Thinking out loud - so to speak.

Friends,

Here we are again. Me: sitting at my computer. The soft-pitched whine of the spinning fans keeping me company in the dark. The soft glow of the monitor provides just enough light to illuminate the room so I can find my cup of coffee. The craving to share my thoughts have swept over me, forcing me to appease my blogging addiction.

I want to share my introduction to Mitch Albom. Though, I've never met him, a higher power has made it a point to make sure that his work was introduced to me.

October 25th, 2006 - As I'm looking for a new-to-me book to read at Half Priced Books, I literally almost trip over a novel lying on the floor. The Five People You Meet in Heaven is actually "glowing" up at me. I pick it up and begin to read. A purchase is made and I head to Mozart's to feed my mind. Who knew that my soul would enjoy a good meal, too?

June 26th, 2007 - I am once again at Half Priced Books, looking for a book of poems by Robert Browning. A book is mis-slotted right next to the one I want. It looks familiar. A hard-bound book is etched with a font that I have seen before. Another novel by Mitch Albom - Tuesdays with Morrie. I am probably the only living soul that has yet to read it. A purchase is made and I head to Mozart's. I easily tear through 100 pages - more than half the book in less than two hours.

Each time I read these books, my mind and emotions are exercised to the point of physical exhaustion. It's proof that mind, body and soul are connected. Whether I'm at home or a local coffee shop, I spend the drive home and/or that night in bed unable to sleep because of the passages I have read. This might also explain the late-night writing...

These two books have focused intently on death. They are portrayed in a beautiful manner, not in a morbid sense. Both are easy reads. His work does not have to be disected at the literary level, but it makes you think in your own, unique way. These books have made me ask myself a lot of questions. The following is a few of the answers that I have found.

My time here has already been determined. What I do with it is solely up to me. Though God already knows how every play of my life will occur, I have been given the free will to make my own choices and decisions. I grasped this concept even as a child in elementary school. I proudly sported a t-shirt once a week (usually Fridays) that stated: "You're born. You die. What happens in between is up to you." Death has a way of making you live. I am chronically ill. Although it will probably not claim my life, it will make it extremely uncomfortable at times. Since I was told about my disease, I spent only a few days on self-pity and fear. That was enough. I'm reminded enough about it through how I physically feel to recognize that it's there. This recognition is only necessary so that I can combat it the best I can with my medication and diet. There is nothing I could have done to prevent it. I'm genetically predisposed, so there is no reason for regret. However, it has made me appreciate "the little things" even more. Even the simple act of wiping my own ass is a blessing. One day, I might not have an ass to wipe. A colostomy is the only cure for my disesase...

Lately, I have intimately contemplated what I have done with my life and whether or not I am proud of what I have accomplished. I guess I'm trying to discover the meaning of life while I'm still alive. My brain won't be able to figure it out when I die. Here are two definitions that I have come across during my life. I agree with both of them.

The meaning of life is to live it. I live life in a unique way - as does everyone else. However, I've recently discovered that I am different than most people. I get more out of this life because I am emotionally advanced. A hightened emotional life is both the cause and effect of my lagging mental capacity and physical qualities. My social skills are also a disaster. Everything that happens to me is experienced on an extreme emotional level. A sunset can bring tears to my eyes. A kind word can put me on a high for days, if not more. I'm not moody or manic-depressive. I just ride this rollercoaster with a certain, white-knuckled intensity. This usually opens myself up to the accusation of being too sensitive, etc. In this society, we're so quick to treat people who exhibit this behavior with insults and medicine. These people have a gift. Don't get me wrong - if your emotions cause you to be a threat to yourself or others, you probably need some help. My emotions don't run me. I don't embrace them. I own them.

The meaning of life is to love and worship God. It is important to be part of something bigger than yourself. It's also the tell-tale sign of a true romantic. Too many things have happened in my life for it all to be a coincidence. However, I can't use those events to explain my relationship with God. Faith is what separates those who love God and those who believe he exists - just in case.

