...in the relationship.
...in the mirror.
...behind the words.
...in the thrills of your life.
...in the depths of searching.
...in the soothing times of chai.
...on the phone.
...in the voice.
...away from the pack.
...hiding.
I see you.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Eureka
I just realized that I'm becoming (or have reached) that age where the wisdom/knowledge I have been dispensing for years is finally in sync with the the number of years I've been breathing. Profound and weird. It almost feels like the things I say aren't as important because they're not coming from a youthful perspective any longer. Years are showing the soul that was always there.
Awake Too Soon
9:20am....but was roused at 8:53. I hear the "looney tunes" theme song going off on my phone, which is the indication that I have a new text message. I had fallen asleep after the previous post with my ear-covering headset while staring at the Window's Media visualization. Hypnotic happy.
The LOONEY waking me up is Cardwell in Spain with an e-mail so I sign onto Trillian and typechat (it's my new word) a while. Craziness happening to him...and sex...and stuff. I expect nothing less. The Jeremy-split is both content and jealous. Maybe that's the conflict that is a strength of mine. To see and not do; to sense but not feel.
Back to bed, please. (I would never have typed that last line without the 2yrs.)
The LOONEY waking me up is Cardwell in Spain with an e-mail so I sign onto Trillian and typechat (it's my new word) a while. Craziness happening to him...and sex...and stuff. I expect nothing less. The Jeremy-split is both content and jealous. Maybe that's the conflict that is a strength of mine. To see and not do; to sense but not feel.
Back to bed, please. (I would never have typed that last line without the 2yrs.)
Tao Rising Over Cellos
The darkness and the light. The darkness is my room with all the lights off. The light is the laptop screen causing my eyes to blur anything outside of it's squarish shape. I listen to the soundtrack for "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon." (And Nathan asleep in the next room snoring every once in a while.) I was reading some people's blogs on MySpace. I was responding to a few. I thought about my own and here I am writing.
It's a long way back to home and the road isn't the one you remember walking down. There are changes strong and subtle and you often find that that thing you've come back to is something that you don't recognize. The surroundings seem bare. The people don't inspire you like they once did because they are also different. Though this reality seems so much to be the truth, it's also possible that everything is exactly as you left it and that only you have changed. But what is truth? What is reality? To some it's what they can touch and taste and use their senses to discern. To some it is fluid. What is true today could vanish tomorrow. In the search for knowledge.... all points of view have been entertained in my head. Contemplated. Observed. Judged. Ignored. I go through this all the time. The live feed never stops. I enjoy it. I loathe it. I think it depends on how much stimulus I get in relation to how rested I am.
I find that I am asking myself the question, "If helping others brings me peace, then why am I not doing it?" And I hear the answer at present being, "Because peace is not always what one needs."
It's a long way back to home and the road isn't the one you remember walking down. There are changes strong and subtle and you often find that that thing you've come back to is something that you don't recognize. The surroundings seem bare. The people don't inspire you like they once did because they are also different. Though this reality seems so much to be the truth, it's also possible that everything is exactly as you left it and that only you have changed. But what is truth? What is reality? To some it's what they can touch and taste and use their senses to discern. To some it is fluid. What is true today could vanish tomorrow. In the search for knowledge.... all points of view have been entertained in my head. Contemplated. Observed. Judged. Ignored. I go through this all the time. The live feed never stops. I enjoy it. I loathe it. I think it depends on how much stimulus I get in relation to how rested I am.
I find that I am asking myself the question, "If helping others brings me peace, then why am I not doing it?" And I hear the answer at present being, "Because peace is not always what one needs."
