The closing hours...

So as the final hours of the year tick by, most everyone else is looking forward to the changing of the calendar with rapt anticipation and anxiousness befitting a four year old hopped up on sugar and soda the night before Christmas. It’s the same thing every year, everyone wants to wash away the misery and disappointment of the passing year and welcome with open arms the coming one, believing that it will finally be the year that they get the job they want, or the house they’ve been aiming for, or they’ll finally get the girlfriend or boyfriend they’ve been after, or even just that they’ll lose weight and get in shape. No matter the meaningless resolution, people still share how excited they are to welcome the new year and do away with the old one, with only a few showing thanks or appreciation for the trials they faced in the passing one.

For me, the year started with bleary eyed drunkenness and being carried to bed by Dean. Those days are done, and in some ways I’m sorry to see them go, in other ways I’m not even batting an eye that they’ve become a thing of the past. 2011 brought many challenges for me, and I managed to overcome and conquer each of them with style, grace, and a smidgen of dignity. I began the year desperately looking for another job, pining away to find some other means of employment and hoping against hope to find something, anything that was better, even marginally, than the employment I found at HP. That came in April. April was a big month for me, I got my own place, found the first job I’ve ever really loved, and I managed to do it all through my own grit and determination.

June cast a bit of a pallor on the year as the longest and most sordid chapter of my life came to an end, and while the pain and agony I endured from the fallout of that was something I thought would end me, I managed to survive and persevere into the next phase. I found some semblance of sanity from the ashes and I’m beginning to accept that despite my claims at being the embodiment of evil and carnal trickery in the universe, I’m actually a bit more decent than I would have other believe. Sadly the summer didn’t end its bad new and disappoint there but dropped a bomb on me that I’m still sorting through the results of. Dean has long been a living id for me, allowing me to live vicariously through his lack of tact and overall brashness, it was comforting to know that someone, anyone, existed in the world that hadn’t been sullied or brainwashed into behaving as expected just for the sake of doing it. But he found love and sadly, as happy as I am for him, with that new dynamic came a passing to ours. I’ve spoken to him only a handful of times since July and seen him twice. I guess even the longest running friendships run their course eventually. The most startling thing for me is that for the first time in about twelve years, I don’t have someone I can call my best friend. Kind of scary to know that you don’t have someone you can rely on implicitly.

That aside, the year was a big one. I found my dream job, I finally struck out on my own, and despite the odds of the universe seeming to conspire against me en masse, I managed to establish what so far has been a welcome change in romantic dynamics. So things are moving in the right direction, I’ve found my spiral as it were. I had a year of stress, headache, heartache, chaos, loss, longing, and disappointment but like the weary unwavering soldier I am, I carried on and I arrive at my current point. I’m not quite happy, but I’m getting there. Life is only getting better. I’m reminded of a toast I made with Eddie a couple of years back, I think over drinks at a Dave & Busters of all places, a midnight showing of some random movie, Eddie proposed that we toast to “Life only getting better” and at the time, in the back of my mind I reasoned that if I could just manage the insanity that was my day to day, and keep it consistent, I’d be content, but here I am, sometime later, and I find that my life has only gotten better, and remains on the uptick. Not to say that it isn’t without it’s setbacks and problems, but for the most part, I’m more prepared, less jaded, and more resilient, I’m wiser without being bitter.

I look forward to the new year, not because I want to deny the trials of the ending one, or even any of the ones that came before it, we are the culmination of the experiences we survive, and the end result of the challenges we overcome, and there is something beautifully noble in that, something admirable about admitting that we’re far from perfect but all the same we’re still working to find something close to it, and we’re willing to stumble, to fall and eat shit, to suffer and toil, to risk failure, just to find something more, to make what we have better. We are only as strong as we allow ourselves to be, and we owe it to ourselves to make every year, not just the new ones, the best we possibly can, to continue to strive to achieve more and make every day count. So it is with that thought in mind I propose a toast, “To life only getting better, every day, in every way. May we find happiness in uncommon places and be surprised at every turn by none other than ourselves and those we hold dear, and may life remain interesting, challenging, and fulfilling. To all of you my friends: love, laugh, enjoy life, and work at making each day, not just each year, better than the one that came before it.” Cheers.

The cost of decency...

There is something fundamentally obscene about the lengths we're willing to go to protect those we hold in the highest regard. Eventually all human dynamics with absolute investment break down because we have become a society, a culture, a people that are incapable of trusting one another completely. Those of us that can trust, that can love, that can fight to overcome the obstacles we place in our own way to protect us from the maelstrom of interaction, we are invariably spit on, taken advantage of, and victimized, time and again by those that ask for more without ever being full. The stars that burn brightest are most often drained beyond salvation by the incessant vacuum of more selfish people. The girl that seeks solace and understanding but shies and runs away from connection or investment because of the complications it causes in her life with a boyfriend that evidently doesn’t bridge the gap completely, despite him probably being a perfectly wonderful man otherwise. A parent that requests, demands, manipulates and orchestrates the feelings and situations of others to get what they want and then stare stupefied at the sky, bewildered and lost by the idea that they might somehow actually be told “no”. The woman that uses, abuses, consumes, and obliterates everything good in another, and still seeks to be loved and adored despite the abhorrent behavior.

            It’s all so much excess, so much extraneous emotion and conviction, expelled for no reason other than the want to be decent, to be altruistic, to offer something more than what others have seen fit to make available. Ghandi is often quoted as saying, “Be the change you want to see in the world” yet those that actually make the effort, the ones that take up figurative arms and go to battle the injustices and closed mindedness of a world too lost in itself and unwilling to seek behavior, are the ones that beaten into submission and end up becoming the biggest detractors, the biggest naysayers, the most fervent decriers of any measure of human decency existing in the world. We are made and conditioned into the cynics we become. We offer an unwavering beacon of light amid the torrential storm, a safe harbor of understanding and compassion and for all the effort to keep out the winds, to remain grounded and unwavering in the face of that chaos, we are battered until the deluge comes flooding in and destroys all that has been built. The irony is that when we succumb and become something angry, dark, tormented, hollow, and unpleasant we’re told that we’re in the wrong. There is no safe haven, no salvation, no redemption, nothing to offer anyone, as we’re all doomed, and this is the machine that we built to accomplish this goal. We persecute those that would seek to make this place better because they keep us from the distractions that keep us so well occupied and ignorant. Ignorance has gone from being a vice to the ultimate virtue and the idea of anything else is seen to be the obscenity. 

