7/19/15

Recently, I have been feeling the urge and need to destruct my rigidity, both emotionally and intellectually.  These urges have been manifesting in a resurgent connection between my adult ego mind infrastructure and my childhood artistic  aspirations, such as drumming, writing, and painting.
During the drudgery of the modern acceptable work schedules, I find myself emotionally exhausted and a complete lack of passion for anything, thus turning me to my last untamed vice: grand strategy games.  Yet on my off weeks I manage to gain enough momentum emotionally to begin to do something to improve myself, when all of a sudden the brick wall of "I work tomorrow" pops up and deflates any bit of hope you had for progress. It feels as though I am being teased with the sweet honey of happiness through emotional progress and then smashed in the face with a bag of wrenches when I get to close. Honestly though it's this last turn that I find myself unable to usurp. I feel the need to play these games because I feel as though if I can change the fate of the people of the country I play, to that of unity and oneness with the world, then maybe someone can feel that sweet honey even if they are only digital.
Perhaps this is a misplaced and pathetic attempt at compassionate actions, which has been the focus of every bit of the philosophy books I have been reading for years.  Yet this would never even come close to working because thinking rationally, this is uncovered quite simply
Ok time to try to do digital art in photoshop.

4/20/15

Hollow reverberations adrift in a shallow, dead, salty brine of a lake,
Sucking the life from the soil, bursting its breath, a moon beam,
Floating away on a limb of a once proud coniferous, asphyxiated,
Ripples from an unknown origin changing the very direction of its path,
Incurable and nearly meaningless, these patterns interrupt a primal striving,
A hope of a kind, disrupted and reconfigured, re-contextualized, reiterated,
Bled from the very being that birthed it forth and raised it up,
Quartered and drawn forth for the sake of something misunderstood.

To put this out is to never go back,
Reaching into a known snare to feel again,
Familiar and comforting yet still a vice,
Reviving and reconstructing years of work,
Only to be done again and again and again.

4/9/15

When the edge of my uncertainty shaves you away from me in a jittery pace,
            a depth of weight becomes increasingly reciprocal to that daily race,
the balances of the judge ripping me yet further from your embrace,
       with The Dream bending at its foundation shattering past each case.

I feel as though I am constantly searching for the next best idea for my own,
        personal development as a man, a husband, brother, and uncle,
whilst neglecting the only one who can truly help me reach my ideal goal for,
                                   who I am trying to be.

Then a premonition overcomes and engulfs me from behind blackly.
We delve into the schema that we are unhappy with where we are despite knowing it is really the enslavement of employment that has become the poison thorn keeping me from you.
Then the fear of leaving my family is there to truncate the growth of The Dream, too.

3/22/15

The nature of humans being good, bad, both, neither.  Valuation of individuals based on presumption and superficial characteristics.  Inherent worth and understanding not implied upon conceptualization of another.  How can our nature be that of selfishness.  Misunderstandings of Neo-Darwinian pseudo-economists perpetuating systemic oppression on the basis of all demographics else white upper middle class males. To really cause change. What must be done.  I wish only to live in a world where people are honest, willing to grow as a person, open to novelty, and willing to abandon any assumptions proven false or obsolete.

3/3/15

The wounding rift of her insecurity, prescribed by my inattentive self preservative tendencies, has begun to experience healing in flux but is predetermined by the ability of my own emotions to self coagulate.

Frigid ignorance, causing the crystallization of an ill informed vector, to be as a frothy snow upon the majesty and magnificence of the vast taiga that was discovered to be her understandings.

I had a friend tell me that I should write for a living, I had my partner tell me that I should teach for a living, I had my family tell me to work a respectable profession for a living, I must tell myself to be happy for a living and do all I can to radiate good vibrations to all I interact with.  How can I best serve my fellow man? How can I pass on my understandings to positively affect change for the future?

More to come.

2/25/15

A man must fail an additional 100 times,
Simply to understand why he failed the first.
A genius is a man who can in 99.

But if I was so dumb, I'd need 101,
Well, goddamn, that'd be just fine.

The twist.

