Give Me One....

      There are a limitless supply of memories that are gone and long forgotten. Moments that seemed the ultimate in the moment, but filed to the archives to rest in the harrowed, darkening halls. Then, on occasion, something in our now causes an echo from the long silent reminisce. All at once, you are left with a smile from the past tucked into your anticipation in the present. In the next moment it fades, once again tucked in a box in the warehouse.

Right.

     It has been said that, in order to be a writer, only must only write. With this in mind, I am not a writer. I don't write much. Perhaps I am merely an anachronistic philosopher? The internet being grounds for my pontification. Or maybe I am a creator, taking moments and forming them into the everlasting memory that is story. 

     There are many words within me that swirl around for ideas and stories and haikus. The words are there, but where is ambition? Ah, yes - the hope to leave a permanent legacy while surviving by going what I love. What I lack is attention. Engaging in one continuous story for days, weeks, years - the thought stresses me. Where will I find the time?

Equality is a Myth, Sense has Died

      Is it any wonder people are more miserable and unhappy in modern America? The truth has died a cruel death under the guise of political correctness and a sense of shame for things we had nothing to do with. It's a damn shame when "equality" removes the first amendment right and common decency. From a word an entire race has held hostage, to a group of people who demand special treatment and won't allow the basis of "he" and "she" to become perverse and (somehow) illegal, to the latest charge of people who override the decisions of God and comfort of man to tear at the very fabric of our society. America is dying. Truth is more non existent than ever. Nietzsche proclaimed God was dead decades ago; I can't imagine the horror of thoughts he would have held for the mayhem the world offers us today.

Smiles are Love's Currency

     When we are disagreeing, I am not obsessed with (or even arguing for) being right. I am fighting to be understood - what i say makes you feel my discomfort. I am "right" inasmuch as I am speaking to you from my perspective of the occurence. I only want you to hear that I am uncomfortable with our emotional void, and I want to get back to "happily ever after" as soon as possible.

When You Say it Like That....

     Sometimes, the answer is simply, "because I'm an asshole". Is there any reason to believe such honesty would finish the conversation? These are moments when all that has been said is all that was needed. I can't fully explain my actions many times, I am only exlplain the root cause that has set them to ensnare. I don't want to reason or fight, I just want to drop this and get back to loving you and sharing this moment with you.

Memory

What I see is my goal

Is to always be somewhere

In the background

Of your memorable events.

Not always at the forefront -

But two seats down from you

At your birthday dinner;

Standing to the back left of you

At the concert -

Always there - reliable.

Every event with me

Does not have to be memorable;

But at every memorable event

I hope to be near your side.

Echoes of Avarice

      Some victories- some avarice only satisfies in the moment, but the amusement only lasts until it's over, forcing us to go and seek another hollow ascendence. Whether it's drugs or sex or being a workaholic or money hungry or  any number of hidden/ selfish desires, they always seem to escalate. For me, I will never look at my Snickers and have a "What am I DOING to myself??" Moment. It's a cycle of comfort, much as the drugs for a stoner and the sex for any number of people- the warmth in the moment of peace and belonging. There is no need to remind us the actions are harmful, deep down we already know. The balance due seems worth the reward in the moment.

      You don't need to be bipolar to identify with that.

      I feel like the identification of a behavior is enough reason to change it. Acknowledging the consequences show that it has been given thought, and the risk is worthwhile to the individual. The freedom of choice allows us to make the decision, even to the perceived detriment of everyone. When it gets to the point that the individual wishes to change, they will. Every drunk must have their drink,  and if you rip it out of their hands, it becomes a power struggle.

Two Moods, One Mind

Do not resist

The voices of dissent will wash over you.

Do not fixate

The options are limitless,

And a clenched fist

Gathers nothing.

Do not panic

The thoughts that fly past you

Electric and elusive

Will come into focus in you calm.

Do not give in

To the despair that clouds your mind.

It is fog on a California morning,

Obscuring your sight from the beauty

That you inhabit.

Do not settle

You deserve to be with someone

Who finds happiness in your joy,

And peace with your pain.

Do not remain stagnant

There is much for you to experience

You are capable of great moments

Where those who stay still

Are not.

Do not compare

For you are even more unique than many

With an ability to see and share the world

In a way that only very few are able.

Do not forget

That which makes you flawed

Also makes you extraordinary.

Self is Sacrificing

I'm losing my hair in the sink;

I have lost my friends to honesty;

I have lost my will to carry on

A time or two in this epic,

But somehow, no matter the loss

I have always been able to

Find myself beneath the rubble.

I have taken things for granted;

I have realized others good deeds

In a future moment of reflection;

I have been caught looking

Behind when fortune lie in my future,

Yet I have never lost the feeling

Of absolute blessing and euphoria

That came with your unveiling.

I've yearned a million beginnings;

I've recycled a plethora of deaths;

I have listed beyond compare,

And still, I could never want

Anything with you here to provide.

Your gifts exceed my scope of sense

And satiate my soulful sanctity of solace.

I move slowly in comparison to memory;

I hurt more then my body once allowed;

I have left my innocence in my wake,

However, I now glow with the 

Wisdom that comes in time

And smile with the warmth

That comes from truly being loved.

If You Please

You were born into this world 

To live.

Nothing more is expected of you

Than to move from one day

To the next and exist.

Millions have done it

And it's comfortable to be the same.

Same events, same times, same ideas,

Until it all blends into one gray mass.

Then there are those who rise up

Taking those traits that make us

Separate and above the animals

And move forth to find experiences,

A day to day discovery of the

People, places, things and ideas

That drive our interest and our joy.

Yet in those things, there is also

Danger.

It is in the desire to avoid pain

That a man turns to the bottle

As his true, defining source of relief.

With an eye of an ever alluring

Excitement and enthusiasm,

One can be convinced that

The key to freedom can be found

In the many addictions of a drug.

It is in an attempt to find passion

And appreciation that a man is

Coerced to pleasures of the flesh.

In the attempt to receive those same

Pleasures and be without worry,

Man can be blinded by ambition

And walk a dark road to monetary

Independence.

To live is to chance never 

Making a mark to be remembered by,

While being alive is chasing the

Ever changing landscape in pursuit

Of the most enigmatic and euphoric

Four-leaf clover.

It is our chance to take,

And up to those who make

A pit stop in the movement of our lives

To understand and support

Or stay jaded and skulk away.

A dream is often just

A choice not yet made.

My body wants sleep now.

The blinks are getting longer,

The thoughts are getting shorter,

The energy has been depleted.

I am ready to recharge under

The envelope of the unconcious.

My mind wants to stay awake,

Puzzling my inner angst and

Sending my emotions into a frenzy.

There is no rest for the anxious demon

That lives behind the solemn walls

Of my Id castle of solitude.

I am ready to rejoice in slumber,

To turn it all off and go to auto-pilot

So that I may rest to face another day.

Always hoping that I might awaken

And the little monster will

Have acquired a new residence

Elsewhere.

Loving in the Real World

Come with me on this quest

Take my arm and let us begin.

You are the companion that

I have waited a lifetime to find,

The calling  and the commitment

That I have tried too many times.

I speak to you with fairy tales,

But let's root our expectations

In the realities of what is to come.

There will be times when I falter,

And disappointment and hurt

Will be your shrouded comrades.

Even with you to return to,

I will darken the door

Some days with a dark demeanor.

With giving my greatest effort,

I will act in a way that leaves you

Uncomfortable or without content.

I will not always remember

To use my best manners or

Tell you often enough how 

Much your presences so needed,

Due to no ill attitude from me.

There will be times when I am tired

Or anxious

Or sad,

Just as I will ask things of you

Even when you aren't prepared

To meet my needs or desire.

The reality is that coupling 

Is a time test of endurance: 

Existing well beyond the

Initial euphoria of love anew.

Be prepared for all the things

We will be asked to overcome

Before you respond to my offer

To spend the rest of my life.

