Friday, August 03, 2007

Final Entry: The Backdoor Exit

Well, it's that time again kids. The Romancexpress is coming to a stop; I'm calling Volume Two a wrap. I'm a few days early compared to the end of the last volume; but, believe it or not, I've actually covered more ground in less time this time around.

Volume One ended with "The Jigabod Archetype", where I tried to compile the sum of my experiences. Back then, I achieved self-awareness: getting in touch with the contents of my own soul, beneath all the influences. So, what has Volume Two left me with?

Well, it goes back to an earlier entry, where I was talking about having a stance. A lot of Volume Two was me asserting my beliefs--- that's too strong of a word. Asserting my 'conclusions' about the things around me. I would argue that Volume One came from my heart, but Volume Two came from my head. Reason and logic instead of feelings and emotions.

I'm stopping a little early because... well, I have a strong feeling. Maybe a bad feeling, maybe a good feeling, but definitely a strong feeling. In the next year, Lord willing, I'm undergoing some life-changing events. I feel like I've reached the end of the world--- you know, like back when "geniuses" thought the world was flat.

But, even at the end of the world, I'm not turning back. This... this is where I belong.




Right now, I'm experiencing a rush of ideas that will easily catapult me deep into Volume Three. So, if you've enjoyed Volume Two, BELIEVE there's more to come. And not just more: better.

Romancexpress has met with an emergency; we'll call this abruption a backdoor exit.

See you in Volume Three B-J

Life, You Can Go On Without Me...

"Hope is a tease, that only comes full circle at three-hundred sixty degrees..."

This is gonna sound like a suicide note, but it can't be one; I think I'm already dead. And Life, you can go on without me...

It's nothing new, really. What I'm trying to say is, nothing goes down the way I want it to; and throughout life, it rarely ever has. Yet, life has persisted. I've kept on living; it's just that the 'I' has been silent. This character's frame has been pushed and pulled and manipulated by seen and unseen forces from the very beginning. And in the midst of it, this character has failed to even be acknowledged as... present, I guess is the right word.

I never wanted to go to school, but I'm here. I only wanted to pursue music and activism, but I'm not there. I never wanted to be a teacher, but I'm well on my way there. Never wanted to marry a certain person, but I feel it's gonna happen inevitably...

So, today I get a call from my uncle--- about the house I'm living in, the cars, and the other material things that need dealing with. I've been trying to stay in this house because I've established myself here: I've got my studio setup and I've built a strong social network to help me get where I need to go. But after that call today, I just got tired of being nudged; "nudged" meaning he's wanted the house sold the entire time, as my mother wanted the same. So what the hell... I think I'm gonna sell it; if for nothing else, so I can have some peace. And Life, you can go on without me. Again.

"Why sell it? If you want to stay there, then fight for it!" Shawty, I've got too many OTHER fights to win; I don't have that kinda fight left in me. This one's gonna send me over the edge if I'm not careful. Uncle calls the whole situation a "blessing in disguise"--- new opportunity and whatnot. (There's that nudge again! Translation: sell the house and look forward to being in a new place. Nevermind what you leave behind...) I'm assuming that, eventually, one of these "hidden blessings" will put a [genuine] smile on my face.

Talking to him today, it felt like I was going back to October 2005 all over again. As my uncle approaches town, I'm waiting to see how he reacts to the studio I've set up in what used to be my mother's room. But if he doesn't like it, he won't hafta worry about it long; when the house gets sold, it'll be all gone. And God knows if I'll have enough strength to set up shop somewhere new; I'm f#ckin' tired of protecting this dream.

So I'm thinkin' to myself, "If I sell this house, that's gonna be a substantial amount of money for my sister and I. More than enough for me to leave this country..."

It's a thought. But hell... I've had a taste for Canada for a good lil while now. This wasn't my plan, leaving the South before making an impact here. But since when have things ever gone my way? Since when has it ever been under my control? So, what do I have to lose? Nothing that I haven't lost already...

I was soooo looking forward to this week and weekend. But it seems like the very day I got out of class, an alarm went off. And space invaders from every corner of my life just came out the woodworks to pay me a visit. This is gonna be a loooong weekend...

Meanwhile, I regret to admit that some girl's got my heart, again. But my life isn't my own; it makes it difficult for me to see myself getting involved with anyone on a long-term basis. You can never miss what you never had though; Life goes on without me.

The worst part is, all-in-all, my family is looking out for my best interest; I don't even have the right to be upset.

