Monthly Archives: September 2005

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Don’t you get me

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Statement, not question. Notice the lack of punctuation. No “?” but just plain statement. Don’t you get me. Don’t you get me. Please, don’t you get me, because then what is there to know, what is there to talk about?

I’m a man of very little secrets, wearing my heart on my sleeve, it’s hard not to know what I’m think and what I want.

When I’m sad, I’ll have that blank face on, but my eyes tell the story. When I’m happy and too lazy to smile, I’ll have that blank face on, but my eyes tell the story.

What is there to do in life when all you ever cared about and everything that you wanted to do was just a mere imagining of what your life is? Then one Tuesday afternoon, you wake up from the boring monotonous boring day to day activities of work; coming out of that a coma that you’ve been experiencing for three years and you come to realize that you are everything that you make yourself out to be? What will you do then when you realize that the life you lead is nothing but this nightmare of stalled movement?

You believe whole-heartedly that your life is going in the direction that you wanted it to go. You write the words on the blank screen, typing away with happy apprehension about the things you see in life; telling the story how you wanted it to be told and not the other way around of how others believe it should be told.

You wander aimlessly through life with your eyes closed just hoping that you will blindly walk your way into history and fame with the “so called” unreachable dreams of what it is that needs to be. You wander in the blackness that only closed eyes could provide to you, because you are too afraid to look, to see, to feel, that all that you have been living is a lie that you tell yourself to make you feel better.

What happens when you wake? What happens when you actually see that all is lost and all is gone and all is a lie in this little game called life? You blinked your life away, with each blinking lasting for an eternity it seems. You sit motionlessly, blinking your life away, because you are just too afraid to face the life, to live the life that was dealt to you.

So you just sit here like you do every night typing away in your cryptic message, in your cryptic tone, telling yourself that everything is all right, that everything is okay. You sit here typing away. All that is in your heart, all that is in your mind, typing away, typing away, releasing all the pent up anger that is in you…releasing all that is holding you back. Releasing.

But months pass after you open your eyes. You treat the days that go by as nothing unusual because they aren’t anything special. They are just days like any other day that goes by in the year, in the decade, the fathom, the century to the millennium. They are just days. The sun rises and sets, marking each time stamp against the calendar that you put up for yourself to let yourself know how long it has been since your day of personal freedom.

Four years and two months is the time since your personal freedom. You mark that down as a momentous occasion. You mark it down; you highlight it in the familiar yellow that most highlighters are. You circle the big day on that big gigantic calendar that you set up for yourself. It’s a momentous occasion to celebrate.

Or so it seems. Again, your eyes are open and you see. You see that it is nothing but a lie. You see that all it is is just a day, a day in the life filled with many days. Days of freedoms are just days that fill a calendar. They are just days that mark time. There is no significance to anything. Not even if you set significance to them.

So I wander and wander and I listen to the soundtrack of my life. Filled with songs that blares on the radio and filled with songs that only people in the know will only hear. My life is like this combination of taste and tacky…It goes and goes, generic, yet simple with style of independence and eclectic.

That’s your life. I live it free to my own determination. I live it free with my own decision. I live it free with my own free. No one telling how to define my life, whether it is going out and enjoying the simple pleasures or doing the things that I have no interest in doing. I set my own pace, I set my own rules. I am the leader of my life. That’s how it has always been, and unfortunately, it is just now that I understand that.

Yesterday comes no more, and is a fading distant memory that I pull out of my head like it was from a time that time forgotten. It is a time that they will only recount in fairy tales and legends. They are long forgotten after the eyes open and a new day begins.

The day before is wiped from the memory totally, not focusing on anything in the past, but focusing everything that is happening HERE. NOW. THIS MOMENT. THIS SECOND.

Living free, alone, unattached, unhinged by the life that I’ve lived before. Committing to the uncommitted life that I chose for myself. Loving that decision that I’ve made. Living the life free and absent-minded of the things I’ve done, tinged with only remnants of a broken memory, but remembering everything that ever gone on in my life.

