Reading people

I started to question my ability to read people. I thought I had this guy nailed as a cocky asshole and for whatever reason he wanted to talk to me and was extremely nice. Baffled, I sat in my chair and looked at him again. He didn’t look like a cocky asshole anymore. So the question in my mind remained: was I that off with reading him or was it that I now have a bias towards him? 

the final scene

As I sit here listening to every word you’ve said,

About everything  youve been through

And how you should have been dead.

I dont think anyone could speak of a tragedy

Without at least whispering your name.

And my pebbles are building to mountains

and Im buried in feeling the same

I wish you knew,

I wish you would understand.

The words that I wont dare to say

Are the very things you demand 

Into their hearts we grow

And I suppose its the white dress and the rain

That melts it into the soil to regrow me insane.

Oh its hard to plant the night and bury the day.

But the leaves keep piling around every word i pray.

Their tears flood the rivers and break down the doors

The worries find  their resting place in the cracks of the floors.

With my confidence and every page in the history books torn,

For our grandchildren and theirs we fill it in with our very own.

A pen and an ax

Hopefully this makes sense to someone- let me know if it does

I have an ax and a pen to solve my lifes purpose. The difficulty I find is that I am only given weapons, with no idea of a purpose. I have no idea where to go nor what to do. Should I sit, and fight off those impede on my territory? Or should I give up the idea of a territory and explore what I can not claim? For in a bigger view, what is possession? On a day to day basis, possession seems to be the key to survival but outside of that I find it to be quite confining. Decisions are made by what we have to loose instead of moral grounds. We shut down when we have close to nothing. I was given a pen and an ax, so I will always have something. So I struggle to move, as a tool or weapon without purpose or a cause, is merely a weight of burden to carry that can not be shed. So then to be successful is two fold. Find your tool’s purpose so that you can have purpose. Then again I do not think purpose is necessarily ours to have. I think it is for others to appreciate, therefore by faith we must come to accept it exists. We as humans are a social entity, thus an individual’s purpose is hardly individual at all. If I am to accept this perspective then I must conclude that we are wanderers. Fear normally comes with the term wanderers but why must we be lost in order to wander? If we wander together, at what point would we want to be anywhere else than where we are at that present moment?

A circle

You always hear, history repeats itself. So then our very existence is a bunch of circles. I started to wonder what kind of scale this worked on. You study it in history and its always “over hundreds of years.” But what on a smaller scale.  If we were all really honest we would want to know things in the perspective of our lifetime. Does history repeat itself in our lifetime? I consulted my good friend joey on this one. He had a theory that as we progress in life we are constantly trying to figure things out and that life in the beginning is trial and error. We try and try over and over again circularly until something fits. In which we tangent, (joey is a math guy), off in the direction that something fits. I argued that isnt that the definition of stupidity, to try something over and over again and expecting different results. He rebutted that its not exactly the same thing because the situation is different each time. Therefore if we are making the same paths but in different directions around a central goal- life is a sphere until we get it right

significant

We as  humans spend so much of our time trying to be significant. Actually we spend a lot of our time trying to look at situations that make us seem significant. Ribbons in swimming are broken down by heat as well as over all. We tell people about our classroom rank instead of or class rank. We break down the SAT into its smallest portion to show that really we are superior no matter what the numbers say. In fact the only time we use “we” is when you individually fall back and hte rest of the team does well. Then what do we say? We did well. What is this desire to be significant. Why can we not be statistically average? The truth is we are. In the grand scheme of things, no one stands for any sort of significance whatsoever.  I can sense the look of dismay on your face as your reading this (creepy huh).  But i think the reason is that we associate significance with influence which are totally two different things. Gandhi was insignificant. How dare I, you say? He went to college abroad, you say, was a leader you say? Big deal, there are thousands if not more of people that fit that mold. Gandhi however was extremely influential. He influenced the world. To me, I think this is far more important than significance. I think that we are lead to believe that because you are not “special” you have no influence. The truth could not be any further from that statement. Some people dont like to think that everyday people can make a difference but yet our world is shaped by them. But really they are the only significant ones of the whole bunch. Significance means nothing, or if it means anything, it is not something that can be aspired for. You can not help your significance. You can help your influence on this world. That would be the only reason to aspire in my opinion. Your significance is but a blip in time while your influence is a ripple.

