“can I be myself in the presence of people who don't understand me?”
This question was posed at a book signing/open discussion I attended tonight. It struck a chord in me when I realized that until recently I would not have been able to answer “yes” to it honestly. I spent a good deal of time (well, a long time) very uncomfortable in my skin. Insecurity was/has been an issue for me since I was a kid, for as far back as I can remember I had the sinking feeling that sooner or later someone would realize that I didn't belong, that I was somehow not deserving of my position. It gripped me in a way that is difficult to explain; in a way, I suppose I allowed it to define me.
Then one day I woke up.
“One day” might be a bit of an overstep... it has taken time for me to realize who and what I actually am – and even longer for me to accept what I am not. But, regardless of the timeline, my skin has gotten comfortable – it fits me well these days. Finally.
Hoping you can say the same.
Thursday, November 18
Tuesday, November 16
"These are good times to put down the sword and pick up the pen.”
That was a part of my horoscope for tomorrow, but I think I might adopt it as a more long term mantra.
Writing is therapy for me, whether it is for public consumption or just for myself it is one of the most effective ways I process anything. Conversation can be great as well, but involves another's opinions by default. When I write I am forced to face my own thoughts, my own opinions. These unfiltered snippets reflect me, more often than not I read this stuff back and think “ah, so thats what I really feel about that”. It's a bit like wandering around a new town without a map. Sometimes I wish I were better at it, whatever that means, but this emotion fades quickly. It isn't a job for me, and it is something that I do that seeks no validation. I simply do it because on some levels I have to. There is no real process or method I follow, no deadline, no expectation – it's one of the few things in my life that I do for me and me alone. I am not going to try and come off too detached, I am certainly aware and appreciate that you read these words – but that is not the reason I do it. Lord knows that if it were I might consider that I should give a flying fuck about things like grammar and form and sentence structure... mercifully for me, given my “ability”, I could really care less about any of that.
What I do care about, is that I still feel like I have something to say.
Generally when I write it is based around an idea or concept that starts churning around in my head and will not stop. The best metaphor I can think of would be that it is like having an upset stomach – you ignore it as long as you can and then eventually you realize that you are going to purge. Usually this makes things feel much better.
This also seems to often apply for me when I read back the outcome that is left on the page afterward. (self-effacing tendencies in full swing...)
Writing is therapy for me, whether it is for public consumption or just for myself it is one of the most effective ways I process anything. Conversation can be great as well, but involves another's opinions by default. When I write I am forced to face my own thoughts, my own opinions. These unfiltered snippets reflect me, more often than not I read this stuff back and think “ah, so thats what I really feel about that”. It's a bit like wandering around a new town without a map. Sometimes I wish I were better at it, whatever that means, but this emotion fades quickly. It isn't a job for me, and it is something that I do that seeks no validation. I simply do it because on some levels I have to. There is no real process or method I follow, no deadline, no expectation – it's one of the few things in my life that I do for me and me alone. I am not going to try and come off too detached, I am certainly aware and appreciate that you read these words – but that is not the reason I do it. Lord knows that if it were I might consider that I should give a flying fuck about things like grammar and form and sentence structure... mercifully for me, given my “ability”, I could really care less about any of that.
What I do care about, is that I still feel like I have something to say.
Generally when I write it is based around an idea or concept that starts churning around in my head and will not stop. The best metaphor I can think of would be that it is like having an upset stomach – you ignore it as long as you can and then eventually you realize that you are going to purge. Usually this makes things feel much better.
This also seems to often apply for me when I read back the outcome that is left on the page afterward. (self-effacing tendencies in full swing...)
Monday, November 15
letters to the dead
I'm writing letters to the dead, saying things I never said
You can hear me, your words echo right here on my arm
When I felt the needle pierce my flesh
I knew you never left
Paths divided, miles were crossed -
Regret is not a concept for the faint of heart
Never knew your happiness, his song wasn't mine to hear
Your voice transposed and transplanted to whisper in her ear
Dreams, like youth and twisted metal, can't carry on forever
The waking hours fall silent now as they have for years
No caustic wit. No brazen laugh. No brother's well placed word.