So much excess...

The weather turns melancholy and I find my mood seems to be reflection of that. For the first time in a long time I find myself fighting the chill and the bitter sting of the encroaching cold, and I welcome it. There’s something rejuvenating about finding my footing on a path I’ve traversed alone before. I’ve trekked this wood, as it were, and I know the way through the forest. But there’s something altogether different about the journey this time around. I’m here by absolute choice, I’m washing clean the sins, draining all the poison and the venom left in my veins. I’m bleeding out with a purpose.

I loved, I loved fully, I loved deeply, and I loved with every ounce of my being. I have defended, I have purged, I have fought, I have toiled, and I have expounded at length but it means nothing in the end because it was just an experience. A situation I put myself in, and I sowed the seeds of those consequences. So much effort, so much energy, and all of it boiled down to an endeavor that was never clearly defined. In the end, I was there to be miserable because happiness is the only thing I’m afraid of. The idea of living for myself, of putting myself ahead of and beyond the need or expectation of so many others, of really breaking the bonds of servitude that shackle me to so much useless misery, so much endless excess…I would go to ends of the earth for her, but I didn’t want her, I just wanted the misery; more an addiction that anything else.

I’ve espoused poetry that would melt the hearts of so many others, I’ve dedicated sonnets and declarations too beautiful to capture on paper, and all for one so undeserving, one so selfish and self-righteous, the bane of my existence is perhaps my own creation. But the purge must be done, the draining of the abscess has to commence if I am to move on. The sky cries with me, washing away the sin of the world so something new can begin to thrive.

I was so lost in her, so dedicated. And it’s all ground that’s been covered before, covered en masse and at length, and while you guys may not like it, fuck off, I need to admit these things to myself. I have to face these demons and exorcise the best way I know how, so like it or not, she still gets some mention and page space. I lost myself, I gave the best of myself to someone with so little to offer, only unhappiness and misery. She was the answer to everything I have indoctrinated myself to believe I deserved. The shortcomings, the lack of commitment of emotion, so little to really offer, and yet I was the one that was left believing I didn’t measure up. I’ve endured so many unspeakable things, survived so much ugliness, too much suffering, and I learned, only through the grace of someone with patience that rivals my own, that I do deserve better, I am not the best, but I am solid and stronger of character than most anyone else.

I claim to be an ass, to be the terrible thing that brings sadness and despair, because it is all I see, but in truth I shoulder so much of that for so many others I’m left drowning in it. If I am ever to find myself, to get back to the person that only a select and privileged few have managed to know I can be, I have to open this wound and let bleed all of the terrible things locked within. She was a vicious, manipulative, selfish cunt that sought to have all of my affections, all of my energy and effort, but refused to offer anything in return. I took crumbs and scraps, devouring them like a rabid dog. I’ve had so many friends, so many people, all of them trying their hardest to get me to see the truth, to recognize the things that I had blinded myself to see, and I’ll be honest, I still can’t see myself the way they do, but I do see enough to know that I deserve better than I was given.

I was sullied. A tainted heart crying out for salvation and redemption, and despite myself I actually tried in earnest to sabotage myself and keep myself from being happy, from being given or shown better. Another bad choice, in an almost endless list of them, but I have to admit it. For all the credit I’m given, for all the guidance and advice I’m capable of offering so many others, for all the ability I have to “fix” everyone else, I’m incredibly broken. My depth, my passion, and my intellect have all been dulled in an effort to fit in, to conform and adapt. I’ve traded so much of myself away for so many shallow and hollow victories, and when I ran out of things to give, I shut off.

Now I’m staring at something wonderful, I’m flying through the air with no net and I’ve leapt over the side of the precipice into the abyss of madness and whatever else is within the black and that reckless abandon was done to further my sense of misery and increase the burden of chaos I shoulder, but instead I’m not falling toward uncertainty and terminal velocity, I’m gliding on the wings of angels toward soft landing and warm arms. As daunting as the idea and concept or notion of vulnerability is, given how badly damaged and broken I am as a person and how god awfully shattered I still am emotionally, it’s something I have to do. To know what it is to feel anything, to feel connected, to matter to someone else, even if I can’t muster the courage to matter to myself. There times and situations that test the mettle and resolve of us all, for most it’s death or loss that determines what we do when the pressure’s on. For me it’s an endless litany of things that seem to never abate or pause. Constantly tempered in this fire, and the irony is, I once burned white hot and I thrived there in the flames, but I actively moved myself from the heat of the flames to become someone I didn’t want to be, to let loose of so much energy and accept an idea who I needed to be to make someone else happy. Now I’m blinded by the passion that so many others have, and I want it so badly. I want to be back in the dead center of the flames, to glow once more with white hot intensity and fervor.

I’ve pontificated on resolve, gamut, plans, revelations, and declarations, but in the end it’s all just words if there’s no dedication to the idea. I need my integrity back. I’m not the doomed soul I think I am. I brood, I carry a darkness that few can understand, and I do carry the weight of not just the world on my shoulders but in some cases a grander macrocosm of things that go unseen even by eyes until they’re dangling inches from my nose. This is who I am. This is who I have always been. The self-professed martyr, the self-imposed sacrifice to attaining something better, that is who I have chosen to be. I once believed that I could never hope for more, to attain something greater or to even begin to fathom the idea of thriving in something less severe and occluded. But I have come to understand that not only is this no way to live, but it’s a disservice to those that would actively seek to love, to those that would choose to share some part of themselves with me. It isolates and insulated far too well, and leaves me an untainted bastion of integrity that is endlessly tormented by the ghosts of my own psyche, refusing to let go or relinquish the control it has. I am a terrible mess of complexities and chaos, but there is beauty in the wreckage and a sense of potential in the smoldering ruin.