...Don't have the right to be upset. The right. To be upset. Life can SO go on without me. Do you see that? Unbelieveable.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

FROM W.E.B. DUBOIS TO ATLANTA!!!!

So I'm at work today reading The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. DuBois to pass the time. And I've come across this chapter called "Of the Wings of Atalanta"; that's not a typo by the way, as Atalanta is a woman from Greek mythology. Anywasy, the chapter is basically about the rise of the city of Atlanta, and its role in the racial climate of the time period.

As I read not-at-all deep into the chapter, I came across this quote; I thought it was fitting, so I'm going to pass it on. It's from DuBois and directed to the city of Atlanta:

Atlanta must not lead the South to dream of material prosperity as the touchstone of all success; already the fatal might of this idea is beginning to spread; it is replacing the finer type of Southerner with vulgar money-getters; it is burying the sweeter beauties of Southern life beneath pretence and ostentation. For every ill the panacea of Wealth has been urged, ---wealth to overthrow the remains of the slave feudalism; wealth to raise the "cracker" Third Estate; wealth to employ the black serfs, and the prospect of wealth to keep them working; wealth as the end and aim of politics, and as the legal tender for law and order; and, finally, instead of Truth, Beauty, and Goodness, wealth as the ideal of the public school.

SO, to all you Southern cats stuck on that "let's get this money" mentality, I just wanted to let you know how real Black leaders feel about your way of thinking. Don't get mad; get educated and get right: the love of money is STILL the root of all evil.


*Note: To my white readers, my apologies for the use of term "cracker"; it's directly quoted from DuBois and it is not meant offensively. And I don't think HE meant it offensively either; it's a colloquial term of the time referring to impoverished Whites. Think Tom Sawyer and keep it in the literary context...

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Love Triangle

The concept of "Love and Life" has been on my mind recently; I don't buy that "Love is Life" cliche. I mean yes, if you do the transitive math: God=Light as Light=Life as God=Love so Love=Life. But the reason I don't buy "Love is Life" is because true love requires self-sacrifice. So it's just as much about dying as living; in essence, love is only PART of life.

But that's the part I'm gonna start with. (I know your heads must be spinning right now; that was FUN!)

I came to a conclusion today: love is not life... BUT, you haven't lived until you have loved. Love is a thrill; it adds something to life that no quality of living could ever replace. And it's not just the love between a boy and a girl, but love for all people. Love between family members, love for strangers, love between friends, loving our enemies. All of it makes life worth living.

It's no wonder I felt so alive when I was young and my family was so close; that has changed over the years, and I can feel a lot of the liveliness missing from life. At the same time, I've continued to live on; I've made new friends and held on to old ones, for the simple fact that there's love there.

But sometimes it's not so cool; while I'm willing to sacrifice for many-to-any of my friends, I don't always think the feeling is mutual. So, the missing element of "death" prevents the love from being all that it should be. Conversely, sacrifice comes naturally for family; it's the living part that we struggling with.

That's so strange now that I think about it: people who won't live with love will die for it; people who won't die for love will live with it. The most essential relationship is the love that makes us willing to die; yet, the common association is that "love is life".

"He who shall save his life shall lose it; and he that shall lose his life shall save it." Sumn like that; I trip on scripture.

Life consists of love; love consists of sacrificing one's life; willingness to sacrifice our selfhood ushers us into true life. It's a strange triangle of Life, Love, and Death.




All of this came about from me listening to Jamie Foxx and some lady singing their rendition of "Very Special" on the teevee this morining. I think that means I need therapy sumn awful...

Uncommon Sense

I'm not a superstitious person; ever since I got saved, I have no reason to fear anything physical or spiritual short of God Himself. And I also realize that everything is under His authority, so even if there are things I might be afraid of, they can do me no harm without His permission.

That being said, I still consider myself somewhat of a... I guess a mystic, to a certain degree. No, I'm not talking magic or anything of that sort; but I do have a very heightened sensitivity to the things around me. I constantly try to see the unseen on many levels--- avoiding the occult, but definitely believing there are unseen forces all around us.

I'm the type of person that picks up on anything, from small sounds to coded signals to false representations. And part of the reason I'm like that is because I'm conditioned to LOOK for these things. Not only that, but I'm also the type that questions everything and believes that everything happens for a reason. It's not that I live in fear of things, but the more one knows and understands, the more power that individual has to control his circumstances.

