Where am I?
Where am I!
Well, I am here and I am there but never where I want to be, it seems.
It has been a long couple of weeks with moving and working and now dealing with three little demon cats that sleep all day and keep me awake at night.
Under my eyes, it seems someone took a black marker to add a little color and bags are packed like my eyeballs are planning a trip. I go to work to escape the madness of a growling dog who sees and hears nothing, and three cats that believe my feet are scratching posts.
Thank God I found a job!
But, in the middle of it all I have a woman that keeps me sane and loves all my frustrations away. And, on top of that, I love our new apartment and the neighborhood. It is actually the kind of area I have wanted to live in for a while; right in the middle of the action where men and women pile into the bars for a wild Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. night, where the homeless give you advice on where the best places are to pick up women, and where a dominatrix club meets in a hall next door.
I have been relaxing the somber sounds of rhythmic whipping through my windows.
To sum it all up, Homo Escapeons, I have been where I am supposed to be.
In the middle of life instead of the middle of my day dreams.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Lilacs are growing rampant over the the folding hills
Dandelions threatening but seem to never grow as tall as needed
With hope in their direction, they color the minds of the relentless
With nothing more than a want and energy, it is done as soon as it flies
Cover me in color with objects that appear to be beautiful
A voice is all that one must need in the treachours of ones hell
Where does the hope come from when demons train their thoughts on a soul
Only a grueling meeting of wrong and right is enough to cover those hills once again
With time and space in the midst of change, we fall into the folds
Our sights will not be broken from the colored hope that we now feel
Lying motionless in the chasm, we smile as we become overgrown
Hope has sprung and lilacs have filled our senses with the fragrants of love
Everyday, it's a getting closer,
Going faster than a roller coaster,
Love like yours will surely come my way, hey, hey, hey
Pardon me while I finish performing this fantastic phantasmal concert in my living room.
Everyday seems a little longer,
Every way, love's a little stronger,
Come what may, do you ever long for?
True love from me?
Everyday, it's a getting closer,
Going faster than a roller coaster,
Love like yours will surely come my way, hey, hey, hey
Love like yours will surely come my way
THANK YOU. THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING OUT THIS AFTERNOON.
Whew!! Nothing like a good long sip of Vitamin Water after a show stopping performance like I just had.
Isn't the radio a wonderful invention?
I mean, I was feeling a little blah this morning, and then I turned on the radio to the True Oldies Station, 94.7 on the FM dial here in Chicago, and I just started singing. The next thing I knew, I was happy and could not even remember why I was so down.
It all started with a bobbing of the head to the rhythm, then a little foot tapping, the next thing I knew I was up doing my best impression of dancing with a makeshift microphone in my hand entertaining the masses. Masses of course include the two dogs and the numerous cats running rampant around this house.
A stellar performance nonetheless.
So, since my little pick me up, I decided it was time for my daily installment on Two Watches.
But what should I talk about?
I could go on and on about the war in Iraq or Afghanistan, but I have nothing to say that has not been said already.
I could talk about the 9/11 cover ups and lies that are plaguing us as Americans, but I will leave that for my sister who writes so admirably about that on her blog, Bold Contemplations.
So what else is there that I can write about that will hold the interest and the attention of my readers, which are few at this point, but still important.
I want to mention also a great blog I have had the pleasure of reading day in and day out. A must read is Homo Escapeons interesting writings that are impeccable and always very funny yet insightful on topics we seem to be always thinking about but unable to put exactly the way he writes them.
And if religion is a strong topic of conversation for you, then you must check out a good friend of mines blog page, the Unknowing Mind. Mike is truly a scholar and never a topic discussed is done in ignorance or done in vein. Very intelligent and also a must visit.
Enough with the endorsements now. This is my page and my time to shine!
I am kind of hyped up on caffeine right now. I finished off three quarters of a pot of coffee and now am working on a cool refreshing can on Coca-Cola. I should be set for the day now. Or, I might just ramble on and on here until my high wears off and I crash hard with my head pressed against this keyboard.
