On True Love

I believe true love is unexpected, and this is not in the happy, warm, romantic way. It comes to you when you have given up all hope for a life with love and resigned to a different way of life.

This is not a bad thing.

True love is when someone casts a safety line into the sea, and when you cling to it, your feelings are best expressed as this: “I didn’t know you were there watching me from from the boat – I am so happy that you are here.”

Of course, the perspective is always different for the individual. For my lover, she will think I am the one casting the line. As for me, I will think she is the one casting the line. We create these fantasies in our hearts and souls.

On a practical level, we are fine on our own. We are humans who adapt. No one is incomplete. You will be fine if you are unpaired for the rest of your natural life.

But if we are spared from the waters of intimate isolation, we cling to the one who saved us from a slightly lonelier life.

Thoughts About the Outside

In the past, I have considered the beauty of jumping off a chair in my living room and flying millions of lightyears away from here, or perhaps even putting in thousands of miles in my car without even pressing foot to pedal. Many others have done it – why not me?

The potential of such release is both inviting and seductive to some.

But as soon as I have ever considered it, I always think: Who will tend to my projects? How will my debts be paid?

And thus, I believe this is why I maintain such worldly commitments. Commitment to the world is not the same as enjoying the world by any means. I’d be happy to leave this world, I think. But it’s not my time.

It’s these commitments that leads to a more important question: Who will be there for my younger brother?

Enjoying the people within the world is different. The people of the world are what matter to me, yet I seem to have so few left.

However, these few are what keeps me motivated. Have I lost some of them due to personal issues? Of course. But I have kept some, and those matter.

Would I be happier on the outside? Perhaps – it’s less pressure than constantly trying to satisfy individuals I do not care much for. I’m tired.

But then again, would I be unhappy on the outside if I caused these few grief in my travels? Yes. Probably.

My understanding is that there is no sadness in the outside, but I am not certain if there is an absence of regret.

On an unrelated note, I also don’t like “things.”

Why should I buy “things” to keep me happy when they don’t make me happy at all? Clothes, electronics, cars… They have done nothing except make me unhappy. The clothes I wear are too plain for society, the electronics I buy are always so behind, the cars I drive are always breaking down.

Then I am criticized for it: why don’t you buy new ones?

My answer: Because I have spent my worth on so many things, thinking the next thing will make me happy. The only material thing that I believe has ever truly made me happy is food. I do enjoy food – the only drawback is that it does the unfortunate act of growing my stomach in size.

These things are certainly not keeping me here. It’s the people. I appreciate the people. Then there are the obligations – I maintain the obligations because they keep me in line with the people.

Why else would I live alone in an apartment on the outskirts of town with very few personal belongings that are meant for entertainment? It’s true. Mostly everything I own is for work – I see no pleasure in anything else.

I’m in no danger of venturing off into the unknown. This will not happen anytime soon. I’ve already been down the path of desiring it. I came very close to wanting to go outside, but I stopped myself. It won’t happen.

But these are thoughts that do occur on an occasional basis, and I think it’s important for people to be open about it. We can’t go on pretending as if they do not exist.


you make so many funny faces, friend
into that lens of yours
into that box of yours
so that faceless names
can see your funny faces

but i have the strangest feeling
the most uncomfortable feeling
that none of these faceless names
are actually seeing your true face

sit with me a while
look at me as you are
let me see your true face
and let us talk about
the sadness in your eyes

for you’ve tried so hard in this city
to be another face that stands out
but you’ve forgotten the other parts of you

your hands which can play
your feet which can dance
your mouth which can serenade

turn around for a moment
perform me a song, will you?
i do not need to see your face
i know who you are

because i see your soul

smaller world.

i miss a smaller world

where the county fair was the biggest event of the fall
going an hour north was an ordeal
friday night football was a social gathering
prom was a cultural topic

my world is full of grandiose

what is a fair
why go anywhere else
have a beer with your game
dance for attention

be pretty for the people
be pretty for this new world

the smaller worlds look to the bigger world
a reflection of what it is

to mean something


the world around me
faces its common struggles
and moves on
while i am revisited
within the old house
these same struggles

over and over
over and over
is this not insanity?

we all have debts
we all have heartache
we all have loss

but mine comes to visit me
in the halls of my darkness
like a spirit of the one
who i hated in its past life

come to haunt me, have you?

silence, you

two potion bottles
one given to me by the witch doctor
one passed down by blood
oh, how i tried to resist them both

but even the ghosts
are better at resisting
they find these bottles
so putrid

oh, hell

my friends call for me outside to play
but my own screams are louder

where is the bottle
that can silence me

so i can hear my friends

The evil side of your talent.

