Tuesday, December 2, 2014

You'll Be Glad You Did

Folded up into squares
with crisp corners
and a coffee stain,
you'll find the map
with little red lines
drawn every which way.

Under that folded map
is a journal I carried
in which I carefully recorded
all the crazy shit we did
and who we met
and how we conned
and which way we ran
when we'd get caught.

Stuffed 'tween the pages
are photographs
of people who seem
to have it all together.
But, those are just stills
from tumultuous times
of chaotic jesters.

You'll find all this
and maybe a little more
in that grey solander
on the tall bookshelf
there by the door.

When you're done,
give a little of yourself
close it all up inside
lock the door behind you
and hit the open road
for your own wild ride.

You'll be glad you did.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Shut Up!

Written by my brother about twenty years ago, this is the first poem I ever read, and it was my inspiration to start writing poetry in my teenage years:


Shut up!

She wouldn’t shut up that first day I met her.
She wouldn’t shut up no matter how long and hard I pleaded.
She wouldn’t shut up even as my ears began to bleed in agony.
She wouldn’t shut up even after I fell asleep and when I woke up the next morning.
She would not shut up while I made breakfast and ate it.
She would not shut up as I ran from my house, never looking back.
But I tell you this, friends. She did shut up when I finally let her go.

- Sean



For twenty years, I foolishly read this poem thinking of myself as the "I" in the relationship. Like a damned fool, it took me two decades to identify with the "She."

Thank you, Sean, for inspiring me, even when I didn't really 'get' it. You were always a few steps ahead of me in some things. I appreciate the advice, even if I didn't take it.

Monday, October 27, 2014

If We All Pay a Little

I've been told I'm special. Fine. That's subjective. My hands still bleed when you cut them, and my heart still aches when you stomp on it.

I'm not different. I don't transcend a god-damned thing. I'm just a flesh and blood human being.

If there is one thing I've learned, it is that knowing I'm not special is a pretty special thing. I empathize with the loss of others. I understand when another has to reject me, or at least choose something or someone other than me. Why? Because I've faced similar choices with others.

Not being special shows me that I am just as capable of hurting another person as I am of being hurt by other people. When I don't always get my way, that humbly reminds me that others aren't getting their way in some fashion or another, too.

I'm not special. I don't get everything I want to have when I want to have it while others sacrifice and have to make choices, to give up or go without something they may really want.

The simple fact of the matter is that there is no way we can have all that we want. We have to take a hit now and again, and it would behoove me to remember what I want more than anything else, because a lot of that 'anything else' is going to have to be set down and moved on from. That's just the way the world turns.

Maybe it won't be a total severance. There will hopefully still be connections, and hopefully I can get what I can get. But, priorities are still necessary. Choices, sacrifices, and compromises will have to be made. My specialness, or lack thereof, will need to be consulted for a taste of empathy.

Is there a way we can all pay just a little, so that no one of us has to pay for the entire group?

I sure hope so.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Buy the Ticket. Take the Ride.

“No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten.” - Hunter S. ThompsonFear and Loathing in Las Vegas

It's been almost six years since I tried my hand at publishing a newsletter of creative writing content. It was called the Ruckus Review, and it featured a few writers from my church's college group, including myself, and featured a few works from my brother, who was and still is an avid Hunter Thompson reader.

This was a quote my brother included as an epigraph in one of his articles:
"The last train out of any station will not be full of nice guys." - Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

At the end of the article in which he included this quote, my brother wrote:
"I love this country, and I love my freedom. I'm glad I have the ability to express myself when I am amazed or enraged, and the ability to receive criticism when people believe it needs to be heard. Between all the extremes of human perception, there lies a very simple and obvious truth. It is the responsibility of us all to understand the world around us, and make it the most amazing place imaginable for all of its inhabitants."

I can hardly believe that I published these words nearly six years ago, and am still learning the simple and obvious truths in my own life. They echo through time and circumstance. They boiled to the surface again last night as my wife and I discussed the future. 

We are both interested in understanding the world around us, and doing whatever we can to make it the most amazing place imaginable for all of its inhabitants.

We bought our tickets.
We are taking the ride.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Not the Most Beautiful

I was sitting in a barbershop on the military base in 2003, waiting to get my hair cut. I had been a sailor in the armed forces since the World Trade Center buildings fell a few years prior, and I was no stranger to the zeal with which my fellow sailors and soldiers spoke about war. Excitement was high as we invaded Bagdad in the name of fighting terrorism. The war made so many of us feel like our young lives mattered.

For some of us, though, I got the impression that the zeal went beyond narcissism. Some soldiers around me frothed at the mouth, salivating with excitement at the idea of destroying cities, maiming and killing their enemies, and bringing violence to the farthest reaches of the globe.

On the table next to me in the barbershop was a current newspaper showing a grizzly looking tank parked on top of a crushed civilian automobile on a war torn street in Bagdad. I ignored the photo, and looked elsewhere as I waited for my appointment.

An older man came in and sat beside me, grabbed the paper, stuck it in my face and asked, "Isn't that the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life?"

I've seen my own mother. I've seen other people's babies. I've looked into my wife's eyes while rubbing her feet. I've stood on the beach at sunset, watching the colors of the California sky while listening to the rhythmic crash of the waves.

"No," I said honestly. "It isn't."