Let's talk about love. Yes that huge four letter word that confuses the hell out of everyone. It is such a small word but has so much impact on our minds as well as our psyches.
Love makes us do some incredible things. People have committed murder for love. How insane could that be? You need something or someone so badly that you are willing to off the competition even though getting caught will cause you to lose what you love anyway.
"If I can't have you, no one will."
Is that so?
Men and women alike will steal for love, they will lie for love, and they will pretend they have found love.
We must be crazy.
I can ask if love is really worth all the deception it could bring if it meant keeping it. But, I would have to say that it probably would be.
Yes I do have a little doubt in my mind. I am in a great relationship with a woman I truly love. Before I met my love, I would have said that love is a myth and the people who believe they found love, are only lying to themselves and their loved ones.
Now, here I am three years later in love not knowing what I would do if I did ever lose it. If it came down to it, would I steal, would I lie, would I even murder if it meant I could have that sacred love back? Thinking about it, I am compelled to say no, I would not. I am not so quick to give that definite answer for I am not in that position. My love means a lot to me and I am doing all I can to make sure love doesn't caravan off into some others mans arms. Is it enough, I don't know. And, if keeping love means for me to break one of the sacred Ten Commandments of my Bible, is that a love I really want?
Stand by your man.
What else can a woman do. Really! I am saying that men are just awful when it comes to feelings and displays of affection. Which, I can almost say with certainty, most relationships fail for this reason. A woman likes to feel loved and wanted, and men just do not always do that. I know I have trouble with this a lot of times.
So, when a woman leaves, men, being who they are, are compelled to prove their love to such extremes that will for sure demand attention. When, in fact, if love was shown within legal proportions, these extreme circumstances could have been avoided.
But that is just what I am thinking as I sit here still on my caffeine high.
Oh, you can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for
I can't help it there's nothin' I want more
Yeah, I would fight for you - I lie for you
Walk the wire for you - Yeah, I die for you
You know it's true
Everything I do
Ooh, I do it for you
Friday, September 7, 2007
I just had to delete a comment by an anonymous commenter who had used the word queer. Why is it when there are situations we do not understand the first word to describe it is gay or queer?
I firmly believe these words are used because we can not relate to a situation we do not understand with anything else besides homosexuality. We do not have any good reasons why gays and lesbians shouldn't exist besides false interpretations of the Bible or the Qua'an or the sacred Torah or whichever method of prayer one chooses.
I have been through twelve grueling years of catholic schooling and no where in it does it say that homosexuality is wrong. It does touch on the union of a woman and a man, but in the United States of America we have a constitutional right to bear arms. Do we? No, I believe it is against the law.
We also have a freedom of religion. Well, yeah we do, in a sense, but in this day and age if you are Muslim you are automatically ridiculed and thought to be associated with the extremists that are said to be terrorizing our country.
My point is that laws and thoughts change with the time. The thought of the citizens of the USA bearing arms is silly because it is not needed for the reason that when the law was made people were living in the wild with the animals and predators that could have caused harm. So, a gun was essential to stay alive and stave off an attack from unwanted predators.
Well, then I have to say, if the only reason that is used to condemn homosexuality is the writings in our book of prayers, which were written over a thousand years ago, isn't it time to update the thinking just like we are updating the laws written only a mere two-hundred-thirty years ago?
The world is full of things we will never understand. For example, why are we here? How did we, as a human race, come about and begin life?
So when are we going to learn that the solution is not to hate what we don't understand but to try and accept it and gain a knowledge of it?
Or, when you read something that you may not agree with, instead of saying that is "gay" or "queer", maybe you should say that is "human".
Gay is happiness, which is what most of us strive for. Queers definition is "of a questionable nature or character; suspicious; shady". Now a homosexuals nature is never suspicious, we all know what they are about and I can not think of anything that they do as being shady.
Now, with all that said, and my soul a little eased from that comment I found, I have to say that being different is never a bad thing. Difference is what created all the things we hold dear to our everyday life.