Living and forgetting..not being able to reach out and grab the things…disappearing into thin air like most things in my life.. My past is far and far and far behind me….just fading memories in an elephant’s mind.

Sitting, watching, waiting. Sitting, watching, waiting. Waiting for what, I don’t know. Watching what? What isn’t there to watch? Life is all around, life passes me by as I participate in the life of my choosing. Life. Life. Life. Full of life, full of love, full of memories, dreams, wishes…Life.

Mindless ramblings, mindless whispers of the ghosts that haunts my life and my existence. Afraid to speak up and afraid of fading so they make their existence felt and guide their hands across my life…giving me little lefts and rights that I deal with swiftly at my leisure.

Nothing forceful or permanent in a impermanent life. Things come and go, come and go, and slowly fade away or are quickly adapted to in the grand scheme of things. Nothing is ever permanent in a life that only last 80 odd years if you are lucky. Nothing is ever permanent…everything happens and happens and they just go away like everything else…life the air you breathe.

So, don’t you get me. Don’t you know me or try to understand me because there is no permanence to who I am. Ever changing and ever drifting along with the wind, floating and going wherever it is that I’m going. Never grounded enough to figure out where it is that I am from one day to the next.

You’ll be lucky to get me on a breezeless day, ever going nonchalantly, not caring about anyone or anything but myself and my survival of things that don’t cause pain and tears.

Ever FREE falling through an empty void, not knowing when or where or if I’ll ever land, I just go wherever it is that I’m going, and that is down and down and down, but in a black empty void that I surround myself in…it’s just like a listless space…floating in thin air, soaring and soaring to a destination that I cannot see or grasp. I just float and hang on to this motionlessness, moving forward not knowingly.

I fall and fall, ever moving forward, ever moving wherever it is I’ll end up. Maybe there will be something or someone that crosses my path and will float along with me. Maybe. Just maybe.

Found and sure. Lost and afraid, paranoid of the things to come. These are things that I will always be facing and never be done with in my life it’s never a definite to find who one is. Who you are is a life long journey of always finding and testing and pushing one’s limits to figure out what it is that you life means. You have to experience and to live accordingly to the rules and philosophies that you live by and throw away only to make new ones as time passes and whenever you see fit.

Nothing is lasting, everything is ever fading. Life begins and ends and ends and ends. That’s how things are. Things end and new things begin. You see this everyday and everywhere, but soon, you wouldn’t be able to see anymore. You will be one of the things that end. Life.

You go back to wherever it is that you grew up, wherever it was that you’ve lost who you were and you try to find yourself again. Try to find the part of you that you are so sure of, only to find that half of you is there and the other half is the best part of you that you are now. Meld these two halves together and you got the whole of who you really are.

Mindless rambling, incoherent jib jab. Things to come, things to do. You are who you are whether found or lost always going forward and never looking back because you are your past and the past is always with you regardless if you think about it or not. You are a culmination of days and years gone by. A culmination of experiences, pain, tears, feelings and emotions, that you can never put out of your system because the made you who you are today.

Without each moment, without each experience, without each grand gesture of life…you will be nothing but a walking zombie full of nothing to give and never touching anyone.

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We are family

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Years, ages, pass as we all grow up and apart from those familial bonds that we are so familiar with. They tie us down and keep us grounded as to where we came from, but yet again, they tie us down. Keeping us from our full potential.

It’s never a wonder why I never miss a beat with family, because growing up with they, we all know everyone else inside and out. We know each other’s characters, our flaws, our strengths, we know all. There are no secrets that are kept till the end of days. Everything will find an outlet in one way or another. Someday, all things will be clear.

Getting together, seeing each other are just passing times of speedily catching up and learning new things about each other. We’ll pick up conversations that abruptly ended only months, years before. We never skip a beat. We do what we need to do to keep up that blood bond….for we are family.