For the majority of my life, I have been a master when it comes to the usage of words. Now, this does not mean I use them in a grammatically correct fashion. Nor do I always use the most extravagant word I can find in the thesaurus. I also sometimes cannot spell. I like to reuse words in the same paragraph for effect, and often I use the word “I” more times than I can count.

At the core, I’m just a damned good writer, and if there’s anything I’m confident about, it’s that. I write in a conversational manner, as if you are the one I’m speaking to and you alone. This is simply because I’m poor at proper conversation, but I’m great at imaginary arguments in the shower.

You see, being a good writer is about making it easy to read and comprehend – not to look smart. I want you to give me your undivided attention. This isn’t King James shit.

I’ve always been one to use my words for good whenever possible. Sure, I’ve had my moments where I’ve said things in anger. Then there have been instances in which I have even written a nasty private note to someone. But naturally, those are within the privacy of person to person. It’s more intimate, and as such, it’s more forgivable.

This does not factor in private phone calls with corporate customer service representatives. I have been known to raise a little hell with that, and while I do feel incredibly sorry about this, I think that at times I’ve been justified.

I’m looking at you, Synchrony Bank and your money-slut known as the Amazon Store Card. Stop charging my savings account. I’ve clearly entered the number for my checking fund – the one that actually has money.

What I’ve never encountered before, however, has been a personal experience with the public usage of negative words. I can honestly say I’ve never spoken out publicly in a way that does not bring about something positive or enlightening or humorous. That is… until recently.

I allowed myself to participate in such a way in the most dramatic way possible. Granted, I had placed myself in a couple of situations leading up to this that were not the most glorious, and I was angered.

Maybe this was justified. Maybe it was not. I had found myself in circumstances where I’ve felt lied to and taken advantage of, but that’s beside the point – the focus here is on me.

I spoke out in anger, and I did so very publicly.

Did it affect my career? No. I’m still making a living, and I’m doing just fine. There area few contacts I probably won’t be able to go back to, but I don’t see those as profitable ventures anyway.

Did it affect my personal life? Yes. I lost a couple of friends that I could genuinely call friends, and not the ones I would have expected to lose simply because I didn’t think about them in the process of my outrage.

What a damned shame.

I’ve attempted to become a proponent of not caring what others think (usually unsuccessful at this), but it’s hard not to do that when you genuinely care those others as human beings. So it’s an unfortunate loss, and it’s my fault. I should have kept my mouth shut.

As a master wordslayer, it’s a serious problem when I’m able to use my talents for bad. I suppose this can be said for any talented individual: don’t be evil. Be good. Be as good as you can be. Be so good that you shine with your talent and everyone benefits rather than hurts.

This was one moment I was honest-to-goodness bad and knew it, and it hurt me far worse than anyone else. Was I trying to hurt anyone? Eh. Probably not.

I was speaking out in an effort to clear my name, but it was the selection of my words and phrasing that completely butchered it. So I hurt others. Since I’m good at using written words, I used them in a negative light, and this ruined things for me.

At any rate, here we are. Life goes on.

Life hurts, but it goes on.

I was recently told to live my life like my grandfather was watching, and I can earnestly say that’s a good mantra to live by.

He was a good man. But I do know he had a few views that would be considered less than desirable by some. However, he was – as a whole – good and as pure as he possibly could be. I loved him for it.

I will likely continue to curse when I stub my toe or silently badmouth a client that is giving me an absolute pain in the butt (guys – it happens, so let’s be honest with ourselves). However, the public spread of negativity has to stop, and for the first time in maybe a long time, I found myself to be a contributor.

So world, I’m sorry for the public negative usage of my words.

I am here.

Dear world,

The last time I wrote for the public was 2015. It was for a tech blog that somehow found the desire to hire me and release my work on a regular schedule, no matter how mediocre it might be. I don’t understand how I survived that. They were very good to me. I was halfway decent to them.

But I feel like sometime between 2013-2017 I lost my personal touch, my personal taste. I’ve found myself fulfilling only the creative direction of projects I worked on, which within itself is not a bad thing.

But long gone are the worlds and characters that used to exist within my own mind. Floating sentient astronaut heads and anthropomorphic Arctic students of the martial arts have fallen way to creations that have to fit a certain mold.

While I’ve always dealt with caring about what others think due to a horrible ongoing battle with paranoia, I had never cared about what others think of my creative identity. I just was. But that changed, for some reason.

For a long time, I did what I wanted. I would write, draw, film – do whatever. Creative pursuits were my jam.

I’m not sure if it was the anti-depressants or my gradual jaded scope of the real world, but my originality fell apart, I suppose. Where have I been in all the content that I’ve created? I’m there, but I don’t think I’m necessarily as present as I used to be.

Now that I’ve figured out how to relink this domain and make it work, I am here. Let’s try new stuff.