But here is the really awesome thing, being homosexual is NOT being different. It is being who that person is.
If one person can not accept that, then they are the cancer of this world. We do not need anymore reasons for hatred than we already have.
It is a whole world under God. If a murderer, rapist or pedophile can find their sad lives abiding in heaven when they die, then I am sure a gay man or a lesbian woman will not find any obstacles themselves.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
As much as we try, it seems we can not escape the grips of our parents. We run all over towns and cities to be independent, to be free from the choices they want to make for our own good. Who would have known, though, the telephone is inescapable when it comes to those spur of the moment thoughts that creep into the minds of our life givers.
We cry and whine about the experiences they wish to bestow upon us declaring our independence and our adulthood. But, and that is a huge but, when trouble strikes or hopelessness reigns down on our independent lives, we are always running back through that same phone wire.
They are our confidant, our rock, our pillar of good judgment and hope. Who knows better than us? Well, after almost thirty years I am finding out they did know beter than us.
When I visit, I find myself transformed back into a child. Transformed back into this helpless, needy child that is only searching for approval and guidance. I wanted so badly, when I was living with my parents, to be able to do what I wanted, to stay out as late as I needed to, or wanted to, to complete the night of fun with friends and strangers alike.
Every time a kid my age would be on the news for wrong doings, or a family member of mine would be out proving me to be more mature, I would throw those moments in my parents face to show them I was not quite the untrustworthy child they thought me to be.
You know what, though? I probably would have been.
If my parents did not keep as close of a watch on me like they did, I probably would have ended up a father at the young age of sixteen, or been into drugs and alcohol at an early age. I liked to experience new things, right or wrong.
I have a solid foundation that sits beneath my feet that keeps me grounded, as well as keeps my conscience holding a close eye on my decisions.
I did not like them for doing this while I was growing into this man I am today, but they were right when they said you will appreciate this later. Later is here and now I find myself being mature, still with some downfalls, but with a voice that screams into my ear giving me direction.
I never been the kind of guy to carry a compass in my pocket. I kind of always relied on instinct and rule bending to carry me along.
Some of the teachings I have rejected, but I kept with me all the important ones.
Love is definitely easier said than done.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
So, I am trying something out for the past six or seven years.
I am doing this balding thing. Maybe you have heard of it. It is where you have absolutely no control over your hair falling out strand by strand from your scalp to the floor or in your sink or in your shower.
I remember the days when I was sporting some good old fashioned longer, thick, can hardly slip my fingers through without getting stuck in the tangles type of hair.
Ahhh, those were the days.
I wonder though, is going bald a curse. I mean not everyone gets to do it. When did balding start anyway? I mean, if the caveman had the balding gene, they would end up dead from the freezing weather.
Who was the first bald man? Was he considered a freak of nature? Was he the Elephant Man of the stone age?
I actually don't mind going bald. I am hoping it will happen faster than what it is. I am tired of trying to make my hair look good before I leave the house. When it gets longer inbetween haircuts, if it is not laying properly, it kind of looks like I am wearing a toupee.
Life is cruel.
Right now, my hair is short, freshly cut about a week ago, so it actually looks decent. I am just sporting a larger than normal forehead. But like I said, life is cruel.
What does baldness mean, though?
Is it really a solar conductor for a sex machine? Does it really mean that the brain is getting so large it is pushing the hair follicles from the sockets? Or, is it simply because bald men do it better?
Who knows that real reason.
All I have to say is that I DO do it better, bald or not.
What does that mean?
We are supposed to be the most intelligent beings on this planet.
Why is it then, that when we make a mistake we chalk it up to being "only human"? Seems to be a little bit contradictory, doesn't it?
For a world that prides itself on the advanced intelligence of our species, we sure like to blame our short comings on that same fact also. We are smarter than the birds, the bees, the lions, the apes, and the caterpillars that crawl so helpless around on the ground. Do you think that when they fail to catch food for the clan they come up with the same excuse? "Well, I am just an animal!"
