On a bad day, on a really bad day
You may wish that it had never happened.
You may lament, you may regret.
"I wish this day had never happened;
I wish I hadn't said that."
Speaking in anger
Told him what you really think, not caring how much it would hurt him.
Messing up your friends' day, when you told him and her you were having a bad day
Bringing them down with you, the ones you told of your pain.
A horrible spiral of bad that wouldn't seem to end.
Also, pretending the world would end, if not just for fun.
Trying to cheer yourself up
Sending love her way.
Pretending you didn't mean what you said
When freed of the fear of caring what she thought
When really you meant it in every case.
At some points that day, it felt the sky was falling and things seemed grim,
But then you think of some good things that happened that day
Reconciliations long time coming
The emotions expressed at the end of the world.
Being wild and unruly is never a bad thing.
The laughs you had on the day you wish never happened
Would disappear, too, if those tears were gone.
You gave in to anger, and not a little, too,
But persevered and banished its influence.
Time it seems has healed the wound a bit
And morning brings the wisdom that even bad days can be good ones.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Speaking one's mind effectively
I will offer some thoughts here about speaking my mind, as it seems that's what you do when you write. I'm taking rhetorical theory this semester in school. It seems to be linked to seduction, in the sense that you are trying to change someone's mind, or alter their thinking, or maybe more specifically, align their own thought pattern s to match your own vibrations. I've read the book The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene and I've even read Neil Strauss' The Game by the Rolling Stone writer turned pick-up artist. I see a lot of rhetoric in their writing even. I took to Green's work more because he uses literary examples. (I've even read Tucker Max's book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Max seems pretty classless in his dealings with the opposite sex to me, but he is a good writer. I enjoyed his style at least. There were times when I read it that I didn't really like him, but I kept reading it. I'm digressing...)
The point I want to make about rhetoric involves speaking your mind. Our professor had a discussion one lecture about speaking your mind. She said that there are some people who watch everything they say, because they are concerned about what other people will think of them. As has been the case many times in the semester, I felt like she was speaking directly to me. (The other time was when she said that there are people who get by as English majors by being good writers and tricking a professor into thinking you know what you are writing about.) I am very much that person she described who was concerned about what everyone thinks, or at least I was.
In my personal dealing with people, I tend to over-think everything. I am that guy who is about to send you a message on Facebook, but looks it over before he sends it. Did I spell everything right? Would this joke offend you? How will you interpret that the wrong way? Will you like me less for expressing an opinion that you do not share? The truth of this equation is that people tend to like those individuals who speak their mind better than the ones who watch everything they say. Sure, you don't want to offend everyone, or anyone I suppose, if you can avoid it. But people are going to get offended. People are going to disagree with you. If a person likes you and agrees with you because you watch everything you say, is that person really your friend?
I have tried an experiment over the last few weeks on the recommendation of a friend. She advised me to speak my mind without filters to at least one person that week. I've tried it and I've tried it a few times more as the weeks have gone by. I've yet to have someone tell me they were offended by the specific times that I consciously tried to do this. I was very afraid every time I acted without filters, but it has become easier over time. And I feel so much better.
Speaking my mind to a few select people has been freeing in many ways. (This is not meant in the way of 'telling someone off' at all, only in expressing general opinions.) I like to think that I am an honest person, but maybe I was being more deceptive than I thought that I was being. Speech, and the power of speech, is most effective when it is not filtered. Certainly there are ways to manipulate it, there are ways to mold it, adapt it, and shape it to your purposes, but if you are afraid to say something, you limit yourself and your effectiveness to convince someone to think like you are thinking.
