Wishin' I Didn't Have Intuition

My insides were in knots today, that is not to say that they haven't been for quite some time now, but today was different. Today had that feeling in the pit of your gut where you just knew something was wrong. Not with me, but something, it was the nervous butterfly feelings except that the butterflies were evil and trying to destroy me. It is a very specific feeling for me, when I just know and I have only ever felt this feeling a few times prior to this day. Again, I stress, I am not ill, and this is far more than the stomach in knots of heartache or nervousness, this was a deep knowing that something was wrong. I, of course, had an idea as to what was causing this awful feeling, but now that I am home, I can't bring myself to look into it. After all, if my suspicions were correct then that would only lend more validity to my terrible gut feeling and if there was nothing to be found, then I run the risk of suspecting something worse that I can not possible know. I have no proof, no way of ever knowing what or if this feeling was caused by, all I know is that when it does mean something, it is never good. The last time I felt this feeling so strongly was right before learning of infidelity in a previous relationship, but being that I am single this time around I can only assume it has to do with someone I deeply care for. I may never know the cause, nor can I be certain there was one at all, but I know that at the very least tonight I had a new first in my life. That feeling twisted and ached at my insides so hard tonight that at one point I actually vomited, I had a tremendous physical reaction to a tremendous emotional and instinctual feeling. It was in some ways embarrassing, but looking back on it, it was rather fascinating. After I expelled what little I had inside me I felt better for a moment, but the feeling did return. Now as I write this it has gone back to be the normal twists and knots and anxiety I have been feeling for awhile and that I can deal with. I suppose now I only hope that whatever it was that happened, that is has passed and I won't have to feel that awfulness again.

Those Stories Plus

Some things take a long time to learn, some lessons are ever-changing, the teacher that is experience does not grade on a curve. Experience also rarely gives you time to study before the test, but you are given a lifetime to go back and check your answers, only for partial credit of course. All too often, especially when pertaining to things we really want, we often expect others note's to be the same as ours, but experience does not teach the same way twice. This seems to be especially true the further the age difference between our fellow life classmates become. I have been struggling with patience, a rather surprising outcome seeing as I am readily viewed, by myself and others, to be astoundingly patient. It seems I cannot understand why I have reached a certain point in my lessons, but many others are far behind, or reading from an entirely different book. It is with this that I must regain patience, I remember my teacher that was experience from four years ago, a teacher that saw me out of a long relationship, that helped me write a book, that allowed me to burn some bridges and build new ones as well. At that time, experience led me through courses I did not ever expect to take, curriculum that was foreign, but exciting and fun. It led me on a path that granted four more years of learning and love and incredible companionship. Sure, stresses and hard times raged about like ever-present storms, but after the class is dismissed and you look back through the weather, everything truly was amazing. So many new friends, so many rekindled relationships and so much love, crazy stupid love, as if any other kind were possible. Now I sit, four years after the most recent course started, wondering why I sit alone. I passed, not with flying colors by any means, none of us do, but surely I do not deserve detention for my behavior. I am not in detention though, I am simply outside the classroom waiting for another to start. I also wait for those who have just begun their early 20 courses, because I cannot help them cheat, but I can help with answers. While I wait I just need to remember patience, I feel I know where my next course is, I have picked out a major if you will, I know what I want and what I want to do. Now it is simply about listening, learning new lessons, and not trying to hurry my classmates through their own lessons. I leave you all with a section of dialog from one of my favorite TV shows of all time. A show called Sports Night, I feel it very accurately details my current feelings and ideas.


Casey: Technically, I have a plan.
Dan: What's the plan?
Casey: It's Napoleon's plan.
Dan: Who's Napoleon?
Casey: A 19th century French emperor.
Dan: You're cracking wise with me now?
Casey: Yes.
Dan: Thanks.
Casey: He had a two-part plan.
Dan: What was it?
Casey: First we show up, then we see what happens.
Dan: That was his plan?
Casey: Yeah.
Dan: Against the Russian army?
Casey: Yeah.
Dan: First we show up, then we see what happens.
Casey: Yeah.
Dan: Almost hard to believe he lost.