I am not a pacifist. I want to believe, even all these years later, that our efforts at that time served some good. I want to remember that the violence and the death toll resulted in something that we can be proud of in at least some small way. But, I do not have whatever that older guy had. I cannot look upon even the most necessary violence and see it as the most beautiful thing in the world. Even at the moment of taking another person's life instead of allowing him to take my own, I would wonder if there wasn't really some other way we could have handled this dispute. I would always wonder if that killing really had to happen that day.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Soul To Squeeze

"When I find my piece of mind, I'm gonna give you some of my good time."
- Red Hot Chili Peppers, Soul to Squeeze

I resent having developed a callus on my middle finger during grade school. I would hold my pens and pencils against that finger during the countless hours of writing, and the finger would swell and ache. I remembered picking at the irritated skin, complaining all the while. My teachers and my parents would explain that I was developing a callus, a resistance that would ultimately make me better equipped to hold the pen for the rest of my life without pain. Today, I resent having developed that callus because I can't remember the last time I held a pen. I wish I had spent those years learning to type instead.

My fingers are beginning to develop new calluses now that I am trying to learn how to play my bass guitar. Once again, I am faced with the pains of gaining resistances that would ultimately make me better equipped to face for the rest of my life with less pain. Once again, I am making myself uncomfortable in order to make the future better.

As my forming calluses ache, I ponder my philosophy about the role of pain in decision making. I believe that I should intentionally make choices that result in a balance of the most pleasure and the least pain. As my callusing fingers can attest, though, current pain for long-term pleasure is sometimes necessary and even the ideal.

I rub my middle finger where I had formed that callus back in grade school, and I ponder the concept of foresight. Sometimes, as my teachers and parents were, I will simply be wrong about the future. Foresight allows me to imagine how the future might go based on the evidence I have from past experiences. But, if you have ever done any investing at all, you know that past performance does not dictate future results. I am not able to accurately predict the future 100% of the time, and my mounting fears make it harder to be willing to invest at all.

The callus on my middle finger is useless today. The years I spent forming it didn't pay off the way they had predicted. In a way, I resent having been made to endure so much pain for such a useless reward. I sometimes wish I had just put a bandaid over that finger everyday to avoid the pain. In another way, though, I am glad I was made to form this useless callus.

The callus itself might not do anything today, but I did gain other benefits from the experience. Diligence, determination through difficulty, an ability to assess risk and reward, confidence in the face of challenges, and the audacity to face the frightening and sometimes painful ambiguity of the future, were just a few of the things reinforced by my experiences building this callus. I am thankful for the development of those lessons, as they do serve me well today, even if the callus does not.

Other examples of efforts that do not necessarily manifest themselves in predicted or hoped-for ways include high school athletes, musicians, actors, etc. In adulthood, they might find themselves working at a corporate cubicle and never using the talents they fostered in their youth. Nonetheless, their experiences from the past continue to influence and shape their current experiences and behaviors. Those investments did not pay off as expected, but they still paid off.

Developing the new calluses on the bass guitar, I play the Red Hot Chili Peppers' song, Soul To Squeeze. This song will always hold particularly personal significance to me because I learned it long before I ever heard the track. I first heard the chorus lyrics muttered by a shipmate in naval bootcamp. He would sing the tune to himself while he worked, and one day I asked him if he would teach the lyrics to me. So, only knowing what he taught me, I began to sing, "I got a bad disease. Up from my brain is where I bleed…"

Playing this song takes me back to bootcamp, where I had faced a new level of emotional pain, and had to form a few new calluses of sorts. I was so terrified in my first days. I would stand at attention and weep. My blood pressure was so high, my nose would just start bleeding at random times. Like a good little sailor, I maintained my military bearing while tears rolled down my cheeks and blood dripped off my upper lip.

A big black man, strong in body and chalked full of testicular fortitude, pulled me aside and patiently listened while I told him about my fears. He was a good man, and his encouragement helped me more than I ever knew how to articulate. However, as the weeks of bootcamp went on, I found my own strength to carry on, and I eventually became very arrogant and unfriendly. On one of our last days, I started a fight with that big black man. Why? Because I was an idiot. I have no other explanation. The fight was quick. He lifted me off my feet and flung me across the room. Then he stood over my crumpled frame and spat down at me, "Don't forget where your balls came from!"

As I play the bass tabs to Soul to Squeeze, I still remember where my balls came from. In some small way, I diligently form these calluses in his memory. I feel like I owe him that much.

Beyond the bass, I'm still forming physical, emotional and psychological calluses in my life. I am becoming stronger everyday. In an effort to give others some of this good time, I find myself parroting my grade school era teachers and parents, and that big black man who gave me my balls. When I relate with people who are covered in figurative bandaids or body armor they use to avoid the pain of learning, I try to help them understand the future value of the pain they face today. I invite them to peel off some of those bandaids, or remove some of that armor. Sure, it is going to hurt when they do, but I remind them why they were born with the ability to feel in the first place. I remind them that they will adapt if they stick with it. Calluses will form, and we can face the ambiguous future hoping together that they will not be decimated in the long term.

Some of these calluses won't pay off the way we hope or imagine. We will inevitably resent the forming of some of them. We will look back one day and wish that at least some of the choices we made had been different. However, we will also hopefully find ourselves stronger and braver than we had previously been. We will hopefully be able to see that even the most useless calluses remind us where our balls came from.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Cracks and Textures

I've sat in this asylum for longer than I can remember. The most I'd moved was the distinct rock forward and back, my shoulders swaying to a tune only I could hear. My forehead would come within centimeters of the white wall. Long ago I used to hit the wall with my head, but they put a stop to that quick enough. My eyes wide open, my nearsightedness has been an advantage. I can pick out the little cracks and textures of the wall. I've memorized them. They'd come into focus with each forward rock, and blur with each lean back. They were my cracks and textures. This was my wall. This was my little bit of this big world.

