Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Again I find myself at a tipping point of life. A fulcrum of decision with fear at my back and faith facing forward. Not a faith in God, or some higher power, but a faith from within. A faith that I will find the strength, through others and my own self, to journey ever forward on the fulcrum. Tipping the scales in favor of faith, not fear, but when the fear at my back comes tumbling toward me I must call upon my years of gaming experience to jump over it like Mario would one of Donkey Kong's barrels. I expect a difficult journey, I don't expect to always like the answers I find or the paths I must take. I hope that others will join me on this journey, though seldom being able to fix what ails me, companionship is the most helpful thing on difficult journeys. To some, this analogy holds far truer than to others, but I have always been Samwise to anothers Frodo and now I must carry the ring and all I ask for is fellowship. There will be dark days, but there will be bright wonderful ones as well, but I promise it will all be worth it. For those of you who do not know me, or cannot join me on my quest, keep the faith, in yourselves, and I will see you when I return from Mordor.

Lenny Bruce Is Not Afraid

People keep talking about the supposed "Judgment Day" that will be upon us come Saturday. There has been a large billboard near my work proclaiming this for months now, but now that the date is actually on the horizon, everyone seems to be talking about it. Now, I don't know a single person who actually believes that anything will happen on Saturday, but everyone seems to have something to say about the people who do believe it. I don't care what people believe, faith and belief seem to be necessary parts of most human conditions, even atheists believe, a belief in nothing, in some ways seems as if it would take greater faith. The problem comes from when you erect billboards telling people to repent because Judgment Day is on May 21st. Most right-thinking adults can dismiss this kind of thing, but I can only imagine how many children are going to go to sleep tonight afraid that the world will end on Saturday. That just does not seem right to me.

Saturday will come and go, Sunday will arrive and those who believed the rapture would carry them into Heaven will undoubtedly find some excuse as to why they were wrong. It happens all of the time, not even exclusively with religion, it seems like every decade or so, we are facing the end of the world. Whether it be from nukes, terrorists, swine flu, aliens, Y2K or God, something is always out to end humanity. At first it didn't make a lot of sense to me, but I think I finally come to grips with why this phenomenon happens. You see, as a race in general, people are very selfish and in need of feeling important or special somehow. We all do it, we all want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves, or at least feel like we were. We share a collective ego that pushes humanity further into greatness and turmoil that will most likely be the cause of our undoing, whenever it may be. If you think about though, that need to be special, to be a part of something, is exactly why the world is always ending. What bigger boost to the collective ego of humanity could there be than front row seats to the apocalypse? Being the last humans is far more meaningful than being any other kind of humans. It would be, in some respects, a great honor to be among the last living people of the Earth.

So, I assume that until something greater than the end of the world comes along, people will continue to, at least subconsciously, wish to be alive for the end of it all. Children will continue to fret, and right-thinking adults will continue to mock, but I do not see things ever changing much, not until the end really is upon us. The weekend will come and pass, but hey if you needed an excuse to live life to the fullest, then tomorrow should be when you start. Live it up everyone, because the world will not end on Saturday, but you never know what day will be your last.

Two Wrongs Make Me Write

I wish I could say that the title of this entry was true, however, it is often far more than two wrongs that actually make me write. I've never been quite sure as to why, but I do know that inspiration finds me most often when things are most grim. I am very aware of all the possible reasons for this, I just have not ever been able to narrow done precisely which one applies to me. Unnecessary tangents aside, due to a wonderful cocktail of emotional lows, little sleep and copious amounts of caffeine, my newest writing project once again has life! It started out as a strange bit of inspiration, something I could barely grasp and I merely felt I needed to get out of my head, regardless of quality. The working title of the project (up until this point) has been, Something Beyond My Abilities, but now, now I finally have direction. It is refreshing to feel this again, it makes me feel the same way I did while writing my first book. I still have a very long journey ahead of me, but I finally feel I have a map, or at least a piece. A piece is all I really need because I have found that once I start down a path, these things tend to write themselves. I may, at random intervals, post chunks of said project on this blog, as a way of reminding myself and keeping the story fresh.