Friday, February 25, 2005
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Inside The Red TSX
1pm. The straight away of the 15 FWY. Climbing uphill, it's dark and gray ahead of us. The rain has not stopped. Ears popping. I just tried to burn my first CD on this laptop. Instead of burning a CD I crashed and burned. Madonna saves us. A "holiday" is what we've been on. Well...here it seems I've spoken too soon again. The CD is skipping. Ok, out with Madonna and Janet's single for "All Night Long" replaces here. Old school for old school. None of this lil girl bubble gum crap I keep hearing. Pop. 178 miles to home according to GPS. Ten years ago I could not envision sitting in the passenger seat of a car that would have an on-board computer while I typed on a laptop. The laptop is courtesy of Texas Station and a wild night of wreckless betting that put me up enough to go to Best Buy the next morning and purchase the new baby. Chase was the super cute Best Buy employee that held our hand in the buying process for the baby. Not Arturo's "type" per se, but the tattoos and the faux surfer necklace were working well enough for me.
We've entered the abyss. I can hear the pelting on the windshield before I look up to actually witness the rain. I don't want to hear any more about a drought come Summer. Thirty-some odd inches of rainfall already. Homes sliding. Mustang in front of us kicking up blinding water and the wipers go to the next level to give sight. Even these desert hills just past state line are showing green. I've never seen it before. It's not the eyes that are naive, just the places they've been.
I've been thinking of going to Seattle sometime soon. It's really going to depend on what happens with money in the next month or so. 1:10pm... Rest.
We've entered the abyss. I can hear the pelting on the windshield before I look up to actually witness the rain. I don't want to hear any more about a drought come Summer. Thirty-some odd inches of rainfall already. Homes sliding. Mustang in front of us kicking up blinding water and the wipers go to the next level to give sight. Even these desert hills just past state line are showing green. I've never seen it before. It's not the eyes that are naive, just the places they've been.
I've been thinking of going to Seattle sometime soon. It's really going to depend on what happens with money in the next month or so. 1:10pm... Rest.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Monday, February 21, 2005
Continent Crossings
Martin and I went to BJ's Pizza for lunch and then took in the movie, "Hitch" all over in the Tustin Market Place. He made a comment that I make him feel calm and it was a warm feeling hearing that. While looking for parking, I swore that I saw Anthony and his wife, Beth. (From my high school years) I got out of the car and sure enough it was them, with their son. What a very nice surprise. They're here until visa paperwork processes for them to go back to Pakistan.
Coincidence that I should see them while on my own soul search? I'd have to guess not.
Dustin, Justin & Kyle, and Jerry. New names in the mix. Don't know how serious or not they will become as friends or more so I'll just leave it with mentions.
I made peep upset. I feel bad. What's done is done and like he said, he's moved on. That's best I think.
So Las Vegas in the morning. A brief Nathan visit. A road trip with Arturo. A brief reprieve from SoCal and my stirring.
Coincidence that I should see them while on my own soul search? I'd have to guess not.
Dustin, Justin & Kyle, and Jerry. New names in the mix. Don't know how serious or not they will become as friends or more so I'll just leave it with mentions.
I made peep upset. I feel bad. What's done is done and like he said, he's moved on. That's best I think.
So Las Vegas in the morning. A brief Nathan visit. A road trip with Arturo. A brief reprieve from SoCal and my stirring.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Writing @ The Library
I think banana cream pie or banana cream cheesecakes are the tiny moments of happiness that blur out those other times of pain. So many people asking how I'm doing, but I really don't have an answer for them. I don't know the words to say. So I tell them the same. Then there's a strange silence and I feel their worry and I feel my anxiety at their worry and I think these are the moments that my doctor prescribed Klonopin for--Ha Ha--but I don't take one. Maybe I should just keep a slice of banana cream pie with me at all times so I can take a bite the next time one of those moments arises. (Or maybe someday I'll have an answer worth giving)
I didn't go to Thrust last night. Tonight, I tagged along with Art to Long Beach on an excursion to coffeehouses. We're at The Library now. It hasn't changed that much in ten years. I wonder how many of the books on the shelf are the same from the first time I came here. The conversations are the same. The laughter is the same. The horoscope at the cash register says that whatever I do tonight I should not be alone. So, I'm not. I'm surrounded by the bustle of life and I'm writing and this must be some fragment of what it is to be in touch with myself. This must be some string to hold on to and feel alive. Because if I know that nothing has changed here and I remember being happy in the space then I must be able to reach that space in my again. Yes? No?