Spreading our wings and fly and becoming who we are is a part of life that our family is so familiar with. Most of us grow up in our own ways in our own time. Whether it is picking up and leaving to find one self, or a family tragedy that slaps us in the face, helping us to realize that we need to get our shit together and grow up..getting that new job…graduating school..whether it is highschool or college. Things progress with time and changes accordingly to each person

Simple Shorts

Turkey Tofurkey No More

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It refuses to come out, it refuses to flow. It stays and stays, filling and filling up my small little container. The pressure builds and builds, even when you think there isn’t any more room, the pressure builds and builds, ever expanding the taut, yet flexible container.

Ache. Pain. Pressure. Gas. Bloating. All builds and builds and builds, never giving up, never giving in. All builds and builds, even when there is no more to build. What can I do? What can I do?

So I go and sit, go and sit, go and sit. Sometimes there’s flow, other times there isn’t. But there will always be constant pain, constant pain. No rest, no sleep, no relaxation. Nothing. Just pain, pain, pain.

What can it be? What could have caused this? Maybe it is the little fishes that swim in the sea. Maybe it is the fowl the goes cluck cluck in their cages, or maybe it is their shelled offspring that is so popular during breakfast. Maybe it is the shelled crescents that crawl and flap their little flippers in the sea. Who knows? Who knows?

The pressure builds to biblical proportions. There has to be a release, there needs to be a release, but there isn’t any.

It started in the middle of the night. It started late. Tossing and turning, waiting for the silent assailant to come and attack me. Unbeknown to me, it was fatal. It was debilitating. It was torture.

I doubled over with pain as the pressure builds and builds. My intestines rumble rumble and gurgle gurgle with the unidentified attacker. What can it be?
I get up, hoping that it was just a cramp. I walk it off, but my legs give out. There’s no strength. None to speak of.

On my knees, I set myself down on my side, laying there hoping that this will go away. It doesn’t. It stays and stays, causing more and more pain.

One more attempt at heroism. One more attempt at saving myself. I muster all the strength I have left and crawl, crawl like the way I use to oh so long ago. One arm, one knee; the other arm, the other knee. I crawl and crawl.

I finally reached the throne. I finally reach the throne where I sat so proudly with familiar humiliation before. Now it is my savior. Now it will ease the pain, or so I was lead to believe.

I hoist myself up to the throne and relax. But there is no sense of relaxation. The throne sits as it always sits, and I sit there feeling worse than I did before. Worse than ever. I never felt this much pain before.

There’s no release, even during relaxation. Maybe it’s because of the pain. I brace myself with each stab, that I’m too tense to relax. Maybe that’s it.

Giving up on the throne, I fall off. My, oh how the mighty king of yesteryear have fallen. When I fall, I fall hard.

Something feels like flowing, something needs release. There is a limit. There is a limit. I hoist myself up, but it flows in the other direction. It comes, oh so little, but it comes. It is some release, but it leaves me feeling no better.

Knowing that there’s nothing more to come, I managed to crawl myself back to the comfort of my bed. I tuck myself in, but there is no resting tonight. None at all. It comes and comes, never ending, never ending. PAIN.

I toss, turn, spin around and repeat the cycle hoping to find a position that will alleviate the pain just a little. But little did that help. It only causes the pain to double. The pressure increases exponentially with each passing second, with each passing minute. What is going on? What is going on?

I close my eyes, praying that the pain will go away. The pain stabs on for an eternity and another after that. I look at the clock, and the time never changes. Hell is eternal.

It gets no better. There’s no relief in sight. Eternity passes again after a couple more and soon, there is light. Is this the saving grace that I was praying for? Is this the cure to my madness, the pain, the assassination of my assassin? No, it’s just the rising sun, reminding me that the pain goes on and on, like days go on and on. There is no relief, none in sight. It’s just a sick cycle of pain on top of more pain.

I roll myself out of the half-assed tuck that I managed to put myself in. On my knees again. It seems so familiar, even though it was so long ago that I was on my knees. My day “officially” begins because it is morning, but my assassin and I know better. My day started hours before. My day started yesterday, and that day never ended.

I sit myself down on the floor and focus on something calming, the nothingness of life where there is nothing to feel. I meditate the best I know how, by closing my eyes as shown to me in the old school kung fu movies that I’m so familiar with. What a load of shit they are. There is no meditation, there is no cutting of the pain.