Dostoevsky had once said, "Deprived of meaningful work, men and women lose their reason for existence; they go stark, raving mad." Perhaps I have now found what I need to stave off the madness. I can only hope that this project does not lose its luster and that it continues to be meaningful, if to no one but myself. I suppose at this venture, I'm the only one it should have meaning to.

Tonight has been productive, but now it is time for much needed sleep. Goodnight, good morning or good afternoon, just covering all the bases. 

Press Shuffle

Tonight has been rough, I have had very little sleep and a long day of work, the combination usually makes for even longer, sleepless nights. I finally broke down, swallowed my pride, and called the "24 hour help service" that my works provides. 2 a.m. walking in the rain, knowing most anyone I could call would be sleeping or working, or I already tried and nobody answered. I reached the point of no return and called the number on the card. Six rings, no answer, just a machine. . . No one was on the other line! The last resort, the one thing I was supposed to be able to count on ended up being a machine! It was laughable, in a way it may have helped more than any person could have. Still, I was pretty down and out at that point, the rain picked up a bit so I put my hood up and turned to another machine for guidance.

I pulled my iPod out of my pocket, put the headphones on and simply pressed shuffle. Now, I don't know if Skynet became self-aware while I was at work today, but my iPod seemed to know exactly the songs I needed to hear, even songs I had forgotten about. I continued walking in the rain, now screaming out lyrics to familiar and long forgotten songs. My lungs burned and my throat cracked by the end of it all, but I truly felt peaceful. Not exactly better, but at peace, serenity in song.

I've always found it amazing how people relate to music and how it can brighten or dampen virtually any mood. Maybe that is why songs lyrics litter social networking sites, it allows people to express how they feel without actually saying it to anyone and in words that they may have otherwise never chosen. Music and lyrics are powerful weapons, weapons that we let so many wield. I wonder if those who wield, the very skilled from the beginner, know how important their weapons are in humanities fight against itself. Those who are unarmed use the wielder's skills as armor, a voice to say the things they cannot, or dare not speak aloud.

Now I sit here, serenity still entwined, hope to find rest soon and a better day upon its' heels. As I stare at my computer screen and prepare to post this, I realize that my night was accompanied by three machines. Three machines that kept me company and though they have done well, it truly is no substitute for people who care. Thank you to everyone who has been sticking it out with me these last few months, it does mean a lot.

Between The Lines, These Are Mine.

I broke tonight. Plain and simple, I broke. I was walking to get groceries at 1 a.m., an activity that was born from need for food and lack of working car. It was fine, a nice night for it, really I was rather looking forward to it. About halfway to my destination though, everything seemed to shatter. All I wanted to do was keep walking, leave everything and everyone behind without a trace. I fought through it and arrived at my destination, the entire world seemed in a haze, nothing was recognizable. I bought some essential supplies, more on autopilot than actually thinking about the purchases and then I left the store. Three bags, evenly distributed to minimize arm strain for the walk home. I started back the exact same way I came, but the world around me still seemed hazy and surreal. I passed by an old man riding a rascal scooter type machine and though seeing such a thing at nearly two in the morning was odd, I was more concerned about my perception of him. Now, sitting at my desk writing this, I can tell you that that man was real, but at the time I felt as if I could have kicked him in the face and he would have disappeared into a puff of smoke. I did not want to walk home, part of me feels like the only true reason I bought groceries was so I would have to return home to drop them off. I was a little over 3/4 the way home when everything collapsed down on me. Emotionally, mentally and physically I completely broke. I sat down, feeling as if it were the end, plastic bags lying at my feet, ready to just be done with everything. I truly believe I would have left my bags along the side of the road and just continued walking into the night had I not at that exact moment gotten a call from a friend. I am not a man of faith or religion and I do not believe in acts of God, however, that phone call was perhaps the closest thing I've ever experienced to these fabled "acts of God". Though the man who called me held even less stock in such things than I, so if it were an "act of God" the vessel that was chosen was not a willing participant in the act. How, or why I got the impossibly timed phone call, I have no idea, but I can say that I am certain I will feel this way again and I must find a way to control it. I cannot rely on well placed phone calls to save me forever.

P A R T Why? I Have No Idea.