What's different now? There are fewer friends in my life. Fewer support systems. I feel very much alone. I have felt like this state I'm in--or am still moving toward--has been steadily coming on for years. Maybe during the time that Randy and I were together, but definitely afterwards as I lost that closeness and intimacy. Nathan and I have distance. Cardwell and I have had each other and I"m thankful for that, but in the past we had each other in tandem with all that was around us and now I feel too much leaning on him or too much dependence. I know that I feel that all sides of me are not being accessed and/or utilized through a network of different friends.
I'm writing with a pen, been some time. Feels nice. The ink bleeds a little more than I'd like, but the glide is just perfect. The noise around me is dying and now I can hear the music that was obscured. There are vexing voices. There are meek mouths. There is a guitar strumming and I think about the infinite that I don't know and how I've always used knowledge. I was conditioned to know things for the sake of knowing it and not to apply it for any practical purpose. Thinking about thinking thoughts thought.
So can I do it? Can I write and finish this novel/book idea in the next month or so? I never actually do it when I start thinking or talking about doing it. I find a distraction. Look here, I've had a month and a half of free time and no turn-out of artistic expression. I know, I know...time to heal, to become whole again. It's the torture sometimes that reminds me of the artist inside. I think that there might be a lot I can say worth writing and worth others reading. Soaring there is air propelling thoughts out, down, around. I feel this yearning to be in an environment where I can be cultivated--or just grow.
My cell phone is logged into Mobile IM. Nothing too serious can be typed out, so I ask Martin what is going to fix this Middle East mess and he responds that the gays will save the day. Ha ha...that's funny. I'm seeing a whole pink & lavender brigade charging forward with Big Gay Al from Southpark leading them.
Drink more water. Walk more. Get up earlier. No more sleeping past 10am. Play. Be the me in time who was sublime.
I didn't go to Thrust last night. Tonight, I tagged along with Art to Long Beach on an excursion to coffeehouses. We're at The Library now. It hasn't changed that much in ten years. I wonder how many of the books on the shelf are the same from the first time I came here. The conversations are the same. The laughter is the same. The horoscope at the cash register says that whatever I do tonight I should not be alone. So, I'm not. I'm surrounded by the bustle of life and I'm writing and this must be some fragment of what it is to be in touch with myself. This must be some string to hold on to and feel alive. Because if I know that nothing has changed here and I remember being happy in the space then I must be able to reach that space in my again. Yes? No?
What's different now? There are fewer friends in my life. Fewer support systems. I feel very much alone. I have felt like this state I'm in--or am still moving toward--has been steadily coming on for years. Maybe during the time that Randy and I were together, but definitely afterwards as I lost that closeness and intimacy. Nathan and I have distance. Cardwell and I have had each other and I"m thankful for that, but in the past we had each other in tandem with all that was around us and now I feel too much leaning on him or too much dependence. I know that I feel that all sides of me are not being accessed and/or utilized through a network of different friends.
I'm writing with a pen, been some time. Feels nice. The ink bleeds a little more than I'd like, but the glide is just perfect. The noise around me is dying and now I can hear the music that was obscured. There are vexing voices. There are meek mouths. There is a guitar strumming and I think about the infinite that I don't know and how I've always used knowledge. I was conditioned to know things for the sake of knowing it and not to apply it for any practical purpose. Thinking about thinking thoughts thought.
So can I do it? Can I write and finish this novel/book idea in the next month or so? I never actually do it when I start thinking or talking about doing it. I find a distraction. Look here, I've had a month and a half of free time and no turn-out of artistic expression. I know, I know...time to heal, to become whole again. It's the torture sometimes that reminds me of the artist inside. I think that there might be a lot I can say worth writing and worth others reading. Soaring there is air propelling thoughts out, down, around. I feel this yearning to be in an environment where I can be cultivated--or just grow.
