The Story of My Life

I got this idea because to be honest, I'm tired of writing personal essays for colleges and scholarships without actually being able to say what I want or write as much as I want. So buckle in: this is going to be a long one.

It began on the day I was born. February 16th, 1989. A day that will live in history and on calendars worldwide... Okay, maybe not. But that's how you have to live your life if you want to get anything done. I don't mean be arrogant and closed off. I mean believe in yourself. So I lived in Minnesota for three weeks, and then my family moved out here because my dad got a job. Anyway, I grew up without having to move much at all. Actually, the only time we moved besides the MN-WA move was when we moved into our current house, and I wasn't even old enough to be conscious of that.

So yeah, after I was born I did some wandering about, riding tricycles, playing in mud, eventually getting into the more dangerous stuff like trailblazing and fort building. LEGOs were a popular item, and let's not forget Beast Wars. Power Rangers too, and Pokemon.

One thing that I remember about my childhood was that I seemed to be the only kid who didn't have video games. Okay, my brother and I eventually got a GB Pocket which we shared between us, but that just got frustrating. Plus, my parents would take it away as punishment from time to time. But I know that it didn't stop at video games. Everywhere I looked I seemed to have less than everyone else. I was devoured by jealousy, until I decided that I would persevere despite what seemed like a disadvantage. I thought I was special.

That's when the depression hit. You've probably seen signs of it - it only disappeared recently. Actually I think I've been depression free for a whole year now. Feel free to clap.

Well we might as well start investigating my romantic history... but you know me, it won't be very detailed. Basically, I had two girls fighting over me (in preschool) and I had a girlfriend (in kindergarten). Yeah, I was in demand (as a child). From then on it's not so pretty. The girl I liked in 5th/6th grade never had any classes with me again. Ever. The girl I liked in 7th grade moved to Germany. The girl I liked in 8th/9th/10th grade didn't like me back (but more on this later). The first time I had a girlfriend after Kindergarten was 11th grade. We had a nice relationship but there was a lot of stress there... and we didn't really part on the best of terms because of a lack of communication, but we're on speaking terms now so I'm glad for that. And now I'm in a great relationship with a great girl who is currently in China... which is problematic. Which is also why I've been writing so much lately, because I have nothing better to do.

But now, to the depression. This depression came in three phases (and, unfortunately, though I am finished with the two major ones I occasionally suffer from the third, the lingering effects). The first phase is simply depression. The second is anger. The third is the aftermath. I shall explain.

1) From roughly the fourth grade until halfway through the 9th grade, I had some massive sadness issues, though many probably didn't even know. This depression was a result of many different things in my life. One of which was my home life, in the sense that it didn't seem fair. Kids around me everywhere got to do what they wanted, when they wanted, and they didn't have to work for it. I didn't understand how my efforts in school and at home didn't seem to have a payoff. Now I know that they shouldn't have had one. But then something magical happened. Someone actually went out of their way to talk to me. To befriend me. And then I started to see clearly.

2) With clear sight comes anger. I don't really know how to explain this phase, because it's a confusing time in the life of any teenager. I can sum it up as such - I hated everything, and I hated everyone. I suppose it's incorrect for to say that this change happened abruptly - in actuality it was being grandfathered in from about 8th grade where cool kids in shop classes thought it'd be funny to gang up on myself and a friend of mine to make our lives a living hell. They even had the audacity to make fun of me one day for wearing a christian shirt. The next year those same kids were smoking pot in the attiic of the shop class... and I hated them. So I guess the real change was from anger at specific individuals to anger at society, which bred people like them. And one can't be mad at society long before they're mad at everyone in it as well.

3) But the revelations I reached (and God knows how or what those were) led me to stage three. Stage three is a state of universal acceptance and forgiveness. It's taking that anger against society and using it to forgive everyone who's been victimized by it. It's disagreeing with others while still respecting them. And while I'm in the middle of it I really can't elaborate much, but one thing I do know is that I'm not immune to periodic sadness, where everything seems to be going wrong, but I guess that's only natural. WRONG. Because it's abrupt. I'm in and out in the period of an hour, and right after I come out I'm laughing and near tears with the pure elation of knowing that I've beat it once more. That's not natural. I don't think many people are conscious of themselves in that manner, and I really don't mean to self-glorify myself.

So anyway, in stages 2 and 3 is where you have the arrogance, but they're different. Stage 2 arrogance is legitimate "I think I'm better than you because you all suck" while stage 3 arrogance is "If I don' t act like I give a damn about myself, I'll end up back at stage 1." I hope that people can respect that. I really try hard not to judge people, and to be honest I think I do a pretty good job of it.

Don't wait for others to believe in you. Believe in yourself and they will follow.