Like the phoenix born anew, the ashes are not permanent. This death is not final. I am the son of a man that suffered so much injustice medically, and yet still he draws breath on this earth. I am the product of a broken home held together with little more shoe string and tape. I am the end result of my experiences, traumatic and debilitating as they may be, and yet still I stand, still I thrive, still I draw my own breath, filling my lungs with the coolness of rain soaked air, and I stare with my own eyes, filtered though they may be, at this screen and pen these words. My strength has not left me, I will not be bested by the terror I’ve ignored. I will endure, I will find my footing and achieve something I never have before…some semblance of true and unrivaled happiness. If the fates are willing, I will accomplish this task, like so many others that have been laid at my feet. 

I Am Made Of You...

In the beginning I was just a shadow
In the beginning I was alone
In the beginning I was blind, living in a world devoid of light
In the beginning there was only night


I was shattered, left in pieces
And I felt so cold inside
Then I called you from the darkness
Where I hide


I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you


In the beginning you were revelation
A river of salvation and now I believe


All I wanted, all I needed
Was someone to rescue me
I was drowning, I was dying
Now I'm free


I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you


Here I am now, I can stand now
Cause your love has made me strong
And forever you're the singer
I'm the song


I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you


I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you
I am made of you

Changing of the Winds...

The winds of fortune do not always blow the same. There are times when fortunes change, when the gods of chance and serendipity conspire in mysterious ways, putting events and actions in motion to bring about a conclusion, an outcome that at the outset seems less likely than one could possibly fathom. The scheme seems to be more than a long shot, it’s an outright impossibility. Like turning air into gold or network television moving away from reality shows as its bread and butter there seems only one possible outcome. Miraculously though, the timeline chugs along moving at a snail’s pace with no clear end in sight, then all at once the light shines blindingly bright, a beacon on the horizon that illuminates the entire sky, outshines the sun, and yet even with such intensity, such vibrancy and brilliance, you can’t help but look upon it. Beauty, true beauty beheld, not just fathomed or imagined, but gazed upon, seen with fresh eyes and openness, the soul welcoming the luminescence as the shadows recede from the forefront and do their best to hide, such a thing is at best a pipedream, to most anyway. But for a very lucky few, those committed to toil and suffer, to while away countless hours and endure untold burdens and still greet the dawn with more than a token smile, the ones to whom even given the most negative and terrible circumstances, something within them stirs, something echoes and tingles, accepting and embracing that light, that brilliance, and all at once the universe finds harmony, the microcosm of their life settles into a careful clockwork of meticulous perfection and there is no fear, only the inverse.

Such a thing is rare, occurring less than one time out of however many stars there are in the sky and yet it does happen. For most it’s a dream, the hazy fog giving away only the slightest hints of the illusion, yet for those instances the lie is clung to so tenaciously that for most they demand it to be real. They convince themselves that if they believe it hard enough they can make it fact, they can actually alter reality and force their way into making something from nothing. For others they get the real thing and they can’t see past the microcosms of their own agendas to appreciate or recognize the opportunity that’s staring them in the face. It’s sad but it’s true. Most of us are too consumed by our own agendas to really acknowledge or recognize even the smallest hint of good fortune when it’s presented. Then there is a third group, those that disbelieve such a thing can happen, they approach it with trepidation and denial, almost willing the winds to change once more. So with so many options, so much ignorance and disconnection, how can anyone ever really accept and acknowledge the good fortune they’re faced with? Is it luck? Is it fate? Is it skill or observance? I can’t say and I won’t posit because I think it’s such a rare and perfect storm of circumstances and events that for each outcome the circumstances are so far different, but I will say this, when it does happen and the opportunity is seized...even the greatest poets lost their words, the most beautiful voices lose their sound, the most powerful law ceases to matter, and in that instant and forever after there is nothing greater, nothing more profound or complete than the passion that erupts and burns with more intensity than a million stars and nothing, not time, not gravity, loss or longing, will ever extinguish it.

The poet's last sonnet of depth and beauty...