My cell phone is logged into Mobile IM. Nothing too serious can be typed out, so I ask Martin what is going to fix this Middle East mess and he responds that the gays will save the day. Ha ha...that's funny. I'm seeing a whole pink & lavender brigade charging forward with Big Gay Al from Southpark leading them.
Drink more water. Walk more. Get up earlier. No more sleeping past 10am. Play. Be the me in time who was sublime.
Ty-ing Knots
I didn't go out tonight because I thought a good night's rest would be prudent. I thought that I should start getting some of this required volunteering out of the way and wake up early. Here I am past 12, can't sleep. It's been a strange week.
I find myself so sad. I start to think about constructive ways of moving out of this... Not just following the steps that I'm obligated to do, but beyond... like what I'll do for work. What types of jobs will I enjoy or wish to do? I find this contructive thinking and planning then brings about a conflict in me. This very organized and structured side of my thinking can logically put together a resume, write a cover letter and prepare for an interview to sell myself to "do" something in the office and corporate environment.... I've proven I'm good at it and I know I can do it--there's no challenge to it. But what if there was a challenge?? I still wouldn't want to do it. There's something that my soul is not getting.
Love is never everything. It is that one thing that romantics cling to as the saviour to all things, but it really is just one plank to walk in taming relationships. Why do I choose my words carefully sometimes? Because I don't want anyone to be hurt by not understanding what I mean. Especially right now... (sigh) My body temperature is rising. I can feel sweat all over.
Some kid is getting 30yrs for killing his grandparents. Christopher Pittman. The defense was that the SSRI drugs changed his chemistry and without them he wouldn't have done this. I think that we are playing god without the manual. Sure all of these anti-depressant drugs seem to make a change in the majority of people's lives, but the manufacturers don't even known how or why. It's guessed. Educated, but still, a guess. So it's reasonable to me to assume that there are going to be a percentage of the population for whom these drugs are not going to have the "common" effect. This lead me back to my own conflicts.... and I sense this pull from East and West. And i want answers... and I'm looking for them.... and I hope that my subconscious has a better time soothing me than I can do for myself while conscious.
Randy has been very quiety lately. I know he's been tired, but it's strange to be around him when he's not speaking. It's almost like being around a stranger. Or maybe there's something on his mind that he has not shared with me. I don't know for sure. I just know that it's different.
Let's try that sleep again.
I find myself so sad. I start to think about constructive ways of moving out of this... Not just following the steps that I'm obligated to do, but beyond... like what I'll do for work. What types of jobs will I enjoy or wish to do? I find this contructive thinking and planning then brings about a conflict in me. This very organized and structured side of my thinking can logically put together a resume, write a cover letter and prepare for an interview to sell myself to "do" something in the office and corporate environment.... I've proven I'm good at it and I know I can do it--there's no challenge to it. But what if there was a challenge?? I still wouldn't want to do it. There's something that my soul is not getting.
Love is never everything. It is that one thing that romantics cling to as the saviour to all things, but it really is just one plank to walk in taming relationships. Why do I choose my words carefully sometimes? Because I don't want anyone to be hurt by not understanding what I mean. Especially right now... (sigh) My body temperature is rising. I can feel sweat all over.
Some kid is getting 30yrs for killing his grandparents. Christopher Pittman. The defense was that the SSRI drugs changed his chemistry and without them he wouldn't have done this. I think that we are playing god without the manual. Sure all of these anti-depressant drugs seem to make a change in the majority of people's lives, but the manufacturers don't even known how or why. It's guessed. Educated, but still, a guess. So it's reasonable to me to assume that there are going to be a percentage of the population for whom these drugs are not going to have the "common" effect. This lead me back to my own conflicts.... and I sense this pull from East and West. And i want answers... and I'm looking for them.... and I hope that my subconscious has a better time soothing me than I can do for myself while conscious.