Medic One

Red is the blood which flows from the wound
Black are the sheets of ice
Blue are the lips as they gasp for the air
as the White light burns in the skies

Loud are his cries as the man slowly dies
Quiet the nature around
Blaring the horn of the car round the tree
Silent the reaper seeks harmony

Four children appear before the man's eyes
Three of them bright as the day
the Second one sys "you'll know when you're done"
saved at the last by Medic One

Ask Matt

dimensionsoldier@gmail.com

When I was going through junior high - and the early years of high school for that matter - I used to take pride in the fact that people could come to me for help, and that they would value it enough to apply it to their life. Sadly, I've noticed of late that nobody is coming to me any more.

Now, I'm not going to sit here and say "WAAAHHHH, I want attention, I want to be needed!"

First of all, because that would be stupid.
Secondly, you might never read anything I wrote ever again.
And finally, because that's just not the reason I'm bringing this up.

Look, it's this simple. I like helping people. This isn't about me, other than the fact that I feel as if I could do so much more and help so many more people. What I fear most is the reason why this trend has stopped. Have I become unapproachable? Are people putting me on a pedastel? Have I distanced myself from my friends? I would hope that none of the above are true, but who is to say?

Then again, I'd be lying if I didn't get some personal satisfaction out of doing it.

So I'll tell you what I'll do. I'm going to encourage anyone reading this to refer back to this post at any time (I'll put a link in my header) and either comment or email me.

Honestly, ask me anything. If I can't answer, well, I'll at least try, which in my opinion is a lot more than most people would do. Another thing you could do (if you don't mind making your question public) is to comment directly on this post (there is an option for anonymous comments). Since it'll be linked on my header, it'll always be one click away.

Pick Me!

So blogger has a feature where each month they have scouts report back on "blogs of note." They choose 10 per month, and of course these blogs get subsequent large numbers of hits.

Well, a while back I was thinking how amazing it would be if I got chosen to appear on this list. In fact, it was a goal of sorts - not the kind you base an entire operation on, but the kind you at least consider as a noble undertaking.

So I haven't gotten it yet. You'd have known if I did. I'd be excited to the point of no return. And it's funny because every now and then I look at what they put up there... sure, they're interesting, but do they teach anybody anything? Usually no.

This frustrates me. I'm frustrated by the idea that people will make blogs that are completely worthless. I've seen some pointless stuff, let me tell you. I've seen single mothers writing about their lives as if they're talking to an old friend, and all I can think to myself is why anyone would want to do that. They're talking about their kids and picking them up from daycare and I'm screaming EVER HEARD OF PEDOPHILES!? I guess my point is, if nobody needs to hear about it / nobody cares, write it in a damn journal.

And I know I'm generalizing, and I know that there are families that keep in touch by using blogs so that people can just go and see what's happening in their lives, but I can't help feeling oppressed when it seems things like those are getting more notice than someone who is actually trying to do something, to change people, to make their voice heard.

And as luck would have it, I'm probably wrong on so many fundamental levels that this post doesn't even make sense. But I won't hide what I think or how I feel, because once you start doing that, thinking that you're going to say something "stupid," you strip the project of everything it once was and turn it into that superficial thing you call your life. (that was kinda harsh, I appologize for the people I offended, mostly because I pity them... sorry, again with the harshness... but really, it's okay to be behind a mask as long as that's working for you, and I'm not being sarcastic, I just think that people who come out from behind their masks should get some recognition for it... but as for deserving I will speak no more, huh?).

Yeah, bye.

It's a Crazy World - Mac McAnally

Younger men don't seem to need a purpose
They just stand and fight for anybody's cause
And older men see livin' as a circus
The ones who stand up for the longest need applause
From the young ones who proclaim to have the answers
To the questions no one ever asked before
And they cheer and have parades, but when it's over
They don't claim to know the answers anymore.

And it's a crazy world, but I live here
And if you can hear me singin' so do you
And I'm turnin' out my night light feelin' satisfied
That there's nothin' anyone of us can do
No there's nothin' anyone of us can do.

Baby's cry all day sometimes for nothin'
And I have cried all day for not much more
Well it ain't easy when you hate the things you're lovin'
And you wonder what or maybe who you're lovin' for
And girls seem to think that they're the chosen ones
And when women choose to let well enough alone
And it's their business 'til you stick your nose in one's
And then you've got yourself some problems of your own.

C: A Letter to Satan

A Letter to Satan

Yet again, this letter didn't seem to fit the dirrection I wanted to take it in from the first (which, by the way, proves my MPD to be false). I couldn't even determine who this letter was from, so I just addressed it to Satan. I wonder what he gets for reading material so I figured I'd send him this, yeah?

But seriously, to business. I am sorry to say that this post dealt with me feeling negative feelings towards someone I truly care about. My friend was trying to help me with my relationship issues and wel... she was being a tad bit bossy about it. Granted, that's because she knows what she's talking about, but I didn't want to hear it. The "cold calculations" reference was owing to the fact that she was trying to use college wisdom on me, things she'd learned in her psychology classes. I like to think of myself as different, as if I don't fit the patterns provided in books, so this irked me.

