Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I started this blog 1 year ago. At that time I hadn’t planned on still being around after 1 year, but the fact is I’m still alive, and that has to count for something.

WordPress reminded me today that I have been blogging for exactly 1 year. I didn’t think this blog would do that much. I didn’t have any social media profiles back then, and I was alone. I figured my blog would get 0 followers and nobody would ever read a word I wrote. But as time passed, I found out that some people did want to read the things I wrote. Some of those people were even kind enough to give me feedback on my writing. I hit 50 followers and was really shocked. I mean really, I wasn’t sharing my work on Facebook or Twitter, nor was I becoming an Instagram poet, but I was finding people who read what I wrote anyway. 50 turned into 100, and just today I hit 232.

232 people I have never met, but people I now know. I love coming here to post my work, but even more than that I love coming to this space to read what others have posted. It’s so varied, so many different voices from every corner of the globe. It’s every human emotion, sprawled out onto my computer screen, and I have the pleasure of reading through it all at my own pace.

I wanted to say thank you to everyone who follows my blog, and to all the blogs I follow, because they are willing to share their hearts and souls with the world, and I find that beautiful. If you would, please consider sharing my blog with those whom you think might enjoy some of my writing. I know I’m not a real writer, but I love writing, and I have enjoyed sharing it, and would really like to keep going, to keep growing, and to see where this path might lead me.

Again, thank you to everyone who follows my blog, I am forever grateful!

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

It’s easy to see it in hindsight, but in the moment everything feels so rushed; it’s impossible to tell up from down, or wrong from right..or living from dying..

But I love him…That was always my excuse at the end of every day that summer. Those nights spent awake wishing to be anything but real, the face of a harsh reality was revealed, and every special moment broken.

You felt special because he was yours? People are not possessions. When you do that, you are giving the key to your happiness to somebody else. So what happens when they no longer see you as the sun or moon or stars, but as waste and dust and not even an afterthought?

You break.

And it’s not beautiful, nor poetic. It’s ugly crying alone at 4am, it’s unwashed clothes and sheets and fast food wrappers overflowing from the trash can. It’s cold feet, empty eyes, bubbling guts and bloody vomit. It’s crying to the point where nothing comes out; no tears or sounds, you just can’t exist..And it leaves you missing days from the calendar and regretting everything prior to the here and now, and the here and now is something you want to destroy, and you realize that you are the moment, that you are the here and now, and you need no more tomorrow’s, no more chances, that time is a stupid harlot, a cheating whore, and you want her out of your life..You don’t want life..

That’s the kind of breaking that happens.

It’s not beautiful.

It’s death.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“It was her chaos that made her beautiful.” – atticus

Her chaos defined nothing, because that is what chaos means. Her beauty wasn’t bound to the idea that she ran through life as a wildfire or some gulf hurricane. What made her beautiful was the light she could give to herself that seemed bright enough to bring others out of darkness. Her storms were wonderous to observe, but it was the sunshine after that created the chance for love.

Why are people obsessed with the idea of loving something we cannot define? Is it because we lack the right words to capture what it is that captivates our hearts and minds so thoroughly? Chaos…that’s a terrible word to describe anything. It’s a word to describe a high-speed car crash, or the feeling a soldier experiences on an active battlefield. Chaos is laziness, because everything that doesn’t fit into a person’s set idea of “the plan” would be chaos, and since people are terrible at planning, everything always seems to fall apart, at least a tiny bit.

Her chaos is her unraveling, and that is so fundamentally different from her showing herself to you. It’s not beautiful to fall apart. There is nothing pretty about crying into the arms of your friends at 2AM after you tried to say goodbye. There is nothing captivating about being so angry your skin flares red like a firecracker, with a voice to match. It’s raw, and real, and it’s all of us on our worst days, and it’s on those days we all wish for love, for someone to just hug as and not let go first. It’s our chaos, and we shouldn’t hide it from the world, and we especially shouldn’t hide it from ourselves, but to say that is what makes us beautiful?

I want to be beautiful because I take my nephews to go see the new Star Wars like a good uncle, and we pig out on candy and soda and we laugh the entire car-ride to the theater and back.

I want to be beautiful for the project I helped my co-workers finish 1 week early, where my skills on Excel were put to the test and I came out on top, and I was praised and proud of myself for not only getting the work done, but because I know I was useful and I haven’t felt useful in so Goddamn long it almost made me cry.