I toughen up and be the man that I’m known to be, or the man that I tell myself I am, only to know that I’m just a teddy bear of a specimen. I strip my clothes out of foolishness, hoping this will magically ease the pain, but again, fools dream.

I step in the shower, focusing on the running water that bounces of my body. I rub myself as best my tired arms would allow. I slowly wake; well, at least more than I was from the tired listless night, and I am able to focus. I’ve managed to be able to deal with the pain. I’ve gotten use to my assassin.

I step out of the shower, a little more refreshed from when I stepped in. I pull on my boxers, my jeans the way that everyone does, one leg at a time while balancing with the other. Even in my tired state I’m able to dance the daily dance that everyone is familiar with. I’m not going to let this assassin get me down. Not today.

Finished, I managed to WALK, not crawl, but WALK to my bed and lay myself down some more. This day goes and goes. It goes and goes. A hour goes by and I look at the clock on to lied to by my skewed sense of time. It has only been five minutes.

KNOCK KNOCK

The door. Damn, curse, fuck, who can it be? Who knows that I’m here, dying a silent death? I know it is someone that can’t help me. No one can. With a one and a two, I managed to work myself up to my elbows. With another one and a two, I’m sitting up.

KNOCK KNOCK

Keep your pants on. Hold your horses. I’m coming. I’m coming.

With a heave ho, I’m up walking my zombie walk to the door, dragging my feet with each drag. But I manage to make it there. I open the door without even asking. There’s no point. She’s going to see me eventually and then there’s going to be drama like every other time and every other thing that she’s worried about.

“What took you so long?” “Are you okay?” “What happened?” “Did you faint?” “You look sick. You look tired!”

The questions and the accusations keep coming and coming. There’s no point getting a word in. I know better. I just turn on my dragging heel and zombie walk my ass back to the lying position I was before I was so rudely interrupted.

She marches in along with the troupe. They surround me, suffocating me with the questions and the accusations. All eyes were on me. Why can’t they just leave me alone? Why?

Do I need to go to the emergency room, do I need to see a doctor? I don’t know. I can’t think straight in this state and with all the noise and concern voices all around. Maybe it will pass. Maybe it will go away all on its own. I’m sure it will. It’ll go away. I could bare the pain now. It is like second nature to me now. It’s no big deal.

KNOCK KNOCK

Another knock. Who can it be? Who is it?

The smaller one of the troupe opens the door to reveal it is the one that I made plans with. My long lost brother.

He walks into the room and sees me in this state. He asks what is the matter. A barrage of answers from the troupe. I’m sure he picked out what it is that is wrong. I’m sure with the whole troupe there, it is hard not to get the answer.

He got his answer and a quick “you’ll right?”. A simple nod from me and that is all that is communicated. From then, he laughs. He laughs at me. Making fun of me and my dire state. So typical.

Since he’s here, my day officially begins, for real. There’s no hiding, there’s no resting. We have to go, and I muster the strength to get up and out of bed, out of the room.

No, I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’ve decided. I could wait. This will go away. It will most definitely go away. I believe that it will.

Our plans has gone down in the crapper today. Too bad it isn’t the thing that is filling up my flexible stomach that is going down the crapper. Why can’t it be that?

I’m where I need to be. I’m where I have to be. I decide to go and lay down, hopefully me being still will trick the assassin that I’m already dead and maybe it’ll leave me. Maybe if it does what it needs to do, it will leave me. Hopefully it does.

I lay and lay and lay. Eons upon eons pass until I can’t tell one eternity from another. Everything is just a jumbled mess of passing time. Everything looks the same in this cramped room…the same view of non movement. Everything is burned into my eyes. They look the same, even with my eyes closed.

I open my eyes, expecting to look worse than Rip Van Winkle after his short sleep. To my non-surprise, I am no different than when I first laid down, and no different from the night before. The only difference is the strength of the pain. Since my little non-sleeping hibernation, the assassin went to work on my stomach again. Stabbing and stabbing with no regard.

………………..