I went to a party tonight, good people, good fun, low key. It was just a small group of us hanging out and enjoying each others company. I socialized, had some food, was in some pictures and played a strange dancing game. I am also quite sure there is a video of me playing this dancing game that will probably surface soon. Lucky for me, I don't get embarrassed, so if you see the video, please enjoy my feeble attempts at dancing with the Xbox Kinect. In any case, all was well, good times had by all, but then we changed venues and traveled to a far less low key gathering. It was claimed to be a bonfire, but it was a measly excuse for one and surrounding the supposed bonfire were over a dozen drunken dudes. All the ages varied I'm sure, but I have no doubt I was the oldest person there. In any case, those of us from the low key party barely knew anyone at the larger party and we never successfully melded into the already formed party collective. It was simply the same people I was with before, now with drunken strangers and added awkwardness. I guess I'm just not cut out for that kind of thing, I don't understand large parties in general. I'm sure by some standards I'd be considered lame, but low key situations where everyone knows everyone else just seem like better times overall. You don't need gimmicks to have a good time, not as long as you are with good friends. This post is rather uncharacteristic of me, but it is what is currently on my mind, so BOOM! Now it is in my blog.

The Loose Bolt Of A Complete Machine

I've always been good at playing my role. Good at helping people, being a friend, a boyfriend, anything, it just all came naturally to me. Compassion, understanding and empathy, I understood them all. I could know exactly the right thing to say to make someone feel better, or to bring them to tears or anger. Words have always been my bandages and my ammo, but words don't help me. I can't say anything to quell my mind, to find my way through the woods, nor can I say anything to hurt myself or bring myself down.

It has been almost two months since I have been walking these woods alone, and I am far more lost than I was before. Without someone else to focus on, someone I can help, I am forced to think only of myself. That, of course, is the point, but I still have no idea how to do that. I don't know how to focus on me, I have no words for me, no way to explain to myself where I should go from here. If it were anyone else, I could easily give good advice, but I truly do not know how I am going to help myself, help myself.

I have been putting others first for nearly a decade now, and it has been the greatest and most terrible thing I could have done. I am proud of the life that I lead and most of the things I did. I know I hurt people, but I know more often than not, I helped. Now however, having taken a backseat in my own life for so long, I no longer know what I want. Where do I begin? Hell, who am I? Putting myself first is so abnormal for me that I don't even really recognize myself. My mind fails me, my words fail me, often times my existence hinges on the fact that my stubbornness is the only thing that does not fail me. I must find answers, or moreover, I must find the questions first. It matters not that the meaning of life the universe and everything is actually 42, if we do not know the question, we can never understand the answer.

Weakened By The Weekend

When I was in school the weekends were simply two days when I didn't have to go to school. School didn't really hamper my ability to go and do things with friends or have a good time, if anything it helped me see people I wouldn't have otherwise. That sort of structure really made weekends nice, but not necessary. Now however, in adult life, with bills and stress and busy work schedules, weekends are often the only true free time we get. That being the case, it puts a lot of pressure on two simple days. Everyone always says have a good, or even great weekend or on Monday you'll be asked what you did on the weekend or if you had fun over the weekend. I know these are social niceties and people ask to be polite or start conversation, but more often than not if you tell someone you had a bad weekend or didn't do anything over the weekend, you can sense a split second of disappointment. Everyone wants everyone to have great weekends so it does stink to hear about one that was not so, but all that pressure, knowing you only have 48 hours until the routine begins again, often makes trying to relax very difficult.

I crammed so many activities into this past weekend that I actually was awake for over 30 hours trying to do it all. Do I regret this? Not at all, I am young and still very capable of going without much sleep. I will say though that even though I did absolutely everything I wanted to do, I had fun and saw many great people, I don't really feel good. More and more weekends are ending this way for me because using that time to do all the things I want to do with others, gives me almost no time to rest. I know I could just take a weekend day for myself, but it is hard when I only get so much time I'd rather spending it having fun than trying to relax. I guess all I am trying to say is that I feel bad for Saturday and Sunday, days that used to be carefree, now hold the weight of all other days on their shoulders. If Saturday and Sunday can't help you out, Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday and Friday often suffer. So, next weekend I plan to give them a break, no pressure, just go with the flow. Whatever happens, happens and whether I end up feeling better off or worse for wear won't make a bit of difference.