veracity.

If I died, one would merely have to collect my writings, photographs, lyrics, journals, and the conversations I have had to know everything about me.  I feel in life each one of us are a complex puzzle, the older we get the more pieces there are for one to collect.  We give a small portion of ourselves to each event, moment, and person that we come into contact with.  I would imagine we are all the same, some pieces given more freely than others.  Some pieces bigger than others, according to their importance/impact on/in our lives.

Are we really ever really ourselves, not in the sense of being who we really are, but do we belong to ourselves? 

Are we really an island to ourselves?

I believe we are not an island to ourselves because clearly when others give us a part of themselves (whether it be their intellect, faith, or opinion) we do not only take a piece of their proverbial puzzle, but we then try our best to attach it where might fit the best, if at all.

And they take from us as well.  Whether good or bad, right or wrong, positive or negative.

The other day as a friend and I were sitting outside wishing it were a few degrees cooler and hoping that there would be a lot less humidity in the air, I proceeded to surrender some of my struggles to my friend, not that she could ever relate or sympathise, but that I could hand her a section of me that was an aggravation to maintain.  

Why does handing something verbally over to someone feel so freeing?   As if now it is their burden to share as well, even though that could not be further from the truth.

I wonder if the reason I don’t tell one person alone every aspect of my life is because I’m afraid of what they might find out.  As if one person alone held every key they would realise I am simply human.

So silence is my defence mechanism. 

Silence allows the ability to have opinions formulated not by who you truly are but by what others think you are.

Silence has never had its way with me before, so why begin now? 

I want to hear what others believe, I realise that the more I know, the more I realise that I don’t have a damn clue.

I want to learn truth, I think we all do, there is something out there greater than ourselves, that can complete our own ‘puzzle’, because I see now we were never complete to begin with.  Though I find solace in the words and wisdom of others, I see that knowledge and understanding are only the beginning of any quest for veracity.

my apology

i am sure that i am going to regret putting this post up. its pretty late at night and I'm feeling vulnerable and somewhat disillusioned. i will probably take this down tomorrow. but for some reason i feel compelled to admit my guilt. in some ways maybe this is some sort of bizarre and twisted therapy. i am guilty. i have, and will fail. but i need to get over my superman complex and become vulnerable so that others can learn from my error.


ive come to see what a bastard of a human i have been in my life. i think it all started around the age of 20, maybe earlier. it wasn't sex i sought out in women. ever. it was merely the attention. and not just the attention from humans it was from only females. sad really. actually not even sad, its pathetic. i desired to be desired ironically. and that's it. once i was accepted it was over on some level.


i bought a shirt a while back. it said CHANGED. random that some wear their heart on their sleeve, but modern fashion allows me to wear it on my chest as well.


i have never had a girlfriend that i cheated on. being single is a new experience. a good experience. so while i've never cheated - i've often thrived for this attention. i think the simple root of my problem can be traced to the fact i never felt like people close to me were proud of me. though i got a lot of attention from my folks and those i respect, i think sometimes it may not have always been the most positive. but i can't and will not blame this on them. my folks are brilliant. actually i think its a cop out when people blame all their problems on their parents or those close to them. poor cowards. they will live their entire life's never knowing that they themselves made the decisions. sad when people cannot take responsibilities for their own actions. but this is my confession, and my problem, and i am simply pointing out a possible root.


tonight i walked by some men that couldn't have been but 10 years older than me. hitting on some women in a bar. i thought to myself how disgusting. all she is to them is prey. then i looked in the proverbial mirror. i don't want to be that man. single and hunting, years past days he should be making a family. and that's what it is right... hunting. well that's what it looked like anyway.


the other day a very nice looking young professional talked to me for quite a while. she said that she shared the same group of mutual friends, and had the same musical tastes as me. which i thought was funny. at the end of the conversation she gave me her card and asked her to call her so we could hang out and she could show me around my new city. on the way home i handed the card to my friend. he ripped it up. sorry if you see this "M". but i thought you should know.