And there too you have the official count. Marcus, Dominic, William, and myself. We declare the victims innocent. This was one of my better developments, which you'll see revisited in Too Deep (I'm Drowning), another of my favorites. The idea is that everyone is affected by something else, something beyond their control, and I have no right to be judging them for things they do in ignorance. I can be frustrated with them, but even if I'm fighting with them I always remember that they are a victim, and so am I.

Change is a constant, even in eternity. From this one statement I base most of my spiritual theology on. I'd go into detail but honestly, I couldn't even begin to explain what I mean. I also thought the idea (I just had deja vu, and I also lost the game, and so did you) that I should not trust myself because Satan was in me was something new. I've never heard it before. Not even in church. I think many religious people like to think of themselves as above being tainted in such a way. But hey, welcome to Dominism.

And wouldn't you know it - it's another crew reference at the end. Well done.

C: A Letter From Matt

A Letter From Matt

I will begin by explaining the three letters, of which you have just read the second. Now, I've told you about Prime, I've vaguely mentioned the Eight, so by now you probably I have a tendency to fragement my character in order to keep things interesting and come to a deeper understanding of myself. But in the early days, there were only a few of these characters. I don't remember exactly which ones were present at that time, but I could assume that they were Dominic, Marcus (interestingly a different Marcus than the later one), and William. Counting Prime and myself, that makes five. So I was going through trying to figure out what to call this (remember these are still posts that were written in my journal) and I realized that none of the characters fit, which was also probably where I threw myself into the mix.

That said, I'd like to accredit my opening line to Joss Whedon (the creator of TV show Firefly and movie Serenity). Just because it's in the script of Serenity. And it sounds cool.

The tipping refers to my relationship issues (a diligent reader would already know about those).

The weight on my neck refers to a cross necklace I had (which I left in the swimming locker room... damn those quick fingered High School students) and the weight on my mind refers to the tipping.

The quote "why escape from life when you can bend it to your will?" is basically the mentality that I've been using ever since I wrote it. I made it in a conversation with a friend who had had it with his life, and I thought about escapism as opposed to combat... you can see what I think about that.

I also placed my faith in a lot here. Faith in Jesus, faith in life, faith in people. I had faith that everything would turn out alright. And I was right.

I'd write more but this one was pretty wordy and it either said what it needed to or said nothing at all.

C: A Letter From Dommy

A Letter From Dommy

Here we are, at the beginning of all things... the very first blog I posted. True, others fall before it chronologically, but they were posted far later (for those of you who haven't read in far enough to know that). And boy is this a cryptic one. Let's start with, say... the IRS.

Yes, the IRS is the reason for this post, though indirectly. Forgive me for getting back up is in response to being knocked down. Unfortunately, by my father. Not physically mind you, but emotionally. Of course, I'm used to that by now. He's got a job he doesn't like, two sons who don't like the things he does, and a house that will never be perfect enough. And though I may have made him seem like a horrible person, keep in mind that all of the qualities I've listed are qualities shared by many within the human population. I love my family despite thier... unfavorable tendencies.

Anyway, sometimes when my Dad gets frustrated with it all he takes it out on us, and all of a sudden minor offenses such as leaving a pair of shoes in the hall becomes a big issue (that would be my brother - the shoes bother me too). And once the reactor has been set off there's no stopping it and everything just avalanches.

A few hours later we may cross paths again, in a vastly more civil manner and everything is okay. I understand that some people just need to get things out of their system and that they can't write about it like I can. That's not the issue. But I come to find out, that few hours later, that the IRS has sent my Dad some sort of paperwork about his tax returns. I don't know what it is or what it means, and I don't care. The point is, I can almost guarantee that this was the pebble that started the avalanche.

I think the post itself sums up the rest pretty well.

C: Buckle Up

Buckle Up

Oh geeze. If you've just read the commentary for Lost you know what's going on here. The same "they" references, etc. This one will be short though, because despite its veiled appearance this one had a fairly clear message.

"They don't see the differences because to them they don't exist."

This comes after the "I think I just like you as a friend" speech. (by the way, that hurts like a bitch...). Anyway, she told me that and I was confused. I told her that she had a lot of friends that were guys, so obviously she had seen something different in me. Right? And that there was a difference. But she couldn't see it, and she expected it to be there which frustrated me. It was like "you don't have that special something, I don't know what it is, but you don't have it."

Of course, that makes sense now. But when you're on the receiving end of the friend's comment you're usually a bit mixed up and hurt.

C: Lost

Lost

Ugh... relationship problems. Where this post says they, it usually means she. I say this because it used to literally say she. I of course edited it when I uploaded it here, so if you're reading this commentary... well welcome to the world of extended DVDs and backstage passes. You win. Your dedication has brought you to a level of fandom so deep that you now get to hear me gripe about my life problems without metaphors and poetry. Do your best not to scream.

