Futile Entry

So I was just lying on the floor and my head was resting awkwardly on my arm...it was pretty uncomfortable...and I felt this tension in my neck, but I just kept lying there. So I thought, “Why don’t I just move?”. But I couldn’t. I don’t know why exactly. I liken it to that really comfortable feeling you have just before you drift off to sleep, when you don’t want to move for anything, but realize you have to when you get an itch on your foot. Only, in this case, I was really uncomfortable, yet didn’t want to move, but had to in order to write this blog entry. Which makes me wonder why I even wrote this to begin with. I think my brain’s itchy.

Idly,
BR80

"Heart Cooks Brain"

Oops. I should stop being so hasty with my affection. Even though I've found someone I feel I really connect with, I'll always have that rift of inexperience. It's too bad. I mean, you finally meet a girl you really like...something that's pure and unadulterated, like this untapped sensation you haven't felt since primary school...and you get ransacked with the reality that everybody's grown up around you. I have to face it, I'm very green. Some people are just really mature for their age, by which I mean, when it comes to having loads of past relationships...both weak and strong. I guess I never wanted something weak. I guess that's my problem. But I've always taken satisfaction in knowing that she's out there somewhere, and that she's been living her whole life just as I have: wondering where that one love is. Ya know? You know.

Zealously,
BR80

One, Two, Many...

I wish I didn’t change my mind so much on things...and on people.

I loved her for her mind, I loved her for her boldness.

I love her for her soul…for her humble meekness.

I thrived on her fierce opinion.

I revel in her sweet resilience.

I always admired her diehard persistence.

She always imparts her levity.

She used to ground me with gravity.

She stands before me.

She lies in my wake.

She’s here.

She’s gone.

Here by me, for a time.

Right of Way

I think I need to change. There are so many things in my life that I need to work out…mainly my priorities. I’ve been struggling with my faith...not in losing it, just in understanding it and in coping with my neglect towards it. I want to know myself better, I want to know what I believe, and when I know, I want to be able to find someone to love, someone who believes the same. I guess those are the prospects I desire and the pressing issues at hand. But getting back to that whole priorities thing…I need some higher ones. Everything I dream of wanting for my life is deeply flawed in that I’m only focusing on what I want for my life…I’m only thinking of what is best for me. Shouldn’t I be helping others? I should be thinking of solutions for meeting the needs and dreams of others. I know a blog’s purpose is to document a person’s own wants and thoughts…but I’m sick of thinking about what I need. I’m not saying that I’m a terrible and selfish person, but if I continue to indulge in my own priorities over God’s, I’m definitely on my way to becoming one.

BR80

Diggin' Up History, Burying Memories

It’s been almost two years now since I left High School, I guess I’m missing a lot of people. It’s strange, usually when someone’s gone from your life you mourn and have a eulogy spoken at a small gathering in remembrance, after which, some dust is scattered and you reflect on what you would’ve said to that one person if they were still with you. But instead of this we have celebrations and ceremonies for entire graduating classes. I think it’s kinda sad.

"The passive master lent his hand, to the vast Soul which o'er him planned."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson's Gravestone

It isn’t, however, like all of the people you know instantly “die off” after the grad rituals…it’s more like a slow burn that occurs after the fact, after school is over with completely. It’s more like your entire graduating class slowly departs, their existence (as you know it) gradually slipping away, never giving you that chance to say something that’s of worth. Some go sooner than others, and some hold on, they stay in touch for as along as possible and cling to their relationships like a person to life on their death bed. But I guess there’s nothing wrong with moving on…you have to…it’s like coping with loss through death. And it’s for this that I hate photos. Forgetting the little things is what makes moving on so doable. Gawking at a photograph only does what I don’t want to do: fixate on the dead.