i don't want to be a bastard anymore. i am not going to hurt anyone anymore. i want a secluded life. i want to grow a beard or something. i wish i could walk away sometimes. to anywhere. but that's pretty cowardly of me isn't it.


insane as it sounds men glorify other men that break hearts and take names. from black books to books like "the game" by neil strous. we make it appears so glamorous to tear someone apart, take them for all they are worth, and walk away. i am sure there are several guys reading this that can relate. you have a game or plan on how to sway lips. pathetic is the key word in this dissertation.


i have a lot to learn. i am no where close to who i want to be. i am going to stay a few paces back from any relationship. i have broken a couple bridges, moved to fast, tried to slow down, and crashed. i have a reputation now. undeserved on many levels. deserved on many other bigger levels that those people don't even know about.


i walked into a tattoo studio the other day. on the wall there was a heart that looked like it had been sewn up. across it was the word repair. and for some reason it compelled me.


like anyone with a problem, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, well here's my admission. and though i am going to regret posting this at all maybe it will help someone admit something they are dealing with or help someone realize that they don't have to get attention from the opposite sex to feel validated. its so very pointless and shallow. be who you are.


as i was walking away from the tattoo studio i remembered the scripture that Christ had spoke "... i have come to heal the broken hearted". then i realized im the bastard that probably broke that heart or hurt that person. i will change. i am changing. its simply a matter of time. just you wait and see.


i guess the one thing i have not done is to say sorry to anyone i have hurt. sure this doesn't amount to much. words are the most meaningless objects i have in your lives at this moment. but maybe this is where honesty and admitting i am wrong come into play... i am truly sorry.

what's a bedside revolution anyway?

opposed to popular belief you CAN change the world.

so please stand up for what you think is right or wrong no matter who you face, or how many people attack you.

one person can change the world, you just have to get up and go out and do it!

so there is NO SUCH THING as a bedside revolution.

if you feel strongly about an issue, go make a difference.
there are organizations that are out there who want to come along side you and help with the same goals.

something i have been behind is To Write Love On Her Arms... check the link, and get behind an organisation or something you believe in:
http://www.twloha.com/page.php?id=6

insecurities, vanity and life

i think this is simply going to be a random commentary on life, i guess... i have no clue what i am going to write about, so here goes.

as i sat back in a cafe today in the middle of town i saw a rather nice, large car pull up at the front. out came the driver, who i later assumed was the daughter, she looked too compassionate and genuine to be a hired hand. the elderly lady in the back was helped up and began to walk rather slowly into the cafe. but there was something peculiar about this woman, you see her legs were obviously frail; i deducted this by the slow walking pace and rather alarmingly turtle like cruise control that she put upon her own two legs. but her face. well it caught me by surprise, and it wasn't a second glance look like a car accident, it was a solid wide eyed mouth open second glance. her face and neck had been, well "hollywooded". her lips tripled the size of mine in weight and stature. her face was so pulled back i expected to see skin and not hair on the back of her head. her neck looked as though the driver was restraining it, or trying to choke her neck behind her. all in all her face looked half the age of her body. but who was she fooling, the skin on her arms looked more like a map of new york city subway system and less fitting to her face. which i guess is the point.  which is a rather mute point at a certain point in life. 

i am not trying to criticise this elderly woman, i am simply wondering how much of our lives is a front to hide our insecurity's. how much is what we participate in a veneer for keeping up with the image we think we need. we as white washed tombs, on the outside we may look pure and holy, but on the inside lie dead men's bones. why are you in that job? is this really what you wanted to be doing with your life, or is it just for the tittle, distinction, or the possessions what you earn will afford. are these your dreams? or are you pretending for the notoriety it might someday bring. is this the school or degree you wanted, or is this the plastic surgeons work to make you look better to others than you really are.

flying was a rather tedious percentage of my career up until recently, but i am in no way complaining. i remember when i was a kid that i had counted the number of times i had flown on a makeshift calendar and lost count after a while. i don't know why a lot of us have this "wunder lust". it's just the fact that this world is smaller than it was for our parents and i actually have the opportunity to see it. for a nominal fee i can fly to places that a family could live out their days on the cost of the airline ticket just to get there... which is not the point. the point is i don't understand why we don't travel more, maybe it is fear of the unknown, or pickpockets, or whatever. either way its a beautiful world out there, and honestly one seems more attractive to the opposite sex when you can say hello in a couple different language. which is the point.