If you are willing to be party

What I can promise you

Without any doubt or hesitation

Is that none will love you

More than I am capable of

And no one will try harder

To make life as wonderful to you

As you are to me.

No Mal

      I write these blogs as a way to record my life and share in the hope to help others and give myself meaning. I am bipolar and odd and opinionated and I have come much farther in life (on every level) than I ever intended. Still, there are times when I get the feeling that I'm not really doing anything at all; the sense that I have this life thing all wrong.

     I always wanted my life to be a tale of triumph - of the spirit and heart and circumstance. Yet, time and again, the truth of who I am shines through and I realize how insignificant I can be next to everyone else. Our collective humanity is our weakness, but my humanity is as shallow as a puddle and as frail as an egg carton. I am a demon of my own design.

     My inability to truly effect change or joy in those around me seems to resound from the motif that makes me who I am; the gaping flaws that make me accessible also make me frustrating and untenable. The pieces of life have time and again fallen around me like post-tornado shrapnel, but the belief was always in the currents of life causing the destruction. It occurs to me that the whirling dervish my well have been me: a Tazmanian Devil of emotional ineptitude. Being bipolar may shade my view of the present, but more and more I come to feel that the disruption lies squarely on my shoulders as a Judas to my own professed cause.

      Now that I am aware of this reality, all I can imagine to do is hibernate from the world. A life lived as work, school, home, repeat causes few ripples in the gentle ecosystem. My current refrain causes me to leave a constant echo of distress on life's ocean. It's almost a curse to those who love me: "May you find love in an intesting person". I am sorry for all that I cause I'm the general flow of being.

     If only lobotomies were more practical. If only I were more... Plain.

What You Really, Really Want?

Glistening grail of glory

Rests upon the pinnacle

Of yonder mountain.

Unsteady in its mount

Swaying to and fro

In the gusts of change.

Your focus steadfast,

Staring down the dream.

Sharing your destination

With all who may share

In the delights of your vision.

Living omnipresent 

In the coronation

Before the climb 

Has yet to be underway.

You spin tales of wonder

At what is to become,

While lending a blind eye

To the toil required

To claim that solitary

Golden moment of

Sacrifice found.

The failure isn't always

In choosing a goal

Eventually deemed too lofty,

But more often in the

Ignorance of all the

Sub-goals it takes

To aspire to the Heavens.

Hurts So Good

      There are so many different types of beauty in the world, yet we lump them all into one great pot for comparison. With a momentary appreciation and a presence of thought, it begins to detangle and become clearer in definition.

      There is the surrounding beauty we take for granted each day. The trees and the waterfalls and those slight glosses of light that fall on the landscape. It takes some doing to mentally detach ourselves from everyday events to notice and admire the wind's scent as it tickles across our skin. Something forgotten but easily recognizable. 

      Also in our daily lives is the outstanding beauty. Those things or people that stand out among the rest, moving us to comment (either to others or just ourselves) on how extraordinary they are. It's an enjoyment of witnessing an object of some wonder, but quickly forgotten as we move forward into the next moment. A butterfly strikes us in its grace and beauty, but rarely does it stay with us as we continue on.

       Then you are left with the rare breed of breathtaking beauty. Be it a certain landscape, or a certain person - this type of appreciation moves the spirit as well as the mind. It strikes you in such a way that is almost painful in its brilliance; your mind feels overwhelmed and your body on sensory overload when you look upon  "the person of your dreams". It engulfs you with desire and longing; that subtle nagging that you wish nothing more than to kiss and hold and be ever present in that moment of ecstasy. When it comes in the form of a person, you are left wanting to be with them completely, but also afraid to ever become trite or codependent in their eyes. Their loss would be like God ripping away a Great gift he gave to the world. This is a reminder that beauty is in the life force that we all carry within us, that it propels us all in our search for meaning.

     The power of beauty is as oft written about through man kinds history as the mystery of love, and therefore is no wonder these sensations are at the very soul of what we seek to exist completely. In its most guttural and purest form, a vision of beauty can be an amazing life event, a moment in time that echoes in our spirit for decades to come, always available to demonstrate that there is Divinity that still walks among us. We are drawn toward it instinctually, even as it threatens to destroy us (from within our comfort zone), it also inspires us and drives us to new heights of growth and aspiration for a better life.

My Sight

No matter the words I decide to use

You will never be able to recognize how

To sit in the dark trying not to confuse

The concept of how to "live in the now".

How could I possibly paint you a scene

Of the red light slowly starting to rise

With an answer resting in disguise

The sundrops flush my dark soul clean.

I have tried to share with you my struggle

A steady chipping within from without

Resolve forms an acute stream puddle

And my worth holds my self in doubt.

I love because that is what our destiny ordained

I love you because I can feel you when alone

I need your actions to set our ascendent tone

The sacrifices deemed worthy of being pained

I do becuase it is mine to give freely

My every motion is a call to action

To accept and absorb me completely

Then give me back to your satisfction.

Forgive me my outbursts of humanity

Understand my intent when I have fear

Bring me close and hold me tight, dear -

Offer things only described as Divinity

Does It Need To Be a Choice? Can't I Just Cake?

     Today, I was in a place to overhear the phrase, "Have your cake and eat it too.", and it gave me pause. In the traditional sense of how people use this phrase, the idea is that they have something pleasant and want something else pleasant as well. In reality, wouldn't this be a much more realistic (and common) "Have your cake in vanilla and another cake in chocolate"? When presented as wanting options, things take on a very different tone; not so demeaning and minimizing. However, the intent of the statement is generally to have the 'offending' party to come across as selfish and uncaring, especially when related to relationships and careers.in a broader sense though, is it really?

      I am experiencing my own form of this right now - I want a healthy body, but I also really want Doritos. My desire for a flat stomach does not negate my longing for delicious, cheese covered goodness. As such, the desire to meet both needs becomes an exercise in compromise. If I exercise more and eat less (but still some) wonderful chippy goodness, I can accomplish both things. (Have my Doritos and eat them too?) The long held idea of choosing one over the other need not apply, unless I decide to stay home and stuff my face with carbs when I should be going for a walk.

      Then there are the passive factors. When I first start working out, my body is so tired and wants to be lazy. In time, it feels great to have abundant energy and stamina, but the road there is a bumpy one. Sitting around covered in the sweet orange Doritos dust is ver relaxing, but obviously lends itself to the blasé feeling my body experiences so much of the time when I'm out of shape.  Add to this the conditioning that comes with the pleasure centers that junk food dances upon, and you have a very simple concept that requires a very large commitment quotient. 

     Who doesn't have multiple wants, some of which may conflict or seem mutually exclusive? Isn't the transition to figuring a way to meet these needs the very definition of the human condition?

Universal (De)Lights

The sun blooms once again

On the far horizon,

An inconsistent constant:

The concept of the star

Remains the same

But the reality is

That it is ever changing.

The true standard bearer

Of my continued existence

Rests gently upon my chest.

The sighed echoes of content

Tickle my skin and psyche.

A gift given to me in love

Unassuming, unimaginable,

Indescribable.

The center of the known

Universe may well be the sun,

But the only supernova

In my creation comes

In the form simply of

A gift of you.

Good Night

I just wanted to thank you 

For the laughs we share time after time

And have committed to doing for life.

The music we have experienced in unison

On its own would fill many people's

Pleasure centers for all they could imagine.

I'm not able to impress upon you

How much our time together

Flows through my mind for days before.

Your every accidental touch

Bristles me inside with anticipation;

Each time you caress my back,

My inner angst settles in my chest;

The times you hold my arm and look to me

The world is calm; the breath in my chest.

When I look into the coming sharing

And contemplate the forces at work,

A tsunami of sanctity rests upon my hope

Of the wonders we have left to discover

And the mark on existence we will leave.

Grab my hand and let's sprint forward

Whatever awaits us will be magnificent

With you on my arm and in my heart.

Hazy Recollection

It all began with the thrust of the unknown,

A euphoric phase of discovery that thrives

On it's own beliefs laid beside the facts.

