My mom was relentless with the dusting and vacuuming on the weekends. Any weekend we didn't have a game or practice in the morning she'd have us up and cleaning by 9 a.m. These were the good weekends. We could suck it up and knock out our portion of the house in a few hours while blaring music or watching ESPN--which usually led to what we called, "Commercial Cleaning" ha. The problem came when somebody was either hung over, exhausted from a competition, stayed up too late playing Halo or Madden, or Mom's irritation at our lack of appreciation of her hard work; we were selfish, lived like pigs--I've always hated that expression; it's nonsense. etc. etc. etc. These weekends were no fucking bueno--excuse my french. If Eric would raise out of bed to the sound of banging pots and pans, and commands for more trash bags echoing through the neighborhood, I'd greet his squinting, sniffling face with, "she's on the war-path." We both knew, right there, that it was going to be a long day--usually meant I'd miss the 1 o'clock game.
This experience does not need to be explained in full, or maybe it should but that isn't what's pounding on my conscience.. Those long days supplied me with the knowledge that's led to be one of the sharpest double-sided-swords I know of. Yeah, it's great to be able to hold back and refrain from unnecessary conflict, but when something happens that really digs into your skin, it daggers the heart of your passion, sometimes you've got to say, Fuck em and just let the devil out in you.
The Art of Biting My Tongue vs. Human Nature to Retaliate
My dad demonstrated, for years, the best way possible to handle this sword. Though his was always in a much different scenario than I've experience--stand up for his 30 year old mug that's been filled more times with cob webs than coffee, or let her throw it away, and mourn the loss internally. haha but this basic principle has caused more flashbacks in time than Marty McFly..Back to the Future for you non-movie-viewers (losers).
I'm always put into a situation where I'm forced to chose between biting my tongue and swallowing the shit, and standing up and addressing the issue (in a mature, non-violent, tone-controlled, respectable way).
I have no problem with this quarrel in itself, I've learned enough through observational experiences to know when to do the one or the other, the problem at hand is: how many times do I bite my tongue before it becomes like clockwork and my opinion and feelings get shut down like clockwork. Thus not only leading to a seasoned, toughened tongue, but also to the source of this debacle never learning the lesson. I don't want 'push-over' to become a personal characteristic, but there is a time when it's better to just take the hit and drive on.
Bottom line: It's almost always more beneficial, in the long run, to just bite down hard, and swallow the suck.
It's ironic... on several levels really... one of the triggers to set off her killing sprees would be when she'd walk down to the landing/doorway to clean the windows, and her stepping on the rug would expose the dirt which was just previously swept under by one of us, just before kickoff.
Effin Tripod :)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
when can i cry?
i need permission i feel. from dad. coach p. a friend.
idk
immediate reaction and disaster flows from my soul through my eyes
i feel them start down in my stomach and on their way up my body to come out my eyes, they freeze my veins and my skin shrivels.
goosebumps. hairs all of the sudden are alive. and i can feel my pulse throughout my entire being.
it's speeding at the excitement. the panting and long drags of oxygen with a heavy exhale.
my conscious grows.
who can see me.
doesn't matter, i need this.
regardless of their presence i need to stop.
cried enough.
when is enough?
after the initial burst. the loss of control. the absence of conscience.
kids cry and throw temper tantrums for hours sometimes.
they cry until they're physically drained through emotional disposal.
that is unnecessary. but rather that, than holding back tears at an obvious sign of distraught.
i find that it's rarely ever the same reason for crying that you discover after you're done crying that you thought was the reason while you were crying.
if you ever think about why you're crying while your crying it's a momentary opportunity for tears to slow and you gather thoughts.
wrestling. elbow POP! moments later when left alone, i'm that kid again failing to exhale and instead just hissing, mouth open, eyes closed, not breathing. just crying.
initially because of the pain.
but once it's numb and my crying has slowed i thought about the set back it was going to cause, the time i'd have to make up, the rhythm i'd have to try to get back into.
i cried because of that, not the pain as i thought while i was crying at first.
same goes with a g/f, b/f... you don't cry because of what she did.
you cry because of what could happen. the thought of losing the one you love.
life without love.
finding love again, after it took so long to find at this point in time.
i didn't cry because my dog died.
when i heard the news i immediately reacted with tears and no breathing as described before.
it's always the same.
we cry the same now, as we did as kids.
after slowing down, again i realized the truth behind my tears.
i would never rub her head again to make her ears flap consecutively on the side of her head.
no more trying to walk away, but having her exposed belly beg to be scratched be too much to pass up.
love too strong.
a bond worth years of comradely.
and now...
i'll have to save table scraps for max, without having to weigh out the leftovers to see who gets more that night.
no more anxiously spending my own money on bones--
only for her to bury beneath the rocks after 30 seconds of marinating it with saliva.
she'll never learn to lift her far side paw when i tap her head with a paw pick to drop her to her shoulder wrestling in the back yard.
she'll never teach max the art of taking down a dog from her back.
or how to be a sweetheart to the neighbors.
and how to properly piss off the mail lady while still creating friendship and love.
no more yelling as she breaks away from my relaxed grip to chase the car down the street.
nipping at the tires like she were herding sheep.
not around anymore to sneak her into the kitchen for breakfast after mom left for work.
not in her usual spot up against the sliding door by the deck
waiting to see our backs rest against the backs of the chairs as a sign of a satisfied appetite.
a sign for her turn to come at last.
i'll whistle her call for the next umpteen years, but she won't run home dripping from the belly down, after a dip in the most shallow end of the pond. always bashful of the darker parts of the pond.
chased a goose perhaps.
she never went in without incentives.
or a push.
somehow she knew, a dogs' seventh sense, that i would be leaving soon, and she fought out from two paws in the grave to spend a few more weeks with me before i left...
only one more month and i would have seen her again.
to whistle her call and walk to her because she was too stubborn to walk to me.
to move her to the other couch cushion so that i'd have a better angle to rub her ears.
to think that she lived so long.
so happy.
peach-dog had the life. no worries.
just sleeping until the next exciting moment came her way
when i would yell at her to stop, her eyes always saved her; pleading that she was only trying to have fun.
i'd turn to a smile when she returned with a kiss.
i never could stay angry at her. too cute.
peaches mut, you dumb dog, come here you bad girl, why are you so bad, huh, why, ahh, you're so cute, love you mut.
idk
immediate reaction and disaster flows from my soul through my eyes
i feel them start down in my stomach and on their way up my body to come out my eyes, they freeze my veins and my skin shrivels.
goosebumps. hairs all of the sudden are alive. and i can feel my pulse throughout my entire being.
it's speeding at the excitement. the panting and long drags of oxygen with a heavy exhale.
my conscious grows.
who can see me.
doesn't matter, i need this.
regardless of their presence i need to stop.
cried enough.
when is enough?
after the initial burst. the loss of control. the absence of conscience.
kids cry and throw temper tantrums for hours sometimes.
they cry until they're physically drained through emotional disposal.
that is unnecessary. but rather that, than holding back tears at an obvious sign of distraught.
i find that it's rarely ever the same reason for crying that you discover after you're done crying that you thought was the reason while you were crying.
if you ever think about why you're crying while your crying it's a momentary opportunity for tears to slow and you gather thoughts.
wrestling. elbow POP! moments later when left alone, i'm that kid again failing to exhale and instead just hissing, mouth open, eyes closed, not breathing. just crying.
initially because of the pain.
but once it's numb and my crying has slowed i thought about the set back it was going to cause, the time i'd have to make up, the rhythm i'd have to try to get back into.
i cried because of that, not the pain as i thought while i was crying at first.
same goes with a g/f, b/f... you don't cry because of what she did.
you cry because of what could happen. the thought of losing the one you love.
life without love.
finding love again, after it took so long to find at this point in time.
i didn't cry because my dog died.
when i heard the news i immediately reacted with tears and no breathing as described before.
it's always the same.
we cry the same now, as we did as kids.
after slowing down, again i realized the truth behind my tears.
i would never rub her head again to make her ears flap consecutively on the side of her head.