Basically, my girlfriend at the time of the writing was up in the air about how she truly felt about me. It was nobody's fault, and nobody got hurt (oh wait, I did) but there's no bitterness (well there was). I'm glad to say most of that is behind us and we've started talking again...

The line "they can't understand, because they don't have what I have" is probably the only instance where they didn't correlate to she. This time it referred to a he who thought he knew what was best for me (and in hindsight, I see he was right. Sorry buddy. Too bad you don't read this. Oh the irony). Anyhow, he told me to just end it and walk away, but you know chivalrous me, I was going to help her through it and stand by her while she figured out her life... yeah, people need space every now and then. I learned that the hard way. I mean, obviously I had the basic concept down, but I never understood that sometimes people needed months. It blew my mind. So by trying to help I actually made things worse, and long story short, it's all over with now. I think.

C: Victory Attained

Victory Attained

Another one of my I'm-going-to-get-down-on-myself phases. The kind where I basically sit in front of you and say "life sucks, but it's okay."

I chuckled to myself as I read this because there's a line in here, "it takes a determinate unsurrenderable willfulness" which came from a song that my band played called Of Sailors and Whales, which was a composers interpretation of the book Moby Dick (which I have yet to read). Anyway, a good friend of mine got the job of reciting a passage from it before the fourth movement (there was one before each movement) and, as I sat next to him, I began to receive second-hand memorization. Even now, over a year later, I can quote parts of it... those were good times, and that was a good song.

The phrase "do they cheer for me, or do they cheer for an idea?" was me feeling like no matter how much praise I got for anything, it was the thing that got the attention, not me. I don't rightly know how to explain it anymore. Go back in time and ask me what I meant... I guess it's a good thing though, because it means I've reached some resolution on the point. I wouldn't say they cheer for both or neither, but for the two combined. Not separate but equal (there is no racial commentary here) but one.

And then of course I had to go talk about Prime again. And Socrates. And of course there's an Ender's Game reference too. Quite the concluding paragraph actually...

The Epic

What is epic? What defines it? What makes it up?

For me, it is something that is on a scale so grand that at times it feels as if something unattainable is now within reach. It's something you have to feel. If you can't live it, it's not epic. Sure, that's kinda vague... but whatever. And I don't mean actually live it... I mean feel it, relate to it, experience it.

Then again, there is another side to that coin. Maybe the epic is something that reveals to us something new, something that we couldn't feel until it came along.

Epic is all about personal interpretation. It's like classic. In school we have to read classics, or books of "literary merit." What's the point of categorizing literature in this way? Just because a bunch of old people on an awards board decide that The Scarlet Letter is a good book doesn't mean that I will. Go ahead, make us read whatever you want. But to call anything classic is to deny that very title to anything else that others might enjoy. I don't see anybody teaching Jack McDevitt anywhere. Oh, but that's because he writes science fiction. There are no morals, character development, or themes in science fiction. And for God's sake, Earth Abides? That book is amazing, and I hadn't even heard about it until a friend showed it to me. Why is that book any less classic or epic than another? Because it's a post-apocalyptic fiction novel? Please.

Danger is when you do something and you don't understand why.

Dreaming Difficulty

What separates reality from the dream?
Or is there something in between?

Are dreams reality, can you tell?
My friend, I pray you listen well.

Our dreams seem so real while we're in them, but when we wake we find them to be irrational, as dictated by a contrived sense of what is real. But in irrationality, there is freedom. In dreams we find a world where we have no expectations of ourselves or the world around us. It is a gift.

But when we wake up, we reinsert those earthly values, putting the expectations back into what we just dreamed. In doing so, we destroy the world we've been given. If we could totally remove our expectations from reality, would we be able to differentiate between reality and dreams? Life itself would become a dream.

So in dreams, what we see can be called personal reality. Our reality is only made up of senses and electroneurotic interpretations, and how reliable can that be? Never believe something just because a "wise" person said it - believe in it because you choose to, because you want to, because it is who you are. Don't be afraid to dream, because on the day that you stop you become a pawn of something greater - greater not because it truly is, but because you let it be.

Is it because we are insecure? Or is it because it is far easier to accept what others believe than to think for yourself? Easier will never be better.

A Burst of Technological Innovation

Lately I've been exploring the capabilities of a program I like to call Google Reader. (I like to call it this because that's it's name).

What Google Reader (for those unfamiliar with RSS or Atom feeds) does, is it compiles posts from people you've suscribed to. For example, I've subscribed to everyone on my friends list on my sidebar. Even more than that, I linked my google reader to my google homepage, so anytime I go to look at google I will be instantly notified if anything new has come up from one of my friends. The great thing about this is that if you are a blogger already, you already have a google account, meaning all you have to do is start adding subscriptions (like mine!).

This is great and all, but I hold the almighty trump card. The shared post feature.