I want to be beautiful for taking the time to let that car merge into my lane to get around that small fender bender during rush hour. I am always the car that lets people over, because I’m never in a rush to get anywhere, and people always wave and smile and it makes me think that I’m doing something right, even if it’s small and nobody will remember it.

I want to be beautiful for keeping calm on the phone when the bank messed up my credit card (which was a real problem, but I understood that it had nothing to do with the person on the phone and they were so relieved when I expressed this that they thanked me because they had already had a very terrible day and I’m happy I managed to give them a tiny bit of relief).

And she wants to be beautiful for all those moments, every single one, not just the messy ones. She needs someone to be there for the chaos, so be there, but don’t think that chaos is her beauty. That implies when she finds a way to quell that chaos she will have lost a vital part of herself, when in reality she will have just learned how to tame some wild beast, and that is to be applauded.

“It was her chaos that made her beautiful.”

No.

It was HER that makes her beautiful.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

It takes some time, and then some more time, and even more time, and even more, more, more… I just have to believe it’ll get better in time.

There was a girl I loved, in a way I can’t really express in words. More than just pretty, beautiful, stunning; she was light itself, curving around galaxies to catch my eye. She had the kind of voice where you never deleted her voicemails – no matter what she had to say, it was something I wanted to live. I never felt like I had to pretend, so I would say every joke that would come to mind, and she would laugh with me and laugh at me. For the first time in my life I could smile to myself, knowing someone adored my terrible British accent and was impressed with my encyclopedic knowledge of all things Hayao Miyazaki.

Not every moment was perfect; fights happened, and we both cried, tore up our throats as we woke up every neighborhood stray, went to bed after a sunrise wishing we could take back those words, as if they were accidents. Words are deliberate, and nothing can be erased, but everything can be fixed. So maybe we weren’t always perfect, but every moment, the highs and the lows, as long as they were with her it was still magical.

Perhaps I’m placing those feelings onto high a pedestal, and maybe I’m just seeing things in rose-tinted glasses, but even knowing everything I do now, with 20/20 hindsight, I wouldn’t change the course of my life – Because if I did, I probably never would have met her, and everything else could have ended up the same regardless. So even knowing how this ends, I would still pick her all over again…I’d pick her over me Every. Single. Time.

Posted in Music Mondays, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I.

MUSIC MONDAYS – Julien Baker

Music is a big, big, BIG part of my life. My first blog post was about Ed Sheeran (and if you haven’t read/listened to the song in that post, check it out, it was something I enjoyed writing). Now, being a big fan of music but also being a quiet, reserved, afraid to order pizza over the phone, shops at midnight to avoid lines, and can’t handle crowds or the public in general, I don’t often come off as such. I don’t go to concerts or talk to my co-workers about such things, but it’s those things that get me through the day, every day. So, I’ve decided to start a “new” blog dedicated to highlighting songs or artists that mean something special to me.

To kick things off I thought I’d share a new-ish artist, Julien Baker. I first discovered Julien Baker by listening to the NPR Tiny Desk Concert Series (please check it out, it’s really a fantastic series. It’s setting makes each show feel personal, even though I’m not there in person to see it). Julien Baker has a powerful voice and a subtle touch on the guitar that makes it seem like it’s trying to surround your ears in feathers; it blocks out all other noise yet never comes off as being loud. Some of her ballads include piano pieces, which she also shows a very keen understanding of how to incorporate the sounds of low bass notes with simple melodies, so you feel the keys more than hear them.

But, the crux of Julien Bakers talent lays within her ability to write some of the most crushing, poetic, beautiful lyrics I have ever experienced. Her song’s flow, sprinting when called for but unafraid to completely stop, leaving your heart a few seconds reprieve and your brain the time it takes to understand everything she’s talking about. Because her music IS heart. It’s not just her heart, it’s every human heart. It connects the dots in your head, forming a clear picture of somebody we have all been; an insecure, well-intentioned, far to self-critical, messy, lovable human.

Julien Baker has become my favorite artist of the past few years and her most recent album, Turn out the Lights, gave me all of the feelings of her first album and then some. I highly recommend checking out her live videos on YouTube, such as her Tiny Desk concert I mentioned above, or her performance for Audiotree and Pasta Studios.

I’ll most likely be writing a deep-dive piece, similar to my Ed Sheeran Sunburn post, at some point in the near future, but in the mean time please enjoy the splendor that is Julien Baker.