Anyway, there are things that I take note of that most people I know don't even consider. There are theories I have that I can't prove as of yet, but in my gut I think I'm right about. I thought I'd share some of them; not to create superstition or anything, but just to show how I think about things.

First of all, I'm very sensitive toward and about women, and it's not just in a spirit of flirtatiousness. My pastor once said that God made women inherently more spiritual beings than men; even Eve spent time with God before she was brought to Adam. I really do see the manifestation of that spirituality, even in unsaved women. When dudes have dreams, I laugh; but when women have dreams, I listen. My sister sometimes tells me about the dreams she has, and that's all it takes to send me from a state of calm to a state of red alert.

Even this problem I have of sniffing out married women in a crowd; I've noticed that something about a woman's demeanor changes when she's [happily] married. I mean, I've seen unmarried women get married, and they just become totally different people! The dude pretty much don't change, but the woman's spirit is... wow.

And ya know, maybe women have that sense too. I've noticed that women who normally pay a man no attention will automatically jump all over him if he appears to be with another woman. Heck, I used to have a female friend that I wasn't even DATING; but when we spent too much time together and people THOUGHT we were dating, all of a sudden, I got this influx of women trying to talk to me. And it's bigger than face-to-face, visual encounters; I've seen this happen on the NET! I could be interested in someone on my campus in Augusta, and if I talk to a female friend in another STATE online, somehow she INSTANTLY knows.

Lastly about women; I'm sensitive to them because women pick up on the subtlest of subtle things. It's really humorous to me how women operate in this hidden world, and most men are totally oblivious to it. A homie of mine can be with his girlfriend, and she could be throwing all kinds of wild signals to the SETI satellites of CREDD-DAY!! with her actions, vocal tone, body language... and these cats just do NOT-SEE-IT! And I'm sitting in the room like, "Dawg, I know you see this right?... I think your girl's plotting to kill you right now... You gotta see it... Please talk to her... Now..."

So yeah; I definitely pay attention to women.

Another thing I pay attention to is children--- the real little ones that don't know how to lie, barely know how to talk. One day a friend of mine brought his family over. And while we were working, his little girl just came over and stared me down. My homie's wife said something to the effect of "she sees something in you" (by the way, this same woman also said, "your house feels warm" when she came in. and she wans't talking about temperature, because it was cool inside that day). It was funny to me because I think children really do see things. It's always boggled me how children will ignore most people, but get absolutely fixated on certain others. And how babies will laugh with nobody in the room, and play with the air when there's nobody in the room; my grandmother used to call it "playing with the angels". And I'm led even more to believe small children, because one thing small children are known for is keeping it real once they can talk; why would it be otherwise before they can talk? I wish I could see whatever it is that babies and children see...

I'm sensitive about sleep. Biologically, sleep has an effect on the mind. 'Don't believe me? If you think you're experiencing depression, before you go to a doctor, try going to sleep and waking up at the same time every day and getting 8 hours for a whole week. If your depression goes away, don't be surprised.

I used to be a professional sleeper--- I slept with purpose. That purpose was to dream. I've always wanted to understand dreaming. As child, I had all these vivid, animated, colorful dreams; now, I barely dream at all unless I eat something crazy. In my dreams, I've heard music before; music that sounded very similar to music that came out years later. I've encountered people in my dreams; I've experienced levels of strength in my dreams that I've never had in my waking hours. I really believe dreams have much to do with latent things in the human mind, and I would like nothing more than to discover those latent things and control them. To be able to feel euphoria at will, for instance; to be able to close my eyes and visualize someone's face so clearly that I could draw it; to summon enough strength exceed my supposed capabilities...

I'm sensitive to death. I've been in the room with dying people before, several times, recently. Some of the names that you hear when they're near the end... you could almost believe spirits are in the room with them, ya know? (And truthfully, I believe spirits are around us all the time. Heck, once I fell asleep in the den on the couch. And in the early rays of the morning, half-asleep, I saw bodies slowly swirling over my head. And something inside me told me there was nothing to fear; I went right back to sleep, lol)

But it's not the event of death itself that really gets my attention; it's what I call the "course" of death. I'm from the country, so I've heard superstitions all my life. One I've always heard about death: "they always go in threes". I don't exactly buy into that, but I do think death has an "agenda". Because, yes, death usually occurs multiple times in a short period. In my family, in a two year spanse, we lost a grandmother, cousin, grandfather, and my mother in that order. Not only that, but in that time, the father and son next door to my grandfather and grandmother passed away. I can tell you: when you see that much death in such a short period of time, it's almost like you can see the angel of death itself.

