I don't think putting a poetical flair on what I feel right now will help matters.

I'm in pain.  Point blank, it's that simple.  You never get used to it.  It's an expected constant in life (you know along with the death and taxes.) Waking up the morning after, the world has a different tinge to it.  Washed over is probably what I mean.  World has gone through a thousand spin cycles, now the vibrant hues have started to fade.

You're supposed to cope.  Go on through life as nothing bothers you.  Like "see heartache, you can't stop me."

It's Nonsense.  I just want to find a place to lie down.  Embrace the chill until I can no longer shake another shiver, or chatter another tooth. You want nothing more than to become numb, that means not only pain becomes foreign, but every other ebb and flow of emotion.

That is not living.  I refuse, but it seems heartache likes those extended leases.  Won't mow the lawn, lets the dog shit everywhere won't clean it up, parties on weeknights....It's an ordeal.

Life is an ordeal.

I'm already off the radar enough, maybe I should go even lower.  Who's going to notice?

*Logging off*

These Blogs Don't Come Together Sometimes

I would probably call this blog the incredible clusterfuck.

All these thoughts and ideas just float around.  Intangible, but I wonder if those worthy ideas believe in me enough to bring them life?

I've felt a lot of anxiety lately, so much so, that it's manifested itself physically.  Dealt with it quite a bit last year, but I feel it's for different reasons now.  I'm frustrated with the average turns my life has taken.  I'm just not built for it.

I'm just going to keep writing.  It's an exercise, when my thought changes I hit that enter key and keep rolling.  This is going to be the worst blog entry ever in life.

Part of me is a man trying to understand how to be a master.  No one but me can tell me I can't be that.  I will carry no one's blame or failure, not even my own.  My world is slowly spinning off kilter.  Instead of bitching about it, I'll invent gravity boots.

I talk about myself quite a bit in these entries.  Thinking back I had issues even telling people who I was.  Shy and sheltered I built a wall up quickly, and started renovations and improvements even faster lol.  I didn't trust or depend on people.  I did plenty alone, and it carried into adulthood.

My place of employment bores me.  I am not built for this desk jockey shit, and I'm making the moves to change it.

This entry sucks.

Title? Who Needs It?

Talk about a funk.  It seems that your boy has taken a quick vacation to the Doldrums.  I'm just worn down and tired of the grind.  I guess I can point blame directly at myself for feeling the way I do. It's not quite sadness, or full on anger.  I am definitely in a valley. Either I can set camp up and settle in the low, possibly for the rest of my life; or I journey through until I find that foothold.  I've already convinced myself it will be the latter.

I knew something was wrong when my lady seriously told me: "I haven't heard you laugh in days."  Life lacking in laughter is not living at all.  I've tried to pinpoint exactly when I took this turn down this dark road.  Shortcuts turn into the scenic route, and I am not having that at all.

It all started with a dream, early Tuesday (or Weds.) morning.  Let me explain something firstly.  More times than not, whatever I may vision in slumber fades quite quickly from my memory.  I've never been able to figure out why.  Does my conscious deem these  insignificant?  I used to dream vividly.  Things became too real, so I guess my mind just sort of started recycle binning my dreams. (Found an article here that explains things.)

This dream I was in a city, maybe it was Chicago but I don't know.  I was familiar with it that's for sure.  Going about normal grown folk business.  In my travels I run into my best friend.  I don't have many people I'd consider friends, but Thief as he came to be called (long story) is a best friend.  I haven't seen him in years, but we spoke maybe a few months ago.  In the dream we are hanging out like we never missed a beat.  I recall us waiting on a bus, destination unknown, when he said something to me.  He says "Live life, because you never know what's going to happen."  Then I look in his direction and see a gunman running behind him.  I attempt to yell, but the louder I scream, the more nothing comes out.  I try to move, but I'm totally disabled.  The only thing that seems to work properly were my ears.  I could hear the shots, and I could hear his body slump to the concrete.  Then and only then was I able to mobilize against this masked assassin.  I awoke before my fate was decided, and minutes before my alarm went off to start my day.