Much has been made of my passion my emotional strength and ability but in the end I think it’s really nothing more than a load of bullshit that I told myself and allowed so many others to rattle off because it stroked my ego. Pride is my sin of choice, and while overt praise might be something that makes me uncomfortable, I have no issue or apprehension when it comes to recognizing or acknowledging other attributes. So it with that said that I find myself in a familiar but all but forgotten spot.
I’ve been here before, I walked these halls, I’ve trekked these roads and gone this route and I’d all but forgotten it. It seems that much like the lyrics, “I’ve come round, full circle”. She pulled me from the precipice once upon a time, or perhaps I just pulled myself from the brink of descent in order to indulge in what I thought would be little more than a brief jaunt of carnal satisfaction, but somewhere in the deeper recesses I knew it couldn’t work. I smothered myself in her, tried to ignore and run from the chasm of emptiness. I wanted to be gone from it, but I didn’t want it for me, I wanted it for her. In her I saw an opportunity to be happy, but I really just diluted myself into believing that’s what it was.
Now I’m back, staring into the endlessly dark abyss and watching as my toes creep over the edge, waiting for that subtle wind, the soft flap of a butterfly’s wing, or just the right words, before I jump over the edge and spiral headlong into that gap, no longer diluting myself with ideas of higher grandeur or the illusion that I can attain something more. I am alone, set adrift in a society that I never fit into. My best friend has turned his back on me to pursue his own romantic pursuits and being too tired of listening to me lament the loss I suffered, opting to decry, insult, impugn, belittle, and offer one derogatory comment after another as to how I let her victimize me, how I allowed myself to be emotionally raped time and again, how I have no right to call myself a man, how I need to move on and forget the “stupid hooker”. I need no reminder or assistance in feeling self-loathing or anger. I’ve got those emotions in spades.
But I am alone. I have no one close to talk to, no soul to share with, no sympathetic essence to whisper to. My best friend has left me, the love of my life has gone away, the once hallowed voices within this last bastion of sanity have long since gone quiet and departed. I gave up so much for her, and it seems now I’m left with nothing. I’d say it’s ironic but it was bound to happen. So once again, I’m on the edge, the dirt squishing between my toes, the sand rough against the soles of my feet, the soft breeze carrying a million sordid and painful memories that never seem to cease their assault on my threadbare psyche, the violent sun beating down relentlessly on my burnt and bruised skin, my eyes hollow and broken a fitting metaphor for the once vibrant organ that beat within my now cavernous chest, and despite it all, a knowing smile graces my lips. A knowing smile that I choose this, I choose to be here. I choose to dwell in this place because it’s better than the alternative, it’s a more fitting and quietly beautiful place than the horrors that wait me in the other place, in the land where I can still smell her in the air, I can taste her on my lips, I can still feel her in my arms, under my fingertips. The place where I have the highest peaks of happiness and fulfillment, beyond anything I ever dared dream. She swore, time again, there was another out there, someone more deserving, someone more worthy. I didn’t believe it then, I don’t believe it now.
This world is full of ugly people, and I can’t stand it anymore. I’m immersed in a society of broken people miring in their own misery instead of trying to mend their damage or better their station, a world where being decent and offering kindness is seen to be something extraordinary and noteworthy instead of common and unremarkable because of the prevalence of it, an existence where even the most pure and unconditional love offered to someone else is spit back time and again with little more than a token show of emotion and gratitude and the platitude that someone else will be more deserving and able to return it in kind instead of just accepting it for what it is. This world is sick, and it’s trying to infect me, to break me, to ruin me. I devoted all of myself to an ideal, to a belief, to a person…and in return I was told I wasn’t good enough, that my compassion for my parents was a weakness, that my kindness or my ability to handle the chaos of the world was a detriment, that my eyes being open was some kind of flaw…that my love was wrong.
I dealt with it as a consequence of the dynamic I put myself in. I suffered through it because faith and hope allowed me to hold out for more, and in the end I had nothing but four wasted years of heartache and disappointment and a “girlfriend” that would rather spend hours of time beating herself up instead of making the hard choices and doing what her heart had been screaming at her to do weeks before she stood at the alter and made her life a lie. But such is the past and I am powerless to influence the will of others or to alter what has already happened. I am, however, in complete control of the choice I now face, the chasm I’m teetering on, the abyss I’m looking so very deeply and intently into. If I have learned anything it is that this world is full of ugly, selfish, ignoble people, more consumed with furthering their own designs, with satisfying their own misguided agendas, than they are with adhering to any sense of decency, kindness, compassion or measure of appreciation for the acceptance and understanding they’re shown. This world, this place, is unworthy of me, undeserving of having what I offer, it is too selfish, too uncaring, too wretched to ever earn what I have to give.
And so, once again I’m on the jagged edge, looking over and past my toes into that dark black hole, the emptiness, baiting me, calling me, coaxing me with outstretched arms to enter the embrace of being numb, of being beyond the ugliness, of simply existing without reaction, of being freed from my passion, and I am wont to enter, to take a single step over the edge and shut it all down, to break the bonds of my own self servitude and find freedom. These shackles I wear do nothing to enlighten me, they keep me bound like a dog, waiting to be fed, to be acknowledged or noticed, to be loved. I was at this four years ago, spying that waiting hole and approaching with caution and trepidation but I walked the other way because I believed it led to something better…it didn’t.
Now I’m back and I’ve made my decision, no more passion, no more writing, no more caring, no more venting, no more caring…just the cold silent embrace of emptiness. I am alone. I gave all I had and so many took without giving back. So now I am taking for me. I will be above it all, beyond it all, unable to care or get involved, no longer moved by tears or entreaties, just cold and calculating, like many others. Down this road untold success awaits, unfathomable riches, immense wealth and advancement, all by playing the game that everyone else has been. I’ve reached the end of the board and I am no longer a pawn. I will seize my destiny and assert my will. I will make the descent and plunge into that gaping maw leaving behind pain and anger, impotence and rage, fear and doubt, loss and longing, and love. I will be free and untainted, no longer a slave to my desires. No systematic detachment or pithy rhetoric, just ceasing to care. No one else ever has, no reason I should either.

Suffer no soul to be without its companion...

So for the past few days I’ve been embroiled in a bit of a flame war with a friend of mine that is very intelligent, albeit not nearly as well versed in the ways of the world as I feel someone of his years (28) should be. Because of this handicap, he, and several other likeminded individuals who suffer from similar prejudices that have arisen from his sheltered history, have taken it upon themselves to assert their religious ideation toward people who would seek to make a life with someone of the same sex. Now I know that the whole gay and lesbian thing is a touchy subject and will continue to be a contentious issue for a long time, but I think where the flaw in our handling has been made is that we’re fighting this battle in a courtroom and in the public arena of policy and law, instead of leaving something like to where it should be decided, at the dinner table and at the discretion of each individual family.

My parents, for all their flaws and shortcomings, instilled no sense of prejudice and bigotry in me. I may not find myself attracted to or enamored with women of a certain ethnicity or heritage but that doesn’t mean I look at them with any less respect. I have argued the points with him and his followers at great length, pushing the limits of what Facebook is capable of handling in a single comment or even multiple comments at once, and I noticed two things. The first thing that came to mind is that the responses offered by these close minded zealots in condemnation of my claims that the LBGT community should be left to their own devices and allowed to pursue the same freedoms, rights, and dissemination of information the same as any other group in this country, is that their arguments are grounded in a religious ideology that teaches sin, but they don’t use their dogma itself to support their claim, using the fear and paranoia of less enlightened periods in time or the burden that such a thing would put upon the average tax payer and having the legitimizing of an alternative lifestyle shoved down the throats of our youth. As anyone with half a brain cell that doesn’t belong to the church of L. Ron Hubbard can attest, it’s absolute hyperbole. The entire issue is just a dog and pony show to distract the mass populace from the fact that dollar has become insolvent, the recession is still here and growing in some areas, our country is now owned by China, and our law makers and policy writers have become supremely ineffective, so much so that defaults and inaction has led to a breakdown of civil and state governments in some parts of the world. So in the words of Bill Hicks, “Go back to bed, America. Your government has figured out how it all transpired. Go back to bed, America. Your government is in control again. Here. Here's American Gladiators. Watch this, shut up. Go back to bed, America. Here is American Gladiators. Here is 56 channels of it! Watch these pituitary retards bang their fucking skulls together and congratulate you on living in the land of freedom. Here you go, America! You are free to do as we tell you! You are free to do what we tell you!”