All dug out,
BR80

An Incommunicable Attraction

I think I was too awestruck to fall in love with this girl I just met the other night. And when I’m awestruck...I’m awkward...so unfortunately we didn’t really get to speak for as long as I would have wished. Initially, and with a hefty crowd between us, she was informally introduced to me from afar, yet I wasn't genuinely acquainted until I had met with the sound of her voice. Through her sweet rhythm of speech I heard what I can only begin to decipher as the essence of a beautiful human-being. A little melodramatic? Sure…in words and on paper, and by all sorts of love riddled adjectives…it is melodramatic. But melodrama shmelodrama! When it comes to love it’s not like you can have an original over exaggeration anyway, since every man at some point throughout history has felt this exact way towards some other woman, and not to mention the fact that this particular girl has probably had her share of guys romanced by her charm. All in all, nothing's new under the sun...and I'm just following the rules of attraction entirely by the numbers. But all that aside, my main point is: I can’t put into words how this girl’s beauty makes me feel…well I could, but I’d have to stoop to some mindless babbling about her fair hair and the sweetness her smile…which doesn’t rightfully convey how I feel…so I should stop typing.

Wordless,
BR80

Contradicting Myself

Ho-hum. I'm bored, I'm lonely, I'm wishing I could do what I want with my life. And what's that exactly? Absolutely nothing and absolutely everything. I want to find a girl I love, settle down, and just exist. I'm in the wake of the beginning of my entire life and I'm already looking forward to retirement. I wonder what that says about me? I guess it could mean I lack ambition. And that may have some element of truth in it, yet at the same time, I'm weighed down by an overwhelming need to find some kind of purpose. Some days I want to make the biggest difference I can in the world and other days I'd prefer to just disappear from civilization completely. I guess for now my greatest motivation is attempting to find a solution to these contradictions.

Looking in all the wrong places,
BR80

Grandpap's Cell

Today my grandfather asked me if I knew his cell number, so I said "Yes" and asked "Why?" He replied, "So I can save you from the Devil." I love my grandfather, he's hilariously perplexing.

-BR80

Trained

“How do you guys always get here so fast?” I asked. “Police scanners” the reporter replied with a tone of total coolness. I mean, the accident happened so quickly, veering from the regular stream of life so suddenly, that I was startled to find myself speaking with the reporter moments after the c-train I was on had collided with a truck and trailer. Although, not singularly the most astounding event in itself, I caught myself enthralled by the action, the madness, and the utter chaos forged around me, all by a vehicle careening through a crossing arm and into a train. Like the many abnormal events of my life, this one left me to ponder my mind out of its skull.

"Try to learn something about everything and everything about something."
-Thomas H. Huxley

Initially, just after the crash occurred, I began reflecting on, of all things, the probability of this happening to me. Next, the implications of fate ran through my mind, followed by thoughts of confusion surrounding how and why this event had occurred. And before I could even fathom the full extent of the situation I glanced out the train window to see the man, in his truck, his head barley moving. Suddenly, my mind switched gears…I was helpless to help him. I had failed to notice the grisly and crippled truck just outside my window, and even more unnoticed was the man himself, buried under a heap of metal. I don’t know, I’m usually pretty hard on myself with most things, and this awful scenario was no exception. An ambulance arrived in due time, and a helicopter took the driver to the hospital…yet I couldn’t help but think of what I should've done in aid for the man. Yet, limited by mere first aid training, I’m still riddled with a guilt grip of responsibility. But the truth was, I was too afraid to do a thing. I asked myself: “Do I really think I have the moral fibre to approach this truck, peer into its twisted insides, and hope of finding a human life to save?” No, I don’t have that fearlessness. I can wish all I want and convince myself that I knew what to do, but I was utterly self-doubting in that moment. I can’t even begin to deny what a huge responsibility it is to try and save a life. I affirmed (since this accident) that I will never shirk the importance of knowledge, that which can be used to save another's life, and for this, I will begin Emergency Medical Responder training this spring. Maybe then I can help as many people along the way as possible. But first I’ll need a reeeeal good police scanner.