no more trying to walk away, but having her exposed belly beg to be scratched be too much to pass up.
love too strong.
a bond worth years of comradely.
and now...
i'll have to save table scraps for max, without having to weigh out the leftovers to see who gets more that night.
no more anxiously spending my own money on bones--
only for her to bury beneath the rocks after 30 seconds of marinating it with saliva.
she'll never learn to lift her far side paw when i tap her head with a paw pick to drop her to her shoulder wrestling in the back yard.
she'll never teach max the art of taking down a dog from her back.
or how to be a sweetheart to the neighbors.
and how to properly piss off the mail lady while still creating friendship and love.
no more yelling as she breaks away from my relaxed grip to chase the car down the street.
nipping at the tires like she were herding sheep.
not around anymore to sneak her into the kitchen for breakfast after mom left for work.
not in her usual spot up against the sliding door by the deck
waiting to see our backs rest against the backs of the chairs as a sign of a satisfied appetite.
a sign for her turn to come at last.
i'll whistle her call for the next umpteen years, but she won't run home dripping from the belly down, after a dip in the most shallow end of the pond. always bashful of the darker parts of the pond.
chased a goose perhaps.
she never went in without incentives.
or a push.
somehow she knew, a dogs' seventh sense, that i would be leaving soon, and she fought out from two paws in the grave to spend a few more weeks with me before i left...
only one more month and i would have seen her again.
to whistle her call and walk to her because she was too stubborn to walk to me.
to move her to the other couch cushion so that i'd have a better angle to rub her ears.
to think that she lived so long.
so happy.
peach-dog had the life. no worries.
just sleeping until the next exciting moment came her way
when i would yell at her to stop, her eyes always saved her; pleading that she was only trying to have fun.
i'd turn to a smile when she returned with a kiss.
i never could stay angry at her. too cute.
peaches mut, you dumb dog, come here you bad girl, why are you so bad, huh, why, ahh, you're so cute, love you mut.
Friday, October 3, 2008
...so this is how it went down...(two)
...
As I admitted before, I had such a third grade crush on this girl from before I'd even met her. But after my first visit to Rancho Cuccamongo, I was more certain of someday making the NFL than I was certain that I had a chance with Reanna. I mean, the whole time I was there she was out and about, always busy-going to parties, swimming at friends, hanging out with her boyfriend. I mean, he went to school for singing, and I would get booed out of a room with my best friends when I would try to serenade somebody. I didn't even seem to impress her or hardly catch her interest with good looks; I didn't stand a chance to give her a pleasing glimpse of my physique because she grew up in Southern Cal where chizzled six packs are seen as casually as In-n-Outs just off the PCH, and those six packs come with a huge side of California Tan. -I don't know if you know this, but God did not bless me with much skin pigment. I tried to get tan, and at times I honestly was proud of my color progress-but when I'd ask for approval from anybody in their house, everyone, including Reanna, laughed at me. They said I was the hottest shade of pink they'd ever seen. They laughed at my struggle with the sun. Long hopeless story summed up short-- to her, I was simply Ryan's friend from school. And she had zero thoughts of any form of romance with me. But with morale as low as it was, when I boarded the plane with Ryan to journey to my part of the country, the heart of America, Ohio, I opened my journal and wrote of all the memorable moments with her. I confessed my love for her.
Straight from my own words the day I left CA, I wrote in my journal, "Although there were tons of fun stuff we did in Cali, I fly away with my mind chewing on one memory. And any one that knows me, truly knows me, could easily guess what this mind boggler is about... A girl." I continued on to describe the complexity of my situation. Falling in love with your best friend's sister could be the most special gift ever, but it is a very delicate situation, nonetheless.
The intensity doubled in strength as the weeks prior to my summer visit to Ryan's house became memories. It was happening. I was going back, and this time I knew something special was going to happen. I did some pre-gaming with her during the months between visits-I'd occasionally ask Ryan for the phone when he was done talking to her, we myspaced here and there, no big deal. Just planting seeds. :) Then shit got real about two weeks before my flight. One casual visit to her myspace site and I notice her status had changed to "Swinger." Immediately I called my inside source for varification-my NBF, New Best Friend, Alyx Van Stockum, pretty much the most legit girl I know!- and she was ecstatic to share the hopeful news with me, Reanna was in fact single again. The excitement was twirling throughout my spirit. I couldn't wait to get there.
...The first few days were pretty sweet, climbed up to a watering hole/springs river, wake boarding and tubing, it was all fun and everything, but the entire time I kept thinking about Reanna, and wondering why our flirty competitiveness hadn't progressed to intimacy or romance. I wasn't sure she was interested much at all. In fact I almost decided to hold off on the whole 'summer lovin' idea in general. Later that night, when the house was sleeping, I bumped into one of her best friend's, Danyelle (her other bf being Coral :]) down by the fridge. We sat and talked for a while; she was a sweet girl, and hours later she became my best friend ever! She explained how when her and Reanna were gossiping over "the boys" (Derek and me) that Reanna snapped at her when she claimed me, "Mike is mine!" These words sent chills down my back, I jolted with excitement, squeezed my pillow, buried my face in the pit of the couch and wanted to scream. I couldn't believe it! :) I felt like I'd been playing Alfalfa's "love flower" game forever: she loves me, she loves me not! She loves me, she loves me Not!...and finally, SHE LOVES ME! haha
The next night, Reanna gave it another solid effort to beat me in anything, she chose to lose in pool again, and I teased her for a minute, and asked her if what Danyelle said was true. When she smirked a yes, I stood up from my shot and exhaled all the carbon dioxide in my body and said with a smile, "Good. I like you too." The game continued in step with the rest of our games-I knocked down the hard shots, she trailed 3 or 4 balls a game. But this game was different, instead of talking trash, I let her know everything that was on my conscience: my hope previously squashed by her happiness without me, my new found hope, my longing crush, and so on. It was fantastic. We were on the same sheet of music. lol Afterwards, we each pulled our friends aside and shared the greatest news ever, "she likes me too!:)" haha... and then it became time to tell Ryan...
The first day on the cruise was blessed with amazing weather and great times with everyone. But too much time with Ryan over my back and on my conscience I felt, so later that night we had a man to man, heart to heart, where I proudly admitted that I was crazy about his sister. He layed down the big brother protection laws, and I complied immediately knowing that I'd never do anything to hurt her, and then I layed down the 'give us some space, relax, I'm serious about this one' praise. It couldn't have gone smoother. I respected him, he respected me, and ended with a sincere hug that lasted a solid two minutes, with whispers of last hopes and dreams of how great life was going to be together, literally almost family. I wouldn't let myself openly cry, but even pride falls short in strength to true tears of happiness. I told him that I loved him, and thanked him for his trust, and everything he'd done for my character development. He said he wouldn't want his baby sister with any other guy. ...after bylaying-not bystanding, he was too full from the all you can eat pizza! lol- for so long, Derek couldn't resist the aroma of love, so joined in on the hug. lol I left to go meet my anxiously waiting sweetheart, eager to hear how the talk went. I sort of rehearsed my main points with her for hours before talking with Ryan. lol I took her up to my room to share the story...
She couldn't believe how well it went. Up the elevator ride she was amazed and excited that her big brother was happy for her, for us. When we got to my room and I was so excited; I had more than just those words to give her--hey take it easy now! relax, no dirty stories on this blog! lol her brother can read this! haha ;) jk Ryan. anyway-- I didn't know what to open up with. How do you open up a talk so meaningful without stumbling over your words trying to make them just right, or at least sound like english lol. I decided to read to her. I simply read from my heart's memory book: the entry from the day when I first left So Cal, and began, so long ago, crushing on her. It was amazing. It always felt so right hugging her. Holding her body completely against mine so that destiny's pull couldn't possibly bring us any closer, it'd brought me there, and I won't ever let go.