Now, say I go through the posts made by my friends and I think to myself, that's a good post. Too bad my friends in real life won't want to pick through this random persons entire blog to see the wisdom here (that's a reference to all my internet intellectuals out there). So, what do I do? Well, I go through and put those ones I find extraordinary on a shared list. This appears here (I will place a link on my sidebar too). So, any of you who only want to read my blog and not much else can go ahead and check out my shared list, where I unashamedly plug my friends and give them some free advertising.

Also, any post I add will go in the five most recently added shared items list on my sidebar under "Recently Noted."

If any of you see yourself on my shared list and want to be removed, simply contact me and it will be done.

Thanks.

Change Versus Redefinition

I do not like change.

It's as simple as that. I just had to get that out of the way. It's a basic reaction I have... Change? Why? Is there something wrong with me the way I am?

I get offended. I get upset. I get defensive.

It may be true that if I never change I'll never go anywhere... and I bet many of you reading this are shaking your heads, wondering how you could've gotten me so wrong.

Ah, but he's about to pull out another semantics card. (You really should start to see this coming every now and then).

You see, to me, change means CHANGE. When you change a pair of pants, you change those entirely. When you change water into wine, you change it entirely. When you get change for a five, not only do you get a new design, but now you have five of the little pieces of paper. Change is big. Change is CHANGE.

Redefinition is what I use. And if you thought the semantics card was something, just wait for this. Yes! A metaphor. Did you see that coming? Huh?

Redefinition versus change. Take a coin for example. A quarter, let's say. Place it tails up. You'll see an eagle design. Yeah? Well, if you never change it you'll never get anywhere, right? So you flip it over. And now you'll see the head of President Washington. Sure, it's still a coin. Sure, it's still made out of the same medal. But that is so much more drastic than it seems. You didn't just change the coin. You created Washington and destroyed the eagle. That poor eagle... he used to be what you stood for. He used to be your symbol, and now he's gone. That eage was your base.

Well, lets redefine the coin instead. Hm... rotate it 90 degrees. Yep. That eagle is now on his side... but you'll be happy to see that the eagle is still there. Not enough "change" for you? Spray paint it gold. Shiny. New color, same content.

Don't kill the eagle. He's all you've got.

Another metaphor? Now you're just overdoing it. That's just downright excessive.

Flowchart. (I must caution you - this picture is terrible and does not even come close to conveying what I wanted it to... just so you know).



You start your life, and you are faced with the choice of red vs. blue. You choose red (sorry blue lovers, this is purely an example). What next? Perhaps the burnt gold? You choose it. And from there? Is it the pale yellow or the vibrant one? Well see, by this point you've already identified yourself as a red goldy. If that bothers you, well, you can always choose to CHANGE it. Myself? I find that the decisions I make are pretty good. That's why I keep going down my particular color path if you will. And like I said this illustration is terrible. I appologize.

But do you see my point? Instead of turning your back on what you believe, shift it, twist it, spray paint it until you've maximized its potential. If you still don't like it, by all means, change it. I like who I am, I like who I'm going to be, and I know that who I am won't hesitate to change himself if it becomes necessary. I'm just doubting that that necessity will arise. And after all of this inconclusive rambling, I've only one thing to say.

I do not like change.

Ship's Log 3197

We followed the map and directions word for word, but have yet to reach our destination. The men grow restless, but they follow me. I fear the day that they follow me no longer, but the payoff is worth the risk. There's something on that island, and there are people as want it. That's good enough for me. Worst case scenario, we sell it back to them we steal it from.

And I'm not saying it's gonna be easy. Hell, it's already been a journey and a half. Yesterday we broke a bank of fog, just as the map said we would. What it didn't mention were the creatures. Etheral things, flitting in the mists and cloaking themselves in the shadows. They yielded not to stroke of blade. Had they been suceptable as such, we would have left a hundred in our wake.

We lost three men that day. And according to the map we have a three day journey left. We'll set aside those days in the future. And in three days we'll have what we came here for.

Three days.

The Most Valuable Thing

Once again I find myself before a blinking cursor, staring at a blank screen. Why? It's been too long. It hasn't even been a week.

Call it hopeless romanticism. Call it obsession. Call it what you will.

I am of the firm belief that this is the most valuable thing I've done with my life.

And I think about that statement, and I can't think of a single event that tops it. The script comes close, but that never went anywhere (though it will, by God). What else have I even done with my life? I've done no mission work, I haven't helped any starving children.

Aha. Counselling might come close. Counselling friends through troubling times.

But what am I doing here? Counselling the masses, right? And oddly enough, those same friends I once counselled don't even care to read this.

Okay, okay. Maybe I'm not being specific enough. I'm not tailoring my responses to the individual. And yet my email is open, my comments are open, my phone number (for those who know it) is open. And nothing. So that's a stretch, to excuse my lack of readers on ambiguity. Because let's face it. I've been pulling stuff out of nowhere for almost a year now, and I'd rather not find out that this road has a violent end to it.