Time seems to slow and create a tunnel

Of moments and movements that are,

In each thought, completely absorbed.

Mind dancing and unstable, exposed

Focus is on each aspect of the portrait

In order to preserve the overall addition.

A calm settles across my soulspace,

The antidote to self sacrifice

Finally at hand.

A tad further, the brain begins to gel

And focus is slowly restored.

However, Am I better off for 

The variety of distractions?

Or should I return to the smaller space

For a joyful day?

Appreciation not Addiction

Excuse me, but would you happen to know

What event it is?

So caught up in recording the outcome

That you fail to notice what is right

Inside of your person.

Talk to me about riddles and limmericks

While presenting me only freeze tag.

If I make a move, the trust

From the occurence will be broken,

But to stay frozen means taxing

And bored existence behind

The guise of congress.

I am not here to like you,

I am here to work with you

And create our castle of caring

That glides into the eternal.

How did we get here and now?

What knowing thoughts

Were left trampled underheart?

What subtle clues were swept away

Under the fault of knowing when.

My goal is to love

The idea is to be loved

The sense is to be patient

While the heart is to be had.

Our organic interchange anew,

A lifetime of thoughts washed clean. 

Take my hand and risk with me

To play and pet and perform,

My dreams are fused to you -

As orange and rust to Fall's bloom;

My nights given to you

By a kiss to close the door

And a nuzzle to open the calm.

My ego seeks to give the world to you,

But I am man and capable of

Only 'Man' level things.

So If I can, I would like to

Give you a home to set your heart in;

A sanctum derived in 

The confines of my chest;

A staduim full of cheer echoing

In your ears and eyes;

A vault full of promises

That I will do all I can to complete.

If you give me your promise

I will give you my self.

The red sun rises in the East

Signaling a new era has arisen

The colors reflection visible

On the river in my eye.

 

It's High Time I Wrote something Else

Love is a form of man's expression

So is it a surpise to learn

That the artists were high?

Filled with the dazzling sprarkle

Of man's inner booming voice,

A driving momentum

That propels them forward

Into the spotlight of the starshine.

When you are with me,

I can feel the air on my skin,

The breeze tickling my neck,

My breath upon my lip.

My eyes become filled with you,

While also being aware of 

Any advance that coud shatter

Our silent conspiracy of coupleness.

My muscles move me forward,

Ever hoping of some touch of you.

My body cries out to to grasp you,

Marveling at the gentle warmths

Of a shared love space intended.

My mind riddles me,

"What is she thinking right now?"

Coaxing,

"All the signs say she is locked in,

But I don't want to annoy or

Pain you for any longer."

Mocking,

"What stupid thing did we do this time?"

It is in these quiet commitments

A moment shared, never to be forgotten

Increase my desire to say all the things

That I want you to know and feel.

Wishing that I could implant

My feeling of right now into you.

A lifetime of love, a slice of forever,

A step into the other inside.

Art is everlasting, as my love for you (artistically)

I declare my essence yours to share-

From the Phoenix of Eterninty,

A gentle wing vibrates the events of time forth

The Humminbird de Corazon.

A Concert of calm in a furious beating.

The greatest compliment I can conjure

Is that the currency that is my experiences

The cost of a consequence frozen in my time?

I have handed you the value that is my 

Lasting memory, to be used at your discretion.

This exchange rate is variable, however,

So one best not sit back on their laurels,

Lest they lose the passion to apathy.

The greatest sins

Are to lose the Treasure Chest of creativity

Due to lackadaisical, uninspired works,

And to deplete the inclination of a potential

Spiritmaker due to the lack 

Of ambition or courage.

When you find the key to the next room

In the evolution of our existence

That sparks toward self-actualization,

And the ability to comprehend a universe-

The owner taking the Celestial Internal

And offering it to another in 

An exchange of understanding.

You are my every divergent daydream;

A capsule of my tender times;

The geyser of gratitude that 

Pushes me into consideration of

How much difference an "okay" makes.

To always prod me to recall just

How much a peaceful look from you

Would be more than any 

Pleasure I had ever conceptualized.

Wash over me; consume me

Your every atom a gift to life.

Water upon my cheek,

My throat choked at how

Idealistic and complete;

My mind collapses under the

Mere images of you. 

My art is in my love for you

Painted with the colors of my soul.

Sharing my life with you

Is more abstract and divine

Than those mountain majesties.

Thank you for your gift of you....

I am afraid all I have to offer is me.

However, I grow with any interest paid,

And can become the Van Gogh

That Van Gogh once was.

Don't ever let it go.

To Speak or Not to Speak

    In general, I am considered a rather friendly extrovert with a wide range of things that I can talk to people about. Even still, I had a hard time conjuring up the energy to carry on a conversation with people much of the time. I'm not sure if it's just a matter of chemistry - certain people have a personality or energy that I am comfortable with, or a matter of desire, some people make the journey enjoyable and others that make every question a Herculean style effort. It's not unique, many people vary in their styles of communication, but it does leave me to wonder why I can be so selective. There is no inherent bias, there are just some people I just won't take time to get to know. How much of an extrovert can I be if it is only in certain environments? Perhaps I am an introvert with an attitude?

     It makes me wonder because I don't like the feeling inside that I might be dismissive..... I tend to live my life as a come what may, all experiences have something to offer us all. Setting people aside  (if that is indeed the action) provides me the capacity to miss out on something potentially awesome for laziness/ annoyance/ inability to find a common ground. 

     It's funny, when I was a homebound hermit, there were none of these issues, but a desire to actually meet and interact with others. It's such an awkward balance - be alone, interact partially or throw oneself to the winds and be a 'people person'. Perhaps it is merely an internal demand due to my extremist nature, or perhaps it is based in my human nature. Whatever the cause, the outcome makes me feel pathetic at times.

Apathy for the Devil?

      Today was a study in contrasts about my divorce and the resulting events that an still be felt 2 years later. Legal untangling is dirty business, and often generate powerful emotions in the participants - ranging from sadness, to hurt, to hate, to anger. I had a chance to examine the fallout within my own heart this afternoon.

       I made a statement today that in some small way, I would always love my ex-wife because she gave me my son. Having reviewed my emotions right after that statement, it is in no way true. I have no love for her at all. This is one of those simple statements that slips out of us during conversation that sounds like we are self actualized, more forgiving or nicer than we truly feel deep down.

      On the reverse, I am still receiving ripples of the poor decisions she/ we made as a couple. It is such a drag when I am still not fully able to seal the time capsule for good. However, I don't hate her either. At this point, the only feelings I have for her is disappointment as my mothers son and contempt for her refusal to realize his life is better with me. Strong feelings (of either caliber) represent a passion that I never truly possessed for her at all.

       I do hate the results of some of it, though.

The Fire of Failure

Anger, the jagged pulse of a harried society. Love may not always beget live, happiness is not always infectious, but anger is the one emotion that can be absorbed and passed universally. What is the harrowing allure of this toxic tempest that leads so many into its shrouded embrace? With a civilization driven by anxiety, fear and stress; is it any wonder that the one emotion we can all relate to equally is the red rage? I don't want to come off as a utopian hippie, but I do wish quite often that fury could be reserved for events of immense insult or danger. A flare up occurs so quickly and frequently that any small (perceived) insult can lead to an all out assault.

      I grow tired of getting upset/ angry/ unhappy. A continual stream of darkness sours my soul and bores my mind. Suspicion and mistrust leave me in a similar malaise.yet feeling externally optimistic feels so fake, and leaves others feeling manipulated or in doubt of my sincerity. Joy can feel so many ways - happiness, love, appreciation, desire. Anger falls under many names, but it always feels the same - a sense of insult in combination with a sense of attack. The level varies, but it is The same old song. Why would I feed a monster that offers me such discomfort?

     Yet, I do.

Don't Ask Me....

