A four minute personal musing from a moment in my day.
"There I was, walking out of the design studio, tupperware with remnants of leftovers graciously given to me by a friend’s mother in my left, American Spirit and a blue lighter in my right. First cigarette. Too windy to light, so it stuck itself back in my beanie with anticipation to be lit when I arrived to my doorstep.
Walking in the frigid, dark, still cold to my truck was a moment of reflection. A long day had passed, with another surely to follow. Thoughts of the future clouded my perception, yet, I felt as though it wasn’t so bad. I’m twenty, with a long time to get it all right. But I spent part of my day fretting, because I feared I wouldn’t become the man I wanted to be.
I drove home from studio to the sound of Aubrey Graham creating a portmanteau of sound and emotion. Take Care, he says. ‘I just hate sleeping alone…' is what sticks out to me. I know the feeling. Empty streets greet me as I make my way to my home.
I made it home and dropped my bag in my room and slowly walked down the steps to the porch. House is quiet. Only one roommate is home, which isn’t a surprise. Slipping through the screen door quietly, I stand on the front porch, eyeing the street light reflecting on the wet, soon-to-freeze ground, alone. I lit the Spirit, and felt my own draw up a conversation with me.
Thoughts of how proud I am of my girlfriend for being so great at everything she does began to spin, but quickly subside. Soon, I begin to look up to the starless sky, the clouds seemingly filled to the brim with snow. I wondered why people smoked cigarettes as I watched the clouds shift. Didn’t really inhale, but the throat burn felt the same. Lightheadedness. I let my mind wander over thoughts about my own personal image. Who I felt like I was, and where I felt I was going. I love me, but I feel I’m destined for more.
Before I finish my thoughts, I put out the Spirit. Smoking isn’t my thing. My flannel gains the smell of a thick molasses from the process. I walk inside, ready to sleep, praying for a beautiful morning.”
I thought that to myself today. I wondered how am I going to change the world for myself or someone else. I feel like the time given to me is short, and I have much to do before I can do something greater than I can see. But how?
I feel like I’m underachieving right now. I’m twenty, in college, various organizations and extracurriculars. Yet I feel like I haven’t done anything at all.
Maybe I’m not using my time wisely. But I don’t really smoke or drink. I don’t party. Maybe I’m just lazy. But I want to be passionate about everything. I want to free myself of the unnecessary, and do it all to the best of my ability. I’m too hard on myself, and I don’t give myself enough credit.
Maybe that’s it. The key to my success is within giving myself the credit I deserve, and doing something and going for it. Not to get easily discouraged. Just doing it because I want to.
“Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are? We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel? You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.”—Pablo Picasso (via atomos)
“I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me. There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other’s names. Naming is a difficult and time consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name. Romantic love has been diluted into paperback form and has sold thousands and millions of copies. Somewhere it is still in the original, written on tablets of stone.”—Jeanette Winterson (via atomos)
It's interesting how moral ambiguity can change everything.
I find the Penn State situation interesting. It’s rife with a lot of finger pointing, (a lack of) administrative action, and an array of standpoints. The one thing people seem to miss is the moral ambiguity of a lot of the people involved.
I won’t doubt Joe Paterno is a good man. Great coach, obviously. An icon around Happy Valley and State College/Altoona. Heck, he even reported the incident to his superiors.
The issue at hand is that he didn’t go further, and I can agree with the school’s decision to dismiss him. What stands out is that they dismissed him at this point in the football season, showing that JoePa doesn’t have the privilege to do what he wants (he had decided he would retire after the season hours before the school fired him).
What also gets me is how his superiors did nothing, either. In a matter of ethics versus morals, ethics won out. Rather than addressing the issue head on and bringing it to light almost ten years ago, it comes out of nowhere now, and looks like the storm is only going to get worse. They continued to let the man coach on the team, as well as use the facilities (to as recent as last week, some say). It just makes you wonder why no one went further than telling the person one rung higher on the ladder.
