain the courage to walk the edge of sanity, and take a leap