The cruise was amazing..all you can eat pizza-Derek's favorite part-, comedy shows, kereoke, so of course I went on stage for some country rockin' with Derek--the fans loved us-finally some appreciation for my musical talents ha. Especially the 'Soul Sista's from Vegas' haha-- staying up late, the photography night-p.s. as people passed, their heads turned towards us smiling into the camera, in complete happiness. Somebody even asked me while I was reviewing the pic the next morning if they could buy the picture off me, because we looked so great together! lol -Fresh pink shirt and tie, to compliment her sexy, silk black dress, and she topped it off with the cutest pink bow in her hair she had bought just for that night. I am the luckiest man alive, I promise.- the hot tubs, La Bufadora, drinking margaritas, I drank the water and immediately lost my appetite and had to give my authentic Mexican burritos to the human disposal, Ryan. lol It was such an amazing time, I'll never forget and I'll never stop thanking God for the magic that happened there. :)
--This crazy love story only gets more intense as we had to leave each other for the rest of the summer, before meeting up again on R-Day minus one, 6-29-08 <3; for an 8 week cadet basic training session, known as Beast Barracks which only leads into one of the most demanding college experiences in the world, West Point. Luckily I have the greatest social support I could pray for: Ryan, Derek, Raff especially. My other boys- I love you all. But the person who inspires me most, who helped save me from eating away at myself, who raised my spirit back to life and now flies above cloud nine-thank you Reanna. I Love you..
...(three)...
As I admitted before, I had such a third grade crush on this girl from before I'd even met her. But after my first visit to Rancho Cuccamongo, I was more certain of someday making the NFL than I was certain that I had a chance with Reanna. I mean, the whole time I was there she was out and about, always busy-going to parties, swimming at friends, hanging out with her boyfriend. I mean, he went to school for singing, and I would get booed out of a room with my best friends when I would try to serenade somebody. I didn't even seem to impress her or hardly catch her interest with good looks; I didn't stand a chance to give her a pleasing glimpse of my physique because she grew up in Southern Cal where chizzled six packs are seen as casually as In-n-Outs just off the PCH, and those six packs come with a huge side of California Tan. -I don't know if you know this, but God did not bless me with much skin pigment. I tried to get tan, and at times I honestly was proud of my color progress-but when I'd ask for approval from anybody in their house, everyone, including Reanna, laughed at me. They said I was the hottest shade of pink they'd ever seen. They laughed at my struggle with the sun. Long hopeless story summed up short-- to her, I was simply Ryan's friend from school. And she had zero thoughts of any form of romance with me. But with morale as low as it was, when I boarded the plane with Ryan to journey to my part of the country, the heart of America, Ohio, I opened my journal and wrote of all the memorable moments with her. I confessed my love for her.
Straight from my own words the day I left CA, I wrote in my journal, "Although there were tons of fun stuff we did in Cali, I fly away with my mind chewing on one memory. And any one that knows me, truly knows me, could easily guess what this mind boggler is about... A girl." I continued on to describe the complexity of my situation. Falling in love with your best friend's sister could be the most special gift ever, but it is a very delicate situation, nonetheless.
The intensity doubled in strength as the weeks prior to my summer visit to Ryan's house became memories. It was happening. I was going back, and this time I knew something special was going to happen. I did some pre-gaming with her during the months between visits-I'd occasionally ask Ryan for the phone when he was done talking to her, we myspaced here and there, no big deal. Just planting seeds. :) Then shit got real about two weeks before my flight. One casual visit to her myspace site and I notice her status had changed to "Swinger." Immediately I called my inside source for varification-my NBF, New Best Friend, Alyx Van Stockum, pretty much the most legit girl I know!- and she was ecstatic to share the hopeful news with me, Reanna was in fact single again. The excitement was twirling throughout my spirit. I couldn't wait to get there.
...The first few days were pretty sweet, climbed up to a watering hole/springs river, wake boarding and tubing, it was all fun and everything, but the entire time I kept thinking about Reanna, and wondering why our flirty competitiveness hadn't progressed to intimacy or romance. I wasn't sure she was interested much at all. In fact I almost decided to hold off on the whole 'summer lovin' idea in general. Later that night, when the house was sleeping, I bumped into one of her best friend's, Danyelle (her other bf being Coral :]) down by the fridge. We sat and talked for a while; she was a sweet girl, and hours later she became my best friend ever! She explained how when her and Reanna were gossiping over "the boys" (Derek and me) that Reanna snapped at her when she claimed me, "Mike is mine!" These words sent chills down my back, I jolted with excitement, squeezed my pillow, buried my face in the pit of the couch and wanted to scream. I couldn't believe it! :) I felt like I'd been playing Alfalfa's "love flower" game forever: she loves me, she loves me not! She loves me, she loves me Not!...and finally, SHE LOVES ME! haha
The next night, Reanna gave it another solid effort to beat me in anything, she chose to lose in pool again, and I teased her for a minute, and asked her if what Danyelle said was true. When she smirked a yes, I stood up from my shot and exhaled all the carbon dioxide in my body and said with a smile, "Good. I like you too." The game continued in step with the rest of our games-I knocked down the hard shots, she trailed 3 or 4 balls a game. But this game was different, instead of talking trash, I let her know everything that was on my conscience: my hope previously squashed by her happiness without me, my new found hope, my longing crush, and so on. It was fantastic. We were on the same sheet of music. lol Afterwards, we each pulled our friends aside and shared the greatest news ever, "she likes me too!:)" haha... and then it became time to tell Ryan...
The first day on the cruise was blessed with amazing weather and great times with everyone. But too much time with Ryan over my back and on my conscience I felt, so later that night we had a man to man, heart to heart, where I proudly admitted that I was crazy about his sister. He layed down the big brother protection laws, and I complied immediately knowing that I'd never do anything to hurt her, and then I layed down the 'give us some space, relax, I'm serious about this one' praise. It couldn't have gone smoother. I respected him, he respected me, and ended with a sincere hug that lasted a solid two minutes, with whispers of last hopes and dreams of how great life was going to be together, literally almost family. I wouldn't let myself openly cry, but even pride falls short in strength to true tears of happiness. I told him that I loved him, and thanked him for his trust, and everything he'd done for my character development. He said he wouldn't want his baby sister with any other guy. ...after bylaying-not bystanding, he was too full from the all you can eat pizza! lol- for so long, Derek couldn't resist the aroma of love, so joined in on the hug. lol I left to go meet my anxiously waiting sweetheart, eager to hear how the talk went. I sort of rehearsed my main points with her for hours before talking with Ryan. lol I took her up to my room to share the story...
She couldn't believe how well it went. Up the elevator ride she was amazed and excited that her big brother was happy for her, for us. When we got to my room and I was so excited; I had more than just those words to give her--hey take it easy now! relax, no dirty stories on this blog! lol her brother can read this! haha ;) jk Ryan. anyway-- I didn't know what to open up with. How do you open up a talk so meaningful without stumbling over your words trying to make them just right, or at least sound like english lol. I decided to read to her. I simply read from my heart's memory book: the entry from the day when I first left So Cal, and began, so long ago, crushing on her. It was amazing. It always felt so right hugging her. Holding her body completely against mine so that destiny's pull couldn't possibly bring us any closer, it'd brought me there, and I won't ever let go.
The cruise was amazing..all you can eat pizza-Derek's favorite part-, comedy shows, kereoke, so of course I went on stage for some country rockin' with Derek--the fans loved us-finally some appreciation for my musical talents ha. Especially the 'Soul Sista's from Vegas' haha-- staying up late, the photography night-p.s. as people passed, their heads turned towards us smiling into the camera, in complete happiness. Somebody even asked me while I was reviewing the pic the next morning if they could buy the picture off me, because we looked so great together! lol -Fresh pink shirt and tie, to compliment her sexy, silk black dress, and she topped it off with the cutest pink bow in her hair she had bought just for that night. I am the luckiest man alive, I promise.- the hot tubs, La Bufadora, drinking margaritas, I drank the water and immediately lost my appetite and had to give my authentic Mexican burritos to the human disposal, Ryan. lol It was such an amazing time, I'll never forget and I'll never stop thanking God for the magic that happened there. :)
--This crazy love story only gets more intense as we had to leave each other for the rest of the summer, before meeting up again on R-Day minus one, 6-29-08 <3; for an 8 week cadet basic training session, known as Beast Barracks which only leads into one of the most demanding college experiences in the world, West Point. Luckily I have the greatest social support I could pray for: Ryan, Derek, Raff especially. My other boys- I love you all. But the person who inspires me most, who helped save me from eating away at myself, who raised my spirit back to life and now flies above cloud nine-thank you Reanna. I Love you..