Now I’m not going to bring that fight here for a number of reasons, chief among them, the Asylum is my baby, I’ve used it and abused it as I’ve chosen and those of you who haven’t left are reminded with the archives of how that journey’s gone. This place is about thought and discussion true enough, but I want discourse motivated by actual thought, not doctrine or dogma. I don’t push beliefs, I try to get you thinking, disagree with me? Say something! Nikki, thank you for offering dissidence in the past, your voice has been welcomed and I respect you for your arguments and your disagreement, same for you Aurora. You are free to comment as you see fit, but the one thing I won’t allow in this Asylum, as long as I’m the one standing on the phone book pontificating, is the overt presence or use of a bigoted Christian God to make an argument or support discussion. He doesn’t want me in his house, I don’t want him in mine.

The second thing that struck me is how fervently I’ve been fighting these ostriches and arguing my points to make them see that no rapid dissolution of their grand land and the Leave It To Beaver image of our country they still cling to, is going to come out of the masses accepting that some people just love people of the same sex. There will be no second coming, no catastrophe, no chaos or mass murder (Charles Manson is still safely behind bars), the only thing that will happen is that within the next thirty or so years, these men and women will no longer be targeted or persecuted en masse because of their sexual habits and orientations. Fear is the language of hate, and hate allows one to be prejudiced and insecure, to hide behind scripture and religion to validate oppression and injustice. Human beings fear what they don’t understand, always has been and probably always will be. We’re incredible creatures, capable of remarkable things, but we’re still really fucking stupid. It’s only been four hundred years since the Salem witch trials, and less than one hundred years since a one balled gay Austrian named Adolf Hitler convinced an entire country that if they killed Jews, gays, Soviets, the infirm, the elderly, and the handicapped their lives would get better. I ask you, how far have we come since then? I look at it this way, this entire topic of discussion is really nothing more than smoke and mirrors to incite idealistic talks and keep the middle class warring with itself over something that less than 1% really have taken the time to understand or make an attempt to accept (I’ve got a two cousins that are/were gay [one decided he was straight], and a former uncle who’s now an aunt, I accept them, I love them, they’re people I respect and I wish them nothing but the best in their lives and their pursuits), while the rich make off with what little actual wealth this country has left. But beyond that, there’s a truth, something I have been preaching and I still fervently believe, the pursuit of love, the endeavor of finding happiness and acceptance in the arms of another is one of the noblest things one can do. I feel a kinship with these people, not because I have similar sexual proclivities or anything like that, but because these people, these men and women are invariably brave. I spent 4 years toiling, struggling, and fighting, giving all of myself to validate a love that everyone else told me I was nuts for believing in. I laid it all on the line and I left myself open time and again, but I never gave up, hell I know it’ll incite fury in a few of you, but I still look at my phone with baited breath every day after work, hoping and wishing for it to ring. I fought for my love, and I would go on fighting, I would go on battling. These brave men and women do the same, they face down scores of people that decry and insult them for their pursuits, they endure taunts and slurs, injury and embarrassment, setback and hardship, all to find acceptance and companionship with someone that truly makes them happy. It’s a wonderfully beautiful thing to know that with all of the intolerance and disdain in the world, there are still some that are willing to fight for what really matters.

This realization prompted me to think about how we love, and how we show it. I’ve got a friend that has been detailing to me, woefully, over the past couple weeks how much she hates herself for playing with her boyfriend like a yo-yo. She cares for him deeply, feels the connection and will admit to me that she’s in love with him but can’t bring herself to say it to him. The entire thing got me thinking about my history. I love Nicole, but despite my memory, I can’t remember where I was, what I was doing, or when I first told her I loved her. I know exactly where I was when I first called her my girlfriend, but that one moment, that single instant when I laid my heart bare and said those three little words with full force and conviction, I can’t for the life of me put together even a framework of what circumstances of situation was in play when they first passed my lips into her ears. But it’s all been food for thought, something for my brain to chew on and really try to piece together. Why is everyone so afraid? If you love someone, part of that means knowing them well enough to know they’re not going to laugh at you for being honest and sharing your feelings. I remember Nicole telling me that some of the most treasured things I own now; she bought for me in an effort to get me to like her. I smile to myself at that memory because deep down I know she didn’t have to, I already liked her, I fell in love with her after a little more than a month but it was some time later before I bared myself enough to utter the words. We all do it, we try to get someone’s attention, endeavor to make them show interest and affection, and we do it in different ways, but how many of us are able or ready to really commit when the time comes to do it? Why are so many afraid of love and happiness? Further, why is some love and happiness encouraged while others are disparaged? I think it comes down to method of expression. We’re afraid of doing it wrong. The media, the Christian Coalition, Jerry Falwell, and even the evangelical bible thumpers that come to our doors try to make us behave and believe certain things in certain ways. We become indoctrinated to believe that there is a wrong way to love, a wrong way to be happy, so we live in fear of making a mistake and do nothing. We linger forever on the precipice, never mustering the courage to take the plunge. I have to be honest though, I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to love someone. You either do, or you don’t. Nicole lived in fear that she wasn’t good enough, that she couldn’t make me happy, that she wouldn’t be enough for me, she would cease to stimulate me mentally or emotionally, but I think that loving someone, as deeply as I love her, or even half as much, means knowing and relaying reasonable and agreeable expectations on that person; being willing to compromise, instead of reaching for the stars, aim for just one, the right one. Being with the right person is far better than being with multiple people, and being able to stand naked, emotionally bare, and feel secure in the knowledge that the person looking upon you sees you and it changes nothing, that’s connection. So while I know this has been a bit repetitive of many recent posts, and even covered very familiar ground in what is no doubt becoming a bit hackneyed, I ask you, look inside yourselves, and ask, do I have the courage to follow my heart, to pick up the phone and tell that special person that I love them, without condition or concession, explanation or justification, do I love them enough not just to say it, but to show it, and to let them love me back? Ask yourself that question and if the answer is yes, and that person is already with you, show them you care, thank them for being so wonderful and recognize how lucky you are that you both chose love over fear. If that person is away, near or far, away or close, know that true love will never die, two souls interconnected will never sever or disappear, and only by embracing and pursuing love, by being willing to endure all challenges, all headaches, all traumas, all heartache, suffering through it all and coming out the other side and never feeling regret can you truly know that the love you find is meant to be. Bravery is a virtue too often overlooked in favor of humility or kindness, but it is perhaps the only one that matters when it comes to connecting with another human being so that you both can enjoy and experience something so infinitely beautiful that words defy its description.