Come to think of it though, we do not hear too much about the mistakes animals make. I would imagine mistakes are made in the other half of the worlds existing beings, but probably just not as advertised as ours; since we do like to announce our short comings over loud speakers and in front of television cameras.
But then again, to err is human.
Intelligent? Maybe not as much as we thought.
I have a feeling this blog is going to become something of a diary or journal after it is all said and done.
I am sitting here wondering about the reality of finding a job that will pay me. I am also wondering about the harsh fact that when I accept the job that offers first, it will only become one more place I waste my time and my talents at. I will once again wake up every morning and dread the drive to the work place. I will dread the moment my car parks and it is time for me to walk inside and start another eight hours on mindless bullshit. But hey, I need money.
But I will also become a mindless drone for some company that slaps a number on me and finds out about the person I am from some silly computer generated report. They do not even give me a nice caring pat on the ass as I walk out of the door.
It is alright, though. It is a world of mindless drones doing their jobs. Some doing them well, some doing decently while some are only barely getting by. Either one you might be, we are all in the same position with different titles.
The clock strikes 8:00 a.m. and the morning whistle sounds. After four hours of repetitive tasks and sleeping legs, the clock strikes noon.
Oh, what smiles are to be seen at the twelve o'clock hour.
Here comes one o'clock and the faces are blank once more.
So, four more hours will pass and the grumpy trolls pass along task after task until the five o'clock whistle sounds. Then the lost smiles return to the relieved faces.
But those faces will lose those smiles once more when bed time comes along, because they know sleep goes by so quickly and their next step is a morning routine to get ready for work and then to repeat the work day tradition once more.
I know it is not like this for everyone. But, seriously, why do we work? We do it for the one simple fact of the need for money. Yeah, we might find a job we actually like and enjoy buffaloing out those mindless tasks day after day. Honestly though, you would have never found that job you like if you didn't need money.
Personally, I hate money. Man will stand on podiums and do a great job at acting like they are rulers. Let's face it though, money is in charge. The USA did not become a mega power with force alone. We were the richest. We were able to afford the most high tech weapons. We were able to afford the top-notch training we put our soldiers through.
But watch out, here comes China.
But, I digress.
I sit here and every time I look at the clock to see what time it is I am always surprised. So much time passes in what seems to be such short periods of time. How is it that sixty seconds passes so slowly when I am doing something I wish I wasn't. When it comes to doing things I thoroughly enjoy, sixty minutes will pass in what seems to be a blink of an eye.
Time is just as important as money, I think. We are all on deadlines. Whether it be achievements to accomplish by a certain age, or whether it be the countdown until the day one turns twenty-one. Or, a newspaper columnist struggling to meet a deadline to turn in an article, or a student struggling to finish a project by a certain day.
We are all a victim of time and money. Some have more, while others struggle to find some anywhere and anyway they can.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
In the suburbs of Chicago lies a little town named Midlothian. What a glorious town it is with nothing to do. Well, I guess I shouldn't say nothing to do. There is one place that is closed off to the public that lies off to the side of Midlothian Turnpike called Bachelors Grove.
What a haunting place.
When I was enjoying my younger years, me and my good friend, Stiffy (you might remember), liked to, every once in a while, head out to the old Grove for a late night stroll through the woods.
Now Bachelors Grove was really two places in one wooded area. It was a Forest Preserve, but along the path was an old, fenced off cemetery with headstones dating back to the 1800's.
There were a lot of stories that encircled this place, stories thought to be myths or ghost stories, but to Stiffy and I, these were stories that will never be forgotten.
It was a cool, autumn night. I was wearing a pair of jeans, a flannel with some ragged t-shirt underneath and a pair of steel-toed Doc Martin boots. There was not a good reason for me to have steel-toed boots, I just liked wearing boots at that time. Now, I am into wearing sandals, but that is totally irrelevant to the story.
So, back to the story.
There we were walking casually down the long paved path that led to the back of the woods where the cemetery was. I remember along the path was a downed tree lying half way across the path. Of course there were leaves covering the path so only fragments of the cold, hard blacktop were seen.