Sweet kiss of winters wisp,
Thinking their would be a reason,
As I float through the amniotic pill,
When a fish swallows a hook too deeply, instinctual,
The winds know of what I do with her,
Caustic prevention,
What tree grew them,

Where was this organism,
Sapping away my heart slowly,
Even one thing to keep me from acting,
That for a time was a blessing,
The guts come bursting forth without any shame,
While there, a cool breeze tickles,
Nihilistic salvation,

Realist iconization,
The nourishment of it,
My heart belongs to another,
From professing my love to you.
The puss-oozing shattered heart,
Staring into my pooling tears a gentle I Love You,
As a reminder that Winter is still to come.

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2/18/15

How is it that we come to love someone outside of ourselves before we even know if we can love ourselves? I have been in a relationship with my wife for just over 2 years now and have discovered new depths of love that I never before had any inclination existed within human capacity.  She has shown me how and why she loves me every day since we started on our journey and yet I feel there is a deeper love that is growing every day.  I thought myself to be of a stable and constant function with direction and purpose fueled by an understanding of compassion and love, only to be daily schooled in the emotional arts.  Still I feel a near total lack of understanding of how to express my own emotions and to communicate how and why I feel the way I do.  The poetry of my life has been absent for quite some time because it was always rooted in a wallowing within my own self pity and a deranged relationship with the remainder of humanity.  I have been shown and made to feel love in this new and exciting way and it has forced me to face the facts of the previous statement and to analyze where these feelings come from and why I have allowed them to be the prime current of my creative thought for the majority of my life.  I feel things in my life changing through conscious effort of my own and of my loving partner, things that display love for her and for myself in ways I had previously rejected on false premise and self exclusion.  I have the desire to show her my love and my new found understanding of life but yet lack the ability to communicate it in a way that I can agree with, else I find myself weeping and absent of any cognitive ability and it is only to her face that I fear I cannot disrobe my inner self without being in that state.  I am trying to become better at communicating how I feel to her, and about her, but I find myself with constant excuse though none are adequate.  I must discover what is the primary cause of my anxieties and fully explore the intricacies of their irrationality in order to reconcile with them and to finally put them to rest with the respect that they deserve for having guided me so far into this life.

More to come.

2-11-15

Do not allow my lack of communication to become a trickling stream that carves a canyon through the bedrock of your security, for I will predicate my own sicknesses onto the stratification that you have organized as your firm and justified pillars of the good life.

More to come.

2/9/15

When I was a child before I started school I used to love hearing my sisters practice piano and to listen to my dad play as he does most days.  I was so excited to start going to school because that meant that I too could begin my lessons playing piano and I too would begin to be able to create things in the same realm as the people who were most important to me.  I would go with my mom to pick up my sisters from their lesson from the teachers home who lived just down the road from our house.  She was an elderly lady with full on gray hair and the classic big round glasses on her wrinkled face.  She would give me pieces of candy whenever I would come to visit.  This gave me even more of a reason to want to start going to lessons of my own.  I was so eager and so ready to learn.  The first few years were good and I learned a lot of basics though I realized early that I never had too great of a potential for the craft.  I also had troubles following the music with my eyes and translating what I saw into the appropriate finger movements.  It seemed as if the teacher took this as a personal slight at some point and this began a very rocky and almost abusive relationship between student and teacher.  I felt inadequate and was quickly overwhelmed by the expectation that I would progress as fast or faster than my sisters.  My teacher became very critical of my performance during lessons and it really gave me a bitter feeling during my practice time at home.  I became lax in my practicing efforts which only exacerbated the negative feelings I was having about my performance.  This was very noticeable to the teacher but instead of nurturing and trying to help me grow she began calling me things like worthless, pathetic, and awful, in regards to my playing, but I took this as an extension of who I was and my value as a person.  I would often come back from practice crying and for three years I begged my parents to allow me to quit playing but for some reason they did not take me seriously or believe what I told them of my experience.  I was being openly ridiculed and made to feel worthless in a space that was meant to be that of growth and development.  I was at the end of what I felt I could bare so I asked my dad to come with me to a lesson and just sit outside in the waiting area so she would not know that he was there.  He was shocked and almost revolted by my teachers behavior and that was the last time I had a piano lesson.  I had such a feeling of relief and almost felt as if I had broken off a piece of what was dragging me down.  At the time I was not aware of the damage that prolonging my suffering would do to my psyche nor was I aware of the great amount of self awareness that I would be able to develop through further trials and struggles with women who had a similar pattern to her behaviors.  This experience is not something that I feel bad about any longer because I can recognize that I would not have such a meaningful life today had I not had undergone such suffering.  This experience as a child helped to craft the type of woman I would look for to be my wife and life partner which in its own right led me to other types of suffering and experiences that are still paying off today.   It truly is amazing how things can come full circle if you maintain a good perspective and search for the happiness in all things.  