Clarity within the maelstrom...

Okay, so I know I’ve been flooding things out a bit heavily the last week or so, and I apologize for the deluge. I’m doing my best to keep things from getting too melancholy or negative. I would like to take this opportunity to clarify a few things though. First and foremost, I am not angry or bitter. I don’t hate her, I don’t fault her, I wish her no ill will, and I would hope that I can begin to do a better job of conveying that. I do still love her very deeply, and I would still go to the darkest pit of hell and trade my soul for hers, if it meant that she was given one more day to enjoy life. My conviction and commitment was not contingent on her being around, it transcends all things and binds tighter that any bond you can fathom. I still love her very deeply; some part of me will always be right where I’ve always been, right here waiting, with open arms and a happy smile for her to come to me. I don’t wish to paint her as a villain or a terrible person, she is not, and any indication I’ve given to the contrary is an error on my part. I wish her the best, the utmost happiness, and the highest fulfillment of her life. I do not begrudge her choice or her decision, I’m not happy about it, but in the end, if she didn’t want to be with me and I forced her into it, what kind of life would I have? I’d have spent the entirety of my existence with her struggling to just break even and appease her for having chosen me when her heart wanted to be elsewhere. I know this is brief but I should have something a bit more substantial later on. Stay tuned kids!

Just Enough to Love You...

Really not my style to just post songs, but right now I think this best sums up a lot of things:

Push me out from the darkness
To a sky that's colored blue
Somewhere someone's finding happiness
While I'm still here so hung up on you

Nothing is real
And I want you to know
That I'm not alright
When you tear open my chest
I'll try not to flinch
Won't make promises
You taught me that I'm still losing what's left out
My self-esteem
And I'm still watching the slow fading of all my daydreams

The hardest things to say are the words that mean the most
So I'll bite my tongue til it bleeds and I doubt you'll even know
The easiest thing to fake's a feeling to fool someone else
And I've been tricked for so long by you that I spent these last few months in my own hell

A failed apology
A day too late but now I see
That all you really want's to see me dangle neck first from a tree
But what would you need me for
You've got friends galore
And all you'll ever be to me's a stupid lying excuse for a person

I could call
But I know that you won't be there to pick up the phone
You don't have time for me
I could call but I know you won't get the phone
Don't have time for me

I hate myself
For loving you like this
I hate myself for hating myself
Just enough to love you
Just enough to love you

The power of love...(Or, Huey Lewis almost got it right)

So here I sit, having finally acknowledged the full extent of the negative that I was fighting to keep on the fringe. I recognized the power of anger and chose to turn it into something positive, determined not to let it consume or debilitate me.  Regrettably, in being so staunch in my resolve, I had allowed a number of things to pass without incident. I’d offer up details but at this point I’m still trying to sort everything out. I apologize my friends, but expect an increase in the number of cryptic messages coming from yours truly in the coming weeks. For those that are curious, feel free to approach me directly (those that are worthy have the means) and I’ll be happy to provide honest, direct, and full answers to any questions you pose. Here though…well it’s too open, too exposed and I’m still sorting through a great number of things. I’ve given in to easily to trying to offer up insight and refuge for too many, being the heart and emotional anchor for the masses when they can’t bring themselves to seek the enlightenment they so wantonly devour from me. I know this is beginning to verge on sounding bitter or militant, and that’s why I’m fighting so hard right now to handle this all in the right way. I don’t want to let all of this affect me in that way, I don’t want to be that person. I am stronger than that, and I’ve grown beyond that. There is no justice or benefit for me harboring the negative or dwelling on it. I had something beautiful and I watched it die. I watched fear and a profound lack of conviction destroy something that could have absolutely grand and incredible. I’ve belabored that point enough, I think even I’m getting tired of hearing it. She was a coward, and she let fear make her choice, not love. There I’m done, the final word on that point for a while.

Even rereading that last sentence leaves me with a bitter metallic taste in my mouth, because I’m still giving in to the animosity and the vitriol of something that I cannot allow to influence me. I thought holding on was the test of my resolve, but coming out of this unscathed and without severe or irreparable psychological damage/trauma is going to be the real test of just how strong my psyche really is. I’ve conquered suicide attempts, endured bullying, survived mistreatment, subjugation, oppression, public humiliation, and even having to defend my heart’s desire against a thousand naysayers with little more than a base understanding of the people involved, and the only test that matters is what I choose to do now. How I choose to be, who I choose to be, from here out. I can only fathom it’s a matter of time before things swing back and the pendulum reaches back the other way. Deep down both of us knew exactly what was and has always been meant to be. I provide excitement, fulfillment, compassion, near infinite understanding, and an unwavering commitment to a vision I hope to see come to fruition. I’ve no doubt or delusion that I’m alone in holding these views and this uncompromising dedication, but the man that ended up my better…I’ll never meet him to actually tell him how lucky he is, how wonderful a woman he has, and how strong the ties that bind her to him really are. While it is incredibly easy for me, or even most of you, to vilify and bash her, not one of you came to her defense a few months back, and what’s more is that not a one of you ever actually met her. She is not a bad person, never was, and truthfully never could be. Misguided and lost in the fear of her own choices, guided by the best of intentions and too afraid to move, it is low self-esteem, a misunderstood value of self, and her own insecurities that propelled her to the finality she optioned. Fear of being alone, of not having someone to come to her defense, and when she found that in me, someone with unquestioned and unflinching tenacity to always provide the best and spare her all harm and pain, it got her thinking about who she was as a person and what she deserved. The answers to those questions required reflection on the fundamentals tenets of what makes you, you. No one likes being thrust under the microscope like that and especially when you’re doing it in the hopes of seeing someone that is worthy of such selfless behavior.