      When doing a thing has all the markings of being detrimental, it doesn't make sense to do so. In this way, not making sense itself makes sense. However, the compound of intelligence and impulse creates a pained idea that this thing can be done, i just have to come at it from the right angle. With desire thrown into the mix, it makes an unbearable fixation that must eventually be fed or replaced over time. I'm not very good at the "it's not meant to be" - like many before me I want a cake and a snack, but unlike others, my mind can't accept this fact and move on. Instead, I mentally keep nibbling at the edges of the cake until there is none left, and then I regret it leaving.

      I am always in some state of this mindset, but for the past few days it has been a matter of "should I stay or should I go now" (or next year, to be more precise). I found a job that I felt suited me well, but over the first five months, blemishes and frustrations have appeared (as they are wont to do) that have left me dreaming of a time past. Like that one ex that many feel "got away", time has left me with a much more understanding and positive image of my last career. While there were many good points, the negatives still lurk on the edges of my psyche.

      Do I stay where I am, making less money, but home every night? Do I take back to the road, leaving a "stable job" (the former "American Dream") to find more money (and many less weeks of work) to dedicate to school and my time at home? Which path leads to a more prominent future? What will stress my family more? Where does my desire fit in? My friends?

      A "normal" life?

Un-Whole-Y

      At some point, I hoped that the parade of pain and discomfort and self loathing would end. Even knowing that my life is better than many, my mind makes the world around my cloudy through a haze of despair. I just want to make myself better and become a stable member of the society around me. I want to be blinded to the many alternatives around me and be happy with the basic food groups. I want to feel like I have something to offer to everyone I encounter, and that I feel accepted and appreciated by those around me. Not be beholden to the constant idea that in every moment of being me will drive those closest to me away screaming into the recesses of life. Even more importantly, I wish I wasn't self aware enough to even have these thoughts. I want the confidence to create. To excel. To feel like I have a purpose beyond just existing. 

      Even in my good moments (which there have been many in recent months), I can't shake the feeling that my flaws lead to much discontent to those closest to me who have to endure my ramblings and moods and ineptitude. I have a million ways to try and get validation from those in my life that it is worth sharing with me, yet I still thank them at every turn because I have always felt that any time people choose to spend with me could be spent doing so many things that are more meaningful - but they give those moments to me. Almost all of my best moments in life have been spent in the company of others - how much fantastic really happens alone? 

     My career choice leads me to more confusion and feeling of hopelessness - at 40 years old I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I have had many jobs, I still have many choices, but I have no direction or belief that I can become succesful at any of them. I'm in school fr business, but where will that leave me (besides in debt) in 3 years when I get a bachelors degree? Will I just be a better qualified minion? I hope it does do something for me; narrow the options and provide me a path for the next 20 years. 

     Unless that writing thing takes off.

     Maybe it's just me. (Isn't it always?) Is there a way to change the motivation, the perception, the hope in what I see? Jokes roll off my tongue, experiences form behind me; here I sit wanting... something. Whatever I was created with that is missing, internally I still realize within my intuition that it just isn't there. Is there a way to convince my mind that whatever I don't have is not worth having? I'm still waiting for that moment. A happy life with all the wonders trumped by a melancholy mind.

     I am still alive, so there is always hope.

Death and Dream entered a bar...

     Friday night was the 5th annual Sandman's ball at the Cat Club in SOMA in San Francisco. A night themed for the amazing comic book from Neil Gaiman, I had been waiting excitedly for months to attend this celebration of my favorite comic book from my teen years. I recruited a few friends to accompany me on my night of frolicking, and it was a grand experience that was well worth the wait.

     The bar was themed with sandman paraphernalia strewn across the walls, with many people showing up in some form of Sandman T-shirts, costumes of the characters in the comics or a very gothic tone. The series always maintained a dark edge, and the lights throughout the club set the mood for the night. The front room of the club had a "dream" vibe, with very ethereal and psychedelic vibe that was very calming. The back room was the "death" room, which which played a much heavier style that appealed to my senses and was my station for most of the night. The dance floors in both rooms writhed with a variety of different types of dancers, and the mood in the building truly felt like a chaotic celebration of people with a common interest enjoying good music and good times together.

      I look forward to more events to come at the Cat club, and for anyone who loves a themed music night in a great atmosphere, this would be the best place in town! 

So Let It Be Written.....

     Today I have been thinking a great deal about motivation and a sense of self worth. General logic holds that those who do not continuously drive forward in pursuit of life's goals are lazy, lacking in the burning desire to succeed. Many hang their crowns upon the spoils of success, always regaling others with the perils they were forced to overcome, the long hours of sacrifice the forged them into time tested juggernauts. It is an all to common theme amongst conversations (some part truth, some part fairy tale) that leaves many of us gawking in admiration at the accomplishments that we can universally admire. However, where do we draw the line? What is the differentiation between healthy obsession and maniacal psychosis? When does hard work become "workaholic"?

      When dealing with motivation (or 'drive', as oft alluded to), the idea is that we have a great purpose that allows us to overcome any obstacle, at any cost, to achieve the final objective. People, circumstance, knowledge (and even health) will not stand in the way to our path toward 'this great thing'. In my humble opinion, this already sets a bad tone to the action - it is not enough just to do this thing, it must become a life purpose that be sated in order to feel worthwhile. It is no longer enough to do for the sake of doing. As human beings, we are not stationary creations..... Should our desires be? We all change daily, what happens when we reach the goal and no longer desire the outcome?

     Additionally, the line of thought that those that are not driven at all costs are 'lazy'. Certainly, there are people who inhabit this planet that are inherently unmotivated, but that is not the complete solution. Does their lack of motivation come from not wanting to leave the television? That's lazy. Just as many people lack motivation due to their built in insecurities. It's not that they don't want to achieve, they have a stumbling block in their heart and minds that cause them to falter and submit. That is not laziness, it is our humanity handicapping us. I am one of these people. I want to write a book..... I have had this dream for decades. I have the desire. I have the skill. Yet, whenever I think about sitting down to write, a gentle coaxing tells me, "What do I have to say of interest?" Other feelings of inadequacy join in and soon I find myself in 'paralysis by analysis' - insecurity given in a logical format that takes the momentum of creativity I need. Am I lazy? Flawed? Broken? All of the above?

      

Don't Be Afraid of a Little Discomfort

     It seems so simple to me, the point of living is doing and being and experiencing everything that I can. With so many people locked into their routine and huddled safely in the cell of their comfort zone, how could I possibly hope to illustrate the joy of the unknown? Hiding safely in myopia, what words can illustrate the world awaiting them on the other side of their bias? We all know that our perceptions of events are often misleading and wholly inaccurate, yet still we cling to them as the weathervane of our choices within our reality. 

      What is the allure of the known? Why the fear of doing something unexpected, new? I have had so many great experiences on a flight of fancy, which is in keeping with my bipolar disorder. Even more, I have ignored a perceived ideal of an event to go forward and enjoy a great experience that I would have shunned otherwise. I have learned that there is a beauty to doing things I have never done before, to throw myself upon the fates and see where it winds up. 

      The steady loop of the same things (even going out drinking, as fun as it might be), becomes just another line on a daily checklist of repetition in an event less life. It is funny how people that live this way always feel that life flies by. If the scenery never changes, how can you expect the passage of time to be a real thing? It's all the differences in day to day living that make life stand out; memories made in moments become the mile markers we see on the road behind.  In seeking safety, what many actually get is wasted time and vapid minds.

      But it's only one mans opinion.

With Apologies to 1993

     What is love? If I Had a way to describe it, I would say it's what is right, and what is wrong (give me a sign). *Grin*  Love is one of the most mystical of conversations that is argued about with great passion and gusto by many (for good reason). However, this is one of those things that people seek so long, desire so bad, that there is as much chance of achieving it successfully as there is finding a perverse offshoot that has nothing in common with the concept or to never finding it all.

     When people chase and fixate on a passion, they can find ways to suit their desire to appear as moments of circumstance. Chasing skirts. Falling for anyone who pays attention. Fantasy. There are those who take any chance to to pair off, even when it causes them to change who they are and settle for what they feel they should want, as opposed to what they truly desire. Even still, some cross the line into illegal pursuits of fancy and their whims take on a much darker meaning.