To use an example from popular culture, I give you Raj from Big Bang Theory. If you're not familiar with the television show, Raj has trouble speaking to beautiful women unless he is intoxicated, to the point that he can't say anything to one unless he is drunk. This is mainly because his filters are down when he's drinking. Now I have sent a drunken message or two before in my time. Though mine are never rude, I can come across as a little more forward than I would be if I had not had a few drinks. Why can we not choose to act more in touch with how we really feel without the influence of alcohol? Why am I more willing to tell you that you are one of the coolest women I've ever met when I haven't had five glasses of wine? Raj and I both need to tap into that primal feeling of speaking our minds without resorting to an altered state of consciousness. I feel I can carry a conversation with a beautiful woman without turning into a babbling, stuttering mass of sweaty insecurity (most of the time), but I would strive for a more forward demeanor in specific interactions that has been lacking in my conversations in the past.
This very blog was an attempt to speak my mind. I would like to say I don't care if I've offended anyone, but I would be lying. Take it as it is, friends, and practice speaking your mind, too.
The point I want to make about rhetoric involves speaking your mind. Our professor had a discussion one lecture about speaking your mind. She said that there are some people who watch everything they say, because they are concerned about what other people will think of them. As has been the case many times in the semester, I felt like she was speaking directly to me. (The other time was when she said that there are people who get by as English majors by being good writers and tricking a professor into thinking you know what you are writing about.) I am very much that person she described who was concerned about what everyone thinks, or at least I was.
In my personal dealing with people, I tend to over-think everything. I am that guy who is about to send you a message on Facebook, but looks it over before he sends it. Did I spell everything right? Would this joke offend you? How will you interpret that the wrong way? Will you like me less for expressing an opinion that you do not share? The truth of this equation is that people tend to like those individuals who speak their mind better than the ones who watch everything they say. Sure, you don't want to offend everyone, or anyone I suppose, if you can avoid it. But people are going to get offended. People are going to disagree with you. If a person likes you and agrees with you because you watch everything you say, is that person really your friend?
I have tried an experiment over the last few weeks on the recommendation of a friend. She advised me to speak my mind without filters to at least one person that week. I've tried it and I've tried it a few times more as the weeks have gone by. I've yet to have someone tell me they were offended by the specific times that I consciously tried to do this. I was very afraid every time I acted without filters, but it has become easier over time. And I feel so much better.
Speaking my mind to a few select people has been freeing in many ways. (This is not meant in the way of 'telling someone off' at all, only in expressing general opinions.) I like to think that I am an honest person, but maybe I was being more deceptive than I thought that I was being. Speech, and the power of speech, is most effective when it is not filtered. Certainly there are ways to manipulate it, there are ways to mold it, adapt it, and shape it to your purposes, but if you are afraid to say something, you limit yourself and your effectiveness to convince someone to think like you are thinking.
To use an example from popular culture, I give you Raj from Big Bang Theory. If you're not familiar with the television show, Raj has trouble speaking to beautiful women unless he is intoxicated, to the point that he can't say anything to one unless he is drunk. This is mainly because his filters are down when he's drinking. Now I have sent a drunken message or two before in my time. Though mine are never rude, I can come across as a little more forward than I would be if I had not had a few drinks. Why can we not choose to act more in touch with how we really feel without the influence of alcohol? Why am I more willing to tell you that you are one of the coolest women I've ever met when I haven't had five glasses of wine? Raj and I both need to tap into that primal feeling of speaking our minds without resorting to an altered state of consciousness. I feel I can carry a conversation with a beautiful woman without turning into a babbling, stuttering mass of sweaty insecurity (most of the time), but I would strive for a more forward demeanor in specific interactions that has been lacking in my conversations in the past.
This very blog was an attempt to speak my mind. I would like to say I don't care if I've offended anyone, but I would be lying. Take it as it is, friends, and practice speaking your mind, too.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Coat of Letting Go, A Jacket for Freedom (Poem)
I once had a coat, a hoodless hoodie of sorts.
I let her wear it because it was cold.
She gladly accepted because it was cold; I could put up with the cold better than her
Though she could probably put up with life better than me.
She gave it back afterwards and thanked me for my kindness.
I loved her and held on too long.
But how do we define these things?
What's too long and what's not long enough?
When I wanted to think of her, I simply wore the coat
And I wore it often. It became my go-to jacket of choice.