More to come. 

2/5/15

This week at work I had an experience of which I am almost ashamed to say is not uncommon for me.  The typical form of the experience I am talking of consists of myself being apprehended by an angry woman for something of which I am either completely unaware of or for something that I do not feel the force of the apprehension justifies.  Every single one of the experiences of which I speak of could have been avoided if instead of assuming that I was in the wrong, the person would simply have asked a question to start.
The first memory I have of an incident of this type goes back to second grade during a spelling test.  During the test the phonics teacher accused me of cheating and without allowing me to present my case, took my test and ripped it up exclaiming that I would receive a zero percent for a grade on that test.  This experience is one that I think about more often then I care to admit and I feel has been a formative experience in my relationship with women as a whole.  The word that the teacher was asking us to spell for the test was arithmetic. While teaching us how to spell the word the teacher presented us with our first ever encounter with what educators call mnemonics, a rat in the house might eat the ice cream, and encouraged us to try to think of more mnemonics for other spelling words and the like.  This seemed like a very useful tool to me as a child because I was always very keen to pick up new skills for learning so as to spend less of my time studying and more time playing games and hanging out with friends.  During the spelling test I was saying the phrase to myself while she was allowing us time to spell the word.  She saw me mouthing the phrase to myself and assumed that I was communicating with another student though I had never done anything of the like before and gave her no real indication as to that being my intention.  As a child I was frightened by her intensity and overwhelmed by the prospects of receiving my first ever failing grade on a test.  This led to me freezing up and being unable to present the reality of what I was doing in order to save myself from the embarrassment and shame of what was happening to me.  The day I got the grade back, it had the promised zero on it and during my entire bus ride home I cried and was terrified what my mother might think of her accused cheating son.  Thankfully for myself, it was winter out and there was a snow bank in which I could dispose of my test.  I never saw it again and felt guilty about it for years.   The feeling of helplessness and injustice that I felt followed me throughout the remainder of my encounters with the teacher over the next 6 years.  This set in my psyche a default stagnation whenever a woman confronted me aggressively about anything or whenever I saw in her eyes the intensity of this teacher.  Over the years there have been several others that have filled the position and even in my adult life I struggle immensely in dealing with the typical angry woman accusing me of a wrong no matter its size or significance.  My piano teacher, my sister during her high school years, several of the women I have dated, a roommate I had in college, and now as an adult, my coworker, all fit the same mold and serve the same function as I have previously outlined.  I would like to say that I have been of sound enough mind to recognize my sisters growth and have forgiven her for any injustices that I may have though I realize that I myself am still working through the hostilities that I have felt through hers and other peoples unwarranted aggression.  

More to come.

2/3/15

Fear is a great motivator of people, it can move them to greatness or cripple them when they need be strong.  I have always felt as though I lacked fear in the sense that I have seen most others display the emotion which had led me as a child to understand that I had no fears.  This was a cleaver defense of the ego and a classic strategy that I have noticed of myself.  It is true that I lack the very obvious phobias of others, which are more pathological types of fear, but the next premise I told myself was not true at all.  Phobias are not the only type of fear and by cutting off that area of my emotion when I over intellectualize I cut off the potential to understand myself more thoroughly.