If it counts for anything, Then I would give everything

Even if it counted for nothing, why keep it, id give everything too

The Dreamer

A dreamer’s power does not come from where he rests
But from the smile that grazes his face as he sleeps
When the world around him crumbles and the tears it sweats
Who is to tell him that he is not a king among realists,
 for giving birth to the hope upon which they rest.
So when the time comes the he must wake,
Place trust in the dreams that he will make
 For they are the seeds of hope that grow the day.

shipwrecked

Heres an old poem I found that I never got around to publishing-   Shipwrecked
If my life is a vessel,
Then I think this ships goin down.
How I miss my comforts,
How I miss the feel of solid ground. 
I miss how things used to be,
Where I could run away,
And the world would chase after me.
We know its not that way,
Now Cast out the lifeboats,
Just to bring me ashore,
Because the tide will wash away fears
And wash in some more 

How simple

I find it odd that in the most complicated situations, the answer tends to be so simple. Thats not really what I meant. My life always seems to be complicated when everything around me is so simple, and when my life is most simple- everything else is so complicated.

anyway here is a blog post that never got through because i was doing it offline

I have been trying to figure out if I would like my life completely laid out for me and I just follow it, or if I remain clueless and guess aimlessly. I think religion leaves this open for interpretation. If you are a Christian like me, then you believe there is God who knows of your life and what you will do but doesn’t necessarily what to do. Actually that’s just my division of it. There are people out there that would kill to prove that everything is predestined. I don’t think I would like it if it were true. I like living under the understanding that there are certain choices out there for me to make and that the actions I choose make a difference in this world. I believe however, that as the world progresses, the world around us makes a more and more defined mold. I think that today we may be control the choices we make, but not the circumstances that influence how we make them. Our world is predefined; we are born into it. Freedom of choice then is a more concerned with where you live then than with the actual choice. I think this is why when you move, you often find groups of people in your new home that remind you of the ones where you used to live. This is not always so and I think that is important. The friends that turn out to be the best, exist solely in one person. For instance, my friend joey: only one like him. Since I’ve moved back to GA, I have tried to find that connection. Today I am marking it as the first day I will stop my search. The people that matter break out of that mold, and are able to make choices outside of circumstance. I am not sure how he does this but he does. You can pick them out of the crowd. They are the ones on the first day vote alone and on the second day have a crowd following for his vote. He is a definer of circumstance which I believe we should all strive to be. I am not sure how attainable this is, but if you could define circumstances you would be able to control every side of a choice.

            The weird part about this whole blurb is that what I said above is simply a result of me thinking what I want to do. It is no longer what I want to do when I grow up, because I feel there is no one moment in time where a person grows up or even when a person stops growing. Everyone has their dream job, like being a rock star. Mine was never a rock star but more of a writer. I dreamed of having that office in a far off place where the room is filled with books on the shelves but mostly on the floor with sticky notes marking various parts. In the middle would be a desk with random stacks of paper and crumpled paper mounds and in the middle my laptop facing a wall made of glass. And through the glass there is nothing but nature. It would resemble a Spanish villa. I think this would shock most people in that they would assume that if I had it my way I would live in some fancy modern computer run house.  I just have never been that way. I like a natural look. Anyway back to the point- a writer. That would be my dream job. Not that I would be necessarily good at it, nor am I assuming that my dream job would be perfect for me. Some people who dream of being a rock star have no musical knowledge what so ever. I just like the idea of having a job where I can pour my mind out on paper, and in turn people pick it up and admire it. I want highschoolers to pick up a book I wrote, and when they get to college and the professor asks if they had heard of me, give a sign and say of course and roll their eyes. Of course not all writers make it, so I will have to go through the arduous task of narrowing down what I need to do. Again my choices are governed my circumstance. Maybe they should be, who is to say that me being a writer is the write choice for me, and if I would just do as I’m told the right choice will be chosen for me. That is just hard to accept for me. I am not trying to go against the grain just to go against the grain. I am just simply saying that I would like to assume that the mold is not for me. That I have some greater knowledge of myself than society does. Two brains may be better than one, but an infinite amount of brains will still not result in mine. I am not saying that I am brilliant, but my mind is my own. This may be the single handedly longest ramble to date. I just have so much on my mind, that I wish I print out and chart it all out to make sense of me. I think what is most disturbing is that I do not understand all of me, and that other people are trying to help me to. It disturbs me that other people might understand sides of me better than myself. Maybe I am just a control freak. I would hopefully assume something else.