It makes you wonder what you would do, and how far you would go, too. People can say what they would do, hypothetically, but no one knows until the situation arises. So, as I said, this is an interesting situation.
We allow ourselves to be distraught and overcome with emotions and thoughts we know shouldn’t be there. We reduce ourselves to rubble.
Why is it we expose our vulnerabilities? Why do we let others hurt us? Why do we say what bother us? Why do we tell the world? Does that not allow us to be hurt worse?
I realize I allow myself to be so weak, so full of emotions and so willing to reveal it. I think it comes down to the purpose of revealing the weakness, the motivation to do so. I don’t think being recluse is a great idea, by any means.
I just wonder why we become this way. I’m just as guilty, but I don’t know where it comes from. I just wonder.
This means an extra hour for me to either sleep, be down, or write. So I shall write.
The moon is especially bright tonight. It makes me feel…somewhat nervous. Anxious. It fills me with desire.
I tend to feel like that puzzle piece people pick up too early in a puzzle that somehow forces itself into the picture. I tend to feel awkward and out of place in a lot of places. I’m still sort of growing into my own (although I’ve made some great strides in recent months).
My girlfriend asked me if I was happy with my life, overall. I said I am, but I feel unfulfilled. I guess that’s understandable. I’m only twenty. I have a lot to accomplish and I have accomplished a lot. I will eventually do what is necessary to fulfill that need.
But I am twenty. As weird as I feel typing that, it’s the truth. I’m no longer a teenager. I’m beginning to become an adult. Before you know it, I’ll be 21 (in about seven months). The summer will be here and I’ll be doing things to set myself up after school.
I’m getting older. I’m getting smarter. I’m becoming more self aware. I’m slowly, but surely, becoming a lot more distant with things that used to interest me. I’m embracing the real me, the one I want to see flourish. But I also feel more at fault.
I’m thinking about life more. It doesn’t scare me, but I’m becoming more aware. I feel alone more, because what I think doesn’t really line me up well with my surroundings. I’m finding solace in a lot more. I’m growing with God behind me. I pray and meditate more.
I ramble. I say a lot. This post is getting too long. I’m done.
I love you like no other. Truly, you have changed the tides of my oceans, like the moon you are. Your heart is permanently tattooed on my shoulder (I have a moon tattoo on there), and your presence is always felt in the darkness, even when you don’t shine.
I love you, because you’ve made me into a better me. You helped me embrace myself, and not be afraid of it.
I miss you so. You make me laugh, you make me smile, you cause me to get annoyed and anxious all at once. I can’t have a lapse of five minutes without wondering about you and how you feel. I spend a lot of time missing you when you aren’t around. And when you are here, I love you uncontrollably. I kiss you often, I hold you whenever I can wrap my arms around you. I sing badly to you, I wipe your tears when the world seems heavy. I dedicate songs on my radio show to you, and sometimes, even say I love you on air. It’s not for show, but I want you to hear it when you listen in from 400+ miles away.
My eyes grow heavy, but I love you. We’ve been best friends for six years, and we’ve been waiting for this. So I take it with open arms and an open heart. We’ve learned a lot over the course of 2011, but one thing has proven true: I want to be with you. I love you so much, and I want you to know that. I looked at the stars tonight (since it’s so much clearer here in the mountains) and I had to call you. Something so overwhelmingly beautiful drove me to call you. It reminded me of everything I find in you. The apparent and subtle beauty of a starry night.
It seems everything has become cheesy and played out. Unoriginal, attention-grabbing concepts that don’t have any worth beyond immediate shock value. There’s no substance anymore. Everything is surrounded by artificial hype. There’s nothing genuine around anymore.
I have to create for my own sake now. Genuine inspiration and objectivity lies within the creator, and I no longer want to be a purveyor of what is considered ‘cool’ based on others’ opinions and observations.