So, when the therapists came, and they showed me what the world looks like when you aren't just staring at the same wall all day, I was impressed by the colors and all the new things to see. Everything was a blur. I'd never needed glasses before, and I chose to give no indication I needed them now. I just enjoyed watching the blurs. I would giggle like a little school girl, and bounce up and down.

"I want that! I want that!" I would scream as I bounced.

"Thank you," I'd tell them. "I am so happy to finally see all this! There is so much here! I love it all."

I wish I had told them I could only see a few inches past my own nose. I wish they'd told me seeing all this, standing among it all day and being expected to remember the significance of all the little details, would be so exhausting.

It didn't take long before I missed my wall. I missed the familiar cracks and textures.

Then she stepped up close to me, and hooked her arms around my neck. I rocked forward and back, and she rocked with me. She pulled my face down close to hers, so her nose touched mine. Her blue eyes smiled up at me. I knew her. She came to visit all the time. I think she was my wife, but I couldn't remember exactly. All I knew from the way she looked at me was that she thought of me as fondly as I thought of my wall. She knew all my cracks and textures. She had memorized every one of them. I was her little bit of this big world. I was her wall.

I wondered if she wanted to be my wall, too.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

For That Warm and Fuzzy Feeling

I'm not a Christian anymore. Nor am I looking to return to Bible thumping. Nonetheless, there are some verses that still come to mind that speak to my current situation, and I'll catch myself flipping open a Bible to remind myself exactly how they read.

Like fortune cookies and horoscopes, the Bible has plenty of content that is so generic it can resonate with any situation. That's what I call great marketing!



“Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?"
- Matthew 6:27

Um… no. In the literal sense, it's an obvious biological question. As sage advice, however, it's essentially telling the reader to stop worrying about things that can't be controlled.

I get hung up on worrying often, and I find myself in need of advice like this. It's not because the answer isn't obvious. It's because I just need encouragement that I am going to be okay.



The fundamental problem with generic advice, though, is that it doesn't really apply to you at all. Sure, it might be so plain that you can wiggle it into your own context and feel great about it. But, generic input does not know the nuances of your actual situation, so there's a chance that you are just packing baloney into crevices meant for more substantial things.

If I'm ever looking for a warm and fuzzy feeling, I know I can always crack open a fortune cookie, read a horoscope, or flip open a Bible to one of those feel-good verses. However, if I'm looking for real encouragement, and real feedback on my current situation, I have found that my friends and loved ones are the best resources!

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

"F*ck Yes!" Passion*

In everything, strive to be so passionate in your choices that you can confidently say either "Fuck yes!" or "Fuck no!" about any one of them.

To help encourage you to live with "Fuck yes!"** passion, consider starting a "Fuck yes!" log or journal. Everyday, describe one choice you made for which you are this passionate, or one thing you are working to develop passion about.

There are inevitably some choices or commitments in your life about which you may not currently be "Fuck yes!" passionate. This challenge is not meant to push you to abandon those. Rather, explore your feelings about those. Write about a choice toward which you feel lukewarm, and break it down a little.
Are there elements that you are passionate about? Are there some negative passions, and other positive passions, all mixed together in a hard-to-deal-with passion soup?
Can your perspective or passions change?  Is there a way to billow your passion for the lukewarm?
How can you reduce or eliminate the "Fuck no!" elements?
How can you create greater saturation of the "Fuck yes!" in your situation?

While breaking down the elements, try to appreciate that you are currently experiencing these elements with particular associations or from particular sources. The elements, though, might be available to you from other sources, or with other associations. I encourage you to creatively consider how you can get your "Fuck yes!" passions while feeling free to break some of the associations you may need to break in order to minimize or eliminate those "Fuck no!" elements. Your current situation is not your last resort!

That's all I've initially got on this, but if you have any questions or additional ideas that can build on this, please comment below.

*this idea comes from my friend, who is full of great ideas. Check out the rest of her blog while your there. She got it from here. Pass it on.

**I use the positive "Fuck yes!" but these ideas apply equally to "Fuck no!"

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Practicality and Defining Reality

In his post, Define "Real" - A is A, Jaxpagan discusses the kinds of philosophical questions the Matrix film encouraged us to ponder. Is anything we perceive real?

I found the post interesting and entertaining.

SPOILER ALERT.
Being a reasonable person, the author concludes that the issue is one of practicality and consistency. At one point, he writes, " 'A' seems to be 'A', as near as we can determine, so fuck it, let’s call it 'A. Done and done, let’s go get some shawarma."

In response to his conclusion, I considered the deeper meaning I find in this philosophical musing.

The issue of perception is important to me, though, not because I am concerned whether "real" objects are actually real, but because there are many things in my mind that turn out not to be real. I believe a person feels a particular way, and react to that belief, only to find that I was way off. I believe a decision is a good one, only to discover too late that it was not good at all. I believe I am perceived a particular way, only to encounter indications to the contrary.

The philosophy of perception is more than nerdy sci-fi. Perception shapes what we do, and if we are paying any attention at all, we know how wrong our perceptions can be. In such scenarios, I don't think I should go on simply accepting my own perceptions at face value. "A" seems like "A", but if it turns out to be "B", my next decision isn't going to succeed.