There were a number of trips planned to Bachelor's Grove before this night. We would go in the day light (when it didn't seem as scary) and we would go on other nights when it was a bit more scary, but definitely not as scary as this one night. It was just myself and Stiffy on this night, walking together through the dead of the night to see if rumors of this place were true.
Now, the story behind Bachelor's Grove is ghosts are able to be seen sitting on headstones or walking around the cemetery. There is also a story of a big ball of blue light that comes from the woods and chases trespassers from the area. Well, how can one not become interested and curious with stories like these. Who would not want to see a big ball of blue light flying through the sky.
I know we wanted to see it.
As I recall, we walked down the path twice. The first time we stood at the gates of the cemetery, looking all around, unable to see or feel anything. So, we walked back toward the entrance of the Grove and stood there smoking cigarettes. I also recall as we stood there smoking, we thought our eyes were playing tricks on us as we saw a sudden flash of light scurry through the forest, but we chalked that up to the cars passing by on the turnpike since the headlights were able to be seen from where we were standing.
After about ten minutes of standing there wondering, we again casually walked down the path toward the cemetery. This time something did feel different. The calmness and wonderment has now turned to wonderment and nervousness inside us both. But we kept walking on.
We reached that place once again, at the gates of the fenced in cemetery. We stood there watching, waiting. We had no clue what would happen, and of course, that was the best part of it. We wanted to see something so badly, we wanted to believe.
As we stood there, the panic overtook which led us to being huddled together like little school children being punished by angry parents.
Then, IT happened.
As we stood huddled together, Stiffy moved suddenly and started turning in circles like a dog chasing its tail. Of course my response was are you alright. He looked me straight in the eye and asked if I just tugged on his jacket sleeve. Now that would have been a good trick to play on him with the nervousness overflowing at this point, but I wasn't that cruel.
Again, he started chasing that proverbial tail again and when he stopped and looked at me I was able to see the fear and panic spilling out of his eyes. So, naturally all that panic spilled into me and I started chasing my tail, looking all around. Side to side, front to back, I couldn't see all around me fast enough.
Stiffy's arms were flailing at this point trying to detach the invisible hands from his clothes.
But then, a calm.
As our backs were now toward the cemetery and our eyes focusing through the woods, a beam of light was seen in the distance. It appeared to be a flashlight, as if some other schmuck was out there trying to prove the rumors to be true. After a moment of watching and studying, it became apparent that the light was not the reflection from a flashlight.
This light grew wider in diameter and also began hovering higher off the ground. It began moving forward and higher and at a faster rate of speed. Stiffy and I stood there, our mouth probably wide open, and just stared in disbelief until I snapped out of my trance and pretty much uttered the words let's get out of here. I believe it took a millisecond to follow my advise and take off running toward the entrance, or exit which sounded better in my mind at that time.
I remember seeing this ball of light coming toward us. The closer it came, the bluer it was. It was perfectly round and radiant. If I wasn't so unsure about its intent, I probably would have stayed to study it a bit more.
So there I was running away with Stiffy trailing me by a good twenty to thirty feet, and this tree that was downed half way across the path of course became an obstacle. I was running straight toward it, but I didn't become aware of it until I was almost right on top of it. I had to maneuver myself with this nifty side step action that caused my steel-toe boot to knock me in my calf and leave a bruise on my leg for at least a week.
Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction.
I know there a lot of skeptics that do not believe in the supernatural, and I was one of them. I honestly thought nothing was going to come from our little adventures.
Sometimes stories are best believed and not proven to some people, but to others, believing is seeing. Now I can honestly say I am a believer.
But what does that get me?
It gets me more frightened by haunted hotels or houses. It gets me worked up when I watch television documentaries about the supernatural just before I go to bed.
It also gives me an understanding about the existence of existing in another form besides what is seen, or felt.
You know what I think about when I reflect back on that night? I think about the existence of God. I can not see Him, nor can I feel Him. Hell, I can not even hear him, but I can sense him. It is that sixth sense everyone talks so much about.