Just a missing smirk, an untouched drink and memories remain.
You can hear me, your words echo right here on my arm
When I felt the needle pierce my flesh
I knew you never left
Paths divided, miles were crossed -
Regret is not a concept for the faint of heart
Never knew your happiness, his song wasn't mine to hear
Your voice transposed and transplanted to whisper in her ear
Dreams, like youth and twisted metal, can't carry on forever
The waking hours fall silent now as they have for years
No caustic wit. No brazen laugh. No brother's well placed word.
Just a missing smirk, an untouched drink and memories remain.
Thursday, November 11
11/9
So I just realized that today is my ex-wedding anniversary. Its an odd day for me each year – I really look forward to forgetting this date – but I'm not sure I ever will. It is etched pretty deep.
It doesn't bring pain, nor happiness – its just another day really, just a day that reminds me of what I once thought was a good idea...
It shines an interesting light on decisions I am making in the present tense that I feel are also right and good.
It's basically a big fucking beacon that says - “you were wrong then, jackass. what makes you thing you are right now?”
I know in my head that thats bullshit thinking, but its tricky to argue with the logic, I am too smart to know any better.
In my head, I know that the past is just that, the past. It doesn't have to frame the present. I spend a good deal of time reminding myself of that fact. Hopefully that isn't time well wasted.
In the real world, though, it is THE major thing that attacks my confidence. It DOES frame my reality to some extent. I have been so very wrong before – and this silly box on the calendar serves to remind me of just how serious the consequences are when I misjudge at that level. It serves to remind me that there is no such thing as a trivial choice. In a way November 11th means more now then it did when I was still married. It stands no longer for an eternal union. It stands no longer for love, commitment, joy... It stands as a grave marker to my decision-making. There are times when I believe what it has to say about me, even though everything I am cries out for it to be wrong. My actions often argue with me on this.
Anyway, happy anniversary to me is in order – raise a glass if you have one, I am sitting this toast out.
It doesn't bring pain, nor happiness – its just another day really, just a day that reminds me of what I once thought was a good idea...
It shines an interesting light on decisions I am making in the present tense that I feel are also right and good.
It's basically a big fucking beacon that says - “you were wrong then, jackass. what makes you thing you are right now?”
I know in my head that thats bullshit thinking, but its tricky to argue with the logic, I am too smart to know any better.
In my head, I know that the past is just that, the past. It doesn't have to frame the present. I spend a good deal of time reminding myself of that fact. Hopefully that isn't time well wasted.
In the real world, though, it is THE major thing that attacks my confidence. It DOES frame my reality to some extent. I have been so very wrong before – and this silly box on the calendar serves to remind me of just how serious the consequences are when I misjudge at that level. It serves to remind me that there is no such thing as a trivial choice. In a way November 11th means more now then it did when I was still married. It stands no longer for an eternal union. It stands no longer for love, commitment, joy... It stands as a grave marker to my decision-making. There are times when I believe what it has to say about me, even though everything I am cries out for it to be wrong. My actions often argue with me on this.
Anyway, happy anniversary to me is in order – raise a glass if you have one, I am sitting this toast out.
Tuesday, November 9
hey buddy, spare some change?
I know, I know, another “change” post. What can I say, it's a reoccurring theme for me. Well, reoccurring is the wrong word, it's is THE theme.
When I first started down this road, I hated change. Even feared it. My life was riddled with compromises I had made simply to maintain the status quo. It is as if I thought that I could prevent the tides by simply ignoring them. That approach does appear to work for a time. You shift, shimmy and juggle; you sell off small pieces of yourself and fight tooth and nail to maintain things the way they are. However, you eventually recognize that there really isn't much left to sell. With that comes the knowledge that although you have kept those things around you, you yourself have changed. Your “death by a thousand little cuts” is complete and the rotting husk of who you were is left to wilt in the sun.