     Then there are those folks who are looking for a particular set of traits that the (perfect) mate possesses. By making a specific model, these people are left wanting and let many opportunities at happiness slip by for minor variances. While not setting an idea can lead to settling for an unsuitable partner, having to fine a set of details leads to a near impossibility of finding a person with all of the attributes. For some, it appears better to be alone than to accept anything other than Prince Charming. 

"I define love thus: The will to extend one's selloff the purpose

of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth."

- M. Scott Peck

      The joys of love are many, and the thoughts of the many are of sharing life with a partner in joy and peace. As such, life (and love) gain there power from the power of possibility. It is only from keeping an open mind and self awareness that true love can be uncovered and grown in to. In defining love as happiness and a need of another, then no set of rules can prepare you for the eventuality of where love will inspire you. What you will find is that your answers will be intuitive, as opposed to logical. You will feel the arrival of your loved one, which is why often we recognize what our heart has known for some time. The heart knows what the mind eventually discovers.

      If we are just aware and accept what we sense.

Is This What Nostradamus Felt like?

      One of the driving forces of bipolar is the desire (and ability) to act from a place of pure desire in every moment. Life is always in the 'now', and the decision has no future and no past. It is an incredibly free existence, as long as your decisions have no downstream impact. However, it is easy to imagine how destructive it could be when other responsibilities (job, people, creditors, health) are negatively impacted by a spur of the moment decision. You cannot reason against the disease process, and the damage is found in the aftermath.

      However, recently I have had remote visions that have slipped into my conscience, the likes of which I ever clearly see. A pattern of events that likely would unfold from an impulse decision considered in the throes of a maniacal fit. Where I once only saw the direct moment - "if this, then that", I now have begun seeing a more lateral sequence of events. If I stay up late drinking and carousing, work tomorrow will be challenging (or I may not go in at all). If I buy this thing I don't need now, I will only have to work harder later on to compensate. 

      If I do something to make the wife uncomfortable or unhappy, I will only create unrest within myself in the long run.

      Even though logically I am always aware that actions have consequences, it is only over the past few years I have begun to craft the skill of stopping for a moment to visualize the complete solution. There are times the event is worth it (risking sleep to comfort a friend) and those it is not (closing down the bar with the kids because - I'll deal with the fallout tomorrow!). I'm not sure I would christen this 'maturity' as much as continuing to evolve as a human being and a partner. It feels great to preempt problems I only create myself.

      In action, I choose to take responsibility. In choosing not to act, I do the same. Every memory doesn't need my mark, every purchase doesn't make sense and sometimes the only right reasoning is to do nothing at all. Good things come to those who wait.... Great things come to those who wait for a self actualized goal. The choice to not act is still a choice I make, not a dictate handed down to me by circumstance. Accepting my role instead of playing victim makes all the difference in the world.

Oh, the Humanity! (Pride, Shame and the Bookends)

       I go to bed with a heavy heart tonight, after the events of this day. This was one of those days that, when you sit down to review at the end of the night, there are very powerful images and ideas sprinkled throughout the day. A time when the human condition can be defined and reviewed clearly.

     My eight year old son spent today, his birthday, in the hospital watching the specter that has become his grandmother wither away. In a classic drama trope, life and death met at the crossroads, leaving a drug addled woman to give the gift of one more smile for my son to remember her by. When all else fails us mentally in our final days, love has shown it can pull us back to the surface for one last visit, no matter how fleeting. It's a wonderfully romantic notion of love conquering all, but in the end it remains that my son will always have the memories and a personal fairy godmother to learn from, even in passing.

     In juxtaposition, I got into a tiff with the love of my life that boiled down to a battle of pride, will and a determination to be heard. On it's own, I am embarrassed - not for the emotions, but for betraying myself by wasting a single second in negativity in the limited time I have to share with my doll face. It never ceases to amaze me how human.... how PETTY..... I can become when my learned emotions of pride, selfishness, discontent rears it ugly head - a contentious Cerebus of who handed down to me by society. When framed with the reality of my sons day, I feel so tiny, a small animal fighting for a snack. Yet even this knowledge won't always be enough to curb my actions when my little pride is wounded again. Why do we do this to ourselves.... Teaching our children the ethos of self protection in place of self celebration? Must I have an ego merely to rejoice in my being on this planet? Sharing the best of all possible outcomes with my chosen one?

     I cannot do anything to go back and unlearn the habits that continue to hinder me. What I can do is try to learn new habits that will elevate me past them. It won't be easy, but not much in my life that I have gained is. I can be sure things will never be easy, I just have to feel sure they are worth it.

A cold chill in the air

A mind lost in a sea

Of darkness and absence

In a moment of clarity

A light lifts above 

The faded horizon,

A last glimpse of what was

But never will be again.

A reminder of self

Kept inward to avoid breaking

Rejoiced upon and shared

As the Archangel hovers.

We should not need to 

Be reminded

That we must not forget.

Take away the scenery 

And the self pronounced

Obligations,

In order to be alive

One must take the time

To live. 

The true sign of 

A life lived

Comes at the end,

With a death

That releases

Instead of ends.

Then, the Rage

     After days of depression comes the flip side of bipolar - the manic phases filled with irritability and a lack of patience for people's shortcomings. Not the best combination when you are working in retail. Especially in the "big city" with snobbish jerks and self righteous retards. Just to make the perfect horror show, I forgot to take my medication this morning. All the seeds were planted for a combustible combonation.
      I tried to start my day off well, listening to my music on the way into work to try and set my mood in the right way. The traffic was the same stupid people in bruises as always, but I navigated it the same as always - leaving early to allow plenty of time and less stress to arriving on time. I talked with my wife and my best friend about the (very positive) decision I had made in the past 24 hours, and they certainly helped make me feel like the darkness of depression had passed and I felt much better about myself and my choices. There were two polar opposites (see what I did there?) that were coming together to produce a day that could go any number of ways. That is what awaited me....
     When I got to work, I felt really good and the day started off well. In what would become a running theme, I had the first of a number of customers who came into the Apple store with a dark aura and a chippy attitude. The strain of my mental condition combined with these people who feel justified in being jerks to customer service agents made it very necessary to keep my emotions in constant view and take breathers when needed. All the way up until close, people came in with surly demeanors, like there was a bad moon afoot. However, with the support of my coworkers and my internal resilience, I made it through the day with my head held high and my knuckles unmarred.
     What people generally misunderstand about bipolar is the mania side of the equation. Depression is relatively easy to understand, as we all have experience with being 'blue' or 'miserable', if not worse. However, mania gets the reputation for those in a manic state buying new cars or feeling invincible; leaving many to think that mania is a 'pleasant' type of disease to have, much like having a nymphomaniac (there's that word again) for a wife. Much like the latter, there is a leering dark side to mania where it leaves the sufferer to feel highly irritable, having racing thoughts that leave you unable to concentrate, gives you a tendency to fixate constantly on something dark in your mind that tortures you incessantly and shifts decision making focus from logic to pleasure (the pleasure principle - therein explaining where the new car that can't be paid for comes from - and worse), It's hard to explain in a way to people who don't have mania how disconcerting and frustrating it is to be in a frame of mind to act out in fun for the moment that you will pay for greatly after you 'come down'. Racing thoughts seems like a good thing - thinking about fie or six things at one time - but it's not a complete thought process, it's just multiple things clouding your mind with an inability to grasp and manipulate any of them, leaving me confused and frustrated by my inability to function mentally at my best. Notice, however, that I didn't use the Hollywood standard of uncontrolled violence. Frustration and violence are different things, HOLLYWOOD.
     I made it through one of thousands of days I have spent in my life riding the wild fluctuations involved in the bipolar disease process.I have never asked pity or excuse for what I have, only understanding from those who might give me the benefit of the doubt. I have a day of rest ahead, after which I will take my medication and try and get back to the right frame of mind before work on Sunday. I can rest easy on my ability to (finally) make a mature decision and the God sent support system I have in my wife, my best friend and those who care for me and are willing to listen to my maniacal mumblings until I can finally figure it our or here it for myself. I'm getting better......