...(three)...
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
A Way Back Into Love (One)
Heartache is worse than cancer. Cancer is fatal. Heartache is endless suffering.
After my heart was broken, I could feel my entire being begin to rot. My physical condition became sub par. My moods changed like a thirteen year old's, on the messy end of her menstrual cycle. And emotionally, I had the stability of an elephant on circus stilts. My conscience went on leave, and if my heart were hooked to a green screen, the waves would've resembled those of the Nile. I actually cannot recall a single conscious decision in the longest time during those dark days, or decades.
I tried to date again. Failed miserably.
My heart was numb.
Unconscious.
There were times when I'd have a great time out with a girl; talked, laughed, kissed, connected on some level or another...but I could never have any feelings. Zero attachment. Often times I'd actually lose complete interest and attraction in a girl after have the best time with her. :/ (I know, right?) I never understood it at the time, but now I think it had a lot to do with not getting over my breakup with Jewel (pseudonym for lack of permission from her to write this, primarily b/c we haven't spoken in months. lol geez AL) I wanted to get over her; I needed to so badly. It was ruining me. ...but my heart controlled my thoughts and feelings. Cerebrum--worthless.
I wanted to badly to fall in love again. So many songs, movies and pictures would send chills to my body and tears to the core of my eyes; ready to burst if only my pride would allow them. It's like when you go days without noticing a hangnail, and when you finally notice it, it seems to get ripped and snagged on every surface possible--Damn Murphy-- So any and everything that could remotely resemble any form of romance sent that same shocking sensation to take over my body like that tiny, powerful hangnail would tare.
There was only one thing that had a chance at saving me. Hope- I could only hope that I could be saved--to love again. And I knew that there was only one person who could save me...
I actually fell in love with this girl before having ever met her. Before having ever seen a picture of her. Throughout my USMAPS year, my best friend Ryan Johnson (don't need his permission for this! lol) would share stories of little brother-sister competitions growing up between him and his sister, Reanna. Every little anecdote stuck with me; I was falling for her and I didn't even know her. It was crazy, I know this, but I felt connected with her simply through hearing about her. I kept telling myself, "man, if I'm ever in a situation where even a friendship could develop with her, I'll be head over heels so fast!" haha...
...next thing I knew, Ryan tells me that she's being recruited to play softball at West Point. She got her Congressional Nomination. She got accepted. She signed. Batta-bing! Batta-boom! She's in! And I'm...nervous! ha. ... all that talking shit to myself about how I just needed to have a chance to hang out with her and let God take care of the rest, and I'd be set. I hoped maybe he could give me an extra boost of humor when I'd see her, because sometimes my jokes aren't all that funny. lol But I knew this was it, this was my way back into love.
She was it. She was everyththing. She held all the intangibles that made up the girl of my dreams. Smart. Funny. Athletic. Confident. Competitor. Determined. I could easily go on... I couldn't believe how crazy about her I was before I had even met her. It didn't matter, I had hope to love again. She'd given me hope without ever doing a single thing...
After my heart was broken, I could feel my entire being begin to rot. My physical condition became sub par. My moods changed like a thirteen year old's, on the messy end of her menstrual cycle. And emotionally, I had the stability of an elephant on circus stilts. My conscience went on leave, and if my heart were hooked to a green screen, the waves would've resembled those of the Nile. I actually cannot recall a single conscious decision in the longest time during those dark days, or decades.
I tried to date again. Failed miserably.
My heart was numb.
Unconscious.
There were times when I'd have a great time out with a girl; talked, laughed, kissed, connected on some level or another...but I could never have any feelings. Zero attachment. Often times I'd actually lose complete interest and attraction in a girl after have the best time with her. :/ (I know, right?) I never understood it at the time, but now I think it had a lot to do with not getting over my breakup with Jewel (pseudonym for lack of permission from her to write this, primarily b/c we haven't spoken in months. lol geez AL) I wanted to get over her; I needed to so badly. It was ruining me. ...but my heart controlled my thoughts and feelings. Cerebrum--worthless.
I wanted to badly to fall in love again. So many songs, movies and pictures would send chills to my body and tears to the core of my eyes; ready to burst if only my pride would allow them. It's like when you go days without noticing a hangnail, and when you finally notice it, it seems to get ripped and snagged on every surface possible--Damn Murphy-- So any and everything that could remotely resemble any form of romance sent that same shocking sensation to take over my body like that tiny, powerful hangnail would tare.
There was only one thing that had a chance at saving me. Hope- I could only hope that I could be saved--to love again. And I knew that there was only one person who could save me...
I actually fell in love with this girl before having ever met her. Before having ever seen a picture of her. Throughout my USMAPS year, my best friend Ryan Johnson (don't need his permission for this! lol) would share stories of little brother-sister competitions growing up between him and his sister, Reanna. Every little anecdote stuck with me; I was falling for her and I didn't even know her. It was crazy, I know this, but I felt connected with her simply through hearing about her. I kept telling myself, "man, if I'm ever in a situation where even a friendship could develop with her, I'll be head over heels so fast!" haha...
...next thing I knew, Ryan tells me that she's being recruited to play softball at West Point. She got her Congressional Nomination. She got accepted. She signed. Batta-bing! Batta-boom! She's in! And I'm...nervous! ha. ... all that talking shit to myself about how I just needed to have a chance to hang out with her and let God take care of the rest, and I'd be set. I hoped maybe he could give me an extra boost of humor when I'd see her, because sometimes my jokes aren't all that funny. lol But I knew this was it, this was my way back into love.
She was it. She was everyththing. She held all the intangibles that made up the girl of my dreams. Smart. Funny. Athletic. Confident. Competitor. Determined. I could easily go on... I couldn't believe how crazy about her I was before I had even met her. It didn't matter, I had hope to love again. She'd given me hope without ever doing a single thing...
...my heart is yours...
.......
Friday, April 18, 2008
Whizz Wit
Recently I made a weekend out of a visit to my boy's house in South Jersey. Not gunna lie you my brothers, it was a great weekend, with only a few minor setbacks. First off, if you haven't been to Philly, I recommend that immediately upon arrival, assuming of course that when you arrive your appetite had reached its deepest grumbles, that you aim your travels down to South Street to this joint, Jim's Steaks. And, if you in deed have been to or even perhaps live in Philly, yet still have not been to Jim's, then firstly-WTF mate- and secondly, GO NOW! VAMOS!
Jim's is an old school, extremely famous Philly Cheese Steak entrepreneur. I cannot lie-Cadet Honor Code. Hooah!? lol- Jim's is legit. JRaff, Stanley and I waited in line around the short corner for 45 minutes before reaching the counter--behind this counter was a 5x3ft. flat grill with tubs of commercial sized condiments. Pickles, mushrooms, olives, the whole works. But, what seemed most obvious to be the hottest commodity was the fat tub of Whizz Cheese-- An open container the size of a paint bucket, overflowing the brim with creamy cheese and a rubber Flathead spatula. The black hands working the station moved swiftly with many years of experience. It was an art in its own category. As I observed from my moving position in the wrap around line-against the wall that was swallowed by autographed pictures from hundreds of celebrities, Billy Joel, Allen Iverson, Ali, all praising Jim's Steaks- I could pick out the stuttering first timers within the crowd of Philly's finest easier than differing between a Canadian at the local sports bar and crazy Nascar fans. My man almost had the sandwich fixed before they could finish their order--these folks really messed with the system. But when a 'usual' walks up to the counter, a well-oiled machine kicks into gear: "Whizz Wit." Bread opened. Whizz spread. Steak gathered. Flip, Drop, Grill. Lift. Onions added ("Wit"). Next customer.