I have stumbled upon a very useful graphic through Reddit and will be using it as a guide for myself to know myself more clearly.
http://i.imgur.com/3X6858r.jpg

There were many times during my childhood where I was ridiculed and poked at by my peers as many people who were children can likely empathize with. The things I was typically picked on for were my height and athletic ability.  The name given to me was Half Pint. Though now this seems almost comical, back when I was younger this name hurt and I was embarrassed by this disrespect.  The feeling of disrespect is one that I know I do not deal with how I feel it should be.  There are many times I feel disrespected in my adult life that are still sometimes ongoing.  I often feel disrespect from coworkers due to my being a young employee with relatively little experience.  This is not something that I want to have a reaction to because I know that there is nothing I can do but continue to work in order to get the experience I need to alleviate this tension.  The reaction I often have when feeling disrespected at work is to deflect and become aggressively revengeful but limited to words.  I often talk poorly of those I have felt disrespected by in an attempt to project the manifestation of my own feeling of alienation, due to my lack of experience, onto whom ever is the perpetrator of the disrespect.  I have even gone so far as to verbalize a desire to "catch" someone in order to aid in their dismissal from the companies employment.  This is a deplorable thought much less an actual thing to be said about another human being.  This is the ultimate in projection of alienation that I have been able to decipher from my own actions in recent times.  The feeling of rejection is a very sneaky emotion.  It is one that presents itself immediately but not really very clearly all the time due to there being a variety of types of rejection.  The fear of rejection that I have had in my life is due mostly to my past history of marijuana use and with my decision on what to study in college.  I knew quite early on in my college career that I did not want to continue on the path of education I was set on, but at least partially because of my fear of rejection I maintained my direction and graduated with a degree in Clinical Laboratory Sciences.  I feared being rejected by my immediate family and extended family.  I feared that my parents would not agree with the decision and that they would think I was a waste, a loser, a drain, or an embarrassment on them.  In my fear I could not proceed with my own dreams and desires.  The what could have beens are worth nothing because I have let my fear conquer me in a period of time where my direction has become more crystallized.  This is not to say that I am unhappy about other events that have taken place because of being crippled in this fashion, but simply that I feel as if I did not choose it completely of my own freedom from fears.

More to come.

A bookcase.

Over the past few months my partner and I have been having a civilized yet non-productive discussion about whether or not to buy a third bookcase for our apartment and many, many books.  Last night we sat down and the topic came up again over a delicious Longjing tea, which my brother bought for us while he was touring China, when I realized that I had failed to communicate exactly why I had felt the bookcase was not a good idea.  I told her that I felt like the place would be much to crowded by furniture and that it would turn the room into a choking enclosure. She expressed to me that she felt bad that the books were homeless, as if they had a human quality to them, and in fact she felt as if they were as children to her because of how much joy she felt they gave to her over her life.  After months and months of saying no I finally understood why she wanted it and began to cry.  I cried because of her love for the books, for my instant change of position on the topic, for my realization of trust in her, that I have come to know love in a way I have never known possible, for the excitement that there is more to come of that feeling and growth.  I cried because I was afraid to be that close to someone, for the feeling of vulnerability of my own self, and again because the realization of the trust I had in her to nurture my conquering of vulnerabilities towards openness. The feeling of knowing you are growing as a person and becoming comfortable with another person enough to allow your growth to be intertwined and inseparable has become the most incredible feeling to me. It is unlike anything I have known before and it is the most motivating thing I have ever felt. I feel as if I want to be the absolute best partner I can be for my wife, lover, friend, and life partner.  I know that will mean a lot more growth and change, but I want to take it on optimistically and with full awareness of the potential of regression, but to allow the forgiveness to myself to again grow past that.  I have been unimaginably fortunate to have met my wife and to have somehow stumbled through to marry her.  I love her and I love myself and I love our relationship and that will be what my whole life will be about with conscious intentional growth constantly in mind.   So after I took this inspiring detour of a thought, I told her that I want her to have any bookcase she wanted and that we will go and get it as soon as we are able to. I suspect there will be many more bookcases in our future and many more instances of pure love.

To make a Turn.

In the past I have used poetry as an emotional outlet for myself in order to maintain a sense of control over myself and the chaos that is the world.  Poetry was a tool for understanding and processing through emotions that I did not and could not understand at the time.
Currently I feel I am at a very pivotal time in my own personal development and find that the idea of reaching back to a past tool, re-purposing it for the direct and intentional guiding of my own desired path towards who I want to be, to be a very appealing idea and one that can be done in place of other copping mechanisms that are becoming obsolete due to the nature of where I have landed in life through little to no conception of where I had even started.  The writing of actual poetry may be a bit off in the future yet, but I want to use this safe place I have carved for myself to begin to foster my above intentions.  The way I will begin to do this is to write in prose to help tease the brain and get emotions flowing in the direction that I have longed for them to flow.