That pretty much sums up the position I found myself in (that I had put myself in) when I first sat down and started this blog. I looked in my face in the mirror that morning and as I had done many times before asked my reflection “who the fuck is THAT?”...
Somewhere inside me a voice actually answered and said “I have no idea, but I don't like him at all”. Mercifully, I actually listened.
In the next two years, my life was turned upside down. I got divorced. I moved. I have changed jobs. I have made new friendships, disposed of some others. I started looking for the bits of me I had sold off and took them back into myself. I questioned everything that I took as fact (alas, this one doesn't stop). I have loved deeper than I thought possible, and learned what it is to let that go. I have fought. In some ways, I have won, and in a lot of ways, lost. I have learned that the only true way to hold anything is with an open hand. I have discovered strength, and I have embraced my weaknesses. I have found comfort in my own skin.
Above all, I have learned that change is not an enemy. It just might be the dearest friend and teacher I have encountered. Yes, it is merciless. It is relentless, committed to accomplish it's task at all costs. Change works tirelessly to show us life's hidden constants. To reveal to us the things at do not change, the foundational truths that hold the essence of who we are together. I wish there was a universal list of these for me to share, but it is something you need to find within yourself.
Alternately, of course, you could just go on doing what I did all those years, and simply choose to believe your own bullshit for a while longer. There is always tomorrow, right?
Well... not always.
When I first started down this road, I hated change. Even feared it. My life was riddled with compromises I had made simply to maintain the status quo. It is as if I thought that I could prevent the tides by simply ignoring them. That approach does appear to work for a time. You shift, shimmy and juggle; you sell off small pieces of yourself and fight tooth and nail to maintain things the way they are. However, you eventually recognize that there really isn't much left to sell. With that comes the knowledge that although you have kept those things around you, you yourself have changed. Your “death by a thousand little cuts” is complete and the rotting husk of who you were is left to wilt in the sun.
That pretty much sums up the position I found myself in (that I had put myself in) when I first sat down and started this blog. I looked in my face in the mirror that morning and as I had done many times before asked my reflection “who the fuck is THAT?”...
Somewhere inside me a voice actually answered and said “I have no idea, but I don't like him at all”. Mercifully, I actually listened.
In the next two years, my life was turned upside down. I got divorced. I moved. I have changed jobs. I have made new friendships, disposed of some others. I started looking for the bits of me I had sold off and took them back into myself. I questioned everything that I took as fact (alas, this one doesn't stop). I have loved deeper than I thought possible, and learned what it is to let that go. I have fought. In some ways, I have won, and in a lot of ways, lost. I have learned that the only true way to hold anything is with an open hand. I have discovered strength, and I have embraced my weaknesses. I have found comfort in my own skin.
Above all, I have learned that change is not an enemy. It just might be the dearest friend and teacher I have encountered. Yes, it is merciless. It is relentless, committed to accomplish it's task at all costs. Change works tirelessly to show us life's hidden constants. To reveal to us the things at do not change, the foundational truths that hold the essence of who we are together. I wish there was a universal list of these for me to share, but it is something you need to find within yourself.
Alternately, of course, you could just go on doing what I did all those years, and simply choose to believe your own bullshit for a while longer. There is always tomorrow, right?
Well... not always.
Monday, November 8
a still, small what?
There is no longer such a thing as a small voice. If you have it to say, say it – it will be heard.
Often, and most importantly, even if no one else does, you will actually hear yourself say it. Listen, take it in.
Write. Sing. Dance. Paint. Build. Create. Clean peoples teeth... Whatever.
Do it with honesty. Do it with passion. Pour yourself into it and stop wondering what the response or result will be, stop doing it for someone else. Life is short, moments are fleeting – leave a mark on them.