Clockwork.
Of course, Raff went first to introduce the protocol for ordering without sounding like an idiot. I followed suit, "Whizz Wit." --If he were a basketball fan, he might've noticed I was from out of town by my WITNESS T-Shirt, but he wouldn't have noticed from my tone. I was definitely acting the part. haha. I love Philly. --there you go Raff, I finally said it. lol-- We ate the cheese steaks looking out above the street through the window of a wall in almost silence-always a compliment to the chef. I couldn't believe what a drop in taste and texture Ohio and all other makes of cheese steaks were to this ultimate cheese steak. Next time my friends back home order a cheese steak from some small diner claiming to re-create the cheese steak, I will do as Raff has done whenever I defended to have previously enjoyed a cheese steak, and laugh in their faces. lol
After the cheese steak extravaganza, we walked through the more historical sites of Philadelphia. Beautiful city. Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, Tombs of the Unknown, Eternal Flame. All great. And of course I wanted to run up the steps at the Museum of Art like one of my idols Rocky Balboa! :) lol ..but we saved it for another visit. We were true at heart, but we were tired. -minor twist to the words of a great author, Dave Eggers. We needed some time to rejuvenate for the night that was about to hit us like ten pitchers, six hours, two games of electric bowling, walking through the drive-through of golden arches' at 330a.m. to break up a 30 min stumbling walk. Oh it hit us. Gotta love the little guy on the corner called Giuseppe's. And great potato skins too; they're very generous with their bacon. :)
The weekend which began with a very entertaining Phillies vs. Cubs game Friday, ended with a game of our own. Sunny Sunday afternoon calls for a nice round of golf at the faithful Sun Eagles Golf Course. ...my newly found joy in life. :)
Well my brothers, until next time...In the words made regular in South Jersey: Be Easy.
Jim's is an old school, extremely famous Philly Cheese Steak entrepreneur. I cannot lie-Cadet Honor Code. Hooah!? lol- Jim's is legit. JRaff, Stanley and I waited in line around the short corner for 45 minutes before reaching the counter--behind this counter was a 5x3ft. flat grill with tubs of commercial sized condiments. Pickles, mushrooms, olives, the whole works. But, what seemed most obvious to be the hottest commodity was the fat tub of Whizz Cheese-- An open container the size of a paint bucket, overflowing the brim with creamy cheese and a rubber Flathead spatula. The black hands working the station moved swiftly with many years of experience. It was an art in its own category. As I observed from my moving position in the wrap around line-against the wall that was swallowed by autographed pictures from hundreds of celebrities, Billy Joel, Allen Iverson, Ali, all praising Jim's Steaks- I could pick out the stuttering first timers within the crowd of Philly's finest easier than differing between a Canadian at the local sports bar and crazy Nascar fans. My man almost had the sandwich fixed before they could finish their order--these folks really messed with the system. But when a 'usual' walks up to the counter, a well-oiled machine kicks into gear: "Whizz Wit." Bread opened. Whizz spread. Steak gathered. Flip, Drop, Grill. Lift. Onions added ("Wit"). Next customer.
Clockwork.
Of course, Raff went first to introduce the protocol for ordering without sounding like an idiot. I followed suit, "Whizz Wit." --If he were a basketball fan, he might've noticed I was from out of town by my WITNESS T-Shirt, but he wouldn't have noticed from my tone. I was definitely acting the part. haha. I love Philly. --there you go Raff, I finally said it. lol-- We ate the cheese steaks looking out above the street through the window of a wall in almost silence-always a compliment to the chef. I couldn't believe what a drop in taste and texture Ohio and all other makes of cheese steaks were to this ultimate cheese steak. Next time my friends back home order a cheese steak from some small diner claiming to re-create the cheese steak, I will do as Raff has done whenever I defended to have previously enjoyed a cheese steak, and laugh in their faces. lol
After the cheese steak extravaganza, we walked through the more historical sites of Philadelphia. Beautiful city. Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, Tombs of the Unknown, Eternal Flame. All great. And of course I wanted to run up the steps at the Museum of Art like one of my idols Rocky Balboa! :) lol ..but we saved it for another visit. We were true at heart, but we were tired. -minor twist to the words of a great author, Dave Eggers. We needed some time to rejuvenate for the night that was about to hit us like ten pitchers, six hours, two games of electric bowling, walking through the drive-through of golden arches' at 330a.m. to break up a 30 min stumbling walk. Oh it hit us. Gotta love the little guy on the corner called Giuseppe's. And great potato skins too; they're very generous with their bacon. :)
The weekend which began with a very entertaining Phillies vs. Cubs game Friday, ended with a game of our own. Sunny Sunday afternoon calls for a nice round of golf at the faithful Sun Eagles Golf Course. ...my newly found joy in life. :)
Well my brothers, until next time...In the words made regular in South Jersey: Be Easy.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
California Love
The Beastie Boys were on point when they were always crushing over some cali girls... just went there to one of my best friend's house in Rancho... and I met some of the most gorgeous women! Even the ones I didn't meet, just casual glances to my left and right as we cruised the boardwalk, the girls were glowing. :) They glanced back with a smile of interest from time to time which was satisfying in itself because I thought, "hey, look at me, Mr. Ohioman with NO tan getting looks from these bronze goddesses!" haha... then I realized I was riding shotty in a Cherry Red '72 Chevelle. lol
But I'll have to admit that I boarded the plane from Ontario to my house--with several minor stops along the way, PHX-2hrs, St. Louis-3hrs thanks a lot Southwest, YOU SUCK! ...I've obviously had better flights in my day. lol Ahhh-CHOO...Ahhh-jetBLUUE! :)-- but my mind had enough to chew on to tag team with sleep to tackle the 16hrs travel time. The jerky which my mind's jaw chewed on was all sorts of juicy. Kudos to me for remembering to bring my journal with me, because the contents written between those black-leather-covers served as the plate to support these stories and my pen was the utensil of choice for ripping at the meat. but before I get to the medium-rare center of my steak-- sorry. tease. ..actually, it will be saved for another blog, if you're lucky, but most likely saved for my own wandering eyes..- I must first anoint my new best friend!
ALYXVANSTOCKUM
So we're waiting at the Pierre at Huntington Beach for Ryan's best friend to arrive, the suspense to finally meet this girl is making my palms sweat- all over this nice girls blanket too. hehe. sh, Kellie doesn't know- and finally Ryan spots her and hands over to me his bag so that his arms would be free to catch, what I like to call a "Jump-Straddle-Hump-Hug" lol they were so overjoyed and didn't seem to care who saw them. Its quite the norm in California for crazy things to occur on the side of the Pierre, or anywhere for that matter, and where these acts would be considered inappropriate on the East-coast, in Cali, the reaction is simply, DGAF. --that's right east coast and mid-westerners, you read it correctly, DGAF. It's not an acronym. It's not a word. It's a way of life. Don't Give A Fuck. In Cali they're so chill: oh hey look, that guy wearing the vibrant colors looks like he left Woodstock and didn't stop hitch-hiking until he stumbled over stoned on Venice Beach; and hasn't stopped party'n since.. DGAF. ha. love it.-- So after the screaming and excitement I finally saw the adorable face of my new best friend. Alyx.