And here we are now.  Any other time, this grisly scene would have been forgotten by me days ago.  Yet it's still lingering, and I feel this is affecting my mood.  The problem is I don't know what this dream means.  I've done some googling (giggity) on dream interpretation, and I found this:

To dream about the death of a loved one, suggests that you are lacking a certain aspect or quality that the loved one embodies. Ask yourself what makes this person special or what do you like about him. It is that very quality that you are lacking in your own relationship or circumstances. Alternatively, it indicates that whatever that person represents has no part in your own life.

Of course I'm lacking in areas, but I guess my sub-conscious needed me to realize it again.  That nightmare punched me right in the fucking gut.  Yes, I'm not content with where my adult life is.  Yes, I'd rather write or be creative seven days out of the week than a cubicle monkey for the next 20 plus years.  Yes, I miss being in love with someone who truly deserves it.

So, what the fuck are you going to do about it Jason?  Stop rolling with the punches, and throw some hooks out there.  Sharpen that edge, refine your mind.  You love your art, now start loving yourself just as much.  Maybe ten times more, it will show in your work.  A setback is only defeat if you hang your hat on it.  You aren't living this existence alone...you have the illest support group on the face of EARTH.

A leap of faith should not be made while thinking "what's going to happen to me when I hit the ground."  I'll admit, I lack faith in lots of things, myself especially.  But the leap has been made, and you're reading it...I hope.  If not, you will be when it's greater later.  I'm not worried or afraid of the ground anymore.  Let it be the ground, while I become great.

Peace.

Purpose

Most of the time, I have no idea what goes here.  It's a roulette wheel most times, games of chance.  Thoughts being wagered, because all thoughts are valued AND valuable.  The wheel stops it's rotation, and hopefully where rotation stops revelation begins.

I've been walking this globe for 30 years and change (well 29, we all crawled lol) and at least once a week I would ask myself, "What the fuck am I doing here?"  A question that would more than likely use up every empty space on a Scantron, is presenting itself to me regularly.  I felt like something was wrong with me because I didn't have a clear cut answer.  But honestly, who does?  We are fleeting, we are fickle, we are multi-faceted and evolving (I think lol.)  All a part of being human.

The fire, the trials, the hurts, the tears we spill when we think no one is looking...are all a part of your (and my) refinement.  They feed inspiration, I guess it's emotional recycling.  Taking the bad and making good, the strong become stronger.  If the world were a utopia, would there be personal growth? Besides, the world would be dull if it were perfect.

Taking in the drabness that is my cubicle.  I pondered what I have become up to this point.  The mulligans I wish I had for some decisions, what's coming in the days ahead, my purpose.  The answer will be different later, hell it may change tomorrow, but today my purpose is to write.  It's the only time I truly feel like I'm in control.  I didn't always feel this way, didn't believe I had a gift.  Just thought my rambling was therapeutic.  Jason isn't crazy, so life is good...and I thought nothing of it.  I wrote because the notepad would listen and not say a word, it didn't judge me, didn't laugh at my pain.  The only difference is, now I share and some of you share back.  I guess for now, that's why I'm here...

At least until tomorrow.

Compelled

2 in one day, my stamina is on point lol.

I don't know what I want (or need) to write, I just felt like I needed to write something.  Blame it on the green, blame it on the rain...blame it on my ever rambling mind.

There was a time I didn't love life.  I was in a shitty relationship, jobless, overweight and just wholly unhappy.  I was low, bowing to earthworms giving the weeds that grew in sidewalk cracks pounds.  My low self esteem became a tool of manipulation, my confidence spoke to me in a whisper "She's the best you can do."  It was a sad scene, the world's longest & lonliest pity party.  Wearing the happiness mask, and the visibility sucked.  Helpless? P'shaw, I felt like I hung myself up on the hook to be slaugthered.  Then shit started to change.  I started to change.

A dear friend and I had a somewhat drunken talk about my situation.  I don't remember everything that was said, but I came away with one thing...she told me to, and I quote to "put your dick out there."  I know that sounds crude, but here's what she meant.  P.Y.D.O.T. (yes I made it an acronym if you don't like it K.I.M. and F.A.Y.B.A.N) is basically a call for confidence.  I believed in all of the wrong things, just because I was a victim of some bullshit doesn't mean I should act like one.  Walk like you got the biggest dick in the room, but do it quietly....

I did a lot of thinking in the days after that party.  Lot of inside looking and mirror staring I guess.  Whatever other cliches they use for self evaluations...I noticed one thing.