I find practicality in regularly questioning my own perceptions.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Beliefs Matter

In his book, "Jews, God and History," I recall Max Dimont explaining why he was going to speak about God's influence on history without necessitating any particular belief about God's existence. I remember him arguing that people's action made history, and their beliefs inspired those actions. Therefore, because the people who made history believed in God, those beliefs about God influenced history. That is to say that beliefs matter, and are something to seriously consider.

Years before reading Dimont's history of the Jews, I sat in a philosophy class that covered debates regarding the existence of God. Our instructor presented Anselm's ontological argument that God, as the supreme being, is the greatest thing that can be conceived. Anselm's argument looked something like this:

(Belief + Existence) > Belief

Our instructor then went on to present the counter argument, saying that it was not philosophically sound to compare something to nothing. Listening to his explanation, I became troubled, because I found that the argument was reduced to this:

(Nothing + Something) > Nothing

Existence is something. We can agree there. However, the assumption that beliefs are nothing is something I found very troubling. I would wrestle with this for years until I picked up Max Dimont's history of the Jews. His explanation for how God, as a belief, shaped history spoke to my troubled mind and brought me clarity on the issue of the significance of belief.

Like Dimont, I do not necessitate any particular belief about God, and I am not supporting or refuting Anselm's argument. God is not my focus. Belief is my focus.

Beliefs, whether we share them or not, shape our actions, and our actions shape our history.

This brings me to why beliefs matter in our interpersonal relationships. Those with whom you interact--those whose histories are inevitably intertwined with your own--are going to have some inaccurate beliefs. Likewise, you are going to have some inaccurate beliefs. As we engage in relationship, you will have to evaluate how significant the accuracy of a belief is in each situation. Consider the following:


Some inaccurate beliefs need to be corrected promptly

Correcting inaccurate beliefs is of paramount importance when safety is a concern. For example, your friend has dived into a river a hundred times before, and is about to dive in again, operating on the belief that the water level has not significantly dropped. Pointing out the lower water level could save her life. Correct her right away and with zeal.


Some inaccurate beliefs should be corrected as soon as possible

Inaccurate beliefs can affect relationships, academic or career choices. For example, your partner may believe that you do not find him as attractive as you used to because you are temporarily withholding some physical aspect of your relationship. Your reason for doing this is actually because of a medical issue that you are allowing to heal, and aren't anxious to tell him about. To prevent him from suffering feelings of rejection or dissatisfaction, I'd encourage you to tell him about the medical issue. It may be embarrassing to you, but it will save him the needless heartache while you heal.


Not all inaccurate beliefs need to be corrected by you

Transitioning beliefs from inaccurate to accurate can be a journey for the believer, and I am hopefully not the first to tell you that the journey, in many regards, means more than the destination. You are going to encounter other people's inaccurate beliefs, and while they might value you as a listener or sojourner, they may prefer not listening to you nitpick and correct all their beliefs before they have had a chance to reevaluate them. For example, your dad might believe the news channel he religiously watches is offering an unbiased presentation of the news. You could argue that a different station actually does that, or you could argue that no station or source does that. Alternatively, you could avoid conflict by letting your dad continue in his belief until a local story with which he is familiar is covered in an evidently biased way. At that time, he might change his belief. Doing so would be entirely up to him, and the two of you will have avoided unnecessary conflict.


Your beliefs might not be as accurate as you believe they are

The possibility of your own inaccuracy is the most important and probably the most difficult consideration when discussing beliefs. Leaders or sources of information who are accustomed to encouraging their audiences to believe particular things come under considerable scrutiny for this, but it is really something we all have to take seriously. Your point of view is a construct of lens and scene. If you have a smudge on your lens, you are going to see it in front of you, and you may mistake it for something in the scene. You could be operating on the belief that your lens is perfectly reliable and that it cannot get smudges or blind spots. Consider our above examples again:

The friend diving into the river does not consider the water level, but also does not realize that she is not considering it. That is a blind spot in her point of view.

Your partner, who takes your limited physical affection personally, does not consider alternative reasons why you would be acting that way. His believed reason is of his own creation, and he is not aware that he has invented this reason. That is a smudge on the lens of how he sees the situation, and how he sees you.

Your dad believes his news source is being honest when they call themselves unbiased. He trusts them completely.


It is important to consider when it is appropriate to correct another person's beliefs because nitpicking and constantly correcting can annoy, upset, or hurt the other person. In this, I consider the golden rule. Is this the type of situation in which I would really appreciate being corrected, or is it a type of situation in which I would want the space and freedom to figure it out for myself? I want to be conscientious in giving others what I would want. On the other hand, I need to appreciate that those around me may have different opinions or temperaments regarding when correction is wanted. It pays to know what they want, and give that to them if or when appropriate.

Regardless of whether the beliefs are accurate or inaccurate, though, I find it important and helpful to remember that beliefs, whether we share them or not, shape our actions, and our actions shape our history. Therefore, I try to always consider beliefs when evaluating another person's actions.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Chuck Wendig: terribleminds


Chuck Wendig deserves our attention.

"Chuck Wendig is a novelist, screenwriter, and game designer. This is his blog. He talks a lot about writing. And food. And the madness of toddlers. He uses lots of naughty language. NSFW. Probably NSFL. Be advised."