In that same time period, I noticed all the celebrities that passed away: Gregory Hines, Barry White, Luther Vandross, James Brown, Gerald Levert, Aaliyah, Left Eye... Don't even bother to trip on me, I know that we're all just regular people. But you've got to admit, you've never seen that many "regular people of distinction" go in a concentration like that. You can't convince me that death doesn't have a... modus operandi of some sort. Not exactly "in threes" maybe, but some sort of itinerary. It's almost like I'm witnessing spiritual movement--- some force underlying the rush of death.

What else...

I'm sensitive to the media. Nothing mystical there, but the media gives me a feel for the world. Nah... not the world exactly. It gives me a feel for the "majors"; basically, the power structure of the world. I don't hafta pay attention or see everything on TV and the Internet; all I need to see is the general gist of what's being promoted. And I can tell what direction the majors are pushing the people.

(And on that note, no, I don't believe the people control the media. Because, while people vote for their favorite videos on TRL or whatnot, it starts with those videos being offered--- by the majors--- and certain other videos not being offered--- by the majors. Marketing and promotion is more than giving the people what they want; it's the power of suggestion evoking the want in the people.

I'm deviatin'...)

I'm sensitive to animals. Like children, animals don't screw around. Animals know when things are beyond their control, and they don't front like things are good when they're not. Animals don't get struck by lightning because animals run when the air doesn't feel right. Earthquakes, hurricanes, tsunamis, heat storms... animals pick up on ALL of that and fall for NONE of it.

Do I believe in animals being psychic/telepathic? Doesn't make a difference to me; animals don't have a reason to pretend something is wrong when everything's fine. And I think it's a d#mn nice gesture for a dog to bark warnings to tell his owner it's time to get outta dodge. And I don't blame the dog when he takes off and leaves his owner behind either. He did the right thing.

I do think it's possible that animals could be clairvoyant. At the same time, I also think animals, like women, pick up on subtle things that average people don't catch. Maybe the dog isn't "predicting" an earthquake; maybe his paws are sensitive and he can feel the lightest of light tremors that our sneakers wouldn't pick up. Maybe his fur picks up the increased static in the air before a severe lightning storm arrives. Or maybe God is warning all of us, and animals are the only ones who care to hear what He's saying. Who knows.

Expanding from my sensitivity to females, I'm also sensitive to all people. It's not magic though; I was taught God's biblical plan for the family and what happens when that family isn't held intact. So, when I see people conducting themselves a certain way, I can tell several things: their upbringing, what they're searching for psychologically, what they'll do in relationships, and the effect they'll have on their children.

It's not just the Bible though; I understand people because I LISTEN to them. Very basic: I know how to sit down, let someone talk, absorb what they're saying, internalize it, and approach them accordingly by putting myself in THEIR shoes. It's so simple, but SO hard for many people. It really comes down to love; if you love people, you learn how to think of others first and put yourself after.

And when you love hard enough, I'm led to believe you can see things that normally you wouldn't see. There have been times where it felt like I saw "auras" around people, telling me how they were feeling. Or somebody might be on my mind, and I just feel I need to call them, only to find they needed a call right then. Sometimes, I'm the one that gets the call, ya know?...

I'm almost done. Really.

After people, I'm sensitive to brainwashing. Again, I am a person who questions. Everything. It's not good enough that my mom and dad tell me to do something; mom and dad aren't God, so they are capable of being wrong. It's not enough that the President has an initiative; the President got a 600 on his SAT, and I got a 1250. It's not enough that the professor thinks thusly; his view is slanted to his discipline, but his discipline isn't the only discipline.

You can not sit me down and tell me what you think without backing it up with a bulletproof argument. I am a lawyer; I am a logician; I am a mathematician; I am a detective; I am a scientist; I am an inquisitive child. I can't think of any other way to say it. Tradition, political correctness, image, historical monuments, blood, sweat, tears, lobbying, who died for this, who lived for that--- these things mean nothing to me. So if you try to convince me of something without solid backing, I'm gonna call the bluff, charge it to brainwashing, and hit you with the undeniable facts.

And on that note, the last thing I'm sensitive to is God's Word. Ever since I joined my new church, I've had good teaching; now, I'm even critical of my church. Heck, I'm critical of most churches and of many churchgoers, including myself. It's not that I doubt the Word of God at all; it's that I doubt that we're really living by it. Because of my sensitivity to the Word and to things I have learned along the way about Western class and culture, I'm sensitive to that which is of God and that which is of American society.