The four of us began our boardwalk stroll to the part of the beach where our fire pit was. After we walked away from a fight with a guy pushing his baby in a stroller, we split up. Ryan and his friend ran ahead to meet everyone else, and Alyx and I conversationally walked in pursuit. And then we walked in confusion. And then we walked in frustration. And then we walked into the ocean to pee--HA! I've pee'd in both the Atlantic and the Pacific. To quote my new bestest, "I'm the shit!"-- What happened, was that Alyx passed and lost her own truck which happened to mark the spot where our fire pit was. ..Needless to say, Alyx and I got to talk a lot that night!lol
...Funny how Ryan and I being best friends almost guaranteed a great friendship with his best friend Alyx. I just met the girl and we were already acting as best buds from back in the recess days of old...we were singing to and with each other..party'n...getting sun-burnt...reading aloud chapters at a time from Catcher in the Rye...and sharing things like the trucks we drive-both Rangers baby!...favorite color...SAME BIRTHDAY!... in such a short time we became such good friends... Damn Ryan's got to be her best friend for years now! lol but like I wish to've been her friend as long as he.. he wishes even more to've been her friend since birth! So many mornings I meet him out at formation..and from the swelling around his sleep-deprived eyes i can tell he's only taken a nap for the night...spent hours and hours on the phone with her. Damn time zones.. lol
..it gets better! TWO SISTERS! ah! can't imagine growing up in that house..and that's a lot coming from my crazy family! lol ...met the younger one, Courtney, during her visit with a friend's parents to NYC. Ryan and I took them to the great Bella Vita's..and a comedy club in times square--those dashes represent what could be pages of stories about that place. but another time, perhaps--..lol can you imagine 19 year old, half grown-we hope only half, haha 6'5 wanna be Johnson!- men running around the city with cute, little, (almost) Innocent girls. lol but it was fun, and Courtney is a jem. ..Can't wait to meet the older Van Stockum! :)..Brittany. :)
..more tales of our Rancho Cucamonga adventures for later...but for now I have to tend to my herd.. of math equations... fronting a desire to get a good grade on this exam...when really, it's whatever...DGAF..
But I'll have to admit that I boarded the plane from Ontario to my house--with several minor stops along the way, PHX-2hrs, St. Louis-3hrs thanks a lot Southwest, YOU SUCK! ...I've obviously had better flights in my day. lol Ahhh-CHOO...Ahhh-jetBLUUE! :)-- but my mind had enough to chew on to tag team with sleep to tackle the 16hrs travel time. The jerky which my mind's jaw chewed on was all sorts of juicy. Kudos to me for remembering to bring my journal with me, because the contents written between those black-leather-covers served as the plate to support these stories and my pen was the utensil of choice for ripping at the meat. but before I get to the medium-rare center of my steak-- sorry. tease. ..actually, it will be saved for another blog, if you're lucky, but most likely saved for my own wandering eyes..- I must first anoint my new best friend!
ALYXVANSTOCKUM
So we're waiting at the Pierre at Huntington Beach for Ryan's best friend to arrive, the suspense to finally meet this girl is making my palms sweat- all over this nice girls blanket too. hehe. sh, Kellie doesn't know- and finally Ryan spots her and hands over to me his bag so that his arms would be free to catch, what I like to call a "Jump-Straddle-Hump-Hug" lol they were so overjoyed and didn't seem to care who saw them. Its quite the norm in California for crazy things to occur on the side of the Pierre, or anywhere for that matter, and where these acts would be considered inappropriate on the East-coast, in Cali, the reaction is simply, DGAF. --that's right east coast and mid-westerners, you read it correctly, DGAF. It's not an acronym. It's not a word. It's a way of life. Don't Give A Fuck. In Cali they're so chill: oh hey look, that guy wearing the vibrant colors looks like he left Woodstock and didn't stop hitch-hiking until he stumbled over stoned on Venice Beach; and hasn't stopped party'n since.. DGAF. ha. love it.-- So after the screaming and excitement I finally saw the adorable face of my new best friend. Alyx.
The four of us began our boardwalk stroll to the part of the beach where our fire pit was. After we walked away from a fight with a guy pushing his baby in a stroller, we split up. Ryan and his friend ran ahead to meet everyone else, and Alyx and I conversationally walked in pursuit. And then we walked in confusion. And then we walked in frustration. And then we walked into the ocean to pee--HA! I've pee'd in both the Atlantic and the Pacific. To quote my new bestest, "I'm the shit!"-- What happened, was that Alyx passed and lost her own truck which happened to mark the spot where our fire pit was. ..Needless to say, Alyx and I got to talk a lot that night!lol
...Funny how Ryan and I being best friends almost guaranteed a great friendship with his best friend Alyx. I just met the girl and we were already acting as best buds from back in the recess days of old...we were singing to and with each other..party'n...getting sun-burnt...reading aloud chapters at a time from Catcher in the Rye...and sharing things like the trucks we drive-both Rangers baby!...favorite color...SAME BIRTHDAY!... in such a short time we became such good friends... Damn Ryan's got to be her best friend for years now! lol but like I wish to've been her friend as long as he.. he wishes even more to've been her friend since birth! So many mornings I meet him out at formation..and from the swelling around his sleep-deprived eyes i can tell he's only taken a nap for the night...spent hours and hours on the phone with her. Damn time zones.. lol
..it gets better! TWO SISTERS! ah! can't imagine growing up in that house..and that's a lot coming from my crazy family! lol ...met the younger one, Courtney, during her visit with a friend's parents to NYC. Ryan and I took them to the great Bella Vita's..and a comedy club in times square--those dashes represent what could be pages of stories about that place. but another time, perhaps--..lol can you imagine 19 year old, half grown-we hope only half, haha 6'5 wanna be Johnson!- men running around the city with cute, little, (almost) Innocent girls. lol but it was fun, and Courtney is a jem. ..Can't wait to meet the older Van Stockum! :)..Brittany. :)
..more tales of our Rancho Cucamonga adventures for later...but for now I have to tend to my herd.. of math equations... fronting a desire to get a good grade on this exam...when really, it's whatever...DGAF..
Sunday, March 16, 2008
The JetBlue Experience and the USMAPS Position
Today I arrived back at the beloved USMAPS compound with the wrestling team and our body language spoke volumes of our liking of the return as the five of us assumed the "USMAPS Position" we like to call it--we fall into this position as soon as the giant brick arch at the front entrance is within squinted eyesight, and our capturers' name can be read, "Fort Monmouth." Almost in unison we sound off as though we're about to meet our maker, "USMAPS Position" and we paralyze our necks and let our heads free fall into our hands, supported by our elbows posted into the meat of our knees. -I'm sure you've seen a similar position in movies, like when a boy sits on the foot of his bed crying tiny oceans into his hands because he's just been removed from the dinner table and exiled for the night, 'straight to your room young man,' the father demands. Similar position. But ours runs much deeper than any boys' ocean of tears. Because upon return to the USMAPS compound the fabulous-free-world as all of you regular college brats know it comes to an end. No random events. No beautiful women, walking freely embracing the gaping stares from all directions. No excitement... just another week of gray. I swear there is a permanent cloud hovering over this place only to remind CC Nation that we are volunteering ourselves for another weeks' captivity and crawling closer to the commitment of four much more gruesome years of the gray life. Believe it or not, these are the thoughts that merely scrape the surface of thoughts that run through our head as we assume the "USMAPS Position"
...What made this return much worse than the usual lashing of the soul is that we returned from five days in Florida. Walking from the hotel to the rental van in shorts and a t-shirt, soaking up the sunshine, casually walking from A to B, amazed at the sight of female skin-shorts and tank-tops were torture in a beautiful disguise. Beats the hell out of Class B's and the ACU- Florida.
...USMAPS. ugh.
But I'll tell you what... if you have the chance to book your next flight through JetBlue..do it. No lies. I'm not some sort of undercover advertiser here, and I'm not receiving any secret commission either. But, the JetBlue experience added 6 hours to our Florida experience. Three hours there and back of lounging, drinks, snacks, t.v., they make the plane ride part of the vacation, not just the transportation to the vacation.
I'll be back soon to vent on the weekends' many exciting events. I should have time to write. Somewhere between the three square meals a day and unnecessary formations I'll find time to transfer my thoughts to blogs desperate for somebody to understand them, and then translate them back to me so that maybe I can.
..Either way... four more days until I escape the compound and fly away to my buddy's house in beautiful California.
...I'm pissed though I didn't know before to book this six hour one-way flight JetBlue. The leg room, t.v. and bottomless food and drink would have helped out a lot. :/
..what rhymes with NyQuil. :)
...What made this return much worse than the usual lashing of the soul is that we returned from five days in Florida. Walking from the hotel to the rental van in shorts and a t-shirt, soaking up the sunshine, casually walking from A to B, amazed at the sight of female skin-shorts and tank-tops were torture in a beautiful disguise. Beats the hell out of Class B's and the ACU- Florida.