The Fog is Inside Today

     Even though I have gotten a lot better, today was a rude reminder that I am still a diseased human being. My mind set forth on self loathing and contempt, there was nothing to do but just keep moving and hope it didn't grip my faculties for too long at any point. With all of the personal growth I feel I have shown in the past few weeks, it only takes a chemical flare up to send me back to the fractured mind I have known in different variations my whole life. History is spotted with great men who suffered and ultimately overcame. Let's not kid ourselves, I have no greatness within me. I suffer only to crawl forward in hopes of finally overcoming the Judas within my head.

     One thing I thought about all day is how much those around me tell me what a great person I am, how much I have to offer society as a whole, how much I just don't see it.  On days like today, it goes another level and I don't even believe I'm as good of a person as I believe that I am. I feel worthless, flawed, fraudulent and irrelevant. I wish I could be a better person for all of those around me, stronger and able to offer more to their lives. A laugh is fine, but it doesn't make up for all my shortcomings.

      It has become readily apparent to me however that I have a need for caring and affection and a hug every day. I am not depressed that my wife is gone, but her presence is the panacea that calms the demons when they start their chaotic chorus to pit my heart and mind against me. I always felt like the distraction of people's company made me forget, but I can readily admit that I need to be cared for, to add to my daily peace and to give me something more than any chemical can. However, I am strong and I will attempt to climb from bed tomorrow and leave this malaise in the mirror.

      I am self aware, however. I will never be great looking, no matter how much weight I lose. I will never be a 'hard worker' in the grand vein of millionaires. I don't have the most responsible demeanor. I don't have the best jokes or the greatest personality. I have a heart and a whole bunch of average to offer those I care for. Is that enough? It's not mine to say. That's up to those who surround me and save me every day. I just have to keep moving and allow life to form begins me.....

Legends, Icons, People

     The world lost two great personalities in a matter of weeks, and I wanted to take a moment to provide my own memorial to these fallen warriors. I am a mark, and I am proud of that fact. In a world cloaked in stories and looked down upon even in current society, these men built careers and entertained people to a level where there names became world renowned and known to those passive fans that make up a large portion of wrestling's fan base, especially in a time where Pro Wrestling was still trying to pass itself off as legitimate, and people were emotionally invested in the doings of the hero and villains that graced the ring. In the past month we have lost one of each - "American Dream" Dusty Rhodes and "Rowdy" Roddy Piper.

       From my beginnings in the 1980's, when I obtained the pro wrestling bug, I was always fascinated by the guys who cut a great "promo", the strong talkers who could speak in a way that drew the audience in with emotions and intelligence beyond the standard "I'm going to whup your booty". Dusty was the emotional center of the wrestling landscape - a man who was "the common man" who embodied the feelings and desires of every fan in the crowd. They could relate to his words, they could relate to his physique and the fans could always life vicariously through his accomplishments. "The son of a plumber" became the saint of the middle class. Oh, how he could talk - telling stories of "Hard Times" and "Dining with Kings and Queens" - made the fans at home feel that he was the guy sitting next to them at the bar. An emotional connection with the fans for a man that never turned away from being the everyman.

     Roddy Piper was more bombastic, more intelligent and he was able to utilize his intellect to stimulate the emotions that made him the most hated man in the 1980's, and one of the most beloved throughout the next decade. His technique never changed - always a mix of mischief and malice - only his choice of opponent differed. His words inspired the emotions he sought from the crowd, and his maniacal energy created a man that - face or heel - always drew the fans attention to him and his endeavors. The "Rowdy Scot" always came to fight, and ultimately to entertain.

      Both of these men gave decades to the sport they loved, each incurring a laundry list of injuries and surgeries throughout their career. Rowdy Roddy ultimately required enough surgeries on his hip that he became practically immobile later in his career. Big Dust was never an adonis of any sort, but he always had the stamina and movement to go all night, and bleed buckets. The lines that shown on his scarred forehead were telling signs of the many times he "gigged" (cut his forehead with a blade) throughout his illustrious career - a testament to the bodily sacrifice he was willing to give to the people he stood for time after time. These are the reasons wrestlers are always offended with the viability of there craft is question - the result is predetermined but the injury and dangers are very real, and worthy of the people's respect. (John Stossel - hello!)

      Many days spent on the road and hotels of America were a sacrifice they were willing to give to be the athletes they had chosen to become. When studying the hierarchy of wrestling and how these men climb the ranks, there are many instances of courage and determination when traveling the independent scene for no money and experience to finally starting to establish a name. Not only are these athletes on par with any of the organized sports leagues, they have a more devastating annual demand that doesn't allow for healing and rest.

      I digress. These men were icons of the sport of pro wrestling, and they were people who dealt with all the same trials and tribulations of us all while living on the road and giving the fans and the business their bodies and souls. Unlike their peers who get the press for dying young, they made it to a point in life where they were past their career, but the strain of that career probably still them from us too young. Theirs were personalities that, within the brotherhood of the squared circle, will be deeply missed for their courage, their history and the respect they carried. Among the masses, their loss reminds us of so many great moments where they took us an emotional voyage that ended in our 'coronation' in their success and leaves us remembering a different time for us all. So long gentlemen - thank you for a lifetime of wonder and empowerment.

What Hath We Wrought?

     Ours has become a society of self righteous indignation at any mention of civility or sense, it would seem. The loud minorities lift up their flag of the disenfranchised and lash out at every perceived slight. Manners, tradition and intent be damned; if they see fit to impose their will on others (ironically, this is usually done when THEY feel put upon), the world is to sit up and respect their wishes!

      There is a current firestorm around an article that proclaimed that a woman should be skinny to wear a crop top. Logically, a woman would want to show her best assets, and having her belly pop out from under a short shirt seems counter intuitive, at the very least. For the uninitiated, the shirt in question leaves a few inches between the bottom of the shirt and the jeans, exposing the belly button. So, large women everywhere took to Twitter to show they too could wear the shirt in question! Damn society for the cruelty of shirts only for skinny women! You know what? All they did was succeed in looking like bitter harpies in the matter. Just because it is possible doesn't make it reasonable.

      Then you have the 'great' legislation passed in South Carolina over the confederate flag. A bunch of politicians vowed to controversy and made a decision FOR their constituents that the flag belonged on state grounds no longer. Why? Because a psychopath had it in his Facebook photos. However, when ANOTHER Islamic radical attacks our military on home soil, where are the cries to corral the 'jihadists'? Somehow, that is given a passing glance because..... Why?? Also, why wasn't this change voted on by the VOTERS of the state to determine?

     Even here at home, a group of construction workers who work for s construction firm are protesting the CLIENT of the firm (with a much bigger name) to make the construction contractor pay its workers differently. How does THAT work? Everyone is a victim in this capitalist enterprise - except for the people whose ideas/ companies are being besmirched in public opinion. There are many more examples as foolish and irresponsible, but in the end, none of it matters. We have become a nation of victims who preach against injustice by seeking to criminalize everyone else.

      And it SUCKS.

Growing?

Maturity makes another appearance

In my life as I move forward,

The questionable choices

That once whet my palate

Are tainted by experience.

The sweets aren't quite as tempting

The chaos not as welcoming.

Maturity comes with the understanding

Of the consequences that follow

Questionable good times. 

It is not a removal of choice

But rather the appreciation

Of treating the things you have

Worked so hard for

With respect;

Recognizing when a decision

Appeals to the ego

But not the memory.

I Don't Walk on Water (But Who's Asking?)

      I feel stress. I feel pressure. In every moment, I am uneasy - feeling like I can't sit still because there is always something else that needs my attention. Part of this feeling is brought to me thanks to my bipolar butler, but others of it comes from needing rest with a lot of responsibility. It's an emotionally toxic mix. My mind feels a few steps slow, my memory is nonexistent (ADD to the max), my patience with people is paper thin and my desire to sit with my wife, cat and dog in peaceful solitude has tripled. I don't do stress well - I never have. It's the reason I have tried to keep a few major commitments with a lot of time allotted to carrying them out to the best of my ability. I'm feeling overwhelmed due to my disease process and my commitments.