the point to what.... i wonder if we could reproduce asexually what would be considered worthwhile and meaningful in this world. people drive nice cars to impress people, we want to impress people so they notice us, we want to be noticed for attention, we want attention so that one day we could gain their affection, we like affection because it brings emotional attachment, we want emotional attachment cause that gets us... well to reproduce. at school i made this elongated chart which brought everything in life back to reproduction. sad, yes, but true. why did the old lady get plastic surgery, true she did not want to reproduce, but she wanted all the extra curricular that comes along with it. she wanted to be adored, affection, attachment, etc. think about it, you don't see grandpa reading GQ or men's vogue, because he does not care. the farther from reproduction one is, the farther one distances himself/herself to fitting in, or trying to impress the opposite sex.

i'm rambling at this point. but for those who wish to sit down and think about this central theme of the world revolving around aspects of genetic donation and sex - the more seemingly depressing the world becomes. but not really. it's life. this life is both random and frustrating at times. 

some thoughts on love

Frank Zappa once said “It’s better to have something to remember than nothing to regret...”

It’s funny how I still look for qualities of her in other people, but the person she is now is confusing, and who I was in love with is no more.  I was in love with who she was, not who she is. I would be chasing a pipe dream, a fairy tale, which includes a time machine.

I have found that it’s hard not to compare someone to another that you liked so much. You just love every quality about that person who you “fell in love with” - that you want someone to be the same, so you still have the person that you lost.

I used to tell people that I have no regrets, and would never regret anything in life. Now I see I just needed to grow up and realise that regrets are simply failures, and failures are a necessary part of life because we all learn from our mistakes. If we keep making the same mistakes and never learning from them, then we are a failure! So I can safely say I regret some things that I have done in my past but I have learned and don’t ever count the memories as failures because I have learned... and moved on.

“Love is blind

I want it all tonight and love is blind

Falls in love with itself again like it never should the way it always can

Oh and she is mine but the world is so much bigger now

Oh tell me should I hold her hand and give her love or take her heart and throw it far away?”

- pulp

I used to believe in this thing called fate, or destiny. A romantic Romeo and Juliet, and Monte and Veronica etc. But now I feel a little jaded, maybe agnostic to the idea. But choice used to seem so unromantic, as if some mystic force was not behind the meeting of two beautiful individuals. But now I think choice is now the greater of the two simply for this fact: by choosing someone you are saying that out of all the people in the entire world I have decided that I want you to be a part of my life and no one else. No haphazard circumstance, no chance meetings where distant planets align... Its simply two rational individuals who make a choice and an effort to remain together. And for years I have convinced myself that choice is the better of the two. But for now I want to believe in fate, that there is someone out there created with me in mind and vice versa.

go on, write something down

a late night thought came to me after hearing someone talk about donald miller tonight.

in the book “blue like jazz” don miller says in the intro - when speaking about jazz - "sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. it is as if they are showing you the way."

so go on, show us all the way with your passions, goals and dreams. inspire someone. start writing a journal so you can inspire your children’s, children’s. start an online journal [blog]. let us watch you love something, so we can too.

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

-Cyril Connolly (1903 - 1974)

attitude

Lately, I've been thinking about attitude and how it's roots are inward, while it's fruits are outward. So what better than just to paraphrase some interesting thoughts around what I've been reading.

John Maxwell said it was the Librarian of our past, the speaker of our present and prophet of our future. Your attitude dictates who you are - what you do and how you do it.

So the longer you live, the more you realise the impact of attitude on life.

Attitude, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home.

The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way (see below). We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.

And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes.

  - charles swindoll

So with that in mind, isn't it interesting how we sometimes always have "bad days"? What I've been finding is that a reason for my bad day could be based around my attitude towards certain things and situations. Do I create a bad day for myself, based on how I react to something? I guess the reality check is to see - if my attitude were different, would I suffer as much?