You can do your part to keep that from happening. I'm serious. Tell people, tell friends. Tell them they don't even have to read my writing. All it takes are people talking to me and allowing me to respond. I'm afraid that I'll run out of things to say. I'm afraid that I never had any potential here in the first place. I'm afraid that I'll fail at something I truly care about. How I measure my success is a mystery to me, but it is there all the same.

Because this is the single most valuable thing I've done with my life. Don't let it be for nothing.

You've Gotta Be Awful Careful...

When you throw your emotions into the mix. Now, that's not to say you shouldn't have them. I would never say that. This isn't Equilibrium here.

What I'm saying is, when you let your personal emotions get in the way of realizing that everyone else has them as well, you're going to have a difficult time of interacting with anyone at all. Every now and then you have to put your own feelings aside to nurture someone elses. And as a teacher (someone trying to instruct others in all manner of ways, not just our favorite professors) it's not a good idea to let those rage out of control.

Firstly, because you lose a bit of credibility, unless you're speaking on the subject of emotions themselves. When people see that you can't even look past your own life experiences, they're not going to want to trust you with theirs now are they?

And secondly, because you're only going to hurt yourself when the world decides you're not as important as you thought you were in the first place. It'll hurt when it seems like nobody gives a damn. It'll hurt and you'll curse life and you'll ask God why everywhere you go it's the same story, and why nobody likes you.

See, the issue here is that there are actually two different types of emotion. Rational, and reactionary. Rational emotion is the emotion you feel constantly, the ideas you hold, the beliefs you defend. Reactionary emotion is when someone insults your mother and you tackle them to the ground with a butterfly knife at their throat. Okay, maybe that's a bit out there, but you get my point. If you can't control it, it becomes dangerous. There are those, however, who will argue that true emotion is not rational, and cannot be controlled. Well... yes and no. But in saying this, they're also saying that because I don't flip out when I hear about hate crimes, I must not care. Which is obviously wrong. A world ruled by reactionary emotion would be chaos.

My advice? Don't take things personally unless it's personal. Once you can choose when to act and when not to, all reactionary emotions aside, you'll find that you feel more powerful and validated, and that those very emotions (which are now rational) can be used more effectively.

That's No Way to Run a Ship

There is little more embarassing than asking for help. Nothing worse than needing it. And most humbling of all, wanting it.

Because to admit that you need help is so much more than what first glances reveal. You must first admit what you cannot do, and in doing so, reveal your own weaknesses to the world. Even now I feel the churning feeling I get when I know I can't do something alone. And it's such a simple, stupid thing too. And I hate that I can see myself change, feel the sarcasm take over in a last ditch attempt at maintaining some sort of honor. And when I feel myself begin to hurt those close to me, I know it's time to stop.

Then again, on the opposite side of the spectrum we should be honored all the more when we're not asked for help. When someone purposefully avoids our aid in order to save their self image. It means respect. It means above all they fear to let their weaknesses known to you, because they care how you think of them.

But that's no way to function. That's no way to run a ship. You can't sidestep around everyone, constantly afraid of what they think and feel. How would you feel if they did the same? You have to trust that they're there for you and that they love you no matter what. And that is harder yet than anything in the world.

So I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm sorry for everything. I hope you can understand it's because I love you and I care what you think about me.

It's Dangerous to Go Alone! Take This!

You cannot make it by yourself. You cannot. It doesn't matter what you do, what you think, who you are. If there's nobody beside you you cannot be validated, you cannot survive.

There are sicknesses in this world. Those of the body and of the mind. Our susceptibility to these sicknesses is what makes us human, what makes us whole. Can we really be expected to fight these illnesses alone? No. And that's the point.

Call it love, call it camraderie, call it what you will. But whatever you call it, it is as vital as breath, and without it life is but a clock, ticking away. Because to have someone care for you is more powerful than you can possibly know.

This Is Why I'm Here

You get home one night. It's dark out. What are you thinking about?

Maybe it's the jet that just flew overhead, or the surprising warmth of the night air. Maybe it's that stack of homework lying on your desk, or maybe on that special someone you just had to leave again, again, each night waiting an agonizing 8 hours where sleep is no sanctuary from the discomfort caused by their absense.

Maybe you drift into that which is not. Scenarios or stories in which you find yourself in an unending cycle of action and reaction. A zombie invasion or government conspiracy... maybe the driver of that approaching car has other things in mind than his destination. Maybe it's time you started running for your life.

But wait, stop. There's no time for that. Remember the homework? Remember the sleep? As much as you'd like to break free and become who you were meant to be, you are held back by this "reality" which serves as nothing more than a rigid boundary. What do you do? There's nothing to do. Right?

But that's why I come here. That's why I'm not afraid to pour my soul out to you. And that's why if you pour yours out to me, I'll treat it as the most delicate thing in the world.