...USMAPS. ugh.
But I'll tell you what... if you have the chance to book your next flight through JetBlue..do it. No lies. I'm not some sort of undercover advertiser here, and I'm not receiving any secret commission either. But, the JetBlue experience added 6 hours to our Florida experience. Three hours there and back of lounging, drinks, snacks, t.v., they make the plane ride part of the vacation, not just the transportation to the vacation.
I'll be back soon to vent on the weekends' many exciting events. I should have time to write. Somewhere between the three square meals a day and unnecessary formations I'll find time to transfer my thoughts to blogs desperate for somebody to understand them, and then translate them back to me so that maybe I can.
..Either way... four more days until I escape the compound and fly away to my buddy's house in beautiful California.
...I'm pissed though I didn't know before to book this six hour one-way flight JetBlue. The leg room, t.v. and bottomless food and drink would have helped out a lot. :/
..what rhymes with NyQuil. :)
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Yo, jot that down..
I must admit that I feared for my personal journal's existence once I became a Blogger, but to tell you the truth, it hasn't taken much of a hit. I find myself almost reassuring our almost intimate relationship, like a little boy reassures his jealous best-friend that the new kid in the neighborhood, with the newest video games and best snacks, isn't going to ruin their friendship. I often wonder how many people actually keep some sort of a journal?? And after that, I'm thirsty to know which of my friends write??? Regardless of your method of writing, I recommend that you do it. It's healthy.
I read once that if your life is not worth taking the time to someday write a book about, or at least record certain events in your life, than you really aren't living. ...Not that the life of a Cadet Candidate at USMAPS is very eventful, or worth several hundred pages even if greatly modified into a dominantly fictional narrative, but the personal contacts alone could fill several chapters. The people in my life are great. -love you guys. no homo. haha-
If nothing else, write about people and your unique relationships with them.
Personal contacts... you shouldn't need me to tell you that personal relationships are what make any situation worth living in, and definitely worth remembering for. My memory holds no past-time that doesn't revolve around the character of a friend of mine. Even most great novels and movies rely on the relationship developed between the reader-viewer and the characters involved.
FRIENDS. The greatest t.v. series of all-time! I even place it in the movie category just so it can hold another title. -Best movie ever- The show clicks on all cylinders. Comedy. Drama. Action- Yea, action. Try to argue that Joey's 10 second gallon-milk chug is not action!- Romance. Intellect. It's the perfect show. The personal relationships between the characters, and between the viewers and the characters create the ultimate friends circle that 'Chad' from Altell just cannot fit into his network.- Oh, no. Me, my friends, and my FRIENDS are exclusively V.I.P. Verizon.- But the show was so clutch because I became the 7th FRIEND. Anyone who's been a FRIENDS Fanatic feels like Central Perk was the number one hang out spot for ten of the best years of his or her life. I know I do.
All the hilarious anecdotes from the show were written by some of the most creative and genius writers ever. -who both inspire the aspiring writers of America, and burn those amateur writers' dreams because of their greatness. How can we ever compete or compare to such great humor?- all the anecdotes hailed from different corners of the city, and different cities. These writers had great laughs with their personal friends, and then write the script to the show, based off their own lives. Humor is truth. These writers, as most great writers do, use their own life experiences to create universal hits that leave impressionable marks on millions.
....Thus I encourage you all, to write. You never know when a funny story that happened to your kid sister might combine with something that happened at the coffee shop to create a 22 minute episode worth timeless laughs for generations to come.
I read once that if your life is not worth taking the time to someday write a book about, or at least record certain events in your life, than you really aren't living. ...Not that the life of a Cadet Candidate at USMAPS is very eventful, or worth several hundred pages even if greatly modified into a dominantly fictional narrative, but the personal contacts alone could fill several chapters. The people in my life are great. -love you guys. no homo. haha-
If nothing else, write about people and your unique relationships with them.
Personal contacts... you shouldn't need me to tell you that personal relationships are what make any situation worth living in, and definitely worth remembering for. My memory holds no past-time that doesn't revolve around the character of a friend of mine. Even most great novels and movies rely on the relationship developed between the reader-viewer and the characters involved.
FRIENDS. The greatest t.v. series of all-time! I even place it in the movie category just so it can hold another title. -Best movie ever- The show clicks on all cylinders. Comedy. Drama. Action- Yea, action. Try to argue that Joey's 10 second gallon-milk chug is not action!- Romance. Intellect. It's the perfect show. The personal relationships between the characters, and between the viewers and the characters create the ultimate friends circle that 'Chad' from Altell just cannot fit into his network.- Oh, no. Me, my friends, and my FRIENDS are exclusively V.I.P. Verizon.- But the show was so clutch because I became the 7th FRIEND. Anyone who's been a FRIENDS Fanatic feels like Central Perk was the number one hang out spot for ten of the best years of his or her life. I know I do.
All the hilarious anecdotes from the show were written by some of the most creative and genius writers ever. -who both inspire the aspiring writers of America, and burn those amateur writers' dreams because of their greatness. How can we ever compete or compare to such great humor?- all the anecdotes hailed from different corners of the city, and different cities. These writers had great laughs with their personal friends, and then write the script to the show, based off their own lives. Humor is truth. These writers, as most great writers do, use their own life experiences to create universal hits that leave impressionable marks on millions.
....Thus I encourage you all, to write. You never know when a funny story that happened to your kid sister might combine with something that happened at the coffee shop to create a 22 minute episode worth timeless laughs for generations to come.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
My Passion
Before this girl I had rhinoceros thick skin and a defense mechanism to avoid showing emotion that was like clockwork. I never really opened up to anybody. I love my dad more than anybody on this earth - mom love you just as much :)- but even with him, I'd never let him see me down. I'd never open up to him completely. No, that would be too big of a risk even for a guy like me who thrives off living on the edge. my best friends in the world, would sometimes notice when I let my guard down, and they'd ask what was on my mind, but I was so good at changing the subject without making it obvious that I was really hurting. I could never let myself become vulnerable. Perfection. Iron.
...then I fell in love...
and for any man who has ever been truly in love with a women, you truly understand that I was at her mercy. I gave her my heart, and I was completely aware of what was happening. this wasn't a dream- you know the ones where you hear a voice and completely connect with that person, but when you wake up you have no recollection of who she was or what she looked like.-no, this was my life. I was living in a dream. and for the first time in my life, I could honestly put somebody's happiness before mine, and feel like the luckiest man alive. Merriam & Webster have not the knowledge of words deep enough to satisfy my heart's aching desire to describe this love. and I passionately want to transform these feelings I have in the swell of my heart and the depthest of my soul, my being, into words, most likely a form a literature, unless I learn the tongue of dear Hamlet and can stand alone in a dark tower and speak aloud though my heart and soul combined grew a voicebox and years worth of built up emotion poored to the air for only mine own ears to embrace. But Hamlet is in a class of his own, and if I cannot obtain this miracle, then I only wish to give the unlucky people in the world, who are without any experience with love, a distant glimpse of how great it feels. how magical it can be. Love is the sole purpose for our existence.
she made me the biggest little kid ever. we would play fight-I'd always crush her with wrestling moves, and she'd always stab me in my soft spots--sharp elbows to the ribs, and pull my leg hairs--chickenshit. she'd chase me around the pool table and around the couches until we were both so out of breath that we'd give a 5 minute truce and just collapse on the couches like two children at nap-time after a sugar crash. she'll kill me for saying this, but truth is...when she was super tired..she wheezed. haha :) Me-1, Her-0.
My one true passion.
Coach P. always told me that my success would never be fulfilling because i wasn't ever passionate about sports. which is weird because if you know me, you know I'm all about winning. but he was right. winning made part of who i am, but it never filled the shadowed corners of my heart with joy and truth. passion for love is the unmeasurable happiness, and not comparable to anything else a human could ever hope for.