I am looking out of this window right now enjoying the sight of the trees and flowers and wonder if this is all His doing. Then my thoughts take me back to that fear I felt deep in those woods even before I was able to see the haunting ball of light.
Was that the devil showing his ugly face?
Or, was that my mind just playing tricks on me?
Notice the use of the pocket watch. Brilliant writing. Plus, it is one of my favorite shows.
This one is for you Stiffy!
So, I already know what you are thinking.
What kind of person leaves a blog about Mandy Patinkin?
Some probably do not even know who he is, but to others, he might be considered a big star.
I just recently hung up the phone with a good friend of mine, Steve, (or Stiffy, if you will) and he said he was stuck in this hotel room watching the short lived Showtime series "Dead Like Me" played in syndication on the Sci-Fi channel apparently.
Now I am sure, with the last blog, you are thinking "well, with being a fan of science fiction shows and movies, this is why he is writing about this crap.". How wrong you are.
The reason I am writing about this "crap" is because of a memory. A teenage memory that is as funny to me as it was the first time ever spoken.
So, here it goes.
Mandy Patinkin does not bring thoughts of acting or television shows, it brings memories of performances at a theatre in Chicago with his name in lights.
I did not see the show, all I know it was a one man show for old men and old women of all ages.
At that time I was unclear of who this Mandy Patinkin was. So, with a little help from Stiffy, I was brought up to speed.
He was one of the great doctors on the, once again, short lived television series "Chicago Hope".
"Ahh, yeah, I know who you are talking about now".
But why would this T.V. actor be performing a one man show at this small Chicago Theatre.
We both had no clue.
But we did have some ideas.
Of course our idea was nowhere near what the truth actually was.
We imagined a one man singing show sprinkled with monologues about life as a great Hollywood actor.
We imagined a great comedy sketch that literally split sides of the geriatric crowd.
We imagined a great man with great stories that were only able to be told on a stage in front of hundreds of adoring fans.
Of course, this is only what we imagined.
But, our finest moment came when we walked past this theatre on a different day and saw an ambulance parked in front of the main entrance with lights flashing and sirens roaring.
So now, there we were imaging again.
Always a bad thing.
Now, we imagined an overwhelming crowd trying to gain access to a sold out show of Mandy Patinkin. Police barricades being swallowed up by manic fans. Old ladies and old men being trampled by fanatics trying to gain access for just one glimpse of the great Patinkin.
Oh, what a gruesome scene.
For us, at least.
So, I hang up the phone with Stiffy after reliving this forgotten memory (which should have stayed forgotten) and I became intrigued. So, naturally, I IMDBed Mandy Patinkin to see what other work he has done.
He was 88 keys in the "Dick Tracy" movie released in 1990.
He even did a voice over in a "Simpson's" episode.
What I did see that was interesting, he has spent a lot of his working career playing characters that had a lot of depth.
But here you go. His best parts, to me at least, were roles that cast him as a devil or as a grim reaper.
In a 2001 episode of "Touched By An Angel" he played satan.
In the series for Showtime, he played a grim reaper.
Maybe Mandy is not being upfront about his religious beliefs.
OK, that is a stretch. But what I am trying to get at is the reoccurring theme of life and death in his roles. He has sprinkled his career with roles of being a doctor, and, now, he is in a current role as a detective. In which he stops the evil from happening on the streets.
Interesting to only myself, I know. But this Patinkin guy is someone that should be known for much more than one man shows in a Chicago theater. He is a true patron of the arts and needs to be taken seriously.
So, to end this silly, pointless rant about a man that is not a big Hollywood player, I was just trying to start a trend.
Instead of saying things like damn it all to hell, or damn you, raise your fist up high and strong and give those people that piss you off one big MANDY PATINKIN.
Are these two words that are really related? Time and space. Hmmm....