I Like Inspiring People

I like inspiring people because it gives my own life validation. It doesn't matter how. Maybe I cause them to evaluate their life. Maybe it's something brief, a tiny uplifting mood that brightens their day a bit. I like inspiring people because when they come back and tell me when I've done so I know that my time on this earth has not been pointless. Already, I am satisfied knowing that I have made a difference. The question is, how much more can I do? How many more can I reach? Because what is the point of life, really? Money? Possessions? No. It's about people. What you can do for them, what you will do for them. What they will do for you.

I like inspiring people because inspiring people inspire me. Because they took the time to get outside of their own life and reach into mine. Because they care on some spectral level. Because they want to make a change, because they resolve themselves to act. Because they've thought of something that I haven't yet, and I am humbled by it. Because to humble one's self is to be among the people. And from there you can inspire others too.

I suppose by the transitive property I like myself.

Okay

I asked a friend how he's been lately, and he replied with a simple "okay."

"Well," I say, "I've found that okay is pretty damn good."

I was in a jovial mood at the time and I can attribute that response to that state of being, but the more I thought about it the more I realized how true it was.

I know I say this a lot. I know I probably sound like a broken record. But I'll say it once more. And it won't be the last time either, because this is important. From your attitude springs all aspects fo your life, and if you can see yourself at the center of it all it is immensly easier to increase your circle of influence (Raeder ftk). That being said:

Your life is what you make it. No more, no less.

You're only here for a short while. Make it pretty damn good, okay?

Ship's Log 367

Have you ever closed your eyes and dreamed?
Just let yourself go. Let the winds lift you up, free your mind.
Far away from the grating voices, the deadlines, the pressures.
Where are you now?
I'm on a ship. It's not a sailing ship, or a spaceship. It's neither, yet both. We're moving, of course. Not much point to a ship that's not moving.
Means we're going somewhere. Now, where we're going might be important to you, but it's not important to me. For now, anyway. I'm just glad to be here.
But now I venture a little deeper. Now we fly a little faster. Because we're about to become very rich.

C: A Nobody / Slowing Down

A Nobody - Slowing Down

Originally while reading this post, I thought I had nothing to add or say about it. But then I remembered that this post had been tampered with (don't worry, it was by yours truly). What this post (or journal entry) was really about was the fear of me losing my first girlfriend (which happened anyway). Obviously, something like that had a high percentage chance of ending anyway, which is why I said "don't be afraid."

Now, I said this for two main reasons. One, because it's going to end anyway, and two, as Ghost Rider (all plot holes aside) summed up so well, "you can't live in fear." You've only got so much time, so make the most of it while you can.

Actually, the opening tone I took with this post was a "Who the hell am I?" type thing, and resolved to say that I don't know and I'm not supposed to. I'm just supposed to run the race and do my best. Prime was thinking too much about it, hence another reference to him being in the "backseat" which doesn't even make sense, because it's not a car, it's a ship.

Anyhow, you'll see from the next post, Slowing Down, that I completely flipped and instilled self confidence in myself. The idea was that I was going to take it easy, basically reaffirming the Prime removal process.

I Am

I am not your foe
nor your friend.
I am your captain
until the end.

I am not left,
right,
up,
or down.
I am everywhere.
I hear every sound.

I am neither the sun
nor the moon,
not the stars
or the dream.
I am nowhere.
I am the void in between.

I am not the dark,
and I am not the light.
To me you whisper
each and every night.

And all of this,
not because I am right
or wrong.
But because you've known it
all along.

You Know Me

You know me as your friend. As your brother. As your boyfriend. As your captain.

You know that I would never intentionally cause harm to anyone close to me. You know that I strive to attain respect from those near and far. You know that I am a man of God, and you know that my word holds value. You know that I err, and you feel sympathy. You know that I manipulate, but always with an honest goal. You know that I'll fight for my crew and put their lives before mine. You know that I love and hate equally, but value love all the more. And you know that I can be trusted.

But they do not know. They do not know and they do not see. It is because they refuse. It is because they're afraid.

I understand the fear. I understand the pain.

But how dare they impose their weaknesses upon me?

I am no less than they. I am no less.

I am your captain.

I Hate Them

Never turn your back on the team you've built. They are yours, and you are theirs. It's not wrong. You're not using them. They are you. We are us. And we will always be right.

We will always be right because they will always be wrong. Because when they're right, they're us and no longer them. They will never understand. They cannot understand because for all practical purposes they do not exist. They do not inhabit this world or anyother. Physical, spiritual, metaphysical, in each of these realms they can do nothing more than exist as a single conscious symbol for all that is wrong in the world. All that in opposition.