When things didn't work out at first those many years ago
But only a year before I let her wear the coat, or less even,
I became lost and wanted to die.
That moment of losing the will to live was more about me than her
And it took me a long time, or so it seemed then, to learn how to want to live for me.
It's been so long since then, since that afternoon when I wanted to end it all.
Her wearing the coat seemed a beacon in the night to my young self
I was only 17 then, so long ago it seems,
A lifetime and yesterday at the same time.
I've been there since, the place of wanting to die, though not as bad, if one can measure these things,
And not for as long, or as intense or as close as I was to it then,
The pain that I felt would surface in fits, though now it's a dull memory,
A nostalgic bad memory that seems so silly now.
She was so kind and I had read her poetry; I was lost to her then.
The lines of pain and love that washed over me completely,
Her heart poured out, as if only to me, her words a testament to young love and pain,
A recipe that was new to me then and a loving memory now.
But the coat when I wore it was a memory of her, a tangible link to the past and her life with me.
The coat had become tattered and stained in places that wouldn't wash out.
I wore it still because I couldn't let go.
I sat thinking about her again and wearing the coat.
Could it have only been four or five years since I'd seen her? It didn't seem like it then.
This all seems so silly now; it was just a coat and her just a girl.
What did it matter that she had worn it and I might never see her again?
Even now, my friends advise me that I hang on too long to things that need to be let go.
But I sat there with that coat on and looked at the blackened sleeves,
The bit of gum that wouldn't come out, the tears here and there that likely couldn't be fixed,
And I took the coat off and held it thinking of her.
Then I walked to a nearby trash can and put it inside.
I was in a public place and it seemed it wasn't quite cold enough to wear a jacket anyway.
I still like wearing jackets, coats, and hoodies, and take any occasion at all to do so,
But I thought about her a little less after that coat was disposed of and in a trash can.
I let her wear it because it was cold.
She gladly accepted because it was cold; I could put up with the cold better than her
Though she could probably put up with life better than me.
She gave it back afterwards and thanked me for my kindness.
I loved her and held on too long.
But how do we define these things?
What's too long and what's not long enough?
When I wanted to think of her, I simply wore the coat
And I wore it often. It became my go-to jacket of choice.
When things didn't work out at first those many years ago
But only a year before I let her wear the coat, or less even,
I became lost and wanted to die.
That moment of losing the will to live was more about me than her
And it took me a long time, or so it seemed then, to learn how to want to live for me.
It's been so long since then, since that afternoon when I wanted to end it all.
Her wearing the coat seemed a beacon in the night to my young self
I was only 17 then, so long ago it seems,
A lifetime and yesterday at the same time.
I've been there since, the place of wanting to die, though not as bad, if one can measure these things,
And not for as long, or as intense or as close as I was to it then,
The pain that I felt would surface in fits, though now it's a dull memory,
A nostalgic bad memory that seems so silly now.
She was so kind and I had read her poetry; I was lost to her then.
The lines of pain and love that washed over me completely,
Her heart poured out, as if only to me, her words a testament to young love and pain,
A recipe that was new to me then and a loving memory now.
But the coat when I wore it was a memory of her, a tangible link to the past and her life with me.
The coat had become tattered and stained in places that wouldn't wash out.
I wore it still because I couldn't let go.
I sat thinking about her again and wearing the coat.
Could it have only been four or five years since I'd seen her? It didn't seem like it then.
This all seems so silly now; it was just a coat and her just a girl.
What did it matter that she had worn it and I might never see her again?
Even now, my friends advise me that I hang on too long to things that need to be let go.
But I sat there with that coat on and looked at the blackened sleeves,
The bit of gum that wouldn't come out, the tears here and there that likely couldn't be fixed,
And I took the coat off and held it thinking of her.
Then I walked to a nearby trash can and put it inside.
I was in a public place and it seemed it wasn't quite cold enough to wear a jacket anyway.