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Heinlein on Freedom

"I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do. I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do." - Robert A. Heinlein

"You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don't ever count on having both at once." - Robert A. Heinlein


Monday, September 1, 2014

WritersTalk and South Bay Writers


I have the exciting privilege of having one of my recently short stories published in the September issue of WritersTalk.

If you are a writer in the South Bay, check out South Bay Writers. Consider joining us for an open mic one evening. Or, come to our monthly regular dinner at Harry's Hofbrau to listen to interesting and informative guess speakers.


Friday, August 29, 2014

Attention, Appreciation and Healthier Relationships

"She needs to feel appreciated. Pet her and tell her she's a good girl, and she'll wriggle like a puppy. But ignore her and she'll spill soup on you just to get your attention."

- Lazarus Long describing Dora in Robert A. Heinlein's Time Enough for Love (pg.88)


This is a description of a child's need for attention, and a willingness to do negative things to get attention when that child is feeling ignored. The context makes it clear that Dora, his ship's artificially intelligent computer, was intentionally stunted in her development, and is still a child in some regards. A good and responsible ship computer, she gets the job done with expertise and reliability, but she also needs attention and emotional reinforcement the way a child might.

The need for positive reinforcement and attention, though, is not limited to children. It is in all of us. Feeling wanted, needed, appreciated, valued, loved, etc. are very important aspects of our emotional structures throughout our lives. Most of us outgrow doing negative things to capture attention when feeling ignored, but we certainly find other coping skills to deal with those same feelings because attention and appreciation are still very important to us.

Our coping skills may fall on a spectrum from very healthy to very unhealthy. Our successes and failures in implementing those skills are hopefully teaching us to refine them. Hopefully, our unhealthy habits are getting some constructive negative reinforcement, and we are learning from that feedback. In time, I hope, our skills in managing attention and appreciation will be healthier, and our relationships will be healthier because of it.

People in our lives who leave when we hurt them give us an ambiguous message. Was our behavior unhealthy, driving them away, or did they leave for some other reason? Those who stick around, though, and give us constructive criticism, offer us a very clear picture of how we can improve. For this reason, I feel encouraged by those in my life who call me out and set expectations for me. I respect that their point of view may not be healthier than mine, but the external feedback certainly helps as I reflect and process my own behaviors and hopefully move toward healthier choices.

I extend my thanks to all who are in relationship with me. Your feedback and constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Mirror

"[...] when we come face-to-face with the monsters, we may find ourselves looking not at a mask but at a mirror."

- Ramsey Campbell, "Avoiding What's Been Done to Death"

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Life's Shakeups

At 3:19am in my San Jose apartment, I was still trying to find a comfortable position in bed when I turned onto my side, experiencing a familiar phenomenon. Lying just right on an artery, my heartbeat created a vibration in my senses that I often initially mistake for an earthquake.

Because of my familiarity, having done this a number of times before, I knew not to trust the feeling, but to listen to my home. If the walls were not creaking, and the closet doors were not rattling, then this was not an earthquake. Without external evidence, I conclude that the sensation was a self-created mirage; a delusion of my own mind.

In that moment, my thoughts went to my closest friends. They had not yet felt an earthquake since moving to the Bay Area, from the midwest, nearly a year ago. Feeling their first earthquake would be a christening of sorts, and I had been telling recently how excited I was that it would hopefully happen soon.

I often think of these friends, thinking philosophically about choices, identity and our pursuits for happiness. Our homes were recently shaken up, figuratively speaking. Events disrupted the normalcy of our lives, derailed many perceptions, and redirected our intentions. This emotional earthquake changed the landscapes of our identities and relationships, influencing each of us to reexamine our feelings and choices. In my opinion, these changes have been for the better. This figurative earthquake was a crucible in which we were being forged into braver and better people.

My philosophical musings were interrupted a minute after they began. My closet doors were rattling. I immediately leapt out of bed, taking pressure off of the artery, to try to confirm that the shaking continued through a change in position. The earth was shaking beneath me.

My thoughts about earthquakes had immediately preceded the tectonic event, which lent considerable doubt in my mind to the legitimacy of my experience. I also often doubt my own initial perceptions, having repeatedly experienced how deceptive they can be. In one part, I was completely confident that this earthquake had just happened. Another part of me was looking to ensure that my delusions had not just taken a more compelling form. I grabbed my phone to text my friend, announcing the quake, and seeking further external evidence that I wasn't deceiving myself.

My friend promptly replied to inform me that they had both been awakened by their first significant earthquake. The next morning, I also confirmed the earthquake had been a magnitude 6.1 event in the north bay region between Napa and Vallejo.

Reflecting on our emotional and physical earthquakes, I am reminded of the importance of accountability and solidarity. The earth reminds us not to take for granted the solid ground beneath our feet. When our world starts shaking, our friends and communities provide us encouragement to grow in ways we may have never considered. While ensuring we recover, they also hold up a mirror we may never otherwise look upon. We can be confident our experiences are more than personal delusions and self-fulling prophecies because our friends and our communities are there to confirm that our feelings are shared, or at least legitimate, and to work through life's shakeups with us.