Well, I have to say that I am a bit of a science-fiction fan, my favorite sci-fi series being Dr. Who. I am sure a lot of people do not know what that is or are just learning about it since it's gaining popularity since the new series is airing on Sci-Fi Channel and also public television. This show deals with time and space. The Dr., with his faithful companion travels through time, to different galaxies and planets to right what has been done wrong.
Now, if I am not mistaking, space has no time. But, from all the shows I watch so I can geek out on nerdy things, is space the secret to controlling time?
I would believe so, if what I am watching is the truth. But I have to remember the key word in all this, "fiction".
Truth, it is said, to be sometimes stranger than fiction. Yeah, I can agree with this. But how strange is it to believe that space holds all the secrets we want to know so badly. I mean, it keeps many of us wondering and wanting more.
We, as a whole, or as the people that do not work for NASA or any other space program that can understand the planet earth is just a speck in the matter of existence, feel large, so to say. We dream, and sometimes believe we see, alien life forms or UFO's causing us to believe in something more than what is on this "safe" planet of ours.
In a world that is never-ending we are nothing. BUT, in a universe that is infinite, we are most definitely nothing. Isn't that AWESOME!!!
We are nothing! No matter what we do, it really does not matter. Well, it matters to ourselves and the people that love us, but to no one else.
We can look on through our little peepholes to judge and comment on the worlds events and act like it affects something. But, GOD, if you believe, created so much more than me and you. He created an ever changing, ever growing infinite existence that is so oblivious to what is really happening.
Isn't that cool??
We have no clue!
Bright Eyes, an Indie Rock band wrote a song, which I like a lot, entitled "At The Bottom Of Everything". One of the best lines in the song says "I'm happy just because, I found I am really no one".
This planet earth would be so much better off if that line was adhered to.
Too many people are walking around acting like they actually mean something. But you know what? In our lives they do mean something. We give them titles like Leader of the free world, Most powerful man in the world, and we listen to them like kids in a classroom because we voted them into office. Our votes can never be cast in error.
All I have to say for myself is, LOVE ME! No matter how wrong I am, just love me. I know one thing that is true, in the matter of time and space, I am no one.
I am so happy knowing that
But, I have to end on this note. Knowing this to be true, I do not believe I am able to go out and do whatever it is I want, right or wrong. There are consequences for every ones actions. Remember, the person that matters the most to you is yourself. You may be no one in the grand scheme of things, but you are still someone on a small scale. Kind of like a model railroad in a basement. Played with to the fullest extent until you served your purpose.
So, make your purpose worth while, and make it known as far as you are able to scream. Someone is bound to hear you.
Who knows, maybe one day, some alien life form on another planet will have ears big enough to understand loud and clear just what it is you are yelling about.
Ever see the movie "Galaxy Quest"?
It could happen.
"You're a footnote in the history of failure!"
Yet another unreleased Counting Crows song. Hopefully this will be on the upcoming album also.
FINALLY!!! This is the new song from the Counting Crows upcoming album which will be called "Cowboys". For those who know me, I do not need to say how stoked I am
I was watching television one night with a lot of thoughts running through my head about stories or poems to write. While channel surfing I stopped on a show that was airing on Discovery about demons and the people that are possessed by them. It kind of sounds like a daytime talk show theme to me.
"Next on Jerry Springer, we will meet the people who say they are being stalked by their former demons and are here to say ENOUGH!"
As much as the idea of being possessed scares me and literally makes my skin crawl, I could not stop watching. But as I watched I began to think about the mere idea of possession.
Being possessed appears to be a gruesome ordeal for the ones possessed. It doesn't seem to be a pleasant experience for the devil doing the possessing either. I mean, all the crosses being shown and the Holy Water being tossed around like a water fight between kids I think would make the devil think twice about another possessing of a human.
Does the exorcism only make the devil weak for that moment while he is trying to be drawn out of the body? Or does the devil become weaker throughout his life with each exorcism performed to where we will see a point that the devil will become so weak he will not be a factor in our lives anymore?
Does returning to the flaming pits of hell restrengthen his powers? I guess for that, time will only tell.