I still like wearing jackets, coats, and hoodies, and take any occasion at all to do so,
But I thought about her a little less after that coat was disposed of and in a trash can.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Tempered Passionate Logic (Poem)
Why does love always feel like a battlefield?
To be fair, it doesn't always feel like that.
Sometimes it goes right, but often it feels I do it wrong.
Should it be easy? Should I have to fight it? Fight for it?
I make mistakes, I've made mistakes, I'm making mistakes
Every once in a while, I feel right, it felt right, I'm feeling good.
Are those moments worth the times when it doesn't feel right?
Are you even aware of what you made me feel?
But that's not fair, because you didn't really do anything
Except be you.
And it doesn't matter that you don't believe me
It doesn't matter that I was believed to be disingenuous
I asked for this battle, because apparently I don't like anything to be simple
Difficult is good; difficult is safe Because if I fail, it's not my fault
At least not entirely.
Where's the challenge in accomplishing the possible?
I listen to that song and it reminds me of you
I remember how we laughed, or how I cried
When I realized I had hurt you.
To realize I could do that was a realization I didn't like, I didn't want.
I wanted to forget I could do that or how to do that, but maybe not,
Because then I would know how to not do it, right?
I cut myself off from that feeling and couldn't believe I could be that person,
but it seems obvious now that I was.
And how wrong I was; and how it didn't matter if you had hurt me, too, my justification for it,
My reason for being so mean, when I never wanted to be, though I was hurt.
It seems I was mean right back, though spite is never solved or answered by more of the same.
I am sorry, but it doesn't matter: the world has moved on and so have we.
I can resolve to be a better person going forward and not lash out with angry words again.
I can promise to act with honor (and honor myself, too), act with patience,
and communicate with reasonable reason tempered with a modicum of passion,
While still burning when I need to, want to, have to...
And maybe next time the process will go a little smoother.
To be fair, it doesn't always feel like that.
Sometimes it goes right, but often it feels I do it wrong.
Should it be easy? Should I have to fight it? Fight for it?
I make mistakes, I've made mistakes, I'm making mistakes
Every once in a while, I feel right, it felt right, I'm feeling good.
Are those moments worth the times when it doesn't feel right?
Are you even aware of what you made me feel?
But that's not fair, because you didn't really do anything
Except be you.
And it doesn't matter that you don't believe me
It doesn't matter that I was believed to be disingenuous
I asked for this battle, because apparently I don't like anything to be simple
Difficult is good; difficult is safe Because if I fail, it's not my fault
At least not entirely.
Where's the challenge in accomplishing the possible?
I listen to that song and it reminds me of you
I remember how we laughed, or how I cried
When I realized I had hurt you.
To realize I could do that was a realization I didn't like, I didn't want.
I wanted to forget I could do that or how to do that, but maybe not,
Because then I would know how to not do it, right?
I cut myself off from that feeling and couldn't believe I could be that person,
but it seems obvious now that I was.
And how wrong I was; and how it didn't matter if you had hurt me, too, my justification for it,
My reason for being so mean, when I never wanted to be, though I was hurt.
It seems I was mean right back, though spite is never solved or answered by more of the same.
I am sorry, but it doesn't matter: the world has moved on and so have we.
I can resolve to be a better person going forward and not lash out with angry words again.
I can promise to act with honor (and honor myself, too), act with patience,
and communicate with reasonable reason tempered with a modicum of passion,
While still burning when I need to, want to, have to...
And maybe next time the process will go a little smoother.
Monday, August 27, 2012
The Love Police (Poem)
Inspired/borrowed from Wyclef Jean and Mary J. Blige's song 911.
If Death comes for me tonight, babe,
I want you to know
That I loved you.
I would only reveal my tears to you.
Tell the authorities in the Love Police that I'm not home tonight.
Messin' around with you
Is gonna get me a life of this.
But when I look into your eyes
Girl, you're worth the sacrifice.
If this is the kind of love Mama used to warn me about
Man, I'm in trouble.
I'm in real big trouble.
If this is the kind of love the older folks used to warn me about
Man, I'm in trouble.