I Am A Leaf On The Wind

For those of you who aren't complete nerds like me, this post is about serenity, but if you got that from the title alone I give you 1 million points. Unfortunately no, not the movie, or the series Firefly, but true and actual, serenity. I have found through years of living and many hardships within them, that the calm doesn't always come before the storm. Sometimes, when the storm is large enough, when it rages harder and more fearsome than you would have ever thought possible, there is no calm to warn you of its approach. Storms of that nature must be allowed to rage on through the night, or day, or week, sometimes longer, but if you are allowed to let the storm just get it out of its system, that is when the calm comes. The calm after the storm, when narrow beams of light shine through a still mostly gray sky. When everything smells like rain and worms, but a good kind of worm smell. When you realize the storm has past, serenity is then allowed to blossom. There will always be storms, and many will often be prefaced by an eerie calm, but that is a false sense of peace. The true peace, the serenity of life, is to be a leaf on the wind, falling gently onto the ground after the storm. The calm after the storm, is where the journey begins.

A Word On Words

A long time ago, I can't exactly say when, but people started to regularly use the word conversate, I don't know why, or how it spread, but it seems that everyone thought that was a real word and that it meant "to talk to someone." It was, at least at the time, incorrect, the correct word for such a situation is converse, but so many people said it wrong for so long, nowadays, conversate is actually recognized as a real word. Now don't get me wrong, I am all for slang terms being recognized as real words, but conversate does not fall into that category. Conversate was never slang, it was a word born from the collective ignorance of the masses, and that is not something that should be encouraged.

Other words and modern languages have very readily found their way into our everyday vernacular, but again, those are usually formed within a certain sub-culture then brought into the mainstream. Ebonics and 1337 speak are acceptable formats to me, they are recognized methods of communication that have at least to some extent, branched out to enrich, or over-complicate. Which of those things it has done is a whole different post altogether, my beef at the moment is with conversate. By allowing such a word to exist, we opened the flood gates for people to no longer be forced to know what they are say. A world where we pander to those who don't know better, because the masses ultimately win the influence. It started with conversate, but now I hear so many more words regularly that are simply wrong. During a commercial today the word funner was used and I was taken aback by it. Admittedly, funner is recognized as word, but it is still improper to say and use. Funner, like conversate, only became acceptable because nobody ever bothered to correct people. I propose that we strive to keep this from happening more and more, otherwise, with time, nothing will mean anything because everything will be acceptable.

If you want to be taken seriously, you should have to know what you are saying, and I don't feel as if enough people take such a skill into consideration. Sure, it is just words, but to a person like me, words are my weapons and my armor, so I treat them as such. I also expect others to wield these weapons with the same care as I do. I know that generally doesn't happen, but as long as the pen, or keyboard, remains mightier than the sword, people really should pay more attention.

Absinthe Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Tonight was a very special night for me, a night that I waited for and looked forward to for years. Still I drink alone. I toasted to the past and what might have been, the future and what will be, and the present for how it must be. Still I drink alone. A promise I was not allowed to keep, but I serve the spirit of it still.

I took a single shot tonight, perhaps the most meaningful single shot I have ever taken. It was never meant to be taken alone, a special drink designed strictly for this night. I could not let it go to waste  however, I had to drink my end of the deal, but I also could not take the second shot in the stead of whom it was meant for. I toasted and tried, knocked it back and promptly cried. "Why!" The universe however, is never one for quick responses and while I wait, vigilantly listening, I will keep the spirit of this day, and all the others that are special to me, even when it brings more sorrow than joy. One for me, and one lay untouched, waiting for an undetermined future, and so tonight I drink alone.

I hope that any of the few who read this are not turned away by it, I assure you that my blogs will return to normal after this, at least for a while, but this was simply something I needed to pound out through the keys.