*The quake that hit the Napa area this morning is significant. The physical earthquake has caused damage and injured people. As a community, we will take care of their needs, and ensure their recovery and ongoing wellbeing. The author is not intending to minimize nor neglect the practical needs and tragedy this seismic event has created.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Greatness

What does greatness look like?
Is it the passive joy of watching the sun set over the city, or observing the rings of Saturn through a telescope?
Is it the published work that carried you onto a book tour, or won you that award a decade ago?
Is it the group you host, or have organized, that made community possible for its members?
Is it the lover you cuddle next to after a day at the office, and the heart for goodness that beats within his chest?
Is it family and friends, and how they fill your life with love and encouragement no matter how far from home you may have travelled?

Is it here, in the present?
Can you reach it?
Does it surround you?
Is it, now, all around you?
Or, is it still out there somewhere, ahead of you on your uncertain road?

What can I do, if anything, to help you achieve your greatness while I am walking this very road, trying to achieve my own?

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Every Whisper of Every Waking Hour

I am listening to R.E.M.'s The One I Love.

For reasons I can't explain, this is probably the song most often stuck in my head.
It probably has the fewest lyrics of any song I know, and yet I also feel like I'm not remembering all of them.

Truth is, I forgot the one word chorus: Fire!

But it is this one line that sticks with me: "A simple prop to occupy my time."

I didn't remember 'prop'. I kept singing it to myself as 'pawn.'
I'm not sure that one is necessarily better than the other. A prop is a lifeless piece of the scene. It is used by the actor and its involvement inevitably points back to the character or plot. The prop itself is not the focus, and only has value insofar as it adds to the audience's experience of the scene, plot or characters. On the other hand, a pawn is a piece of the player's game. Easily sacrificed for the overall pursuit of victory. The most likely to be collateral damage. A thing that only has value insofar as it serves the greater good perceived by the player.

As that line echoes in my mind, I feel a great sadness for this prop, or pawn. If there is anyone whom I consider in that way, they are being used by me, and not truly being loved by me. This makes the song painfully ironic.

I change songs, but not artists. Now, Losing My Religion is playing.

As I stare into tear soaked eyes, and listen to whispers of fears that the future no longer looks quite as bright, I softly admit, "Tomorrow is not ruined by the choices we make today. The future is made all the more worthwhile."

Have you ever told anyone, "Life is bigger than you, and you are not me." Every time I've done it, the other person has heard it as an insult. That's not really a surprise, when I think about it.

I told someone once that I had just said too much, but hadn't said enough. Catching the reference, that person simply said, "Get out of the corner." Even now, that response makes me smile and snort a little.

"I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing."

It is significant to me that he does not hear you, but only thought he did.

Have you ever wanted to not feel the way you do? It is not that you do not feel that way. You do feel it. But, you don't want to. You wish you didn't. You may even try to force it, or hide it, or deny it, but in the end, you simply can't. You feel that way.

"I think I thought I saw you try."

Here, he does not even think it. Not really. He only thinks he thought he saw.

"Consider this, the slip that brought me to my knees, failed. What if all these fantasies come flailing around?"

Bertrand Russell, in an essay about why he was not a Christian, explained that the religion would compare two people: On the one hand was an international relief worker, going around the world saving lives and making a profound impact on the world. This brave and heroic person also favored the company of sexual partners to whom she was not married. On the other hand was a person who never left home, never lifted a finger to help a neighbor, and never saw beyond her own nose, but also never 'sinned.' His issue was that the religion inevitably glorified the selfish for not sinning and demonized the hero as a sinner.

In my own life, I have found that I have been the go-nowhere hermit who sought never to sin. Only recently have I even considered stepping out, and my greatest fear is that I will fail. It is a needless fear, though, because I know that I will certainly fail at some point in some way. I will hurt to the point of being brought to my knees. But, there is a hope that pushes me out that door with confidence, and this song speaks to that confidence when Michael sings:

"Every whisper of every waking hour, I'm choosing my confessions."

I am choosing...

Birthdays as Altars

Birthdays are altars.
They are not only markers of age, but of progress.
We can reflect back on the year or years, recalling who we were and how we saw the world the previous times we've done this.
We can understand ourselves today, and contrast versions of ourselves; past and present.
Was there any change?
Did we make any progress?
 Did we digress against our intentions not to?
Birthdays are altars of stones we pile up in time. We cannot go back. We cannot change the altars we've laid. They stand permanent in memory as reminders that we had been there, and we have since forged ahead.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Make a dream last

I am listening to Jasmine Thompson sing Let Her Go.

Open the link in another tab if you want to sit with me for a bit.

If you're here with me, perhaps we can discuss the lyrics, and how they speak to your circumstances.
Or, maybe we can just silently listen together, sharing the experience without giving or taking a thing.
However we enjoy it, I am blessed that we get to enjoy it together, no matter how much distance in space or time separates us.

What brought you here?
I want to know more about you. I believe that what brings us to this place speaks volumes about the people we are right now, now that we're here.

Has the song repeated yet?
If it has, does it sound any different the second time?
Is it annoying, or does it change as you change?
Does it grow on you, or are you growing into it?
I'm asking because she's on her third or fourth pass for me, and I hardly hear the words this time. Instead, my passion rises and falls with the tone of her voice.
It is a wind, ebbing and flowing.

I catch a line:
"Everything you touch surely dies."
I've heard that as an accusation in the past.
I've heard this song as an accusation that I'm doing it wrong, killing my dreams.
It has always told me that I should have appreciated what I had while it was here, and that I am a fool for only now seeing what I've given up.
But, as my heart changes, so does my hearing.
It's still true that everything dies, but I am no longer being accused.

I change the song, but not the artist. Now, I'm listening to Rather Be.