I differentiate between teaching God's Word and teaching middle class American values. As much as the two are merged, they're not the same. We teach these type things to help people get along in the "professional" world, true enough; but not much of that stuff really matters in the grand scheme, and we can't forget that. You gotta realize: the Bible was written in a TOTALLY different culture. So when we teach, we should always recognize when we're saying things that apply to ALL, and when we're saying things that apply to AMERICANS; when we're saying things that will get you a JOB, and when we're saying things that will get you to HEAVEN.

I go through life with what feels like the ears of a serval, the eyes of an owl. Every little thing has meaning for me; most of the lessons I've learned, I didn't learn in a classroom, but in observation of the world around me. It's becoming a lost art; we don't learn from experiences like we used to. We're lacking both the common and uncommon sense that we need to make a better world. At least, that's my observation.

Monday, July 30, 2007

A Writer's Block

Don't make me laugh, this isn't a war if you come in my path/
You're only hot when I ain' running like two taps in a bath/

SCRIBBLE

Don't make me laugh, this isn't a war if you come in my path/
You hesistate to start like indentations in paragraphs/

SCRIBBLE

Don't make me laugh, this isn't a war if you come in my path/
I'm writing hard because I'm working on your tomb's epitaph/

If there's one thing I can say is going right for me right now, it's my writing. I've gotten to a point where I no longer feel pressured when I write, especially if it's poetry or lyrics. It took me a long time to overcome that "fear of the void" though.

A young friend of mine asked me to rip a track with him. I said cool. I started on a verse just last night. It was dope... but I didn't even like it. And with no hesitation, I cast it aside. Because I was that sure that another one would come to me.

Less than a minute later, it did.

I know it sounds like I'm being cocky, but it's not that. It's simply that I've finally "settled in". Writing has gone from a roulette to a routine for me. Of course I haven't "mastered" it, but I have gotten to a point where I can teach myself anything that I haven't yet learned. And that in itself is a type of mastery.

As a writer, the most difficult thing to overcome is the occasional writer's block. But even there, I found out what writer's block really is. There was a writer named George Herbert Mead who was brilliant in his field (social psychology). The problem is, he didn't leave much material. The reason for that is because he looked so hard for "genius" that he wouldn't write until he found it.

That used to be a problem for me; I too am a perfectionist at my craft. But what I did was I put myself in situations where I was forced to crank out high-caliber writing in minimal time. Eventually, I realized this: sometimes genius is instantly evident; sometimes genius comes with development. But if you never put pen to paper, then genius is irrelevant.

Writing actually taught me a lot about faith. The sensation of Peter stepping out on water is the same sensation I feel when trying to write under pressure. Sometimes I have an idea in mind that's already cut for me; sometimes I have nothing and I want make something. In the second instance, that's when it takes a leap of faith. And I have yet to set out in that manner and have it return void.

Another part of the faith thing is having the courage to put my best ideas out. It's easy as a writer to become hesitant about putting your best foot forward: there's always biters, plagiarizers, etc. out there looking for their "own original ideas" or looking for something to piggyback off of. But for a real writer, the greatest fear isn't them; it's the fear of running out of material. And, with good ideas being such a rarity, it's easy to believe that they're limited in supply.

But they're not. And I can prove it.

I performed an experiment once. I've been writing for years, and I've written things that I can't even recall. On occasion I'll write something I really like and, before it has a chance to sink in, I'll hide it away somewhere. And when I do it, I'm not planning on digging it up anytime soon. This is my reasoning:

When in the writing process I find myself running out of ideas, I just smile and continue to write. Because I know running out of ideas is not possible. If it WERE possible, then the ideas from those hidden writings would come back to me... and they never have. It's a weird experiment, I know; but it proves that good ideas continue to exist outside of our awareness of them. Therefore, we should just keep digging until we find them.

I still abide by the same two principles in my writing: 1) never write down anything without a purpose; 2) say as much as you can in the fewest words possible. I'm at a point now where I'm very critical of every type of writer, from the simple to the most astute; they all do things that irk me, lol. Truthfully, I even irk myself most times, because I know exactly where to improve everything that I write; I just can't always invest the time and energy into doing that each time. Yes, there's an element of time management in almost everything aspect of life.