Randy has been very quiety lately. I know he's been tired, but it's strange to be around him when he's not speaking. It's almost like being around a stranger. Or maybe there's something on his mind that he has not shared with me. I don't know for sure. I just know that it's different.
Let's try that sleep again.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Walt Disney Triangles
I'm just sitting here in bed watching TV and I'm thinking that I should be doing something..... going somewhere.... It's a sense of restlessness. I've decided that I'm not going to talk online tonight; not going to distract myself from myself. So here goes the writing. I start thinking about other times that I allow myself inside of my own head like this and it's when I'm running or walking long distances. :::a little laughter::: Why? Because the honesty and raw "jeremy" that's printed in this blog over the past several years is more intimate than I've ever been with anyone face to face and probably the only time that I am with myself.
There's this common topic that several people have raised with me, "What is it that you want to do?" I get asked the question and the head goes blank. I don't really want to go to school. I don't really want to work for a large corporation with bullshit bullshit bullshit. All the while I think, "It doesn't matter what I do because I'll get bored with it anyway." This is the way it's always been and the way I figure it will continue to be. So what then?? Temp work? Hmm... Perhaps that leftover elitist part of me still frowns upon the idea. I suppose it makes sense in many ways. I work when I want to work.... haha. The idea does nothing to fill me with a sense of stability and safety. The what if's are running track 'round my skull. So much adventure that I've forgone because I've lived a life of default. The life that our society and culture would have all its citizens live.
Byron's birthday tomorrow. 28. Dinner in Claremont. Hung out with Shannon last night. Strange how we've known about each other for probably close to 12 years and last night was the first "real" conversation we had. Don't know what's up with Tyler, the adult in me doesn't really care, the passioinate side of me does still a bit. Alex is on his trip in NYC. This last Tuesday at Thrust was fun. Gee... go figure. It's a nice release for me and I'm around friends.
The years.
There's this common topic that several people have raised with me, "What is it that you want to do?" I get asked the question and the head goes blank. I don't really want to go to school. I don't really want to work for a large corporation with bullshit bullshit bullshit. All the while I think, "It doesn't matter what I do because I'll get bored with it anyway." This is the way it's always been and the way I figure it will continue to be. So what then?? Temp work? Hmm... Perhaps that leftover elitist part of me still frowns upon the idea. I suppose it makes sense in many ways. I work when I want to work.... haha. The idea does nothing to fill me with a sense of stability and safety. The what if's are running track 'round my skull. So much adventure that I've forgone because I've lived a life of default. The life that our society and culture would have all its citizens live.
Byron's birthday tomorrow. 28. Dinner in Claremont. Hung out with Shannon last night. Strange how we've known about each other for probably close to 12 years and last night was the first "real" conversation we had. Don't know what's up with Tyler, the adult in me doesn't really care, the passioinate side of me does still a bit. Alex is on his trip in NYC. This last Tuesday at Thrust was fun. Gee... go figure. It's a nice release for me and I'm around friends.
The years.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Summerland vs. Charmed
Super what? Lori Laughjlin and Constance Burge's creations instead. I've found myself drawn into the characters, regarless of the acting. I hear the words and connect some type of emotion to them. I'm not sure out of want or out of some provocation from the drama.
Had dinner with mom at Olive Garden. Leftovers are in the fridge.
I have this feeling that my phone will ring early in the morning.
Had dinner with mom at Olive Garden. Leftovers are in the fridge.
I have this feeling that my phone will ring early in the morning.
Reflections of Time
TNT is showing "I Am Sam." I started reading journal entries from almost two years ago. Sentimental. I had a long talk with Art tonight. I'm glad to have him in my life. He is one of those connections of energy that I have always been able to find without trying. "You are beautiful, no matter what they say..." Do these lines seem disconnected? There's a flashing green light on my keyboard that I've only recently noticed. Since I've been using the web-based mail instead of outlook express the flashing was to remind me of mail I had already read. So you see... these lines are not disconnected.
Sometimes we need those reminders.
Sometimes we need those reminders.