If you have someone or something in mind to whom you wish to apply this song, then I welcome you to share that if you want.

For now, for me, I apply it to my inner peace.

She sings: "We staked out on a mission to find our inner peace."
Peace runs deeper than our momentary happiness.
Peace is what sustains us when we are thrashing violently in the throws of grief or anger.
Peace is our comforter when we can no longer stand, and we are collapsed on the floor just trying to breathe.
Inner peace is there with us, even when "we're a thousands miles from comfort."
Do you feel your inner peace? Do you taste it as you breathe? Do you feel its gentle hand moving up your spine?
Is there anyone with whom you are sharing your inner peace?
Is it something you give them? Is it something they take? Or, have you found that it can only be shared between two or more who have it?

Please, listen again. I'll be here with you if you choose to.
Or, we can move on to a new song...

Nocuous Fragrance

We were laughing
Some joke
Some off-color comment
From left field
Surprisingly funny
Hardly worth repeating

Then came the crushing pain
A loss of breath
Vertigo
Falling on the floor of that stairwell

The odor of old urine reminding me
I wasn't as great as I once dreamed
I could have been

The smell of fresh paint reminding me
This world bears my marks as evidence
I was

The aroma of your perfume reminding me
I was loved so completely
I'll never be again

The nocuous fragrance of death's surprise
Is knowing
We didn't get to say goodbye

Author's Note:
I created this blog to talk about my thoughts and feelings as I move into what feels like a second life. I see death coming one day, and I can't avoid it. None of us can. Until recently, I believed I would die sad about the things I missed out on, and the inadequacies that mar my existence. However, recently, though it is a season of chaos, hurt and confusion, I find that I feel fulfilled and vibrant in my new point of view. This poem, which I wrote yesterday, shows me laughing with someone I love, and whom I know loves me, as I pass into the unknown. Falling short of the ideal is still there, but it is not the consuming, nor the final, thought. My musings in this poem begin with odor, but they rise to aroma. Only the final blow of surprise pains me. But, it is a pain that cannot be avoided when death surprises us. While I do not wish a slow death on anyone, I wish that we would all get to say our goodbyes when those we love are passing on, or when we are passing on and leaving them to grieve. In that way, my wish is that the finality of our inevitable passing is aromatic in love.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Imagine Leaving a Mark on a Blank Surface

I have attended a few sessions of the South Bay Writers branch of the California Writers Club.
I want to officially join.
Then, I want to look into joining their board.
I want to get into marketing the current meet ups, particularly connecting with English professors and writing groups at local colleges.
I want to start my own sessions, if they'd let me.
I want to expand the community, and make it more available to local writers.

I am intimidated by my own imaginings.
Am I dreaming too big?
Am I over-imagining my own place in all this?
Even if I acted on these ideas, are they misplaced?
If I can muster the energy I'm imagining, should I be investing that enthusiasm elsewhere?

One step at a time.

I have to join.

Communication Preference

For all of us, there are expressions that speak to us more fully, and are more important to us, than all of the other great things in our lives. We might be with the right person for us in most ways; the person who takes the best care of us, who meets us where we are, matches our enthusiasm or drive, and inspires or encourages us to be the very best we can be. However, if that person cannot speak our language of love, we may still end up feeling like they are not the right person for us, in spite of all the good they bring into our lives.

I have very recently come to appreciate the significance of what I refer to as my communication preference. I have what I personally considered a really difficult preference to satisfy. I yearn for sharp, witty, inspirational, intelligent conversation.

I have recently met people that do satisfy my communication preference. With one person, in particular, I have had the unique opportunity to share this language without restraint. I got to openly dialogue about my most intimate feelings and thoughts, and this person reciprocated in a way that I have long considered impossible, or at least improbable.

Experiencing my communication preference in this way brought unexpected and considerably disruptive hope into my heart. It is a hope that I can be satisfied in a way I never previously believed possible.

Craig Thompson ends his graphic novel, 'Blankets,' with:
"How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement--no matter how temporary."

It is an exhalation at the end of a triumphant autobiographical, coming-of-age story. He expresses appreciation for the work he has created and for the life he lived so far, in one romantic statement. It is a satisfying end to a fulfilling song.

It is that satisfaction that my communication preference brings me. It is a feeling of fulfillment that tints everything else I can see. When I get it, my soul exhales a sigh of relief, and I lounge back like a heroin user whose eyes are rolling back as her heart beats the drug throughout her bloodstream, taking her on an unparalleled high.

This communication preference is so addictive, and so compelling, that it can drive me to the craziest decisions. Above, I began by speaking of the tremendous good a person can be, and if that person doesn't speak in this preferred style, it could appear as though I don't want them at all. Alternatively, a person may not even be available, and yet if they speak in this preferred style, I don't know how I could stop thinking about them.

This communication preference, and its impact on my heart, is profoundly powerful and priceless in significance.

Why is the capacity to communicate a particular way so overwhelmingly important to me?

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

I Can't Pray Away This Gay

Growing up Christian, one of the mentalities that I had been brainwashed into believing could essentially be summarized as:

"Fake it until you make it."

Or, more elaborately, if you do not now feel a particular way or believe a particular thing that you think you should, then perform actions and indoctrinate yourself in that feeling or belief, and after long enough, you will find that, without trying, you actually feel or believe that.

This is a conviction that our feelings and beliefs are the byproduct of outside forces and stimulation, and that we as individuals are not in ourselves beings that think, feel and believe from within, pouring out.