But who among us, who among all of you, can say that you’ve not chosen fear when it was the less daunting option? She’s not a bad person, and I will not commit libel or engage in endless insult slinging. She is a wonderful person and had things worked out, I’d have been very lucky to have her. Despite the proclivities of most of you to see only the pain she caused (partially my fault for only reaching out to deal with that pain), she is a phenomenal human being. I think perhaps if I were to engage to any semblance of “revenge” it would simply be to shake the man’s hand and convey, through weighted words and veiled references, just how lucky he is and how much he should appreciate the love he has. In the end, for all the impossible I did, for all the mountains I moved, for all the stars I brought down from the sky, for all the demons I slayed, for the infinite understanding and acceptance I offered, for all of the miracles I performed, it simply was not enough to make me more appealing than the love she’d already found. In that regard it is nothing to be angry about or to seek any kind of malicious revenge; rather it’s something to be celebrated. I dared to fathom a depth of love that few can begin to comprehend, and in that I pitted it against the kind of love that you get married for. I lost. I’m not defeated, I’m renewed, I know what I’m capable of, I know that I can love and be loved and that there are still beautiful people in this world, inside and out, and to wallow in the hurt, in the heartache; to let rule the hollow emptiness of the love I’ve had to swallow down and “forget”, it’s a disservice to the incredible things I did, it’s a slap in the face to the genuine and unconditional love I found, and it’s make a lie out of every declaration of wanting her to be happy. I did want her to be happy, and not just with me. I do want her to be happy. I don’t know if she’s reading, if she’ll ever stumble through here and find this, but since it’s my page and I can remain uncensored, let me say this, if ever a more perfect and beautiful love exists in this universe, let it be known, I came first. I set the bar for unconditional acceptance and understanding. I, a mere mortal, a man of limited means and borne of a sordid past, put forth a lifetime’s worth of energy, passion, and love to declare my love, and I will never deny, decry, or abhor those feelings. If ever the pendulum does swing back in my favor, if ever that love is seen fit by the fates to be requited, I will accept it, with graciousness and never stop appreciating every day that passes from that day to my last, as I am reminded, by something as simple as her smile, just how unequivocally lucky and blessed I would be. My love has not gone, my choice has not changed, but the clock ticks by once more, and with it too, does my affection. If the hands of fate see fit to bring her back to me so be it, and if it is to serve as a reminder what a driven man can accomplish, there is no fault in that either. I only pray that every night he holds her, he knows and appreciates, fully and completely, just exactly what he has and never stops thanking the powers that be for such a precious gift.

Dare to dwell where Fear is afraid to tread...

Semblance of self, understanding of the id, ego, and super ego; there are many names for knowing the true name of oneself and having accomplished a seemingly impossible task in today’s culture. We are expected to want more, to go beyond, and to crave what we do not have, to never be content, to constantly covet and seek out something just beyond the horizon. While this type of behavior is what drove us as a species to seek out safer refuge, to map the globe, to build the greatest inventions, and even compelled the most celebrated romantics to achieve the heights of their highest success, it has gone from being something beautiful and noble to something twisted and ugly. Altruism, doing what must be done or should be done for the sake of seeing good done in the world, is an all but lost concept, diluted and sullied by a consumer culture that reeks a bit too closely of something Huxley proposed with Brave New World. There is no nobility of self because no one takes the time to see themselves, they see only the blemishes, the loss of something they undervalued when they had it, and look toward the shimmering sky, a canvas awash with dreams and personal fulfillment if only one is willing to trade away the things that really matter.

Smoke because it’s glamorous, be skinny because that’s beauty, have big breasts or a big butt and you’ll be attractive, be selfish and self-serving or a total spoiled bitch and people will think you’re cute, wear what everyone else does, buy, consume, thinking is a weakness…the rhetoric is a bit less ham handed but the message is still just as clear. Everyone sees it. I’m sure there is hardly anyone that can’t see the forest for the tress and stare with minimal effort at how callous and useless the entire consumer culture has become, and yet we press on, apathy allowing the infernal machine to continue its work, heedless of the loss of something so precious. My sense of self is something even I take for granted, but for reasons I think are wholly different than most others. I know who I am. I am in a constant state of change, endlessly evolving, always adapting and accepting. I am not who I was and I am not, now, who I shall be, but I am still me. The sum of the parts is merely the result, not the full construction, the assembly of something so intricate and beautiful as a life, it is something takes, quite literally, a lifetime. There is a complex and worthwhile tapestry of experiences and moments that weave together in a mind bending fashion and they serve to create the person you see. I would not be who I am if not for who I was. This is something I accept, and it has taken me quite a long time to recognize the truth within such a thing.

For the majority, they are constantly looking toward what might be, what they hope for, or what they plan on happening. The family the can have, the children they’ll bring into the world, the car they want to buy, the house they want to live in, the relationship they want to cultivate, the career they hope to pursue, even the clothes they want to wear and the food they want to eat. The dichotomy of this is that most of these people are endless spouting self-affirmations about reveling and enjoying the present. You’ve seen them all, “The past is history, the future’s a mystery, to enjoy the present because it’s a gift”, I mean there are countless others, and I’m not decrying the words as being without merit, but they undercut the intrinsic meaning being espoused by those that seek only to escape the current circumstances of their lives. Unhappy in relationships, miserable at a dead end job, lacking the resolve to even try to better their lives, and it is fear that holds them back. It is fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of asking too much, of being too brazen, of stepping over too many lines, of being beyond the scope of understanding for another that keeps them contained, wrapped in a blanket of anxiety and shadows, whimpering to the nameless forces of defeat and oppression for release from the bonds that they created themselves.