I'm in real big trouble.
Someone please call 9-1-1.
Tell them I've just been shot down
And the bullet's in my heart
And it's piercing through my soul
Feel my body getting cold.
Someone please call 9-1-1.
The alleged assailant is a beautiful girl
And she shot me through my soul
Feel my body getting cold.
Sometimes I feel like I'm a prisoner
I think I'm trapped here for a while
And every breath I fight to take
Is as hard as these four walls; I want to break.
I told the Love Police that you weren't here tonight
Messin' around with me
Is gonna get you a life of this.
But every time I look into your eyes
Boy, It's worth the sacrifice.
If this is the kind of love that your mom used to warn you about
Girl, you're in trouble
You're in real big trouble.
If this is the kind of love the older folks used to warn me about
Man, I'm in trouble.
I'm in real big trouble.
Someone please call 9-1-1.
Tell them I just got shot down
And it's piercing through my soul
Feel my body getting cold
Someone please call 9-1-1.
Can you do that for me?
The alleged assailant is a beautiful girl
And she shot me through my soul
And he shot through my heart
Feel my body getting cold.
If Death comes for me tonight, babe,
I want you to know
That I loved you.
I would only reveal my tears to you.
Tell the authorities in the Love Police that I'm not home tonight.
Messin' around with you
Is gonna get me a life of this.
But when I look into your eyes
Girl, you're worth the sacrifice.
If this is the kind of love Mama used to warn me about
Man, I'm in trouble.
I'm in real big trouble.
If this is the kind of love the older folks used to warn me about
Man, I'm in trouble.
I'm in real big trouble.
Someone please call 9-1-1.
Tell them I've just been shot down
And the bullet's in my heart
And it's piercing through my soul
Feel my body getting cold.
Someone please call 9-1-1.
The alleged assailant is a beautiful girl
And she shot me through my soul
Feel my body getting cold.
Sometimes I feel like I'm a prisoner
I think I'm trapped here for a while
And every breath I fight to take
Is as hard as these four walls; I want to break.
I told the Love Police that you weren't here tonight
Messin' around with me
Is gonna get you a life of this.
But every time I look into your eyes
Boy, It's worth the sacrifice.
If this is the kind of love that your mom used to warn you about
Girl, you're in trouble
You're in real big trouble.
If this is the kind of love the older folks used to warn me about
Man, I'm in trouble.
I'm in real big trouble.
Someone please call 9-1-1.
Tell them I just got shot down
And it's piercing through my soul
Feel my body getting cold
Someone please call 9-1-1.
Can you do that for me?
The alleged assailant is a beautiful girl
And she shot me through my soul
And he shot through my heart
Feel my body getting cold.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Tell What We're Gonna Do Now (Poem/Lyrics)
A poem lifted from Joss Stone's "Tell Me What We're Gonna Do Now"
You don't have to make your mind up
'Cause I just want to take my time with you
If that's all right.
Forgive me if I get too shy, but
Maybe you're the reason why, Love,
I'm feeling butterflies.
There's something about the look in your eyes
It makes me feel so right.
When my mind's void,
You're my joy,
You're the dream
When I sleep.
I adore you; you're everything
That I need.
I love how you
Love me.
If I'm made for you
Then you're made for me
It's too good to be
Tell me what we're gonna do now.
Funny how my world spinning
Sometimes you can be so silly
You always know just how to make me laugh.
Your skin is so lovely
I'm moved when you touch me;
I know that you have my back
I feel so alive when I hold you
It's like you've always known me.
When my mind's void,
You're my joy,
You're the dream
When I sleep.
I adore you; you're everything
That I need.
I love how you
Love me.
If I'm made for you
Then you're made for me
It's too good to be
Tell me what we're gonna do now.
I love how you make me smile.
Don't leave; please stay
For a while
Let's make this happen
I don't care how.
When my mind's void,
You're my joy,
You're the dream
When I sleep.
Hey, I'm for ya.