I think the most critical aspect of my writing is something that isn't very...tangible. As a youngster, before I got the hang of all the grammatical parts of writing, I learned something else. I learned how to write meaningfully. And to be honest, I'm not sure HOW I learned that. At some point, I learned how to write to hearts moreso than to heads. I learned how to be myself within the confines (and sometimes WITHOUT the confines) of grammatical rule. And even at that, I learned when those rules were important and when they weren't. I've taught many writers how to become better at their craft, but that is one thing I've never managed to be able to teach. It's like trying to teach a robot to have a soul; it's gotta come from inside that robot.

This was actually supposed to be a lyrical verse at the onset; so much for that. I trusted my writer's instinct to let this become what it was meant to become. I'd say it was a good call.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

The Hush

Sitting home alone. It's not as bad as one might think; I'm one of the few who isn't afraid of solitude. Still, there's some disadvantages to being alone.

When you live like I do--- always thinking about the state of the world and those around you--- you don't smile a heck of a lot. Matter of fact, you feel downright ugly about things. Add personal problems to the mix and you get one heck of a bad mood. The feelings that well up in my chest can sometimes only be described as outrageous--- like rage just bursting to get out.

And when it's really bad... well, there's nobody to turn to. It's not one of those things you can talk about easily. Mom's not here to hug her boy anymore; no love in my life to take her place. And anybody else... even if I get a hug, they don't really understand my feelings. So I don't feel any better.

But I get by. Sometimes you gotta be your own best friend. The first thing I do is accept that there's nobody around; it's not a natural thing because man is a social creature... but it's the truth. Then, I sorta step outside of myself; definitely not something you do in public, because people will think you're crazy for it.

I talk myself down. But it's not like having a conversation with myself; actually, just the opposite. When I feel like cussin' my head off, I simply go, "SHHHHH....shhhh...shhh..sh..." I hush myself into submission.

It doesn't make anything better, but neither does that hug; it simply cools my head enough to maintain and keep things in perspective. After all, it's only life. Even when I have it bad, there's plenty of folks who have it worse.

(For the record, I hate when people gimme that lame line. Different tolerances...)

Shhhhhh.... Isn't that a universal signal by now? I mean, just shhh yourself... Do we all feel calmness when we hear that? Do we all think of our mothers, or think of babies and bedtimes? Whatever it is, it works for this big baby. Good job, Mom. I'm off to bed now...

Friday, July 27, 2007

Nobody's Home

I had a friend. I had feelings. I had to get them off my chest. Then... I had an epiphany.

I can't believe how I let somebody that I have no contact with straight RUN me. But what can I say: she means the world to me. I mean, the fact is, nobody compares to her; it'll be a long time before I meet somebody else that even holds a light to her.

But all that is done. I'm done with dreaming and wishing. For once, I'm not gonna live in my own little world; I'm gonna acknowledge what's there. Nothing.

Pride? I don't care about that. Maybe you don't understand exactly how empty I feel right now. You've got to have something left inside to be able to experience pride. I'm HOLLOW right now.

NOBODY'S HOME...

Why does love matter so much. What's the big deal. Somebody please tell me. Because right now, I see no reason not to be absolute-zero about it.

Sometimes, it feels like somebody's messing with me--- taunting, if you will. When, for instance, I find myself being most attracted to the women who are the most off-limits. And it's not like I go LOOKING for married women at all; they just happen to be the ones that have the characteristics I'm looking for.

Every.

Single.

Time.

And frankly, I'm tired of even having love on my mind. Nothing productive comes of it, ya know? It's not fun, it's not relaxing, it's not... for me. I could be thinking of better things. And if not, I could be discovering better things to think about.

And it would be just my luck that "there's nothing better than love". But heck, I've settled for less so many times before in life; I'll just do what I always do and settle for less again. No skin off my back.

Maybe I can't fool myself into believing I'll never think of her again--- or anyone else for that matter. I can't even pretend that if she were to show up on my doorstep tonight, I wouldn't throw everything away to be with her. But I can say this: I'm ashamed of myself. I'm disappointed with myself; I've let myself down. And because of that, I'm removed from myself. Because life is too short to let this fool heart of mine mess it up.

And at the end of the day, I still love love. It's just not a game I'm trying to be a part of. Sumn like that.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Change

He's different with purpose
Like uniforms
In a crowd

Life passes him by
Like interstates
Before arrival

Love calls to him
Like a mother
To bedtime

Memories haunt him
Like window taps
At odd hours

The present binds him
Like lack of faith
Holds God hostage

Tomorrow denies him
Like the courtship
Of the vain

Mere needs distract him
Like diplomas
In youth's prime

Too much on a poor soul
He wants to change
The world

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