So, am I happy? If I pass in my sleep tonight, can I let it all go? Absolutely. Sure, there are a lot of things that I still want to do. I want to be a great father to my son. I want to make new memories in old places. There are some things that I enjoy that I shared with the wrong person. I also have the desire to leave a mark in this world, but with one, simple twist.
There is probably only one way to enrich my life. It's something I have no control over, though. But sometimes I think: "Wouldn't it be grand to meet someone on my path?" As I mentioned before, I am somewhat of a romantic. I feel as though I live with only half of a heart. The other half is with someone else. The only thing I really "want" is to find it. How blissful it would be to spend my life with someone that could teach me and learn from me. So often I've thought about how to leave my mark in this world. What I really want is to co-create a relationship that would let us leave our's. Although I'm only at the tender age of 26, I sometimes feel that any time without this person is time wasted - especially if I die sooner than later. I'm hoping God will send that person to me sooner than later, too. Times like these remind me of two things my father once told me:

Don't waste good time. There was a time in my life where I harbored a lot of anger at people who hurt and/or betrayed me. People still hurt and betray me, but I forgive a lot quicker. You have to let go. Don't let other people ruin your time on this earth.

The hardest time in a young man's life is between the ages of 20 and 30. God, this is so true! My life has been a rocky road for the last several years. I know people frown at the notion of getting older, but he's probably right. Maybe God's waiting until I get there before I sabatoge both our lives - unintentional as it may be.

I can be a patient person and servant of God. Quite frankly, I only want one more relationship - my last one. If I have to spend the next few (several, whatever) years alone to get there - so be it. Why do all of my blogs get steered in this direction?

People often have a hard time taking me seriously. Either because I'm joking all the time or because I write things that seem too personal and intimate to share. When times get tough, I often find myself laughing and joking through them. It isn't a device to mask my hurt - but sometimes things get so out of control, the only thing left to do is laugh about them. The truth is, I want everyone who cares to know about me to know the true me. Besides, if you read this and feel inspired, changed or better in any way, then I have been able to give you a small gift. I live for moments like that.

God bless,

-J

Connection Group.

I generally consider myself to be a happy person. However, I have had many obstacles to face and overcome this week. God doesn't place things in front of us that we are unable to handle. I face great challenges because I have the strength to do so. I have the strength to give them back to God.

This week I felt like I was at the end of my rope. Friendships went sour, work was a disaster and I've had to pull myself away from people and situations that were not healthy for me.

I did it! Through God and friends that came through for me at just the right time, I have returned to the James that I am supposed to be. Sorry for the blog, but I feel so liberated!

Thank-you to my Lord and Savior who already knew I would write this. Thank-you to my church group who really reached out to me tonight and will never read this. Thank-you to those special friends, though few and far between, who never give up on me.

One Art.

Though a beautiful turn of phrase, I'm afraid it's not my own. I heard this poem today and it really spoke to me. Enjoy.

One Art.

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

-Elizabeth Bishop

I don't understand, but I do.

I am actually way too busy to be messing around on the computer, let alone write a blog. However, this seems to be my new hobby of late... Let me quickly fill you in on my day:

Work
Errands
Bills
Grocery shopping
Peugeot (if this guy doesn't buy it, I'm setting it on fire)
Run-around on getting Luke tonight
Appointment with my tattoo artist (I only have Luke until 8).
More work

I'm not complaining, I'm just pointing out how ironic it is that I continue to write this.

Now, the story. I've been working all week on a friend's PC. Why? Because I'm a nerd. What of it? To protect the identity of said friend, we'll call them Pat. Yeah - nice unisex name, huh?

Pat has frequently visited to check on my progress. However, it seems to be an excuse to leave the house. Pat, who never really wants to do anything, has wanted to hang out a lot more lately. Pat's spouse has apparently been a little needy lately (according to Pat). It's also why Pat and I never end up hanging out. Good thing for Pat that I have a lot of time on my hands (except today - we covered this).

It then occurred to me that I would love to have what Pat has. It's not envy, but I would love to come home to a caring spouse! Don't get me wrong - being single isn't awful, but yes, sometimes I get lonely. It's not in the sense that I have to be with someone, but I do miss having a best friend with whom to share things. I miss talking about my day, I miss having someone think about me, I miss sharing a bed with someone, etc. I wish someone needed me from time to time. By the way, there is a difference between being a little needed and being totally abused.

I know I take this a little far by using the word, "spouse." "Significant other" would also be appropriate. I would like to lie awake each night - taking just a little longer to fall asleep because someone special was on my mind (okay, it happens now, but that's another blog); And at the same time know she fell asleep just a little easier because she knew I adored her.

My point? Be thankful, Pat! Marriage is compromise. Both parties have to conceed to the truth that it DOES takes work. However, the notion of spending the rest of your life with your best friend is absolutely beautiful!