I have learned the very hard way that this method does not work. It may change the words I say, and may change the way I appear on the outside. It might keep me from hurting people, or destroying things in my life. At least, for a while.

But there came a day, brought on by an event, or a hormonal change, or a rise of passionate feelings, in which I could not deny who I was and what I truly felt or believed. On that day, my relationships and lifestyle had all been based on doing the right thing in spite of what was brewing on the inside, and I found myself totally breaking down.

There are obviously limitations and boundaries and appropriations with what we do with our feelings. There are things we have to do to respect the landscapes and contexts and people in and with which we find ourselves. There is morality insofar as we should take care not to hurt one another where it can be avoided. Maybe our actions should be considered good if everyone in our society acted the way we are acting. However, nobility cannot come at the cost of denying who we are, how we feel, and what we believe, in the grander sense of each of those.

I couldn't figure out why I was so guilty and miserable and confused and torn and frustrated and disappointed. I was going to just go ahead and die feeling all of those things.

I never intended to change in this way. I never thought I could be so wrong.

I feel liberated seeing that I can't "pray away the gay" in my life. It is such a relief that I don't have to "fake it until I make it." In my maturity, I know and fully accept that I will not get everything I want, but I am excited not to have to feel guilty about wanting it--or not wanting it, as the case may be.

An added side effect of this personal discovery is how it affects my judgment of other people's actions and desires. I have admittedly been very judgmental over the years. The basis for this judgment has been this very mentality I have discussed above. Because I thought people just chose all their feelings, and controlled them through their actions, I could not figure out why people acted in ways that hurt them or others. But, here I am, totally wrecked by my own actions, standing among the fallout of my words and actions as I wrestled with how to keep faking it. I am not any better at this than anyone else, and just excited to finally give it an honest shot.

I look forward to what happens next...

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

My Greatest Regrets

I don't know if you are here.
I can't tell if you can hear me.
I may just be speaking into a void,
and if that is the case,
I know I must say this anyway.

You are one of the best people
to have come into my life in
a long while.
I hate that I wasn't ready.
I hate that I treated you awfully.
I wish I'd have been
a better man.

I miss your voice
your words
your confidence
your wisdom
your compassion
your whit
you.

I felt physical things for you,
but just recall my actions.
I did not simply objectify you.
I did not touch you,
when I thought I could.
I pushed back,
and I held back.
I never lost sight of
you.

I assume my hurtfulness
has cost us any chance of
us.
Maybe my hurtfulness
demonstrates a potential reason
we might not work anyway.

But whatever becomes of us,
I care very deeply about you.

I want you to know that
you are lovely
brilliant
amazing
different
not normal
in all the right ways.

I objectified you
but not only as a sex object.
The worst way I did this was to
push you away
pull you back
push you away
again.
You are not an object,
and I can't throw you out
of my heart.

Out of my own brokenness
I hurt a really great person.
I treated you like an object
when all I ever really wanted to do
was treat you like
a princess.

Hurting you is one of
my greatest regrets.
I miss you everyday that I

breathe.

Monday, July 21, 2014

Love

At what point can we ever learn if we are independently secure if we are always in a relationship? How can we know who we would be in a breakup if it has been a decade or more since we've had one? What is there to tell us we couldn't do better, and maybe much better, if all we've known for so long is what we have?

When I consider my parents, I see radically different people. In one, I see a person who is so bent on being right that fault is found in every possibility. This parent is, has been, and will likely always be without a partner. In the other, I see a willingness to give love a try, accept imperfection and even risk temporary satisfaction over permanent disatisfaction. This parent consistently has a partner.

And as I consider my own relationships, I realize I would much rather be like the latter, thankful nonetheless that the former had some helpful things to say.

I'm willing to risk. I'm willing to fail. I think love, and all the feelings wrapped up in that, are worth it.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Commitment

To commit is to say that you'll do something in the future. To commit to marriage, for example, you are promising to love another person for the rest of your life. That's a big commitment, and probably the most significant conscious commitment anyone in our society is ever asked to make.

There is a correlation between commitment and character, though I am not entirely clear on how I would chart that.

I recognize that to have committed, and then to find yourself later regretting the decision, or maybe later finding that keeping the commitment is getting in the way of pursuing your dreams, can put you in a pretty significant bind. You can keep the commitment initially made, and perhaps make the most of the situation, at the risk of never doing more than maintaining the status quo. Or, you can break the commitment in quest of whatever it is you are looking for that can't be achieved as committed, but thereby risk that the consequences of breaking it will cost you too much in the future. That's no easy choice.

In all honesty, it would have been a better thing to have never committed at all. Then, you could still be a man of your word. This situation wouldn't make a liar out of you. But, when you do get to this point of having to choose whether to keep your word or pursue your dreams, assuming they end up mutually exclusive, then I just hope you make a choice you don't end up regretting.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Objectification

Sitting across from my best friend today, I had just confessed that I had spent the early part of my relationship with him objectifying him.

Objectification is a term I had always associated with seeing and treating women as sex objects, but it had recently occurred to me that I was also a habitual objectifier of the men in my life. They had career achievements and various skills that I envied and coveted, and I found when reflecting upon past and present relationships with other men that I had objectified them and used them, leaching off of their professional and personal successes.

In response, my friend suggested my past relationships might have so frequently expired because I was using and objectifying instead of truly loving and intimately relating with others.

I initially thought I agreed with his conclusion.