Insured,
BR80

Peeps over Principles

I can’t seem to come to terms with the people of this world. The very leaders of our society, lest we offend someone, decree all principles acceptable and offer consent to every morally decrepit concept (fathomed by any self indulging fiend). Yet simultaneously, this same society tells us, though we may never counter another’s beliefs, we have the utter freedom to hate individuals themselves…because hey, this is more acceptable. We’d rather hate a person than their choices. Still, I always thought it was better to despise the belief and respect the person. But I suppose to some degree, it’s more important in our culture to hang the thief than to prosecute their principles.

Computing,
BR80

A Matter of Seconds

I mused over my own joke, while my friend glared, and I began to wonder: "How is it that a person can be so callous?" The cold eyes grew on me as though they yearned to brutally devour me in that single moment...and that's all it was really...a moment. Couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Yet, a moment is all it takes to break one's confidence and scorn a lonely heart. I reflected on the importance of taking two steps out of my stride to pay attention to every person...each one. And suddenly, as instantaneous as the thought proceeding, this notion crept up on my mind quicker than ever before: Only by my suffering would I awake to the shrill reality of the suffering of others. An abrupt guilt rushed over me. Who had I abandoned in the wake of my life? I was positive I'd done it many times, to many people, to people that needed someone! After a brief but tedious reflection I realized I couldn't be there for everyone, and that many would rather not be helped, feeling no help is sought. Yet still, I had to try to do something...or anything. I have a responsibility. And it was all seen so clearly in that single moment. I need to contact some people.

Via Blog,
BR80

Tally ustd/!!1

mY kybord hsn’t en wokingg tonigt. mostl w typin; 'T', 'E', "r", 'O", and 'b'. I’s seeeosly busd1!!

sEnerly;
R80

Waiting in Purgatory when suddenly, outright stupefied, I catch eye of an Angel.

"Death be not proud"

Today I was asked whether or not I would have any regrets if I died tonight...and I don't feel I would have any. I was pressed further and asked whether or not I would feel any disappointment towards the fact that I would not have had the chance to experience the great things of life such as love, contentment, and the fruits of growing old...and yet again, I don't feel I would have any regrets. If I am to die tonight, it is because I was never suppose to experience such things fully, therefore I would miss nothing, but instead, fulfill my purpose.

"DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so...

...One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die."

-John Donne

I think everyone's been contemplating their own mortality since the thousands died the 26th...well, at least most have been. Everyone dies. I was once told that every secular person, in their time of death, will struggle to accept the Darwinian approach to mortality. Believing we are destined for nothingness doesn't sit too well with the nearly departed. Because a prospect like that isn't only depressing...it's frightening. Who would truly believe in nothingness when they themselves are on their death-bed slipping into the dark? I mean, I'm sure Darwin had some regrets when he was dieing...who wouldn't when you believe you're merely worm food, destined for nothing more than a burial. People lose their lives every day, and sometimes thousands die in a single moment, so it is for this reason that we must put a face to every number to maintain the sanctity of human life, not simply for the reason that every person is an evolved creature, but because every human being is blessed with a soul and a purpose, whether in life or death, beyond all comprehension.

Pensively Pensive,

BR80

A Mirror with a Memory

Seeing friends, catching up, chewing the fat, and such...it's rad. Meeting up with some of the friends that made it home for the holidays reminded me of old times, even if those days aren't far behind me, I still need just a little reminder of how things were. And things were awesome.

"Life's a garden...dig it!"

I suppose in a way I both love and hate photos. I think time has a way of skewing perspective, and the best way to see how things truly were is by gazing into a moment via photography. Sometimes a single glance at a photo can set your mind ablaze with all kinds of revelations of the past. I ponder a lot, and I'm a very visual person by nature, so naturally, catching sight of a sentimental photo is an ignition for my mind in a gargantuan way. There are some thoughts I'd rather not think, and some memories I’d rather not recall, however, sooner or later one of those ancient and forgotten photos (one that captured the face of a person you’d just soon forget) rears in a heartbreaking way. But all-in-all, I’m pretty satisfied and completely thankful for the time I shared with friends this break...new and old, photographed and otherwise.