Stop waiting for the time to be right – it probably won't appear to be until it has passed.
Often, and most importantly, even if no one else does, you will actually hear yourself say it. Listen, take it in.
Write. Sing. Dance. Paint. Build. Create. Clean peoples teeth... Whatever.
Do it with honesty. Do it with passion. Pour yourself into it and stop wondering what the response or result will be, stop doing it for someone else. Life is short, moments are fleeting – leave a mark on them.
Stop waiting for the time to be right – it probably won't appear to be until it has passed.
Sunday, November 7
And the Term of the Year Award Goes To...
par·a·tax·ic distortion (pr-tksk)
n.
An attitude toward a person based on a distorted evaluation, usually due to identifying that person with emotionally significant individuals from the past.
find me one situation in life that this doesn't apply to - and in the immortal words of Orsen Wells: "I'll go down on you"
n.
An attitude toward a person based on a distorted evaluation, usually due to identifying that person with emotionally significant individuals from the past.
find me one situation in life that this doesn't apply to - and in the immortal words of Orsen Wells: "I'll go down on you"
stuck in...
a moment.
you know, the one that you immediately regret.
it's amazing to me how easy it is to spot when it happens, and after the fact how clear the signs were leading up to it when you reflect on them.
not so easy is heeding those warnings before the fact. that takes practice, awareness – that takes time.
something to ponder, something to do on the next go around - if you are lucky enough to have one.
you know, the one that you immediately regret.
it's amazing to me how easy it is to spot when it happens, and after the fact how clear the signs were leading up to it when you reflect on them.
not so easy is heeding those warnings before the fact. that takes practice, awareness – that takes time.
something to ponder, something to do on the next go around - if you are lucky enough to have one.
Thursday, November 4
and now, another lyric.
from: the gospel according to darkness
i know there's a place that you call your own
and you're safe and warm and you feel like you're home
and the peace of it and the faith involved
and you go to say...but there's no need to explain it
still you try then you see that it's okay. you're on your own
i see you lookin' around at the people on the street
well, things aren't what they seem.
if you push them hard enough, you'll find that most of them do not feel worthy of love
now how did this come to be?
~ jane siberry
i know there's a place that you call your own
and you're safe and warm and you feel like you're home
and the peace of it and the faith involved
and you go to say...but there's no need to explain it
still you try then you see that it's okay. you're on your own
i see you lookin' around at the people on the street
well, things aren't what they seem.
if you push them hard enough, you'll find that most of them do not feel worthy of love
now how did this come to be?
~ jane siberry
Monday, November 1
Pardon Me
A little while back I emailed these to a friend who said "those words scrape my insides" - thought about them again today, so i thought I would share. They are by an artist who started in the '60s named Larry Norman. They pretty much speak for themselves.
Larry passed in feb of '08 - miss you friend ~ hope the next leg of your journey has been everything you expected it to be.
----
Pardon me, kissing you like I'm afraid
But I feel I'm being played with
And you'll leave me when you get the chance.
Off you'll go, in the darkness of the night
Like a bird in freedom's flight,
You're thinking only of deliverance.
Close your eyes, and pretend that you are me.
See how empty it can be
Making love if love's not really there.
Watch me go, watch me walk away alone,
As your clothing comes undone,
And you pull the ribbon from your hair.
- Larry Norman (sometime around 1971)
Larry passed in feb of '08 - miss you friend ~ hope the next leg of your journey has been everything you expected it to be.
----
Pardon me, kissing you like I'm afraid
But I feel I'm being played with
And you'll leave me when you get the chance.
Off you'll go, in the darkness of the night
Like a bird in freedom's flight,
You're thinking only of deliverance.
Close your eyes, and pretend that you are me.
See how empty it can be
Making love if love's not really there.
Watch me go, watch me walk away alone,
As your clothing comes undone,
And you pull the ribbon from your hair.
- Larry Norman (sometime around 1971)
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