Without realizing it, more often than not we become the products of compromise and fear. We’re taught early on that not fitting in is something to be feared. So grade school is all about having the same lunch box, the same clothes, the same after school activities, and even the same backpack, shoes, pencils, and notebooks as the majority, to be any different is to be outcast. Middle school revolves around constructing identity, and sadly that is too often shaped by misunderstanding. A need to rebel leads to chopped hair or longer than normal, violent arguments, harsh words, music with hollow messages, and mauled, altered, name brand, or unique clothing being used to designate and inform how we see ourselves. High school is…well I imagine it’s about solidifying the person you’ve chosen to be with the gradual acceptance of personal responsibility. I say I imagine it because for me there were three things that I don’t think occurred for me during high school. One, I wasn’t there. I was removed from my peers in my freshman due to a misunderstanding and my proclivities being too far out in the ballpark of my creation. My refusal to fit in and accept what they prescribed I should be fostered further discontent and in my opinion allowed for a malfeasance to breed within those in the power structure. Second, I never had a girlfriend or even got laid in high school. I was a graduate before I had my first sexual experience and it was only a couple of months before that, I laid eyes on a naked woman for my own benefit and stimulation without it being through a television. The third and perhaps most fundamental of all the things that didn’t happen to me during high school is that I didn’t find out who I was. I knew. I had cultivated my persona, become the person I wanted to be, in need of some fine tuning perhaps, but I had no want or will to be anyone other than I wanted to be and I didn’t need the gradual acceptance of personal responsibility. I became my father by the time I was in the seventh grade and I had no gradual or piecemeal program of increased accountability to myself because I had been forced to accept it all years before. My home life was less than ideal and to most of you I’ve relayed the stories of psychotic breaks, verbal and physical abuse, and even the borderline unapologetic emotional neglect that I endured, so I won’t traverse the same material again, but my point is that I was not in need of an identity. I had resolved to become my father but do so in a way where I got all the benefits and made none of the mistakes.

Now most of us become out parents in one form or another. We assimilate little things that we barely notice. A proclivity for our parent’s brand of coffee, cigarettes, alcohol, perfume, clothing, cars, political leanings, outlook on society and family, all of it is informed by our parent’s example to varying degrees. It is an endless cycle that continues ad infinitum since time immemorial. But what happens when the pattern is broken? What is the outcome when we or our parents are left to quite literally create themselves? Well in my case, that is exactly what happened. My father had to build, piece by piece, who he wanted to be. His father is still alive, and he’s a wonderful man, but he is not the most emotionally expressive person and in all the years I’ve been alive I’ve yet to actually hear him tell me he loves me, a trifle in the grand scheme and by no means do I mean to say that my life would have been made in any way markedly different from such a pronouncement, but for the purposes of my point, my father was given a role model but little guidance on how to actually become or emulate his father. To that end my father is the culmination of the highest hopes and intellect, brought down by ill fortune and miscalculated gambles. So in becoming my father I was attempting to recognize what could have made him successful and what had been the highest detriment. I resolved to live as free of vice as I could, seeing a dependency on chemical substances to be a major burden that would hold even the strongest back. It is in this that the genesis of who I am now was spawned.

So if we have the role models of who we will eventually become, who will influence us the most, how do we go about defining our individuality? For most of us we pick and choose from media and other sources and splice it all together in a ramshackle way of producing an identity. We glean quotes from movies, we take ideas from magazines, jokes from television, music from the people we want to be more like and we present ourselves to the world as the combination of our best efforts. The only thing any of us lacks is depth. We don’t understand why we find something funny, why we like what we like, or even why we seek to be the people we attempt to be. It’s all a finely greased machine that is embedded in us from our infancy, behave a certain way and people will like you. The only flaw in that logic is that the people you want to like you are just as two dimensional and vapid as you are. I know that no one likes to think of the people they care about, or even themselves as being anything less than spectacular and unique snowflakes, and I don’t mean to decry or belittle anyone personal sense of self-worth. Rather I want you all to recognize what it is that gives you intrinsic worth. What makes you the spectacular person you are? It is only through questioning that we can come to understand anything.

It’s been said that I’m fearless, devoid of pause or terror. I think there might be truth in that but only in one simple thing. It is an important and popular fact (to quote Douglas Adams) that humanity fears what it does not understand. We all do it. Sky diving, bungee jumping, pig wrestling, cave diving, things that go bump in the night, even our own behaviors, it can all be terrifying. I seek to understand it all. And here’s another point in the current paradigm of our culture and society where a breakdown occurs. At some point in the past thirty years or so, it became an implied expectation that with the advent of cable television, the internet, and different mediums of radio (if Nikola Tesla could see things now, huh?) we no longer had the onus of understanding anything ourselves, someone else was doing it for us. The bogeymen had been found out and no longer lurked in the dark corners of the room between the dresser and the closet. So with that precept in mind, we have become the most jaded and uninspired we have ever been, relegating true understanding to the annals of pursuits best left to others, and no real compulsion to do anything to change it. We have the utmost information at our fingertips, in a way like never before in human history, and the majority of us retain slivers and pieces of anything if we retain anything at all, so any understanding is fragmented and shoddy at best. Enter my oddity and my propensity to actually retain everything, to really come to a full and informed comprehension of everything, and I have no fear. I don’t rely on someone else to have my answer, to protect me from the things I don’t know, I seek out to find my own answers, and in that I am made mighty enough to face down any dragon, slay any beast, go toe to toe with any demon. I am made invincible by the sheer veracity with which I seek information. I am who I have chosen to be, both now and at all points in every possible future. I made my decisions, I owned my choices, and I alone am the only guilty party if blame for any of it is to be given. Hopefully we can all begin to understand ourselves a bit more, to really recognize the good within us, the things that make us the unique and wonderful people we all are, and from that understanding begin to feel real love and actually put forth a bit of that emotion toward the ones we truly treasure.