     I need to stop.

     My wife is out of commission and everything is mine to handle for three weeks. It's not a lot to ask and I should be able to manage it. I just need to budget my time more appropriately since I have less of it for a few weeks. It is no sacrifice, it is what couples do - "in sickness and in health". I can deteine a million excuses

     ...... Or I can just man up and do it.

For Better? Simple.

     "For better or for worse" is one of those phrases that is iconic in society, but often is mentioned in pessimism and some disdain. "For worse" doesn't mean that things have gone sour between yourself and your love, it often just means someone is having a bad day and needs understanding. In my experience, there are a few ways you can help when your love is upset:

      Start by listening. Every day, a nation of spouses come home and tell the trails of their day; an interchange of release and discussion filling the air. However, on those really dark days, fight the urge to pontificate and just settle in and listen. In these moments, I find all I can say is "I love you," and "I don't know what to say but I understand." Nothing in this line of thought can heal, but in listening I hope to relieve the pressure in her heart and allow her to clear her mind. This is no small feat, especially for men. I'm not great at this, admittedly. My first instinct it to protect and correct the situation with advice. In doing so, I am not actively listening and causing her to think when she seeks to emote.

      Recognize when you are not the answer. There are going to be certain times when our significant others need another voice, when we have said all that we can say on a topic. Furthermore, if our spouse has taken the time and energy to develop a deep, meaningful relationship, then that other person can offer our spouse additional insight that we may be too emotionally biased to conceptualize. I am in no way threatened by my wife seeking an additional opinion in her life's travels. I don't know everything about ANYTHING; even my wife. If I want to talk video games, I call my best friend. Why should her interests run any different?

      Accept that others are not like you, but every one has common ideals on how they would like to be treated. I am an individual in a world of unique personalities, so how I think, feel or act in a given situation can be shared as my ideal, not fact. I cannot judge another persons actions through my viewfinder, as they have their own insights. However, when I choose my response to a given story, I can relate from how I would like to be treated when I am in a funk. Who doesn't like a kind word, a gentle hug (or a stiff drink!)? Can I really go wrong serving dinner and giving a massage? Sending a gentle text with inspirational quotes? Telling bad jokes? Who wouldn't appreciate that?

      Learn when you've done enough, but (s)he just needs time and space. This goes with the first ideal, but it's on the back end of the experience. This is another one I am still working on improving, as I have a hard time watching those I love be unhappy. My wife and I have agreed that if she wants to head to another room for personal time, I will respect her wishes and not follow; in return, she will come back to me when she finds her "center" once more. There are things we all experience that are more than the typical annoyances, and there are moments when we need to vent, refocus on our happiness (alone) and then come back from the woods. A modern day "voyage quest" to work through our angst; as it were. I have had to learn that this isn't my love turning away from comfort, rather, she is breaking the thought cycle and "letting go". A distinction in my mindset, not a difference of action.

     The commitment required to have a great relationship is the humility required to be a great partner. Doing for others is the ultimate panacea for helping our own ills - especially within a relationship. For those aspiring to love, be the person you would fall for. For those in love, don't lose the appreciation and wonder that love inhabits. Don't lose the fact that you have found a gift many search a lifetime for. Relationships can make us better people, in a healthy, loving environment. If given the opportunity to grow, everything one could ask may be found within the confines of a loving marriage. "For Worse" is remembering to be half of a whole...

The Animal Within....

      The age old debate that divides a nation rages on! Democrats and Republicans? No. Red Sox or Yankees? Nah. Edward or Jacob? Who even cares?? No, the true debate will always be Cat People and Dog People. There are definite people who can straddle the line, but even then generally prefer one pet over the other. (Don't even get me started on big dogs versus small dogs). As a lifelong cat person, I have always appreciated the personality quirks that many people vilify cats for. As I have become a dog owner over the past few years, I have come to appreciate them more, but I am definitely still a fan of cats.

      People speak about cats being evil, aloof animals that ignore their owner and everything to do with them. A wonton destruction machine in four legged form. The truth is, my cars have always enjoyed my company for a bit, and then LET ME BE. I don't want my pet to become a codependent chore that leaves me begging for some time alone. Cats are playful, curious, able to express their wants and ready to share a life with you. There is nothing "evil" or "aloof" about wanting some alone time. Human couples do it, why can't your pet?

      Dogs, on the other hand, are portrayed as "man's best friend". From "Lassie" to "Old Yeller" to "K9 Cop", we are exposed to the myth of a dog as a life partner. In my reality, dogs are sneaky, needy animals that must be taught to respect their owners and not constantly demand their attention. Dogs will nip at a person seeking their owners attention, and that is no "best friend of mine". However, once a dog realizes an alpha and understands there are rules, they can be playful, appropriately loving and quite charmingly goofy in their own right. I love the dog I have helped raise, and I enjoy our interactions as they happen. There is no need for a continuous realm of touching to have a solid bond with her.

       That said, many people love dogs because they ARE a constant source of attention in an existential world where any love is better than none at all. Yes, dogs can protect where cats do not, and they can be great companions as a part of a family when they are a part (not priority).

      The joys of pets in both camps are powerful and impassioned about their four legged friends. While everyone deserves to enjoy their animals any way they wish, so many people have lost all ability robe considerate of others when doing so. If only people would show discipline to avoid impacting others negatively, it would be a better place for us all!

Veni, vidi, non dominabatur

      How would you know if your significant other is happy? What indicator could a husband portray with others that sets someone at ease? Inawprld of suspicion and opportunity, it seems so foreign to identify a trait that prescribes the comfort of trust fully. 

      In a previous life, I could never pinpoint the actions that made me feel other husbands were fully committed to their wives, but I could sense it. Something in them shone through and demonstrated how happy they were with their life choice, and I never had that peace.

      Then I met my doll face.

      In my happiness with my life partner, I slowly began to realize early on that I was emitting that same vibe of inner sanctuary. In deLing with people in general (and women specifically), I began to notice a new trend in how I interacted. 

Where it was once a dismissive statement to mention I was married, I now say it aggressively - and without having to feel forced in doing so. I have a partner (and have made a choice) that makes me proud and that I wish to share with the world. I am thrilled to be defined (in part) by my marriage, as well as in my actions toward this other human being that graces my days. In strip clubs, at work and online, I am no longer portrayed as a "lone wolf", and I think the answer to how to know what someone feels lies in how excited they are to identify themselves clearly as a member of a unit - showing others that they are vulnerable, committed and unattainable. 

     I am no relationship counselor, but this is my take on something that lived in the core of me all along, but was not able to be released. I could sense it in others, but did not find it in my self until I had the proper protagonist. A gift left to me by man long ago, who was driven on instinct and identity. Who could ask for anything more?

The First Pages, Hummingbird....

     Strip clubs are a microcosm of pure capitalism and lucid psychology in action. I didn't always understand the allure and idea of these environments, having been taught that they were a form of sex industry. The visual of drunken, writhing bodies and the scent of sweat overtaking me kept me hesitant, and the idea of a beautiful woman I could never have causing me to lust seemed to be a form of self torture. This seems to be the male dilemma I have encountered - either men see it as a visual buffet of beauty or a withheld, painful longing. After finally going to my first strip club, I found there was a third option. Hanging out and talking to the women at the club showed me a kinship with people who want to be heard; women who spend time satusfying the needs of others who don't take a moment to actually recognize the human being in front of him.

      Worse yet are the opinions of many women who cataloguer he club as a seedy pool where men go to leer and share sexuality with other women. The reality is that the club is a much less threatening option to relationships, a service that provides a fantasy with no ability to be attained by customers. In talking to the dancers, one comes to learn that these people, like the rest of us, have dreams and goals and struggles, just like the rest of us. They aren't any more sexual or deviant than the rest of us - they merely have a comfort with their bodies that allows them to provide a service that is seen less threatening when a Hollywood actress does it. A double standard given by societal norms and reinforced by women's insecurities (placed on then by society as well).