I guess I'm glad I get to vicariously learn these lessons so I don't mess things up when I finally get my chance. Just thought I'd share...

Renoir, Jimi Hendrix, loose ends, poetry and fatigue...

This blog has been a long time coming. A lot of it has been building up in my head and heart for the last 24 hours or so - or maybe it was some final straw to force me to do something about it. This also serves as an outlet to get some things off of my chest without directly putting a burden on my friends. After all, you don't HAVE to read this.

Renoir - Luncheon of the Boating Party

Look at it closely. It's a perfect personification of my life. It always has been. Are Renoir and myself the only two people that have walked this earth who feel this way? I'm reminded everyday of how different I really am. This painting hangs in my living room. It doesn't depress me, so it's not bad Feng Shui or self-destructive. In a weird way, it comforts me. It makes me feel understood.

Jimi Hendrix.

When I was younger (pre-college), I used to listen to a lot of Jimi Hendrix. Recently, a couple of artists have covered one of my favorite songs, Bold as Love. Life has definitely happened since the last time I listened to it and I have a new-found appreciation for the lyrics. I think my obsessive-compulsive nature has caused me to overplay the song (by most standards). However, for some reason, it's really hitting home this week.

Loose ends.

A few months ago, I saw a friend that I hadn't seen in a while. Circumstances (actually, another person) that particular evening really made our reunion unpleasant and ackward. Though out of my control, I felt really bad about the situation that dampered the evening. I ran into her this past weekend. We both apologized (though neither of us were at fault) and cleared the air. It's funny how things resolve themselves when the time is right. It shouldn't have happened any sooner. I had to let go of some other feelings before I was ready to hear what she had to say.

Poetry.

Although I am the worst poet to ever roam this earth, I like to convey my thoughts and feelings in a more artistic form. I guess it makes me feel more intelligent due to my normal, everyday lack of eloquence. Actually, to even use the word, "poet" for what I write is injustice to its existence. Last month, I came across a poem that I had written a LONG time ago. It's not addressed to anyone in particular. Okay, it is - but I have no idea who that person is. I've recently started to add to it - I don't know if it's inspiration or boredom. Someday I will be able to finish it. And someday (if the day ever comes) I will get to read it aloud and share it. Why does it make this blog? I guess because of how much it means to me and the sheer anxiety and suspense that is included with keeping it the only secret that I have.

Fatigue.
I need a vacation. Until I am able to relax, I have a feeling that the intoxicating effects of working like crazy are going to manifest themselves in blogs like this.

Untitled 1.

I try so hard to find your color
Lost in a rainbow abyss.
My favorite shade of red gets covered
Only by a sense of bliss.

What left then, when all to lose?
And furthermore, all to gain?
Waiting for God's will to choose
A painless form of pain.

Boldness has never been so shy
Though windows have been opened.
The classic battle of asking why -
Hopeless hope for hoping.

For those of you who don't believe me...

A couple of people have called me and asked what I was doing this evening. I told them I was helping my friend build a toy-barn for his son (so he has a place for his menagerie). For some reason, some of you didn't believe me. I guess my quasi-defensive nature has forced me to provide proof. Besides, I always enjoy the opportunity for a pointless blog.

1/4" birch press-board - $8

Wood glue that's been sitting in the garage for 2 years - $2.59

PowerShot electric staple / nail gun that ended up to be defective when it was brought home - $19.99

Craftsman manual staple gun and staples - $16.99

Dremel - $39.99

6 pk. of Bud Light - $4.29

Band-Aids - $2.98

Trip to the emergency room - $350

Blood spilled - 4oz.

Labor - 3 hours x 2 idiots = 6 hours

Making a toy for great kid that you could have easily purchased for $20 in the matter of minutes but decided to venture the road less travelled - PRICELESS.

There are some things money can't buy. For everything else there's Mastercard. For anything not mentioned earlier, there's always 2 water-heads that sometimes wonder how they became such great friends and happen to live 100ft. away from each other - causing them to create more mischief than is socially acceptable.

P.S. - No idiots were harmed in the making of this barn.

It's ALIVE!

Woohoo!

At approximately 6:40pm on this day of our Lord;

The First Day of June in the Year Two Thousand and Seven

The 1991 WaveJammer 500G came to life. I can't wait to get it wet! I am a GEN-IUS! That's for all of you "Grandma's Boy" fans...

This one's for you, Uncle Larry!

-J