I was also thinking and wondering if being possessed is really the truth. I mean, can it really happen? For as much and as many people that have stories about being possessed on these indepth documentaries, I feel we would know at least one person or be associated with someone who knows somebody who has been possessed. Maybe being possessed is just another excuse for being an absolutely evil and horrible person.
People who suffer from possession are never said to be out killing or robbing, those jobs are saved for the clinically insane. Possessed people are spewing vomit from their mouths and speaking in tongues. Kind of like a drunk person. And, if a drunk person tried hard enough, I am sure they could get their head to spin.
People who claim to be possessed usually talk badly to their family and friends, they have no manners at the dinner table, and from the videos I have seen, they seem to have these weird twitches to where they can not keep their heads in a straight forward position.
Unlike the movies, I didn't see these real life possessee's or hear them talk about their faces turning green or their eyes turning red. They seemed to have kept their normal appearances with the exception of unexplained crude behaviors.
Love and faith is what is said to keep the devil away. You know what? Love and faith is all that is needed to do pretty much anything.
Love can conquer all, and I do believe that. Faith can do the same. It does not necessarily have to be a faith in a god or religion, but a faith in anything or anyone you firmly believe in.
So I am left to wonder, is being possessed an excuse used to excuse crude and unnatural behaviors much like insanity is used to excuse crime sprees? Or, is being possessed the answer and the proof for the existence of Heaven and Hell?
This is a song for my Pammy. This is a song that she burned onto a cd for me within the first two months of us going out. On, September 2, 2007 we had our three year anniversary. Notice I didn't say celebrated.
I sit here in front of this computer, surfing the Internet, looking for some kind of job posting that will catch my attention I feel is worthy of my application. It has been a week since I have been "let go" from my last job and things seem to be moving so slowly. All my hopes just die with each minute that passes. I realize that this bachelors degree in Liberal Arts with a concentration in Radio Broadcasting is nothing more than a piece of paper. I have wasted four years of my life many years ago receiving an education for something I once thought was my passion, now only has become a decent story to tell to people that still believe a job in radio is as glamorous as I once thought.
I do not get myself down though, I know I am worthy of someone hiring me and paying me some obscene salary for doing something I love as long as I am given the chance. What is it, you ask, I love to do?
Writing, of course.
I am not great at it, but I do the best I can. But even to myself, my best is not good enough.
I want to be great. I want to be read centuries from now and studied in literature classes as one of the greatest 21st century writers. I try to be philosophical, but I fall short a bit when it comes to a battle of the whits with someone better read than I am. It is alright, though. I feel my whit is still above a good majority of the soap box screamers that the world seems to be attracted to.
I do not have a soap box to stand on as of yet.
I don't need one though. I will do my screaming from ground level and let all the passers by within hearing range soak in all the bullshit I am spewing.
There is another difference between me and the other soap box dwellers; I know most of my words are pure bullshit to other people. I am not right, and I am not wrong. I am just opinionated; right or wrong.
All of that is besides the point, though. Those, as of right now, are just pipe dreams.
I wonder why they call them pipe dreams anyway. Are they dreams that are somehow better flushed to the sewers only to flow beneath our feet in one flowing river of feces and garbage? Maybe that is why pipe dreams never come true.
My pipe dreams always come to call, especially now that I am searching for a good job that I know I am qualified to do. As I sit in a broken backed, swivel chair with my head rested on my clenched fists, I dream on. I also regret on (if you will excuse my low attempt at a whimsical play on words) .
My head races with "whats ifs" and "could have dones" that might have saved myself from this unemployed position. When it is said and done, though, I know there was nothing I could have done different to make a saving attempt at staying out of the unemployment line. So, once again, I move on and keep searching. And that is what life is pretty much about.
We search for maturity, we search for a soul mate, we search for our youth and some search to stay alive while some are just searching for death. No matter how many answers we believe we have obtained through the years of our meaningful, yet meaningless, lives, there will always be a search for more answers.
And of course, there is the never-ending search for more time to find what we have never found.