I adore you; you're everything
That I need.
I love how you
Love me.
I'm made for you
You're made for me.
Tell me what we're gonna do.
Tell me what we're gonna do now.
You don't have to make your mind up
'Cause I just want to take my time with you
If that's all right.
Forgive me if I get too shy, but
Maybe you're the reason why, Love,
I'm feeling butterflies.
There's something about the look in your eyes
It makes me feel so right.
When my mind's void,
You're my joy,
You're the dream
When I sleep.
I adore you; you're everything
That I need.
I love how you
Love me.
If I'm made for you
Then you're made for me
It's too good to be
Tell me what we're gonna do now.
Funny how my world spinning
Sometimes you can be so silly
You always know just how to make me laugh.
Your skin is so lovely
I'm moved when you touch me;
I know that you have my back
I feel so alive when I hold you
It's like you've always known me.
When my mind's void,
You're my joy,
You're the dream
When I sleep.
I adore you; you're everything
That I need.
I love how you
Love me.
If I'm made for you
Then you're made for me
It's too good to be
Tell me what we're gonna do now.
I love how you make me smile.
Don't leave; please stay
For a while
Let's make this happen
I don't care how.
When my mind's void,
You're my joy,
You're the dream
When I sleep.
Hey, I'm for ya.
I adore you; you're everything
That I need.
I love how you
Love me.
I'm made for you
You're made for me.
Tell me what we're gonna do.
Tell me what we're gonna do now.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
(Fiction) Third Planet in the Gothic Constellation of Thanatos
The planet is called
Eva and it’s the third planet in what they called the Thanatos constellation.
Eva is the only planet that can support life in this system. The planet has the
same name as a woman in their mythology. The story reminds me of Persephone
from Greek mythology as I read it. There was a young woman who had traveled to
a cemetery with the intention of killing herself. She was the most beautiful
woman around, as far as she knew. The beautiful young woman removed her knife
to slit her wrists, but Death appeared before her before she could start. Death
found her to be a striking beauty and had appeared to convince her to
reconsider. The woman protested and told him she would shortly be with him in death
after she killed herself. Death said she wouldn’t be the same after Death. He
was in love with her and would do anything to make love to her once.
Reluctantly, Eva agreed to be his lover, but made Death promise that her
relatives and ancestors would have long lives free of disease. Death quickly
agreed and the deal was done. Death was not omniscient, however, and he had
been tricked. The woman had planned to strike the unholy deal from the
beginning. Her family had an illness that was passed on through the generations
and her family line was in danger of dying. The woman herself was close to
succumbing to the effects of the sickness even as she arrived at the cemetery.
Death and the woman did become lovers and the child’s name was Eva. Eva lived a
long life, as per the agreement, but when Death learned he had been tricked, he
failed to remove Eva’s illness. She lived a long life, but it was eventually
full of pain from her family’s genetic illness. Rather than go mad, Eva
endured, and even prospered, despite her pain. The story was a symbol for the
planet and surviving through hardships.
This world hardly seemed harsh to me yet, but the only
place I’ve seen so far is the friendly environment of my father’s house. He was
taking care of my every need, but maybe I was becoming sheltered from reality.
I continue my lessons, but I think of little Eva from the story often.
After lunch one day, I ask my father about the story of
Eva. He tried to hide his disappointment that I was asking about something I
probably should have learned about ages ago.
“Well, it is a tragic story, but inspiring at the same
time. She lived a life in pain, but she tried to enjoy and cherish an existence
that she had every reason to despise.”
“Forgive me for asking . . . my memory is still a little
fuzzy, you know . . . but is Eva really that bad of a place to live?”
He hesitates before he answers. “It is no paradise at
times, to be sure, but a home is what one makes it. There are many beautiful
things to be found on this world, or any other, if one knows where to look.”
“You’re doing . . . fine with your
lessons. Keep up the pace and you will be your old self in no time.” I know he’s lying, and I feel bad that I’m not moving faster, but there is little I can do but continue to try my best.
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