The Circle Of Life Doesn't Often Come With A Song

Yesterday I had to do something that I never imagined I'd have to do. A friend called me up, saying she had 5 baby bunnies that had been abandoned by there mother, and she wanted me to think of a good quiet, nice place to leave them to die in. She had already called pet stores and nature centers and all possible outlets to help these baby animals. Everyone said that baby bunnies difficult to take care of and keep alive, even if you do everything right. They had also said that mother rabbits don't often abandon their young unless they are sickly and going to die anyway, or the mother herself has been killed. Mind you, these bunnies were very much babies, their eyes were barely open and doubtfully more than a week old or so. I any case, all the information she had gotten painted a pretty bleak picture for the little guys and seeing as, for reasons far to complicated to explain, she could not put them back where they were found, she asked me to find them a place to die. We took them to a park near my house, wandered into some trails and found a nice little spot for them. I gathered leaves and grass and made a bed for them, then we set them in it, covered them and walked away. It was a strange experience and even stranger feeling, just leaving something to die. It makes me wonder how people can do that to each other, how someone could harm another person, then walk away and leave them to die. Sure it is not a regular occurrence, but it happens, and having experienced the feeling of knowing you've just sentenced some living things to death on a bunny scale, I shutter to think how it would feel on a human scale. I plan to go check on the bunnies today, but I doubt I will find any of them still alive. I suppose I have learned that I, at least on a small mammal level, am able to do what is needed, even if it stinks to do so. That is something I suppose, but I hope my resolve on such matters is never tested on larger mammals.

God, The Universe, Or Whatever You'd Like To Call It

This whole week has been filled with difficult choices, the most pressing of which was a job offer that I ultimately turned down. Had I taken it, I would have been on the road today, being paid to travel across the country and install seating into stadiums and other venues. The job would have paid me triple what I make now, and all my travel would have been free, the experience would have been amazing. I was offered the job on Tuesday, along with a good friend that I currently work with, so we had only a few short days to decide. Long story short, despite all of the positives to the job, it was a huge risk seeing as the job was only guaranteed to last until the end of the summer and leaving on Friday would mean I'd have to straight quit my current job with no hope of returning if all fell through. Both myself and my friend chose to decline, and it was the correct decision, though I wish it was not the case. Oddly enough, on Friday, that day we would have left, my friend received news of a transfer at work that he had been waiting on for over 6 months, a sort of cosmic reward for making the responsible, right decision. I however, gained no such award, in fact, Friday I lost many things.

The most obvious being that my good friend will no longer be working with me because his transfer finally came through, and although I am happy for him, work will be that much more miserable without him. The not so obvious loss I faced was something few would notice, even now if they spoke to me, but Friday I truly lost a piece of myself. The pieces that hold us together throughout human interactions, the kind of glue that can only be formed by great caring, love, and friendship. A piece of my heart, if you will, though the cliche pains me to use. The one who took it, though I hate to part with it, may have it willingly. It will always be her's anyway, so I suppose I can't expect to keep it. It hurts and I feel the void of it, but I suppose that is the point. To have a void in which to fill with my own personal goals and aspirations, not those of someone else.

I can't help but wonder if this is a gift or a curse from the universe, God, or whatever you want to call it. My current self is inclined to believe it to be a curse, though I know better in actuality. It has the potential to go either way, and I do have the next move. I am sad, I am pained, another great piece of me is gone, but I am hopeful. Throughout every storm, my stubbornness prevails, and I am determined to accomplish my new goals, goals I am not yet ready to share with my keyboard, goals that are brewing and growing in the back of my mind. Perhaps someday they will be translated to fingertips so those who wish may read and understand them, but for now, just know that I have direction, I am wounded, but my path is clearing. So I carry on, stubbornly walking upon badly sprained ankles, but in a way, I doubt I'd be satisfied doing it any other way.