I talked a lot about what I needed to do, but I would rarely follow through.  It's sobering when you discover you are a part of why your life is the way it is.  Was rather.  In short, I got reacquainted with my own skin and realized how perfect it fit.  The ingredients were there, I just had to execute the recipe.

Some would consider me a late bloomer.  Sure, that's alright with me.  I'd rather be growing than wilted any day.

I Thought I Posted This Yesterday?

My sleepiness is totally distracting me right now.  I'm trying to focus to knock this entry out, but I'm struggling.  Ideas, ideas and more ideas floating around in my mind.  In orbit, hoping to be chosen.  Playing god bringing that idea to life, and maybe praying to God that this idea bears forth what you'd like it to.

I guess that's why I'm pushing through.  This may seem like a jumble of random blurbs to me.  This could be a spark to whoever may read this and get inspired.  Not necessarily to write, but to share a gift with the world.  It's intimidating, standing up to the school bully at 2:59, at the jungle gym intimidating.  Even right now I get nervous clicking that "publish" button after I type one of these entries.  It may be loved and/or loathed, but I didn't leave an idea caged.  That's inhumane :)

I had a totally different idea for today's entry, it's just not coming together right now...Dunkin Donuts iced coffee, you have failed me.

God? Complex?

I've been wanting to write an entry like this for quite some time.  Fear wasn't factored in.  I guess I wasn't totally sure about letting others read my story.  Most of my entries are personal of course.  They are my creations (mostly) but few of them actually address my progression as a man.  The man who won't accept anything just because it's there and it's what everyone else is doing.  Let's rewind things a bit shall we?

I think a majority of people's stories start similarly to mine.  Bible stories as a youth, church sometimes, barely once a month.  Bad people = hell good people = heaven was my understanding for a very, very long time.   I would pray, I really didn't know who I was praying to.  Even though in the bibles my parents would buy my brother and I would have a bearded man in the sky pointing a celestial finger at us mortals.

One year my uncle Marty gave me a globe.  My uncle was always giving me gifts that educated me (I still have the insect encyclopedia he gave me.)  I appreciated them, but I was a kid and would have preferred a Transformer.  Anyway, in one of many curious urges I go to look for Jerusalem on the globe finding it and being quite confused. ...

If Jerusalem is HERE then why does Jesus look like this?



Even in my young mind that did not add up.  Hair like lambs wool? Yea if you hit that lamb with some Just for Me relaxer.  I saw all these mighty people, they did great things, the foundation of many families.  So how come they don't look like any of the people who worship/adore them?

This disturbed me for years, but I figured something was wrong with me.  I didn't believe fully in what I was being told by the preachers & the teachers.  Sure it was uplifting, but none of it ever helped my family.  Fast forward to my teen years, my mother has started going to a smaller full gospel church.  Of course I was drug along, getting "saved" (from what I didn't know) and baptized by the order of my Mother.  Like many things I did as a teen, I didn't like rocking the boat.  If moms wanted me to be washed in the blood, so be it.  Long as I didn't get any static.  In those years I acted (and starred) in a few gospel plays, sang in the choir and taught Sunday school.

Don't get it twisted, I learned a lot, but I didn't appreciate being told what I should think about world matters.  Or criticizing others beliefs because they did not line up with mine....it just rubbed me the wrong way.  Oh, and the heated discussion me & her had about my music could take up a whole nother entry.

I did what I always did when I needed answers.  I read...a LOT.  Knowledge is contagious.  (ed. note I'm FF to 2003, after a nasty breakup and having to move back in with my parents.   I have already had my porn collection found AND destroyed.  This was dial up porn...so you can imagine how long it took me to amass...) I wanted...no NEEDED to see everything.  I can't remember what books I brought home that day, but they caused an argument....a colossal one at that.  This was the first time I can remember truly having a debate with her and holding my ground.  I told her I needed answers, she told me to read my Bible, and the books I was reading were disrespecting her and God.  So out of respect for her I took the books back, and out of respect for myself I stopped following a religion.  At least until I found a path that isn't preset.

Finding God should always be a personal thing.  Not tethered to tradition or family.  "We were raised..." should not be a part of your answer.  Finding God for me has been an experience in finding myself, and when that's is completed maybe he (or she) will truly manifest themselves to (and in) Me.