They go by many names. The Man. The Nazis. Terrorists. But for each person, they are something else. Infidels, perhaps. Maybe homosexuals, or black people. Tax-collectors, bossses, relatives. Elitists, warmongerers. Anything or anyone you find yourself in opposition to becomes a member of those ranks. It doesn't matter whether or not they do so willingly, because in all actuality they don't join any ranks anywhere.

I hate them. You hate them too. But who are they? That's for you to decide.

But no matter the contempt we find for them we must fight them without bias. We must fight them because it's the right thing to do. And sometimes, the definition of who they are is cause enough to start a fight. I will stand against any man who judges based on race or sexual preference. I will stand against any man who judges based on religion. So know that in this first step alone you may make more enemies than friends.

Never turn your back on the team you've built. They are yours, and you are thiers. It's not wrong. You're not using them. They are you. We are us. And we will always be right.

Value of Self

A cold I had never known reached inside me,
Gripped my very soul and chilled me.
It was not the weather alone,
On the day they took you away.

Like a thousand piercing needles came
The thoughts of living without you,
A pain above the cold that swirled about me,
On the day they took you away.

My only memory, a ring I had given,
Buried in the earth from whence it came,
Trampled by the feet of the soldiers
That took you away.

A spark of anger started a fire of emotion,
gave new light to the world, through new eyes,
Revealed everything once concealed.
On the day they took you away.

A fire warms the body, warms the soul,
Induces thought
And makes one whole,
On those days when all is taken away.

These thoughts and fears stirred within me,
Kept me awake until the orb of night had long passed,
And made me feel helpless against the storm,
On the day they took you away.

I swore revenge, fed the hatred until it
Took over, became my being,
And made me strong.
For the day when I would take you back.

Day and night I trained upon the hill
Where we had met years before.
A hope growing so thin I found myself crying in frustration,
For the struggle of taking back what is lost.

Upon the grass, sweat rolling down my forehead like
Small rivers of a majestic mountain range,
I fingered your ring and reflected on the day
When they took you from me.

I trained my arts to take you back,
To take myself back,
From the hatred that had consumed me
After they had taken you away.

The day had come.
I was ready, I thought, and so began
My journey of hope, of love.
Accompanied by the strength to make them pay.

On the road, one of my choosing,
faint music from within sounded.
A soft gentle voice sang a tune of sorrow,
the words ringing loud in my head.

"When it seems that all is lost
Take not the path of revenge.
But find yourself on open roads
And look upon the light within.
It shines much brighter than the path
That you have chosen to follow.
So hear my voice, and turn away.
And you will save yourself from death."

The song ended, it’s message clear.
I marched on, without thought.

I forced my way into the keep,
Killed many, justifiably I told myself
Over and again, my guilt being
The price they made me pay in return.

When I found your body on the sacrificial alter,
I found no comfort or closure,
Only the need for revenge,
And the desire to take back my soul.

The voice of the song,
The edict of my love already past,
Could not persuade me.
Lost was more than was taken.

As I am, do not cross me.
What I have become, a man without an honest goal,
Is like danger itself, for danger has naught to lose,
When all is taken away.

Sometimes it is not enough for a man to mourn,
But to satisfy his emptiness with hope,
False hope, for times when
Confidence leaves the land, like the sun, inevitably.

To turn away is death of spirit,
To stand and fight, a sense of duty.
To hunt down evil, honor and glory,
But is there any honor in a purpose lost?

When all is lost, keep the one thing you can.

Yourself.

Humility

Looking outwards into space, the cold emptiness
that sometimes seems so full,
finding what I need.
Humility.
Looking outwards into space, my ships under fire,
knowing that I will die, pass from this world
that was once my own.
Humility.
Looking outwards into space, knowing the end is near.
Finding the courage within, albeit hidden from me.
"Rally the fleet! Rally the fleet!"
Humility.
Looking out from my ship, not caring of the end.
Accepting my faults, my failures.
I have learned to look above myself.
Humility.
The battle won, against unimaginable odds.
Confidence welling up inside,
but not enough to cover
My Humility.

The Sky is Not Hidden

I stole away one summer’s evening,
to gaze upon the dawn.
The earth was black, black as the sky
would have been, had it been night.
I stood upon a rock,
unconsciously struck a pose,
and marveled at the fire which seemingly lit the horizon.
The clouds formed in great sweeps and
took on a fire of their own, joining the earth in its scouring.
The sky held such beauty that was
foreign to the world, and as I found
myself there, so small in the face of the universe,
it was then that I realized what this picture of
perfection had been trying to tell me.

There are times in life when we
must black out the earth to our minds and
cast our eyes upwards, for otherwise
we will continue on,
content with ourselves,
and forget that we are not alone,
not by ourselves in death, hatred,
condemnation.

This experience gave me insight, new thought,
and as I thought, I looked up to the heavens.
Returning home, I remembered.
For is that not one of many flaws of mankind?
Forgetfulness?
Therefore what I would ask of you is simple.
Please remember.
For the sky is not hidden.

You only need search for it.