Done Typing,
BR80

Mad

I'm definitely not an angry person, and anyone that knows me knows this. I haven't much pent up rage, however, no one in this world infuriates me more than my own brother. In complete honesty, I have yet to meet someone I could possibly hate, but nothing comes as close as the sheer frustration he brings me. Patience can only wear so thin. I'm human...cursed. For real.

Seeing Red,
BR80

The Prospects

I feel lost...I need some direction. I need to know my purpose for the future. And in the end I think nothing answers the questions of the unknown like a vigorous round of M.A.S.H.

|||| |||| = 10

Home: Mansion Apartment Shack House

Lady Friends: Ashley Emma Jessica Oprah

Children: Zero Two Nine Five

Vehicles: HUMMER Go Kart Helicopter Creepy Van

Locations: Mountainous hillside Tropical paradise Downtown metropolis Middle of the Ocean

Things: Laser Gun Jet-Pack Sky Scraper Flaming Nunchucks

Finally I can rest easy knowing the truth.

-BR80, Circa 1985

Girl with a Pearl Earring

My heart the sheath of twinge and pain
Can't seal this day for mind to gain
So hold this time and taste the rinds of vine grown living skin
And know the veins that bleed my blood by every drop within

"Robitussin!"

I was in a car accident two years ago this November. My back still hurts. Unfortunately, I'ma real lightweight when it comes to most drugs...especially muscle relaxers...they're like horse tranquilizer on me. I lose complete control of my appendages. Anyhoo...I took some. Hopefully they don't interfere with my progress in using that high-powered band-saw today.

Throw'n it to the wind,
BR80

Thought Filled

I'm not trying to be angsty. I'm only writing this because I have too many thoughts and they're starting to overwhelm me. I pray to God often, asking for forgiveness, patience, wisdom, and peace. I struggle so much with just being able to let things go. I plague myself with all sorts of memories and "what-could-have-been" scenarios. I've had many new experiences in the last two years, many more then I've ever had throughout my entire life. Most have been eye opening, and many, somewhat disappointing. I always have such great expectations, and such hope in others. I pray a lot, I ask for peace...but in asking for peace I only drown my mind in a compulsive prayer, a repetitive ritual that slowly loses its coherence...and that's not peace...that's torture.

I experienced some closeness the other night. It was a physical closeness. Something I haven't felt in a long time. It was simple; it was just the touch of another person. I've been lonesome. I never compromise my principles...they're who I am. That's what made the other night so important to me, I didn't have to compromise, because I wasn't desperate for attention or affection, I wasn't searching for another person to feel close to...it just happened, and it felt really real. Yet at the time, even in my state of peace, I understood how fleeting that moment of closeness would be. It was an incredibly bittersweet night. It's amazing what alcohol does to the mind. Not my mind, but the minds of others. I recall the night with perfect clarity, and it's the clarity of these memories that plague me...they're gonna be in my head for a while. It breaks my heart to know that I'm the only one that has these memories. Even the person I felt close to has no recollection. So what's that mean?

I think it means the other night was just as real as any of my dreams, and just as short-lived. A dream is something one can only experience for themselves, and no other person can share. I had an experience the other night that I can't share with anyone, not even the girl I held. I'm the only one with a memory of that evening, and without the ability to share that experience, it mine as well had not even happened. I suppose this is what's been on my mind, and now it's on a blog. I'm not pathetic, I'm just hopeful. Hopeful that someday soon I'll find a closeness that's anything but fleeting. A relationship that reminds me how real and tactile affection is. But, is that love? I dunno.

Afflicted,
BR80