      This book is an attempt to reflect on these faceless women and reveal the reality of their profession. There is a wonder to what dancers are able to do on a daily basis, and there is a psychological toll that comes with being ignored in plain sight - giving others satisfaction while being offered nothing but money in return. There is no shame in what they do, and it is time that we, as a people, recognize this is a form of entertainment, not the prelude to an orgy.

It's Probably Unspeakable

From somewhere behind

The curtain

A gentle whisper:

Something doesn't

Feel right. 

I turn my attention 

Elsewhere,

But the whisper 

Becomes alarm.

What horrors have

Occurred while

I was distracted?

How will I handle

The outcome

Of this tragedy?

My body springs

Into action

Ready for the

Worst,

But once realized,

The situation is

Not dire.

No horrors await.

Something WAS

Askew,

But the unknown

Did not hold

Destruction.

Knowledge safe,

I go forth with

A gentle peace;

A better understanding.

A Friend in Need... Is a Choice

      A stripper gets fired for excess. How obtuse..... Do they get fmla coverage? Rehab costs covered? Anywho, a wonderful young lady reached out to me in a time of crisis. I had plans with another friend today; I could very easily said some supportive stuff about the situation and sent her on her way. I have certainly had past "friends" give me the "it will get better!" brush off in my own past.

      That is exactly why I couldn't do that to this suffering soul. I feel it is inherent to make adjustments and be physically present for comfort. A text is okay, a call is better, but nothing compares to when my doll face holds me when things grow dark. Did I "save the day"? I doubt it. Did I solve the problems? Not within my control. I merely showed a human being that I have shared laughs, liquor and moments with that I was also available to listen, to cry, to offer my support in a time of need. In this age of media and instant messaging, the power of a hug and an empathic stare have fallen prey to the next convenience or distraction. I'm not better than anyone who would decide differently, but I am omni-aware of the ache it can leave when someone reaches out and receives anything less than a partner in a painful time.

       I hope we all continue to try and appreciate people over the litany of pastimes that leave us engaged but our souls empty. It's important not to overthink it- a friend in need is my chance to comfort and be a friend indeed. I am not perfect, I have missed a cry for help in the past, but I strive to never make that mistake again. The slightest hint of discord requires nothing more than a "what's wrong?" It costs me nothing to think about someone eps in that moment, and it is up to them now to share or keep their pain to themselves. A friend will always give you enough to be aware of the predicament. An acquaintance is more likely to keep it aside. However, a friend with self worth issues may distract you, so as not to "bother" you.

      And these are the people who need us most.

The American Drain

      Why has it become so hard for us to be happy in modern America? The days of the wife, kids and white picket fence has become a parody of times long past. In meeting people each day, it becomes less and less frequent that I find a genuinely happy individual.

      In a world full of inventions geared towards entertaining us, we have lost the ability to just sit still and enjoy the simple things. Reading books, listening to the radio or simple crafts were passive, calming endeavors. Now, with thrilling TV, suspenseful video games and an Internet full of information, we are never quite able to turn our brains off and tune down. Staying mentally alert right up to bedtime makes sleep less restful overall.

      Also, having so many options to engage in takes away from the peaceful zen we once were able to accomplish each day with ease. When merely deciding HOW to relax becomes stressful, we have perverted the intent of the creation.

      In addition, there are so many fields in modern society where we get seduced into competing against a(n often idyllic) characterization of what accomplishment looks like. Whether it's the physical ideal presented in media, the monetary goal set by the amount of things we desire, the title we seek to validate our importance or even the status symbols we are judged by so often (clothes, jewelry, cars, house). With a litany of intoxicants to compare and contrast against those around us and admire, where can happiness arise? The once simple idea of enjoying the things you have has been supplanted by the unending pursuit of the possessions that can identify us as a victor, in some way. In fact, we negate our individuality when we submit to comparison in the void. Rather than competing in the rat race; when is it enough to just focus on doing best in life with what we are - not giving into a "wannabe"?

Chicken or Egg?

      It occurs to me time and again how far we as a society have fallen when it comes to ethics and morality. Where respect and civic duty once meant something (not to mention national pride), these concepts seemed to have been ripped from the very fabric of the American Dream. It's a sad statement on the frailty of the scales of justice that cm unity has been left lying behind many.

      A grand example is the riots incited recently due to "police brutality). To begin with, the people who have passed have done so as CRIMINALS who resisted arrest. Once you step outside the scope of the social contract, you are accepting the potential for a negative outcome. Even still, once the criminal is caught, the gig is up. If someone has already broken the law and resists, there is no telling what might come next for law abiding citizens. I'm not saying that police don't overreact or never abuse their power, but by breaking the law, criminals put themselves in harm's way. However, current conditions allow sympathy for a villain.

       Then we have the "protesters" who riot and steal in the name of....? A peaceful protest is the American way, but when did that devolve into a cash grab? Even the premise of "black lives matter"....what about the many black lives that are being inconvenienced by riots and stopping entire freeways? Do their lives not count? The victim complex continues......

       So the police are at fault for trying to enforce the laws, the country is at fault for not .... Something, and the rules are fair because it doesn't hold someone else down. Self serving madness and the herald of the world not providing you the manner to perform CRIMES. Makes sense to me....

When Is Enough?

      The irony of desire is that we as a species focus our attention on objects or people, but the motivation for craving is in the emotion itself. The idea is that by accomplishing or obtaining a certain object of our longing, we will satiate our desires. Yet, invariably, another object comes along to wet our appetite and the cycle of conquest continues. Like any emotion, there is no set amount that will complete our want, it is only in making the choice to be thankful for what we have that we can find relief and appreciation. 

     This situation is most common in interpersonal relationships. Desire plays s key role in the many levels we incorporate into finding our significant other. If the desire is for the body, then our attention has a tendency to stray. If our attention is focused I being loved, than as one relationship loses the fires of infatuation, another can rise in its place. If the desire is for companionship, the focus will shift and look to be filled in many interactions.

      However, if the desire is to love another, and we find that love standing before us, we have all we need to make the choice to desire no longer. In seeking to give, changing the object does not change the desire. In giving of ourselves, we never have fear of disappointment, for we control what we give and how we portray ourselves to others. How they interpret our actions is beyond our control, and if that becomes our focus, the cycle of passions can burn us alive.

In the Quiet of Night

     In the down moments when I am left to my thoughts - no music, no conversation, no intrusions - it comes so crystal clear that I am blessed. Not fro

 A comparison standpoint of "then and now", but from a mental vantage point of now standing alone. I am certainly not one of the chosen, and my blessing comes without forsaking sin as governed by the Bible. The only sin (the ultimate sin?) I have avoided is in giving up; the luxury to stay stagnant and not move forward. I won't claim this was always by design, plenty of times in my life it was events that moved me forward when I wished only to give in. 

     I have a job I enjoy, a great deal of people to enjoy (and who enjoy me as well), friends who will look to me and profess their live, a wonderfully rainy night in San Francisco, I need nothing and want for little, the pursuit of my education, the boy and a partner I am thankful to have at my side. Thanks to the grand mixture of these sacraments, I am able to live every day with extremely memorable moments and the smile on my soul that makes everything somehow pleasant. This not not the end that many anticipate.

     It is the beginning.

     So often, we find success and live in it and forget to appreciate it and enjoy it fully each time. Even further, I feel it is my calling to do everything I can to share it with others and try to give them a way to head towards their own private nirvana. The road is not without traials, but it is littered with results if we only take the time to look. Something as simple as reaching out to someone new with our hearts and giving them a chance to surprise us can provide that day's worth of glee. Being open to love at any cost without providing rules. Being overjoyed now without comparing it to my past or referencing it against my future.

     Being willing to be happy without needing a reason for permission.