We live and dream to someday love.
...then I fell in love...
and for any man who has ever been truly in love with a women, you truly understand that I was at her mercy. I gave her my heart, and I was completely aware of what was happening. this wasn't a dream- you know the ones where you hear a voice and completely connect with that person, but when you wake up you have no recollection of who she was or what she looked like.-no, this was my life. I was living in a dream. and for the first time in my life, I could honestly put somebody's happiness before mine, and feel like the luckiest man alive. Merriam & Webster have not the knowledge of words deep enough to satisfy my heart's aching desire to describe this love. and I passionately want to transform these feelings I have in the swell of my heart and the depthest of my soul, my being, into words, most likely a form a literature, unless I learn the tongue of dear Hamlet and can stand alone in a dark tower and speak aloud though my heart and soul combined grew a voicebox and years worth of built up emotion poored to the air for only mine own ears to embrace. But Hamlet is in a class of his own, and if I cannot obtain this miracle, then I only wish to give the unlucky people in the world, who are without any experience with love, a distant glimpse of how great it feels. how magical it can be. Love is the sole purpose for our existence.
she made me the biggest little kid ever. we would play fight-I'd always crush her with wrestling moves, and she'd always stab me in my soft spots--sharp elbows to the ribs, and pull my leg hairs--chickenshit. she'd chase me around the pool table and around the couches until we were both so out of breath that we'd give a 5 minute truce and just collapse on the couches like two children at nap-time after a sugar crash. she'll kill me for saying this, but truth is...when she was super tired..she wheezed. haha :) Me-1, Her-0.
My one true passion.
Coach P. always told me that my success would never be fulfilling because i wasn't ever passionate about sports. which is weird because if you know me, you know I'm all about winning. but he was right. winning made part of who i am, but it never filled the shadowed corners of my heart with joy and truth. passion for love is the unmeasurable happiness, and not comparable to anything else a human could ever hope for.
We live and dream to someday love.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Smile! :)
I turned off my lamp and stood in my boxers-not briefs ;) lol- in the middle of my room debating whether i should grab my flashlight and book and read myself to sleep, or write this blog about how my friend back home, in Ohio, Chelsea, made me smile and reminded me a lesson never to forget.
Pretty much the first thing i do when i walk into my room is flip up the lap top, open my top drawer and check for a text or missed call. It's lame, but i guess it's human nature. I mean who doesn't want a surprise "Hello, how are ya?" or "Whad up cuz!?" lol sometimes i get caught up in a monotony of the day, eat, classes, eat, classes, workout, eat, homework, sleep, and i feel passive, needing a spark from the outside world to set off an unexpected excitement and make me feel wanted. We all want to feel wanted, right?
anyways... so today, somewhere between class and chow, I returned to my room fully expecting to see only the time on my phone, yet subconsciously hoping for a "1 New Test Message" so i can flip it open, click 'View Now' and get a short moments rush wondering who it's from and what it's about... and today I got that rush! "New Voicemail" YAY! i debated between entering my password and letting the surprise be in decifering the voice itself, or visual tension follow by pleasure and go to my missed calls to see who my secret admirer could be.. i decided that I couldn't take the rush of a mystery voice, and checked my missed calls...Chelsea!?!?
Then i thought- oh wow, i haven't talked to her since Christmas break! :o- she left me the sweetest voicemail ever, provoking my best smile from the time she began with, "Miiiiike" to the finale, "...call me baackk! I miss you!" I thought about it most all the way through Study Barracks, waiting until I could lay on my bed with my legs rested against the wall, as to let the blood drain and relief the cramping from wrestling, but also to put my body in a complete state of relaxation, effortless to be alive. We talked for a little while, ending during the juiciest part-procrastinating h/w can only go for so long, i recommended she get going on it. lol- but the time we were talking was as effortless as laying in bed fully supported by the comfort of the mattress.
I applauded her as i told her how she made my day. With such a simple phone call from a friend 450 miles away. So I end this by reminding you faithful readers- haha always wanted to say that. i suppose i should have held onto it for when i actually have faithful readers, this blog doesn't really create that for me. lol but i like it. :) and it felt cool to say. lol- i remind people not to forget those who have been removed from the day-to-day, and ask that you omit a Facebook session and take a few minutes to contact an old friend. You just might be the one to make somebody else smile, which can make all the difference in the world to some who need it.
Pretty much the first thing i do when i walk into my room is flip up the lap top, open my top drawer and check for a text or missed call. It's lame, but i guess it's human nature. I mean who doesn't want a surprise "Hello, how are ya?" or "Whad up cuz!?" lol sometimes i get caught up in a monotony of the day, eat, classes, eat, classes, workout, eat, homework, sleep, and i feel passive, needing a spark from the outside world to set off an unexpected excitement and make me feel wanted. We all want to feel wanted, right?
anyways... so today, somewhere between class and chow, I returned to my room fully expecting to see only the time on my phone, yet subconsciously hoping for a "1 New Test Message" so i can flip it open, click 'View Now' and get a short moments rush wondering who it's from and what it's about... and today I got that rush! "New Voicemail" YAY! i debated between entering my password and letting the surprise be in decifering the voice itself, or visual tension follow by pleasure and go to my missed calls to see who my secret admirer could be.. i decided that I couldn't take the rush of a mystery voice, and checked my missed calls...Chelsea!?!?
Then i thought- oh wow, i haven't talked to her since Christmas break! :o- she left me the sweetest voicemail ever, provoking my best smile from the time she began with, "Miiiiike" to the finale, "...call me baackk! I miss you!" I thought about it most all the way through Study Barracks, waiting until I could lay on my bed with my legs rested against the wall, as to let the blood drain and relief the cramping from wrestling, but also to put my body in a complete state of relaxation, effortless to be alive. We talked for a little while, ending during the juiciest part-procrastinating h/w can only go for so long, i recommended she get going on it. lol- but the time we were talking was as effortless as laying in bed fully supported by the comfort of the mattress.
I applauded her as i told her how she made my day. With such a simple phone call from a friend 450 miles away. So I end this by reminding you faithful readers- haha always wanted to say that. i suppose i should have held onto it for when i actually have faithful readers, this blog doesn't really create that for me. lol but i like it. :) and it felt cool to say. lol- i remind people not to forget those who have been removed from the day-to-day, and ask that you omit a Facebook session and take a few minutes to contact an old friend. You just might be the one to make somebody else smile, which can make all the difference in the world to some who need it.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Lights Out
Some nights i lay awake and contemplate
events of the day
mistakes that i've made
or if i'm ever going on another date.
Sometimes i want to cry
but the dry heaving and the feeling
of bleeding on the inside
aren't heeling to the thoughts of my suicide.
i'm squealing internally.
The audio is mute
i won't budge
i'll hold it eternally.
The world just can't see
the real me.
It could be that i don't show
i don't know
But, i know that i'm no homo.
Confusion and frustration
they fuck up my imagination.
My thoughts are so cloudy.
My Jiminy Cricket has gone rowdy.
i need to relax, let loose of my grip
and shake this frown, you know, just clown around
or have a night out, about town.
On the prowl
and bring home what i've found.
No. Stop sleeping around.
i don't want this.
i'm so sick of this same shit.
A fucking pussy could forget her and get over it.
Lights Out.
events of the day
mistakes that i've made
or if i'm ever going on another date.
Sometimes i want to cry
but the dry heaving and the feeling
of bleeding on the inside
aren't heeling to the thoughts of my suicide.
i'm squealing internally.
The audio is mute
i won't budge
i'll hold it eternally.
The world just can't see
the real me.
It could be that i don't show
i don't know
But, i know that i'm no homo.
Confusion and frustration
they fuck up my imagination.
My thoughts are so cloudy.
My Jiminy Cricket has gone rowdy.
i need to relax, let loose of my grip
and shake this frown, you know, just clown around
or have a night out, about town.
On the prowl
and bring home what i've found.
No. Stop sleeping around.
i don't want this.
i'm so sick of this same shit.
A fucking pussy could forget her and get over it.
Lights Out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
